another portrait of my boyfriend. 1 year anniversary <3

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Pt. 1

Hello hello! So, I'm fully insane about this man rn. I can't help it. The brain rot has taken over my life and here we are lol. I wanted to write something that really focuses on the domestic fluff side of Reader's life with William, of course there will be some smut thrown in there too because I simply can't help myself 😂😂 Reader and William have just bought their first house together. This story follows their week long escapade of unpacking, making their home perfect, and going down memory lane. Lots of super cute stuff, chapters containing smut will be updated with proper warnings. If you enjoy this story and would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT AHEAD, smut marked with divider, age gap (reader in 30's William in 40's/50's), some swearing, face sitting, cockwarming, size kink, a singular (1) spank to readers ass, slightly dom! William, praise, Will just wants to give his wife some tender TLC after a long day of lugging boxes around (if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,538

Part 2

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“I want to paint the living room green, I think it would look nice with our couch.” William drove down the road, a soft smile on his face as he listened to you ramble on about all of your plans for their new house. Business at the pizzeria had skyrocketed, which meant that he could finally give his pretty little wife the front porch, white picket fence house of her dreams. You should be pulling in about a half hour before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, allowing the two of you time to empty out his trunk. You stood at his side with a giddy smile on your face, William thumbing through his key ring to find the new shiny gold addition to his collection. He slides the key into the lock, chuckling at your excited squeals as he pushes the door open. He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you from running inside ahead of him.

“Isn’t there some old wives tale about carrying your wife over the threshold of a house?” He mumbles out the vague details he could remember. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle.

“It’s for good luck. Why? Do you want to carry me inside?” You smile coyly up at him.

“Well I’m not going to be the one bringing bad luck into our house.” He proclaims proudly, jabbing a finger into his chest. You let out a shriek as he scoops you up in his strong arms. You press a kiss to his scruffy cheek as you pass through the door. “Well, Mrs. Afton, welcome home.” He smiles down at you.

You spun around the empty living room floor, broom in hand as you did a quick sweep before the furniture got brought in. “Oh, Will, I'm so happy. Our own house.” You beam up at him. Your husband breathes out a chuckle, sweeping you up in his arms as he places a kiss to your forehead. Both of your attention was drawn to the windows as the moving truck rumbled into the driveway.

“Don't lift anything too heavy.” He orders with a firm point of his finger. “I hired movers so you don't have to struggle, if I see you doing too much you're going to be in big trouble later bunny.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as you place a kiss to his chest.

“I promise I won't work too hard.” You fidget with the hem of his shirt. “I just want everything to be perfect.” You sigh with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“I promise it will be, we have the whole week to get everything exactly how you want it.” He smiles, his thumb rubbing languidly across your waist. You excitedly threw open the front door, directing the movers inside before clamoring out to the truck yourself. William trailed after you, keeping a close eye on your excited figure. Your husband loved how passionate you were about everything you did, but you also had a tendency to overwork yourself. He sighs as he sees you struggling with a box, gently taking it from your hands and propping it against his hip. He glances around the trailer. “Here.” He nudges a box with his foot, one he had made a subtle marking on to signify it was one he packed light enough for you to easily carry. “Take that one, we’ll go put these in the bedroom.” He hops down from the back of the truck, taking your box from you and wrapping his hands around your waist to lower you safely to the ground. You practically skipped up the porch steps, scooting past the movers as you raced up to the master bedroom. Your mattress sat in the middle of the room. The white, sheetless bed was a stark contrast to the nearly black hardwood.

“We’ll need to go get a bed frame.” You sigh, setting down the box before collapsing on the mattress. William groans as he lays down by your side.

“I’m sure we’re going to have to get a lot of things.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. “We’ll take care of everything, doll, don’t worry.” You spent the rest of the afternoon sliding furniture around downstairs while the movers brought in the rest of the boxes. The sun had already set by the time everything was brought in. You collapsed onto the couch with a tired groan, finally kicking your shoes off as you sank into the worn leather of the cushions. William sits beside you, lifting your feet only to drop them back in his lap. You let out a pleased hum as you feel his strong hands knead into your aching muscles. “Day one is officially over.” The two of you exchange a sleepy high five. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you take a moment to look at your husband. His gold, wire framed aviators sitting low on his nose, his large calloused hands massaging your feet with the utmost care and delicacy. You were William’s entire world.

“Honey,” he perks up at your soft voice, calling out to him, “how about I throw something together for dinner so we can get to bed.”

“I don’t think we have any groceries bunny.” He rebuttals with a chuckle. “Are you up for a drive? We could go pick up some pizza.”

“But it’s so cold.” You pout.

“I’ll go grab you one of my coats, sweet girl.” He cups your cheek, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you. You let out a soft hum as you buried your face into the soft fabric of your husband's coat, the comforting smell of his spicy, musky cologne, machine oil, and cigarettes filling your nose. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he drove up twisting back roads. The radio crackled softly, whatever song was playing was barely audible over the car's loud blower. You rested your hand on his thigh, William glancing down quickly, the sight of your wedding ring glinting in the soft light bringing a smile to his lips. He loved the fact that you were all his, his pretty wife, his little bunny. He loved how sweet and delicate you were. He had been hardened by years of working in his workshop and other strenuous jobs he had throughout his life, he barely registered this evening was brisk let alone cold. But he definitely wouldn't complain about you cuddling into his side for warmth, how your cheeks and the tip of your nose dusted pink from the chilly night air, how your fingers trembled as you tucked them under his thigh. He shuddered softly as you pressed your lips to his neck, the buzzing, yellow light from the pizza shop's sign illuminating the cab as you and your husband exchanged a look filled with need.

“Hurry back.” You shoot him a coy smile as he stumbles from the car.

The smell of warm crust and greasy pepperoni filled the car, the pizza nicely heating your lap. William’s arm draped over your shoulder, you allowed the rumbling car ride to rock you into his side. Your eyelids grow heavy as you try to keep yourself awake, a sleepy smile crawling across your features as you pull into the driveway. You sighed as you looked around at the mess of moving boxes, your dining table tucked away into a corner that would be too much work to get to. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch doll, I’ll be right back.” William’s hand quickly slips into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he passes by. You flop back into the cushions, letting the pizza box rest next to you. Even with the short amount of time you’ve spent in the house you could tell how different it was from your old apartment. You and William had moved to the middle of the woods in Hurricane, your nearest neighbor at least ten minutes down the road. There were no sounds of your neighbors talking quietly through the walls, no footsteps of the dog that lived upstairs. The house was completely silent, outside completely pitch black. You jumped as William’s feet started to thud down the stairs. He pushes into the living room with a groan, dragging your mattress behind him. He drops the bed in the middle of the floor with a dull thump, twisting side to side in order to stretch out his back. “I’ll go grab some pillows and blankets.” He smiles at you.

“It’s just like our honeymoon.” You laugh as he pulls you up from the couch. He tilts your chin up with his finger, capturing your lips with his.

“Oh, trust me,” he starts in a sultry tone, “I wish I could spend this entire week in bed with you.” You dropped down onto the mattress, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he massages your shoulders. You smile at him as you watch him disappear upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a box full of your bedding and some pillows. Deciding you weren’t up for the challenge you left the sheets in the box. You piled your comforter and a few throw blankets onto the bed, you crawled in before your husband joined you with the pizza. You two sit side by side, your head falling to rest against his shoulder.

“It’s no Freddy’s.” You grumble at your lackluster pizza. William chuckles in response to your pouting.

“How about we swing by and see Henry tomorrow, I’m sure I can sneak you a piece.” He winks with a lopsided grin.

“That sounds perfect.” The two of you chat quietly as you eat your dinner. Your new house feels too big for just the two of you. You laid on your back, staring at the exposed wood ceiling, you blinked a few times to adjust to the all consuming darkness after William had turned off the light. You felt the blankets shift as he crawled into bed next to you. His silhouette outlined by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through the window.

“We should get a dog.” He suddenly whispers, making you giggle. “I don’t want you to get scared all by yourself.” He teases.

“Maybe that’ll get you out of that workshop earlier.” He playfully rolls his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You know, there’s nothing stopping you from coming to visit me.” He argues with a slight shrug.

“Except that everytime I do I end up sprawled naked on your workbench.” You smirk at him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material of his tshirt.

“Occupational hazard.” He responds quickly. You both laugh as you cuddle into his chest. He cards his fingers through your hair, his lingering gaze studying your features. “You’re so beautiful, bunny.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush over yours.

His hand paws at your thigh, dragging your leg over his waist as he crushes you against him. You cup his face, deepening the kiss, his beard tickling your palm as you melt into him. Your legs lock around his waist as he rolls on top of you. His large, calloused hands wrap around your sides, pushing your hoodie up and over your head in one swift motion before his lips connect with yours again. You shivered slightly as the cold night air hit your naked body. He practically purrs at the sight of you, his lips hovering over your neck. Your fingers slid into his hair, a small squeal escaping your lips as he bit down hard on your sensitive skin. You bite your lip, letting out a soft hum as he pushes his hips into you, his already growing bulge noticeable through your thin shorts. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me today, could you rabbit?” He smirks against your skin. You practically drooled over the sight earlier. William had a box resting on each shoulder, his skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. He paused as he caught sight of you leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest as your eyes raked over him. He smirked, knowing that playful glint in your eye. He smiled as he noticed your cheeks reddening from your position laying below him. He hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts, placing featherlike kisses down your stomach as he eases them down your legs. You moan softly as you feel him nip at the skin of the inside of your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as he brushes his thumb over your sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. With how busy you had both been due to the move it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate. Your skin was already on fire from the small touch alone, William smirked as he watched your reaction closely. Your hands fisted in the blankets as he tossed your legs over his shoulders, his hot breath bouncing off your already soaked core. His arms slip around your hips, holding you firmly in place as he dove into hungrily lap at your folds. You moan out his name, already attempting to squirm away from his assault. He growls, dragging you closer to him. His fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising force, sure to leave marks behind. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit through your lace panties. He ate you out like a man starved, your soft gasps and quiet moans echoing in the empty room. You whined, tugging on his hair. “What’s the matter bunny?” He pushes your panties out of the way with his fingers, his skin growing slick with your arousal.

“I need you.” You whined, looking down at him with pleading, teary eyes. William gives in immediately with a soft chuckle, never one to deny you what you wanted. He tugs down your panties, placing soft kisses to your legs as he removes your final article of clothing at an agonizingly slow pace. He slides an arm under your back, pulling you on top of him as he collapses into the mattress. Your hands landed on either side of his head as you lost your balance, you blushed as you realized you were sitting on his broad, strong chest. He brushes your hair behind your ear before both of his hands wrap around your thighs.

“Come sit, bunny.” He coos, your face burning at his casual command. William absolutely loved whenever you sat on his face. However, he was well aware he would have to warm you up to the idea whenever he suggested it. You were always worried you were too heavy, you hadn't shaved, or you hadn't showered, and your husband always reassured you that none of those things were going to pose any problems for him. His beard tickled the inside of your thighs as you hovered over his eager mouth. His hands squeezed at your hips, groaning as your soft skin squished between his fingers. You cry out as he pushes you down onto him, his tongue lapping at your clit before he shoves his way in between your folds.

“Oh, fuck! Will!” You moan, your hips moving on their own. You let out a soft sob everytime his nose bumps against your clit. He growls, pressing hard into your hips as you try to wiggle away, his assault on your already sensitive cunt threatening to push you over the edge mere minutes after he starts. “Baby, it's too much.” Your voice shook as you tried to plead with him, years slipping from your damp eyes onto your cheeks as the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter. William’s eyes were hazy as they met yours, his face smothered in your thighs as he greedily sucked your clit into his mouth. You tug his hair, making you groan against him. “I'm gonna cum.” It was all too much for you to handle, your body losing its rhythm as your climax threatened to rip through you. William let out an affirmative hum below you, knowing you were close by the slowing of your movements. He decides it's time for him to take over, determined to make you cum on his tongue. His fingers dig into the curve of your ass as he gradually increases the pace of your hips. You yelped as one of his hands suddenly connects with your skin, the mixture of pleasure and slight pain causing your soaked cunt to throb. Broken moans and whines rumbled effortlessly from your mouth, the fine tuned roaming of his hands paired with his expert tongue knowing just how you wanted to be touched to fall apart in his hands. William never got tired of making you finish. The way you would fall absolutely silent and still for a moment, mouth hanging open as no sound dared escape, your body taking time to catch up to the immense pleasure you were feeling. Now was no different. William felt his cock twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head, that brief moment of absolute silence making his ears ring before you screamed his name. He forced your hips to keep moving, never allowing your pace to slow as he felt your thighs shaking against his cheeks. You practically collapsed as he finally pulled his mouth off of you, a firm hand on your lower back keeping you upright as you shakily moved yourself back onto his chest. William reaches up to caress your cheek, wiping away tears that streaked down your skin. Your eyes felt heavy, you struggled to keep them open and on your husband as you came down from your high.

“Do you want to lay down?” He asks in a soft tone. You nod, collapsing into the mattress with a happy sigh. You hear the soft shuffling of William getting undressed before he gets under the blankets with a groan. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over your waist before your pulled back against him. You can't help but giggle slightly as you feel his erection pressed firmly against your back.

“You want some help with that?” You press yourself into him, his breath catching in his throat at the contact as he tries to stifle a growl.

“You can't even keep your eyes open bunny.” He chuckles, you smile as you feel it rumble in his chest. You let out a dismissive sound, giving him a slight shrug. “How about we compromise?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiously raising an eyebrow. Your eyes slide shut, letting out a soft hum as you feel his rough hands roaming over your skin. His fingers dip in between your thighs, gently coaxing them apart. You gasp as you feel his member prod at your entrance. “I could always fill you up before we go to bed.” He offers with a smirk, your face instantly flushing at the thought of cuddling up with your husband, trying not to squirm too much as he impaled you on his thick cock. You give him a nervous yet excited nod, the sight of you looking at him so sweetly as you chewed on your lip making it hard for him to not flip you over and pound you into the mattress. William assisted you holding your legs open, one massive paw wrapped around your thigh to allow him room to attempt to fit inside of you. You gripped tightly onto the sheets as he slowly began to push inside, the stretch from making it barely past his tip intense due to the lack of prep. “That's it sweetheart, just relax.” He purrs in your ear, pressing his lips to your shoulder. Another roll of his hips makes you whimper, feeling him slip slightly deeper into your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, ‘s too big, ‘s not going to fit.” Your words slut as you tried to focus enough to speak. His pace was agonizing, you could feel every inch of him and every thick vein sliding over your velvety walls. You let out a shuddering breath as he finally bottoms out in you, the tip of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. You felt like you would break in half at the smallest wrong move, even your slight shifting as you cuddled up with William had the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Such a good bunny, taking all of me so well.” His lips trail over your neck, you feel him smirk as you clench around him, repeatedly kissing and teasing what he knew was a rather sensitive spot of skin.

Your fingers intertwined with his, his strong arms wrapped protectively around as you're held flush to his chest.

“I love you.” You say quietly, feeling sleep trying it's hardest to pull you under. He gives your hand a soft squeeze.

“And I love you, sweet girl.”

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Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!)

I watched Musicals of Moriarty (Op1-3) and those were amazing, everything I wished anime had in matter of plot and characters was there. And no I don’t mean Truck of the sherliam that Musicals have (it’s nice add and I love it, but if they didn’t go so hard for it I would be still happy) because it had what I think was important in manga, small details of story and characters that made me love Moriarty so much now. Like the matter of taxes in Durham and how William fixed it right away to help poor, overworked people living there. I really don’t like how anime makes him for first few episodes “the devil” who only whispers on others ears and pushes them to kill and he himself doesn’t dirty his hands. He always put himself on the first line of his plans, like with “Kidnapping of noble” chapter, he kills Albert’s brother on his own etc. Like how Baskerville arc was SO important for Louis, Fred and Moran characters. Like in anime because of lack of it you can change those three to any other characters and it wouldn’t matter. Miss Hutson is amazing in musicals, gosh, poor women, how she didn’t get a stroke or heart attack yet I don’t know XD and musical doesn’t skip on that scene between her and Irene with dress that I found quite funny when I first read it in manga and thought this adds a lot to both women characters. 

You know you did wrong when your anime has less action scenes then musical... Like really, the person who did script for anime did so many strange changes to plot and cut so many important ones while adding own one it's crazy and I have no idea why it happened.

As for character, the best from the start was Sherlock for me, he’s amazing.  I think Liam's one was little too stiff and not enough emotional in Op1-2 but in Op3 he finally is perfect Liam, smiling, hurting, sassy and I think his vocal got better. As for other characters they were amazing too. I only couldn’t get used to William and Albert but only because their anime saiyuus did so amazing job. Louis had the best vocal at the start I think. From songs I think the middle one in Op2 made most impression for me, I need to rewatch it and remember names of songs for future. The “Catch me if you can” scene in the musical was the only one weaker I think in compare to anime and manga, but when at the end of Op2 they come back to theme “Catch me” it did earned a few points back in my eyes. And wow Op3 songs were so much longing of William and Sherlock to each other it’s just wow, I didn’t think they will go so hard for it and I’m not complaining. I guess Op4 focuses more on Whiteley and John&Mary arcs so probably there is not so much sharliam there, but if Op3 was like this then I can image how hard they will go with William visit at Sherlock’s place, letter and bridge scene. And I will only need Op6 with hospital and marriage vows to die happy XD.

ps. If anyone knows if it’s possible to pay and see Op4 somewhere online, please let me know. Buying stuff from Japan is always very expensive for me because of shipping cost, if I can avoid it the I would gladly watch it this way.

I'm so happy your box is open!! I want to request some Kirishima fluff finding out his wife is pregnant and he's all happy and goes overboard on buying baby stuff and just being so sweet and protective. Don't overwork yourself with these requests take care of yourself and stay safe girl ❤

Guess who's backkkk!!!🎉💕🥺

Words: 2,087

Warnings: None

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“The Whisper Challenge”

"Okay! For tonight's game night, we're going to be playing the whisper challenge!" Mina exclaims, waltzing into the room with noise-canceling headphones while shooting you a knowing look.

It was monthly game night with the infamous BakuSquad and being pro-heroes while finding the time to meet up once a month to hang out was difficult. That usually meant going out to bars and barhopping, but because of your recent discovery, you can't drink alcohol for the next nine months.

The first person you told was Mina--and thank God you told her in private because she screamed so loud, it made the neighboring dogs howl. She demanded details on how long you've known but you had just taken a test a few days prior. The reason why you told her first was that you wanted her help on how to break the news to your boyfriend, Kirishima. The two of you devised a plan to not let the rest of the BakuSquad suspicious on why there wouldn't be any bar-hopping on this particular game night. 

Catching her knowing gaze you quickly look back over to Kiri who was walking over to you with a bowl of popcorn, a questioning look on his face that asked if you wanted any. "That challenge is so ollldddd," Kaminari whined, leaning dramatically against Bakugou as you gratefully took some popcorn out of his bowl.

Mina rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch next to Sero who was doing something on his phone. "So what? I bet no one here has played it before so that's just going to make it more exciting."

You're nervously chewing on your popcorn when you notice Bakugou shoot Kirishima a glance you couldn't decipher, feeling him shift next to you.

Bakugou shrugs. "I think it's a good idea."

That comment made Sero promptly lock his phone, focusing all of his attention on Bakugou, whereas Kaminari pulled away from his side in disgust. "What?"

Even you and Mina stared at him bewildered, expecting him to be the last person to agree to this type of game. It was dead silent and Bakugou's eyebrows twitched in annoyance having all the attention on him. "Do I have something on my fucking face?"

Everyone looks away without commenting and Mina clears her throat. "So! How about we do teams? I pick Sero!" Mina loops her arm through Sero's and smiles innocently. You look next to Kirishima and raise an eyebrow at him. He smiles and nods but you can tell he looks uneasy. What's up with him?

That left Bakugou and Kaminari together and you laughed at Bakugou's expression. "We're going to lose."

"Hey!" Kaminari smacked his arm in which Bakugou grumbled but didn't flinch.

Mina snorted and grabbed the headphones again. "Okay, so I know everyone here has heard of the challenge and knows how to play, but just in case, Sero and I will be going first to show you how it's done. Ready?"

She turns towards Sero and hands him the headphones to put on. "Wait, I'm going first?" He asks hesitantly, narrowing his eyes. Mina shoots him an innocent grin that made his cheeks flush lightly. The interaction between them made you smile slightly, hiding it behind another handful of popcorn.

Sero puts the headphones on without another word and Mina plugs the cord into her phone, scrolling through her music. He suddenly jerks as rock music blared through the headphones, making it audible to everyone in the room. Bakugou snorts and grins. "Nice."

"Ready?" Mina asks, setting her phone down on the table.

"I can't hear you!" Sero practically yells, making Kaminari burst out laughing. Kirishima grins widely and Bakugou snorts again which made you giggle, your anxiety easing up a bit.

Mina, trying to stifle her own laughter pronounced the word again slowly. "Rea-dy?" It dawned on Sero and he nodded again motioning her to begin.

"Who can drop it low, the lowest?" Mina asks with a straight face as Sero stared at her mouth intently. This time you snort and lean forward expectantly waiting to hear what he has to say.

Sero opens his mouth to respond but closes it again. "Say it again?"

"Who can drop it low, the lowest?" This time Mina slows the words down and you can see Sero trying to mouth the words along with her. Everyone in the room was staring with smirks on their faces anticipating Sero's response.

"Uh...something about blowing? Blowing what? I haven't blown anyone." Mina facepalms and you cackle at the beyond confused expression on Sero's face. You almost felt sorry for him.

He winces again and throws the headphones off. "Did I get it?"

Kirishima laughs and Mina hands the headphones to Kaminari who was in tears on the floor. "Here Kami, since you think you can do better." Kaminari sits up and wipes his eyes, blindly reaching out for the headphones while gasping for air.

"Holy shit I should've recorded that." His face was flushed as he struggled to put the headphones on as Bakugou plugged them into his phone. Kaminari points a finger at Mina, "I never said I could do better."

"Don't shortage my shit, Sparky." Bakugou scrolls through his music before picking one, another rock song coming through the headphones. Kaminari didn't even flinch and you had a feeling his quirk had something to do with it.

"Ready, dumbass?" Bakugou asks and Kaminari nods. Oh? Off to a good start.

"What's your Chipotle order?" Bakugou asks, resting his elbow on the table. His head was resting in his hand as he gazed at Kaminari expectantly, a ghost of a smirk on his face. Kaminari blinked a few times and pursed his lips as he stared at Bakugou's lips, thinking. He nodded suddenly as if he understood the question and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yellow."

Everyone busted out laughing and you subconsciously grabbed your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou turned his head into his hand in disappointment but everyone could see the laughter he was trying to hide.

Kaminari sat there with the headphones still on, watching everyone laugh. "What? Did he not ask my favorite color?"

Sero was holding up his phone with one hand while wiping his eye with the other hand. Kaminari stuck his tongue out at the camera and turned back to Bakugou who was shaking his head. A pout could be seen on his face before he shoved the headphones off. "Man, this is hard."

Bakugou shook his head and unplugged the headphones, passing them to Kirishima who happily took them. "Okay, c'mon (Y/n)! We got this!" Seeing him pumped up made butterflies erupt in your stomach again and you bit your lip nervously.

"You go first."

"I'll go first."

The two of you spoke at the same, making everyone stop their teasing and look at each other nervously. Furrowing your eyebrows, Kirishima grins sheepishly before putting the headphones on, silently agreeing on what you both just said. Brushing off the weirdness, you plug the cord into your phone and hit shuffle, before putting your phone down on the table.

"Ready?" You shift nervously in your seat and glance at Mina, seeing her hold up her phone to record Kiri's reaction. That just made your anxiety spike more as you try to focus back on Kiri seeing him nod in response.

Taking a deep breath you stared into Kiri's innocent eyes while feeling the gaze of your friends burning holes in your head. This would be news to them too so that just added to the pressure. With one last dry swallow, you break the news.

"You're going to be a father."

The room was silent except for the muffled song blasting in Kiri's ears and the pounding of your heart in yours. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kaminari silently raise his hands to his mouth in shock and you glance at him quickly, also seeing Bakugou staring at you with wide eyes. Looking over at Mina, she was grinning widely behind her phone as Sero's jaw was practically on the ground.

Focusing back on Kirishima, he seemed oblivious to everyone's reactions as he furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "Say it again, cutie." The nickname made you flush even brighter, the situation being too much already.

"You're. Going. To. Be. A. Father."

Kirishima grinned and his eyes lit up. "You're going to be a father?" You nod slowly and see him fist pump excitedly, taking the headphones off. "See? We nailed that, (Y/n)! Okay, who's ne-"

Kirishima pauses, the headphones wrapped around his neck as he stared at your wide-eyed, not caring about anyone else in the room. "(Y/n)...are you...?"

You nod again, feeling tears well up in your eyes as Kirishima stands and pulls you into a bear hug, the sound of your friends jumping up and cheering melted into nothing as you gently sobbed into Kirishima's shoulder. "Surprise?" You offer, trying to not feel so overwhelmed.

Kirishima pulls back to look at you, his own eyes glossy with tears as a stray one runs down his cheek. "Cutie...this is the best surprise I could ask for."

"(Y/n)! Does that mean we're going to be uncles?! And an aunt?!" Kaminari asked excitedly, mildly interrupting your moment with Kiri. You let out a breath of a laugh and nod your head which satisfied him enough to turn back to Mina.

Looking back at the man you love, his eyes were adverted, a new blush on his face as you tilted your head, confused.

"That's not the only surprise." This time, Bakugou spoke up, holding his phone as he recorded you and Kiri standing together. He was grinning widely behind the camera as everyone else got quiet again, watching intently Panicked, you looked at Mina who shook her head, her own evident confusion telling you she was equally as lost.

Kirishima stepped away from you and you watched him bend down on one knee, your hands automatically coming up to your mouth. The water damn behind your eyes broke and tears streamed down your face so hard that you couldn't even see Kiri anymore.

"So...I was actually going to surprise you during this game and ask you, 'will you marry me?' when you had the headphones on, but it looks like you beat me with a surprise, huh cutie?" A chuckle escaped his mouth and you released one of the hands from your mouth to hold it out for him, his warm one enveloping it. "(Y/n), I love you so much and you make me the happiest man in the world. Though this proposal isn't what I planned, I couldn't imagine a more perfect setting being surrounded by loved ones and one on the way-" he pressed your combined hands to your belly, "Will you marry me and continue to make me the happiest man alive until the day I die?"

You choke out a yes, nodded your head fervently, feeling Kiri slip a ring on your finger. He stands up immediately and pulls you into another hug, the both of you crying from happiness. You can hear Mina, Kami, and Sero in tears and you look over Kiri's shoulder, even seeing Bakugou's eyes glassy. They all looked torn between joining in on your hug or crying even harder so you motion them over with a hand and they all pile on top of Kiri, mindful of your stomach.

Bakugou actually joins in briefly, but pulls back first and gives Kiri a noogie. "See? You fucking did it."

Kirishima chuckles breathlessly into your hair and nods. "Yeah. Thanks, bro." You smile and reach to squeeze Mina's arm in thanks, as Kami and Sero start questioning Kiri why they weren't informed.

The rest of the game night resulted in Mina shopping for baby outfits online, genderneutral for now, as Kami and Sero began debating on who's going to be the better uncle before Bakugou interrupted them and proudly claimed he would be. An argument started over that, but you sat comfortably on the couch as Kirishima laid his head in your lap, staring up at you as you two got lost in your own world, talking about the future and possible baby names.

Kirishima had stopped mid-sentence and stared up at you with so much love and adoration it made your heart flip. "I love you, (Y/n)." Before you could respond, he leaned up and kissed your lips gently, the world fading away around you two.

I’m still working on the NSFW Alphabet for Enigma/Edward Nashton/Riddler-Before-He-Was-Riddler from “Arkham Origins,” and it’s going to take some time because of my work schedule being the PITA that it is...

However, I do have some snippets of an Arkham Knight!Riddler x female!Reader fic I’ve been working on here and there over the last few weeks. 

Now, these are not beta-read, so there may be some mistakes, and some things might change or be added or rearranged, etc. when I do get around to proof-reading the complete fic, but the basic idea of each snippet won’t change from here on to the finished product. 

The general concept behind this fic is what would it take for AK!Riddler to, well, get his shit together? We all know how he started out as a snack -- or more accurately, a damn MEAL:

then became a...well, a hot mess (still adorable, though):

Possibly having someone in his life who actually appreciates him and shows him some affection could get him to clean himself up? Because we all know this boy is most likely touch-starved and would probably cry if someone was actually sweet to him, and he’d probably do whatever he could to be as presentable as possible to keep them around -- anything to keep them from vanishing from his life and leaving him all alone and unwanted again.

Anyway, here are the three (non-beta’d!) snippets from the fic:

Snippet 1:

Initially, Edward told himself it was for his own good. He was Gotham’s one true genius so why shouldn’t he take better care of himself? Cloning was not possible, nor was there any way to transfer the human consciousness into a machine. All of this meant there was only ONE Edward Nigma, and he deserved to look and feel his absolute best. 

Besides, he thought it was yet another way to one-up anyone who opposed him. Yes, of course he could look just as put together as anyone else -- or better. He was superior in every possible way after all.

It had all started with a comment from Selina as she was leaving to take care of the job Edward had assigned to her.

“You know, Eddie,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Ladies like men who don’t smell like a car repair shop.”

With that, she was gone and Edward was, at first, not even registering what she had said to him. But it did creep into his thoughts faster than he would have liked, and he analyzed every piece of it. Why would Selina say such a thing? Then again, most people said pointless -- or more accurately, stupid -- things. Normally, he would have disregarded and forgot about it as he went about his work, but it nagged at him like a mathematical equation without a proper solution.

Taking a break from working on some new Riddlerbots, Edward went to the bathroom to locate anything he had on hand to take care of the headache he was currently dealing with. He found a bottle of Aspirin in the medicine cabinet, but when he closed the door, he stared at his reflection for a moment (When was the last time he’d given himself a proper glance in a mirror?)

As Edward took the Aspirin, he remembered Y/N was coming to see him that day -- soon, actually. Perhaps a shower would be a good idea? She would probably appreciate it if he didn’t smell like a car repair shop. And he probably would feel better being clean. Could help him think a little more clearly.

As he showered, Edward told himself this was primarily for his benefit and he wasn’t trying to impress Y/N -- or anyone for that matter. Deep down, though, he knew this was part of something he didn’t quite understand, something dealing with Y/N, something he hadn’t experienced before. That part of him was too afraid at that time to come forth and propose an answer to this dilemma. This was unfamiliar territory, something that wasn’t logical or scientific but emotional and...no, that “strange” part of him needed to stay quiet if he wanted to keep his thoughts together.

This was nothing. Nothing was going on. Everything was normal. And no, Edward didn’t feel relieved when Y/N complimented him on his appearance upon arriving. Taking a shower and putting on nice, clean clothes had nothing to do with gaining her approval. He did it for himself, to give himself a “refresh” before getting back to work. He wasn’t aiming to please or impress anyone, remember? Not even Y/N.

Especially not Y/N.

Or so he thought.

Snippet 2:

Something was different when Edward put someone else before anything of his, namely his work. Had it been anyone else, he’d have tossed a bunch of insults and told them never to bother helping him again. 

However, with Y/N, it was completely different -- and he didn’t even realize it at first.

She was carrying a box of mechanical parts to bring to Edward to aid in constructing new robots, and he had warned her to be careful, to not overload the box or it would be too heavy for her. While carrying the box of gears, wires, and metal bits, she tripped over her own feet and fell forward. The box toppled over onto the floor, spilling the contents everywhere, and she collapsed on her left forearm and knee.

“I told you to be careful!” Edward growled as he rushed over.

“I’m sorry!” Y/N said, pushing herself up and looking at the mess. “I don’t think I broke anything--”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Y/N fully expected Edward to examine the scattered parts to see if they had sustained any damage but he went right by them. Kneeling down beside her, he gently took her left arm and briefly studied the scratched skin. 

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Edward said as he carefully felt her forearm and elbow. “And your knee….”

“I think it’s ok,” Y/N said as she moved to sit. “It hurts, though.”

Edward placard his hands on Y/N’s left knee, feeling around and noting how she winced several times. 

“Not broken,” he said. “But most certainly will be sore and bruised for a while. Here…let’s get you up.”

Edward let Y/N put an arm around him to steady her as he helped her to stand. Of course, her left knee ached far too much for her to walk on her own, so he continued to guide her to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry about the stuff,” Y/N said, looking and sounding as guilty as she felt.

“Don’t worry about it,” Edward said absent-mindedly as he located some clean bandages and antiseptic cream. “Most of it probably won’t even be needed for what I’m doing now, and I can always acquire more. In fact...I have more in storage.”

Edward turned on the faucet and tested the water until it was comfortably warm, then he gingerly took Y/N’s left arm and began cleaning it with soap. It stung a little but she tolerated it, studying his highly focused expression and wondering if this was even happening? He truly wasn’t upset that she dropped the box of bits and pieces? She just couldn’t wrap her head around it, and doubted that anyone would believe her without proof.

Edward dried Y/N’s arm with a clean towel before tossing it in the trash. After applying some antiseptic cream to a strip of bandage, he proceeded to wrap it around her arm, covering the wound. 

“There…” Edward said, admiring his handiwork. “How does that feel?

“Good,” Y/N said.

“Now for your, uh, knee.” Edward swallowed, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “It...doesn’t appear to be bleeding so...I think we can just put, um, ice on it. Unless you think it needs to be looked at?”

“No, I think it’s fine. Ice is fine. Thank you.”

Edward nodded before clearing his throat and reaching out to Y/N.

“Come,” he said. “Let me help you to the couch.”

Snippet 3:

“Ok, who are you and what did you do with Eddie?” asked Selina as she looked Edward over incredulously.

It appeared that Edward finally got his shit together and was taking care of himself. Not only was he free of grime and grease, he was dressed in rather impressive attire: black dress shirt, green gloves, green trousers, and dark brown boots. Even his hair was cut and styled differently as it was shorter with subtle layering, the offset part causing bangs to fall over most of his forehead and just above his brows. 

Another noteworthy change was Edward’s weight. Instead of surviving on snacks and coffee, he must have been eating actual food again as he was no longer skin and bones. Actually, he looked a little bit...toned? Was he back to his old routine of perfectly planned, ultra-healthy, balanced meals coupled with a decent amount of exercise? Selina remembered he used to get up early in the and exercise almost right away most days of the week. It helped him “get focused” before even having coffee, he had said.

“What are you going on about?” Edward asked in an agitated tone. “Nevermind. It’s nonsense anyway.”

“Personality is still the same,” Selina muttered as she followed Edward to a workbench.

Once he was done explaining in excessive, almost condescending detail the particulars of the items she needed to steal for him, she decided to ask some questions.

“So, tell me, Eddie,” Selina began, turning to him. “What inspired you to finally start looking like a professional criminal mastermind as opposed to an overworked grease monkey?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Edward said, before clearing his throat and straightening, a smug smile on his face. “I came to the long overdue conclusion that, as Gotham’s one true genius and Batman’s superior, I should look after myself and be presentable. What’s on the outside should reflect what’s going on inside, so to speak. I mean, what a waste of a brilliant mind such as mine to live in a body akin to a starving, filthy rat scurrying about in the sewers?”

“So you are basically telling me you did this for yourself,” Selina said resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Edward’s narcissistic ramblings. “Are you sure you didn’t do this for any other reason?”

“Like what?” Edward asked, clearly puzzled by such a question.

“Hmm...well, let me ask this: Has Y/N seen your ‘transformed’ self?”

Selina noted how Edward’s blue eyes lit up upon hearing Y/N’s name, and suddenly, his obnoxious personality changed to a much more amiable one.

“She likes it,” Edward said with a bright smile. “Her compliments about my appearance go hand in hand with her compliments about my genius. It’s wonderful having someone around who actually appreciates my existence.”

“I take it that her approval means a lot to you then?”

“Of course! Considering she’s the only person who treats me with respect, I think she deserves the privilege of having me listen to, accept, and sometimes take her advice.”

Selina smirked as she had received the answer to her question.

“Well then, I must be going, Eddie,” she said as she turned to leave. “I’ll get you what you requested in no time.”

“Yes, please do,” Edward said sternly, going back to his arrogant tone. “My request should be of the utmost importance compared to whoever else you’re working with at the moment.”

“Yes, yes, Eddie, of course. Bye!”

Spring (Western Ballad)

Wow, me? Writing stuff and actually posting it?? Truly a year of unexpected events huh.

Ever wanted to read your favorite characters be ooc while and bland writing? You’ve come to the right place✨ Anyway this is self-insert (Bard (oc?)/Conductor), so if you don’t like that, you won’t enjoy this :v Good luck with the reading, luckily it’s short lol

||Quick info: My character in AHiT is called The Bard, her design is 90% black and white (like old 30s/40s ads lol), and her ship with the Conductor is called Western Ballad||

*I’m horrible at writing any type of accent, so his lines will sound weird, sorry;;

Finally, Spring arrived. Flowers bloomed and spirits seemed to lift up after the dark and cold nights that Winter brought. But most importantly, everyone went out more, which meant that things were finally going to get busier around Dead Bird Studios.

And there was the Bard, always watching from the sidelines. Her warm presence and magic lyre certainly eased up things for the poor overworked crew, as well as keeping the Conductor from getting too mad at any of them. She made a very colorful visitor, despite being black and white in aspect, as if she jumped out of an old television show.

However, visits from the Bard were becoming a rarer sight as time passed. She’d greet everyone as soon as she arrived, and then she was gone before anyone could notice-- Until she stopped visiting altogether.

Grooves noticed right away: how the owls were less motivated during work hours (which was already not an easy task, bossed around by such a loud old bird), the quieter moments between the recording sessions… but the most obvious one was the Conductor himself. He seemed less focused, irritated more than usual, and easier to get mad at any tiny detail that didn’t go his way. Sure, he was a perfectionist, but this was unusual even for him. 

Something needed to be done.

As expected, he found the Conductor on his office, sitting behind the old dark cherry wood desk. The jacket was tossed on the carpet, sadly abandoned like some used rag, along with many crumpled papers. He lifted his head from the paper he was writing, instant displeasure as clear as day on his face.

“Whatever you have to say, make it quick,” he said. “I’m busy.” 

He was always busy. Grooves was familiar with the job as well, but as much as he disliked to interrupt, he couldn’t back down now.

“Something is troubling you, darling, and I suspect the Bard has something to do with it.”

The Conductor said nothing, drumming his claws on the table.

He went on. “I’m sure she’ll tell you why she stopped coming. If you talk to her, of course”

“Why don’t ye talk to her? Yer friends too, aye?”

Grooves frowned. “Because I’m not the one throwing a tantrum over his crush not visiting!”

If looks could kill, he would... probably still be alive, having no eyes and such. But the Conductor was facing him with such an intense aura that he expected the desk to start burning at any given moment.

The old bird was quiet for a long time. Eventually he said, “Get the peck out of my office. I have a script to write.”

Grooves looked at him one last time before leaving the office. He released a tired sigh when he was out, feeling as if he just left from a fight from an angry cat.

You’re friends too, yes?

That was true, they got along really well! Their mutual love for music brought them together. Then again, no matter how much she tried to hide it behind her energetic personality, the Bard was as easy to read as his rival. Grooves hoped that their short “conversation” would anger him enough to prove him wrong and finally talk to her.

Back at the office, the Conductor sat back on his chair, staring at the framed picture he had on his desk of him and the Bard back when they went to last year’s New Year Gala.

He usually rejected the invitation, but his friend seemed so excited about that he ended up going with the Bard as his partner. He remembered how much the other directors pestered her just because they attended together-- and how well she managed in front of them. It was as if she did all of that before, like she was used to it. Annoying guests aside, the night had been fun, specially when she dragged him out of there and together watched the fireworks display from her “secret place”… and admittedly, she looked dazzling in a dress.

The Conductor shook his head, trying to not get distracted by the strange feeling on his chest. He put the picture back on its spot and went back to the script. But his efforts were to no avail, his mind reliving memories from that lovely night. He threw down his hat in annoyance. Darn it, he was completely unfocused now. That guy caused this with his annoying lies.

He would prove it.

He would prove that DJ peck neck that he was wrong and then he could focus on his movies again.

He stood up and left his office, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He had a gut feeling of where the Bard could be now. No doubt, she had to be there. Their secret place.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a nip in the air as the day grew darker, the few flowers that already greeted the new season swaying gently with the breeze.

The Bard sat on the hill watching the beauty of dusk, the remaining rays of sunlight reflecting on the sea. She summoned her old instrument, and her fingers barely plucked the strings when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Ah, there ye are.”

That voice, she’d recognize it anywhere.

The Bard turned around to face the Conductor. He was not wearing his distinguishing black hat, nor his slightly oversized jacket for that matter. In that moment, he looked so vulnerable.

He didn’t say anything else after that, merely taking the empty spot next to her and sitting down cross-legged. She stared at him for a while, but after a moment of silence, she took a breath and started to play her lyre. The old bird looked at the distant orange-tinted sea as the calm melody filled the silence between them. Alone but together, enjoying the sunset in her secret place.

Not long after they first met, the Conductor quickly noticed that the Bard rarely played in front of others, and he wondered why--- after all, she did so well at the party back then, it couldn’t be stage fright, right?

The Bard explained that it had magical properties, and some of the songs had powerful abilities (like the time she accidentally summoned rain inside the studio). But she played for the grandkids countless times, and nothing happened. It was a small mystery that got him curious since then.

“You want to know why I stopped visiting, don’t you?” She didn’t stop playing, her eyes still focused on the sea.

He didn’t look away from the water, his ear tufts dropping as he spoke. “Is it me? Something I said? My temper?”

The Bard shook her head. “None of that... Although your temper does need work, hehe.”

“Then… why?”

The music then stopped. The long silence that came after that question was loud in the Conductor’s ears. She snapped her fingers and her magic lyre disappeared completely. She took a deep breath and finally she looked at him.

“I’m in love with you.”

The Bard noticed how he started to fluff up slightly, but besides that, there were no words. Had she been too forward? He didn’t even face her. It would be nice if he straight up told her that it wasn’t mutual, instead of staring at the horizon endlessly!

The Conductor tittered. “Ye have a very strange sense of humor, lass.” 

“Wha- no, I’m serious!”

“Aye, aye, sure thing.”

“But I am!” the Bard grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face her. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but I am telling the truth!”

The startled fluff ball poofed up even more as he stood still. The pair was silent for a few moments until he took her hands off the shoulders, the monochrome girl looking at him visibly confused. She had no chance to question if he was angry before he slowly took her hands on his claws

“You...” He grasped for words. “Yer full of surprises.”

The Bard blinked a few times before she laced fingers with his claws. “I am your surprise now.”

The couple leaned towards each other, gently resting their heads together with a smile. 

“The most precious one in a long time.”

Perhaps flowers weren’t the only thing that bloomed in Spring after all.

resentment (2/?) | yoongi x reader

“You’re too good to leave behind.” 

(image source)

pairing: min yoongi x reader, kim taehyung x reader wordcount: 2,870 chapter summary: when yoongi moves in, you don’t see much of him. (you tell yourself that’s fine by you.) that all changes when something catches him unawares. disclaimers/warnings: none (oh my god here i am cRAwLING BACK TO bts fic after so long lol i hope this is okay!! this’ll be a bit of a slow-burn, but i’ll likely be done in 3-5 chapters. cross-posted on ao3) 

The piano instrumental is tinny as it blasts through the small speaker Taehyung had lent you, the only other sound in your apartment the simmering of the one-pot pasta your most recent paycheck let you buy. You’re still in your work uniform when someone doorbells, and you sigh. It could only be Min Yoongi, whom you’d been unable to shake after texting the number Tae had scribbled on a napkin the last time you’d met up.

“Damn it,” you mutter, lowering the heat of the stove and wiping your hands on a towel. You’d made a last-ditch effort to hustle on finding other roommates, but none of the people who applied online had as good an application as Yoongi. Maybe your requirements were a little steep—not many of the other ads required a pro-con list and a recommendation letter—but you were particular about your space, and the bunk bed situation meant you had to be a little stricter than usual.

Today’s when you’d scheduled his tour of the place and your discussion of terms, but part of you had still hoped he’d back out. You plaster on a fake smile as you open the door, finding Yoongi stepping gingerly on your tacky tiger-print mat, the paper bag in his hand emitting a divine smell that’s familiar to you.

“Is that from the lamb skewer place round the block?” you say, an eyebrow raised.

“I thought it’d be rude to come over without bringing anything,” he says, adjusting his black beanie and flicking his hair away from his brows. You haven’t thought about Yoongi since you graduated nearly a year ago; in fact, he is one of the people you’d wanted to forget about.

He simultaneously looks much better and worse than he had in high school. He’s grown into his features, and the dark bangs are leagues ahead of the bright-red mop he’d sported in your senior year. But the bags under his eyes are even deeper than your own, and he’s paler than your faded grey walls. Before you can feel any sympathy for him, though, you remind yourself of how he’d treated Tae in the past.

“A point in your favor,” you say, shaking off the fact you’d been checking Yoongi out. “Come on in.” You return to your electric stove, trying to concentrate on stirring the pasta at the bottom of the pot instead of the way his new piercing makes you feel. “You can look around while I finish this, then we can have dinner and talk a bit.”

There’s not much for him to look at, really. You’d sent the layout of the room to your friend back home to help you maximize the space, but Irene didn’t have too much work to do. You’d covered the bunk bed in the bedroom with the international klein blue sheets Tae had bought you with his first paycheck, the colour a stark contrast with the clinical white sheets you’d gotten on sale when you’d first moved in. The apartment’s a little tight, but you’d lucked out on the natural light that streams through your window when the sun’s out: it’s the main reason you’re loath to part with the room. That thought brings you back to the present, and you look up from the pasta to where Yoongi is sitting.

When you sneak a glance at him, his hands are moving as if your small dining room table is a piano, in time with the soft notes playing in the background. You take plates, utensils, and the pot of pasta, while Yoongi brings out the lamb skewers. The dining table looks a lot less lonely with two sets of plates. The idea of it being a regular thing to come home to makes you happier than you’d like to admit.

You’re both quiet as you eat, and you can already hear Tae scolding you for not trying to make conversation. Still you’re at a loss for words, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he helps you clear the table, and the two of you begin to do the dishes in companionable silence.

“Any burning questions?” You’re focusing on scrubbing a spot off the pot, avoiding the sudden nervousness you feel at the thought of hearing Yoongi say anything bad. He’d always had the sharpest tongue back at school, and though you’d never been on the receiving end, you often dreaded it.

“Just one,” he says. You watch his fingers, absentmindedly wondering whether they’re calloused or smooth. “Do you sleep with your blinds up like that?”

“Yes, I like waking up by sunrise.” Your eyes flick to him and you see him wince. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m open to negotiation, though.” You tell yourself it’s just because of the costs that you’re compromising, rather than the overwhelming loneliness the apartment’s been filled with in the three months you’ve been here.

“I hate the sun,” Yoongi says bluntly, “but your apartment is too good to pass up.” You spend the rest of the night hashing out details, with Yoongi insisting he take over an equal share of the upkeep chores, which puts you in a good mood. That’s the only excuse you have for what you say as you see him out the door.

“Hey, if you need any help moving in, let me know,” you say, your grip on the doorknob tightening.

“Sure.” Yoongi nods, raising his hand goodbye. “I’ll text you.”

That Saturday, you’re surprised to find he’s only got three big boxes to his name, but you understand. You never heard much about Yoongi’s parents, but you doubted they wanted him here in the city.

(When you’re done bringing his stuff into the living room and he gives you a gummy smile, you tell yourself that your breath only catches because of how heavy the box is.)

You easily fall into a sort of routine with Yoongi. You don’t really see each other much because between the four jobs you hold between you and your weird shifts, you’re barely at home at the same time. If there’s something you need to tell him, it’s easy enough for you to write on the whiteboard posted beside the kitchen sink.

You’d thought Yoongi was cold, and you still think this is true, but he’s clean enough, and the few moments you share in the apartment are peaceful. You hush the part of you that’s disappointed at the way things are: you didn’t need to be Yoongi’s friend. It’s fine by you that it’s almost as if you don’t have a roommate.

That is, until the day that you come home late to the sound of music. It was Yoongi himself who had set the rule of no loud noises past eleven in the evening, so the old-school rap beats are unusual. When you get inside, you find him passed out on the couch, his lips more chapped than they typically are and his laptop nearly falling off the cushion.   

“God, Yoongi, do you really have to run yourself so ragged?” You pull his blanket off his bed and walk to the couch to place it over him. This close, you notice his arms shaking like he’s got the chills. When you place the back of your hand to his forehead, he’s hot to the touch. “You big idiot,” you mutter as you shut his laptop.

You run to the convenience store a block away to grab emergency supplies, cursing your overworked roommate beneath your breath. When you get back, his shaking is less violent, but his brow is furrowed. “Yoongi-ah,” you say quietly, kneeling in front of him and placing your hand on his shoulder. “Yoongi, please,” you say, sweeping his hair away from his face. “Wake up for a bit, then you can go back to sleep.”

He groans, and you place your arm around his shoulder to lift him to a sitting position. With your other hand, you shake the water bottle you’ve mixed hydration salts in. Mercifully, he drinks it as soon as you bring the nozzle to his lips, slowly but surely finishing it.

“No, no.” Yoongi grunts when you offer him painkillers. You wipe the dribble away from his mouth with your thumb before tucking him back in. You’re exhausted, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him, not when he’s weak like this.

He reaches out for something, and belatedly you realize he’s grabbing your hand. His palm is smooth, if slightly damp, and you find yourself interlocking your fingers with his. You glare at Yoongi, feeling your face burning up, but he’s fallen back asleep. Yoongi’s mouth is locked in a pout, and you lean your head against his arm as you watch him.

That’s how you wake up at three in the morning: your back sore from hunching over, a bony hand in your line of sight, fingers barely touching the lobe of your ear. You startle away, the sudden stretch bringing a soft whine from your lips.

Yoongi stirs, lifting his head to find the source of the noise. His eyes are unfocused until they land on you, and he grumbles, looking away. “Get some rest, would you? I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, trying not to be angry at his tone. He never asked you to help him, and you have no right to expect anything. Still, you can’t help your brow from furrowing as you get up. “I’ve left some hydration salts and ibuprofen on the table in case you need it.” Your hand brushes his when you grasp at the edge of the sofa, and he tugs at your fingers lightly.

“Hey,” he says, sighing. “Sorry.” His thumb sweeps over your wrist once. “Not used to this.”

Does he feel how your pulse skips? You shake your head, too tired to worry about it. “Maybe a ‘thank you’ next time, eh, Min?” With your free hand, you smooth the blanket over him, finally standing. You’re so tired that you collapse onto the bottom bunk, the clean scent of Yoongi’s body wash lulling you to sleep.

That weekend before your long shift, you check the whiteboard and see “fridge” scribbled in the top right corner. You find a small almond cheesecake beside your peanut butter jar. It had always been your favourite, and you remember, suddenly, how you’d found one on your desk on your birthday in senior year. You had never found out whom it had come from, but now you have your answer. “Would have been cheaper to just say ‘thanks,’” you say, but a grin creeps onto your face anyway.

When you get home that day, Yoongi’s on his bed, and you shoot him a confused look. His Saturday shifts are normally late, and he’d gotten better the day after his night on the sofa. “I quit. It’s too far away,” he says, shrugging.

You don’t pry, shimmying out of your work skirt and pulling on an oversized sweater, your decade-old compression shorts barely visible under the loose hem. You’re checking for any holes in the mirror, fiddling with the tiny one right at your shoulder, when your eyes land on your roommate. You stare at his reflection for a second too long, and he catches your eye. His lips quirk up in a casual grin you find yourself returning.

You’re flustered at the friendliness of the moment. “The 20 minutes of daily sun exposure too much for your vampire ass?” you say, waiting for his scowl.

Instead, he laughs. “Something like that. Didn’t help that the boss was a dickwad. He yelled at me for showing up to work thirty seconds late the day after I took a sick leave.”

“It’ll be a hassle to find another roommate,” you say, tsking, “so you’d better be able to make the rent this month.” The light in his eyes dims a little, and you find yourself cursing your inability to chill out. You walk to the kitchen to make your nightly tea blend, relenting and sending him a picture of the ad you’d seen at the convenience store nearby.

“You won’t be rid of me so easily,” Yoongi says from his spot on the bottom bunk. Since he can’t see you, you smile.

He takes the job, and your hours sync up, disrupting the ghost roommate dynamic you’d been operating with over the past month. When you get home that Tuesday and he sees you, he starts, his eyes going wide as he looks you up and down. You lift the plastic bag in your hands—take-out Thai for the both of you—before sitting at the dining table.

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something. He shrugs, putting his earphones back in, looking back down at his notebook. You watch him mouth words, fascinated at his writing process. When he catches you staring, you look away, but in your peripheral vision you see him smirk.

“Can I hear it?” you say, pushing the rendang on your plate around. He cocks his head at you, confused. “Your music, I mean.”

He pouts a little, an expression you don’t expect to be as cute as it is. “I’m not done,” he says uncertainly. There’s a chance that’s true, but given your history, it’s more likely he just doesn’t want to let you hear it.

“Sure,” you say curtly. “Good night.” You shut the bedroom door a little louder than you probably should, but you’re disappointed. As you toss and turn on your bed, you try in vain to keep your mind off your last year at school. Your last thought is of an almond cake before you drift off into a fitful sleep.

You wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down your face. Your heart’s pounding in your ears, and you nearly fall as you climb down from the top bunk, your grip on the wood slipping. The tear tracks shine on your face in the dim light of the living room.

Yoongi’s in his boxers and a sleeveless shirt, laptop out and glasses on, sitting at the sofa. You don’t look at him as you move to the kitchen. “Do you want to talk about it?” You don’t look at him, busying yourself by making a cup of tea. Yoongi says nothing more, the sounds of his typing and your breathing allowing you to gather your bearings.

You make your way over to the couch, sitting in a ball at the other end. “I have this dream often,” you say, picking at the tea bag and watching him over your mug. “Taehyung and I are in the middle of the school field, and we’re both holding balloons. I look away for a moment, then suddenly, he’s flying, his face turned away from me.” You close your eyes and breathe in the lavender and honey scent, hating how irrational you sound.

Yoongi shuts his laptop, and you open your eyes to the sight of him studying you. He sighs. “You really love him, don’t you?”

You’re not going to deny it. You’ve loved Kim Taehyung since you were ten years old, since you figured that no one else in Tae’s life could fill that space the way you could. He’s yours and you’re his, and that’s not going to change. It’s only hard, you think, because you’re also in love with him. Taehyung’s never shown any interest in you and you doubt he ever will. Unrequited love you can handle, but the idea of him forgetting about you cuts you to the soul. Your eyes widen, the tears building up as you breathe deeply.

“He won’t leave you.” There’s a certainty in Yoongi’s voice that you’ve never been able to muster up. Something about his tone fills you with warmth. “You’re too good to leave behind.” And it’s back, that weird pitter-patter in your heart.

You smile softly at him. “Thank you, Yoongi.” He nods, powering his laptop back on. You watch him work while sipping at your tea. Soon, he gestures for you to come closer.

“Give this a listen,” Yoongi says, handing you an earphone. The piano instrumental begins, instantly pulling at your heart, but your eyes are drawn to the boy beside you. His eyes are closed as he whispers words. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yoongi so earnest and passionate, and it feels almost too intimate.

When the track finishes, he opens his eyes. “I’m still writing the rap.” Yoongi doesn’t look at you, but he bites at his lip, and you realize he wants some reassurance.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, handing over the earphone. Your hand lingers on his, and you squeeze his fingers lightly. “I’m sure whatever it ends up being will be even better.”

“You might just be sleep-deprived. Go to bed,” he says. Yoongi’s staring at your hands, but you can see the grin playing at the corner of his mouth. You snort, shaking your head as you return to your bunk.

That night, you dream of a grand piano and Yoongi’s gummy smile. You wake up to the light streaming in, feeling more well-rested than you have in a very long time.

I'm going to start with the main point of my discussion, as a sort of pre-emptive TLDR. After 12 years of playing, I am now done with Runescape, and Menaphos was the straw that broke the camel's back. It has shown, in no uncertain terms, what the future is going to hold, and it is a future I do not want to pay to be a part of. Jagex needs to learn its limitations, not overwork their employees to the point it results in inferior, sloppy work, and focus on quality over quantity. Because if the current trend of updates continues, I won't be the last to quit over it.

So yeah, that's the TLDR – Be warned, I am going to go into total ramble / Purple Prose mode here, because this has been on my mind for a while and I just want to process it by getting it out in writing.

Runescape has been a game I have had an interesting past with, my interest and liking for it ebbing and flowing as time went on. I've loved it, I've hated it, and everything in between. But, after several things just repeatedly chipping away at me, my faith in the game has now completely evaporated. I want to like the game, I really do, but the truth of the matter is no longer ignorable – The game is floundering, partly in spite of – or possibly due to - Jagex's best intentions to give us as much content as possible, instead of focusing on realistic, achievable goals.

Now, anyone who knows me on the Official Forums will know that I am kind of infamous for being very vocal against microtransaction stuff (Don't click off. This isn't what this is about). This rather touchy subject had worn me down quite a bit, making me eventually feel very cynical and apathetic about the game, eventually causing me to drift away, only logging in once or twice a week to get a few daily things done or check in with people.

Eventually, though, I made a snap decision which caused me to play the game a whole lot more. Skip to about a month ago, and this increased play-time had paid off - I got my Max Cape. I also completed Sliske's Endgame – I used the lamps from that to utterly skip Magic 98-99.

I had wanted to do this to get closure on Runescape. It had devolved from a game I had loved to play, to a game that I only felt I had to... To a game that I felt I had to expunge from my consciousness in order to know peace. Every time I looked at my skills, I knew that Completion Principle would not let me go until I had finished what I had started. I wanted to finish the Sliske Questline and get Maxed, and be done with it all.

However...As I pushed on with the quests, I felt the old embers of love for the game spark back into a flame. The story I had grown up with, the feeling of progress, it all felt right again. And for just a week or so, I felt like there was hope for the game once more. Sure, there was a lot of patchiness with the updates recently, but it was going to get better, right?

...Nope. Menaphos happened, and it made me finally snap awake.

Something I had predicted from the very first day of expansions being announced had shown itself to be very, very true. Allow me to quote myself from back then.

“I'm looking at these expansions, and I'm worried. I'm going to straight up say this: When expansions come, the game is either going to fly, or going to die. There will be no middle ground.

Jagex is suggesting that they can do a normal weekly game update at the same time of doing a huge expansion-style update every three months. No. In their current situation, there is NO way they can do this. That is an unpaid increase in workload that is utterly untenable – Something has to give.”

And give, it did.

Let's not kid ourselves here. Almost all of the updates, from March onwards, have been shoddy, buggy, broken or otherwise substandard. Let's quickly run through them...

March 6th – Lumbridge Crater rework and wardrobe change. Simple graphical update, UI change which had mixed reception.

March 13th – Ninja Updates – Several good QOL updates.

March 20th – Agents of Fury, Runespan reward rework and Arc changes. Another Currency Event, and the cynic in me sees the releasing of the Runecrafter Robes via Runespan as an effective admission that they've given up on Great Orb Project entirely.

March 27th – Luck Rework – An incredibly confusing, ill-explained, convoluted and broken mess of a system that could have been done so, so much better.

April 3rd – Gemstone Dragons. Due to their huge cost for entry, difficulty, lack of justifiably good drops and the bizarre decisions around their slayer level, these were effectively dead on arrival due to bad planning.

April 10th – Easter Quest – This was the point I really began to notice the damage. The quest was as basic as it could possibly get, with no new graphics, no new areas or music, and effectively all done through text boxes and bare-bone fetchquests. The event looked like a project that had to be done for Monday morning but was only started on Sunday night, and just stunk of laziness and cost-cutting. Needless to say, the “They're working on Menaphos!!!1” people were out in full force this time. I'll get back to that later.

April 18th – The new Achievement system. A rework of a system nobody needed reworking, turning it into a broken, rickety, barely-functioning pile of warped coding that caused far more problems than it solved. This was a mess, pure and simple.

April 24th – The Spring Fayre - When I was complaining about the Easter event, I was usually shot down and told that this would be the actual Easter event. Interestingly, those people got very, VERY quiet when we saw what this actually was. Without wanting to go too far into detail, this was a carnival of MTX greed the likes of which we had never seen, with a massive air of open contempt wafting over the whole thing, due to unfairly balanced reward systems heavily weighted towards spending money. This was eventually improved somewhat, but the initial damage was just...staggering.

May 2nd – Shattered Worlds - This was an update I had been waiting for for years, and initially, it looked like this was something that made up for a lot of the pain the players had endured...But it soon became apparent that this was a terribly-balanced mess which is still very much not worth playing. Disillusionment set in very high for me here.

May 8th – Gilenorian Giving – Charity or no, this was still a Currency Event.

May 15th – Skyboxes. A lightweight update that effectively boiled down to giving us admin commands for changing skyboxes, but it was still pretty nice.

May 22nd – Patch notes, followed by a week of no update, presumably to polish Menaphos.

So all in all, we saw a massive downswing in the quality of updates, ranging from average at best to unusable or contemptuous at worst. But every single time anyone tried to complain, an echoing cry would be heard all through the forums and on Reddit.

“They're working on Menaphos! They have to direct resources from other areas to get Menaphos done! Menaphos will make this all worth it!”

Uh huh...Right. Here's the thing. Jagex has worked on big projects before. Prifddinas. Summoning. Dimension of Disaster. Mzcab. All of these are far bigger projects than this. But none of those crippled the quality of their weekly releases like Menaphos did. None of them ever needed to siphon resources like Menaphos apparently did. They allowed themselves the time to make big, intricate updates, while going along with smaller, more manageable projects. They didn't try to work on multiple big things at once. For instance, I get the feeling that if they shelved Shattered Worlds and the Achievement rework and done some smaller, more feasible updates, they would have been more able to work on Menaphos, to bring it up to a decent standard. But no - They tried to do a bunch of big projects at once, and, well, we can see the results.

Now, admittedly, the resource-siphoning may have been necessary this time...But even if it is, it's entirely Jagex's fault. They are the ones who put this demand upon themselves. If they couldn't hack it, they shouldn't have made that promise. Nobody was asking them to stretch themselves as thin as they did (Hell, the whole reason the poll went the way it did was because we wanted bigger, more polished, less rushed updates). But they did, and as a result the game suffered, and the players suffered. Call me a jerk if you want, but I feel that even if Menaphos was good, we shouldn't just brush all that under the carpet.

But in the end, we manage to get into Menaphos, and after all the bluster and hype, after all the poor updates justified by its very existence, what do we get?

A rainbow reflected in a puddle. Wonderful to look at, but when you get close and actually step inside, you find it's as shallow as it gets.

Menaphos has, when you get down to it, maybe about the same amount of utility as Falador. MAYBE Ardougne if you want to be generous. The only particularly interesting / noteworthy things added with the update – The Slayer Dungeon and Slayer Pyramid - aren't even in Menaphos themselves. Other than that, it's more than a little basic, and other than the appearances, doesn't really do much to actually set itself apart from other cities.

Well, I'm being unfair – I should have said “The only particularly interesting/noteworthy long-term pieces of content”. Because there IS interesting short-term, one-time-only content - four new quests!

…

...Yep, I'm bringing it up. The rep grind. For the uninitiated, in order to actually access the quests there, you need to do an arbitrary reputation grind. The only way to do this is by skilling on the below-average skill plots there. For hours. Some estimates put it at somewhere between 30-50 hours. I know this has been improved with the various patches...But let's face it, if someone's forcing you to eat a turd, but out of the “kindness of their heart” they cut some of it off and dispose of it, you're still having to eat it, you just need to eat less. A vast majority of people don't want to in the first place.

Because most of us can see what this boils down to. The needless rep-grind, the fact there's a passive EXP buff there, and the darkly hilarious Currency Event they have put in there as of this week...To me, it points to two things, clear as day.

Padding, and Desperation.

Rather than making the city somewhere we want to be, with interesting, engaging activities and sights, we are effectively being forced to be there in order to “enjoy” the city, to endure subpar exp, and to engage in constant, tedious grind in order to get to do the quests. No other city has had this treatment - New / Overhauled cities were allowed to just exist, and prove their own worth. All that will be achieved by forcing people to stay in a city when they could be doing other things, is simply breed enormous amounts of contempt.

Because look, you can argue that you are “Forced” to get levels in skills you don't want to for quests sometimes. You can argue you're “Forced” to get combat levels up to get to certain places. Yes, you are. But you can go about it in any way you want. You can go to all sorts of different locations to train skills. You have lots of options on how to train most of them. But with Menaphos, you ARE forced to do things as they want you to. Unless you want to go completely insane by doing bankstanding skills and getting tiny bits of rep, you are effectively stuck looking at a tree you're continually cutting until the game finally says you can do what you want, because they don't want you finishing the content you want and then moving on. To me, this whole combination of things totals up to one thing.

“Spend as much time as you possibly can in the new city. Justify the time it took us, the developers, to design. It doesn't matter how much you're enjoying it, just so long as it looks populated so we can say it's a job well done.

Because you're going to skill in Menaphos and appreciate every last crack in the pavement we textured, dammit.”

And I look at all of this, this sun bleached, shining city of cardboard, and think to myself - “This is going to keep happening. Weak, shallow expansions backed up by shoddy weekly updates. This is not going to get better. They're committed to this business model now, and backing out will damage them even worse. This is how things are now.”

I'm done.

I can't keep this up any more. If this is the normal standard of the updates now, I cannot justify paying for this any longer.

I have enough money for a few bonds. Perhaps several years in the future, I may check back in to see what's going on in the game, assuming the game is still running, and is still recognizable. Because I hate being a cynic, but...The way that this is going, if the quality of updates continues along these lines, and the depravity of the investors continues to balloon like it has been...I don't know how much longer RS will last.

…

I want to finish this ramble fest on a more positive note.

Runescape has changed my life for the better. I could honestly argue it's saved my life. I still remember back when my friends in school were talking about Shilo Village like it was the promised land. I fondly recall my first ever month when I was a Member – I distinctly remember exploring the Gnome Stronghold, getting a full set of the light blue robes and being surprised by the impressive-at-the-time Magic Trees. Hell, I even feel a slight twinge of twisted, bitter-sweet mirth at the fact that I got hacked very early on in my RS lifetime, and deemed too worthless to even get my password changed. (My only indication I'd been hacked was that I was in Falador without my 11k GP on my next login.)

It was a game that I took solace in. I live in a rather remote area of England – As I graduated, the amount of friends I had evaporated – all moving away from this place, looking for better places to go. I was very soon left with nobody but the people I met online. I am proud to admit that one of the best friends I have ever made, I know from Runescape. It's kind of staggering that if I hadn't been making Body Tiaras at the time I was, I would never have got to know him. Runescape was the rock upon which I managed to cling to, to help me keep my life in order, when everything else seemed to not make any sense.

This is honestly a reason why I get so utterly agitated about all that is going wrong with the game lately. It feels...almost disrespectful, the way that the game is just being defiled, broken and twisted the way it is now. Like watching some community club building from your childhood become ruined and dilapidated.

So...That's why I'm opting to quit now, as opposed to waiting for my membership to run out. I want to leave while I still have some respect for the game, and before the memories I have of the game become permanently tainted.

If there is indeed anyone that's still reading...Thank you for that. I know that this is just me letting out one final yell before I turn my back on this, but...I just wanted to speak from the heart for a while, about the game that I used to love – and on some level, still do. I understand if you feel my reasoning is flawed, and I don't mind if you want to tear me down about it. I know this could probably be an unpopular opinion.

I'll probably still lurk on Reddit and the forums here and there, but nowhere near as much as I used to.

To all the people who have better tolerance and restraint than I do, I hope Runescape improves for you once more. I hope with everything I have that the next expansion actually does live up to expectations this time. You deserve better than what you're getting.

Escape (Updated 1/23/19)

I'm working on adding a bit more detail here. I tell a lot of what happens to Clarke to get her to the point she is, but, as they say "show, don't tell." ********************************************************************* The smell of stale coffee radiated throughout the station from the stand in the corner and the dozen or so other passengers stood around either with their heads looking down at their phones or staring blankly at magazines and newspapers. Not Clarke though. Clarke stood, music playing on her headphones, lost in thought, eyes staring straight ahead, focusing on nothing and everything. Her time had come, she was finally going. Her bags were packed, and the bus to anywhere else was about to board. She was about to leave, for good, the city in which she had spent almost a decade. While that thought made her a little homesick already, she knew it was for the best. She may be leaving a place she loved; she was also leaving all the baggage it held. She was leaving a crappy job, a stagnant relationship and a city where everyone she knew had either moved away or moved on. She was leaving a job where she spent her days covering for and fixing the messes of her coworkers. It was a job where she was told to deal with problems without any help or backing from her supervisor who, by the way, was never in the office. She was leaving being overworked, under-appreciated and vastly underpaid. She knew she had settled for this job, but she had seen it as a stepping-stone for other opportunities that never seemed to materialize. She was leaving her thankless work and unsupportive higher-ups. When she had started, she had hoped it would lead to other opportunities within the company. She took the job because there was a genuine chance to move up the ranks and make a name for herself. Those opportunities never materialized, and those times when the spotlight should have been on her, it was stolen by others. She saw others with better connections get the promotions that were rightfully hers. Her supervisor promised that the next time something came up, she would be in serious contention, but her moment never came. One of the more incredible injustices was when a son-in-law of a board member got a job for which Clarke was immeasurably more qualified. When his incompetence almost cost the company one of its clients, Clarke got assigned to double-check and fix every mistake he made. She had become a glorified babysitter whose sole purpose was to make someone else look good. Although it was never explicitly said, they dangled the carrot of a promotion in front of her if she continued to help the company in this matter. She was, most importantly, also leaving a relationship where she was putting in more than she was getting out of it. She was tired of making big romantic gestures like homemade dinners or weekend getaways. She was tired of picking George up when he had "been out with the boys" and was too wasted to get home. She was tired of being chastised for spending time with her guy friends when he saw nothing wrong with the hours-long conversations he had with "just a girl from work." She needed to stop justify staying with him. They had met, like some a weird modern fairy tale, when they moved into the dorms during their freshman year of college. She was struggling with one of the boxes full of her stuff and he, like a Prince Charming in jorts and a backward baseball cap, swooped in and offered to help her. He helped her bring a couple of carloads to her room. "My name is George by the way," he said, holding out his hand. "Thank you for your help George, I'm Clarke," she responded, shaking his hand. "I'm only a few floors up on 6. Room 628, if you wanted to hang out later." "Yea, sure. I might have time to stop by once I get all this stuff unloaded," "I look forward to it, Clarke," he said as he walked out of the room. She spent the next few hours unloading and stashing away all her things. She was finishing up when her roommate came in and introduced herself. Her name was Rebecca. "Want to go grab some food from the Union?" she asked. "We can use it as a time to get to know each other more." "Yeah, let's go," Clarke said. They sat, ate and talked. Becky was from Kentucky and came to college up north because she was trying to get away from her family. About a year before her grandmother had died and some family members were left bitter by the amount left to them in the will. She had taken her share and put it into going to college. Clarke told her all about growing up in the suburbs and her ever-growing desire to move to a city. When she applied to colleges, she jumped at the chance to go to a place as unlike where she grew up as possible. They spent a long time talking and laughing, comparing stories and experiences. By the time they left, the Union was about to close, and as they headed back the dorm, she remembered the invitation from Geroge. She felt terrible, but she had only just met him and figured she would run into him eventually. The next few days were all about freshmen orientation. She and Becky went to the events together and further solidified their bond. She did see George a few times, but only from afar and never got the chance to say hi to him. After a whirlwind weekend, classes started. She walked into her English 100 class and, who should she see, but George. There he was in the third row with his head down doodling in his newly bought notebook. "So, you're an art major," she said with a laugh. He looked up and smiled when he saw her. "So I see you finally got all your stuff put away-took ya long enough." She felt herself blush. "Sorry about that. My roomie came in after you left and we went to get food together." "No problem. Here, sit here," he said moving the backpack on the chair next to him. Freshman year was a blur. New friendships, figuring out her major, being away from home and truly independent. It was a lot to adjust to, but she had Rebecca, her roommate to get her through it. They started spending a lot of time together as friends after that day. It was not until Sophmore year winter break that their relationship shifted. They would text back and forth over the break, and one night after their conversation, she found herself lying awake and all she could think of was him. It happened every night for the next week. When she returned to campus, she walked into his room to see him. He was just on his way out. "I was coming up to see you. I think we need to talk." They went into his room and sat on his bed. There was a long uncomfortable silence between them before George broke it. "I like you and, unless I am completely misreading this, you feel the same." Clarke felt herself start to smile, but he did not seem to notice as he was so focused on the words coming out of his mouth. "Do you want to go on a real date and see..." She didn't let him finish. "Of course, you dummy," she said, punching him in the arm for good measure. Then she planted a kiss on his cheek. She got up from the best and said, "How 'bout now?" He stood up and grabbed her hand as they walked to the dining hall for their first real date. Clarke fell in love, and she fell fast. She found herself mentally categorizing her time into "BF time" and "everything else." They became, according to their friends, "insufferably inseparable." A term they embraced whole-heartedly. He was a psych major and she a marketing major, so they didn't have classes together, but whenever possible, they would meet one another between classes and have a "mini-dates." They would grab a cup of coffee or find some secluded part of campus and talk or make out. Those "mini-dates" were the very essence of their first year together. As with most relationships, there were ups and downs, but what mattered was they always stayed together in the end. In hindsight, she could see when they started to grow apart. It was when, in their junior year of college, their quality time together began to dwindle. They still made time for romantic evenings out, but date nights started to consist of meeting friends at a bar to hang out and drink. Where they once would spend hours alone talking about nothing of importance to anyone but themselves, they now spent the evenings on the opposite side of a dirty booth at the bar while their friends shouted at each other over the drunken celebrations of the other patrons. They still made time for one another, but it was much more of an effort. Clarke set up real date nights, going to shows or cooking meals together. He planned weekend getaways and fancy dinners out. It was these things she focused on when they were in the same booth in the same loud bar with the same people. Now, a few years removed from graduation and the spell cast by the "college experience" had worn off. Where Clarke once was contemplating spending the rest of her life with him, she was now planning a life without him. She wanted to get away from the double standards and continually being made to feel like she was in the wrong. She wanted a life where taking care of herself, and her needs trumped making someone else feel needed. As much as she still loved the city, it just held too much heartbreak now. Its streets had become filled with sadness and reminded of her failures. She could barely turn a corner without being confronted with regrets, missed opportunities and unfulfilled promises. Even now as she wandered around the bus station sipping her coffee, she could see the building where she didn't get her dream job. It was not all bad; there were a lot of good memories too. A few blocks down from where she stood now was where she experienced the moment she fell in love with the city. It was her first summer here, and she had gotten a waitressing job downtown. She had worked the late shift and had helped to close. She stepped outside, exhausted from the busy shift and the city still felt alive. She saw a couple snuggled up on a bench next to the train tracks. The bars were humming with activity as patrons spilled into the patios. As she walked back to her apartment, she saw the audiences from concerts and plays file out and into the warm summer night. It was close to midnight, and there was still so much this place had to offer. It was then, at that moment, that she knew she never wanted to leave this city. But that seemed like such a long time ago. Sadness had infected all the joy and excitement the city once held. The fights she had gotten in with George, watching her dreams slip away and feeling like she was settling in all aspects of her life that had become all she saw as she walked the streets of her once beloved home now. All her good memories had become tainted by the overwhelming feelings of regret and grief. There was no inciting incident to her actions now, no preverbal "straw that broke the camel's back." It just happened. She had woken up one day and realized she needed to get away; to where she did not know. All she knew was that she needed not to be here anymore. In movies it seemed so simple, you get up and go, but this was not a movie: she had responsibilities: namely a lease that was not going to be up for three months. She could stick it out for three months. It was not easy. Once she got the idea to leave, it burrowed deep and stuck. It made her anxious and often irritable as she felt the need to get out only grow stronger. She channeled that energy into laying the groundwork for when she left. She made a list, picked a destination, started saving and for the first time in a long time, focused on the future. Things were going to get better; she just needed to prepare. And that is what she did. The first thing she did was she end things with George and kicked him out of her apartment. It felt like it lasted for hours when in reality it was mere minutes. "I'm leaving," she told him. It was a shitty opening line, but it got the ball rolling. "Going where" he responded. It was at that moment that she realized how vague she had been. It was too late to back off now; she was in it so she might as well do what needed to be done. "Away. From here. From this city: she said. "Why?" came his response. Clarke paused. She wished the words would come more natural, but she couldn't for a coherent thought. This was the first time she had said any of these thoughts out loud and her mind would not calm down. "...because...I just need a break," she told him. "From what?!" He was starting to shout, something she had heard more and more in the past few months. "From work," she began. She took a deep breath, and for the first time, she took her eyes of the stain on the living room carpet and looked George in the eye. "From you," she told him with all the conviction she could muster. For the first time in a long time, he was silent. "You had to have seen this coming. I mean, we have been in a funk for months. We go to the same shitty bar with the same shitty people..." "But you..." he started, but she was not going to let him interrupt her anymore. "It's okay now and then, but every single week...come on. I have tried my damndest to change things up, but you....you want things to stay the same. You seem content to coast through the remainder of our relationship. I have already made up my mind, and there is not much more for me to say. I'm quitting my job in the next few days. It is time to end whatever the hell this has become." She was done, but he wasn't. This was when the real screaming started. George went on for a while, but Clarke didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Her mind was made up, and she had to move on to the other preparations she needed to make. She was so deep in thought that she didn't realize he had stopped talking until he said, "Well...?" "What more do I need to say. This is what I am doing." "So just like that, you are going to throw away almost six years of our relationship because of a few lousy dates!?" She had stayed calm up to this point, but this last comment got to the heart of the matter. She felt her breath quicken as her chest heaved as she felt the mental dam break and all the anger she had felt since this conversation started could be held back no longer. "If you think that is what all this is about, you have NOT BEEN PAYING ATTENTION!! Those 'dates' are not the problem; they are a symptom of the problem. The problem is, and you might want to sit down for this news bulletin, THE WORLD DOESN'T REVOLVE AROUND YOU! I am done compromising MY sanity, MY happiness for someone who refuses to do the same for me. So, yea, we had some lousy dates, but the fact is I AM MISERABLE. The truth is I am 75 percent sure you are cheating on me with Chelsea, and the fact is I am 100 percent done with YOUR BULLSHIT!" She was done talking. She sat down on the couch as George hurled insult after insult at her. She refused to dignify anything he said with a response. He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. He started to stumble over his words as he saw that nothing he was saying was registering with her at all. When he had finally worn himself out, George took what few items he stored there and slammed the door as he left. It was after Clarke heard his car pull away from that she finally let herself breath again. It was the was the freest Clarke has felt in a very long time. She could focus on her wants her needs and not someone else's. It was the first step Clarke needed; It was just the morale boost necessary to get through the other hardship, her soul-sucking job. And she was going to need it. Clarke went to work and kept doing what she always had done: cover for everyone else. She kept her head down and did what she needed to do. Clarke just needed to bide her time until she was ready for it. Something told her there would be less cursing in that exchange. Then the moment came: the time to put in her two weeks notice. It was the happiest moment of her time there when she could finally tell her do-nothing boss that she quit. She had intended to say what she needed, exchange a few pleasantries, politely decline to do an exit interview and get out. But something happened when she finally said those words out loud she was leaving, something so simple that Clarke was surprised by how she reacted. He asked her why she was resigning. It was such a straightforward and harmless question, and for whatever reason she decided to tell him, to be brutally honest and tell him. What she felt as she let out all her gripes and anger could only be described as euphoric. She let out everything she has been holding in. With that cathartic release, she told him she was taking her paid time off, walked out and grabbed what few possessions she had. She was not going back. Now, at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, it was real. After months of planning, this was it. The announcement came over the PA, the bus was ready to board, and Clarke handed in her ticket. She stuffed her bag in the busses undercarriage compartment and got on. Clarke walked straight to the back and took a seat. She starred out the window at her city, or what once was hers. It wasn't hers any longer. The time had come to pass it on to another young dreamer who sees nothing but potential in the manic pace of the people, cars, trains, and busses. That was a feeling long ago lost to her, and now it was time to move on. She was lost in thought, recalling both good and bad memories when she was jolted back to reality by the bus' engine starting. As the bus pulled out and moved steadily away from over a decade of people and events, moments and memories, she could not help but smile. The bus got onto the highway, and the city disappeared in the morning fog, and just like that, she had escaped.

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - J.K. Rowling

Synopsis: The Eighth Story. Nineteen Years Later. Based on an original new story by J.K. Rowling, Jack Thorne and John Tiffany, a new play by Jack Thorne, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is the eighth story in the Harry Potter series and the first official Harry Potter story to be presented on stage. The play will receive its world premiere in London’s West End on July 30, 2016. It was always difficult being Harry Potter and it isn’t much easier now that he is an overworked employee of the Ministry of Magic, a husband and father of three school-age children. While Harry grapples with a past that refuses to stay where it belongs, his youngest son Albus must struggle with the weight of a family legacy he never wanted. As past and present fuse ominously, both father and son learn the uncomfortable truth: sometimes, darkness comes from unexpected places.

My thoughts: GINNY: “Harry, there is never a perfect answer in this messy, emotional world. Perfection is beyond the reach of humankind, beyond the reach of magic. In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again. Be honest to those you love, show your pain. To suffer is as human as to breathe.”

On July 21, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, a new play based on a story by Rowling, Jack Thorne and John Tiffany premiered at the Palace Theatre in London’s West End. The play, along with the book publication of its script, is the first significant addition to the Potter universe since the credits rolled on the second Deathly Hallows movie in 2011. Harry Potter stands peerless in the realm of literary hits, so Cursed Child was an assured commercial success even before it debuted. Written as a transcript, Cursed Child follows the next generation of wizards and witches.

I found the latest instalment of the Harry Potter series to be an enjoyable read in the sense that it allowed me to revisit old friends made many years ago (even if only for an afternoon). Harry Potter and the Cursed Child reignited that childlike imaginative spark in me, which is the reason I fell in love with the world of Hogwarts in the first place. Without going into too much detail, the play focussed on the difficulty Harry and Ginny’s son, Albus Severus, has with being the underperforming child of “the boy who lived”. Albus struggles with living u pro the reputation of the Potter name, and subsequently becomes a bit of a loner who does not hold the same esteem for Hogwarts as his parents would have hoped. The piece also speaks to the difficulty Harry is parenting a somewhat rebellious Albus, who is often viewed by others to be “different”. When Albus befriends the child of a certain former Slytherin house member with whom Harry shared several altercations with during his time at Hogwarts, Harry is tasked with determining whether he should intervene to keep Albus out of trouble, or rather to put his preconceived notions of Malfoy’s only son aside and allow Albus to continue to spend time with his one true friend. In addition, Harry must also make Albus understand the difference between seeking out trouble versus confronting it when it presents itself to you - a lesson Albus eventually learns through the course of the play.

SCORPIUS: No, it's time that time-turning became a thing of the past. ALBUS: You’re quite proud of that phrase, aren’t you? SCORPIUS: Been working on it all day.

While many readers have voiced their concerns over the writing style and how it pales in comparison to the original series, I would offer the following point. This work is written in such a style to facilitate live performances. As such, it seems unfair to compare the extent to which characters are developed and the over plot complexity to J.K. Rowling’s original series. The original seven were not bound by the added task of producing a narrative which can easily be digested in a spoken format (in addition to proving itself worthy of the original series as a standalone literary text). As I have always preferred dialogue over description, this writing form has been proven itself worthy due to its easy and fast nature to read.

I truly don’t understand what’s become of J.K. Rowling in recent years. She transformed the literal and cinematic realms with her Potter books, pioneering fantasy trends that continue to this day. I suppose she’s trying to make stage plays more popular now? Not sure if that will take off, and it’s kind of unfair for the many fans who can’t afford to go see the play themselves. Those people are stuck reading the script, which requires a lot more imagination to really enjoy. There’s very little of Rowling’s great descriptive prose on display, mostly just dialogue - and it’s unclear how much of that was actually written word for word by her personally. It sounds like her style; I’ll say that. But reading it definitely pales in comparison to reading an actual book. Frankly, I’m disappointed that Rowling hasn’t taken the time to flesh this out into a novel. The same goes for the other Potter related fiction she’s written lately - the pre-Fantastic Beasts pieces on Pottermore, to be precise. Its like reading pitches she hasn’t bothered to turn into real books. Obviously, when you’re as famous as Rowling, you can get away with posting your world building notes online or having somebody else turn a story idea into a script and still have millions reading the stuff… but it smacks of laziness on her part, in my opinion.

DUMBLEDORE: Perfection is beyond the reach of humankind, beyond the reach of magic.

If you came to this book hoping for a new era of Harry Potter, you’re going to be disappointed. This book is an epilogue to the original series, not the start of a new one. There’s nothing ground breaking. The mythology is not expanded, and the new characters spend most of their time dealing with the legacies of the original cast. I’m gratified that the wizarding world will be built up by the Fantastic Beasts film(s), but there's a lot of untapped potential in the modern Potterverse that isn’t even touched in “Cursed Child”. There wasn’t enough of Hogwarts, unfortunately, and only focused on the magic outside the castle. I would have liked to see more of the home Harry Potter grew up in.

What makes “Cursed Child” work despite all the strikes against it is what it does with the aftermath of the original stories. If “Deathly Hallows” had to have a follow up in the first place, then this is a surprisingly good one. It’s certainly an improvement on the frequently criticised, rushed epilogue to “Hallows”. This is basically an expansion on that last chapter, exploring what it’s like for Albus Potter to grow up dealing with his famous dad’s legacy, and it’s very believable in that respect. True, Albus doesn’t come across as likeable until near the end of the book, and even Harry shows some striking flaws as a father, but given where both these characters are coming from, these problems make sense. It’s not the forced “happily ever after” of the Hallows epilogue; it’s complex and realistic. Additionally, there’s a very sympathetic, funny character in play in the form of Scorpius Malfoy, Draco's son. He ends up stealing the show, and is arguably the hero of the story in his own right. His lines made me laugh out loud more than once, and convinced me that to whatever degree Rowling was involved in writing this story, she’s clearly still “got it”

.ALBUS: “So what would you like me to do? Magic myself popular? Conjure myself into a new house? Transfigure myself into a better student? Just cast a spell, Dad, and change me into what you want me to be, okay? It’ll work out better for both of us.”

Scorpius was a great addition into the story. His friendship/relationship with Albus was pure, and I appreciate the attention provided towards the importance of friendship. I definitely understand why people would like to see them together as the dialogue and quick descriptions indicate a relationship, which ultimately seems to be more than friendship. Draco and Harry talking, and viewing each other as friends made me feel emotional; it took them more than twenty years, but it was worth it. I still don’t understand the story surrounding Draco and his wife, Astoria. It doesn’t make sense, and seems like bullshit the writers created to expand the plot/story.

Parts of the story itself felt a little overdone and rushed, but you must keep in mind that this addition is originally intended to be watched, not read, with delivery fitting under a specific window of time. For this, I know I did not experience the full breath and absorption of Cursed Child during my read through, and I am sure live performance characteristics such as dialectic nuances and set transformations would definitely expand this work even more, but just reading the play itself took me back into this world of magic, mishap, and mischievousness that Potterheads are long time familiar with. I am curious how the experience of watching it live differs, and cannot wait to see it when I have the chance.

DUMBLEDORE: “Harry, there is never a perfect answer in this messy, emotional world. Perfection is beyond the reach of humankind, beyond the reach of magic. In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again. Be honest to those you love, show your pain. To suffer is as human as to breathe.”

The Trolley Witch part made me feel uneasy. It was irrelevant towards the plot, and made me cringe while reading it. I’ve come to a conclusion, in which I cannot consider these events as cannon. As much as I enjoy certain twists and additions into the story, much of it doesn’t fit with the original Harry Potter books or does not seem to work. It felt as if the plot read like fan fiction, with its revisiting of the original novels’ plot points, its cameos of beloved characters, and its too satisfying outcomes; Hermione, for instance, is Minister for Magic and Ginny is sports editor for the Daily Prophet. Ron seems completely out of character, and revealed he was drunk at his wedding; there was a desperate attempt of humour with his character, which didn’t seem like the original Ron.

Voldemort having a child completely turned me off. He has been hinted to have a relationship with Bellatrix throughout the books, but them having an actual affair and child doesn’t seem to fit. How could Bellatrix be pregnant during the Wizarding War? There was no explanation for this, only the child was born during this time. Of course, their child would want to avenge them, and bring Voldemort back. Another villain would have improved Harry Potter and the Cursed Child as Voldemort’s daughter didn’t do the book any justice. I will not accept that Voldemort had a child with Bellatrix. I can’t, and I won’t. 

HARRY: “I shouldn’t have survived - it was my destiny to die - even Dumbledore thought so - and yet I lived. I beat Voldemort. All these people - all these people - my parents, Fred, the Fallen Fifty - and it’s me that gets to live? All this damage - and it’s my fault.”

It’s a shame because there’s a lot of possibility here. There are interesting storylines taking place here, they just aren’t executed on the level we’ve come to expect from a Rowling product. I enjoy reading time travelling stories, as well as revisiting beloved characters much later in life, but this isn’t how these characters act. Albus should never have been this whiny. I liked him in the seventh book. I liked Harry in the original 7. But, here, the characters have become annoying or flat. Additionally, I wasn’t a fan of hoe entwined in the story Harry was. I’ve already witnessed him and everything he is capable of in the original seven books. Now, he's a blubbering fool. You can’t sit there and tell me that Harry Potter, the boy who lived, is going to run to Ginny every time he has a minor problem, and he is not allowed to eat sugar.

Having said that, as a reader, you have time to appreciate on the page how nimbly Thorne’s writing navigates the adventure’s death defying twists and turns, and his stage directions have poetry of their own, a style that in its lyricism and sense of the abstract is distinct from Rowling’s more direct, story driven prose. For example, when Albus arrives at Hogwarts and is sorted into his school house, we are told: “There’s a silence. A perfect, profound silence. One that sits low, twists a bit and has damage within it.” When the children travel in time, Thorne’s stage direction notes how: “time stops. And then it turns over, thinks a bit, and begins spooling backwards…”

DRACO: “…And being alone - that’s so hard. I was alone. And it sent me to a truly dark place. For a long time. Tom Riddle was also a lonely child. You may not understand that, Harry, but I do…”

As a story containing many possible alternate realities, with a text created to varying degrees by three collaborators, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is a complement to Rowling’s original series rather than a straightforward continuation. It won’t satisfy all fans: some have already taken issue with the story’s extensive reliance on time travel, the use of which seems to disagree with the magical precedent set int he books. Others have quibbled with the portrayal of Harry’s character: he comes across as pricklier and even more troubles than he was in Rowling's books. And though the release is eagerly anticipated by adult fans who grew up with the books, it remains to be seen whether children will connect with reading a complex story in a less familiar script form.

The emotional climax is devastating even on paper. Once again, the fantasy world that Rowling created nearly 20 years ago is at its most powerful when it sets aside magic and reveals the basic, brutal and human mechanics of love and grief. The characters are, mostly, exactly as you remember them, and it’s difficult to overstate how exciting it is to read a new story set in this widely loved fantasy universe. The thrill of a new Harry Potter book, even in script form, is its own kind of magic spell.

HARRY: “You know what? I’m done being made responsible for your unhappiness. At least you’ve got a dad. Because I didn’t, okay?”

Nonetheless, there is still plenty in this new release to tempt fans, for familiarities abound and the magic is intact, if fleeting. Details are minimal for settings, as can be expected given the format, but it works, as there was an assumption that anyone reading the book knows the world inside and out and can paint the pictures in the mind. In fact, fans will find much that is recognisable in the new story, in spite of the altered vessel of delivery. It is worth nothing that there is no effort made by either Rowling or Thorne to acquaint a Harry Potter newcomer to the world, so it is advised for those not familiar with the original series to read the books in sequence. From the opening lines - once the reader adjusts to the pace and syntax of the script format - a comforting feeling descends, for the world seems just as it was left when the last pages of Book 7 were reluctantly closed.

Rowling never misses a chance to raise a moral conundrum, and characters are always deeper than two dimensional, even in script form. Albus Potter, bearing the unwelcome burden of being the son of the most famous wizard to live, is faced with having to navigate Hogwarts with the same lack of anonymity as his father did. The first person young Albus encounters on the train is Scorpuis Malfoy, the son of Harry’s nemesis, Draco Malfoy. Young Rose Weasley, daughter of Hermione and Ron, heads off to make other friends, but Albus stays, in typical Rowling fashion, he befriends the last person his father would expect him to. These sorts of moral twists are some of the reasons Rowling’s books resonate so deeply, as they appeal to our better natures.

HARRY [quoting Dumbledore]: “The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”

The twists and turns continue, and preconceptions and expectations are turned on their heads, as though Rowling is reminding the reader that change is good and an open mind should always be the goal. Not only are the characters’ prejudices challenged, but so, too, are those of the reader, and once again Rowling takes a fantasy and elevates it with characters that are distinct, flawed and endearing. There will be plenty who denounce Rowling for reopening Harry Potter’s world, but for those for whom the loves run deep, treasures await.

If it all sounds confusing, it is, as there were several hands involved in the creation of the first two instalments that are set 19 years after Harry Potter left Hogwarts and defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. Rowling hinted at this glimpse of Harry’s future in the epilogue of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,” and some of that much analysed final chapter is overlapped nearly verbatim in the play’s script; indeed, it serves as a jumping off point for a new and wondrous adventure for Harry, his cohorts and the next generation of wizarding offspring. For true Potter fans, this might be enough to be pulled back into the story. That said, the very nature of the play format of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” allows for very little detail, which is where Rowling’s real storytelling gifts reside. Her ability to build fully developed characters is unsurpassed and is what comprises the centre of the allure of the Harry Potter series. 

DRACO: Hermione Granger, I’m being bossed around by Hermione Granger. And I’m mildly enjoying it.

Lastly, Draco and Hermione have been shipped together since the books first came out, and there is a moment dedicated to them. I’ve never understood the obsessiveness of their relationship, and it disgusts me; it's like shipping a white man who is racist with a black woman. It doesn’t make sense. He might have changed his attitude towards muggle born people, his prejudice will never completely disappear. This tine, I must admit, made me smile a bit as I realised it will make the majority of Draco and Hermione shippers happy. Yes, I felt happy for them, as pathetic as it makes me sound.

The story, once you get past the awkward format, is gripping. I devoured it in one afternoon. There are quite a few surprises in store for hardcore fans. On the whole, the tone is very appropriate for those who have “grown up” along with Harry. Fans who are now adults can relate with the themes explored here, even when characters mess up pretty badly. Harry certainly made plenty of his own mistakes over the years, and occasionally acted like a jerk. I’d argue that it’s worth giving Harry’s progeny a chance, even if you don't take to him at first. At the very least, read it for Scorpius. I’m not saying you definitely won’t be disappointed, but there are far worse ways for a Potter fan to bide the time until Fantastic Beasts gives us a weightier addition to the potter universe.

DRACO: Keep up, old man. HARRY: We’re the same age, Draco. DRACO: I wear it better.

Date finished: 27th March, 2017 Pages: 309 Rating/5: ★★★