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hookingminor · 3 years

Text

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #my writing #avs8

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rimaiahwrites · 3 years

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Red handed—

Chapter seven

After Erik drove away Israel came in to the house grinning even though he low key pissed her off.

She was still happy that she got to spend time with him, Erik was actually bringing happiness and excitement to her dull life and she couldn't be happier about it.

Israel walked right passed her brothers and into the kitchen, not even noticing all her brothers and their friends sitting in the living room looking at her like she lost her mind.

She grabbed a water bottle and began to chug it. Until she heard someone clear their throat. She turned around and started choking on the cold water. Noah got up from the floor and made his way over to pat her on the back.

When she got her choking under Control, she waved at them giving her best smile trying not to look suspicious.

"Who the fuck was that nigga you was wit'?" Her smile dropped.

"What are you talking about I-" Jay cut his eyes at her, daring her to lie to his face. Israel rolled her eyes trying to play it off. "He's Just one of my friends jay, relax."

"Since when do you have guy friends?" He asked walking into the kitchen. Everyone now quiet like he was some sort of king.

"Since when did I have to answer to you?" Israel spit back, looking him up and down. Jay was a bit taken back from her tone because it wasn't like her to get go smart mouth with him.

"Since you were born fuck you mean when? You forgetting that you the youngest?" He said cocking his head back like she just said the most stupidest shit ever. "no but You keep forgetting I'm grown. I can do as I please." She hissed slamming the freighter door shut. "I'm not no damn baby anymore, stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do I'm grown rather you like it or not, the fuck" she said stepping up to him as if he wasn't 6'0 and bulky grown man. not even realizing that she had raised her tone with him...or that she was cussing.

"Girl-" she quickly held her hand up to hush him. "No! I'm so done with this shit! Y'all three get to do whatever y'all want and y'all still live in mom and dads house and don't nobody say shit to y'all but when I hang out with someone of the opposite gender it's a problem? as if you did just sneak that girl In your room not to long ago, as if y'all wasn't fucking in there while mom was downstairs right under your room." She spit out dropping her head down a bit to give him a death stare. She was so irritated and had so much adrenaline running through her, she was shaking.

"You really can't say shit to me jay!" She said slapping her hand on the counter, and her other hand in her hip. Looking like a middle aged black mama yelling at her disobedient child while jay just stood there staring wildly at her but there wasn't much he could say. It was all true. She cut him up and now he was stuck not knowing what to say.

It was quiet in the living room and kitchen.

Jays friends didn't say a thing but they were fully entertained with the argument going on between the two Sibling.

"So what you just fucking random niggas now? Huh? That's where you was last night? At that niggas house being a hoe?" He shouted, veins popping out the side of his head. Israel face dropped at his words and they stung more then she thought they would.

You could hear a pin drop nobody made a move or spoke a word. Just a silent staring contest between the two. Jays fists balled, shoulders squared looking like he was ready to fight while Israel on the other hand was her eyes were getting glossy and her breathing heavy. She could feel the lump in her throat getting harder to swallow.

She cleared her throat and turn to walk back to get her bag by the front door. And heading up stairs, there was nothing else to be said. Israel now knew that her big brother saw her as nothing more then just a hoe, he has made it very clear today.

Israel waited until she was 18 just to talk to men and now he was calling her a hoe not even knowing that she only stayed for the night, And that was all. But there was no point in arguing with jay, he was stubborn and a asshole. if that's what he thought that's what he thought.

She shut her bedroom door and headed straight to her bed, stuffing her face in her pillow tears coming down like a waterfall.

She was Tempted to call Erik just so he could come get her of the hell hole she called home.

Maybe that was over dramatic but she hated it here, she loved her family but being with them 24/7 wasn't something she planned on doing once she turned eighteen. She honestly thought she would have been treated like her brothers were but then again she was never given a fraction of the freedom her brothers has. She was never treated like her feelings mattered, everything has always been about the boys.

You would think that since she's the only daughter her father has she would be treated like a princess and get away with everything but that definitely wasn't the case with her father. She was always the one to get yelled at first, she was always the first one to get blamed for something she didn't do and was always the first to get it the worst of her siblings.

Her father was a strict, mean military man that had no Sympathy for anyone and he clearly passed that down to his oldest son.

She was so sick of crying over them, she was so sick of being mistreated.

With tears still running down her face she sat up and took a deep breath feeling like she was dropping down into that deep hole she liked to hide herself in when she was feeling down.

His words replaying in her head like a broken record. She wasn't a hoe and she knew that and she knew that she didn't sleep with Erik but some how his words sank into her skin so deep that she felt dirty. Like she had committed some sort of sin.

She was only having fun, and finally getting the teenage experience she never got to have when she was younger.

Israel was tired of crying over things her family has said to her it was time for her to stop letting their words hurt her and effort her mental health.

She stood up from her bed and decided that she wanted to take a flower bath and just pray her troubles away.

Erik parked his black Mercedes-Benz G-Class outside of the were house he owned. This was the place he kept all of his weapons, books, important papers and information he had collected over the years of him being in college and the navy.

He and ten of his close friends that he met in the navy had formed a elite group of former navy seals. Their jobs were to Take down small governments and expose them. They also would kill small amounts of police officers and clans men which 9 times outta 10 were the same group of men.

About six months age they made a little mistake that almost got them caught which would've cost them their lives which is why they took a break to regroup to better themselves. Erik and three of his boys ace, zeik and Rae all trained the hardest they ever have far as fighting techniques, Brent, rocky and von all worked with weapons and the rest of the boys were hackers.

Today was their first meeting in six months. Erik has changed Plans and moved things from the original date so this meeting is important.

Erik walked to the side door of the warehouse and slide up the side paneling to reveal the handprint scanner, that was the only way to get into it up less you climb to the very top and through the window but the chances of that happening was slim. Once he was into he went to the corner of the large warehouse and behind the staircase that lead you to go upstairs which was empty.

He walked into the staircase little door where there was a another door that used Voice activation to open. "State your name please." a robotic voice said as it Scanned his face. "Erik Stevens."

"Face scan complete, welcome back erik." The voice said as the heavy Metal door opened to Reveal his underground lab. "Feels good to be back." Erik Chuckled as he walked down the steps. All of his boys turned their heads from the game of pool to Erik. "Ayo Erik where you been at motherfucka you was supposed to be here a hour and a half ago." Erik grin as he dubed ace up ignoring zeik interrogation. "Right and you be the main one mad if Someone else late to the meetings." Rae butted in.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"If y'all don't shut the fuck up, I gotta life to I just got caught up." He shrugged them off as he walked over to his desk. Rae eyebrows raised as he looked at the rest of them and they all were just as confused as him. Erik and "personal" just didn't go together in the same sentence, if he wasn't working out he was working. Erik was always work, work, work.

Brent smirked as he grabbed his water bottle and took a sip "him must got a new bitch or sum'" ace snorted "nigga yeah right that nigga ain't been in a relationship in years, Erik fucks and dips." It was true. That just wasn't like Erik.

"All I hear is you motherfuckas being worried about me let's get to work!" Erik clap his hands exactly as he went into the meeting room with the rest of the men following.

After a four hour meeting they had finally figured everything out. It was now 10:46 and Erik was tired, Israel sleeping over had him exhausted since it fucked up his sleep schedule. On a normal day Erik was in bed 11 o'clock and up at 6 o'clock in the morning. Sleep was very important to a healthy life style. It was Proven that people that get at least 7 hours of sleep they live longer.

Soon as Erik got home he took a shower and got straight in bed. he didn't even bother putting on clothes.

It's almost been a week since Erik has last spoken to Israel since he had been so busy. It's been strictly wake up, eat, work, train and work some more he didn't really have time to hang or call.

He felt a little bad for it but he knew that she knew he wasn't ignoring her intentionally...at least he hoped she knew that.

Today Erik was going to the gun range with ace just to do some training and catch up with him since they really hasn't had the chance to do that.

Since ace's car was in the shop right now so erik decided to pick him up instead of him catching a Uber. Soon as erik pulled up to aces Apartment he saw he step out of his door and jogged over to the passenger side.

"Wassup E," he said as he sat his bag down in the back seat. "Wassup bro you ready to show these niggas how to aim?" Erik said jokily as he drove off.

Erik cooked his AMT and aimed it at the head of the paper man all the way in the range and let multiple bullets fly from it giving him a slight rush. He adjusted his safety glasses and gripped the handle of the gun again before pulling the trigger but aiming at a different figure. Him and ace were both in their own little worlds before the ringtone from Erik's phone pulled him back down to earth, it caught aces attention too.

It was Israel.

Erik beamed down at the screen but Debated if he should answer it or not, he wanted to he really did but decided it would be best if he called her later since he could barely hear from all the gun shots being fired.

"Who was that? Got you smiling and shit..." ace asked with his eyebrows raised. Placing his gun down to face Erik. "Nigga why you so damn nosy?" Erik cut his eyes at him while blindly putting his phone back into his pocket.

"What you mean nigga? I'm just trying to see who making my dawg so happy is that a crime?" He said jokingly jerking his head back. Erik rolled his eyes.

"It's was one of my friends." Erik stated before grabbing his gun again trying to get off the topic. Ace put his hand out and pushed the gun down before he could pull the trigger.

"What friend? cause the last time i checked we had the same circle of friends?" Erik sigh getting annoyed with aces interrogation. Did he want to tell his best friend about Israel? Hell nah. Because he know his best friend and he knows he's going to go over bored and start doing the most with questions.

"You don't know her. Drop it nigga."

"Her? So you got a bitch or sumn'" Erik shock his head not even meaning to slip up and say anything. It was to late to take back now. "Nah she not my girl, we just been chilling." Erik shrugged, as he corrected him.

"Lemme see what she look like nigga how you know I don't know her?"

"Hell nah nigga stop being nosy-"

"Ok but if I had a bitch I would show you-"

"She not a bitch tho." Erik said sternly in their back and forth bickering. As annoyed as Erik was ace had a point and they both knew it. Ace talked to him about everything and if he was interested in a girl Erik would be the first to know about it. Erik put his gun on safety and sat it down before digging In his back pocket to grab his phone.

He scrolled through his camera until he found his favorite picture of Israel. It was one she sent to him not to long ago, her hair was wild with tiny ringlet coils. Her lips and mouth were stained red from the dumdum that hung from it. She had her white silk night gown on and a dainty rose flower necklace that hung between her collarbone.

Erik handed him the phone and watched as he brought his fist up to his mouth. "Nigga she fine as fuck damn where you find her at?"

"A party I went to not to long ago, she was shy as fuck she would barely talk to me." Erik chuckled taking his phone back to put it back in his pocket. "We been hanging out the last few weeks, she cool." Erik said nonchalantly to make it seem like he wasn't feeling shordy as much as he was. To someone like didn't know Erik as well as ace did he would've them really thinking he didn't like her and it wasn't a big deal but ace knew.

"You feeling her?" Ace asked facing Erik now, Erik shrugged.

"Like I said she cool."

"Mm." Was all ace said. Erik didn't need to answer, ace already knew the answer.

#black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fic #erik x oc #killmonger x oc #killmonger fic #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger #killmonger imagine

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kenmasangel · 3 years

Text

Fight ; Ushijima Wakatoshi

characters : ushijima wakatoshi, f!reader

synopsis : you and ushijima had your first real lowkey hardcore fight as a couple

genre : angst, fluff

ps : i am trying my best lol, i am new at this if you any remarks my dm's are open. hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

both you and your boyfriend, ushijima play volleyball that is actually what pulled you closer and ushi couldn't be happier

you've always enjoyed playing volleyball; it wasn't your passion and you wouldn't dedicate your life for it like ushijima but you still did your best all the time and you were pretty good

you actually were captain of the team for a while but then just decided to be a normal player

you practiced really hard; you didn't want to disappoint your boyfriend who was a great volleyball player

it really stressed you out though, especially when people would compare you or make really uncalled for remarks (this was maybe even one of the reasons you quit as a captain)

anyway these last days you haven't been feeling really good, the exams were upcoming and you wanted to keep up your excellent grades so you could attend the college of your dream

and not to make things better you had a practice match with you-don't-know-what-team and you couldn't care less

even if you were attending practice you were still kind of lacking, you wouldn't give it your all as usual and your teammates noticed that, you tried conving your coach into keeping you on the bleachers but he just wouldn't give up on you and your amazing serves

so here you were, sleep deprived, stressed out about school work and volleyball and your boyfriend didn't seem to notice anything, he would ask you times to times if anything is wrong but you would brush him off since you knew he was already preoccupied with the nationals

ushijima wasn't dumb though, he knew something was off with you but since you kept telling him not to worry he thought he would give you time unil you feel completely comfortable talking about it

he would kiss your forehead and tell you that he is here anytime

i ship you guys so bad wtf 😔

and as if the universe was against you, the day before your practice match you had an important exam, “at this point i should drop out and become a stripper” you thought to yourself as you were cramming informations into your brain

after your exam you headed to the gym to practice, you and your team stayed until late night and needless to say you only had few hours of sleep because you also had to wake up early to practice your serves, you didn't even have time to see your boyfriend so he could encourage you

you were exhausted, your brain was about to explode and your coach would still not let stay on the bleachers. the only thing positive was that ushijima sent you a good luck text message the night before

the match started, you were trying so hard to stay focused and to fall asleep; your serves were not as sharp as usual, you would miss the ball many times and the coach finally decided to change you with someone else

what you were not aware of is that ushijima and tendou came to watch the match and support you, they were weirded out at the way you were playing, it clearly was not in your habits to play that way

your team won the match but you couldn't care less, you just wanted to go home and sleep for one week straight

there were still a few people in the gym, you were getting ready to leave; you didn't even notice that the trio was coming your way

“y/n!” you heard tendou call you, “oh, hi sorry i didn't notice you were here” you replied, closing your bag “what's up?” you ask

“what's up with you? are you okay?” tendou asks, “what ?” you didn't know they saw everything, you kept staring at them until it hit you “oh, so you guys watched the match”

“yes, and what was all that about?” asked ushijima. “we can't always play well, you know” you shrugged, they were staring at you kind of shocked

“what? y/n did you see your serves ? did you see how many times you missed easy balls? it was almost as if i was watching a beginner! the team almost lost because of you” ushijima replies

“okay and ? i told the coach not to put me on the field yet he did. not my fault” you answered, it stung hearing him say that but it was true and you knew it

“thank god #8 came in, she saved the game ” he adds, what started annoying you. the last thing you wanted was to fight with your boyfriend

“good for them,” you clapped back in a cold tone what sent shivers down tendou's spine. he didn't want to get in between you two and he didn't know how to react since it was his first time seeing you like that

“you are my girlfriend, you know better! you should know this isn't only about others but the whole team! i heard people say stuff i didn't want to hear when you were playing an-” he couldn't finish when you cut him off

“ i know what people say ushijima! i know i am not dumb. and what if i am your girlfriend ? does that make me obliged to be a good volleyball player like you ? volleyball isn't my dream as far as i know i also have other dreams and other goals ushijima, but do you even care ? do you even bother asking me what i am passionate about ? and if you're ashamed of me, the so-bad volleyball player why don't you just go out with other great players ?” you snapped, what made the gym go quiet and all eyes stare at you and your boyfriend.

you gave him a last glance , took your stuff and went home

him and tendou stood there, alone now that everyone have left, still trying to comprehend what just happened, “wow, i’ve never seen y/n-chan like that” tendou broke the silence between him and ushijima. he didn’t answer tho, his mind was still replaying the fight you two had

you never fought; you guys were both mature and dealt with every situation you had to go through rationally so this fight really made ushijima tense up, something that tendou noticed

“ushijima,” tendou started as they were walking back to their dorms. “did you notice that y/n wasn’t feeling good right ?”

“hm? what?” the green eyed boy looked at him confused

“y/n is definetly not feeling good, you could tell just by looking at her face,” he stopped a moment before he continued “you can’t be oblivious to your girlfriend feeling bad, can you ?”

“look, i am not one to tell you what to do ushijima, this is your relationship but take good care of y/n before you loose her. she is a wonderful person and i know people who are just waiting for the right moment to have a chance with her,” he finished, sighing

“i don’t know what to do, we’ve never had a fight like this before and i sure don’t want to loose her,” finally stated ushijima burying his face in his hands, “i know i am lucky to have her, but you know how i suck at this relationship stuff...”

“give her time to cool down, but not too much time too. anyway goodnight” tendou pats ushijima’s shoulder before getting into his dorm

the days after you tried to keep it lowkey; you didn’t go to practice, you’d spend most of your time alone in the library or at home

your friends tried to contact you but you went on ghost mode, ushijima and the vb team too but you didn’t have enough strenght to deal with anyone not even your own parents

yet one night after everyone had finsihed practice you decided to head to the gym, you had so much frustration that you wanted to get rid off and the only thing that could help you was to hit in a ball

so here you are, at 10:30 pm serving in your highschool’s gym with all the power you had

what you didn’t know is that someone was there, watching this whole time hitting them balls with all the power you had wondering if they should come and talk to you or not

saying he missed you be an understatement, he missed your touch, the sound of your voice, your silly fights with tendou over who ushijima loved the most, the way you would hold his hand with no warning, the way you came to his practices and his teammates would all want to catch your attention. he was craving you and he couldn’t do anything but blame himself on how he lacked as a boyfriend

“man up, wakatoshi,” he opened the door yet didn’t catch your attention as you were still serving your mind obviously somewhere else

“uhm, hello?” he clumsily tries to catch your attention, which he succeeded in

you turn, kind of startled but lowkey relaxing at his sight. “hi,” looking at his face you realized how much you missed him but the fight you had was still replaying in your head. “i was leaving, i just need to clean the gym” you said shaking off your pianful thoughts

as you walked by him he held you wrist making you stop, “y/n, let’s talk it out... please” his face slowly turning around, your eyes meeting his

he was right, you couldn’t just ghost everyone for the rest of the year, you just nodded and looked away

still holding your hand he took you to sit on a bench, facing each other. both of you wondering what will come out of this conversation

“y/n, i miss you, i was a horrible boyfriend i should’ve noticed how bad you were doing and comfort you instead of being a total douchebag, it’s just that...” he stopped for a while, thinking of the right words to say. “i just want the best for you, and i should’ve known vb isn’t your dream but i know how much potential you have and i just want the best for you.”

you couldn’t help but soften and the bluntness of your boyfriend, you knew he was genuine

“i don’t want to loose you y/n, and i promise to do my best to be a better boyfriend. please accept my apology,” you couldn’t help but breakdown infront of him

that’s it, you reached your peak and here you were sobbing in your boyfriend’s arms who was rubbing your back, trying to comfort you

he sure was taken aback when he saw you crying like that, he had never seen you like that and he never dealt with this type of situation but somehow he knew you needed to let everything out

he kissed the top of your head, whispering things like “everything is gonna be fine”

“i just got so stressed out, volleyball, academics, relationships... and i wanted to be the best but i couldn’t handle this much pressure and i should’ve told you how i felt but i bottled up thinking i could handle it,” you managed to say between your sobs. “ i love you too and i don’t want to loose you toshi,” he hugged you tighter after this sentence

“it’s alright love, i should’ve been here for you that’s the point of being together, it’s to lift a certain weight on each other,” he cupped your face in his big hands, wiping your tears, “no more secrets now, we’re here for each other,” you nod and he gently presses his lips against yours

“i love you, and i am here for you, please stop crying i hate to see my s/o this way especially when i suck at comforting you,” he made you chuckle

you’ve never seen this side of ushijima, you knew he was trying his best right now, but you were glad you saw it today; it proved that he really loved you and you felt happy to have him by your side

“i love you too, toshi,” you hugged him tight and he kissed your forehead

both of you feeling relieved to know that your relationship was strong enough and you’d be able to count on each other and go through anything by each other’s side

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ijenoyou · 3 years

Text

Out of my league.

kun x reader.

summary; he always admired from afar but not this time.

requested. send one!

warnings; none haha i mean it includes mentions of gummy bears lol fluff and humor.

notes; sooooo i’m sorry this took so long to finally post (˃̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣ ) but i was quite busy with school (it’s kicking my ass lol) anyways remember english isn’t my first language sooo ignore the mistakes if you see one lmao

Kun was always the one between all his friends that only admired girls from afar. Of course not in a weird way, he likes to admire the beauty of each one of them and later on forget about it.

But he couldn’t forget about you.

You were a new transferred student who happens to be best friends with his own friend, Lucas.

Kun first saw you at the mini gathering Lucas was doing at his apartment. When he entered his friends home he saw you sitting next to Sicheng, talking about which color of gummy bears tastes better.

“Yellow is the best one.” You said while taking one of the bag you were holding.

“You’re crazy! They taste so bad, red ones are the winner here.” Sicheng defended his posture on the argument making you roll your eyes faking annoyance.

You were about to speak again until Kun interrupted you.

“I think the yellow ones are tasty.” He softly spoke making you and Sicheng turn towards him.

He didn’t know what overcame him to speak out like that. He was always sitting in silence while hearing his friends talk, but not this time.

When he didn’t get any answer he started to regret his decision until you smiled.

“See? He knows about good taste.” You pushed your friend with your shoulders and stood up from your sitting position. “I’m Y/N.”

Kun made sure his hands weren’t sweaty before taking yours in between his.

“Kun.”

Sicheng watched the whole scene with a weird expression on his face, he turned his head towards Lucas who was busy playing tetris on his phone, he pinched his arm to get his attention.

“Ow! What was that for?” Lucas answered and started to rub his arm, trying to calm the burning he felt from Sicheng’s fingers.

“Look at them.” He whispered and nodded towards you and his quiet friend.

“What about them?”

“What about them?! Kun never talks to girls out of the blue and Y/N never smiles to boys like she just did with him.”

After saying that, Lucas’s eyes widened. He snapped his head upwards and searched for the both of you. He found you next to Kun at the kitchen counter, making a drink that included those disgusting yellow gummy bears you liked so much.

“Oh god.” He whispered to Sicheng. “I’ve never seen her like that.”

“I know!” Sicheng answered with excitement.

He knew you way before Lucas, you and him were neighbors since baby’s and stayed friends all this time. So he definitely knows how you react around other guys.

You always tried to be polite but never gave them a single smile or stuff like that. You only did that with Sicheng and Lucas since they were practically your only friends alongside your roommate. They always joked about how you hate men and that the day you smile at one for real that will be because he’s the love of your life.

“I didn’t know Kun has a girlfriend.” Xiaojun said making Lucas and Sicheng flinch.

“Yeah, they look cute.” Ten answered and placed his hand on Xiaojun’s back.

“How did you guys get in?” Lucas questioned with surprise.

Ten pointed towards the other couch in the room, Hendery was playing red hands with Yangyang.

“Yang opened the door for us.” Ten said while taking one green gummy bear out of Sicheng’s bag.

“But how did they got in? They weren’t here before!”

Before anyone could say anything a strong laugh could be heard in the whole place. The six boys turned their heads and saw you and Kun laughing loudly at something he was showing you on his phone.

“Okay! Why don’t we play a game while waiting for our food?” Lucas asked everyone, grabbing your and Kun’s attention.

And that’s how you ended up almost choking Ten for hiding his uno cards by sitting on top of them so he could win. Two hours went by and it was time for you to leave.

“Damn i’m so full.” Hendery spoke while trying to keep his eyes open. “I’m getting food coma.”

You patted his head. “Good luck with that.”

You stretched your arms and decided to start putting your shoes on.

“Well, it’s was nice but I have to go back to my place, Wendy needs help with a project.”

You said goodbye to everyone and before you could say anything to Kun he decided to speak first.

“I’ll walk you.” A blush spread on your cheeks and the boys didn’t fail to notice it but said nothing about it.

“Don’t worry Kun.” You smiled and placed the hood of your hoodie on your head. “I live a few flats from here but if you one day want to come by just let me know.”

“Sure.” Kun tried to suppress a smile and nodded.

“Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow guys!” That was the last thing you said before leaving.

The whole place was silent. Until Kun turned and saw all of his friends holding each other trying not to scream.

“What?” He asked.

“You like her!”

“She likes you!”

“I’m going to cry, our Kunnie finally spread his wings out.”

He couldn’t understand a single thing his friends said and decided to ignore them.

————

You first day at your new collage was great so far. You didn’t see any of the boys at all since all of them were majoring in different things. Expect for Kun.

“I didn’t know you were into law.” He spoke behind you.

You turned surprise and smiled.

“Hello there.”

He sat next to you, putting his backpack on the floor and took out his laptop with the rest of his materials for the class.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your major?” You asked while pressing the ‘on’ button of your laptop.

“You never asked.” Kun playfully answered and you softly punched him on the shoulder.

After that, the class started. Two long hours and Kun couldn’t be more surprised by you.

Since you were new, the teacher had his target on you. He asked a lot of question to you to see if you were capable of answering, which you did gaining a good response from the teacher.

Kun knew you were smart. At the reunion everytime you spoke you did it with such a smart input, like you had all of the right words.

“We have free class right now, so... vending machine?” He asked and you nodded.

Weeks went by like that. You and him spending most of the time together.

You study with him, eat with him, laugh with him.

The boys were surprised that at this point you and him haven’t kissed at least.

“Not even a tiny peck?” Ten pinched his fingers together while asking.

Kun shook his head and the boys groaned.

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.” He softly said and started to play with his fingers, a nervous habit he developed with the years. “And we don’t know if she even likes me like that!”

Sicheng gasped.

“Are you dumb?”

“Not even close, why?”

“There’s no time for jokes!” Sicheng’s dramatic voice appeared. “trust me with this dude, she likes you.”

Kun sighed and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

“Y/N is way out of my league.”

————

“How come your roommate is never here?”

“Uh, Wendy usually sleeps at his boyfriends.” You answered while searching a show to watch on netflix.

You decided to lay your head on his shoulder and he decided to place his on top of yours. You decided on watching Twilight again and he groaned making you poke fun at him.

“Again? We’ve watch this like a million times!” He expressed his annoyance.

“And? It’s good so shut it.”

The movie began, it was making him sleepy. He could tell you the whole scrip even in his sleep. That’s so many times you’ve made him watch it with you.

“Are you tired?” You asked and took your head off his shoulder to look at him.

“Yeah, I was busy so I forgot about the essay Ms. Kang gave us, I finished it up in one night.”

His ‘busy’ meant going with you to this art exposition about candy in which they were selling a giant gummy bear, he got you the yellow one and he couldn’t forget they way your face lit up with happiness when he gave it to you after a few days.

“Why don’t you sleep here? You can have my bed and I’ll sleep in Wendy’s”

He nodded at your proposal and sighed. Too tired to even say anything. He was about to continue watching the movie but he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips. Shinning bright because of the grenade chapstick he gifted you the other day.

The conversation he had with the boys kept on replaying on his mind.

Fuck it.

He pressed his lips against yours. You let out a tiny gasp in surprise but soon after decided to relax.

You tilted your head to the side so you could return his kiss while placing your hand on his cheek. It was a quick kiss but the softness and love was there, and it made you feel for the very first time, full of love.

“I’m in love with you.” He said in a whisper.

You caressed his skin with your fingers, admiring his features under the artificial light that came from the TV.

“I—“

You couldn’t think straight. Too in love with the idea of love. So instead of saying anything, you took him by the back of his neck and drew him close to you, reconnecting your lips with his.

“Be mine.”

————

The boys couldn’t believe their eyes.

“W-What? W-When?” Lucas stuttered.

“Wow, he finally made a move.” Hendery said while sipping on his coca-cola.

A few tables away from them, you and Kun were eating a small cake, feeding each other and sharing sweet kisses.

“Woo! Go Y/N! Go Kun!” Ten shouted to make them feel embarrassed.

You tried to hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest and stuck out your hand with direction towards Ten, folding your fingers except for the middle one.

Kun laughed at this antics and pressed a peck on the crown of your head.

He also was in love with the idea of love.

#qian kun x reader #qian kun scenarios #qian kun angst #nct x reader #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv x reader #wayv angst #kun x reader #kun scenarios

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anneapocalypse · 2 years

Text

Dragon Age: Origins Re-Play (City Elf Rogue)

Crosspost. Originally posted on dreamwidth on 5/5/20.

Warnings: discussion of fictional sexual violence and coercion, abusive relationships, canon-typical power dynamics and political power structures.

After all these years, I think I've found my favorite Warden.

Well, let me back up.

It's been a long time since I've fallen down the Dragon Age well. I put it like that because picking up this game always seems to mean I get deeply immersed, and the game takes over as much of my life as I can reasonably allow until it's out of my system and I'm ready to move on. So needless to say, I don't play all that much, because I can't really afford that most of the time! But if there were ever a time to fall facefirst into a fantasy world with fictional problems I can actually solve, now would be it. And now that I'm through the first game, here is a long and rambling entry all about the experience and the thoughts on the game and the universe that this new playthrough has given me.

I dove into Origins a couple weeks ago with the intent of replaying the whole series… and actually finishing Inquisition this time around. And uh, playing all the DLC I never got to, oops. It's not for lack of interest I never played them all, and I never actually meant to skip them; I was holding out on Witch Hunt, for example, because I always meant to play a male Warden and romance Morrigan but I just never got all the way through that playthrough and most of the time I prefer to play a female character so it's probably just never going to happen. [Edited to add: Famous last words, Apocalypse.] In a more general sense, despite beating the main game a couple of times, I'd never quite found a favorite character and definitive playthrough I would carry forward into the rest of the games. I've played through most of the origins and started several characters I was fond of, but I haven't completed one since my second playthrough.

Despite my love for the games, Dragon Age fandom also isn't one I've delved far into, though I did skirt the edges for a few years (and you'll find a few poems set in the universe if you dig into my AO3). I found BioWare fandoms to be particularly… volatile, and I had the unfortunate experience of encountering a lot of people with a lot of opinions about the "right" way to play the games, which pretty much runs contrary to the entire way I think about RPGs. My way of enjoying a video game is no more right than anyone else's, and with every playthrough the way I see the story and the characters is heavily colored by the character I've chosen to play. I think that's part of the fun. With games like these, every playthrough is a new story.

Gameplay Thoughts

I decided to play on Casual this time around, as I've already beaten the game a couple of times and I'm more interested in experiencing the story than in making the combat challenging. I enjoy the combat, but I don't enjoy getting stuck and struggling over and over to beat an enemy without dying.

Although the game will allow you to do the main quests preceding the Landsmeet in any order, they actually scale by difficulty in a specific order (as detailed here) and so on a higher difficulty or as an inexperienced player, it is very possible to stumble into a high-level quest too soon and get stuck, as I did multiple times on my first playthrough. I'm a much more experienced player now, with a much better understanding of the game mechanics, so I'm much less likely to get stuck now. And of course I could simply do the quests in the optimal order—but that also dictates which companions will be available for which quests. (For example, if you always do Broken Circle first, you'll never have the opportunity to recruit Zevran before that quest and you'll never get to see his Fade nightmare.)

So playing on Casual actually broadens my options for role-playing and character interactions quite a bit! And on this playthrough, that's what I'm here for.

I also made a point on this playthrough of exhausting the companion dialogue branches as soon as they became available so as not to miss anything. This can be a little comical at times, as it's possible with most companions to rack up approval points very quickly through dialogue, and thus you can advance relationships very quickly if you choose the right responses—and that's why, in the past, I've sometimes tried to space out the conversations just to roleplay a relationship progressing more organically. In doing so, though, I've definitely missed some things! I heard dialogue I've never heard before on this playthrough, and even played through a companion quest I've somehow always failed to unlock despite knowing it existed.

I also managed to accidentally start romancing Leliana while I was already romancing Zevran, which was entertaining. I do enjoy the fact that if you tell Leliana she's welcome to join you and Zevran, she sounds surprised but interested, and I wish it were possible to actually romance them both as a triad! Sadly, the game is not built for polyships, so I had to load a save to avoid creating a love triangle and breaking her heart. I always save before making the rounds in camp so I didn't lose any progress.

Character Creation

My first two playthroughs were both Cousland, romancing Alistair; human rogue just happened to be the first origin I chose, and the second was my "do-over" playthrough in which I actually consulted walkthroughs and did all the sidequests and got all the cool stuff I missed on my first, spoiler-free playthrough. This tends to be how I play RPGs. I've also started several unfinished playthroughs, and at this point I think the only origin I haven't played through is dwarf noble. I'll probably play through it sometime just to see it, but I doubt I'll complete the game; after two Cousland runs I've had my fill of nobles and would much rather play an underdog. [ETA: And that's 0 for 2.]

After some deliberation I decided this playthrough would be a city elf rogue. I almost always play a rogue; I have no interest in warriors [ETA: Okay, really, past!Anne, this is just getting embarassing], and while mages are cool, I just have a preference for daggers and archery and subterfuge. I also decided I'd be romancing Zevran. It was a tough call between him and Leliana, but I thought my scrappy city elf would have a lot more in common with the Antivan assassin.

And thus was born Ilana "daggers at dawn" Tabris! Alas, I am playing on console at the moment and the 360 doesn't have a built-in screenshot feature, so until I employ some more creative methods (or do a PC playthrough for screenshots) I don't have a good picture of her at the moment to share.

The City Elf Origin

For my readers not familiar with Dragon Age, in this setting elves are a marginalized people; they were formerly enslaved in Ferelden, and still are in some other nations. There is a cultural divide between Dalish elves, who live nomadic lives committed to reclaiming and preserving their cultural heritage, and non-Dalish elves, who may live in impoverished "alienages" within major cities, or work as servants for land-owning humans. It's easy to see some parallels to real-world marginalized groups in the Dragon Age elves and there are plenty of valid critiques to be made based on seeing the elves through that lens. When it comes to in-game immersion, I'm of the opinion that the story works best if you don't assume a direct parallel to any one specific group, and that's all I'll say about that at the moment.

The city elf rogue origin is a rough one, probably the roughest in the game, and this is a game where one possible origin is the player character's entire family being murdered. In the city elf origin, the PC's cousin is raped just offscreen; the PC rescues her and several other women from further brutality but arrives too late to stop what happens to Shianni, though they do have the option to kill the men responsible. Whether this was a good storytelling decision on the part of BioWare is another conversation for another day. Suffice it to say I've seen this origin before and I knew what was coming, and for that reason I honestly never figured this origin would be a favorite for me.

So it was a surprise that Ilana has turned out to be my favorite character I've built yet in Origins. But there is more to the city elf origin than that one awful event, and there are some things I uniquely like about the Warden being an elf who grew up in the Denerim alienage, keenly aware of human politics and their own status relative to it, but also surrounded by a close-knit community. I think it gives the Warden a unique perspective, just as the Dalish elf or circle mage or Dwarf commoner have their own unique perspectives.

Companionable Thoughts

Through some dialogue I think I missed on previous runs, I realized that prior to the battle of Denerim, Alistair seems to have a lot of faith in Loghain. I suppose this makes the betrayal cut that much deeper.

I've always had mixed feelings about hardening Alistair because I don't particularly like the way that conversation goes, or the way the game frames Goldanna as a bitter shrew and a gold-digger when in fact she's an impoverished working mother trying to get by who has little patience for a well-heeled stranger barging into her life and asking for her attention and affection. I'm not saying Alistair doesn't have a right to be upset, but I think the dialogue as written doesn't really allow for the Warden to sympathize with Goldanna's side of things—as indeed a Warden who grew up in poverty might do. I also don't think the dialogue option, "Everyone is out for themselves. You should learn that," quite nails what Alistair's real problem is.

I can however appreciate that the spirit of "hardening" Alistair is supposed to be convincing him to stand up for himself—and that the results of said hardening can be something of a mixed bag.

Seeing him through the eyes of a new player character gave me a new perspective on Alistair. It really stood out to me this time around how much he saw the Grey Wardens as a family above all else, despite having been recruited a mere six months ago. That's certainly enough time to get attached to people, but it's also deeply colored by Alistair's longing for a real family, and I think it's fair to say he projects that desire onto the Wardens, sometimes to a fault. At the Landsmeet, for example, if he's appointed to duel Loghain he will kill him no matter what, even when it ruins the plans he and the Warden had previously agreed upon, because he takes Duncan's death extremely personally and is unwilling to set those feelings aside for anything. When the Warden discuss the future of the Grey Wardens with him, he is still hung up on the fact that things will never feel the same, rather than the fact that the order must be rebuilt and maintained for whenever the next Blight comes.

None of this is to disparage Alistair as a character; he's a character I like, and I think his flaws make for a more interesting story no matter what the Warden's relationship to him ends up being.

I think it's easy to see, though, how Alistair's view of the Grey Wardens differs from Duncan's. One thing that was neat in this playthrough that I hadn't seen before was that I had Ilana do some stealing in the camp at Ostagar. Turns out, if Duncan sees you stealing, he'll praise your skill, but warn you that you should practice that skill with caution, because the law will not be kind to a thief, and your status as a Grey Warden will not always help you. It's one of many small things that demonstrate Duncan's commitment to stopping the Blight at any cost, and his understanding that they need everyone they can get. In the same vein, he points out to the city elf upon their conscription that it is not an act of charity.

This becomes relevant later. Particularly for this playthrough, because I'd decided early on that I would be conscripting Loghain, which I'd never done before and was interested to see how it played out. But more on that later!

Somehow, I have managed to miss Leliana's companion quest entirely on all my previous playthroughs, possibly because I didn't exhaust all the dialogue options at the right times—but the wiki also tells me there was a known bug, so it might not be my fault at all! The encounter with Marjolaine is very brief; what's really important is the conversation with Leliana that comes after.

It was especially significant to me that I had already taken Leliana to the Urn of Sacred Ashes, where the Guardian told her that she made up her vision of the Maker for attention.

And the thing is… I sort of believe him? That is to say, I don't think the Maker spoke directly to Leliana, but I do think that she believed that, at least for a time. If you listen to the way she describes the dream or vision she had, it's very vague, a series of images open to interpretation. I don't think Leliana consciously made up a story for attention. I do think that Marjolaine was an emotionally abusive partner in ways that long predated her betrayal. Leaving her left Leliana with some deep wounds that even the Chantry could not fully heal. She still had a need to believe that someone was commanding her and looking after her as Marjolaine had done. Not having fully examined those wounds and the emotions surrounding them, she simply found a replacement for Marjolaine in the meantime, one that gave her the sense of direction and security that she had lost. So in a sense, the Guardian is correct that she had a need to feel special, and chosen. But I don't believe it was conscious. I think Leliana truly had what she interpreted as a religious experience, and later, she has the opportunity to examine those feelings and experiences with a more critical eye.

Since I'd never triggered the companion quest before, seeing Leliana hardened was also new for me, and I must say that all of this makes Inquisition!Leliana (at least what I've seen of her in my incomplete playthrough) make much more sense to me. She hasn't lost her love for the Maker or the solace she found in the Chantry, but she has accepted that the life of a bard suits her better than the life of a cloistered sister. The Leliana we meet in Inquisition is a Leliana who has found a way to keep both of these things in her life, and that seems to me like a good thing. I haven't finished Inquisition, of course, and it's been a while since I played it, so my thoughts may change when I get there. But these are my present thoughts.

I hadn't actually planned on doing the Dark Ritual this playthrough. I've really never liked it, because coercing Alistair into having sex with someone he hates feels uh... bad, and the cutscene makes him look so distressed, it's just... always left a bad taste in my mouth. The idea was I'd conscript Loghain and have him die killing the Archdemon. Somehow it didn't occur to me that with Alistair leaving the party and Loghain in his place, it would be Loghain taking part in the ritual, not Alistair.

So I had to play through it once just to see, and it honestly came across much less creepy to me. Loghain seems a little perplexed, maybe, but not distressed, certainly not visibly repulsed as Alistair is. It didn't feel coercive in the way it had with Alistair, and in the end, I decided to keep it.

Romantic Inclinations

I was briefly very tempted to romance Leliana, because I do love her and I've never completed a romance playthrough with her. But I knew Zevran was going to be the best fit for Ilana and I was determined to see that one through.

And it was so, so worthwhile. I ended up absolutely loving Zevran's love story. I love that it can start out as more of a friends-with-benefits situation, in which the characters sleep together early on and flirt a lot and only after Zevran is free of the Crows do they confess that they have well and truly fallen for one another. I like that Zevran gets scared when he realizes how deep his feelings for the Warden are, and I enjoy the way that resolves. And I like the fact that even when they are in love, neither of them ask the other for promises.

I am well acquainted with Alistair's romance, and make no mistake, I did enjoy it greatly—but it's very complicated. Alistair is inexperienced in both relationships and sex, his feelings about the Grey Wardens are deeply tied up in his desire for a family, and he is unwillingly at the center of the political conflict in Ferelden because of his parentage. All of these things deeply affect his romance, and in fact they're part of the appeal of that story. That Alistair's personal flaws can come out more starkly in romancing him is also a feature, not a bug to me.

I remember being a bit taken aback during my first playthrough (in which I romanced Alistair and did not harden him) when right before they had sex he told my Cousland he couldn't imagine being without her, and then almost immediately after he said he had no idea what being King would mean for them. It was startling to realize that despite his feelings he wasn't necessarily committed to standing up for the Warden being his queen—and that's with a Warden who's a noble! But if anything that enhanced the story for me; less fairy-tale perfect, but a more realistically flawed character. (Jolene Cousland, it should be noted, had no such qualms; I played her as a benevolent but kind of selfish woman who was used to getting her way, and she put Anora on the throne and kept Alistair in the Wardens with her purely so that she would never have to share him with anyone!)

Alistair's romance is one that feels fairy-tale sweet but doesn't necessarily have a happy ending when it collides with duty and politics and Alistair's own flaws, and I do like that about it, for what it is!

Zevran, on the other hand, is much more the "bad boy with a sad past saved by true love" trope, certainly just as appealing in its own way! I think for my own part, at least right now, Zevran just appeals to me more. I like that he's more experienced and less sentimental; I enjoy his sauciness and I love watching him open up to the Warden about his past as they grow close. And though the ending slides are not all necessarily canon, it does please me that Zevran is said to stay with the Warden and help train new Wardens though he never becomes one himself, which is pretty much exactly what I was already headcanoning.

Theories

I found myself thinking about the nature of the Guardian of the Urn of Sacred Ashes this time around. It's never quite explained how he has lived for so long (though there may be some canon on that that I haven't gotten to yet). It's possible the power simply comes from the Ashes, or from Andraste herself somehow. Given Wynne's experience with a Fade spirit joining with her to extend her life, I wonder if it's possible that the Guardian has also been sustained by a spirit who approves of his motives.

So, knowing what we know now… Goldanna definitely isn't Fiona's child, right? From the sound of it, she was actually the child of a servant who died in childbirth. It's unclear to me at this time whether Maric is in fact Goldanna's father as well (after reading The Stolen Throne, I am confident he is not), but it doesn't sound like it. So the confusion arises from the untruth Alistair was told about his mother; she was never a serving girl, and Goldanna is probably not related to him in any way.

Worldbuilding Thoughts

One thing that struck me early in the game is that the priest presiding over the elven weddings, while she pleads with Vaughan to leave them alone, is really powerless to stop his violence against the elves. I think this says a certain amount about the position of the Chantry relative to the nobility. Priests may be exclusively women in this world but it does not follow that Thedas is an egalitarian society; it very much isn't, and there is ample dialogue throughout the games to support this.

One thing I spent a lot of time thinking about in this playthrough was land, and landholding as sociopolitical power in this universe. It was a pleasant surprise to find that I did have the ability to enact some change for elves in Ferelden; among the boons Anora will grant you as Queen, if you say you want your people treated fairly, she will declare the Alienage part of the bannorn and appoint an elven Bann (I appointed Shianni). And with the Arling of Amaranthine granted to the Wardens, as long as the Warden-Commander is an elf, that's two elven voices in the Landsmeet. The Landsmeet holds most of the political power in Ferelden. This is certainly not an instant fix for the marginalization of elves in Thedas, but it's a step, and a big one. (This is also part of the reason I don't care for the idea of the Warden-Commander stepping down after just a few years when they could continue to wield that influence.)

According to the wiki, there is an ending slide indicating that if Shianni is made Bann of the alienage, she's later murdered, and there are riots in the alienage prompting a crackdown from the monarchy, so… that's not great. I didn't actually see that slide in my game, however, because it's bugged, but I suppose it is still canon.

But my point isn't so much where things are better for elves following the Fifth Blight—I'd agree with Cyrion that the influence of an elven Hero can only be a good thing in the long run, but also systematic injustice doesn't just vanish overnight. What really interested me was the larger question of land as power. So long as Ferelden works the way it does, as a feudal monarchy/aristocratic oligarchy, controlling land is the only way to have real political power. (This is not only true under feudalism, by the by, but that's another conversation for another day!) Elven oppression isn't just about humans being mean to elves, or elves living in poverty. So long as elves are systematically prevented from holding land, whether Dalish or city elves, they will continue to be disenfranchised. Land is power; that's why Amaranthine is such a big deal, why the Alienage Bann is such a big deal.

The principle that land is power also has ramifications for mages, and that made something click for me that I never really put together on previous playthroughs, despite the fact that it's basically laid out for you in The Arl of Redcliffe quest. The whole reason Arlessa Isolde goes to such lengths to hide Connor's magic is that mages cannot hold land or titles. If Connor is a mage, Eamon has lost his heir. Now I don't doubt that Isolde genuinely loves Connor just as her son; she's willing to die to save him, after all, without hesitation. But his magic also means that the Guerrin line will be broken unless Isolde bears another heir. And as we can see from his opinions about Alistair and the line of Calenhad, Eamon is the kind of old aristocrat who puts great stock in bloodlines. Without an heir, his family line is ended, his lands lost.

(This also comes up in Dragon Age II, by the by, with the mention of the Amell family being tarnished by magic in their bloodlines, but we'll get to DAII in another post!)

Anyway, this all puts into sharper focus the systematic disenfranchisement of elves and of mages as well. So often in Dragon Age, the oppression of mages is put in terms of their being locked in a tower and hunted by templars if they resist. And to be clear, those are in fact the primary stakes for most individuals. In DA2, in particular, we see that abuse of mages by templars is a very real problem.

But at a societal level, the disenfranchisement of mages comes down to this: mages functionally cannot own land. No matter how powerful or wealthy their family, magic strips the individual of property rights under Ferelden Chantry law. There are no mages in the Landsmeet, by design. I would imagine that a mage Warden being granted the Arling of Amaranthine would be almost as big a shake-up as an elf. The wiki tells me that a mage Warden can ask that the Circle be granted independence, though this, like the Alienage Bann, seems to also provoke a backlash. Though I guess it's been retconned now, the ending slide for an independent Circle had Cullen murdering three apprentices and eventually escaping from prison, "a madman and a threat to any mage he encountered."

Land is power in Ferelden, and as long as this society functions the way it does, the only way to real political power for elves, mages, or Grey Wardens is to hold land.

DLC

There is something a little comical to me about the montage of Cailain's last days and his death that you see when the Warden gazes on his body in Return to Ostagar. I'm not exactly saying there should be no emotion attached to Cailan's death, but well… the Warden barely met the man, and as a city elf Ilana Tabris was not exactly overcome with reverence for the King of Ferelden. It might be more appropriate framed by Alistair than the Warden, but even Alistair's grief at Ostagar is much more centered around Duncan than Cailan.

I haven't yet managed to get very deeply attached to Shale as a character (though that could still change), but I do appreciate her relevance to the Orzammar questline and her own search for answers about her past.

I never actually got around to playing the pre- and post-game DLC for Origins, and was very excited to finally experience them as a part of a playthrough I was so happy with.

Leliana's Song was great fun. It definitely provides some insight into Leliana's life before the Warden; it's one thing to hear about it, another thing to see it through her eyes. I think the ending really drives home the sting of Marjolaine's betrayal and the loss of belonging and purpose that drove Leliana to the Chantry.

Going into Awakening, I was initially unsure exactly how long after the end of the main game it was, and what I could assume to have transpired in the meantime. The Warden-Commander seems unfamiliar with Vigil's Keep so one has to assume this is their first time going there. I do find that a little odd once I realize that it's six months since the Archdemon was defeated, but I suppose there are plenty of ways to fill in those blanks.

I also have to wonder when Warden's Keep was written in relation to Awakening, because the existence of Soldier's Peak ends up feeling a little redundant with the Wardens being given the Arling of Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep. I say a little redundant, because Warden's Keep is largely about Grey Warden history, where Awakening deals with other themes I'll get into later. And maybe the ending of Warden's Keep is more meant to imply that it becomes the Drydens' new home, but I like Soldier's Peak and the idea of it becoming a Grey Warden base of ops again, and the fact that the game gives you a storage chest there certainly implies it's at least a little bit that.

The story sort of requires that there be Grey Wardens at Vigil's Keep when the darkspawn attack, and also that none of them survive so the Warden-Commander can have everything fall back on their shoulders and also feel the necessity of recruiting more Wardens. It does feel a little bit like plot necessity, like oh, those Orlesian Wardens did finally arrive, but you never got to meet them and they're dead now, oops. And I think the explanation for why they were all killed when that wasn't actually the intent was a little flimsy. Nevertheless, it functions to get the story rolling, and I do like this story.

I enjoyed King Alistair's brief visit and the tension that allows. I don't know how intentional it was, or whether this scene just doesn't take Alistair's possible falling out with the Warden into account, but I appreciated that while there's an option to respond to him sarcastically (which I of course took), Alistair doesn't sound hostile himself, just kind of… wistful. It doesn't feel discontinuous with the falling-out necessarily. There's distance, but he can't quite hide that he still cares.

As this was my first playthrough of Awakening, I did miss a few things, accidentally locking myself out of completing a couple of sidequests and not triggering all the companion quests. I will definitely be replaying Awakening at some point and probably with Ilana so that I can complete her story the way I'd like.

Saving the city of Amaranthine was not a difficult choice, especially with the Keep fully upgraded. Whether or not to kill the Architect was a much more difficult choice. I played through the ending in which I killed him, slept on it, and decided to load and play the other ending, and sparing him ended up being Ilana's choice.

I love the letter from Zevran found in the Codex during Awakening. It makes sense that he would have some unfinished business to take care of with the Crows and it's a good enough reason to explain his absence. The letter is very characteristically Zevran and the closing of "Yours always" is so sweet.

I didn't love Awakening's ending slide for Zevran quite as much, as it adds an ambiguity to the outcome of their relationship, which… it doesn't really ruin anything, because it never says for sure what happened between them, I guess it just seemed unnecessary to me to cast doubt on what the main game's ending slide had implied was a happy ending in which Zevran stays with the Warden. That is the ending I prefer, and I choose to read the Awakening end slide as more hearsay than truth. (Awakening's slides are already not fully canon; Anders did not in fact stay with the Wardens, but eventually left for the Free Marches and wound up in Kirkwall.) And looking at certain wiki entries pertaining to Inquisition, it looks as though the Warden and Zevran do stay together, so I shall be content with that. This is all, of course, through the lens of me being freshly off playing through this romance and being in starry-eyed love with it! None of this is bad storytelling, just me being sentimental about it.

Likewise I'm not in love with Awakening's ending slide for the Warden herself. I understand that by indicating that the Warden-Commander stepped down from that role not long after the Blight, the series is relieved of any future need to account for their whereabouts. And again, looking at some canon from Inquisition, it looks like there are some good reasons for the Warden striking out alone. That said, I do prefer to imagine that Ilana remains Commander of the Grey for some years, as the rebuilding of the order is a task she takes quite seriously.

Regardless, I can certainly imagine Ilana would be ready for some respite following the events in Amaranthine, and that she would take that time to seek out Zevran in Antiva to aid him in his own quest, leaving Loghain to oversee the Wardens until her return.

Golems of Amgarrak I did not particularly enjoy, as it's mostly one big tedious puzzle. The connection to the Harvester in Dragon Age II is interesting, but all in all I'm not sure it's a DLC I would bother playing again. As it's not even mentioned in the Dragon Age Keep for importing into Inquisition, I doubt it would be any great loss to skip it.

Witch Hunt was short but satisfying, even as it raises many questions. I'm always happy to see Sandal again and it's neat that he's at the Circle Tower. I actually had a great time browsing all the library books in the Circle Tower, and it was one of the highlights of the DLC for me. Ariane isn't the most memorable character, and it's a little disappointing that her conflict with Morrigan resolves itself with no real interaction between the two of them; she and Finn definitely kind of feel like they're just thrown in so the Warden can have companions, and it's a short DLC so you don't get to spend much time with them, though I did find Finn to be a lot of fun. I was certainly entertained to find Ariane wearing armor identical to Ilana's.

In addition to that armor model, this DLC reuses a lot of environments to get you to Morrigan, and its real focus is that final confrontation.

I don't think it's a particularly expansive or cohesive DLC all told, but I did enjoy it, especially the ending. I like that it's still possible to end things on a friendly note with Morrigan, even if you can't go with her. I know Morrigan shows up in Inquisition and that's about the extent of what I know, but I'm pretty excited to find out what she's been up to in the meantime.

The one DLC story I've left unplayed is the Darkspawn Chronicles, which I honestly don't have a ton of interest in, and for those who've played it, I'm curious if there's anything really interesting or canon-critical that I'm missing. BioWare is notorious for the fact that no content is truly optional if you're invested, and that has certainly become very clear to me with the rest of these DLC (and the novels, and the comics), but Darkspawn Chronicles is basically an AU from my understanding, and playing as a darkspawn does not really interest me. Am I missing anything? Let me know!

#blunders of thedas #anne does dragon age #crosspost

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soranihimawari · 2 years

Text

Happier than Ever

We are finally at the end of the Timeskip!Miya Osamu x Yakuza!Yn saga…

Read these in order: coffee black, food for the lawless

Rating: MDNI, nsfw scenes, violence, gun violence, allusions to yakuza lifestyle, etc. (this is basically more plot with sex scenes if you think abt it)

Summary: a meet the parents fused with osamu finally being told the truth about yn from the source herself, he chooses to make a life changing choice, encouraging her to see how they might not be “happily ever after,” but “happier than ever.”

Word count: 9K

Fun fact, this is how I pictured yn-chan’s older brother to be! I played the yazkuza games and it was a blast.

Around the Lunar New Year, you find yourself working double overtime with your colleasguet at the morgue. There were a lot of bodies and files to convert to update it before the cutoff date since the holiday seasons had started. Thankfully, the executive board decided there was more than enough left over from the budget your department was able to obtain one to two interns year round. The clock reads 20:37 (8:30p.m.) when you finally concluded the autopsy; the recorder was still on as you begin stitching the poor sap on the slab. Your intern that afternoon stands at the end of the silver table readying the hose.

“The cause of death for this old fellow is an overdose to adrenaline post the recent use of blood thinning agents in the last thirty-two hours. Liver temperature and rigor timestamps support this theory as well,” you say clearly into the device, thus pressing end. The next few minutes go by in silence as you both efficiently make an effort to clean up the mystery you solved.

“Do you think you ever get tired of being surrounded by the dead?” The intern asks,a steady diction in the way they speak to you is quite alluring. You inhale sharply and with a smooth exhale, you choose your next words carefully.

“No, never,” you answer. There is a smiling lilt in your voice. “Because the dead deserve as much respect as the next person. Death is only the beginning, so it is a tough job, but we are what we love, right Chiba-Chan?”

Your co-worker sticks out their tongue at you when the nickname is said aloud explaining that the Chan should be replaced with a different honorific.

“Would you rather have me call you one-chan?” You ask with a jovial tone and suddenly the demeanor changes.

“As long as you still get to be ‘sensei’ to me, teach,” the westernized titled makes you chuckle a bit.

“Alright,” you take a note of the time. “Is it ok if I leave you here to do the rest? Doctor Enni should be in with your relief as well in the next twenty minutes for the overnight shift. Leave all the …”

“Files on their desk that needs to be signed off and the recorder is set to replay in case they need to turn it in to the authorities. Sheesh, have some more faith in me, hah.”

You hang up your lab coat closet to the automatic sliding doors. “You know I do. Have a good night chibi-chan.”

Waving a hand over your shoulder, you place your badge on the end of your shirt as you make your way toward the elevators. The ride up to the main floors was a quiet one. The moment you had cell service, you make a phone call to hear a familiar voice.

“Hey there,” you greet as you leave the world of healing behind you. “Are you busy right now? … No, I haven’t eaten yet Osamu…Meet at your place? Ok.”

You place your phone back into your pocket, the badge clip is also put behind it as your cardholder wallet is located in the front one. You make it to the subway staton across the way in under fifteen minutes; there were a few people aboard the RLS lines which are the direct bullet ones to transport its passengers halfway across the town centers. You might have worked in the regional hospital in the heart of the metropolitan area, so it’s not too far of a stretch when the chimes of the late night patron rings through the empty onigiri shop.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” your boyfriend’s voice comes through the kitchen. However, he sees you sitting at the counter, a smile adorning your faces.

“Now I know you’re not turning away a hungry customer. What shall I do when my boyfriend hears about this?” You muse as he walks around the counter space to lock the door and turns off the neon sign.

“Good thing I know a scrub like ‘im, doc,” he says.

The last year or so has been filled with many milestones, a majority are categorized by the framed photos on the ‘hall of fame’ wall decorating the manager’s office of Onigiri Miya. Your first holiday together was captured in a photo where your brother’s gift of snapdragon blooms made the expression of surprise turn into one of intrigue. Osamu akss the importance of the flowers and he wasn’t prepared to hear you speak about the deceased caretakers who found you way before your brother did. Through mistified eyes he pulls you into the most sincere hug you had in a long time. Once you calm down and control your emotions, Osamu helps you move forward one step at a time. He kisses your temple when he says it’s ok to take a break especially when he mentions he took some time off to spend with you. Sure, the phone calls never stopped especially around Christmas week, yet things were going great.

Now, you’re both here, enjoying the quiet calm of each other’s company.

“I’ll just be a minute, ok love?” Osamu presses a kiss to your lips, untying his apron. His baseball cap is subsequently snatched from he top of his head as you place it on your noggin, giggling as he shakes his head at your antics. You meet him at the side door where he locks the second door after verifying all deadbolts are secured. Your boyfriend takes a hold of your hand as you two begin walking toward his flat.

Two hours pass before you are finally situated in front of the other. The stew on the kitchen stove is bubbling away, this time you stand in front of the gas stove, stirring its contents with a wooden spoon. Osamu’s footsteps are heard coming out of the shower, smelling of grass and the sea. Domestic life wasn’t quite your style, you told him once, but now you’ve dove into the deep end. Falling in love was never part of the plan since you still sought an out from the underground life you’ve successfully kept hidden away. In actuality, you have your brother to thank since your whereabouts professionally are still unknown to the lower members. Sure a few tabs were kept on you, yet the boss and his equally powerful ‘old’ lady are the ones who needed a monthly status report. So far, you are thankful things are quiet. Where you go after your shifts end are kept tightly under wraps since your brother makes a motion for the town square which includes Onigiri Miya to be considered a safe haven is in the final stages of being approved. Your brother notifies you about this development and you breathe a sigh of relief. As long as Osamu’s safe to do what he wishes and what he loves, then you are free to love him for a while longer. Your thoughts dance around all this in the hearth of the place where you spend most of your free time. The key you are presented by Atsumu on Christmas Day was another surprise since the twins thought it be best if you ever need a break from, “mah genius chef little bro, yer more than welcome to stay over with me…What? Ya already gave ‘em a key to yer place ‘Samu.”

Shaking your head when you place the spoon to rest in the ceramic ladle holder on the side, you feel Osamu’s presence grow stronger behind you.

“Hi pretty baby,” his voice is weary and warm against the right side of your neck. An arm wraps around your waist as you tilt your head to the side.

“Missed this,” you succumb to his advances quite quickly. You make a lewd remark about how setting the table is really a turn on, causing Osamu to efficiently obey you.

“Just say ya think it’s hot,” your lover teases you the moment the second bowl is set on the table.

“If I have to say it, then I don’t get to enjoy watching you flex your hospitality muscles for me,” you muse. “Besides, you need to eat something other than me every once in a while, handsome.”

Osamu shoots you an incredulous look, completely flushed as all blood drains from his face for a moment before thoughts of the previous bouts of sex clouded his mind.

“Still thinking about last time, huh?”

Your shirt you have since been bequeathed by Osamu, rides up slightly to show off the yellowing bruises his hands left behind when he held you above him. He was gentle enough, yet when he matches your tenacity, you retaliate in a mutual front. Each of you find yourselves building palaces in the humble bones that encases the heart that beats.

“Shaddup,” Osamu tries to bite back the grin he’s forming, but he fails the moment you kiss his cheek.

“Be good,” your voice taunts.

“For you? Always,” his answer makes you hum in approval.

With the dishes soaking in the sink, both of you agree to knock them out in the morning. You’ve both decided to enjoy the next couple of days off together. Perhaps a trip home to introduce you to the people who helped shaped him and his brother into who they are today sort of thing.

“So, what do you say?” Osamu whispers, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

You’re closing your eyes when you say in an equally low tone, “that sounds nice ‘Samu.”

You turn your body around to face him, using the heat he emanates from his chest to lull you into sleep. His right hand keeps your shoulder warm while his left runs through your hair when a confession of how he views you is the last word your conscious mind hears. Much to his surprise, you nod, agreeing automatically with him.

Dreams are vivid and bright, much like the morning rays. You’re on the phone currently with your brother who decided to check in on you since you mentioned context you have a long weekend ahead.

“Yes, really… oh for the last time, his folks said it was fine… what? No, I don’t know what kind of wine they like…shouldn’t you know what to get a lover’s parents?!…” a snicker is heard across the kitchen table where you were seated. Your boyfriend is in front of you making some pancakes listening to your side of the conversation with your brother. You mouth out a thank you toward Osamu who places another hot cake hs baxon top of the first two on your plate.

“I’ll figure it out… and yes, if it’s anything but ‘meeting the parents’ I’ll call you. Later ni-chan,” you press the end call button as an aggravated sigh escapes your nude lips. You seemed a bit peeved since Osamu said you didn’t have to bring anything else since you pretty much are the person most of his family was interested in meeting. Sure, you have had your moments with running amuck with Atsumu and not to mention the party from a couple months back…

“Osamu,” you mulled over your words before you sliced into your short stack.

“Hmm?”

Soft gray eyes glance up at your somber expression. You don’t know why nor how to explain the apologetic look you have, so you do what you do best: you enlighten him.

“You don’t want to go,” he guesses.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you begin. There’s hope in your demeanor now, so you make it known to Osamu why you are acting this way. When you explain, he just laughs baffled by your sudden admission of never meeting anyones parents. Then again, how were you going to phrase the only times you’ve done so is because your handlers needed someone silenced.

“I’m not exactly a normal person, with normal jobs…” you realize you said the second part so casually.

Osamu brushes it aside and agrees that he’d give you some time to think about joining him in doing home for a weekend. Suffice to say that when he sees you leaning against his car (parked on the side of his building) with a backpack and sunglasses, he bows his head grinning to himself. As you walk toward him, Osamu is suddenly very aware of how much he loves you. He presses a kiss to your hair and when you’re both about to drive off, you stick a hand out your window to block the glare from a few buildings behind you on the side mirror just to be sure. You breathe a sigh of relief, and when your boyfriend tells you it’s ok to nap, you nod, stifling a yawn. The glare from the rays suddenly doesn’t seem too strong anymore the minute you slide up your sunglasses.

Elsewhere, the scene plays out through the lens of a marksman’s telescope with the silencer still in place.

“The little duck has a friend…”

Your phone buzzes in your lap and when you check the caller ID, you open your eyes just a crack to glance over at Osamu who steadily taps his fingers to the beat of the radio. You grumble a little and he laughs, knowing you’re not the most articulate after a nap, yet he keeps his eyes on the road. Mile markers and road signs dictate it’s not too much further, so with your phone still making quite a small ruckus, you answer. The call was a warning with a troubled voice from your brother. Apparently he had to resort to a burner phone after he did a quick sweep of Osamu’s neighborhood place. You had an inkling someone from your organization had been following you a few weeks back, yet to make sure, you had texted your brother when you made up your mind about visiting Hyogo. Sure, maybe suggesting to Osamu to sleep over your place when you come back would be a good idea since your collection of weaponry in your closet cabinet, but more than often not in you’d wind up at his place with only kitchen knives at your disposal. Regardless, your brother mentions he found the sniper’s nest at the top of a building several meters away and he reassures you he will get to the bottom of who is making sure you’re carrying out your orders as necessary for the boss.

Osamu peers over his shoulder to take a look at you and you mutter a thanks while exhaling a sigh of relief. You end the call telling your brother how you’ll be back in a few days, mentioning perhaps now would be a great time to break the news to the love of your young life what kind of family you’re in. Your brother takes a deep breath and he advises you if anything at all, the truth will make or break your relationship. His voice is filled with compassionate concern when signing off since he has more work to uncover. By the tone, you figure you’d hear from the higher ups another tribunal would be held since your brother would probably silence the sniper permanently (disposing of the body with a chemical combination of sorts). Murderers and underground debt collectors are what usually filled your family, but living in the shadows moonlighting as a licensed professional would mean if you’re discovered, your license to practice would be revoked and a black dot on your records would be very hard to remove.

“Who was it?” Osamu pulls you from your muddled thoughts.

“Ni-san,” you put on a brave smile after noticing the billboard for the upcoming exits. You lean your head against the closed passenger side window, humming along with the music.

“Ah,” your boyfriend replies. There was a shy smile on his face when he remembered you giving your brother the finger while mid-kiss. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good actually. Excited for me since I’m meeting your folks, haha,” you hold your hand for him to take. Osamu laces his fingers through yours to hold your hand until the exit for his hometown comes up.

Couple of hours in the car allowed you to enjoy the rest of the day and early evening with your boyfriend the moment his family’s house comes into view. There were a few cars parked on the side of the driveway. The cars Osamu recognized as a few of his extended family was quite a surprise for him.

“What’s all this?” You ask quietly when he put the car in park.

“A Miya family reunion,” Osamu answered. He lets out a nervous chuckle before unbuckling his seatbelt. “I mentioned I’m coming home for a weekend with my girlfriend and we got ambushed by a family reunion…Shit.”

You shrug your shoulders letting him know that it’s ok and expressing you don’t really mind it at all.

“Shall we go and say hi?” You ask, an encouraging smile on your face seems to put your boyfriend at ease. He kisses your forehead after you undo your seatbelt. With little fanfare, he opens his door and comes around to open yours. Once the car is locked, both of you stretch your legs, walking toward the front door. You could hear the laughter and the ruckus caused by a relative asking his father when they’d all be meeting you. Osamu holds your hand and whispers something which makes your heart race: “Rain or shine sweetness, I will always love you.”

You have no time to return the gesture since Osamu swings the open door wide open to announce your joint arrival. All eyes were on you suddenly the moment there were loud welcoming cheers thus pulling you two apart. A bunch of polite hellos and friendlier hugs were exchanged until the noise dies down when you and Osamu are handed paper plates. His mother says there’s food in the kitchen for everyone since you’re the last two to arrive. The Miya family, if anything, are a bit noisy, but there is a lot of love emanating from the room. Minutes later, you are asked the questions about career, how did you meet their boy, etc. You answer each inquiry as quickly as you can in between stuffing your mouth full of delicious home cooking. Several hours later and with the final cousin leaving the main Miya house, you finally have a moment to collect yourself. You hear Osamu speak to his parents about life in the city more in depth while you stand in the kitchen. You had offered to help clean up the dinner serving plates along with the now emptied punch bowl. There was a tea kettle left on the stove, you think it would be best to make some in the morning for breakfast; the thought is a kind one since you’d be staying overnight for a few days.

“Yn-san is special to you, huh?” His mother’s gentle voice is endearing.

“What makes you say that oka-san?” Osamu shrugs. He is leaning back in the sofa chair in the living room.

“Honey, I noticed you looked at yn-san like the sun is pale compared to them,” she goes on. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way yn-san looks at you too...”

Osamu becomes quiet, sort of smirking while he glanced at his father too.

“Son, those eyes of theirs kept searching for you when the rest of the family kept asking questions. Seeking your approval after every noticeable ‘nice to meet ya’ and ‘sure, the city is nice, but this was a great way to meet you all.’”

“Those are the eyes of someone who loves you,” his mother continues. They continue to talk, wondering often about their eldest and his professional sports career, but the focus goes back toward you and Osamu’s relationship. With the dishes done, you lean against the awning facing the living room.

“We’re going to head to bed in a little bit, yn-san,” his mother says when she sees you standing there. “Don’t go to bed too late either, ok?”

She rises from the sofa and kisses her son’s hair, pats your cheek and beckons her husband to follow suit (for him, he does the opposite). You two say your good nights before moving to sit on the couch together.

“Your family is nice,” you compliment. “They’re a little loud, but they are loveable people, hah.”

“I’m glad ya like ‘em,” Osamu said, wrapping an arm around your waist. “But do ya like me?”

You have this pensive look on your face when you hum. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“What?” A gasp escaped his lips, a frown forming on his lips.

“I think—no, I know—I love you, Osamu,” you stifle a laugh when you’re suddenly pinned on the cushions. Osamu’s above you with a toothy grin, he asks you to repeat what you said (which you do) before his lips smash against yours. If he were still a teenager, he would have found this extremely hot at the thought of getting caught. Funnily enough, he still did as this little make out session continues when your hair is entangled in his hand. Your hands are carding through his hair when you feel one of his knees prop between your legs to make space for him to be more comfortable around you. When there is enough time to breathe, Osamu caresses your cheeks, chuckling at how adorable you look kiss-drunk alone. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, arching your eyebrows suggestively asking perhaps now would be a good time to unload the car then perhaps continue where both of you left off.

“Maybe we could sleep on Atsumu’s bed?” You suggest. You distinctly recall the first couple of times you had Osamu over your place and he told you about how his brother brought home his first serious girlfriend and in a drunken stupor the setter fucks his girlfriend in his brother’s bed.

“Ya know what? That ain’t a bad idea,” Osamu laughs with you before crawling back to his side of the couch to grab your things. “Wait here.”

“Sure thing baby.”

Two backpacks later, you find yourself in the twin’s old bedroom. The bunk beds were set with more ‘appropriate’ twenty-something bedding than before. As you glance around the room, you could tell which side of the room belonged to whom judging by the accolades from volleyball to cooking competitions. In all honesty, you don’t know nor think both you and Osamu could fit on one of the mattresses, however, you let him test this theory when you laid on your back on Atsumu’s bed.

“See? We do fit,” Osamu is triumphant when you both decide to pick up from where you two left off. In a matter of minutes clothes are being shed and flung to the floor, your quiet mewls keep Osamu’s hands focused when his hands reach down to play with your arousal between your legs. Your hips buck up because of the friction his hands are providing you, you’re encouraging him to continue.

“Easy now,” Osamu’s stern voice is softly purring in your ear. “I know yer worked up baby, but let me have my fun.”

“Fi~ah~ne,” you breathe, trying to sit up to have his hand at a better angle before his fingers start to piston in and out of you. You’re biting your lower lip and sighing his name more as he continues to ‘have his fun’ as he says. Osamu has a lustful smile while he works on building your first orgasm of the night and in a matter of minutes,right when you feel the coil within you start to get taut enough to snap, he tells you to let go. Your head lolls back and you are forcing yourself to be quieter when you seem like you’re out of breath, all glowing slightly with perspiration, your lover’s name on the tips of your lips. Osamu, chooses to remove his hand from your spasming core, licking his fingers that are covered in your arousal in front of you. You narrow your eyes when he does this.

“You’re too gawd-damn hot when you do this,” you feel Osamu’s other arm supporting your lower back. He hums, informing you how sweet you taste; you pull him closer to you, the physical contact ignites a more passionate response. Osamu’s lips trace over your neck and shoulders, then tactfully over your own. His actions cause you to lean back down on the mattress, sort of chuckling at how easily you comply with his advances.

“Pretty boy,” you whisper when you’re given a moment to breathe, both your hands cup his face. His nose brushes against yours when he chuckles at the compliment.

“We have to be quiet now love,” Osamu warns, pecking your brow. You nod, agreeing with the suggestion. The same hand from earlier finds its way down toward your heat when he asks for permission to make sure you’re properly prepared to accept his growing erection. You affirm him you can go for a little teasing a short while longer. A few moments of intimacy begins as it always has, gentle and kind. Until you feel your second orgasm brewing closer, you don’t cry out his name, no. You hold Osamu above you with one hand on his shoulder while you enjoy the way he feels pulsating within, and he has to silence your moaning with his mouth on yours.

Inside this room, you have eventually crawled out from underneath him to rest in front of him. Eventually, your second orgasm comes and crashes down on you and around you, you feel the world go bright. Knowing Osamu isn’t going to last any longer, you, although panting like you ran a marathon, allow yourself to sit up, still conjoined. Rocking your hips against his, you take pleasure in feeling his arms entangle themselves behind your back. Your eyes are blurred by tears of ecstasy when Osamu’s hands grip the tips of your hair, moving you up and down. You drive him further to his own end, thus allowing him to paint your inside white with his cum. There was no need in hiding how full he had made you feel, yet with you attempting to shush him, you realize together you made a mess on a bed that isn’t his (nor yours). You slow your movements as does he, sort of laughing in between breaths. You shake your head when Osamu says this was the best homecoming he had had since he graduated from culinary school. You shook your head, saying you couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

“I don’t know if I can look your mother in the eye tomorrow since I’m almost one-hundred percent sure she heard both me and you cum in here,” you say.

“Hah~yeah, but,” Osamu starts, holding you closer to his chest. You rest your head against his sternum, returning his gesture.

“C’mon, we should go clean up and probably change these sheets…”

Osamu pecks the crown of your head, muttering that fucking you in his brother’s bed must be one of the perks of coming back here with you.

Half an hour later, once you both were dressed in something to sleep in, you helped Osamu change the sheets on the bed you abused together. Afterwards, you find yourself curling into your boyfriend’s brother, slightly hissing at the soreness settling between your legs.

“Remind me to stretch more before you fuck me,” you mumble when he asks if you’re ok.

“Noted,” he replies. He stifles a yawn while drawing patterns with his fingers over your clothed shoulder. The ministration causes your eyes to grow heavily with sleep and with one final kiss to your forehead, you drift to sleep.

During breakfast the following morning, your boyfriend’s parents are sitting at the kitchen table. Your hair is a bit messy and still tousled from sleep, yet there is a small stack of toast and eggs on two plates in the middle. Your boyfriend’s father is sipping a cup of coffee while his mother is asking you if you had any plans for today with Osamu.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say before you pick up a slice of toast. “Maybe explore the town centers or visit Kita-san’s farm.”

“I’m sure you two will figure it out,” his mom says with a smile in her voice. “Would you like coffee or tea dear?”

“Coffee, please,” you answer. A mug is placed in front of you with the warm drink.

“Osamu is still asleep?” she asks.

You nod after you take a sip.

“Makes sense since you seem to tire him out,” his mother says. The woman is neither bashful or shy at all about knowing about her grown children’s sexlife. Then again, her comment makes you choke on your drink.

“Ma’am?!” your cheeks are a lot rosier suddenly while staring at his father for a minute, who just seems to nod along.

“What? We’re all adults here honey. You’re fine,” she continues giggling about your sudden blush. “Afterall, you’re the only significant other of Osamu’s that he has brought home in the last few years. Honestly, we’re both just glad he has time to find someone to love.”

“Ah,” you agree.

On the night before you’re scheduled to leave since you’re on call at the hospital, your boyfriend’s parents had a christening to attend on the other side of town, so the house was yours and Osamu’s for the day. After everything was packed and the last bit of laundry was hung to dry, you succumb to another lustful tumble in his sheets. You’re on your knees this time, propped up, more than ready to continue; your hair cascades to one side, finding it harder to breathe when Osamu’s pace is relentless, but he grips your wrist.

Holding a pillow in your hands to muffle your moans, your voice is low and hoarse when you tell your boyfriend to lewdly, “fuck me like the dog you are,” hours ago and Osamu snarls against your ear.

“With pleasure,” his voice is not angry, yet his pace says otherwise. “Fuck me—yer made for me, ain’t ya?”

He laughs, reminding you to stay muffled by the pillow before he makes good on honoring your request. His lips are scorching your marked up body, his hands finding their purchase in the heat pooling between your legs. You nearly forget how your body responds to his hands, and you bite your tongue to remain quiet.

Inside the room, you crawl out gently from underneath the man. You have a broken whine of his name when you grip the pillows when he forces you over; Osamu breathes a curse behind you, hot air down your back which is starting to sweat and slip on his exposed abs. You don’t want him to see your face because it is glowing, red and furious blushes stain your smooshed cheeks. Grimacing at the pale white wall which is cool when you put your hand to reach back into him, just to get his dick to make you feel completely full. You’re panting when his hands cup you’re exposed breasts and he leaves bite marks with your name on his tongue.

“Th-that’s it angel,” he steadies into a brutal pace, pulling your hair back slightly when you feel his fingers massage your scalp a little. “Cum with me, yeah?”

You chuckle when you hear a praise again, making Osamu arch his back in a groan. A few more sounds of your hips being pulled back on his own until it has the knots in your stomach coming taut with wonton need for release. The mess you make is evident on the way the slick drips down your boyfriend’s shaft. As he holds you in front of him, you move your right arm behind your head to push him back into you, without the need to look back anytime soon; eventually when enough is enough, Osamu lets you ride him to build up a second and third orgasm. You tire him out like you typically do and whenever you’re through with using him, you stay somewhat conjoined, noting the softening of Osamu’s member. You’re sitting on his lap, legs propped in either side of his toned body, caressing his face.

“You did good,” you whisper against his lips.

“I have this amazin’ sex pot if a lady, ‘s all,” he says over your own lips.

“Think Atsumu would care we broke his springs?” You wonder aloud. Osamu chuckled and says something or other about how he finally had gotten his brother back:

“Alright, alright,” you peck his lips. “We should get cleaned up. You promised me dinner today with Kita when we went to visit yesterday.”

Osamu rubs soothing circles on your shoulders, kissing you there where you’re nuzzling into his chest.

“Let’s stay like this a little longer, hmm princess?”

Osamu’s gray eyes glanced down to your hazy ones, you stifle a yawn when you mention that if you fall asleep, Kita would need to know. After all, you remind Osamu how if that were the case, you’d rather just shower tomorrow after you use the toilet.

“C’mon, ‘Samu,” you try to wriggle free with a joyous smirk. Osamu just holds you tighter when he feels you remove yourself away from the heat he radiates. He keeps you steady when you try to stand, a sharp hiss is heard when you start to rub the inside of your love bitten thighs.

“Too much? I’ll carry ya,” Osamu teases, pulling over his shirt over his head; you nod, pulling the bedsheet modestly around you like a make-shift toga.

An hour later, you’re back on the proper mattress, curling back into Osamu’s body. He is warm and it is a comforting to know when you’re taken care of so eloquently. Osamu’s hand caresses your face, slowly dozing off when your lips graze the pads of his calloused hands. He calls Kita apologizing for not making it to dinner, but perhaps breakfast is better since your knocked out face is hidden behind a starry blanket.

Your phone in its DND mode, lights up with a message from your brother. A link is attached to the text, revealing the face of the botched hit by a rival gang. You refused to work for them once when you were recruited into the family, and now your brother has asked for persmission from an older-brother in the organization to sanction a kill on site (at at the very least make the assassin a mute). Thankfully, when you read this after Osamu is far too deep in his much deserved rest, you breathe a sigh of relief knowing the man was taken care of properly. The tribunal coming up between two organizations to redraw the lines of the turfs, your boss and his wife send a message to the rest of their rivals when a photo of your boyfriend is revealed in a red file, your face is obscured in the far end of the restaurant. You are given a little more leeway when your brother is asked about the man in the photo and what you were doing there. He realizes he cannot lie nor cover for you anymore. He relays this to you in a sense of urgency to be careful, so now with the threat of the much red and black in your ledger with your cover name being an alias of your birth name, you mustn’t delay the obvious.

You wait until your weekend away in Hyogo is over before you invite Osamu inside your flat a couple days later. You sent him a text saying that you needed to speak with him, but not to worry since nothing is wrong. Your brother stopped by unannounced saying you were told to push your boyfriend of nearly a year and half away for his safety. Your brother reasons you must have to put on an act to appease the eyes and ears of your organization. He kisses your temple when he leaves for the day through the fire escape, handing you a little more ammunition for your Glock in the safe in the false bottom of your nightstand.

Miya Osamu doesn’t become nervous or washed with anxiousness very often. The last time he felt this way was when he was on the court against the Karasuno crows in his third year of high school, however the same sensation came again the day before he opened Onigiri Miya for the first day (after pouring his heart and soul into it). Yet when you answer the door, you have a lovesick expression on your face.

“Come in,” you say, closing your eyes when he kisses your forehead.

He notices the files stacked high on the kitchen counter. Coffee is brewed on your drip kettle set up and you invite him to sit down at the floating island bar top.

“We have to talk,” you pour a cup for yourself along with one for him.

“Is everythin’ alright baby? Working too much?” He questions when you hand him his own cup.

You advise him to take a deep breath and you do too.

“You wanted to know about my family, right?”

“Mm,” Osamu takes a sip of his coffee.

“Promise me to not judge me until I get to the end of this story. Here,” you hand him a file folder. It begins with the crime syndicates from the late 1980s. You begin here and Osamu makes a joke or two before he realizes the cold stare in your eyes means you were serious. Rightfully so, he tries to keep an open mind as you speak about your true life story; being a witness to your birth parents’ murder due to a loan collection gone wrong at a jewelry store in Okinawa during summer vacation in the early 2000s makes him shudder. He reaches to hold your hand when you power through the introduction of your brother to you promising to keep his “one-chan” safe.

“Since I was eight, I was trained by ni-chan to keep my guard up when I first moved up in the family,” you have a disillusioned glance. “It was part of my upbringing to consistently be bandaging my fellow brother in arms. Hence why I chose to study medicine. The boss and his wife allowed me to enroll in school in the second year of middle school just to make sure I had some sense of normalcy. When I graduated from high school the same year you were in your last year as well, I was able to make an amendment to my contract for hire once I was in my second year of medical school in Seoul.”

You see Osamu read the rest of your file and he doesn’t lose any interest because he needs to hear this. You apologize profusely in between and the hazel gray eyes of the storm before you makes you grow small back into yourself. You still have to your will to finally wrap up to the day you first meet him. He whistles when you tell him how falling in love while undercover (he knows your government name, that was the one thing you never lied about) to ride out the rest of your agreed arrangement to having an out for this yakuza life, was clearly not what you had expected when you moved to this city. Osamu doesn’t say much, thumbing over the files of you and your brother. Your asked your brother to give you the cliff notes version of your career in the underground, including your transcripts when you decide that today will be the day to open up to your boyfriend and have him decide what he wants to do. Whether he would stay with you or to leave you, mentioning you support whatever he decides.

Five minutes turn to ten, and the silence is killing you. You finish your coffee, noticing Osamu has long since finished his, but his hand still holds yours. He rubs his thumb over your tensed knuckles, you visibly relax.

“If ya think I’m going to leave ya because yer in the morally wrong side of the tracks, yer out of yer god damned mind woman,” Osamu says to you. You weren’t expecting that at all, you expected yelling, anger, hostility.

“…what?” You’re jaw drops into an ‘o’ when he repeats what he says again.

“The person in these files are just one aspect of the person I love,” he says. “Am I angry you hid this from me? O’course, but I don’t care because she is still a part of ya.”

“‘Samu, I-I think I’m gonna cry,” you close your eyes, bringing his hand to your forehead. Your breathing hitches in your throat when you let out a shaky breath because you do what you said as if on cue. He comforts you, beckoning you to come into his arms. Broken apologies fall from your lips.

“I know baby, I know,” his voice is kind to you. “Yer were just tryin’ to protect me. Still are.”

You scoff. He wipes away your tears with a curled finger under your eyes; his lips press against the crown of your head. His reassuring you is such a foreign feeling because you create some distance between you two. You’ve calmed down enough, changing your demeanor with a small.

“There she is,” Osamu stares at you with hooded eyes. Although he doesn’t know what to do anymore but to trust you to keep him safe, he reassures you that your secret is safe with him. “My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

Your hands press against his chest when you ask him if he wants to spend the night; you explain that your relationship was outed by an assassin from another rival gang the day when you went to Hyogo. The assassin was after you, your brother tells you, knowing that any harm that befalls your lover would make you seek blood on your hands. Your hands shake again when you clutch the fabric of his shirt.

“Shh,” he mumbles when he kisses you, hard. The aggressive nature of his kiss makes a you freeze before you return his gesture. He takes your mind off the troubles of being loved by him; he stands up when you feel yourself lose your center of gravity leaning back, only to have Osamu catch you before you fall. Your arms move higher to loop behind his neck the more his kisses go from aggression to refortifying where he stands in your relationship. And you are certain if he asked you to run away, you’d follow with him to the ends of the earth. The rest of the night passes between the sensual kisses leading you to be carried by Osamu into your bedroom. Both of you agree (rather, it is implied) to save the sexual escapades for the morning, so when your half-dressed selves breathe in sync, your hands massage Osamu’s scalp. He presses a final kiss on your sternum, in between the valley of your breasts held by a lace bralette.

“I love you,” you say the three words. “I know I do, despite my fucked up childhood.”

Osamu chuckles reverberates on your abs, saying you had an easier time since you didn’t have “Atsumu ‘as yer brother.” He pinches your love handles, when you playfully smack his shoulder. You kiss his brow, readjusting your posture so you can rest comfortably in his embrace. As your eyes flutter close, Osamu traces the kanji for “honest love” over your plush shoulders, and you whimper muttering a “thank you for lovin’ me ‘Samu.”

Your words emit a fire in his soul, securing his place where he chooses to always be: by your side for as long as you want.

“Anytime princess. Ya own this heart of mine, and perhaps a part of my soul,” his voice amuses you when you smile. “Don’t worry, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Eventually, Osamu too falls asleep holding on to your body a little tighter that night. The promise of coffee and brunch in the morning is something special whenever you wake to see his sleeping figure, three years later, with a silver band on his hand; yours is kept on a chain around your neck as you rise with your alarm chime.

It’s been two years overall since your brother’s sins caught up with you, and a frantic call is made to Onigiri Miya, the world comes to a standstill. Despite the fact you had told everything about the syndicate you work for, the boss calls you for a private matter. He notices your contract amendments yet again, and granted, though you know eventually you’d want out, if you were to have a family with Osamu, you’d still want some sort of detail.

“A light one if that,” your boss reads to himself. His wife looks over the copy of her copy of the contract as well. “Considering yn-chan’s one of our very best and higher ranking members, I’ll grant this kindness to them if there is talk of marriage.”

“Mm,” she says, grabbing a pen to add two more conditions. “Add this anecdote too.”

Handing the document to her husband, he glosses over it and approves of it. In the written script to be typed, your name is typed along side the compensation amount much too large for a grieving man and perhaps father in a few years time. Osamu’s name is never stated, but from what informants pick up when they frequent the onigiri shop is that what the owner and you share is in fact genuine.

A few weeks of peace passes, until early afternoon in the middle of the lunch rush, the phone for Onirigi Miya rings constantly. A few missed calls from Sunarin to a few of his professional athletic friends are on the call log. Apparently, there was a shootout on the docks, the news reports on the tv’s overhead thus making one of the cashiers raise the volume. Her boss, answers his phone and his brother’s voice says to not move from the restaurant because he’s on the way to pick him up.

“And whatever you do Samu, don’t watch the news…”

“Y-yeah. Got it.”

Osamu grips his phone tighter when he sees a familiar car in the background. Gunshots are still echoing and your brother’s old informant ‘mug shot’ for interpol is flashed on the screen. Your name comes up as a victim who was airlifted after found bleeding with excessive blood loss after two bullets pierce your clavicle and your left shoulder.

Atsumu is at the restaurant when the news comes back from commercial break and he sees the rebroadcast for the live updates at the docks, signaling it’s time to go. The other cashier glances over at her boss who is frozen trying to get the name of the hospital you’re at and that’s when Atsumu repeats the name, pulling his brother out the back and shoving him into the car. The patrons and other regulars who’ve come to know how special you are, gives the boys enough leeway. The girl who turned the tv off, runs to wave them off yelling, “we’ve got your back!” Her fellow coworker runs the register and for a solid week, Onigiri Miya is a somber gathering spot while everyone waits for a sign, a text, a call to keep updates. Atsumu’s the one to do this, considering when the girls explain to rest of the friends group you and and Osamu know, they recall watching the live story unfold.

Osamu developed a nervous tick of bouncing his leg when something goes wrong, you’ve called him out on it. Atsumu thought his brother outgrew it, but when the blonde hears your name in the victims’ report, he tells his brother to get a grip. The hospital comes into view after exiting on the highway. As Osamu checks in with the nurse’s station, he is told you suffered enough blood loss that you went into shock before the doctors could get you to the trauma operating suites. He sits down in the waiting hall and Atsumu finds him, not saying a word.

Your brother on the other hand is now hunted like a dog, but with his true cover blown, the news echoes the same rhetoric to call the anonymous tip lines.

“What a mess,” one of the nurses says as another victim, this time a doa patient, is sent to the morgue. “This one’s DOA from the docks, since the reports say the girl in theater six is a trained sharpshooter.”

“And they say the yakuza is dead,” the emt says, handing the nurse the paperwork.

Atsumu overhears this, as does Osamu, and it’s then that the brothers have a long discussion. Osamu speaks for you when his brother raises his suspicions ever since the time at the festival.

“All this to protect ya, huh?” Atsumu says. “Does ma know?”

“No,” Osamu sighs into his hands. “…What am I going to do? I can’t lose her yet…”

Atsumu, despite all the fanfare and siblings squabbles he had gotten himself into, he gives his brother a solid piece of advice: “Marry her. You’ve been with her for what? Three years if you count the year I got signed on to the Jackals, right? Marry her, because as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve grown to like her too.”

The blonde dance the raven haired m red n sit in t to be waiting room for an hour since their arrival since your operation to remove the fragments is a delicate procedure. One of the nurse anesthetists explain that due to your blood loss, the emergency surgery needed to occur so the fragments closer to a vital artery doesn’t pierce and causes you to bleed internally.

The surgeons and other attending doctor are informed of the twins in the waiting room waiting on word for any updates on the victim from the dock shootout when they have your medical files on their tablets. They each pull up the litany of injuries you suffered: a torn shoulder causing you to have screws put in place to heal, the stitches were indicative of where your life lines would be. The way your body has to be medically comatose until the blood transfusion is the most frightening part of this whole debacle.

“Anesthesiologists will administer lower dosages so she can wake up as long as the MRI results are negative,” the initial trauma doctor reports before bidding her colleagues good day. “We were able to pull her credentials for our neighboring hospital on the southwest corner of the plaza. She’s a medical examiner, huh?”

Osamu nods.

“They’re a bit eccentric, but they’re kind people. Strong as hell too, both mentally and clearly physically. She’ll be fine before you know it. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more news to give others.”

Osamu and Atsumu pretend to know what the medical terms mean, so the latter asks if it’s ok to record the explanation to look up the details later. The primary and attending agree, relaxing a bit when they noticed the concerned distraught expression on their faces.

“This may be hard to hear, but I’ll start whenever you’re ready.”

Atsumu opens the recording app on his phone, he nods.

“Ok. The patient, YLN, YN, was found unresponsive with two gunshot wounds on the docs. The emergency response units notice she lies in a pool of her own blood mixed with the oil slick from the shipyard. About a liters worth of blood was administered until she exhibits movement. In the ambulance, though yn lost a lot of blood, she had to be restrained from pulling out the ivs used to keep her vitals in check under the illusion our medics were the assailants. Regardless, while we were able to remove the fragments, she is lucky to have escaped death’s door,” the surgeon says. There is a matter of fact way he speaks that makes the news he delivers a bit more tangible, albeit while rereading his reports to add. He also notes the officers and detectives have the bullets to start their investigations.

“Although we were forced to up her take on morphine, for the pain, the patient’s resistance tolerance was a bit higher than most, but nonetheless, when she started to clot, that is where the first signs of toxic shock was introduced. The bullets used were laced with a rare toxin whose properties were able to be pulled from snake venom to mimic an antidote arborists by the time the operating theater was opened. You don’t read stuff like this everyday, eh Leopold?”

The surgeon clears his throat.

“In any case, the patient, yn, would need to stay for a few days at most a week or two to begin physical therapy as well as receive routine shots of the anti venom to ensure no other triggering symptoms arise.”

The primary doctor who was able to rush you to the operating room was the one who pulled your vitals back to a semi-regular state post exhibiting shock (and with restarting your stressed out heart).

“But she’s ok?” Osamu needs to know the answer. He has to believe you’re ok, you made him a promise to be more honest with him.

You mentioned your brother had wanted to check out the docks this afternoon for a specific houseboat he wanted to buy because he was about to be out of the business for good. He mentioned something or other about wanting to travel to the northern side of the country to live back in the quiet sea faring village. You supported him and you agreed to tag along. Who knew it was going to be a trap to try to make sure the syndicate you worked for got the message from the rival gang (they really wanted you dead, so this was a warning shootout apparently).

The doctor has a hopeful expression on his face, humming in agreement.

“You can visit her when she wakes up, but for now, she is in the ICU until further notice,” she says. “She will be sore the next couple of days, so I suggest she takes it one day at a time. If you’ll excuse me.”

The twins breath a much earned sigh of relief.

“See? Ya were worried, so what are you gonna do when she wakes up ni-chan?”

A wobbly smile creeps on his brother’s lips, mumbling the name of the jewelry store by the bakery you loved to frequent.

Several minutes later, there is an older, but sharply dressed couple frantically approaches the nurses’ station. Osamu recognizes them from the night you opened about your family. Your boss and his wife arch an eyebrow at the twin boys, realizing who they were. However your boss introduces himself to Osamu, sheepishly saying he would have loved to have met under different circumstances. His wife on the other hand, hugs both of the boys. Even if they are dangerous and one of the most revered crime bosses in current times, the lady pats their heads.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” the lady hugs Osamu a little tighter. “I do apologize for not coming sooner, we had to hold a meeting at the conglomerate estate uptown… dear, why don’t you take one of the boys to grab some refreshments, hmm?”

Eventually Atsumu and the boss walk off to buy some coffee and snacks for their family counterparts, leaving your boss’ wife with a very quiet and hollow feeling Osamu. The walk to the far side of the bench after a student nurse gives them a map to where the hope wing is located. The hours are scripted in bold font, but for now, the one of the two people you were afraid of meeting Osamu now sits next to him.

“Ma’am,” Osamu’s apology is there in his countenance, yet the Yakuza woman tilts her had to the side as she chooses her next words to sound as genuine as possible.

“She is lucky to have you,” she says. “She may not be blood, but the girl is loyal to a fault; y’know my husband and I never had children, but if we did have one, we’d hope they would turn out like yn-chan…When she comes to, her contract is null and void.”

“Mmhm,” Osamu’s leg nervously trembles again. That is until the woman next to him holds his hand and gives it a polite squeeze. Her actions are genuine, like a parent worrying about their adult child. She decides to expand on her reasoning, while the gray hazels gloss over in frustrated tears of begging you to stay behind today.

“The girl promised not to get hurt, it’s written there as an anecdote, as long as it was not fatal,” she elaborates. “She gave up a majority of her protection detail because she fell in love… If you’re ever curious why she had wanted to leave all those years ago, the answer is so simple.”

The woman pats his hand this time, Osamu turns into her, his forehead colliding with the fabric of the suit lapel and she consoles him as though she was his own son.

“I should have told her to wait a little longer with me, have French toast with my brother before he goes home for the weekend…”

“I know, sweetie, I know. If it’s any consolation, take it from a crime lord’s wife, this life isn’t for everyone. And yn-san made good on her promise to always protect you and your loved ones first. Herself second, that’s just how she is and I’m willing to bed on god’s good green earth that she deserves more love, you (and by default your friends) give her more than necessary.

“As far as our part is concerned, yn is still a part of this syndicate, but she is forced to retire early due to her injuries.”

Then, it clicks in Osamu’s mind. The meeting was arranged to sequester the remaining living will of the dissolvement of your ties to their family. You were given an out and you amended it to include a future with whomever you wanted (with him in mind), and any future generations.

“My darling boy, do not misunderstand, she may be out of the know of the darker raise of the business, but on the straight side of our work, she is seen (legally) as the primary shareholder for our company. We’re never too far out of reach, but we will never put either of you, or your future children when the time comes, in the line of fire. I cannot guarantee that one-hundred percent, but my husband can make it so.”

Atsumu and the boss come back, talking about volleyball season, with the setter holding some sandwiches and the other holding a drink carrier with the coffee and teas.

Over the next five weeks, the scars heal and when you reach the six month mark since your discharge, you walk into a tattoo parlor where you have the word for “hope” from your mother tongue tattooed across the burn mark next to your arm.

Every morning and night, for the later half of that year, Osamu kisses you first on the lips, then over the word “Esperanza” until he proposes to you on the third year of your relationship in his family’s house. The friends (and by extent the boss sends your other brothers to Hyogo) and family you are surrounded by embrace you and Osamu when you finally realize this is where you ought to be. An epiphany happens everyday since then: Osamu never went against his word where as long as you’re still breathing, he will stand by you and vice versa. Time heals all wounds and when you come to the courthouse to file a marriage certificate with Em, Atsumu, and Sunarin’s signatures, “I’m officially a Miya,” are the words you first say when you turn to face Osamu.

“Hell yes,” he mumbled against your lips when you grasp his hand his band is shimmers in the setting twilight. The rings on your silver chain are cool against your skin when you celebrate your third anniversary in Seoul. It’s been a while since you visited South Korea, however, when you return home, you have a talk with Osamu.

“It’s not a rushed topic, believe me,” you say, closing your medical books. Life returns to normal, or as normal as you can get without wanting to try something new. “But what are your thoughts on starting a family?”

Osamu, who’s in the living room stands up, walks to your now shared kitchen in a penthouse your boss gifted to you on your wedding day post-debugging.

“Are you..?”

“No, but we can go at it until I—”

“Say less.”

You yelp when you feel Osamu lift you from your chair, and though, now empty, is toppled over to one side. Osamu carries you like a tired child and closes the door behind him.

“Off,” you turn to turn the bed lamp off as an onslaught of kisses and bites are silencing you.

“Whatever you say you want, I’m going to give you,” his voice is charged with lustful determination moments later while his pace is merciless. “T-tell me what you want.”

Your voice is strained from the amount of times you’ve sang his praises several times that night, but when he gently holds you steady, by the nape of your neck, he hears your request, nodding.

“I’m going to fuck your until you’re heavy with my child,” he breathes in deep, watching you cling to him. A fucked out expression on your face.

“Please, ‘sall~ooh~I want,” you burry your face in his neck, bopping along, feeling the fullness and welcoming the soreness in the morning.

Osamu and you, for at least three months continue on practicing as Em would call it on mimosa Sunday’s. That is until one September day, you ask for a coffee sans alcohol instead and your friend grasps your hand once the waiter walks to the kitchen.

“No,” Em says. “Really?”

“Thirteen weeks today,” you say. Adding a few more teaspoons of sugar.

“Shut up. How? I-I mean, we know how, you’re a fuck’n doctor, but like…”

Your laugh is a mirthful one, when you adjust your Jersey clothed dress.

“My intern called the midwife on duty and as morbid as it sounds, I heard the heartbeat on the clean slab, Hah,” you scratch your cheek.

“When are you going to tell him?”

You divulge your plan and Em laughs. You tell her she is sworn to secrecy until the shower because you don’t want Atsumu to put his bid in favorite uncle, and at this, Em smiles a little too.

“But I’m a shoe-in for godmother of the year, right?”

Another day is spent and as the child grows, so do you. Until the following spring, a healthy boy swaddled in blue is cradled in your arms. Fourteen hours of pain is nothing compared to the joy you have, watching the nurse hand your first born to Osamu.

“You did good,” he says.

“I had a little help,” you nudge his shoulders with your forehead. A small fist is wriggled free and Osamu stares back into small, widening eyes. A gurgle similar to a laugh, claims Osamu’s attention.

“Oi, I’ll have you know that yer ma is tough as nails, little guy,” Osamu’s words warms the room. The doctors note of the two-toned colors saying your parents must have had the recessive gene. It’s rare, but it is a lifelong uniqueness only a child you two could have had made the medic in you nod.

“At least he has my sense of humor,” you chuckle, laying back on the pillows. You motion for him to sit down next to you, enjoying a few moments of silence before a knock is heard.

“Send in the calvary?” You ask. “They waited long enough, haha. I’ll hold him.”

Osamu nods, raising his voice, “you guys can come in now.”

Another series of firsts occurs and pretty soon, the eight month clothes you’re gifted from Em starts to fit little Haru more. You’re still working from home, face timing the interns, building them through their autopsy one morning. Osamu promoted the two girls at Onigiri Miya to front of house supervisors after you were discharged from the hospital nearly five years ago, so now he spends his weekends with his favorite humans.

Tranquility was something you thought yours have to had earned, however you’re elated to know that on lunar new year, a red envelope with your son’s name is written in familiar script. Yours and Osamu’s comes with a gift of round trip tickets anywhere in the world in case you want to eventually grace the world with another Miya, and you exchange a look to Osamu who immediately says (after your son is asleep in the play mat), “Whenever yer want another one, we could always drop Haru off at Atsumu’s.”

“Who am I to deny what my husband wants?” you parrot his answer almost a year prior to the day, and he laughs.

“What a naughty thing I married,” he kisses your temple and you pinch his cheek.

The following morning, with holding Haru in one hand and pouring a cup of much needed coffee in the other, you pause and admire your son. His features are starting to show and it becomes striking clear he won the Miya gene lottery, is a spitting image of your features with heterochromic eyes (one hazel gray from Osamu the other from your bloodline) sits on your lap waiting for your husband to wake.

“You look like your father, but I pray you have my patience and sense of pride,” you boop his nose. “You’re not even a year old yet and I’ll make sure you’re never alone like I was.”

You return to your attention to the newspaper on the table. Haru is sitting comfortably with a pacifier clip on his bib as you point to a Peanuts cartoon. You read the strip aloud, and the babe is coos.

“Hey, Haru, you’re good at this,” you chuckle. “Can ya give me a ‘seven letter word to describe your uncle ‘Tsumu.’”

Haru closes his eyes and makes the closet thing to a thoughtful expression, but when he says “ba-da-bah!” You squish his cheeks, saying it was with a shot.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Osamu’s been watching you leaning against the door frame, asking your nearly one year old if he’d like creamed corn today and the boy twists his facial features.

“Guess that’s not gonna be on the menu today, kiddo.”

You glance over your shoulder to the cityscape wondering if your brother at large still, is faring well, while adjusting your grip on your child. You turn little Haru around until he slumps sleepily over your shoulder, while you rub soothing circles on his back. Haru’s breathing soon evens out, until you jump a little bit when you cover his soft spot protectively.

“Seven letter word for my brother?…try jackass,” Osamu’s voice startles you, making him chuckle and you pout saying he should be a little nicer, however when it fits the puzzle, your son blows spit bubbles when he laughs at the sudden movement before whining.

“Aww, c’meer,” osamu holds his son for you, as you straighten your shirt. “Your mother’s a lil jumpy today, that’s all. I got ya, see?”

He raises his son above his head, eliciting a laugh. “Nothing to fear, we’ll, except her wrath my boy. Heh.”

You frown a bit before turning to your two boys, laughing at the discovery you make when you write down the word. To your amusement it fits, shaking your head in disbelief. Suddenly, as you look around you, you have a small epiphany: This was happiness, you figure. You always had it, you just needed someone very fortunate with the gift of patience, a whole lot of love, and your son’s existence is proof enough to show you what true love means.

Epilogue: the last 3 years..

(I need the memories)

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #hq osamu #timeskip!miya o. x yakuza!yn #sora scribbles #🔞—caution!#🔞 nsfw: miya osamu x yakuza yn

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pixelgrotto · 3 years

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The good and bad of the fourth Indy

When it comes to classic point 'n click adventure games, there are two companies that dominated the '90s - Sierra and LucasArts. Between these two, I've always been a dedicated Sierra dude. I've written here at length about some of my favorites like the Quest for Glory and Gabriel Knight series, and while detractors of Sierra's output have valid points (deaths and dead ends in their games were far too prevalent), I've always just found their titles more gripping than LucasArts' output.

That said, there certainly are LucasArts adventures that loom large in my mind. The Monkey Island games are good examples (especially the first one) and Indiana Jones and the Fate of Atlantis is another. When I was growing up, I had a definite fascination with the latter, finding it thrilling that Indiana's fabled fourth outing had been visualized in computer game format - and as a point 'n click adventure, no less! LucasArts put out an advertorial magazine around this time called The Adventurer, and I remember poring over Fate of Atlantis screenshots as a kid, really wanting to experience the quest of Indy and Sophia Hapgood.

I didn't end up playing Fate of Atlantis as a child, probably because I never saw it in stores and the one LucasArts Archives collection I got my dad to buy me didn't have the game inside. (It was Archive Vol. III, for those in the know.) So I think the first time I experienced it was in high school on some Abandonware site. I liked it, though I did find the game a smidgeon overrated at the end of the day, possibly because I also played Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers for the first time around then and was blown away in comparison.

Flash forward to 2021, and for some reason I was hit with the urge to play Fate of Atlantis again. To make the experience more fun, I decided to order the Dark Horse Comics tie-in series on eBay, which took the general ideas from the game's script and divided them up into four issues. Overall, I enjoyed both the game and the comic, though once again, there's that slight feeling of "hmmm, a tad overrated" that came into my head once I was done.

There's a lot that Fate of Atlantis does well. The story's kind of a retread of Raiders of the Lost Ark (and even ends in the same way with Nazis transforming into hideous creatures), but it's an interesting enough dive into the lore of the lost city as established by Plato. The soundtrack, delivered by LucasArt's immersive iMuse sound system (which synchronized music to whatever was happening on screen) is full of catchy themes, and I'm listening to it as I write this. The puzzles mostly make sense in the beginning, though halfway through they start to reach the typical ‘90s status of "wow, how the heck could you figure this out without a hint book?”

Fate of Atlantis' strongest point is definitely its replay value. There are three routes through the game - the Team Path, the Wits Path and the Fists Path. The Team Path has Indy and Sophia travelling together to find Atlantis, the Wits Path has Indy going it alone but relying on his noggin for harder puzzles, and the Fists Path is the so-called "action" one, where Indy gets to punch Nazis in the face. When I first played Fate of Atlantis all those years ago, I chose the Team Path, since it seems like the sensible one with the love interest and all that. This time, I chose the Fists Path, since I wanted to bash stuff. The amount of new scenes that I saw were impressive, including a desert camel trek and an arcade-style hot air balloon sequence that I don't recall experiencing the first time around. The combat, a carryover from LucasArts' adaptation of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, was a mess of endless clicking on bad guys, but the sheer amount of replayability evident in the game was great. Maybe in another couple of years I'll try the Wits path!

There were definite foibles that ground my gears, though. Chief among them was a general lack of urgency, despite the fact that Indy and Sophia are supposed to be racing the Nazis against the clock. It's funny to point this out, because unlike other LucasArts games, which had a famous "you can't die" policy, Indy actually can bite the dust here. But despite this fact, there are so many instances in Fate of Atlantis where Indy can walk into a Nazi about to kill him, go "Whoops, made a wrong turn," and gently walk away without his foe even bothering to pursue. There's also a section of the game in Monte Carlo where you're supposed to find a certain person, and all you need to do is study the patterns of the three or so NPCs that wander back and forth around the screen (without ever stopping) and click on the right one. I know this is all part of LucasArts' style of making their adventure games kind on the player, but it always struck me that everything in Fate of Atlantis was gently waiting for me to choose the right option rather than dynamically reacting to my actions. I guess I like my adventure games with a bit more edge, or maybe I just noticed this dissonance more with a property like Indiana Jones - where danger’s supposed to be prevalent - as opposed to a comedic franchise like Monkey Island. Nevertheless, I still feel like there's a middle ground between this hand holding and the blunt deaths that always occurred in Sierra games.

I was also surprised by how much the game drags once you've actually reached Atlantis. I didn't remember the finale from my first playthrough at all, possibly because Atlantis is one giant maze full of doodads that you need to collect in order to operate ancient robots and solve obtuse headscratchers. (Here's where I truly began to feel the need for a hint book.) And once you're out of the first maze and uncover a hidden underground layer of the city, you're immediately presented with a SECOND maze which relies upon navigating through a series of archways and is totally randomized each playthrough, with Indy forced to start from the beginning if you mess up. Arghhh, now that's some wacky '90s adventure game design for ya!

Most of all, though...I forgot how much of a terrible sidekick Sophia Hapgood is. She barely does anything for the entirety of the game! I think the Team Path treats her better than the Fists Path, obviously, but even in that one she ends up getting kidnapped at the end and doesn't assist much with the puzzles except for a small handful of instances where you can control her. Sophia's definitely supposed to be more like Raiders' Marion Ravenwood than Temple of Doom's Willie Scott, but unfortunately she comes across as the latter more than the former, and in the context of an adventure game, she's treated like a walking, talking inventory object. Not that Indiana Jones movies have necessarily excelled with their female characters (there was a creepy detail that emerged a while back about how the original script for Raiders indicated that a 15-year-old Marion had an affair with a 27-year-old Indy), but Sophia's not really a love interest, aside from two quick smooches near the end of the game. She's just...there, kinda doing nothing aside from occasionally calling Indy a bozo.

The comic version of Fate of Atlantis fixes this, making her far more interesting. The comic's pretty solid, I will say, and amps up the urgency of the story by tossing the puzzles out the window. But while reading it and ruminating on the fact that this was first time I'd consumed so much Indiana Jones content in over a decade, I found myself guffawing as I realized that Dr. Jones is truly a TERRIBLE archeologist. I mean, what a looter this dude is, and at least Lara Coft is actually honest about being a Tomb Raider! Hah, I guess this is common knowledge amongst real archeologists or folks who watched the movies as adults, but as someone whose biggest Indy memories come from childhood, it was an eye-opener to see him crap on an ancient civilization by calling the construction of Atlantis "primitive.” It kind of makes me a little reluctant to go back and watch the films. I already knew that Temple of Doom was full of bad Indian stereotypes, but now I know for sure that Dr. Jones hasn't aged all that well for my 2021 sensibilities!

All that aside, I am glad I played through Fate of Atlantis again, even if I don't consider it to be the adventure game pinnacle. It's a well-made translation of the pulp vibe that the Indy movies were meant to evoke, and the replay value is truly something special. I do wonder, though, what Sierra could've done if they'd gotten their mitts on the Indy license. I know, I know... There probably would've been deaths aplenty, including a death where you click the whip on Indy and he uses it to accidentally lash himself into an early grave. I can dream!

#pixel grotto #favorites #indiana jones and the fate of atlantis #fate of atlantis #indiana jones #lucasarts

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Chapter 2)

Chapter Summary: You did make a deal.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex deprived reader, boytoy!Bucky, mention to break ups, mention to bad sexual experiences, casual sex, opened relationship.

A/N: You guys and all the feedback you’re giving to this story are just my everything. Thank you for your patience, if you follow my stories for a while you all know I’m a slow writer and not even social distancing seems to be changing that. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. I was going to close the tag list for this series at 70, but you’ve been really amazing, so I’m extending it to 80 spots for now. All I ask of you is, if you’re tagged and liked what you read, please leave me a nice little comment. Thank you, @lesqui

Saturday mornings have always been like any other morning to you. Waking up early, making some black coffee and fixing up something quick to eat . Then checking up on your schedule for the day, which more times than you dare to count consisted of working from home and that’s it. Nothing special.

But this Saturday morning is nothing like the other ones, this morning has actually already passed since you wake up past noon, a lot later than you’re used to, take a long bath with all the pampering accessories you found in your bathroom - something you hadn’t done in a very long time- plaster your face with a moisturizing mask you’ve bought on a late night online shopping spree and has never used, wrap your body in a robe, your hair in a towel and go to the kitchen to make your usual black coffee but also a few chocolate pancakes as a treat to the atypical hunger making your stomach groan loudly.

ThisSaturday is nothing like the other ones because you have the memory, on your mind and your whole body, of three fantastic orgasms you were gifted with the night before. If it was up to you, Bucky Barnes and his sinful tongue would get all the awards in the world.

While you hum a soft tune and flip your pancakes, the night before replays like a movie on your mind, taking small giggles out of you and causing a warm rush to creep up your neck. The man sure knows his game, touching all the right places, playing with your body just perfectly, luring you into a very much needed and longed ecstasy. On top of that, he was nothing but generous and seemed to get himself off by getting you off and, now that you’re thinking about it, a man acting that way in bed is something entirely new to you.

You have to send Natasha a present, maybe that expensive vodka she’s always drinking…

The memory of your friend quickly fades and the sinful picture of Bucky Barnes’s face between your legs pops back into your mind as you drop the pancakes on a plate and sit by the counter to devour them with your coffee. What a night you had. The whole no strings attached situation makes it even more… enjoyable, you dare say, much more than you thought it would be. There is no dwelling on whether you should text him to say hello, or call him, no need to hold back who you really are or what you really want in favor to make a good impression, nor to think about meeting friends, family, no fear of disappointments from both sides… it was just plain good old sex, which you’ve realized it’s all you need and are looking for.

You hum at the sweet taste of the pancake and take a sip from your coffee. There’s no worries in your mind, no regrets, nothing like that. Except for one thought: the fact you didn’t even get to see his cock. The bulge alone grinding against you was already impressive enough to make your mouth water… Everything was amazing, more than perfect, actually, and left you completely spent and utterly satisfied, more than you’ve been in a long time, if you’re going to be honest with yourself. But now you only get to imagine how it would be if you two had gotten to the whole package, the real deal…

Unless…

You had thought about that night as a one-time occurrence, something to take your edge off and move on, but... He did propose a deal… And you did take said deal… to call him if you needed anything… You stare dreamily ahead as you take a fork filled with pancake to your mouth and flashes of the feeling of his bulge pressed against your back, grinding on your core take over your senses… it took your breath away then and just the memory is making a number on your lungs.

You sure have a need now.

Glimpsing your phone over the balcony, you reach for it, loving you don’t have to care whether it is too soon or not to do what you’re about to do��but a new message pops up on the screen as soon as you unlock it. Natasha letting you know she was sent away for a mission with Steve Rogers but should go back in a week and wanted to schedule dinner for you to tell her everything… You type her a quick answer, agreeing on dinner, before tapping on the brand new contact of your list, added by Natasha Romanoff herself.

Bucky “Soft Tongue” Barnes.

You’ll change it. Eventually…

~~~

“So… my place this time, huh?”

The smirk on Bucky’s lips is cocksure enough to make you take a long sip of the beer he offered you, while he lazily leans his elbow on the backrest of his sofa, supporting his head on his hand. You're thankful for the alcohol and for the fact that, this time, he hasn’t gone straight to business. Yes, you’ve been feeling bold and excited in having those kinds of encounters with a - hot as fuck - guy you barely knew. But this is new, and you know you must be careful and gentle to yourself, so it doesn’t blow up in your face eventually. Thankfully, Bucky seems to read the situation just fine since he’s been in cue with your rhythm from the very first moment.

“Did you have any other plans?” you ask, biting your lower lip and hoping your presence isn’t actually a bother.

“I was happy to see your text.” Even if his answer is kind of vague considering your question, it eases the tension on your shoulders at his wide and comforting smile, “We did make a deal…” His voice is a tone lower as he peeks at you from under his lashes, taking his beer to his lips.

You take in a deep breath as your gaze drops to his lips, “Yes, we did.” You gulp, as your body tightens, feeling the rise of the tension in the air, enhanced by flashes of last night when you two settled said deal.

His chuckle is a tad dark and laced with mischief and oh, man it makes your skin tingles when he drags his body just an inch closer, his beautiful blue eyes fastened on you.

“Ahm, Bucky… can I ask you something?” You try not to let your voice come out too small, as the heat of his body rolls off to yours and makes your core flutter.

“Sure.”

“How does this work?”

He frowns as his head tilts a bit sideward, “This what?”

“This… ahm,” you clear your throat, “Deal… I mean, I’m pretty interested, pretty, pretty interested.” You stress the word and your eyes widen a bit at the honesty slipping out of your lips, but you realize that’s actually how being around Bucky has made you feel, giving his own honesty behavior with you, just like now when he expresses no kind of reaction that would make you feel embarrassed or anything of that nature, so you let yourself continue, “But you must know I’ve got out of a relationship recently. It was really serious …10 years.” You chuckle when he huffs and takes a sip of his beer, “Anyway, I’m not really sure how to handle this.” You gesture between you two, “Should we establish any sort of rules, or something?” You shrug questioningly. Every single movie you saw or book you read where the characters had a deal like that they ended up establishing some rules, you’re not sure if that’s what you’re supposed to do here, but…

“Rules?” His whole face scrunches up, “Let me tell you something, sweetheart,” he lets out a long exhale, “My entire life, all I did was to follow damn rules. Even to this day, I have to follow them all the time in my job, whether is from the fucking government, the pain in my ass which is Stark or Fury and, believe me, even from the giant asshole of my best friend who’s pretty jacked up now but was nothing than a skinny angry ass, like, yesterday… Yeah, you know the punk, don’t you?” He smiles when you hold back a laugh, “It’s all about rules, rules, rules… I have to endure them when it comes to work, but I don’t like them in my personal life.”

He smiles that dazzling smile and you can’t help to offer him a small one, too. You see where he’s coming from. Given what you know of his life, he lived a very strict, military life ever since an early age in the 30’s. You don’t even have to elaborate on what happened next and everything he endured… now he’s part of the damn Avengers… Just like that, you start to get a bit more of Bucky Barnes and why he seems to live his life so lightly and freely now…

“Listen…” he continues, after taking a sip from his beer, “Let’s just have some fun… I loved spending time with you last night, I love that you’re here now and I love even more the prospects of tonight…” He smirks and you gulp down at the promise that comes with it, “I just wanna enjoy our time together, I don’t need rules to do that.” He pauses, as his face turns a bit more serious, differing from the light demeanor he’s been showing so far, “Do you wanna set any rules, though?”

You ponder his question. You did bring the subject up, because that’s what you think you should’ve done, but, now that you think about it, nothing comes to your mind. You kinda love his philosophy. No overthinking, just fun and no rules… “No, actually. I can’t think of anything,’ you decide.

“Great.” He smiles and nods, before his face turns serious again, “There’s one thing I need to clear up, though.” He stops and looks deeply into your eyes, as waiting for your consent before continuing.

“Oh, alright.” You encourage him to elaborate.

“As much as I’m looking forward to getting to know you and spending time with you, there’s absolutely no prospect of this turning into some kind of romantic relationship. See, I like the way I live my life too much and chances are I won’t be exclusive to you,” he says fixing his gaze on yours as if gauging your reaction to what his words, “What I’m saying is if I feel like it, I’ll have sex with other people and I highly encourage you to do the same if that’s something you want. The serum made me immune to any disease, but I’m obviously not against protection,” he adds and you feel your cheeks burning, it still blows you away how comfortably he talks about sex and how blatantly honest he is. You like and are getting used to it, but you’re just not there yet, “We can be friends, or not, we can just fuck our brains out, but we won’t go further than that. I need to know you’re aware and consenting on this, I need to know you’re on the same vibe as mine before we continue… having fun together.” He speaks seriously, but you see the tiny and suggestive curl on his lips when he finishes and waits for your answer.

You let out a small laugh under your breath, “I wouldn’t stress about it… I’m still in love with my boyfriend, to be honest. So, don’t worry about me wanting to turn this into something ahm… romantical.” You wave your hand between the two of you.

“Uh, ok,” He raises a brow and nods, pondering your response, “We’re cool then?” He checks again.

“We’re cool,” You nod and raise your beer.

He promptly bumps his bottle to yours as you seal your deal with a toast and a shared smile.

“So, still in love with him, huh?” He asks, absentmindedly, after you two take a sip from the beer, “Was it a bad break up?”

“Not really,” you answer, looking down at your finger circling the rim of the bottle, “I just wasn’t expecting it… I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with him… it was settled.” You shrug, “And then, nothing was certain anymore. I’m sorry,” you quickly add, shaking your head with a tight smile on your lips. The last thing you want is to talk about Eddie. And you’re pretty sure that’s not what Bucky expects from the night, either.

“Hey.” He hooks his finger under your chin, lifting it up so you look back at him, “No rules remember? We can talk, we’re not sex robots or anything.”

Your head falls back when you laugh, “Alright.” You nod as he smiles at you, “But I don’t really want to talk about my breakup, now.”

He nods back, accepting your position, “Can I ask you something?” He’s the one to talk again after you two drink from the beer, “Last night,” he continues when you give him your consent, “When I went down on you. Was that the first time?”

There he goes again, talking so freely... You don’t feel your cheeks burning this time, though.

“No,” you answer, and he lifts his eyebrows, showing a bit of surprise at the answer, “It was the second, actually…” You’re quick to add, tightening your lips, “That obvious, huh?” You laugh quietly as your shoulders drop a bit.

Bucky shrugs, “It’s just that you seemed a bit self-conscious about it…” He brings his bottle to his lips, but stops it midair, “At first…” he smirks at you once again and winks.

You let out a small chuckle, looking down, playing with the almost empty bottle in your hands, “And I was…” You turn your body to face him, folding your legs on his sofa and leaning your arm on his backrest. It might be the alcohol, or just his laid-back and comforting presence that makes you want to share it with him, “You see, I’ve dated Eddie since college and he was my first…you know?” You bit on your lower lip as he nods at you to continue, nothing changing on his expression at the information, “And what happened was that he was never really a fan of that… we tried once, years ago and that was it… I knew he was grossed out by it, so I never asked him again.”

Clearing your throat, you look away, bringing you your beer to your lips to conceal any sign of embarrassment your face might indicate, you can’t believe you just shared that with him, you know how pitiful that sounds and what a turn off that must be. You’re there to have sex and are sharing how unexperienced you are? Not cool.

You feel his eyes fixed on you, and, when your gaze is attracted to his like a magnet, the pity you thought you would see on his face just isn’t there. Instead, it’s something entirely different you catch on his expression and his eyes. Never parting his focus from you, he puts his beer on the center table and reaches for yours, placing it next to his. He drags his body closer, and his smell – no cologne, just his own manly smell with a hint of what must be a fancy shampoo- fills in your nostrils, making you breathe in deeply the inebriant scent, “You know what came to my mind while I was listening to you?”

The sultry tone in his voice is almost hypnotic as your lips part and your gaze drops to his, “What?” you murmur.

“Last night…” He licks his lips before drawing his lower one between his teeth, “Your taste…” He leans forward, brushing his lips on your earlobe, causing your breath to hitch in your throat, “Your shaky legs around my shoulders…” His flash hand finds your knee before sneaking up your thigh, carrying goosebumps on its way, “And those sinful sounds you made while I had your pussy in my mouth.” He grabs your earlobe in a gentle bite at the same time his wandering hand grabs harshly the flesh of your thigh underneath your dress, pulling a breathy whine out of you.

He drags his lips to yours and the kiss is sensual, slow moves of his tongue against yours as his lips are a soft and breathtaking caress. You realize you would be willing to spend the whole night just like that… kissing him, as your tongue laces around his and he lures you to melt into him… But he seems to have other plans in mind. You can’t help but seek his lips again as he parts them from yours.

“And this is what thinking about all of that does to me…” Boring his blue, now darker than ever, eyes on yours he grabs your hand from your lap and brings it to the bulge in his pants.

You gasp at the sensation in your hand as he guides your hand with his to brush the firm and large hardness. Everything about the situation is sexy and makes you light in your head and hot in your body: the way he moans as you move your hand, his warm breath slipping from his parted lips and fanning over yours, how his eyes flutter for just a second before fixing on yours again, his scent, his shameless words…

“Just to think about eating your pussy…the mere thought of it…. Fuck, it turns me on,” he whispers and lets go of your hand, allowing it to move on its own as he lunges at you again, kissing and nibbling your lips a lot harder than the first time

You kiss him back fiercely while keeping your hand on his cock, palming it through his jeans. You already can tell how thick he is and a fluttering sensation bubbles down your lower belly as the desire to feel his cock inside you takes over your senses and makes you weak in your legs.

“Shit, I can’t wait to do that again…” He drags his lips down your collarbone, whispering between kisses and licks on your skin, “But right now, what I want is to feel your pussy around my cock. Is that what you want, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” you promptly answer, eyelashes fluttering shut at the thought as you press your hand harder against his hardness and digs your finger on his loose locks, “I want it… I want this cock so bad.”

“Bedroom,” he announces, swiftly getting up and pulling you with him.

By the time you get to his bedroom, he already has his shirt off and you’re only in your set of black lingerie, discarded clothes and shoes left on the short way from the living room. Peppering kisses down his neck, you unbutton and unzips his jeans.

“Holy fuck.” It slips out of you in a breath when you look down and takes sight of his cock bobbing between you two as you pull his pants along with his underwear down his legs.

It’s big… and thick… and beautiful, you dare say…"Wow," it slips out of you unannounced as you keep staring down and you hear a chuckle from him, a tad too smug chuckle, because he damn well knows… of course, he does.

As he proceeds to ravish your neck, grabbing two handfuls of your ass through your underwear, you can’t help but wrap your fingers around him. You can’t take your eyes off your hand playing slowly with it, entranced by how thick and hard he is, anticipating the feeling of him inside you as you swipe your thumb over the tip...

“Stop, stop.” The rasped plea takes you out of your reverie as his forehead falls on your shoulder and his hand stops yours, “I’ll come all over your hand if you keep that up,’ he explains, laying a kiss on the crook of your neck.

You chuckle and bring your arms to circle his broad shoulders instead, peppering kisses on his stubbled jaw.

“Let’s go to bed, or this will be over too soon.” You can hear the smile on his lips as he squeezes your ass and steps out of his bunched jeans and underwear, guiding you to his bed.

Through kisses, licks, bites, and wandering hands on each other, he lays you down and positions himself hovering you after unhooking and taking off your bra with the same expertise from the night before. He focuses on your breasts, sucking each one of them with intense hunger before shifting on his knees, leaving your breasts and whole body burning for his touch.

He moves towards the nightstand and opens the drawer to get a condom. The position gives you a prime view of his fully erected cock. The little dark path turning into the well-trimmed little hairs right above it shows you how careful he is with himself and the thought of your tongue running down on it pops into your mind and sparks the electricity running down your inside. On its own will, your hand snakes down your stomach till your clothed mound.

A particularly loud sigh of you is what catches Bucky’s attention as he rips the package with his teeth. His eyes drop to where your hand rubs you covered pussy and his cock twitches at the vision.

“Shit… yeah, touch yourself….” He breathes, as he rolls off the latex around his cock.

You promptly slide your fingers under your underwear and find out how wet you are. You draw gentle circles on your clit, never taking your eyes off his burly and beautiful figure, the tightness in your core is a crescendo as you catch every little detail of his perfect body and his hooded eyes on you.

Still kneeling on the mattress, he positions himself in front of your opened legs, but just stays there, hypnotized by the spot where you touch yourself, placing his hands on your knees and spreading your legs wider for him, his pupils growing darker and darker with lust.

You sigh and moan at the pleasure brought by your fingers, but the exposed situation you are in and the sight of him staring down so hungrily at your pussy prompts the tight coils flaming inside you. Just a couple of days and you’re finding out a few things you had no idea about yourself. One of them is that you actually love that kind of filthy exposition. It feels wrong and intimate and fucking sexy.

He grips his cock, giving it a few slow strokes and it’s all a sweet torture that you can’t take anymore.

“Bucky…Please, fuck me.” Your voice comes out laced in a mix of plea and guttural groan you didn’t know you had in you.

Dark eyes flick to yours. “Oh, yeah? Do you want me to fuck you?” he teases, showing no mercy to your desperation.

“Hard…” you correct him, gritting your teeth, “I want you to fuck me hard.”

His eyes widen and his chest moves up when he sucks in a breath. You’re really that eager that you can’t control your words anymore, but you love the effect it has on him. He pulls your fingers from under the lace of your underwear and leans down to bring them to his mouth. Your lips part at the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, his eyes fluttering shut as he moans sucking the two fingers clean. Your taste seems to stir something in him and the world around you spins when big strong hands turn you over roughly.

“On your fours,” he growls. The grasp of his hands on your ass tugs at your core.

You promptly comply, getting yourself in the position he wants you in as he keeps himself behind you. You yelp when he swiftly pulls your underwear down your knees, the lace stretching around them as he spreads your legs. Looking from over your shoulder you watch him cursing under his breath and gripping the base of his impossibly hard cock and guiding it to your slit, coating his hardness with your arousal.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as the hardness brushes against your clit.

“In a second…” He smirks when his gaze crosses yours. He leans over and pushes your back down, positioning your ass in the air as you lay your head on his pillow. Bucky grabs your hand and guides it to your pussy.

He doesn’t need to say what he wants you to do as your fingers quickly start working on your clit and he aligns himself with your entrance. He pushes the tip in and it knocks the air out of your lungs as you brace yourself on his pillows with your unoccupied hand, speeding up the finger on your clit. Bucky groans as he pushes himself in, inch by inch. You’re soaking wet and he doesn’t find much resistance, but it’s been a year for you, so you’re very aware of the stretch on his way in.

“Shit,” you wheeze, loving how full you feel when he’s all his way in, both of his hands grasping your hips tightly.

“Oh, damn, you feel amazing.” He groans and you clench around him, “Oooo, someone has a praise kink, huh?” A teasing tone in his words.

Do you? You wouldn’t know… all you know is how your whole body and mind respond to having him inside you and how his sultry words make your head dizzy. It’s an aching and floating sensation all at once. You feel light and heavy and hot and eager for him to move.

Like he’s reading your mind, he starts his pace. His fat cock stretches your walls at every jerk of his hips, increasing in rhythm as it feels easier for him to slide in and out of you. It doesn’t take long before he’s pounding into you, a punishing hold on your hips to keep you steady enough to him. Being the discoverer of your weakness, he punctuates every pound with grunted words of praise, telling how good and wet you feel around his cock.

He feels good, too. He feels so damn good, his cock brushing and hitting all of the sweetest spots inside you, the sound of skin slapping against skin... Your mind is a fuzz and your head sinks into his pillow, muffling your moans as you just take it, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts. The coil that’s been twisting your lower belly getting tighter and tighter. You want to come on his cock so bad, you press your fingers hard against your sensitive numb.

“Fuck, yeah, work on that clit, I wanna feel you soaking that cock,” Bucky coos, curling an arm around your stomach and, when you notice, you’re on your knees with your back to his chest. Slick skin burns against slick skin as he drags his metal hand over yours on your pussy, guiding your finger in a different direction, making you gasp at the new sensation the subtle shift brings.

“Oh, God.” You can’t and don’t want to hold back anymore as it’s all more than you can handle and the tightness inside your belly washes over your core in sheer ecstasy. Your back arches and your head falls back on his shoulder as you cry out a mindblowing orgasm.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear, slowing down his pace, “That’s it, oh fuck,” he curses at the feel of your cunt gripping his cock.

Your senses aren’t fully functioning yet when he pulls out, throws you back on the mattress and flips you over, swiftly taking off the underwear that was stretched around your knees. A delicious smile curls your lips at all the manhandling because you want more and he’s giving it to you, driving himself inside you again, lifting your legs with his forearms, resting them over his shoulders and not holding back on the almost inhuman speed as he thrusts his hips.

He leans over, captures your lips and you curl your arms around his neck as he fucks you. Hard. Just like you said you wanted him to. You had no idea you were so flexible but what a way to find out, having the hottest guy you’ve ever met balls deep -really deep - into you while his tongue curls around yours.

Parting his lips from yours he releases your legs and they promptly wrap them around his hips as he supports himself with his forearms on each side of you and arches his back and to allow him to drag his lips to ravish your breasts, which he seems pretty fond of already. You push his thrusts impossibly harder and deeper with your feet as he alternates from sucking one and the other, licking and grazing his teeth around your sensitive nipples, your vision blanking at the light pain mixed with the pleasure he’s giving to you with his mouth and his damn perfect cock inside you. He doesn't give you time to cool down from the last orgasm as your mind freezes, focusing solely on the dazzling sensations in your body.

“So fucking sexy.” The praise reverberates through your skin and it really seems to be a kink of yours as, joined with the expert roll of his hips, he brings you to another orgasm. A smaller one compared to the first, but powerful enough to make your body shake and to coax a series of moans out of you.

Bucky lets your breast go with a popping sound after a particularly hard suck and shifts back to his knees.

Still in the daze of your second orgasm, a weak sound leaves your lips through panting breathing as your hips leave the mattress when, pulling your legs straighten up together and keeping them securely against his chest with one arm, he pounds into you until an guttural grunt rolls from his lungs and his hips still. He shoves his hips into yours a couple of times, deep and powerful,, spilling his own pleasure into the condom, before letting your legs loose and pulling out. The sensitivity etches a hiss out of you before his body drops next to yours.

For a while, all that fills the room is the sound of sharp pants from both of you. In the past year, you came to think to think that maybe sex wasn’t that important to you and that maybe it wouldn’t matter if it happened or not…What a damn fool.

You do like sex. Love it, actually. And it is fucking amazing and important to you, no doubt of that, you realize while your eyes shut and you allow yourself to drown into the delicious ache that covers your muscles while aftershocks of your orgasms cause occasional spasms all over your body.

“Holy shit.” Bucky’s the first one to speak, still fighting to breathe, “That was-”

“Fucking amazing,” you complete, breathing hard, but with a blissful smile on your lips you tilt your head towards him, “Thank you, Bucky. You have no idea how much I needed this.” You add, too deep in your daze to care whether you sound pathetic or not.

He laughs loudly and the corner of his eyes crinkle with it, “My pleasure, beautiful, my pleasure.”

A few more moments pass with both of you laying there and enjoying the after state of what you just did until the mattress moves when he gets up.

You gather your strength to lift your head enough to watch him walking towards the bathroom, rolling off the condom out of his semi hard cock.

As you’re alone in his bed, that’s when an awkward feeling freezes up your chest in contrast to the heat you’ve surrendered to so far. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Do you leave? Do you stay? Can you take a shower? You could definitely use one… You know he said no rules and you agreed, but some guidance would suit you pretty well right now.

“Hey,” his voice takes you out of your own mind puzzle, “Your turn.” A soft towel is thrown at your face.

You grab it in your hands and look up at him with a glare. He’s laughing as he walks towards you, still butt naked, and your glare quickly dissipates into a playful one. “The bathroom is all yours now. There is liquid soap, shampoo and other stuff there if you need them,” he offers casually, sitting by the corner of the bed, “I’m starving, Chinese sounds good?”

You sit, too, holding the towel in your hand, “Yeah,” you frown before nodding “Sure, Chinese sounds great, actually.”

“Alrighty, then.” He taps on the mattress and gets up. You gaze falls down to his perky butt cheeks moving as he walks towards the door. He stops by the frame and looks back at you with that mischievous look of his, “Then, I’ll be ready for dessert.” He darts out that sinful tongue of his and runs it over his lips.

The brief awkward coldness you felt is replaced by a flush of a welcoming heat creeping up your body.

You smirk back at him, “Can’t wait.”

~~~

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x readere #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky series #floof #it's a deal

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welcometowcwmondaynitro · 3 years

Text

WCW Monday Nitro 09/09/1996

Shit be exploding, so you know what time it is.

Yes sir.

Once again we are not given a location this week, which generally means the town is too small-time for the big shots at WCW to even consider giving a shout out to. My research tells me this broadcast comes from the Columbus Civic Centre in Columbus, Georgia.

As always we are introduced to our first hour announce team, Schiavone and Zbyszko.

Tony is looking quite smart this evening. Larry as expected has a horrific multcoloured abomination on underneath his jacket. It’s basically his gimmick a this point so whatever.

They talk about how the balance of power has shifted to the nWo and Larry says Giant is “the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold”, nice ancient reference there, Larry. We get a recap of last week’s awesome show-ending brawl.

Once they’re done wrapping this up, Goldberg’s music plays. What? I check my file - yes, definitely 9th September 1996. Has Goldberg time travelled back to 1996 and changed history by debuting early?

Well, either that is one hell of a disguise or no, actually Goldberg’s theme music was first used by this Japanese guy called Pat Tanaka. It’s really weird seeing this random fella walk out to Goldberg’s music. The crowd boo mildly - I guess just because he’s Japanese? I don’t remember there being any storyline reason to boo him, anyway.

Pat’s opponent is... this.

Looks like a mascot from a early/mid-90s video game brought to life. If this is Super Calo then I am curious as to what regular Calo is like. I am unsure as to what makes this version ‘Super’, but maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming match. Mike Tenay joins the announce crew because it is Calo’s debut and Tenay is the only one likely to know anything about him.

Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo

I was kind of hoping Tanaka would start the match with a spear and then jackhammer Calo into oblivion, but no such luck.

As one would anticipate from a man dressed like a stereotypical kung-fu master in an 80s movie, Tanaka starts the match off with some kicks.

Calo jumps around pointlessly and then gets kicked in the face. Bants.

Tenay tells us Calo’s name and look comes from the “top rap group” in Mexico. He does not name this group. Confusingly wikipedia claims Calo is named after a Mexican rock group with the same name, but his image is meant to convey a rapper. So, just... what? Also what rapper has ever looked like Super Calo? In Mexico is that how rappers dress?

Well anyway this odd fellow somersaults over the ropes onto Tanaka outside of the ring.

The screen then cuts to this.

Then we’re back to the match. OK then.

Tanaka hits Calo with a powerbomb, which leads to Tony talking about him being “so schooled in the martial arts”. Yes, because we all know that classic martial arts move the powerbomb. Often followed by a leg drop and a scorpion deathlock.

The ending to this match is beyond ridiculous.

First, Tanaka puts Calo onto the top turnbuckle.

Neither man seems to know what is meant to happen next, so they awkwardly wrap their arms around each other.

Tanaka then lifts Calo up like he’s going for an inverse piledriver and falls backwards.

Apparently he knocks himself out, gets pinned, and loses.

What an idiot.

Super Calo defeats Pat Tanaka via Pinfall.

Nothing too super about our friend Calo in this one I’m afraid. His victory came largely because Tanaka is a super dunce.

We got some lads in the front row who are big fans of the classic moustache.

They seem quite pleased that Calo emerged victorious.

Just under seven minutes in and we throw back to Mean Gene in the locker room with Rick Steiner. This should be good.

Shirts hanging out of the lockers behind them, as you do.

Gene asks Rick Steiner about Nick Patrick’s questionable officiating - referring to the incident last week where Luger was disqualified in seconds for basically nothing. Rick says that he had Luger, and Gene saw it. Total bullshit as the match had barely started, and Gene does point that out.

Luger walks into the frame as we see last week’s replay. Rick is continually going on about how he was going to win, sounding like a mentally challenged three year old. On the other hand this is a guy who also genuinely thinks he’s a dog, so... I should probably be impressed that he is able to form words and put them into a somewhat coherent structure.

Gene says that Steiner is “a little confused” in the understatement of the century,

Luger tells Rick that he’s “a great tag team wrestler” but he feels like he has the edge in a singles environment. Rick continues to fail to understand basic english and keeps repeating “I can beat you, ask Sting” and then starts calling for Sting.

Gene then ushers Rick away like an unruly child as Luger walks off as well. Gene says that Luger was alluding that Rick “doesn’t have it upstairs”, pointing to his head. Wow, what a dick. Luger didn’t say anything like that. All he implied was that he was a better singles wrestler than Rick. Not sure where Gene has gotten his interpretation from, but my guess is he just wants to stir the pot as usual.

Next it’s nWo announcement time.

Just the usual t-shirt ad with Nash saying “all proceeds go towards the Ric Flair retirement fund”. Joke’s on him, that fund must have accrued some serious cash before it was finally paid out.

We’re back and...

Somebody buy these poor kids some real nWo t-shirts.

Where did these people come from? Did they decide to stop by Nitro after a corporate dinner or something?

Are these pilots in the audience as well? Wtf? Why are all these people coming to the show dressed in their work clothes? Is this a common thing in the States?

Oh, hey, guess what - Glacier debuted. I would say “remember all that hype” but if you’ve been reading this sad collection of nostalgic drivel then you will indeed remember the many Glacier adverts that have been on every Nitro broadcast since May or so. We’re now in September and Glacier finally had his first match... on WCW Pro.

Seriously.

WCW Pro is like... Sunday Night Heat or Velocity in WWE terms. It’s below WCW Saturday Night for fuck’s sake. Tony calls it “one of the most eagerly anticipated debuts ever” - which is why he made his first appearance on WCW FUCKING PRO. Oh WCW, what are you like?

Larry says Glacier will be “a force to be reckoned with”, which, spoiler alert. turns out to be the opposite.

Oh good, these two walking charisma vacuums.

And these two lumbering idiots. WCW, the best wrestling on the planet. How could WWF in 1996 find no way to entice people away from Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo and The AFC vs the Nasty Boys? Seriously. It isn’t that difficult.

The AFC do their usual schtick of singing the Canadian national anthem badly and the crowd get angry because ‘Murica fuck yeah and whatever. The Nasty Boys say “fuck this” and attack the AFC after about 10 seconds of this bullshit, getting the match started.

The Amazing French Canadians Vs The Nasty Boys

You don’t care about this match. I don’t care about this match. Let’s just skip to the end.

Knobbs whacks the eyepatch guy with the flag the AFC brought out. Saggs pins for the win.

The Nasty Boys defeat The Amazing French Canadians via Pinfall.

Mean Gene comes scurrying out to interview the Nastys, for some reason.

Saggs says everybody has been pointing the finger at the Nasty Boys, accusing them of being with the nWo (can’t imagine anybody really cares but OK, sure). Saggs says the Nasty’s are only worried about the tag titles which are in WCW, ergo they aren’t interested in joining the nWo. Does he not realise that faction affiliation is irrelevent as far as challenging for belts is concerned? I mean, Hogan is literally WCW Heavyweight champion at this point in time.

Knobbs says that the Nasty’s don’t care about the nWo, they’re in WCW and they’re coming for Harlem Heat to take the tag team titles. Short and to the point, which is fine by me, even if the Nasty’s appear to be under the mistaken impression- that joining the nWo would invalidate them from challenging for the tag titles.

We’re back from a commercial break to find Scott Norton and Sgt Craig Pittman in the ring.

Sgt Craig Pittman Vs Scott Norton

The commentators bill this as a “hold versus hold” match and I’m not sure what this means, as I was under the impression every match is hold versus hold. But whatever.

After some back and forth Pittman decides that it’s time to ram his head into Norton’s sternum.

It looks pretty painful and not especially effective, but Pittman enjoys it so much he does it again.

They head to the outside of the ring. Norton gets whipped against the guardrail, the entirety of which moves upon impact, but then Norton regains control by slamming Pittman’s shoulder into the ring post.

Norton locks in the armbar but the Sarge will not give up. Long gets onto the ring apron to beg Pittman to give in, but he won’t. WCW, for reasons beyond my understanding, is very careful about protecting Sgt. Craig Pittman. He never gets pushed, as far as I remember, but this man WILL NOT QUIT.

Then...

Ice Train wanders out wearing this abomination. Seriously - what the fuck? It’s like a demin vest with a backpack built in. It’s something you would expect to see an eight-year old girl in the mid-90s wearing over the top of a t-shirt or something. What clothing brand figured that this design was suitable for huge, beefy dudes? I don’t know, but they clearly have a customer in Ice Train.

Train throws in the towel for Pittman.

Scott Norton defeats Sgt. Craig Pittman via Forfeit.

He enters the ring and stares down at Norton, who is looking at Train’s vest top and moobs like “dafuq?”

The two former amigos have a staredown which doesn’t lead anywhere.

Pepboys Power Pin of the Week is a submission. Go figure.

We head to the locker room where Gene-o is with Ric Flair, Arn Anderson and Lex Luger.

Three of these men are dressed appropriately. The other is Lex Luger.

Apparently Sting is supposed to be a part of this interview as well but is nowhere to be found. Luger assures Flair & Arn that Sting is in the building, but the Horsemen are having none of it and are concerned that Sting doesn’t have his head in the game. Flair starts going crazy and practically flings himself into an alternate dimension with his erratic movements.

Like a jet propeller is being put directly in front of his face.

Anyway eventually these two sad sacks come lumbering in...

Mongo looks like he’s about to explode, whilst Benoit as usual appears barely awake. Mongo yells about not being able to count on Luger and Sting. Luger reiterates that Sting is in the building somewhere, he’s just not around for the interview. The Horsemen do seem overly paranoid here - how hard would it be to track Sting down and talk to him if they are this pissed off?

Arn says he’s called ahead to Winston, Salem (where Fall Brawl/War Games is being held) to pre-book himself a hospital room as he assumes he’s going to need one. Seems like a somewhat pessimistic thing to do, but is it even possible to pre-book hospital room? Arn is talking like he’s booked a hotel room for the night. Strange lad. He also suggests Hogan uses battery acid to burn out his eyes which... I mean, don’t give the guy ideas, Arn.

Interview ends with everybody talking over each other and Flair wooing a lot - so, the same as most Horsemen interviews.

People in the crowd are holding these signs which say “nWo - you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming!” - indeed, Hogan Vs Piper is coming.

We get a recap of this thrilling DDP/Eddie/Chavo storyline which nobody cares about, but why this is recapped is beyond me as the next match has nothing to do with any of those three.

Instead, out comes “the desparado” himself, Joe Gomez.

Somebody throws a wad of paper at him as he enters. Obviously not a fan.

His opponent is Juventud Guerrera, who Tony repeatedly refers to as Juventud Guerrero.

As Juvi enters he runs past these ladies, who appear both baffled and unimpressed with him.

Cold.

Joe Gomez Vs Juventud Guerrera

The match starts off okay, but descends into disaster fairly quickly as Juvi starts trying various lucha things which poor Joe is clearly not comfortable with. First Juvi stands on the apron, jumps onto the ropes as Gomez slowly walks towards him and does this...

It’s clear from this angle alone that there is no way in hell Juvi is going to reach Gomez. In fairness to WCW they switch camera angle just in time to make it look slightly less terrible, although I imagine it was more down to luck than skill. Nonetheless Gomez at least tries to sell the move, falling backwards theatrically.

Weeee! Points for effort if not execution.

This happens next, and thanks to Uproxx “Best and Worst of WCW Monday Nitro” series (check it out, it’s great) I have a GIF to put into pictures what I would struggle to put into words.

Speaks for itself.

After this Juvi seems to want to go for a hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle but I‘m not sure if they botch this as well or it was the plan, but Juvi ends up backflipping away from the turnbuckle and then catching Gomez with a weak looking dropkick as he jumps towards Juvi.

Juvi just about manages to hit the finishing move...

But even that looks a little bit dodgy. At least Joe just had to lay there for this one. Ref counts to three and mercifully this one is over. Not sure if Gomez or Juvi are to blame for this shitshow, but either way I advise never putting them together again.

Juventud Guerrera defeats Joe Gomez via Pinfall.

For some reason Mean Gene is on the ramp to interview Nick Patrick. Oh good, more of this storyline.

Before they start the interview though, as Juventud walks past Gene and Patrick, Gene says “very good match there on the part of Juventud Guerrera”, then gives Juvi a disdainful look and mutters “guy just kind of... wanders around here”. LOL. Why is Gene throwing shade at poor Juvi? “Guy just wanders around here”, like he’s a lost child or something. I guess Gene is still salty about the interview with Juvi that went wrong a couple of weeks ago, but come on, that was hardly Juvi’s fault. Obvious Gene is still holding a grudge though.

I don’t think anybody really wants to hear from these two ballbags but here we are anyway.

Gene is accusing Patrick of making too many controversial calls for it to just be coincidence, whilst Patrick is accusing Gene of being a shit-stirring cock cheese who needs to get a life. Neither are lying but nobody really cares either. What is funny is that Okerlund is very haughty and dismissive of Patrick - until Patrick threatens to take Gene to court - at which point Gene stutters “well I-I hope that doesn’t happen” before saying “thank you very much Nick Patrick, sir, thank you” to Patrick as he walks off. Pathetic.

Meanwhile Hogan, Hall, Nash and the Giant are outside in the pouring rain putting those nWo flyers with the “you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming” slogan on random cars. This seems like a total waste of time as by the time the car owners get back to their vehicles the rain would probably have destroyed those flyers anyway. Do these guys really have nothing better to do? Tony tells us the nWo are “literally” in the parking lot - as opposed to what, being there in spirit?

Ted DiBiase is the smartest of the lot as he 1) has an umbrella and 2) isn’t wasting his time putting up useless flyers in the pouring rain. He’s talking to somebody in the car, and the announcers are shitting themselves as to who it might be, as they tend to do. For all they know DiBiase might just be talking to the driver.

“HERE’S A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS, RICK AND SCOTT!”

Just Rick tonight. He comes out doing that sad half-bark he does whenever something is troubling him.

His opponent, of course, is Flexy Lexy.

Rick Steiner Vs Lex Luger

These two are not exactly known as ‘ring generals’ so I am not expecting a classic here. Let’s see, though. Perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised.

After various arm drags, headlocks, shoulder blocks, and so on, this happens.

Uh...

Yeah. Rick is basically molesting Luger in the ring and keeps this up for a disturbing amount of time. I guess it’s meant to show his amateur wrestling background but it basically just looks like sexual assault. Rick’s hands are going to places they really should not.

Hour two begins with the usual fireworks. Bischoff, Heenan and Tenay come in on commentary for the rest of the show.

Rick hits Luger with a nice powerslam, and Randy Anderson cannot bear to watch the impact. The crowd bark their approval which, personally, I don’t think is helpful. Rick’s clinical lycanthropy is only going to get worse if people bark at him when he does something good. Or bark at him in general, really.

More cuddling. Back away, Rick. Even Randy Anderson is telling him to cut it out at this point.

Luger takes control with a powerslam and signals for the rack. However, before he can attempt his finishing move...

This dicksplash comes running out waving his arms around. Looks like he’s doing the sieg heil there but fairly sure it’s just the timing of the screenshot.

Anyhow, Patrick tells Luger to follow him out the back, yelling something about the nWo beating up Sting.

Considering Patrick’s recent behaviour, Lex, it might not be wise to...

OK. Never mind. Of course Luger goes running after Patrick, abandoning the match entirely and getting himself counted out.

Everyone looking towards the entrance way like “where’s he going?”

Rick Steiner defeats Lex Luger via Countout.

We get a shot of DiBiase talking to the mystery man in the limo. Sting’s voice is heard but it is blatantly piped in from some other promo. He says he’s “tired of the DTA stuff, don’t trust anybody”, so I guess he’s not a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin. DiBiase pretends to talk to the pre-taped Sting voice until Lex shows up.

A guy who is clearly not Sting gets out of the limo and starts beating up Luger whilst Bischoff screams “NO! NO!”

I have the advantage of hindsight and my monitor is probably bigger than most people’s TVs back in 1996... but still, it’s really obviously not Sting. Were people genuinely fooled by this?

The nWo along with “Sting” beat Luger down and leave him laying in a broken heap in the rain...

It has not been a good night for Luger. First he got yelled at by the Horsemen, then he spent ten minutes getting inappropriately touched by Rick Steiner during their match, then he gets smacked around by the nWo and left on the ground in the pouring rain. Bad times for sure. Although if you’re stupid enough to follow Nick Patrick anywhere...

Luger does manage to get back up but ends up just kind of wandering around in the rain looking confused whilst the nWo flee, leaving the limos parked outside the building.

These bois are not impressed by what they have just seen. Tenay looks like a dad who is about to grab his belt and put a whippin’ on somebody. Bischoff is indignant. Heenan wears the expression of a man who was just forced to sit through every Raw from 2015. Pure torture.

Bischoff says he has an update which is literally “we don’t know where [the nWo] are. I’m sorry. I don’t know”. Well thanks for that. Very helpful.

We get a long recap of last week’s angle including more footage of the amazing all-out brawl that ended the show. Then we get another nWo advert for their t-shirt.

A bunch of random jobbers are outside with Luger and Rick Steiner milling around the limo yelling out “DIBIASE!” - as if he’ll just pop up and be like “sup bois?” - pointless endeavour. Rick Steiner is the only one smart enough to bring an umbrella outside. Let that one sink in. Luger chucks a bunch of stuff out of one of the limos onto the floor which seems unnecessary.

Out comes pre-Flock Billy Kidman. The commentators could not care less, just droning on about Sting’s supposed “defection”.

The other combatant in this contest is Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.

Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Billy Kidman

The announcers spend the entire match in ‘sad voice’, like their dogs have all collectively died. It’s really annoying.

The match spills to the outside very quickly. Rey gets the advantage and rolls Kidman back in. He attempts to jump off the ropes from the apron, but Kidman knows what’s coming and meets Rey with a dropkick to the chest.

Kidman slams Rey in the centre of the ring, runs over to the turnbuckle and leaps off.

Just a two count though. Rey wins the match soon after this by flipping off the ropes onto Kidman.

It looks weak but whatever. This wasn’t anything special.

Rey Mysterio defeats Billy Kidman via Pinfall.

We come back from a commercial and the Dungeon’s of Doom’s “music” is playing, and I put that in inverted commas because it isn’t really music, just a pseudo-creepy OTT villainous laugh accompanied by some kind of chant. Whatever. Normally any sign of the Dungeon is enough to make me want to hang my head in despair, however!

If Meng is involved, it might be somewhat entertaining. Just to note those aren’t two random arms sprouting out of Meng’s shoulders – the Barbarian is behind him.

The announcers are still going on about how tragic Sting’s supposed betrayal is – and Bischoff apologises for “not giving Rey Mysterio the attention he deserves in his match”. I mean, kind of tough to take that apology seriously considering how often this has happened and will continue to happen until Nitro goes out of existence. It is the only time I can recall any commentator in WCW actually apologising for the routine ignoring of the cruiserweights in favour of talking about/complaining about the nWo, though.

These two are the opponents. Yeah, Public Enemy, they definitely deserve that pyro. Sure. Look at them waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care.

By the way, the commentators are still going on about Sting. I wonder if we’ll get another apology for ignoring this match as well? Not that I’d necessarily blame them here.

Some diehard wrestling fans here. I think we saw them previously – seemingly someone in production has taken a liking to these ladies. They look like they got lost on their way to a PTA meeting, but fuck it, might as well enjoy themselves now. Watch out for the dude behind you though, ladies. That smile worries me a little.

The Faces of Fear Vs Public Enemy

We go to a commercial break, and as soon as we come back Bischoff says “I hate to keep repeating this, but apparently Sting has joined forces with the nWo”. Bullshit, if you hated it that much you’d have shut up about it by now. I mean, jeez, we get it.

This contest is just a brawl, as you’d expect. Not exactly a match for the ages, but all of a sudden, randomly…

This dude on the left appears and begins running/skipping around the ring.

The fuck? It’s like Rockstar Spud’s demented uncle or something.

He briefly chases Jimmy Hart, then just… vanishes? Oh, and by the way, the commentators make no mention of this. They do not acknowledge this at all. Why? Because they’re talking about everything except the match itself. Literally, I’m not kidding, it’s like this match is not happening. It’s like listening to a radio show or a podcast spliced together with unrelated WCW footage.

Wait, what? What’s happening now? The match is ongoing and they just cut to the back. Judging from the faces of these lads you’d think someone died. It’s a sombre scene to say the least – but seriously, why even have the match in the ring? What’s the point? The commentators are acting like it isn’t happening and we cut to an interview as the match is happening. Bischoff doesn’t even note that we’ve cut away from a match in progress, he just says “take it away Gene”, like this is totally normal. Whatever, I guess. It’s not like I’m desperate to see the Faces of Fear versus Public Enemy, but what a bizarre way to structure… everything.

Gene asks Arn to explain what happened in the parking lot earlier. Seemed quite self-explanatory to me and the commentators have not stopped talking about it since it happened, so the viewers really don’t need any extra information.

Arn says he doesn’t give a shit about Luger losing a friend, or that he’s lost a team mate, he’s just shocked. He brings up Sting’s loyalty to WCW.

They actually move to a split-screen here – I guess someone in the production truck remembered there is actually a match going on. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive the dozens of Faces of Fear/Public Enemy fans the chance to see their favourite grapplers go at it.

Anyway, Arn says he has a sick feeling in his stomach, he’s shocked, and he’s out of words. He’s said quite a few already, though, so not really.

Flair stands there with his arms folded, eyeing the audience like a disappointed father.

Luger says he doesn’t have any answers, and that his “best friend in the whole world” stabbed him in the back. He then says he knows where Sting lives and where he works out, and he’s going to go and find him “right now”. Sounds like Lex is planning to murk Sting. However, he should keep in mind this is a guy who only last week tried to murder somebody by chucking a rock through the window of a limo, then stole a police car. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why Sting isn’t in jail. Regardless, I wouldn’t be chasing after him without a good plan.

Flair screams that he’s “sick of it” and just generally yells about how they’re going to beat up the nWo at War Games (including Sting). Arn says “it’s a fight to the death – yours, not ours”. I suppose that was worth emphasising? Also Arn has a tendency to see these matches as ending in death, even though it never comes close to that.

We return to the Faces of Fear/Public Enemy match. By “we” I mean the audience – the commentators are still talking about War Games. I genuinely don’t think they have said anything about the match – oh, wait a minute, Bischoff does mention the match, finally. Although he says the teams are “literally fighting for their lives” which is not exactly accurate. What is up with these people thinking matches are going to end so tragically?

Anyway, the brawling continues for a while and eventually, somehow, Rocco Rock ends up lying on a table. Barbarian heads for the top turnbuckle.

Guys, I don’t foresee this ending well. Seriously, what is the absolute best result of this? Rocco (who can clearly see Barbarian on the turnbuckle) for some reason lays there and lets Barbarian jump on him. It’ll be brutal for both. Or, Rocco moves and Barbarian crashes through the table. Either way Barbarian doesn’t win in this scenario.

Uh oh. Jimmy Hart is absolutely useless at holding Rocco down, kicked away like an insect as Rocco sits up.

That is a fucking sick bump. It’s funny because Barbarian barely takes any serious bumps at all, on Nitro at least, then he decides to say fuck it and leaps to the concrete through a table because YOLO I guess?

Well anyway he dead. Rocco brings a second table into the ring.

Looks pretty old. Nick Patrick wags his finger in disapproval, but incredibly that isn’t enough to persuade Public Enemy to stop. They lay Meng on the table, then Rocco goes to the top turnbuckle for a moonsault…

He almost misses the table entirely, only catching Meng with his legs. The table is weak enough that it breaks despite the soft contact.

You’d think that would be the spot that ends the match, but no. Meng gets up like nothing happened and starts brawling with Rocco again. Barbarian is also somehow revived and back in the ring fighting with Grunge. This is weird because the outside table spot with Barbarian getting wiped out, and then Meng getting put through the table by Rocco’s moonsault, felt like the end sequence of the match. Now it’s like we’re back at the start again. Keep in mind the match has been going for about 10 minutes now. That’s at least 7 minutes longer than is ideal for these teams, really.

Whilst Rocco and Barbarian are hugging it out in the corner, Meng puts the Tongan Death Grip on Grunge and now this one is over.

No explanation as to what the fuck was going on with that random ginger guy running around the ring earlier by the way. Oh well. During the replay Heenan accidentally calls Meng “Haku” and then goes silent immediately. Oops.

The Faces of Fear defeat Public Enemy via Pinfall.

Suddenly Okerlund appears at ringside, accompanied by the Dungeon of Doom.

Maxx, Jimmy Hart, Big Bubba, Gene, Kevin Sullivan, Hugh Morrus and Konnan. To quote Rufus from Final Fantasy 7 – “what a crew”.

Sullivan is no longer painting his face with those stupid markings, but for some reason is now wearing a white headband. Does he think he’s the Karate Kid now?

He also starts making this derp face - and this isn’t just a screen grab catching an awkward expression momentarily, he’s making this face on purpose.

For some reason we go to Jimmy Hart first, who tells the Giant “it’s the beginning of the end for you, you just don’t know it yet”. I’m sure he’s quaking in his boots.

Big Bubba then rants about Glacier, talking about him saying he’s coming for “6 or 7 months” and asking if he’s not debuting because he’s afraid. Slight exaggeration on the 6 or 7 months from Bubba, but to be fair it does feel like those vignettes have been running for at least that long. Bubba actually doesn’t seem to be aware that Glacier debuted on WCW Pro, but it’s WCW Pro, so... understandable. Bubba calls the Dungeon of Doom “the masters of intimidation”…

What he means is that Meng is the master of intimidation. The others aren’t exactly adding much to the equation. Maxx is standing off to the side looking distinctly unimpressed by the entire thing.

With that said, bored does seem to be his default expression regardless of what is happening. I imagine he’d have the same expression even if Bubba was in the process of sprouting three heads whilst doing a kossack dance.

After calling Gene “homes”, Konnan calls Sullivan a “hardened veterano”. He then says Sullivan has seen and led gang wars from coast to coast.

Yes, Kevin Sullivan wearing that silly white headband is exactly what I think of when I think of leaders of gang wars. Sullivan’s ‘wut?’ expression here says it all. I’m not sure you can call the Dungeon of Doom/Alliance to End Hulkamania Versus Hogan and Macho Man a “gang war”. I’m not sure two people can even constitute a gang. Also Sullivan may be worried Konnan is unintentionally (?) implicating him in genuine gang wars… which probably isn’t in the Taskmaster’s best interests.

Konnan challenges the nWo to come out and confront the Dungeon, who he calls “the toughest set”. Yeah, sure. The challenge is not accepted, because the nWo are for sure terrified of a “gang” featuring the likes of Maxx, Kevin Sullivan, Big Bubba and Hugh Morrus.

Sullivan says that Savage thinks he’ll owe the Dungeon “a debt” for carrying him out from the ring last week. I doubt it in all honesty – maybe if they’d actually done something to help him before he’d been beaten down and spraypainted. Carrying him out after the fact didn’t really help much.

Anyhow, Sullivan says Savage can repay this fictional debt by first beating John Tenta, because why not I guess, and then by getting rid of the Giant. That doesn’t really seem like a balanced deal. We carry you backstage after you’ve been beaten up, you make it even by beating John Tenta and the Giant. Hmmm.

Time for some nWo propaganda.

Hogan tells us that they “aren’t here for a stinkin’ reason” – directly contradicting Nash and Hall, who had previously made it clear they’d come in specifically to take over WCW. He then randomly says “we’ve got our boss with us” and points to Ted DiBiase, who’s sitting in a chair behind them.

Homely. DiBiase looks like he’s being held prisoner, but whatever. Hogan says DiBiase makes Ted Turner look like a “pauper”. Honestly I could try to recap this whole thing but it’s really just a bunch of random sound bytes ripping on WCW for the most part. They talk about wanting “their own tag team tournament” for some reason. They also want a segment (on Nitro, presumably) where they can “highlight” their talent. What they actually mean is a segment highlighting Hogan, as we’ll discover going forward. Scott Hall says “nWo 4 life” with the hand sign (might be the first instance of this?) and they all end the segment laughing like it was an amazing joke.

I was a satellite dish owner back then – or rather, my parents were - but no WCW PPVs in the UK, sadly. We only got a butchered hour-long version of Nitro on TNT UK during 1996 & 1997. I didn’t find out that I’d been watching an edited version of the show until many years later. At least now I can sit back and relive the glory of the Faces of Fear Vs Public…. eh, maybe TNT UK were doing us a favour after all.

Back with your bois at the announce desk. Tenay once again has that “stern dad” look, whilst Heenan seems to be whimsically remembering something from years gone by. Take a guess as to what Bischoff is talking about?

A) The upcoming main event

B) Meltzer being wrong about everything

C) Blue Chew

D) Sting’s betrayal

If you’ve been following along thus far, you’ll know the answer. The lad does genuinely hate big Dave though, and loves that Blue Chew. Come to think of it, what is the main event? I can’t even remember. Sting’s supposed betrayal has been hammered into my brain so many fucking times at this point I can barely conceive of any other event occurring at any wrestling show.

Chris Jericho’s music plays, but…

It’s John Tenta? Still got that stupid haircut by the way. Seriously, fish man, you’ve made your point. Get that shaved.

But yeah, I’m confused here. I thought Jericho was coming out. But hold on, that’s Jericho’s second theme, “One Crazed Anarchist”, aka the Pearl Jam ripoff, not the one he’s using at this point in WCW, which I believe is the Journey ripoff. So John Tenta is in fact the OG “One Crazed Anarchist”. For the record, the theme suits Jericho far more than it suits the former Shark.

As he comes out Tenta says “Savage, you’re not putting me down”. You think so, John?

What exactly has that guy in the hat been up to? That is not the look of an innocent person.

Ohhh yeahhh, it’s the Macho Man. The commentators are pretending that the result of the match is in any doubt, which I suppose they have to do.

John “anti-fish” Tenta Vs “Macho Man” Randy Savage

Savage storms to the ring, but that turns out to be a bad idea as Tenta stomps on the Macho Man’s back as he slides in and then clobbers him with a forearm to the back.

Bad strategy, Macho. Tenta’s moobs though… whoa.

That’s an interesting choice of attire for a wrestling event, madam.

Tenta works over Savage in the corner for a bit. Savage then begins to make a comeback, before for some reason attempting to slam Tenta…

Goes about as well as you’d expect. Macho really needs to work on his strategy.

Bischoff actually specifically says here that Heenan accidentally referred to Meng as “Haku” earlier and wants to make it clear Meng now works for WCW and not the WWF. I guess they were really taking this kind of thing seriously due to the lawsuits flying around at this point in history. Funny though, as you hear these kinds of slip-ups all the time. I mean, if TNA or AEW were sued for every time a commentator accidentally used a competitor’s ex-WWE name there would need to be a legal department created specifically just to deal with the fucking volume. At least Heenan didn’t call it “WWF Nitro”.

Tenta hits Macho with a decent looking drop kick – quite impressive considering his weight. Outside of the ring Savage hits Tenta with a steel chair…

He isn’t disqualified because…? He whacks Tenta twice more with a chair. This is not a no-DQ match, but it is WCW, so fuck the rules unless we need them for storyline purposes, right?

Flying elbow drop!

Macho goes up for a second, but then Teddy Long comes to ringside yelling “Macho!” – what could the so-called “godfather” want with Savage? Also where’s my man Ice Train at? Come to think of it, I just remembered what he was wearing earlier… best for him to stay backstage.

Savage still hits the second elbow drop. Long is gesticulating wildly at Savage and yelling something about the nWo. Savage leaps over the top rope with nice agility.

But before we go any further…

Son, I am disappoint. I can’t even say “A for effort” because that is the lowest tier of effort.

Anyway, Savage follows Teddy to the outside of the arena where Teddy announces “YOU GONNA GO ONE-ON-ONE WITH THE UNDERTAKER PLAYA!”

Actually, they run towards a limo.

The limo drives off as soon as Savage approaches it. What was the point of that?

Flair and Mongo randomly appear as the limo drives away.

There’s another limo there, but only a box of spraypaint inside it. There are a ton of WCW guys out there now – the Horsemen, the Dungeon, Public Enemy, Juvi, Super Calo, Savage… basically everyone who was on TV tonight. They start spraypainting “WCW” on the limo windows… or rather, they try to. Due to the fact it’s been raining and everywhere is wet it ends up just looking like a green smudge. As an aside, if that is in fact not an nWo limo, somebody is going to be in for a surprise.

For some reason the commentators are all standing up. Tenay is looking more evil every time he’s on camera. It’s like he wants to reach through the camera and strangle each and every viewer.

Seriously though, he is repeatedly making a “pissed-off dad” face.

“Dad, I borrowed your car…”

“Um… and… I got a speeding ticket…”

“And there’s a dent on the front as I kinda sorta knocked over the mailbox…”

Grounded forever.

Anyway, once they all sit back down Heenan goes on a rant about the nWo which concludes with “if we don’t stop them now then they can’t be stopped”. If only you could glimpse into the future and nWo 2000, Bobby.

Oh, by the way, I guess John Tenta won the match against Savage by count out? It wasn’t announced or shown, but Savage jumped out of the ring and never returned, so…

John Tenta defeats “Macho Man” Randy Savage via Countout.

I guess Tenta was right, Savage didn’t put him down after all. Score one for the fish hating weirdo.

Double A suddenly appears on set. Heenan gives Arn his headset. Can’t help but think it’d be better for Anderson to be in the ring with a mic, as the fans in the arena can’t hear any of this… but whatever.

Arn says that the world is “in shock” and “outraged”. The world is probably a bit of a stretch, but OK. Flair turns up as Arn is talking, as do Benoit and Mongo. Arn says that this all began ten years ago with the original Horsemen, and that they paved the way and showed the nWo how to do it. Technically true. Arn says the nWo want to be the Horsemen “when they grow up”.

Tenay continuing to give that evil stare, even at Arn. Bischoff looks kind of sad.

As an aside, I may have mentioned it before, but I really like this shirt design:

Bischoff begins talking about making mistakes, but Flair interrupts him. Flair screams so loudly that the headset seems to take some damage as the volume decreases slightly. Flair explains War Games – although if you don’t know what it is by this point then what have you been doing with your life? – and says Hogan won’t leave War Games alive. Spoiler alert: he does.

Bischoff then talks about how maybe bringing Hogan in to WCW was “a mistake” and that the Horsemen “haven’t been given their just due”. The same exact sentence could have been said in 2000 and been even more relevant.

WCW then ends the show with a replay of Luger getting beaten up by “Sting” and the nWo. I’m sure he appreciates that. A good thing they reminded us, as I think a whole ten seconds passed at the end there without mention of Sting’s betrayal and my memory had started to go hazy.

#wcw #wcwnitro #nwo #nwo4life #Sting #luger #flair #horsemen #outsiders #wtfwcw #lolwcw #stinger #mondaynightwars #moobs

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holydragon2808 · 3 years

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Thoughts On Dragon Age II after Replaying (Massive Spoilers)

Hello fellow DA fans! It's been quite some time since I last posted anything here on Tumblr. Hope everyone has been safe during all of the world's craziness. Figured I'd post something to let people know I'm still alive.

Anyway, DA2 was first released back in 2011. I was 20-21 years old at the time. Back then, while I still acknowledged the lack of genuine player agency with Hawke (in comparison to the Warden before them), I did belong in the camp of people believing that people went way overboard with the DA2 critiques regarding those complaints, at least back then.

Now though? After replaying the game again a decade or so later, and also in light of the Inquisitor and DAI, I now personally believe that Hawke's story stands out as (overall), all the more unbalanced in comparison to both the Warden and Inquisitor.

Massive Spoilers for the franchise abound beyond this point. Last warning.

Despite a lot of the old critiques leveled at DA2, it isn't a 100% terrible experience, and despite the oncoming rant, I do love the game overall.

Even though I've personally always thought that DA2 story was centered around tragedy a bit TOO much, in light of the growing franchise and the directional tone of the other protagonists thus far, it unfortunately stands out even more to me, and not in a good way.

A shame really because DA2 could have been a better and interesting contrast to DAO in tone and direction had it been more balanced with meaningful successes and failures for Hawke as a character rather than veering too far over into angst and tragedy.

For example, in DAO, your Warden character is railroaded into success against the Blight no matter what. Regardless of the origin, regardless of what sort of allies you acquire, no matter if you live or die in the end or which warden gets the final blow, you succeed.

This sort of narrative framing gave the writers a much easier way to balance genuine tragedy and success throughout the journey without veering too far in one direction or the other, and also without making nearly everything the player does seem like an exercise in futility.

In other words, there were failures and successes more properly balanced throughout, from experiencing meaningful failures and heartache during the chosen origin stories, to failure at Ostagar, to having more balance with the party members and their struggles (they weren't too boring or too dysfunctional), romances that stood out as a light for the Warden amidst all the fighting and death and their massive burden, to succeeding with building the army to take on the Darkspawn, to potential personal sacrifice to save the world and so on.

The option to play a more tragic, angsty or "evil" character who alienates everyone around them and then ultimately dies in the end is there too. The point is that the game largely gave the player the reins and let THEM decide what sort of story they were interested in shaping within the confines of the narrative railroading.

This balance just isn't there with DA2 as the player progresses. Hawke is railroaded into failure in almost every way from start to finish, whether in their personal life or with the massive political struggles in Kirkwall.

I'm sure most people would have been fine with the main plot between the mages/Templars spiraling out of their control in the end (thanks Anders), the Qunari rampaging no matter what, and even the Hawke family being forcefully separated as the story progressed.

However, to me some of the railroaded bleak tragedy should have been offset by Hawke (and by extension the player) at least having the OPTION of being able to keep their family alive.

I'm fine with the tragedy of losing the whole family being ONE POSSIBLE option in the game, but when this tragedy along with the main plot failures, the dysfunctional party members that are too problematic to help ease Hawke's burdens (in fact, they all add to Hawke's worries, which if Inquisition shows anything, that it finally takes its toll on Hawke) is THE ONE AND ONLY OPTION in light of everything else wrong in Kirkwall, then that's a potential writing issue and could potentially alienate the player more than make them care about anything that happens and wonder why they aren't given the option to just nope out and leave Kirkwall to its fate.

Tragedy can be fine, don't get me wrong, but not everyone wants to role play a COMPLETE AND UTTER tragedy from start to finish with no option to deviate in any way from that narrative. Options in the way people progress (especially where people can break the story down and see the holes in the narrative where it COULD have possible but just wasn't allowed), should be presented in a ROLE PLAYING game.

I personally find it more realistic and relatable when a character experiences a nice blend of both MEANINGFUL success and failure. However, the writers seemed intent on railroading Hawke into just being at the mercy of the main plot with little to no agency.

In stark contrast to DAO, planning for the entire story in DA2 (or just in an RPG period) to end in failure no matter the player choices is already a bold enough risk on its own. It can definitely work with the proper balance of both positive and negative experiences along the way though in both the political and personal aspects of the player characters life, to keep the player actively engaged in a way that doesn't leave them thinking that their presence in the story amounts to little more than the equivalent of holding a book and simply turning the page rather than actively doing something.

But combining an already planned bleak ending with a very corrupt setting where the leaders on all sides are either completely moronic or passive, party members where the majority of them have too many burdens of their own to give Hawke a genuine sense of a reprieve from the madness even if romancing one of them (except for Varric, Aveline, and Bethany, if alive, everyone else is either a whiner or dysfunctional. It's very telling that Hawke's PET DOG gets more no strings attached visits from the party members than Hawke does. Just saying), railroading Hawke to lose the majority of their family in some way, AND having what little success and influence Hawke DOES acquire to come back and bite them in the ass in the end (Hawke struck it rich and became Champion of Kirkwall?! Awesome!.....right up until its revealed the red lyrium idol they found in the deep roads played a part in screwing up everything), then at that point, a serious argument can be made that the writers veered far too heavily into tragic overdone melodrama for some people.

How cool would it have been to be able to leave the game with "Well, okay, I couldn't do anything about the corruption in Kirkwall or the mage/Templar tensions spiraling out of control, but at least my whole family is alive and well"? There could have even been an achievement/trophy for this very outcome called "The pride of the Hawkes" or something.

Just one possible example of how the railroaded political failures could have been offset by giving Hawke, (and by extension the player), the OPTION for personal success in a more meaningful way. The option for extreme tragedy with some or even all of the Hawkes dying can still be there of course for people who want that degree of angst, but again having multiple OPTIONS is more likely to accommodate more people and their preferred play styles or stories, and thus, give more reasons to play the game multiple times.

As it stands now, sure, Hawke can save the life of one sibling, but they're still railroaded into losing one of them before the prologue is over, the other is either killed by the Blight or forced from their side in act 1 because the game said so, and the mother is forced to die in the most shock value induced way possible (nevermind not even being able to warn Leandra in act one or follow up on this quest until it's too late in act two or the guards and Templars being forcefully incompetent for this to play out like the writers want).

Those have just been my thoughts as of late. Some people argue that in a way, this is the entire point of the game. That sometimes only REALLY crappy choices exist and there may not be a third option. I agree with that to a point.

But "there might not be" and "there NEVER is" an option for an ideal third way are two very different things and IMO, DA2 suffered in veering far too heavily in the direction of the latter, often being too focused on heartbreak and shock value (looking at you "All That Remains") to really work as well as it could have.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts a decade later. Make no mistake, I still love DA2 for what it is, love the general concept and idea of DA2, just not the execution. It's just sad to me that this game could have been so much better with more development time, more options to shape Hawke's story on a more personal level (whether with an ideal outcome of everyone in the family living, or a semi tragic one where some can die depending on choices, or everyone dying), and not being railroaded into tragedy to nearly nigh ridiculous levels to the point where a giant spider nightmare residing in the Fade in a whole other game mocks Hawke for their "failure is the only option" status.

And just to further clarify my point here, true, Kirkwall was a ticking time bomb with or without Hawke being there. They made the tensions between the two factions apparent as far back as DAO. A Mage/Templar war was all but inevitable, as was Anders eventually losing himself to Justice/Vengeance and after exhausting all peaceful options, finally doing the unthinkable and "forcing everyone to choose a side". That part was fine. And it makes sense for this part of the story to remain static and unchanged no matter what (as I said before, the issue isn't necessarily that DA2 had a planned tragic ending or was framed as a set story within a story).

The issue is that, at the end of the day, regardless of whether this is framed as a recounting of events already played out, Bioware still chose to present this part of the story to the world as an RPG, not a novel. It's just too easy to pick apart the current execution of the narrative and find too many holes and inconsistencies, far too easy to see that Bioware wanted tragedy and completely railroaded the player into it regardless of whether or not it made sense to do so at times. Part of it is definitely that it was rushed, but not all of it.

" Genuine inevitable tragedy" (example: the mage/Templar rebellion) and "railroaded and just never given the option to question/change anything because the game/developers said so but still forcefully insisting and trying to frame it as an inevitable tragedy" are two very different things (outright confirming in Act 1 that the remains of the serial killer's vicitms did indeed belong to one of the missing women (Ninette's wedding ring) and he gave them white lilies but conveniently never given the option to bring any of this up to the guards/Templars or pursue the quest or warn Leandra until it's far too late). Leandra's death isn't the only example of this problem, but it definitely is one of the most prominent and IMO, takes away from the intended story of a good woman who met a bad end with their oldest son/daughter being unable to prevent it when the game failed to let them (and by extension the player) truly try.

DA2 could have been a great contrast to DAO. Rather than having the influence to shape the fate of the world like the Warden and succeed in their goal, they could have compromised in DA2 with having the fallout of the Kirkwall Chantry destruction and the rebellion still happening no matter what (i.e. Hawke "failing" to stop any of the madness and still ultimately forced to flee Kirkwall in the end after finally dragging the Amell line back into prominence) but still given the player the option to save their immediate family members across the story if certain choices were made throughout. I'm sure most people would have been fine with a more "bittersweet" option being presented for Hawke, (and by extension the player) in the game, especially where again, one can pick apart the narrative and see where it could have been an option, but just wasn't allowed for no other reason than seemingly because of the "True art is angsty" trope.

Bioware could still have their own canon (similarly to how Alistair is shown to be king in their canon no matter what as an example) of the ultimate tragedy if they wanted, but again, DA2 is still an RPG where players expect to have more meaningful choices reflected in how they progress, even with an inescapable darker and downer ending.

Complete and utter tragedy is fine, but I just don't think it was the best decision to have it as THE ONLY option in an RPG.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #marian hawke #garrett hawke #bethany hawke #varric tethras #leandra amell #leandra hawke #da inquisition #dragon age #carver hawke #dai

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