#silly to admit this but im rushing to finish this so I can post it b4 anyone else posts a mm!charles design. i wanna be the first….

[moxie-girl]

WIP// xf-ture’s head scientist! :3

[woonova]

꩜ ﾟ˖ AFTER DARK

◟﹙ 🏐 ﹚park sunghoon ﹕oneshot ﹙ @woonova ﹚

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  written to after dark by mr. kitty

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  genre fluff, friends to lovers, neighbours to lovers?

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  synopsis in which sunghoon has different plans regarding the silly games you play at your sleepovers

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  warning ....

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  wc 0.77k

rin's notes ! finally out from school!! hopefully i can be more active and finish all my scraps, starting with this one.

¡ also im using this ff to work on the dialogue aspects of my works, so any advice is appreciated

— tumblr’s algorithm works best with reblogging so plz consider reblogging and liking my posts ! —

IT WAS NORMAL FOR YOU TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT SUNGHOON'S, clad in one of your old, oversised t-shirts and a pair of your favourite shorts.

It was your routine, every friday you would pack up all your fun board games and head next door ready for another night of fun.

However, sunghoon had a different plan for this meeting. it had been months, almost a year since you started coming to his house every friday night, sharing laughs with his little sister over the smallest things and engaging in pointless conversations with his parents. it gave him a sense of normality, something that he failed to admit until this very moment.

+

Truthfully sunghoon had forgotten about your friday tradition, due to a hetic schedule and a busy mind. he had also forgotten his plan, the plan that would forever set these greetings and possibly more - in the future. so instead of joining the family dinner only a few feet away, he rushed back up the steps that led to his room - locking himself in until your arrival.

Sunghoon had never really cared that much of his appearance, sure he took care of himself and always made sure he did the small things that would help him look his best, but he never really cared for a long and tiring routine every morning and night.

But here you had him standing, staring back at his own reflection as he tried to brush his hair into a suitable style for your sleepover. a bit dramatic, right? but sunghoon couldn't find it within him to care, although he was sure the style wouldn't last him an hour, due to his tendency to fall asleep pretty early on the days he was particularly busy. but again after seeing the cute smile on your face accompanied by a small compliment on his new style, sunghoon concluded it was worth it.

And the night continued as it usually did. after a conversation with mrs.park - that was honestly way longer than it needed to be you found your self cuddled up in sunghoon's comfy blue comforter.

"Hey y/n, let's play another game before bed," sunghoon said breaking the silence that had overtook you, and how were you to reject his offer when he looked up at you with such beautiful eyes and a small pout on his pretty lips. "only one round and then im going to bed," you responded earning a grin from sunghoon, as he nodded his head successfully ruining his previous style giving him a messy look, that complimented him so well.

But despite your previous statement and sunghoon's agreement you both ended up playing into the late hours of the night, switching to other games when the previous got boring. right now you were on your seventh round of truth or dare, and having gone through some pretty embarrassing dares throughout your years you opted for the choice of truth everytime it was your turn. and sunghoon who was well aware of your plans, mentally rejoiced finding it easy to carry out his own.

"Y/n," he spoke in a low tone, not even bothering to ask which option you choose this time, since you both already knew. "is it true that...," he paused leaving you hanging off every word he said as he moved closer to you. "is it true that you like....me," he finally let out, pulling himself even closer to you, a boyish grin covering up his slight awkwardness.

Meanwhile, there was nothing to cover up your state, as your cheeks slowly gained a faint pink hue, and your breath got caught in your throat as you tried to find a way you could quickly get out of this situation. but sunghoon beat you to it, "dont worry, i like you too y/n," he said in a quiet tone - almost as silent as a whisper, as he looked deep into your eyes, love evident in his brown orbs.

And from his statement you gained a feeling of confidence, as your hand found its way to the nape of his neck, and similarly sunghoon felt his hands traveling to your waist. until you were closer than ever before, and your lips met in a warm embrace.

You would have never thought one of your usual friday night games would end like this, cuddled up to sunghoon as he ran his hand through your hair, but you were sure this was only the start of something bigger, something you were sure you and sunghoon would accept with open arms.

After all, he liked you and you liked him.

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  sponsors @hyfenet @k-labels

© https://...woonova | 2023

[myheroacademiashorts]

Post graduation reader x Baku ~celebrating~ their new apartment together in a v nsfw fashion maybe?

OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT??? This is also my first NSFW prompt since… well, ever! So I hope you enjoy, lovely!

Title: New Beginnings

Prompt: After years of hard work, you and your boyfriend Katsuki have finally graduated from U.A. and are moving into your first apartment together.

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Rating: Fluff, NSFW, 18+

Words: 3,556

——————————————————–

Finally, after three years of schooling and constant work, you’ve made it to the infamous graduation day.

You grinned at the camera aimed at you, arms slung around the waist of Ochako and Tsuyu, grins decorating your faces as a flash blinded you momentarily. Family and friends gathered all around the school’s yard, crying for their loved ones and celebrating a new beginning. In the distance, you could see the familiar tuff of blonde hair, and you immediately pry yourself away from the arms of your friends. “I’ll be right back!” You called out, sprinting as well as you could in the short heels your mother had forced you in as you vaulted yourself at your boyfriend. You wrapped your arms around his torso, hearing him grunt slightly at your weight before turning around to look at you with furrowed brows and his usual scowl. After noticing your bright expression, however, he softened.

“Hey, idiot.” His voice rumbled, and you buried your face into his chest with a silly smile still glued to your ruby lips. You knew he was smiling, too; you could feel it. He had been waiting for this day, too. You finally released him, tilting your head up to meet his red gaze as he stared down at you. The ghost of a smile haunted his face. Glancing behind his shoulder, you could see the familiar frames of his parents. His mom was wildly taking pictures of the two of you as if it were her last day on Earth. “Look a little this way!” She screamed out. Bakugou glowered, but kept silent as he tightened his hold on your waist instead.

As the camera continued to flash, Bakugou kept his attention on you… He couldn’t wait to give you your graduation gift.

————————————————————

“Katsuki, when can I take this damned thing off?” You voice rang out as the two of you continued to walk, your boyfriend’s hand warm in your own as he led you along to an unknown destination. It had been after the celebration at U.A. that Bakugou had snagged you away, mentioning something about your “graduation gift”, despite the new necklace that rested against snuggly between your two collarbones. You had no idea where he had found the necklace - whether he bought it from a shop or online - but it was beautiful. The metal pendant had been shaped into a small explosion, with a ruby adorned in its center. It was a bit silly, you’d admit; you almost laughed when he presented it to you, cheeks blazing in a very un-Bakugou way as he kept his eyes anywhere but your face. Yet you loved it almost as much as you loved him, and told him so after pressing a deep kiss onto his lips.

Bakugou squeezed your hand as he continued to drag you forward. “Soon. Just stay patient, dummy.” He murmured, his deep voice soothing to your ears. He was sweating, but you couldn’t tell if it was because of his quirk or if the famous hothead was, dare you assume, nervous.

Finally, he halted and you accidentally ran into his back with a grunt. You heard him chuckle slightly, before his hold on you tightened. Yup, he was definitely nervous. And if he was nervous, then you were too. “Katsuki?” Your voice held an unspoken question, and you felt him grab your other hand as he faced you. He was hesitating, and he took a gulp of breath before speaking. “Are you ready?” He asked. His voice was a breathy whisper as he dragged his lips closer to your ear, and you shivered slightly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, blind and God-knows-where.”

He didn’t laugh this time, instead of resuming to hold only one of your hands as he took a few more steps, these ascending upwards before coming to a stop once more. He dropped your hand, and you heard him curse as he jingled a pair of keys into a door. Your curiosity spiked more than your nervousness. You kept silent as he worked, and heard his gruff sound of triumph as a door opened. “Ready?” He repeated his earlier question, leading you once more into a place that slightly silenced the bustle of traffic outside. He didn’t give you a chance to answer, though, instead dropping your hand and disappearing behind you to untie your blindfold.

The first thing you noticed was the bright contrast of light. By the time you two had escaped from the school grounds, the sun had just been setting. You stood in an open hallway, plush carpet under your feet as you stared at the walls around you with wide eyes. Silent, you turned to Bakugou, whose eyes were as soft as the smile that graced his plush lips. You knew what this was, and didn’t even need to ask. Your heart was soaring. “Can I…?” You didn’t finish your question, yet the slight nod of his head was enough to send you flying, slipping off your shoes clumsily before darting further into the apartment. It was already furnished, complete with a wooden table that reminded you of home in America to a snug kitchen with gleaming countertops. Past the living room and small television was a pair of sliding door, with a small balcony that overlooked the popular city ahead. All of the doors were ajar, and on your left was a small sitting room. You twirled in the room for a moment, a bright grin on your lips as you turned back. Bakugou was still standing beside the front door, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you.

You darted back towards him, ducking through the last few rooms to discover a bathroom and a closet before you tackle the man into a hug, almost forcing him back a step. Your laughter filled the air as you clung to him. “Is this a dream? Tell me it’s not.” Your voice was excited, and Bakugou’s rough hands found themselves on your hips as he pushed you back a few inches. He had a nervous look in his ruby eyes as he drank in your joyous expression. “I know it’s a bit small, and it might not have everything you’d ever want, and -” He was abruptly cut off by your lips, each hand placed on both of his cheeks. The kiss was short, yet effective as you released him. Your (E/C) gaze was impeccably bright, and somehow the smile on your lips grew even larger.

“I love it. It’s really ours? You’re not pranking me?” He answered by dangling a single apartment’s key in front of your face. “This one is yours.” His voice was still as gruff as ever, and with a gasp you swiped the piece of metal from his hands and stared down at it in awe. An apartment. Your’s and Bakugou’s apartment. You felt light on your feet, dazed as you stared down at the single, silver key.

“This one is our bedroom.” Bakugou motioned one hand to the door you had failed to see earlier, off to the right with its door still closed tightly. He stepped forward, hand on the doorknob and easily pushing it open. It was not tiny, per say, but the room was quaint; especially with the large four-poster bed pushed up against the wall. Across the foot of the bed was a bookcase, filled to the brim with your numerous copies of novels, as well as Bakugou’s as well. Some of the books were neither of yours, instead brand new with unbroken spines faced out in greeting. A smaller gift added to the big one. There was a desk beside the door, clean and made of dark wood with a chair pushed into it. Only one picture was in the room, and it sat on the said desk with a picture of you and Bakugou in its frame, with you smiling widely at the camera while Bakugou stared at you.

To say you loved it would’ve been an understatement.

“Katsuki…” You turned around from the room, eyes welling in unshed tears as you stared at your gruff boyfriend with thousands of emotions rushing through your veins. You were so happy, you didn’t know how to express it. Bakugou laughed gruffly, instead wrapping his arms over your body and bringing you to his chest. He inhaled your sent as he held you. “Happy Graduation, babe.”

You sat in his embrace for a few moments before pulling away, reaching up to instead cup his cheeks and bring his awaiting lips to your own. The kiss started off slow and sweet, just as you meant it to be… But even you knew your boyfriend was anything but. 

He immediately gained control, hand reaching up to grab the back of your neck as he tilted your head upwards. His tongue delved into your mouth, dancing with your own. You moaned against him, earning an animalistic growl as he used his foot to kick the bedroom door shut and moving to the bed. You two had been sexually active for sure - dating a hot head like Bakugou warranted that - but it was different. Before, you had to sneak around in the dorms to one another’s rooms, or into the locker rooms after everyone else had left. But this was your own apartment; you two had your own space, not needing to ninja-sneak from Point A to Point B any longer. That also meant you could be as, well… loud as you wanted to be.

Bakugou pushed you down, your back landing against the soft sheets of the bed. You enjoyed the feeling of the new mattress for only a moment before Bakugou stole your attention once more, hands roaming up your jean-clad thighs before latching onto your waist. “You look fucking beautiful.” He muttered. His eyes were half-open as he stared down at you, then he was back in place as he ravaged your lips, teeth clanging against each other. Your lips would be bruised by the end of it, but you didn’t care. Instead, you looped your hands around his neck and forced him closer. Your back arched off of the bed and you pressed your breasts to Bakugou’s chest, eliciting a low moan from the said man. Already, his hard manhood could be felt against your knee, sending a rush of warmth to pool at the base of your stomach.

He yanked himself away from your embrace, grasping the bottom of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, showing off the taunt muscles and abs that he’s worked hard for. A blonde happy trail disappeared under the waistband of his pants, and you wanted more than anything to push Bakugou into your position on the bed and trace the trail with your tongue. Your cheeks reddened at the thought.

His hands found the button of your pants seconds later. He fumbled with it for a moment, cursing under his breath before it finally popped open, and then your pants were joining his shirt on the ground. You pushed yourself up to meet Bakugou’s lips, both of your hands tangling in his messy hair. His skin was hot against yours, and you yanked on his locks appreciatively as his own grip went to your hips. His pants were still on, so you released him and instead trailed your hands down from his head to his chest, and finally let them linger at his belt. He grunted impatiently.

“Don’t tease me.” The familiar gravel of his voice was already having you soaking in your underwear, yet you didn’t hesitate as you yanked off Bakugou’s belt and pulled his pants down, his boxers effectively going with them. His cock sprung up instantly. You had seen it dozens, if not hundreds of times at this point, and the sight made you speechless every time. You didn’t even need to nudge him to have Bakugou lying in your previous spot, and you hovering over him with lidded eyes and a mischievous grin. At the tip, a drop of precum had collected, and you dip your head down to slowly and teasingly run your tongue up the underside of his dick before swirling it where he wanted it most.

He moaned loudly, one hand reaching up to grip at your hair while the other fisted the sheets. His head was thrown back, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looked heavenly, and you repeated the motion just to hear him once more. He glared down at you from a moment, but there was no venom in the gaze. “C’mon, babe, don’t te- oh, fuck.” You had effectively cut him off by taking him all in your mouth, his pubes tickling your nose as you gazed up at him innocently. And then you started moving, head bobbing up and down as you inched your tongue around his length. The grip of his hand on your head tightened, no doubt wishing to have more control on your movements, but you weren’t going to let him. Not yet, at least. You pulled yourself up from him with a satisfying pop, smiling like an angel as his attention immediately snapped to you. His chest was heaving, even though you had only been down there for a few moments, making you inwardly cheer. And then, he was smiling, and a chill ran down your back.

“Alright, doll, my turn.” You yelped slightly as Bakugou suddenly moved, flipping you back onto the bed and kneeling over you. Your shirt was still on, and with a growl he practically tore it off from your body, followed with your bra before he brought his mouth down to your bare chest. He nipped and sucked everywhere he could reach, moving between your tits to your vulnerable neck and leaving a trail of splotched love bites for all to see. You whimpered slightly, rubbing your thighs together. “Touch me. Please.” You begged him, and that was all he needed before he yanked your thin panties down.

He was face-level with your pussy, dripping with need as he looked at you with a twinkle in his ruby eyes. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” He ran one finger through your folds, collecting the wetness that had gathered and lewdly sucking on the digit. “Who made you this wet, babe? Tell me, and maybe I’ll go down on you.” You trembled at the thought, and while you wanted to grab the blonde’s hair once more, you instead opted to clutch at the bed sheets.

“Y-you did, Katsuki…”

“Hm? I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard anything.”

What a fucker. “You did, Katsuki!”

“What was that? Who?”

You were growing impatient, and propped yourself up on one elbow to glare at him. “Kats- oohh, Katsuki!” His tongue delved into you, and you fell back into the bed with a gasp. He was eating you out like there was no tomorrow, nipping lightly at your bud every few moments and causing your legs to shake. His rough hands forced your thighs apart, gripping them to the point that you knew there’d be bruises by the next morning. And then there was his finger, which prodded your entrance for only a second before slowly inserting into you, causing you to whimper. He pumped his single digit in and out of you, rolling your clit with his tongue as his eyes remained trained on you. You could feel yourself building up to your first orgasm, and you moved your hands to his hair to yank his face closer to you. He responded, however, by pulling away completely.

“Suki!” You whined out his nickname at the feeling of emptiness as he retracted his finger from you. He was grinning, and lifted himself up to place a chaste kiss to your lips. They lingered for a moment, soft and sweet and so full of his love for you that it made you dizzy, before disappearing once more as Bakugou readjusted his position over you. He placed his hands on either side of your body, one reaching down to pump his length a few times as he looked at you. “I love you…” He murmured, rubbing the tip of his cock through your soaking folds as he prepared himself. “So much, that not even fucking words can explain.” And then he was pushing his length in, sucking in a breath as he felt your tight heat around his cock. Every time the two of you had sex, it always felt like the first time for him; he had told you that before, but you didn’t believe him. But it was true, and you were always so tight and warm for him. Usually he liked going rough, liked feeling you beg for him to move harder, faster. But tonight was special. He wanted to keep it that way.

He pushed into you slowly, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of being full as Bakugou bottomed out inside of you, air rushing through his clenched teeth. He dropped his forehead on yours, breathing heavily at the feeling of you all around him. Your hands linked around his neck as he sat unmoving inside of you, and you bit down on his shoulder, hoping to jar some movement out of him. And finally, he began to pull out halfway, before slamming back into you with the jolt of his hips.

You gasped at the familiar feeling, tightening your hold as you arched your back upwards, pressing your breasts into Bakugou’s chest as you moaned. “Again.” You sounded breathless, and without another thought Bakugou repeated the motion, keeping his pace slow and deliberate as he savored every second. Another moan escaped from your lips, louder than the last, and Bakugou’s hips stuttered at the sound. He began to finally move, still staying slow with his movements as he rutted into you, your breaths escaping at the same time. Then, his arms were around you and he pulled you upwards, resting you on his upper thighs as he still sat inside of you, the tips of your noses touching. And when he moved again, it was a whole new feeling; he was deep inside of you with every thrust, and one hand dropped down between your legs to lazily rub at the bundle of nerves there. You head immediately hung down as you panted, the familiar feeling building up at the pit of your stomach. Bakugou could tell as well, feeling you convulse around him, and he responded by pressing down more harshly on your clit, thrusting a bit faster and deeper into your heat.

“I-I’m so close, please don’t stop, Suki-”

“Cum for me, love. I want to feel you explode around my cock.”

It was his words that sent you over the edge. He’s said much dirtier things to you, for sure; yet the high emotions from before mixed with his sentence seemed to set you into a frenzy, and you did just as he asked, your nails digging into his biceps as you called out his name. He continued to pump into you through your orgasm, and one final, rough rut into you sent him spiraling as well, panting out your name like a prayer as he came undone beneath you.

For a good few moments, the two of you sat like that, holding one another with Bakugou pressing his face into the valley of your breasts and your hands running through his spiky hair. When he had gone completely soft inside of you, he lifted you up, lying you down and pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing out of the room. Less than a minute later, he was back with a damp towel, and he gently cleaned you up before settling beside you, pulling up the blanket from the foot of the bed and laying it over your bare bodies.

You faced each other in silence, both lying on your sides. Bakugou’s vermilion eyes bore into your (E/C) ones. You smiled at him, stretching your body out as you kept eye contact. “So…” You hummed, biting down on your lip to keep your grin at bay. “That was one hell of a celebration, huh?”

Bakugou snorted. “Way to ruin the moment, idiot.”

“Ruin? I like to think I’ve accentuated it.”

“Jesus fuck, I hate you.”

“You love me. You love me so much you got me an apartment!”

At that, Bakugou smiled. He grabbed your hand in his, holding it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to every one of its knuckles before letting it rest there. “Okay, you might be a little right, you little shit.” And then he was kissing the tips of your fingers, repeating the motion until you surged forward to kiss him yourself, letting you lips linger there. “I love you. I can’t wait to live with you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s grin was as sharp as a starving wolf’s as he stared at you, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip seductively. His eyes trailed down from your face, hand moving from your own to rub up the side of your naked body once more. “I can give you a few great examples of living with me right now, babe.”

Oh, you were going to be in for a very long night. 

[starstaiined]

Would You Lie With Me & Just Forget The World?

Chapter 2

SUMMARY: The world is a dangerous place. It can be big, scary, and almost overwhelmingly dark. But despite all the negative aspects, despite all the pain and turmoil, Katherine Howard has always found a brief reprieve in the other queens. Particularly, in her older cousin. (And as loathe as they are to admit it, the other queens have to agree with her.) Anne Boleyn can be chaotic, wild, and reckless  … but she’s also passionate, kind, and effervescent. Her boundless energy acts as a barrier against the bad in the world. But when that barrier breaks and the world turns on its head, can Kat manage to navigate the turbulent waters without her cousin by her side?  

CHAPTER ONE // 

TW: Implied abuse/neglect, Implied sexual abuse, Panic Attack, Car crash 

A/N: sorry this chapter took so long! I ended up having to trim parts out and it isn’t as smooth as I was hoping for, but this is one of the rougher chapters to set up because of all the background. (I’m setting this in my own AU verse/idea that I’m still writing up the lore for, if anyone wants to hmu for that feel free!) 

TAGGING: @the10amongstthese3s  @radcowboyalmondtree  @tonight-we-are-live  @the-queen-bee-is-here  @everything-insanity  @whoufflewhovian200311  (if you want to be added, just reply to this post, send me an ask, or hit up my ims! these are the people I know who were interested!) 

“Annie, I’m scared.” 

Anne froze, the almost inaudible admission tugging at her heart. She climbed down from the garage roof as easily as she’d climbed up. “You don’t need to be scared, Kit. I’ve got you, okay? Just trust me.” Anne smiled mischievously, shooting her brightest gap toothed grin at her cousin.

Kitty visibly relaxed, and Anne showed Kitty how to use the materials lining the side of the building to get to the top. (After it, it wasn’t more than a few feet in the air.) But as ordinary as the view may have been, it was extraordinary because they were there together. 

Anne dropped to book bag she’d brought with her, unrolling the blanket and wrapping it around Kat’s shoulders. “Can’t let the birthday girl get too cold now, can I?” She asked with a teasing grin. She reached into the bookbag, unaware of the surprise on her cousin’s face. She handed Kat some silly plushie she picked up at the store, and a (terribly smashed) attempt at a cupcake. 

“You...you remembered?” Kat asked, looking down at the presents her cousin gave her as if they were the greatest thing in the world. The genuine shock in her voice startled Anne. 

“Of course I did Kit...why wouldn’t I? It’s not everyday your favorite cousin turns seven, after all.” 

“Dad and the boys sometimes forget...” Kitty attempted to appear nonchalant, although it was obvious she was upset. 

“They do what?” Anne growled, and Kitty flinched away at the change in her voice. Not now, Anne chided herself, using every ounce of teenage self restraint she had in order to plaster on the cheesiest grin she could muster. “I’m sure they’re just...planning a surprise or something.” 

“Maybe.” Kat mumbled, but it was clear she didn’t believe it. 

They sat in silence, before Anne’s lips curved back into their usual grin. She nudged her younger cousin. “Why don’t you spend the night? We can play board games and watch movies. I’ll even let you-oh.”

She’d been cut off mid sentence by a hug, and found Katherine peering up at her. “You’re the bestest, Annie! I love you.” The younger girl’s face shone with excitement that hadn’t been there moments earlier. 

Anne couldn’t help but mirror that joy. She ruffled Kit’s hair, laughing at the expression it produced. “I love you too, Kit. And I’m here for you. Always.” 

But their short moment was cut short as her father’s voice echoed up from the ground down below. “ANNE BOLEYN, GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! THE LAST THING WE NEED IS YOUR POOR HABITS RUBBING OFF ON LITTLE KATHER-” 

And with that, Anne woke with a start. She damn near fell off her bed with a yell, catching herself last minute and blinking sleep out of her eyes. The other side of the bed was empty. Thank god. It meant Kat had slept with Jane instead, and she hadn’t accidently interrupted what little sleep the girl managed to get. Anne flopped back down on her bed with a sigh. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, energy buzzing in her exhausted muscles demanding that she get moving. She glanced at the alarm clock. 6:03 A.M. 

Well, that was as good a time as any to start the day, wasn’t it? She rolled out of bed, quietly, and made her way to the bathroom. She ran through her usual morning routines : brushing her teeth, throwing her hair up in a tight bun, changing out of her pajamas and into running gear. By six thirty, she was ready to run. With her headphones fixed firmly in her ears and music blasting, she let her muscles guide her. The song playing pulled up another memory, a little fuzzy around the edges but still soft enough to pull a smile from her. 

Family Christmas parties, everybody’s favorite time. Except not really. Anne dealt with it as best she could, which was ignoring damn near everyone and doing her own thing. She was choreographing a dance routine to a song that had just come out, earbuds in and focus completely on the movement of each muscle in time with the beat. Which is why she didn’t notice George until it was too late. He slammed into her side roughly, knocking her off her feet and sending her sliding across the floor. Anne stared slack jawed for a moment, recovering her breath, before yelling “What the fuck George!” 

“Careful Ninon, don’t let dear old dad hear you using that language.” George answered with a smirk, towering over her. The gleam in his eyes made it clear he was in one of his moods, which meant Anne was in for it. If there was one thing George excelled at, it was pushing her buttons. 

“Why don’t you go bother Mary for once?”

“Because Mary’s actually socializing with the family, unlike you.”

“Sorry, not sorry, but I’m trying to have fun. I’m not interested in being judged for stupid reasons, okay? I just want to be left alone.” 

“Don’t want to be judged, don’t give them reasons to judge you. It’s simple, really.” George answered with a shrug. “Besides, considering your …. reputation I don’t think they’re stupid reas-” 

“I don’t really care about your opinion, George.” Anne snapped, face immediately heating up. She pushed herself to her feet, taking a couple steps away from him. “Maybe you should shut up.”

“Maybe you should stop being such a sl-” He didn’t get to finish that thought as a pink blur knocked into his legs. It caught him off guard; he flailed his arms wildly to no avail and ended up tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass. Anne blinked in surprise. George pushed himself to his feet quickly, visibly seething. “What the fuck!” 

Ten year old Katherine Howard, about two feet shorter and at least a hundred pounds lighter, didn’t break eye contact with George from where she’d positioned herself; she stood directly in front of Anne as if she were a human shield. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” She deadpanned. 

“Brat.” George hissed, pointing a finger at the young girl menacingly. 

Kat just shrugged, but she could feel her hands trembling. “Takes one to know one, right?” 

Anne laughed, making her brother’s face flush six different shades of red. George, thoroughly humiliated and beyond angry, stormed off. Almost immediately Kat’s shoulders deflated. Anne pulled her younger cousin into a side hug. “KitKat, you are my hero.” 

“We’re family.” Kat answered back, her voice muffled by Anne’s shoulder. “We always protect each other, don’t we?” 

Anne smiled. “We do.” 

The memory faded. The burning in her muscles, and the unfamiliarity in her surroundings, made it clear she’d gotten lost in her head longer than she’d meant to. Crap. It took her nearly an hour to find her way back. She made a beeline straight for the fridge once she did. She gave the calendar a quick glance as she opened the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice, before doing a double take. 

November 4th. Kitty’s birthday was less than a week away! How in the hell had that happened? Anne was usually on top of these things, but between the interviews and the show and her work on choreo...she could feel guilt flooding her system. Shit. She wracked her brain, trying to remember whether or not Kitty had been acting strange recently. She’d seemed a little lethargic but Anne had chalked that up to being overworked with the show…

She didn’t think twice. She rushed up to Cleves room, flinging the door open in a panic as she shook the other girl. “Anna!” She hissed, voice low but pressing. “Anna, wake up!”

“Anne…?” Anna asked groggily. “What time is it…” 

“It’s eight.”

“What are you doing up? We didn’t go to bed until almost tw-”

“Shh, that doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to the store. Do you want to come?” 

Anne’s voice brimmed with urgency, but Anna was too tired to register it. She buried herself deeper into her blankets. “With your driving? No thank you, Miss Boleyn, I choose life.” She waved a hand dismissively, eyes never so much as cracking open. The warmth of her bed was too enticing. 

Anne heaved a sigh, but accepted Anna’s answer. She ran to the kitchen, scribbled a quick note on a post it, and attached it to the fridge. 

Need to run some errands. Urgent. Be back later. XO, Anne. 

And with that she disappeared through the door, the orange juice still sitting forgotten on the counter. 

The shopping went quickly. Or well, as quickly as it could go when Anne Boleyn was involved. She spent hours loading her cart with Kitty’s favorite snacks and movies, picked up random little knick knacks that she thought Kitty might like. (Hell, she even managed to find some cute presents for the rest of the queens.) Brimming with excitement about her haul, and eager to show it to the others, Anne was in a phenomenal mood when she hopped back in the car. She was jamming along to every song coming over the radio, grinning from ear to ear. 

The buzzing of her phone on the seat next to her snapped Anne out of her private karaoke concert. It was probably just Kat calling to check up on her. She could feel warmth spreading through her chest as she let out a breathless giggle, turning down the music and running a quick hand through her hair. She found Kitty’s worry endearing, although she half wished Kitty would realize that Anne would be fine. After all, she always was. 

She half debated it letting it ring to voicemail, just until she could answer without taking her hands off the wheel. That was….until the name on the caller ID caught her attention. 

THOMAS HOWARD.

Suddenly, all the mirth she’d felt drained out of her like air out of a popped balloon. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle in YEARS. The last time she’d seen him was the day that she had left, Kitty tucked under one arm and spare clothes under the other. He made good on his promise to ostracize both of them.

Kitty’s head is buried in the crook of her neck, tears staining the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry,” Kitty chokes out between sobs, barely comprehensible. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Anne, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

Anne could feel a storm building beneath her skin, aching to break free and wreck every single person that had driven her cousin to this. SHE WAS A CHILD! But over the last few years, Anne had watched the light drain from her eyes. She was just kicking herself for not realizing what was going on earlier… But she can’t focus on that. Not right now. Instead she rubs soothing circles on Katherine’s back, rocking the girl back and forth. “It isn’t your fault, Kit.” Emotion rubbed her voice raw, and it takes everything in her not to cry. “None of it is. Not a damn thing. Do you hear me? Not a single damn thing.” 

If anything, that just seems to make Kat cry harder. “It is, it is Annie. I know it, and he knew it, and, and, and everyone knows it.” She’s cut off by a sob that shakes her frail shoulders. “He knew it, he said it, he-”

“He’s a piece of shit, Kit! I’m sorry, but it’s true. Your dad sucks. I wish it weren’t true, I wish you could’ve had the life you deserve. Somewhere far away from this bullshit.” Anne croaked out, a few silent tears falling as she fought to maintain a steady voice. “But you didn’t get that, instead life gave you a crappy hand and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. But I can promise you one thing.” Anne tucked Kitty’s head under her chin. “I know it isn’t much, but I’m here for you. Always. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m right here. And I’m always going to be right here, okay?” 

With a few sniffling breaths, Kitty nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, she held out a hand with her pinkie extended. In a small voice, she asked, “Pinkie promise?” 

Anne was all too happy to link their fingers. “Pinkie promise.” 

They made themselves more comfortable in the living room, still a tangle of limbs but this time a tangle of limbs under a blanket. Before drifting off to sleep, Kitty squeezed Anne’s hand. “Annie?” She asked, drowsily. 

“Hm?” 

“Earlier...earlier you said that you weren’t much...but you are. Okay? You’re the best. And I love you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Anne squeezed her hand gently three times. I love you. “Don’t worry KitKat, you’ll never have to find out.” 

Anne’s thoughts flashed to every time since then that Kitty’s tears staining the collar of her shirt, to the way the poor girl had trembled from nightmares that stole her breath. She remembered rushing out on errands like this, doing anything and everything to pull a smile out of her cousin, who spent the week leading up to her birthday WISHING for that call from the rest of the family. Thomas Howard failed as a father consistently over the past two years, and there’s almost no one Anne hates more. (When she thinks of him, all she can see is Kat trembling, crying out my fault, my fault, my fault. Just thinking about it makes her jaw clench.) Even now, in what she assumes is an attempt to make amends, he was calling her and not Kitty!

She reached over, answering it swiftly and bringing it to her ear. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, I need you to shut the hell up for two seconds and listen to me, Thomas.”  Anger boiled in her veins and sharpened her tongue, but blurred everything else. In the haze of her own hatred, her focus on the phone pressed to her ear, she missed the truck that was swerving on a path directly towards her.

[ohsweetflips]

For the fluff/angst prompt thing, 85 and/or 40 for fargo? 🥺🥺

A/N: anon thank you for my life these prompts are a gift and i would lay down my life for you……………… i’m still playing around with ship dynamics and grad characterization but this was a lot of fun!!!! and also this feels a lot more pre-fargo still in that “what are we” stage

post-writing note: i ended up not being able to fit #40 in, but i still hope you enjoy!!! ....... might try to find another fic to work that prompt into

(also just thought i’d say to the general public that, while im doing a lot of taz grad shipping w/ fitzroy/rainer and fitzroy/argo, i am not looking to force anyone to ship anything nor am i looking to start any “””ship wars””” omg, this is all just for fun!!!!)

(so anyways!!!!)

——————————–

85) “Don’t lie to me.”

——————————–

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in whatever-the-fuck in the Realm of It-Doesn’t-Fucking-Matter-Right-Now was an idiot. A fucking idiot. Only he would get himself stabbed on a mission miles away from the school. Only he would run into the fray of chaos to stop it. 

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt was an idiot and a bad villain.

But Argo wasn’t panicking. Not panicking at all. 

He was just near dragging Fitzroy down a dark, damp alley as blood seeped through his robes and into Argo’s own tunic. Which would be a bitch to get out. Blood always was. But it was okay. Fine, even! Because Bud had been able to heal Fitzroy… kind of. Not much, because spell slots were an issue, but, hey! It was probably enough to keep Fitzroy from bleeding out within the hour! 

And, yeah, they were supposed to be trying to work out a deal with two rivaling guilds and not getting ambushed by a group of bandits larger than the party they came with, but it was all good! And, sure, Rolandus, Rainer, and Bud might have had to run distraction while Leon and Buckminster try to get in contact with the school’s emergency hotline, and Argo might just be getting more and more lost as he pulled Fitzroy’s semi-conscious body through streets that he already didn’t know, but it was fine!

Completely, and totally, and absolutely, and… and…

Fuck, why did he have to get hurt?

“Argo,” Fitzroy, voice strained, managed out. He was barely walking already but, even so, his feet stumbled over each other and Argo had to secure him tighter. “Wait… hold on…”

Argo wanted to deny him, wanted to say that they needed to keep moving, needed to get somewhere they knew, but he looked down at Fitzroy’s grimace and the sweat on his brow, and found that he couldn’t.

“Okay, okay,” Argo said quickly, his eyes darting around for anything that could support Fitzroy, though the sentiment was short-lived as Fitzroy began to become dead-weight in his arms. “Okay, wait, wait, wait-” And, as carefully as he could (and trying to still his shaking hands), he helped lower Fitzroy down onto the cobblestones and watched him wince as he leaned back against the wall “-I, uh, are you- where does it hurt?”

Fitzroy, as Argo kneeled down in front of him, shot him a tired, pained grin. “What d’ya mean? I’m doing just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Argo hissed, flashing his eyes from Fitzroy’s face to the ever-growing dark patch on his shirt. He ghosted his hand over it, wanting to see the damage but too scared to face it. “Not-” He cleared his throat, shaking his head “-not here.”

Fitzroy watched his face and, after a moment, let his head fall back against the brick wall as his eyes slipped shut. “Everywhere.” He swallowed thickly. “But maybe I’m just dramatic.”

“We already know that,” Argo murmured, hands moving to the buttons at Fitzroy’s collar and then freezing. It was silly, almost: Fitzroy was wounded and bleeding before him, yet Argo froze to unbutton his shirt, but-

“It won’t be a pretty sight,” Fitzroy said.

“Is this okay?” Argo asked, quietly.

Fitzroy nodded.

Argo was careful. He had to be; tact was integral in his line of work before the school, both in stealing and in patching up his own wounds, but now he found himself praying that his hands were defter, gentler.

Leave it to fucking Fitzroy Maplecourt to turn him gentle.

He had been right, though: it wasn’t a pretty sight.

The biggest problem was the actual stab wound in the left side of his stomach. Not particularly large and, wracking his brain, Argo couldn’t think of any organs that the wound would’ve hit (plus, Bud’s healing probably helped in that aspect), but, nonetheless, the wound was still bleeding much more than probably wanted. The rest of his stomach and chest, though, was marked with slash wounds, all varied in length and depth, and even some bruising already beginning to purple along his side.

“Shit,” Argo whispered.

Fitzroy was caught somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. “So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

“That you’re an idiot,” Argo said, though he was already tearing off parts of his own tunic for make-shift bandages. “Fucking villain rushing in to de-escalate a situation. That’ll show up in your report card, don’t you think?”

“Good to know that you care, Argo.” Fitzroy hissed as Argo pressed a bandage to the deepest wound, and Argo tried to not think about it too much.

Of course I do, Argo said, except it came out as, “Well, first time for everything.”

His relationship with Fitzroy was complicated, as most things involving Fitzroy were. The two cared for each other more than either would admit, not necessarily out of pride, but out of the rocky road it took to get them there. Working through their rivalry and stubborness had taken time, taken work, but, before long, Argo found himself willing to do what it takes to help Fitzroy, and, well…

Fitzroy threw himself into the bandits after one barely missed Argo with a throwing knife.

It was a devotion that the school almost expected of them: kicks and henches throwing themselves forward in defense, heroes and villains throwing them into the midst of it all for some big showdown. And, in practice, it was fun. The three of them laughed when Bud used his imposing form to simply block the two of them when Rattles rushed them with a dulled rapier. Argo found joy in sneaking around corners to catch Rainer and Fitzroy off guard in practice scrimmages, only for them both to laugh as Fitzroy charged him and missed at the last moment.

Practice was always fun.

It was when it was real, when there were no do-overs, that Argo realized it wasn’t always such. Maybe Fitzroy did, too. Maybe they realized, too, that the two of them—three of them—were stronger fighting together instead of letting one take the brunt of the damage.

Hell, Argo didn’t want Fitzroy to get hurt while rushing in for some final showdown.

Maybe Fitzroy didn’t want Argo sacrificing himself to take the damage, either.

As Argo’s hands finished tying a secure knot in the make-shift bandage, Fitzroy watched his movements. Even though blood still seeped through, he hoped that it was enough to slow it. All he could do was hope.

“It’s a knight thing,” Fitzroy said, tired, and Argo eyed him, confused. "Rushing into battle. I’m trained to protect people, so... that’s what I did.”

“That’s some pretty sidekick thinking for a villain.”

Fitzroy laughed slightly before quickly, painfully, catching himself. “Well, maybe those stupid human shield games stuck.”

Argo, barely managing a smile, shook his head. “You… you didn’t have to do that. You’re hurt now and… you’re gonna be fine, we’ll find the others, but… you’re hurt.”

“I know,” Fitzroy said. “But…” He released a breath and let his head fall back again. “I just couldn’t hold myself back. They attacked first, attacked you first, and I just…”

Argo wanted to say that he could handle himself, but he knew that wasn’t the point Fitzroy was making.

“Well, thanks,” Argo said. “But next time you’re about to go rushing in, at least give us a warning? A codeword, perhaps?”

“Come up with a cool pirate one and we’ll be golden.”

Argo nodded and, worrying his bottom lip, studied Fitzroy quickly. He was still looking a little pale, and his eyes were scrunched up tight, but his breathing was decently okay, and-

“I can feel you staring,” Fitzroy murmured. “My half-elf senses are tingling.”

“That makes no sense,” Argo mumbled, but didn’t deny it.

Fitzroy cracked an eye open. “Thank you, though, Argo,” he said. “For… helping me.”

Complicated or not, whatever their relationship was, first and foremost, Fitzroy was one of his two closest friends at Wiggenstaff’s, and the last thing he wanted was for his friends to be hurt.

Argo flashed a smirk. “Is that a proper honoring from Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt?”

“Think of it as me, Fitzroy, your roommate, your-” Their eyes, for just a second, caught each other “-friend, appreciating what you’ve done for me.”

Seeing Fitzroy pained like this, vulnerable like this, made Argo realize that he wanted two things: something more, and to never see Fitzroy hurt again.

Argo felt his face heat up, and was almost thankful of the darkness for hiding his flushed face before remembering that Fitzroy had darkvision.

“Well, of course, Fitzroy,” Argo said. “I would never leave you.” He swallowed, his eyes quickly darting around the alley. “Not to bleed out, that is. Or be stabbed by a bunch of sneaky bandits.”

Fitzroy cracked a smile and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a voice calling out, “Argo! Fitzroy!” which was followed by another saying, quieter, “Where the fuck could they have gone?”

Argo, nearly unable to measure how relieved he was, called back to Buck and Rolandus, “We’re over here!”

“Oh thank god,” Fitzroy breathed out and, at the thought of being able to return to the school, he seemed to sag further against the wall, almost as if he had been trying to hold himself together up until this point.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” Argo asked, quietly.

“Terribly so,” Fitzroy whispered. Footsteps, not too far away, could be heard hitting the pavement.

“We should probably get you up, though,” Argo said, feeling ready to hoist Fitzroy over his shoulder and walk back to campus if it was needed. “We… we have to get moving.”

Fitzroy sighed but, upon Argo standing, accepted his outstretched hand, and let himself be helped.

[auburnfamilynews]

  For 60 divine minutes, we had an answer. (90, if you count the first half in Starkville.) The question, of course, had hung in the Auburn air since at least the 2010 Arkansas barnburner, and maybe since Chris Todd was slinging darts in the rain against West Virginia: How good could a Gus Malzahn team be if he developed a top-tier, Tuberville-caliber defense to pair with a peak-performance offense of his own? 

Against Arkansas this past October, we found out. Kamryn Pettway and the offensive line ground the Hog defense to dust; Carl Lawson, Montravius Adams and the rest of Kevin Steele’s defense permitted the Hog offense less than nothing. The final tally of rushing yardage was Auburn 544, Arkansas 25. The final scoreboard read Auburn 56, Arkansas 3. Not even Cam’s national champions, not even the 2013 team in its white-hottest moments registered anything like the kind of scorched-earth obliteration of a bowl-bound SEC rival the 2016 team registered against the Razorbacks.

Which is why, when I took my seat in Jordan-Hare’s north end zone bleachers two weeks later for the Vanderbilt game, I fervently believed Auburn had a puncher’s chance to defeat Alabama, win the SEC, and possibly — it wasn’t totally crazy — get another national title shot. The defense hadn’t been as superb against Ole Miss, but Chad Kelly had made Alabama look silly for stretches, too, and they’d been due for an off-game, and the rushing game had been murderous anyway, and the freshman wideouts were coming along, and Steele would be more comfortable against pro-style offenses anyway, and, and, and, and. The ceiling was that high. This team had shown us. There was no reason it couldn’t keep on showing us.

Then, I don’t remember if it was just before kickoff or just after, my phone told me Sean White wasn’t starting.

I do remember watching John Franklin III take the field and thinking Uh-oh. And at no point for the remaining two months of the season was the status of Auburn football anything other than Uh-oh. That ceiling we’d waited six, seven years for our Tigers to touch? When poor White dropped back in the Sugar Bowl and uncorked the duckiest duck that’s ever ducked, man, that ceiling felt as far away as the moon.

It’s not a scientific assessment, but I’d judge Auburn fans as a whole to be more unhappy at the close of the 2016 season than 2015’s, an assessment that if accurate doesn’t make a damn lick of logical sense. Instead of going 2-6 in the SEC and finishing last in the West, Auburn went 5-3 and finished second. Instead of going 6-6 overall and playing the Birmingham Bowl, Auburn went 8-4 and played the Sugar. Instead of finishing 35th in S&P+ and 29th in Sagarin, Auburn finished 13th and 14th, respectively. And Auburn accomplished that improvement while breaking in its third defensive coordinator in three seasons, adding an eventual playoff finalist to the nonleague schedule and suffering the aforementioned crippling injury to its starting quarterback. By any rational measure, the future looks far brighter than it did a year ago.

So why do I feel like Auburn’s glass is half-empty, even when it’s clearly half-full? Why do I empathize with the criticism avalanche aimed at Malzahn even when I disagree with the overwhelming bulk of it? Why did a season that was so much better than the one before it leave us feeling collectively just as bad, if not worse?

The simplest answer is that the one thing we could expect 2016 to provide us was clarity. Was Gus the coach that in the space of one season brought a 3-9 team to within seconds of a national championship? Or the coach who without the security blanket of a JUCO superstar under center was incapable of even breaking .500? By year’s end, we’d know … except that, whoops, it turns out Gus can be both those coaches not only in the span of a single season, but over the span of a single month. (Auburn fans, you thought you got emotional whiplash going from 2010’s triumphs to 2012’s misery? For our team’s next trick, it’ll go from the Arkansas win to the Georgia loss in all of four weeks.) If you believed coming into this season Gus was the long-term answer, you got plenty of evidence to back you up. If you believed Auburn was better off moving on, you got plenty of evidence to back you up. 2016’s high points were high enough that the team unquestionably moved forward. But the low points were low enough that — much as it hurts to admit — there’s legitimate reasons to doubt how far forward it can keep moving under Gus’s leadership, too.

They’re not all legitimate, of course. There’s things it makes sense to be angry about. There’s things it doesn’t. In the interest of unpacking exactly how we came to be collectively unsatisfied by what should have been a satisfying season, here’s my list of those things, piece-by-piece.

I AM MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE GODFORSAKEN GEORGIA GAME. The Iron Bowl is the game I most want to win. But given the unfortunate state of Crimson Tide affairs these days, the Deep South’s Oldest Rivalry is the game I least want to lose. And that went double entering this year’s edition, what with the Dawgs a mediocre mess that narrowly escaped Nicholls State, lost to Vandy, couldn’t even compete with Ole Miss or Florida, still ranks 58 places lower than Auburn in S&P, etc. And that went quadruple, octuple, hexadecouple when the defense went into Athens and stuffed the Dawg offense in a sack.

I can’t make myself care about how injured White may or may not have been. Can’t about what he may or may not have told the coaches. Can’t about why or why not Franklin or Johnson never saw the field. If all you need from your offense to win the Georgia game is to score more than a net of zero points, for the love of everything holy find a way to score more than a net of zero points. Backup quarterbacks. All-Wildcat offense. Triple-reverse flea flickers. Just please, please, please don’t waste that defensive performance, in this game of all games.

I believe that if Gus’s team cobbles together enough offense not to, no one really much minds losing to Alabama or Oklahoma. But waste it they did. And I’m still angrier about it than any loss since Tony Franklin hit his nadir against Vanderbilt.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: GUS GOING 1-3 AGAINST ALABAMA. Quit saying “Malzahn is 2-6 vs. Georgia and Alabama, and almost lost in 2013, too.” The Tide’s rank entering the four Iron Bowls Gus has coached: 1, 1, 2,  and 1, and that No. 2 team won the national title. Gus won the greatest game in college football history in 2013, rolled up 630 yards in Bryant-Denny in 2014, and stayed kinda-sorta competitive in 2015 and 2016 despite starting Jeremy Johnson in both. Gus’s track record against Georgia is a major issue. His against the Tide just isn’t.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: “NOT BEATING ANYBODY.” Among the anti-Gus brigade, the most frequent method of dismissing Auburn’s post-Texas A&M, pre-White injury run seems to be dismissing the level of competition faced during said run. There’s a number of problems with that approach, first and foremost that ignoring a statistically dominant win over LSU — which is LSU, and which also wound up the SEC’s second- or third-best team, and a good deal better than that according to some — is the opposite of fair. Second, as has been noted already, it’s not as if 53-point home wins or 24-point road wins in SEC play have been commonplace even for the very best teams in Auburn’s recent history. Lastly, those margins-of-victory matter. No, they don’t change the win-loss record, and yes, LSU aside, the teams faced between A&M and Georgia weren’t the cream of the SEC’s less-than-bumper 2016 crop. But pretending a 56-3 win over Arkansas doesn’t tell us anything more about how good Auburn is than a 16-3 win over Arkansas hasn’t been in fashion since before Phil Steele first started tracking close-game records and yardage margins. In the early days of 2017, it’s straight-up willful ignorance.

How much credit to give Gus for a single month is (ahem) debatable, but don’t pretend that for that single month Auburn was anything less than a force.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE SUGAR BOWL WHEN SEAN WHITE BREAKS HIS ARM ON THE FIRST SERIES OF THE GAME. The moment White threw that “pass” — you know the one I’m talking about — the only question was how many points by which Oklahoma would win, and if Musberger could talk himself out of a job before the fourth quarter.

I AM MAD ABOUT: NOT HAVING A VIABLE BACKUP PLAN IN THE EVENT OF A SEAN WHITE INJURY. An incomplete list of people and/or creatures and/or objects that expressed concern over White’s durability this past offseason:

Auburn fans

Detroit Pistons fans

The ghost of Harriet Tubman

Squirrels

Atlas moth caterpillars

An asteroid circling the sun at a distance of 600 million miles from Earth

“White showed enough last year that Auburn might be OK with him as their starter,” a sapient paper clip told me last August, “but health-wise, I gotta see him last the year before I believe it. JF3 had better be ready.”

I’m assuming that, being football coaches and thus a good deal more knowledgable than most sapient paper clips, Auburn’s staff shared the same concerns. But in the end, did it make any difference if they did? Their efforts to address them amounted to “sign Franklin,” a decision that proved so successful Franklin 1. remained on the bench even as White’s arm transmogrified into pudding before our eyes in Athens 2. watched Johnson get the nod in the Iron Bowl, a move even the non-sapient paper clips could tell you gave Auburn the odds of winning I have of assembling my own Volkswagen.

Maybe that’s because Franklin proved incapable of running the offense. Maybe that’s because Auburn’s staff was incapable of teaching the offense*. Either way: Gus went into this past offseason knowing an injury to White had ruined a promising end to the season. And he still failed to prevent an injury to White from ruining an even-more-promising end to this season.

*The “Gus can’t develop quarterbacks” line you’ll hear trotted out in relation to this — or to express skepticism that Jarrett Stidham will alter Auburn’s fortunes at the position — is bunk. Tulsa’s quarterbacks got better under Malzahn. Chris Todd got better. Title game weirdness aside, Cam got better. Once-and-future defensive back Nick Marshall threw for 456 yards at Alabama. White’s gotten better every healthy game he’s started, to the point he was the most efficient passer in the SEC when he got hurt. If Gus couldn’t develop Johnson or Franklin into workable starting options, the evidence-to-date suggests that’s more a Johnson or Franklin issue than a Gus one.

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: LOSING THE CLEMSON GAME. Those guys are pretty good, it turns out. Can’t wait to play them again in Clemson next year!

I AM MAD ABOUT: THE WAY IN WHICH THE CLEMSON GAME WAS LOST. Perhaps I should have let go of my anger over Gus’s Carousel of “Progress” by now. I haven’t. Not because it’s that much of an opportunity lost, really — if Auburn wins that game*, a 9-3 mark with a win over the eventual ACC champs vaults them all the way into … the Sugar Bowl — but because the remainder of the season made trotting out Franklin and Johnson alongside White as three-headed quarterbacking equals look stupid beyond all previously accepted measures of stupid. Could the gulf between White and his backups really be that obvious on the playing field and that obscure on the practice field? Is it too much to ask that if every fan knows this is Sean White’s offense to operate by Week 3, that Auburn’s offensive braintrust know the same before Week 1?

The charitable view is that Malzahn entered this season desperate, and desperate people sometimes do dumb things they wouldn’t otherwise do. The uncharitable view is that if the carousel itself was a one-time mistake, the A&M, Georgia and Oklahoma performances proved the resulting offensive implosion more feature than bug. And ultimately, that’s what makes me maddest of all. Let’s be clear:

I AM NOT MAD ABOUT: WHERE THIS PROGRAM STANDS GOING INTO 2017. Marlon Davidson and Derrick Brown are set to become the new Carl Lawson and Montravius Adams. Carlton Davis and Javaris Davis share as much All-SEC cornerback potential as they do a last name. If losing Alex Kozan and the dreadfully underrated Robert Leff will hurt, returning Austin Golson, Braden Smith and Darius James — oh, and Herb Hand — will heal. The freshman wide receiving crew won’t be the freshman wide receiving crew any more. Kamryn Pettway and Kerryon Johnson will continue to only make the other that much better. Kevin Steele knows what he’s doing, it turns out.

Then there’s Jarrett Stidham, likely the highest-ceilinged Auburn quarterback prospect since Cam, whose arrival means Gus now has — it’s worth repeating — the SEC’s highest-rated quarterback at midseason as his fallback option. Woody Barrett may not keep quiet, either. Auburn’s biggest problem for two years running has been its depth at quarterback. Its depth at quarterback now appears to be one of its biggest strengths. This alone should be cause for unalloyed optimism, even before discussing the positives from the paragraph preceding this one.

That even I can’t summon too much of that logically justified optimism speaks to how much of a toll the past two seasons have taken on our collective faith in Gus’s offensive acumen. Maybe there’s sound reasons for what we saw against Clemson, A&M, and Georgia, sound reasons to believe we won’t see the same things again at the worst possible times. But I can’t shake the feeling that the Gus of the Chizik era would have had his offensive identity on firmer footing before breaking out the Chandler Cox wildcat gadgetry, would have wizarded up something to salvage that trip to Athens, certainly would not have punted on fourth-and-damn-inches with a reeling defense in the second half of the Sugar Bowl. If the past two seasons haven’t felt anything like the Malzahn salad days in the win column, they’ve felt even less like it in terms of creativity, of chutzpah, of the damn-the-huddle-up-torpedoes mentality Gus brought with him from Tulsa. There wasn’t any shortage of spread gurus even in 2009, but as recently as 2014, all the evidence suggested Gus was cut from a unique — and uniquely talented — cloth, even among his HUNH peers. Far too often in 2016, it felt like Auburn was just another middle-of-the-road SEC team, like Gus has become Dan Mullen with better players.

There’s far worse things to be, of course. Mullen took Mississippi State to No. 1 and the Orange Bowl two seasons ago. If Gus giving up a portion of his old bravado was somehow necessary to put together the kind of defense we saw in 2016, it’s probably worth it. No one, myself included, gives a crap about how fast Auburn snaps the ball or how often it goes on fourth-and-short when it’s beating Arkansas 56-3.

I’m not mad Gus will get the chance to prove that performance is what the future of his Auburn tenure will look like. I’m happy 2016 gave us reasons to believe it will. I’m glad to enter 2017 with hope. But 2016 was supposed to take us past belief, past hope, to the point where we know — for better or worse — where Auburn stands with its head coach. I’m mad that it didn’t. And until that point is reached, it’s going to be hard to look back at this season and feel any other way.

Photo credit: @OUDailySports

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