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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

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sypnosis: he hears from Kuroo that you’ve been getting close to someone and he comes to put an end to that. taking you back with him in the process.

pairing: yandere! kenma kozume x fem reader

request status: OPENED

note: HEY BESTIES!! I’M BAAAAACK. kenma might be a bit ooc but this is a yandere au so deal with it.

both you and Kuroo had decided to attend the same college as you got into their honors program based off the results from your entrance exam. since you were Nekoma’s manager throughout Kuroo’s entire volleyball career, you both went into the sports management program at your college, hoping that you’d score some kind of volleyball internship while you still in school.

you were kind of upset that Kenma hadn’t decided to follow you both along to the same school. he had different aspirations at a different college and it broke your heart in an odd way. it was no secret to anyone on the Nekoma team that you had your heart taken by Kenma.

the two of you were as close as Kuroo and he were. whenever Kuroo wasn’t available, he’d end up at your house, playing games on your TV while you sat back and watched. at first, you thought that Kenma had reciprocated the same feelings but alas, once graduation came, he never ended up confessing his feelings for you.

you were upset when he slowly started to drop you over the summer. since you were a year older than him, he remained at Nekoma while you moved over to the city where your university was located at.

eventually, you slowly started losing those feelings for him at the start of your second year.

a part of you did hope that he’d come back for you but as the year progressed, you slowly started to forget about him. you started to indulge yourself in sophomore year internships and trying to get into different managerial positions with different teams throughout the year.

“morning Kuroo!” you whispered, sitting down at the table he was at. he gave you a smile, ruffling your hair, “you look exhausted. something keep you up at night?” he asked, seeing the dark circles under your eyes. you shook your head no, “I stayed up, face timing a friend and didn’t fall asleep until the late hours of the night,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee.

Kuroo’s eyebrows fluttered in confusion, “who’s the friend?” he asked, now interested too hear. “he’s apart of the soccer team here,” you murmured. “I’m helping the team until the volleyball season starts up and they need me back for it,” you added on.

while Kuroo hadn’t responded, he already knew who the guy was. Kuroo had seen you walking around campus with him before and even heard through mutual friends that you both had gone out on a few dates. at first, he didn’t know whether to believe it or not but now that you were ultimately admitting to it, he knew it was time to tell his long time best friend.

Kuroo and Kenma although no longer attending the same university still had that strong friendship bond and one night, after both of you graduated from Nekoma, the two made a pact. one that they know would kill you if you had found out.

right at the start of both your third year at Nekoma, Kenma and Kuroo had agreed on one thing. they had this protective nature over you. more Kenma than Kuroo as the rooster haired boy thought of you as a sister than a potential lover.

Kenma knew that if he didn’t have a chance with you in high school, he knew the college reunion would be that much better when he saw you again. he would’ve grown more without you seeing it and he was sure that you would fall at the knees for him.

the plan was have you go to the same university Kuroo did until Kenma made his college decision and then persuade you to transfer over after he started going there. was it a very dangerous plan probably! but Kuroo nor Kenma couldn’t have cared less. you were Kenma’s and Kuroo refused to let you slip through his fingers for some random soccer boy.

as you were at the cafe, getting your very shitty breakfast for the morning, Kuroo made the call to Kenma. making sure to keep it short and simple.

“come tonight, it’s time.”

that was all it took for Kenma to understand where this was going.

there was going to be an unsanctioned campus party at one of the fraternity houses that was nearby. more than likely, you were probably going attend and have Kuroo come along as your plus one. you kept him close at all times as you didn’t trust anyone enough with your drinks or bag.

“you going to the party tonight?” Kuroo asked. you nodded yes tiredly, “yeah, a few of the boys on the team are attending and want me to come along. you’re coming right?” you asked. Kuroo shook his head yes, “yep! I have surprise for you too. make sure to dress nice,” he joked.

you gave Kuroo a look of pure confusion but remained silent nonetheless. he never really cared for what you wore when it came to going to parties with him so you couldn’t help but wonder why he cared now. you could see the small smirk on his face and tried to figure out what he was hiding from you.

after you finished your breakfast and headed to your first class, you kept trying to see what it was that Kuroo was going surprise you with. at first, you thought that it might’ve been Kenma but you quickly tossed that idea out when he scoffed at the guess and muttered a yeah right in response.

by the time dinner came, you were out of ideas and had no idea what he was going to bring. you walked out of your class, stomach rumbling and ready to eat dinner before heading back to your campus apartment to start getting ready for the night.

“Daiki, you’re coming tonight, right?” you asked the boy after his practice. he nodded, putting his arm around your shoulder, “of course. I’m your date tonight, aren’t I?” he asked a bit cocky. you rolled your eyes, trying to respond before Kuroo came up to you, “lets go. I have your dinner and don’t want it to go cold,” he stated, grabbing your wrist softly.

you gave Daiki a quick wave, “duty calls! see you tonight!” you yelled to the black haired boy before looking to Kuroo, “I was in the middle of a conversation, you ass!” you said, shrugging him off. Kuroo shrugged, “probably wasn’t important anyway,” he replied.

you looked inside the bag, seeing your favorite food from down the street. it was extremely hard to get dinner there and even worse to try and get it Friday nights.

“how the hell you’d pull this off? it’s always busy Friday nights!” you exclaimed, digging into the food once you back to the apartment. Kuroo chuckled, “not hard when you’re friends with the manager. say, have you kept your sweater from Nekoma?” he asked.

you nodded, “course I did! I have the managerial sweater as well as the one Kenma gave me one time. why do you ask?” Kuroo shook his head, dismissing the question with a simple response, “my grandmother found mine the other day and just shipped it in the mail.”

“your grandma is so sweet, I hope she’s doing well with you not being home,” you muttered. “she’s happy I’m not there anymore. she doesn’t have to feed me anymore,” he joked. you rolled your eyes before looking at the time, not realizing how late it was getting, “Kuroo! shit! it’s getting late and I still have to get ready!” you yelled, instantly getting up.

Kuroo muttered that he was already wearing what he was going to the party in, “well, I’m not about to go in a sweater and sweatpants,” you screamed from the bathroom.

you put all your makeup onto the counter and primed your face while you dug through you closet for your clothes. you had decided on a casual dress with white converse to seal the deal. the makeup was going to be on the lighter side as you had no chance to do an entire glammed face.

by the time you finished up your makeup, Kuroo was already pressuring for you to hurry up before it got too late. you slipped on your shoes, trying not to slip in the process, “come on!” you screamed, throwing him your bag to hold, “Daiki is waiting for me there too.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, trying not to make it seem as though he was bothered. at the end; however, he knew how tonight was going to end. you were going to be smothered up against Kenma as you would try and accept his offer to transfer over to his university.

even if Kenma had to act completely out of his element in order to do that, he had to do what he needed to do in order to get you back in your rightful spot. right next to him.

“ready?” Kuroo joked, seeing the way you were panic spraying your setting spray all over your face, “yeah, get my keys. they’re in my bag,” you yelled, walking in front of him so he could lock your door. you did the final touches of your makeup in the car as Kuroo parked it a few streets down.

you and Kuroo almost immediately got separated when you walked in. Daiki and some of the boys from the soccer team dragged you in one direction while Kuroo had gotten dragged by a few of his friends in the other direction. you knew you would be relatively safe with Daiki but every time you went to the bar to get a drink, you’d make sure no one was in close contact with it.

the music was blaring throughout the house as you danced with a few of your girl friends to it. you hadn’t been paying attention to who was walking in through the door so as you were in the middle of dancing, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

you turned around and felt your heart fall to your stomach as you realized who it was. “KENMA!” you screamed, dropping your drink on the floor and running to him. he chuckled, opening his arms for you as you engulfed him for a hug, “oh my god, Ken!” you whispered, holding him tightly.

Kuroo gave the two of you a smirk, knowing that the plan was working out smoothly. you pulled away and looked at him, “what are you doing here? Ken, oh my god, you ass, why didn’t you tell me?” you screamed, pulling him for another hug.

“figured a surprise would be the best idea,” he murmured, feeling his own heart race at how close you were with him, “I can’t believe you made the drive up here for this lame party,” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the dance floor.

a few minutes later, Daiki had found you with Kuroo and Kenma as he tried to figure out who Kenma was, “hey, there you are,” Daiki said happily. Kenma and Kuroo looked at him and smiled mischievously, “yeah! this is my friend Kenma! why don’t you stay with them while I get all of us drinks!” you introduced.

Kenma looked at him with an unamused expression as soon as you gone. Daiki could feel the awkward tension radiating from the both of them, “I wouldn’t continue to chase her if I were you,” Kuroo told him, catching Daiki off guard, “he’s practically her boyfriend and it would take one kiss to make that official,” Kuroo added on.

Daiki laughed, “oh yeah, that’s pretty interesting to hear considering I had her in my bed, moaning my name like I was her god last Friday,” Daiki retorted.

Kenma’s eyes widened as Kuroo instantly shot up from his seat. before Kuroo could do anything, Kenma with all the strength he had pushed Kuroo aside and decked him in the nose, making sure to connect it as hard as he could. you got to the table to see Daiki on the floor, holding his bloody nose as others around them laughed at the scene.

“what the hell happened?” you screamed, no longer caring for the drinks you waited so long for. Kenma wiped the blood from his hand on his pants, “you want to repeat what you said about her or should I?” Kenma sneered. you looked to Daiki in anger as he didn’t respond, “come on! don’t be scared now! how about you mention what you said to us. everything about you using her in order to get into her pants and making sure you treat her like the slut you said she was,” Kuroo repeated.

your eyes widened as Kenma grabbed your wrist to make sure you didn’t do anything irrational yourself. Kuroo knew he was telling a complete lie but they needed Daiki out the way to fulfill the rest of the plan and the only way they could do that is if you absolutely hated his guts.

“you prick!” you screamed at Daiki who was still on the ground, “and to think we actually had something!” you continued. Kenma grabbed your wrist, whispering that everything would be okay. he slowly pulled you out of the house as they saw Daiki basically thrown out himself.

“wow, what an ass,” you whispered to Kenma as he shook it off, “how’s your hand?” you asked grabbing it. you saw it was a bit red and it would probably get bruised but at least there wasn’t any cuts.

“fine,” he whispered pulling his hair back, the way he knew you liked it. you smiled, “seriously, what are you doing here Ken?” you asked, sitting on the steps of the front porch. “I was in town for a book I need for class,” he lied, “and I figured I would pay my favorite girl a visit,” he added on.

bingo!

a warm feeling came across your face as Kuroo saw the entire interaction from inside, “I also wanted to ask you a question,” he said softly. your eyebrows fluttered in confusion, “transfer over to my university. I need someone to run my company with and you’re the only one I want to do it with,” he confessed, this time with no hesitation in his voice.

your eyes widened at the wild request.

“Ken, you haven’t talked to me in almost a year and now you pay me a visit and expect me to follow you?” you asked with slight annoyance in your voice. Kenma sighed, “I know but after both you and Kuroo left, I felt like you weren’t going to care about me as much anymore now that you were off to college,” he replied.

Kenma hated being this vulnerable to anyone and truthfully, what he was telling you was kind of a true but also not. he knew your schedule would be busier but he also knew that you would have made time for him if you would have kept in contact.

“Kenma, I would always make time for you,” you whispered, “you should’ve known that. we were practically best friends.” Kenma rolled his eyes at the end of what you said, “I know but I couldn’t help it. I really need you by my side for this though. you’re the only one who understands gaming as much as I do.”

you sighed, your heart not knowing what to do. you knew the university he attended would accept you but you also knew that just dropping your current university to follow a boy would get you killed by your parents, “and what am I going to tell my mom? that I’m transferring so I could go to school with you?” you joked.

Kenma laughed, taking your hand softly.

“you could say they’re raising tuition and say that my university is offering you s cheaper option,” he suggested, “I just want you to be right next to me when this takes off,” he pleaded.

he could tell you were still hesitant on the idea but as a last resort, he knew what he had to do would get you to say yes. Kenma pulled you closer and kissed you. you were completely taken back by his actions but for the first time in what felt like years, you felt that happiness you only had with Kenma crawl back up.

as soon as he pulled away, you smiled in a dazed state of mind, “well?” he asked. you thought for a few moments, “well, if you really need me that bad, I’m sure I can make a convincing argument to my mom on why I need to transfer,” you finally said.

Kenma smiled gleefully, pulling you in for another kiss. you ran your fingers through his dyed blond hair as he deepened it.

without your knowledge, Kenma looked through the window to see Kuroo standing in front of it. Kenma gave him a thumbs up, indicating the plan worked. Kuroo smiled in response as Kenma continued to kiss you with a smirk playing on his face.

what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you, right?

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #yandere haikyuu #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume imagine #kenma kozume x you #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine

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possibleplatypus · 2 years ago

Note

For the fic ask game:

3. 😂 A fic that made you laugh out loud.

6. ☺️ A fic that made you smile on a bad day.

12.💘 A fic you couldn't stop reading once you started.

15.📚 A fic you wish you could display on your bookshelf.

3. My Big Fat Wolf Wedding by AggressiveWhenStartled, galwednesday, quietnight, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt “MARRIED?”

“Basically married. Permanently engaged anyway. Weres have their own deal.” Natasha sounds much, much too gleeful about Steve’s rapidly expanding personal hell. “So you better wake your blushing bride and tell him the happy news: that it was an accident and you had no idea what you were doing.”

“I,” Steve says, strangled. “I can’t do that!”

“You can’t?”

“He thought I was proposing! And he accepted!”

“Wow, maybe he’s just as dumb as you are,” Natasha says thoughtfully.

“I can’t just promise him a ring, take him home, drink from him three times in a row and then wake him up the next morning to say oops, just kidding!” Steve casts around, looking at his wreck of an apartment. “I don’t even have any good champagne!”

(Honestly could not stop laughing especially towards the end ;) )

6. a dream that feels so real to me by @greyhavensking “What I’m driving at,” Steve says, tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand the same time he presses into his shoulder, giving him something solid to lean against, “is that those aren’t my favorite memories of you.”

That gets Bucky’s mask to crack a little, curiosity bleeding through the fracture lines. “Really? ‘Cause I seem to recall you’ve got a strange fondness for that one time I let Becca mess with my hair and she stuck about a hundred different ribbons and bows in it. You drew it, just so you wouldn’t ever forget the look on my face when I caught sight of myself in a mirror.”

Steve snorts, very much ignoring the daggers Bucky glares at him for the response. It is a good memory, his or not, and he’s almost sad that that particular drawing didn’t make it into the exhibit. But, no, that’s not his favorite, not by a longshot.

“First time I kissed you,” is all he says, eager to watch the play of emotions over Bucky’s face as he processes that.

Because the first time they kissed? Happened right here in the museum.

(Super sweet Night at the Museum AU ;_; I encourage reading the whole series!)

12. An Appropriate Omega (WIP) by BeauRadley Steven Rogers, the Duke of Brooklyn, is in a bind. The provisions of his father's will mean he must marry before his thirty-fifth birthday or lose his mother's inheritance. The catch? He has to marry a suitable omega.

James Barnes is the third child of the impoverished Barnes family. If he or his sister don't marry before the season is out, their family will fall further into poverty. If he doesn't find someone else soon, he'll be forced to marry the sinister Lord Pierce.

The two men realize they can solve each other's problems, but will their marriage of convenience turn into something more?

(I just started reading this a few days ago and binged all of it. Now I am impatiently waiting for the next part lol)

15. This was the hardest one... If I had my way I’d print out all my favorite fics, bind them, and have a whole physical stucky library, sorted by author ;) alas...

The Hundred Year Playlist by girlbookwrm (stories are finished, series is ongoing, so far 300k+) Steve and Bucky, start to finish.

"Come on, pal, it's me. Take another hundred years if you want, I'll still be here.” (All these stories stand alone and are roughly canon compliant)

DREAMERS WITH EMPTY HANDS: Pre CATFA. Steve Rogers/Chronic Pain, with bonus Steve/Pining. 1924-1943

GOOD MORNING HEARTACHE, WHAT'S NEW?: CATFA. Steve/Emotional Pain, War Years Edition. 1943-1945/2011

THE TERROR OF KNOWING: Winter Soldier Years. Soldat/Fear, with bonus Baby Widows. 1945-2014.

FOOL FOR SACRIFICE: Avengers 1 - AoU. Steve/Losing Everything. 2011-2015

NO HOPE FOR THE WEARY: TWS-CACW. Bucky/Let Him Rest. The Big Recovery Fic, 2014-2016.

LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPON: Pre-IW. Steve/Bucky/their giant pile of Issues.

COMING SOON: Post EG and TFATWS season 1. Sam and Bucky's Multiverse Roadtrip (to get Steve back)

and

The Fray Will Well Become Me by mugwort and myrrh (almost 400k; stories are finished, series is ongoing) Also known as the Magic Pixie Dream Steve 'verse.

Steve Rogers' father is an immortal sorcerer from another world. This changes some things some things a Hell of a lot, and some things not at all.

Or: sorcery, sex, soldiering, spy craft and shapeshifting.

fic rec ask game!

#mcu #mcu fic #fic recs #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #asks answered

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anunvalidcritic · 4 years ago

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INVINCIBLE: S1-EP8

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

It’s the last episode.... Let’s dive in boys, girls, and non-binary folks!!!

WHERE I REALLY COME FROM

Is it just me or did this week go by really fast??? (went by to fuckin’ fast bcuz I fuckin’ forgot!)

alright so we’re starting off by staring at the grass... that’s a pretty calm start..

nvm it’s raining blood

INVINCIBLE looks sick asf

well, I’m glad that was his first reaction

“It’s me Mark, It’s just me.” - OMNI-MAN

BRO VILTRUMITES ARE FUCKIN’ SAVAGES

DEBBIE has always been a baddie

Bro OMNI-MAN’s storyline is fuckin’ amazing

“You love me, you love Mom! I know you do.” - INVINCIBLE MARK

go ahead and that shit out now my dude

“Do you have any idea how long we live? The older we get, the slower we age. Viltrumite DNA is so pure you’re nearly full-blooded. You’ll live for thousands of years. Do you understand what that means? Everyone you know and love will be gone before you even look thirty.” - OMNI-MAN

well damn thanks for dropping this knowledge on us, sir.

ICONIC DIALOGUE

OMNI-MAN - “I do love your mother. But she’s more like a... a pet to me.”

MARK - “A pet?”

OMNI-MAN - “This is the only way, Mark.” *as he reaches for MARK’s shoulder*

MARK - “Don’t touch me!”

NO THIS MOTHERFUCKER DIDN’T!!!!! DID Y’ALL HEAR WHAT HE JUST SAID!!!??!!?!?!?! I CAN’T DO THIS BRO!!!!!!

go off MARK, talk yo shit!

“I don’t give a shit about Viltrum. And I don’t care if I live a fuckin’ million years. This is my home and I won’t let you destroy it!” - INVINCIBLE

Bro, don’t let your daddy beat yo' ass! You are a grown man now.

dude, this title for the last episode is fucking exceptional!

those dudes in the jets are gonna lose their fuckin’ lives

You know, it’s unfortunate that they know that shit is just a distraction for him and not life threating.

He didn’t have to demolish that man like that...

this man is ruthless

“Did seeing that man lose his life distrube you? Did it hurt you?! Well, let’s see how you handle this.” - OMNI-MAN

👁 👄 👁

Don’t you just love it when motherfuckers just stop and stare when they see a disaster happening??

Now I understand that the building is more than likely collapsing on it’s own, but I wouldn’t be surprised if his dad is pushng it from the other side.

They’re really fuckin’ up Chi-Town right...

I could’ve told you that woman wasn’t gonna make it...

as evil as this man is... his character is amazing

I love seeing MARK rage this dude just goes in!

“For the first time in your life, I’m telling you the truth.” - OMNI-MAN

what is he aboour.

THAT WASN’T FUCKIN’ NECCESSARY!!!!!!!!!!!!

... their suits need more than a deep dry cleaning

He didn’t have to swerve MARK like taht!

the clouds look nice...

okay, that’s enough OMNI-MAN!!

I wish they would’ve at least kept ZACHARY QUINTO’s voice because I miss the guy

See, this episode is a prime (pun intended) and I mean a PRIME example of how raising your kids with a good upbringing is important. If MARK was raised the way OMNI-MAN had intended to raise him, then he would’ve been a complete asshole... an extremely strong asshole, but an asshole.

you know this is very triggering... RIP GLENN

“You wanna die for this planet? Fine. What’s seventeen more years? I can always start again... make another kid.” - OMNI-MAN

FLASHBACK

YOUNG MARK = LITTLE LEAGUE BASEBALL

“Look at Mark. You and I made him. He’s ours. When he feels joy, we feel joy. See that look on his face. How can you see this and not feel the same way. As we get older it’s harder to feel that.” - DEBBIE

GOD! Can Sandra Oh be my fuckin’ mom!?!?!

NOLAN still ain’t shit....

~~~~~~

I like how he had that flashback while he was beating his son to a pulp

homeboy has to get dentures now...

only a narcissist would say some shit like this

“You dad, I’d still have you.” - MARK

that’s fuckin’ heartbreaking....

ik it’s not funny but MARK looks horrible..

looks like OMNI-MAN went back home cryin’

AMBER feelin’ like a complete dick as she should!! (I was rooting for y’all)

how long was he out??

DEBBIE you married an evil motherfucker, but it’s not your fault

Who tf cursed MONSTER GIRL?? She must’ve said or done some foul shit... And who tf fucked up CECIL’s face??

let it out DEBS let it out..

ik tf AMBER just didn’t!! deadass thought it was EVE...

lol the way WILLIAM saved that was hilarious!!

“We can try but it’s literally all anyone is tlking about in the world” - WILLIAM

come on now dude

😆 I could’ve sworn DUPLI-KATE looked asian and not white like EVE. WILLIAM is trifflin’

I was gonna say during the montage clip I knew one of those species looked familiar.

MARK + ALLEN THE ALIEN = BEST BUDS

Mars is gettin’ fucked up from the ground up.

ICONIC DIALOGUE

ALLEN THE ALIEN - “What’s the plan in the meantime?”

INVINCIBLE - “Finish high school, I guess.”

ALLEN THE ALIEN - “Oh, alright good. Sounds good. What is high school?”

_____

I liked the way it ended! It’s unfortunate that we must bid ado to this lovely grotesque show of INVINICBLE, but alas we must in order to move onto greater things and the world beyond. Hopefully, they’ll get confirmed for a second season because I really don’t want them to end on such an extraordinarily high point...

List of Episodes with link :) ~

EP1 - EP2 - EP3 - EP4 - EP5 - EP6 - EP7 - EP8

EDIT: Thank god Amazon has decided to renew the series for not just the second season but a third as well!!!! FUCK YEAH!!

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newtonsheffield · 3 years ago

Note

Since you won’t write the darkest timeline AU I wrote something for it. Here you have Thomas and Anthony:

“You wanted to see me, Uncle?”, Thomas asks while sitting down on the chair opposite to him. Nothing beween them but the big oak desk, the one his mother had hid under before Anthony first kissed her all these years ago.

Anthony tries not to think about that. Just as he tries not to think about the fact that in a better, kinder world this would one day be Thomas office. Alas he doesn’t live in this world. He lives in a world in which his son, his only child, calls him uncle. Where his heir is his brothers son.

Thomas for his part seems unbothered by all of this. He is a man of twenty now, a good man, Anthony knows, having soaked up every information that his wife, or anyone would give him about his son. Anthony knows that he never lets the weak get picked on and that his son always helps the old maid living across from him. It’s a relief to know that his son is a better man than he is (not that it’s particularly hard).

“Well?”, Thomas asks again, sounding more annoyed now. Anthony remebers a time when he was Thomas favorite person. When the boy would throw himself into his arms, when he would take him to eat cakes and try not to flinch when someone else would assume Thomas was his son. Which happened often enough as the boy looked more like him every day. Anthony doesn’t know what changed later on, when the boy would give him nothing but a short nod and an judgemental stare. He isn’t suprised though, Anthony managed to disappoint every single person dear to him, why should his son be any different? The son that thought of him as an uncle.

Anthony knows that his family knows, just as Kates does but nobody in the ton does. Because why should the viscount chose the plain older sister over the diamond, the one he had wed all this years ago? They are all idiots, Anthony thinks.

“You aunt has informed me that you’re planning to look for a wife this season?”, he says and gets a glare in return.

“Well if you must know: I won’t be actively looking for a bride but I do plan to consider it, if someone happens to catch my eye”, Thomas answers truthfully. It’s clear that he rather leave than stay any longer. Anthony hates that his son can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

“I see”, Anthony says, yet doesn’t want Thomas to leave yet, desperate to prolong any moment with him, as they are so few and far inbetween. He offers instead: “I could lend you some advice, if you want”

At that Thomas laughs outwardly, as if Anthony had just told a particular funny joke. Anthony scoffs. He had never liked not being taken seriously. Even now as a man of almost sixty years he hated it.

“Do not worry, Uncle. If I need advice I will ask my father”, Thomas simply answers with an almost cruel smirk on his lips. It feels like punch in Anthonys stomach.

Charles Woodruff.

Anthony hates to even think of the name. The name his son carries, the man that has what he wants most in the world.

“Well, your father doesn’t know much of the ton, seeing as he is just a simple countyman”, Anthony spits out. He regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth but he can’t take it back now.

Thomas glare hardens and he frowns. It so familiar it makes him shudder, after all he sees it every morning when he looks into the mirror.

“My father may not have a Viscounttitle but I am none the less proud to carry his name”, Thomas says. Anthony tries his best not to let his heart shudder at that. He fails. Curious how many times a heart can break, he finds himself thinking. He briefly wonders once again why his son hates him so but figures he deserves it anyway.

“Of course, I apologize”, he says quickly, hoping they can move the conversation away from Charles Woodruff.

Anthony hates him too much to bear think about him any longer. He is man enough to admit that he only hates him because he was lucky enough to marry Kate. Hates that he had to give her away on her wedding day when he wanted nothing more than to be the groom.

Thomas doesn’t seem to be finished just yet, however.

“I know you are Uncle. And even if my father may only be the second son of a thirds son’s earl to carry a name such as his is still better than the alternative”, he says and every word cuts Anthony to the core. “It certainly is preferable to simply being a lords bastard, don’t you agree?”

Anthony almost chokes on nothing. Thomas knew. He doesn’t know why it suprises him that much. The similarity is too striking. The same hair, the same eyes, the nose. The way Anthony looked at his mother and his mother looked at him. Of course he had figured it out.

He doesn’t say anthing, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t cofirm it either. He just sits there and wishes things were different. But they aren’t.

“I was just trying to help”, he mumbles quietly. Thomas snorts. The boy that normally is so full of kindness and smile gone in front of his real father.

“Don’t worry you helped enough already. I learned enough from you. You taught me so many things. I will be aware to not marry the sister of the woman I love and I will be aware to not leave both woman brokenhearted”, Thomas tells him sarcasm dripping from every word, the anger so clear in his voice that Anthony can’t help but flinch. Every word is true and there is nothing he can say to defend himself.

Thomas gets up to angry to stay any longer. Anthony doesn’t stop him, doesn’t have the energy for it left.

“If you excuse me I promised mother to meet her for tea. I hope that’s alright with you, father”, Thomas spits the last word in his face and it hurts. It feels like losing his father over again, only now he is losing his son.

Thomas closes the door with enough force that the shelves shake and leaves Anthony alone in his office.

It’s the first time Thomas has called him father.

Oh GOD!

This was everything I never knew I wanted.

Heartbreaking, beautiful, Amazing Perfect! Show stopping!

Because of course Thomas realized when he was about 14 that he was not Charles Woodruff’s son. And of course than means he knew what happened. Knows what probably happens when his uncle and mother can’t be found for hours at a time at family events. Knows what it means that Sarah Bridgerton is far lighter haired than the other cousins.

And he resents his true father. Because his mother always looks so sad when she re-emerges, her eyes flickering over the crowd. And he vowed he would never never be the man his father was.

#the darkest timeline #molly’s asks and answers

52 notes · View notes

sorryimanon · 4 years ago

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

#bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou

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scottydog4-blog · 3 years ago

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Okay.

It’s been a day.

There are now a LOT of gifs and Twitter-pinions about the premier, and I have some too.

When I finished ‘More Joy’, I quite literally thought “I want them to go back to how it was”…. and I felt like a complete Sharpwin traitor. I actually wanted to box it all back up and have the old Max and Helen back, corridor walks and longing stares, all happening safely inside the walls of New Amsterdam hospital. And at the same time I wanted to rewatch the whole episode to see new Max and Helen again because they were (mostly) adorable.

Then I spent the day reflecting and the more I thought about what I didn’t like, the more I realised one thing. I didn’t like that they weren’t at the hospital. It felt so weird to see them at Helen’s place, half dressed and TALKING, openly. It was a bit too much for my over analytical, ready-to-pick-up-on-all-and-any-subtext brain. It was a change seeing them like that, and I don’t seem to like change. Which is hard because it seems season 4 is not only about joy, but about change.

Yes yes, the first scene was 🔥🔥🔥 endless gifs. In hindsight, I wish I’d never seen any previews but alas, I’m a spoiler junkie. It was awesome though.

The second scene was slightly dramatic and achieved its goal of throwing a nice cold-bucket-of-water on the moment 🥶🥶🥶

The third scene did feel a little out of left field because in Helen’s season finale London movie her mum was not very likeable and for most of Season 3 Mina was a pain in the ass, so wanting us to root for her to go hang out with both of them instead of her very warm and loving NA fam and her new hot boyfriend is a hard sell! But go read someone else’s analysis of that because a lot has been said about her past and her healing journey etc. I can accept it, it’ll just sting a bit (see hatred of change above).

I’m going for the next three scenes.

Scene four. I loved it because they were up and they were walking about and talking normally and I think them walking and talking is as much part of both of their characters as their longing looks. He’s followed her down endless hospital corridors, now around her apartment, and maybe soon across an ocean. And yes you can complain about the I love yous, or you might love how they happened. Whatever. All I saw was Max react to her saying ‘I love you’ as if finally, even to him, this was completely obvious. I mean, his face is like ‘duh’. It’s why he’s ready to fight so hard for her. He’s not second guessing that she loves him anymore. And that felt good to see.

Scene five. I hated it. I still do. But I hate it because it makes me feel uneasy and uncomfortable, like it becomes painfully obvious that their long distance solution is not going to work and it’s awkward watching them realise it to. Which is the point. Because we all need to get that long distance is just not going to work. If they went down that route for an episode or two (or five) then that would mean Helen would be able to leave, and Max would stay, and that’s certainly not what we want. She’s one of our favourite doctors and she has amazing patient storylines and being Max’s long distance girlfriend is not just a down grade for Helen (and Freema), it’s insulting. What I think most viewers would have liked by the end of this scene is literally for Helen to give up on her London dream so everything goes back to being easy and we would get Max and Helen staying at New Amsterdam, same as they always have been, only now perfectly in love. Also an insult to woman everywhere. But you know who absolutely never tries to suggest that, who keeps making suggestion after suggestion, who literally declares different iterations of “it’s gunna work” every time she implies that it won’t. Max. He never asks her not to do this, only reassures her they’ll figure it all out. And that also felt good to see.

Lastly, scene six. My absolute favourite (yes, above scene one). It makes complete sense now why the last scene on the roof is the most comfortable one to watch. Because it’s them. Max and Helen. Back at New Amsterdam. On their roof. Just existing next to each other. Clothed (lol). “Oh hi” never sounded so good after all the ups and downs during the episode. Glancing at each other as they chat in front of the NYC skyline. That feeling that everything had changed evaporated instantly. Change MAY be coming, but for now they are still here.

And when they do start to talk about them, it doesn’t feel so weird. In fact, this scene is literally pure JOY. How can you argue otherwise? Max, who admitted on the very same roof to the very same woman how he’d let his wife down because he couldn’t turn down his chance to climb ‘Everest’, is now willing to do the exact opposite and GIVE UP his Everest so Helen can climb hers. Because he loves her. Plus, LOOK AT FREEMA’S FACE. How does she do all those emotions like that? And then there’s Max, who just looks back at her like ‘of course I’ll follow you, you’re my joy silly.’

SO MUCH JOY ON THAT ROOF!!!

People are only mad because they are freaking out about how the show creators are going to possibly make this work without them. And that in itself is just totally unnecessary.

New Amsterdam is a show about the Medical Director, Max Goodwin, and all his awesome staff. It’s about patients. It’s about shining a light on things and causes that matter. It’s about New York (see all those rooftop scenes, that skyline is the other character). People LOVE it just as it is. WE love it. Those things are the premise of the whole show. So can everyone CHILL. What they’ve done, is they’ve put that thing we love on the line and now we are all wanting to know how the hell they’re going to fix this mess. And they are going to say OVER and OVER that Max and Helen are DEFINITELY leaving because implying otherwise undermines the whole storyline. We need to feel they are leaving to be invested in whatever happens next. Time jump or mind changes or any number of things they might throw our way to get a back to the premise of the show. And we are going to tune in week after week to find out. And that my friends, is how television works. And thinking they were going to do otherwise was just setting yourself up for disappointment.

To the people demanding Max and Helen be happy for at least one episode… um, they looked very happy in episode 1 and they look very happy up against an ambulance in episode 2, and in the corridor smooching in episode 3, and wandering the streets of NYC some time in the future…

To the people who thought they were getting 5 full minutes of sexy times. I believe what we were told was we’d be ‘happy with the first 5 minutes’ (e.g. that glorious time before Helen said ‘I should never have…’)

To the people who read every single article and Q&A - Schulner LITERALLY said so many times that the season would be about discovering your joy and what happens after you get what you want. I think one time he even mentioned ‘chasing after’ it. We were basically warned and WE ARE LITERALLY LIVING THIS NOW TOO. We got Sharpwin, now we have to live with what happens next. Cause and effect in action.

To the people annoyed with all the drama this show has caused. It’s a… drama show. It was to be expected.

So let’s try to relax and enjoy the ride :)

#new amsterdam #sharpwin #helen sharpe #max goodwin #helen x max

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shadowed-dancer · 3 years ago

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My Thoughts on the New MHA Opening and Ending

I have thoughts, and I will share them because oh boy if I don’t get this out I’m gonna explode

Vague Spoilers for the manga (up to chapter 258 and vigilantes) because I discuss the upcoming arcs, but I don’t discuss any major plot points in detail. Still, proceed with caution if you’re anime only

Keep in mind, this OP and ED will cover the Endeavour Agency Arc and the MVA Arc, so I will be judging them accordingly.

First, the OP

This is a good OP... in theory (that’s going to become my catchphrase for this post). It’s nice to look at and flows pretty well, but my biggest problem is that it doesn’t do it’s job. An OP is supposed to be a sort of... summary (?) of the Cour it plays for. That means any cool plot points, emotional beats, and important characters should be featured in some way, shape, or form. We’ll talk about that more later, but first let’s discuss the music.

The song is really good. I have a feeling it will continue to grow on me as I listen to it more often, but yeah my first impression is that the song sounds great. My only complaint about the music itself is that it ends kind of abruptly (I noticed this is the JT opening too). The previous openings used to have a bit of instrumental to “play us out” and lead us to the end card, but this one feels like it ends very suddenly and unnaturally.

As for the visuals...

Yeah alright I’ll admit, the visuals are stunning... in theory. I appreciate the variety in backgrounds and colours, it makes the OP really interesting to look at. This was actually one of my biggest problems with the JT Opening, it all took place on the training grounds, so there was no variety (everything was metal tubes with a blue sky, with only 3 shots set somewhere different). I appreciate the style of this OP.

But like I said, that’s only in theory, as in, through screenshots these are all pleasing to look at. The pacing of this OP is wild, and I truly don’t know who to blame for this.

That sunset shot above? It lasts approximately 12 seconds, zooming in every few to make it seem like something is happening (when in reality it’s still the same poses, angles, etc). While there’s nothing wrong with a nice, drawn out shot, it becomes irritating when compared to the pacing of the rest of this op.

At the 41 second mark, we are given the shot above. It has flowed directly from the previous sunset scene. We still have not moved away from the image of the trio (aside from the opening shot and the title card) yet we’re approaching the halfway mark of the OP.

The next shot is the MLA, which lasts about 5 seconds. Ok, perfect. Not too long, but also not short enough to be confusing. It cuts away a little fast once the dude on the far left appears, but does anyone actually know who that is? No, seriously, I’m asking. I don’t remember his name and he’s not on the wiki, so I can only assume he’s not important. Therefore, it’s not all that bad if the shot cuts away shortly after he comes into frame. The audience is able to take in the scene without having to pause...

... And then the problems start

While this shot is fine in theory, it pans up fast and cuts away quickly. You know how hard it was for me to get this screenshot? Really hard. You want to know why I struggled so much? Because, due to the timing of the cut and the way it pans upwards, it’s almost impossible to pause on Dabi’s face. I literally had to go frame by frame to get it, because he’s in shot for so little time that naturally pausing is guaranteed to miss him.

When watching this in real time (without pausing) the cut away makes you feel as if you missed something because “something was there, I just couldn’t register what because now it’s gone”. Unlike Compress, who wears a very colourful coat you can recognize the entire time, Dabi’s pants are more blended into the background.

It also doesn’t help that this shot is literally composed to draw your attention away from Dabi until the last possible second. Due to framing, your eye is naturally drawn to the brightly coloured Toga in the foreground, making it super easy to miss Dabi in the back (until, of course, his bright face appears and contrasts against the background, drawing your eye just in time for the scene to change, leaving you to wonder who or what you missed).

I know this sounds like nitpicking, but this shot is the only group shot we get of the League, and is also the start of a seriously weird trend for the villains in this OP getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, then we get what I’ll call “The Carousel Shot” in which every Class 1A kid shows up and poses dramatically, as if they were on a carousel. It’s a lovely sequence and I really enjoy watching it but... why is it in this OP?

Seriously, this is a genuine question. Class 1A barely shows up in the Endeavour Agency Arc, and NONE of the students are in MVA. This sequence (not counting the three boys at the end) lasts 8 seconds. Why is this much time dedicated to characters who are barely in the arc? (Unless Studio Bones extends their work studies into fuller plot lines which oh my gosh please don’t do that, or if they do, do it quick).

We then get what I call the “Oh God I Blinked And Missed Everything” sequence, which lasts 3 seconds (not including the longer, moving shot of Shigaraki at the end) and features NINE INDIVIDUAL IMAGES, none of which are related to each other. Not only is this 3 images per second, but the fact that they are all unrelated means you can’t even use previous information to fill in the blanks.

What do I mean by that? Well, imagine if I show you 9 images of various pro heroes posing. If I play that in 3 seconds you’ll absolutely miss some of them, but as long as you catch some you’ll still get an idea of what I’m trying to show to you. Your brain is able to fill in the gaps that “I recognized 4 pro heroes, therefore the rest must have also been pros” even if you didn’t register every single frame.

That doesn’t work if every frame features a completely different subject. The shots in this sequence vary so widely that it’s impossible to find a through line. Some feature multiple characters, some feature one, some are closeups, some are super far away, some are character’s we know, others are characters we don’t. It’s impossible to get a solid read on what you’re being shown.

Now, again, there’s nothing wrong with these super quick shots... in theory. The problem comes from the fact that these shots are the only indicators for some of the major themes that will be explored during this Cour (like Twice’s growth and young Shigaraki).

That being said, let’s move away from criticism and talk about speculation, because hidden amongst this sequence are two... interesting images.

This All Might one is very reminiscent of the shot in Chapter 257, where Aizawa and All Might have a conversation while staring up at the stars. However, this is technically the start of the “War Arc” (or the “prologue”, if that’s what you want to call it), so this might indicate that we’re going to get farther into the series than a lot of us guessed.

(Many people suspected we’d get to that cliffhanger at the start of the season (if you read the manga you know the one), but after seeing the pacing for JT a lot of us assumed we’d be lucky to even finish Endeavour Agency. It seems we’re back to the cliffhanger now though lol).

This is another really interesting shot because it’s indicative of Shirakumo, meaning we might get to see Aizawa and Mic confront him some time this Cour (this also makes sense, since this confrontation technically happens before that All Might scene I mentioned in the previous paragraph).

But the cat specifically is a really strange addition. That cat is named Sushi and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Sushi is ever mentioned in the main series. I think he’s only in Vigilantes.

This might just be a little Easter Egg for Vigilante readers, but I’m personally hoping that they’ll add at least a few Vigilante shots in there to really tug at the heart strings. I’d say I want a whole Vigilante episode but I don’t think they have the time (unless they really cram MVA, which I do NOT want).

I don’t have much to say about the last bit of the OP. The action shot between the 3 boys was nice, and it follows the sort of narrative through line they established from the early shot of them sitting at the sunset. I also like the shot of Endeavour fading in to replace All Might, even if it’s very simple.

But I want to talk about an overarching problem I touched upon earlier in that villain shot: the way the villains are handled in this OP.

This is a good OP... in theory. The problem is, it doesn’t represent half the arcs in the cour! Every shot of the League is so rushed that you can barely register that they were on screen before they’re gone.

I have no idea how many Episodes Endeavour Agency will take, but I’d assume 3 (4 if you count the Christmas episode). 12 episodes for this Cour minus 3 for Endeavour Agency = 9 episodes left. If we truly do get the prologue for the War Arc (and if we assume it’s only 1 episode) that leaves us with 8 villains episodes.

8/12 episodes (aka two thirds of the Cour) will likely be about the villains. And yet they’re pushed to the background so hard in this OP.

I want to dream, and I want to believe that this OP is going to magically change when MVA starts. The song fits super well, and I can imagine like an inversion of the OP but from the Villain side! Wouldn’t that be neat? Imagine right after the “it’s alright” part Shigaraki just freaking decays the title card... oh man that would be so cool. But, alas, I highly doubt they’d do that.

Side rant, but you know what was so fun about MVA in the manga? It’s that, for 21 chapters, we leave the kids behind and the villains become our protagonists. Suddenly Shigaraki is the one we’re rooting for, suddenly we’re learning backstories for everyone, and suddenly we find ourselves just as attached to the villains as we are to the kids. It’s an inversion that’s SO RARE to find, and I think many people (myself included) were hoping it would be reflected in the OP.

A big part of being the protagonist means featuring heavily in the OP, and a lot of us just wanted the villains to get that honour, even if only once. As is, the OP still treats them as the antagonists when... really they aren’t. Not right now, at least.

So yeah, final thoughts on the OP are that it’s good, it’s just not very representative of the arcs it’s supposed to cover. If this was just for Endeavour Agency, I’d say it’s actually really cool, but if we assume that this is what will play for the Villain Arc, then it simply doesn’t do it’s job. And it makes me sad to say that because, again, this OP is really well done.

If I had to rate it? Hmmm

If Studio Bones actually grants my wish and creates a different visual for the Villain Arc (while using the same song) and then this version only plays for the Endeavour Agency Arc and the War Prologue? I’d give it an 8/10. It’s really good, but it could use a few more elements that are clearly derived from the Agency Arc (ahem, Todoroki siblings).

But if this is the OP that will play for the entire Cour? a 6.5/10. It’s nice, but it’s not representative of one of the arcs it’s going to cover. And, unlike other arcs like Pro Hero or Summer Exams, the villain Arc is so important and takes up so much time that it honestly feels like a bit of a disservice.

Now for the Ending

I want to say that I appreciate how soft this ending starts. This cour will likely feature a lot of episodes that end on... heavier themes, and I think the sight of peaceful, falling raindrops is the perfect way to let the audience process their emotions before starting the ending in earnest.

The song itself is very nice, and I like that it’s a bit slower than the more recent endings.

(Side note, but the FUNNIEST moment in the entire series is when Sir Nighteye dies because it’s so emotional and everyone is standing around his bed in his heartwrentching silence, only for the ending to come BLARING IN out of no where. If you forgot how jarringly hilarious it was, go listen to the Eri ending and tell me that’s not the funniest thing this series ever did. Anyways yeah I’m glad that’s not gonna happen this Cour).

This ending is a bit all over the place in terms of it’s visuals, but honestly I think it works. Most endings usually have a theme tying them together (all the Class 1A girls, a fantasy AU, old photographs, planning a party, etc) but this ending’s theme is a bit harder to identify.

That being said, I think it’s just supposed to show everyone going about their day. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, and it’s just very sweet to think about

I like this shot. Actually, scratch that, I like this whole sequence. I enjoy anything that allows Class 1A to chill and have fun.

Hawks is featured quite heavily in this ending which, fair. He’s pretty important in this arc.

I really love the shot where Endeavour immediately switches to Hawks, I thought that was a lot of fun, and very good symbolism on how Hawks wants to be like Endeavour. I also love all the shots of Baby Hawks, because it’s adorable.

Something about this shot is just so cute. It’s the little domestic things like waiting for a bus that make this ending feel... idk the word, real? It shows a side of the characters that we’ll never see in the episodes, but we know have to exist.

Like yes, of course the kids have to wait for the bus. We never see it, but of course there are those moments of quiet. Agh, I love it.

The villains also make an appearance and I’m very happy about that (I’d love to see more of the villains just chilling around, I think they deserve it). I kind of wish they weren’t sitting in a dark room for the sake of being edgy, since I think it would be nice to see the villains just... sort of existing, but honestly it’s still a nice shot. I also like how this shot sort of mirrors the first one with Class 1A (someone coming in while everyone else is sitting and waiting for them).

That being said, as much as I love looking at Dabi and his stupid face (affectionate)... why is Dabi the one getting the closeup?

Mind you, endings don’t need to be connected to their Cours (they can be, like the Eri one, but they don’t have to be). But this ending does seem to be connected to the arcs it intends to cover, given all the Hawks appearances, the boys wearing their work study scarves, etc.

So, I ask again, why Dabi? Out of the six League members, we learn the backstory for four of them in this arc (Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, and we very briefly learn about Spinner). The only two left out are Dabi and Compress.

I can only assume they chose Dabi because he’s constantly in contact with Hawks, and therefore that makes him important? If the OP told us anything, it’s that Bones values the Endeavour Agency Arc over the Villain Arc lol...

... Oh my gosh please tell me that’s not actually the reason Dabi is focused on here BONES WAI-

Anyways, the ending comes to a close with Hawks watching over the kids and Endeavour. The relaxing time is done, it’s time for work studies.

Overall impression? It’s great. It’s hard to screw up an ending, so as long as you have something pretty on screen, it’s wonderful.

I’ll give this a 9/10

#bnha #bnha season 5 #dabi #keigo takami #bnha season five #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #mha season 5 #mha season five #bnha op #bnha opinions #izuku midoriya #bnha hawks #ok to reblog #actually yes please do reblog if you found this interesting #I worked hard on it

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playernumberv · 4 years ago

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Returnal may be the best game I’ll probably end up leaving unfinished

But wait, I hear my imaginary audience ask - if a game is that good, how and why would I possibly leave it unfinished? And indeed, when I leave a game unfinished, it’s usually because I don’t have much good to say about it, and no longer deem it worthy of my time. I left Assassin’s Creed Valhalla unfinished after 30 hours in it, for example, because it just kept dragging on and on and on and I just got incredibly bored. That’s not the case with Returnal at all.

In what has been for me a relatively lull year in games (with nothing having reached my personal standard for being a GOTY contender yet), Returnal has been the most compelling and fascinating title I’ve played. It is just utterly stellar. I love how intriguing the sci-fi psychological horror/thriller setting is, and while sparse, the little narrative there is compels me to want to find out more about Atropos and Selene. The third-person shooter combat is visceral and fluid, and is a mad rush of pure adrenaline and exhilaration that is complemented by an overwhelming smorgasbord of eye-melting visual effects. Audio design can only be described as majestic, with thunderous combat soundtracks that catalyze the already sky-high intensity of the game’s combat, and the deafening roar of enemy cries truly tear right into you, making you feel as if you were truly confronted by terrifying alien monstrosities. Level design and art design are similarly masterful, creating an alien world that genuinely feels alive and horrifying. And have I mentioned how indescribably good the dualsense implementation is? You can feel the pitter-patter of raindrops; you can feel the kinetic rush of dashing; you can feel the recoil of gunfire. If Astro’s Playroom was a technical demonstration of what the dualsense could be capable of, Returnal is an applied demonstration of how the dualsense can truly elevate gaming experiences. Every aspect of this game comes together and just oozes an unprecedented level of quality in the level of immersion it achieves - it bombards you with near-endless bursts of visual, auditory, as well as sensory feedback, and in so doing creates a truly next-gen gaming experience that feels extremely immersive. Short of VR experiences, I daresay no other game has ever come close to such an immaculate level of immersion, so much so that can say unironically that the game actually makes me feel like I’m stranded on an alien world.

Again I hear my imaginary audience ask - this makes no damn sense, if Returnal is as magnificent as I claim it to be, why would I leave it unfinished?

And to that, my answer is this: Returnal is simply far too punishing and inaccessible. For a working adult who—I’m ashamed to say, despite my immense love of games—isn’t especially skilled at gaming and who has relatively limited time and energy for gaming, Returnal simply demands far too much. It’s utterly soul-crushing. To begin with, I am not a fan of the repetitiveness of roguelikes, and even a roguelike as polished and well-designed as Hades did not especially impress me, as I mentioned in my earlier review of it. Yet Hades’ roguelike is, ironically enough, heavenly compared to the genuine hellishness of Returnal’s roguelike, where permanent upgrades are extremely scarce to the point of being nearly non-existent. Virtually everything resets with each death. Your weapons: gone, reduced to ashes. Your suit upgrades, health upgrades, all gone. And that may have been fine were the game itself not nail-bitingly hard—it’s not uncommon at all to have to spend an hour or even more on preparation, only for one small mistake to be severely punished before you even manage to reach the boss, and to have to restart from zero all over again. Furthermore, as is standard of the roguelike genre, there is a fair bit of randomness—and so how successful each run is may in part be determined by whether you luck out on obtaining the desired suit upgrades or your desired weapon. This randomness further compounds the amount of time that needs to be spent on preparing, failing, being unlucky, and trying all over again. That may have been fine once in a while, but repeat this cycle enough times, and Returnal becomes a miserable punishment. It’s utterly soul-crushing to have to waste hours on preparation, only to fail and have all the preparation completely reduced to nothing. And this isn’t even accounting for how gruellingly tough the boss fights can be. Returnal makes you squander hours upon hours—it severely punishes failure, to the point where its rewards, majestic though they are, become overshadowed by its punishment.

Yes, yes, I can already hear a portion of my imaginary audience chanting. ‘GIT GUD’, they say, and I don’t deny at all that I am not good at Returnal. But I am certain that there are other gamers, who like me, do not play games to be punished, challenged, and pushed to our limits—we play games for entertainment, for relaxation, and for escapism from the stresses and difficulties of the real world, something that may be especially important in the broken, pandemic-stricken world we live in currently. Returnal is the utter opposite of relaxation, and if a (mostly) healthy, able-bodied person like me finds it inaccessible, I imagine it to be even more so for a huge proportion of others out there. To be fair, I hesitate to call any of this a ‘flaw’ on the part of Returnal, and I do understand the sentiments of the ‘git gud’ crowd—there’s a strong charm to Returnal’s unflinching adherence to its vision, and its insistence on having an identity of relentlessness and challenge is in its own way very respectable and charismatic. I also do understand the immense elation and satisfaction of surmounting a seemingly-impossible challenge—beating the bosses of the first and second biomes of Returnal filled me with a raw euphoria no game has given me in ages. In part, having no recourse towards an easier way out is part of this charm. Knowing that one cannot simply choose an easier option, for there is none, truly does magnify the immense satisfaction of conquering a challenge.

With all that being said, I cannot help but think that sacrificing a small part of that charisma and charm in the noble pursuit of accessibility is a worthy cost. This need not even involve sacrificing the roguelike genre in favour of a more generic third-person action-adventure style of gameplay—although admittedly, given my general disdain for roguelikes, this would probably have been a better fit for me. I do have to say that the roguelike genre is perfect for Returnal. Its central narrative theme of being stranded on an alien planet where the main character returns by death—wait, wrong series—provides perfect ludonarrative harmony when melded with the roguelike genre, and this harmonious complementation between game-play and narrative is truly brilliant. Even maintaining its roguelike genre, I sincerely believe that Returnal could have been made to be substantially more accessible and less punishing, and to shift the mechanics away from randomness and towards granting more player control. Having difficulty options provide a convenient way to accomplish this, but I do believe the roguelike itself could also learn a number of lessons from Hades. For example, even maintaining its present difficulty levels, a larger number of permanent upgrades would go an incredibly long way in making Returnal’s roguelike far more meaningful and palatable. More forms of permanent suit or health upgrades, as well as more permanent weapons—being stuck with only a pistol at the start of every run is extremely unwelcome—would be immensely appreciable as well. Implementing these changes would indeed compromise some of Returnal’s unflinching and unrelenting vision. But would it not be a worthy trade-off if a greater number of people can experience the utter majesty of what Housemarque has accomplished here in terms of audio design, game design, art design, and narrative?

I truly am impressed by Returnal, and when awards season comes by at the end of the year, I think it unquestionably deserves every accolade it will almost surely obtain, be it in audio, narrative, or gameplay. It is the best game I’ve played this entire year so far, and even as I type this, I feel a rush of sheer awe at just how unbelievably excellent Returnal is. Unfortunately, my affections for Returnal feel unrequited. My circumstances and my relative incompetence as a gamer make it near-impossible for me to ever experience in full all that Returnal has to offer, despite my great desire to be able to. So, it seems, despite my deep affections for Returnal, I may never finish it, and I will think back to this years later with deep regret, wishing that I were in more suitable circumstances, wishing that I were a better gamer, and wishing that Returnal could have been more accessible. Alas, these wishes were not to be.

#returnal #housemarque #playstation #playstation 5 #ps5 #sony #gaming #games #accessibility #roguelike #roguelite

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kjack89 · 4 years ago

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closure

Sequel to ‘tis the damn season (Tumblr | AO3) and gold rush (Tumblr | AO3).

ExR, modern AU, former relationship. What are happy endings?

Enjolras couldn’t sleep.

He lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the graveyard of his childhood accomplishments. Why his parents had insisted on holding onto every trophy, medal and certificate he’d ever received, he’d never understand. His first grade perfect attendance certificate just seemed like some kind of cruel mockery in light of more recent failures thrown into sharp relief over this holiday weekend.

He sighed and shifted in bed, knowing damn well that the reason he couldn’t sleep had precious little to do with the participation medal he’d gotten for park district soccer in the third grade, and far more to do with the discussion he’d had with Grantaire.

With the reality that nothing in Enjolras’s life was what he had envisioned a decade past, when he and Grantaire had lain in this very same bed, dreaming of a future that had never come to pass.

And with the knowledge that the only reason it hadn’t was because of him.

Groaning, Enjolras flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, as if the down filling could drown out the echoes of his conversation with Grantaire earlier that evening, or else the awful realization that he’d completely failed at being a remotely good boyfriend to the only man he’d ever really loved. But the pillow held no such relief, just dampening the ambient noise and leaving Enjolras more alone with his thoughts than ever.

He was tempted to stay that way, as it seemed a fitting punishment to lie there and obsess over everything that had gone wrong over the past decade.

Still, while brooding was good for keeping him up all hours of the night, Enjolras had never really been one for moping, always preferring action to the alternative, and even though it would be hours yet before the sun crept over the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get up and do something.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, figuring he might as well doomscroll through Twitter just to give his fingers something to do. But then he paused, and almost without knowing what he was doing, he clicked on Google instead of Twitter, and a moment later, he had the Amtrak website pulled up.

Grantaire had said that he had an early train to catch. A quick scan through the departures listed on the Amtrak website told Enjolras that the earliest train was set to depart at 4:30am, which was… Even though the time was listed on the phone screen he had been squinting at, Enjolras still rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand, just to be sure.

Its glowing orange numbers told him that it was 4:03am, and Enjolras managed a small, sharp smile.

Just enough time to get to the train station.

----------

Enjolras didn’t exactly have a plan in mind for what he was going to say to Grantaire when he found him at the train station, but thankfully, he was saved by the fact that Grantaire did not show up for the 4:30 train. Or the 5:05, the 5:26 express, the 5:50 flyer, or the 6:30 train.

But five trains and three cups of coffee were still not enough, since the moment Enjolras saw Grantaire in the train station, a few minutes after 7, any words he might’ve half-strewn together in his mind fled, leaving him tongue-tied as Grantaire spotted him, one dark eyebrow arching. “Please tell me I don’t need to get a restraining order,” Grantaire said as he approached, but with enough of a teasing edge to his voice that Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

“I promise this is the end of any incidental stalking,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“Well, that is somewhat reassuring,” he said, setting his duffel bag down on a nearby bench and stretching. “But I still have a bad feeling about why you’re here at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Enjolras snorted. “Ass o’clock in the morning was when the first train left at 4:30,” he said before yawning so widely that his jaw audibly cracked, and Grantaire raised both eyebrows.

“Judging by the fact that you look like you haven’t slept, I’ll assume that means you were here at 4:30?”

Enjolras shrugged, suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed by that decision. “I, uh, I didn’t know which train you were taking,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I suppose it’s my fault for not specifying how early my early train was,” he mused, sitting down on the bench next to his bag.

Frowning slightly, Enjolras sat as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised to see you here,” Grantaire said. “And, since I figured you were going to show up, I probably should have been a little more specific about when my train was leaving.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “You figured I was going to show up?” he asked, slightly higher-pitched than he intended, and Grantaire had the audacity to not look even remotely abashed. “How? I didn’t even decide to come until this morning.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You never did like to let arguments go without finishing them,” he said simply.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t bother trying to deny it. Instead, he changed tacks. “I wasn’t aware that we were having an argument.”

“Hasn’t it always been an argument between us?” Grantaire asked, a little wistfully. Enjolras didn’t have a response to that, but thankfully, the question seemed more rhetorical than anything, and after a moment, Grantaire shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before glancing back at Enjolras. “So,” he said, looking at Enjolras expectantly.

Enjolras frowned. “So what?”

“So, since you’ve been here for a few hours now, how about you get to whatever point you’re so desperate to make?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I just…” he started, feeling tongue-tied again, in the way that only Grantaire had ever been able to make him. “Well, like you said, I don’t think we really finished things yesterday, argument or otherwise.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “So you have more you want to say?” he asked mildly, picking at invisible lint on his jeans.

“No.”

Grantaire looked up, startled. “No?” he repeated.

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said again. “I don’t think it’s me who has more that I need to say. I think you do.”

Grantaire started to speak but stopped, looking away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you think if I had more to say, I would’ve taken the time to say it last night?” he asked finally.

“No,” Enjolras said. “Because I think that you thought I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. But I am.”

He said it as defiantly as he was able, but Grantaire just laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure, you’re ready to hear it,” Grantaire scoffed. “And I’m ready to be king of France, but alas—”

“I’m serious,” Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire met his eyes and Enjolras was surprised to see something dark in his expression. “So am I,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think this is about—”

“It’s about the fact that when I miss who I was when I was with you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

Enjolras could feel himself flush, and ducked his head before barrelling forward. “When you and I were together were...I don’t want to say they were the best years of my life, because it was high school, and I never wanted to be that person. But you always made me better, made me strive to be better. And I just thought…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. But us meeting like this...I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Since when have you believed in fate?” Grantaire asked softly.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it fate, but seeing you again – I want to try to be that again. And then maybe…” He trailed off and took a deep breath before telling Grantaire, as honest as he had ever been, “Then maybe we could try again. But better this time.”

Grantaire barked what could charitably called a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You want to get back to the person who you were when we were together?”

“Well, maybe not quite like that—”

“Enjolras, I hated who I was when we were dating.” Enjolras froze, staring at him. “The thought of going back to that…”

“Not exactly back to it,” Enjolras said quickly. “Better than what we were—”

“No.”

“No what?” Enjolras asked, feeling like his stomach had dropped to somewhere around his knees.

“No, we can’t go back to that,” Grantaire said loudly, and Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, afraid that someone would overhear. But it was still just the two of them alone in the train station. “I don’t want that. I’m not that person anymore, and whatever you want to call how you used to feel about the person I used to be, you sure as shit wouldn’t feel it for the person I am now.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling like Grantaire was missing his point. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“Let me rephrase what I was trying to say earlier,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t know what you think this is about for me. I get what this is about for you. But just like our entire relationship, if you even want to call it that, that has nothing to do with me.”

“Grantaire—”

“I can’t give you closure, Enjolras, if that’s what you’re looking for, or forgiveness, or whatever. Mainly because you’ve never needed it, but also because you’ve never asked. Not really, and certainly not now.” Grantaire shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice low.

“Aren’t you?”

Grantaire didn’t wait for an answer, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he told Enjolras, “I spent the last ten years of my life figuring out who I was without you and building a life for myself that didn’t involve you, and I’m not going to throw it all away just because you’re not happy with the life you’ve built for yourself.”

Enjolras hurried to stand as well. “That’s not—”

“Yeah, it is.” Grantaire glanced over his shoulder at the train station clock before looking back at Enjolras, something so sad in his expression that Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. “I love you, Enjolras – or at least, there’s a part of me that will always love a part of you. But I’m not who I was ten years ago, and you’re not who I fell in love with either. And I’m not saying that I’m disappointed in who you’ve become, or telling you that you need to change, or whatever, because I know better than anyone that that’s not how this works.” He paused, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before continuing, “I am in love with a version of you that has lived in my head for ten years, and I don’t want closure on that. But you’re not him. And I don’t think you’re the version of you that’s been living in your head for the last ten years, either. But it’s up to you to figure out who that is and if that’s who you actually want to be.”

“Then give me a chance to do so,” Enjolras said, the words coming out as more of a plea than he intended.

“I am,” Grantaire said, taking a step backwards. “I just can’t be a part of it.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when he looked back at Enjolras, his expression was resigned. “And now I have to go.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire paused, halfway through turning around to walk away. “Where does that leave us?”

Grantaire didn’t turn back. “There is no us, Enjolras. I don’t know that there ever was.” He squared his shoulders and Enjolras was certain that he was going to walk away and leave it at that, but after a moment that felt more like a century, Grantaire looked back at him. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “And, again...you know how to get in touch. If you want to.”

With that, he headed toward the waiting train, and Enjolras watched Grantaire walk away for the third time in as many days.

He stayed that way for a long time, long after the train had pulled out of the station, carrying Grantaire and the few other sleepy passengers off to their destinations. Eventually, the chill roused him when nothing else would, and Enjolras reached out automatically to wipe his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm.

Then it was his turn to walk away, trudging out of the train station and back to the car he had borrowed from his parents, his mind full of arguments he had wanted to make but now never could, his heart as numb as his fingers.

It was by sheer happenstance alone that on his way, he happened to glance at the departures board, looking automatically at the train that Grantaire had taken. 7:26 EXPRESS, the board told him, along with a note that it was still boarding, which clearly was an error.

But what made him stop in his tracks was when he saw the destination station listed.

It was his city.

Which meant...there was really only one explanation, and Enjolras reached out automatically to steady himself.

Grantaire lived in the same city as him.

All this time, he had just assumed that Grantaire lived hours away, and for all Enjolras knew, he lived only a few miles away, or less.

For what felt like the first time in days, Enjolras felt just a little bit like his old self as he stared at the departures board, determination overpowering everything else he had been feeling.

Maybe this wasn’t an ending, after all.

Maybe this was just the beginning.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #former relationship #light angst #i don't want your closure

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amiwritesthings · 3 years ago

Note

what drove u to write my name engraved on your heart and I am curious about the dog tags motif especially

china, darling, i could talk about my name engraved on your heart all day and night ♥️

i had been doing a lot of reading and writing in a different (military-themed) fandom and then i started a rewatch of spn and got all hooked on jdm and obsessively watched the john eps in season 1/2 and i don't even remember how it happened but my brain went, john, soldier, the general married vibes we were all bathing in right then, dog tags(!!) and WHAT IF he was still wearing his and i just kept headcanoning from there. i really liked the thought of dean and john having something, some connection from before, to keep them tethered and grounded, to remind them both of the people they used to be before the fire and the demons and the training, something for dean to keep even when john would eventually be gone.

i didn't initially intend to write fic for this AT ALL, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone and all these little scenes kept sneaking up on me, like the kid stuff, before and after the fire. although, one of the first scenes i wrote was actually the birthday scene with john giving one of the tags to dean!

from there it just spiraled into this beautiful, soft thing that, while exploring the john&dean (and eventually john/dean) dynamic from literal start to finish (and in a completely consensual, loving way), also allowed me to paint a more sympathetic picture of john (at least i hope i did), cause sometimes it just pains me how negatively a lot of people see him when there's obviously (for me, anyway) a lot of layers to unpack (side bar: like, i haven't even started to unpack the possible ptsd angle here, but i have lots of thoughts about it!!)

i have put my heart and soul into this and it turned out to be my favorite thing i've ever written, to the point where I can reread it and feel like I'm not reading my own writing (which is a good thing, cause i can nitpick my own writing to DEATH while rereading on a bad day). it makes me a little sad sometimes when i see how many readers decide to skip part one (it only has about a third of the hits that part two has), mostly because i think they would probably be able to enjoy part two more with the emotional buildup of part one in mind. alas, this brand of softness is not for everyone and i get that a lot of people just really enjoy the dark stuff more.

anyways, thank you so much for the ask, my dear! ♥️

#ami answers #writing #my name engraved on your heart #deanjohn #dean & john #asks

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navigatrixnarrations · 4 years ago

Text

Sometimes Always Part 3: Thieves Like Us

Part 1

Part 2

The third chapter of a canon divergent kind-of fix-it set after Season 3. In which the past does not stay silent. You may recognize part of it from a Six-Sentence Sunday.

Warnings: brawling, mentions of hanging and gunshots

Word Count: 2231

The two fighters circle each other in their makeshift ring on the docks, stripped to the waist despite the chill night air. In the smoky torchlight, the scene could almost be a pirate camp. Margaret has woven her way to the front of the gathered crowd of bettors. She’s put coin on Vane, partly out of loyalty, partly because she remembers what a magnificent brawler he was. The other fighter is the clear local favorite; unlike Vane, he’s well-known in the area. He’s half a head taller than Vane and outweighs him as well, and he’s fast and strong, but Vane fights with a savage intensity, feral glee in his eyes at the challenge and the rush of it. And his technique and tactics are far better. Vane dodges the lighting-fast combination of punches thrown at him, getting in close to land blows of his own. It isn’t long before Vane’s ferocious onslaught has the other fighter down for the count. Yes, Vane is still magnificent, standing victorious in the center of the ring, sweat gleaming on his broad chest, long hair barely mussed, breath steaming in the cold. His piercing blue stare meets hers, and Margaret feels her pulse quicken. How does the bloody man manage to swagger while standing still?

Beside her, the merchant who’d been trying to chat her up during the fight notices the heavy look she and Vane are exchanging. He mumbles an excuse about how he “didn’t realize you were here to watch your man”, and hurries away as Vane approaches.

My man, Margaret thinks sourly. No, her man had brown eyes and a broad, easy grin. Her man never let anyone or anything come between them. Her man is at the bottom of the sea.

After Sully died, would-be suitors circled her like sharks. Most simply wanted an in with her father. Some were other pirates. Some were so-called respectable men, with their soft hands and their willingness to let others do their dirty work. She chased them all off with sharp words, and on at least one occasion, at the point of a pistol.

“Your friend didn’t want to meet me?” Vane’s raspy growl brings her back to the present.

“Alas, he wasn’t the sociable type.”

“Pity.” Vane’s right arm tremors ever so slightly as he puts on his shirt, and Margaret finds herself grateful that he’s left-handed. She assists him into his coat, briskly, before he can object. Back in Nassau, it took her too long to get a clear shot as Vane’s face turned purple and his body convulsed at the end of the rope. She prays to a god she is not entirely sure she believes in, for reasons she is entirely unwilling to name, that the delay didn’t cause him permanent injury.

They collect their respective winnings and make their way to a nearby tavern, less rowdy than some and known for its food and its anonymity. Margaret forces herself not to react when her leg brushes against his under the table.

“Do you think it’s wise, drawing attention to yourself like you did prize-fighting?”

“Hiding in plain sight.” The corner of Vane’s mouth quirks upward. “And you wagered on me.”

Margaret gives him an extravagant shrug. “Of course I did. I’m a chancer.”

“Ever the proper pirate.” There is nothing mocking in his tone or his face.

“These past couple of years, smuggling is where most of the work has been.”

“You mean after Sully…”

She cuts him off. “Yes.” She wants to snarl at him to keep Sully’s name out of his mouth, but there was a time when Vane and Sully called each other brother and meant it. She can’t begrudge him any grief he might be feeling, nor curiosity.

He raises his mug of ale to hers. “To Sully. And to thieves like us.” They both drink deep.

Their food arrives. Vane examines the bread that came with their oyster stew. “They’ve picked off all the weevils.”

Margaret smiles slightly, in spite of herself. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” An old joke. It’s all too easy to fall into old jokes. Margaret had extra duty once again for mouthing off at her father, and she was missing her meal because of it. She sat on the fighting top watching for sails, too proud to admit hunger or apologize, and Charles climbed up to bring her water ration, some dried meat, and some hard tack, though he’d have gotten in trouble himself if the captain caught him. She picked up a piece of the hard tack and examined it. “You picked off all the weevils.”

He gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ll fetch you some, if you like.” She started to laugh, but forced herself to be silent lest the sound draw attention to them, to the fact that he’d bent the rules for her. That bastard of a quartermaster, Israel Hands, already had it out for the both of them. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him to have another go at Charles.

She tells herself there’s no harm in reminiscing about the boy he was, with his rough voice and his rough demeanor and his tender heart that he tried so hard to hide.

That rough voice is quiet, even confessional. “All my life, there were consequences for wanting things. The taskmasters would take anything they thought we wanted, just to show us that they could. The bigger slaves would take from the smaller, and I was the youngest and smallest of all. So I learned it was safer not to tell, not to show, if I was to have any chance of keeping anything I wanted.” Vane almost sounds as though he’s thinking aloud, but he’s watching her face intently as though willing her to understand something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Then she did more of the same, taking away anything she even thought I might want, just to prove she could.” There is no doubt as to who she is. Is Vane expressing regret? Trying to explain?

“There are also consequences for not asking for what you want.” She meant to sound arch, but it comes out harsh.

He looks down for a moment then fixes Margaret with a grave stare from beneath his brow. “So I’ve learned.”

The silence hangs thick as a fog bank. Margaret focuses on finishing her meal; it’s easier than focusing on the man across from her.

“I’m sailing for Nassau. Come with me.”

Margaret looked askance at her father. “Why would you ever want to return to that shithole? It’s nothing but backstabbers and cowards.”

“To get Charles out of there. They put a price on his head” he replied.

“He made his choices. He can live with them. Or die with them.” Margaret wanted to sound cold, wanted to be cold, but the ice in her voice sounded unconvincing, even to her ears. Why should the very thought of Charles still have the power to wound her like this, a decade later? What had ever been between them other than a few kisses, some confidences shared?

“I could use your skills, Margaret.”

“Yes, you could. But you’ll have to do without.”

He looks up from the brace of pistols he’s loading. “You think admitting you still care for him would be disloyal to Sully.” When she didn’t answer he continued. “Margaret, when your mother died I was ill-equipped to raise a daughter. You were so young and so angry, and her loss annihilated us both. All those wives, I was trying to replace what couldn’t be replaced. What I had with her.”

“All those wives were because you wanted a son.” This time he didn’t respond. “I’m glad you don’t further insult me by denying it,” she said grimly.

His nostrils flared but his voice stayed calm. Overly calm. “I loved your mother. I still love your mother. I’ve loved some of my other wives, each in different ways.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s possible for you to still love Sully and for that to be irreplaceable, and for you to love Charles as well.” He paused. “I must say I was surprised you didn’t choose him back then.”

“It wasn’t up to me,” she snapped. Damnation, he got her to admit it. If Charles had asked her to be with him, she would have said yes, without hesitation and without regret. But he didn’t, and Sully did. It was a good marriage, a happy one, right until the moment his brain ran out on the deck beside her.

“Will you be here when I return?”

“I’ll be here. But I don’t want to see him.” She turned to leave.

From behind her, her father's voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I wish you’d reconsider, for your own sake.” She left. The notorious Blackbeard, suddenly worried about her loneliness? This must be what going mad feels like.

“And people say I’m terse.” Vane’s teasing purr interrupts her thoughts. He’s trying to lift the pall that’s fallen between them.

Margaret risks a glance at his face. “I’ve been alone for a few years now. I’ve grown accustomed to it.” She drains the rest of her ale and slaps the mug down on the table.

“Surely you’ve no shortage of contenders.” His voice is still as light as the gravel in it allows, but his eyes remain serious.

“Perhaps.” A few days ago, she’d have said not a chance. Damn him. She sees him grit his teeth, the muscle flexing in his jaw. She stands. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He puts coins on the table and follows her. Outside, the clouds hang low and there is a sharp bite in the air. Snow is on the way.

She leads him to the back of the town, where the docks are even rougher and the respectable trades do well to avoid. To call the place a shipyard would be to flatter it, but it’s a yard and series of wharves where vessels of various types and in various states of repair are moored. She takes him to a sleek eight-gun sloop, built for speed and maneuverability, sitting in what might generously be termed dry dock. Recognition dawns on his face. “I haven’t seen a sloop like her since the last time I was on Ocracoke. Is that --”

Margaret completes his sentence. “The Adventure, yes. The old girl took a beating, but she’ll be seaworthy again soon enough.” At his look of consternation, she adds “Yes, I was on Ocracoke.”

He furrows his brows. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“Take him, and get the fuck off my beach,” her father snarled. Turning to Margaret, who had witnessed the entire duel while hidden in the crowd, had started pushing her way to the front and was readying herself to throw her body between them before Charles threw down his sword, “Go after him, girl. Keep him alive.” At her dubious expression, he leaned in to add “Promise me you’ll try!” She nodded. By day’s end, she was sailing for Nassau. The Adventure was fast, but she arrived too late to prevent Charles’s capture…

“When she’s repaired,” he starts, then stops, his face a question.

“When she’s repaired, I intend to leave on her. No idea where the fuck I’ll go.” She looks away from him, studying the currents, weighing something in her mind, then turns to face him head-on. “Come with me?”

Vane’s thin lips part in surprise, and Margaret braces for the impact of his answer. He regains a grip on his composure, and smirks. “How am I expected to deny such a request.”

Margaret cocks one hip out, puts a hand on it, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not.”

They grin at each other as the first flakes begin to fall. Side by side, they make their way back to the garret.

Vane stands with one arm braced against the window frame, still in his coat, watching the snow dance and swirl beyond the panes. Maragaret finds herself touched by his expression of wonder. He’s always been gruff, his default expression becoming even stonier in the years since she’d last seen him. Seeing him wide-eyed and earnest soothes something in her. He’s still there, the Charles she was once so close with.

He stretches out an arm to enfold her in the coat as well, pulling her close. She leans into him, if only to savor his warmth. She still fits as though she belongs there, tucked beneath his arm.

“I’ve never seen snow before,” he admits. So many firsts with her. First taste of freedom. First time over the side. First kiss, clumsy and nervous and sweet as could be. And now, snow.

His hand comes to rest at the spot where the musket ball ripped through her side all those years ago. “Margaret, I…” he breaks off.

Her voice is soft. Matter-of fact, but soft. “I’d do it again if I had to. Even now, after everything, I’d do it again.” She extricates herself from under his arm, then pauses to press her lips to his temple. “Good night, Charles.”

Her door shuts. He takes a deep, unsteady breath and wills his heart to slow its breakneck pace. On the other side of the door, she does the same.

#sometimes always fic #charles vane fic #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #charles vane x oc

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silentauroriamthereal · 4 years ago

Text

Author interview tag

I was tagged by @therealsaintscully! Thanks, you! :)

Name: SilentAuror

Fandoms: Just Sherlock, though I also follow some Old Guard blogs. :)

Where you post: AO3. Though I was almost knocked over the other day when I got a comment on an old HP fic over on skyehawke.com! It’s been literal YEARS since I got a review on anything over there! :P

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Against the Rest of the World for sure. :)

Favourite story you’ve written so far: With 87 posted fics and 2 more currently on the go, I can’t possibly answer that. That’s cruel. Lol.

Fic you were nervous to post: This, on the other hand, is easy, haha! Three stories, all for very different reasons:

1. The A.G.R.A Complex. This was my first Freebatch fic and I thought I might well be burnt at the stake for even writing any RPF. The notion for this story caught my muses’ attention, though, and they eventually forced me to write it against my will. I can’t be held responsible. Lol. It still amazes me that people continue to read it to this day. The notion: Martin and Benedict are friends. There’s a car accident and Martin suffers a fairly mild brain injury. While in his coma, dreams the entire first three seasons of Sherlock, which in this universe, haven’t happened. The nature of the brain injury is such that he keeps shifting mentally between the reality of who he and Benedict (and Amanda) are, and seeing himself and everyone else as their characters in the Sherlock universe. When I posted it, I intended it to be left up to the reader whether to see it as kind of an AU to actual reality, or else a prequel to the filming of Sherlock. When I finally decided to write a sequel, it meant that I had to be the one to make that clear, which made it a prequel. It became a three-part series, with the second part set during and just after the filming of series 3 (the dodgiest in the moral sense, since it dances around and into real life events), and then the third story takes place ten years later.

2. The Final Proof. Why? Easy. Major character death, and it’s Sherlock. That’s clear from about the first sentence, I think. I had written At the Heart of it All, which features Sherlock running an experiment using the hearts of people who lived lives where they had loved and been loved, and people who hadn’t in an effort to prove his own ability to love to John. He says something at the end of that story about wishing he could see his own heart at the end of their life to see which of the hearts his own resembled by then. And then my muses, my terrible, terrible muses said, “hey... you could write that: you know: Sherlock at the very end of his life, making John promise to look at his heart after he’s died, and complete his experiment.” I, like, teared up just at the thought, and honestly, I cried for most of the writing of that story. I’m assured that about 99% of the people who have read it have also cried throughout, so... sorry. Yeah.

3. Scars. Why? Easy, again: the entire story is riddled with gaslighting and other types of emotional abuse and mind-fuckery, and an actual rape scene. It was painful to the point of being interally corrosive to write, but I still felt it was a story I needed to tell. I did my homework on this one, consulted multiple therapists who work specifically in the field of men who have been absued (emotionally, physically, sexually) by female partners. I thought no one would read it. I thought I might lose half my followers on tumblr. But I still wrote it. It still amazes me that people read it, even more when they actually like it, and still like me after. Lol.

How you choose your titles: Hmm... each title genesis is different, I would say! Sometimes it’s a general theme of the story, sometimes it’s a specific concept or single word, occasionally (but not often) it’s a song title. Sometimes it’s another language, particularly Latin. In The A.G.R.A Complex, the title of the story is also the name that the neurologists given to the brain injury Martin experiences. Vena Cava is titled for the name of the vein that Mary’s bullet punctured in Sherlock’s heart, based on a medical analysis I had read. Scars takes its theme from both Sherlock’s external scars from what he went through during his time away, and John’s internal scars from Mary’s emotional abuse. I also have a whole series of (unrelated) flower-themed stories: The Green Carnations comes from ACD era coding for homosexuality. The Yellow Poppies is the story I wrote after the deleted scene about Magnussen’s hospital visit came out, which features both he and Mary as dual villains, and yellow poppies placed in Sherlock’s room as a threat from one or the other of them. The White Lotuses has a leitmotif of Hinduism and slow-blooming self-awareness and romance. The Red Roses is a Molly POV where she helps Sherlock and John get together in spite of her own feelings, and The Wisteria Tree is an amnesia story that has Sherlock forget the past six years of his life, including the five years that he’s been married to John, and how they find their way back together in spite of that. Rosa Felicia - bonus, both a flower name AND Latin, lol! - is a coming-of-age story about Rosie at the age of 19. Where My Demons Hide is a mid-series 4 story that I wrote after The Lying Detective aired, but before The Final Problem did, and is the title of an Imagine Dragons song. Pater Noster is Latin for the title of the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, but also quite literally just means “our father”, and is a story that centres around the events surrounding the death (murder) of John and Harry’s father. You get the gist.

Do you outline: I always say that one should know how a story begins, how it ends, and at least a few of the major points between those two events. So yes, but loosely. I think that over-plotting kills creativity. It’s not an essay. But even essays need space to grow.

Complete: 105 stories back in my skyehawke days, the vast majority of which are HP, totalling in about 1.5 million words. 87 stories in the Sherlock fandom (though those include my 4 Freebatch fics), totalling in over 2.3 million words now.

In progress: I have two stories currently pending: a Christmas story called The Secret of Hazel Grange, and a trauma-based, co-sleeping fic called Nocturne.

Coming soon/not yet started: I never comment about fics I haven’t yet started. Might curse the entire process, lol.

Do you accept prompts: No, alas. Neither prompts nor commissions. While I’m constantly desperately poor, it takes something out of the writing process for me once it becomes a job. I just feel like that’s not what fanfic is about for me. No judgement to anyone else who does write for commissions, whatsoever - we all have our own process! For me, I’m happy (make that incredibly grateful!) to have donations or supporters through my Patreon (eep: x), but writing to order just doesn’t quite jive for me. I also don’t take prompts, not because I don’t want them, but because I have such a huge backlog of my own ideas that I’ll never get to as it is. There will never be enough time to write all the fics I want to write! That said, don’t think that you can’t still suggest your ideas. My “official policy” (lol) is that I don’t take prompts (for the aforementioned backlog reason), but that doesn’t mean that if you do send me one, my muses won’t seize upon it and force me to write it. You never know. I certainly don’t, at least. :P

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m super excited by the notion of actually getting my Christmas fic finished by Christmas. Lol. Here’s hoping!!

Tagging: Anyone who reads this and is a writer, or thinking about becoming one. You’ve been tagged!

#writer stuff #memes and things #sherlock #johnlock #silentauror

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hithelleth · 4 years ago

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For "that scene" meme ill ask you about... the monsterfic ;) I'm curious what made you write it and did you get to writing That Scene?

It’s been literally a month since I literally ASKED for this, OMG.

I remember it was a Monday, and I went to reread it because I couldn’t remember if there was any particular scene, but I only got through about a third that day.

But that evening I was lying in my bed, thinking about it (as one does) and I thought it really wasn’t bad if I may say so myself.

So I was thinking, what if, what if.... wait for it... what if I *gasp* went and just PUBLISHED the darn thing?

I could do it and it coincided nicely with the timeline, because if you remember correctly from when you helped me brainstorm way back when, I wrote right past new year’s and stalled at the transition into spring.

So, I was thinking, I could publish a chapter or two a week (with two proofreading rounds for each chapter - which is probably one more round than needed, but eh, I really have to learn to let go of my perfectionist tendencies) and after I published what I’d written it would be already past new year and maybe the in-story season and the real life season aligning together with the momentum would carry me forward and I could maybe just keep writing and actually FINISH this thing?

But then of course leaking taps and my uncle dying and earthquakes in Croatia happened and I couldn’t find the time and energy again.

Until the infamous coup day which is also a nice even numbered day and a holiday on top of it and I thought (before the whole USA coup thing), well, why not indulge myself? If anyone reads it and feels a bit better due to it for a second so much for the better, but even if not, it will make me feel better to put this thing I love so much out there.

And so I just did it.

OMG. I did it!

I mean, I’m DOING THE THING!

Alas, I still don’t know which scene it was - actually I think this story wasn’t written around any particular scene.

When we learned in the trailer for 3x05 about the atrocity they were going to commit, I just had to somehow make sense of how would they, Bellamy in particularly move forward from it. If the show didn’t just handwave it because skaikru can do nothing wrong. There had to be repercussions, but I also Bellamy to redeem himself.

And I liked Roan then already.

And my brain put the two somehow together.

And this happened.

And now it’s out there. Five years later, with the show done and fandom all but non-existent, but IDC. *shrugs* I’m indulging myself. ;)

And thank you for indulging me! :) <3

#eveningspirit #ask #answered #writing talk

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formula365 · 4 years ago

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We will always have Portimão

For a moment, during the Portuguese Grand Prix first lap, Kimi Raikkonen must have thought he had jumped into the wrong car. After all, he was supposed to be driving an Alfa Romeo, one of the slowest cars on the grid; he had started P16, a regular occurrence this season, and had only finished in the top ten once in the whole season. So how was it possible that he was breezing past Ferraris, Racing Points and Renaults? He had gained 10 places in the first lap and was glued to the Red Bull of Max Verstappen and the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc down the main straight. If indeed he was wondering about what car was he really driving, he wouldn’t have been the only one. A bit further up the field, as Kimi tussled with Verstappen and Leclerc, Carlos Sainz had just taken the lead of the race. The Spaniard must have been as surprised as everyone watching, as he left Bottas and Hamilton behind him; that was a sight he had surely not expected to see in his rearview mirrors when he woke up on Sunday morning. You would have been forgiven if you thought you had time travelled to 2012: a McLaren leading, another in P4 and Kimi in P6. Alas, it wasn’t to last - of course. There had been some light spats of rain just before the start, and the difficulty of warming up the mediums had thrown the field into pandemonium. Once those tyres were up to temperature, the natural order returned, with the Mercedes on top and Kimi moving backwards (although not as much as expected, the Finn finishing an impressive P11). Nevertheless, the first handful of laps of the race were as exciting as anything we have seen in a merry long time. The history books will tell you this was another typical 2020 podium with Hamilton, Bottas and Verstappen, the seventh time it happened in 12 races. Hamilton annihilated the opposition with a blitzing pace. There were some good races from midfield drivers: Leclerc had another strong weekend to finish P4, Gasly bossed his way to P5, Sainz faded from his early lead but still managed sixth, Checo stormed through the filed to get P7, Ocon stretched the medium tyres to last more than two thirds of the race. Plenty of praise can be spread through the field, but the highlight of the race can’t be an individual performance. The chaos of the early rounds, with drivers out of position and unexpected drivers at the front, felt like what F1 should aspire to be. The reduced grip of the early stages transformed the race, levelling the playing field and allowing race craft to come to the fore. Sainz and Kimi, perhaps with some rallying mindset to help, managed to master the conditions better than most, and it was fascinating to witness the trouble an expected lack of grip in a relatively unknown track brought to the grid. Of course, F1 can’t recreate these conditions, nor should that be the aim. But what these conditions provided was an ideal: a vision of what we, as fans, would love to see this sport become. After all, this is why we love wet races: the unpredictability, seeing frontrunners struggle and back markers shine. This is not something that can happen in a constant manner, and at the end of the day some teams and drivers will be better than others. We should, however, expect to have a more balanced field, and more opportunities for teams to evolve and grow and challenge those at the front. Fans went nuts for the opening laps of the race not just because it was crazy and it was fun, but also because deep down we know we just had a peak of the F1 we want to see. Just like Vettel, I don’t have a crystal ball, so I can’t know if the new regulations can deliver something like this, but in the meantime we can go back and re-watch the early laps of the 2020 Portuguese GP, to have a taste of the F1 we dream of. We will always have Portimão.

Talking points * I dedicated the main text of the Nurburgring review to Hamilton equalling Schumacher’s record, so I decided not to repeat myself in this race, but my oh my did he mark the occasion with a brilliant performance. Hamilton didn’t set out just to win the race, he was out there to show how much better he is than anyone else. Having lost the lead early on, he let Bottas open a small gap for a few laps, but once he turned it on, there was no stopping him. He made light work of Bottas’ defence and, once in front, disappeared into the distance. There were brief complaints about his tyres, and a cramp hampered him close to the end. No matter: he set fastest lap after fastest lap, showing his true pace in a way that, due to tyre and car management, we don’t get to see every weekend. This was pure, unadulterated Hamilton, and it was devastating. At the chequered flag, he was a massive 25 (twenty-five) seconds ahead of this teammate. This wasn’t just a win, or even a record-breaking win; this was a statement. * Watching the post-qualifying and post-race interviews with Valtteri Bottas can be heartbreaking at times. The Finn is a fantastic driver, specially on Saturdays, when he is able to push Hamilton hard for pole. Yet, no matter how hard he tries, he still has no answer to Hamilton’s true pace. When he needs to, the champion-elect switches to a gear above, one that Bottas simply cannot match. Having to face that reality right after he jumps from the cockpit has to be tough: you can almost see the light in his eyes fade weekend after weekend. * After retiring with mechanical issues in the first race in Spielberg, Lance Stroll embarked on the best run of his career, with seven consecutive races in the top 10, including a podium and two P4s. But since the heights of Monza, he has failed to score. After retiring twice in a row, and then missing the Eifel Grand Prix due to catching COVID, he must have been raring to show his pace once again, but never really seemed to show up. He crashed with Verstappen in FP2, was nowhere near the pace in qualifying, had been warned about track limits by lap 12, crashed into Lando Norris in a - let’s use a euphemism - ambitious overtaking attempt, and ended up bringing up the rear of the field until his retirement. His seat is obviously not in danger, but he is now behind his team mate in the standings, who has one less race start. After Monza he was fourth in the championship; after this weekend, he is eleventh. * Renault’s rollercoaster season continued in Portugal. After a mighty impressive run of results between Spa and Nurburgring, they seemed to go backwards again, with Ocon failing to make it to Q3 and then with both drivers failing to challenge the Racing Points and McLarens, or even the AlphaTauri of Pierre Gasly. Without the crash that took Stroll and Norris out of points contention, they would have left Portugal with just one point and their hopes of clinching P3 in the championship a bit dented. * There are several drivers on the grid racing for their futures, whether that is to retain their seat, claim a better one or just grab one of the last remaining ones. Of these, Gasly and Checo enhanced their claims enormously with tremendous drives. Checo would have probably been P5 had it not been for the team’s strategic mistake of putting him on the softs for his last stint; impressive in and of itself, but even more so given that he was spun by Verstappen on the first lap and ended up at the back of the field. This result continued his streak of finishing every race in the points; Spa and Monza aside, he has known nothing but the top 7. Gasly, on the other hand, continues to make Red Bull management look ridiculous for not wanting to take him back. Another brilliant drive saw him clinch P5 and climb to P9 in the championship, only one point behind Alex Albon. He must have stepped on some mighty toes for Red Bull to refuse to give him a chance… * Albon, on the other hand, might have just lost his seat this weekend. To start P6 and finish P12 on a Red Bull, without crashes or mechanical issues, is not up to the level required, and something has to give. He looked to have turned a corner after Mugello, the relief of finally making it to the podium obvious on his body language, but he has collected only one point in the three races since. I feel for him, as it is obvious that that seat is never going to have the full support of the team, but when you are being lapped by your teammate when he finishes regularly on the podium, something is not working. Albon is a great driver and I hope his landing will be soft, whether in F1 or elsewhere; he deserves another break.

#F1 #portugese gp 2020 #lewis hamilton #valtteri bottas #max verstappen #kimi raikkonen #carlos sainz jr

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