#i feel bad talking about players i know people around here like and how overrated they are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years ago

Note

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

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hqcult · 4 years ago

Text

SWITCHING POSITIONS ## akaashi keiji

doms and subs are overrated. it's hella fun being a switch and keiji couldn't agree more.

. tw smut, switch! akaashi, switch! reader, some baby girl and baby boy calling, mommy kink, sir kink, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont try this at home), oral (m receiving), creampies, slight degradation . wc 3.8k

the night is young. as young a night gets for two college students after finals week. while countless people from different frat houses have already invited you to come to their year-end parties, you never really enjoy that scene. it's too much of an effort to dress and doll yourself up when, after such a stressful week, you just want to wind down and get drunk here in your dorm with your best friend.

plus, keiji tells way more compelling stories than boys you've encountered at parties and that's saying something, considering you had been drunk as a skunk but didn't find them funny at all.

yeah. offense.

right from the get-go, you figure he's never one for small talk but there's a fondness in his eyes when he talks about his days as a volleyball player. he becomes more loose-lipped, sharing to you memories of his teammates and games. you really didn't care whatever topic he chose to talk about, you just know you'll listen to him anyway. it's great listening to him talk with that comforting voice of his.

"you know," you lean your head back against the couch, cozying up in your hoodie. "maybe you should start a part-time job as a youtuber. you can be one of those people who do asmr videos or something." you chuckle, finding the random thought amusing.

"but i'm already on a full-ride. i don't think i need to get a part-time job," he lies comfy on your couch. one arm hanging, hands over the can of beer.

you sighed staring up at the ceiling. "lucky. it's hard maintaining grades when your professors are a bunch of snobby assholes who don't care about their students."

his knee nudges the back of your head lightly. "don't say that," he scolds. "that's bad. they're still your teachers."

always so polite.

just as you reach forward for another slice of pizza, akaashi speaks again, eyeing you thoughtfully. "well… maybe i can start an asmr channel and we can split the money i earn."

you laugh, torso turning around to face him. you bring the beer can up to offer a toast.

"see, this is why i love you, keiji."

after clicking his can with yours, you turn around to have a bite of your pizza — completely missing the red flush on his cheeks, thrown off-guard by the strong proclamation you just made, albeit he knows you probably meant it in a platonic way. he didn't know what to say next so he took another swig of his drink.

he doesn't know. really. what triggered him to look at you as something way more than a normal friend would. for someone so self-aware as him it's frustrating not knowing how and when his feelings for you even changed. because the only time he realized he was knee deep into liking you was when he was also at the brink of losing you.

which reminds him…

"what happened to that guy you were texting two weeks ago?" he asks.

"ah, him? he's too… what's the word, assertive? intrusive? i don't know — it's like he wants to monopolize my time. like he wants my whole world to revolve around him and it's… kinda creepy actually."

akaashi scoffs, sitting up to get a slice of pizza. "you guys were only talking for two weeks."

"i know! that's what i'm saying!" you say, hands wildly gesturing to and fro. he's afraid you might spill the beer. "like — dude. maybe it's either he needs to chill the fuck out or i'm just not into doms. or maybe he's a walking red flag."

he hums thoughtfully, slumping next to you on the floor before dusting his hands off from pizza crumbs. "he's a red flag. obviously."

"okay but random thought: doms are overrated," you reach forward to open another can of beer, thinking out loud. "subs too. i feel like it's kinda tiring being a top as much as it is being a bottom. being a switch, on the other hand, is like getting the best of both worlds and who wouldn't like that? it's some good hannah montana shit."

now akaashi keiji can't help but laugh at that. "are you drunk? how did our conversation end up this way even."

you bump his shoulder, laughing with him before drinking your beer. "oh, come on. humor me a little, keiji. think about it. i'm right. aren't i?"

"and how do you know?" he turns his head towards you. "have you been a top? or bottom —"

"i have," the smile you gave him sent butterflies to his stomach. "both. back in my all-girls high school. being a bottom's not too bad but… eh, still. i'd rather just be a switch. it's exhausting to top all the time."

"don't i know it," akaashi mutters under his breath. flashbacks of all those awkward and embarrassing endeavors filling his mind. "guys are always expected to top. it's like a stereotype. can't i just sit back sometimes and follow orders, too?"

he feels the heat crawling up his neck and it makes him shrug off his jacket, leaving him with the plain white shirt underneath.

"i can give you orders."

akaashi almost chokes on his beer.

"you literally just said it's exhausting to top."

you shrugged. "yeah, but — i mean, it is! it is but… you know."

he can see exactly how embarrassment is taking over your features and he wants to stop and move on from the conversation. he wants to. he should. but there's an inkling feeling inside him that doesn't because he wants to see how this unfolds. his heart is beating erratically and he can't take his eyes off you since that little comment you made.

"i'm sorry," you chuckle, a dismissive tone in your voice. "nevermind. anyway…"

akaashi shouldn't entertain his thoughts.

it's improper. you're his best friend. literally one of the few people who he's managed to befriend in college. he can't lose you. he can't risk being awkward with you. his not-so-platonic feelings for you should never get in the way of that. never. plus, you're both intoxicated right now and you were probably just kidding around. akaashi isn't that kind of guy. he respects you. he should dismiss the conversation but —

"then give me orders."

you froze. eyes widening as you stare at the forgotten netflix movie playing on your laptop, unable to look at the man sitting next to you. afraid of the weight of his stare. you didn't know why you blurted out whatever you did a few seconds ago but you never thought he'd entertain it. not that you mind, anyway. this is your best friend we're talking about. well-mannered akaashi keiji with the ocean eyes hiding behind those cute square glasses.

the akaashi keiji you've been crushing hard on since you saw him at the freshman orientation two years ago.

"would you… spread your legs for me?"

light rustling can be heard as the microfibers of his socks drag against the carpeted floor. just as you reach forward to push back the coffee table, akaashi beats you to it and does it for you. making sure to push it far so you won't accidentally hit your back on the edges.

with one smooth swing of your leg, you're sitting snug on his lap. the rough fabric of his jeans grazing your thighs as your hands tremble whilst dragging down the planes of his torso.

akaashi grabs your hands, stopping you.

"you look hesitant. you don't need to do this if you don't want to." his tone is low, understanding as always.

you look at him straight in the eye. leaning forward until your lips are all but grazing each other as you spoke. "i want to. i want you."

you dive down to start peppering kisses down his neck and you hear him let out a shaky sigh. you lick a stripe up the side of his neck before kissing the shell of his ear. "go on, keiji. you can touch me. don't you want to touch mommy?"

you feel him shudder, his dexterous fingers mapping random lines underneath your hoodie, slowly raking higher and higher until he's saying "mommy, please take it off" in low hushed tones. the blush in his cheeks prominent as he can't seem to stare at you in the eye. so cute. so submissive. so stupid thinking you'll let him undress you so easily.

"did i say you can take it off?" you hiss, reaching down to cup him from over his jeans and shoving his hands off you. "don't tell me baby boy is being bad, are you being bad? i thought my baby keiji's a good boy for his mommy."

"but… but i am a good —"

akaashi hisses, knees jolting when he feels you tracing circles on the insides of his thighs with the tip of your nails. for someone who just claimed they didn't like topping, you're doing an impeccable job at it and he doesn't know whether or not he loves it or hates it. when your sneaky little hands unbutton his jeans and teasingly pulls the zipper down, okay, no, he definitely loves it. the determined look in your eyes as you pin your gaze on his features, watching like a hawk at every furrow of his brow, of every sharp intake of breath, every time he throws his head back.

"if you're such a good boy why don't you strip for mommy, hm? won't my baby boy give me a show?" he can't take his eyes off you as you smile, sultry, leaning over to lick at his bottom lip as your ass slowly grinds against his jeans. how merciless you are, when you gave him a peck and pulled away. "go on. strip and sit on the couch."

blindly reaching around the coffee table, you grabbed whatever beer you can hold before raising it up to your lips and staring at him over the rim of the can as he throws his shirt off. you suck in a breath when his abdominals come into view. his torso lean and smooth, siding a little more on the petite size with a tiny waist. and you shamelessly check him out even more when he leans over and hooks his thumbs under his jeans, pushing it down.

you didn't speak until you saw the black waistband of his boxers.

"those, too."

he pauses, looking a little lost. "i'm sorry, what —"

"everything, baby boy. i want everything off… including those boxers. wanna see your dick throbbing. bet baby boy's already hard because mommy kissed his neck and gave him hickies, isn't he? bet you'll love it if mommy licks you all over, or when mommy rides her baby boy's cute thighs. would my baby keiji like that? would you? does my baby boy deserve it?"

damn were you good at this. the more you spoke the more it's making him ache and he wastes no time in shoving everything down. true to your words he was throbbing. the mushroom tip oozing precum and his dick standing tall. maybe it's the alcohol in his system or maybe it's the desire for you that he had kept locked away for so long, but akaashi can't bring it in himself to feel embarrassed. not when you're looking at him like you want to devour him whole.

the same bright eyes of his adventurous best friend who's stuck by his side since being wide-eyed first years in this huge university — he'll probably never see you in that same halo ever again, already tainted by the image of you now.

he sees you swallow, eyes never straying away from his girth and akaashi feels a little proud to have you looking star-struck. when you rise from your seat, his muscles tense in anticipation, staring at your hand as it slowly reaches forward — only to pause mid-air.

akaashi looks up at you questionably and he sees the unspoken question in your eyes, asking for his consent. and your baby boy's answer was instantaneous.

"please, mommy. touch me?"

the smile on your face was cocky. definitely cocky as your hand wraps around his girth, the other wrapping around his throat as you coo. "aw, how can i resist when you're asking so nicely? why don't you sit on the couch and i'll grant whatever my baby boy wants, hm?"

he mewls, leaning back on the couch and eyes you with lust. "like this, mommy?" he mutters, desperate. he even tilts his hips up a little to offer you a better view as you hum in approval, straddling his hips as you stroked his cock.

"such a good boy for mommy, aren't you? how pretty."

he hisses when he catches sight of you kneeling before him in between his legs, looking at him with the most captivating sultry gaze he's ever seen. "mommy's gonna give you a 'lil prep, yeah? so it won't hurt when i ride your dick, baby boy."

"yes, momm — ugh."

akaashi throws his head back when you finally wrap your lips around him. the image of your hollowed cheeks forever ingrained in his mind. his eyes fly close, focusing his attention on your swift tongue as it lies flat against the underside of his cock, taking him eagerly from the base to the tip. your tongue swirls around the head, sneakily poking around the hole where precum oozes out.

"mommy," he whines when your tongue travels back to his girth, tracing one of the prominent veins in his dick before your hand comes up to play with his balls. "mommy — shit. so good… feels so good…"

it urges you on, hands retracting to wrap around whatever your mouth couldn't cover. his back is arching and you suck him with fervor, eager to push him to the edge, to make him believe you're going to lick and play and suckle until he's creaming around your mouth — only to pull away at the last minute.

"no!" he moans, looking down at you desperately as you rise from your seat. "i was-i was gonna cum!"

you dismiss him easily with a wave of the hand, too busy shuffling out your clothes. maybe if you had the energy, you would've punished him a few rough spanks but you were far gone already. thoughts of that dick splitting you in half as you ride him consuming your mind like a plague.

akaashi groans when you hop onto the sofa and crash your lips on his. you never would've imagined kissing him this way. sloppy and wet and painfully induced with lust. the stretch is amazing, there was the lightest stinging sensation but was overridden by pleasure. he groans, pulling you close and peppering your shoulders with kisses.

you grabbed his shoulders and started bouncing on his lap in a slow, stimulating manner that made you feel every vein and curve of his cock as it deliciously drags against your walls. you hear him wine. you hear him talk about how it hurts and how he can't take it anymore. how he needs his mommy to move faster. faster, mommy. please fuck me faster. but you ignored him, so caught up in domspace to see the growing irritation in your baby boy's eyes. to see the sudden shift from clinging onto you so desperately to gripping possessively against the soft flesh of your sides.

the air was knocked out of your lungs when he slams you down on the sofa.

"you dare ignore me?" his face is passive, eyes cold and steely as he pinned you with a dark stare. "time's up. i think you got a tad bit carried away there, don't you agree?"

"want me to show you how it's done?" you shiver in excitement when he takes your wrists in one hand. his thighs flex as he gets on his knees before hooking your legs over his shoulder, thrusting his dick deeper into you. akaashi bends forward, a hand firmly gripping your face. "i want you to address me as 'sir' and nothing else, do i make myself clear?"

his low assertive tone so painfully attractive you clenched around him as he drills into you with vigor. akaashi chuckles, the low rumbles of his chest stimulating your perked nubs as it grazed against him with every thrust. "yeah, you like that? like it when i speak to you like this? ah, fuck you're so tight. you're pussy's practically choking my dick — look, fucking look, baby girl."

your head grazes his as you both watch his member disappear inside you, getting off at the lewd sight of the glistening sheen of your essence wrapped around his cock and the loud squelching noise it makes when he rams it into you again. you whimper, pulling akaashi down for a kiss as your ankles hook around his back, pulling him deeper as his pace quickens and his balls slap against your skin.

"see that? your pussy keeps sucking me back in. bet you're desperate for my cock, aren't you?" you never thought akaashi to be the type who's into talking dirty, you thought he was the gentle, vanilla type. but alcohol always brings around quite interesting things about a person after getting drunk.

you cling onto him for dear life as his hand reaches down to draw figure eights against your puffy clit, eliciting the most feral of moans from you that could rival that of pornstars. "sir," you shudder. "please, sir. please."

"please what?" he grabs your lower back, pulling your torso up to hit an angle that makes you see stars.

"please, let me cum! please."

akaashi clicks his tongue before raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "you didn't listen to me when i was the one begging, why should i listen to you?"

your hands wrap around his neck, sobbing against the crook of his neck by the sheer pleasure you felt. he can't understand your mindless babbling. all inside keiji's mind is the feel of your perked nipples grazing his chest and your plush walls wrapping around him so prettily. he never did it raw, having you as his first time doing it without a condom pushed him way over the edge than he wants to admit.

"be-because — ah — i didn't —"

akaashi hauls you up into a sitting position, arms wrapped around you securely as you straddle him. he yanks you away from his neck, a tight grip wrapped around your throat as he stares straight into your eyes as he fucks up into you, feeling his balls slap against your skin. "what? cock's that good you can't even speak?"

he feels your hips stutter as you sob, tiny hands wrapped around his wrists. you didn't even try bouncing and meeting his thrusts anymore. "sir, please! s'too much! wanna cum —"

"then fucking work for it," he stils his hips. "fuck me back, baby girl. come on. you said you wanted to ride me, didn't you? bet this is what you've been thinking about for the whole night. that's the only thing my baby girl's capable of right? thinking 'bout my cock and nothing else? such a dumb little baby."

your legs quivered and shook as you obliged and pulled yourself half way up, before meeting him halfway and impaling yourself back down his cock. the first time you did it had both of you whining, akaashi quickly threading his hands through your hair to yank your face towards him. he wants to imprint this memory into his mind. to be able to merely shut his eyes and be transported back to the night you both were intoxicated and you let him use your cunt like a fleshlight.

all sense of manners were thrown out the window as his ocean eyes memorized the way your eyes rolled back when he hits a sweet spot, the way your nose scrunches when the pleasure becomes overwhelming, the way the drool shamelessly trickles down the side of your lips as your tongue sticks out and he so badly wanted to spit but he didn't in fear of making you uncomfortable. everything. he wants to memorize everything.

"just a little more, pretty girl. you can do it. together, okay? cum before me and you'll fucking regret it."

he grabs you closer, burying your face in his neck and planting his feet firm on the ground as he pistons his cock into you. it's not the heat of your body, or your pretty cries, or the lewd sound of skin slapping that made him cum. no. it was your sheer desperation and vulnerability as you bit his shoulders and yelled at the top of your lungs.

"keiji!"

he pulled out at record speed and had made a mess on his torso but he was hardly able to register any of these. so fucked out and sated and content to have you sitting on his lap as he stares at your plain ceiling. he doesn't even realize you've dropped down to your knees and started lapping up the essence splayed on his torso until he felt the hot muscle of your tongue. "(y/n) —"

"what happened to baby girl?" you tease, a playful smile on your lips as you meet his eyes. "you were so into it, 'kaashi. you should've seen your face — well, i was… kinda into it too, anyway."

it took akaashi around three seconds for everything to finally sink in, to fully sober up and let the gears work in his head. the realization of what had gone down on your sofa, of the things he told you, brings about an embarrassment greater than anything he's ever felt in his entire life. suddenly, he's shoving you away from him and draping the discarded blanket around your naked form whilst politely looking away. then he quickly covers his soft dick with one of your throw pillows.

"oh, my god. i'm so sorry. this is a mistake — shit — i'm sorry! you see, i've liked you ever since and not as a friend and i swear i'm not the type to just —"

"keiji" you snap him out of it. "i like you too, okay? now don't go around saying it's a mistake or i'm going to throw you off the roof. do you want me to throw you off the roof? right. i don't think so. now, come on! get your sexy ass dressed, we're going somewhere."

"where... are we going?"

"i'm craving ice cream. so for our first date, buying ice cream at 2am!"

#(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) mine ༉‧#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ queue’d!#thirsthours #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu #akaashi keiji #akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x yn #hq akaashi #akaashi haikyuu

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catchmewiddershins · 4 years ago

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if it’s not too much trouble can i request a pt. 2 to the ‘overhearing their crush talking about them’ w/ atsumu, tendou, and bokuto ?

Haikyuu Characters Overhearing their crush talking about them - pt 2:

Includes Atsumu, Tendou and Bokuto! - These ones have a smidge more angst than the first ones but I love it! Thank you for the request, it was loads of fun! 💗 - Feel free to request more parts!

Miya Atsumu:

The stadium was filled with shouts, screams and music. Atsumu stood on the court, his hands feeling the familiar shape of the ball, with its blue and yellow stripes and perfect bounce. He lifted his hand and clenched his fist, the echoes of cheers immediately ceased. He could still hear the shouts of those cheering the other teams, those on the courts near him, but his court was silent. Then, from behind the barrier closest to the court, he heard a condescending whisper.

“Ugh, he’s so pretentious. Who does he think he is, silencing the crowd like that? People aren’t going to pander to him forever, you know, he’s got to grow up someday.”

Atsumu felt his cheeks heat in anger, and a little bit of embarrassment. He knew how his actions came across; arrogant, pathetic, rude, he’s heard them all, but it still hurt a little each time.

“Hey!” Another whisper sliced through the air, “I’d like to see you make a better serve! He’s great at what he does and you shouldn’t be rude about it!” He caught a glimpse of you, the speaker, from the corner of his eye, but then the whistle blew and he had to make his serve.

A few rotations later, he was back in serving position, the previous instance almost gone from his mind.

“I still think it’s ridiculous!” The first voice said. His shoulders drooped a little, but then he heard your voice again, sharp as a knife.

“Look, if it bothers you, then leave. Maybe it isn’t a habit he can carry into professional volleyball, so what? He’s not an olympic volleyball player, he’s a teenager, like us, and you can leave it! He’s probably working on the habit and then, in a few years, he’ll be making the best serves you’ve ever seen! You wouldn’t be able to do anything a 10th as good with all of the focus in the world! Try focusing on a test with a crowd of people screaming and see how you do!” You were angry, passionate, and on his behalf! He recognised your voice, you who he’d liked for a few months; you’d given some presentation with him for a class once, and he thought that you were nice... and not bad to look at, not at all. He bounced the ball a few times and then-

“You’re only saying that because you like him! You’d defend him if he was trialled for murder!” He stopped dead, you? Liked him? No way was that possible, you barely knew who he was! Or at least... he thought so.

“So what if I like him? Doesn’t make me weird for having a shred of respect!”

With an ear-splitting grin, he hit a service ace, and, after the match, he winked and waved at you, before walking over to ask for your number.

Satori Tendou:

Tendou was on his way to get his copy of Shonen Jump back from Ushiwaka! His friend had borrowed it again, and Tendou had had to let him have an extra week with it so that he could read and re-read all of the adverts. He loved his friend, he really did, but was it really necessary to read every single ad? Regardless, he was skipping through the corridors, humming a little tune to himself about his lunch, and bears, and silly, emotionally stunted friends who like reading adverts for feminine hair-care. However, he screeched to a sudden halt before turning the corner, having heard his name.

“Have you seen that middle blocker though? Yeah, the one with the red hair, Tendou, wasn’t it? He’s a little creepy, don’t you think? He’s got this look... like he knows all of your secrets and is plotting to do something to you.” Tendou felt his heart sink slightly, he knew that people thought he was scary, he’d dealt with it since he was little - the title of ‘Guess Monster’ wasn’t just due to his blocking prowess. But then, then then then! He heard your voice! He’d always loved your voice, he felt that he could listen to it forever, the way your tone rose and fell, the way you pronounced words. He’d fallen for you since the day you’d been dragged with the rest of the school to one of their matches, and he’d seen your face break out in delight when he pulled off a spectacular block. It was the best feeling in the world! He often got paired with you in one of your lessons, and made every excuse to let you do all the talking, just to sit there and listen.

“I don’t think he’s creepy... I think he’s wonderful.”

“What you like him? Don’t tell me you have a thing for him! That’s so weird!” It never hurt any less, hearing that.

“I do like him! He’s adorable and a great blocker and really smart! He always knows how I’m feeling in class and is always able to cheer me up with little jokes or songs!”

And with that, Tendou’s face turned as red as his hair. You liked him! You liked him, you liked him! You liked him! Back! He waited for you to leave, stalking off in a different direction to the others, before letting out a crow of joy. As he skipped, with even more vigour, down to where Ushiwaka was, he thought about how to confess, and about how he had to tell his best friend everything.

Bokuto Koutarou:

Here he was again, Nationals! Akaashi’s presence was steady at his side and the air smelt of sweat, effort and air salonpas. He would have had energy for days! But... he’d found out that his team weren’t playing on the main courts and he couldn’t help but feel a little upset. He’d wanted to be where more people could watch, where the action was! Not only for fun, although that was a large part of it, but because him being noticed meant that his team would get noticed! And Bokuto’s team was amazing! They deserved all of the attention and recognition that they could get, and everyone needed to watch them! He was aware that people thought that he was childish, immature... annoying... underwhelming, overrated. He got hurt by that a lot, actually... but he always bounced back! It was just that today, he wasn’t feeling his best, they’d only narrowly won the match before and he had the slight sense that he was letting his team down.

He wondered if you’d even bother to watch him? You, who he’d had a crush on for ages, you who looked glorious and was wonderful and smart and everything that Bokuto didn’t think he was... You saw each other every morning, and you’d unfailingly ask him about practice. He thought, maybe you were just being nice, didn’t care about him at all. His thoughts were spiralling, and he could feel the worried glances from his teammates, pitying him, probably, he was so useless, always dragging them down and now they don’t get to be seen because he wasn’t noticeable enough and-

“Come on! We’re going to miss it!” You?

“Why are we even here? You’re not even into sport.” You. You were sprinting frantically down the corridor, dragging a friend behind you.

“No no, you don’t understand! We have to watch our school play, remember? Fukurodani! I’ve been telling you about this all month! We were here yesterday!”

“Yeah but... why? Run it past me again, I’ve forgotten.”

“UGH!” He almost laughed, you were so wonderful when you were passionate, “Because I need to watch their ace play! Bokuto! The one I’ve been ranting about! With his amazing spikes and funny personality and amazing muscles and!-”

“Woah, okay! I get it! You’ve got a ginormous crush on the volleyball ace and want to see him play as much as possible to try and get him to notice you, sheesh!”

“Don’t laugh at my pain! I need him to notice meeeeee...” Your voice trailed off as you ran, and Bokuto’s heart swelled like a balloon. You thought he was great! You thought he was funny and attractive and great at volleyball! You really were the best! He resolved to confess to you immediately after the match, but first? They had to win. He spun around to face his team, beaming from ear to ear.

“HEY HEY HEY EVERYONE! Let’s smash this thing!”

And he strode onto the court with a resounding cheer from his team, knowing that he’d win, for you.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

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6ad6ro · 3 years ago

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now that i've beaten elden ring, i'm ready to talk about it. i'll be vague in order to not spoil anything.

so it's in my top 10 favorite games ever, something that no game in over ten years has managed. it is BY FAR the best open world game that has ever existed. it's a game that ACTUALLY deserves the sort of praise that people were giving things like zelda botw a few years back. whereas zelda was maybe a little overrated, this actually goes above and beyond it's reputation. i can safely say that it's the most important game in the world right now.

that isn't to say i didn't have the occasional issue with it. but it just did so dang much to improve on the souls series. i always said that the souls series had the potential to be a masterpiece on the level of things like "zelda oot", and elden ring proves this.

anyways here are the things i think er did to vastly improve upon the souls formula (or are just good in general):

• more reasonable difficulty for most of the game.

• ability to "grind out" of areas that were too hard. leveling is so much more meaningful!

• the nature of it being open world means cheap bosses no longer act as artificial "walls" keeping you from playing the game. if something is too hard, you can go do something else and return later.

• most bosses are more fair, and often have spawnpoints or bonfires RIGHT before their fights. no more stupid runs to the fights.

• summoning ash. the permanent ability to summon in an ai cooperator for most tough fights is just amazing. you can still solo if you WANT, but this just makes the game way more fun and accessible for newer players.

• multiplayer is so much easier in general. co-op especially. less choke points for invaders to target low level players. and less opportunity for harassment by the worst players on the planet. invasion is way less frequent in general. invaders are now the ones at the disadvantage, rather than the invaded. as it should be.

• no more "hollow" mechanics to create unnecessary additional punishment associated with dying. being invaded in co-op is less stressful and more fun because you don't have to use a limited and valuable item every time you die just to play with your friends again. this was always a bad mechanic and good riddance.

• the inclusion of traditional souls areas in addition to the amazing open world. it feels like they combined the old formula with the new and nothing was lost. only gained. map design that puts even ds1 to shame.

• not only does this game feel like 10x bigger than the other souls, it feels bigger than ANY game. imagine a game larger than skyrim where every bit of content was actually DIFFERENT from each other and generally compelling? imagine if castlevania sotn had so much map that it was almost TOO much.

• FUCKING MUSIC! fucking actual music in the world and in dungeons. and it's good! sorry but "minimalistic sound design" is code for "i hate music". maybe they realised how badly breath of the wild was criticized after the fact for it's sparse music??

• more weapons and spells and abilities etc than anyone knows what to do with. they took the same approach as castlevania sotn did and said "throw everything in there". tho it's all fairly balanced (but not so much that it's boring).

• every build is fun and viable, often from the start. no stats are dead.

• poise is actually good but also optional.

• little things with how your player moves around and interacts with the world keep you from dying unfairly as often. player mistakes, rather than input mistakes, are what tend to kill you.

• JUMPING. thank god. a jump button. adds so much. fixes so much.

• removed the "press up on the analog stick as you attack" to do certain moves. nobody liked accidentally kicking in the older games. it was sloppy and thank god it's gone.

• enemy groups (and certain enemies) recharge your health and mana flasks. so you're rewarded for continuing to play rather than punished.

there's probably other good stuff i'm forgetting, but i also wanted to bring up my few complaints. if these were changed then it could have been even better:

• STILL NO DIFFICULTY SETTINGS 🙄... i cannot comprehend how anyone can defend this. even just having an OPTIONAL "casual" mode alongside the normal mode? would open this game up to tons of new fans. miyazaki's whole "joy of overcoming hardship" is frankly a moronic philosophy. and elden ring is actually objective proof that more people like souls games when they're easier. even the most insufferable ds1 tryhards ADORE this game and consider it the best. how can that be possible if an easy mode would "compromise the game's vision"?? the answer is simple. it fucking wouldn't.

• still no pause 🙄. most of us are adults. shut the fuck up and put a pause in your game so i can answer an important call without dying. hell, you can make pausing a toggle and disable it when online. stop making excuses for lacking basic functionality.

• while i still enjoyed some of it, the last 15% of the game is comparatively flawed and unfair. basic enemies suddenly soak up and dish out 10x more damage. the world design can feel obnoxious. and i'm being way less critical than most. a lot of people HATE this part.

• a couple of the bosses are pure shit. IT'S ONLY LIKE TWO THO! the first (and worst) offender is actually near the start of the game and it blocks off progress. it just doesn't make sense for it to be so hard considering where it's at. i know it was the final boss of the network test, but it should have been nerfed/moved/removed in the main game. the second was at least an optional endgame boss, but it was SO cheap. nothing about it felt fair. the fight is so bad that the main strategy used to beat it is "just respec and cheese it, then respec back after". to be fair, that's only two bad bosses in like... what... 70?!?

• still no way to make invaders optional. even if it wasn't nearly as much of a problem this time, it's still annoying. because most ppl who invade always try to cheat or exploit because they have no honor (or skill).

• nobody likes your poison swamps, miyazaki.

• a few other annoying mechanics too, like one hit kill death chariots. or teleportation chests.

• stop nerfing things via updates... you're gonna ruin a good thing if you overbalance. this is a single player game first and foremost. it doesn't really NEED a lot of balance patches. it certainly doesn't need to be any harder...

most of my complaints are fairly minor in comparison, and made less frustrating due to all of the vast improvements elden ring brings to souls. tbh most of the divisive aspects of the souls series are gone. and i finally have a souls game that i adore without compromise. i'd recommend this game to anyone who can play games. and if you can't play games? watch someone play it. because it's one of the most wonderful games ever made.

#i cant wait for the dlc #elden ring #long

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suddenlysackler · 4 years ago

Text

Afterglow (Nice to Meet You Series)

Charlie Barber x Reader

Nice to Meet You: a series of one shots based off of this post. Previous installments can be found here:

Adam Sackler

TW: Lil bit of angst and cynicism at the beginning, mentions of divorce, breakups, anxiety, depression, mention of alcohol consumption

A/N: This is my first piece that I’ve posted in awhile, I’m so sorry for the content drought! This series is kind of sporadic atm (kind of a result of life) but I miss you all so very much. Here’s to a normal content schedule some day 💓 Thank you for reading!

...

Timing always tends to be a funny thing, you supposed.

You weren’t sure if you were an “everything happens for a reason” sort of person person, a person who believed in fate. Who believed in soulmates. You used to be that way six years ago, before the reality of life and relationships and loss and grief and disappointment and all of the wonderful bad things had gotten to you. Had snatched up who you were, chewed that essence up, and spit it right back out.

So here you were, one year removed from when everything essentially blew up in your face, leaving you to rebuild.

And here Charlie was, coming off one of the worst years of his life, knowing almost exactly how you felt.

The cynic in you is saying that it’s just too cliché, the two of you being so broken and finding each other like this.

The small voice in the back of your mind that’s still clinging to the dreamer you once were? It’s telling you that the two of you were meant to find each other and, yeah, you roll your eyes every time the thought crosses your mind. However, with each passing day, you become more and more convinced that it was true.

How embarrassing.

It’s one of those rare September days that happen before the seasons change, when it feels more like mid October than the last few days of summer. Your cheeks are burning from the wind that whips your hair everywhere, a pleasant cold that you’d longed for over the summer months. The hot coffee in your hand threatens to spill from it’s cup and you take tentative sips when you absolutely have to stop at crosswalks and wait for cars to go by before darting out again.

Naturally, you were running late to the Saturday morning meeting of people on the New York theater scene planning for what the industry calls red bucket season. In the aftermath of all of the loss and grief and spiraling thoughts last fall you had finally said yes to the constant begging of your coworkers in the marketing department at Schubert and started to become more heavily involved with Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids. The overwhelming joy that came with the annual Flea Market in the Schubert Ally last September had given you hope to last all the way through to red bucket season, which carried you into the spring and helped you to feel like you were doing something productive with your time other than sleep, eat, work, and cry.

You’d met people from different companies in the theater world, met so many lovely actors and musicians and dressers and heads of house and developed a net to busy yourself, to affirm your sense of self worth, to get a drink with on a Sunday afternoon when the ghost light was finally turned on after the matinee crowd had finally cleared the stage door and the last member of the orchestra had said goodnight.

Taking a deep breath and glancing at your watch only to see that you were fifteen minutes late, you swallow and push your way through the doors, cheeks heating up even more if at all possible. There isn’t anyone you know staring back at you when all twenty something people turn to see who had arrived late and interrupted the meeting’s organizer. You cringe internally as you call out a simple apology and slip into the first vacant seat that catches your eye.

Enter Charlie Barber.

His head whipped back when everyone else’s had. He had looked you up and down, tried to see if you were anyone he knew like everyone else in the room. He couldn’t see you, didn’t really see you until you plopped down next to him, wind blown and flustered and absolutely breathtaking.

Post divorce finalization, Charlie had decided that he wasn’t going to go looking for someone else. He didn’t need someone to come in and pick up all the pieces or any of that bullshit. He wasn’t looking for a savior to fix it all —grief was something to handle on your own in his eyes.

As you lean over and whisper another apology to him specifically, as if you had inconvenienced him personally by sweeping into the room late and choosing to sit next to him and draw attention to him too, Charlie feels like he’s been hit by a truck. The simple apology rings like a crescendo through his head and chest and he feels it in his bones. He rushes out his acknowledgement, tells you it’s okay, but he feels like his mouth has turned into molasses.

About halfway through the presentation, he leans over and nudges you, pointing out a typo in the slide presentation. It’s a bold move, all things considered — you did know the woman running the meeting, she was your boss and someone you considered to be a close acquaintance. You’d mentioned as much when Charlie had turned to you during some dumb partner exercise she had made you all do to get to know each other.

The stifled laughter that bubbles past your lips rivals any top forty hit that played in the background when Charlie got his coffee that morning, much earlier than you, in the coffee shop three blocks from the auditorium you were now sitting in. Suddenly, he finds himself obsessing over how it would sound uninhibited by the social circumstances. He wants to make you laugh over and over again.

It’s chance that the two of you are assigned to help run the first red bucket training session of the season before the first performance of a long running musical that you had never seen nor cared to have seen three days later. It’s close to dinner time and you’ve had a long day at the office. Charlie’s had a long day too, a long few days thinking about when he’d see you again. How well the two of you had gotten on, how your hands had brushed over each other at the stupid little food spread during your break on Saturday.

He thinks about what he should wear, what you’d be wearing, if you’d want to run across the street afterwards and split a pie at the local pizza joint that all of the tourists frequented before shows, wanting to get an “authentic” slice but not wanting to stray to far from the familiarity of the theater district and Times Square in all of it’s grubby, overrated glory.

Charlie doesn’t assume he’d even crossed your mind since you parted ways Saturday. He figures you’re busy, that you aren’t looking for anything because you’re just fine on your own or maybe you’re with somebody else. He doesn’t chance snooping on your social media to break the lovely reverie dancing in his head as he falls asleep Saturday, Sunday, and Monday evening. The one where he gets to start over, gets to start a relationship that’s based in equal footing and rationality rather than fear and chaotic emotions and limelight.

Little does he know that you’ve been thinking about him too, your mind reeling with the same possibilities for yourself. It scared you more than anything that you’d even begun to entertain those types of thoughts.

You knew he’d just come off of an ugly divorce. Hell, you knew who he was when you had plopped down next to him and caught a glimpse of his furrowed brow and broad shouldered stature. You hadn’t expected someone as busy as him, as important as him to be here with the rest of you, all minor players in the theater world for the most part. You certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy your time with him and dance almost the whole way home because you were so excited that you’d been given the opportunity to see him again.

Was it worth asking him to hang out after the meeting? Would he laugh in your face? Turn you down politely and tell you he’d see you at your next assigned training session? Would he ignore it and walk out to meet someone else and kiss them under the lights of the marquees?

You spent the whole meeting wondering how you would ask him, if you would even ask him. You worked on autopilot, completely preoccupied with stealing glances across the room at Charlie, joking with Charlie during breaks, brushing Charlie’s hand when you passed him paper...Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.

“Nice work tonight.” A baritone voice pulls you from your thoughts and you glance up to see the man himself, eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiles down at you while the cast filters back stage.

You start to clean things up, trying to busy yourself so you don’t put your foot in your mouth. “You too, Charlie.” You hum, mentally kicking yourself because wow were you lame. You could have said anything else and you just echoed his words instead? Your chances were slipping right through your fingers.

He picks at lint on his sweater that isn’t even there, kicks some invisible object as he watches you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before last weekend? Charlotte told me you’ve been with Schubert for awhile now and both of my shows have been in Schubert buildings. So’s my third.”

“You were talking to Charlotte about me?” You ask, head snapping up with a shit eating grin. He was talking about you with other people?

Charlie’s cheeks go bright red and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. He stumbles over his words, tries to come up with any other explanation to hide the truth of why he had asked Charlotte about you. Before he could say anything else, you swallow your nerves, then stand up straighter.

“Because maybe I’ve been talking to her about you.” You shrug — you hadn’t really. Hell, you don’t even know why the words came out of your mouth.

His eyes sparkle a bit as he tilts his head. “Maybe?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The man standing across from you grabs an armful of infographics and slips them into the box that was meant to go to the head of house, to have on hand for people interested in donating. “Charlotte mentioned you liked pizza.” He says and, of course, it couldn’t have been true, you didn’t know Charlotte that well, but you appreciated the effort.

You smile and take a step forward, looking him up and down shyly. “Maybe I do.”

Charlie snorts, rolls his eyes, then nudges you playfully for good measure as he prays that he’s reading the room correctly. “Well maybe you’d want to get some with me?”

You half hear the question. He’s so handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If he knows he’s had you weak at the knees since the minute you’d made eye contact with him Saturday. “Maybe I’d like that.” You say, eyes round and full of wonder.

He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s a date then.”

“You want to call it a date?” Butterflies are now running rampant in your stomach.

“Maybe.”

You’re both grinning from ear to ear now, faces hot and hands sweaty and shaking. “If you’re calling it a date, then yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

So Charlie takes you across the street and you each eat half a pizza, laughing over cheap wine and talking about how snooty actors could be. How demanding the stage door was. Your respective backgrounds in theater, his early success, your acceptance of the fact that you wouldn’t make it big and it was better to just settle into marketing and still be in the industry. Job security and such.

He takes your hand outside of the restaurant as you lead him toward the local bakery that sells cookies fresh from the oven.

You intertwine your fingers with his while you stand in line for hot chocolate as dusk turns to night in Central Park.

He kisses you after wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth on the Brooklyn bound A train a half hour later. And again on your stoop when you finally arrive home.

He kisses you another time after he gives you his number and then once more when he realizes he’s only a ten minute walk from your apartment.

After heading upstairs, showering, doing some dirty dishes, and then plopping onto your bed, you smile when you see three texts from Charlie on your phone’s lock screen. Was it cliché to say that he had swooped in and fixed everything? Yeah and he didn’t fix anything really. He’d kissed you a few times and held your hand, sure, and he seemed like he wanted more. You wanted more too, but that didn’t mean that you were healed.

All you did know was that the hopeless romantic in you was louder than they had been for the better part of two years and you couldn’t stop smiling and wondering if it was coincidence that you had plopped down next to Charlie Barber during the meeting. Was it coincidence that the barista had taken longer with your latte that morning or was it fate telling you to take a deep breath and hold on tight because in a matter of minutes, you’d be meeting someone special.

#Charlie Barber #Adam Driver #Marriage Story #reader self insert #Charlie x reader #Charlie Barber x reader #Charlie #Charlie Barber fic #Charlie fic #Marriage Story fic #charlie barber x you #charlie x you #charlie barber reader insert

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missmonsters2 · 5 years ago

Text

The Color of You || Part II

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Action

NOTE: I’ve been aggressively reading on color therapy & the psychology of color LOL You’re more than welcome to comment/reply to this post if you would like to be added to a tag list.

PART I

PART II of X

Count: 3715

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha was in the middle of her living room, looking over William’s profile again.

She spread out the photos provided to her before leaning back with her fingers holding her chin.

Natasha was still working on her plan.

Maria had helped her set up dedicated funds to her mission to use as his investor, but she needed more than that.

She needed more than just being a sponsor to him.

She needed to get into his inner circle.

Idly tapping her chin, Natasha’s thoughts wandered to you from the other night. The sight of you tucking your hair behind your ear and demure smile wouldn’t leave her mind.

How did someone like you end up with someone like William?

The sound of her phone vibrating brought her out of her thoughts.

Clint: How’s it going over there?

It was Clint texting her to check in on her. Again.

Nat: It’s fine. Stop texting me unless you’re dying.

Clint: ...Rude...

Natasha rolled her eyes with a light smile before looking at the clock. Sighing, she stood up to get prepared for tonight’s events.

William was hosting another event, but this time as part of his political campaign. He was hosting it in his home, so it was a big opportunity for Natasha to look around.

Her goal of the night was still to obviously information gather but to also take a look around in his home, and secure a personal invite over where there would be more one-on-one time.

It would also give her an opportunity to get to know you better as well. That night when she caught your eye from across the room, it was like an electrical bolt hitting her that you were more than just a trophy wife to William.

And when Natasha got that feeling, she was certainly always right.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“You know, this wouldn’t be so bad if you just imagine that you’re on fire and the building is collapsing.”

Natasha snorted as David took a sip from his drink.

“Tell us how you really feel,” she replied with a smirk.

Though she couldn’t blame him. God, she was bored out of her mind. The amount of old white men she had spoken to already this evening was already numbing her mind.

Natasha had arrived at an appropriate time, neither early nor too late. William had approached her within minutes of her arriving, driving her into a conversation about his campaign, and her thoughts. She had merely nodded her head at the time about his interesting policies, occasionally saying something that would suggest to him that she agreed or shared the same ideology.

When more guests started to pour in, William regarded her with his own smile, asking if she would be free sometime in the next couple of days to have lunch with him.

It was secured and almost entirely too easy.

Just as the right amount of guests came to keep William busy, she disappeared off to snoop around.

She checked the place from head to toe, every nook and cranny.

But she didn’t find anything suspicious, not even a book out of place. Everything was where it was meant to be.

And that was off to Natasha. It was like everything was staged to show what William wanted people to see, but Natasha saw that whatever William was hiding, she wouldn’t find it here.

“So,” David said, breaking Natasha out of her thoughts. “What did you think of William’s fiancé?”

“Have you met her?” Natasha asked in return, watching as David nodded once.

“Yes, I kind of want to ask her to blink twice if she’s being held against her will because there’s no way William managed to woo a girl like that.”

Natasha chuckled throatily, trying to contain the full burst of laughter that truly wanted to come out. She was coming to appreciate her time spent with David, a man who clearly shared many similar thoughts to her and had no problem saying them out loud.

“This party is as riveting as watching paint dry, and I think I’ve stayed my obligatory time, I’m going to head out? Are you staying?” David asked as he put his drink down against the bar, dusting his hands off.

“Just a little longer,” Natasha answered. It didn’t feel like she had gotten enough intel on anything other than whatever William was hiding was most likely off base. Not to even mention she hadn’t seen you tonight either.

“Alright,” David said, taking a step forward before turning to her. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, come to my estate and have lunch with me.”

Natasha raised her brow at David but nodded, bidding him goodbye as he left. For another 45 minutes, she made an effort to talk to more people at the party, easily being able to identify who would be sponsoring and donating to William’s campaign. There were a couple of men and women she made a mental note to look into more as they were clearly radicals.

After Natasha felt like she had done enough for the night, she made a move to leave. As she passed the balcony though, she caught a similar silhouette. She opened the door quietly, pushing through the thick red curtain to find you standing out there alone against the railing. You were wearing another long-sleeved dress that revealed nothing but your curves.

Natasha closed the door softly, content that it shut out the unintelligible noises from inside.

“Are you not enjoying the party?”

You whipped around, body tensed with a sharp turn of your head at Natasha’s presence.

“I--”

You coughed lightly, a blush dusting your cheeks as you admitted slowly, “I don’t fit in well with this type of crowd.”

That was interesting, Natasha thought.

From what Natasha knew, you were from an affluential family, although you did just make it out of bankruptcy.

This was supposed to be your crowd.

“That’s alright. You’re all the better for not fitting in.” Natasha walked up to the ledge next to you, resting her elbow up before propping her chin on it. There was a slight breeze that brushed against Natasha’s fingers.

She looked over subtly to you, her eyes drawing down to your neatly trimmed nails, spotting a small line of paint just on the side of your ring finger. Natasha ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth at the sight.

You had your head tilted downwards and slightly to the side, it gave a great view of your slender neck and defined collarbone as you had a soft smile to what Natasha had said.

It was the small things like this that caused the confusion in Natasha.

You had chosen a man like William Cain to be your husband, and for some reason, Natasha couldn’t ignore that.

But Natasha could feel that a direct approach with you would cause you to close yourself off. She needed to be careful.

“And what about you, Miss Rovinski? Are you someone who fits in?” You asked quietly in return.

It was quiet for a moment, and Natasha licked her bottom lip slowly.

“I guess you can say I fit in anywhere but belong nowhere,” Natasha admitted quietly, and when she went to see your expression, it was as if you were not surprised by the answer.

Perhaps seeing that quality in Natasha.

“Do you want to know something interesting?” Natasha asked, and it seemed the question surprised you, but you nodded, albeit a little hesitantly.

“A few days ago I went to a local café in the morning, and I had overheard a conversation between two men who couldn’t understand how society, women, in particular, were so invested in art and fashion. There was too much emphasis on art, and it was overrated.”

Natasha caught your nervousness at the statement and quirked her lips.

“I didn’t agree with the sentiment as they commented on how the café looked bare and too plain--a problem only art could solve, isn’t that right?”

You hadn’t quite reacted to Natasha’s story, unsure where she was really going with this.

“I went to an artist’s gallery opening a couple months ago, and it featured a painting of a local village she had experienced in her travels. It was filled with such vibrant colors, sharp and soft. No words had accompanied the painting, yet people crowded around it, overwhelmed with emotion. Some people cried, some laughed loudly, and some were echoed by the image--are you understanding me?”

You nodded slowly.

“So, I’ve decided that sometimes art is the only thing that can draw out what people may truly be feeling, leaves a mark that words cannot reach,” Natasha said as she looked up at the starry sky.

Natasha turned back and gave you a quiet, warm smile. “That’s why I envy artists sometimes for being able to reach people in a different light.”

The hesitance and stiffness in you melted away with Natasha’s words, a rare genuine smile gracing your lips for her.

Natasha pulled back her arms, looking towards the door.

This was enough for tonight.

Natasha was leaving before your voice stopped her.

“Thank you...your words have reached me...and they make me incredibly happy.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha stood in front of two large mahogany doors before they opened to reveal Davidl standing there.

“Natanya, you made it! Did you find it okay?” He greeted her, pulling her into a slight hug and kisses on either side of her cheeks.

“Yes, my driver seemed to know exactly where he was going.” It seemed like all luxurious private drivers knew where the big players were.

“Come on in, I’ve got someone preparing us tea and lunch. Are you allergic to anything or any preferences?” David asked as he ushered her in. It was quite a walk to his patio outside. A full garden with a pond and fountain that was well maintained was the view.

“No, anything will be fine,” Natasha said as she took her seat, placing her small purse onto the table.

David sat across from her, crossing his legs so that his ankle rested against his thigh, and temple resting against his knuckles.

“Someone else will be coming too,” David said with a casual smile. “My boyfriend.”

Natasha raised her brow. That had explained some things.

“Why tell me that? What if I was extremely homophobic?” Natasha asked, only to see what David would say.

David let out a genuine laughter.

“Please,” he said after his laugh. “We flock together like birds. I’ve seen you eyeing various women throughout the parties--and men, although it looked like you were eyeing them begrudgingly.”

Natasha wasn’t sure if David had a better eye than she thought or if his gaydar was just that good, either way, she did feel a little exposed.

“What’s your boyfriend like?” Natasha asked, changing the topic from her.

David smiled softly, “Liam’s a photographer. He doesn’t come from money which I like. He’ll call me out on my shit if he thinks I’m being a dickhead. You should see him when I try to do extravagant things.”

David was chuckling by the end of it, the softness bringing a small smile to Natasha’s lips.

“Do your parents know?” Natasha asked.

“Yep,” David sighs. “They think it’s just a phase, but Liam is the one for me, I’m pretty sure. Since I’m the only child, my parents haven’t cut me off yet because they want me to take over the business. Once they see how serious I am, I have no idea how they’ll react. I’m fully prepared to be cut off, but Liam’s been teaching me about putting money away in case that happens.”

Natasha couldn’t help but smile at how endearing this all sounded, a rich man with learning how to save and budget from his financially average boyfriend.

The rest of the afternoon, they had made small idle chat until Liam arrived. He was a pretty athletically fit man, taller than David and nearly hovering over him. He had a boyish soft charm, yet intensity to him that made Natasha see why David was so enamored.

“I saw William today leaving from my photoshoot,” Liam commented as he finished up his meal.

“Oh?” David commented, disinterestedly.

“Yeah,” Liam continued. “He was standing outside a café with someone I haven’t recognized from any of the parties or his campaign. He seemed pretty angry with whoever he was talking to since he was shouting and flailing his arms.”

That piqued Natasha’s attention.

“Oh, wow,” Natasha commented. “What café was it?”

“The one on 18th. There’s a whole bunch of cafés down that street.”

Natasha hummed, storing that information for later.

The rest of the lunch went smooth, and eventually, David took them inside to his living area.

Natasha looked at the photos around the room, a lot of it being childhood photos of David. She was intrigued to see so many pictures of him and another boy. It wasn’t until she found a high school photo of David and the man next to him a younger version of William.

“Wow, you guys really were family friends,” Natasha commented as she took the photo from the ledge to look at it closer.

David hummed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “We were actually pretty close back in high school and a little through university.”

“What changed?” Natasha asked because it was clear now that David hated the other man.

David leaned his head on his fist against the chair as Liam sat next to him. “He was always arrogant, don’t get me wrong. But you could tell he cared about things, I guess. I think it all started to change after his dad died midway the first year of university.”

“Oh, it was a car accident, right?” Natasha inquired. That was what was on his file.

David pursed his lip, looking around his home as if to see if anyone else was there.

“That’s what his family wanted officially published. But the truth is, we don’t really know for sure.”

That was interesting, Natasha thought. Her file should’ve had that. Why was his father’s death so tight-lipped?

She would have to do more digging on that because whatever it was, it was clearly a changing point for William.

The subject dropped, and they chatted for about another hour before Natasha decided that it was time to go.

“Oh!” David exclaimed before she was leaving. “Before you go, my parents are hosting their 40th anniversary next weekend. Here’s your invitation. I know you’re going to see William and his fiancé...please give this to them.”

“I swear you rich people have a party every week,” Liam mumbled.

Natasha took the invitations, raising her brow at David. Clearly, the man just didn’t want to see William. He smiled widely at her trying to look innocent, and Natasha could only roll her eyes.

David gave her a parting hug while Liam shook her hand.

This afternoon turned out to be more fulfilling than she thought it was going to be.

She had some useful information to work with.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Maria: Sorry, there’s nothing on his father’s death other than it being a car accident. We’ve even got all the records pulled for the coroner's report and the police records. All points to a car accident. I sent you the photos too.

Natasha sighed frustratedly as she threw her phone next to her on the couch.

Fuck, she thought. How could that be? It was evident that within the inner circle, that wasn’t how the man died.

Why could they pull nothing?

She supposed she wouldn’t find out unless she got into the inner circle.

On the bright side, Natasha managed to find who William was talking to at the café by hacking into the street cameras to find the photos of them.

It was a rather rugged-looking man, definitely not someone who belongs in the affluent circle. She had sent the photos off to see what they could come up with when she got back from lunch that day.

Her phone dinged again, this time with information sent to her.

The man’s name was Emilio Vartez. Nothing out of the usual other than petty crimes, but the fact that William was associating himself with someone like that was already telling.

She needed to see if she could find this Emilio Vartez.

Her phone dinged again, but this time to remind her that she needed to stop by The Cain estates. She had scheduled her meeting with William today, and it would be a chance to drop off David’s invitations as well.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

“I’m so sorry, Miss Rovinski. Mr. Cain had a sudden work emergency that just came up. He had to leave right away. I’m not too sure when he’ll be back, but he will be reaching back out to you to reschedule.”

William’s assistant was near bowing at Natasha who had simply raised her hand to show it was a no big deal.

“That’s fine,” Natasha told the assistant to stop her from apologizing. “Actually is the soon-to-be Mrs. Cain here? I need to drop off an invitation.”

The assistant actually looked hesitant to tell Natasha where you were, but it was like she reminded herself that you were now public.

“Oh, yes,” the assistant coughed after a moment. “She’s in her art studio. It’s on the second level, the farthest room in the back. I’m sorry, I would walk you, but I really have to meet up with one of the campaign managers right now.”

Natasha shook her head, “That’s fine, really. I’m sure I will find her. If not, I’ll play Marco-Polo with her.”

The assistant let out a burst of loud laughter that made Natasha internally jump.

The assistant laughed the entire way out, and Natasha stood there blinking until she was gone.

After that, Natasha followed the assistant’s directions. She would’ve taken longer to snoop around, but since she already knew she wouldn’t find anything, she went straight to her destination.

Natasha could see you through the clear window on the door. The studio was large in size, blank canvases and easels lined up on one side. You had your back turned to Natasha in a large men’s dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up in front of a canvas, various paint tubes everywhere.

Natasha entered the room quietly, just observing you. You head was tilted with your thumb in the middle of the canvas, your paintbrush delicately held between your lips.

“What are you drawing?”

You jumped as you turned around, paintbrush falling from your mouth. The brush rolled until it hit Natasha’s foot.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Natasha said as she picked up the brush to hand it to you.

You had your hair in a bun, strands have fallen out. Demurely, you brushed a strand behind your ear as you regarded Natasha.

“I’m here to give you an invitation to the King’s party next week.”

“I suppose David didn’t want to see William?” You asked with a little mirth in your tone that made Natasha quirk her lips.

“You know about David’s...feelings?”

“He doesn’t exactly keep it a secret,” you say, delicately opening the envelope.

“It doesn’t bother you that he feels that way about your husband?”

You merely smiled lopsidedly.

“My fiancé,” you corrected subtly, “is a politician.”

That’s all you said to explain, but Natasha understood the unsaid words. She eyed your canvas again and looked at your prep work.

“Watercolor?”

To her surprise, a light blush dusted your cheeks.

“It’s my favorite,” you quietly admitted.

“Why?” Natasha pried.

You looked at your easel, the faint pencil sketches on your canvas.

“I like that it’s transparent,” you said so faintly that Natasha almost didn’t catch it.

Suddenly, you turned back to face Natasha, eyeing her.

“Do you like the color black?” You asked as you caught onto her black cashmere turtleneck.

“I do,” Natasha admitted.

“Would you like to hear something interesting about it?” You were looking at Natasha so calmly, it was bringing something out in her.

“Yes.”

“People think that the color black only symbolizes unhappiness, grief, and misery, but studies show that people who are powerful wear the color black--lawyers, judges, Steve Jobs.”

Natasha laughed a little at the last one.

“Want to hear more?” You said, smiling as Natasha nodded.

“They say people who like the color black are mysterious and like to keep a certain boundary between them and the outside world.”

Natasha tilted her head. “Do you think that of me?”

“I believe only time will let me know.”

You stood up, walking by Natasha before she reached out and grabbed your wrist softly. The action seemed to surprise you as your arm pressed against the sleeve of her shirt.

“Do you like the color green?” Natasha asked as you had shades of green painted across your arm.

“At the moment, yes,” you replied.

“Would you like to know something interesting about it?” Natasha asked, repeating you. You smiled in response.

“Doctors use the color green to help relieve the fatigue in their eyes from the blood during operations, it helps them focus on examining wounds in better detail.”

You tilted your head at the fact, intrigued.

“Want to hear more?” Natasha asked, smiling herself when you nodded.

“They say kind, loyal, and compassionate people pick green as their favorite color.”

You swallowed at the words, overwhelmed by it, but Natasha could tell you were grateful nonetheless. When she released your wrist, your eyes were drawn to the streak of green smudged on her sweater.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, let me get that fo--”

“It’s alright,” Natasha interrupted you, looking at the splash of color on her sleeve. “I think your green goes well against my black.”

When she looked up, you swallowed deeply at her emerald eyes that just peered into you. Natasha was already walking towards the door before she looked back at you, bidding you goodbye for now with a definitive voice.

“I’ll see you soon.”

When Natasha walked out the front door, she clenched her jaw.

It was only a second, but it made all the difference to Natasha.

You had jumped before she spoke.

You weren’t surprised--or scared.

You expected her to be there.

PART III

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not-iscariot · 4 years ago

Photo

This was really hard but if you’re interested in my reasoning then scroll below...

Favorite game of all time: Dragon Age Inquisition

For a lot of the answers I wanted to give Big Brain Answers, but thinking through all the games I’ve ever played... I don’t have the hours on any other game like I do this one. I have my own issues with the franchise and some of the decisions that get made but hot damn does a good RPG Fantasy series do it for me. I’ve never played another game that genuinely feels different and unique every playthrough, the world is so big and the ability to feel like a bunch of different versions of the Inquisitor are some of the reasons I find the game so fun to replay. I’ve played 3 games through to completion, 2 with the Trespasser DLC, and 1 where I played every DLC available. I’m currently on another playthrough right now... so based on my attachment and hour log I would say this is my favorite game of all time.

Best Story: Mass Effect 3

This was also really hard because there are a lot of games where I loved the story. I think it’s really hard to end a series and I honestly liked the ending of Mass Effect although not everyone is a fan. The choice-consequence ramifications in this game are pretty brutal and it’s rewarding to see the conclusion of so many of the companions’ arcs. The first time I finished this game I was sobbing which showed how much investment I had in the story and the characters, especially Shepard. I think there are a lot of interesting larger ideas explored in the series like collective consciousness through the Geth as well as the tension between synthetic and organic, which I found myself thinking about a lot when reading Emergent Strategy.

Favorite Art Style: The Wolf Among Us

RIP Telltale. I liked a lot of their games, but WAU is where I feel the style really hit it’s stride. It worked super well with the fantasy/detective story. I’m sad they never got to finish the game.

“I’ll finish it some day”: Zelda: Breath of the Wild

BotW is a really amazing game but I have never in my life finished a Zelda game. I want to finish it bad but I sucked literal ass at the boss fights. I also struggle hard with games that have huge open worlds when there isn’t a story really driving me through objectives and missions. Some people love the freedom, I tend to get bored quickly. I dropped the game because I didn’t have time to play it so when I feel up to it again I’m starting from the beginning.

Big Personal Impact: Dragon Age 2

This game made me realize I was bi and helped me come out. That’s pretty much all there is to it. By far my favorite companion set, I hope for future games they take more cross impact between companion characters because that was seriously lacking in Inquisition.

Best Combat: Spider-man

Super fun combat that you personalize to your fighting style. When I was hitting my best in terms of combos it felt super cool. Just a really strong game gameplay-wise.

You like, but everyone else hates: Beyond: Two Souls

I don’t know if everyone hates it but when I talk about it I hear a lot of groans... this is definitely one of my favorite games to play with someone else and I think it’s super engaging to play with people who aren’t really into video games. It’s easy enough for them to get into with a decent story and decent twist reveals.

You hate, but everyone likes: Fallout Franchise

I’ve tried so hard to get into these games. I own most of them but I have never been able to finish one. Fallout 4 was super buggy and I couldn’t get through some of the critical fights. I wanted to be into it but it just didn’t do it for me.

Underrated: Jedi Fallen Order

I don’t think it’s that underrated but I had a friend tell me it was “just Dark Souls with lightsabers” and I thought that was an unfair assessment. The Jedi gameplay is really fun and the boss fights are hard but so worth it to keep trying until you get through them. Also, as a Star Wars nerd, I liked this offshoot exploration of the Jedi.

Overrated: The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt

OK I bought this game having never played a Witcher game or engaged with really any Witcher content and I thought, based off the amazing reviews, that wouldn’t be a problem but I could not get through it. I just didn’t understand what the heck was going on or get attached to any of the characters. I went back and bought the first two games on sale, although the first is so frustrating because you have to obsessively save so that you don’t lose progress. I’m open to changing my mind down the road but I just didn’t get into it.

“Why do I like this?”: Grand Theft Auto V

I bought this at the beginning of quarantine last year as a long game to have that would take me ages to complete so I wouldn’t lose my mind. It’s the only GTA game I’ve ever played and I got super into it even though it’s like... GTA. Truly just THAT video game stereotype, you know?

Game you always go back to: Borderlands 2

I’ve played the other Borderlands games but this is definitely my favorite. Just a decent game to playthrough either on your own or with other people. I like the drop-in, drop-out story play through you can do with people.

That atmosphere...: Stardew Valley

Pretty self-explanatory. I wish I lived there. I want what they have...

Bad Day Cure: The Uncharted Franchise

Decent story and story arcs. Good gameplay to zone out to. I like the characters. This was the first set of games I played on my PS4 and it was during a blizzard. Super replayable.

Favorite Protagonist: Hades (Zagreus)

I almost said Dragon Age 2 for Hawke but because Hawke’s personality really depends on the player (I exclusively do humorous) I didn’t feel that counted for strong protag writing. Zagreus rocks. Bi king. He’s sensitive and caring and tough and funny. His arc is so wholesome... my childhood trauma definitely projected heavy onto this game.

After Work Game: Left 4 Dead 2

This was the first game I ever bought on Steam back in 2012 to play with my online friends from deviantArt... that’s how old this game is for me. I’ve clocked almost 400 hours and it’s definitely my go-to comfort/tune out game. I literally play this game to self soothe when I have anxiety... I’m so used to it and familiar with the gameplay that it doesn’t stress me out at all.

Biggest Letdown: Mass Effect Andromeda

After ME series I was honestly fine where Shepard’s story ended and I was down for another protag and offshoot story but... the game sucked. The combat was fun and it wasn’t unplayable but ME was so good that this game just didn’t live up to the standard. The companions are just not as interesting or engaging, it was buggy and animated weird as hell, and I couldn’t give a fuck about Ryder honestly...

“Back in the day” game: Pokémon Ruby/Sapphire

Curling up on the couch or in my room on my Gameboy Advanced SP in red collecting pokémon... these were the DAYS.

“Not the best but having fun”: Fire Emblem Franchise

Three Houses is definitely my favorite and the only other that I liked out of the few I’ve played was Awakening. I think the games are decent and fun, Three Houses was definitely the strongest in terms of side characters and story, but there are still issues like... how romancing works. Claude is so bisexual it’s actually alarming...

Criminally Overlooked: Mirror’s Edge

This series had potential to become such a cool franchise but it stopped after Catalyst. I was so invested in the world they created and it was just very... whatever Watchdogs was trying to do but I didn’t like as much. Some really awesome gameplay, just a lot of parkour and running.

Depressing Game: The Walking Dead

This game and the subsequent ones I just feel so bad for Clementine, this poor girl cannot win. I never finished the last season because I lost track of what Telltale ended up doing, but now I know they finished it so I gotta get back in there. Yeah I cried at the end of this first game.

Favorite ACTIVE Franchise: Dragon Age

So many issues with the series but... it’s likely if they’ve announced a new one I’ve already pre-ordered. I’m very invested and hope Dragon Age 4 is as good if not better than Inquisition...

Not usually my thing but...: Red Dead Redemption 2

Not at all a game I would usually get based of how it was advertised and explained to me as well as the usual crowd who’s into it but... I really loved it. I said this before that I’m not great with super large maps and free reign but RDR2 is one of the few exceptions. I would spend hours just running around and hunting. I started playing it in quarantine and lord... it was so nice to just roam around this huge, beautiful map and feel like I was hanging out outdoors. It also made it shitty to be stuck outdoors because all I wanted to do after I finished was go on a cross-country road trip. Still very much a like... manly man game. But I don’t mind that.

Anyways that’s my two cents. Here’s the blank:

#video games #me #long post

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

Text

(Fraxus) The Duel-ity of man

Title’s a pun, not a misspelling :D

This was a request by @useless-slytherclaw, who requested Laxus realising he’s in love with Freed! Thank you for the request! Fic under the cut

Maybe, just maybe, the reason Laxus hasn't thought of Freed as dating material up till now because the man gives him so much more to think about, although he's never able to dwell upon those thoughts for very long because the man is a whirlwind of brilliant activity. If Laxus' thought were a neat pile of papers (a very hypothetical situation), then Freed is a cheeky spring breeze, luring those papers outside, scattering them in every direction that man wants them to go.

Perhaps Freed is more like a matchstick, inconspicuously landing on those imaginary papers and setting them ablaze without being conscious of the furnace he's created. One of the things Laxus is sure of, is that he's no good at neither analogies nor poetry and that he should stop trying to encapsulate the essence of his best friend in one image, because no image he could possibly conjure could live up to the man himself.

Said man is currently distracting him from trying to form coherent thoughts. Nothing new there and as the truly wise people say, thinking is overrated anyway. "What's got you thinking so hard?" Freed asks, tone teasing as he places himself on Laxus' desk, legs crossed. Effortlessly, he paints a picture of elegance that Laxus would never dare to attempt to try himself. "I don't think", he answers.

Dignity. A gift that isn't bestowed upon any member of the Dreyar family, but Laxus hopes that at least his pokerface can save him from selfinflicted embarrassment.

His pokerface doesn't stand a chance against Freed's ages of knowing and the other man raises a brow in retalation. Granting him some mercy, Freed shakes his head with a little smile. "Apparently so", he grins and Laxus thinks about throwing him off his desk. It wouldn't be that hard, Freed isn't that heavy. He knows because he's carried him before, which was all in all a nice experience.

"You're really out of it today, what's up?" There's no escaping Freed's perceptiveness and knowing this like no other, Laxus doesn't even attempt to. "I am having thoughts." Seeing the grin reappear on Freed's face, Laxus throws a paper ball in his direction. "Asshole", he mutters and the bastard has the nerve to shoot him a wink. "I'm having a crisis, but I don't know about what. Not yet, really."

Freed hums at that and gives Laxus a once over, lingering at his eyes. As they wordlessly gaze at each other, Laxus swallows dryly. He thinks he can take this tension, until Freed reaches out and tilts his chin up. Involuntarily, he shivers and his eyes quickly flits from Freed eyes to his lips and back.

Just when he's about to ask what Freed is doing, the man lets go and jumps from his desk. "Being cooped up in here isn't going to help you methinks. Darling, will you join me for a walk? Or are you gonna stay in this musty ass place, bitch?"

The difference in tone and wordchoice kicks Laxus in the teeth and damn it, he doesn't like to be on the receiving end of Freed's verbal whiplashes. "Yeah, I'm coming", he says and follows the man outside.

Freed is first and foremost, a trickster. A conman, if he must, a charming piece of man only following his own rules. Without a doubt, Laxus can say that he knows no one quite as wellspoken as Freed Justine. Without a doubt, he also knows that no one can even try to compare to Freed when it comes to cursing someone to hell and back. The man is a master of language and applies it however he wishes, pulling people in with pretty words or provoking them with vicious insults.

Whatever he wants, he will get and Laxus finds it a fascinating process to watch. (Or sometimes, plain disturbing. Once, Bickslow had been showcasing the language of the youth these days he learned while getting kidnapped by a travelling circus and Freed and him had talked in this foreign language for three whole weeks. It was awful.)

Most of the time, Laxus is merely a witness of Freed's sharptongued, quickwitted vocal charm. Whenever he's subjected to it, it leaves him a bit stumped. It probably paints him as a dim fool in Freed's mind. Sure, he isn't the brightest mind around here (how can he be when Freed's walking right next to him), but he'd like to be a tad bit better than that. He resolves to not let himself be played with that easily next time.

"Here." With a careful gesture, Freed hands him an icecream. "You're spacing off again and since you didn't answer when I oh so considerately asked you if you wanted some icecream, I took it upon myself to get you some anyway."

"Oh. Thanks." Awkwardly Laxus takes it. "Strawberry, because you have the taste of a first grader on a schooltrip", Freed smirks, sticking his tongue out like an actual first grader. "Put that tongue back or I'll give you something to do with it."

"Oh yeah?" Freed asks, voice teasing with a hint of breathlessness, lips slightly parted. Unceremoniously, Laxus shoves Freed's own icecream into the man's mouth. As the man sputters and coughs, Laxus pats him on the back.

After the coughing fit, Laxus, feeling a bit bad, finds them a scenic place in the park to sit. The trees grand them some relief from the sweltering sun and Freed ignores the perfectly fine bench to spread his jacket underneath him and lay down on the grass. His long green hair is arranges itself like a halo around his head and Laxus twirls a few strands of it between his fingers as he sits down next to him. Looking at Freed, he gives the other man a barely there smile (he's been told he's not that good at smiling).

"Camouflage", he jokes and Freed rolls his eyes. "Whatever", he says and puts a few strands of gras between his lips, like some sort of really white cowboy. "Cannibalism", Laxus whispers obnoxiously close to his ears. Freed's brows twitch in irritation and the man opens his mouth. Nothing comes out and he purses his lips together instead. With a huff, he lays his head down in Laxus' lap and closes his eyes. "I'm not acknowledging that, I'm going to take a nap instead."

"You do that captain", Laxus snorts and moves Freed's a bit, so it's more comfortable for both of them. Although he's using the title mostly jokingly in the moment, Laxus truly respects the work Freed does for their little ragtag group of friends. All of them are powerhouses in their own right, but Freed's the mastermind behind their teamwork. Laxus doesn't think that anybody in the whole world could juggle their personalities and abilities as well as he can.

For someone who looks so unassuming, Freed is a beast of a man. Most of the time, he puts his effort in making sure their team works efficiently together, disappearing in the background. It's whatever Freed in the shadows that makes them able to pull through. But on the few occassions that Laxus has seen him showcasing his strength, he's been left astounded.

Freed's an allrounder in more ways than one. On the battlefield, he's their biggest defense player, one of the best closerangers and he can take care of longer ranges too. Often he doesn't need to, because his strategic mind allows him and his team to win battles without too much trouble. He's a menace and often more brutal than Laxus dares to be.

Off the battlefield, he's the only reason none of them have died of food poisoning. Basically, Freed's what keeps them going.

With soft gestures, Laxus takes it upon himself to decorate Freed's hair with nearby flowers. As he places white and pink flowers in green tresses, he can't help but note how handsome the man in his lap is. The serenity of his expression brings out his youthfullness and as Laxus stares at this accumulation of grace, strength, beauty, competence, brilliance and so much more, Laxus finds his mind to be completely peaceful.

Although they both are men of action, Laxus wishes that moments like these wouls occur more often. A flash of Freed in a fight, deadly power contained in a smirking man, is always enjoyable but such moments are too short to truly relish in. Right now, he can breathe peacefully and stare at Freed as long as he wants. The man's not doing anything special right now and yet Laxus still feels a thrilling admiration when he looks at him. All Freed's competences and abilities are neat, but they are not the core of his being, not the exact thing Laxus is attracted to.

"Hey Freed?" he murmurs, as he feels like speaking in a louder tone will shatter this picture perfect moment. "What would you do if you liked someone?" Without opening his eyes, Freed answers, a dramatic tone colouring his voice.

"Why my dear Laxus, I would challenge them to a duel. They would accept the challenge, but little do they know, it's not a fight in an arena. Nay, we fight in the streets of the city that has seen us grow together and as we give each other little nicks with our knives, we come to the conclusion that we are deeply and madly in love. We will elope and become pirates and as the sun sets above our ship, we kiss, because we waited untill marriage for any kind of physical contact."

His gorgeous blue eyes snap open and Laxus feels pinned into place. "Then the kraken will drag our ship down and eat us alive. Reverse sannakji."

"That's awful."

"Thanks, it was pure improvisation."

Laxus sighs a bit disappointedly and Freed closes his eyes again. "I don't know. Probably ask him out for icecream." There's no misunderstanding his smile and Laxus rushes to get the words out. "I love you", he nearly spits out and Freed smiles a little wider. "I know", he says and the calm, warm tone settles any restlessness that might've still been in Laxus' body. Softly, he presses a kiss to the back of Laxus' hand. "I love you too."

He says the words like they're the easiest in the world. Laxus can't wait till he can say them that naturally as well. For now, he puts a few more flowers in his lover's hair, hoping that actions speak louder than clumsy words, although he's got a feeling that Freed will get the message nonetheless.

#fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #freedxlaxus #fairy tail #TheFairyWrites #i love these geebers

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scithemodestmermaid · 4 years ago

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i know i was just talking about how good outer worlds is but i just got to one part and remembered how much it rubs me the wrong way.

spoilers for a year-old game, and surrounding a character who used to be up on a pedestal. idk if this character is as popular anymore or if she’s been fully dethroned by cyberpunk 2077′s judy alvarez, but i might be stepping on some toes here.

so. pavarti. everybody looooooooves (or at the very least loooooooved) pavarti. and i can see why. she’s well acted and designed, her personality isn’t my thing (she’s reeeeally passive and mousey, which can be okay but she goes too far) but it appeals to a lot of people so there’s something there, and she’s an asexual teetotaler. this last part was what made her really stand out to me. characters who think sex and alcohol are overrated are honestly hard to come by in games made for grownups, so i was glad they had her be that. bravo, obsidian!

then...comes...her...loyalty...quest. her loyalty quest. which kicks off because a girl she’s pining for might have had another girlfriend, so she decides to get drunk to ease the pain. even though the whole reason she’s a teetotaler is because she noticed that drinking never solves anyone’s problem. so that’s one thing that pisses me off.

then her secondary loyalty quest is making the player buy her a bunch of stuff so she can have le perfect date with her crush. besides the fact that they could have done SO MANY OTHER INTERESTING THINGS WITH YOU AND HER BESIDES MAKING YOU HER SUGAR DADDY/MOMMA...its like, oh she’s asexual but her character quest is revolving around being attracted to someone. and yes, there’s asexual folk who still feel romantic attraction, but that’s not how the quest is written. i mean, she leads with “i don’t wanna get involved with folk” then goes full speed ahead into “LET ME INVOLVE WITH THAT PERSON”. that just reeks to me of the dumbass mindset of “don’t worry, you just haven’t found the right person yet, and then you’ll magically be a sexual being.”

never mind the fact that everything she says and does on this quest proves she is 100% not ready at all for a relationship of any kind. this guide that i looked up honestly puts it into words for me. she’s acting like a jealous teenager after immediately saying she’s not interested in relationships, turning to drinking because that’s like totally how adults deal with problems instead of talking to the person they’re having problems with (which pavarti can’t even do, because she’s THAT socially stunted, like come on girl, i’m the most socially stunted person in my circle and even i could handle this situation more maturely), and she’s just so immature about the whole thing and acting like a brat, and holy crap why is this so BAD. everything else in this game is so GOOD and the other companion quests are AMAZING and reveal so much important things about them and pavarti’s quest is just CRAPPY HIGH SCHOOL FANFIC.

so i guess i don’t like pavarti or her loyalty quests because they took two things that made her stand out and threw them out the window.

actually there’s a third thing, and it’s the most important thing of them all: she keeps trying to steal sam from me. sam is MY baby boy, keep your hands off of him you mousey brat.

oh and update, and i took sam with us on this quest and she used him as a garbage bin, pavarti is a grade-a BRAT and a HYPOCRITE (sure you loooove sam so much, but you’re literally dumping garbage in him) and im seriously considering kicking her off my ship after this.

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iamnotbrianmay · 5 years ago

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could you please do BrianxRoger one day Brian comes home to Roger having a complete breakdown because of an article labeling him the not needed band member. I may be projecting my anxiety on rog but thank you lovey💘.

Oh my god I hope you feel better, darling! Just know that there is no one in the world like you, you are irreplaceable and definitely needed around to make people’s days brighter!

☽☼☾

It was award season in the music world, or as close as award season got anyway. They were all booked for the next month or so for different award shows in the music industry, several magazine interviews, and the odd gig here and there.

It was Roger’s favourite season, or at least it should have been, until the articles came around. It started with one titled ‘The Greatest Frontmen of All Time’ and the subsequent party that Freddie threw after The Rolling Stone declared that he out ranked Robert Plant and Jimi Hendrix.

Then came Deaky’s time to shine when the same magazine decided that he was the sixth best bass player in history. John had been so excited he had cried that night, they had wrapped their arms around John, squeezing him tightly and then getting shit faced.

Then came Brian’s turn to be praised, and the guitarist had nearly vibrated out of his skin. He had been voted as one of the greatest guitar players of all times by several of his icons. And for the next few days he couldn’t shut up about it (”Jimmy Page, Roger. He said I was one of the greatest guitarists of all time!”)

And Roger? He received award season with an article in Drummer Today calling him overrated, The Rolling Stone neglecting to put him in their list of Greatest Drummers of all Time, and an article about how he was possibly one of the worst drummers in the history of rock and roll.

Yeah, it hadn’t been a great day.

Things only got worse from then as he walked to the corner store close to their house for a pack of cigarettes, rain started to pour from the sky. Buckets of water which had Roger soaked after only a few seconds of walking in the rain. And when he took out the pack of cigarettes he had bought? The damned things had gotten soggy from rain water.

He sat down on the porch of his house, letting the cool air run through his hair, and dutifully ignoring the tears which threatened to fall from his eyes. He only decided to go back in when his pants had become uncomfortably damp and he was shivering so much he could barely think about what he had read that morning.

He turned the key and stepped inside. The warm air was an immediate contrast to the chill of the rain. And the smell of delicious cooking overwhelmed his senses and made his stomach rumble. He could hear some shuffling from the kitchen, and then Brian rounded the corner.

His husband looked like a dream. Chocolate curls framing his face, eyes twinkling, and one of his rare smiles grazing his features. Smile which disappeared as soon as he registered Roger’s state. He got rid of his cooking mittens, placing them on the counter and rushing over to Roger.

The blond let himself fall on Brian’s arms, burying his face on his husband’s neck and letting the first sob escape his throat. Once that was out, he couldn’t stop the tears.

At some point Brian hauled him upstairs and helped him out of his soaking clothes and into some pyjamas, his favourite pair, which consisted of one of Brian’s old shirts and shorts. He then tucked them both into bed, letting Roger curl around him, clinging to Brian as if he would leave if he were to let go.

It was only hours later when he calmed himself down enough to be able to talk, “I’m sorry.”

The hand that Brian had been running through his hair stopped, “About what?”

“I must have ruined your afternoon plans.”

“Our afternoon plans. I had made dinner to celebrate the Rolling Stone article.” He felt a single soft kiss being pressed against his hair, “But that is not important, I’d rather make sure you are feeling okay.”

The laugh that followed was bitter, “Then didn’t ruin anything, Bri. I’m not in the list.”

“What do you—”

“In fact,” Roger interrupted, tears building again, “apparently I’m not even a good drummer. I make Queen songs unlistenable; ‘an insult to a musician’s intelligence and taste.’”

“Roger, what are you talking about?”

Roger sniffed, “The article in Drummer Today, Page thirty-six. Apparently they think I am completely shit at what I do. Completely replaceable. Utterly useless.”

There was a second of Silence, then Brian was manhandling him so that Roger was laying on top of him. He raised his head and met the blonde’s eyes, “That is bullshit.”

Very rarely did Brian get this angry. Angry enough from his cheeks to turn bright red, his eyes brimmed with angry tears, and his breathing heavy.

“That is bullshit, Roger Taylor. I’m so fucking angry, who do they think they are? Why do the feel like they know more about music than us?”

Roger just sighs, “Brian, it’s—”

“Why aren’t you angry?”

Roger frowns, “Would you want me to be?”

Brian sits up, forcing Roger to sit up with him, “What do you mean? Of course I would! You should be livid!”

“Well I’m not,” Roger states, looking away from Brian, “I can’t be livid about something that is true.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer, because suddenly Brian was grabbing his face, making Roger look at him as tears brimmed the lovely hazel eyes. Expect that these tears weren’t filled with rage, “What did you say?”

Roger’s blush extended from the tip of his ears to his chest, and this time when he spoke his voice came out soft and broken, “I can’t be livid about something that is true.”

“You aren’t a bad drummer,” Brian’s hand came up to his cheek, and pressed their foreheads together, “You are not a bad drummer.”

Roger’s heart felt like it shattered to pieces then, “Fuck everyone who says you are. Fuck them. ‘Cause you are not a bad drummer. You are irreplaceable, absolutely incredible, and if anything very, very, underrated.”

That night Roger didn’t stop crying. Not for a long time, and Brian stayed up with his husband long after the blonde had gone to sleep. He stroked his hair and kissed his temples as much as he could, hoping that the small acts of affection would help him calm down and feel better.

And about the reporters… well, Brian knew that being rich, famous, and loved would some day come in handy.

#maylor #Brian May #roger taylor #freddie mercury #John Deacon #Queen #My writing #asks

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duhragonball · 5 years ago

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Dragon Ball Z 231

It’s the last episode of the Babidi Saga, and I thought I’d take a moment to give Babidi some props as a good villain. His run isn’t quite over yet, but in these past eleven episodes it’s been up to him to carrry the load as the main antagonist, and you know, I think he’s underrated.

What I like about this guy is how he’s so clearly designed to solve all these story problems in the Buu arc. Why hasn’t Buu been a problem all along? Well, some guy stuck him in a ball and now Babidi’s trying to get him out again. So if he’s that important, why isn’t he the main antagonist? Because he’s this scrawny wizard who looks like an otter fetus. Then how is he a challenge to the heroes? Because he mind-controlled the devil into working for him. Okay, but how does all of this work with Goku fighting Vegeta again? He’s siphoning battle damage from their fight to revive Buu. Why would they be stupid enough to fall for that? Well, that’s more about Goku and Vegeta than Babidi, but you get the idea.

I’m a firm believer that Frieza is vastly overrated. People talk about him like he’s the ultimate villain, and every Dragon Ball bad guy has fallen short of his example. Why? Because he blew up the Saiyan homeworld? Because he has this lifelong personal history with Vegeta? Those are good aspects for an archnemesis to have, but they’re hardly requirements. I think this is where people got it in their heads that Toriyama was going to end Dragon Ball with Frieza and his editors made him keep going. They were so impressed with the Frieza saga that they couldn’t imagine why anyone would try to top it. I guess they weren’t personally impressed with the Androids or Buu,so they took this as evidence that Toriyama was coasting creatively, and leaped to the conclusion that he was fully aware of it but was only sticking around under duress.

That’s dumb. The post-Frieza segment of DBZ rules. By all rights, Toriyama could have ended it with Piccolo, or Vegeta, or Frieza, but instead he went even harder and produced some truly brilliant storytelling. Babidi doesn’t need to have known Vegeta from childhood. He doesn’t need to have killed Goku’s parents. All he has to do is just show up with an audacious scheme, and mess with the heroes’ heads a little. Just like Cell, Babidi used Vegeta’s selfishness against him. As with Cell, Goku thought he had this whole case under control, but there were gaps in his strategy that Babidi could use to create an opening. The bad guy doesn’t have to have a history with the good guys. Sometimes you can just develop the grudge as the story unfolds.

And Babidi has a ton of personality. He’s so damn giddy about being evil, like when he cheers for the deaths of the fans at the Budokai stadium, or when he enjoys the sound Spopovitch makes when he pops. He treats Dabura like a good buddy, even while congratulating himself for mind-controlling the guy to be his servant. One really nice touch that I like is how absent-minded he is, like when he struggled to remember Vegeta’s name right before he started giving him orders.

Anyway, this episode represents the culmination of his quest to revive Majin Buu. Babidi’s been feeding Buu energy this whole time, so that he’ll be at full strength when he’s ready to break out of his ball. He has Goku and Vegeta tied up fighting each other, and every time Vegeta lands a blow it brings Buu one step closer to restoration. Only Gohan and the Supreme Kai are left to stop Babidi, but he has time on his side, and Dabura, who fought Gohan to a standstill a short time ago. To keep his spaceship from getting wrecked in the battle, Babidi teleports them all up to the surface.

Meanwhile, FUCK YEAH!

I haven’t checked in a while, but I think these particular scenes are from the manga version of this fight. The dirty little secret about Goku-Vegeta II is that it’s pretty brief in the manga, and many of the best parts are actually filler scenes.

But I feel like these shots of them flashing every time they hit each other were based on the manga. Maybe this is meant to illustrate the energy leaving their bodies as they hit each other. Goku’s is being magically transferred to Buu. Vegeta’s is just sort of going nowhere I guess.

Back at Buu’s ball, Gohan recalls Goku’s advice that he should get angry, like he did against Cell. Only Gohan can’t just will himself to that frame of mind. He’s plenty angry at Babidi and Dabura, but it’s not the same. Regardless, he powers up for battle, when suddenly...

It’s too late. Babidi checks the gauge on Buu’s ball and it’s already full. As he cheers over and over again: Majin Buu is at full power!

The Supreme Kai is horrified. He knew he wouldn’t have much time, but he didn’t expect to run out this quickly. That’s when Gohan realizes that Vegeta and his father have been fighting their entire battle at Super Saiyan 2. At that level of intensity, it wouldn’t take long at all for that much energy to get sent to Buu’s ball.

At this point, the Supreme Kai just has a nervous breakdown. Literally everything has gone wrong since he came to the World Tournament. I mean, Puipui and Yakon are dead, so maybe that’s a positive, but he doesn’t seem to take much solace in it.

Meanwhile, FUCK!

Vegeta beats the ever-loving crap out of Goku, but he’s still far from beaten. He just crosses his arms and says he’s getting excited. Goku’s a monster, y’all. Like a good monster, the kind that loves his wife and kids and all that, but that actually makes him scarier when you hit him with everything you have and he it just makes him happy.

Back at the stadium, Mr. Satan is holding some sort of press conference.

What I don’t understand is how the stadium is still packed, even after Vegeta’s attack on it. I’m pretty sure the fans fled in a panic two episodes ago, but even if they hadn’t, why would they stick around for this?

At first, I thought this was just a flub, and Toei was reusing the stadium backgrounds from past episodes, without considering the people painted into the seats. But no, here’s a close-up of the fans watching Satan being interviewed.

And 18′s still glaring at him from a distance. This really doesn’t work too well, at least when you’re marathoning these episodes like I’m doing now. I guess if you only saw one every week, you’d have a harder time picking up on continuity issues like this. On the other hand, it’s still bizarre how Vegeta blew giant holes in the stadium and everyone’s still cheering like nothing’s wrong.

Meanwhile, Goten and Trunks are still heading for Babidi’s spaceship, hoping to see their fathers in action against Majin Buu. The only trouble is that Babidi keeps teleporting the players around, so they don’t know which way to go. Right now, they sense big ki signals in two locations: The Goku-Vegeta fight, and Gohan and Dabura with Buu’s ball.

When I first watched these episodes, I sort of expected Goten and Trunks to reach their dads first, and maybe they would get them to stop fighting somehow, but it seems like they have no idea who’s ki is whose. It’s a standard thing in this show that characters who can sense ki can recognize people just by sensing their energy. When Cell first showed up, they were confused, because his energy resembled all the people he was cloned from. When Future Trunks turned Super Saiyan, Yamcha knew it wasn’t Goku, because he would have recognized Goku’s energy no matter how powerful he had become.

Of course, Goten and Trunks only met Goku today, but you’d think they’d be very familiar with Vegeta and Gohan’s ki, and yet they never say “Okay, my dad is there, and your brother is over this way.” Maybe they just lack the experience to distinguish these things.

Back at the fight, Goku refuses to lose to Vegeta here. Just throwing this out for anyone who might think Goku was sandbagging in this fight.

Goku is surprised that he and Geets are so evenly matched, and he figures Vegeta must have trained harder over the past seven years. Remember, Goku was stronger when they last met, so he had some catching up to do. But Vegeta doesn’t think so. He believes that there was still a gap between them, and he realized it when Goku briefly used Super Saiyan 2 to kill Yakon. Once he got an idea of Goku’s full strength, he knew he couldn’t beat him, and so he made up his mind...

Remember, when Spopovitch appeared at the tournament, everyone who knew him remarked on how much stronger he was since the last time they saw him. Vegeta deduced that Babidi’s mind control gives you a power boost, and he decided that it might work for him as well. And apparently it really did close the gap between himself and Goku, though he’s not exactly happy about the method.

And this is the part Goku doesn’t understand. Before, he thought Vegeta only allowed himself to be controlled so that he could have an excuse to fight Goku without remorse. Now, he’s saying he did it to get a power boost. Except the whole reason he wanted to have this fight was to satisfy his pride. Where’s the pride in any of this? Vegeta had to take magic steroids just to hang at this level. Even if he beats Goku here, how can he be satisfied with any of it?

And that’s just it. This wasn’t just about beatng Goku, or proving his superiority, or even getting stronger. Vegeta knew this was all pointless. He couldn’t beat Goku on his own, and the only way to have the fight he wanted to have was to become one of Babidi’s lackeys, which he finds revolting. But he did it anyway, because he couldn’t handle the truth.

Not the truth that Goku was still too strong for him after all these years, but the truth that Vegeta might have finally become mature enough to accept this. In that moment, he saw what he had become over the years, compared to what he had once been, and he couldn’t handle that he’d changed. So he saw in Babidi a chance to change himself back.

The irony is that “““classic”““ Vegeta wasn’t exactly better off. He was Frieza’s bootlick instead of Babidi’s, and not nearly as powerful as he became after living on Earth. Oh, and the “brutal, cold-blooded Saiyan” Vegeta used to be? Yeah, that guy couldn’t beat Goku either. So at best, this is a lateral move, but Vegeta’s too wrapped up in nostalgia to realize it. He just remembers those days as being simpler times.

What Vegeta can’t--or won’t-- understand is that living on Earth and becoming “influenced” by Goku and his friends was the best thing that ever happened to him. He probably knew this on some level, but he never really had to face that until Goku came back and reminded him of his old rivalry. At some point during the past dozen episodes, Vegeta realized he probably still couldn’t beat the guy, and that it wasn’t as big a deal to him as it used to be. That realizaton frightened him. Instead of appreciating his personal growth, he panicked and ran to Babidi to undo it all.

What I love about this is how Goku doesn’t believe it, not even for a second. Because Goku knows life is change, and that the whole point of his discipline is self-improvement. His greatest opponent has been, and always will be, himself. Vegeta’s trouble is that his ego keeps blinding him to that truth. He thinks he was born great, so he resists change and struggles to reconcile his present self with his past self.

And maybe that’s what this fight has been all about. It’s not just Vegeta wanting to beat Goku today. Vegeta wants to prove that he could have beaten Goku back in Episode 31. That this:

Was a fluke. Vegeta wants to regress into the man he was back then, just to prove that that man was right, that that man was always good enough to beat Goku. But his dream is just too brittle. He can’t be Saiyans Saga Vegeta and Babidi Saga Vegeta and Majin Vegeta all at the same time. I think that’s why Goku’s so flustered over this. Vegeta’s like his greatest rival, and yet he can’t figure out something that Goku takes as a given.

Meanwhile, Buu is about to hatch out of that testicle-thing he’s been in all this time. Yeah, someone might want to take a look into that.

And yeah, that’s the Babidi Saga. It’s pretty damn good. It tends to get overlooked among the Buu arcs that follow, but it holds up well on its own.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #goku #vegeta #gohan #babidi #dabura #mr satan #supreme kai #android 18 #goten #trunks #babidi saga

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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Quiet Hour (Scyvie) - ella

a/n: hi!!! this is my first ever submission to aq, but this oneshot has been up on ao3 for a while now.

(POTENTIAL SPOILER AFTER THE JUMP)

this isn’t much, but with the whole branjie mess coming down, I figured a lot of people would want some sappy cute shit lmao. This is all domestic fluff to keep things happy, so hope you enjoy!

If there was one thing Yvie loved doing besides drag, it would be her quiet hour. She would brew herself a nice cup of coffee, play some ambient low-fi music (maybe even burn an incense if she’s really feeling it), and just lay in the couch and think. She’d stare at absolute nothingness for a full hour and reflect on certain situations she’s been in, the problems she’s been facing. It was a way to reset her mind and just stop. Yvie loved that. Yvie needed that.

But the recent months have been harder on her, now that she’s a quote-unquote ‘RuGirl’. She could never find the time to stay home between all her gigs and finish at least one quiet session. Whenever she would attempt it, her mind would fall restless and she’d end up moving around and doing work. Five minutes into one attempt she found herself hemming an outfit. Ten minutes into another try, she began to subconsciously practice her choreography for a number she was working on. It was concerning, in her eyes. She couldn’t stop to take a break and she feared it would be damaging to her health.

Another thing that kept her from bringing back quiet hour was her new boyfriend, Scarlet. After 6 months of being together, Yvie ended up moving into Scarlet’s Brooklyn apartment. They’d spend as much time together as possible, and for a while it made Yvie forget about personal space. As much as Yvie loved her alone time, Scarlet’s presence had a calming nature to it that she felt was more than enough. She’d find Scarlet overcooking eggs and playing jazz music at 7 in the morning, using her vintage record player (Yvie made fun of Scarlet’s old soul when she discovered the device, joking about how she feels like she’s dating a grandmother with how stiff and awkward she danced to the melodies). She’d break into dance in front of Yvie, and the happiness that it would produce would make Yvie feel like alone time was overrated. She had all she needed by her side, why want to be alone?

But with each episode airing, and with the show slowly unraveling the ugly side of Yvie Oddly for the world to critique, she started to crave for time alone. She needed to escape from the constant buzzing of her phone. The idea of a short escape was good enough for Yvie to daydream about it. So, one night, while Scarlet was busy keeping her nose in a book, she brings it up.

It was well into the night, and with the faint vocals of Dolly Parton playing in their record player, Scarlet was engrossed in Virginia Woolf. Such a grandma, Yvie chuckled as she settled into their cluttered bed. She leaves a lamp on for Scarlet to read properly, and places a small peck on her cheek before laying her head on the older queen’s shoulder.

“You’re really cute when you do that thing with your eyebrows. Makes you look mean.” Yvie smiled, which makes Scarlet roll her eyes in a playful manner. Scarlet stays quiet though, too engrossed in whatever the modernist writer has to say to continue the conversation.

Yvie realizes that she has to make her pay attention, so she slowly pushes the novel down, meeting her boyfriend’s eyes. “Hey, can we talk about something?”

Scarlet, confused, looks at Yvie with a questioning stare. She sets the book down, placing the book by their nightstand and yawning. “What is it baby?” She hummed, eyes falling on the younger queen. “Something bothering you? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry.” Yvie quickly replied, before letting her hand trail down to meet Scarlet’s. “…I used to do this thing called quiet hour where I would sit down and do nothing. I know it sounds stupid, but it really helped me relax and reflect on everything so that I don’t bitch out.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s- after the episodes started to release, I just need to reset my brain and the quiet hour does that. Would it be okay if I did that here?”

Scarlet frowned, before tightening her grip on Yvie’s hand. She sighs before placing a soft kiss on her boyfriend’s lips. “Vie, we’ve been together for almost a year and you only told me you had this whole self-care ritual now?” She let’s out a smile, cupping Yvie’s cheeks. “You know that I value self-care.”

“I think your ten-step skin care routine makes that obvious.”

“Excuse me! I’m doing a little thing here?” Scarlet exclaimed, mouth hanging open. “I would enjoy a little respect when I’m speaking!”

Yvie laughed, letting her boyfriend have her moment. “Fine, go on.”

“Thank you.” The older queen responded, her smile not leaving her lips. “Baby, if you need time alone I’m all for that. I’m guessing you would want me out the apartment while doing that? I won’t be offended if you say yes.” Scarlet lets go of Yvie, their eyes the only thing connecting.

“Yeah, of course! But we’ll be busy the next few weeks, and we won’t have time before our anniversary. So… I guess it’s okay to have you here when I do it. I know you won’t be intrusive.”

“I’ll try my best to understand what you need. But I would like it if you explained to me what you want me to avoid doing specifically-“ Scarlet let a yawn escape from her lips, cutting off her sentence. “… tomorrow. Tell me tomorrow. I think we should head to bed.”

Yvie chuckled, pecking her lover’s lips before settling into their sheets, satisfied with their little discussion.

“Alright Vie, it’s almost 5…” Scarlet spoke softly, reaching up the kitchen cabinets to grab their coffee machine. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do? Or to avoid doing?”

Yvie shook her head, wrapping a hand around her lover’s waist and setting a kiss on the back of her head. “Nothing, babe. I think we’re good.” She pulls away, glancing at the clock before turning Scarlet around to meet her eyes. “..But maybe if you’re going to make coffee, maybe not use the machine? It’s pretty noisy.”

“Oh! Oh of course, I’m sorry.” Scarlet fumbled, placing the machine back in the cabinet. “I’m sorry, I’ll just grab one of the instant packets.”

“No, it’s okay. No need to apologize!” Yvie spoke, a faint smile itching to develop into a full grin. “You’re already doing so much, I’m already thankful.”

Once Yvie was able to settle in their bed, she already felt a wave of tranquility coming in. She closed her eyes slowly, feeling the flutter of her eyelids. She took deep breaths (it was a new meditation technique scarlet recommended that she try and honestly, it’s so nice) and relaxed her shoulders.

Numerous thoughts pop up in her head, and after a while, they are put to rest. From personal issues with past queens to simple ways she could improve her living situation. She remembers how amazing her quiet hour was, how it did wonders to her restless brain and its antics. The little thoughts that bothered her head are finally set down, looked at, and resolved.

But besides all these minute problems she’s been able to resolve, Scarlet just kept popping back into her head. The way her eyes were a striking blue, to how her smile could kill and would send six feet under. Scarlet was a gem, and Yvie felt so lucky to have her. It was magical, the way they felt for each other. Yvie didn’t believe she’d have something (or someone) as special as her love for her boyfriend, but here she was. She was absolutely lovestruck and she didn’t hate one bit.

Trailing off to daydream about Scarlet, she heard their bedroom door creak. Her eyebrows furrowed as a reaction to the sudden sound. She peeked an eye open, and she saw Scarlet.

What? Yvie thought, her eyes trailing to the two cups of coffee held by her partner. She was confused, almost irritated. Didn't I tell her to not intrude?

Scarlet pushed aside the puzzled glare her boyfriend was sending her way and set one of the cups she held on the nightstand. She smiles to Yvie after her lover fully opens her eyes, handing her the other cup.

Yvie opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She went with the flow of the situation and took the warm mug from Scarlet. She watched Scarlet pull the covers up and settle into bed, taking her cup from the nightstand and closing her eyes.

Was she… joining her? Yvie was almost amazed. She’s never seen Scarlet show interest in meditation, nor her quiet hour. She didn’t think Scarlet would survive silence longer than ten minutes, and to see her try made Yvie’s heart jump out of her chest.

Scarlet was trying to understand.

Yvie sighed loudly, closing her eyes once again before placing her head on Scarlet’s shoulder. She felt the older queen tense up at the sudden touch, sensing the surprise in her actions. She didn’t bother looking up though, Yvie just relaxed further into Scarlet’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, they were finally able to relax. Scarlet’s hand timidly inched towards Yvie’s, her manicured fingers softly tapping her palm before slowly intertwining their fingers together.

Yvie didn’t think spending quiet hour with someone would be any help. But with a cup of coffee made with love, her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, and Scarlet’s thumb softly caressing the back of Yvie’s hand, maybe having Scarlet with her this time wasn’t that bad of an idea.

Once the hour was up, she finally opened her eyes and saw Scarlet’s eyes still shut. Yvie sits up, and softly places a kiss on Scarlet’s temple. “Thank you, I love you.” She whispered before pecking the spot once again. “I’m grateful that I have you.”

“Thank you too.” Scarlet spoke, softly as to not ruin the tranquil mood. “I think I like this quiet hour idea. Can I join you sometime?”

Yvie nodded, her arm wrapping around Scarlet. “You are a great companion, so yes, you can.”

#rpdr fanfiction #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #scyvie #domestic fluff #established relationship #canon compliant #oneshot #ella #submission #domestic #fluff

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smallerinfinities · 6 years ago

Text

Gin and Juice: Part VII

a/n: In which a fight and a flight response occurs

Hello, beautiful readers! This was one that took a lot to get through. The good news is I already know where I’m going for Part VIII, so that one should come a lot easier! I love you all and I love hearing from you!

**All previous parts can be found on my MASTERLIST**

warnings: much interiority, many feelings.

“Look, Shawn,” Coach seethed, the bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and pointer finger, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need you to snap the fuck out of it. We have three games before the postseason. I need you to be focused on football and forgetting whatever personal bullshit you’re bringing onto my field.”

Shawn’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to argue, but Coach shut him down, “No, don’t argue. After that shit I just saw on my sideline, you’re lucky I’m not suspending your ass. I know that Brian provoked you. Other players came up to me in your defense. But, people saw. And your little girlfriend hiding in the stands didn’t help the situation. What the fuck, Mendes?! Do I need to review that practices are closed to any and all distractions? THAT INCLUDES PUSSY.”

Some spit landed on the desk when he finished punctuating this last point. Shawn hung his head, not knowing what to do. He didn’t regret throwing that punch. He regretted not knocking him the fuck out.

When he heard the loud crack from Brian’s helmet hitting the ground, Shawn had to stifle an eye roll. The guy had always been a hot head and it only got worse last year when he had lost the QB1 spot to a freshman. “HEY, MENDES,” he shouted, predictably pissed that a little water had hit him, “I saw your little whore with you last night.”

Shawn whipped around, red threatening at the edge of his vision. “What the fuck did you say, asshole?!” He moved toward Brian, trying to control his rage, shaking slightly at the implications this fucker was making about her. Brian smirked, getting the reaction that he wanted from him, “Oh yeah, I saw you stumbling up the stairs with her at the house.”

Shawn stood there, feeling the rest of the team circling in his periphery. The whispers were reaching deafening levels around him. They had all seen her. He could feel his fingers curl into fists, shaking just a little more violently, fighting for control at his sides. Brian fed off of them, getting right up in Shawn’s face, “I guess she’s your pity fuck on speed dial there to suck your dick when you choke on a wide open pass. She must be something desperate to come to you when you’re the reason we’re fucked for playoffs now.”

Shawn could feel the rage spreading, numbing his face, his chest, his arms. The adrenaline coursing quickly through his veins, he was deaf to Brian’s words after that, hearing only a buzzing that was intensifying by the second. Somewhere between the words “overrated pretty boy” and “glad you had a hole available to finish something in,” his fist twitched and the scarlet tendrils threatening his vision finally closed in.

“SHAWN!” Her voice cut through his red haze, receding to oversaturated blue and green. Brian was on the ground holding his nose against the crimson fountain spewing from it, looking at Shawn’s fist dripping blood onto the turf. Everyone had turned their eyes toward the scream from a high spot in the bleachers, where he could just make out her frame, arm outstretched as if she could have stopped him if she had only been a little closer.

A hard fist against the desk in front of him pulled Shawn from his instant replay, “MENDES?! Jesus, I’m benching you for the first half of this week’s game. Did you hear that? Or were you too busy daydreaming?” He had gone back to pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get out of my office and don’t come to practice tomorrow. You better have your shit together before you come back,” he paused, sighing, “you’re supposed to be my guy. ARE YOU STILL MY GUY?!”

“Yeah, Coach,” he said, eyes on the floor, embarrassed, “I’m still your guy. I promise I’ll be ready for the second half on Saturday.”

“You fuckin’ well better be. We have a championship to win.” Coach waved him out, disappointed and dismissive, two things Shawn had never caused on a coach’s face in his years of playing football. Walking out of the locker room, he vacillated between ashamed and pissed. He’d never lost his cool like that in practice. Usually, the shit people said just rolled off, and if Brian had just been talking about his shitty game that would have been one thing. But, when he brought her into it—made it a point that he’d seen her and then called her a whore—Shawn hadn’t been able to control the bitter, hot rage that burned the back of his throat.

“Shawn?”

At first, he didn’t see her. She had folded herself in a concrete nook beneath the stadium seats, hiding deep in the shadows. He walked over as she crawled out of the small space, itching to put his arms around her. She crashed into him, bunching his shirt in her hands, and pressed her face into his chest. He felt her inhale, taking in his freshly showered scent. This was the first time they’d been so close that he wasn’t sweating gin or Jack.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling back and taking his bruised hand in hers. She pressed her lips to his knuckles, causing him to wince a little, fresh cuts still stinging, his hand burning from the inside every time she touched him. He was mesmerized by her ministrations, unable to focus on her question, just wanting her to keep stroking the back of his hand and start little fires with her lips. He felt her pull away, looking up at him expectantly.

“I’m f-fine,” he stuttered as he tried to refocus on her question, “Coach benched me for the first half of the game on Saturday.” He exhaled heavily. He still hadn’t fully let it sink in, and he knew he was using her as a distraction. Letting her fill his senses was a lot easier and immediate than dealing with possibly losing something he’d worked all season for. One more misstep, one more loss, would lose him the Heisman no question, but more than that, would seriously jeopardize the team. Two-loss teams don’t win championships.

“I’m sorry,” she hung her head, like punching Brian had been her idea, “I shouldn’t have screamed. I’m sure that didn’t help.” He took her chin in his hand and lifted it, forcing her eyes to meet his.

“If you hadn’t screamed, I might have kept punching him,” he said, voice low and sinister, breaking eye contact to spare her the rekindled rage in them as he remembered Brian’s words. She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips and he leaned into them, closing his eyes and taking a cleansing breath, letting the anger dissipate into her touch. He turned back to her, opening his eyes wide.

“Wait, why are you here? I thought you were going to the library?” he asked, alarmed, “Did you forget something at my place? You could have texted me later…” He stopped at the sound of her tinny giggle, “No, I just wanted to see you play in person.”

“Oh.” He sucked in a breath, unsure of what to say. They hadn’t really left this morning with anything concrete planned. She had failed miserably at playing coy, an image that still turned his mouth at the corners, and had practically run from his house in a full blush. He was surprised that she would come here, especially since it looked like she had come straight here from his house.

“Sorry I ruined the show so early,” he scrubbed the back of his neck, pissed all over again that he had reacted to Brian’s bullshit. She cocked her head, “what did he say to make you punch him? It must have been bad. You don’t seem like you lose your cool that easily…”

He snorted at that, unable to keep his amusement in check. “I channel my aggression into football,” he said, puffing his chest out a little, “it allows me to let go of all the rage that builds up when I’m trying to focus and not escape. This week was just particularly hard with the game...Brian was just spouting bullshit about losing the game and how it was my fault.” His voice was a little hollow at the end, knowing he was leaving out the crucial part...the part that made his fist connect to that fucker’s nose. His reputation wasn’t worth it, but hers was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, earnestly, placing her hands flat on his chest and standing on her tiptoes to underline her apology. He didn’t know why she was apologizing, especially when he should probably be apologizing to her, but she was so honest looking at him like that, there was no way that he could ruin the moment with something as ugly as the truth.

He looked up and down the deserted corridor just to make sure there was no one around and cautiously dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers. He felt her sharp intake of breath against his lips, saw her eyes blow wide, before giving in to the moment. She melted against him, allowing his hands to wrap around her back, cradling her in his arms. He tilted his head to the side, gaining deeper access to her mouth and exploring with his tongue. She was so sweet, like mint and tangerine, he could lose himself in her taste for hours.

Just as she moaned and threaded her fingers into his curls, moving her mouth with his, Shawn saw movement in the corner of his vision. Before he could separate himself from her, before he could look her in the eye and plead with her not to panic, Zubin called from the other end of the corridor.

“HEY MENDES, IS THAT THE GIRL BRIAN WAS TALKING ABOUT?!”

* * * * * * * * * *

You must have jumped ten feet away from him at the booming, echoing voice no more than twenty yards from you. The guy was laughing, doubled over, and pointing at Shawn.

“Jesus, Mendes,” he sniggered, “why did you have to punch him if what he was saying was true? You DO have a piece on speed dial for when you’re feeling shitty. I can’t believe I didn’t know! I’m your fuckin’ roommate!”

“ZUBIN,” Shawn seethed, “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” You were angled behind him, hidden from his face, but you could imagine based on Zubin’s petrified eyes that it wasn’t a look that you ever wanted to see. Shawn turned his head toward you, masking his anger for you and mouthed, are you okay?, forehead creased in worry. It wasn’t until this point that you realized that Shawn wasn’t yelling at this guy because he had seen them, he was yelling because Zubin had outed his lie. Shawn hadn’t punched the other red shirt, Brian, Shawn had said his name was, because of what he had said about the game—he punched him because of what he had said about you.

The adrenaline pulsed, beating heavy in your chest and whispering run, run, run in your ears. Nausea quickened in your belly. You paced backward, toward the gap in the concrete where your bag still slumped. Grabbing all of your things, you quickly moved past Shawn, dodging his arm as he reached for you, and broke into a sprint.

The buzzing in your ears was deafening. You could hear wordless shouting behind you, not sure if Shawn was shouting for you or at Zubin. You just knew that you had to get out of there. Away from Shawn, away from strangers who could see you two together, away from the panic that never actually left you no matter how hard you ran from it. The whip of the wind on your face was refreshing, drying the silent tears that were free-flowing from your face. Body on autopilot, it wasn’t long before you were standing on the threshold of your dorm room, quietly opening the door.

Caroline was sitting at her desk with headphones jammed in her ears. She barely acknowledged you when you came in the room. Not wanting to give up your lie, you had been distant with her for the past week and it had caused her to shut down. It was just another thing for you to run from. You dropped your bag and immediately sat with your back against the closed door, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning your forehead on your thighs, breathing with a distressing irregularity.

What were you thinking? What were you doing at that practice? Why did you yell his name thinking that would stop anything? Make it better? What were you doing? Where did these feelings come from? Why did you feel so connected to him?

Most of those questions felt trivial now, having already played out, but the last one...the last one stuck in your mind like glitter from last week’s art project. Sometimes, living like you did, your existence felt so unreal, so insignificant that you thought you might be invisible. Shawn, on the other hand, embodied a person so vivid, so viscerally real, and yet so hidden from the world that you wondered how he played both sides. You envied it. You envied his ability to turn the man encased in steel on and block out his truth so effectively. To be able to turn into a different person, to turn off the demons, was like a dream. There was a part of you that simultaneously wanted to free the boy inside him and yet learn how to step into his armor.

Knock-knock. You felt the door behind you pulse. Your head shot up, eyes wide. He didn’t know what dorm you lived in, right? No. There was no way. A more insistent knock-knock followed the first. Caroline turned around in her desk chair, visibly annoyed, “are you going to get that?”

“I’m not leaving if you think you can wait me out,” he called through the door. Fuck. Caroline’s eyes grew wide, recognizing his voice even though it was muffled heavily by an inch and a half of wood. She’d watched enough interview videos since seeing him at the party, thinking you didn’t notice, that you probably could have recognized his voice even if you’d never met him before—let alone slept in his bed. God, you were never going to live this down.

You slowly got up off the floor, and smoothed your jeans, hearing your roommate’s gasp behind you as she finally got a good look at the MENDES still emblazoned on your back. You swung the door open wide to find him raising his massive fist, about to knock on the door again. His face split into that smile, the one that you were starting to think he reserved for you. The one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made you want to claw at that armor that hid this boy from the world.

“Hi.”

to be continued...

taglist: @abigfatmess @lifeofthedarty @transparentjudgepicklething @super-fire-breathing-girl @infiniteshawn @ashotofblues @lavieenbananabread @abweisendes @blue-skies-are-alright @song-bird-shawn @disappointingyellowhighlighter @brittanyzelazno @sowhatshawn @stillinskislydia @heisshawnmendes @embracehappy @the-claire-bitch-project @brrabbitt @kidinruin @mariaevelien @madioheadr @utopitabread @ifyoudreamyoucanmake @ykicantbefoundwithyou @herecomethefeels @justanotherfangirl272 @hyaz99 @tegan-eva @maaaddiexo @shawnxmendesxo @shawnsgottabellyache @topahze @twerkissun @kinglyhemmings @greatdayfornothing @martinimendes @vnv21 @em180sstuff @worshippingmendes @are-you-really-sure-about-that @zankivich @begginyouformendes @alwayssnowingsomewhere @fawn-mendes @particular-tastes @shawnorsomething @madon566 @accalialionheart (it’s not letting me tag, sorry!) @surrounded-of-hope

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes au #shawn peter raul mendes #my writing #gin and juice

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jizemderler · 6 years ago

Photo

It’s my birthday (yayy) and I‘ve decided to post the first chapter to a story I‘ve been writing. If you like it, I‘ll post more. If you don‘t, I‘ll keep writing for myself.

Enjoy!

One Flower: Camila Monroe is a teen. With her own ups and downs. Her loves and heartbreaks. Her lies and truths. Just one...out of a million flowers. But one flower is always someones favourite flower.

{Part One}

You know those movies or stories where the nerdy but hot girl hates that one super hot guy at school who is a football player, because they always are, but suddenly something happens - let’s say a chemistry project has to be done - and they get paired. Bada bing bada bum a bit of flirtation, drama, one problems or two, making up and a happy ever after.

Yeah that’s not my story though. I am the literal incarnation of the side dish. Don’t get me wrong I’m not the main course but people still like me. But on the side. Like the baby sister of that football player. I’m not hot, not in anyway. Not nerdy hot or innocent hot or any-hot. I’m not ugly either…I’m just me. Regular and invisible. And that’s not going to change throughout the story. No big make over where every guy at school falls in love with me. I’m also not really good at anything in particular. Like I don’t have a secret talent or like a sex dungeon and weird fetishes. I’m average, whatever that means, and I’m cool with it. Always was.

And for the record I said I was the baby sister but the omg-he’s-so-cute brother of mine isn’t that much older. He is a senior and I’m a junior. Not that he would have that overprotective brother thing. He doesn’t. Which I’m glad for. Most people don’t even know that we are siblings - or they choose to ignore it- because we don’t look alike (duh) and because we don’t talk to each other at school. He lives in his world and I live in mine. Which is also cool with me. We also have a baby brother who is only 9. My mom and pap always wanted two kids but you know…things happen and so you get a kid 7 years apart from your second one. No biggie.

“Camila!”

And that’s the name of the side dish. Nice to meet you.

“Camila Monroe if you don’t come down right away your brother will leave without you!”

And that…that is the voice of my angry mom and my cue to stop daydreaming. I take my backpack and throw it over my shoulder and push my glasses back before going downstairs.

„Why didn’t you guys give me a second name? Like it doesn’t have the same affect when you call me by my full name. Not as dictator-y as it could be.“ I mock her playfully and she rolls her eyes.

„It’s too early for you to be witty with me. And now go. Oh and he is annoyed already. Be nice to him.” my Mom tells me and I roll my eyes. „I’m always nice. Bye mom.“ I answer and give her a kiss before stepping into my boots and walking outside. „You’re late.” he says as soon as I sit shotgun and I groan. “And you’re an ass.” He frowns and I roll my eyes at his mood. Mom was right. „What? I thought we were pointing out the obvious. Can we go?“ He looks at me, his mouth slightly open -ready to shoot back but then his gaze travels over my shoulder which makes me look too. Oh and then there is Noah. His brown hair is a bunch of curls falling into his face, covering some of his forehead, as if he just came out of the ocean. His eyebrows are currently formed into a frown which I know would go away if I would go over them with my thumb, stroking them slightly. As soon as his melty chocolate brown eyes catch mine I shake my head and look back at Jace. Noah is our neighbors kid. Who also happens to be my ex. Noah and I have been close since kindergarden. We developed feelings over the time and fell for each other. We were great together. He was like me in a sence. He was normal.

But then puberty hit him. Like a truck. And things changed. He changed. And I didn’t. Right next to me is Jock number one and over there staring into the car is Jock number 2. He just grew more popular day by day and I was overwhelmed. And that he was a senior didn’t help my self-confidence either. It’s been almost a year since we broke up. You know how you talk to someone until 4 a.m every single day and suddenly you don’t talkt to them at all anymore? That’s us. "Jace.” I say, no more playfullness in my voice and he understands and starts the engine immediatly. We drive in silence and I jump out of the car as soon as he shuts the engine off. “Wait! Take the keys. I’ll be late today.” he says and throws me the keys over the car and I pick them off the ground.

“Nice.”

“Shut up.”

I turn around at the gate and see him meet up with Noah and I cringe and turn around. They’re friends, share classes and they are in the same team of course they’ll meet up. At least Jace is sensitive enough not to do it in my face. As I walk into class I see the one person I’m comfortable around. “Thank god you’re here. I thought you were skipping and I already was planing on a way out. Probably the window. Two floors shouldn’t be that bad.” she jokes and I roll my eyes “Don’t say that.”

“Sure thing. Oh, look who’s coming.”

I put my stuff down and look up while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and stop mid movement.

I introduced to you all of the people that matter in my life…everyone besides Ethan. He smiles one of his beautiful smiles towards me and winkes before sitting down infront of me.

“I think he has a cr…” Daya starts but I shush her immediatly. Ethan is the kind of guy who could have anyone but doesn’t notice it. He has those kind hazel eyes and wavy blond-ish hair, always a little messy. He himself is really put together though, in a hot way. His muscels help too of course. Definetly not a Jock but he seems to do some kind of sport.

“Don’t even start with that. We’re good friends.” I whisper over to her and she raises her hands above her head and leans back in her chair. “Hey Daya! Why are your arms up? Want to give me a hug?” some dumbass yells and I roll my eyes again. Here we go.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself Peter? Since that is the only time you will ever get fu…”

“Good morning people! Alissa put that mirror down you don’t look any different than two minutes ago, Peter wipe that overwhelmed expression off your face we didn’t even start the lesson yet…and Daya! I heared.” Professor Khan said and put his bag down onto his desk. He was this old, slim and tall, indian man with grey hair and a grey beard. You could practically see that he was a heartbreaker in his young days. Maybe even now. I kinda liked him as a teacher because he was always chill.

„Alright class, who’s done their assignment?“

A roar goes through class and everybody starts looking around for someone to know what the assignment was but our confusion is ended with Mr Khans gentle laugh.

„Just kidding. I didn’t give you homework over the weekend because I’m that dope.” he says and adds a handsign in there which makes us all groan and roll our eyes.

„Isn’t that the term? Dope? Or was it Lit? In our time we called us fresh but that’s another story.“ he says and laughs to himself while unpacking his stuff.

„Alright. We will start a discussion.” he says and claps his hands while coming to the front and leaning against his desk. „What does success mean to you?“

I could see people frowning or rolling their eyes and I start scribbling something on the paper in front of me. „Camila?”. Of course. Of course Camila.

„Uh, I mean…everything is based on success these days. You want to be respected and looked up on in school? You got to be successfull. But not too successfull because then you’re a nerd. You want to have it easy with the teacher? Just be great at their subject and everything will be fine. You want to go to a specific college? You got to be successfull in highschool. You want to actually work after college? You got to be one of the best in your classes. You want to keep your job? You better be the best….I guess.“ I finish my ranting and he nods to my answer.

„Yes. Aiden.” Mr. Khan says and dismisses me and I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

„You want to talk about something?“ Daya whispers over to me and I raise my eyebrows. „What? Me? No. Why?” I whisper back immediatly and she leans back again. „I don’t know. You seemed…troubled.“

„Nah. I’m fine. Really. Just wanted him to let me off the hook.” I answer and she shruggs her shoulders.

„Okay.“

The discussion continues and I don’t take part in it anymore. Success is overrated anyway. What about hapiness? What if I’m successfull but unhappy? Is success still more important then?

I pack my belongings after the bell rings while everybody starts to storm out. After I’m finished I throw my bag over my shoulder and start walking out too when Mr. Khan holds me up.

„Hey, Camila?”

„Yes, sir?“

„Success isn’t all that bad you know. You just have to get to it in your own way and not how other people want you to.” he says and smiles a little smile and I shrug apologetically.

„Whatever you say Mr.Khan.“ I say before backing away towards the door and saluting playfully as a goodbye which makes him chuckle and shake his head.

I walk out with a grin and forget to look straight ahead and collide with a chest. I grip onto my stuff so nothing slides to the ground and so does the person I collided with, by holding me by my arms. „Sorry.” I say before I look up and meet those brown eyes again. Shit. He let’s go of me like a hot potato and takes a step back.

„Suits you.“ he blurts out and I frown.

„What?”

„The smile. You don’t do it very often anymore.“ he says like in trance and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze. I shake my head and sigh to myself before stepping aside to leave without another word. I’m a lot of things but one thing I’m not is beeing friends with my ex. That doesn’t work. Not even in movies. I walk through the halls towards my next classes trying not to think about his face.

***

After my last class I said my goodbye to Daya and made my way to the parking lot. While pulling out the key I stuffed into the side pocket of my bag I noticed someone in the corner of my eye. „Hey! You need a ride?” I asked before my brain could catch up and Ethan looked up towards me with raised eyebrows.

„Hey! Uh…my mom was going to be here but she got caught up. So actually, yeah. If it’s okay.“ he stumbled over his words and made me laugh.

„Sure thing. Just to warn you though: I may not be the best driver.” I joked while waving him over and we started to walk to my car. „You live near the city park right?“ I ask while getting into the drivers seat and he sits shutgun. „Yeah. But you can drop me of on your way to yours. I‘ll just have to take a right and walk two minutes from there.“ he offers and I shrug my shoulders while starting the engine. I ignore the brown curls while I drive out of the parking lot and concentrate on the road.

„So who else do you have in your classes?“ I ask into the silence and he looks over. „Well we‘ve got English together with Mr.Khan. I love that guy.“ he chuckles and and I smile and nodd so he can continue, „I got Miss Hallow in math and I could die right here right now thinking of that. I feel like she is the evil witch of our school.“

„Yeah I‘m so happy that I don‘t have her this year. She made my life hell last year.“ I say before I recognize what I just said and facepalm myself in my head. He looks at me with a grin and I squint my eyes for a split second before I remember that I‘m the one driving.

„Sorry.“

„It‘s okay. I love hearing you rambling. Sometimes people habe to many filters.“ He says looking out the front window and try not to frown and decipher what he means by that.

„Anyway. I got Mr. Masselin in Biology.“

„Who‘s that? I don‘t recall that name?“ I ask inbetween.

„You know the hot one? Every girl and I think some guys too, is drooling after him.“ he says rolling his eyes and makes me chuckle. „Doesn‘t ring a bell.“ I say and he smiles. „Thank god.“ As soon as he says that his eyes go wide and he looks at me, his cheeks slightly flushed. „I mean, you know. Thank god your not one of the basic ones.“ he drives himself deeper into the mud and makes me laugh.

„Yeah. Never have been.“ I say trying to lift some of the emberrasment off of his shoulders. „Moving on. I have Mrs Khan in chemistry. And let me tell you she is nothing like her husband. That woman is feisty. Not kidding.“ he changes the topic.

„Yeah, I know! Noah used to love messing around with her, just to get on her nerves.“ I say again, my mouth faster than my brain. I start to think if I do have any filter. An awkward silence spreads between us and I repeatedly facepalm myself in my head. I‘m so stupid for bringing him up.

„That‘s the senior right? The Jock? I‘ve seen him woth your brother. They seem to be good friends.“ he says as if we aren‘t talking about my ex and I‘m so gratefull that he is taking it so light heartedly.

„Yeah that one.“ I asnwer and he nods letting go of the subject.

„You see that spot. You can stop right there.“ he says after two minutes more of driving in silence and I pull over. „Thank you for letting me ride along.“ he says with a 1000 watt smile and my heart skipps a beat. „Sure thing.“ I say and return his smile. He takes his bag and gets out of the car. I‘m about to say bye when he turns around. He has this nervous expression on his face and keeps shifting from one leg to the other.

„Uh, I wanted to ask you something? Dou you want to, you know, go out sometime? Maybe for the movies or just dinner. I don‘t know.“ he says nervously and avoids my eyes and I put him out of his misery. „I‘d love to.“

„Really?“ he says surprised and I chuckle.

„Why is that such a shocker to you?“ I tease and his cheeks flush again.

„Uh, no! It‘s not. It‘s great actually. Thank you. I - I‘ll text you when?“ he offers and I nodd with a smile and his heartwarming smile returns to his lips.

„See you.“

„Bye.“ he says and shuts the door and waves while I pull out of my spot and drive away. That was fun.

***

I‘m doing my homework after dinner and jump when I hear a loud thud from the other room where Jace is. I put my pen onto my desk and listen carefully what‘s going on.

„Shit.“

„Fuck.“ I hear him curse and I get up to walk out of my room. I remember my mom saying that he wasn‘t in a good mood and appearently that hadn‘t changed throughout the day. I knock lightly at his door and wait for an answer.

„I‘m fine.“ he says and I roll my eyes.

„I‘m coming in.“ I warn him and open the door. I stay in the door and lean against the doorframe. „Hey.“

„Hey.“ he murmurs and I roll my eyes again. I walk into the room and throw myself beside him onto the bed.

„You good?“

„Yeah.“

„You don’t sound like it.“ I press and he sighs.

„Just let it go?“ he asks and I shrugg my shoulders turning onto my back lying next to him.

„Whenever you‘re ready big bro.“ I say to lighten the mood but I make sure that he doesn‘t miss the sincere undertone.

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