#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

[zhelin-thames]

Bruce has another kid........but this one is not adopted

It started with a mission. Bruce had caught wind of strange paranormal disturbances in a small town called Amity Park. Reports of “ghost sightings” and a local teen hero known as “Danny Phantom” had reached the Batcomputer. Most dismissed it as urban legends or a publicity stunt, but Bruce wasn’t one to ignore a potential threat—especially when these sightings coincided with spikes in dimensional energy readings.

Taking Tim and Damian along, Bruce decided to investigate.

The Bat-plane landed under cover of night just outside Amity Park. The small, seemingly ordinary town was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the hum of streetlights and the occasional echo of a distant, unnatural wail.

“This place is giving me... weird vibes,” Tim muttered, adjusting his tech-enhanced goggles.

“Focus, Drake,” Damian snapped. “We are not here for your feelings.”

Tim rolled his eyes but stayed silent as they followed Bruce toward the FentonWorks lab, the epicenter of the disturbances according to their data.

As they approached the lab, the trio suddenly heard a commotion. A glowing, green figure phased through a wall, yelling back at someone inside.

“I told you, Skulker, I’m not in the mood for another ‘hunt’ today!” Danny Phantom shouted, blasting the air with an ectoplasmic beam that sent a mechanical ghost retreating through the night sky.

The Bat-family froze.

“That’s him,” Bruce said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “Danny Phantom.”

Tim activated his scanner. “Readings are off the charts. His energy signatures are unlike anything I’ve seen. Definitely not human... or entirely human.”

Danny turned mid-air, his glowing green eyes locking onto the trio of vigilantes below. His gaze lingered on Damian for a fraction of a second before he floated down, his posture wary but non-threatening.

“And you guys are...?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Batman,” Bruce said, stepping forward. “We’re here to investigate the unusual phenomena in this town. That includes you.”

“Great. Another set of people thinking I’m some kind of freak,” Danny muttered under his breath before straightening up. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m just trying to keep the ghost attacks in check. So unless you’re here to help, maybe stay out of my way?”

As the conversation continued, Bruce noticed something odd about Danny. There was something familiar in his facial structure, his stance, even his voice. It was faint, but undeniable.

Later, under the guise of investigating the Fenton lab, Bruce covertly collected a sample of Danny’s DNA—left behind on a napkin when Danny had grabbed a snack.

Back at the Batcave, the results left him stunned.

Bruce returned to Amity Park and requested to speak with Danny privately. Intrigued—and maybe a little suspicious—Danny agreed, letting Bruce lead him to the Bat-plane.

When they arrived at Wayne Manor, Alfred greeted them with his usual calm demeanor. “Master Bruce, your guest?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Fancy place. What is this, a billionaire’s bat-cave?”

Bruce didn’t respond, leading Danny to the Batcave below.

Once there, Bruce revealed the DNA results.

“Daniel,” he began, his tone as measured as ever, “you’re my son.”

Danny blinked. Then blinked again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bruce explained how Talia had kept Damian a secret and revealed that she’d also been pregnant with twins. After Damian’s birth, Talia claimed Danny had been stillborn. In truth, the League of Assassins had stolen him for an experiment, intending to use him as a vessel for Ra’s al Ghul’s essence. When the experiment failed, they abandoned Danny, leaving him to be found by Jack and Maddie Fenton.

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Danny said, pacing. “You’re telling me my entire life is some kind of League of Assassins soap opera?!”

Bruce didn’t respond, giving Danny space to process.

After a long silence, Danny turned to him. “Does Damian know?”

Bruce decided to bring Danny to the Manor to meet the rest of the family. The reactions were varied—Tim was skeptical, Jason was amused, and Alfred was quietly delighted to have another addition to the family.

But Damian’s reaction was the most intense.

[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.

[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?"

[socksracoon10]

Not Just A Pirate

Pairing: Will Turner x F!Reader, Jack Sparrow x F!Reader (Platonic) Read the First Part: Pirate

"I swear if I hear you singing one more time, I will see to it that your execution will be the most grotesque, agonizing experience of your entire life," You seethed, teeth barring to see the lovely Jack Sparrow in the cell just across from you. He was on the floor, hands waving around as if composing an orchestra. It had been hours inside the gloomy place and as each second passed, you could feel your sanity slipping away. Jack shifted his neck to face your sitting form, legs sprawled out with your hands clasped around your ears to shut him out. He stopped his incessant humming and sent you a frown,

"Look, love, I say we get used to this. I mean, if we were to die, at least we died tog-" He began before being cut off by the roar of your voice,

"I would rather stick nails into my ears than hear your voice again!" You leaned forward with a scowl.

"Oi, quit it! 'm tryna get some sleep!" Another prisoner from down the hallway bellowed, and you groaned in response as you slumped your head downwards. You glanced up momentarily to see Jack propping his head with an elbow, eyeing you with a look of judgment.

"It's not half as bad as you make it out to be… it could be worse," He scoffed.

"How so?" You sneered with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, you could be stuck with that blacksmith," Jack pointed out, and you threw your hands in the air, immediately getting onto your feet.

"Don't even bother talking to me about him. That insolent, brainless, scummy, disgusting pile of-"

"Woah, woah, woah, now. Have some decorum," Jack snickered, but he instantly winced when he heard you kicking the metal bars of your cell. Pacing back and forth, all you could think about was the events of yesterday. Having been abandoned by Jack, you had finally found the idiot and then minutes later got arrested for piracy… and then of course, whatever stupidity happened at night. You had slept through the whole commotion, and as you best put it for Jack who kept trying to wake you up, you "couldn't be more bothered when death was waiting". Perhaps your outlook on the situation would've been different if you weren't confined in the tiny cell, you couldn't even use the bathroom in peace without having to yell at Jack to turn around.

"You're like my sister!" Jack had cried out, which was followed by,

"Even more a reason to turn your bloody head around!"

A quick nap would clear your mind - and also block out Jack's humming again - and so you laid down against the hay and closed your eyes, trying to tune out any noise at all. You rarely ever slept because dreams were something you feared. Jack had told you before that dreams always revealed your inner desires, but you knew very well that none of your desires could ever match the horrors you were seeing in your head. It was a strange place to be in, and your heart thumped against your chest when you saw the flicker of Davy Jones, his eyes boring into your soul. The connection still made no sense to you, and as you tossed and turned on the makeshift bed, you could feel your arms being tightened by an unknown being, one that intended for you to meet your doom sooner than later.

Waking up with a start, you panted heavily and clutched onto your head, feeling extremely lightheaded. The only that snapped you back to your reality was Jack exclaiming,

"Oh, my pretty princess has finally awoken!"

You grumbled at his words, hating the stupid nickname. It was a running joke at first because you had refused to sleep on the Black Pearl unless certain conditions were met, to which Gibbs had jokingly stated, "The pretty princess wishes for some beauty sleep!" and right then, your fate was solidified on board. You could feel the anger boiling within you and you rolled your eyes,

"Call me that one more time, I dare-" The words fell short when you noticed the man from earlier at the blacksmith's shop standing there with wide eyes. You glanced between him and then Jack, and then back to him before the memories of what had transpired because of him played back in your head. Within seconds, you had begun to claw at the metal of the bars, trying to grab him and bash his skull, "You idiot! You moron! You buffoon!"

Will took a step back, turning to Jack with a confused expression, "Are you sure you need her to get back Miss Swan?"

"Mate, if we don't bring her with us, she'll kill us before we even get to Barbossa," Jack exclaimed, shaking his head as he continued to watch your pathetic attempts at trying to get Will.

Will didn't like to openly ogle at women as much as the other men in Port Royal. He thought it was very rude and an unpleasant experience, nonetheless. He's seen the blacksmith swigging down a bottle of rum, a crude remark escaping his lips only to be met with the firm backhand of a woman walking down the street. He remembered wincing at the scene, quickly averting his eyes to perfect the sword in his hands. The last thing he needed was to get reprimanded for neglecting his work. His eyes, however, could not look at any other being except for you. The image of you towering above his form with a sword pointed just below his chin was forever engraved into his mind. It had been the very moment that he wondered if he could see you once more. His ego wouldn't accept his attraction to you, though, because you were, after all, a pirate. Jack Sparrow's companion, and by the shapes of it, his worst nightmare because you made sure to make his life a miserable hell with any given moment that you two were alone.

"I doubt the princess herself would wish for you to save her," You snorted, shaking your head as you pushed past some men on the streets of Tortuga. Will trailed behind, a frown etched on his features.

"Miss Swann is a childhood friend of mine. Friends will stick together, and considering who you have as company," He paused, jabbing his thumb towards the direction of Sparrow sauntering up to a woman, "I can see you know nothing about having a good friend."

You sneered at him, pausing in your tracks to poke his chest, "Jack is a brother to me, annoying as he is but he's a brother. We've fought many battles together, so it's best if you shut your trap before I cut that tongue of yours."

He smirked at your words, which made your face fall just for a brief second. He wasn't intimidated at all, and the intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch. You almost forgot that you two weren't the only ones in the street before you heard Jack cry out,

"Oi! You two! Enough with the sightseeing, we have a business to attend to!"

You glanced over your shoulder at Will who continued to stare at you, his lips slightly curved upwards. You merely shook your head, convincing yourself that your lack of sleep was getting to you and you scurried off to Jack, deciding to stick by him for the rest of the night.

"Ah, if it isn't the pretty princess!" Gibbs cheered as you entered the tavern. You groaned, rolling your eyes, especially since you could faintly hear Will snicker in the background. You shot him a quick glare before turning back to Gibbs,

"Alright, cut it out. Not funny," You hissed, seating yourself next to Jack as he began to ramble about the mission at hand. Against your own will, you shifted in your seat to get a better look at Will who was standing in the corner, observing his surroundings. Being around so many pirates was probably an overwhelming experience for him. Aside from that, you knew his stance on piracy; hell, it was the reason you were in that prison cell in the first place. You snuck off to where he stood, offering him a jug of rum but he politely declined, assuring you that the last thing he wanted to do was get wasted, especially when he had more prominent things on his mind.

"Like what?" You asked, taking a sip of the drink.

"Like how someone like you could possibly be a pirate," He responded with no hesitation. Your eyes widened, the rum still cascading into your mouth as you tried to come up with something snarky in response. What ever did he mean by that?

"You saying I'm incompetent to be a pirate?" You scoffed, noticing the way his brows furrowed,

"No. I say you have every skill, even more than Jack-"

"Don't insult Jack, you haven't seen his potential," You wagged your finger at him, "You don't know anything about him."

"I don't know anything about you either, but judging by what I've seen in the past few days, it's very clear to me."

"Yeah, what's clear?"

"You…" He paused for a moment before continuing, "You are the only good thing piracy has to offer."

"I thought you said you hate pirates," Your voice had gotten quieter, unsure if you wanted to continue this conversation or not. You had gotten so used to starting fights, looting, and arguing with almost everyone that hearing words like this made your head spin.

"I did. I hate most pirates… not all, though," Will responded, finally taking your cup to take a large gulp of the rum. He smiled at you, one that made your knees a little weak and made your heart flutter a bit more. He stepped out of the tavern, sending you one final glance for the night before leaving you alone to your thoughts. You looked down at the rum in your hands, admiring the way the liquid swashed around in the jug.

It was half full and you smiled to yourself.

[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.

[starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies]

You Don’t Go To Parties-Part 2 | R.C.

Read part 1 here

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: When you and Rafe run into each other at a party after your breakup, neither of you are sure what comes next.

A/N: I’m sorry that this took me literal ages to finish. I’m not quite sure if this is the part 2 that any of you wanted or expected but I hope you love it all the same!

As I am an adult, all characters I write for are written as adults. Any minor characters will be aged up to the general range of their actor’s age.

Warnings: drinking, drug use, allusions to panic attacks, overall angst

Word Count: 3.3k

-

“Y/N, please.”

“Sarah, there is no way I’m going to that party.” You throw a pointed look at the girl pacing in front of you.

“Please! Look, you won’t even have to see him.”

“You can’t promise that. He’s literally throwing the party at his house.”

“Okay yes, but it’s also my house, and it’s huge so the odds of running into him are low.”

You just shake your head.

“Maybe it’ll even be good for you. It could bring you some final closure. You could even meet someone new.” She grabs your hands giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. “Please, Y/N! If you hate it and you’re miserable I promise we can leave.”

“Fine, but you owe me big time.”

-

If someone had told you last week that you would be going to a party hosted by your ex-boyfriend you wouldn’t have believed them, and yet here you are letting Sarah lead you through the crowd of people in her kitchen. You down the drink she puts in your hand, quickly grabbing another before she can stop you.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Come on, Y/N. You have to at least try to enjoy yourself. Just relax, okay?”

You reluctantly let your friend pull you to the living room to dance, unable to help the giggle that passes your lips when she spins you around and lowers you in a dip. She’s right, of course, and you find yourself having a pretty good time dancing and chatting, but at the back of your mind is always Rafe.

You haven’t been to a party since the breakup, and every aspect of it reminds you of the parties spent by his side. The house is full of memories itself and his friends filling every room don’t help. So you don't hesitate to down drink after drink, in hopes of keeping the painful memories at bay.

Sarah gives you a concerned look after drink five, but you just shake your head. You work at a bar after all, you can handle your alcohol. “I’m fine,” you tell her. “Just having fun.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but you drag her back to the dance floor, cutting her off before she can voice her doubts.

Sarah’s the life of the party, after all this is her world. People keep coming over to say hi and she greets them all happily, introducing you to the ones you don’t know. She spends a particularly long time hyping you up to an old teammate of Topper’s when he comes over to chat. She introduces him as Jake, or maybe Jack, you aren’t entirely sure. He’s pretty cute and nice enough, and it’s clear Sarah is trying to make a connection. You chat with him a bit, mostly using him to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts.

You expected him to get bored and leave after a while, but he sticks by you and Sarah for the rest of the night. The three of you take a round of shots, then head back to the living room to dance for a bit.

Sarah seems to have finally caught up to your level of drunkenness and starts cracking cheesy one-liners left and right. Your sober self would have thought they were the dumbest jokes in the world, but in your intoxicated state they become the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

You clutch at Sarah’s arms, laughing so hard that you sway sideways on your unsteady feet, and Jake has to catch you. You and Sarah start laughing again at your clumsiness, and he keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as it becomes clear you can’t keep your balance.

“Yo, Rafe!”

Your laugh cuts off abruptly and you stiffen, the sound of his name making you feel suddenly sober. You turn slowly to face the direction of the voice, and come face to face with Rafe. He's almost close enough to touch, eyes locked on you while Topper rambles obliviously in his ear.

Time slows and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off him, taking in every inch of the man who broke your heart. Your gaze trails back to his face, where your eyes lock on his. Wide, beautiful baby blues, with the pupils blown. He’s been using.

The world crashes back into you then, music too loud and lights too bright. You’ve got to get out of there. You push Jake’s hand away, turning quickly and almost stumbling in the process.

“Y/N?” You hear Sarah’s voice but it’s muted and distant, as if she's underwater.

“I can’t be here. I can’t-” You don’t finish the sentence, breath coming fast and shallow. “Get me out of here.”

“Okay. I’ve got you.” Sarah grabs your hand and pulls you behind her, heading for the exit. You stumble out the front door, hands on your knees as you frantically breathe in the cool air.

Jake has seemingly followed the two of you to the driveway. You can hear him mumbling something behind you, but your brain can’t focus on the words.

You cut him off mid sentence. “Look, Jake.”

“It’s Jack.”

“You seem like a really nice guy, but I can’t handle this right now and you do not want to get involved in my shit. You should really just go back inside and find a different girl with far less issues.” You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He nods his head slowly and makes his way back into the house.

Sarah comes to your side, rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head in response. “Just take me home. Please.”

-

Two months since the breakup and Rafe hadn’t seen you once. He knew you and Sarah still hung out and she had told him you were doing well. He had to admit, it was impressive how well you’d been avoiding him, considering the small size of the island. The last thing he had expected was to see you standing in the middle of his living room at a party he was throwing.

When Rafe first heard your laugh through the loud music, he thought he was hallucinating and when he turned and saw you standing there, it was like he stopped breathing. He couldn’t even move, just standing frozen in his spot even after you went running out of the room. Topper had tried to say something, but he didn’t even hear it. He just mindlessly walked up to his room, where he stayed until the party ended.

Now the next morning, Rafe can’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. The man’s hand wrapped around your waist, the way your head was thrown back in laughter, and most of all, the panicked and hurt look in your beautiful eyes when they met his. It was the exact same look you had the night you broke up with him, and it hurt just as bad the second time around.

-

The week after the party goes by like a blur. It almost felt like going through your breakup all over again, just going through the motions, but not really being present. You spend the whole week in your bed, drowning in self pity and bittersweet memories.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. You know it’s Sarah, just as it has been every day for the past week, so you just yell from the mound of blankets you’re curled in atop your bed.

“Go away!”

No more than thirty seconds later, you hear the blinds being opened and feel the blankets ripped off your bed.

“Hey!” you complain, pulling them back and snuggling in deeper. You should’ve known better than to give her a key to your apartment all those months ago. Sarah just pulls the blankets off again.

“Nope, up.”

“I don’t want to get up, Sarah. Just leave me be.”

“You’ve been in bed for a week. I know you're upset, but it's time to get up.”

“You say this every day and you have yet to convince me that it’s actually true.”

“I’m serious, Y/N.” Sarah puts her hands on her hips. “Wallowing like this isn’t healthy. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She sighs before sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m sorry for pushing you to go to the party. I really thought it would be good for you.”

“I know.” Seeing Rafe again had rattled you more than either of you thought it would. “I don’t blame you.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sarah talks again. “You know, you still haven’t told me what made you run out like that. It seems like it was more than just seeing him again.”

You take a steadying breath before rolling over to face her. “It was his eyes. His pupils. He was high again.”

“Oh.” You can tell the statement surprised her, but she tried not to let it show.

“You didn’t know he was using, did you?”

She shakes her head no. “He told me after… everything, that he was going to get clean again, but I guess that hasn’t happened. To be honest, he hasn’t been telling me as much the past couple months as he used to. I wouldn’t have made you go if I had known, I’m really sorry.”

“No, hey.” You sit up, covering her hand with yours. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. You’ve been so supportive after the break up. I didn’t mean to get in the way of your relationship with your brother.”

“You haven’t. I promise. This is just Rafe’s demon to deal with. There’s only so much I can do if he doesn’t want help.”

You nod.

“Okay!” Sarah jumps up. “Enough of that. You are getting out of bed and we are getting you out of this apartment. It’s time for a girls' day.”

You groan, but don’t protest as she drags you out of bed.

-

You hate to admit it, but the girls’ day was actually going pretty well. Sarah had dragged you to all of her favorite places, her nail salon, the restaurant on the pier, the little boutique with the cutest dresses, and her favorite ice cream shop. Now, the two of you are sitting in the park across the street, trying to finish your ice cream before it melts in the heat.

“Shit!” Sarah jumps up as drops of melted ice cream fall onto her shirt. “Okay, this is getting all over me. I’m gonna run and grab more napkins.” She takes off across the road, swearing as more ice cream stains her clothes. You laugh at her antics and shake your head.

Deciding to give up on the melting cone in your hand, you trek across the park to drop in the trash can. You inspect your clothes for any drops as you turn, causing you to run straight into the person behind you.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it was my fault-”

You both stumble over your words, cutting off abruptly when you realize who is standing before you.

“Oh, Rafe. Hi.” You take a step back nervously.

“Hey. Um, sorry.” Rafe removes his hands from where they were placed on your arms to steady you, quickly shoving them in his pockets. “I didn’t- Um, I was just looking for Sarah. Wheezie said she was getting ice cream. I didn’t realize you would be with her. I’m sorry.” He looks around uncomfortably.

“No, it’s okay. Um, she just ran back into the shop to get napkins. I’m sure she’ll be right back.”

He nods and you play with your fingers, both standing there awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do.

After an uncomfortable minute, Rafe breaks the silence. “So, I saw you came to the party last week.”

“Oh. Yeah.” That wasn’t what you expected him to say. You decide to avoid the topic of your hasty exit and painful moment that led to it. “Sarah asked me to come. Hope that was okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You're always welcome.” Another beat of silence. “Your boyfriend too.”

That throws you for a loop. “What boyfriend?”

“The guy from the party.” You just give him a confused look. “Jack, right? Friend of Topper’s? I didn’t realize you two were seeing each other.”

“Oh! No, no, I’m not, we’re not.” Rafe visibly relaxes as you explain. “I hardly know him. I thought his name was Jake.”

He chuckles at that and you can’t help but join in. You missed these moments with him. It’s weird feeling so distant from him.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve misread it. To be completely honest with you, I was pretty…” He trails off, not wanting to say the word.

“High?” you offer.

He looks surprised. “You could tell?”

“I know you pretty well, Rafe. I can tell when you’re not all there.”

He nods slowly, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” He says it so quietly you almost don’t hear, but you can tell he means it.

You don’t get a chance to ask him if he’s talking about last week or two months ago, because right then Sarah reappears. She gives you an apologetic look, but you brush it off, stepping away so the two siblings can talk.

-

Your conversation with Rafe has been playing in your head for days. You have no idea what to make of any of it, the said and unsaid. Luckily, you don’t anticipate running into him again any time soon. After two months of avoiding him, what’s a couple more days?

You certainly don’t think he’s going to seek you out, so when you leave the restaurant after a long waitressing shift and see him waiting at your car, you’re shocked to say the least.

He straightens when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I knew your shift would be over soon, and I wanted to ask you something.”

It surprises you that he still remembers your schedule after all this time. You can’t imagine what he came all this way to ask you, but it peaks your curiosity.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Rafe looks nervous, fiddling with keys in his hands, eyes not quite reaching your face. You’re not used to seeing him like this, so used to the confident carefree guy you met so many months ago.

“So I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation in the park. There’s so many things I’ve been wanting to say to you, so many things to apologize for.” He takes a breath and clears his throat. “I know I hurt you more than I ever thought possible, but do you think we could ever get back to where we were?”

That’s the last question you expect him to ask, and you take a minute to respond, not quite knowing what to say.

“I- I don’t know, Rafe.”

He nods, disappointed but not surprised by your answer. “Do you think you would consider it, if I got clean again for you?”

You take a deep breath, thinking about your answer. You love Rafe more than you’ve ever loved anyone. You can’t imagine anything better than being with him again. But you also know that it’s not as simple as he wants it to be.

“I think you tried to stay clean for me once already and it wasn’t enough. Not that you didn’t love me, there’s just more to it than that.”

You close the distance between the two of you, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, both of you soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence. His eyes gaze hopefully into yours.

“I think if you are truly going to get clean, it has to be something you do for yourself. I can’t be your reason, Rafe. You have to want this for yourself or it’ll never last.”

Rafe looks crestfallen at your words. You know it’s not what he wants you to say, but you also know it’s the truth. He reluctantly pulls your hand away from his face, giving it a squeeze before returning it to your side.

“I understand.” He gives you a small smile. “And thank you.”

You nod back, unable to say anything more in fear that you’ll begin to cry, and he turns away, walking back to his car.

When he pulls out of the parking spot, you climb into the safety of your car and let the tears fall. You hope with every fiber of your being that he finds a reason within himself to get clean, and you wish you could be by his side in the process, but you know you know it’s not possible.

-

“Hey, Sarah? Are you here?”

Rafe knocks on the door to his sister's bedroom. A minute later she pulls open the door, a concerned look appearing on her face when she sees his serious one.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“I talked to Y/N earlier. I want to get clean, for good this time. Will you help me?”

“Yes. Yes, of course I will.” Sarah pulls her brother into a hug. “I’ll be here the whole time. I’m really proud of you.”

Rafe can’t help the tears that fall at her words, squeezing her a little tighter. “Thank you.”

-

It’s been over a month since you last saw Rafe. The day after your conversation outside the restaurant, you got a call from Sarah. She told you that Rafe made a decision to get clean, and that she had helped him find an inpatient rehab facility on the mainland.

You were so happy for him, still are. You know how tough the decision to go to rehab must’ve been for him. You can’t imagine what Ward had to say to his son about it.

Taking your advice to heart, Rafe hasn’t attempted to contact you during his treatment. Sarah gives you frequent updates on his progress when you hang out, giving you peace of mind that he was doing well.

You try your best not to think about Rafe too much, but with Sarah out of town this week to visit him, you can’t control your wandering mind. As you drag yourself through the motions of work, making drink after drink for rowdy customers, you wonder what he’s doing right now.

When you see a tall figure approach the bar, you think you must be hallucinating, the long day catching up to you. There’s no way it’s actually Rafe standing in front of you.

“Hey, darlin’.” He grins at you, and your mind flashes back to nearly ten months ago when the two of you were standing in the exact same spots.

“Rafe,” you breathe out, a smile growing on your face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m back.”

“You’re back. For good?”

“For good.”

You beam, pushing yourself up and over the bar to throw your arms around him. You hold him tightly for a minute before pulling away. “When did you get back?”

“Just now. This is the first place I came. I had to see you. I’m clean, Y/N. For good this time.” Rafe looks down at you, eyes so filled with love and pride you could cry.

“I have a very important question for you.” He leans closer to you, lowering his voice. “Will you go on a date with me, please?”

You reach up, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck before crashing your lips against his. Rafe holds you close, fitting himself to you as though he never left. You let yourself melt into the kiss, taking in his presence, his comfort, his touch. After a second peck, you pull away slightly to answer his question.

“Yes, I would love to go on a date with you.”

-

Writing masterlist

Tagging those of you who asked for a part 2: @beautifulvoidwinner @icanfixhimclub @proactivetypaperson @holy-macncheese-balls

[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?

[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.