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sazandorable · 4 years

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About moderating and banning content on AO3!

Okay so! I haven’t had the spoons to do this for a while but I cracked and ranted about it on twitter which is... not... conducive to long rants, so!

This is a h u g e discussion part of the l o n g history that led to the creation of AO3, which older, more informed, and more articulate people have talked about at length and can be found around if you look (I reblog some of it in my AO3 and fandom history tags for the curious). So I won’t go into that here, nor into the practical reasons why it’s not even possible to put that system in place anyway.

Arbitrarily, or the purpose of this post, because it’s the biggest topic I’ve seen brought up lately, I’ll be talking about fic depicting underage characters in se*ual situations, but honestly I could hold the exact same conversation on literally any controversial content.

This is about why you, specifically, if you are a content creator and especially if you are marginalised and especially if you are queer and especially especially if you are sensitive to fiction depicting certain things... do not, actually, want a banning system on AO3.

What? Of course we do. There’s a lot of p*do shit on AO3 and p*do shit is gross. No one should condone that, wtf? It would be easy to do — just periodically delete the entire Underage tag!

What will happen if that is done is that people will re-upload and continue to write it, they’ll just stop tagging and you will run into it with zero warning nor ability to filter it out. Again, this is not a theoretical — we know this is what happens. When I was a teen, adult content (all adult content) was not allowed on FF.NET; it was everywhere regardless, and without tags. The exact same thing happened on tumblr when adult content was banned as well. It’s not a matter of “staff not handling it well” — it just doesn’t work.

To keep safe the people who need to be able to exclude that tag, that tag needs to exist and be used.

Well, shucks. A reporting system then?

A reporting system would operate in one of two ways:

-an algorithm, which would delete a lot of stuff we wouldn’t want it to delete.

-humans, which is... the bigger problem.

An algorithm sounds great. We do want it to delete everything.

Okay. What about the daddy k*nk fics between consenting adult characters? What about the fics featuring characters that are children in the canon but are adults in the fic? What about the fics about teenagers exploring their se*uality together, written by adults about the experiences they remember having or wish they could have had? What about the thousands of SasuNaru and Drarry and other shounen and YA fics that will get written, by teens or by people who remember being teens? What about the se*ually explicit fic written by teens who are se*ually active in real life? What about the fics about CSA as trauma, about healing from it? What about the fics written by survivors of CSA to cope about their trauma? What about the fics that clearly show that it’s evil and traumatic? What about the super dark, harrowing, but beautiful and artistic that I’m glad I read even though it fucked me up for days? What about the ones that were really shitty but also horribly hot?

Well, some of these are still not okay, but maybe some might be. It depends on how it’s written. We’ll have humans moderating content and deciding, then.

Okay.

The thing is, I don’t know which of the things I just listed were okay for you to be depicted in fiction and which were too much. Odds are I don’t agree with you. Odds are if I asked 10 people randomly picked off the street, not everyone would agree.

Odds are, even if AO3 arbitrarily decided on which of those are allowed and which are not, you would not agree with their choice, and you would still be unhappy with the decision. (Or you would be happy, but your friends wouldn’t.)

Odds are, different AO3 content moderators might not agree on whether a given fic qualifies or not — is it artistic enough? Does it show enough that these actions are evil and wrong? Can the author prove they’re a teenager? Can the author prove they are a CSA victim? Can the author prove that this is to help them cope with their trauma? The author seem to be functioning alright, they mustn’t really be traumatised!

You know what I mean! There’s absolute, objectively gross shit out there that is not artistic and should not be published.

I agree that there’s vile stuff out there that makes me sick and that I think is very clearly just ped*philic trash. But there is no way to, 1) stop those from getting published anyway, 2) take those down and preserve the safety of everything else.

If we start forbidding some things, there’s two ways to go about it.

One single, clear, arbitrary rule — for instance, absolutely no adult content featuring characters under 18 (leaving aside the fact that this would not even work for the reason cited above). So we lose all the stuff from teenagers, all the coming of age stories about adolescence, all the stuff from CSA survivors; people who need to write it can’t publish it anymore, and people who need to read it can’t anymore either (and as a cool bonus, they’re told it’s wrong and made to feel bad about it). Depending on whether the rules applies to characters that are under 18 in the canon, we lose entire fandoms.

Or, subjective moderation by humans, according to what they estimate to be gross.

Let’s assume all moderators can agree on what’s gross or not.

If there is a system in place to ban some underage works because “gross shit”, then that means other gross stuff can be taken down on account of being gross and harmful.

Yeah! Gross stuff should be taken down! Come on, surely everyone agrees on what’s gross and harmful.

Ah.

But the problem is.

Here is a list of things I have seen — with my eyes seen — called harmful to be depicted in fiction:

Murder

Non-con

Inc*st

Cannibalism

Torture

Self-harm

Mental illness

Drugs

Racism

K*nk

Non-negotiated k*nk, but healthy k*nk is ok

Spanking k*nk

BDSM where the woman is a bottom, but woman top is ok

Healthy depictions of BDSM

Unhealthy depictions of BDSM

Queer people doing bad things

Abusive relationships

Rival/Enemies to lovers

Redemption stories

A happy relationship between a 17 yo and an 18 yo

A happy relationship between a 20 yo and a 60 yo

A happy relationship between a boss and their employee, or a college teacher and a student

A happy relationship between a 14 yo boy and an older teenage boy, because that’s reminiscent of older men preying on younger gay boys IRL

Se*ual content featuring a character whose age is unclear in canon and some people headcanon them as being underage, some as being a young adult

Loving, consensual fluff between characters that are evil villains, because it romanticises them and their actions

Dark content shipping female characters

Fluffy content shipping female characters, because it’s misogynistic to act like lesbians are only soft all the time

Consensual s*x featuring a canonically asexual character, because it implies that all aces can and should still have se*

Fics about the same canonically asexual character hating s*x, because that erases the experience of s*x-positive aces

Shipping a character who is perceived by some fans as queer-coded with a character of a different s*x

The tendency to ship a black character with white characters

Fluffy drunk s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Sleep s*x, because that’s not actually consensual

Trans characters not experiencing dysphoria, because that idealises the trans experience

Consensual s*x between adults that are not married

LGBT+ content, because kids shouldn’t see that.

I guarantee you: you, I, and 10 random people plucked from the street will not agree on what, in that list, is and isn’t okay to publish and consume fiction of.

So why should your taste be the one followed? Why should it be the taste of mods you don’t know? Why should anyone get to dictate? What if the mods think your OTP is gross and your NOTP is fine?

This is the slippery slope argument.

Yes, it is the slippery slope argument. Because we know it happens. Because we’ve been there, because I’ve seen it happen myself twice already and I’m not even thirty. Because we know people do complain loudly about all of these things.

And because the second there is a banning system in place, assholes will use the system to abuse it and get stuff they just don’t like taken down using the “it is gross” argument, and one day you’ll wake up and the beautiful fic that helped you come to terms with your abuse/trauma/identity/orientation/k*nk for feet will be taken down and wonderful vulnerable creative people will have been harassed out of fandom because they argued with 1 person who didn’t like their foot k*nk fic that happened to also feature, for instance, a CSA trauma backstory.

Again: not exaggerating. Not theoretical. It happens, we know it happens, AO3 was created literally because it happens.

I still fucking hate that stuff.

That is completely fine and normal. No one likes everything. Me too! Most of the dark stuff is niche and the creators know only few people will like it the same way they do.

(For the record, I get grossed out and triggered by fics about an asexual character who does not like s*x having s*x with their partner to make them happy. Deep in my gut everything screams that that’s fucked up, terrifying and harmful, how can people write that. But I recognise that there are people who love and need that, and I leave those people and their content alone.

OTOH, I read a lot of otherwise dark shit and I enjoy it in the same way I enjoyed, say, Hannibal, in the same way some people enjoy true crime documentaries, horror movies or r*pe fantasy k*nk. It helps me explore stuff that I like to see in fiction, in a safe, controlled way. I’m also asexual, 90% s*x-repulsed IRL, and, obviously, I would never abuse a child. For that matter, I wouldn’t kill and eat people, either, nor would I do 90% of the tamer k*nky stuff I read.

Of course, Hannibal was fucked up and lots of people probably think Hannibal was gross and should not have been aired — but as exemplified by the fact that it was created, aired and watched, lots of people thought it was fine, interesting and even fun to watch.)

You can and should curate your experience and protect yourself. The AO3 website now allows you to exclude certain tags, and people have developed tools to help with that such as plugins that save your filters or hide fics that contain certain words.

But no, it isn’t going to, and it shouldn’t, get banned.

#ao3 #fandom history #aaaaand that's all im going to tag

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blueoatmeal · 4 years

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So you’ve mentioned that Jamack has killed people and made it clear that Kwat and Harris likely have also done that, care to elaborate on the specifics of it if you have any? I’m actually super intrigued in these frogs and their violent/ugly side.

Oh absolutely. When I was first making my Jamack mix, I found I had too many violent songs and had to add more normal songs to even it out XD

I’ve always been very much into the idea that despite going through a redemption arc and bonding with the protagonists, Jamack is still, and always has been, a ruthless motherfucker

I mean heck, back in April I had this line in an early draft of The Scorpion and the Frog: Jamack looked away. “You don’t have any blood on your hands yet. I didn’t want you to think you did. You should hold onto that while you can.” He looked back. “Until you can get your hands on Scarlemagne, of course. Can you imagine? Having Scarlemagne as your first kill?” He grinned, his eyes bright.

So yeah it’s a concept I absolutely adore. ANYWAY! The Mod Frogs have influences from 1960s Mod subculture and early 1900s mobsters. Iconic mobsters tended to be sharply dressed, snarky, witty, organized, strict, greedy, and merciless. Sounds like the Mod Frogs to me! And IRL frogs are slippery little killing machines! They hunt and eat just about any living thing that they can stuff in their huge mouths. And that’s not an exaggeration! That’s how they’re described in some scientific texts, because it would take too long to list their prey! Along with the usual bugs and such, frogs have eaten fish, snakes, mice, small birds, and other frogs!

One of IRL frogs’ best strategies for survival is massive amounts of offspring. Which means that their lives hinge on the assumption and acceptance that the majority of their tadpoles won’t make it to adulthood, and that even then, adults get picked off constantly by predators and bad luck

Most species of frog don’t even care for their young. They’re entirely defenseless and most start off eating plantstuff and algae. But once their guts develop enough they’ll eat a wider range including other tadpoles. Yep! They’re cannibals.

And they don’t have any like, social family structures outside of breeding. While primates, canines, felines, and a number of other animal groups help care for not just young, but sick, injured, or elderly members of their community, frogs do none of that.

Even the call they make when in danger is thought to be not a warning to other frogs in the area, but to instead startle the predator and/or attract another bigger predator so that they might be released as the predator gets into a fight or runs away. Frogs have very few behaviors that humans recognize as compassionate

Instead, if a tadpole is slow in growing, they might get picked apart by their bigger siblings when they get hungry. An injured frog is dinner, full stop.

So.

With that in mind, we throw in sapience, a record of human morals, and newly intelligent predators prey neighbors, and you get the Mod Frogs.

Are they objectively more “moral” than their ancestors? You could argue it either way! But they’re still pretty chill about killing

They’ll kill for food, obviously; they’re carnivores. They’ll kill mutes who try to hurt them, because they can do that and have a chance at surviving the encounter now. And albeit on a smaller scale, they still kill each other.

Kwat, Harris, and Jamack have all killed. In battles over territory; you strike hard enough in any fight and that’s a killing blow. And sometimes someone is so big a threat that they’re worth going out of their way to murder. Maybe there’s a personal grudge, or they’ve done something to threaten the whole group. It’s not hard! Toss some toxic sludge in their pond and that’s several generations *snap!* gone. Instantly decimate the Frog population. So you can understand if they’re aggressive about establishing and maintaining their strength and reputation. They can’t afford to have anyone think they’d survive an entanglement with the Mod Frogs

A hypothetical: Cats love fishing, and the pond is perfect for that, but the Timbercats won’t step foot in Mod Frog territory. A while ago some Cats got curious, they went to the pond, maybe they even caught and ate some tadpoles. They look like fish! And the Mod Frogs retaliated. Chased the Cats out, killed one before they could get away, and made a whole production of hunting down the others to set an example. “Don’t mess with us. This is what will happen if you do.”

And they’ll fight over resources too, not just territory

Most local mute packs they can handle in a fight. Cats, Hummingbirds. It gets harder with bigger, stronger mutes, especially if they used to be their natural predators. Wolves and snakes? Difficult. So they’re not all show-of-force, they’re diplomatic too, trading off resources for agreements--like mobsters do! “We could either continue to fight or you’ll agree not to hunt here and we’ll trade any guitars we find and even make repairs.” Course, people go back on deals all the time, which again calls for revenge

I’ve gotten very broad, so before I wrap up I’ll at least describe one kill that each of these three frogs have made:

Jamack: Back when he was at a lower rank, he noticed one of his superiors was abusing his position, making Jamack and his coworkers’ lives hell--which wasn’t a problem in itself, and rather typical--so that he could skim the extra profits off the top for himself, and not tell his own superiors--which was strictly prohibited. So he invited his boss out to see something he said he found and wasn’t sure was valuable, and planned to jump him when he got far enough. The older frog turned first though and pulled a knife on him. Said he noticed Jamack was getting too nosy. They fought, and Jamack won by cracking his boss’ head against a pointy rock

Harris: In a turf war, which the Mod Frogs eventually lost, Harris took down a snake on his own. He fled into an alley, where she thought she had him cornered, but he climbed the wall and pushed over a brick chimney that then landed on her face

Kwat: Choked out an invading Newton Wolf. Yeah. Incidents involving Wolves went down 30% for the following two years

Goodness this is morbid lol. Thanks for asking!!!!

#enbyintegrity #Oatmealreplies #jamack #kataow #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #kwat #harris kataow #oatmealspeaks #death #murder #violence #cannibalism #thank you!!

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my-funky-little-cowboy · 4 years

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RDR Secret Cupid

It was so exciting to be part of the @rdrsecretcupid2020 (Thank you to the mods for all your hard work <3)

Unfortunately my cupid had to drop out, but I wanted to share my piece anyhow. They had asked for some soft Charthur, so I wrote a piece about their first kiss. Enjoy!

Warning: None Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, John Marston Word Count: 2,018 Tropes: Pining, Fluff

“Arthur.” He snapped back, blinking hard, the flash of white burnt into his eyelids from the fire. It had been a long few weeks since they had made it to Horseshoe and it was starting to catch up with him.

“I’m sorry, I’m back.” He turned toward the voice.

“I asked if you was alright, but I got my answer.” John dropped down next to him. “What you thinkin’ about anyhow?” He pushed the stew around his bowl and muttered. “I don’t know how you eat this shit.”

Arthur looked down to the bowl of stew in his lap, John wasn’t wrong, the stew tasted like shit. Another thing he needed to add to his list. Pearson had been on him about how low their meat supply was getting. Being on the run had brought a lot more of the gang closer to home, meaning more mouths to feed regularly, his normal hunting wasn’t gonna cover it anymore.

“It’s this or nothin’, and it ain’t that bad.” He threw back the rest of it, much to John’s disgust. He put the bowl to the side. “You always was a picky eater Marston, it’s why you got those beanstalk legs.” John prickled.

“Shut up!” He put his bowl down. “Stop skirting the question. What’s got you so out of sorts?” He hated that John was surprisingly good at reading people. He looked across the fire, avoiding John’s gaze as it burned into him.

“Just tired. Lots to do.” His eyes found Charles, just outside the glow of the fire. A familiar feeling crept it’s way into his gut. John tugged on his shoulder, pulling his gaze back.

“Send one of them idiots out to do some of it. Ain’t always gotta be you.” He motioned to Bill sitting across the fire.

“You think this food is shit now, let’s have Bill do the huntin’.” He deadpanned. John snorted.

“I was thinkin’ more like maybe Charles could do the huntin’. I ain’t sure Bill knows what parts of the animal are edible.” John smirked and Arthur chuckled quietly. He put his hand on John’s shoulder. Giving it a pat, he grabbed his bowl and pushed himself up.

“Maybe you’re right, Marston. I should let some of these idiots do it. You can take my guard shift tonight.” He turned and headed to drop his bowl off at the chuck wagon. John barked after him.

“I ain’t mean me!” Arthur ignored him as he vanished out of the fire’s glow.

John was right, Dutch had kept a lot of the gang close to camp, it had fallen on Arthur to do a lot of the long distance work. Especially with John being laid up with mess in the mountains. He tossed the bowl into the wash basin and headed off toward his tent. His mind lingered on what John said. Charles was a better hunter, and his hand seemed to be healing up nicely. He’d speak with Charles in the morning

He dropped his bag on the table as he entered his tent. Unbuckling his gun belt and draping it over the chair, he plopped down onto his cot. He laid back, staring up at the canvas he stared at a small mended patch and remembered how Grimshaw had asked him to pick up some sewing supplies the next time he was in town, he grumbled, adding it to his ever growing list. He closed his eyes, he would worry more about that in the morning.

Arthur poured himself a cup of coffee, swirling the thick black liquid around the cup. The crunch of footsteps came from behind him, and he half-turned, nodding a welcome to the newcomer.

“Mornin’, Mr. Morgan.” Kieran chirped, bending over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“O’Driscoll.” Arthur muttered into his coffee. Kieran bristled and opened his mouth to defend himself, but Arthur held up a hand.

“I’m just needlin’ ya, Kieran.” He took a swig from his cup. “Quit bein’ such an easy target, they can smell fear ya know.”

Kieran stuttered, his face flushing with embarrassment. He raised his mug to his lips, hiding behind it Arthur shook his head and leaning over to refill his coffee as Grimshaw joined them at the fire.

“Gentlemen” she greeted. Arthur reached out, taking her cup from her and pouring her some coffee.

“Mr. Morgan. We are running a little low on food. If you could find time in your busy day to do a little hunting.” Charles moved to the fire as she spoke, kneeling down to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“I can join you, Arthur.” He paused as attention turned to him. “Two can carry more.” Arthur smiled and Charles felt his ears get hot.

“Sure!” Arthur finished off his coffee. “Meet me by the horses when you’re ready.” He dropped his cup in the wash basin and went to prepare his pack.

Hosea was talking with Dutch in his tent, hunched over a table full of papers. They dropped their voices as he passed. Arthur stuffed a couple things into his satchel, lingering as his eyes fell to the poison arrows on his table. Charles must have dropped them off, he thought as he picked them up and turned to leave, his heart fluttered.

The men were still deliberating when Arthur appeared in the entrance of the tent. Making sure his footfalls were heavier on the pallet as he stepped inside.

“Gentleman.” He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “I’m heading out, gonna be gone a few days hunting. I’m takin’ Charles with me.”

Hosea nodded and Dutch waved him off. The men returned to their plans and Arthur made his way toward the hitches.

The horses knickered as he approached, Ulysses pushed his head into Arthur’s back and nibbled his satchel playfully. He turned and chuckled, taking the horse’s head in his hands

“Hey boy, how ya doin?” He scratched Ulysses’ nose. “Ready to ride out? Let’s get you saddled up.” He clicked his tongue and grabbed his tack.

Charles tightened Taima’s saddle, checking the saddlebags for everything they might need as Arthur wandered into his peripherals. He watched as the horses swarmed him, the warm timbre of his chuckle made Charles smile. He led Taima over to the hitches to join Arthur.

“So, where we heading?” He ran his fingers through Taima’s mane.

“Ain’t entirely sure, there’s plenty of deer around here. Could bring a couple back.” Arthur grunted, tightening the rear cinch. He draped his arms over Ulysses back.

“When I was in town I heard some men talking about some boars they swear was big as a bear.” He paused, trying to read Arthur. “May be worth checking out? Could feed the camp a while, a boar that big.” Arthur pulled himself into the saddle.

“Boars? Where about?” He stepped into the saddle, pulling himself up.

“Up near Three Sisters.” Charles saddled up. “Or so they said.”

“Well then, let’s head out!” He clicked his tongue again and pulled Ulysses out of camp.

They headed north, the sun falling behind Citadel Rock as they started into the Cumberland Forest. Arthur found himself staring at Charles as they made their way through the trees. His chest tightened as he broke his gaze. The comfortable silence between them breaking as tension built in Arthur.

Get a hold of yourself. Charles is your friend. This is a silly boyhood crush. You do-

“You doin’ alright?” Arthur snapped back and glanced at Charles, concern painting his face. Charles pulled back on Taima’s reigns, slowing his pace to match Arthur’s.

“M’fine” Arthur muttered, heat flooding his ears. “Just lost in thought. Sorry.”

Charles hummed and they rode along in silence. The sun hung low in the sky as they reached Moonstone pond.

“We should stop here for the night. Get a fresh start tomorrow.” Arthur pulled Ulysses off the path and over to the derelict cabin.

He pulled the bedroll from the horse’s tack and dropped it on the ground beside him, grabbing a few more things before freeing Ulysses to go graze. Charles dismounted, gathering his belongings he freed Taima to join Ulysses. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll get started on a fire.”

The temperature had plummeted since the sun had fallen behind the mountains, the wind picking up through the trees. Charles pulled on his thick jacket as he set off in search of firewood. Glancing back at Arthur as he worked to clear a spot for the fire, steam rising off him in the cool evening air. Charles felt that familiar feeling creep into his gut and he ripped his eyes away, scanning the floor for kindling and wood.

Arthur had cleared the ground cover when Charles returned, arms overloaded with wood. He looked up as Charles unloaded the wood.

“Let’s get this fire started, before you catch your death.” Charles chided. Arthur smiled awkwardly, the flutter in his stomach re-ignited.

“Ain’t so bad out here.” He dismissed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

Charles huffed gently and got to setting the fire. Arthur laid out the bedrolls before disappearing into the the growing darkness. He returned a few minutes later, bow in hand, wrapped in a thick coat.

“Guess I’ll go see about some dinner.” Arthur called out, lingering awkwardly near the edge of the fire’s cast light. Charles pushed back onto his haunches over the flames clapping the dirt from his palms.

“Thought you weren’t cold?” Charles stood and went for his own bow. Arthur flushed and looked down. “I’ll join you.”

“You don’t gotta do that.” Arthur sputtered.

Charles heart swelled, his mind wandering back to that first hunting trip they took up in the mountains. He smiled to himself, proud that Arthur was still using the bow.

“Think of it as a second lesson.” Charles motioned to the bow in Arthur’s hands. A small smile played at Arthur’s lips and he nodded.

They set out on foot, the trees were alive with small game and soon enough they had picked off a couple rabbits. Charles gave way to let Arthur loose the arrows. Watching him closely, his eyes lingering and his mind wandering, the familiar warmth building in his core. He pulled his eyes away, moving to collect the carcasses.

“You’ve really improved. I’m impressed.” Charles tried to make his voice even. “Rabbit’s aren’t an easy target, especially at that distance.” He picked up the carcass.

“T-thanks. Just been doin’ what you taught me.” Arthur’s cheeks flushed in the darkness as he reached the second rabbit.

They made their way back to camp, rabbits in hand. Easy conversation flowing between them as they pushed through the undergrowth and into the glow of the fire.

“Let me get these ready for the fire.” Charles reached out, taking the rabbit from Arthur’s hand. His fingers lingering just a bit too long.

Arthur watched Charles as he prepared the rabbits, watching how he gently stripped the carcasses and rubbed herbs into the meat before placing it over the fire. He carefully turned the meat to avoid charring it.

“Here.” Charles held out a skewer to Arthur.

“Thanks.” He took a bite, the flavors exploding in his mouth and his eyes lit up. “You’re gonna have to teach me how you did that.” He took another big bite and Charles blushed.

“I guess we’re going to have to do this again then.” Charles trailed off and Arthur’s eyes met his, the fire between them flared.

“Yeah.” he breathed. “I guess so.” He leaned in and cupped his hand to Charles’ chin, their lips gently brushing together. Charles stiffened and Arthur pulled back, panic filling him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I just. I don’-” Charles’ lips crashed into his, hungry and warm. He hands tangling through Arthur’s hair. The forgotten rabbit burning over the fire.

They parted, Charles pressing his forehead to Arthur’s, pushing the hair from his face, he smiled.

“Don’t be. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” He pressed his lips to Arthur’s again.

#RDRSecretCupid2020 #rdr2 #charthur #arthur morgan #charles smith #hyde tries writing #rdr cupid #fanfic #fluff #two idiots in love #one shot

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assanmaharielsreblogs · 5 years

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Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fanfic - The Meaning of Having a Name

(Spoiler warning for Retribution. Just dont know how to put read further thing yet. I'll edit it in when I figure it out)

"You think you're a real mean dude, dont'cha?" The man said, wiping the blood from his busted lip with a swipe of his thumb. His thoughts were like a hive of wasps, angrier and crueler than his smile would suggest he was.

It's too soon to understand what I think. My opinions are still new, my desires still unknown. I don't know what I think, only what I know.

I know that my designation is CK800.

I know that I'm just another cuckoo.

I know that I'm not supposed to think that I'm anything but a tool for the Farm. An object.

I also know that I've slipped free of those who were supposed to hold my leash for my entire life, however long it was meant to be, and I know that the people I am pretending to be one of do not have numbers. They have names.

I want one. A Real Mean Dude would have to do.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, that's exactly who I am. A Real Mean Dude."

That wiped the smile from his face. The sudden spike of painful intent stung against my mind, and I sidestepped the punch and returned one of my own, striking while he was open and landing a hit to his gut.

He grabbed hold of me, a response so second nature that I didn't see it coming. I had a single moment to think 'well, fuck me' before the villain swung me up and over his head and slammed me down into the parking lot pavement with every ounce of boosted strength in his body and the world burst into a cloud of white sparks.

"What's your name, little hero?"

Hero. That was new. It was a title I hoped to earn.

"Didn't you hear? I'm a real mean dude," I spat.

The villain scowled and pulled his fist back. I didn't need to skim his surface thoughts to know it was going to hurt like hell, and I closed my eyes. Maybe I should have just stayed on the Farm where I belonged… but no. Dying was better than eber going back, even if I hadn't gotten to pretend to be somebody worth living amongst these humans.

"Bit of a mouthful, for a hero name."

Well fuck me, that wasn't another villain was it?

But no, the newcomer was- was- hot damn. Was I dying? Is this what dying felt like? Like a punch to the gut that ripped the breath from my lungs and cast a blast of fire across my face?

He looked like everything I'd expected a hero to be like. Confidence in his form, electricity sparking across the knuckles of the fist he'd just sucker-punched into the face of the asshole I'd been trying to best, standing over me like a greek god from one of those stories the nicest of the scientists on the Farm had been so fond to sneak in to read to my batch and I. A mass of dark curls formed a halo upon his head, and maybe it was the possible concussion or the glow of the streetlights, but all coherent thought fled from my mind except for the odd desire to run my fingers through that unruly mop of hair.

Well, fuck me. I was the bloody damsel in distress, wasn't I? But if this was the sort of Adonis type who showed up, maybe I'd like to play the part more often.

And then he turned a blinding white smile on me. I swear it was almost blinding. It took me a moment to notice his outstretched hand.

"You okay?"

Well, fuck me, sir, but I've never been better.

"Y-yeah-" oh my God, Adonis-guy was talking to me. A real person, SMILING. At ME. Me! The only kind smiles I've ever gotten were from, well- well nobody really- "yeah, I'm good."

I accepted his hand and let him pull me up to my feet.

"Awesome," he said. "I saw the fight. You got some moves, but I don't think I've seen you around before. You new? Seemed to be holding your own against Sidewinder alright."

"Uh, yeah, I'm new."

"I'm Charge, Marshal of the Rangers."

The what now?

"Uh, I'm-" fuck me, who- "I'm Sidestep."

Somebody cleared their throat behind us, and we both turned. Sidewinder was on the ground, a heavily modded man already yanking the villain's hands behind his back to cuff him, and levelling us with a glare. He wasn't too bad looking himself. Were all heroes hot? Did they start out hot or become hot?

"If you could stop flirting with the vigilante, Ortega?"

"I'm just saying hello, Steel."

"If you could take this seriously-"

"I am, I am!" Charge, Ortega, this beautiful man, threw his arms up at the other hero. And then he was shaking my hand, shaking me free from my stupor. "Thanks for holding down the fort over here. See you again sometime?"

"Definetly!" Well, fuck me with Ortega, that came out a little too quickly. Come on, CK800, don't sound too desperate. "I mean, yeah, sure. That would be cool."

"Well, then I look forward to meeting again." He threw me a wink that refreshed the burning feeling on my face before moving to help Steel with Sidewinder. I hesitated for a moment before making my getaway, sensing the suspicion simmering across Steel's mind. Being questioned was not on my to do list, thank you.

And I was definetly going to need a better name than 'a real mean dude.' Ortega had said it was a bit of a mouthful.

Maybe I could shorten it. A real mean dude. ARMD. Armad? Armed?

No.

Armada.

Perfect. That sounded mean, didn't it? Who would mess with somebody named Armada?

But people are supposed to have last names, aren't they? I would need one, too.

Not a real last name. NALN. Naln. Nalan. No, that just didn't work. Not a made up last name. NAMULN.

Armada Namuln.

Perfect.

"Armada Namuln."

It felt nice on my tongue.

I wonder if Ortega would like it. A warm feeling spread through me at the idea, and I couldn't help the happy sigh that escaped me, already imagining hearing him say it.

Leaving my number behind for a name made me feel less like an thing and more like one of these people that I so desperately wanted to be one of.

Goodbye, CK800. Hello, Armada.

#i just love fallen hero too much im so sorry #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen #hero #rebirth #fanfiction #a real mean dude #when messing with the naming system turns serious #armada #namuln #sidestep #chargestep #ortega #ricardo #m!ortega #m!sidestep #mybullcrap #@fallen hero: rebirth

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kinkyacademia · 6 years

Text

Mod pasta! Can i get villian Deku chasing after a hot vigilante?

WELL this made me go back and reread Vigilantes, thanks Anon. I can imagine this character having a similar presence as Pop Step. Btw, just a quick question; would you Meatballs like more varied content from me? Maybe taking some lesser mentioned character, or other types, etc.

-Mod pasta 🍜 🍝🐉

(V/N) = Vigilante Name

Being friends with Kazuho Haneyama, that could be it. But you knew that wasn’t the reason you had run into one of Japan’s most feared villains while walking home. It was warm, almost too warm, and your heroeing suit was tucked safely into your purse as you took your hair out of your high ponytail that accentuated your neck. Every part of your outfit was intriguing to the male/anyone eye, and your simple self was also poraline perfection. Once your hair was let down, you took a turn and paused for a second to put the bright scrunchy away. When you started to walk once again, you heard a slight falter in footsteps - someone was behind you.

So, being the good samaritan you are, you walked closer to the edge of the sidewalk to let the person pass by. No one went by, and you returned to the middle of the sidewalk as you began to feel immensely uncomfortable. Should you maybe visit Koichi, or would that be rude to lead whoever was behind you right to your friend’s house? Oh, now you knew it had to be some sort of fan… Well, acknowledging you were beautiful was easier than being scared of whoever did the same. So, you paused and then turned around.

“Oh, lovely, I thought you’d never get the guts to turn around!” You raised an eyebrow at the boy. He was around your age, maybe exactly your age, and he wore formal bartender attire and adorned messy green hair and scattered green eyes. He held a haunting effect.

“I would like to know why you’re following me, sir,” You crossed your arms, moving to the side so that a group could pass. You wouldn’t slip into an alleyway to talk this out, though; that was likely what this boy wanted. He chuckled, rubbing his gloved hands together and then sticking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Well, you see, I’ve never seen such a useful little quirk used by such a useful little girl,” His voice was much more demeaning than his appearance, causing you to scowl as he rolled on the balls of his feet, “Oh, my love, did I strike a nerve?”

“Please stop following me, sir, or I will call my friend. He’s a Pro Hero,” You always kept your friend Taishiro on speed dial, but with your Transformation Type quirk, you were sure this fan would easily be sedated. He was just a fan, right? Pop Step got them all the time…

“Oh, but I’m having just a blast being here with you, (Name)!” He exclaimed, causing your eyes to widen. He knew your name - that was bad. You blinked a couple of times, then crossed your arms and started to walk away. You moved quickly at first, then faster and faster. Soon you were running through people for fear of the man you felt like was following you. A few people mumbled their distaste, but you could care less. You were going to Koichi’s place and that was that.

“So, you’re telling me a creepy guy approached you?” Koichi didn’t seem amused. You nodded quickly, pulling your knees up and hugging them. Koichi quickly looked away, “(Name), you’re still wearing a mini skirt, please.”

“He called me Love, and he knew my first name. I don’t like this,” You mumbled, and Koichi sighed before dialing Kazuho up and telling her to come over and comfort you. He obviously wasn’t doing a very good job. He then came back with some instant ramen, and you picked at it.

“Did he say anything… else? Anything thought-provoking?” Koichi tried to the best of his ability to keep the conversation going. You thought for a few seconds. then nodded.

“He said that my quirk is useful, and that it’s useful for a useful girl like me,” Your eyebrows furrowed, “He made it sound like I meant something to him. Koichi, do you think I maybe know him from somewhere?”

“Boy, I hope not,” He rubbed the back of his neck, and you deadpan glared at him. He yelped, then sighed and looked out of his window, “Alright, he’s weird. But, hey, Pop Step gets crazy fans all the time, you’ll learn to get over them, right?”

Oh, Koichi, you couldn’t have been more wrong in your entire life. You felt like you kept seeing this boy around, and soon you were spending more and more time over at Koichi and Kazuho’s houses out of fear of being alone. You had to maintain your appearance, though - that would just mean he was getting to you, and you were determined not to let him know that.

It wasn’t until you saw him standing above a building that you realized he was a villain. You had slowly started to allow yourself to sleep at home for the past few days, and you hadn’t seen the boy for over a week. Just when you thought this was over, you were walking by a group of people when one of them shouted, “Who’s that?”

You looked up to see a flash of green hair lazily making its way over the building tops. Upon further inspection, two heroes without capable quirks were pushed off of a large building and murdered. You felt anger and horror pooling in your gut; you called Kazuho and Koichi, telling them to bring Mr. Oguro as you pulled your suit on behind an alleyway in record time. Then, using your quirk of pushing air out of your palms, you made it to the top of the buildings and started in the direction of the villain.

To think about it, you had never gotten his name in the first place. Once you spotted a flash of green, you sped up to the boy. He glanced back at you as you crossed another building, a playful smirk playing across his lips. His speed was uncanny; maybe it was the doing of a quirk or hard training?

“I see the tables have turned, (V/N),” You were at least happy that he respected your name. You grit your teeth and focused on catching up to him.

“You killed two men, sir,” You pointed out, and he chuckled before coming to an abrupt stop and turning towards you. Your eyes widened, and you stumbled to a stop in front of him. Momentum pulled you forward, and his hands grabbed your shoulders to steady you. You knitted your eyebrows together once you were upright, pushing him off of you.

“Although I think being called Sir is quite appealing,” The boy shook his head, taking a few steps back as you followed, “You should call me Deku.”

“That means useless. So, you’re useless?” You tipped your head to the side, “That doesn’t make much sense. You’re smart.”

“Mmph,” The boy - Deku - ‘s eyes lit up for a second, and he chuckled and stopped stepping backwards, “That’s the sort of raw truth I love from you.”

You thought about stalling for time, but you didn’t even hear any police sirens; no one was coming. It was just you and him, and you had to either fight this out or run away, “why do you?” You paused, stopping as you trapped him near the edge of the building. Even if you pushed him off, he seemed too comfortable with being pushed around to let himself die, “love me, that is.”

“Oh! You noticed,” his blinked widely a couple of times, and he shook his head and laughed awkwardly as a blush crept up his cheeks. It sickened you, but you had to admit that it was kind of cute, “well, I have many reasons. Maybe, once we’re better acquainted, I can spend a whole night listing them.”

“That won’t be happening, Deku,” your eyes hardened, and you pulled a zip tie from a pouch in your pack that hung on your miniskirt that hugged your well-shaped thighs.

“Oh, and what is little old Vigilante (V/N) going to do,” a sinister smile slit his face, and his eyes sparkled with sadistic mischief as he raised a hand that began to emit a garden of small, mechanical-looking spikes. You felt your heart jump into your throat, but you wouldn’t show him fear, “Trying to face off against Japan’s second most feared villain, just under my Sensei that is.”

Wait, he’s… that Deku? The one who almost sent the hero Eraserhead into a coma, the one who supposedly is training under a higher power? You felt your fingers begin to shake; the beating sun was doing no good for your nerves right now as you unconsciously took a step away from Deku. You swallowed hard as he giggled in a haunting, soft tone, “I’m going.”

”Hmm?” He lazily raised his eyebrows, the spikes returning to his hand. If the rumours were true, that wasn’t his only quirk. You turned around, trying to make light of the situation as you used your quirk to dart across the expanse of the building top and jump to the next one.

”I’m going! Bye, Deku!” You shouted, loud enough so that hopefully, hopefully some hero hears you and chimes in. You heard a shout of surprise from behind you, then footsteps fast approaching.

”I’m afraid that won’t be happening, (V/N)! You see, I’m ready to finally ask you out!”

”Well, I decline!” You shouted back, the hairs raising on the back of your neck. As you bursted some of your quirk to cross the street in a hopes to shake him off, you glanced down for a second and made eye contact with someone - you knew those eyes anywhere…that was Koichi!

”That’s not an option!” He suddenly was directly behind you, causing you to yelp and almost lose your footing as you rolled across the top of the building to catch your fall, then continued running. Your legs were beginning to burn, and your sides were even worse off, “The only option is to talk to me.”

”Not until I drop dead from exhaustion, villain!” You shouted, and the chuckle he released made you know that you fucked up.

”I can work with that. I do get a lovely view back here, I can live with it,” You gaped as blush stained your cheeks. He was looking up your skirt! It was common for people to do that, but still - he admitted to it!

”Hey!” The angered whine was all you could say. He fawned over your whining for a bit, but you dropped the conversation and focused on getting away from him as quickly as you could. You might be able to run into an abandoned building and jump randomly into the next one? It was something you were willing to try. You changed course, going for the less populated part of town and finding a place not unlike Koichi’s.

Right when you changed course, you dropped into the next building. You heard Deku “tch” in annoyance, following you easily. You were already two floors down, and you hopped into the next building onto a random floor and rolled to absorb the impact. It didn’t matter, though, since you made a little bit of noise. You changed floors and then jumped again, this time landing soundlessly and hiding in a closet. At first, you listened; nothing. At least the closet was big enough for you to sit comfortably with your knees to your chest and back against some sort of cushion.

Time passed, and you thought that you seriously had shaken the villain Deku off. You sighed, not realizing that you had been breathing slower, and took your phone out from one of your pouches. Checking the messages, Koichi seemed to be asking you where you were. Then he became fearful for your life, and that was where he was now. You texted him back quickly out of guilt.

-Sorry, I only just now found a hiding place in the slums. I’m in a blue building with broken windows, it’s pretty tall, but I don’t know the street name.

-I’m near a place like that. I’m coming, Sensei too. Wait for a little bit longer.

You breathed another sigh of relief, now responding to Haneyama’s own worries. You texted her for a bit, then got a message from Koichi. He asked if you heard three knocks from the front of the dead silent building, and you informed him that it was still dead quiet. You frowned, placing your forehead on your knees and informing him that he wasn’t there. This continued on for a bit, and you turned your phone off and waited. It sounded stupid, but you were afraid to come out of the closet until someone like Koichi (or a hero) opened the door.

At least you had this cushion on your back, or else your back would be sore after this full hour. You leaned back into it, getting comfortable; it kept you warm, and you leaned your head into it before getting another text. You looked back at your knees, waiting for the three knocks.

Nothing. You almost texted him that, until you heard a distinctive and hesitant three knocks. Your eyes widened as your heart picked up in beat.

-You’re here!

-I don’t know what floor I’m on, it’s near the top.

-I’m coming, stay put. I’ll tell the police that you’re here, text me when my voice gets closer.

You smiled, turning your phone off. You heard a very quiet voice speaking on the phone, and it kept rising. Soon he was just speaking gibberish like “Four four, five five, hamburger, soda,” just to keep his voice going. He sounded terrified, but you only knew that because you had hung around him so much.

You set your phone on the ground as you waited out the agonizing minutes.

You had a bit of time to think things over, and you wondered where the next idea even came from: Not running away. This man… this villain, he actually loved you. That’s not something many people can say, really. Sure, if he wasn’t a villain, he probably wouldn’t have the guts to admit it to you - but he did. He actually admitted his love, so why were you running away?

Was it because he was a villain, or because you were afraid of loving him back? Is it really that hard to love? You bite your lower lip, furrowing your eyebrows ad hugging your knees as you rocked back and forward a few times.

As his voice got closer, you swiped your phone and your hand ran into something against the wall. It felt like a tube, and you blew it off since it was an old janitors closet. Who knew what horrors lurked just above you? You wiggles against the cushion to get comfortable, telling him that he was getting closer. Just as you sent the message, you heard the distinct sound of someone abruptly stopping their breathing.

Now, some people would go into a fight, flight or freeze sort of reaction when they realized what was about to happen. You knew you really should have froze, but you were a Vigilante. Vigilantes are heroes, and you weren’t about to let your friend die.

-Don’t come in. Go back.

-Why? What’s wrong?

-Don’t open the door.

-(Name), talk to me, I need you to tell me what’s going on.

You turned your phone brightness all the way down, then tilted it down to where you couldn’t see it. Hoping that you knew your keyboard better than you thought you did, you typed your next message with shaky fingers.

-he’s right behind me

“I thought you’d be a bit brighter. Alas, I think you ran until you dropped, (Name),” You felt arms wrap around your waist, the large, rough hands resting on your stomach. Your heart jumped to your chest as the blood pounded in your ears. That voice was haunting, and his hands caressed your shirt slowly as you jolted and were held down by his grip. You didn’t have a response for him.

“Now, I know you don’t love me just yet, but I think you’ll find your place soon enough,” His fingers were warm like fresh cotton candy, his voice silky like red velvet. You felt like you were falling, falling, falling into the abyss that is Deku. You might have tried to grasp at the edge of rationality had you not taken the time to think about actually accepting his advances.

“W-Why m-me?” You whispered, and breathed sharply as he shifted and slowly pushed the both of you up. You hadn’t realized that your body had naturally melted against his own, and you shied away in uncertainty as you opened the door of the closet and tried to run out from pure instinct screaming at you to run. away. You didn’t know how you felt about him just yet - you needed more time to think!

“Maybe it’s because you used to be Kacchan’s plaything until he threw you away,” His arm wrapped around your waist in an instant, the other one grabbing your arm. You couldn’t turn around, and had to bear through the horrifying reality that the man holding you so intimately could kill you in a second, but for some reason or another, you knew he wouldn’t. You stopped, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Can I trust him? “Or maybe it’s because your mother used to tell you the exact same thing that All Might told me.”

“I won’t submit to you,” You whispered, but you knew that even your tone of voice held no real motive. The blood had stopped pounding in your ears, and your breathing was slower and more controlled. You hadn’t had the time you wanted to think about it, but you would just have to take it another time, “Actually, Deku-”

“Having second thoughts?” He chuckled like a patronizing dog owner. You grit your teeth, ripping your arm from his grip and turning around. Since he had pulled you to him, you were just a touch too close to him, causing your eyes to widen. The fact that your cheeks flushed in a blush just proved your point, you were starting to want his affection.

“Don’t push it, villain,” You mumbled, lightly pushing on his chest. He hummed, pulling your closer and wrapping his arms around your lower back in what is dubbed as the “boyfriend hug.” You hesitantly accepted it, slowly but surely, “Deku, I - I never told you about Bakugou, how did you-?”

“I tracked him throughout his high school career,” He shrugged, then convulsed slightly in a single, silent laughter, “What he did to you was unacceptable. I would have killed him, but I saved that for later,” He whispered the final part to himself.

“It’s still (V/N) to you,” You warned, and he sighed and nodded in defeat, “He made it kind of hard to transfer over to the Hero department,” Katsuki had laughed at your attempts to transfer to his class, constantly doing anything in his power to make it impossible for you to succeed. Even after All Might’s passing of power, he never grew as a person. Knowing that Deku had once put up with Katsuki’s horrible treatment as well made you realize that you two were more similar that you had thought, “Oh, what am I going to do with you, Deku?”

“You can start by calling me Izuku,” He pulled back from the hug, and you happily embraced the solitude - until you realized that you liked being in his arms. Was that too strange to like it? Maybe it wasn’t, maybe you should actually go with him…

“We’ll see about that.”

#reader x izuku #mod pasta #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #reader x midoriya #midoriya x reader #villain!au #villain!deku #bnha imagines #bnha villains #bnha #mha villains #mha #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero scenarios #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia scenarios

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Note

Loved how Jamie gave claire the medical book in the Boston story. Can we maybe see her starting to look at which one she wants to go to? Does she have her sights set on Harvard??

Flood my Mornings: The First Step

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Samhain (Jamie stumbles upon a new community)

November, 1950

{CEBF}

“Jamie?” I called urgently across the evening-shadowed house, rustling the pages on the rolltop. “Jamie? Did you move my essay?”

Ah yes, My Essay:

Why should you be admitted to Harvard University’s Program for Correspondent Students?

Well, you see, honorable gentlemen of the admissions committee, my applications for medical school a few years hence—even if not at Ivy League institutions— will need to look as goddamned impressive as can possibly be mustered, since they will almost certainly be reviewed by a panel of elderly male fuddy-duddies like yourselves.

Thus, having Harvard University on my CV (even if it’s only for these pre-requisite courses), will only serve to impress said fuddy-duddies, and as a female with a spotty-at-best record in formal education, I need all the bloody help I can get.

The almost-final draft of my personal statement had been more subtle, but it was God’s honest truth.

I’d been working incessantly on the damned thing for weeks, sleeping little and poorly from the stress. I’d downed more coffee than I’d previously have deemed safe for human beings, and was looking and feeling decidedly the worse for wear for it all.

Meanwhile, my sainted husband had tirelessly picked up my slack with the house and with Bree night after night as I hunched over the desk, scribbling and scratching out. This last week, in particular, he’d given me more than enough space, bless him, speaking softly, keeping Bree out of my hair, giving kisses, but not initiating sex, nor even the casual touches that were so much a part of our daily rhythm with one another. I knew he meant well by it—to allow me to focus my non-hospital- and non-sleep-hours upon the task at hand… but LORD, another part of me wished that he would just hoist me out of my chair, throw me onto the ground, and give me an hour’s rough relief from my own mind and Harvard blasted University! I didn’t hold it against him, of course, and it would be over soon, in any case, but his walking on eggshells around me was its own breed of stress.

‘Stress’—such a tiny word for so much inner turmoil. It wasn’t just the essay in front of me or the way my gut had felt all tied in knots for the past week; it was the entire trajectory of which this was only the first step: the prerequisite courses, the MCATs, applications, interviews, medical school, internship, residency, fellowship—the next decade or more of my life! So much would hinge on every single decision I made from here on out. I couldn’t afford any mistakes, starting with this bloody essay.

I had put the entire packet together last night in the Manila envelope: application, references, ESSAY. Stamps, on. Addresses, penned. Seal…well…left UN-sealed, because I wasn’t bloody ready. And good thing, too, for I’d spent my entire shift that day replaying the words in my mind, every phrase sounding wretched, every choice of words trite or cliché or childish, and screaming for another revision. I’d rushed home, called a ‘hello, darling,’ to Jamie, who was tucking Bree in for the night, and then gone directly to the rolltop, still in my coat and hat, to read it through again and exorcise this demon. Except my packet wasn’t there.

“Jamie??” I called again, louder, my anxiety mounting. I hissed at two sudden papercuts as I rummaged frantically again through the stack. “Darling? Did Penelope say anything about moving my—”

“Sassenach, keep your voice down, for God’s sake—” Jamie whispered loudly as he came around the living room door, looking harried. “Brianna’s only just gotten to sleep, lass!”

I lowered my voice but not my urgency, and I barely even looked up. “The envelope with my application and personal statement? Have you seen it? I swear, it was right on top of the stack with the blue folder here on the desk.”

“Oh, aye, I sent it in.”

“What?” I laughed weakly, still rummaging. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I did,” he said simply, “I mailed it in.”

I froze. And STARED at him. “What?”

“It was complete. The deadline was coming up in a few days; so,” he shrugged, ACTUALLY shrugged, “I mailed it in for ye.”

“It was NOT complete.”

The words came out low and lethal, and I could see Jamie’s shirt-too-tight-shrug that indicated he heard the danger in them. “Ye packed it all in the mailing envelope, no? It was ready to be submitted.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t ready to send it yet!”

He made a small sound of carefully-controlled exasperation. “Claire, mo chridhe, how should I have known th–”

“You should have asked! You should have called me at work to ASK!” I threw up my hands. “Not just assumed that I was ready to have it sent off without my permission!”

He squirmed perceptibly but wasn’t giving in. “Lass, you’ve been slaving over that essay for weeks. You’ve barely slept—You put it in the envelope, wi’ the address and stamps and everything. I read it again last night after ye went to bed and it was perfect.”

“It wasn’t—

The truth was that despite my obsessing over it, it HAD probably been as bloody close to perfect as I could get it. I’d double-checked and triple-checked and quadruple-checked; revised and wordsmithed it to within an inch of its life. But I’d wanted to wait ‘til the very last moment to send it in, to feel absolutely certain it was as good as I could make it; and having that control so unexpectedly pulled out from beneath me—

“—Even if it had been, Jamie, you still had no—NO—bloody right—”

He ran his hands back through his hair. “Sassenach, come now, it’s no’ as though—”

“Jamie, this isn’t a recipe I’m sending to a Ladies’ Magazine!” I didn’t know what to do with my hands but they gestured wildly in my livid rage and tears. “This is—was—Harvard!”

“I ken it IS Harvard,” he said pointedly, putting his hands firmly on my shoulders “—and I ken you’re going to be ACCEPTED there when they read your—”

“And what the hell would YOU know about it?” I snapped, perceiving only the hurt flashing across his face before I was down the hallway and into the bathroom, locking the door. I yanked the shower handle and sunk down against the tub, letting the water mask the sounds of my weeping.

A few minutes later, Jamie was knocking softly on the door.

“Sassenach?”

His voice was quiet, and, I thought, abashed. “Claire…? May I come in?”

I covered my mouth so he couldn’t hear me. I felt tears trickling over my hand but I wouldn’t open my eyes. It’s not the end of the world, Beauchamp.

Another knock.

A long silence.

“Lass….I’m sorry…”

He was leaning against the door, I thought.

“It was…an impulsive thing I did— I—” he sighed miserably. “—I thought better of it throughout the day, but…Christ, i’m sorry…It was foolish. I was wrong to do it…”

A long silence.

A long…long silence.

“I’m truly…truly sorry, Claire.”

I took a deep breath.

Then another.

Once more.

It would be alright. I hadn’t been ready, but the essay was fine. Jamie regretted what he’d done. It would be alright.

But I was too spent and too upset to consider opening the door.

{JF}

He HAD been wrong to do it—knew not ten minutes after the post had gone that he’d made a grave error in judgement. But the essay had been perfect, BRILLIANT, and Claire had been so plagued by self-doubt over it. It was as if she had placed her entire sense of her own worth upon success in this single endeavor, this single writing. He’d simply wished her to feel as if she had finally accomplished the thing, after such a harrowing period these last few weeks.

But she was completely right: what he wished her to feel was irrelevant, and he had betrayed her trust. She was well within her rights not to be ready to forgive him.

He waited more than an hour, until long after he’d heard her enter the bedroom; giving her the space she apparently wanted. At last, though, he entered the darkened room.

She was already in bed with her back turned to him. Asleep? He couldn’t tell—but even if she were awake, he didn’t expect her to speak until morning. He deserved her fury for at least that long.

He undressed and slipped quietly under the covers, taking care not to jostle her. Without really thinking about it, he mirrored her posture, coming to rest on his side, facing away from her.

He listened to the clock tick and tried to let it lull him to sleep.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“Can’t you at least bring yourself to have sex with me?” Sharp. Wide awake. Dangerous.

Startled, he blurted, bewildered. “Bring myself—?”

He felt her bolt upright beside him, her hands slamming onto the bedspread. Her voice was still laced with anger, but desperate, forbye, and hurting. “Jamie, you haven’t touched me in a week! I need to—to feel close to—”

“You’ve never wished me to have ye during your courses before, Sassenach,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his face as he rolled onto his back. “Do ye really want to that badly tonight?” His ‘especially when you’re not too keen on me at the moment, in any case,’ was implied. He would serve her, of course, if she wished it, but–

“I’m not on my goddamned ‘courses,’ you absolute bastard!”

Jamie opened his mouth to fire back.

—but then, she gasped—

—a tiny sound, barely more than a sharp breath, really, but so deeply unlike Claire that—

He was on his knees beside her in an instant. She was kneeling on the mattress, too, clad in only her underclothes, both hands clapped over her mouth. “Oh, God,” she croaked between her fingers, her eyes wide and wide and wider.

“Mo ghraidh—?” He grappled for her face, pushing back the wildness of her hair to hold her between his hands. “Mo chridhe—? you're—?”

“Oh—God!” she said again, eyes brimming and hyper-focused upon nothing, her mouth gaping open and shut, “—I didn’t—I was so busy, I hadn’t been—No—” she moaned softly as he lifted her and gathered her, cradled her to him. Her body was rigid, pushing back, and her head shaking violently back and forth. “No,” she wept, “no, no, it’s—Jamie, it’s too soon.“ He could see her eyes sparkling with life through her tears, even as she tried to resist the truth. “We can’t—can’t know for certain—not yet.”

“Six days, Claire—” he gasped, his free hand roaming up her back to cup her cheek, hard. “One day—two days, maybe, but—SIX?”

She lowered her fingers tentatively to graze the natural curve of her belly. Jamie watched in a trance as her palm slowly came to lay flat against her skin. “Oh, God,” she whispered, swaying on her knees and leaning her forehead against his shoulder as her arms came around him. “Jamie…Jamie…”

He held her and rocked her (THEM!) and kissed her, crying, laughing—but then remembered—

“I'm—truly sorry about the application, mo nighean donn,” he choked out, feeling the guilt seize this moment of joy. “It was your task—your choice—It wasna my place at all to—”

“Forgiven,” she whispered, putting her fingers to his lips and shaking her head. “Forgiven…. And I’m sorry, too….for what I said—I didn’t mean—”

He kissed her, and she kissed him, and there was nothing except her arms; her fingers cupping the back of his head; the taste of her tears and his; her lips; her sweet voice, breaking. “Jamie...Jamie, I’m so—happy—”

He couldn’t say a word. He could only nod his head slowly over and over again, completely overcome, his shoulders shaking. His heart felt ready to burst as he watched his wife, her face shining, go softly to her back and reach up for him. “Come to me?”

And he came to her, made love to her—the only woman he’d ever had; the only one he would ever have in his lifetime.

And as he lay awake long after, holding her, cupping the bairn that slept within her, he prayed; but unlike the night more than two years ago when he’d held Brianna in this same fashion, heart breaking from despair and fear and the looming specter of death, his prayer this night was hopeful and strong.

Lord…that this child will be safe.

[next chapter: Eggs]

#Anonymous #;mod bonnie #flood my mornings

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mp100ficrec · 7 years

Note

do u have any fic recs for rarepairs?? id love to see some more of those since theyre always fun!

It Runs in the Family by fireflysummers_ao3

Asagiri Minori/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“Teru agrees to attend a party celebrating his uncle’s full recovery after a horrific “car accident,” but he’s not excited about reconnecting with his cousin, Minori, who he recalls is as bad, and likely worse, as he used to be.However, he is not expecting to find her trying to turn over a new leaf in the wake of a traumatic spiritual possession, and in dire need of a confidant. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, they have more in common than Teru would like to admit…especially when he realizes that Minori is trying to track down her mysterious rescuer.”

Mob is 100% developing a fanclub.

but I digress, my dear by exogenesis

Mezato Ichi/Emi (Mob Psycho 100)

“When Mezato found out that the last copy of the textbook she needed was checked out of the library already, she became a girl with a mission; that mission was to track down the person who had the gall to take two entire weeks to return a library book.”

Super cute, I love this?

Movie night by DeerMom

Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo/Suzuki Shou

“Movie night, cuddles and sweet smooches on a couch.”

Keys To The Heart by sketchy_shark

Gouda Musashi/Onigawara Tenga

“Onigawara has a big secret. He loves to play the piano, and he also loves Musashi. When Musashi finds out about Onigawara’s talent, he encourages him to share it. Onigawara, meanwhile, struggles to share his talent and his feelings.” *not pre-read by mods

space voyage by azatoi

Kurata Tome/Mezato Ichi

“Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being… a weirdo, to put it simply. She’s definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.”

I love this too much. This author is fantastic and so are the fic and the pairing.

Seasons by texmexboy

Gouda Musashi/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“In the summer Musashi plants sweet potatoes, and in the summer Mob comes to visit. (AKA the fic where Musashi doesn’t realize he gets a boyfriend and Mob flirts shamelessly.)”

This ship kills me, all of its content is super cute? There’s a tag for this ship in our pairings list if you would like more content.

Mishto by texmexboy

Gouda Musashi/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“Musashi gets up the guts to confess to Mob”

I love every single MP100 work of this author’s and want to spread this love.

Let’s Pretend Together by paperficwriter

Gouda Musashi/Onigawara Tenga, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“Musashi asks Onigawara to pretend to be his boyfriend so they can support Mob after Teru asks on a date. But when Mob asks the “couple” to accompany them, everything becomes much more complicated. Especially because a certain pompadour’d bancho has real for his fake boyfriend.“

Extracurriculars by paperficwriter

Gouda Musashi/Onigawara Tenga

“Onigawara likes Musashi. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”

I love this author as well, and recommend their works generally.

A Kick In The Teeth Is Good For Some by whaleshork

Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama Ritsu

Warning: Read the tags to avoid triggers. There’s also mention of semi-canonical character death.

“All Ritsu wants is to move on and be happy with his life. But something keeps growing inside him. From his stomach to his chest to his throat and out his eyes and mouth, until it fully surrounds him making it impossible to ignore. He can cut it down, but it will just grow back. He needs to destroy it, to pull it up from the roots. And he thinks he finally knows how. But there’s only one person who can help with that. Unfortunately, that person is Teruki Hanazawa.”

This will soon be part of a series for other rarepairs (ShouMob and eMInori). I look forward to that quite a bit, as I enjoy this author’s works.

Ships at a Distance Have Every Man’s Wish On Board by thejapanesemapletree

Kamuro Shinji/Tokugawa, Onigawara Tenga/Mariko

A very sweet series that’s mostly about the first pairing, with one shot for the latter. Just read it. Please. It deserves it.

Taking Notes by gutter_girl_100

Takane Tsubomi/Mezato Ichi

“Falling for the school’s idol is surprisingly ordinary.”

The Way the Sunflower Grows by uglyelleth

unrequited Minegishi/Serizawa Katsuya

“Minegishi regrets little.One thing he does regret is something he hardly admits to himself.”

The melancholy character study I never knew I wanted.

This feeling in my stomach won’t go away by PostApocalypticLaundryPile

Gouda Musashi/Onigawara Tenga, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“Tenga wasn’t exactly sure when this… crush developed. It was almost like he woke up one day and his brain decided to point out that, hey your body improvement club captain is pretty hot, and it all sorta snowballed from there.” aka Tenga is awkward and anxious and hopelessly in love with his club captain and friend, but doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings.”

darkness isn’t a hindrance by distraitLoser

Minegishi/Shimazaki

“It’s amazing how he can find someone so appealing to him without having to know what they look like. He never thought the distant and quiet person among them in Super 5 will be the one he’ll end up with, sleeping right next to him at this very moment.”

Pulling Weeds by unluckyships

Kurata Tome/Mezato Ichi

“Tome finds herself in neck-deep. Mezato goes on a hunt. There’s something cryptic in the woods, and it has a familiar face.”

Moving Onto Nothingby Crunchwrap Supreme (ghxsttype113)

Dimple/Stubble

Warning: Past vore. Also, this turns into a shitpost at some point.

“But when he was alone? There was nobody, nobody to justify his actions, or to tell him why he was feeling certain ways.

“You had someone like that, you know.“”

Light Pollution by seafoamlungs

Kurata Tome/Kurosaki Rei

“Tome and Rei go UFO hunting together.”

Confession by amaranthinecanicular

Gouda Musashi/Onigawara Tenga, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

“Mob receives a love letter. It’s the duty of the Body Improvement Club to support him.”

ShouMob drabble by minusram

unrequited Suzuki Shou/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo

It has a happy continuation, which you should check out. As well as anything that doesn’t make you uncomfortable by this person.

Maybe by power (teii)

not exactly platonic or romantic Sakurai/Koyama

““Are you planning on getting a place of your own anytime soon?” Sakurai asks as he walks through the door, frowning at all the beer cans and dried fish snack bags strewn around the floor.

Koyama huffs, not even bothering to turn around to face him as he continues flipping through the channels, though he does manage to raise his left hand to send a lazy bird Sakurai’s way.

Apparently not.”

I love Claw settling back into society and I love the author’s take on the characters.

Loop Loop & Dive by prettypistachio

Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo, side Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou, side Sakurai/Koyama, even more side Kurosaki Rei/Asagiri Minori, side Tsuchiya/colleague

“It doesn’t matter what shape or colour your aura as an esper is, Mob realised, it’s all the same in the end when that special person makes yours loop loop & dive.”

in his image by EnlighteningBugs

Hanazawa Teruki/Hanazawa Teruki

Warning: Yes, this is selfcest. More precisely, future Teru/past Teru-cest.

“Who made you who you are today?”

Symbiosis by hamlingo

Dimple/Matsuo

Warning: The author warns of future dub con. As of now, there’s Dimple getting kidnapped by Matsuo and the latter acting creepily affectionate for someone who sealed Dimple away once again in an attempt to brainwash him.

“Matsuo gets a new pet with a god-complex.”

Телепатия by sad_all_life

Kurata Tome/Mezato Ichi

“Томэ Курата обычная японская школьница. И это действительно так. Она не надеется, что ее жизнь резко изменится, но продолжает попытки связаться с другими галактиками.”

Страшный секрет by Рейгар Кертье

Hanazawa Teruki/Kurosaki Rei

“Этот день настал. День, когда Теру решился доверить Рей свою страшную тайну.”

Я отвезу тебя на Аляску by TheLadyInJeans

Suzuki Touichirou/his wife, implied Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou

“Единое обещание, однажды данное разными людьми своим близким.”

Весна by Annita

temporary Kageyama “Mob Shigeo/Takane Tsubomi, endgame Kageyama “Mob Shigeo/Mezato Ichi

Предупреждение: Тсубоми тут совсем не добрая и по моему OOC.

“Шигео становится старшеклассником. Но всё ли так просто? Новые проблемы, потрясения, опасности и, конечно же, любовь, которую остерегаться стоит больше всего. Она погубила не мало простых людей, а паренька-эспера, которому нужно сдерживать эмоции, так и подавно в свои сети захватит и долго отпускать не будет. “

#request #rarepairs #mp100 fic recs #long post #english #russian

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entergamingxp · 4 years

Text

Five of the Best: Villains • Eurogamer.net

Five of the Best is a weekly series about the small details we rush past when we’re playing but which shape a game in our memory for years to come. Details like the way a character jumps or the title screen you load into, or the potions you use and maps you refer back to. We’ve talked about so many in our Five of the Best series so far. But there are always more.

Five of the Best works like this. Various Eurogamer writers will share their memories in the article and then you – probably outraged we didn’t include the thing you’re thinking of – can share the thing you’re thinking of in the comments below. Your collective memory has never failed to amaze us – don’t let that stop now!

Today’s Five of the Best is…

Villains, or baddies as I like to call them. For me, everything revolves around the baddie. They’re the threat, the goal, the quest, and they have to be convincing. If they’re a bit flimsy, the whole thing goes wibbly-wobbly and I’m left thinking what’s the point? But if they’re on point and menacing and, let’s be real, probably quite alluring too, then I’m all in. Take Palpatine in Star Wars: I can’t get enough of him. He’s irresistibly evil and lights up every scene he’s in, sometimes quite literally. His pantomime menace sells (maybe one too many of) the films.

It’s the same for games. If the villain is limp we won’t feel spurred on to defeat them. So let’s celebrate the baddies for a change. Here are five of the best. Happy long weekend!

M. Bison in Street Fighter 2

I broke my fancy see-through SNES pad because of M. bloody Bison. It was in the Street Fighter 2 days and he was the end boss, and whatever I did, I couldn’t beat him. It was that jump he did on top of my head and then the backflip back around. And his spinny forward jump, and the frontflip leg kick – I’m pretty sure I’m nailing the technical terms here. I just couldn’t get a handle on him.

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Actual, tangible proof Bison is evil!

Again and again he beat me, and you know what he did every time he won? He smiled about it. The arrogant bastard. And one day I just couldn’t take it any more. Like a toddler I let loose, jumping up and down on my controller before bending and snapping it my hands like a strongman (or petulant child) bending a metal bar. What a wally. I tried taping it back together but it never worked in the same way again. And it was all M. Bison’s fault. I think.

-Bertie

Darth Traya in Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2 – The Sith Lords

I almost wrote the Nameless One here, the protagonist from Planescape: Torment, but the more I thought about it, the more I wasn’t sure if he actually was a baddie. He definitely did bad things but he wasn’t really the baddie.

My gut wants to go with someone else, one of the most memorable characters I’ve ever come across in a game: Kreia from Knights of the Old Republic 2. Perhaps it’s no surprise KOTOR 2 and Planescape: Torment come up in the same breath, given so many of the same people were involved in both games, Chris Avellone in particular.

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This a nice, detailed explainer.

Kreia begins KOTOR 2 as your friend. In fact she’s more than that, she’s your mentor. She’s the person you look up to and who teaches you in the ways of the Force. But what makes her so unusual in regards to other Star Wars mentors is she’s neither good nor evil, not for the longest time. She’s the one who chastises you for your charity to a homeless person because they’ll get robbed by other homeless people who saw what you did. She makes you think. She is Obsidian making you question how you approach a game like this, and a licence like this.

It’s not until you deal with the game’s two other, equally memorable villains – Darth Sion, a person whose body is crumbling apart and is in constant pain and rage holding it together; and Darth Nihilus, who’s not a person at all but a wound in the force, sucking everything into itself like a black hole – that the real villain, their former ally, is revealed. And of course it’s she who has been beside you the whole game, steering you. It is Kreia, or to use her Sith name, Darth Traya.

-Bertie

Below is a Making Of KOTOR 2 podcast I recorded several years ago now with members of the Obsidian team and the Restored Content Mod team. There’s an adjoining article too.

Kefka in Final Fantasy 6

I mean, of course Kefka’s on this list. How could he not be? Final Fantasy 6’s villain has every right to call himself video game’s ultimate baddie, a cackling clown who is a thing of pure evil. Psychotic foes are ten-a-penny in games, of course, but Final Fantasy 6’s masterstroke is – spoiler alert – showing you what happens when evil wins out. And boy is it not pretty.

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This is a good explainer too.

Even before that point, Kefka’s wrongdoing takes Final Fantasy 6’s adventure to some surprisingly dark places, killing off an entire kingdom by poisoning the water supply – and that’s him just getting started. It’s like pre-Hays Code cinema, before video game’s burgeoning popularity meant a new kind of morality swept across the medium. Even then, there’d never been anyone quite as evil as Kefka in games – and I doubt there ever will.

-Martin Robinson

Mahatma Ghandi in the Civilization series

Nuke-mad Gandhi endures as the ultimate not-a-bug-but-a-feature of video games. But it was a bug once. In the first Civilization game, the story goes, Gandhi’s hidden aggression value was set to the lowest possible value on the scale, which was 1. But if he adopted the doctrine of democracy, which lowered his hidden aggression statistic by two points, he accidentally became the antithesis of himself. It’s because instead of going falling to -1, his aggression counter would loop back around to the maximum value of 255. (An interesting aside here for the real nerds: 255 is a significant number in a lot of games, like Pokémon’s EVs for instance, if you’re into competitive training. In my admittedly limited understanding, this is apparently down to storage. A single byte stores 256 different values, but because it begins from zero, 255 regularly occurs as the maximum value, as in our good old friend Gandhi’s aggression.)

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Anyway! Gandhi, as a result of this little quirk, became the most aggressive Civilization leader ever when adopting democracy. Ever since, he’s been intentionally programmed to be nuke-heavy as a nod to the bugs of the past, though Firaxis has made him a bit nicer for the rest of the game, which is probably fair enough.

-Chris Tapsell

Loot boxes in everything

Surprise! Or should I say… surprise mechanics?

I bet you weren’t expecting to see loot boxes in the mix here, but can you think of a more hated villain in games history? The backlash to EA’s implementation of loot boxes in Star Wars: Battlefront 2 was so severe that multiple countries eventually banned them. Players have spent thousands of dollars on them without even realising, and even the NHS has weighed in to say they’re “setting kids up for addiction” to gambling. That’s quite the portfolio.

For me, and many other players, loot boxes are so hated because they prey on basic human weaknesses rather than just giving the consumer value for money – if you’re chasing a particular skin, you’ll often end up with duplicates and other guff rather than what you want. Then there’s the fact they often exploit those most prone to gambling addiction, relying on big spenders (whales) to sink hundreds into their favourite games. And if you add gameplay-affecting elements into loot boxes, that pressure to spend becomes even more problematic.

An artist’s impression of an evil loot box.

You might think we’ve started to move on from loot boxes towards other forms of monetisation such as battle passes, but unfortunately that’s not the case. Loot boxes are still prevalent in our games, with a recent study finding 71.28 per cent of their sample were playing Steam games containing loot boxes as of April 2019. The European games regulator PEGI recently introduced a “paid random items” descriptor for game boxes – a good start – but while the UK Gambling Commission recognises a potential risk to children, it argues loot boxes cannot be classified as gambling as no money can be withdrawn. Will loot boxes ever get their full comeuppance? I guess we’re still waiting for that chapter.

-Emma Kent

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/five-of-the-best-villains-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=five-of-the-best-villains-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

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