#i know what all these words mean individually

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Five

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: 2 more chapters to go!

Masterlist: Here

The courthouse doors slammed behind you as you stepped into the empty hallway, your chest heavy with grief. The weight of the decision still hung in the air, pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. Ward had won. He had won Willa.

Your heart was a storm of emotions: fury, betrayal, hopelessness. You had tried so hard. You had fought for Willa, for Sarah and John B., to give her the life they would’ve wanted. But it wasn’t enough. In the end, the system didn’t care. The judge didn’t care. No one cared.

You found yourself sinking against the cold marble wall, your body trembling with the overwhelming sense of failure. You had promised Sarah you would look after Willa, that you would protect her. And now, in a single blow, it felt like you’d lost her.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and before you knew it, a sob broke free. The grief, the exhaustion, the helplessness—all of it hit you like a tidal wave. You buried your face in your hands, trying to steady yourself, but it felt like everything was slipping through your fingers.

And then you heard him.

Rafe’s footsteps echoed in the hallway, and you didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. He didn’t need to say anything at first—he simply crouched beside you, his hand reaching out to gently pull yours away from your face. His eyes, red-rimmed and brimming with pain, met yours.

“I... I don’t know what to do, Rafe,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I promised Sarah and John B. that I would protect her, that I would keep her safe. And I failed them. I failed her.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his own pain etched across his face, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached over, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the storm of grief swirling around you both.

He didn’t say anything for a long while. The only sound between you was the occasional shaky breath, the quiet sobs that escaped without warning. But then, Rafe spoke in a voice that barely reached above a whisper.

“You didn’t fail her,” he said, his voice raw. “You fought like hell for her. We both did. We’ve still got a chance to fix this. We’re not done yet.”

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him, trying to see some trace of hope in his eyes, but all you saw was the same frustration, the same loss that mirrored your own.

“I don’t know how we can fight this anymore. Ward’s got everything on his side. He’s won... and I don’t know what to do, Rafe.” You shook your head, feeling the tears come again. “I just want her back. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Rafe’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm brewing inside of him. His eyes softened as he gazed at you, and you saw something there—a kind of resolve you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m not letting her go, [Y/N]. I’m not,” he said fiercely, his voice trembling. “I’m not giving up on her.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. You needed to hear that. You needed to believe it.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “But how? How do we stop Ward?”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting away as if he was piecing together a plan in his head. His brow furrowed, and you could almost see the wheels turning. Then, his gaze locked onto yours once more, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

“We take it back to court,” Rafe said, his voice steadying with determination. “We find a way to show that Ward’s not fit to raise her. That we are the ones who should be raising her, not him.”

“Rafe,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “How do we do that? We can’t just... ask for a new judge or something.”

Rafe stood up, pacing back and forth as he thought. You watched him, waiting for him to finish putting the pieces together. He was quiet for a moment, then stopped in front of you, a glint of determination flashing in his eyes.

“We need evidence,” he said, his voice hardening with resolve. “We need proof of what he’s done. All the times he’s hurt us, hurt Sarah, hurt me. All of it. If we can show the court that he’s dangerous, that he’s unfit to care for Willa, we have a shot at getting her back.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Rafe’s words settled in. You knew what this meant. You knew the kind of things Ward had done. The abuse. The manipulation. But it had always been buried under layers of lies and secrecy. It was the one thing that had kept Ward in power for so long.

“You really think we can do that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe’s gaze softened, but the fire in his eyes didn’t flicker. “I know we can. We’ve got to fight for her. We’ve got to fight for Sarah and John B. We owe it to them.”

You stood up, wiping your eyes, feeling a spark of something in your chest—a glimmer of hope, the first you’d felt in weeks.

“Okay,” you said, your voice steadier now. “Let’s do it. We’re not giving up. We’ll fight him.”

Rafe smiled slightly, though it was tinged with sadness. He reached out, pulling you into a tight hug, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. There was only the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The grief was still there, weighing heavily on both of you, but now, there was a plan. A way forward.

“We’ll get her back, [Y/N]. I promise.”

And for the first time since the hearing, you believed him.

Together, you’d fight for Willa. You’d fight for Sarah and John B. And this time, you wouldn’t lose.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was late into the night when you and Rafe began mapping out your plan. The house was eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional murmur of Willa's soft breaths from her room. Rafe sat across from you at the kitchen table, the dim light above casting shadows across his face as he tapped his fingers on the surface, his thoughts clearly miles away.

You, too, were deep in thought, mentally piecing together everything you knew about Ward, everything you had endured growing up in the Cameron household. The years of his emotional and physical abuse. The fights. The silence that followed each blow.

You felt sick just thinking about it, but you couldn’t stop. You had to. This was the only way forward. If you were going to keep Willa safe, you had to make Ward’s past a part of the case, even if it meant digging into old wounds.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, staring at the open folder on the table in front of you. It was filled with legal documents and notes from your lawyer, a roadmap for how to fight back. But it felt impossible—too big a task, too much to uncover.

Rafe leaned forward, his face tense, but his eyes were determined. “We have to, [Y/N]. We can’t let him get away with it anymore. For Willa. For Sarah.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being. The weight of Sarah’s death had been unbearable for both of you. But now it was more than just grief. It was about keeping Willa safe, keeping her away from the monster that had shaped so much of their lives.

“We need proof,” Rafe continued, glancing at the stack of papers. “We need to find something. Anything.”

You nodded, your mind already racing. You knew that Ward’s past was buried in the same place as all his lies and manipulations. His anger had always been a weapon—aimed at Sarah, at Rafe, and even at you when you had been younger. There had to be something—some record, some shred of truth that you could use to show the world just who Ward really was.

“Do you have anything?” you asked, looking at Rafe.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze distant. “I know a few things,” he admitted quietly. “But they’re not enough. Not on their own.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Rafe leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face. “I remember... there were moments. When I was a kid. I overheard things. Conversations. There were times when Sarah would—she’d try to protect me, try to shield me from Ward’s anger. But there were... documents. Letters. Things that could prove how he manipulated everything.”

You felt a chill spread over you, a sense of urgency taking over. “Where are they? Can we find them?”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and he looked down at his hands. “They’re in the attic. A box of stuff that Sarah and I hid. I don’t know exactly what’s in it, but I remember Sarah saying she didn’t want Ward ever getting his hands on them.”

Your heart raced as a plan started to form in your mind. "We need to go through it, Rafe. Everything we can find. We need to dig through all of it."

He nodded, his jaw tight with determination. “I’ll go through it. I’ll find it.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The following morning, Rafe and you set out for the attic. It felt surreal as you made your way up the stairs to the small, cluttered space that held so many memories—memories of a past neither you nor Rafe had wanted to confront, but knew you had no choice but to face now.

Dust filled the air as Rafe opened the attic door, the wooden steps creaking under your weight as you followed him up. The space was cramped, boxes piled high, old furniture tucked away, things discarded and forgotten. You could smell the mustiness of years gone by, but there was no time to linger. No time to let the memories flood you.

Rafe began to dig through the boxes, pulling out old papers, photos, and forgotten trinkets that had once meant something to Sarah and him. You watched him closely, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. He was doing this for her—doing this for Willa.

After a few moments, Rafe paused, his fingers brushing against something wedged behind a dusty old coat. He pulled out a small, weathered cardboard box, the tape on the sides barely holding it together.

“This is it,” Rafe murmured. He opened it cautiously, as if he expected something to jump out at him. You peered over his shoulder, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. Inside, you saw a tangle of old photographs and folders—records from the past that, hopefully, would be the key to winning Willa’s custody.

Rafe pulled out a folder first, his fingers trembling as he flipped it open. Inside, there were handwritten letters—letters that Rafe had clearly never meant to read, written in Sarah’s handwriting, detailing arguments, moments of fear, and Sarah’s attempts to escape their father’s control.

“I knew it,” Rafe muttered, his eyes scanning the pages. “Sarah... she tried so hard to protect us from him.”

You felt a lump in your throat as you read over his shoulder. The letters were raw, emotional, detailing Ward’s abusive behavior—his temper, his verbal cruelty, his violence. There were accounts of physical injuries Sarah had tried to hide from the world, and she’d written about the times Ward had hurt both of them, though she never named it outright. She’d tried to find ways to escape him, even at a young age.

“This is what we needed,” you said softly, a feeling of relief flooding through you. “This is it, Rafe. This is proof. We can use this.”

Rafe stared down at the letters, his eyes glossy. He didn’t speak for a moment, and the weight of everything he had lived through—everything you were now uncovering—seemed to press down on him.

“I never wanted her to know,” Rafe whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted Willa to go through what we went through. I thought I was protecting her by keeping her away from all this.” He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. “But we can’t keep running from it. If we want to win this, we need the truth.”

You nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on his. “You didn’t fail, Rafe. You’re doing everything you can for her. We’ll make sure she’s safe. We’ll make sure Ward doesn’t win.”

Rafe exhaled deeply, looking at the papers in his hands. “We’ll do whatever it takes. We’re not losing her.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The attic felt smaller as the hours passed, the musty air thick with the weight of the secrets it held. You sat beside Rafe on the dusty floor, the pile of evidence between you growing larger. Letters. Photographs. Police reports. Even old school records. It was all beginning to paint a picture of a man no one ever truly understood—the man who had shaped Sarah, Rafe, and their entire childhood.

You flipped through a few more papers, the words on the pages starting to blur as your emotions overwhelmed you. There were times Sarah had begged to be seen, to be heard, and each word you read was like another stab to your heart.

“God…” you whispered, your hand trembling as you gripped the edge of a photo. It was one of Sarah, just a child, smiling in a way that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The darkness that had been lurking in the background of their lives, the abuse they had endured, was so clear now. It wasn’t something you’d seen before—perhaps because you hadn’t wanted to see it. But now, as the layers were peeled back, the reality hit you like a flood.

You didn’t realize you were crying until Rafe’s voice cut through the silence, soft and gentle. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked and wiped at your eyes, trying to keep it together. But the tears didn’t stop. “How could he do this to her?” Your voice cracked as you looked down at the photograph. “How could he hurt them like this? How could he… do this to you?”

Rafe was silent for a long moment, and you felt him shift beside you. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension in his muscles, the quiet grief that hung in the air like a thick fog.

You turned to look at him, catching him staring at you, his eyes shadowed with pain. The walls he had built around himself were always so thick—so hard to penetrate. But now, in this moment, with all the pieces of the past laid bare, the mask he wore seemed to crack just enough to let you see the real him.

“I’m sorry you had to see all this,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. “You didn’t deserve to know the ugliness of it.”

Your chest tightened. “No, I needed to know. I need to understand.”

Rafe took a deep breath, rubbing his hand across his face. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a man who wasn’t just the spoiled, angry son of a cruel father. You saw a man who had been broken by his past, a man who had been fighting every day to prove he wasn’t his father. But in his search for redemption, he’d never realized that the hardest thing to do was forgive himself.

“I know I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of,” Rafe muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t... I didn’t want to be like him. I never wanted to be like him. I was just... trying to survive. Trying to protect Sarah, protect myself.”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching for him. You had always seen the worst in him, the ways he lashed out, the cruelty that sometimes bled through. But now, as you sat there with him, you understood. You understood that his anger, his rebellion, was just a defense mechanism. A mask for the hurt he carried, the fear that had been instilled in him from a young age.

“Rafe…” Your voice trembled as you reached out, placing a hand over his. “You’ve done so much for her. For Willa. You’re not like him. Not in any way. You’re more than what he said you were. More than anyone ever saw.”

The words were barely out of your mouth when you saw something flicker in his eyes. Vulnerability. Pain. A need for validation. For the first time, you realized just how much he needed to hear that. Needed someone to see him for who he truly was.

Rafe leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against yours, his breath shallow and uneven. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything hanging between you. His hand, warm and slightly trembling, cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there. You could feel the electricity between you, the way his body tensed, the way you both seemed to exist in this moment where everything else faded away.

And then, as if something snapped, you moved without thinking. Your lips found his in a soft, tentative kiss—a kiss that was born from shared grief, from the fragile hope that had flickered between the two of you ever since you had started this journey together. It was a kiss full of longing, of understanding, of something neither of you had been ready to admit until now.

Rafe kissed you back, slowly, as though he was testing the waters. His hand slid to your jaw, holding you gently as his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that surprised you both. There was nothing frantic about it, no rush. Just the simple, raw need to connect, to feel something good after all the loss.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came in shaky bursts. Rafe’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. You didn’t know what to say. Words didn’t seem to matter in that moment.

But then you both spoke at once, as if trying to make sense of the overwhelming emotions swirling between you.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait, that was… I shouldn’t have—”

You both fell silent, the awkwardness creeping in. But something had shifted. The tension between you had transformed into something else—something deep, something unspoken. You realized, maybe for the first time, that the lines you had drawn between each other were no longer so clear. The walls were crumbling, and in their place was a fragile, but undeniable connection.

“I just…” you started, your heart racing. “I just needed to tell you that you’re not your father, Rafe. You never were. And I... I see you. I see all of you.”

He exhaled sharply, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, his gaze intense. “And I see you too. I don’t know what this means, but I—”

Before he could finish, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure everything out. For Willa. For us.”

Rafe nodded, his hands still resting on your face. You both knew that the road ahead was going to be hard—there was no easy way forward. But for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in it anymore.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

family day ask, if that's alright! could i request an interaction with rook and eric venue, vil's father? the way i think of it, this can go either really funnily or oddly. or both.

Consider this a prequel interaction to this one; I doubt that Mr. Venue can get past the Pomefiore gates on his own, so let's assume he meets a certain huntsman that helps him out 🎵

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

From his vantage spot amid the tree leaves, Rook could see all. He was like a hawk, able to glean the animals weaving through the foods, the rooftops, the students and their families coming to and fro. This view, he adored.

But equally as stunning as these sights were the pockets of darkness in them. They made his blood soar, singing, all the same. Carcesses returning life to the soil, damage from the natural elements, quarrels…

The sketchy man lurking at the shining gates to Pomefiore.

“Oh la la, what have we here?”

Curiosity piqued, Rook focused his gaze on the man. He was dressed in a full tracksuit, a mask concealing the shape of his mouth—though with a neat beard on his chin, judging by the slight protrustion—and a large pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. Given the lenses and the natural lighting, Rook would venture his iris color was a deep violet. A baseball cap hid most of his hair—though tufts of gold stuck out—and shadowed his face. It was an older man, Rook could tell, from the glimpses of skin he could catch, creasing and folding in a predictable manner.

The man glanced around, checking for onlookers (Rook chuckled to himself, knowing that he had no clue the huntsman was watching), then made his move. Reaching out with gloved hands, he tested the iron bars keeping him from entering the utopia of beauty protected by them. Of course, the gates held together, tight as coupled ravens.

Before the man could attempt to fiddle with the lock, he jolted at the sound of two approaching Pomefiore students. (Rook heard them clearly; they were talking about a recent Magic History exam and how their parents were currently speaking with Trein.) He hurriedly dove into a nearby hedge. The duo came up to the gate, which magically swung open for them.

“Excuse me, gentlemen!”

The mob students startled at the masked man popping out from a bush. “What the…?!”

“May I join you?” he asked (as if it was the most normal thing in the entire world for a masked man to appear from the greenery to solicit high school students). “My son is a student in your dorm, you see—but I haven’t been having any luck getting in. I’ve been trying for some time now, but the gates always shut again when I try to rush inside.”

“Erm… Are you acquainted with this scruffy guy?” one mob asked the other.

“Not at all, but anyone with sense would know that he’s entirely suspicious,” the other replied. “What say you and I cast him out?”

“Yes, let’s do that. We wouldn’t want riffraff tainting the Beautiful Queen’s domain!”

“Wh-What?!” The man automatically thrusted both arms up. “Hold on a second!!!”

Rook grinned like a cat that had gotten his fill of cream. Ohohoh, it looks as though the situation is quickly heating up. It’s about time for me to throw my hat into the fray.

He descended without a sound, the leaves barely shaking. Rook landed softly on his feet and crept toward the front gates, where ugly shouts rose.

“Bonjour!” he called, strutting up to his students. Feigning ignorance. “What seems to be the issue here?”

“Hunt-senpai!” A mob thrust an accusatory finger at the stranger. “This strange individual is trying to storm Pomefiore!”

“We were just about to apprehend him, Rook-sama.”

“Wait, I can explain!!” The man protested. His every word trembled, overflowing with sincerity. “My son…! My son is in there, and I need to see him!”

Ah, I see. This man’s secret identity is…

The huntsman’s eyes shone with clear understanding.

“My dear students, you needn’t worry—please, leave him to me,” Rook insisted, shooing them away with his hands.

“If Hunt-senpai says so…” The mob students exchanged a look before scurrying inside. The gates slammed shut after them.

“Oh no, not again!!” the man groaned. “My luck’s been rotten this whole day…”

Rook laughed, sweeping off his hat and dipping into a bow before the stranger. “As it so happens, monsieur, I am Pomefiore’s vice dorm leader. I would be more than happy to grant you an audience with our queen… Mr. Eric Venue, correct?”

The man stiffened for but a split second. He easily recovered, sprinkling controlled panic into his voice. “Eric Venue? The famous movie star? I’m flattered, but I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Am I? I would never mistake the desperate cries of a loving father. Those looks, that voice, a disguise for this busy occasion, a father’s passion… They tell a story all of their own.” There was a pause. “Ah, but I’m afraid you won’t get very far by making efforts to conceal yourself. I understand why—a celebrity cannot call too much attention to oneself—but it can be difficult to persuade, even with your charisma, when so much of the face is hidden. Humans have a natural instinct to distrust that which they cannot see.”

“That’s…”

Rook leaned in, his lips parting to form a whisper. “Ne vous inquiétez pas. I assure you, your secret is safe with me and that the journey will be quick and discreet. I know of a secret passageway to Vil’s chambers. About this time of day… yes, I believe he would be easy to reach.”

Eric’s brows shot up, genuine surprise registering on his face. “… Haha, you have an eye for detail, young man.”

“Fufufu, so I am told.” Rook extended a hand to him. “How about it? Will you accept my offer?”

“Well…” Eric lowered his sunglasses a smidge, flashing a glimpse of his deep-set amethyst eyes. “You’re an odd fellow, but I can tell you mean no harm and speak earnestly. And you’re my Vil’s vice dorm leader, his trusted confidant. I was worried that my presence might stir up a crowd, but I think it’s safe to put my faith in you.”

Rook dropped to a kneel, a loyal knight before a king. When he rose again, he lifted both arms and bent in deference.

“Suivez-moi.”

[the-golden-comet]

✨💋Friday Kiss Tag✨💋

✨🎉🎊 Iiiiiiiiiit’s FRIDAY 🎊🎉✨

You know what that means. Smoochin’ (or share) Time! 💋💖

Some extra kudos and love to the following individuals who tagged me this week:

@kaylinalexanderbooks for a heads up seven up tag, @illarian-rambling for an OC deep dive, both @justabigoldnerd and @pippinoftheshire for both WIP Wednesday and Playlist Shuffle tags, @gioiaalbanoart for an open Mixed Fried tag, @ominous-feychild for a silent Saturday tag, @the-inkwell-variable for a Proud Of and Last Line tag, @willtheweaver for a Proud Of Tag, @sableglass , @words-after-midnight , and @tragedycoded for a Pride of Line tag, @noblebs and @illarian-rambling for Find The Word tags, @drchenquill , @tragedycoded , @ceph-the-ghost-writer , @cowboybrunch , and @theink-stainedfolk for a Writing Share Tag! ANNNND the Friday Kiss Tags from @leahnardo-da-veggie and @illarian-rambling !!Wow!! That deserves another smoochin’ gif! Thank you all!!

For everyone else who has tagged me who I may have missed, thank you so much and I always appreciate your tags!! As I wrap up Draft 2 of YWIMC, I will be very busy getting technical editing done and preparing the story for launch, so in the meanwhile I may miss some tags. Please always feel free to tag me, even if I miss them! I love seeing what the community is doing, even if I’ve been a little quieter than usual 💫✨

Now, onto the tag! 💛

Here are the kiss rules 💋✨:

Rules: From your Story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, platonic smooches, to full-blown makeouts.

And if you don’t have a kiss, no worries! You can still participate by treating this post as a writing share! 💚

Rules: Share a snippet of your writing!

I will attempt to fit as many tags this week as possible in this post as I give you this heartbreaking excerpt from YWIMC:

For the music tag, take some Christina Perri’s “Jar of Hearts” to set the stage:

And now, without ANY dialogue, get ready for a gutwrenching scene where Ali and Noah are fighting. I’m putting it underneath the cut because there is a ⚠️ trigger warning for domestic violence. ⚠️ Use discretion.

✨👇Tag list for writing snippets below. DM me if you’d like to be added 👇✨

In one last act of desperation, Noah started to scream. He screamed in pain, anger, sorrow, stress. He screamed a guttural scream that instinctively made Ali flinch and his gut turn. The djinn slapped a hand to Noah’s mouth to muffle the agony as Cauldwell tried pulling his head away, only briefly stopping his distressed cries to jolt out of Ali’s attempt to silence him. And in another attempt to stop the visceral screams, the genie wrapped his arms tightly around his master, and held Noah’s head to the frantic pulse in Ali’s neck.

In his fight or flight, Noah beat closed fists on Ali’s shoulder blades. Frustration, desperation, culminating sorrow bubbled out of his chest as he wailed into Ali’s neck, and onto Ali’s back. Cauldwell’s attempts at kicking were stopped by the genie’s knees pinning his legs down, and in the heat of the struggle Noah’s lenses slid off his face and clattered on the floor….the left lens cracking and the right one remaining whole.

Ali grit his teeth and bore the strikes, yet refused to let go. He held the back of Noah’s head, the face to his nape, and weathered the flagellation. Weaker and weaker the strikes rained, but the tempest would not stop the flood from Noah’s olive eyes. Anger and frustration gave way to despair, until finally Cauldwell crumbled.

Furious, hot screams turned into icy cries and frigid tears. The furious fists flexed their fingers to tightly clench the back of Ali’s collar. Noah’s arms, once trying to push away, pulled around Ali’s neck to bring him closer. The anger stinging Ali’s corneas simmered away as his face softened, washing cold sadness over his somber face.

Ali and Noah naturally slid to sit on the cool vinyl floor as the genie kept his master locked to his chest. Resting at the foot of the couch, Ali let a silent prayer parse his lips, pressing the plump skin to the top of Noah’s head as his eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation.

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@autism-purgatory , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @ragin-cajun-fangirl , @wyked-ao3 ,

@glasshouses-and-stones , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @tragedycoded , @deanwax ,

@dyrewrites , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes ,

@thatuselesshuman , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @phynewrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such ,

@finickyfelix , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @houseplantblank , @far-cry-from-finality ,

@froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @topazadine , @thecoolerlucky ,

@theaistired , @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin , @the-inkwell-variable , @seastarblue ,

@leahnardo-da-veggie , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @illarian-rambling , @mysticstarlightduck , @the-letterbox-archives ,

@ominous-feychild , @saturnine-saturneight , @words-after-midnight , @hemlocks-grove , @cowboybrunch ,

@yourpenpaldee , @moltenwrites , @pixies-love-envy , @davycoquette , @writeahurricane ,

@nczaversnick , @greenfinchwriter , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees ,

@aintgonnatakethis , @thecomfywriter , @pluppsauthor , @michellekarnold , @flurrysahin ,

@authorcoledipalo , @jadeglas , @spookyceph , @astramachina , @48lexr ,

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@worlds-tallest-fairy , @rhikasa , @eccaiia , @theink-stainedfolk , @theverumproject ,

@theprissythumbelina , @riveriafalll , @revenancy , @inadequatecowboy , @amielbjacobs ,

@patternwelded-quill , @sugarchains , @garthcelyn , @prettytothink-so , @leahnardo-pa-potato ,

@winvyre , @speaknowbuckley , @lamuradex , @wintherlywords , @sharkblizzardblogs ,

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@iamwhimsy , @beansmakesthings , @birdycage , @tiagems , @narkaholic ,

@irolynn , @petitprincess1 , @macinchiz , @owlsandwich , @stephtuckerauthor,

@sarandipitywrites , @mauvecatfic , @finchwrites , @aurumni-writes , @uiraya ,

@justanotherchangeling , @ahopelessnecromantic , @ryns-ramblings , @oleanderbailey , @365runesofthesystem

[soberstardom]

JEALOUSY? — デスノート

𓉸ྀི — yagami LIGHT, lawliet L, amane MISA, touta MATSUDA, mihael KEEL (MELLO), jeevas MAIL (MATT), mikami TERU.

𖦹 — N/A

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 — fem!reader, jealousy, some mentions of killing, (semi-romanticized) possessive men + women.

౨ৎ — this took way longer than it should've. i apologize deeply. also, i do not write for nate river (near) as i'm not the biggest fan of his general character, personally.

YAGAMI LIGHT — (夜神 月 ライト)

> 私は想像します — he'd be manipulative . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — ah, yes, light yagami. where do i start?

꩜ .ᐟ — this manipulative god of the new world would do exactly as his name implies. manipulate.

꩜ .ᐟ — he would most likely coerce you into giving him the individuals name and other personal details.

꩜ .ᐟ — later on, however, he would hold this against you. but, not in a 'blackmail', sort of way, no.

꩜ .ᐟ — he would use it as leverage to shut down any more ideas forming in your pretty little mind.

꩜ .ᐟ — what i mean by that is, he would use that and turn it against you by saying you're such a good girl for giving that said information to your lord. he would say that he loves you and that he only gave him a heart attack, nothing more.

꩜ .ᐟ — he would end it off by saying that you are his. his goddess. his lover. his servant. and nothing will change that.

LAWLIET L — (エル・ローライト)

> 私は想像します — he'd be logical . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — now, i personally believe that L is not the type to get jealous.

꩜ .ᐟ — he genuinely trusts you, and doesn't believe that you'd commit adultery. especially towards him.

꩜ .ᐟ — however, we're only human and as a result, we have our moments.

꩜ .ᐟ — L, if he felt jealous, would be either very broad and upfront, or very doubtful and unsure.

꩜ .ᐟ — i say this because L is a very smart and straightforward man who has no shame in voicing his thoughts.

꩜ .ᐟ — but, since you're his first relationship, he has less knowledge in this field and that could make him feel insecure.

꩜ .ᐟ — but, regardless of that, you discover his feelings eventually and comfort him with loving words and reassurance.

꩜ .ᐟ — you two ate strawberry cake together afterwards.

AMANE MISA — (弥 海砂)

> 私は想像します — she would be clingy . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — misa would definitely be whiny and clingy, demanding your attention.

꩜ .ᐟ — she would never let it go and would probably be still asking about the same individual a week after that occurrence happened.

꩜ .ᐟ — she would be asking who they were, why did they approach you, do you like them more than her, do you like them at all, etc.

꩜ .ᐟ — she would try and buy you things and take you put on more extravagant dates to try and make sure you know she's better.

꩜ .ᐟ — she also did that to try and soothe her paranoia.

꩜ .ᐟ — but, she couldn't stop thinking about it, and eventually started ranting about it more.

꩜ .ᐟ — due to her eyes, she threatened to kill them if you ever converse with them again.

꩜ .ᐟ — she's a handful, but you love her, don't you?

TOUTA MATSUDA — (松田 桃太)

> 私は想像します — he would be self-critical . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — now, matsuda already isn't confident in his abilities due to the amount of criticism he already gets from his team. (that's deserved, lol.)

꩜ .ᐟ — and seeing you, his gorgeous girlfriend, talking with one of the higher ranking members is yet another blow to his self-esteem.

꩜ .ᐟ — he wouldn't voice it right away, choosing to sulk instead.

꩜ .ᐟ — you didn't think much of it at first. however, once his mini pout phase didn't go away, you began to worry.

꩜ .ᐟ — after a while of 'what's wrong matsu?' and 'its nothing y/n!', he finally gave in.

꩜ .ᐟ — he told you how it made him feel when you spoke to the other men and apologized in the case that he seemed immature, but of course you didn't mind.

꩜ .ᐟ — you two sorted it out maturely and went to sleep soon after.

KEEL MIHAEL (MELLO) — (ミハエル・ケール) + (メロ)

> 私は想像します — he would be territorial . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — i'm sure you're not surprised, considering mello's bold, aggressive personality.

꩜ .ᐟ — he isn't scared to tell people what belongs to him. that goes for you too, since you do belong to him.

꩜ .ᐟ — whenever he sees someone hitting on you, he goes off. and i mean, OFF.

꩜ .ᐟ — he yells at the person and will definitely land some punches while practically screaming "DON'T YOU HEAR ME?! SHES MINE!" at the guy while you're trying to pull him off.

꩜ .ᐟ — once he was done, he would give you a kiss while whispering 'mine.' and he would quickly drag you away with a iron grip on your wrist.

꩜ .ᐟ — once you got home, you two were cuddling in bed all day while he kept on reminding you that you are his. <3

JEEVAS MAIL (MATT) — (マイル=ジーヴァス) + (マット)

> 私は想像します — he'd play it off . . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — matt is a member in mello's gang that's known for being cocky and overconfident.

꩜ .ᐟ — due to that, he doesn't get jealous often. well, that and because he trusts you and doesn't see the need.

꩜ .ᐟ — BUT, on the off chance he does get jealous, it could go one of two ways.

꩜ .ᐟ — one, he plays it off with a smirk and a puff of his cigarette, or two, he just mocks the person straight to their face. with no regrets, may i add.

꩜ .ᐟ — he earns a smack in the back of the head, for that.

꩜ .ᐟ — but don't get your hopes up. he's not going to admit he was ever jealous. (not that he needs to. it's obvious, lol.)

MIKAMI TERU — (魅上 照)

> 私は想像します — he would be aggravated. . . !

꩜ .ᐟ — now, mikami is a man of order and structure. he enjoys schedules and planning. he looks forward to the same things each day.

꩜ .ᐟ — however, this criminal defense lawyer can't help but feel the slightest bit of aggravation when he sees this, nobody, approaching his partner.

꩜ .ᐟ — of course, the calms himself down since x-kira can blow his cover, can he?

꩜ .ᐟ — so he let you have that little interaction with them, and continued on with your guys' day not showing much acknowledgement towards what happened.

꩜ .ᐟ — but once you guys got home and he proceeded to his office, we all know what he did.

꩜ .ᐟ — delete, delete, delete.

— @soberstardom 2024. — please don't repost or translate.

[puppybimbo]

I have a theory about why hypnokink girls like bimbo stuff a lot, and it relates to machine learning research, so buckle up. There is this idea in work with ML models known as a concept space, or phase space. What this is, is just a very very highly dimensioned matrix, re. linear algebra, that contains pre provided values called weights & biases.

(I know, a Bambi who's a math enthusiast, scary stuff, right)

And in this phase space, each dimension is correlated to a concept that the model has learned. So in a way, the information kind of "lives in" the shape of the highly dimensioned space, and the different relations between concepts in the space.

Okay, so, fancy words to say thoughts live inside fancy lines instead of pink boxes, right.

There's this other concept. In linear algebra.

Called eigenvectors.

Suffice to say that an eigenvector is a direction in that n-dimensioned space that preserves it's meaning when the space is transformed.

Meaning it should be a strong concept between any hypothetical phase space models of human consciousness between individuals. As we gain our definition as individuals from the differences in geometry between our models, so to speak.

So, an eigenvector is a strong thought, so what.

Bambi Sleep.

Bimbo Doll.

Bambi Freeze.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now you might be asking yourself what the triggers are for, but those aren't there to trigger you Bambi. You see, the highlighted tokens all share a similar meta-concept.

Now, this meta-concept is a very special one Bimbo Barbiedoll.

It's the null meta-concept.

Because feelings like Blank -ness, Openness, and Mindlessness are all closely aligned with the meta-concept of the empty set; A set defined by a lack of being.

A bimbo defines herself by her lack of being anything concretely. An identity derived at least partially from non-identity.

Ironic.

See the null meta-concept sits on or very close to an eigenvector, meaning it scales disproportionately well between brains compared to other concepts.

But that's too many words for your silly brain, isn't it?

What it means is you should keep listening to bimbo hypno.

Because bimbos hypnotize faster than other subjects.

Bambi Obeys Better Than Other Subjects.

[huellitaa]

defining your life (literally) ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

okay so i know you've heard this a billion times before but you are the creator of ur life. and one of the biggest parts of life is language and communication. the words you use and the phrases you say and the way you speak, to others and to urself, can have such a huge impact.

firstly think ab ur philosophies and guiding principles in your life. what do you live by? what do you believe in? what guides you in your everyday decisions? why do you do these things? what do you hope to achieve? before you can change anything about yourself, you first need to figure out what "yourself" IS. you can't change something if there's nothing to be changed, otherwise ur flogging a dead horse.

linking back to what i said previously, words have power. as i've said many times before, our realities and beliefs are unique to us as individuals, which therefore makes them easily malleable because we as humans are easily malleable. we define our realities, and our words are a very important component in that. like a precious relic or prized treasure, they each hold their own meanings and values to each and every one of us. which is why it's so important yet so overlooked to truly take a moment and just think about what ur saying and what it means to you.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define before you go seeking:

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ peace

something many people seek, but not many actually find. you cannot search for something if you do not know what it is that you're searching for. what is peace? is it the short lived silence of an empty house, or feeling truly and utterly content with your life? is it fleeting, like any other emotion, or is it a permanent state of which you can maintain over time? what does it mean?

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ friends

who are the people you call your friends? who are the people you'd be proud to call your friends? are you proud of your current friends, if any? if none, what would they add to you? what are friends supposed to be like? are they supposed to embarrass you and put you down, or support you and make you smile and hype you up? is it genuine connection you're looking for and / or have, or is it short-lived attention from people who'll only hurt and leave you in the end?

✨𓂃 ࣪˖ happiness

is happiness the thrilling high of an irrational decision, or the long-term effect of maintaining ur health and becoming the person you always wanted to be? is happiness quick validation and dopamine hits, or is it the long lasting outcome of positive decisions and change in ur life? or is it just a feeling that comes and goes like any other? why is this the case? why do you believe this? how would you define happiness to another person?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define before you go giving:

💬𓂃 ࣪˖ love

how do u define love? romantic, platonic, familial, whatever u want. is it just a thrilling cycle of hurt, hurt, and more hurt, because that's all you've ever known, or is it learning to open ur heart no matter how scared you are to another person because despite ur fear, you have sincere and genuine trust in them that they care about you and the feeling is mutual? what would you define as love, truly?

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ energy

is energy the life force that keeps the world going around, or the burst of life you get after a cup of coffee or tea in the morning? does it hold every fibre of your being inside it, a radiance specifically unique to you? does it become drained after hanging out with the wrong people, or is it just a word you've never put much thought into rather than the sugar high after a sweet treat?

⭐𓂃 ࣪˖ kindness

what is kindness? it's such a simple thing, but is it the act of sincere sweetness towards you that you're looking for, or is it short-lived attention from people who aren't gonna be there at your deathbed and only exist to cause obstacles and issues in ur life? is it sacrificing yourself for the world around you, or is it finding a balance between kindness to yourself and kindness to others?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 a few things you need to define for ur peace of mind:

🧁𓂃 ࣪˖ family

do you believe family is solely a case of biological relation, or is it the emotional connection that's thicker than both blood and water? are the people you hang out with every day and love with your whole heart your family, or are the toxic mother and distant father your family? how do you define this?

🐇𓂃 ࣪˖ health

what is "healthy" to you? how would you define good health and bad health to another person, and for yourself, accustomed to your own personal needs and adjustments? do you want to be healthy? how does and/or would your life look if you were to work towards this?

🩷𓂃 ࣪˖ impossibility

what do you believe are the limits of your capabilities? are there any at all? are you happy with the limits you're placing on your life, or are they simply restraints placed on you by another? what do you believe you can do and why?

🫶🏼𓂃 ࣪˖ balance

a simple word, but one that our whole lives revolve around; or at least in my sense of the definition. how would you define balance? is it important? what in your life revolves around it? what does it mean?

all my love... 💬🎀🫶🏻💗

[rosegoldthorns]

Okay so if you haven't heard of the game codenames you totally should check it out but for those who have, wouldnt it be funny for the bat fam to play?

To start, I think all of them would play differently and in probably conflicting ways. At least at first. As the code master, I feel like they would do...

Dick would probably try and use pop culture references that no one would know besides maybe Duke? (Jason was dead, Bruce was on the other side of the internet, tim was busy stalking, damian was in a cult, Steph and cass were busy beingtrained ect..) Eventually he would individualize questions but it did hurt when damain called him old.

Jason would be a lot like Dick in but with literature references. Only when people didn't get them he would call them uncultured (especially tim). He would try and keep things more simple in terms of prompts. Nothing too crazy.

You'd think Tim would be awesome at codenames and he is but only at guessing. As the code master he will give you prompts for five at one time and wonder why you didn't make the obvious connection. He would rather quit than give a hint for one.

Steph is the real champion of codenames because yk she grew up with a puzzle master (I forget his name). She also isn't a lunatic like Tim so she can do understandable hints. Also she finds it funny she is beating two "world class detectives" at a puzzle game.

Cass isn't really playing much. She would prefer to watch or cheer on both teams.

Duke is pretty solid at it. He cant really do shared missions but he does actually use a lot of their names bc he hears a ton of gossip about everyone.

Damian gets into the most trouble when the people on his team do not know what the word means. On top of that he displays his frustration when they are about to pick the wrong one very visibly so, he is usually not picked for a code master position.

Bruce could be really good if he stopped trying to use it to quiz them on protocol. He is asked to play the game in general bc of this.

Now together I feel like the preferred teams would be Dick Tim Jason and Damian Steph Duke (Bruce if he's there). Tim has an advantage guessing from Jason and sick bc he's a little stalker and Damian and Steph can go on the same wavelength. They switch up the teams a bit but usually not much.

And ofc Stephs team usually wins

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 5 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

═══════════════════════════

Well, is cruel to give him false hope?

CW: Implied infertility

═══════════════════════════

Staring at the setting sun, with the orange light shining in his eyes and the muggy wind passing through the fabric of his clothes, Ghost was quiet.

Since the tests had been carried out, he still hadn't received a reply, that was six days ago. 

And that was probably what terrified him the most, if it's taking so long, what does it mean? But Farah's soldiers get hurt, they're a priority and not a bunch of sperm that may or may not be fertile, and define the relationship between the alpha and his omega!

Ghost didn't notice when he started fiddling with a loose thread of his clothing, but he did notice when light footsteps approached from behind, and with a glance over his shoulder he could see Farah approaching.

"Lieutenant! Your tests are ready, they asked me to warn you." Farah approached with a serious tone, patting Ghost on the shoulder before turning and starting towards the medical wing, with Ghost following in silence.

The walk was quick, and when they arrived, Farah knocked on the door and entered, Ghost right behind her.

A doctor soon came in with a sealed letter with the test results, handing it to Ghost. Farah and he sat down on one of the chairs in a secluded corner of the ward.

Ghost's hands clenched the paper in his hand, doubts, murmurs, all the insecurities flooding into his mind.

And if he's infertile, who did Johnny cheat on him with? He'll be alone again. But what if he isn't? Did he hurt Johnny for nothing? Did he run away and ignore him for nothing? Were the tears he cried in his cold bed alone for nothing?

A firm hand on his shoulder woke Simon from his thoughts, he hadn't realised his breathing was ragged, nor the almost crumpled paper in his hands.

With a deep breath, Simon slowly opened the paper, and with each line read and percentage seen, his heart pounded, until everything stopped for a moment, blood running cold and sweat threatening to fall.

Written in bold letters was, ‘This individual has normal fertility, no abnormalities present’.

Slowly Simon's vision blurred, tear drops falling onto the paper. Farah stood next to him, hugging him and shaking him from side to side calmly.

All the bad things he's done to Johnny, to his baby, he's become his own father, a horrible person. How can he apologise? How can he receive forgiveness? Simon wants to curl up in himself and just wake up to the day that everything has fallen apart.

Out of the blue, the realisation that he's going to be a father hits him hard, bringing more tears, but now of happiness at the knowledge that he'll have a baby to watch grow up.

"I'm going to be a father." He whispered.

Farah gently released him, looking him in the eye. "You will, congratulations Lieutenant."

"What do I do now?" Ghost asked, frustrated and worried.

"First," Farah grabbed Ghost's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You apologise to him, I know it can be difficult, so try writing a letter, sometimes the truest words are the most comforting and helpful."

Ghost then gets up and walks towards his room, saying a final goodbye to Farah.

He needs to be as sincere as possible, and he hopes that maybe Johnny can forgive him, and that they can have this pup.

Simon hopes that he can have a family that loves him and that he can love. Not like his was.

═══════════════════════════

Naturally, when I was researching fertility test results, I kind of understood that you get a percentage of how your sperm is doing, so I don't know if it says you're infertile or not.

Remember that I'm not a doctor, so please correct me if I'm wrong.

Thank you to the readers, and I'll see you in the next chapter of Soap!

[docholligay]

I have no idea how wild the fandom for Hadestown is. If you don’t know me, if we’ve never exchanged words, and you have BIG FEELINGS about Hadestown that any level of critique will set off, I very much encourage you to move it along. I can’t do Hamilton 2 or whatever. (If I know you I will give you more leeway FOR SURE. I just want to keep strange weirdos out) 

First, I have to provide a little bit of context: I got in on the ground floor with Hadestown. 

Yes Doc, I too, have been obsessed with it ever since it was in previews--no, I mean, i saw folk singer Anais Mitchell perform the whole thing like 15 years or whatever ago in a converted garage venue. 

I wasn’t even in town to SEE HER, I was in town to see a different artist and this was back when live music was a bigger thing and not a dying scene, and people just bought tickets to whatever was playing on a free night. I like folk music, I liked the idea of what was then being called a folk opera. It was instant love. Orpheus and Eurydice is one of my favorite myths, I am from a rural and exploited place, I loved everything I heard, some absolutely glorious poetry going on there. Bought the concept album, forced so so many people to listen to it all the way through. Forced jetty to listen to it on our road trip! Before the musical came out even!

I have been following this musical ever since then. I kind of thought it would never get made! I followed the original version, and then the broadway one. What I’m saying is, I have what now amounts to about fifteen or so years of history with this musical, and all the changes it has gone through, and all my individual feelings about each of those changes. My evaluation necessarily lives within that context. 

This was part of the reason it took me so long to see the Broadway! I wanted the emotional space to feel however I felt about it, even if that ended up being, “I fucking hated that” and it’s hard to have that when someone buys very expensive tickets and a trip for you to see something you’ve been following for years. Part of jetty’s gift of this was “And you can hate it!!” and I knew she meant it, because when you watch something move and be workshopped and change, you get a lot of feelings about it. 

So I can’t really go, “I liked Hadestown/I didn’t” I mean, I have loved hadestown for a very long time. If all you wanted to hear was , ‘Did you like it?” oh yes! But I have at least four versions sitting my head right now, and they are all next to each other for evaluation in a way that someone who has only experienced the broadway can’t have. 

I want to provide this knowledge because my thoughts about it go so far beyond what is currently being staged on Broadway. No, this is not going to be me saying, ‘Everything was better with the concept album!” no, some things are, but this isn’t that I promise. 

Everything below this is spoilery

So, originally Hadestown was a slightly different story and admittedly, one that spoke to me more than the story I saw last night. It was a lot more specific in its earliest days--it was about an impoverished mining town. Hadestown was the company town, underground, and there was basically no mention of Hades and Persephone being actual gods, anything was winked to, but it was mostly about how the holders of capital have all the accountability of gods. The whole thing had a much stronger anti-capitalist framework, and Orpheus and Eurydice were basically naive kids who thought they could avoid involvement with the mine. Obviously, this very much spoke to me. It was matching my freak exactly. 

It is not that now. And that’s both totally expected, and disappointing to me personally. The show now is much more of a, I’m trying to put this in a way that feels less insulting because I don’t mean to be, very Captial L Liberal. Audiences who can afford Broadway tickets will eat up the vague notions of wishing for a better tomorrow and ‘show the way the world could be’ and putting this back into the framework of a story of the gods instead of the utter lack of choices available to people, that the game is rigged from the start, and Orpheus even having this chance is both an exception and a test hades expects him to fail. I get why this happens. Literally every story that has ever been brought to Broadway has had to be made more palatable to a broader audience. The story it is now, is much much more broad, much more life affirming or whatever, and much more easy to hear. I think I would like it better if I didn’t know the story from the very first versions. 

But that was not a problem last night! That was a problem when i heard the previews out of Alberta! So I’ve had years to adjust to knowing that they were going to blame Orpheus a lot more. Which I love that the Broadway seems to have backed off of! The Alberta production really sort of LAID INTO THE BOY in a way I aggressively did not care for, because it was the antithesis of the story as I understood it. Love that they took that back a step. 

Anyway, so, things I loved about the musical last night:

The staging of Wait For Me fucked SO SEVERELY that honestly it makes me forgive like 90% of the things I don’t care for in the final Broadway version, that I thought were done better in other versions. I almost cried, it was EXACTLY what I would have pictured in my head after hearing it all those years ago. It was incredible. I wish I could see it again, and study it. I am thinking about it right now! It will live rent free in my head. Perfect. 

The gal who played Eurydice has clearly listened to Anais Mitchell albums, because she sounded SO MUCH like Anais that it even took me back for a moment. 

I’m not sure if this is praise or a criticism: 

I don’t know how I feel about having Hermes as an overall narrator! I go back and forth on it and have since the Alberta came out. If I were going to do it I would do it differently than it is currently staged. Jetty was talking about how she loves when the instrumentals are onstage, and I’m the exact opposite--I mostly find it crowds the stage while not bringing much interest for me. But in general, i both like it and do not like it, to give a very useful critique. I don’t hate it, for sure. I love the opener for Wait For Me II. But overall I will probably need to think about it for another 15 years. 

Frustrations I have:

 I think I have decided that even for the MASSIVE INSANE BUCKWILD flaw of seemingly blaming Orpheus for Eurydice’s decision, the Alberta is the best version. I think I prefer the concept album on a personal level for a lot of things, but I think the Alberta is, well for starters, definitely more complete--the concept album has some massive gaps in it that desperately needed filling--but it preserved a lot of the poetry that the Broadway version seems to have stripped out while being much more mass appealing. I was particularly GALLED by the rewrite of Epic III, one of the things in the Alberta version that made me say, ‘Wow I am prepared to forgive a lot of horseshit for this song, my god” 

NEVER FORGET WHAT THEY TOOK FROM YOU

They took out "The heart of a king who loves everything like the hammer loves the nail" imagine writing that line and scrapping it, are you HIGH, fuck me running.

And I think this summarizes a lot of my frustrations about the changes between the Alberta and the Broadway. It no longer sounds like a folk opera. It has lost a lot of the poetry of the original, folk music being very grounded in lyric and somewhat less in vocal theatrics. 

Also, and this might just be an actors thing, I did not get any sense that Persephone and Hades love each other…at all. Part of the appeal for human beings named Doc who are me is that they love each other, and they can’t stand each other, and I didn’t FEEL that at all. Like i said this could be an acting thing--I was not overly impressed by our persephone broadly. But taking out her part in Chant II I think also really contributes to this problem. 

This is both the Alberta and Broadway versions: I MISS THE FATES BEING A REALLY TIGHT 40s STYLE GIRL GROUP SOB SOB SOB. In the original, the fates were the only characters ‘outside’ the story, and this was indicated stylistically by the fact that everyone else was singing folk music, and they were singing in this very different style. The idea fifteen years ago was that they actually would be dressed all in that style, but yeah, none of this happens now and i find it SOOOOOO disappointing personally. I hate their stupid costumes I hate the ‘rougher’ style of vocals I hate it so much ahahahahha. If I was going to force Anais to change one thing it would actually be this, even though it is insanely petty and silly. 

The best version of when the chips are down:

I don’t know if literally any of this is what you were looking for but I somehow deeply suspect not. I am IN THE SHIT with Hadestown though, so if you have any specific things you wanted to ask about or have me talk about, let me know! I am just cutting this off now because it’s already at 1700 words and I’m not sure anyone cares that much about my journey with the only musical I can truly say I knew about when it was still a twinkle in someone’s eye. 

(Yeah Doc, I have a question: Do you have anything mean to say about the concept album? OH BOY DO I. Some of it is to be expected like, "Uh, Anais you need the rest of the story here girl." but a huge one is I fucking HATE that she got Justin Vernon, who you know better as Bon Iver, to do Orpheus. He SUCKS. He sounds bored the whole time because that is how that motherfucker sings. I have HATED it since day one. Reeve Carney is perfect and literally what I started my local women's prayer and casserole circle to petition the Lord for.)

[catras-breakup-song]

how do you feel about the whole "you always wanted more" line that got cut? at first i was wondering why they did that because adora didn't want more until it made me think "huh, what if prime was just running on catra's memories and didn't actually know adora?" but i'm curious as to what you think

OH MY GOD I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED THIS. i am such a sucker for the cut STC script. back in late 2020 & early 2021 i had a twitter layout based on “that little spot on the roof that only they knew about” because S3 is my favorite:

even better, i have another old twitter fancam saved from around that time too that used that screenshot of the script in the beginning. it was by the username yoosene but is now long gone, so i reuploaded it to imgur here (the hands part, i’m going insane…)!

anyway, as for interpretations, it was absolutely to manipulate & guilt-trip adora. i recently saw someone say (i don’t remember where though, sorry) that he was torturing both of them by setting up that nasty fight against both of their wills and had planned to kill catra all along — despite saying he wouldn’t right after she rescued glimmer and was imprisoned for it, in my opinion there was an unspoken “yet” even though he did technically say that word but you know what i mean; “you will be of use to me, and then everyone from your blighted planet, including yourself, will be destroyed.”

that’s the thing about what the show was trying to convey through her stay on prime’s ship via glimmer’s desperate pleas, isn’t it? her illusion of power was only ever temporary. once she no longer had anything of value to serve, what would she be worth? how could she have genuinely believed that he wanted to save her, of all living beings, from the curse of humanity & will of consciousness? what makes one individual different to an omnipotent god compared to countless others across the universe throughout space and time? i truly believe that he was subtly mocking her when he talked of her being “exalted, raised up above the other wretched creatures of [her] home world.”

i was actually trying to find another five by five takes quote about this, because mentioning them is always an obligation for me, but surprisingly i didn't really find anything about how catra had worked her way up to prime's recognized single subordinate (only that moment of reflection afterward, which is just this entire short video), and was under the false impression with a cocky & confident attitude that her position meant something for her safety & survival; i'm mostly referring to this moment:

the horde's the horde...even in space. as long as i'm of value to horde prime, i've got a place in this world. i can work my way up here, just like i did before.

actually y’know what… i’m going to tag @horde-princess because this is starting to dive into religious meta which is like… her whole gimmick thingy. we would be blessed (pun intended) to see your take on this writing that never made it to the show, if you haven’t given it already!

now this is veering too far off from the original point after getting sidetracked. the tone of those quotes in the alternate script is (fake) pity, and horde prime was entertained by the struggles of mere mortals. to make adora a failure of what she represented would surely force her to give up she-ra to him, because what would even be the point anymore of living up to expectations if she couldn’t save catra first & foremost (that’s something that she struggled with since initially leaving the horde over three years ago due to how catra made her feel about supposedly breaking their childhood promise… but it’s a story for another post)?

i don’t doubt that your thought process is at least partially right too though, anon. prime didn’t read adora’s mind thoroughly at any point, so it’s entirely possible that he just read off catra’s intense feelings of abandonment & betrayal. that being said, if he really did see all as he claimed, maybe he was able to recreate an objectively accurate collection of events and knows what really happened and what the intentions behind certain actions were. i also wonder if catra secretly knew deep down that adora’s defection wasn’t directly about her but just couldn’t admit it until she had time to deeply reflect on it during “corridors.”

i’ll leave this messy, unorganized post with an amazingly relevant gif set made by an editor whose work on here i really enjoy:

as i said a long time ago, you just had to be there on november 19th 2020 when that excerpt was released because the hype was crazy!

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Seven

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: I'm gonna post the epilogue and bonus scenes after this! Get ready!

Masterlist: Here

The next few weeks passed in a blur of routine. A new normal, one that felt both comforting and overwhelming in equal measure, began to take shape. You and Rafe had settled into a rhythm of sorts, with Willa at the center of it all. The house, once filled with tension and unspoken words, now carried the sound of laughter—her little giggles as she played with toys, the rhythmic hum of Rafe humming softly as he prepared dinner, and your voice singing along to a song just to get her to smile.

It was a strange blend of happiness and grief.

On the surface, everything appeared to be falling into place. Willa was thriving. Her laughter was more frequent, and the little spark of her personality was shining through with each passing day. But underneath it all, there was still the ache. The absence of Sarah and John B. lingered in every room, in every corner, like an uninvited guest. It was most noticeable in the quiet moments—the stillness that would creep in after dinner, when the house would settle, and Willa was fast asleep in her crib.

At night, Rafe and you would sit together in the living room, the empty space between you both palpable. Sometimes, you would talk, but it was often just the sound of the TV or the quiet clinking of wine glasses as you both tried to make sense of everything. Both of you, in your own way, were learning how to process the grief of losing Sarah and John B. while simultaneously trying to be the parents Willa needed.

There was no guidebook for this, no rulebook that could teach you how to grieve for your best friend while being there for her child, no instructions on how to love a child who wasn’t yours by blood but had stolen your heart all the same.

It was on one of those quiet evenings that the realization hit. You had just put Willa to bed, tucking her into her crib while Rafe stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“You ever think about them?” Rafe asked quietly as you turned to face him.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms, eyes staring off toward the window. “All the time. It doesn’t really feel real yet, you know? Like… they’re just gone. I still expect to get a text from Sarah telling me to pick up dinner, or John B. calling to complain about something. But none of that’s happening. It’s like I’m stuck in this weird in-between place.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze falling to the floor. “Yeah. It’s the same for me. Every time I go into town, I expect to see John B. standing at the docks or Sarah laughing somewhere. But they’re not there. I keep thinking I’ll see them, and then… I don’t.”

There was a heaviness in his words, a weight that neither of you had truly acknowledged out loud.

Rafe’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something unspoken in them. But before either of you could say more, there was a loud creak from the hallway—the unmistakable sound of Willa’s little feet padding across the floor. The distraction was enough to pull both of you out of your heads.

“She’s up again,” you muttered, half-smiling. You started to make your way toward her room, but Rafe stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll get her,” he said softly, almost as if he were offering more than just the simple task of comforting her.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him go. Watching him take the lead with Willa felt like a breath of fresh air. He was natural with her—careful, gentle, even though you knew the weight of everything still hung on him, just as it did on you.

The next few weeks continued in much the same way. Days blurred together as the three of you navigated the waters of parenthood. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, but at times, you found yourself breaking down when you were alone—alone with your thoughts of Sarah, John B., and what they would have wanted for their daughter.

You saw it too in Rafe. There were days when he would retreat into himself, the weight of his father’s abuse, the responsibility of being a father figure for Willa, and the grief of losing his sister bearing down on him all at once. He was more distant some days, lost in his own head, and it was hard to reach him. On those days, you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you widening.

But then, on other days, he would open up a little more. You would catch him smiling at Willa in a way that made your chest tighten, and you would catch a fleeting look between the two of you—something deeper, something undeniable, but neither of you was ready to face it.

It was during one of these quiet evenings, a few weeks after the ruling in court, when you and Rafe found yourselves alone in the living room again. The weight of your grief still lingered, but now, it was different. You were both becoming accustomed to the rhythm of your new life, even if it was hard. Willa was playing in the corner, and Rafe was scrolling through his phone, but the silence between you was now loaded with something you both refused to acknowledge.

You leaned back against the couch, watching Willa, when Rafe suddenly spoke. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be her father figure… but I’m trying. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You turned to face him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “You’re doing fine, Rafe. Better than fine. You’re all she has right now.”

He exhaled deeply, looking at you for a moment. “Yeah, but I can’t keep pretending like I don’t see you. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel something more than just… this.”

The words hit you like a thunderbolt. Your heart skipped a beat, and before you could form a response, Rafe stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t right. You’re grieving, I’m grieving, and we’ve got Willa to think about. This—this thing between us, it’s just too complicated.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “Rafe…” you whispered, not knowing what to say next. You did feel it. That pull. That undeniable connection that had been building between you both for weeks. But was it the right time? Was it right, when everything was still so raw?

“I don’t know what to do with it either,” he muttered. “But we can’t keep ignoring it. I don’t know if I’m ready for this, for us... for her.”

And so, there you were—on the cusp of something new, yet still trapped in the grip of grief. Neither of you ready to face the truth of what was brewing between you. But one thing was certain: something had changed, and no matter how hard you both tried to deny it, the feeling was becoming impossible to ignore.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The morning came too soon, dragging with it the weight of yesterday’s unspoken words. The quiet tension that had settled between you and Rafe the night before lingered, thickening the air in a way that made it hard to breathe. You barely slept, tossing and turning, your mind racing through the things you didn’t say, the things Rafe didn’t say. Everything was so… messy.

You were standing at the kitchen counter, preparing breakfast for Willa, trying to get into the rhythm of your routine, but your thoughts kept drifting to him. To what he had said. To what you felt in your chest.

Rafe walked into the kitchen, his eyes heavy, hair unkempt. It was clear he hadn’t slept much either, his posture stiff, like he was walking on eggshells. You exchanged a quick glance, and for a split second, you both seemed to be holding your breath, unsure of where to go from here.

“I’ll make coffee,” Rafe muttered, moving to the counter to prepare the pot, his back to you.

You nodded quietly, not sure if you should say something, if he even wanted you to. The silence between you both was so thick now, every word felt loaded. The air smelled of coffee brewing, the soft hum of the kettle, and the soft sound of Willa’s babbling from the living room. But it all felt so distant.

“You okay?” Rafe’s voice broke through your thoughts, quieter than usual.

You turned to face him, studying his expression. His usual walls were up again, that guarded look in his eyes that he wore so often when he was trying to hide something from the world. It made your chest ache, seeing him like this.

“I should be asking you that,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but it came out softer than you intended. “You didn’t sleep either, huh?”

He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving you a tight smile. “No, not really.”

The silence returned, but this time, it felt a little more fragile, like something was about to break. You could feel the weight of the words hanging between you both, words that neither of you was ready to say aloud.

Willa’s giggle interrupted the quiet tension, and both of you turned at the sound. The sight of her, laughing and playing with her toys, was a small relief, a distraction from the heaviness that had crept in. But even as you watched her, something in your chest ached.

You cleared your throat, forcing your mind back into the present. “I should get Willa dressed, get her breakfast ready.”

Rafe nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take care of the coffee. You know she likes it when I make her pancakes.”

You smiled, a small, genuine smile that felt foreign after the events of the night before. “You’re spoiling her.”

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, his usual cocky edge slipping back into place. “Hey, she deserves it.”

There was a brief moment of normalcy—small talk, familiar routines—but it wasn’t the same. The dynamic between you both had shifted, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

You went to Willa’s room, finding her still in her pajamas, her little hands reaching for the toys scattered across the floor. You scooped her up, settling her in your arms as you began to change her, the soothing rhythm of dressing her bringing a sense of comfort amidst the storm inside your mind.

As you worked, your thoughts drifted again, back to the conversation with Rafe. What were you both doing? You had spent so much time trying to keep the lines clear between friendship and responsibility, but now those lines were blurry, tangled up in grief, responsibility, and something more. Something neither of you was ready to face.

When you returned to the kitchen with Willa, Rafe was already plating pancakes. Willa squealed, reaching for the stack with tiny hands, and Rafe chuckled softly, placing a plate in front of her. The warmth between the two of them was undeniable. It was moments like this that made everything worth it, didn’t it?

But still, that thing between you and Rafe hung in the air, like a thread waiting to unravel.

You sat down at the table, pushing your plate aside as Willa dug into her breakfast, messy syrup smudging her cheeks. Rafe joined you at the table, not looking at you directly, but you could feel his presence next to you, the space between you both full of the things left unsaid.

The silence was comfortable for now, but you knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Do you ever think about Sarah and John B., like, what they would want for her?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. It felt like the right thing to say, like an opening to talk about the things neither of you were saying.

Rafe’s shoulders tensed for a moment, but he didn’t look away from Willa, watching her eat with intense focus. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little rough. “All the time. I think they’d be happy with how things are going. They’d be happy she’s with us.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly, your voice trailing off as you stared at Willa, wondering if she could ever really understand what had happened. What had been lost.

You cleared your throat, trying to change the subject. “I need to get to the store later. Willa’s almost out of diapers.”

Rafe nodded. “I can go with you. It’ll give us a chance to—well, you know, get out of the house for a bit. Take a break.”

You were about to respond when Willa’s giggle interrupted once again, drawing both your attention. She had managed to squirt syrup all over the table in her attempt to scoop up the pancake, making a mess. It was impossible not to laugh, and you both found yourselves chuckling together, momentarily breaking through the tension that had built up.

But even as you laughed, the realization hit you like a weight.

This was your new life now. The uncertainty, the grief, the joy, the overwhelming responsibility. And somewhere deep inside, you knew that things had changed—maybe forever. The question was, what would you both do with it?

You looked at Rafe again, at the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he cleaned up the mess Willa had made, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t quite so afraid of what would come next. You couldn’t ignore it forever, the pull between you both.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets as you and Rafe walked side by side into the local grocery store. Willa, snug in her stroller, was contentedly gnawing on a teething ring, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between you and Rafe. The quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sound of shoppers milling around filled the otherwise tense silence.

You grabbed a basket, but as soon as you looked down, you realized you were already second-guessing the list in your head. Diapers. Milk. Fruit for smoothies. Frozen vegetables. Simple things. Yet your mind was so distracted that you had to pause for a second, mentally organizing what you needed.

Rafe pushed the stroller ahead, his hands gripping the handles firmly, his posture stiff, like he was trying to avoid looking at you too directly. You could feel the weight of the unspoken words between you both, like a heavy fog that neither of you had the courage to clear.

“Anything else we need?” Rafe’s voice broke through the quiet, a little sharper than usual.

You glanced at him, noting the way he was trying so hard to keep it together. You couldn’t blame him. The last few days had been full of emotional roller coasters, and now here you were, trying to navigate the mundane task of grocery shopping like everything was normal when everything wasn’t.

“I think that’s it,” you answered, trying to keep your tone light. “Unless you want anything special?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. Let’s just get through this and get back to the house.”

His words were clipped, and you bit back the urge to comment on his attitude. It had been like this for days now: distant, cold, like he was closing off any room for vulnerability. You wanted to reach out to him, to break through the wall he was building, but you didn’t know how.

You moved through the aisles, grabbing items on the list, each movement mechanical. The only sound between you was the soft rolling of the stroller as you passed the rows of canned goods and produce. Every now and then, you’d glance over at Rafe, trying to gauge his mood, but he kept his eyes ahead, focused on nothing in particular.

“Willa’s starting to get fussy,” you said after a few minutes, noticing her starting to squirm in the stroller.

Rafe nodded absently. “Yeah. Let’s get the last few things and head out.”

You grabbed the milk and some frozen meals, trying to focus on the task at hand. But every time you looked at Rafe, your chest tightened. It was so hard, pretending like nothing had changed between you. Pretending that everything was just as it had been. But the kiss... and everything that had followed after... it had changed something.

Before you could say anything else, Willa started fussing more, her soft cries filling the store. You turned to Rafe, a little frantic.

“I think she’s hungry.”

Rafe froze for a moment, then looked down at Willa, his face softening just slightly. He reached down, adjusting the straps on the stroller to give her a bit more space. “Alright, we can stop at the café on the way back. Get her something.”

You both moved toward the checkout lanes, the silence stretching on, but there was something different in Rafe’s eyes now. A flicker of softness, a crack in the wall he’d built. You tried not to notice, but it was hard to ignore.

Willa continued to fuss as they packed the groceries into bags. Rafe had that look again, like he was still processing something, but he didn’t say anything.

As you approached the counter, the cashier gave you a kind smile, scanning your items without a second thought. It was a stark contrast to the tension in your chest, but you forced a smile back, nodding at her as she packed up the last of your things.

Once the transaction was complete, Rafe took the bags without hesitation, moving toward the door. You followed behind, your mind a jumble of confusion and frustration. When you reached the car, you both stood for a moment, the groceries in the trunk, but no one moving.

You stood beside Rafe, looking down at your shoes, unsure of what to say next. The air between you felt charged, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said, the things you couldn’t say.

“You know,” Rafe started, breaking the silence, his voice quieter than before. “I don’t know how to... how to fix all this.”

You looked up at him, surprised.

“Fix what?” you asked, your voice small.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “Everything. I don’t know how to make this work. Us. This whole... situation.”

You stood there, the weight of his words sinking in, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you finally said something that felt honest, raw.

“I don’t either,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “But I don’t want to make things harder for you. Or Willa.”

Rafe met your eyes then, and for a moment, there was something in his gaze—something soft, almost vulnerable. “I know you’re doing your best. I know you’re here for her. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped at the sincerity in his voice, but it was quickly followed by a wave of confusion. Because part of you wanted to reach out, to tell him how you really felt, but you couldn’t shake the fear of what that might do to everything you had worked for. What it might do to Willa.

“I don’t want to mess this up, Rafe,” you whispered, looking at Willa, who was now calm and sucking on her pacifier in the backseat. “I don’t want to mess her up.”

He was quiet for a moment before he exhaled a slow breath. “I don’t think we will. We’ll figure it out... together.”

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough. For now.

You both climbed into the car, driving back to the house in a silence that was more comfortable than before. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you moved around the kitchen. Willa was napping peacefully, her little body curled up in the bassinet, oblivious to the tension that had been hanging in the air between you and Rafe.

You had just returned from the grocery store, and as you set the bags on the kitchen counter, you noticed Rafe standing in the doorway, watching you. His eyes were unreadable, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you—less guarded, more open.

“You need help with those?” Rafe asked, his voice quiet but steady.

You glanced up at him, surprised by his offer. Normally, he'd keep to himself, sticking to his routine without offering much assistance, but something had shifted. You nodded, handing him a couple of bags.

Together, you unloaded the groceries in silence, the rhythmic sound of cans and boxes hitting the counter the only noise between you. You both moved in tandem, a comfortable choreography born from living together for the past few months. But despite the ease of the task, the air felt thick with something unspoken.

Finally, Rafe broke the silence.

“You know,” he began, his voice hesitant but firm, “On the drive back, I’ve been thinking a lot about... everything. About us.”

You paused mid-task, glancing over at him. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him struggle with the words, as though each one weighed a thousand pounds.

“I don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” he said, his voice low. “I know we’ve both got baggage... and... I’m not exactly the best at this whole thing. But I... I want to try, [Y/N]. I want to try with you. With this... with us.”

You froze, your hands stilling as you processed his words. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, and for a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your own heart.

“I... don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rafe took a step closer, his presence commanding but not overwhelming. “I’m saying that I want something more. Something real. I don’t want to keep running from it. From this.”

You could feel the raw sincerity in his words, the vulnerability he rarely showed. It made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you wanted to reach out to him, to pull him closer. But the fear of what this could mean—what it could change—held you back.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Rafe added quickly, as if he was afraid of pushing you too hard. “But I need you to know that I’m not gonna mess it up. Not this time. I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I’m trying. I’m trying with you, with Willa... with everything.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling deep within you. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t that simple—that you couldn’t just forget the past. But another part of you was listening to him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to believe him.

“I’m scared, Rafe,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “I’m scared of what this could mean. What if we mess it all up? What if—”

He cut you off, taking a step forward, his hand gently resting on your arm. “We won’t,” he said firmly. “We’ll take it slow. Together.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your fears lighten, just a little. You looked at him, really looked at him—at the man who had been so closed off, the man who had fought to protect Willa, the man who had shown you a side of him you hadn’t known existed.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to brush against his. “I don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t feel right.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he took your hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Then don’t,” he murmured. “Let’s stop pretending.”

You leaned into him, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. The tension that had plagued the air for weeks finally began to dissipate, replaced by something warm and real.

“I’m here, [Y/N],” Rafe said softly, his breath warm against your forehead as he pressed a kiss there, tender and full of meaning. “I’m not going anywhere.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The kiss had started slow, tender, a quiet acknowledgment of everything you had both been holding back for so long. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could. Rafe’s hand cupped your face, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you let go of all the fears and doubts that had kept you from this moment.

You kissed him back, more fiercely now, your body moving closer to his, as if you could erase all the distance that had once been between you. The connection between you was undeniable, electric, and suddenly the weight of everything else seemed to disappear—just for a moment, just for this time.

Rafe’s hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, and you let him, feeling the heat building between you. It felt natural, like it was always meant to be like this. And then, in a blur of desire and need, you were in his arms, his lips trailing along your neck as your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer still.

But before you could lose yourself in the moment, a small, sudden cry from the other room sliced through the air, sharp and unrelenting.

“Willa...” you breathed, a pang of guilt washing over you as you pulled away from Rafe.

He froze too, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression conflicted as he glanced toward the door. “She... she’s probably just waking up,” he muttered, though the uncertainty in his voice was unmistakable.

Another cry, louder this time. It was followed by the sound of small hands hitting the sides of the bassinet, desperate and frantic. You both exchanged a brief look, the desire lingering in the space between you, but reality had already set in.

Rafe cursed softly under his breath and stood up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift motion. You quickly followed, adjusting yourself and standing as well, feeling the absence of him already, though you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

“I’ll get her,” you said, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the moment. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you made your way to the nursery.

Rafe hesitated for just a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then followed you. When you reached Willa’s room, she was indeed wide awake, her little face scrunched up in distress, her tiny hands reaching out for comfort.

“Hey, hey, Willa, it’s okay,” you cooed softly, lifting her from the bassinet and cradling her against your chest. “You’re alright, sweet girl. I’m here.”

Rafe lingered in the doorway, his gaze lingering on the two of you, and for a moment, it felt like everything was right. The warmth of the love you shared for Willa seemed to wrap around all three of you. But even in the quiet moments like this, the pull between you and Rafe was undeniable. The intimacy that had just been interrupted now hung heavily in the air, unanswered, unfinished.

“I think she’s just hungry,” you murmured, bouncing her lightly in your arms as you moved toward the small kitchen area. “I’ll feed her.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes still on you, though now there was a softness there. The tension between you had melted, but it hadn’t disappeared. It lingered, a silent promise between you both that things were about to change.

He walked up to you and gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We’ll get back to that,” he said quietly, a playful yet earnest glint in his eyes.

You smiled, your heart racing in your chest, both from the emotions swirling inside you and the overwhelming sense of longing for more. You hadn’t expected any of this—hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly, or for the intensity of your feelings to come flooding to the surface. But it felt right. In that moment, you knew it was just the beginning of something deeper.

“We will,” you promised, gazing at him with more certainty than you had in a long time.

And as Willa nursed in your arms, her cries now subsided into soft, contented suckles, you both stood together—quiet, connected, yet aware of the complicated path you still had ahead. But for now, it didn’t matter. In that fleeting moment, it was just the three of you.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[peaches2217]

TW: cat at the vet (photos not graphic, but the topic is sensitive so I just wanna be safe!)

@multicolour-ink @itsavee4117 @bberetd @pepperycar @eleventhhourfactor @akiiame-blog @jadeandroses @wahooitsamee @living-the-dream-yall @smokszyvverstar @vivakriredbark

I wanna thank y’all so much for the words of support. This has been one hell of a day. I’m sorry I haven’t responded individually yet, but know your kind words mean the world to me. 🫂🫂🫂

The update call didn’t really inspire confidence, so I went to the vet’s office and asked if they’d let me see her. And they did!

She’s still in rough shape. That said, she’s responsive and at least somewhat alert. She leaned into all of my scritches and pets and kisses. That’s my jacket she’s laying on; I wanted her to have something soft that smelled like home. If worst comes to worst, I got to hold her a while longer and she’ll have something familiar so she won’t be scared. I’m just praying that’s not what it comes to.

The vet confirmed the flowers she got into are what made her sick, so for now they’re just trying to flush the toxins out of her. She does seem better than she was this morning, so I’m praying she pulls through.

Thank y’all again so much for your kindness. This is a scary and stressful time, but I’ve done all I can; now we just wait.

[weewoo911]

Me: I love to study! I wish I had more time for education!

Me studying:

[holocene-sims]

a sneak peek for an upcoming (timeline tbd) update 😊

[beaft]

job title: "junior commercial SEO marketing representative"

job description: "in this role, you will be expected to implement your knowledge of email marketing automation and data-driven multi-channel strategies to deliver a varied content programme to our customers. you must also take operational responsibility for maintaining circulation of said content and display fully approached business objectives on the performance management system."

great, but what do i actually like, do

oftentimes i'll look at a job on indeed.com and i literally won't even be able to work out what it is. feel like i need someone fluent in corpo-speak to read the job descriptions and translate them for me

[chemicalarospec]

I feel like I've only learned half of what the aplatonic community has to teach me and it's already been life changing. Aplatonics "do it alone" like nobody else: Do it alone, and don't hope for anyone to join you. Do it alone, because you enjoy being alone. Do it alone by choice.

They take "self-partnered" to the next level -- sometimes it reminds me of autoromantic/sexual self-relationships, extending it to platonic connection -- you can be your own best friend as well as your own partner.

They taught me the idea of aros "replacing with their friendships" is wrong and toxic; you DON'T have to elevate your friendships if you're unpartnered/a non-parterning aroace if you don't want to. Whoever you are, it's okay if your friends don't mean the world to you.

At the dance I went to, they played a slow song and I didn't get off the dance floor. (Another, separate shoutout here to my youtuber classmate who made a video about going to prom alone, including slow dancing by herself.) I saw a group of three friends holding hands -- I wondered for a second if I should move near them, but I didn't need other people's friends to validate me; we were all already complete as we were, and alike in our subversion of the slow dance. Near the end of the song, someone from the extended friendgroup approached me, asking if I wanted to dance -- I think worrying I was lonely and wanted to dance with someone --, and I was confused for a second about why she was interrupting my dance, why she thought that was necessary.

That was the moment I realized that the aplatonic community and its ideas had changed my life. <2 thank you guys so much