#red dead redemption two tickle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mlmxreader · 3 years

Text

Dear Boy | Arthur Morgan x M!reader x Josiah Trelawny (🍋)

request: Do you still write for Red dead Redemption 2? If yes could you write something about having a threesome with Josiah and Arthur? (If you don't, that's fine too!) ps: Male Reader please - anonymous

summary: you, Arthur and Trelawny are left alone at camp for the day, and with very little trouble to get into, what's the harm in making your own?

warnings: praise kink, threesomes, oral, anal, anal fingering, swearing, smoking

word count: N/A, worked on mobile 🤷🏻‍♂️

author's note: @x-reader-theater helped me write this and I just.... ily, my dude, thank you so much for helping me out💚

"Josiah!" You shouted, grinning from ear to ear as you approached. "Josiah!"

He whirled around, lighting up a cigarette as he smiled at you, tilting his head. "Yes, dear boy?"

You fumbled with your satchel when you got to him, only daring to stop once your fingers graced what you were looking for, pulling out a daffodil with great care as to prevent damage to the bright yellow petals. "Look what I found!"

Josiah smiled, paying more attention to your beaming smile than the flower; he had never met a man like you, so handsome and so charming you quite literally knocked him from his feet.

"It's wonderful," he said eventually, feeling as if there was something slightly caught in his throat.

"Here," you pressed the stem into his hand tightly. "I want you to have it as, like... I dunno, a lucky charm."

You are my lucky charm, he thought.

"Josiah," Arthur nodded as he wandered over. "(y/n)."

"Hey, Arthur," you said kindly, stepping aside so that he could join you. "I thought you'd gone hunting with Dutch and the rest of the gang."

"Nah," he shook his head. "I figured I'd stay here with you two - make sure you don't get into no trouble."

Josiah scoffed, raising a brow. "And what trouble could we possibly get into, dear boy?"

Arthur shrugged. "All kinds'a trouble, Trelawny - you're as slippery as an eel and as for you, (y/n)... never known a man who could get into trouble for pickin' flowers."

You rolled your eyes. "Well, maybe I just need a bit of punishment's all."

"A bit of punishment?" Josiah mused, looking you up and down, that feeling of something caught in his throat growing, making him lick his lips.

"Well, uh," Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. "I, I guess me and Trelawny could give it a go."

"Oh, absolutely," Josiah nodded in agreement. "If you'd like us to, that is."

You bit your lip, the thought of both of them punishing you making your face feel hot as blood ran south and your fingers trembled. "I'd... I'd love that."

Josiah took the first move, gesturing for you and Arthur to follow behind; you wound up at his tent, and you could feel yourself getting excited - boiling in your stomach so much that your trousers became tight and tented.

Josiah let his hands go to your hips, pulling you in close as he looked at your lips. "I'd like to kiss you."

You couldn't even answer, meeting him halfway; it was hot and heavy, open mouthed and desperate, and when Arthur came up behind you, peppering your neck with little kisses, you couldn't help but to squirm, bringing one hand up to Josiah's cheek, the other going to the back of his neck as you moaned into his mouth.

"Fuck..." Arthur groaned, his hands going to the back of your shirt, pulling it down a little so he could pepper a few more kisses onto your skin.

His beard was tickling your skin, making you whimper and silently beg for more - but when Josiah pulled away, his lips plump and swollen, you frowned.

Until Arthur turned your head to the side, his index finger and thumb on your chin as he kissed you gently, but still just as desperate and needy; Josiah bit at his lip for a second, swallowing thickly before he dared to press kisses to your shoulder, holding your shirt down so that he could get at the skin.

You were burning with the heat of a thousand suns - but you would happily burn for eternity like that.

"Arthur, sit over there," Josiah commanded, pointing to his bed. "Where would you like to be, dear boy?"

"I, uh, I don't mind," you admitted softly. Sometimes you liked to be the one giving, other times you liked to be the one recieving - you liked it all the same. "I'm a man of many talents - fucking is... it's all the same to me, regardless of position."

Josiah smiled, looking at Arthur for a second. "Would you like me to take you in my mouth while Arthur fucks you, dear boy?"

You nodded, biting your lip - but when Arthur leaned over a little, smacking your ass, you yelped. "Yes."

"Good boy," Arthur praised quietly.

"Good boy, indeed," Josiah licked his lips, able to feel his own blood rushing south and resulting in the tightening and tenting of his trousers. "Strip."

You did as he said, unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall to the floor before removing everything else - but when you went to take off your hat, Josiah shook his head.

"What do you think, Arthur?"

"I think leavin' the hat on sounds good," Arthur confirmed with a nod.

You tried not to smile as you bit the inside of your lip, leaving your hat on.

Arthur reached out to you, pulling you onto his lap, his cock pressing into you through his jeans as he gestured for Josiah to come closer; with a villainous smile, Arthur kept one hand between your hip and thigh, biting his lip as he reached down, his hand gracing your bare ass.

Josiah sat beside him, and gently coaxed you to turn around slightly, just enough that he could capture your lips once more; he was sweet this time, his kiss coated in the honey of desperation. He slipped his tongue, and you moaned softly, giving Arthur the chance to slip his oiled up fingers into your ass.

Fuck, his fingers were thick. You couldn't help the shuddering moan that left you, moaning into Josiah's mouth. He kissed you with a bit more roughness, then, letting Arthur's fingers open you up for what was about to come.

"Fuck me," Arthur growled, his voice hoarse and hot against you. "You're so fucking tight, (y/n)."

Josiah pulled away, resting his forehead against yours as he smirked, his eyes shaded by the brim of your hat - it was tilted back slightly, and he looked even more charming in the shade. "You're being so good, dear boy."

"I think he's good to go, Trelawny," Arthur's voice was nothing short of animalistic as he pulled his fingers out and cleared his throat.

Standing on weak legs, Josiah pulled you to his side, kissing your temple as he murmured sweet praises in your ear.

After he got undressed, you watched Arthur get himself oiled up, his cock shining in the afternoon sunlight that dared to poke through the gaps in the closed tent.

He passed you the bottle, and you knew what to do instinctively, it was pretty obvious you had done this before a fair few times, shaking your ass a little bit as you got yourself slicked up.

"Do you still want to do this, dear boy?" Josiah asked softly, taking your hand. "We won't act awful if you don't. It's okay to change your mind."

You shook your head, biting your lip that little bit harder. "I still want to do this."

"Easy does it," Arthur said gently when you got to him, his hands gripping your hips so that he could guide you down, groaning softly at how tight you were. When he bottomed out, he leaned forward, his words hot against your ear. "You doing good?"

You nodded, rolling your hips as you groaned softly. "I didn't think you'd be so fucking big, Morgan."

He was blushing, his eyes meeting Josiah's as he dared to chuckle softly. But then he cleared his throat and asked, "this ain't too much, is it?"

"No," you told him. "This ain't too much."

To your surprise, Josiah dropped to his knees before you, clearing his throat. "Would this be too much?"

"Shit, Josiah," you chuckled breathlessly, trying not to let your moans overtake your words when Arthur slowly, with torturing thrusts, started to fuck you. "I can't count the times I've- I've thought about having your lips around my cock."

Slowly, Josiah wrapped his pretty lips around your cock, only daring to focus on your head as he toyed with you - it seemed as if your punishment was having to be toyed and tortured.

Arthur gave you a harsh trust, chuckling softly when you begged for him to go faster, harder.

"Oh, no," he clicked his tongue. "You said you needed to be punished, right?"

You growled, shaking your head. "I know, but... this ain't fucking fair - please, fuck me already."

Arthur looked at Josiah, who was purposefully avoiding playing with your balls as he pulled back - the tip of your cock coated in his spit.

"He has been rather good," Josiah admitted. "Perhaps we could give him the luxury."

You nodded, biting your lip. "Fucking please."

"Alright," Arthur agreed, starting to move a little faster, a little harder, but careful not to fuck you too hard. "You're doing real well, (y/n)."

Josiah went back to your cock, taking you in until be could feel himself gag, bobbing his head as you reached out with a shaky hand and laced your fingers in his hair; you were gripping tightly, a loud growl coming from the back of your throat when he brought one hand up and started to play with your balls.

Your hat was starting to slip, but Arthur caught it and fixed it while he continued to thrust up into your ass; it was a little painful, but you didn't mind - it was the pleasurable kind of pain. You could feel his breath on your burning skin, making you whimper his name as you ground your ass against him.

Josiah was relentless with your cock, sucking you off just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to make.you go over it - but fuck, the way he played with your balls made you want nothing more than to cum all over his pretty face.

"You're not gonna cum til we say so," Arthur told you, his hand daring to move around to your throat, squeezing gently.

"Fuck me," you whispered. "And what if I cum before?"

"We're gonna make you cum til you don't stop," Arthur said quietly, nibbling at the side of your ear a little. He was good at this.

The thought of that alone made you creep closer towards the edge; the way Arthur had been fucking you was hitting your sweet spot a fair few times more than what you had expected. Between that, and Josiah's magical mouth, you weren't sure how you were stopping yourself from cumming.

You thought that that sweet, sweet torture would last for eternity; purgatory spent teetering on the edge of the cliff. You could feel the hunger for it in the pit of your stomach, making you growl their names harshly as you begged for them to let you cum; begging for mercy that you had a sneaking suspicion would never actually relieve you from that sweet torture.

But then Arthur's movements started to get erratic - his thrusts growing sloppy and harsh as he tried not to let himself go, but he knew the end was near, and he kissed your neck before softly growling.

"You can cum, after me."

You nodded, trying to match his offbeat rhythm as he continued to fuck you ass, your grip on Josiah's hair tightening to the point where anyone else would have worried you were going to rip it; when Arthur finally came in your ass, you let the floodgates open, your cum filling Josiah's mouth as he eagerly swallowed.

Fuck, he looked beautiful swallowing your cum. A little bit dribbled onto his chin. You swallowed thickly.

"My, my," he chuckled as he pulled away, wiping that dribble of you from his chin with his handkerchief. "You did so well, dear boy."

Arthur was finished, completely spent; he let you get off of him, but he paused.

"Maybe, uh, maybe we should go clean up in the river," he suggested. "The gang ain't gonna be back for at least another hour - and the river's only a minute away."

Keeping you against his side, Josiah stole a look at you before turning to Arthur and nodding. "That sounds like a splendid idea!"

#mlem writes #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #josiah trelawny one shot #josiah trelawny x reader #josiah trelawny imagine #josiah trelawny #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 #🍋 fanfic #minors dni

115 notes · View notes

coldmorte · 3 years

Link

MY FIRST RDR FIC IS OFFICIALLY HERE!!

Check it out through the Ao3 link or below the cut!

Title: “More Than Family”

Ship: Dutch van der Linde/Arthur Morgan (VanderMorgan, Circa 1895)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.3k

Overview: Arthur writes in his journal to remember the past, but Dutch is determined to give him a memory too potent for words.

(DISCLAIMER: The intention of this work is to highlight the fact that Dutch and Arthur do not see themselves as being true “family.” It’s something else, something more intimate. My work does NOT support or endorse "incest" in any way, shape, or form. That is not the goal or purpose whatsoever.)

(Visit the Ao3 link for more tags/notes!)

Letting out a deep sigh, Arthur perched himself on a log by the fire at the end of camp. It was their first night in the new settlement, a quiet place at the foot of the mountains. A safe place. On one side stood a vertical wall of stone, blocking outsiders from easy access. On the other was the rushing water of the legendary Fleur River. The only way in or out was from the sides, which required taking a long route from either direction. Hosea had helped him to scout the place out a few days back, and Dutch agreed it felt like a suitable area to turn into their new home.

The gang was steadily growing. It wasn’t just the three of them anymore, like the old days. There were more men now. John, Bill, and Javier were a few of the recruits to join them over the years. There were even women in their company - like Susan and Abigail, who was with child. After all this time, they had grown together in ways Arthur had never imagined.

Arthur stared out across the camp as he brought his satchel to his lap and retrieved the journal inside. He balanced it on his knee, fingers tapping the outer cover as he thought about how to depict the layout of the tents bathed in the soft glow of the fire. It was silent now, most of the others having already turned in for the night. Glancing down, Arthur’s fingers curled around the outer edge of the journal. Just as he was starting to open it, a voice made him freeze.

“Do you record everything in that journal of yours?”

Dutch.

Turning his head slightly, Arthur could see the silhouette of his body leaned against a tall oak tree just beyond the reaches of the firelight. Dutch pushed himself away and began to come closer as Arthur replied, “No, not really. Just when I feel like it, I guess.”

Continuing to draw closer, Dutch wrapped a warm hand around his shoulder, grip firm as it slid down to his bicep. Arthur leaned into the touch, head gently nestling against Dutch’s hip. Drawing in a deep breath, Dutch spoke again, “You know, it is okay to have some secrets, Arthur. You don’t have to write it all down.”

“I know. It’s just…” his voice trailed off as he stared into the fire. He bit his lip, his eyes narrowing slightly.

It was silent for a few moments, and Arthur made no attempt to pick up where he left off. Realizing this, Dutch prodded him on. “Just, what?”

Arthur sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let his eyes flutter shut, heightening his other senses. He could feel the mellow warmth of the fire upon his exposed skin and the sound of the waters flowing calm and steady behind him. The scent of Dutch’s cigars and stolen cologne were rich on his waistcoat as Arthur pressed his cheek tighter against him. “I don’t want to forget, in case anything ever happens.”

Blinking his eyes back open at the sensation of Dutch releasing a sigh, Arthur glanced up at him. He was staring down at Arthur, brows knitted into a tight expression and lips slightly pursed. He leaned closer, moving his hand to Arthur’s lap. Grabbing a hold of the journal, Dutch tugged it from his grasp.

Setting the journal down on the log beside Arthur, Dutch then offered his hand. “Come on, walk with me.”

Wordlessly accepting the outstretched hand, Arthur allowed Dutch to pull him to his feet. He let go to walk around the log and join him on the other side, tucking his hands deep in the pockets of his tan gunslinger jacket as he did so. Dutch stared off towards the river, avoiding his gaze. Arthur fell in line with him, shoulder-to-shoulder, as they trudged over the fine pebbles at the water’s edge and ducked under the occasional branches of the trees lining the shore.

They passed by Javier at the edge of camp. He was reclined against a tree, rifle folded across his lap as he took his turn on guard duty. Arthur looked over to him as they passed and gave a nod. Wordlessly returning it, he watched as the two of them retreated beyond the camp’s boundaries. They walked on in silence for a few minutes, before Dutch finally spoke up.

“There’s something on your mind, son.”

It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t necessarily a command to speak either. Arthur absentmindedly kicked at a large stone in his path, watching it hop across the ground and splash under the water’s surface. Dutch remained quiet, still staring out across the river.

“I don’t know…” Arthur glanced up through the trees overhead, to the full moon and stars shining between the branches, “… we don’t get much time no more. Us, I mean. You and me.”

Dutch cocked his head towards him, Arthur glanced over to catch his eye for a moment. Frowning, Dutch slowed his pace as he looked back towards the river. “What are you trying to say?”

“Things have changed, Dutch.” Arthur sighed, abating his own speed to keep in line with the other man. “They ain’t what they used to be.”

“No, they ain’t. But look at all the bullets we’ve dodged, all we’ve been through together. I’m still breathing, and you… my boy, it doesn’t matter how many people come and go. Where would we be without you?” Dutch paused then, stopping altogether. He turned his face slightly, glancing to the ground below and avoiding Arthur’s gaze. His voice dropped to just above a whisper, deep and low. “Where would I be without you?”

Arthur came to a halt alongside Dutch as he let out a soft chuckle, tense and hesitant. “Ah, I didn’t mean nothin’ like that. The gang is growin’, that’s all. You have more responsibilities now, more people to look after. B’sides, what about Hosea? Susan? John and Abigail?”

Dutch’s face snapped up towards Arthur, his whole body rounding on him. His eyes were steady and unwavering as he shook his head. “You ain’t like them. Sure, they’re all like a family to me, but you’re different. You’re…” he took a step closer, “…you’re something more than family.”

Suddenly feeling uneasy, Arthur took a step back to put more distance between them. He glanced in the direction of the camp, now just a faint speck of light in the distance. They were truly alone. Dutch crept closer still, his intense gaze never looking away. Arthur tried to laugh again, but it came out more like a strained choke this time as his face twisted into a grimace. He averted his eyes downward and watched as the heels of his boots tapped against the base of a tree. Dutch kept advancing, but Arthur had run out of moves.

It was his turn to shake his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel the warmth of Dutch’s body pressing closer, nearly touching him. “But family… what’s more than family?”

A long pause. So long, Arthur almost opened his eyes to check if Dutch had left. But he knew.

The warmth was still there, radiating between them. Arthur nearly flinched as fingertips glided over his temple, brushing away the stray hair there. He allowed his eyes to open with caution. Dutch continued to stare at him, his eyes set and lips parted. His face dropped slightly as Arthur finally looked back at him. “Oh, Arthur…”

Arthur could say nothing, but he could not look away either. The heat of Dutch’s breath was so close, Arthur could feel the tingling sensation of each exhale as it met the moisture of his own lips. His eyes widened as Dutch’s thumb brushed more hair from his face, his hand wrapping lower to cup Arthur’s cheek in his palm as he continued, “… You don’t see it, do you?”

Mouth suddenly going dry, Arthur tried to swallow. His throat felt coarse, and his eyes narrowed as he shifted the weight on his feet. “See, what?”

The corners of Dutch’s lips twitched upwards into an amused smile as he gripped Arthur’s cheek with more force. The other hand snaked its way around his hip, fingers brushing along the top of his waistband. Bringing his face closer still, Dutch pressed their foreheads together. Arthur let his eyes flutter shut, feeling the tickle of Dutch’s own eyelashes on his face as he did the same.

Dutch drew in a sharp inhale, letting his next words fall from his lips as he breathed out. “I need you.”

With that, Dutch closed the space between them, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss as their chests became flush with each other. Arthur shivered as Dutch pulled back, just enough to continue speaking. His breath traced over Arthur’s jaw and the exposed flesh at his neck. “And you think I don’t miss this?”

Leaning in again, Dutch brought their lips back together. He tilted his head, nose brushing gently against Arthur’s cheek as he did so. Arthur felt his lips part, so he opened his own mouth in reciprocation. Dutch ran his tongue along the inside of Arthur’s lower lip, before pulling back away to speak. “You think I don’t miss when these stolen moments weren’t just exceptions…..”

Dutch met him this time with lips already parted. Arthur felt himself release a moan, somewhere from deep in his throat, as Dutch slipped his tongue further inside. Wrapping his hands below Dutch’s arms and around his upper back, he pulled the man even closer. Still, Dutch drew his mouth away as he continued, “…but instead, they were expectations?”

Not getting the chance to say anything in response, Arthur merely hummed into Dutch’s mouth as he resumed the kiss. Dutch rocked his hips forward, smiling at the feel of the growing bulge in the front of Arthur’s trousers. “In dark alleyways and alongside glowing campfires…”

Bringing both hands to rest on Arthur’s waist, Dutch held him steady as he rocked into him a second time. Arthur slid his hands lower on Dutch’s back, tightening his embrace. He could feel the pressure of Dutch’s own hardening cock on his thigh as he did so. “… you were always too... shy…”

Dutch’s voice cracked slightly on the last word. He cleared his throat with a faint grunt, but Arthur could tell he was merely trying to keep his growing arousal in check. Smiling to himself, Arthur began to snake his hands closer to Dutch’s front as he kept talking, “… too afraid to go any further.”

Just as his hands were nearing Dutch’s belt buckle, he felt them being snatched up and pinned over his head. Arthur let out a terse cry at the sudden display of dominance. His legs squirmed and his heels dug deeper into the soft ground below as Dutch leaned his chest harder into him. Turning his head, Dutch nestled his nose in Arthur's hair as he pressed their cheeks together. Arthur shuddered as he felt Dutch’s chest rumble with a deep chuckle to accompany his next words. “It was always you who would swat my hands away... and I would let you...”

Teeth nipping gently at Arthur’s earlobe, Dutch let out a low grumble as he rocked his hips into Arthur again, hands still keeping Arthur’s wrists in a bind overhead. Arthur writhed under his grasp, unable to overcome the strength. He canted his groin outwards instead, trying to increase the friction between them. Obliging his yearning, Dutch ground back into him. He used the full weight of his body to push Arthur harder into the tree, the grooves of the bark digging into his back. A moan caught in Arthur’s throat as Dutch murmured in his ear. “Anything for you.”

Rubbing his cheek along Arthur’s, Dutch turned his head and brought their faces together again. Their lips met once more. It was messier this time, teeth banging into each other as they both breathed heavily through their noses. Dutch shifted his legs slightly as he slipped one against Arthur’s inner thigh and urged him to widen his stance. “Until that one night…? The one when… you finally worked up the courage…?”

Dutch’s words became more strained and cracked as his breathing continued to come in unsteady gasps. He pushed Arthur’s legs farther apart still, and settling between them, he thrust his hips even harder against Arthur’s groin. He tipped his head down and buried it in Arthur’s neck as he let out a lusty moan. “Things became insatiable, then.”

The grip around Arthur’s wrists was beginning to make them tingle from a loss of circulation. He wriggled them with agitation, and Dutch eased up slightly. Still keeping his hold on them, however, he began to lower them onto his shoulders as he pulled his head back from Arthur’s neck. Face flushed and lips parted, Dutch stared at Arthur through half-lidded eyes. “But I still had a fondness those early nights… still longed for them…”

Keeping his eyes fixed on Arthur’s, Dutch slowly released his grasp from the hands now resting on his shoulders. Arthur kept them there as Dutch let his own hands return to Arthur’s hips. Using the forward momentum of his next thrust to reconnect their lips, Dutch’s fingers curled around to Arthur’s ass. They squeezed gently, fingertips digging into the clothed flesh. “…such sinful acts… but covered in a shroud of innocence… so… alluring…”

Dutch’s voice was barely a whisper, the stress from his jagged breathing and heightened arousal overwhelming him. He slid his hands lower underneath Arthur’s ass and dug his fingers into the skin harder as he tugged Arthur’s legs up. Catching on, Arthur helped to lift his legs and wrap his thighs around Dutch’s hips. His arms enveloped Dutch in an even tighter embrace as he supported himself. Grinding his hips upwards as Arthur rocked his hips in time with the movement, Dutch bumped their foreheads together. Both of them let out simultaneous gasps of pleasure at the intense friction, beads of sweat beginning to mingle on their brows. “If only… I could have that again…”

Taking a deep gasp in an attempt to steady the shaking in his arms and legs, Dutch paused his thrusting to mutter, “… if only… you would let me…”

Feeling just as breathless as Dutch, Arthur didn’t bother with a verbal response. Instead, he slid one hand up to clutch the dark curls at the nape of Dutch’s neck as he forced their mouths together. He prodded Dutch to keep moving by digging his heels into his back.

At that response, Dutch slammed into him. The force of the motion jostled their mouths apart as Arthur turned his head to let out a choked sob. Dutch took the opportunity to press his face back into Arthur’s neck, teeth biting at the flesh. Arthur tried to keep a rhythm with the motion of his own hips, but Dutch was starting to act beyond his control. Erratic.

A bead of Dutch’s drool rolled down Arthur’s neck, disappearing below the collar of his shirt. Combined with Dutch’s rumbling pants, Arthur couldn’t help but shudder and release another strangled cry. His back was stinging and numb from being shoved into the tree trunk, but he grit his teeth and tried not to be too loud. The rough friction and restraint on his cock was staggering. His body was practically demanding release from the tight trousers.

And yet, the knowledge that it would not come only aroused Arthur even more. His fingers entangled themselves tighter into Dutch’s hair as he held on, his other hand digging marks into Dutch’s shoulder. Arthur could feel his toes curling and uncurling themselves in his boots and he desperately jabbed his heels into Dutch’s back. With each thrust, his feet slipped lower. Having to keep bringing them up to hang on, Arthur could feel his throat becoming parched as he panted from the exertion.

But Dutch’s grip never wavered. His fingers clutched at the fabric of Arthur’s trousers and the plump skin at the back of his thighs as he held him in place. Arthur could feel the pressure of Dutch’s cock, hard and constricted, as it prodded against his own. The burning so dreadful, the arousal so pleasing. The sensation was simply too much to bear.

A giant ball of flame felt like it was engulfing him from the inside out. Arthur’s vision was starting to blur, sparks flying across his hazy eyes each time Dutch canted his hips inward. He furrowed his brow as a trickle of sweat glided down his temple.

Arthur bit his bottom lip so hard, he was surprised he did not draw blood. He tried to take a breath between one of Dutch’s thrusts, barely mustering up the strength to call Dutch’s name as he turned his face back towards him.

“D-Dutch…”

He didn’t expect a spoken reply, and he didn’t get one. Dutch could merely lift his head away from Arthur’s neck and press their faces together, too out-of-breath to even grant another kiss. Not that Arthur had the resolve to care anymore. He felt like he was suffocating, each breath coming too short and fast as it was.

Screwing his eyes shut, Arthur sensed the muscles in his arms and legs tensing. He felt restless, stimulated and pained to the point of near-breakdown. His fingers clutched at Dutch’s body as his heels kept nudging Dutch’s hips impossibly closer to his own with each thrust.

Wanting to scream, Arthur shoved his head backwards into the tree’s bark. He could feel its rugged surface dig into his scalp. Dutch promptly loosened his grip to lower Arthur’s body, giving him more room to force their mouths together, despite their mutual lack of air.

It was too much. Dutch’s clothed cock continued to rub against his own as he slipped further down the tree. The pressure of his fingertips still dug into his legs… the heat of his mouth still set his lips aflame …

Arthur could feel a lone tear leaking out the corner of one eye as he came, a suppressed shout fading into Dutch’s open mouth. His vision was a mix of red and white bursts behind his closed eyelids. All his limbs tingled from the exertion, and if he hadn’t already been seeing stars, he most certainly would have the way Dutch slammed his back into the tree with such brute force as he also came.

Still gripping below Arthur’s ass and holding him upright, Dutch leaned his full weight into Arthur’s body. They remained like that - Arthur suspended in Dutch’s grasp, both trembling - as their chests continued to rise and fall against each other. Their foreheads pressed together, breaths intermingling. Neither said a word.

Eventually, Arthur could feel his sense of touch returning. His back ached, and his legs felt heavy as they still hung over Dutch’s hips. He moved his hand out of Dutch’s hair and cupped it against his cheek to gently push his face back.

Looking into his eyes, Arthur could see they were moist. From what, he could not say. He ran his thumb over Dutch’s flushed cheek, pushing a stray curl of raven hair away. Dutch smiled against his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. “Will you be able to stand, if I let you down?”

“I’ll manage,” Arthur assured. He eased the muscles in his legs as Dutch guided them back towards the ground. Keeping one hand on Dutch’s cheek, he used the other to hold onto Dutch’s shoulder and steady himself. His cock throbbed from the loss of pressure against it, and he bit his tongue as the inside of his trousers brushed along its sensitive skin.

Dutch kept his hands on Arthur’s hips for a moment as they silently stared at each other. Then, he slowly brought a hand up to grip at Arthur’s wrist once more. He slid the hand on his face around to his mouth, pressing Arthur’s palm to his lips. Dutch’s eyes never left Arthur’s.

As he continued to look at Arthur like that, his other hand slipped away from Arthur’s hip. Dutch began to pry at his own belt buckle, and once it was undone, he quickly popped open the buttons beneath using a single hand. Arthur narrowed his eyes and stayed still, uncertain of what Dutch was planning.

Grasping the hand on his cheek tighter, Dutch moved it downwards, never breaking eye-contact as he did so. Arthur’s fingers quivered as he felt them brush against the waistband of Dutch’s trousers. With Dutch’s encouragement, he slipped them beneath, feeling his flaccid cock twitch at the touch. Dutch winced and hissed an intake of air as Arthur moved lower. He could feel Dutch’s seed on his fingertips, warm and sticky. Tugging at his wrist again, Dutch made Arthur retract his hand. Yet, he did not surrender his grip. Instead, he helped Arthur lift his hand back up, guiding it to Arthur’s own mouth.

Arthur hesitated, but he parted his lips, pushing two of his own fingers inside. He hummed as he sealed his lips around the digits, a saline taste spreading across his tongue. Dutch gave a devious smirk as his hand crept up from Arthur’s wrist, forefinger tracing along his upper lip. Opening his mouth further, Arthur allowed Dutch to slip two of his fingers inside. He encircled them with his tongue, his cheeks hollowing as much as space would allow as he sucked gently.

Hooking his fingers inside Arthur’s mouth, Dutch dragged them out and pulled Arthur’s hand away in the process. He leaned in and replaced the fingers with his mouth, tongue pushing inside. A husky moan escaped from deep within Dutch’s throat as he twisted their tongues together and tasted himself. He prodded at Arthur’s jaw with his hand to get him to tip his head back and open his mouth wider. Complying with the command, Arthur hummed in response as he felt the muscles in Dutch’s cheeks tighten into a restrained smile.

Dutch pulled away, then. A string of saliva still connected their mouths for a moment as they broke apart, and Dutch smiled wider as he wiped it from his own lips. Taking a step back, he never broke eye-contact with Arthur. He continued to grin as he ran his fingers through his sweat-streaked curls and buttoned his trousers back up. Once the belt was buckled and his clothes were smoothed down, Dutch reached forward and grabbed at the front of Arthur’s coat. He pulled it back into place and brushed debris from the tree trunk off Arthur’s shoulders. Urging Arthur to step away from the tree, he also helped him wipe the dirt from his back.

Looking down at himself, Arthur did his best to get his clothes back in place and flatten the wrinkles out of them. His hands were clammy, and his knees became weak as he felt the mess in his trousers run down the inside of his leg. His cock felt so sensitive and so raw as he took another step forward. He could feel his cheeks redden as the reality of what just transpired weighed on him.

“Do I look… decent?” Arthur inquired, throat burning with dryness as he spoke.

Dutch turned his attention to Arthur’s face as he helped to rub the sweat off his brow and sweep his hair back into place. Leaning in, he pressed an earnest kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Arthur. If only you could see the state of yourself… I don’t know if you’ve ever looked more breathtaking than you do now.”

“That ain’t exactly what I meant...” Arthur’s blush deepened. “I meant, what if we run into somebody on the way back? Will they suspect…?”

Patting him on the shoulder tenderly, Dutch let out a low laugh - a genuine laugh, one that accentuated the plumpness of his cheeks and brought out a twinkle in his eyes. His face was still flushed, his hair was a mess, and his clothes were disheveled. Arthur couldn’t help but allow his own lips to twist into a thin smile as his eyes wandered over the disorderly appearance of the man before him. It had been a long time since he last saw Dutch so unraveled.

A rare sight, indeed.

“Why should you care what others think?” Dutch pulled at his shoulder, pointing him back in the direction of the camp. “We’re outlaws, Arthur. We make a point of living against what others consider acceptable.”

Arthur nodded his head, knowing he had a point. But when he turned to look at Dutch, he could still feel the blush burning at his cheeks.

Dutch smirked at him as he released a sigh. He used the hand on Arthur’s shoulder to push him forward. “But if that’s how you feel, head on back to camp without me. I could use a smoke, anyway.”

After taking several steps, Arthur stalled and glanced behind himself. He frowned slightly as he dug his fists back into his pockets and hunched his shoulders inwards. “You sure?”

“Yes, go on,” Dutch reassured as he retrieved a cigarette and match from his breast pocket. As he lit it up, the flame briefly illuminated his face. Arthur did as he was told. He bowed his head as he began to make his way towards the glow of the camp in the distance, but just as he took another few steps, Dutch called out, “Wait, there is something else...”

Arthur stopped. He felt his chest tighten as he lifted his head and looked back again. “Yeah?”

“How about you leave this one out of your journal?”

The orange glow from the end of Dutch’s cigarette was just enough to light up the mischievous grin playing out across his lips. Arthur let out a deep exhale as he felt the knot in his chest loosen. He shook his head and grinned. “You know, I think this one can stay between just us.”

42 notes · View notes

sunbleeds · 3 years

Text

* 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒍𝒚 ! i’m kelsi ( she&her pronouns pls ) , i’ve been writing n rping on this hellsite for a good 7+ yrs now , mostly in groups n as much as i luv it + them i just don’t have time to maintain consistent activity n keep up w 20+ ppl on a dash hence why i’m here ! looking for a long term 1x1 partner .

i'll write male or female muses tho 9/10 times i stick to males n i’m always willing to write against male / female / nonbinary / trans muses regardless of who i’m playing . as far as content goes nothing is rlly off the table as far as i’m concerned : fluff / angst / smut / romance / gore , i’m a heaux for it all . ofc me being an adult ( 25 ) i’m only willing to write w those who are 18+ . now as i briefly mentioned before 𝖨 𝖠𝖬 𝖨𝖭𝖢𝖱𝖤𝖣𝖨𝖡𝖫𝖸 𝖡𝖴𝖲𝖸 . i work 10 hours a day n most weeks i work 50 hrs not just 40 on top of which i have a partner n other dumb adulting things to balance so there are lots of times when i can only find the energy to post a time or two every other week tldr ; patience is a virtue , i can’t always find time to be online but that doesn’t mean i’ll ghost you either . i adore talking n plotting nonsense on discord or thru ims , the only time you’ll find radio silence on my end is when i’m working or Insanely busy which i’d do my vvv best to give u a heads up .

while i’m more than willing to come up w ocs of our own due to my own personal time constraints canons are easier on me atm so i’ve included a list of fandoms & muses i’d like to play ( bearing in mind that i’m willing to play them in various settings and verses against ocs & canons from other fandoms ) below the cut as well as some previous rp blogs so y’all can get a feel for my writing n if any of those tickle ur fancy n ya think our writing styles could mesh well pls smash that ‘ ♡ ’ n i’ll pop into ur dms to kick this off :’)

ATTACK ON TITAN

erwin smith mayhaps even ideally against a levi /winkwonk

AVATAR : THE LAST AIRBENDER

azula

jet

CASTLEVANIA

trevor belmont

DRAGON AGE

garrett hawke

LIFE IS STRANGE

nathan prescott

finn mcnamara or sean diaz ( i’m rlly interested in writing these 2 against each other so !!!! pls 🙏 !!!!!! ya girl is not above begging )

NBC’S HANNIBAL

hannibal lecter

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

arthur morgan

SHADOWHUNTERS

magnus bane

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES

katherine pierce

klaus mikaelson circa s3 when he was actually a badass villain

THE WOLF AMONG US

bigby wolf

20 notes · View notes

somegirlsnerdywords2 · 4 years

Text

Anime i’ve Watched

That begin with a D (Part 1)!

Yep this is how i’m going to bring over all the anime and manga i’ve watched and posted about on the old blog. It’s not so detailed but it will have to do. Anything new I watch or read from this point on will have their own posts.

Dance with Devils:

Genres: reverse harem, demons, supernatural, romance, vampire, shoujo

Synopsis: Ritsuka Tachibana has always been a good student, so she is completely shocked when she is suddenly summoned by the student council. Even more, they seem to think of Ritsuka as a troublemaker. Led by the handsome Rem Kaginuki, the student council—also consisting of Urie Sogami, Shiki Natsumizaka and Mage Nanashiro—tries to question her, but it soon becomes clear that they have ulterior motives.However, this is only the beginning. When her mother gets kidnapped, her life is turned upside down, and Ritsuka gets drawn into a world of vampires and devils. Both groups are searching for the "Grimoire," a forbidden item allowing its owner to rule the world. The return of her brother Lindo from overseas gives her hope, but even he appears to be hiding something. In a world filled with secrets, Ritsuka questions whom she can trust in this dark musical tale, while the handsome and dangerous members of the student council compete for her attention.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 8/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: One of the better animes in the reverse harem genre. Little bit of fantasy, drama, romance. This one was actually a musical... or at the very least had a notable amount of musical numbers throughout the series. I do love me a good musical. To be fair this anime had some big issues, though if you’re just looking for a bit of halfway decent reverse harem fun this should suit you just fine!

Darling in the FranXX:

Genres: action, drama, mecha, romance, sci-fi

Synopsis: In the distant future, humanity has been driven to near-extinction by giant beasts known as Klaxosaurs, forcing the surviving humans to take refuge in massive fortress cities called Plantations. Children raised here are trained to pilot giant mechas known as FranXX—the only weapons known to be effective against the Klaxosaurs—in boy-girl pairs. Bred for the sole purpose of piloting these machines, these children know nothing of the outside world and are only able to prove their existence by defending their race.

Hiro, an aspiring FranXX pilot, has lost his motivation and self-confidence after failing an aptitude test. Skipping out on his class' graduation ceremony, Hiro retreats to a forest lake, where he encounters a mysterious girl with two horns growing out of her head. She introduces herself by her codename Zero Two, which is known to belong to an infamous FranXX pilot known as the "Partner Killer." Before Hiro can digest the encounter, the Plantation is rocked by a sudden Klaxosaur attack. Zero Two engages the creature in her FranXX, but it is heavily damaged in the skirmish and crashes near Hiro. Finding her partner dead, Zero Two invites Hiro to pilot the mecha with her, and the duo easily defeats the Klaxosaur in the ensuing fight. With a new partner by his side, Hiro has been given a chance at redemption for his past failures, but at what cost? [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 6/10

Finished airing in 2018 with a total of 24 episodes.

My Thoughts: Ohhhh how I wanted to love this one. After Kill la Kill I have the highest of hopes for anything Trigger releases but unfortunately they tend to fall short of my expectations... such a shame. The art, animation and themes were fantastic but that’s about where the good times end in all honesty. I will never forgot just HOW they operate the mechs.... those images will forever be burned into my memories.... so thanks for that I guess?? This series had it’s moments and wasn’t a complete dumpster fire but overall it just wasn’t anywhere near the masterpiece I hoped it would be. The disappointment factor probably took a few points off in the end.

Deadman Wonderland:

Genres: action, sci-fi, shounen, horror

Synopsis: It looked like it would be a normal day for Ganta Igarashi and his classmates—they were preparing to go on a class field trip to a certain prison amusement park called Deadman Wonderland, where the convicts perform dangerous acts for the onlookers' amusement. However, Ganta's life is quickly turned upside down when his whole class gets massacred by a mysterious man in red. Framed for the incident and sentenced to death, Ganta is sent to the very jail he was supposed to visit.But Ganta's nightmare is only just beginning.The young protagonist is thrown into a world of sadistic inmates and enigmatic powers, to live in constant fear of the lethal collar placed around his neck that is slowed only by winning in the prison's deathly games. Ganta must bet his life to survive in a ruthless place where it isn't always easy to tell friend from foe, all while trying to find the mysterious "Red Man" and clear his name, in Deadman Wonderland.

[Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 6/10

Finished airing in 2011 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Just go check out the completed manga is you’re interested in this series and watch the anime for more content. Pretty cool premise with decent art and music but is incomplete and very unlikely to receive another season.

Death Note:

Genres: mystery, police, psychological, supernatural, thriller, shounen

Synopsis: A shinigami, as a god of death, can kill any person—provided they see their victim's face and write their victim's name in a notebook called a Death Note. One day, Ryuk, bored by the shinigami lifestyle and interested in seeing how a human would use a Death Note, drops one into the human realm. High school student and prodigy Light Yagami stumbles upon the Death Note and—since he deplores the state of the world—tests the deadly notebook by writing a criminal's name in it. When the criminal dies immediately following his experiment with the Death Note, Light is greatly surprised and quickly recognizes how devastating the power that has fallen into his hands could be. With this divine capability, Light decides to extinguish all criminals in order to build a new world where crime does not exist and people worship him as a god. Police, however, quickly discover that a serial killer is targeting criminals and, consequently, try to apprehend the culprit. To do this, the Japanese investigators count on the assistance of the best detective in the world: a young and eccentric man known only by the name of L. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2007 with a total of 37 episodes.

My Thoughts: If you’re an anime fan and haven’t at least heard of Death Note you may have been living under a rock. Or maybe the only reason you know this title is because of that dumpster fire of a live action western remake... if so I am so so sorry. Strong beginning with an alright end. A great psychological series overall though. Unique and iconic.

Death Parade:

Genres: game, mystery, psychological, drama, thriller

Synopsis: After death, there is no heaven or hell, only a bar that stands between reincarnation and oblivion. There the attendant will, one after another, challenge pairs of the recently deceased to a random game in which their fate of either ascending into reincarnation or falling into the void will be wagered. Whether it's bowling, darts, air hockey, or anything in between, each person's true nature will be revealed in a ghastly parade of death and memories, dancing to the whims of the bar's master. Welcome to Quindecim, where Decim, arbiter of the afterlife, awaits! Death Parade expands upon the original one-shot intended to train young animators. It follows yet more people receiving judgment—until a strange, black-haired guest causes Decim to begin questioning his own rulings. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 9/10

Finished airing in 2015 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Now this was an interesting one! Here we have the concept of death in game form. Each episode a new player is introduced and our leading pair takes them through their chosen game. Morality, mystery and a dynamic leading pair are what drive this character driven series. You’re sure to experience a wide range of emotions while watching this anime and the opening theme was pretty good as well. Why not give it a go if it sounds like your kind of thing!?

Denki-gai no Honya-san:

Genres: comedy, seinen, slice of life

Synopsis: Umio is a shy kid who just started his part time job at a manga store smack dab in the middle of the city. But his lifestyle isn't as glamorous as the neon lights that illuminate the city. Umio's closest friends are his co-workers who are all unique characters, to say the least, and although they're nice people, they have their quirks. They are a tight knit group of friends, have nicknames for each other and spend their weekends inside, sheltered from the extravagant scene happening on the outside. (Source: MU)

My Rating: 10/10

Finished airing in 2014 with a total of 12 episodes.

My Thoughts: Something light after this unusually heavy themed list. A lovable cast of characters drive this situational comedy and it’s an abosulte joy to watch each and every one of the antics they manage to get up to. A great series to bang out on a day when you aren’t feeling so great and need a little something to lighten your mood. You’re unlikely to find any deep life lessons here but it’s sure to tickle your funny bone.

Devilman: Crybaby:

Genres: action, demons, horror, supernatural, ONA

Synopsis: Devils cannot take form without a living host. However, if the will of an individual is strong enough, they can overcome the demon and make its power their own, becoming a Devilman. Weak and unassuming, Akira Fudou has always had a bleeding heart. So when his childhood friend Ryou Asuka asks for his help in uncovering devils, Akira accepts without hesitation. However, to Akira's surprise, the place they go to is Sabbath: an immoral party of debauchery and degeneracy. Amidst bloodshed and death, demons possess the partiers, turning their bodies into grotesque monsters, and begin wreaking havoc. In a reckless attempt to save his best friend, Akira unwittingly merges with the devil Amon and becomes a Devilman, gaining the power to defeat the remaining demons. Though it grants him great power, this new partnership awakens an insatiable and primeval part of Akira. Having the body of a devil but the same crybaby heart, Akira works alongside Ryou, destroying those that harm humanity and his loved ones. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

My Rating: 4/10

A 10 episode ONA that finished airing in 2018

My Thoughts: And we’re back at it with the dark stuff... I was not a fan. The art.animation had some real cool moments as did the music but it was just a bit much in my opinion. Rushed and nonsensical with characters I couldn’t care less about. Gratuitous violence and nudity. To be fair there are plenty who enjoyed this anime, unfortunately for all of you I was not one of them.

#dance with devils #anime #darling in the franxx #deadman wonderland #death note #death parade #denki-gai no honya-san #devilman: crybaby

13 notes · View notes

ash-lord-writes · 5 years

Text

All I Need (Sean MacGuire x Reader)

(I do not own this gif)

Pairing: Sean MacGuire x (Fem)Reader

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Words: 1,137

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: We need more oneshots with Sean! It was really fun writing his personality and accent in this oneshot. Whatta tink? :)

“Whatta ye say we go cause a bit o’ trouble at de saloon?” Sean sauntered up next to you as you scrubbed some dirty linens in the wash basin. You huffed at his question.

“Can’t you see I’m a bit busy?” You stopped washing, then wiped your brow before looking up at Sean, who didn’t seem all too impressed.

“Ah come on,” he begged, “You could use a wee break to tie ye over.” You rolled your eyes, knowing full well a wee break was; getting absolutely smashed and passing out somewhere right along side Sean. Crazy bastard.

“Miss Grimshaw would hunt us down, skin us alive, then force Mary-Beth to sew our hides into some long johns for Uncle… Do you really want that?” Sean paused and rubbed his chin, perhaps in thought, then shrugged.

“Based off de piss poor progress you’ve gone and done so far, I’d say it’s very likely even if we dahn’t disappear.” He gave a quick nod towards the current linen in the basin. You held up the cloth to inspect and turns out Sean isn’t as clueless as he looks. Furiously scrubbing linens equals large tears in the cloth.

“Well,” you say as you drop the linen in the bin and stand up, “Let us disappear for a while. Maybe a day or two.”

Sean chuckles and rubs his hands together. “Ah ha, now yer talkin me language.”

You give a small laugh back, “What, idiot?” The two of you walk out of the camp towards your horses, laughing at each other’s banter and set off towards the local town.

After many shots later, you stumble out of the saloon, nearly falling down the stairs into the muddy road. Behind you, Sean burst through the saloon doors, laughing loudly, then tripped over his own feet and landed on the wooden floorboards with a thud.

“Ah Christ,” he cursed while picking himself up, “That was close. Would’ve ‘ad to carry me home.” He chuckled and brushed off his liquor soaked coat as if it would magically clean it, but the sentiment was still cute. What?

You shook your drunken thoughts from your head. You helped Sean get down the stairs in one piece, then kept your arms around each other’s shoulders for support. Side by side, you made your way down the road towards your horses, singing merrily and laughing when your feet failed to do what feet were supposed to do.

Sean paused and stared up at the horses’ saddles. He blinked a couple times, then shook his head. “Nope, sorry Y/N. Aye am naht going to make dat.” Sean slouched forward a bit, nearly sending you both down to the ground, but your legs still kept firm.

“All right,” you mumbled, “Guess we have a long walk ahead of us.” With your horses following behind you, the pair of you set off in the direction of camp. Sean grew quiet and you stopped talking as well. It was a nice and peaceful change.

It may have been an hour later or maybe 10 minutes, but you could feel Sean becoming heavier as you were walking along. The fool was falling asleep while on the move. There was no way they’d make it back tonight in this condition. With your last remaining strength, you dragged Sean off the road and towards the treeline where you could pass out without fear of being robbed.

“Okay, Sean,” you grunted while dragging him under the trees, “This is our extravagant hotel for the night.” You dropped him to the ground, where he again landed with a thud and a grunt.

“Ah,” he breathed, “Aye wonder what dey used for dis comforter.” He rolled onto his back and looked at you, smiling.

You laughed. “Rocks, I suppose.” You laid down next to him and stared up at the night sky. It twinkled brilliantly above you, lighting the countryside. Sean let out a long sigh, then gently took your hand into his. Shocked, you glance back at him to find that he is already staring at you.

“Thought I’d try it while aye ‘ave liquid courage. You probably wahnt remember it, but maybe ye will.” He gives your hand a small squeeze. “I- I just need ye to know this.”

You nod silently, hoping he can’t see the scarlet red creeping across your face. He was really doing this, right now, and it honestly made you so giddy. You have had a crush on Sean for the longest time, but you didn’t want to ruin your friendship so you kept it quiet. Now here he was about to pour his heart out to you. Butterflies were soon flying around in your chest.

“Y/n,” Sean paused, furrowing his brows and licked his lips before continuing,”Aye want ye to know that I’ve always liked you. Aye know I’ve done a piss poor job of showing ye, but you make me feel so alive… And I’m glad aye can be meself ‘round ye and naht act like someone else.”

You exhaled heavily. “Sean, I really like you too.” You smiled in return when his face lit up when he heard those words from your mouth. “Ah Y/n. Aye would kiss ye right now if aye could,” Sean exclaimed, “But aye can’t really move.”

You both chuckled. “You can kiss me in the morning if you’re still alive.”

“Oh you know nothing can get a one up ahn ol’ Sean “Vigilant” MacGuire. I’ll hear em before aye see em.”

That was the last thing you heard before passing out. The next moment you opened your eyes it was already morning. You rub the sleep from your eyes and look over to at a still sleeping Sean. You watched as his chest rose and fell as he slept. Carefully, you scooted over next to him and cuddled into his side.

“Goodmornin’,” Sean mumbled, still groggy from the whiskey last night. He shifted to free his arm from under you, then wrapped it around you, pulling you closer to him. “Did ye forget?”

You looked up at his face and smiled. “No, I haven’t.”

He smiled back. “Good,” he replied. He gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“Miss Grimshaw is probably out looking for us now.” You remembered what you did to those linens yesterday and dreaded going back to camp.

Sean was quiet for a moment. “Wanna go back to de saloon?”

“Sean,” you huffed while playfully hitting at his chest. “What, it was only a suggestion.”

Laying there in the grass, feeling the cool breeze tickling your skin, snuggling with Sean was all you needed. Being with Sean was all you needed. He was all you needed. The camp didn’t need to see what new shenanigans the two you had in store now.

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #x reader

62 notes · View notes

a-shakespearean-in-paris · 5 years

Text

Author Questions

thanks for the tag @thevikingwoman!

Author Name: @a-shakespearean-in-paris and AParisianShakespearean

Fandoms You Write For: Currently: Game of Thrones and Red Dead Redemption 2. Formerly: Dragon Age and Detroit Become Human. (though that’s not to say the door on those two fandoms are closed--I’ve just finished with my two main works for those fandoms.)

Where You Post: Ao3 and tumblr

Most Popular One-Shot: On tumblr it’s a Cullen smut piece called Shapes and Plains and on A03 it’s my interpretation of the smut that followed after Jaime’s good old line of “it’s hot in here” and “i’ve never slept with a knight before” in episode 4 of GOT called A knight to remember (gotta love them puns)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:Love song on Sapphire Isle, my GOT fix it fic and exploration of the Jaime x Brienne relationship just beat out my Dragon Age Cullen romance In Waking Dreams.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Honestly I’m proud of some elements of my main works while I am not so proud of others. Like I love moments in my DBH fic Our Immortal Longings but dislike others, same thing with In Waking Dreams. My current favorite is the one I’m working on the most often, Love Song, but I do have a soft spot for OIL--it’s most similar to a piece of original fiction I would like. And my OC is a great protagonist, if I do say so myself :p

Story You Were Nervous to Post: Probably Water and Skin, my very first piece of smut I ever published.I worried I wasn’t doing it right, felt silly at first to talk about arousals and...yeah. It went away real quick, I promise, haha. Not embarrassed anymore!

How Do You Choose Your Titles: Shakespeare sometimes (Our Immortal Longings, The Sweetest Sorrow are derived from Shakespeare quotations.) Or I just play around with things that thematically fit the story and sound nice together. (Love Song on Sapphire Isle, my recent commission called When Rainbows Won’t be Temporary.)

Do You Outline: Yes but I don’t consider the outline a hard and fast thing I need to follow. I need to know kind of where I’m going to end up to properly seed things so they cultivate into what they need to be, but I also like to have the freedom to not feel stifled by a strict schedule.

Complete: Well not counting one-shots I have three completed multi-chapter fics. I did start fics I have lost inspiration and passion for, I won’t lie, but I think I have a good track record of finishing things.

In-Progress: The Sweetest Sorrow for Red Dead and Love Song on Sapphire Isle for GOT.

Coming Soon: I have no idea. I had no idea I would write for anything other than Dragon Age two years ago. Hopefully my own original fiction.

Do You Accept Prompts: When I ask for them. I used to do a lot of prompts, but that’s kind of waned. Maybe I’ll ask again soon?

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: The parts of TSS and LSOSI that are coming up really tickle my fancy, so I’m excited about that.

tagging @muse-of-nightmares @skyholdherbalist @agentkatie @deviantramblings @out-of-the-embers @ladymdc @laraslandlockedblues @bearly-tolerable @briarfox13 @gottaboopthesnoot annnnnd anyone else <3

#author meme #tagged

14 notes · View notes

ruvikkin-art · 6 years

Link

Dutch’s voice was droned out as he got distracted, watching the way Charles moved and how his hair feel in front of his face only for him to shove it back multiple times. Arthur barely noticed he was staring until a tickle in his throat made him cough.

Dutch paused his little speech as he watched Arthur cough into his fist, a full body cough that made him shake. “Are you alright there son?”

“Yeah Dutch, just-” Arthur coughed once more and slapped a hand over his mouth as he felt something fall from his lips. Arthur spun away from the camp and carefully removed his hand from his mouth, seeing a fistfull of purple petals in his hand. “Shit…”

A Hanahaki Disease AU for Charles/Arthur from Red Dead that I’m working on.

This is the first chapter, please enjoy!!!! You can read it below or follow the link~

Arthur stood outside his tent, taking long drags of his cigarette as he watched the people in the camp hustle around as they settled into their newest place, a little area called Horseshoe Overlook near a small town. It was quiet enough, the area was nice and it was covered by trees. Anyone who would come in would either come on accident or with a purpose and everyone would hope someone dumb enough to wander in would quickly turn tail and run.

“What do you think Arthur?” Dutch walked over, standing next to him as he ushered to the camp. “I think this is a nice place to settle for a while.” Arthur nodded and tossed his cigarette on the ground before stomping it out.

“I think its great, but whats the plan after this. Where to next?” Arthur looked over the camp again, watching everyone until his eyes settled on Charles, who was currently setting up his and Javiers tent. Dutch’s voice was droned out as he got distracted, watching the way Charles moved and how his hair feel in front of his face only for him to shove it back multiple times. Arthur barely noticed he was staring until a tickle in his throat made him cough.

Dutch paused his little speech as he watched Arthur cough into his fist, a full body cough that made him shake. “Are you alright there son?”

“You better get that cough under control. We got work to do.” Dutch pat his back a few times before walking away, shouting something to someone in the distance. Arthur sat on his bed, clutching the petals tightly.

“God damn it.”

```````

Arthur had been hanging around the camp the past few days only going out to hunt or buy supplies before coming back and trying to act like everything was normal and fine. Although his coughing wasn’t going away he was able to hide it for the most part. Dutch hadn’t said anything to him about it, and the only other person who noticed the petals was Mary Beth. She had given him a sad smile but hadn’t said anything to him. He was sure she had spoken to someone because Abigail and Karen had been whispering anytime he began coughing. Arthur was just glad nobody knew who the flowers were for, and that all of the camp seemed oblivious to it.

“Arthur!” He sat up at hearing Hosea call his name. “Arthur, sorry to bother you son but Javier wants to meet you down at the bar in Valentine.” Arthur nodded and stood, pocketing his journal that he had been doodling in. “Dutch… Dutch tells me you have a cough.”

“Yeah, its damn stupid. Can’t even pronounce the damn name of it.” Hosea nodded and rolled his shoulders.

“Hanahaki. I had it once upon a time, before Dutch and I picked you up.” Arthur looked up at Hosea, giving him a funny look. “Oh yeah, of course it was settled easy. Unrequited love, its rather stupid but it will go away if you talk to them.” Hosea shook his head and smiled. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but hey, if you run and bring me some herbs I can whip you something up I took when I had it. Won’t get rid of it but it can help the coughing.”

“Thank you Hosea.” Arthur smiled and Hosea nodded, walking off to go talk with the gang. Arthur head to his horse, patting her on the neck before jumping on to ride down to Valentine.

The ride was quick, seeing as he had been down there often he knew shortcuts to head down and ways to avoid trouble. All he’d like to do was go down, meet for a few drinks, and then he could head back to camp- maybe get some hunting done.

Arthur hitched his horse outside the tavern, heading inside he noticed Javier and Charles, or course Charles had to be there. The one person he had been avoiding since he started coughing up the flowers was now unavoidable. And to boot, had his arm around a woman and was obviously trying to sweet talk her. Arthur felt a cough rise up and he backed out, coughing into his fist until the few petals came out and he stuffed them into his pocket. Jealousy was a bitch. He tried again to go inside, making his way over to the two and the women.

“Oh Arthur!” Javier noticed him quick and waved him over, the other three looking up at him. “Arthur come over here I want you to meet our friends.” The two women turned to Arthur, eyeing him up quickly with smiles on their faces.

“Pleased to meet you.” Arthur nodded to them and the red-head pushed her chest out to him, grinning.

“Well ain’t you just the tough as teak mountain peak.” The other one shook her head with a smirk.

“You be quiet Anastasia, anyone can tell that this one is a pussy cat.” Arthur wanted to roll his eyes until they were in the back of his head, but he held off from doing so for everyones own sake. Javier laughed next to him at her joke.

“Yes he is a pussy cat. Ain’t that so Arthur?” Javier nudged Arthur and he shrugged it off, noticing Charles arm trying to slip around the girls waist again he decided to get rid of them quickly.

“Whatever you say.” He waved his hand to the red head. “How much you cost anyway?”

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady.” She replied and bent over just slightly, trying to tease him into something but all he felt right now was another cough coming up being close to Charles again and he wanted to get the hell out.

“Sorry, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.” Arthur responded, and the two girls were quick to leave in a huff. Javier and Charles looked at him, both disappointed but he could care less. They could go get laid another time, so long as he wasn’t around to see it. Not wanting to keep the conversation lingering he squeezed into the space where the two women were, grabbing one of the shots on the table and taking it with ease. “Where’s Bill?”

“Oh man, I dread to think about it.” Javier said with a laugh, and of course just like clockwork Bill walked into the bar. “Hey, hey there he is.” Arthur looked over his shoulder to see Bill bumping into someone, and he couldn’t held the dread that he felt seeing Bill- already drunk- getting in the mans face.

“He about to kiss that guy or punch him?” Arthur spoke, just a second before Bills fist connected with the mans mouth and it was a brawl suddenly. Javier smashing a bottle against a mans head while Charles picked up a chair and chucked it at someone- how that didn’t kill the man he had no idea.

Arthur got into it with someone who had grabbed him by the shirt and landed a fairly good punch on him. Knocked him just enough for him to get his mind off Charles for the first time in days, long enough for him to beat the man senseless. One the man had fallen back, Arthur was quick to help Bill by pulling one of the three men off of him, knocking him out quickly. Arthur felt pissed, of course a day just couldn’t go by without someone getting into a fight.

It was all a quick blur suddenly, one moment he was beating up someone, the next a big man had tossed him out of the window and into the mud like he weighed no more than a bag of feathers. Now, the fight was outside in the mud and rain and half the town was watching. Tommy, the big man was named he only just remembered, had rushed at him and pinned him to the ground quickly, punching him in the jaw. Arthur had just barely been able to get the man off of him and back on his feet when Tommy had begun swinging at him again. Arthur ducked out of the way, punching him in the face and the chest to just try and get him down. That was when, of course just for a moment, he noticed Javier; Bill; and Charles staring at him. Arthur noticed the concerned look on Charles’ face and he felt another coughing fit trying to hit him at the worst time.

Arthur was able to hold it back, but in doing so he distracted himself which gave Tommy the perfect chance to grab him and punch him in the gut. When Arthur felt the fist connecting he couldn’t help the cough that sputtered out of him and he could feel the petals falling out of his mouth. The crowd around them went silent and Arthur wanted to crawl under a rock- he didn’t want so many people to know about it and of course not Charles. Tommy took a step back and Arthur took the opportunity to punch him, just right in the face so he fell back into the mud.

He didn’t even bother looking at his gang members, only stumbled his way over to the store to wash the mud off of his face while the town muttered and began to slowly break apart.

“Making new friends again I see Arthur!” Arthur perked up at the familiar voice, and let out a laugh.

“Josiah Trelawny.” The well dressed man gave a bow and Arthur grinned. “I thought you had gone to New York.” Arthur dipped his hands in the water bucket, washing the dirt from his face.

“And miss all this glamour? You must be joking.” Arthur sat on the stores steps, rubbing his sore jaw. “I went to Blackwater to find you gentlemen and you are not very popular there it seems.” Arthur only shrugged and looked over to see Javier, Charles and Bill walking up. Arthur noticed that Charles was holding one of the petals in his hand, inspecting it closely. Arthur drowned out the rest of the conversation, more concerned that Charles was putting together two and two together. He only hoped to god that the purple petals weren’t distinct enough.

Arthur only snapped back into the conversation when Dutch spoke his name. “Are you with us son? Go get cleaned up, we’re going to get Sean back from Blackwater.” Arthur nodded, trying to act like he hadn’t just been staring at Charles hand for however long they had droned on. He stood and rinsed his face off again as everyone left- everyone except for Charles of course.

“Are you alright Arthur?” Arthur closed his eyes, damn him for being so caring, it was almost enough to make his heart jump again and his throat tingle with another cough.

“I’m fine, just… Just more shit.” Charles nodded and held the flower petal up to him. “I don’t need that back thanks, I seem to have a good supply of them right now.”

“Its Aster.” Charles stated, flipping the petal over to show it to Arthur as if he was just stating the obvious. “Common wildflower here.”

“Well its too bad theres not a market for the petals or I’d be rich enough to get us out of here.” Arthur leaned on a wooden beam, trying to act calm while his heart was beating out of his chest.

“They are a symbol of Love and Patience, I used to see them all the time when I was younger. Usually given as a gift, sometimes used to ward off evil spirits.” Arthur nodded along and rubbed his jaw again. “Arthur-” “Don’t start Charles, I know the whole han-a-hacki thing can kill ya. I’ll see if I can scrape together money to see a doctor or somethin. For now though we should get Sean out of Blackwater before Dutch loses his mind about us not doing anything.” Charles’ shoulders slumped for a moment before he nodded and walked off quickly. Arthur groaned, punching the bridge of his nose.

At least he knew the flower now.

#Red dead redemption #charles smith #arthur morgan #charthur #hanahaki #fanfic #fic #my art #the shit #please let me know what u think

50 notes · View notes

icequeen-shiva · 5 years

Text

alright, you know what

about two weeks ago maybe by now, i made a post about how i’ve recently hit 200 followers and i’d like to do a q&a again, and even with a reblog from someone more ~*popular*~ than me, and multiple reblogs once a day for a few days by myself, i didn’t get a single fucking question. not one. earlier today i posted two pictures of myself where i felt pretty (i’ve since deleted them) and nobody i actually know of liked it and i got asked by a stranger who doesn’t even follow me if i had any nsfw pictures. i don’t get asks anymore, i don’t get shit. and that tells me that, you may be following me, but you aren’t connecting with me. and i feel that. i get on tumblr and i don’t feel like i’m friends with fucking anybody. and i did that. i know i did that. 9/10 times i let my fear of rejection and embarrassing myself overcome my desire to talk to people, so i don’t do it, or i let it fizzle out and we go our own ways and we don’t become friends. 1/10 times i actually function as a human being and make a connection or at least something that sticks a little.

so here, below the cut, is a comprehensive (loosely) list of things that i like, in no particular order at all, besides tickling, because apparently both sides of this need a little help connecting on any front.

scooby-doo

beetlejuice

the addams family

the sims

the mcu

classic disney animations; my favorites are dumbo, the great mouse detective, the rescuers, sleeping beauty, and oliver and company (it’s old enough that i consider it in the classic category)

~modern disney animations too; my favorites are treasure fucking planet, coco, and... i’m a sap, beauty and the beast. rise of the guardians too even though it isn’t disney.

musicals; i can’t pick a favorite just fucking ask me, but i don’t know a lot of newer ones honestly

empire records

the greatest showman still

cats (i mean the animals but i also like the show even though it is Weird As Hell)

my cat in particular

alice in wonderland

stranger things

space jam

tsum tsums

elvira, mistress of the dark

dice

kiki’s delivery service and specifically jiji things

winnie the pooh i don’t even fucking care i LOVE HIM AND ALL OF HIS FRIENDS

silly hats

playdoh

interesting earrings

exploring libraries or big bookstores

true crime mysteries; my favorite youtuber for this is georgia marie, bless her. i also watch bella fiori and kendall rae

fictional mysteries too

i have a kind of fascination with jack the ripper and with the lizzie borden case

shipwrecks! i don’t know why but shipwrecks fascinate me! why did they go down? all the stories that went with them!

i once read a novel that was told as a series of letters, or journal entries, by people on the titanic, including the iceberg and it was THE absolute saddest book i have ever read in my life. like, obviously i knew what was coming, but i got attached to the characters, the letters made them alive and it was just like... NO. NO I DON’T WANT THEM TO DIE. I KNOW THEY’RE GOING TO BUT THEY CAN’T. and it was awful. i had to put it down and cry.

cryptozoology

the bermuda triangle theories (i’m not saying i believe sOmEtHiNg’S gOiNg On but i think some of the theories are interesting)

ghosts

the nancy drew computer games

monopoly

i still play a lot of my snes games; my go-to time killer and head-clearer honestly is kirby’s avalanche. i also play a lot of super mario rpg legend of the seven stars, super mario world, kirby’s dreamland 3, and donkey kong 2 and 3

final fantasy x in which i’m guaranteed to call almost (i can’t stress that enough) every character at some point “my child”

hyrule warriors, i know it’s not a tRuE zelda game but it’s fucking fun

same with fire emblem warriors

red dead redemption

kingdom hearts

the uncharted series

splatoon but i don’t have it wahhhhh

mind you i am not very Good at videogames, i just like to play them anyway

game grumps

ninja sex party

jacksepticeye

markiplier

monty python

crocheting

tea

harry potter

classic rock. pretty big on queen lately. i like tom petty and the heartbreakers. i like joan jett and the blackhearts.

i just... like rock. across the board. i like the offspring. i like some rage against the machine songs. acdc on the radio makes me happy. def leppard on the radio makes me happy. beartooth, starset, powerman 5000, as long as it’s got a good beat and good stuff going on behind the vocals then i’m gonna be happy. i’m way more into the guitars and the bass and everything going on instrumentally than i am vocally, honestly. the whole big guitar solo to van halen’s “you really got me” and then that bassline that comes in, that bassline is sexy. it’s so simple but i LIKE it.

anyway music as a whole gets me right in the heart and can lift me up when i am at my literal worst point

it’s hard for me to name a favorite or specific bands that i like because there’s so many and i’m not really picky about it.

pop vinyls

good ol’ vines

buffalo wings

mac and cheese

grilled cheese

dr. pepper

i drink a l o t of dr. pepper

pretending i know how to do makeup well

history; i watch a lot of expedition unknown and mysteries at the museum, and sometimes i’ll watch a free documentary on youtube if it catches my attention. last weekend i explained the donner party to my boyfriend. just.. on a whim. because i’d just watched a thing on it and he said he didn’t really know what it was. i’m that person.

OH I SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THIS BACK AROUND TRUE CRIME BUT I READ A BOOK ABOUT H.H. HOLMES AND HIS MURDER CASTLE AND THE CHICAGO WORLD’S FAIR. it was by erik larson, i believe. larsen? i could google this. devil in the white city. there’s been talks to make it a movie. it’s a good read though i will admit i skipped a lot of the fair parts because i was there for the murder.

i also read a book about the lusitania by the same author and i was like ohhh my goooood what. it got a little boring sometimes, i had to push myself to keep going, but i would read dead wake again.

csi: miami reruns are the greatest thing don’t @ me

dark purple and black aesthetics

just like... witchy aesthetics. those colors and black cats

if you haven’t noticed by any selfies i’ve posted, i do have my lip pierced and i love finding new lip jewelry. i have a new opal stud in and i love its look

leather jackets

combat boots; i have a galaxy print pair and a pair with classic marvel comics stuff printed on the inside and you can fold down the sides to show it. they’re my faves.

owls

drunk history

the first 5 seasons of supernatural and i still have a soft spot for the winchesters and castiel

i’m slowly making my way through watching the librarians

i’m also making my way slowly through watching the magicians

(american) football

nature walks

going to the zoo

going to the aquarium

like really take me to either of the above and i will lose my shit

road trips

savannah, georgia

the smokey mountains

last august i drove by myself from ohio to boone, north carolina for a friend’s wedding and that wedding was smack on a mountain top and it was the coolest thing i think i’ve ever done

roller coasters BUT NOT EXTREME ONES baby steps ok

log rides tho, i don’t know why, i always love the water rides

ren faires!

cosplay, even though i’m not exactly active in it myself (but i want to be; one of my offline friends is an actually-getting-kind-of-internet-famous mei from overwatch cosplayer)

cards against humanity

foosball

pool but i suck at it

speaking of pools i love swimming ... but i suck at it, i just like boppin’ along in a pool

cookouts

summer

there is nothing like being out in the middle of nowhere in summer when the evening starts to fall and the sky is dark, dark blue and there’s a sea of shimmering lightning bugs out over a field. it’s beautiful. it’s peaceful.

there’s nothing like sitting outside on a calm spring night and listening to the spring peepers (they’re frogs) either.

if you couldn’t tell, i live in the middle of nowhere. i have to find enjoyment in the little things.

campfires

dancing around said campfire, you cannot have a campfire without good music. this is when a lot of my classic rock education came to pass.

elephants

my favorite books are the abhorsen trilogy by garth nix, tied with the serpent’s shadow by mercedes lackey

i am trying to get into comic books by way of the youtube channel comicstorian. they break comic books down for you and read them aloud with the images, altered slightly to avoid copyright strikes (and that’s all made very clear, it’s not done sketchily), and it’s been really easy for someone like me who doesn’t just have a comics store close (and i would otherwise continue on as i have been, forgetting to ever look for them on the internet). i listened to injustice 1 and 2, and they covered the game. i’m actively following scooby apocalypse, and there was some teen titans stuff i went all the way through up until now. i don’t think it’s finished yet from what i remember.

i love museums

candles

i actually kind of collect tea sets

i also have a collection of sand art bottles AND IF I’M EVER AT A FESTIVAL OR A FAIR WHERE THERE IS A SAND ART STAND YOU CAN BET I AM GOING TO MAKE ONE

yugioh duels; i’m definitely just a novice and it’s just a fun pastime my friends got me into when they found their giant binders of cards again

i’m not actually that big on pokemon, i don’t know a lot of them but it’s still fun and i know some. but i did love pokemon go when my friends still played it (don’t really have time anymore, and it kept crashing way too badly on one of their phones anymore anytime they tried to join a raid and it just wasn’t fun as a group then)

i don’t have any but i like the ~look of crystals and would like to have some, not for my own aesthetic but i just... like having pretty things!

listening to the rain

how the air smells (at least where i live) after a long rain and everything is just cleansed

depression has stopped me from writing for a long time but, in my heart, writing has always been something that has touched me ever since i knew how to do it and could put my stories down on paper instead of having to just talk about them... so i’m going to include that here

root beer floats

hotdogs

hard dip ice cream (if you don’t know what hard dip means... as my boyfriend didn’t... it means ice cream that you have to use a scoop with, not soft serve)

soft serve’s good too tho don’t get me wrong

strawberry milkshakes

this isn’t even stuff that anyone would need to know on this site to befriend me at this point, nobody’s gonna message me like HEY I READ YOU LIKE STRAWBERRY MILKSHAKES ME FUCKING TOO

you’re cool if you do that lmao

so bad they’re good creature features from the 50s and 60s

the old godzilla movies

i like the moon more than the stars, but i like them too

flower crowns

bouncy balls

original skittles

this has gone on way too long, nobody is reading this, your mom’s a hoe, goodnight

no she’s not, i’m sorry, if you got this far then i hope your mom is a nice person

#about me #THERE'S A LONGASS LIST OF THINGS I LIKE IN HERE SO IF YOU WANT TO BE MY FRIEND THEN THERE'S A PLACE TO START #OK THEN

7 notes · View notes

ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

Note

would you ever consider writing fic where william is sick with a cold or stomachbug and scully has to take care of him? maybe set somewhere post season 11?

Jackson is holed up in his room, and Scully can hear him coughing wetly from down the hall as she paces around the room with her daughter dozing off on her shoulder. She didn’t hear him come in last night. Thank God he didn’t wake the baby; her sleep schedule is fleeting enough without an unexpected wake-up as an added bonus. Scully pats her back, casting nervous looks down the hall as she passes the open door where she can hear the coughing. She has no idea where he’s sleeping at night; he could have pneumonia, for all she knows, from sleeping outside in the cold. She hates not knowing where her son is half the time, but she supposes she should be grateful that he shows up at all.

Lily is blinking sleepily, her fist shoved halfway into her mouth. Scully strokes her downy hair and kisses her little forehead before setting her down in her crib. Lily curls and uncurls her little fingers sleepily; Scully covers the baby with the star-speckled blanket that Tara had mailed about a month before the baby was born, strokes the side of her cheek before leaving to go check on her oldest.

Jackson is bundled up in the guest bed, buried under a pile of blankets. “Dana?” he mumbles underneath the comforter. He sounds like he is speaking through piles of cotton balls, his nose stuffed up.

“Hi, Jackson,” she says, going to the bed to feel his forehead. He is burning up. “You not feeling well?”

“No.” He sticks his head out. “If you think the kid’ll get sick, I can…”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she says immediately. “What are your symptoms? I’ll give you some medicine.”

“I’m, uh, cold,” he says. “And congested. I think it’s just a cold—” He breaks off into a coughing fit.

She checks his fever again, brushing sweaty hair away from his forehead. “I’ll get you some cough syrup,” she says softly. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”

“That’d be okay.” He offers her a small, grateful smile. Scully smiles back, tousling his hair a little, tells him she’ll be right back.

When she comes back upstairs with a glass of orange juice and a bowl of hot soup, Jackson is dead to the world. She leaves the juice and takes the soup, planning to heat it later. She brushes her fingers briefly over his hot forehead before leaving him to sleep.

—

Lily is not at a place where she sleeps through the night yet. She and Mulder are definitely used to it, and Jackson is definitely not. When she wakes them up screaming at two am, Jackson comes padding out of his room with them, sleepy and pale and shaky. “Kid still cries at night?” he mutters irritably in his raw voice, rubbing at his forehead.

“Yep,” Scully says back with her own brand of irritably. This particular part she didn’t miss at all.

Mulder pads past them down the hall. “Go back to bed, I’ve got her,” he says in a cheerful tone that makes Scully want to slug him. He’s still in new-fascinated-parent mode, and his insomnia gives him an unfair advantage. “You too, Jackson, you need to rest,” he adds, before entering Lily’s room.

Scully looks at her grown-up son, blinking blearily in the doorway, flushed and tired, and feels a rush of sympathy. “Are you feeling any better, sweetie?” she asks.

He shrugs. “No, not really,” he says congestedly.

She can hear the sound of Mulder pacing in the background, shushing the baby underneath the brunt of her cries. Rubbing at her temples, she offers, “Do you want to go sleep downstairs? It might be quieter down there.”

He shakes his head, shoving hair out of his eyes. “I’m cool up here, thanks. I’ll just… use headphones or something.”

“Okay.” Scully actually feels a bit envious; she wishes she could just plug headphones in and actually get a full night’s sleep for once. “Well, do you want any medicine? Anything to drink?” As long as she’s already up…

Jackson turns a little green, swaying in place. Before she can ask if he is okay, he’s running down the hall to the bathroom. Moments later, she can hear the sounds of retching. She winces with some sympathy; with morning sickness a not too distant memory, she has too many memories of vomiting herself.

“Hey, Scully?” Mulder calls from Lily’s room, sounding nervous. “Lils just threw up a little.”

“Oh, great,” Scully mutters inaudibly.

—

It seems as though Lily has caught Jackson’s virus. The pediatrician says neither case is severe, but that Jackson has likely caught the brunt of it. He holes up on the couch, covered in several blankets and whining the same way Mulder does when he’s sick. The baby mostly alternates between napping and spitting up. Scully tries to keep her hydrated. Lily lies curled against her stomach, staring up at her with bright eyes while she eats, and Scully is filled with a sudden rush of love and affection for her daughter.

“It’s like we’ve set up a makeshift hospital,” Mulder jokes at one point, and it is somewhat like that. They’ve set the kids up in the living room, mostly because it’s the only room with a TV, a makeshift bed on the couch and the playpen set up by the chair. Jackson and Lily sleep through Alien and half of The Shawshank Redemption. Jackson wakes up for the second half, erupting to life with a coughing fit. “Oh, I love this movie,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

“Prisoners becoming lifelong friends and rebelling against the messed-up system?” Mulder asks absently, his hand dangling over the side of the playpen.

“Yeah, classic redemption story or whatever,” Jackson mutters into the pillow. He rolls onto his back, blinking blearily at them. “Sorry I got the kid sick,” he mumbles apologetically, as if just now remembering that he isn’t the only sick one.

As if on cue, Lily wakes up, wailing indignantly. “Right on cue,” Scully says with a little bit of laughter. She lifts the red-faced baby from the playpen, balancing her on her hip. Lily’s hot little hands curl in her hair as she cries. “It’s okay, Jackson,” she says, rocking the baby back and forth. “It happens. We’d rather you be here recovering.”

Jackson says nothing for a moment, watching the baby cry. Scully shushes her for a few moments before passing her to Mulder, wonders if it was a bad idea to go there. Almost a year and they still walk on eggshells in reference to the fact that he’s mostly staying with them, but also disappears for days on end and doesn’t disclose where he’s going. “Do you have The Exorcist?” he asks finally. Scully grins companionably.

Mulder sighs dramatically. “You should be glad you won’t be able to remember this, Lils,” he says to the baby, touching her nose as he stands. “This is the type of movie to scar you for life.”

“And we definitely want to avoid that,” Scully says tenderly, tickling the bottom of Lily’s socked foot. Mulder bounces the baby on his hip as he carries her upstairs, retrieving the bottle from the fridge as he goes.

“So you like The Exorcist?” Scully asks her son, sprawled over the couch.

“Love it.” Jackson blows his nose noisily, his cheeks red with fever.

“Want to watch?” She’s already halfway to the shelf where they keep the movies.

“Yeah,” says Jackson. “The green vomit may make me less self-conscious.”

Scully snorts out a laugh, retrieving the DVD from the lower shelf, where Mulder makes sure to stash the movies she likes so that she can read them. She both loves and hates this.

She brings Jackson a cough drop and another glass of orange juice along with the DVD. “I don’t really like orange juice this much, you know,” Jackson says, his nose stuffed as he takes the condensated glass. “It’s just kind of… okay.”

“I know,” Scully says cheerfully, popping the DVD into the player. “Drink it anyway.”

—

The baby starts clearing up about the same time Jackson does, which is also about the same time Mulder and Scully start getting sick. Jackson offers to hold Lily so she doesn’t get sick all over again. “You know,” he says. “Preemptive strike or whatever.”

Scully hands over the baby just before sneezing all over herself. “Family life,” Mulder says with an equally stuffy nose. “We should’ve seen this coming.” He wraps an arm around her as she sits beside him on the couch.

Jackson sits carefully in the chair, sitting Lily up on his lap, and flips on the TV. It lands on The Bibbletiggles and Lily’s eyes widen in a way that suggests childlike interest. “No,” Mulder and Scully say at the same time. Jackson raises his eyebrows, but he changes the channel. Lily’s eyes well up a little as she starts to whimper in protest. Scully passes Jackson the pacifier.

When Jackson lands on a channel that no one protests, he leans back in his chair and lets out a low sigh. “So I was thinking of taking off soon,” he says. “Since I’m better and all.”

Scully rests her head against Mulder’s shoulder. She’s more or less learned to expect this, but it still stings a bit. “Oh,” Mulder says, the cough drop in his mouth clicking against his teeth. “Right.”

“But I figure I can put that off a bit,” he adds casually. Lily is sucking on the pacifier contentedly, tucking at Jackson’s finger. Scully watches them both with a raised eyebrow. Jackson shrugs. “Return the favor, since I got everyone sick.”

“Oh,” Scully says lightly. She sneezes again, into her elbow, leaning away before snuggling back into Mulder’s side. “That’d be great, Jackson, thank you.”

He shrugs. She smiles gratefully. The TV buzzes in the background and Jackson watches, balancing Lils on his lap absently as she sucks her pacifier. In the moment, Scully feels a sort of blissful, peaceful happiness. She thinks she’d like to stay there forever.

Mulder sneezes violently before he can warn her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, scooting away from him on the couch. Mulder pats her knee in apology. Without taking his eyes off the TV, Jackson passes them the box of Kleenex.

#i reallly don't like this but i was tired of looking at it lol #i dunno if this is what u wanted anon but i hope it is!!#i felt weird about naming baby 3 but lily felt right #idk what this is tho #xf fanfic #i wrote this

219 notes · View notes

the-tv-ninja · 7 years

Text

It’s a Long Road to Redemption, Kacchan

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13625184/chapters/31285806

Summary: Deku followed Bakugou's advice and took a swan dive off the roof. Five years later they meet again and Izuku has a peculiar quirk that happens to be the hero's greatest weakness.

"How does it feel to be quirkless, Kacchan?"

(AU: Villain!Deku, Bakudeku).

Chapter 1: Long Time No See

Bakugou stares at the eyes of the villain, unable to believe the sight before him. There he is: the weak, quirkless loser he once took pleasure in tormenting until he drove him off the edge of a building.

The boy he thought long dead now standing inches away from him,

"Kacchan?"

The half-forgotten nickname does something funny to his heart.

He shakes his head frantically, refusing to believe the reality before him. Surely this is another nightmare, his own perverted imagination working overtime, trying to punish him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Deku's lips stretch into a smirk, the small gesture clashing horribly with the haunted look on his face.

Bakugou bites his lip, still refusing to give into the illusion.

"I have." he mutters in the end, voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

There's a smack on his shoulder and he winces at it but more so at the cold, bony fingers that dig in.

Izuku leans in close and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't sink into uncharted territory. Fluffy green curls tickle his neck as Deku's hot breath dances over exposed skin.

Katsuki looks away, taking in his surrounding as panic starts to crawl its way into his heart. Where the hell is he?

Slim fingers drum over his chin, as though to catch his attention,

"I'm so glad you're back!" Deku beams and for one short moment it's like they're four again and their entire life lies before them, rich with possibilities like the blue sky on a hot summer morning.

Then the grin is gone, morphing into a smirk that tethers on the side of something dark and wrong.

A small voice in his head, one that sounds oddly like his younger self tells him this isn't the boy he once knew.

"We'll have so much fun, Kacchan."

(Did he ever bother to know him at all?)

xxx

(Past)

At age fourteen Bakugou is nothing short of a natural disaster masquerading as a teenage boy.

There's power at the tips of his fingers and he makes sure the entire world knows it, all in the name of silencing his own demons.

Most people bow before him, cower in the shadow of his supposed greatness and settle for the comfortable position of his followers.

Then there's Deku.

A boy who was his friend once – a lifetime ago. Before they discover quirks and what they really mean, how divided society is because of them. A hero and a civilian – it seems as though the choice is already made for them.

Izuku refuses to learn his new place which according to Katsuki is nowhere. Despite being scrawny, weak and quirkless he still smiles and dreams and hopes and it pisses Bakugou off to no end.

He wants to trample over Izuku's strength and beat the smile off his pale face. Because… if a little loser like him can be so strong without any power behind his hands – who knows what he'll be like if he had one?

"Deku, you quirkless fucking piece of shit!" he screams at the boy one day, his fury exploding at the mere sight of his classmate, "When will you learn you'll never be a hero?"

Years later he doesn't even remember what provoked him, what little spark in those green eyes was the reason for him to ignite. (Did it have something to do with applying to UA?)

"K-kachan," Izuku stammers, holding his palms above his head, as if to defend himself, like a caged animal before its captor, "D-don't say that even without a quirk, I can-"

Everything about the boy infuriates Katsuki and the words leave his mouth on their own accord,

"If you want a quirk so badly, then you should just take a swan dive off the roof, and hope to get one in your next life!"

Time stalls and all he can see is the o-shape Izuku's plump, chapped lips make. He takes a step back, as though badly burnt.

Bakugou feels a sliver of bitterness somewhere deep in his chest but brushes it away, like a tiny speck of dust. Pleasure sprouts like a weed in his heart and he feels something sick and wrong yet delicious at the same time as he takes in the broken look flashing through wide green yes.

The expression on Deku's face remains sealed in his mind and it makes him lick his lips, thinking,

" Good, you finally get it, you're useless. Don't you dare follow my path."

(You might just beat me at it).

He turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door of the empty classroom behind himself.

There's an odd sense of closure to the small gesture.

xxx

His two loyal followers – never friends as friends stand for equals – dash after him and he can sense their unease trail behind like a bad smell.

"What!?" he snaps, annoyed at the worried looks on their chubby faces.

The school hallway is quiet and still, reeking of sweat and rules. In his memories it seems more like a figment of a dream than a real place – oppressive and suffocating, making him itch to run and never come back. He's about to leave when the two boys dare answer,

"You went too far, man!" one of them shakes his head, eyes round and glazed with fear.

The other nods, "I mean… you are childhood friends after all."

Anger sparks once more in his chest and travels up, "Who the fuck told you I was ever his friend?"

(Years later, as the memory plays on repeat he has to wonder if perhaps Izuku heard those words too and that pushed him another step closer towards the edge).

The silence in the small space between them is deafening as his classmates refuse to meet his gaze. He snickers, feeling equal parts disgust and boredom for those near him.

Small minds, purposeless extras to follow – that's all they are.

"Whatever," he grunts, more to himself, "Not like I fucking care."

And he doesn't. The most horrifying, disgusting part of the story – the one that haunts him the most late at night is how there isn't even a sliver of regret, not an ounce of care in his heart that day.

(That's why he thinks he should be the one among the League Villains, not the other way around.)

xxx

Katsuki forgets about it, sharp words slipping past his mind, meshed in with all the other vitriol he spews at the world.

He goes on with his day, with his life completely unfazed.

Deku is nothing more than a little pebble along the way, one he has kicked far away, until it dropped in the lake and sunk all the way to the bottom.

(Just like whatever emotions the boy once evoked from him).

xxx

Bakugou thinks little of the crowd surrounding their school or the ominous yellow tape tangled around the building. He rolls his eyes at some of his classmates' glossy eyes and red noses, muttering about,

"Stupid fucking cry-babies" under his breath.

It's the principal's voice that finally manages to tear him away from his own thoughts and catch his attention.

"Midoriya Izuku won't be attending anymore," he informs them, tone flat and cold, bearing more finality than Katsuki can fathom at age of fourteen, when everything seems infinite.

"So the fucking nerd chose to quit!" Bakugou snorts while the entire class turns to glare at him, as though he's committed a crime.

It's the first time in his life he feels reprimanded and unwelcomed and to his surprise he finds himself itching to make it go away.

The principal doesn't seem to hear his words, unmoving grey eyes focused on something far away. Suddenly there's a slippery feeling at the back of Katsuki's head, his fingers clammy around his pen.

"I am terribly sorry to tell you, but your classmate Izuku has committed suicide."

Katsuki isn't sure how to describe the effect the words have on him, even years later. It's as though the ceiling has come falling down, his carefully built world shattered to pieces.

He expects rage or sadness or anything really, any emotion to come to the surface and rear its ugly head at him.

None of it happens, he's left numb in the empty classroom, staring at the blank white board before him.

He remembers the weather for some reason –bright and sunny, warm light filtering through the windows and bathing the classroom in a melange of orange hues. He doesn't get up to leave when his classmates do, rather remains there and just stares, waiting for Deku to come back and tell him this isn't his fault after all.

xxx

"Katsuki?"

The name sounds kinder than he deserves and he doesn't have to turn to sense the aura of worry around his mother.

Somehow she looks softer, as though all her sharp edges have been erased.

Mitsuki doesn't utter another word, just takes in his silence, squatting down next to him. He nearly winces at her closeness but steels himself not to. He doesn't meet her eyes.

"The school called," her voice trails away and he can feel a wandering hand above behind his back, "They told me…what happened."

Any other day he'd lash out, throw insult after insult, only to be met with the same. It's how the two of them work after all, just not today.

(Vaguely he has to wonder – what would his mum think of him if she knew? And rather – what would she think of herself to raise a little monster? He can't do it to her, he's ruined enough).

Bakugou doesn't dare look at his mum's face but can sense the hurt she emits, heavily mixed in with concern he hasn't earned.

It's then that another image flashes through his brain: Inko.

Finally he feels something, the previous numbness exploding, morphing into a sharp emotion he has no name for. There's a sob on his lips before he can stop himself.

"Oh, Katsuki!" his mother sounds urgent, like the time she set the kitchen on fire after a recipe gone wrong.

She's frantic and a little helpless, as though Bakugou is burning and she has no idea what to do.

He clasps his hand around his mouth so hard he can taste blood and yet the sobs still make their way past his lips.

"Shshsh," Mitsuki makes a strange sound of comfort, one he hasn't heard since he was a little kid, "I'm so, so sorry, Katsuki."

Two warm arms wrap around him and despite himself he lets the tears ruin her shirt, clinging onto her frame.

"I know you cared about Izuku, even if you never showed it."

The sudden realization downs on him: His parents don't know what he's done.

Neither does Inko. Nor will she.

To them he remains the chubby kid from kindergarten whose confidence was annoying at its worst but never something dangerous, never something that brought pain and destruction to those around.

His mother rubs lazy circles on his back and whispers words that sound clumsy and disconnected but sincere. Something wet trails over his uniform and it's then he realizes she's crying too.

"Mum…I'm sorry,"

It never occurred to him who Izuku was, what space he held in the hearts of those around him.

All Bakugou ever thought about was himself, the nuisance Deku was to him, never once stopping to think how much he mattered to Inko or his own mother. Mitsuki had held Inko's hand when her husband left and now… now she has to do the same, except this time her son is never coming back.

"He's at a better place now," she tells him, anything to soothe, to comfort.

All Katsuki can think is a simple, fatal,

" Because of me,"

xxx

(Present)

Next time Katsuki opens his eyes the red light of the sunset peaks from the small window frame and bathes the room in a palette of impending trouble.

He tries to free his hands but the only effect his attempts produce is his skin rubbing against metal until bloods starts to trickle down his fingers – hot and sticky like guilt.

Patience has never been his virtue and soon enough the anger simmering in his chest boils over,

"Fucking hell!" he screams, trashing in his restraints until he finds himself on the floor with a loud thud that echoes through the room. His face is met by the cold cement and all he can do it bite his tongue and scream profanities at the monotone walls of the cell.

The more rational part of him – the one that sounds an awful lot like his mentor– tells him to stop. He must calm down and think his way out of the situation before it escalates. What he can't do with his fists should be an easy task for his brain to complete.

Katsuki closes his eyes and takes a long breath – like Aizawa taught him – hoping it'll slow down the current of erratic thoughts so he can focus.

Blazing red eyes trail over his surroundings, taking in each detail. He finds nothing to go by, no trace to indicate his location. A plain cell, dull grey walls, no furniture safe for the toilet on the opposite end of the room. It reminds him of a prison, a place no hero should be held at.

At the back of his mind he realizes he's been abducted by the League Villains – again. Really, who does that?

The question that his mind begs to ask but he silences it anyway being: Is he really that suited to be a villain?

Does he even deserve another recue, another sacrifice on behalf of others for someone like him? After all he's done – what's the point of being saved?

"Screw all this," he grunts, forcing his eyes shut as he struggles to deal with the storm of emotions in his chest.

A small chuckle meets his words and he doesn't have to look up to know the man that stands above him. It sends shivers down his spine and suddenly he wishes he never woke up,

"So you still like to swear a lot, huh Kacchan?" Deku grins at him, setting a tray full of food on the floor next to him after unlocking the door a little too clumsily.

He hums quietly, drumming pale, skinny fingers over dirty concrete,

"Mmm, seems like you haven't changed all that much."

"Can't say the same about you," Bakugou snorts but the words never make it to his lips. It's because of him Izuku's entire life was flipped upside down to the point of him questioning his very being and taking a leap of faith off the school's rooftop.

"Didn't know the League Villains offered fucking room service these days," he barks, like a dog who's been denied a threat.

Midoriya flashes him a grin and it's the first time he takes it upon him to study the man.

Deku looks the same way he did five years ago yet at the same time completely different. How that's possible is beyond Katsuki's vivid imagination. He's taller naturally but still much shorter than him and on the skinny side. His face appears the same – all freckled cheeks and plump lips, soft edges that remind him more of a character in a fantasy than someone real.

Then there's a scar, right over his right eye. The lines of it are jagged, the skin a peculiar mix of pale pinks and angry reds. Vaguely Bakugou realizes that's the place his skull must have cracked when he hit the ground. The very thought of it makes him dizzy with guilt and regret so he chooses to bottle it all down.

Deku's hair is the same except it runs longer and wilder, mossy curls sticking out in all directions.

There's something inherently different, he just can't place his finger on it. It's not only the scar that mars his face.

Bakugou licks his lips, trying to find what it is, as though solving a game of "Spot the differences" in a magazine. It finally clicks –Deku's eyes are nothing like before.

Not the colour – it's still the same canvas of forest green, little specks of turquoise and gold here and there. Rather the expression –dull and lifeless, nothing left the previous excitement. There's a tint of sadness and exhaustion, clashing badly against the evident wish for revenge.

"Ah," Izuku picks a French fry from the tray, dips it in ketchup and puts it over his lips, "Well, you are after all a special guest of the League."

Fear curls its fingers around Katsuki's heart and squeezes,

"What the hell do you mean by that!?" he demands, forcing his voice to be levelled even as it rises unnaturally at the end.

Deku shrugs, the gesture almost innocent,

"Mm, we like to make the new recruits comfortable for the time being,"

Bakugou can't help the laughter that ignites somewhere deep in his chest and travels up to his lips,

"Doesn't your shitty boss get it?" he grunts, "I'll rather die than be a villain!"

Midoriya meets his eyes, green clashing over crimson. Katsuki struggles to look away but finds himself compelled, as though a strange force binds him to the other.

"Oh," Izuku's lips make a small o-shape, then stretch into a smile, one that appears sharp and wrong, "You're scared, Kacchan."

The nickname sends bells ringing in his ears, loud and clear even in the midst of his messy thoughts. A once soft pet name now sounds different and tainted. The fear is so strong in his chest it blinds him and so he goes to the only exit he knows from it– anger.

"Bullshit!" he screams, rattling in his shackles like a caged animal. He trashes and trashes until the pain in his wrists is so bad he has to stop, "I'll fucking kill you, all of you!"

Deku's eyes widen and something ignites in them, a speck of the former zest for life returning.

Laughter echoes through the cell as he starts clapping.

"See!" he exclaims, jumping next to him, so close they might as well be kissing, "See!? That's what I'm talking about!"

Katsuki's anger dissipates into the stale air of the room and he's left with is fear, dipped in with confusion. Deku appears to read his emotions with ease,

"Killing us?" he probes further, lips pulled into a sly smirk, "Mmm, that's not heroic, is it Kacchan?"

"Shut up!" the scream tears through the atmosphere but doesn't appear to affect Izuku who merely shakes his head.

"Mm, we aren't all that different, Kacchan," he muses, stretching out a hand and offering him a French fry.

The blonde turns away, refusing to be fed like an animal. Deku shakes his head, a tint of affection mixed in with nostalgia lacing the gesture,

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see."

He gets up then, taking the tray with him. His hand is already at the door when Bakugou finds his voice again, finally able to break away from the strange trance-like feeling he had when the other was close.

Midoriya plays with a stray curl, lips curling into something sad and wrong,

"How does it feel to be quirkless, Kacchan?"

The words hit him harsher than any blow and Bakugou wants to scream. Scream and trash and destroy at the sheer irony in Deku's voice.

Problem is, he's powerless and all he can do is bark back,

"I already told you – you can all go fuck yourselves, I'm not becoming a villain."

Izuku turns around so fast the movement appears distorted. He smiles and it's the closest to the real thing he's seen so far,

"Yeah, you did," he agrees, offering a small pensive nod, as though running an analysis inside his head, "But back then I wasn't here, Kacchan."

Something cold wraps around his neck and he nearly chokes on the feeling. He can sense the threat, looming from the edges of the words. This doesn't even sound like the Izuku he knows, rather someone else entirely. Or is he just repeating the words of Shigaraki?

"What difference does it make?" he demands, tone angry and smug, even as he trembles.

Deku winks at him, the gesture out of place with the remains of innocence on his face, as though it's rehearsed,

"A world of difference," he tells him, "I promise you Kacchan, the things I'll make you feel…by the time I'm done you'll be the one calling yourself a villain."

Author’s Note: So! Here is the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. English isn't my mother tongue, so I apologize for any linguistic or grammatical mistakes. What do you think so far? Any guesses on what Izuku's quirk might be? There were some very subtle hints here and there but more information about that in the next chapters! Do you think Katsuki can pull Izuku away from the dark path? And is the other going to accept an apology? Please share your thoughts, it serves as great motivation!

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #bakudeku #izuku x katsuki #kacchan #deku #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha fandom #mha au

27 notes · View notes

nowwhateinstein · 7 years

Text

Ficlet: Across the Miles

Missing Scene from Anasazi; ~1800; Scully POV

a/n: thanks to @lilydalexf for agreeing to beta!

Summary: Then the shooting happened, and everything went to hell.

Seventeen hours. That’s how long she’s been driving. The adrenaline rush that catapulted her through Virginia and most of Tennessee has worn off, replaced by a dull feeling of dread that’s as constant as the hum of the highway beneath her wheels. As an intern, she could easily handle a thirty-six hour shift on nothing but coffee and the occasional cat nap in the coffin-sized on-call room at Johns Hopkins. But the road is not a hospital, and you’re not twenty-four anymore, Dana, she reminds herself bitterly, pressing on the accelerator to push Mulder’s Ford Taurus up to seventy miles per hour. You’ll have to stop and rest, eventually. She glances over at the road atlas that lays open on the passenger seat beside her. Little Rock appears to be halfway between Alexandria and western New Mexico, and they’re a couple of hours away from there. At least they’re making good time.

They pass through Memphis, across the Mississippi River, and into Arkansas. She finds a pair of Mulder’s sunglasses in the glove box. They’re too large for her face, but they do the trick of reducing the glare of the late afternoon sun as it sinks slowly towards the western horizon.

The river is a golden, shimmering ribbon, reminding her of lazy summer evenings spent fishing with her siblings and father along the waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Her dad would spend hours patiently instructing his daughter on the art of casting a line, his large hands on hers as they practiced the rhythmic motion of bringing the rod up, back, forward, then out, letting the line soar over the water. The memory of Ahab causes her breath to catch in her throat. What would he think, if he knew his daughter was on the run after shooting her own partner, in possession of stolen government files - to say nothing of the fact that she faces censure, possibly even dismissal, from the FBI?

I’m sorry, Dad, she thinks, lifting the glasses to wipe away the tears that suddenly blur her vision. I know this isn’t what you imagined or wanted for me.

Both of our fathers are dead now, she thinks, glancing behind her to where Mulder lies across the back seat in a deep sleep. She wonders if grief stalks his dreams.

When he’d arrived at her apartment - incoherent, bloodstained, and barely able to stand unaided - she was shocked enough to forget that he’d just witnessed his father’s death. He’d barely had time to mourn him, she now realizes.

Then the shooting happened, and everything went to hell. She’d just managed to drag Mulder to his car, retrieve the encrypted files from her vehicle, and peel out of Hegal Place before the red and blue lights of the Alexandria Police Department came into view.

Now, as the distance between them and DC increases, the gravity of what has happened - and the uncertainty of what lies ahead - begins to sink in. Their only chance of redemption lies a thousand miles away, with a man whom neither of them have met. A man who, even though he agreed to it, may not be able to help them decipher the files. Even worse, she thinks as she checks the rearview mirror for what must be the hundredth time for any sign of pursuit, they could be heading into a trap.

She pushes her fear down and tries to focus on what she can control. She reaches behind her and finds Mulder’s carotid artery with two fingers. His pulse is weak, but steady. Her hand then moves to his chest, and she’s reassured by the gentle rising and falling she feels. The diazepam she gave him in back in Virginia seems to be working. She’ll need to change his bandage and give him another dose eventually, but for now, they need to keep moving.

They’re several hours into Oklahoma when exhaustion finally forces her off the interstate and into a deserted parking lot. She glances at the her watch: 2:08 AM. Two hours of rest, no more than that, she tells herself. Before she can sleep, however, she needs to tend to her patient.

She opens the back passenger door and kneels on the pavement. The rough asphalt digs painfully into her knees through her thin polyester pants, briefly sharpening her sleep-deprived senses.

"Mulder. Wake up. Come on, Mulder, just for a moment."

His eyes flutter, and he mumbles incoherently. She makes out her name: “Scully.”

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here."

He’s sweaty and hot to the touch, and she worries that the wound has become infected. She pours some water onto a handkerchief and places it on his forehead, then proceeds to examine the bullet wound. The area around the wound is bruised, but thankfully she sees no other signs of infection - a small mercy. It had been a clean shot; the bullet passed through skin and muscle without hitting the subclavian artery.

His fever is most likely a lingering effect of whatever it was They added to his building’s water supply, and would go away in time. She cleans the wound and replaces the bandage with supplies from her surgical kit.

"Take this,” she says, putting a pill in his mouth. “Try to drink a little water."

She holds his head up and lifts a water bottle to his lips. He manages to swallow the diazepam and take in a few sips before he starts to cough weakly.

“He’s dead,” he says after a few moments, his voice breaking. Tears run down his fevered face. “He’s dead, Scully.” Mulder’s raw grief, compounded by her exhaustion, threatens to engulf her.

Keep it together.

“Shhh,” she says, and takes the cloth from his forehead, gently wiping his tears while struggling to keep back her own. “You need to rest, Mulder.” The fingers of her free hand move softly through his sweat-matted hair in an attempt to soothe him. “Try to sleep.”

She continues to stroke his head in tender circles until the diazepam begins to take effect. Within minutes, Mulder is asleep, his anguish once more submerged in the deep well of unconsciousness.

Shakily, she rises from the asphalt and shuts the car door. She’s aware of how quiet and still everything is; the only sounds she can hear is her own breath and the distant hooting of an owl. The moon hangs large and full above the trees, its yellow glow the only visible light in any direction. In this moment, it seems like she’s the only person alive on Earth; even Mulder, lying inches from her, feels a million miles away.

This time, as the enormity of what they’re facing once again washes over her, she doesn’t fight her tears.

In the morning, she calls Albert Hosteen from a pay phone and arranges for him to meet them at a motel in Farmington that afternoon. She doesn’t mention Mulder’s condition, for fear of further compromising their already vulnerable position.

A tall man with long grey hair is standing outside the lobby when she pulls into the parking lot of the Cozy Cactus Motor Lodge. She realizes this must be Albert Hosteen.

She gets out of the car to shake his hand. “Mr. Hosteen, I’m Dana Scully. We spoke on the phone.”

Albert nods in response, his eyes moving to where Mulder lies in the backseat. “Your partner is sick,” he says, taking in Mulder’s condition.

“Yes, he’s been shot,” she says, then more quietly, “I shot him.”

Albert looks at her without the faintest trace of surprise or judgement, but rather with somber empathy, as if he’s familiar with the tragic circumstances that could bring someone to deliberately shoot their partner. In his gaze, she can feel her apprehension begin to subside.

“I’ll help you get him into the room,” he offers.

Albert is surprisingly strong for his age; he carries the bulk of Mulder’s weight and together, they deposit him gently onto the bed.

He lifts the bandage and examines the wound. “You’re a good shot,” he says, smiling at her. She manages a small one of her own in response.

“I would like to pray over him, if you don’t mind.”

She recalls the woman at the Navajo Nation Office mentioning that Albert was a medicine man. Still, she’s surprised - and touched - at this gesture from a virtual stranger.

Albert gently takes Mulder’s hand in both of his, then pulls out a small pouch that hangs from a leather strap around his neck. From it, he takes a pinch of bright yellow powder - pollen of some sort, she thinks - which he proceeds to sprinkle on Mulder’s forehead. He sings in Navajo as he does this, his voice soft but steady as it rises and falls in a mesmerizing cadence.

After a few minutes, he pauses and gestures for her to stand next to him. Hesitatingly, she complies, Albert taking her hand in a strong, warm grip as he resumes his singing. He takes another pinch of the pollen and gives her a dusting of her own. The pollen tickles as it falls upon her face and for a moment, she forgets the fear and worry that have trailed her across the country like shadows.

After he’s finished, he turns to her. “Now, I’m ready to look at those files.”

She hands him the papers, which he thumbs through thoughtfully. “It will take a while for me to translate this,” he says, looking up at her. “You have had a long journey out here. You should get some rest.”

His words bring an awareness of just how exhausted she is. She could get another room, but she’s reluctant to leave Mulder in case he wakes or his condition worsens.

“Your partner won’t wake for several hours,” Albert says, as if reading her thoughts. “I don’t think he will mind if you sleep beside him.”

She nods tiredly.

“I will be next door if you need me.”

His hand is on the doorknob when he turns back to her. “He’s lucky to have a partner like you,” he says, before stepping out into the dusky New Mexico evening.

She moves to sit on the edge of the bed, kicking off her shoes and letting them lie where they fall on the green shag carpet. She gives Mulder a brief exam before settling in beside him. His breathing is steadier, more normal, now than back in Oklahoma. His fever is gone, too. She knows both things are due to attentive medical care and the passage of time, but a small part of her - the same part that still obliges her to wear her cross necklace, even though she no longer attends church regularly - wants to ascribe his improvement to Albert’s prayers. She reaches for Mulder’s hand and offers her own silent prayer of thanks. For him. For delivering them across the miles to a place that - for now, at least - is a shelter in the eye of the storm.

“Scully.” In his dreaming, he says her name softly, almost whispering.

“Yeah,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I’m here.”

#my fic #missing scene #xf fic

100 notes · View notes

pinelife3 · 5 years

Text

Sadness

The treatment of the breaking of the fourth wall in Fleabag is the most compelling thing I’ve seen all year. Throughout the first season, our protagonist Fleabag (played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge who also writes the show) would look at the camera to make witty asides. Usually a sarcastic remark or eye roll to hammer home that she’s sardonic, insincere, perhaps a little underhanded.

You’ve probably noticed how if you’re in a one-on-one conversation, it’s hard to rag on someone but that in a group it works (because you can pretend it’s good natured humour rather than a scathing attack on their very existence). In Fleabag, the breaking of the fourth wall is a way for Fleabag to safely ridicule whoever she’s speaking to. It’s also a succinct way of delivering backstory, revealing her intentions, and getting us on side. These interactions with the fourth wall are pretty standard, see: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Amélie, House of Cards, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Shakespearean asides, American Psycho. It’s an accepted device. But then in season two, when Fleabag speaks to us, someone takes notice, someone spots her dipping out of their diegetic reality as she speaks to us in ours.

I thrilled at this.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve seen everything - but I’d never seen this before. This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen on a TV show (forget the Red Wedding). This is a masterful trick, and great storytelling all at once - it demolishes a literary device. But most of the coverage of Fleabag has focused on how sad the show is:

People seem to like that: they like being crushed, enjoy being devastated. Why is that?

I’ve recently cried over two cowboy related things: Brokeback Mountain and Red Dead Redemption 2.

youtube

I cried when I finished Red Dead Redemption 2 because I love Arthur Morgan so much: he was just the sweetest guy, and I was sad the story was over because we can’t go fishing anymore, or crash his horse into trees and fall, or fight gators in the swamps, or brush his horse while we cruise around the old west. I just felt so wistful for his life and the idea of bad guys working hard to be good in a changing world.

And then I cried at the end of Brokeback Mountain because it is objectively very sad. The shirts tucked inside each other which Jack kept all those years. The possibility that Jack didn’t know how much Ennis loved him. The life they could have had together, and how much they loved each other - but the families and relationships they destroyed along the way as well, because no one ever said what they felt.

I really liked both Brokeback and Red Dead, because they have great stories and characters. In Red Dead, I have so many fond memories - and for that reason it made me feel strong emotions. But I don’t like Red Dead because it made me feel strong emotions. I don’t like Brokeback because it was ‘crushing’ and/or ‘devastating’ - it was enjoyable because it was a beautiful story with tragic, poignant elements. I like the story - not that it made me cry. Most Fleabag reviews seem to focus on the sadness it made the audience feel as a way to recommend it to people.

Watch Fleabag - it will make you feel something.

Prepare to emote because Fleabag is preternaturally sad.

The discourse around the show on Reddit is similar:

Pffft want to feel really sad? Check out this scene from Synecdoche, New York:

youtube

It’s very moving, kind of irresistibly so. And I think that’s because it’s calling out to that scared, bitter, self-pitying part of you which is always cringing in the shadows, waiting for someone to invite it out of the garage into the living room. This speech is designed to frighten you: you’ll make misssssstakesss and ruin your life. You won’t even know you’re doing it until it’ssssss toooooo late. You might think your life is nice - but that’sssssssssssss only because you haven’t ssssssssssseen how bad it will get. It’s giving you permission to feel bad without providing any reason to feel bad, and then it’s allowing you to wallow in that bad feeling. It’s poison.

I promise you, for 99% of people who watched Synecdoche, New York , life is not that bad. People in horrible, war torn places where they aren’t able to watch Charlie Kaufman films because no one dubs indie movies in Kurdish have it bad - and not just because they’re missing out on great films, but because they essentially live in a sandier version of Hell. Haven’t you ever sat in the sun with a dog and seen it look back at you and felt a perfect connection? Haven’t you ever fallen asleep, perfectly comfortable, tucked in beside someone you love? Haven’t you ever eaten pancakes with ice cream, or seen a huge mountain, or been really cold and then gotten into a warm bath? Haven’t you ever seen a baby fake-crying on the tram and then its mum tickles it under the chin and it laughs, and you see everyone around you smile because babies are so pure? Come on! You’re not Othello. Your life is pretty nice. Even Othello’s life was pretty nice right up until the end.

Pretty nice.

But boring. Right?

Pancakes? Cuddles?

How am I to thrill at sunsets and smiling babies?

Good. Now I’m sad again.

And if the realisation that you don’t have anything to be sad about (except for the ordinariness of the pleasures in your life) didn’t make you sad, check out this compilation of the 10 most depressing moments in Bojack Horseman (ranked in order from least depressing to most depressing!).

A major inconvenience of modern life is that most of us have supremely comfortable, happy, safe lives. And when something goes wrong, you can’t go on a tragic rampage and tear out your own eyes, beat your breast, or wail on the moor in a thunderstorm - even though that may be what you feel like doing.

Work sucks, no one respects me, and I messed up that section of the Excel spreadsheet so maybe they are right to not respect me: take me to a moor where my tears can blend with rain and my howls will be swallowed by the wind!

Ordinary people don’t get to live in a tragedy - and besides, there aren’t as many moors around as literature might have you believe. The most you can do usually is make a scene at a family dinner or isolate yourself at a party and then get drunk and walk home crying. Who would write a sweeping, romantic story about an embarrassing fuck up walking home drunk, feeling sorry for themselves.

Oh.

Wait:

And Now For That 2000 Year Old Mystery

Aristotle’s Poetics is the source of the word catharsis (in italics because it’s Greek which is the way I was taught to do it in high school - if only there were Greecian-alics, am I right?), which in common parlance today basically means any kind of dramatic release of emotions. Kickboxing is cathartic. Getting your eyebrows waxed is cathartic. Crying during an emotional episode of a TV show is cathartic.

Because the word appeared in Poetics, it's original usage related to the theatre, in particular the experience of an audience watching a tragedy: the release of emotions they feel in watching things go seriously wrong for the hero. For this reason, catharsis is often tied to anagnorisis - the moment of tragic realisation.

Oh god I killed my father and married my mother.

Oh god, that’s my son’s head on the pike, not the head of a mountain lion.

Oh god, remember when I messed up that bit of the spreadsheet and everyone knew it was me. Existence truly is pain.

You get the idea. It’s not enough that the protagonist is a fuck up: that matter needs to be brought to their attention and they need to reflect on it.

(A more proper (read: academic) definition of catharsis is: “an imitation of an action ‘with incidents arousing pity and fear, wherewith to accomplish its catharsis of such emotions.’” The emotions the audience feel echo what the people on stage are feeling. The jump scare in a horror movie scares the character on screen and the audience watching at home.)

Aristotle never clearly defined catharsis. So for all this time (2000+ years) people have been trying to infer what he meant from a couple of references to a pretty slippery concept. Even though the general public has their understanding of the word, academics still cannot agree on a definition. But we know what it means, roughly, because we’ve all experienced it.

Over the weekend I watched Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s other other TV show (not Killing Eve) which had an exchange between an artist and a drunk girl on sadness and how it factors into art:

Character 1: He’s my muse!

Character 2: Your muse?

...

Character 2: Like an artist's muse?!

Character 1: Yes, he is! You think meeting someone like Colin happens to artists all the time?! He gives so much.

Character 2: Yeah, sure, and you just lap it up and just slap it on a canvas.

Character 1: Pardon?

Character 2: "His pain is so beautiful." You're using him to indulge yourself.

Character 1: I am indulging? And what is this?

Character 2: This is a $4 bottle of wine.

...

Character 2: Sorry if I upset you, Melody.

Character 1: You don't upset me. You bore me. All you seem to want to do is drink and wank and drink and wank.

Character 2: Well, at least I don't have to wank other people's pain onto a canvas, and then shove it in people's faces and call it "my art."

Character 2 in this scene is played by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. I can’t be bothered to explain why it’s relevant.

For the eternity of human brains, or at least for as long as preserved creativity, the most comfortable, secure people in the world have tried to experience the things tragic victims feel - perhaps so they can briefly know what it feels like to be a romantic figure struggling in an unjust world. A passport to feelings and drama we aren’t permitted in every day life. Catharsis is the word to express the reaction, but what do we call an audience who seeks out that sensation? Catharsis chasers?

It’s not insightful to say that people like to watch Fast & Furious movies because they’re exciting and perhaps audiences enjoy that excitement because their own lives are un-exciting. But commending a thing because it will make you sad seems aberrant in some way. A fast and dangerous car that will make you miserable. A roller coaster that will make you depressed. An incredible shootout in the streets of LA that will make you sob in the bathroom cubicle at work every time you think about it. I can’t explain the drive, but like Aristotle I will invent a new word, so that academics can never know what I meant but will still write at great length about it, so that it will slip into common parlance and be horribly misused until eventually, 2000 years from now, a girl can waffle on about it on her blog. And the word will be: scartharsio. Or maybe scorpithoniacs? Or sarcastiharsics?

Sadness is entertainment for a scartharsio.

ALL TIME HALL OF FAME: WAILING WOMEN AND MOORS

youtube

Nobody knows what it’s like to be me, a sad woman who weeps on moors!

youtube

I’m not being overly dramatic!

youtube

#Fleabag #phoebe waller-bridge #bojack horseman #kate bush #wuthering heights #sense and sensibility #ang lee #kate winslet #othello #synecdoche new york #charlie kaufman #brokeback mountain #red dead redemption 2

0 notes

agirlinhell · 6 years

Text

III. VERSE TAGS.

#v; A NEW DAY. ( PRE-APOCALYPSE. )#v; TAKE US BACK. ( SEASON ONE. )#v; ALL THAT REMAINS. ( SEASON ONE-SEASON TWO. )#v; BETTER TO SLEEP. ( SEASON TWO. )#v; AMID THE RUINS. ( SEASON TWO-SEASON THREE: A NEW FRONTIER. )#v; FROM THE GALLOWS. ( SEASON THREE: A NEW FRONTIER. )#v; NO TIME LEFT. ( SEASON THREE: A NEW FRONTIER-THE FINAL SEASON. )#v; SUFFER THE CHILDREN. ( THE FINAL SEASON. )#v; I AM THE FIRE. ( POST-THE FINAL SEASON. )#v; IN COLD BLOOD. ( DARK!CLEMENTINE. )#v; SOLDIER KEEP ON MARCHIN' ON. ( DELTA. )#v; WE ARE THE NEW AMERICANA. ( MODERN. )#v; SHE IS THE SLAYER. ( BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER AU. )#v; NEVER TICKLE A SLEEPING DRAGON. ( HARRY POTTER AU. )#v; BLOOD AND ASHES. ( THE HUNGER GAMES AU. )#v; A SOARING KUNOICHI FROM THE CLOUDS. ( NARUTO AU. )#THE WEST CARES FOR NO ONE. ( RED DEAD REDEMPTION AU. )#v; WICKED REST UNEASY. ( SUPERNATURAL AU. )#v; BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY. ( MAFIA AU. )#v; THE AGE OF GODS. ( DEITY AU. )#v; A FALLEN ANGEL IN THE DARK. ( VAMPIRE AU. )#v; THE SHE-WOLF WHO BRINGS ME TO MY KNEES. ( WEREWOLF AU. )#v; YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU I: KING'S LANDING. )#v; I AM THE DRAGON'S DAUGHTER. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU II: OLD VALYRIA. )#v; I MAY BE YOUR PRISONER BUT I AM A FREE WOMAN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU III: FREE FOLK. )#v; A GIRL IS NO ONE. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU IV: THE HOUSE OF BLACK & WHITE. )#v; SHE WHISPERS SECRETS INTO THE EARS OF MEN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU V: DORNE. )#v; I'D RATHER DIE ON MY FEET THAN LIVE ON MY KNEES. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES AU VI: SLAVER'S BAY. )#v; FEAR CUTS DEEPER THAN SWORDS. ( WHISPERER AU. )

0 notes

verziehenone · 7 years

Photo

Video games ... what a past time. So much time is spent on them, I can’t even imagine how many hours I have enjoyed building and breaking worlds, meeting and killing people, and just having the time of my life (lives) in virtual worlds.

Probably the first game I ever played was Tetris on the Gameboy. The original Gameboy. That bulky off-white thing that took 4 AA’s that seemed like nothing could keep it down. Could probably have built a house outta those things. And the battery life was pretty solid too!

But soon I graduated to Mario, which was not awful on Gameboy. Then came the big one: Pokemon. Around then I upgraded to a Gameboy Pocket The foldy one. It went from a monochrome brown and green thing to a nice gray with black and white shades. Terrific clarity!

Then the Gameboy Color happened. But before we get there ...

My first console was an Atari. Good times on that thing. Pitfall, some space game, and a few others that were equally blocky and terrifically entertaining in a way that many games just don’t capture now.

Then was my Nintendo. I think it was because I traded/sold my Atari at a garage sale or something, and boom, I was the proud owner of a Nintendo. Eventually got me one of those sweet Duck Hunt guns (let’s be honest, that was basically the only game anyone used it on), and a few great games. Zelda, a few Marios (Mario 3 will forever be amazing, but Mario 2 had it’s charm.)

I did some swaparoos (involving a mountain bike and another Atari) but came back to the Nintendo. That said, this was all around the time that friends of mine had the Sega Genesis or the Super Nintendo, and I was stuck with the lame-o OG Nintendo. I even remember one time convincing my parents to spring for renting a Sega Genesis from Family Video (or whatever it was called) and using that Sega Channel (or whatever) to stream Mortal Kombat and another fighting game or two. Don’t tell my parents, lots-o-blood.

Back to the portables. Gameboy Color was a revolution. Sure, Pokemon in color was amazing. Any game (Final Fantasy Tactics, Super Mario, etc) but really, it was Pokemon. And the reason they were amazing-er on the Gameboy Color? It was backlit. And that made ALL the difference at night. No more huddling around a little nightlight or gripping a flashlight in my mouth to try to catch one more ‘mon, or just one more fight, one more ...

I had a Gamegear for a bit, which was the Sega competitor to the Gameboy. Glorious color gaming, 8 AA batteries, big ole screen, but the games (other than Sonic I think) just weren’t there. So I got rid of it, and eventually the glory of the Gameboy Advance happened. The one with the big ole screen, that Super Mario was friggin’ amazing on. And naturally, Pokemon again was amazing. I eventually got me the next Gameboy (SP) the next foldy one, which was the last one before the 3DS (I think), which I never got (though I’d love one).

Console-wise, for the remainder of my pre-college life I was always a generation behind. Everyone had the GameCube when I finally got an N64 (but don’t cry too hard, GoldenEye was worth the wait). I finally got a PS1 in time for everyone to tell me how amazing the PS2 was. This isn’t a sob story, just the result of growing up in a family where if I wanted a console, I had to buy it with my money. So I did, and I was just more patient. Though I was friends with people who had the latest and greatest. At one point I had the 3 main consoles, (a generation late): the PS2, the GameCube, and the Dreamcast. I felt like the toast of the land. Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, Crazy Taxi, Super Mario Sunshine, I had it all. Good times.

Until! The summer before college. I had a few bucks put aside and wanted me a real gaming PC. The one I had prior to that was a hand-me-down from my Youth Pastor that played StarCraft on it ... barely. So this one, a big $600 beast, and I found myself loving the major boost in power that my Athlon something something gave me over the Pentium 2 I had prior. Unreal Tournament was brilliant and I enjoyed so many great gaming experiences on that machine. And Civilization 3 stole far far too many nights and days ... I spent hours and hours playing that.

Then college came! And a credit card! And I built a new computer! And it was fast and had a pair of 17″ CRT monitors (I upgraded to 17″ widescreen LCDs) and it was glorious. (GeForce 8800 GTS baby). I did so much more gaming. Eventually even got around to World of Warcraft, though I did enjoy plenty of non-PC gaming with pals on a variety of systems.

I played World of Warcraft heavily throughout college, spending 4-5 hours a night usually (still had a solid GPA and 2 part time jobs and a girlfriend, so I wasn’t a total loser) and it was wonderful. I remember at one point I even played another MMO in my off time, and it was stupid and glorious and ridiculous. I spent my non-PC gaming time playing a lot of the PS2 games I hadn’t beaten or just enjoyed like Final Fantasy 10 and Star Ocean and so on. Big into RPGs. I even got a PSP during that time for the Star Ocean 1 and 2 remakes and I still wish I had kept it, to be honest.

After college I was living with a roomie (from college) who I played World of Warcraft with, but also enjoyed the Nintendo Wii and PS3 he had. We did a lot of great gaming on those systems, though I did a lot more PS3 than Wii stuff. Rock Band became a past time for us (and I got quite good at Expert guitar, could play huge chunks of some songs with my eyes closed) and he was great a bass. Stoke 3 live on! And did I mention Fallout 3? Ohhh man. It never changes.

So I decided to buy an Xbox 360. I never had an Xbox (though I did a little Halo in my time) I just decided that I wanted a console and should get one he didn’t have. I also very much missed Fight Night (a boxing game) and wanted to play that again. But the eventually I moved out and was on my lonesome and didn’t have a Blu-Ray player. And have always been a Playstation guy. So I sold the Xbox 360 and bought a Playstation 3.

Until I got my bigscreen TV I didn’t do a ton of Playstation gaming, instead mostly doing PC (mostly World of Warcraft) gaming. I did do a game here and there of other things but nothing memorable.

But, one day I powered down my computer, went to work, and came home only to find ... no power. No response at all. The reason this matters is I had just decided to come back to playing World of Warcraft (after a break that my then-girlfriend convinced me would save our relationship, because video games were our only problem -- nope), and was bummed I couldn’t. I didn’t have the money to fix it so I returned to console gaming and enjoyed a lot of then-newer hits like Dragon Age: Origins, Darksiders 1, Dante’s Inferno, the Assassin’s Creed games, and a host of others that escape me. I tend to not do a lot of shooters on console, preferring them on PC. GameFly helped me fly through games pretty quickly so I was able to save quite a bit of money by not buying all of them.

A few months later I was living with a new friend and decided to research how to fix my computer, and found it was much cheaper than expected. So I got a new motherboard and some new ram and was up and running in time to enjoy Star Wars: The Old Republic, a new MMO. It was amazing and super super fun leveling and the story was great ... until you hit max level like you ran into a wall. So then I got into Skyrim and a few other games, working my way through the different PC games I had missed out on (like Mass Effect 1-3, Dragon Age 2, and some others).

Living with some new friends I was introduced to other games I’d never heard of or played, like Guild Wars 2, Dark Souls, and

Time moves on again and I decided to swap out some newer parts and make my machine more future-proof, since I had a baby on the way and would never have money again until a bit later. I also used some of my birthday money and Christmas money on a PS4. So I was set. Like a rockstar. A rockstar who enjoyed Madden and Grand Theft Auto V and so on. And Far Cry and Crysis and Wolfenstein and not World of Warcraft. I had been done for a long time. Partly due to time and partly due to money and partly due to a lack of interest.

Skipping around a bit to the present, I’m still and always will be a gamer. I still don’t have a 3DS, as much as I’d love to have one for Pokemon, but I have a PS4 and my wife has a Switch, and my PC is still gettin’ love when it gets a bit outta date. Never going to have a bleeding edge waste-of-money PC but I will always strive to be caught up to play the latest games.

I am back into World of Warcraft again, playing with a prior roommate and some other really great guys, and it’s being managed much more carefully than before. Outside of that, I’ve been playing Uncharted 4, Overwatch, Diablo 3, Civilization 6 (Oh my gosh I love Civ) and a smattering of others. I still have my Gameboy SP with Pokemon Red and Yellow and Gold (I think). I also had a Playstation Vita briefly but decided it just wasn’t for me.

I have a long list of games I want to play so I won’t list them all. (Yes I will, because this is my blog). In no particular order:

Stardew Valley (In progress)

Mad Max (In progress)

Bloodborne (In progress)

Dark Souls 3

Torment: Tides of Numenara

Wasteland 2

Pillars of Eternity

Rise of the Tomb Raider

Dying Light

Doom

Watch Dogs 2

Dishonored 2

Final Fantasy 15

Nioh

Persona 5

Horizon Zero Dawn

Mass Effect: Andromeda

Red Dead Redemption 2

Injustice 2

I’m a gamer at my core and a good gaming experience is something so hard to communicate to those who haven’t found a game that tickles their fancy. But when a person finds that game that challenges them in the right way, entertains them or entrances them, and they just can’t put it down ... that’s just the best. (And in this post I’m not talking board games or mobile phone games, those are entirely different posts).

This really just scratches the surface of my gaming time, thoughts, and philosophy about games. I have so many thoughts and ideas, so many memories and experiences, and so many terrific games that I loved and can’t wait to try ... it’s just a matter of the same thing it always was: Making sure that it is always secondary to real life, real people, and the stuff that really matters. Otherwise... game on.

1 note · View note