#also just no one has ever heard of pacing in their entire life

[angstflavoured]

its actually insane how much ill stop caring abt a fic when the main couple just gets together and thats it. like. thats it? the next chapters are just pure fluff and you expect me to careee?? im GONE brother, the confession happens and then im off to the next fic. like in what world is the confession not the climax of the entire story? ig im just slowburn brained but honestly i just dont even see the appeal of anything else cus like what even is a story if there is no angst happening like its not even a story anymore its just FLUFF. ig i just really do not like fluff like ohhh my god i do not careeeee i dont careeeeeeeeee where is the drama the romance the bloodshed

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[just-aake]

Detecting Love Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Detecting Love. Can a spy who's been trained to lie her entire life show the person with the power to detect lies the truth what it means to be loved?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5171

Natasha Romanoff lies.

Now, that’s to be expected, considering she is one of the greatest spies in the world. Ever since she was a child, she has been trained to be able to deceive everyone she meets.

Lying comes as easily to her as breathing, and deception is woven into every fiber of her being.

A charming smile here. A flirty wink there. 

Sweet words flow from her lips like honey.

Making everyone fall in love with all of the different false personas that she created for herself.

With a life and a past as shadowed as hers, it makes sense why she never even dared to imagine finding a person who can tolerate, let alone embrace, someone like her.

Then, she met you.

With your unique power to literally see through lies, you can detect the truth from her even when she’s at her most convincing. And despite learning about who she was and how she is, you accepted her unconditionally, not just as a friend, but as a partner.

For Natasha, being with someone who can truly see her is scary, and yet, that feeling is also better than breathing itself.

The two of you have been dating for several months now, and Natasha has never been happier.

Even if she sometimes occasionally struggles to express her affection openly in public.

As the two of you stroll through the compound, her eyes drift down once again in contemplation to your hand swinging casually at your side.

As if sensing her silent deliberation, you suddenly ask her curiously.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Natasha straightens at your question and faces forward, responding promptly in an even tone, “No.” 

Now that is sure to sound honest to anyone else who heard it, but you’re different.

Natasha makes sure to trail back slightly behind your line of sight in an attempt to hide the glow she knows you’d probably see around her.

You don’t comment on her evading action, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you maintain your pace toward the Avenger’s personal elevator.

The two of you stand side by side, waiting for the elevator to arrive when Natasha suddenly feels the back of your hand lightly graze her fingers before quickly pulling away.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion at you, but you maintain an innocent expression, your gaze fixed on the decreasing numbers above the elevator doors.

Facing forward once more, Natasha is about to dismiss the action as an accidental touch when she feels it again – the fleeting brush of your hand against hers. 

This time, she doesn't hesitate to shoot you an accusing stare. Yet, you continue to feign ignorance, your expression a perfect mask of innocence. 

A couple of seconds pass before your hand makes contact with hers for the third time. 

Before you can retract your hand, Natasha swiftly catches it and intertwines your fingers with hers before letting out a defeated huff.

You don’t utter a word about her actions, but a subtle smile curves your lips, exposing your amusement at her reaction. 

With a soft squeeze of her hand, you pull her into the elevator, the door closing shut behind the two of you.

It's moments like these that remind Natasha why she fell for you — your ability to see past her lies, even the most trivial ones.

Once the elevator door slides open to the private floor, the two of you are met with sounds of a heated argument between the Asgardian Avenger and his visiting brother.

“I know you did it, Loki! This is not the first time you’ve taken and hidden a treasure of mine!”

“Oh, would you stop being so dramatic? We're talking about a mug, not some enchanted artifact.”

You raise a questioning brow at her, silently asking her whether you two should come back at another time, but Natasha shakes her head resolutely in response, not willing to let anything prevent her from missing her morning coffee.

As the two of you walk past the brothers, Thor finally notices the new presence in the room.

“Y/n!” he calls excitedly. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, catching you in place between the two of them which in turn pulls your hand from her grasp.

Thor’s other hand points accusingly at his brother.

“Is Loki lying about taking my mug?”

Realizing that you’re being dragged into the middle of the argument, your eyes dart to Natasha for help, only for her to give you a thumbs up in encouragement as she takes a sip of the coffee that she just poured from the freshly made pot.

The other Asgardian crosses his arms and snickers derisively at his brother.

“Do you really think that this simple mortal can expose the literal god of mischief? I didn’t take your stupid mug, and she can’t prove any—”

“He’s lying,” you answer plainly, seeing the red aura surrounding the Asgardian.

Loki shuts his mouth in surprise, blinking at you for a moment in disbelief, before pointing at you with a disdainful look.

“I don’t like her,” he states bluntly.

“Ah ha!” Thor exclaims victoriously. “You did take it!”

The two continue with their arguing as you discreetly sneak away to Natasha’s side.

She hands you a cup of coffee which you accept with a soft thanks before an alarm on your phone rings, showing your reminder for the day. 

You groan lightly in disappointment, causing Natasha to raise a questioning brow at you as she raises her cup for another sip.

“I have some interviews to get to this morning, so I’ll have to see you later,” you tell her before pressing a quick kiss goodbye to her cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin.

Swallowing her sip quickly, Natasha turns her head towards your direction, the reciprocating words also on her tongue.

“I—”

But you’ve already rushed away around the corner, disappearing from view. 

“…love you too,” Natasha finishes in a soft disappointed tone, her lips twisting at your action. 

Public displays of affection aside, Natasha has no problem wanting to tell you how much you mean to her.

But for some reason, you always seem to conveniently find ways to escape whenever she’s about to say those words to you.

“Now I’m no expert on relationships, but that right there was some cunning evasion tactic,” Loki comments, smirking at Natasha. “It appears that she’s not really interested in receiving such words from you.”

A slap on Loki's shoulder propels him forward a couple of steps as Thor reprimands, “Stop trying to cause problems for them, Loki.” 

He then turns to Natasha with a firm nod. 

“Don’t listen to him, Nat. Y/n loves you.”

Of course, she knows that. 

You whisper those words against her skin every morning when you think she’s still asleep and then again against her lips when you wake her up. 

The problem is that it seems that she never gets the chance to return the gesture before you find some way to rush away from the room or keep her mouth otherwise occupied and distracted.

A thud on the counter pulls her from her thoughts as Loki leans against the table with a mischievous grin.

“That girl can detect lies, right? Then why don’t you just tell her that you don’t love her, and then she’ll see the truth. That should be easy enough for you. After all, lying is your specialty,” Loki remarks before a smug expression forms on his face. 

“Unless that is, the truth is that you don’t actually love her,” he taunts.

Natasha glares at him silently, refusing to fall for his baiting provocation. Not wanting to give the trickster god any more amusement, she quickly downs the rest of her coffee and leaves for the meeting room, deciding to try again with you later.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

With the briefing finishing early, Natasha decides to visit your office during this break in between her meetings. Conversations flow around her as she walks past the front desk toward the administrative part of the building.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t let you enter without an appointment.”

“Well, is there any way you can just send a message to Y/n to let her know I’m here?”

Natasha’s head snaps up from her tablet at the sound of your name and curiously turns to the person who said it, only for her eyes to widen slightly in surprise at their identity.

Your ex-fiancée 

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha redirects her attention to the two of them.

“What did you need to see Y/n for?” she asks.

Your ex turns to her at her question, and an expression of amazement crosses her face.

“Oh, wow, you’re Black Widow.”

Brushing off her awed exclamation, Natasha crosses her arm expectantly as she repeats, a slight tone of protectiveness entering her voice.

“Why are you looking for Y/n?” 

Noticing her serious gaze and intimidating demeanor, your ex fidgets with her hands nervously as she responds.

“It’s kind of a private matter with an old case that I need her help with,” she explains.

Despite being the one who broke your heart, your mutual break up with her meant that the two of you are still somewhat friends, and as much as Natasha wants to, she can’t prevent your ex from seeking you out, especially since it seems she needs your help.

With an internal displeased sigh, Natasha gestures with her head towards the direction of the elevators.

“I’m heading over to her office right now if you want to come with me,” Natasha offers, nodding at the receptionist reassuringly to indicate that it’s okay, before walking away without another word. 

Natasha hears your ex scramble to follow quickly after her once she processes her words.

As the elevator doors close with the two of them inside, Natasha pulls out her phone to send you a warning text.

I’m on the way to your office with your ex.

A read message quickly appears under her text, indicating that you have seen it, and then a text bubble promptly pops up as you respond.

?!?!?

“So, do you and Y/n work together often?” your ex asks, trying to fill the silence with casual conversation.

Natasha looks up at her question, tucking her phone away. She crosses her arms and leans back against the elevator walls, adopting an intimidating posture, as she gives her a hard stare.

With a calm yet assertive tone, she tilts her head curtly and replies with the truth. 

“She’s my girlfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the small space after her answer, and your ex’s eyes dart around the enclosed space, seemingly realizing she’s essentially alone with the Black Widow who just revealed that she is in a relationship with you. 

Sensing her nervous energy, Natasha relaxes her posture, offering a more friendly demeanor.

“Relax, if I was going to do something, I would have done it already,” Natasha reassures. 

Your ex nods hesitantly, acknowledging Natasha’s attempt to diffuse the tension. After a moment of contemplation, she gathers the courage to speak up again. 

“So, you know about Y/n and her ability?” your ex asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, adding, “And about what happened between the two of you.”

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, plunging the elevator into an uncomfortable silence once again. 

Honestly, Natasha knows she shouldn’t keep putting your ex in these awkward positions with her responses. 

However, just because you are on friendly terms with her doesn’t mean Natasha has to be, especially considering she never held any goodwill toward the woman before.

Natasha redirects her focus to the digital display above the door, silently cursing and blaming Tony for the sluggish pace of the elevator. 

“I-I honestly did love her,” your ex confesses, breaking the silence once again.

At her statement, Natasha regards her with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate on her sudden declaration.

"I mean, Y/n’s great. It’s just…it got hard to imagine being with someone who always knows if you’re telling the truth or not,” your ex explains with a small sigh, offering a tiny sympathetic shrug before asking. “I’m sure you understand that feeling too, right?"

Irritation flares in Natasha’s chest at your ex’s words, her protective instincts surfacing in defense of you.

"Maybe the fact that she can see someone for who they truly are is what makes being with her so special," Natasha counters, her voice firm with conviction.

The remainder of the elevator ride passes in tense silence until the doors finally open with a ding, signaling their arrival at your floor. 

Throughout that time, one part of the conversation continues to bother Natasha, and she finds herself asking, wanting to know the answer.

“Did you tell her often?”

“What?” your ex asks, blinking in surprise and caught off guard by her sudden question. 

Natasha presses her lips together momentarily in displeasure at the topic before clarifying, “Did you tell Y/n that you loved her often, you know, before your feelings changed?”

“Oh, um, kind of,” she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “It’s actually kind of funny. Y/n would always have this cute little shy smile whenever I said it, so I ended up saying those words to her a lot.”

The irritation in Natasha’s chest intensifies at her answer, and her feelings must be evident on her face because your ex starts waving her hands frantically in a slight panic.

“But I’m positive Y/n won’t react the same way if I said it now,” she adds quickly.

Instead of responding, Natasha leaves the elevator without another word. 

Your ex’s reassurance does little to ease the irritation that she feels at not yet having been able to say those words to you herself.

The two of them arrive at the door of your office, only to find it locked with the lights turned off.

Just as Natasha is about to text you to ask you about your whereabouts, you emerge from around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of her.

Confused at your flustered state, Natasha gives you a questioning look as she asks, “Why are you rushing?”

You take a couple of deep breaths to catch your breath before answering.

“Because…I didn’t want to…to leave you waiting.”

Natasha feels her heart flutter at your words, her posture relaxing for a moment.

“…wow…you look good, Y/n,” your ex comments.

Natasha’s body immediately tenses again at the reminder of your ex’s presence, and she becomes further annoyed when she takes in the state of your appearance that prompted the remark from your ex.

You are in your usual workout outfit, a standard black tank top, showcasing your body with a gleam of sweat still on your skin, evidence of your workout session.

As if sensing Natasha’s increasing irritation, your ex gestures awkwardly in fear toward the waiting area some distance away.

“I’ll just wait over there.”

Natasha watches your ex walk away with a slight glare in her eyes. 

When she turns back to you, her expression instinctively softens with affection and curiosity.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“My last couple of interviews had to cancel, so I decided to go train for a bit,” you answer with a slight shrug. “You know, since you suggested that I try training whenever I’m bored and have some free time.”

Natasha's lips twist slightly in conflict at your response. She's happy you took her suggestion to heart, but now she's also upset that it led to you appearing in front of your ex in such a state.

Gesturing toward your ex, you ask, “Did she say why she’s here?”

Natasha sighs and shakes her head.

“She only mentioned that it was an old case that you can help her with.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding in understanding, probably already knowing what she’s referring to. 

Then you look at Natasha with a cute tilt of your head. 

“After I finish up with her, do you want to go out for some lunch?”

A small smile forms on Natasha’s face, her earlier irritation melting away at your suggestion. 

However, she knows she might not have enough time to wait and go out before her next meeting.

“How about I go ahead and pick up some takeout first, and then we can have lunch in your office when I return?” Natasha offers as a compromise.

You smile at her in response and press a soft kiss against her cheek.

“It’s a date.”

As you’re about to move past her, Natasha presses her hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back to your original position.

You give her a questioning look in confusion.

“Did you take my hoodie again?” Natasha asks accusingly. 

Your eyes dart guiltily to your office before you mutter under your breath with a soft pout, “Maybe.”

Natasha nods slightly in contemplation, her eyes glancing at where your ex was waiting and then back to you.

“Put it on,” she says plainly.

You raise a brow at her in confusion and gesture to your body.

“Nat, I’m covered in sweat. I didn’t get a chance to hit the showers before you texted,” you explain.

“That text didn’t mean that you should come here all hot and sweaty in front of your ex like this,” Natasha remarks pointedly, crossing her arms.

A teasing grin pulls at your lips as a look of understanding crosses your face.

“You think I look hot right now?” you ask happily.

“Seriously?” Natasha deadpans. 

Unbothered by her signature intimidating gaze, you pull her closer by the loops on her belt and lean in with a slight tilt of your head.

“Are you jealous?” you tease lightly, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you try to hide your pleased grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She knows whether she responds truthfully or not, you probably already know the answer without the help of your ability, so she responds instead.

“Keep it up, and I’ll just come back with one takeout box for myself,” she warns.

You laugh lightly at her response, nodding your head in concession.

“Alright, I’ll put it on,” you promise, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

As you pull away, you whisper, “I love you,” the words brushing softly against her lips.

Natasha’s eyes had fluttered closed at the touch of your kiss, but they snapped open when she remembered she wanted to say those words back to you too.

However, to her disappointment, before she realized it, you had disappeared from her side. 

Turning around, she finds you already in your office, putting on her hoodie.

A mocking chuckle sounds beside her, and she turns to see Loki leaning casually against the wall.

“Oh, you didn’t even try that time,” he taunts.

Without hesitation, Natasha raises her wrist and shoots a widow bite at him. It flies through his body, dispersing the apparition that he had left there.

Groaning in annoyance at his presence, Natasha quickly leaves to go get your lunches before he can reappear and provoke her further.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So this is the one lie detector that you can’t beat,” Fury comments with intrigue, as he examines your file.

Natasha closes the folder promptly and takes it from the table in front of him, stating firmly, “Her name’s Y/n, and no, you can’t have her. She’s just going to help review the list of potential recruits for you. Nothing else.”

She gives him a pointed look, stressing, “Especially not any SHIELD interrogations.”

Leaning back in his chair, Fury chuckles amusedly and raises a brow at her.

“Protective, are we?”

Before she can affirm the lengths she would go to minimize the risks you have to take, the door slams open, and you stroll in, giving her a wave and a charming smile. 

You stop in front of her, taking her hand suddenly in yours and giving it a light swing. 

“Ready to get started?” you ask. 

Natasha’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Something about your behavior was off and unlike you. 

She examines your expression critically, and then in one swift, fluid motion, she grabs your wrist and upper arm, pivots on her heel, and shifts her weight, seamlessly flipping you over her shoulder. 

With a resounding thud, Natasha slams you down onto the meeting table, the impact rattling the room.

Fury whistles lowly with a slight wince, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his tone.

“Tough love, huh?” he remarks to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his comment and shakes her head, reaching to her side to grab something. She takes one of “your” wrists and snaps a golden cuff onto it. 

Immediately, the figure on the table shifts from your face and form to Loki’s. 

His eyes glare at her as he gathers his bearings, giving a slight grunt of pain when he moves.

“As if this woman knows anything about love,” he scoffs, standing up from the table with a groan.

Fury hums curiously at the sight of the trickster god, turning to Natasha.

“Who let him in here?”

Natasha sighs as she crosses her arms, replying, “Unfortunately, Thor and he are on friendly terms at the moment.”

Loki raises his hand and waves his finger at her in reprimand.

“Exactly. Now, is this any way to treat a guest of yours?” he taunts with a smirk before his eyes drift to the cuff on his wrist. His expression falls in recognition. “Where did you get this?”

A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she answers, “Thor lent it to me when I asked. Since I know better than to just take his things.”

The cuff in question is an enchanted artifact that temporarily blocks the magical abilities of the wearer as explained by the god of thunder.

Loki scoffs in disbelief, placing one hand on his hips while waving his other wrist at her. 

“Hilarious, now take these off,” he demands.

Natasha’s smirk remains fixed as she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the key,” she admits, tapping her chin thoughtfully before revealing, “It must still be with Thor. But I’m sure you’ve already apologized to him for earlier, so you’d have no problem asking him to release you.”

Loki scowls, his expression darkening with disdain, and then he swiftly turns toward the exit.

“It’s no wonder that girl doesn’t want to accept any love from the likes of you,” he spits out angrily.

Natasha’s lips twist downward at his words, but before she can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the tense moment. 

Taking a calming breath, she calls out, “Come in,” already knowing who it is.

You open the door at Natasha’s invitation, only to dodge out of the way as Loki storms past you out of the room, muttering angry curses under his breath.

Turning back to Natasha, you notice the telltale red aura fading from around her and wonder what was the lie that you assume she had just told him.

As you approach her, Natasha’s contemplative, sullen expression quickly shifts to a neutral one when she catches your concerned gaze.

Before you can question her about it, Fury claps his hands firmly, looking between the two of you.

“Alright, let's finish this quickly then.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Seated on your sofa, Natasha hugs a cushion pillow closer to her chest, seeking comfort as Loki’s harsh words echo in her mind.

Is it just a coincidence that you manage to avoid her every time she’s about to say those words to you? Or is it possible that the truth is you don’t actually want to hear those words from her?

You place a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as you finish explaining what your ex needed from you.

“So, I just need to submit my notes on the case so that the court can close it out,” you explain.

Natasha hums absently in acknowledgment, but her mind drifts back to her insecurities.

Was Loki just messing with her or were all of your previous evading actions really on purpose?

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Natasha decides to settle this once and for all.

As you take your seat next to her and start the movie, Natasha initiates her plan. She quickly maneuvers herself over your lap, straddling you as her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing you firmly against the sofa with her body.

Your hand automatically rests on her waist and begins tracing light patterns against her side, but your lips twist into a small pout of confusion as you remark, “As exciting as this is, I thought this movie was your favorite.”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly, internally groaning at your adorable words and how incredibly in love she is with you. 

If only you could hear it from her for once.

Determined to not fail this time, she tries again.

“I lo—”

Her words are cut off, swallowed by you, as you pull her down into a deep kiss. 

Instinctively, she melts against your body, sliding her hands to caress the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss as she gets lost in the feeling of your lips moving against hers. 

Then, realization hits her, and she snaps her eyes open and pulls away. 

“Hold on, I’m trying to tell you that I—”

“I know,” you interrupt, your hand covering her mouth to stop her mid-sentence. 

That’s when Natasha sees it.

The fear in your eyes.

“I know,” you repeat, giving her a look of understanding before swallowing nervously. 

You close your eyes as your head drops to your chest, a sad chuckle escaping from you. 

“You know, in all my life, I have never been afraid to discover if someone was lying to me,” you admit, shrugging lightly. “I’ve always known that people can lie, so it’s never really surprising or hurtful when it happens.” 

You let out a weary sigh and look up to meet her gaze with a sad smile. 

“Except for that one time.”

Natasha knows what moment you are referring to — the night your powers revealed that your ex no longer loved you.

The memory flashes in your mind, vivid and raw, as if it happened only yesterday. The betrayal, the heartache, the crushing realization when the red aura appeared around her after she uttered those fateful three words to you.

Your attention returns to the woman in front of you, the one who helped heal your heart. The one who now holds it. 

The one who also has the power to hurt you in the exact same way, even though you know she won’t.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you say with breathless adoration and honesty, but your expression pinches in fear as you continue, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t think I'm ready to hear it from you yet. Just…not those exact words.”

You sigh sadly, understanding how unfair your words are to her, and your chest tightens guiltily as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Look, I’d understand if you want to leave.”

You look away from Natasha, your mouth pressing together tightly, fighting the urge to cry. 

The silence stretches out in the room before Natasha gently cradles your face, bringing your gaze back to her.

“You make me happy,” Natasha declares firmly.

You give her a confused look at her words.

“Wh-what?”

Ignoring your question, Natasha continues, asking meaningfully, “Am I lying?”

Your eyes observe her for a moment, but you don’t see any indication of a red aura appearing.

“No,” you answer in confusion.

Natasha nods before continuing, “I don’t mind that your powers reveal truths about me, like the moments when I want to hold your hand or when I’m jealous.”

She tilts her head at you in question.

“Am I lying?” she asks again.

Still not seeing any red aura appear around her, you shake your head at her in response.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, letting out a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m afraid that one day…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to admit out loud. 

“…one day you’ll wake up and decide that because of who I was, who I am now is not enough for you to stay with me anymore.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you go to reassure her, “I wouldn’t—”

“Am I lying?” Natasha interrupts, not wanting you to worry about comforting her at this time.

Your eyes soften sadly when you see the vulnerability and fear in her eyes at her words. 

You reach up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her face gently in comfort as you whisper, “No.”

Leaning against your touch, Natasha lets out a steadying breath to compose herself for the final part of her point.

“So when I say I can wait…” she pauses, looking into your eyes with a serious and determined expression, making sure you can see the sincerity of her next words. 

“…I’ll wait for as long as you need so that one day I can say those words to you…am I lying?”

You watch her carefully for a moment, but nothing appears to counter her claim. Realizing her intentions to reveal her feelings in another way, your heart fills with love and adoration for her as you answer with a soft smile. 

“No, you’re not lying, Natasha.”

She gives you a gentle grin and cups your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before admitting, “That’s because when I’m with you, Y/n, it never feels like I’m living a lie.”

A breathless, awed gasp escapes from you at her words, and you can’t help but pull her in closer, her red hair falling around you like a curtain.

“I love you,” you whisper against her lips, the words filled with genuine adoration for the woman.

Natasha smiles softly at your words and closes the distance between the two of you once again, her kisses tender and filled with all of her unspoken feelings. Her lips move against yours with gentle urgency, conveying everything she can’t yet say aloud.

The warmth of her touch, the sincerity of her kiss, and the way she holds you protectively — all of it reassures you. 

It doesn’t matter that those three words haven’t been spoken explicitly — her actions, her presence, the look in her eyes says it all already.

Natasha may be considered one of the greatest spies in the world thanks in part to her exceptional ability to lie, but even she can’t hide the truth from you.

Without needing to hear her utter those fateful three words aloud, you already know the truth in your heart.

That Natasha Romanoff truly loves you too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the love that you all gave to the first part! I hope you enjoyed this one too!

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"𝑭𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆" 𝑬𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

A/N: This is part two of the Anti-Love Ettore one-shot.

Summary: Ettore mistakes a suggestion of yours as a sign that you're distancing yourself. It only gets worse when he spots you with some guy he's never seen before.

TW: Smut, Oral Sex (f receiving), fingering, tiddy sucking, lactation kink (with no lactation) p in v, creampie, bondage, vibrator play, violence

Word Count: 3k (I think this is the longest fic I've ever done lol)

← Previous Part • Next Chapter →

I can't remember who made the X Banner. If you know please tell me.

Your head was lying on his chest as you lazily drew shapes on his forearm over his tattoo. His hands gently rubbed your lower back as you both just lay there not needing to say any words. Just enjoying the moment.

Ettore had become fond of these moments. How calm they were. It was a big difference to how chaotic his life had always been. With you, there was only peace.

"Ettore?" As your voice reaches his ears he blinks back to reality and looks down at you. "Did you hear what I said?" He shakes his head while still rubbing your lower back.

"You should try BDSM. I think it would suit you. It would also keep you out of trouble." Ettore had heard of BDSM before but the costs alone to build a playroom was more than he had.

But that wasn't what was running through his mind right now. Why were you telling him this? He has no use for some random submissive girl when he has you. Were you getting tired of him? Did you find someone else?

You babbled on for a while about how you could help him start. Ettore didn't say a word the entire time. His brain bounced between different theories as to why you were all of a sudden interested in finding him a new fuck buddy.

Only when you moved to sit on top of him, straddling him, did he snap out of his thoughts. He looked up at you and held on to your waist.

"You ok?" He nodded. You knew he was a man of few words and expressed how he felt in other ways. His hips bucked upwards as he felt the heat radiating from your body just above his cock. It slowly hardened as Ettore thought of fucking any ideas you had of leaving him out of you.

Before he could initiate anything you kissed his cheek and got off of him saying you had to go.

To you, he was just being his normal self. You never would have imagined the turmoil going on in his head, the plans that were brewing. If only he had been honest from then about his feelings.

It could have saved you both some pain.

A day had gone by since you introduced the BDSM idea to Ettore. You had gone off to do God knows what. He assumed you were stealing stuff as you typically did in your spare time. He had calmed down slightly but his brain was still racked with thoughts of why you had brought it all up in the first place.

He managed to tell himself there was no cause for worry. That was until he tried to call you to hook up and you didn't answer. It only got worse when he texted you telling you to come over and you replied with "Can't. Im busy.".

Busy? Busy doing what? With who?

He paced around his apartment. Wondering if he should call you again. He chewed on his nails till they were too short to chew anymore. No matter how many deep breaths he took he couldn't calm himself. He had to know what you were doing.

In a matter of minutes Ettore was dressed and at the mall in a grey sweat suit with a black jacket. He had his hood up as he stalked around the local mall looking for you. He was there for about 30 minutes before he spotted you quickly walking out of a store.

A smile rose on his face when he saw you pull something out of your pocket with a smile.

See Ettore? She's just doing her typical shit.

The smile only dropped when he watched you turn around and wait for a boy to run out of the store after you. He was being chased by a security guard. You took his hand and began running as you both were in a fit of giggles.

The sight made his blood boil. He felt hot in his own skin and just wanted to crawl out. The guard gave up on chasing you both and returned to the store. Ettore began walking in the direction you both went. He needed answers. Who was this guy? Why were you holding his hand? Is he who you decided to spend your time with instead of being fucked by him?

He picked up the pace until he caught sight of the two of you heading towards one of the exits. it led towards the loading dock and was pretty much an abandoned side of the mall that barely anyone shopped in. He did his best to stay out of sight but with every step he just wanted to finally reach the two of you.

And when he finally does it changes your relationship forever. You barely have time to react as the man you are next to gets grabbed backwards by his hoodie and face-slammed into a brick wall. You scream as you see Ettore get on top of him and punch him repeatedly.

The man your with weakly tries to protect his head as Ettore continues to hit him in the head.

"Ettore stop! Get off of him!" You try to pull him off but that only redirects his anger. He stands up and shoves you. You stumble back and fall to the ground your hands scraping against the tough concrete. Ettore, driven by anger, pulls back his fist as if he is about to punch you.

And thats when he sees it.

The terror in your eyes. The tears that fall down your cheek.

The same look he saw in the eyes of the women he killed.

Seeing that look in your eyes. Your eyes... hurt him. Without knowing it you were the air he breathed. To know he had made you fear him, terrified him. He lowered his arm and ran off saying nothing else.

He doesn't remember much about what happened that night. He wakes up to his apartment trashed and can only assume his emotions got the better of him. He had sent you more messages than he could count and called you countless times. You ignored every call and message.

He didn't know where you lived considering you only ever hooked up at his place.

He had to get you to forgive him. He couldn't continue without you. He couldn't breathe without you.

He told himself that this wasn't love. That this was just fear of losing what you offered. Your wonderful pussy. The amazing sex. Thats all he's scared of losing, not you. He could care less about you.

It took him almost a week before he found out where you lived. He knew what bars you liked to hang out and started asking around. You were smart not to go out knowing he would be looking for you but eventually, you needed groceries. You stepped out to do some shopping wearing a more discreet outfit than you would usually wear.

Ettore watched from across the street as you pulled up your hood and walked towards the bus stop. He knew you would be gone a while and would give him time to do what he needed to.

You returned from shopping and carried in your grocery bags struggling a bit as the plastics pinched your fingers.

It's only when you step inside your apartment and place them on the table do you feel how the tense air. Your apartment feels different than before. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slowly walked towards your bedroom.

As you pushed open the door everything looked the same. You relaxed and took a deep breath.

Im just on edge. I need to relax.

"Drop it." You immediately tense as you hear his voice. You do as he says and drop the knife to the ground. "Turn around." Your heart beats in your chest, you're not scared of him, you never are, but you're scared of the confrontation. You turn around and face him.

"Ettore." He simply stares at you. When you first lay your eyes on him you notice his appearance. He doesn't look...well. His skin was pale and had dark bags under his eyes.

"You've ignored all of my calls and all my messages." He slowly takes a step forward and you respond with a step back.

"What was I supposed to say-"

"Hello, good morning, how are you? Fuck baby I don't know just talk to me-" He takes another step closer and you raise your hand.

"You beat my friend for no reason. Then you pushed-" He closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you against him.

"I didn't mean to...I...Im sorry." Ettore was not one to say im sorry. "Im sorry that I hurt you." He leaned down and kissed up your next stopping at your ear. "But im not sorry for beating that fucker up. He was touching you." He resumed kissing you while backing you up against the wall.

"He was just a friend." You want to be mad at him for what he did. You want to yell at him for being so violent but you can't.

"You ditched fucking me to hang out with him. You kept talking about this BDSM shit. You were planning on leaving me for him. I won't let you. I can't let you."

It all falls into place in your mind. He thought you were abandoning him. The realization made you smile and effectively softened your resolve. He was just scared to lose you, and this was his fucked up way of saying it.

You push him back slightly so you can see his face. Your hand runs over his cheek and he nuzzles into your hand.

"I wasn't leaving. I just thought maybe you'd like it more if...if you weren't just fucking me all the time..."

Deep down you had started to worry that over time Ettore could eventually become bored of you and even deeper down you slowly developed feelings for him. You knew he would never want a real relationship, and even if he did it wouldn't resemble the ones you see in movies. The ones you yearned for as a girl.

"I don't want no one else but you." He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to say something but pauses every time. He leans down and kisses you cradling your face. It's softer than any kiss has ever given you. "And I don't want you to be anyone else's but mine."

You knew this was his way of saying it without saying it. He wants you to be his and he wants to be yours. Ettore watches as a smile creeps on your face and he knows you understood what he meant. He pulls you back into the kiss while walking you backwards into your room.

You end up falling on the bed and he crawls on top of you already pulling at your clothes. He undresses you while kissing every bit of newly exposed skin until you're fully naked in front of him.

He's still fully undressed and the idea makes you feel vulnerable. He has seen your body hundreds of times but you still press your legs together while your arms cover your tits.

He gently pushes a knee in between your legs opening them back up as his hands uncross your arms.

"You're beautiful." He rolls one of your nipples in his fingers while he suckles the other imagining again what it would feel like for milk to flow into his throat. The thought made him painfully hard.

He stands up for a moment and walks away before coming back. You sit up and watch as he undresses slowly before walking over to your dresser.

"I was doing some snooping earlier..." He looks over at you and smirks as his hands rest on the first drawer. You already know what it is he found and can't help but smile. He opens the drawer and pulls out your vibrator and a pair of handcuffs. He looks at you with one eyebrow raised. "Care to share why you have these."

You can't shake the smirk off of your face as he walks over.

"Move up." You do as he says and move up higher on the bed. Ettore returns above you and grabs your wrists positioning them above your head. He threads the handcuffs through one of the gaps of your headboard then locks each wrist. "You gonna be a good girl for me yeah?"

You nod as he kisses his way down in between your legs. He places a soft kiss on your clit before sucking on it gently. He looks up and watches as your mouth hangs open and your head is thrown back.

He moves on to fucking you with his tongue holding you tight as you try to squirm away. Ettore adds pushes in a finger and pumps it in and out of you at a relentless pace. His finger easily brushes that sweet spot and has your back arching off the bed.

You want to touch him and try to pull your hands but are only reminded that you're bound by the tightness of the cuffs.

He can feel you clenching around his finger and all he could do is smile against your pussy. As you cum Ettore praises you saying you did so well but he doesn't stop he asks you to cum again around his fingers and brings the vibrator to your clit as he adds another inside of you.

He doesn't stop fucking you with his fingers and the vibrator as he comes up and takes one of your nipples in his mouth while watching you. Your legs shake as you give him another orgasm, shivers running up your spine. He removes the vibrator and his fingers kiss your jaw.

"You did so good." He slides himself through your folds gathering your wetness on his tip. Instinctively you try to move away from being overstimulated but he holds you in one place. His eyebrows are knit together and his mouth hangs open as he finally pushes himself inside. "Relax for me, baby." Although it's only been a week since you've last fucked you're back to being tight from the lack of his cock keeping you stretched.

You both groan when he finally bottoms out. The hairs on the base of his cock brush against your clit only making you whimper more from the contact.

Ettore sits up and grabs onto your waist holding on as leverage so he can fuck you. He watches as a white ring forms around the base of his cock and how easily he slides into you now that you soaked. the only sounds heard are your whimpers and the wet smack of his hips against your ass.

"Fuck- please Ettore." He doesn't know what your begging for but stares at your face in pride as it's screwed with pleasure. He knows no one else could make you feel this way and it only inflates his ego more.

"Does it feel good baby?" He reaches back for the vibrator and brings it down onto your clit again. At this point, tears have formed in your eyes from how fucking good this all feels.

"It's always so good." You whimper arching your hips so he slides in deeper. He can feel your pussy spazzing around him. "Fuck fuck fuck." You draw in a short breath as another orgasm washes over you. You feel heavy and spent as Ettore removes the vibrator and comes up and kisses your neck and chest.

"One more. You can give me one more." He reaches over on your nightstand and grabs the key for the handcuffs. He unlocks the cuffs and turns you over so you're lying on top of him. "Please. Please ride me." Despite how tired your body feels from the three orgasms he has drawn out from you, you sit up and look down at him.

You lift your hips slightly and reach in between you two grabbing his cock. Ettore moans as your hands wrap around him while you line yourself up. His moan only gets louder as you sink down fully on his length.

He holds on to your tits as you bounce up and down his cock rolling both nipples in between his fingers. You do your best to set a pace you know will have him cumming in a minute but you're still so tired. Ettore notices and places both hands on your hips lifting you up and down and helping you to fuck yourself on his cock.

"Fuck!" He throws his head back as he feels the tip of his cock hit your cervix. "I love you so much." The words were out of his mouth before he could control them. And though you're not sure if he means them or if they hold the same meaning for you as they do him but it only fuels you more.

You meet his thrusts and feel him throbbing inside of you. His face is screwed in what looks more like pain than pleasure as he begs you to make him cum.

"I can't cum if you don't. Please." He circles your clit once more and tells you how much he needs it. How much he needs to feel you cumming around him, how that will tell him you love him too.

You finally do cum and fall against his chest as he keeps holding on to your hips fucking up into you, his balls slapping against your ass and the vulgar noises of your bodies connecting filling your ears before he pushes you down as far as he can forcing you there. You feel him cum deep inside you moaning loudly as 'thank you' flows repeatedly from his lips like a prayer.

He eases up slightly as he rolls over and pins you down not taking himself out of you. Your breathing evens out as he kisses you gently. A drastic contrast to how ruthlessly he just fucked you.

"I meant it. Every word." Your heart flutters at his confession. He kisses you deeply.

He knows he can't let you go. But he also knows you won't stay without that confession. Even if it was hard for him to say it he was glad he did.

You both lay there wrapped in each other's embraces. Scared but excited to see where this will take you.

Nothing could go wrong now...

....Right?

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this! I still have an ideal 2 additional chapters planned out. The next one is shorter but still good!

Gen Taglist: @valeskafics @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin

"Fuck Love" Taglist: @hi-eleonora @scarletbedlam @fan-goddess @qyburnsghost

[angsthology]

Pay Attention to Things That Most People Ignore ☆ LS2

logan sargeant is most definitely not most people. it was time he started learning how

characters/pairings; daughter of poseidon!reader, chiron, mr. d, son of apollo!logan, theo (oc), son of athena!oscar.

warnings; monsters, typical pjo-type violence, logan is hopeless but that’s okay! some chb innacurracy sorry i havent read the books in a while, err very rushed writing im sorry, LAWD this is a mess i tell u 😭 perhaps i hate it — 3k words.

a/n; is the title... an all-american bitch lyric? yes. why? im not good and titles and i went to that song in instinct... for no reason. also this was based on a request — though i do admit its a little bit different as i would (hopefully) be making a part 2 hehe. by now im realizing how this title prob has nothin to do with the story

Over the years, she’s come to accept her life. Did it hurt when it felt like her entire life ended? Of course. Does it still hurt when she turns on the television to see them basically rubbing it on her face? —Whatever.

In theory, she probably could’ve gotten away with it had she not been a daughter of one of the big three—thanks a lot, dad. —but it was proven one too many times that it was not safe for her or any of the other kids. If it didn’t put anyone else’s life at risk, she would’ve disobeyed her mother, she really would (she was a child, she really hasn’t grasped the full concept of what other people would feel).

But, you know, oh well.

It’s sixteen years later and she still has that lingering grudge in the back of her head as the screen plays another Grand Prix — another Grand Prix she could’ve probably been a part of.

She tried, she really tried so hard to forget about it, to let go of it, but again, it was proven to be way too hard to let go of something she had an actual chance of, an actual good chance.

Though it might be hard to let go, she couldn’t really complain much about the life she actually had now.

Sure, it gets pretty lonely sometimes being a forbidden child, there weren’t exactly much of them (that are known and living at camp). But she had everyone else, despite practically being an only child at camp, to her everyone else there were her little siblings—of course, that probably has something to do with the fact that she was the oldest camper and the one who has been there longest.

When she heard a set of the all-too-familiar clops her heart dropped from its current fast-paced beating.

She quickly closed your laptop shut, cringing when you heard how loud of a sound it had made. That was it. She didn’t even try hiding her disappointment in herself. She slowly emerged from under the blanket with her lips tightly-wound shut, bracing herself with whatever the Centaur will have to say, her mind playing a quick telepathic farewell to her laptop.

“Hello, Y/N.”

She sighed, “Chiron.”

“Where and how?”

She swallowed the pre-existing nerves in her throat, “Mr. D.”

He hummed in response, so she continued.

“A pack of Heineken and two bottles of Jack Daniels.”

“Hm, good picks.” She responded lowly under her breath with a small ‘yeah’ as Chiron walked closer to the head of her bed near the bed-side table—his hooves making clopping noises each step.

The silence was taking too long to her liking so she just went to get it over with, “So, you’re gonna take it away from me?” she paused, then mumbling under her breath for herself, “—it’s probably another Red Bull win, anyway.”

Apparently, it was loud enough for the Centaur to hear, making him chuckle.

Surprisingly, he didn’t mention anything else about the laptop, “Who do you support?”

Hearing the question quickly made her look up from her fidgeting hands to see the smile on his face, she screwed her brows in confusion as she continues to look at Chiron for—something. Then, realizing that he was still waiting for an answer, she shook her head.

“Uhm—well, uh—”

“You think that Lando will ever get a win?”

That seemed to loosen her up, “Ugh, Gods, I hope. I’m getting exhausted over here—you know, sometimes I really wish I could ask the Oracle about it.”

He chuckled then which made her crack a smile.

When it died down, Chiron looked at her smiling face. He couldn’t help but frown a little, he knew how she felt about racing, he knew how she still feels about it.

“Y/N.”

She looks up at him, “Yeah?”

“So, I am aware that your birthday is nearing…”

“I mean… why wouldn’t you be? I’m here all-year-round.”

Chiron cleared his throat at her interruption, giving her a look.

“Sorry.”

He acknowledged and continued, “I am also aware that it lines up with a certain event…”

She raised an eyebrow it that, almost guessing what that said ‘event’ was.

“So,” he stopped, initially had her thinking he was just pausing but when he left out the door of her cabin she raised her hands as if saying ‘what gives?’

Seconds passed and it seemed like Chiron wasn’t going to come back any time soon so instead she stumbled off of her bed to quickly catch up to the Centaur that was headed to a building—the girl almost caught up to him, almost following him into the building but he was already back out in a good few seconds, stopping her right in front of the set of stairs, raising both her hands in question once more, “You just left. ‘So’, what?”

“I have it arranged that you will be attending the Miami Grand Prix.” He smiled as he handed her a lanyard.

She swore her eyes looked like it could’ve popped out of their sockets in a matter of seconds. She couldn’t believe what she was holding; a paddock pass. She couldn’t believe Chiron had done this for her considering how careful of a man (well, half-man) he is especially with her being a forbidden child. This was about to turn into the best birthday yet.

When she looked up to the smiling Chiron, her mouth still hung open in shock but her arms immediately wrapped around the man’s body in a bone-crushing hug.

She didn’t know how many ‘thank you’s that spilled out of her mouth but next thing she knew he was hugging her back with a chuckle escaping his lips.

After a few more ‘thank you’s from her, she pulled away smiling at him, “I thought you’d rather keep me here forever, why now?”

He cleared his throat, “Well, you are turning twenty-one, not many of you reach that kind of age—don’t tell them I said that—so I’d like to make it a bit more special.”

Still smiling, she looked at the paddock pass in her hand again, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Chi. Thank you, again.”

Being there felt… odd… unnatural.

She always thought if she were ever walking through the paddocks she would be walking as a driver.

What was even more odd was she felt her senses tingling, like she was being watched.

It was a bustling crowded place with many more interesting people compared to her, so it was weird to her that she felt like she was being watched of all people.

But alas, she brushed it off. It didn’t feel like anything bad—if it were, she would know—so she’s just going to have to save that thought for later.

She had to remind herself why she’s here; daydream in real-time of what could’ve been.

Yeah, she weren’t really keen on letting that go.

That is, until she was into her head she failed to notice the person—and group of people that came with said person—she was running into.

Before she knew it, a strong arm was holding her back with too much force for her liking, the action itself almost kicking in her self defense instinct until the person she did bump into pushed the hand away.

He was now talking to her, she assumed, but she was too focused on the person who had pushed her away.

Something about him felt… off. He was what she would count as freakishly huge for a normal human being, her eyes couldn’t help but recalculate the large man over and over until eventually the person that has been trying to get her attention snaps her out of it.

“Sorry, that’s Theo, he’s like that. I swear he doesn’t mean any harm.”

The scowl she hadn’t realized that made it’s way to her face slowly dropped as she slowly move her gaze to the person that was talking to her.

When their eyes met, she swore she saw a flash of something pass by his expression.

“Yeah,” she finally let go of this ‘Theo’ person and found her words, “Sorry I bumped into you.”

“That’s fine.” There was a brief silence across them until he cleared his throat, “I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know. You drive for Williams.” She replied flatly.

He cleared his throat again, scanning her for the shortest moment, “Do I know you?”

She looked to his eyes again with a small squint. “Most likely not. Good luck, bye.”

Before he could say anything else she was already speed-walking away. And for some odd reason, Logan found himself watching her walk away before getting pulled away himself just in the same time as the girl turned around to give a watchful eye.

It was getting annoying. This was supposed to be a weekend to enjoy but she could not help but feel that uneasiness creeping up on her. Over the years she had somewhat mastered the ability—well more the ability mastering her—of sensing bad things, whether that was events or creatures alike.

So, to simply put that together, that’s how she found herself sneaking around the Williams garage. Not hospitality, garage.

From years of quests here and there, many hours of weapons training, and not to mention capture the flag schemings with other campers, she had mastered the skill of being sneaky. It really did work well in her favor.

What she didn’t expect was to be completely entranced the moment she got into the busy garage; it was the first time she was seeing a real life-size F1 car in real-time.

Everything was so enchanting to her, it felt like she was reliving her childhood dreams all over again. When she had gone through with her plan, she didn’t really register the fact that she was going to go face to face with an actual working Formula One garage.

She really tried to stay focused on the task at hand but it really was in her blood to be unfocused.

“Hey!”

Somehow, just somehow, she had heard his voice over the loud noises around her and just somehow, she knew he was addressing her.

Immediately, she tried to hide or duck behind something—anything just so she didn’t have to face him.

Before she knew it a hand was gripping her upper arm and pulling her somewhere quieter and she was met with green eyes that looked at her with suspicion.

“Are you like a fan or something?”

She was taken aback by his words.

“…what?”

“Are you following me?”

“What—no. I mean not you specifically—why did I say that.” she whispered the last part to herself. If she was being honest, she hasn’t really been brushing up her skills in socializing with anyone else that weren’t the campers.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing! I—”

Their conversation—if you could’ve called it that anyway—was interrupted by the same man she had been suspecting from earlier.

“There you are.” It was the first time she was hearing his voice and just by that she already knew that they were going to be in big trouble. His voice was low and unnerving, saying the words as if he’s been searching for them not for worried purposes rather unfortunate ones.

Logan didn’t seem to have the same feeling as her as he looked more relieved among other things to see the man. “Theo!” he greeted while throwing his hands in the air, “What’s up, man?”

Fortunately for Logan, Theo wasn’t exactly paying attention to him instead looking at the girl in front of him instead.

When he noticed he tried to interfere, “Oh, no, don’t worry about her, she’s not harmful.” He then realized he didn’t exactly know this girl so he looked at her with questioning eyes, “You aren’t, right?”

Except her focus didn’t waver from the big man that looked at her with a stare that tried to kill.

Logan, still clueless, looked between the two back and forth in confusion until Theo said something that really caught his attention.

“Daughter of Poseidon.” Theo growled.

Logan’s head couldn’t snap towards her faster.

“Shit.” She mumbled under her breath.

Before they knew it, she had grabbed a hold of his hand and running away with it, Logan still very much in shock at this new information he attained.

Through empty places and crowded ones, the girl forgot that the man she had ahold of weren’t just anyone but a very real and hard-to-miss Formula One driver. Sure, he was a rookie but a driver nonetheless.

But she couldn’t care less about the attention she was gaining; she was far too busy running for her life than think about cameras and the public.

“What the hell was he talking about? Poseidon?!” she didn’t answer his panicked question so he continued instead, “Are you a half-blood too?”

The ‘too’ in his question was what finally caught her attention but still, she didn’t answer him, only cursing herself for not noticing one when she saw one.

Just when she thought they had lost them, the monster once disguised as Theo was standing there at the end of the opening, she and Logan had slipped in.

Next thing she knew she was fumbling around trying to fight off the apparent Giant that was Theo.

“What the hell are you doing there, mind a little help over here?” she yelled over at Logan who was pretty much… useless in the corner.

He continued to panic, looking for anything he could use to get the Giant off of her.

Suddenly, while she was struggling to get the Giant’s grip off of her, the force stopped as a cloud of mist poofed where the monster was once before. She quickly scrambled herself up and was met with a figure in McLaren clothing holding a gold-dust colored weapon pointing at her.

“Oscar Piastri?!”

He didn’t answer her, dagger still pointing at her direction, “Who are you?”

Putting her hands out in defense she explained herself, “I respect that.” she commented, “I’m Y/N L/N, I am the daughter of Poseidon,” then she cautiously pointed at the Australian, “I’m assuming you’re a half-blood too.” she nodded at him, “Who do you belong to?”

Oscar then slowly lowered his weapon, his trust building by the minute, “Athena.”

Then both of them turn to Logan simultaneously.

“No!” he got defensive immediately, “I want to know what just happened!” he pointed accusingly.

All of a sudden, it just finally hit Oscar, “Poseidon?!”

The sea god’s daughter made a face and ignored the Australian, “What do you mean what just happened? Typical demigod stuff!”

The look on his face made her double-take, “You… do have occasional encounters with monsters here and there… right?”

When Logan’s expression doesn’t change, she turns to Oscar.

“I have this for a reason.” He said slowly, showing her the dagger. “—and, well, if I’m being honest, that has never happened before.”

“Shit.” she shakes her head in disappointment then pulling out her phone, “I need to make a phone call.”

She left the two men by themselves and went ahead as the line rings a couple of times before getting an answer.

After a brief conversation—that will continue later for details—the girl locked her phone and walked towards the two drivers.

“You’re coming with me this summer. It will not be up for debate and don’t worry about your… duties, I have it covered.”

Logan was quick to stop her explanations, “Wait—what—no! At least explain what the hell that phone call was about. You can’t just drop all that on us and expect us to be okay with it.

She rolls her eyes, “I’ll explain later, right now, you two have a job to do.” They didn’t object to that, the three of them walking out the pretty-hidden space the Giant had decided to corner them before.

Oscar stopped just outside, “I can take care of myself if anything else decide to come out and attack me, you should probably go with him. And uh, I actually need to talk to you,” he pointed at her, “—later. Not exactly letting you off the hook that easily.”

She didn’t complain.

The two walked in silence, every once in a while getting stopped for a picture and such, until Logan speaks up.

“Apollo.”

She turned to him, eyebrow raised.

“My dad.”

“Oh.” She paused then comments, “Fitting.”

He didn’t know what it was in her voice, it didn’t sound exactly like a compliment but he wasn’t sure if it was an insult.

Whatever, he shrugged it off.

After that, they both went into their own train of thoughts.

Without noticing, they both sucked in a breath in unison.

“I’m sorry for—”

“I think you should—”

The two quickly stepped back from whatever it was they were going to say, heat rushing up their necks. They kept walking on the awkward silence that fell upon them until Logan re-focused his attention and remembering what she had said—well, what she almost said earlier.

“Wait—‘sorry’? What were you apologizing for?” he turned to her who was now ducking away from his eyes, her own focus stayed on her fidgeting hands.

She made a noise before finally finding her words, “It’s just—this always happens, you know. I’m a forbidden kid, I attract the worst kind of trouble there is for half-bloods. And earlier; I had brought it to you and Oscar.” he was going to say something to ease her guilt but she beat him to it, “I’m just glad that monster didn’t hurt any of you.” She threw her hands in the air, “I mean, it’s qualifying day for Gods sake! —maybe I shouldn’t go to the race tomorrow.” She mumbled the last part to herself, though not quietly enough that the driver didn’t hear.

Logan was taken aback by her statement, giving him an opening on his almost-offer.

“What—no! Why not?” he asked.

“Look, it’s bad enough that there’s two demigods in one place; adding a forbidden kid in the mix won’t really make it any better. I still want everyone to have a safe race. Who knows what kind of other monsters I could attract.”

From every point of view Logan could gather, it was simply a fact that this girl knows about their world far more than he did, far more than Oscar did, so he couldn’t really be the voice of judgement in whatever she had to say. But… he wanted her to stay.

It calmed him down for some reason, knowing someone shares the same—if not, worse—fate as you.

So, he tried to find a reason, a good reason to make her stay. Of course, he wasn’t a pro at this half-blood thing so he offered something that he was familiar with. He gave her a more… human reason.

“I think you should stay.” He blurted.

“Logan—”

“Dude—is it alright if I called you that?”

“Uh, go nuts.”

“You deserve to have some fun, watch a race! I’ll even have you as an official Williams guest!”

She hummed with a smile creeping up.

“And if you’re worried about trouble, that’s fine. We can always handle trouble! We are all trouble-bound any way, better face them now than later! Plus, I think it’d be good if you could teach us the basics early.”

She felt the warmth spread through her chest. It’s been a while since she felt someone so welcoming that wasn’t anyone within Camp Half-blood. It was nice. He was nice. Almost made her forget that she was in the place she was meant to be in.

Her heart felt wholesome, but didn’t make it show, her mouth couldn’t stop the comment from escaping her mouth instead.

“You really want me to stay, huh?”

[lovelykei]

Save you

Bakugo Katsuki x reader

This one is angsty and it also has spoilers about the war arc so read at your own risk 😀

This is also my first time writing for something other than haikyuu so I hope it’s okay😩

It was chaotic, heroes were laying on the floor bleeding out, burning, screaming and begging for someone to reach them. A young hero was running around trying to reach the heroes in need. Sweat dripping down the forehead and straight into the heroes eyes but they didn’t stop, they couldn’t stop. In a world where soulmates feel each others pain this hero whose every joint was screaming to stop kept running, kept healing as the pain consumed them. For just a second it felt like time was moving in slow motion. Pressure, pressure, pressure, rip. A blood curling scream brought the entire battlefield to a halt. It was silent as the pro heroes turned towards you, the young hero who had been healing everyone, who was now on the floor hand clutching your chest. Everyone immediately knew that something had happened to Dynamight.

As fast as the pain came it was gone and now you felt nothing. Your body was lighter than it had ever been but your heart had never been heavier. Cause soulmates were meant to be forever, it was the other half that people spent their entire life searching for. Soulmates weren’t meant to die thousand of kilometers away, soulmates weren’t meant to die at 16 while fighting a villain they weren’t even qualified enough to be fighting. Katsuki wasn’t meant to die like this.

-

It had been years since day and somehow katsuki had been brought back to life with the help of the pro hero edgeshot. The apartment was silent apart from the soft thudding of feet pacing back and forth anxiously. The air was thick, the night was dark, the tears were silently streaming down. It’s past midnight, katsuki always made it home by 10pm. The dinner that was always on the table by 10 had turned cold. You put your phone to your ear trying to call just one more time hoping he would answer when the door busts open.

“I’m sorry baby I got caught up with paperwork” Katsugi apologized lightly as he walked through the door kicking his shoes off. The soft thud of your body falling to the floor brought his attention back to you and made him rush over. It was still dark, it was still late but it was no longer silent. “You have a phone don’t you? Couldn’t you call? Text? Why did you just disappear?” He reassured you that he was right there and that his phone had run out of batteries and although his tone was gentle there was an air of frustration coming from him. “You can’t get like this Everytime I’m a little late baby” you roughly pushed him away from you, standing up as you did so. “It’s been 3 hours katsuki, that’s more than a little late don’t you think” maybe it was the fear that made you lash out, maybe you were just angry he didn’t understand. “Im a hero y/n I can’t always make it home on time and I can’t always call you, we have talked about this” he ran a hand over his face frustrated that you were doing this again. Silence fell over the apartment as you turned around and walked to your shared room. He followed after you and slammed the door. “You married a hero, you knew what that meant so why are you acting like this? Ever since I started working as a hero you’ve been psychotic” he screamed and kicked a pillow that had fallen to the floor. How dare he call you psychotic when it was all his fault. How dare he turn it on you. “Answer me for fuck sake” it was obvious that he was frustrated and tired but you couldn’t get the words out. “I thought you died” it was barely above a whisper but he heard you and scoffed. “So what? You’re worried I’m weak? You’re acting crazy cause you don’t think I can take on villain?” He felt offended that you thought so little off him, angry that you saw him as someone so weak.

“But you did die katsuki” your teary eyes met his glaring eyes. “You died and I felt it all, I felt the pain from your heart exploding, I felt the emptiness of our soul band dying” you gripped the sheets in your shaking hands as you spoke louder and louder. “You fought shigaraki without worrying about leaving me behind and you died. Then you came back and moved on. But I’m still right there, thousands of miles away from you screaming and crying because.. BECAUSE I COULDNT FEEL YOU ANYMORE” you screamed at him. Every night you wait by the door for him to come through okay and at night you stay up healing his injuries while he sleeps. Every moment of every day was spent worrying that he wouldn’t make it back this time. That if he died now there wouldn’t be another miracle. He walked over to you and tried to wrap his arms around you to apologize. “It just feels like we got matching fucking wounds. But mine is still black and bruised while yours is perfectly fine.” He held your limp body in his arms for hours that night. Reminding you every 30 minutes that’s he’s right there, that he’s still alive and apologizing over and over. But even as the sun rose and the birds started chirping you were just limp in his arms, the tears still streaming down your face. It was the first time he saw how broken you were and suddenly everything made sense.

Back in UA you had insisted on healing even his paper cuts saying you wanted to strengthen your quirk. And after you graduated he had opened an agency while you had decided to stay and work with recovery girl. He didn’t get it at the time, all the years you trained to become a hero only to turn around and become a school nurse..it had pissed him off for sure but he got it now. After that day you hadn’t spoken a word, you called in sick to work and spent most of your days laying in bed crying. You didn’t eat, you barely slept, the only thing you could do was cry. For once in his life Bakugo really didn’t know what to do, he tried to work less so he could feed you and bathe you but it’s like you were gone. He thought that this time he’d pushed you to far and as he sobbed into his hands he was furious that he couldn’t save you.

[utahimeow]

ooo for the character + kink thing

tobio and dry humping (is that a kink? idk but here's what I ask you to consider: my kink is men being so desperate to have you that they don't need to be inside you to cum)

cw — nsfw content minors dni. smut, fluff, f!reader, slight intoxication, dry humping

tobio’s always been a little smitten with you. not that he’d ever be able to tell you– although, with the alcohol making his head a little fuzzier than normal, the timidness that constantly weighs on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

you’re sat next to him on your couch, giggling to yourself, courtesy of the one glass of wine too many you’d had. tobio wasn’t supposed to be drinking, what with his strict pro-athlete diet and all, but something about you made it hard for him to say. all it takes is the flutter of your eyelashes and he’s a goner.

you turn to him, all dazed, eyes twinkling. “you’re pretty, tobi.”

it’s true. he’s one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever seen.

his cheeks turn red and it’s not from the wine. “you’re prettier.”

“no, you are.”

he runs a hand over his face, chuckling and oh, he’s so cruel.

“you’re being gross,” he says, but his grin gives him away.

“i’ll shut up if you kiss me.”

he blinks at you. his grin fades, but it’s only replaced with an expression of pure wonder. he thinks he’s dreaming– his ears must be tricking him, right? maybe not–

you’re leaning towards him. suddenly tobio is completely sober, and when your lips meet his he swear his soul leaves his body. it takes him a moment to kiss you back, his heart beating out of his chest, and then another moment passes and his tongue is lapping into your mouth and you’re in his lap.

a moan slips out of your throat before you can help it. you pull away, a sudden timidness creeping up your spine, made worse by the string of spit that connects your mouth with the boy’s. you open your mouth to apologise, only to be cut off by tobio’s kiss once more.

giant hands trace along your shoulders, then down your back, sending goosebumps over your entire body. at last they settle on your hips, pressing you closer to him, and that’s when you feel it– his erection straining against his jeans, poking at your thighs.

in an instant, your hips, with a mind of their own, begin to move. it’s gentle at first, a slow rocking back and forth against his crotch.

when they pick up their pace a little however, when you start to fall into a (sloppy) rhythm, tobio’s breath hitches in his throat. his hands travel under your shirt, desperate for his fingers to sink into flesh not fabric.

your lips, swollen and slick with spit, move down tobio’s jaw, hungry for the taste of his neck.

“oh, f-fuck,” he breathes as your teeth nip at his skin and your tongue swirls over the mark, all while your clothed cunt grinds against his restricted cock. he’s even more lightheaded than before, the pleasure melting his brain more and more with every roll of your hips.

his head falls against the back of the couch, letting you rut into his lap as his eyes fall shut and his mouth drops. there’s electricity in his veins– everything feels intensified, not just from the alcohol but from the fact that it’s you. you, who tobio thinks of when his hand pumps at his cock and who he imagines holding late at night and playing with your hair until you fall asleep and who he wants so badly to kiss all the time whenever he wants.

he has you now. and it’s better than he could have ever imagined.

just the thought is enough to send him over the edge. he spills into his boxers in hot, white spurts, his hips twitching and jerking into yours as he sighs out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

he gazes at you, eyes fuzzy and half-lidded and filled with an affection unlike anything you’ve seen from him, and he also looks so cute that you can’t resist kissing him.

“th-thank you,” he whispers, his breath still ragged.

you giggle once more, amazed at how his politeness remains even after you’ve made him cum in his pants.

“you’re too cute, tobi,” you say with a peck to his lips.

“and you’re pretty.”

[t0oth-r0t]

Closer, Please-Sanemi x M!Reader

hello :3 (nobody talk about the fact i haven’t been active for months 💀)

Summary: A oneshot in which reader gets injured on a mission and Sanemi is almost too scared to let the Kakushi take care of him.

WC~ 1k

Warnings: violence/injuries (sorta graphic), sanemi is really soft and a little ooc, sanemi is also anxious :((

The gasp that Sanemi lets out is one that's never been heard by anyone but you. Though, you barely hear it over the sound of ringing and the startling sight of blood, splashing up against your face. As if controlled by a motor, on autopilot, Sanemi is able to quickly make work of the demons surrounding the two of you, rushing to your side faster than the wind his sword stirs up. You gasp too, not entirely sure what happened until the sharp pain in your stomach can remind you of the reality. Your clothes are torn, and so is the skin across your stomach, gushing red liquid onto you and your partner's hands. You fall back, Sanemi barely catching you before you can hit the ground.

"Hey, hey, don't– you'll hurt yourself tripping like that!"

You don't point out the fact that you're already injured; With the blood–your blood staining his once white haori, you're sure he's already aware. He doesn't tell you he's nervous, he doesn't have to. You're almost sure he's aware of that, too. Your head is pressed to his chest, and you're painfully aware of the speed of his heartbeat. He'd never admit it, of course, but this is the most terrified he's ever been in his life. Every Hashira has had a loved one or a partner get injured. Obanai and Mitsuri worked missions together, often worrying over each other's health, Tengen's wives were all kunoichi, Shinobu lost her sister, Rengoku's partner was clumsy, often cutting themself accidentally during training and earning a worried scolding, it happened a lot. Just... not usually like this. Never like this.

This was going to earn you much more than a worried scolding.

This ended in his arms around your shoulders, gripping so tight his fingers were sure to leave marks, ended in long waves of pain shooting through your body and your heart as Sanemi's voice gets shakier by the minute. It ends with Sanemi getting desperate, watching for his crow, for the Kakushi, for anyone; He's lost far too much already for this to end in your death.

When the Kakushi do get there, he's conflicted. They reach for you, but his arms stay a vice around your body. You're losing blood, the ensemble has to get you help. It's their job to get you somewhere safe, Sanemi knows that better than anyone, but he can't bring himself to do anything, to tell them anything other than,

"Touch him, and I'll fucking skin you."

He wants you to get help more than anything, but his pride, the constant bass drum in his chest tells him it needs to be his own. Sanemi's help. Sanemi has to fix this. He can't let that go, can't let you go. It takes screaming, kicking, shoving, and more members of the Kakushi than they thought to pry you out of Sanemi's grip. Though, when they do, he stays on his knees, haori falling into his lap, hands shaking. For the first time in years, he feels tears brim in his eyes, because they took you away. Because there's nothing he could've done.

"Nothing he could've done," Is all Shinazugawa Sanemi can tell himself, pacing grooves into the lawn of the Butterfly Mansion. He thinks there's too many liquids on his face. Sweat from the fight, water that tried to wash it all off, tears, and the silvery streaks they leave behind, and your blood. The worst one by far. It kills him that he doesn't know if you're okay, doesn't know how much Shinobu can do for you. He can't remember what your body looked like getting slashed at by that demon–he's tried too hard to block it out–which means he doesn't know anything. Not until Shinobu herself is standing in front of him; He didn't hear the doors open.

"San-"

"Is he okay??" Shinobu's eye twitches a little–she hates when people ask that.

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" She asks, through gritted teeth and that smile, the one that seemed permanently ingrained on her features. Sanemi nods, tapping his fingers together. He never fidgeted like that. Or at all. Clearly he was nervous, or picking up on your habits, but God, he hoped it wasn't that. He has to keep himself from throwing the doors open, immediately looking for you. There were other people in the infirmary, some he knew, some he didn't; It never seemed to be empty. But in that moment, all he cared about was finding you. Though, you spot him first. A relieved giggle tells him this, along with a voice he'd know anywhere.

"Sanemi!" He runs to you, tearing up as he realizes for the first time, how badly he took the feeling of your arms around him for granted. He fights the urge to slap you across the face, to scream at you, to beg you to tell him why you'd do this to him, but he can't–you're crying too.

"Oh... oh, lovely," He crumbles, kneeling at the side of your bed and clutching you to his chest like a diary he didn't want anyone to see. He sniffles, letting tears he prays you can't feel fall into your hair. "Goddammit baby, you can't just go and do that to me." His voice cracks at the end, so you know he's crying anyway; He internally thanks you for not saying anything.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I just-" You sniffle into his shoulder, and it breaks his heart. "I wish I could've done more, I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare fuckin' apologize again. It's okay," You're okay. That's all that matters. That's all that's mattered to him since he met you. All he's wanted since then was for you to be okay, and right now, you are. There isn't much more he could ask for. You take the risk though, biting the bait and asking him for just one more thing, as he holds you.

"Sanemi? Closer, please?"

[docholligay]

Bozeman Half Marathon 2024

The race starts at 8. The shuttle drops us off at 6:55. 

There was a little bit of fucking around too close to start time, so we ended up in the back of the pack. As I break over the start line, it’s immediately clear to me that I am behind people who are shooting for a 2:30 or more time, which is so beautiful and hope they had the best time but all of my encouragements to newer or slower runners immediately die away in a wave of “get the fuck out of my way.” I have never bobbed and weaved as I did here, and I get afraid that I’ll lose my pacer, because I am trying so hard to just get get out of the fracas. 

Mile 3. I call out, “What are we sitting at?” “9:05” comes the answer. I’ve been fucking around too much, and make a breakaway in between two runners in front of me. I’ve got to hit harder than this. 

My pacer grabs his stomach and steps off to the side. 

You’re a beautiful person, but this ain’t ‘nam, and I’m leaving your ass. I will buy you a drink later, salutations and good luck. 

I actually start running faster at this point--i hadn’t realized how much I was holding back because I sensed he was struggling and I didn’t want to leave him in the dust. I need something to pace me. My stryd isn’t connecting, i don’t even have a timer watch, and I didn’t set my music to time me like I usually do, until the tornado siren. There are two girls in matching outfits, including pink banana shorts. They’re the ones. They look fast. 

If it were not for them, I don’t know that I would have been able to get it back, because they got me into a rhythm of running about a 8:30 mile for two miles, which gave me a huge cushion. Mile 4 and 5 were entirely on their pink-festooned backs. They stopped for water mid Mile 6, and i kept going. 

Mile 7: What the fuck have I done wrong in my life, and why is it being visited upon me, the sweetest and most innocent of human beings, right now? There is a long, slow, plodding hill. 

There is a moment, in every race I have ever run, called, “What the fuck is my problem?” It is very important to get over the ‘What the fuck is my problem?” hump, because it is my own personal Jesus being tempted by Satan in the desert, with the idea of walking and giving up. Why would I, a sane woman with a loving family, think about running 13 miles and change full send? Did I think that would be fun? What about my life up to that point made me think it would be fun?

We have to attack this little demon inside us. We can always doubt the wisdom of our decisions later, but for now, the only way out is through, and my only reward for slowing down is that I have to be on the course longer. 

I round the corner, no longer on the hill, and then from behind me, the sound of a truck, and a voice I ahven’t heard in a while: 

“C’mon Doc, let’s fuckin go! It ain’t that far!” I look to my left, and it’s my buddy Jake! I haven’t seen him in a couple years, and he must have figured out it was me by sheer chance of “I bet that little red headed dyke in the unicorn shorts is Doc. She loves to run” and he is correct! He bangs twice on the side of his BLM truck, laughs, revs his engine at me, and drives on down the course. 

This carries me for a solid two miles. If your family has been in Montana for as long as both of ours have, it’s hard to hide from each other. Do i want to come across as a little bitch to Jake? Do i want to tell him it was just too fucking hard? Fuck no. 

The Tracer voice inside me, “What’s the worst that could ‘appen? Push it!” “We die?” “Not a problem we’d ave to deal with!” 

I push. I go. I fly through the cross country kids handing out water. I’m trying to pace myself beside runners just a little ahead of me, runners that look fast and also infuriatingly casual in their matching banana shorts and pink tank tops. They hold me on for the next few miles, but as they start into their negative splits (Unfortunately, they not only look fast, they are fast) they begin to leave me behind. 

I have heard the half marathon called “10 decent miles and then the worst 5k of your life” and for me, at the very least, that seems to hold true. I am getting exhausted by the time I hit mile ten, and my form is falling apart. I like like one of those inflatable noodle men, running down the street, limbs flopping. My body is swinging wildly, which is costing me energy, but I can’t stop myself. I’m getting tired mentally and physically. 

In  the middle of mile 11, I hit a pothole. I’m not watching what I’m doing, my foot goes directly onto the lip of the pothole and I go careening forward. I know it’s a cliche to say things happen in slow motion, but I swear it must have taken me ten seconds to fall. I had time to think about how I absolutely did not want to hurt my knee, so I, with a reasonable amount of stupidity, put my arm out straight, which keen-eyed viwers will note is a great way to break your wrist. I didn’t, so, unearned victory for me, but I slammed down hard into the asphalt, and threw myself onto my hip. 

A struggled for a minute, and then, as I held up my hand to stand, someone grabs it, without breaking his stride at all, and yanks me to my feet. 

“We’re fucking doing this!” he yells to me. 

And then he continues on. I could have given up, and my pride and my time are badly hurt, but having that moment gives it all back to me. I might not be able to run this in time, but I can run it to the end, and not give up. Giving up isn’t what I do. 

Unfortunately, to be the people we tell ourselves we are, we have to make the choices that make us those people. If I am a runner, who doesn’t give up. I need to both run, and not give up. Annoying. 

So I keep on. By the time we reach the city proper, I am in mile 12 of 13, and I am well and truly suffering. It hurts so bad, and I want to stop, but I can’t stop, because I am so close, and how much would I hate myself to run all this way and give up now? I can’t walk. I have to keep going. 

The tornado siren goes off in my ear. I have ten minutes to cross the finish line before losing my goal. I haven’t hit the final mile yet. This is bad. But the only way to get there faster, is to run faster. I have no idea what I drew on in that moment. But I find something deep inside me, and I yank it out and throw it on the road. 

I go down the final pull, praying, waiting for the final turn, where I can see the finish line. That always gives me something more, sets off a firework inside me. 

There’s a gal with a sign by the side of the road that says, “ ***ing finish so we can drink!” and, again, it is only through the encouragement of strangers that I have made it through this race at all. I point at her sign and smile, and she yells to me, “You know what I’m talking about! Fuck yeah! Go! Go!” 

This last mile is one of the hardest of my life. I just keep having to chant, ‘Right, left, repeat. Right, left, repeat.” 

The final turn! I can see the finish line, I only have to run three more stoplights before I make it. I can do it. I kick on the afterburner. I am so close. I’m almost there. 

My heart falls when I see the timer. 1:57:40. I’ve already failed. There’s no way I can cross the finish line in 15 seconds. Or can’t I? Fuck it, whatever, I will maybe not make it, but I will run as hard as I can. My hip is screaming, my form is the worst it has ever been, and I don’t care about absolutely fucking any of that, because if I cross even one second under, I will have made PR. 

I go. 

I cross the finish line, wobbling, half limping, about to throw up. I’ve made my time goal by about 3 seconds. Great. That’s enough. The guy giving out the medals is nice enough to come over and put it on my neck, because I look like I’m suffering as much as I am. The text comes through. 

I COMPLETELY FORGOT IT TOOK ME NEARLY A MINUTE TO CROSS THE START LINE. I have made my time by a full goddamn MINUTE. My joy is total. I would jump up and down screaming but I do not have even the slightest amount of energy for any of that. I have a can of champagne in my drop bag, and I am going to go get that, and crush it. 

Someday, I’ll stop setting PR, but today is not that day.

Video evidence of my extremely bad finish: You can tell how much I'm favoring my hip, which is making me swing my body WILDLY.

[deadrayg2mf]

The Gargoyle's Captive (A Deal with a Demon #3) by Katee Robert

Honestly, like, what do I even say at this point that ya'll haven't heard from me about how much I freakin' love Katee Robert and this series. I will keep this one brief for real because if I don't it'll just be like "Oh my god, Ray, shut the fuck up we get it - this book came out three months ago you're late to the party!"

Okay, so aside from it being Katee freakin' Robert, this book is full of enemies to lovers, femdom, grief-consumed protags, and - my favorite, of course - angst. Yeah, did I see the plot twist coming from a mile away? One thousand percent. Did I care? Frick no. Okay, so we're following the same story - deal with a demon, seven years basically married to leader of demon territory, maybe a baby... But this time, it's Grace the monster hunter and Bram the Gargoyle.

Grace is another enjoyable female lead who is a headstrong take-no-shit kinda gal, probably what you would expect from someone who makes a living out of hunting monsters. She's the last of her family and she's really only here for answers because Azazel happens to be the same demon her mother, who disappeared, made a bargain with, and by golly, she is going to get those answers even if it means selling seven years of her life. Bram is traumatized, grief-stricken, lonely, and at this point has the most sad-boy, giving up on life, fuck it energy I've ever seen in a protagonist - and I am so here for it. I eat that shit up. I love the tragics - stories and characters. He's also the last of his family after his entire family was murdered by an outsider his father brought in. He doesn't actually really want to be there but the opportunity and benefits it brings are too good to pass up, especially when you're in the leadership position he is...

I loved the story clearly, and really liked how handling grief was portrayed, no two people will be able to handle it the same even when they are in the same situation. Grace dug her heels in and became even more stalwart and determined while Bram gave in to the grief of loss and resigned himself to an empty life... and even potentially having it purposely ended at the hands of a scrappy little monster hunter in the bath... They are two people coming to terms with events of the past, the shadow of their parents, and suddenly dealing with someone new who they bought at an auction/got auctioned to for the next seven years that they don't necessarily get along with. That's right, they're totally toxic for each other. Don't worry, we're always promising happy endings here :) It's fast paced, there's a lot to get through in 186 pages, but I really think it was done to the best of its ability. Do I wish this was 500 pages? Uh, YEAH, but it is what it is and what it is, is really good. I will admit... it took me a hot minute to slug through obviously. I actually feel a little bad about this review because I was kind of forcing myself to read this. I wasn't in the right headspace and so while objectively I knew I was enjoying it I was also aware that I was, like, not locked in. I am very much intending to reread it when I'm not begrudgingly reading while rotting in bed just because nothing sounds enjoyable.

With that, I swear I am not just pulling shit out of my ass with everything I've told you. I really did enjoy the book, I love the way it's written, I liked the characters, the cover art is amazing, and it's just another great addition to the Deal with a Demon series. I think I'll give it a solid.... 7.9/10 with subject to change in the future :)

Would I read again? Yes, I plan to. Once the pesky ole depression and imminent demise anxiety wear off.

Would I recommend? Of cousre, I'm always recommending Katee Robert... I'm not sure what happens on the day I don't...? Does the world end?

[quinnfebrey]

WICKED PT. 1 REVIEW

(spoiler free*)

*spoiler free is used generously, there are no major or intentional spoilers but i make no promises for smaller things.

casting:

going into it thought the casting would be the weakest point, but i was pleasantly surprised. that said, i think jon chu’s reasoning for not casting unknowns was total bs and he just wanted a star-studded cast. i also wish they were younger. it was kind of giving movie ben platt terrorizing the teenagers of dear evan hansen. it works for the stage, but my belief was not suspended on the big screen. so while i don’t necessarily agree with how we got here, objectively they were great.

production:

honestly it looked amazing, i wish some parts were graded with a little more contrast, but the colors weren’t muted at all and i thought the cinematography was the perfect level of dramatic and interesting. the highlight was the emerald city. nothing else really stuck out to me in particular but the first 30 seconds or so of one short day looked AMAZING.

the singing:

sounded phenomenal, and this is coming from someone who heard the trailers and panicked. i don’t know what they did in post to make them sound so awful and processed in the trailers, but the movie itself sounded great.

the acting:

i wanted… more. jonathan has such an overly expressive face that worked so well, but cynthia was just the smirk emoji for 2.5 hours and ariana looked like this 🙂 the entire time. they had their moments, of course, but with all the added dialogue (and no song to carry the emotion) i wanted more of a performance.

why the fuck was it 2.5 hours?

i don’t know man. i understood (and enjoyed) some of the additions, but there were an equal number that didn’t add anything, and there were so many scenes where i was like whyyyy is this taking so long. it felt like they were trying to (unsuccessfully) justify the runtime instead of it being a natural result.

2-part split:

this is by far my biggest criticism of the movie. the ending was done BEAUTIFULLY, but the year gap will kill the momentum. i 100% believe that splitting it into two parts will take away from the viewing experience. i actually didn’t have a problem with the splitting when it was first announced, but now that i’ve seen part 1 it feels like a forced cash grab.

rewatchability:

even though i actually really liked it, i don’t think i’d ever electively put it on instead of a stage recording.

SONG BREAKDOWNS:

no one mourns the wicked

a fantastic opening. i went into the movie very skeptical, but it managed to win me over on all accounts. it had the richness and fullness you’d expect + beautiful visuals and ariana proves her doubters (me) wrong immediately.

dear old shiz

the song is nearly identical to the musical, but the changed staging was odd (but also insignificant in a way that made it even more odd).

the wizard and i

i blame the directing for why this song fell flat for me. they toned down the physical animation of elphaba but didn’t add anything else so it was sort of just her walking around and singing at us. also didn’t super love cynthia’s take on it until the last verse, which was phenomenal, probably because the directing didn’t let her do anything with it.

what is this feeling?

SOOOO GOOD!! it sounded amazing, looked amazing, the ensemble was amazing. THIS is what a movie musical is supposed to do: take what was great on stage and expand in a way that is only possible on film. it was fun and inviting and probably one of the strongest numbers in the entire movie.

something bad

i liked what they did with this in terms of the pacing, and i also like that it helped bolster the animal side plot instead of it getting swept into the songs on either side. the singing was unmemorable but the scene was very effective.

dancing through life

i have SUCH mixed feelings on this. i absolutely loved it up until the break when glinda gives elphaba the hat. jonathan sounded amazing, the dancing and cinematography was perfect, but the pacing and flow was totally ruined after what should’ve been a brief interlude for plot. the moment between elphaba and glinda is very strong and still made me cry, but the middle section was just so off-putting.

popular

sooooo good. ariana sounded amazing, and the directing was perfectly energetic. it felt like a music video in the best way. the colors, cinematography, and storytelling was great. they did manage to strip all of the homoeroticism out of it, and ariana’s yuh made a few valiant attempts to escape, but neither detracted from the final product.

i’m not that girl

same issue as wizard and i, i didn’t want just another three minutes of elphaba standing around singing to the camera. the last verse was the best because there was actually something happening visually, which i think also made cynthia sound better. the monologue style number works on stage for a variety of reasons, but felt like a waste of screen time in the movie.

one short day

first 30-60 seconds are AMAZING. took the energy of the stage and shot it to the moon. it actually made me tear up and i have no complaints. the added interlude was a little long, but i’m a sucker for nostalgia bait so i’ll allow it.

a sentimental man

ummm i hated it lol. it felt SO out of place due to some poor (in my opinion) script additions, and the singing wasn’t anything special. the jeff goldblum cameo made them give the wizard way too much emphasis at that point and it completely disrupted the flow of the movie

defying gravity

except for (another) unnecessarily long interlude, this was everything i was waiting for and more. ariana and cynthia sounded amazing together and cynthia sounded PHENOMENAL. ariana delivered the “well, where are your wings?” line perfectly, which is usually for me a weak point with a lot of glindas; and the “i hope you’re happy now that you’re choosing this” verse was perfection both visually and vocally. overall, it did what it was supposed to do: it wrapped up the first act beautifully and showcased cynthia’s voice.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 20 - Money

Hitoshi's hands shake as he tugs the notice closer to himself. It's an official school notice, so everyone has gotten one but when Hitoshi looks around he sees that none of his classmates seem to think twice about it. No one is bothered by the fact that the fee for the school has just gotten raised.

No one but Hitoshi.

Because for him it means the end of his education at U.A.

The fee wasn't even raised by that much, but Hitoshi is already struggling to meet the current one, despite his scholarships and despite working, and there's no way he can scrounge up the extra amount.

He already has every scholarship that is available to him and if he takes up more hours at work he would need to cut down on his training with Aizawa and that's just. Hitoshi can't do that. Training with Aizawa and the prospect of transferring into the hero course are the only two things keeping him alive right now and if he cuts back on his training then the chances of him transferring will slim and then he might as well just end it all, anyway.

"Fuck," Hitoshi mutters under his breath as he makes his way over to the gym where he's supposed to meet Aizawa in an hour.

Usually he takes this time to do some of his homework or prepare for tests but today that hour is spent pacing the length of the gym.

He could ask his foster parents but just the thought makes his stomach churn, because Hitoshi knows their answer. It will be the same as it had been when he first got accepted to U.A. If you want to go to that school, you better not make it our problem. And asking them for money would most definitely make it their problem, no matter if he's asking for money that is technically his.

Hitoshi has seen what his foster family gets for fostering him; with the bonus for taking in a high-risk kid it's quite the sum and at least half of it should be going directly to Hitoshi but of course reality looks much different.

He has never even seen a cent of that money and if he hadn't lied about his age and picked up a job he wouldn't even have money for lunch or new clothes.

So no, asking his foster parents is not an option at all but that also means that Hitoshi is fresh out of other ideas.

He could maybe talk to the principal because he heard there are special funds for struggling families but in all honesty, Hitoshi doubts he could apply for that. His foster family is really not bad off and especially not with what they get for him and the principal has to know that.

With that out as well, Hitoshi slumps into a heap on the ground, burying his head in his knees. He'll have to drop out. Either of the school entirely or of training with Aizawa and Hitoshi knows what he'd rather do.

There is no way in hell he can stay here and have his dream danglingg in front of his eyes with no chance of ever reaching it. He'd rather drop out entirely, make a clean cut and pretend as if his life didn't end with this.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Aizawa's voice suddenly drawls out and Hitoshi jerks, though he can't quite bring himself to pick himself up.

His life just came crashing down around him, he thinks he should be allowed at least this much.

"You're not changed yet," Aizawa observes and there's a hint of disappointment in his voice that only serves to make Hitoshi feel worse.

Hitoshi is not ready to put an end to this, to make Aizawa disappointed in him, even though it seems he already managed it anyway.

Hitoshi can hear the ruffling of clothes before a weight settles down next to him and instantly Hitoshi's eyes burn.

Aizawa always has a way to make him the most emotional with minimal words or actions and this is just one of those instances.

"When you're ready to talk, I'm here," Aizawa offers into the silence of the gym and that's enough to make tears stream down Hitoshi's face.

He's going to miss this.

Aizawa doesn't say anything else, even though he must be able to hear Hitoshi crying into his knees, but he shuffles closer, until their sides are pressed together and there's no mistaking that he's there.

Hitoshi doesn't know what good it would do, because it's not as if Aizawa can do anything but just the fact that an adult is willing to give Hitoshi this kind of comfort, without making him feel like a burden or berating him for being weak means the world to him.

It doesn't help with the tears, though.

Hitoshi isn't sure how long it takes for him to calm down but he guesses it must be quite a while and yet Aizawa doesn't rush him, doesn't even say anything at all.

At least until Hitoshi finally picks his head out of his knees.

"Talk to me, kid."

"I'm not ready," Hitoshi mutters back, because he isn't and he thinks he might never be and soon enough it won't matter anymore because then Aizawa will no longer be his teacher.

"Well, the talking part is not optional, I'm not letting you go home like this."

"That wasn't part of the deal," Hitoshi mumbles but Aizawa only huffs.

"Well, it is now. You can either talk to me or I'll get Mic. If it's something more serious, I can also get Principal Nezu for you."

"It's not going to help," Hitoshi whispers because he knows better than to hope for anything and especially when it comes to money.

No one is going to help when it comes to something like that and most definitely not when it comes to Hitoshi.

"Why don't you let me decide that?"

Hitoshi looks over at Aizawa and he sees nothing but steady patience on his face. If he doesn't talk they'll probably sit here until well after dark and then Hitoshi will really be in deep shit with his foster family.

He hasn't missed curfew so far but his foster parents made it clear that he's not going to like what happens when he does. And Hitoshi is in no rush to find out just what they have in mind for him, either.

"School raised the fees," he mumbles and Aizawa frowns.

"They did," he agrees, clearly trying to figure out what's going on.

"I can't pay it," Hitoshi says with a shrug, forcing himself to appear casual even though is face is still wet and his eyes must be red. "I either have to drop training to work more hours or drop out entirely and I'd rather do that, so—" He takes a deep breath. "Sorry for wasting all of your time on me. You must be disappointed."

"You're working?" Aizawa asks and Hitoshi is confused by the fact that he decides to concentrate on that.

"Three times a week for a few hours," he gives back and then remembers that he's not supposed to tell because he's still too young to work.

"On top of training?"

"Training is Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I work Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday."

"And when do you relax?"

"Sunday?" Hitoshi offers, even though he doesn't relax, ever. Not really. It's hard to relax in a home that has it out for him.

"Is that a question, kid?"

"It's—not important, is what it is. I could pick up more hours at work, I'm pretty sure, but then I'd have to drop training and I would just rather drop out entirely. There's no use in being in gen ed if I can't—" he cuts himself off, fisting his hands in his lap.

"Your foster parents are supposed to be compensated for fees regarding your education. And as far as I know they are not off too bad themselves. What's going on there?"

"Funny of you to think I've ever seen even a cent of that money," Hitoshi mutters. "I have to be self-sufficient or I don't have anything at all. It's why I work, too. I'm not doing it for fun," he admits, though he can't deny that he kind of enjoys where he works.

The people there are nice and it's not a very taxing work, so it's fine. Hitoshi just wishes he wouldn't have to do it, that he could have some time for himself some of these days.

"Hitoshi, if they are not spending that money on you, then they are not taking proper care of you," Aizawa says as if that's supposed to be a big revelation for Hitoshi.

Hitoshi wants to laugh at that because of course they are not taking proper care of him and never have but everything is so fucked up that the sound gets stuck in his throat.

"Has no one properly cared for you before?" Aizawa asks after a moment of silence and now Hitoshi can't hold the scoff back.

"You're the first adult who's treated me well," he admits because what's the harm.

He'll be gone soon enough so he might as well tell the truth. He won't even have to be embarrassed about it because he will not see Aizawa again.

"I beat you up three times a week."

"Yeah, well, at least you do it for training and not for fun."

The silence that settles over them after that feels oppressing and Hitoshi curls in on himself again. He didn't think it was possible to make Aizawa mad at him, mad enough to trigger his fight or flight reflex but of course the universe likes to prove Hitoshi wrong on all accounts.

"Hitoshi, we can get you out of there," Aizawa finally says, much more gently than Hitoshi was expecting. "We can help you."

"And then what?" Hitoshi asks with a scoff. "You think a group home is going to pay for my school fees? I still won't be able to go here. And the family now isn't so bad. They only hurt me if I break the rules they laid out. Some of the other ones did it when they felt like it so this really is okay. I don't want to lose that."

It really isn't so bad. Hitoshi doesn't trust his foster parents, but he has never trusted an adult before Aizawa came along, so that's nothing new. But this foster family doesn't beat him just for the heck of it and they don't leave him unable to function and most of all they stick to the rules they laid out and don't change them on a whim just to trip Hitoshi up and that is so much better than any other family he's been in.

Plus, there's no muzzle in this one and Hitoshi would like to keep it that way.

If he is being sent to a group home then there will be one again, because there are too many other kids he puts at risk.

"I wouldn't let you go to a group home," Aizawa tells him and now that is just cruel because there is nowhere else to go for Hitoshi should Aizawa raise a complain about his current foster family.

"You kind of have to," Hitoshi says with a shrug. "There's no other family in the area who can take me in, so a group home is my only option."

"My husband and I have foster licenses," Aizawa says and Hitoshi blinks.

He doesn't even know what throws him off more, the fact that Aizawa applied for a foster license and got it, that he's married, that he's gay or that he clearly intended this to be an offer.

"Doesn't matter," Hitoshi mutters after a moment, deciding to concentrate on the most relevant thing. "I'm considered high-risk. You need a special license for kids like me."

"Fuck, I really hate it when Hizashi is right about things like that," Aizawa mutters, dragging a hand down his face and then turns slightly, fully facing Hitoshi. "Hizashi—my husband—figured it'd be something like that. He has a voice quirk, too, and he knows how the system works. We recently updated our license to include high-risk kids."

Suddenly Hitoshi can't breathe anymore.

"What—what are you saying?" he croaks out, because this cannot be true.

He must be imagining this.

"I'm saying that you can stay with us. I'll file a complaint against your current foster family and apply to foster you instead and until that is processed the school would seize custody of you. No group homes, no foster family you don't know."

It's too good to be true; there has to be a catch.

"I still don't have the money to pay for school. If U.A. seizes custody of me I'd still have to live somewhere until everything goes through and I can't afford anything."

"Kid, seriously. The school is not going to charge you for anything. If we get Nezu involved he'll consider it his payment to be allowed to destroy some scumbags who think it's okay to hurt a kid that's in their charge. You'd be doing him a favour."

"And you?"

"You'll be doing me a favour, too," Aizawa instantly says. "I've been worried. Ask Hizashi, I've been stressed out about your situation for a while because I suspected something was going on, even though I didn't know it'd be quite this bad," Aizawa honestly says and Hitoshi can feel his eyes burn again.

No one has ever been worried about him. People have been worried about what he can do and how he'll hurt them, but never about him and he doesn't know how to handle this.

"You don't have to—" lie, he wants to say, but this is Aizawa. He doesn't lie. He doesn't say things he doesn't mean, not even to spare someone's feelings, Hitoshi knows that, so this must be the truth.

This must be what Aizawa is really feeling.

"Won't your husband mind?"

"Kid, like I said, Hizashi was the one to push for the extra license. He's very on board with this. He's been decorating your room for ages now."

Your room, Aizawa says as if it always was a foregone conclusion that he'd come home to them eventually.

"You—planned this."

"Not really," Aizawa shrugs. "We wanted to give you a place to crash in case you ever needed one. We didn't know it was this bad and we certainly don't know if you'd even want to live with us." There's a subtle hint in his voice and Hitoshi realises that he hasn't answered Aizawa yet.

"Who's your husband?" Hitoshi asks first, because experience has taught him that it's never good to go in somewhere where he doesn't know all the variables. "Do I get to meet him before I make my decision?"

"You can," Aizawa easily agrees. "But you already know him. I'm married to Present Mic."

Present Mic, Hitoshi mouths to himself, trying to see if like that it makes more sense and Aizawa snorts out a laugh.

"Yeah, that's usually the reaction we get," Aizawa admits and Hitoshi finds himself thinking that he can't wait to see these two interact in that new light, to try and see if maybe they do fit in a way Hitoshi can't imagine right now.

"Is that a deterrent?" Aizawa asks after a moment and Hitoshi is quick to shake his head.

If anything it's an incentive, he thinks, because Present Mic might understand. Aizawa said he has experience with the system and he has a voice activated quirk, too, so he might understand in a way Aizawa can't and in all honesty out of all the teachers besides Aizawa, Present Mic is his favourite.

"It's—good," he finally offers when Aizawa raises an eyebrow at his continued silence. "It's just—are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Aizawa says without hesitation and that's it.

Hitoshi is crying again.

"I don't have to drop out? I don't have to work anymore?" I don't have to get hurt by people who are supposed to look after me anymore, he doesn't ask but it seems like Aizawa understands him anyway because he doesn't hesitate to pull him into his side.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want," he promises him and Hitoshi can be embarrassed about the way he presses into the hug later.

Right now he's taking all the affection he can get, letting all the worry fall off him.

His future is not completely broken.

[whencyclopedia]

Giacomo Puccini

Giacomo Puccini (1858-1924) was an Italian composer best known for his operas La Bohème, Tosca, Madama Butterfly, and Turandot. Puccini drew inspiration from a wide range of literary sources, and his late Romantic music with its immortal melodies emphasised the strong characters, drama, and fast pace of his emotional operas, which remain today as popular as ever.

Early Life

Giacomo Puccini was born in Lucca in the Italian region of Tuscany on 22 December 1858. He came from a long line of musicians who had held the position of organist at Lucca's San Martino Cathedral since the previous century. Giacomo's father Michele (1813-1864), was both the cathedral's organist and choirmaster, and he was the director of the local music school, the Istituto Pacini; he died when Giacomo was just six years old. Unfortunately for tradition, Giacomo, although interested in music, would take an entirely different career path from his forefathers.

Giacomo, the fifth of eight children, was raised by his mother, Albina, who ensured he learnt to play the organ and sing. Giacomo sang in the cathedral choir from age ten. He attended the Istituto Pacini and graduated in 1880, his final exam piece being his Messa di Gloria. Thanks to financial help from a cousin and a successful application for a grant, Giacomo moved on to the Conservatory in Milan. Aiming far higher than the position of organist in Lucca, Giacomo's fate had been sealed back in 1876 when he heard a performance in Pisa of Aida by Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901). The magic of Verdi's tragic opera set in ancient Egypt convinced Puccini that he too should earn a living writing operas.

The young composer's graduation piece at the Conservatory was Capriccio Sinfonico, a promising orchestral piece, but it was Le villi (The Fairies), a one-act opera, that would open doors for Puccini. The work was staged at the Teatro dal Verme in Milan in 1883. Puccini's professional career took off in 1884 when he performed music from his opera at a private party and it happened to be heard by Giulio Ricordi, the famed publisher who had Verdi on his books. Ricordi added Puccini to his publishing stable and commissioned him to write another opera. The result was Edgar, which premiered at Milan's La Scala theatre in 1889. The La Scala audience has always been a testing one to win over, and unlike his first, Puccini's second opera fell flat. The composer himself considered the work a "mistake" (Thompson, 174).

Puccini was on safer ground with his third opera, Manon Lescaut, a tried and tested libretto that had been used for Jules Massenet's opera Manon (1884), which was itself based on the 1731 novel L'histoire du chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut by Abbé Prévost. Puccini also tried a new city for his premiere: Turin on 1 February 1893. Manon Lescaut was a raging success – the composer was obliged to take 30 curtain calls – with further productions in London and Philadelphia in 1894. The composer's career was finally launched. The story of Manon Lescaut, told in four acts, has Des Grieux fall in love with Manon, and they elope to escape the clutches of the elderly Géronte. Nevertheless, Manon is attracted by the life of luxury she could lead with Géronte and chooses him over Des Grieux. Géronte is suspicious that Manon has rekindled her affair with his rival, arrests her, and so she will be deported. Des Grieux boards the ship taking away Manon, and they are reunited only for Manon to die in his arms. Audiences loved it. The story of a tragic soprano heroine who dies in a singing finale would be used time and again by Puccini.

Continue reading...

[beekeeperspicnic]

What a nice day to reconceptualise my entire game

Last night I reblogged this lovely post from @inkonice-main talking about Holmes and Watson's relationship as a great love story (whether romantic or platonic), and it's been clanging around in my brain ever since.

Just in case you stumbled across this post randomly, I'm currently making a cosy mystery Sherlock Holmes game set in Sussex, which has Holmes trying to put together a picnic for Watson. My plan is to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership because that interpretation means a lot to me, but to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The problem I've been toying over for the entire six months of development so far is WHY Holmes has decided to drop everything and make this ultimate picnic for Watson. What's his motivation, dah-ling?

And I've cycled through a few ideas:

He doesn't need a reason, elaborate theatre is how he shows affection. Perhaps true, but that doesn't give much of an emotional base for the game.

It's all sparked off by Watson writing and publishing the Creeping Man, the story with all the "The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar" content. But it never quite flowed for me. If Watson is happy with Holmes in Sussex, why is he writing so discontentedly? It also felt like telling-not-showing for players.

I thought perhaps it could be spurred on by Holmes having a nightmare where he's back on a case everything goes wrong. He realises that both he and Watson are in the twilight of their lives and if he doesn't tell Watson plainly how he feels, he may lose the chance. This is closer to working for me, but I think a dream being a character's primary motivation is silly and lazy, and this anxiety Holmes has doesn't seem reflected in the fact that they're living together happily. To the player it's obvious Watson already knows Holmes loves him, so there's no tension.

Then I read that post, and it all clicked. Because let's look at the Canon: it is a love story, but like most love stories of glorious intensity, things have not always run smoothly.

Holmes has withheld truths. He pretended to be dead for years. He constantly toys with his health and causes Watson pain and anxiety. All the paths Watson laid out for his life have been disrupted by his adoration of this brilliant but challenging man. Years of living together at this frantic, breakneck, head-over-heels pace seem to have taken their toll: Holmes suddenly wants to retreat from the world and take up his beekeeping, and Watson remarries and doesn't follow him, as he needs to live his own life. By His Last Bow, it seems they haven't seen each other for years.

"We heard of you as living the life of a hermit among your bees and your books in a small farm upon the South Downs," says Watson, suggesting he's never visited. But they reconnect, and thankfully the spark between them is still there. War is looming on the horizon, and both fear it may take their lives - "Stand with me here upon the terrace, for it may be the last quiet talk that we shall ever have," says Holmes.

That's where we leave them, looking out over a moonlit sea waiting for the dawn, exchanging words that they fear will be parting ones.

But the reader is left with the hope that perhaps they won't be parted again this time. War can't separate these two, surely? Nothing can.

So. That's where the picnic comes in, as a last coda in this great love story.

The War is over. Holmes and Watson have reunited. Perhaps Watson visits Holmes more often now, widowed once again. And Holmes realises that what both of them need now is to be together.

Except how does he say that, as someone who does not share his innermost thoughts easily?

The picnic represents the one chance that Holmes feels he has to say, I've treated you badly. I've made mistakes. But we can get through them, because we love each other. Let's not be parted ever again. Come and stay with me here.

The picnic isn't just a picnic.

It's a proposal.

So like, no pressure, players. :P

EDIT:

Just to clarify because I think my wording confused some folks - My plan is still to write them in a close platonic friendship or queerplatonic partnership and to keep it shipper friendly and leave the possibility open that they are a romantic couple.

The change is just that in my original storyline Watson had been living with Holmes for years, and now I'm playing with the idea of exploring the picnic being the moment when they commit to living together for the rest of their lives.

[amourtoken]

Thinkin abt Matt Rempe being big as FUCK

it doesn't matter how tall you are, there's a big height difference between the two of you and he cannot get enough. He loves that he can just pick you up and do whatever he wants with you really. The fact you have to look up at him when he talks down to you makes it so much better. You always have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss him or he has to bend down to your level which is no problem for him, why would he ever turn down a chance to feel your pretty lips all over his face??

All of his clothing is insanely oversized on you but that never stops you from stealing hoodies and shirts to lounge around your shared apartment in. He'll never complain about the view, it reminds him exactly who you belong to. You have a habit of never wearing anything underneath since it covers you up entirely, but in doing this you've created a fucking monster cause now he knows he has easy access. He's constantly at war with himself cause he can't tell if he wants you to keep it on or take it off but either way he's gonna make it work.

Matt pulls you into his lap and slides his hands under the edge of the hoodie you stole just to grope at your hips and thighs, using the leverage to grind you down against his length. His hands slide up your waist and he's reminded again just how much smaller you are than him when just one of his hands damn near covers your whole stomach. It drives him insane, not to mention the large bulge in your belly whenever he fills you up. Being nearly 7ft tall does lend itself to that. (Normally I'd say 9+ inches is being fucking dramatic and unrealistic however he's so fucking large it finally makes sense)

Fucking you is amazing but he'd be lying if he said he could live without eating you out. Doesn't matter where, how or when, if he has a chance to taste you he's taking it. He loves sitting on his knees in front of you so he can throw one of your legs over his shoulders and get all the best angles that make you weak and whiny. If you can't hold yourself up anymore don't even worry about it, he'll just throw your other leg over his shoulder and hold you up that way. He'll stand with you settled on his shoulders and press your back against the wall for extra support so he never has to break contact with your pussy. You're lucky if your head doesn't hit the fucking ceiling by now.

he could happily spend the rest of his life with his face buried between your legs but after the 3rd or 4th orgasm he rips from your body he decides he'd also like to cum. As long as you're taken care of first that's what matters, and having you so fucked out and cock drunk before he even slides it in is his favorite sight.

The slick from him eating you out helps him out, making it easier for him to bury himself inside of you. If he could get the sight of your back arching off the bed while you cry his name as he sinks into you tattooed on his brain he wouldn't hesitate. You're so tight it makes him dizzy, it doesn't matter how many times he fucks you either. He's already made you cum on his face plenty of times so the pace he starts off with is already fucking brutal. He fills you entirely every time his hips meet yours, and you can't help the pathetic noises that flow from your lips. He's mouthy too, leaning down to your level so there's no question on whether or not you heard him. You throw your arms around his neck for support and he litters your neck and chest with the darkest bruises and bite marks imaginable between comments.

"Pretty little cock sleeve always taking me so fuckin' well- shit- feels like you were made for me bunny"

"Gonna cum, baby? Yeah? Fuck honey, such a good girl for me. It's okay, you're doing so fuckin' good for me. Let go, I'll take care of you baby you know that."

Did I mention he has the most raging breeding kink on earth? It's constant, but it reaches a peak when he's balls deep inside you of course. All he can think about is fucking you full of his kids and how pretty you'd look pregnant. More symbolism for exactly who you belong to. He'd grip your knees and push them up to your chest just to fill you that much deeper and really fuck you right.

"God- pussy so fuckin' good baby I can't- 'm gonna fuckin' cum- gonna fill you up so fuckin' good I promise-"

"want me to cum inside? Wanna knock you up so fuckin' bad baby please- fuck- please-"

his voice pitches up a little but it gets so gravely when he's close. He buries his face in your neck, growling and whining as he grinds his hips against yours just to make sure nothing goes to waste. He's not above fucking the excess back into you and best believe you're not going fucking anywhere after he fills you up, you're cockwarming him until he feels like letting you go which is a rarity cause he can't ever get enough of you and how soft you feel pressed against him. Whenever he pulls out the empty feeling is miserable, he's so fucking thick you almost forget how it feels to not have him inside you. He's more than happy to make it up to you with round 2 though (and 3, and 4, maybe 5. 6 if you can handle it?)

[bcbdrums]

Full Disclosure

A Drakgo fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: This next one-shot has a few sources of inspiration. First, the prompt from this list: 2. "If I kiss you, will you shut up?" Prompt was recommended by the legendary "Guest" on AO3 (you know who you are!) who specifically wanted French kissy-face, and the story was inspired in part by @lordwiggyton whose recent Mama Lipsky art has had my mind stirring. I'm also submitting this work to the "Hey, Sweetheart" Valentine's event run by @ficwip. It's not the conventional route perhaps, but within the rules? Pretty sure. And last but not least, it's an answer to @kim-possible-prompts's Valentine's Day prompt! (Have y'all noticed I adore answering prompts? lol.) ALSO this is the first of some birthday gifts I have for the incomparable @gothicthundra. Happy birthday, chaos queen. :) Enjoy!

Full Disclosure

Shego sighed from her perch at the end of the bed, leaning back and re-crossing her legs as she watched Drakken pace and listened to the same worried ramblings for the third time.

"But what if she never forgives me!" he cried as he wrung his hands.

"Dr. D.... We've been through this," Shego said, glancing down to study her nails. "She's jumped across moving train cars for you. Somehow I don't think finding out you've spent the past twenty years attempting world domination is going to come as much of a shock."

"But Shego..." Drakken said, pausing in front of her.

Shego looked up and took stock of her lover's appearance. He had, at her insistence, gone for black slacks instead of his usual Dockers, a tailored cherry-red dress shirt, and a black silk tie that perfectly accented the rest of his attire. And of course, the gold medal he'd received for saving the world hung heavy over his chest.

Shego wished she were the one going out with Drakken that evening, especially considering the calendar date. But this night had been planned for quite some time.

"She's had faith in me my entire life... How can I tell her it was all for nothing?"

"Drakken—"

"I admit it's past time to tell her the truth, but I just can't bear to disappoint her!"

"Drakken—"

"And then I'll never hear the end of it!" Drakken continued, throwing his hands up and resuming his ambling around the bedroom. "Passive-aggressive cards and letters is all I'll get for Christmas now! And lumps of coal instead of home-knitted sweaters!"

Shego stood up from the bed and briskly approached him.

"Drakken—"

"All the years of silence I left between us so she wouldn't figure it out. All those lost years I could have been close to my lonely old mother. That's what her letters will say, now. Have you ever heard that woman start on a guilt trip? She's an absolute master!"

"Drew!"

This finally caused the mad scientist's jaw to snap closed. He stopped mid-stride and whirled around to face her.

"If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

"Hnn?"

Shego didn't wait for an invitation. She snaked her arms around Drakken's neck and pressed in close before he could protest, and was gratified to feel tension leave his shoulders first and his lips a moment after.

She was far gentler with the kiss than with her words, her lips sliding with soft friction against his until they parted and gave her tongue purchase. She felt his soft exhale through his nostrils against her cheek as his fingers found her waist, and she could feel his hum of satisfaction where their chests were pressed together. His tongue was gentle as it slid alongside hers in caress, and he still tasted of cinnamon from his toothpaste.

Warmth blossomed in Shego's chest at his attentive response, and for the moment the dilemma of the present was forgotten. There was only the gentle pressure of noses fitted together, the give and take as their tongues took turns parting supple lips and exploring the heat and texture of one another. Drakken's body melded hot against hers as his hands slid lower, and her fingers rose to tangle his perfectly slicked-back hair.

It was fortuitous perhaps when Drakken pulled back slightly to stroke the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was intoxicating, but the faint distance allowed her other senses a chance to process the sound of approaching footsteps. Not in time to leave her lover's embrace, however, before they reached the doorway.

"Hey, Sweetheart— Drew Theodore P. Lipsky!"

It was Shego who moved first, putting a healthy space between them and leaving Drakken blinking and confused for a moment with his lips still parted before he had processed the voice that had spoken.

"M-Mother!" Drakken cried, darting behind Shego instinctively at the sight of his mother's judgmental expression.

"And no ring on her finger yet! For shame!"

Shego's face flushed as she was sure Drakken's was doing as well. That was a topic she definitely did not want to get into right then, and least of all with Drakken's mother who had her own agenda on the matter.

Mrs. Lipsky had opted for nicer attire for the evening as well, choosing a conservative charcoal sheath dress with a floral teal and peach floral sweater and pearls.

"Dr. D.," Shego said quickly, stepping away from the mad scientist and leaving him looking very exposed as he waved at his mother and attempted a weak smile through kiss-swollen lips. "Shouldn't you and your mother hurry to make your reservation on time?"

"Ahh...y-yes. But first," Drakken said, turning and nearly tripping over his feet as he hurried to pick up his mother's gift from the bed. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

The irritated crinkle at the older woman's eyes softened as her frown bloomed into a smile.

"Roses! And chocolate! Oh Drewbie, you shouldn't have!"

"O-Only the best for you, Mother," Drakken said as he presented the gift with a nervous smile.

"Marzipan! My favorite!" Mama Lipsky said after plopping one of the chocolates into her mouth.

"Of course! Now...Shego was right, we'd best get going," Drakken said. He began looking around for his suit coat, and then stopped short when he found Shego holding it up for him, a smirk on her face.

"Aw, she's so thoughtful Drew!" Mama Lipsky said, smiling fondly at Shego as she closed the chocolate box. "Dear, would you mind putting these in water for me until we get back?"

"Sure," Shego replied, smoothing Drakken's jacket over his shoulders.

She received the flowers from the woman a moment later, who squeezed her hand with a grateful smile before turning toward the door. Without the watchful gaze of older generation, Drakken turned worried eyes back upon Shego. All of his fears from the rambling of before were spoken in the inky blue of his irises, and Shego was tempted to give him a shove toward the door as a way of telling him to knock it off. Instead, she leaned in to let her lips graze his ear, speaking so softly she could hardly hear her own voice.

"She'll always have faith in you. Besides, you saved the world. You've accomplished more than she could have ever dreamed. Have some faith in her."

Shego felt again the release of tension from Drakken's frame as she adjusted the medal over his tie. She smirked again when he pulled away, the light of hope having returned to her lover's eyes.

"Coming, Drewbie?"

"Yes...yes, Mother," Drakken said and turned to go, confidence back in his stride.

Shego tilted her head down to smell the flowers as the two left. It was a strange new world they'd found themselves in since the invasion, but, some things would always be constants.

"Now, Drew, on the phone you'd said there was something you wanted to tell me...?"