#to me it would b a lot sweeter for him to take on these lessons and go back to her and make things work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

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𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔟

❥summary: what started off as sweet, innocent teenage love turned into a dark trap

❥warnings: tw physical abuse, tw emotional abuse, tw possessiveness, tw noncon (implied), abusive relationships, some mention of blood, cheating, suicide ideation

❥word count: 4.9k

thank you @obscureamor for helping me with a lot of the ideas for this fic, you’re my fave degen to lewd w ily <33

the first time daichi told you he loved you you were both sixteen. innocent, sheepish, naive but flattered as you stood under those spring cherry blossom trees, a breeze billowing, the sky a clear cerulean and pink petals showering down, clinging to your hair. he told you you looked beautiful, kissing the back of your hand and holding it with gentle fingers and the single rose he handed to you smelled so sweet. you didn’t care if the thorns pricked your fingers till you bled.

he still tells you he loves you. you just don’t know if he means it.

you’re not sure when it started to sour. maybe it was when daichi’s soft eyes became hard and his soft voice became deep, low growls instead. he was still kind and loving- but it was rather when he wanted to be. when you were being the perfect girlfriend, not the slutty whore that spoke too much to asahi and laughed at sugawara’s jokes, not the bitch wearing a short skirt and a tight top for every animalistic man on the streets to see- after all, did you want their attention or daichi’s? his fits of anger and snarls were unpredictable but time taught you lessons- answer his phone calls and messages straight away, let him choose what he wants to see you in, tell him who you’re going out and where and you dare make friends with people he disapproves of? it’s like you don’t even care about him! can’t you see it’s for your own good?

but daichi still loved you. each piercing scratch from his sharp words were always soothed with a contrasting kindness, care.

“i just want what’s best for you. don’t you trust me, don’t you trust your boyfriend?”

seeing the softness in his eyes, the hurt in his voice, you couldn’t help your heart wrenching with guilt. of course you shouldn’t have complimented asahi on his spike and you shouldn’t have let sugawara hug you and you shouldn’t have gone away for that weekend camping trip with your family without telling daichi- of course he’d panic when you returned his insistent calls hours later. you just should’ve been a good girlfriend, just like he wanted.

it never occurred to you that maybe daichi’s grips on your arm were too bruising, his words too venomous, his narrowed eyes too malicious till it’s too late.

when you’re holding that cursed stick in your trembling hands, those two pink lines blurring with the hot tears in your eyes stinging, daichi holds you. he holds you as you shake with each heavy sob, his lips pressed against your temple.

“it’s okay, y/n, it’s okay.” he whispers soothingly but you still can’t quell your rising panic, the horrible dread heavy in the pits of your stomach.

“it’s not okay!” you sob, shoving the pregnancy test stick to daichi to bury your tear-stained face in your hands. “we’re still at college, how can we have a baby?! it’s not the right time!” there’s words you don’t choke out. words that you know would reduce him to a screaming mess. maybe he’d throw around some of your belongings like the last time, maybe he’d even back you into a wall, trapping you with his taller, broader body.

“we’ve got this.” he says calmly, a gentle smile on his face as he rubs your back. “you can quit college till the baby’s older and by that time i’ll be a cop so i can support us. it’ll work out.” he kisses away your tears as he pulls you into his lap. “don’t cry, this will all work out. it’s our perfect family, a little earlier than we expected but just as good.” it sounds too well-planned. you don’t reciprocate when he presses his lips against yours, sighing slightly. “i love you.” you don’t say it back. you’re drained, your bloodshot eyes feeling heavy as you rest your head against his chest, cursing that thing inside you- his child- that has condemned you to a life tied to him. what a shame. maybe if you were smarter you’d have realised that since daichi started going to the pharmacy for you, those small ivory pills were a slightly yellower shade and sweeter than usual.

four years had passed. things only got worse.

you wake up to a prison. you’re bounded by the gold band on your left hand and the small child who you wake up with loving kisses, trying not to see your husband in those identical round brown eyes and short brunette hair. you’re locked in daichi’s grip every day of your life from the moment you wake up with his strong arm wrapped around your waist, pinning you down in his grip even when he sleeps.

it’s suffocating to live in a world of just daichi and your son. friends and family faded into a faraway dream. but it turns out he was right along.

“your friends are a bad influence.” he used tell you, pulling you to sit beside him on the couch with your infant son cradled in your arms. he kisses your cheek, a soft gesture that contrasts with the iron grip he has on your arm. “what sort of mother would you be to our son if you’re always out with your friends instead of being home with us?” you look down at the little baby, his soft, chubby, rosy cheeks, his round chin, his button nose, the brown tufts of hair. you hate the initial bitterness that consumes you like poisonous vines when you stare down at your son- daichi’s son- his warmth feeling icy cold in your arms before you push it away, daichi’s words ringing in your head. you have to be a good mother. you have to be a good mother.

eventually your friends stop leaving missed calls and unanswered messages.

the first time you’re lying on the floor, a crumpled, sobbing heap you threaten to leave. your face is numb, your vision blurred with hot tears as nothing but pain sears in the tender skin. you can barely breathe, hysterical with choked sobs rising in your tight throat and your body shivering as daichi towers over you. you scramble away when he crouches down to your cowering body, his face stoic.

“try it.” he says calmly, his cold eyes flickering down to your growing baby bump. “you’ve already disgraced your family by getting pregnant during college, do you really think they’ll ever look at you the same?” your blood runs cold as his fingers press on your chin, his touch oddly gentle compared to the bone-crunching punch he gave you moments ago. “they don’t care about you, y/n. not like i do.”

“b-but you hurt me.” daichi grimaces, his hand gently stroking the sore, reddened skin that he caused.

“i didn’t mean to. it was an accident, you know i love you.” his thumb wipes away your wet tears. “i’m sorry, let’s start over. you can’t leave me, we’re having a baby together- don’t take our son away from his dad. don’t let me be all alone.” his other hand tenderly presses on the swell of your stomach, stroking his child. “y/n?” your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath to calm your pounding heart as you try to relax into his touch.

“it won’t happen again?”

“never. i’m sorry.” you nod, trying not to let those stinging tears fall anymore as he kisses your pounding head.

but it happens again. and again. and again.

sometimes you lie awake at night after daichi’s fucked you. your throat pulsates with the forming bruises, a deep ache settling between your legs and every inch of your skin feeling tainted from the way your husband has fucked you so roughly, using you for his sole pleasure like a doll with the way he had your sobbing face pressed into the mattress, the grip on your hair burning. he sleeps soundly beside you now, that possessive arm still wrapped around your waist.

maybe you could leave.

bright fantasy burns in the back of your eyelids. a life where you’re happy, free to have friends and family, free to leave the house without the creeping paranoia of his eyes watching you. a life where you don’t have your phone checked every night, anxiety creeping in you just in case there’s a number in there that isn’t his. a life where you don’t flinch every time he reaches out to touch you, sometimes with a slap, sometimes with tender touch.

but you need money. and you’ve never worked a day in your life- the idea of a job is as much of a fantasy to you as freedom is. the cash you get is from daichi’s wallet but there’s not much to spend on: you only go out with him and your child and he’s the one to swipe his card for the bill and he takes you grocery shopping after you took too long the first few times, resulting in him interrogating you, hands pushing you up against the wall as your toddler wailed in the doorway. you don’t even buy makeup, pretty clothes, shoes or handbags because what if daichi doesn’t like them? what if he asks you why you want to dress like that, is there someone else’s attention you’re vying for?

you remember one of the times you brought up a job. it was at breakfast, your child had just turned two and was sat in his high-chair, babbling as you tried to feed him his porridge. daichi was sat opposite, sipping his coffee as he scrolled through his phone.

“hey, daichi.” he hums at you, glancing up briefly as you lower the bowl of porridge, nervously mixing the lumpy mixture around. “you know how he's older now? i was thinking, i have more time and…” your throat goes dry as he looks up at you, a small crease deepening between his brows. “well, i could do with a job. it’d be good for us to have some extra money a-and it’ll be a nice thing for me to do so i’m not stuck in the house bored all day.” you’re not sure what daichi’s thinking, his eyes trained on you as your son coos to himself.

“what’s wrong with me and our son that you want to leave this house so much?” his voice is ice cold. it makes your heart sink, the spoon clattering against the bowl from your trembling hands.

“n-nothing, i-i didn’t mean it like that.” his jaw clenches, the vein in his temple throbbing and you hate yourself for bringing it up. stupid. pathetic. stupid. what were you thinking?

“i provide for this family, okay? your only job is to be a good housewife and a good mum. do you understand?” you’re silent for a second too long and pain sears in you as he grips your jaw, yanking you forward roughly with his fingers pressing in so hard, his brutal strength excruciating. “i said, do you understand?”

“yes!” it’s a meek whimper with the hot tears that fill your ears. but daichi doesn’t look at all sympathetic or sorry as he pushes you back forcefully. the bowl falls from your hands, smashing over the tiles, the shards jagged and ugly. the loud crack startles your son, making him cry loudly. daichi lifts him out of the high chair before you can, cooing gently and kissing his chubby cheeks but his face becomes a cold, unforgiving glare as he looks down at you.

“clean up the mess.”

you never bring up the topic ever again.

your son beginning preschool is a gift. for the first time in years, there’s a lightness in your chest to be able to leave the house, holding your son’s small hands as you walk him to school. it’s liberating, feeling the breeze ripple through your hair, the sweet fragrance of flowers and pollen hanging in the air, the bustle of passing cars without the shadow of daichi looming. it’s an excuse to leave the house, to walk through longer streets and go into shops and buy the fruits you want with the money you pretend is yours and to be able to smile and speak to the shopkeeper yourself. for the first time in over ten years you feel some facade of independence. you almost feel free, like daichi isn’t your husband and you don’t have his son weighing you down, when you return to your empty home and get hours of being able to watch television and do your makeup and wear those beautiful clothes stuffed at the back of the wardrobe you thought you’d never be able to wear again. it’s empowering to catch people’s eyes for the first time in so long, to have other parents approach you with bright smiles. daichi was wrong, you think when you’re laughing with your new mum and dad friends. he’s wrong when you call your mother for the first time in years and she cries when she hears your voice, begging you to come home. other people can love you! he isn’t the only person you have.

you still scrub off the makeup and push your clothes to the back of the wardrobe every evening before daichi’s car pulls up in the driveway.

when you meet your son’s teacher, the darkness in your world fades. it’s like looking into the past, back at a time when life was brighter, when daichi wasn’t...daichi.

sugawara embraces you in a warm, gentle hug the day your son tugs you into his classroom after school. he’s grinning so wide, his hazel eyes crinkled and his grey hair still messy, his soft scent of lavender and soap still the same from all those years ago.

“it’s so good to see you, it’s been years!” he laughs, eyes taking in all of your features, scrutinising the way time has changed you.

“i don’t think i’ve seen you since the wedding.” you smile, tilting your head to admire how well sugawara had grown since you last saw him just almost seven years ago. he’s still as handsome, still smiling so vibrantly.

“i know, has daichi been keeping you locked up or something?” it’s a light-hearted chuckle but your stomach still jolts. “every time he comes out with us, he never brings you. even kiyoko said she hasn’t seen you for ages.” you force a smile, glancing away from his narrowed eyes to glance at your son waiting patiently by the doorway, his wide eyes watching with intrigue.

“someone has to stay home and look after that one.” sugawara laughs.

“he looks exactly like daichi, doesn’t he? as soon as i saw the surname and his face, i just knew he was yours.”

he opens his mouth to speak further but he’s cut off by the buzzing of your phone. you hope sugawara doesn’t notice how your hand trembles or how you blanch at seeing daichi’s name flash across the screen. he wasn’t home early, was he? would he be waiting at the front door waiting for you to walk in...in your tight dress, makeup plastered on your face and late? what would he do to you?

“i’m sorry. i have to go, i’ll see you tomorrow, sugawara.” he nods, opening up his arms in a hug which immediately you melt into, clinging to his warmth and breathing in his warm scent that just seems to make your thumping heart and churning stomach slow down, lulling you into serenity and safety. you hope he doesn’t realise you’re clinging to him for too long, hating how it hurts to pull away.

on the way home, your son asks you how you know sugawara sensei and you smile, admiring the pink blossom that flutters through the air as you tell him your stories of high school. as you approach your front door, the heavy weight in your stomach dissipates when you see daichi’s car isn’t parked out front.

“listen,” you tell your son. “don’t tell daddy your teacher is sugawara sensei. it’ll be a surprise for him.” you force a shaky smile and the innocent little boy nods, his eyes wide. he doesn’t question it.

your days become brighter. long conversations with a number saved as ‘pizza shop’ during the middle of the day when you know your son spends his lunchtimes on a playground and you’re at home, giggling and laughing away on the phone. sometimes they grow lustful and your hand sneaks between your legs, gasping and seeing white so much harder than you do with your own husband. it’s not fun not being able to see sugawara as much as you wish with daichi keeping you shackled but it only makes the moments you see him so much better. you enjoy the days daichi works later hours because then you have enough time to go into sugawara’s classroom once all the students have gone home. sometimes he lets your son sit in the reading nook in the corner of the classroom whilst the two of you sit by his desk, laughing as you feel the safety to open yourself up to him. he’s just kind. sweet and caring and his jokes always make you laugh so hard. there’s no anxiety, no tension, your body never feels the need to flinch at any of his sudden movements and you aren’t scared of saying the wrong things, doing the wrong things. other times he’ll take you and your son out to cute diners and ice cream shops where everything feels bright, natural and just happy.

all the darkness daichi keeps you in fades away with the light sugawara brings.

that’s until you mess up.

you’re trembling when you see daichi’s car in the driveway. nothing but utter fear consumes you, tears stinging your eyes with fear and feeling like you’re going to be fucking sick as your son tugs you closer down the garden path to the front door.

“come on, mummy!” he cries. he’s so innocent, he doesn’t understand the fright or why your hands shake so much you can’t even force the key into the lock. but you don’t need to. the door opens and daichi stands in the doorway. in all the years you’ve spent looking into his eyes, they’ve never looked so dark. so empty.

“daddy, you’re home early!” your son exclaims as he skips into the house, his eyes sparkling extra bright. you don’t want to meet daichi’s eyes as you watch his narrowed orbs follow the little boy. there’s sticky ice cream stains clinging to his chin and the shirt of his uniform. he doesn’t say anything, turning to you as he gestures with his head and holds the door open.

“aren’t you going to come in?”

it’s like walking to your own death.

you can’t help the involuntary flinch when he closes the door behind you, your body shaking uncontrollably as the door snaps shut. the lock clicks, the bolt sliding as he does the chain. a prison.

“why don’t you go to your room?” daichi says, brushing past you as he approaches his son and ruffles his hair. “daddy’s bought you a new toy car.”

“a police one?” the little boy gasps, his eyes widening and sparkling with adoration for his father. his father that traps you in his web of death like an evil, deathly spider. daichi smiles.

“yeah, a police car because you want to be like daddy when you’re older, right?” the boy nods and runs up the stairs, not even looking back to you sinking in on yourself. daichi’s looking up the stairs till the bedroom door snaps shut.

“please-” you don’t even get a chance to speak. you gasp, stumbling and blinking hard as tears fill your eyes, gasping as nothing but utter pain sears through your cheek. it’s warm and tender to touch, the force of daichi’s hand enough to send blood pounding in your ears, your skin throbbing. “daichi-” he does it again, a cry of anguish escaping you as his hand meets the sore skin of your cheek again. and again.

you sob as you crumple on the floor, tears and snot dribbling down your face and ruining the makeup you prepared so beautifully that day. sugawara told you you looked beautiful. happy. not anymore.

“p-please, daichi- i-i’m begging you!” your hand trembles and your body flinches as you try to shield yourself from daichi’s raised one but he pushes it away, like a feeble nothing. his eyes are fiery blackness, teeth gritted together and his cheeks flushed with the redness of his anger.

“what the fuck is this?” he hisses, harsh fingers slapping at the exposed thigh of your short dress and shoving against the shoulders of your low neckline. “what sort of whore do you think you’re dressing like? who are you dressing like this for?” you’re choking on sobs as you try to force out the words, your trembling hands trying to cling to daichi’s but he’s strong and harsher, smacking them away with stinging pain.

“n-no one- daichi, please!”

he laughs at you, mirthless and cruel as he grabs you by your hair, the pain burning in your scalp as you try to prise his hands off you, wailing out for help as he drags you into the living room.

“stop crying.” he hisses as he shoves you against the hard floor. he stands in the doorway, his eyes wide and gleaming as you scramble away from him, begging for mercy yet crying for help. “no one can help you.”

“i-i’ll tell the police.” it’s an empty threat and daichi’s harsh laugh echoes in the room, leaving you trembling as your back hits the wall. adrenaline is pumping through you, your mind screaming that you need to get out! he approaches closer, smiling calmly even though his hands are curled into fists.

“we live in the countryside, y/n. the police are my colleagues- who do you think they’d believe, a respectable officer of the law or some dumb housewife who’s been cheating on her dutiful husband with her son’s teacher?”

your heart stops. he knows. that’s murder and malice in his face and your body feels cold with every shiver. you need to get out.

it’s a flash of bravery when you get to your feet and run, your heart pounding in your chest but daichi’s too quick. too strong. he easily overpowers you, arms locking around your waist as he pushes you to the hardwood floor, your back smacking against the panels and leaving you immobilised with horrible pain wracking through your bones.

“did you not think i’d find out?” he hisses. you don’t even register his knuckles smashing against your face till pain spasms through it, your eyes tearing up and hot blood trickles from your throbbing nose, leaking into your mouth as you sob. the metallic taste makes you sick. “imagine how embarrassing it was for me to have one of the rookies come up to me and tell me they’d seen you getting all cosy with my old friend. in front of my own son.” he grips you by the scruff of your clothes only to slam you down onto the floor. every nerve in your body is alight with pain but it’s not over yet.

“you don’t realise you’re my wife. i’m not letting you leave me, i can’t be alone.” his eyes look dead. “i own you.”

he drills it into you. fucking you dry and tearing apart your walls, every thrust leaving you with nothing but pain and the possessive grip on your throat harsh and the slaps on your cheeks relentless. you can only cry that you’re sorry, beg for him to stop, beg for mercy but daichi doesn’t stop still you’re a broken mess on the floor, bruised legs spread and your wrecked cunt leaking his cum.

daichi’s eyes are softer but his face still cold and emotionless as he tucks himself into his pants, staring down at you lying pathetically on the floor.

“you need to clean yourself up.” he says, voice calmer as he pats your knee. “i’ll order a pizza for dinner.” he says it casually as he walks out of the door, snapping the door shut behind him.

you don’t see daylight again. all hours of the day are spent cooped in the house, staring at the same walls. you don’t even get to take your son to school anymore, the task being completed by daichi now and it always make you shiver when he comes home angrier after seeing the face of his former best friend- your former lover. you don’t know what he said to sugawara but the grey-haired man that was your only source of solace doesn’t show in your empty, darkened days again. it hurts, to think of how much happiness he brought to you, how heavy he made your heart beat and your world warm and now he’s nothing, just a distant memory.

does he not care? did he even ever love you? or were you just nothing to him?

the questions swirl in your mind every day spent in the same way: doing the laundry, cooking a hot meal for daichi, cleaning up every room in the house and trying not to cry when you dust photo frames of your quick, shotgun wedding- the legal trap daichi ensnared you in- and when you tidy away your son’s clothes, resisting the urge to destroy his bedroom because that small, innocent child, a mixture of your and daichi’s bloods, was the emotional trap that binds you to your captor for life. the same son that can’t even look at you now that daichi has left you ugly and bruised, the skin of your cheek welted and your nose and eyes purpled.

“do you see i’m the only one for you? you're mine- you belong to me- i love you.” daichi grunts the same words in your ear every night he fucks you. it’s always for him, his hips snapping into yours as he uses you for his own pleasure, one hand always locked around your throat, reminding that you’re stuck here, you’re going nowhere. it makes you feel dirty, tainted as he ruts into you but he’s all you have. sugawara isn’t here, your son is too young, family and friends long faded when daichi handed you the scissors to sever your ties all those years ago. all you can do is be silent and agree, doing whatever he wants you to because you’re worried one day he won’t be punching his fist into a wall- it could be your head.

you’re thankful for the day daichi forgets to lock the front door after dropping your son off to school and leaving for work. you're almost scared to pull it open, worried he’ll be standing by the gates but his car is gone. he isn’t there and the sky looks so blue despite the thick clouds, the smell of crisp, fresh air so relaxing to inhale.

it’s a chance to run.

your stomach churns with anxiety as you sit in the police station, staring at the uniformed officers who pass you by. each brunette one makes your heart jump and your body jolt before their face turns and you can breathe again because it isn’t him, it isn’t daichi and you’re still close to safety, you’re almost there to finally being free after so many countless days of just trying to survive. you can finally sleep safe without your body aching and your mind craving any source of freedom- your family, sugawara, even death would surely be better than this. maybe now once you’re free you could look at your son and see him without seeing daichi in his eyes, see him as your innocent child and not the one who chained you to your husband.

you don’t notice the narrowed eyes of the old officer at the desk.

that’s until you notice the familiar figure walking in through the doors, his brow deeply furrowed and his clenched fists hidden in his pockets.

“w-wait- what’s going on?” you’re begging, standing up as you turn to the officer who sighs as he scratches his head. he ignores you, looking straight at daichi.

“i thought it’d be best for you both to sort out.” is all he lazily says as daichi nods his head respectfully, thanking the man. but his eyes are trained on you.

“please- don’t let him take me!” you sob but daichi just sighs and the officer looks uncomfortable like he’s caught up in just a simple case of a husband and wife arguing. if only it was that simple.

“y/n, stop causing such a fuss.” daichi says, his voice gentle but you know the sharpness it can hold. his dark eyes are a warning. you can’t fight anymore. you can’t resist anymore. you already tried it and it was futile.

you’re going to die. you think it when daichi’s hand grips your arm, tighter and more bruising than it needs to be as he walks you to his car.

you’re going to die. you think it as your head knocks repeatedly against the window, your teary eyes just staring out at the empty, quiet hills that surround you as daichi fucks you. the glass of the car window is cold against the fresh welts on your cheek but each thrust is hard, forceful, punishing.

“you’re nothing.”

“i own you.”

“you’re going to regret ever thinking you can leave me.”

you’re going to die.

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anxresi · 3 years

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I could line my wall with all the posts Thomas has made about Chloe tonight. (around 50, by my count)

If you wanna read them, don’t bother.

I certainly won’t be sharing any of them

What would be the point?

Because basically, they amount to one thing...

Chloe is bad, and we’re bad people for liking her.

That’s it.

And for anyone thinking that he kids around a lot with his comments...

I’m pretty sure this is something he feels VERY strongly about.

Or he wouldn’t expand so much energy in constantly talking her down.

So no, I don’t think we’re going to get a Chloe redemption.

No, I don’t think she’ll be Queen Bee again.

No, I can’t see any real change in her behavior.

She’ll just remain the same ol’ hatable Chloe, the ‘evil’ girl that young kids apparently ‘get’ that adults don’t understand...

Yep, apparently we’re ‘dumb’ for wanting her to improve and develop!

To provide a good example for bullies out there that they can be more than just abusers all their lives!

Children couldn’t possibly grasp the delicate subtleties of self-improvement as you grow up!

It’s all so clear now!

Stupid us!

Also, her merchandise doesn’t sell very well.

Another good case for her staying as a villain, I guess.

And she’s compared to a monster and a domestic abuser.

This damaged teenage girl.

Yeah, sounds about right.

And all those tender moments where she showed empathy and love were just ‘fake outs’ all along.

Makes total sense!

And anyone who wanted more from her is just ‘delusional’ and is ‘writing the show in their head’.

Exactly!

Except...

That’s not the way it seemed on screen at all.

When she hugged Miss Bustier

Or had a heart-to-heart with Ladybug

When she risked her life as Queen Bee

Showed genuine concern for Adrien

When she finally appreciated Jean-something

And shared moments of friendship with Sabrina

These did NOT come across as part of an elaborate plot twist

From a show which isn’t exactly known for its complex writing.

They seemed to form part of a ladder...

Which would inevitably climb to a true character shift.

Where this flawed teenage girl could take a long, hard look at her life.

And realize she didn’t HAVE to be like her awful mother.

Or as power-hungry as her father.

She could learn lessons from her favorite superhero Ladybug...

Become a better person...

And an even greater superhero.

She could still keep her sassy attitude.

Just be a bit kinder and selfless, that’s all.

But, nope.

EVERY bit of niceness we witnessed on screen...

None of it was real.

It was all influenced by ‘class’.

Even her childhood friendship with Adrien was nothing.

If he was as poor as the rest of his classmates, she would’ve bullied him too.

Straight from Thomas’s own mouth.

One of the best relationships in the show, gone just. Like. THAT.

He also said to ‘redeem’ her at this stage would be too ‘unconvincing’?

ORLY?

I hate to return to critical mode...

But the show ain’t exactly known for its consistent writing.

One minute Marinette is confident around Adrien...

Next she’s a nervous jumble of words.

It sets up two new ships for Mari and Adrien with great fanfare...

Only to ditch them both two eps later.

(Also, what the **** did they plan to do with Lila?!)

In other words, this isn’t a show that plays the long game

Whether this is to satisfy the networks’ demand to air the eps out of order idk.

The point is that trying to tell us that Chloe’s ‘arc’ was some grand scheme...

Where she’d have a few sympathetic moments only to emerge worst than ever afterwards....

I simply don’t believe it.

Either this is terrible, amateurish writing of the worst kind...

Or Thomas flexed his influence behind the scenes...

And put an abrupt end to Chloe’s development before it really got started.

It doesn’t really matter which reason I guess.

What DOES matter is this petty and spiteful man sees fit to bash her in around 70% of his online interactions right now.

He could just ignore the posts but nope, he goes right in there, full throttle.

You can just tell how smart he is with his intimate psychological breakdowns of why Chloe is the way she is...

When we all know the actual reason... he just couldn’t be bothered.

Far better to create a whole new character, give her none of the depths that could make a developed Chloe such a pain to write...

And then 'reward’ her with the position of Queen Bee, for being super-sweet and as shallow as a puddle.

And oops, make her Chloe’s half-sister or whatever to further rub salt in Chloe stans’ wounds.

Is the show even gonna tackle the angst that would arise from Mayor Andre discovering his beloved wife had an affair?

Or Chloe discovering her much-loved mother is in fact a cheat?

What about coping with the SHOCK revelation that she... GASP... has a long-lost sister?

Forget it. All that rich potential for human emotions sounds B O R I N G.

Don’t forget that if there’s a major event in this show that doesn’t include the words ‘Love Square’, the makers just don’t care.

Let’s cut straight to a giant golden Zoe (who now looks like a giant golden Chloe) trying to smoosh her now much smaller sister...

While Chloe pushes Marinette and her parents towards the beast to save herself.

Because of course she does.

Never misses a trick to make Chloe look bad, does Thomas.

It’s a skill you can tell he’s very proud of.

Anyway, back to Zoe...

Despite my harsh words above, I harbor no ill-will towards you.

Your design is decent and you seem like a stand-up gal.

But I hate to say this...

You shouldn’t exist.

It was completely unnecessary from a storytelling POV to create a sibling for Chloe, and your mere presence will diminish the show.

I can say this with utmost confidence after looking at the situation from every conceivable angle...

Without even needing to watch your eps or know why you were created.

(Although, I have a pretty good idea)

Some people might say WELL GIVE HER A CHANCE!!!!

Hmm... no.

Everything the show needs to be successful with Chloe’s character...

It’s already right there.

She does not need a secret sibling

She does not require a sweeter counterpart

And she definitely DOESN’T need Thomas constantly bashing her to impressionable fans online like she’s the Antichrist personified!

Seriously dude, if you hate her so much why bother creating her?

And if you hate her so much... why spend so long talking about her?

Despite his repeated denials, I think something another user here said is very true...

She DOES live ‘rent free’ in his head.

It sickens him that, despite his best efforts, she still has so many fans.

Not to worry, Thomas.

From what I see, there are still plenty of sycophants who agree with everything you say (even if they actually don’t)

After all, it’s enough for some to get a reply from the ‘great man’ himself

Why jeopardize that by trying to engage with him in a meaningful debate?

Especially when we know how handsy he is with the ‘block’ button.

Anyway, this went on for about a thousand more words than I meant it to.

I guess me and Thomas have just ONE thing in common (Thank God)

This is a topic which we both feel VERY strongly about.

The differently is of course, I have far less power in the process, and preach to a much smaller audience.

Still, I won’t let that stop me ranting away like a loon.

Hey, if it’s good enough for him... ;)

#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #ml salt #ml rants #lila rossi

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

22. “Mine.”

35. “Bite me.”

“If you insist.”

notes; HALLOWEEN AINT OVER YET, dom!wonwoo, wonwoo has a crying kink(v minor), spanking, some dirty talk, orgasm denial!!! Gentle reminder that i dont answer any of my drabble game requests in order so i'm sorry if you’ve sent in requests like weeks ago, etc and ive not yet replied(a ton of u sent in halloween-y asks so im sorry!!)!! 😭💕but i will try to get thru more of the supernatural/sub/hybrid asks in the coming weeks!! Also still toggling with the formatting most likely just depending on the way the fic flows since some are longer than others! Probably will be putting more fics under cuts to save yall the eyesore too fjhdksf 😅💕 Thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

Wonwoo hates it when you disobey him.

Most of the time he just lectured you and let you off the hook, but there were times where he would clench his jaw and order you to get onto the bed with no further words. Tonight had definitely been the latter after he had to save you from getting bitten by another vampire.

“A-ah, Won--Wonwoo not s-so hard…” You whine; fingers curled tight into the sheets underneath you.

His large palm soothes the skin of your ass as he pouts mockingly at your back, and he quickly raises his hand and brings it down onto you again in a swift motion as you jolt underneath him. “Oh? You think you can give me orders now, huh? After you disobeyed me and almost let yourself get bitten by another vampire? What did I tell you about wandering around here at night without me?” He narrows his crimson eyes at your back before spanking you once more.

“B-but--”

“Ah, ah, I don’t want to hear any more excuses. You’ll take your punishment and behave. You know I can be much meaner than this, sweetheart. Need I remind you?”

A tear slips from your eye and falls onto the sheets underneath you when he spanks your ass again and the wetness you feel between your legs only grows to be more unbearable with each blow that follows. You knew Wonwoo could drag this out all night if he really wanted to, and you knew better than to misbehave when he was already upset with you in the first place.

Wonwoo quickly takes notice of the way your panties stick to you like a second skin the longer he draws out your punishment and he, himself, can’t deny the way he wants to fuck you and make you regret even disobeying him.

A smirk paints his features before he’s quickly and quietly shoving you over until your back hits the cold bed sheets.

“Awww, is my little disobeying brat crying? You’re so pretty when you cry, y’know? Makes me want to punish you even more.” His eyes flit across your face; taking in the way your eyes are puffy and red with tears and the way your lips quiver and pout up at him.

“N-no! Please, I p-promise I’ll be g-good!” You cry out.

He spreads your legs and situates himself in between; fingers already tearing your soaked panties off of your body before you can even get comfortable.

“Mine. You hear me? If I even see one more vampire trying to get their filthy hands on you because you disobeyed me, I’ll make sure your punishments are even worse.” Wonwoo mumbles.

He really hated punishing you, especially on days he needed to feed. But he also really hated having to save you from other vampires trying to feed from you just because you were in a place you shouldn’t have been in.

You nod quietly in return, “I’m y-yours, Wonwoo…”

“Good girl.”

An upset Wonwoo could be selfish, you had come to learn over the few months you’d known him.

“A-ah, fuck, Wonwoo!” You moan out, toes curling behind his back as he thrusts into you at an unrelenting pace. A sheen of sweat covers his brow as his lips part in harsh breaths of his own. “Fuck, your ‘lil cunt was made to take my cock, baby. So fuckin’ tight and wet and all mine.”

You nod feverishly as you cant your hips up to meet his harsh thrusts.

The head of his cock curves into your g-spot and you feel your pussy clamping down onto him in a vice grip with each passing second that brings you closer and closer to cumming.

Wonwoo licks his lips and through bleary eyes you catch the small movements.

That usually was a telltale sign that he wanted to feed once he started licking his lips a lot.

“Bite me. I can, ah, t-tell you want t-to...” Mumbling, you let your hands rest on his forearms as his fingertips dig into the skin of your waist. He grins down at you, fangs already on display as he grinds against you. “Oh? You haven’t cum yet though. Don’t you want to?” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that goes over your head as you nod back.

“Mmh, yeah, b-but you---you can treat i-it as p-part of, ah, my p-punishment… and t-then make me, ngh, cum...”

He can only smirk, “If you insist.”

Wonwoo leans over you until his lips are ghosting across the skin of your neck; hips still pistoning into you as he works to bring himself close to the edge of his own orgasm. He kisses your skin gently before he drags his fangs across the column of your neck and you tilt your head the opposite direction to give him more space.

You clamp your eyes shut just as you feel him starting to sink his sharp fangs into your skin and you can’t stop the way your pussy clenches around his cock even more as he starts to feed.

There’d only been a handful of times that Wonwoo had to feed from you without working you up first so the feeling wasn’t completely unfamiliar; just that the stinging was more apparent without the pleasure masking most of it.

Wonwoo moans against your skin and his hips start to lose their rhythm within the blink of an eye and he quickly finds himself cumming inside of you in the midst of feeding. His entire body is overwhelmed with the rush of sensations between him cumming inside of your tight pussy and the sweetness of your blood flooding his taste buds.

Could be sweeter, he thinks.

“Ngh, Wonwoo...” Whining, you do your best to stave off your orgasm as Wonwoo takes his pleasure first this time. You already feel your control slipping when his cum fills you up so much that it already starts to drip down with his cock still sheathed inside of your cunt.

When he's had enough, he retracts his fangs and starts lapping at the wound to seal it shut; making sure to pepper you skin with soft kisses afterwards.

“Always so sweet for me, baby.”

He thrusts slow down to a complete stop before he slowly eases his cock out of you; confusion on your features as he catches his breath and you clench around the sudden emptiness. “H--huh?”

Wonwoo smiles down at you gently, although this time the mischievous glint in his eyes is more apparent and obvious to you.

“Oh, did you think your punishment ended there? Oh no, sweetheart.” He shakes his head mockingly, eyes dancing down your body until it lands on his cum that drips down onto the sheets underneath you.

He slide from between your legs and you can’t help the way the tears bead up on your lower lash line and the way your bottom lip quivers; you already knew where he was taking this. “Won--Wonwoo, I--”

“You’ll stay here and be good and patient for me. Keep your legs spread too, sweetheart. And once I know you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll let you cum.”

Wonwoo slides a hand through his messy hair, licking his lips as he watches you from the side of the bed.

“I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

#wonwoo smut #vampire!wonwoo #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt fic #seventeen fic #vampire!seventeen #vampire!svt #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #🥛 anon

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harryspet · 4 years

Text

Her Millionaire Daddy - h.s.

[WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS] harry styles x named oc, daddy kink, wealthy!man, innocent!virgin!girl, hj, manipulation (dubcon?) some f'd up stuff from my dark mind

In which harry is a millionaire (duh) with a daddy kink takes advantage of his young and inexperienced neighbor.

She lived on the fourth floor of his building. One of the twenty that he owns and the one where he lived on the penthouse floor. Harry saw Grace all the time, admiring her, as she came to and from school. She looked like an angel to him, one he quickly grew obsessed with, though they only had a few interactions with each other. She knew him as the super rich guy who always greeted her in the elevator.

The first time he asked her if she wanted to house sit for him, she was taken aback, wondering how the opportunity of a lifetime could come so easily. He was offering her way more than minimum wage to do it and she was only a senior in high school. It was a little insane to anyone looking in from the outside especially since she was one girl and it was a twenty-million-dollar house.

Still, in Harry's eyes, the girl could do little wrong and it was another way to get her closer to him. He had been with a lot of women and could be with even more but, somehow, the forbidden fruit that she was seemed much sweeter than all the women in the city.

She'd stay at the house hours at the time while he was out of the country on business ventures. He insisted she make herself at home while she was there and the gifts he constantly left for her made the invitation more inviting. He watched her the whole time through an app on his phone connected the cameras around the house. Of course, he didn't mention the cameras and that was because he thought he'd catch her doing something less than nice.

But no, she spent her time watching TV, eating sweets, and dancing down the long hallways.

When he finally returned home, he expected to find her as soon as he walked inside, but she was nowhere to be seen. A big part of him was excited to see her but, when he found her crying outside his office, it seemed he was the last person she wanted to see. "M-Mr. S-Styles," She stuttered, her lip trembling, as her eyes met his.

"What happened, Grace? Did someone hurt you?" He asked, crouching down to where she sat on the floor. She was clutching her calf so he took it and examined it. There was a cut on it but it didn't seem that she was worried about it.

"I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come down here but, I-I got bored, I-I didn't mean to break anything but . . . I-I'm sorry, Mr. Styles."

"Hey, it's okay," He assured her, keeping his voice calm. He helped her up from her place on the ground. "I'm sure whatever it is, it can be replaced."

He pushed open the door to his office and found the glass that was the source of the cut. There was a lamp on his desk table that she had knocked over, "It was an accident b-but I'll pay for it, I-I promise. It probably cost a fortune, didn't it? Y-You can have all the money back that you gave me and-"

She followed behind him, rambling about how sorry she was and what she would do to pay for it. He had never seen her this . . . vulnerable and the dark parts of his mind liked it, "It's fine, angel," He hugged her and it was the first time he really got to feel her petite body against his. She accepted the touch, of course, crying into his chest. "My mother bought it for me to decorate my office with a long time ago, when I first started working, so there's really no replacing it. Besides that, I could never ask you to pay for something like that. God knows, that woman probably bought it at some boutique in Paris."

That was a lie. The only thing his Mom cared to give him was her multi-million dollar company.

She looked up at him with her big eyes, "Really? Then it's not fine. I'm so sorry, Mr. Styles. I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that," He said immediately, "I know how you can make it up to me."

She pulled away from him, a confused look displayed on her face along with her tear stains, "H-How can I make it up to you?"

This was perfect, he has all the money in the world but this was the luckiest he had ever felt. "First, let's get you cleaned up. There's a first aid kit in my bathroom. Come with me, angel." She hadn't even picked up on the new pet name he created for her since she was a bit overwhelmed at the moment.

He brought her to his bathroom and found the first aid kit underneath the sink. He set it down before he suddenly lifted her onto the counter. A yelp of surprise left her lips and her cheeks turned red from embarrassment.

He cleaned up the cut for her and she admired how a muscular person could be so gentle with her. "Do you want this one?" He asked, picking out the pink band-aid out of the rainbow of assorted colors, and grin on his handsome face.

She nodded, still blushing because he must have noticed that it was her favorite color. She didn't leave the house without her lucky pink ribbon that tied around her ponytail. He pressed it onto her skin before grabbing a washcloth and wetting it.

Her heart raced as he grabbed her chin, lifting it, so he could see her face more clearly. He wiped the dried, salty tears from beneath her cheeks. When he was done, he pushed the locks of baby hair behind her ears. "There's the beautiful girl I know," he commented confidently.

"Um . . . thank you, Mr. Styles." His eyes fell down to her thighs, where the skirt she was wearing was riding up her leg.

"I know the first thing that you could do to make it up to me," He asked, putting a hand on her knee. She hadn't even noticed it as she perked up at the comment.

"What's that?"

"You can call me Daddy instead of Mr. Styles."

"Oh," That confused her, "But you're not . . ."

"I know, think of it as a term of endearment. Like how you call a really good girl friend of yours, sister. Or a close family friend of yours, cousin."

"Okay," She nodded and he looked at her expectantly. "Oh . . . okay, Daddy."

The fact that she didn't know why he wanted her to call him that made him curious. What other things did she not know?

"Good girl, Grace, you catch on quickly," He praised her which made her grin, "You just turned eighteen, right? Then you've . . . been with a boy before?"

"Been with? I have classes with lots of boys. My chemistry lab partner is a boy," She rambled before realizing what he was probably asking, "Oh, are you asking if I've had a boyfriend?"

He nodded, "I had a boyfriend once in sixth grade. Greg Bradley . . . it lasted a week. Now he goes to an alternative school so I don't see him much. Why?"

"Nothing . . . I was just expecting you to have some experience. That's okay, you don't have to help me. You should probably get going before your Mom gets home."

"Wait-" She grabbed his arm before he could turn away from her. "I don't have much experience . . . with boys but I can still help, I promise. Just show me what to do . . . please let me make it up to you, Daddy."

He sighed, rubbing his beard as he contemplated it, "Okay, fine, but you'll have to learn fast."

She nodded, "I will."

He helped her off the counter and led her back into the master bedroom. The rays from the sunset filled the room and contrasted with dark furniture of his bachelor pad. Still, he liked the idea of keeping them open and risking someone looking in. It added to the thrill of it all.

He patted a spot on the bed and told her to sit down. He turned to face the nightstand, momentarily feeling the erection that was already pressing against his black slacks. He took a seat beside her, "You probably don't notice but there is a way that women can bring men a lot of pleasure. It works the same vice versa. Usually, people who date do stuff like this and I imagine all of your classmates do stuff like this. I guess that your mother never taught you about it."

She shook her head, "She works a lot and she doesn't really like romantic stuff." He took her hand and placed it on the erection resting in his boxers. He held it there and then he felt between her legs over the fabric of the skirt. Her body flinched out of instinct but, she didn't stop him, letting him continue his lesson.

"These parts of us can provide us a lot of pleasure, especially if they are stimulated," Feeling her, watching her react to his touch, certainly made him feel like he was going to bust out of his pants. "Do you want to try?"

She nodded nervously. He reached into his nightstand to pull out a black squeeze bottle. "Open your hands," he told her and she did. A clear liquid came out when he squeezed a drop on her hand. He learned that a little went a long way. "Rub it in."

It easily coated her palms and she brought it to her nose, "It smells like strawberries."

"What does it taste like?" He asked her curiously.

He watched her cautiously stick her tongue out to lick it, "It taste like strawberries too." Somehow, that made her a little bit less nervous.

He undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Watching her reaction, he took out his member, before moving one of her newly lubricated hands to it. He guided her for the first part, creating an up and down motion. As she got used to it, he let her go alone. Meanwhile, he undid the buttons of his dress shirt now that things were heating up.

"Does that feel good, Mr- oops . . . Daddy?" She asked after a second of her new task.

He nodded immediately, "It's wonderful, Angel," He leaned closer to her, pulling her tucked shirt from her skirt, "Why don't we take that shirt of yours off."

And they did, and he eagerly tossed it to the side. He fiddled with the pink bra she wore before exposing her pert breast. He notices that made her shy and she tried to cover them with the hand that wasn't stroking his member.

He moved so he was lying down on the bed and she was on her knees beside him, bent over his crotch. "Use both hands," he encouraged her, "And twist your hands more, angel." She listened and he got a better view of her.

Both hands allowed her to cover more length and he seemed to like the twisting motion a lot by the groans that left his lips.

"Look at Daddy, angel," He commanded, watching how focused she was getting on the task at hand. He was already close which wasn't something he was used to. Usually, he'd want her mouth as well but her hands felt like complete magic.

He pulled her beside him and that's when he kissed her. He didn't know it but her soft lips would send him over the edge, leading to his climax. It dirtied her skirt but it wasn't something she was worried about. Mr. Styles had taken her first kiss and it felt weird but . . . nice. "Fuck, you're good at that, angel," That made her blush.

There was so much left for them to do and for him to teach her. He decided that he would save taking her virginity for some time in the future. He'd keep her pure and have his little angel in every other way.

word count: 2050

Hey, guys, I’m Rae! I think tumblr is seriously lacking in some good dark fics so I decided I would dedicate a blog to writing some. Let me know if you think I should make this a series!

check out my next fic A Wive’s Duty if you enjoyed this one!

#dark fic #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles au #ceo au #ceo harry #writing #fiction #harry fanfic #one direction #fanfiction #dark harry #oneshot #harry oneshot #dark!#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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kirishibi · 4 years

Text

More Than Friends | Kaminari Denki

anon: hi i really love your writing so much! i was wondering if i could request something with kaminari and a girl best friend who has basically the exact same personality as him and basically everyone in the whole school knows they have a crush on each other but they're oblivious and just think that they're really close friends?

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x Reader

Warnings: pining, fluff, kissing, kaminari and reader are both dumb fools

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: here’s some long overdue pikachu fluff for my denki lovers. drink water and take care of yourselves lovelies 💕

You met Kaminari during your entrance exam. He was in the middle of taking down a 2-point mech when you swept in and stole his kill. He seemed furious - that was, until his eyes met yours and his annoyed expression softened to something much kinder. ‘Hey, you’re pretty good at this!’ He had called to you from across the smoking rubble of a decommissioned robot, ‘wanna team up?’ He asked, flashing a crooked smile that sparked fire in your belly. You knew if you took him up on his offer you’d only end up getting distracted from your goal, so you simply shook your head, turned on your heel, and ran off to gather more points.

You had thought you’d seen the last of him. Compared to the others you tested with, he had been incredibly casual about the process and, in your experience, people with that attitude tended not to last long. On your first day at U.A., however, as you padded your way down the freshly polished hallway leading to your homeroom class, a familiar voice called to you from behind, ‘hey, point-stealer!’. You turned to find the charming blond waving at you excitedly, and on instinct you waved back.

A friendship was born that day, something intense, unique, and utterly incredible.

Like magnets, you seemed drawn to one another. At lunch, he always claimed a seat beside you, when given the choice during practical lessons, you were each other’s go-to partners, and at USJ and in the forest, you were the first person one another looked for in the crowd of your terrified peers.

It didn’t take long for Ashido and the other girls in your class to notice the chemistry between you and start asking questions. Gradually, offhanded once-in-a-while inquiries became weekly, then daily. ‘What’s going on between you two?’ became ‘when will he finally ask you out?’ and ‘when will you guys realize you like each other?’.

But he was your best friend. You couldn’t have feelings for him.

You convinced yourself that the way your heart raced when his arm casually wrapped around your shoulders was only due to the caffeinated tea Yaoyorozu liked to brew for your class in the mornings. The sweat slicking your palms was just due to the heat, even in the middle of winter. The way you ached for his presence when curfew hit and you were forced to separate was only because you got lonely at night.

You only saw him as a friend. So, why did your chest ache so intensely when you watched him chat with Jirou before class some days, or lightheartedly flirt with the girls in class B? Why did you want to talk to him every waking moment and call him on the phone in the evenings when you were apart?

You were unaware that Denki was facing a similar dilemma - that he often laid in bed, wide awake, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room as his mind buzzed with thoughts of you, or that he flirted with others in vain hope that it could ease the ache in his heart watching Kirishima make you laugh the way he wished he could. You didn’t know that the smell of your perfume alone made him dizzy with want, nor how intoxicating he found your touch. How could you, when he kept his feelings so buried even he only acknowledged them when he awoke in the dead of night, your name on his lips as he hugged his pillow to his chest wishing it was you.

Apparently, Kaminari didn’t keep his feelings buried deep enough. With each passing day, his heart seemed to flutter a bit more at the sight of you. The margins of his notebook were littered with heart shaped scribbles, and all too often he caught himself absentmindedly writing your initials within them.

You were just friends, he tried to remind himself.

“Just,” He whispered into the dead silence surrounding him as he laid awake at three a.m. for the third night in a row. He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest. He wanted more.

The realization fought its way into the forefront of his mind in the brief seconds it took to unlock his phone and pull up your number. It burned itself there as he scrolled through your latest text conversation. His thumbs moved before his mind was ready, typing a quick message and pressing ‘send’ before he could talk himself out of it.

KAMINARI: hey can we meet up sometime before first period?

He didn’t know why he assumed you’d be asleep at that hour, you were even more of a night owl than he was.

(Y/N): uhh don't we always?

KAMINARI: yeah but like somewhere a bit more private this time. i wanna tell you something

(Y/N): just meet me in the kitchen and tell me now

KAMINARI: no

(Y/N): coward

Denki took a nervous breath, his heart pounding against his chest. He was anxious, yet excited at the same time. Even knowing the awkward conversation that would ensue, he still looked forward to seeing you.

KAMINARI: ok fine

(Y/N): yay! just dont rat me out when you get caught sneaking around past curfew

Chuckling at your response, he forced himself out of bed and tugged on an old hoodie, combing his fingers through his hair to fix the bedhead you loved to tease him about. With your dorm building as new as it was, he wasn’t too worried about squealing door hinges or creaky floorboards waking your classmates. No, the thunderous pounding of his heart seemed a more likely threat as he tiptoed down to the common area on unsteady legs.

The faint glow of your phone’s flashlight lit up the cheeky grin on your face as he entered the kitchen. “I totally beat you here, slow-poke.” You whispered, leaning closer so that he could better hear you and sticking your tongue out playfully. The close proximity set his every nerve alight.

“I bet you were already down here when I texted you,” He quipped, trying stall, but you wouldn’t let him.

“Okay, so what’s this thing you wanna tell me? You can’t beat around the bush with me, Denki, I know your tricks.” You took a step back to press against a granite kitchen counter and hiked yourself up to sit on the cool surface. He stood in the space between your knees, hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets so you wouldn’t notice their trembling.

Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he willed himself to finally say what had been at the back of his mind since the entrance exam. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for rejection, and forced the words out before they could catch in his throat, “I like you, a lot, and if you don't feel the same way that’s fine, but I just need you to know, because you’re just so pretty and funny and-” another, softer pair of lips against his own was all it took to end the blond’s rambling. He leaned into the kiss without a second thought.

Needy fingers slipped from his pockets, starting on the knees bordering his waist and slowly working their way up to your hips. Your arms looped around the back of his neck, legs hooking behind his torso and pulling him closer so his chest pressed flush against your own. Your movements were awkward at first, clumsy and uncertain, but you quickly found a gentler, more comfortable pace as the kiss deepened and bitter anxiety melted into something much sweeter. You savored the toasted-marshmallow taste of his lips, the slight tickle of his fingertips as they explored the soft skin of your upper thighs.

As much as you wanted to continue, you pulled away just as his tongue dipped past the part of your lips, knowing if you waited a moment longer you wouldn’t have the willpower to stop. Golden eyes locked with your own as you paused to catch your breath. “Shit, I think I like you too,” you admitted in a low whisper, unable to deny how he made you feel any longer.

“Wait, really?” He matched your tone, soft yet excited.

You playfully punched his upper arm, “Yes, dummy! Apparently it’s obvious, Ashido won’t stop telling me to ask you out.”

“Oh,” Kaminari pondered for a moment before continuing all too nonchalantly, “well, wanna be my girlfriend? She can’t pester you about it if we’re already together.” He held your gaze as his fingers laced with your own.

As much as you wanted to say yes, you couldn’t help but hesitate. Your cheeks grew warm from embarrassment as you muttered, “Only if you’re sure. I mean, I don’t want to pressure you or-”

It was Denki’s turn to silence you with a kiss - a quick, tender peck to halt your train of thought. He pulled away just barely to whisper against your lips, “You aren’t pressuring me. I don’t want anyone else, (Y/n). Haven’t since I met you, and I never will again.”

#kaminari denki x reader #kaminari x reader #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #kaminari #kaminari fluff #bnha fluff #kiri writes #requests #bakusquad x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #denki kaminari x reader

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Note

#NotAPrompt saddly:( Anyways hello hope ur having a good! So from an amazing writer to your fellow beginner writer. How do you organize ur ideas or outline it before you start a sonamy story?

Thank you and great question!~

When you start any story, there needs to be a written Outline, or spine, of a story. Loglines also help to organize a clear direction for your story– example: Sonic, a free-spirited and adventurous hedgehog, and his friends must collect all 7 chaos emeralds to stop Eggman and a released, ancient god of destruction from threatening their world. - Logline I made up for Sonic Adventure. A logline is one sentence that clearly establishes a character and conflict.

Once you have some ideas, let’s say maybe you have the middle worked out or the exciting incident, you then create an Outline. Act 1, Act 2, Act 3. Act 2 should be the longest and biggest portion.

In my prompts, I usually hurry through Act 1 to get you to the exciting incident and then smoothly transition through a wrapped up conclusion.

Act 1 should be small, almost equal to Act 3′s plot points. Act 1 is you introducing the normal life before something twists it around, the conflict. The conflict is the starting point to Act 2, where you begin the rising action.

(the most simplest form. There are other arcs, such as ‘Character Obstacles’, ‘Character Tragedy’, and ‘Character Hero Story’. There are a few more too, but those are the ones I write the most of :)b There’s even a romantic one! Look them up and find your favorites in your own stories, comics, or movies ;)b)

For example, in my lastest Sonamy story, the turning point for the characters was when Amy also got sick with Sonic. This changed the normality which was that Sonic was originally sick, and now, the conflict begins of how are they gonna hide from the robots while both being squished together sharing leaves and turning ditzy in their sickness? I then lead that to Act 3, where silliness does ensue but they end up having a memorable, although disgustingly funny, platonic moment together that turned sweeter and even romantic as the conclusion unfolded. (Prompt: x)

Granted, this story is NOT a work of art haha XD I was inspired to make it, but the plot to it was extremely simple, which is why no real ‘action’ takes place and it’s all character emotion that drive the plot forward.

Many ways a character can express or subtly hint at their emotions. Sometimes they’re impulsive and transparent, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. (AMY) Sometimes their shy or subtle, opting to mask their emotions deep below the surface until they can’t help but ‘leak’ their emotions out during the climactic reveal and ‘breaking point’ for their character or plot summary. (Sonic.) Sometimes their so out of it, or not even in tune with their own emotions that they play them off and go cynical with it all. (Sometimes, I see this as Classic Sonic, but not always.), there are many more. Find them all! lol

As for my bigger fanfictions, I do make a summary, which is the full story condensed into a page or so worth of ‘notes’ as I refer to them. It’s not as neat as labeling Act 1-3, but it does give me a basic outline.

For Example, you can’t use your summary outline for your summary to your story. Your summary should have the reader asking questions so they’ll want to engage with the story. Instead, your Summary Outline should look like this:

Sonic and Amy, during a normal fight with Eggman, suddenly mention a tough topic for the both of them that causes some bickering and tension. When the tension accelerates beyond normal teasing, the two end up accidentally losing their tempers and hurting each other. Eggman, deciding drama’s not what he wanted today, sends a fully-armed attack at them while their distracted, thinking it a good opportunity to catch Sonic off-guard. However, though Sonic looks like he’s about to get whammed by the ambush, Amy pushes him out of the way and they survive. Amazed, Sonic rushes over to her, “Amy! W-why… Why did you jump in the way like that? I don’t get it… Weren’t you mad?” He hovers over her as she weakly squints an eye up at him (NOTE: This part is getting more detailed, can you tell? It’s the climax of the story and should have much more detail and notes going on. Even dialogue that can be rewritten or changed. It’s okay to have notes like this for your most dramatic scene, and keep the rest of it generally swift, but try not to go too vague. If you do, you may forget how you wanted to write that part, and that’s NO GOOD! -Sonic reference, lol!) “S-Sonic… Don’t you understand?!” She wobbly gets up to lean up into his face, “No matter how mad you may make me, or how awful our bantering gets, I will still love you no matter what!” (Exciting Incident, Amy’s confession, which will lead to a reaction in not only Sonic but the audience. This is the height of the climax and when things start to go down, but Sonic’s climax is right after this– example: ) Sonic, taken back by her words, suddenly smiles, “I can do no wrong by you… can I?” Amy smiles, and when Sonic realizes she’s not teasing or messing around this time, loses the smile and has his eyes scan her for any sign of humor. When none is found, he embraces her, “…Thank you… Amy.” (This is the point you begin the falling action, which is also the beginning of Act 3, which starts at the ending of the climax and continues towards the resolution, the lasting effect or result of the climax. What has now changed for the characters? What is their new reality? In Drama, there needs to be a few players: Victim, Villian, and Rescuer. Rescuer has to lose every time, then the dynamic will change to Victim as a Villain, and Villian as Victim. This then turns into ‘Creator of the drama’ which is neither victim nor villain, to two supports, ‘Challenger’ Sonic then turns to Eggman, cocky and snarky as usual, but this time, with an arm around Amy’s shoulders. They fight together and beat Eggman, still lightly joking with one another, but not as bad as before. Eggman is confused, defeated, he asks what happened. Amy and Sonic confidently look to each other, and together, wink slyly and say, “Friends fight together!” Before Sonic says, “Doesn’t mean they’ll leave ya if you have different opinions then them.” He smiles to her as she nods and continues his sentence for him, looking to him with love and admiration. “It just means you’re two different people, and that’s just fine by me! Otherwise, the world would be so boring!” (The lesson is usually delivered towards the end of Act 3, maybe not as strongly as this was. Sometimes, the lesson can be subtle and should be too. You don’t want to write ‘on the nose’ unless you’re writing for children very young, but in my opinion, Children are super smart too and pick up on a lot! My advice is to write strongly and powerfully even if it’s just for children audiences. They’re smarter than you think!) “And dull!” Sonic remarks, as the two of them laugh. Unable to comprehend their strange mood swings, Eggman grips his head and ducks down, frowning profusely, “Ahh… Now I have a headache…” (

And by the end, your audience will have understood the climb your characters took to reach that resolution, and they–themselves–reach a conclusion to their emotional relief. (People hate cliffhangers so much because you leave the Audience suspended in their need for closure, but that also addicts them to your story… so Authors can’t help but use it XD But we hate having it used on ourselves!!! Curiosity doesn’t kill your story, only your cat! And the satisfaction of knowing brings it back ;)b)

Was it hard for your characters to reach a conclusion?

Did that help? Lol This plot I made was rather simple, but I hope it taught it some stuff I like to think about when making a story! :D Drama is SO IMPORTANT! Remember to think of their character cores as well, what traits could create conflict in them and in others? What traits could help them learn and cope through that trauma? These are all important, and Romance usually has a ‘revelation’ or ‘impulsive excitement push’ around 10-15 pages/minutes when writing or watching a romance plot. I call it the ‘push’ because you can tell the writer is trying to nudge the two together. In film, you see them get bumped up against each other and then apologize but the girl moves her hair as a distraction and the boy looks away, but both are nervous and awkwardly blushing. That’s another ‘push’ in my book towards the romantic subplot.)

(Then they notice their cute, they keep seeing each other, la-de-dah, even AMY wanted this to happen!)

(Remember, this is Amy’s ‘day-dream’ sequence, it’s interesting how she thinks of Sonic, versus how he actually portrays himself. Useful info for writing Sonamy XD)

Alright! How’d I do? What Sonic and Amy stories will you create, my precious Anon friend? Good luck! And I can’t wait to see the success you find!

#ask cutegirlmayra #sonamy #sonicxamy #sonic #sonic prompts #sonic fanfiction #cutegirlmayra ask #cutegirlmayra #story writing #me story advice #me advice #cutegirlmayra advice

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if-found-return-to-gusu · 3 years

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Happy Birthday to Me Pt 11

I thought this would be a great time to throw back another jar of wine. I’d almost made it to the tray of Emperor’s Smile when all of a sudden I was lifted BODILY FROM THE FLOOR AND CARRIED TO THE FUCKING STAGE AGAIN.

DAGE I THOUGHT YOU WERE COOL!!! :( :( :( :(

And apparently SangSang had shoved Lan Zhan up there too!?!

“Come on guys,” I said, trying to save us both because Lan Zhan looked positively mortified, “Clearly Lan Zhan doesn’t want to sing again!”

I started to walk off the stage, determined to throw a wrench in whatever scheme those blasted Nie brothers had concocted, but I was too late.

DaGe stood in my way as that damn song from the end of Grease started playing. That fucking ‘you’re the one that I want’ song.

Y’ALL AIN’T SLICK

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING YOU ASSHOLES

YOU THINK YOU’RE CLEVER

YOU THINK YOU’RE SO SMART

I kept trying to get off the stage but I think DaGe might qualify as an actual landmass because no matter what direction I tried there he fucking was!!!!

And then

The wind up had finished and the song had gotten to the words.

And I heard Lan Zhan start to sing.

In that smooth deep voice of his (Which is nothing like John Travolta but ooooh so much sweeter).

I swear to god I almost passed out when I heard him singing “I’ve got chiiiiils. They’re multiplyin”.

Like HOLY FUCK

IS THAT ALLOWED?

IS THAT ALLOWED????????????

Well of course I had no choice but to join in now! If Lan Zhan wants to sing it with me then that’s what he’s gonna get.

But I decided that if I was gonna suffer, so was everyone else.

I picked the highest register falsetto screech I could manage.

‘YOU BETTER SHAPE UP! CUZ I NEED A MAAAAAAAN”

That’s what you get, Nie Brothers. I hope you’re satisfied.

Dickwads.

Not gonna lie though.

Once I got over the initial mortification, it was actually kinda amazing.

I know they threw us up there as like a sort of weird pseudo confession on my part but what it ended up as was a beautiful disaster.

(So Me in a nutshell)

In the end some of the girls started doing backup vocals for us from the crowd too! You know those parts in between where the background singers just go “Oooh Oooh”.

It was great!

I was exhausted by the time it was over though. We took our bows and I ran off to get the drink I’d been coveting. I wasn’t gonna let anyone stop me this time.

Taking an entire bottle for myself, I went back to sit and watch the next performers.

Wen Ning finally worked up the courage (or drank enough wine) to get up on stage himself. And of course he chose one of the absolute BEST karaoke songs ever. Bohemian Rhapsody!

Fuck yeah! You can’t just have karaoke and NOT sing Queen! It’s against the law of parties!

He started off so shy (which worked because the song starts slow anyway)

But with our encouraging cheers he soon got past that. Soon he was screaming “MAMAAAAAAA OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH” into the mike with all the passion his quivering body could muster!

It was amazing.

We all went in like he was singing the greatest performance ever. With lots of whoopings and “SING IT MY BROTHA!” from Wen Qing.

Apparently Lan Xichen took it as a personal challenge and decided to pull out the next obvious must have for karaoke parties and started singing Journey.

I swear hearing that man rasp out “JUST A CITEH BOI!!”

This one turned into everyone singing because how can we resist?

Oh my favorite though had to be when the Nie Brothers went up and started singing “Gaston” from Beauty and the Beast.

OH my god that was incredible.

DaGe got up there with a chair and started sulking while Nie Huaisang chose the track. And Nie Huaisang went along with the perfect LeFou.

He leaned his elbow on DaGe’s shoulder with this sycophantic pout on his face.

“Gosh it disturbs me to see you, DaGe, looking so down in the DUMPS”

OH god it was PERFECT. He changed out every single “Gaston” with DaGe.

And DaGe’s voice was PERFECT as Gaston! Sign the man up for Broadway!

He started that bit about eating raw eggs (gross) and just BELTED out the word “barge”

Like Fuck. This man had to be taking singing lessons on the sly or something!

(I’m gonna ask SangSang about it later if I remember. Because he HAS to be taking lessons.)

After that the party started to wind down a bit. After another couple songs I looked over to the cake, thinking about stealing another sliver, and was dismayed to find out how little of it was left!

So while everyone was distracted I snuck over to steal…. Well the rest of it. Haha.

I hid it in the cafe’s fridge to be wrapped up more… securely later.

It’s my party. I do what I want. And I wants cake!!!

Fortunately everyone was so worn out as we all started crashing from our party high that no one noticed my temporary absence.

Like a fucking ninja!

Well…. I say I took all of it.

Evidently I missed a piece. The cakes that Lan Zhan had been holding had somehow never left the chair I’d apparently set them on.

We discovered this by way of Lan Xichen’s ass.

Sat square on ‘em.

Never let this man have alcohol. Just. Don’t do it.

Well he screamed, which made A-Lian scream, which made Lan Xichen cry. It was a mess.

And that is the note my birthday party ended on. Lan Xichen started wailing in DaGe’s arms about how he’d ruined Lan Zhan’s cake and how sorry he was. For his part DaGe seemed to be handling it well with some comforting pats and quiet ‘there there”s.

The kids looked dead on their feet by then anyway so it was probably best to end the celebration anyway.

I couldn’t have had a more perfect birthday.

I watched as everyone started cleaning up. I tried to help a few times and got scolded again, so I just kinda sat there to people-watch instead.

It wasn’t until the peacock went to get Shijie’s coat that I remembered!!!!

I can’t believe that we almost forgot the most important tradition!

I launched myself up to her crying that we forgot!!

And Jiang Cheng being himself tried to shame me by saying I was too old, to which I proclaimed that I was absolutely NOT too old. Never too old!

Shijie just giggled at us before giving me my owed kisses. One cheek kiss per year I managed to not die.

Except she miscounted! I only got 28! I didn’t want to be ungrateful, but birthday kisses are birthday kisses! And if I’m expected to live to 30 I’m gonna need all 29!

I pointed out to her that she still owed me one.

“I know I know,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. (And people wonder where I learned it from. Pshh). She pulled a tube of BRIGHT red lipstick that I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her wear before. She put it on carefully before pulling me in to leave the largest kiss she could on my forehead, no doubt leaving a perfect red kiss mark on it.

She just laughed at me when I claimed that was cheating.

Cheating at what? Who knows. Still cheating. But she just booped my nose and kept giggling.

That’s when we noticed A-Ling trying desperately to get her attention with big watery eyes.

“Aw, A-Ling. Do you want a kiss too?” she asked sweetly, laughing again when he nodded with an even bigger pout. She knelt down to give him just as big a kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright red mark that surely matched mine exactly.

And then she straightened up to kiss her husband who seemed to be sulking like he wanted one too but wasn’t willing to admit it. Looked like a bright red polkadot on his forehead. Right between the eyes. He looked ridiculous.

A-Lian’s subsequent kiss was more pink than red at this point as she was slowly running out of lipstick. It was around this point that I felt a bump at the back of my legs. I looked down to see little A-Yuan peering at the display of kissing. His finger was hooked in his mouth, a habit we’re still trying to break him out of, and he looked so shy as he watched. I shifted a bit so Shijie would notice.

Fortunately she did. I think he might have run away if I’d pointed it out verbally. She crouched next to him with that heart melting smile that only Shijie can do and asked him if he wanted a kiss too. He squeaked a little but nodded anyway and was rewarded with his own pink stamp on his cheek. He giggled and hid his face in my leg.

She straightened up and the mischievous glint was back in her eye as she focused on Jiang Cheng who seemed to just be milling in the area, pointedly looking out the window rather than at the festival of smooches.

“You want a kiss too, A-Cheng?” she asked teasingly. He scoffed and claimed he was too old. Clearly it was a ruse because he absolutely did want a kiss but his pride wouldn’t let him accept one easily.

Too bad for him DaGe had no such issues. He pushed him aside and claimed he’d take it for him then. Shijie laughed then and gave him a nice big kiss on his cheek.

This set off a chain reaction as a rather disgruntled Jiang Cheng was forced further to the side by a still overly excited Lan Xichen who was whining that he wanted a kiss too! DaGe happily obliged, kissing his forehead (Much to Lan Xichen’s quite obvious delight).

Jiang Cheng, to his credit, did his best to look like he wasn’t sulking, but our Shijie can see through us no matter what front we put up. She’s magic like that.

“You know you want one too, A-Cheng,” she said before snatching him and planting the biggest kiss yet on his cheek before he could manage to squirm away.

He couldn’t quite disguise how happy this made him. Adorable.

He’d better be ready for his 28 kisses when it’s his turn this weekend.

After that it was all hugs and tears (the latter pretty much exclusively from Lan XIchen who seemed to remember his butt was full of cake). I’m pretty sure some people double back for more hugs. And Gamby and Aunty Yi each added to my collection of kisses, each taking a cheek.

When Jin ZiXuan’s turn came for a second I thought he was actually going to hug me. I was ready to fight for my life, but it wasn’t needed .

“Oh look!” he said instead, “It’s WELL past 10:30 now. Wei Ying! Happy Birthday you dick!”

Cheeky bastard.

He was immediately slammed by the consequences of this by his son tattling on him to Shijie, claiming his father had said a naughty word.

I was still laughing as they shuffled out of sight when I got a solid smack on the arm.

Why do people keep hitting me????????????? Whyyyyyyyyyy

“Happy Birthday,” he said, not quite looking me in the face. You can’t expect Jiang Cheng to be sentimental AND make eye contact. Not possible. “Keep in touch, will you?”

I promised I would and pulled him in to one last hug, which he actually let me do without a fuss.

The Wens were the last group to shuffle out but not before I caught Lan Zhan and A-Yuan sharing a big hug.

Oh my heart. ARGHHHHHHHHHHH.

They seemed to be talking to each other about something but I couldn’t catch what either was saying.

And then they were gone.

Huaisang left shortly after them after some more birthday wishes and just like that I was alone with Lan Zhan.

We looked at each other in the dim lights of the Cafe. I could look at him forever.

Once again this man had somehow managed to leave me speechless. Just… Everything he had done for me came washing over me all at once. We moved at the same time, each of us pulling the other in for a tight embrace.

I thanked him again for giving me the best birthday I’d ever had. And he made my heart freak out again by telling me that I was worth every moment of it.

I felt him place a kiss on the top of my head after saying that.

Fuck Lan Zhan! Do you want me to hit 30? Because if you keep this up I’ll die before I even get half way through my 29th year!!!

He told me to go upstairs while he locked up the cafe and finished the cleaning that wouldn’t be able to wait for tomorrow.

#wei ying #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #cql #the untamed #mdzs #Long Post #(Modern AU!)

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tvobsessed96 · 4 years

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Top 10 TV Episodes of 2019

10. Marvel’s Runaways- Season 3, Episode 10- “Cheat the Gallows”

I’ll be the first to admit that Runaways is not a perfect show. I didn’t like season 1 all that much, mostly because Pride’s motivations and ultimate goals were too poorly defined for my tastes. I’m not expecting a big expositional villain monologue, but I at least need to understand what the villains are trying to accomplish and why. Otherwise, it’s hard to get emotionally invested. Having said that, season 2 was a marked improvement, and I wound up falling in love with this scrappy bunch of kids anyway. Which makes it all the more disappointing that the season that proved Runaways could be something great if it tried ended up being its last. I enjoyed season 3 a lot. The writing was better, the performances stepped up to match, and as annoyed as I am that the evil alien family trying to kill everyone plot was dropped unceremoniously without a satisfying explanation partway through the season, the battle with Morgan le Fey was filled with enough danger and tension to make up for it. But rather than choose that climactic battle as my entry for this list, I went with the messy, emotionally fraught aftermath. “Cheat the Gallows” could have been a simple, somewhat patriarchal story about a man going back in time to rescue the woman he loves, but it ended up being about a family clawing its way back together after wrestling with a shared trauma. Which, come to think of it, is pretty much exactly how the show started! Talk about coming full circle. The episode also ended up being a bit of a meditation on time itself, as the older versions of the Runaways contemplate the fact that Gert’s death led them down the paths that made them who they are. Once that’s erased, so are they. This realization gives the Runaways, mostly Nico, a chance to think about what they would have done differently, leading to a powerful scene in which Nico talks with her past self and pleads with her not to make the same mistakes she did. I bet we’ve all wished we could do that at one point or another. I also like that the episode ends with the sense that, with Gert saved, the Runaways might just be okay. Even if the note left for Alex by his murderous older self adds an ominous note to the whole thing.

9. So You Think You Can Dance- Season 16, Epsiode 15- “Live Finale Winner Announced”

So You Think You Can Dance continues to be the best reality competition show no one’s really talking about. Cat Deely has been robbed of her Emmy for best host too many times, but I digress. This show is always the highlight of my summer, and season 16 was no exception. Another season of amazing choreography, amazing performances, and a truly deserving winner that I can’t really be mad about, even if I was rooting for other dancers just as much. It was another really fun season, and I can’t wait for season 17! There’s a reason Fox keeps renewing this show despite the ratings, is all I’m saying.

8. Emergence- Season 1, Episode 9- “Where You Belong”

It’s true that the first half of Emergence’s freshman season was a bit uneven. The writing isn’t quite as compelling as it could be, and it does rely on some sci-fi cliches. But I’m a sucker for a good found family story, so I stuck it out. And I’m certainly glad I did, because the mid-season finale was pretty great! An excellent sense of stakes, and enough tension to keep you on the edge of your seat without skimping on the sweeter moments. It culminates in one of the most brilliant twists I’ve seen on TV since The Good Place! I’m curious to see what the rest of the season will bring.

7. Veronica Mars- Season 4, Episode 3- “Keep Calm and Party On”

I’m willing to bet that this will be the most controversial pick on the list, for several reasons. No, season 4 of Veronica Mars was not as good as its first, and I have problems with the way Rob Thomas and Kristen Bell handled the fan response to the ending. And that’s before we get to the episode itself. Many long-time fans of the series took serious issue with the extended party scene in this episode, given that Veronica was drugged and raped at a party in high school. There’s also her mother’s own history of alcoholism to consider. But while I absolutely sympathize with those concerns, Veronica’s decision to let loose and party still feels understandable to me. Given everything that’s been going on with the bombing case, she's searching for some kind of release. And if there was a year where the desire to just forget about the world for a while, past traumas be damned, felt all too real, it was 2019. And that’s why “Keep Calm and Party On” makes the list.

6. Single Parents- Season 1, Episode 23- “Ketchup”

Will and Angie are clearly the Jess and Nick of Single Parents, which is fine. But part of me is sort of hoping they don’t get together, because their friendship is pretty great. In this episode, Will takes Angie to a terrible fast food restaurant to confront Graham’s dad about abandoning her while she was pregnant. Will ends up using a bunch of food metaphors to explain to Derek what an amazing mother and person Angie is, and it’s fantastic! Add that to Douglas and Poppy realizing their feelings for each other, and you’ve got an episode that’s as completely hilarious as it is completely sweet. If you haven’t watched this show, check it out! It’s pretty delightful.

5. Stumptown- Season 1, Episode 3- “Rip City Dicks”

Stumptown was the best new show this fall, hands down. The first half of its first season didn’t end quite as strongly as it started, but it gave us some fantastic episodes along the way. “Rip City Dicks” is one of them. Dex is hoping to apprentice under veteran PI Artie Banks in order to earn her license, but gets a cold, hard dose of reality when he sells out their client and her child to make a quick buck. Dex does learn a valuable lesson from it, though. Exactly what kind of private investigator she doesn’t want to be. The episode ends with an amazing, very feminist monologue from Dex promising Candace that she’ll get her kid back. It’s a fantastic performance from Cobie Smulders, and I’m really looking forward to the rest of the season! If you’re not watching Stumptown, you’re missing out.

4. This Is Us- Season 4, Episode 7- “The Dinner and the Date”

America’s favorite cry-worthy family drama gave us plenty of great episodes this year, including a much-anticipated origin story for Beth Pearson. Out of all the possible options, I ended up choosing “The Dinner and the Date” as my entry for this list. On one hand, you’ve got a sweet story of young love set against the backdrop of Philadelphia. On the other hand, you’ve got a young Black kid trying to form his own identity in a way his white adoptive parents just can’t understand, no matter how hard they may try. It’s a beautiful episode, and I look forward to seeing what 2020 brings for the Pearson family.

3. Marvel’s Cloak and Dagger- Season 2, Episode 10- “Level Up”

Honestly, I could have chosen any episode form Cloak & Dagger’s stellar second season for this list. There’s the near-perfect three episode run of “B-Sides,” “Vikingtown Sound,” and “Two Player.” There’s also the dark, thought-provoking Emma Lahana showcase that is “Shadow Selves.” But I ended up choosing the finale, because it felt like such a perfect culmination of everything the show had been doing up to that point. Tandy and Ty take on every obstacle Andre throws at them with an abundance of grace and an unshakable faith in each other. The choice to have them literally fight each other’s demons was inspired! But the most powerful moment comes when Tandy gets the chance to confront her late father after everything she’s learned about him since his death. She tells him in no uncertain terms that she, and only she, gets to decide how big a part of her he is. She says that the only thing she can do in the face of adversity is level up. If there’s a lesson to take into 2020, it’s this. If you think you aren’t strong enough to face what the world sends your way, level up. Turn your dagger of light into a sword of light. Stare oppression in the face and say, with your whole being, “Not today.” Disney and Marvel made a big mistake in cancelling Cloak & Dagger. Huge.

2. Good Trouble- Season 1, Episode 8- “Byte Club”

I hope anyone who thought Good Trouble wouldn’t be as powerful as The Fosters is really embarrassed after these first 20 episodes, and I mean that in the best possible way. Good Trouble is everything a great spin-off should be. It keeps the spirit, heart, and progressive mission of the original show, while also feeling like its own distinct entity. It introduces an amazing cast of new characters to love, without forgetting to check in on the old ones every once in a while. “Byte Club” has to be the best offering the show’s given us so far. Facing rampant gender and race discrimination at work, Mariana rallies the women of Speckulate to come up with a set of tips to help them assert themselves in the workplace. The advice they come up with is solid, and actually really useful in real life. But it’s made even more powerful when Mariana points out that women in professional spaces shouldn’t have to jump through all these ridiculous hoops just to get recognized for having an idea! And that’s not the only powerful feminist moment of the episode. Callie discovers that the reason Rebecca ended up as a clerk for Judge Wilson is because her previous judge sexually harassed her, and her powerful family refused to do anything about it other than get her out of there. I’ll admit that Callie had no right to insert herself into that situation and guilt Rebecca into coming forward in the following episode, but it’s still an amazing scene featuring excellent performances from Maia Mitchell and Molly McCook. I’m so excited for more Good Trouble in the new year!

1. The Good Place- Season 3, Episode 13- “Pandemonium”

The final season of The Good Place has been fantastic so far, and several of the most recent episodes almost made this list. But at the end of the day, “Pandemonium” is the kind of episode that makes me want to make television. To make something that will touch other people the way this episode touched me. I could go on and on about the beautiful love story between Eleanor and Chidi. But instead, I want to focus on the final scene, in which a distraught Eleanor calls Janet into her office and demands the answer to, well, everything. What does it all mean? Because if there’s no greater meaning, then the universe is just made of pain, and Eleanor can’t accept that. Janet’s response is what really makes the scene sing, so I’ll quote it here. “If there were an answer I could give you to how the universe works, it wouldn’t be special. It would just be machinery fulfilling its cosmic design. It would just be a big, dumb food processor. But since nothing seems to make sense, when you find something or someone that does, it’s euphoria.” To which Eleanor replies that all she can do is “embrace the pandemonium” and “find happiness in the unique insanity of being here, now.” And then she steels herself, opens the door, and welcomes her soulmate who has no idea who she is into the afterlife. This is the same philosophical bent that made me adore Angel so much, and it works just as well here. This episode aired all the way back in January, and these sentiments got me through awful headline after awful headline in 2019. Catch up on The Good Place if you haven’t already. It will be going off the air soon, and our lives will be all the worse for it.

#marvel's runaways #runaways #so you think you can dance #emergence #veronica mars #single parents #stumptown #this is us #cloak and dagger #good trouble #the good place

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 5 years

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i'm writing a fic rn where the batkids keep like. walking into bruce's space and forcing him to comfort them (ya know the whole "they walk bodily into him" line) which he's doing an okay job of not messing up. but i'm wondering your take on how he'd like really react to each of the kids just planting a hug on him, or what those hugs would be like, or what would cause them (idk take your pick lol)

Oh anon, imagining BatFam hugs is my absolute favorite thing. I think it would depend on where he is in his relationship with each. Like, is this a vignette of when they first come to him? Their first hugs? Or is this later? A Jason-as-Robin hug is very different from a Jason-as-Red-Hood hug. I’ll try to answer fairly generally, but note that timing and circumstances might change these answers.

Dick hugs with his whole body, and he doesn’t ask. (That is, he asks other people. Lessons on consent were and are a big deal. But not Bruce.) When he was a kid, he was forever launching himself at Bruce. Pouncing from above, hanging from Bruce’s neck, his waist, his leg. Squeals of “Catch me, B!” that come out of nowhere, so much that Bruce still breaks out into a cold sweat sometimes when he passes a particular staircase. Dick Grayson doesn’t do anything halfway—not anger, not love, not bravery, not hugs. He doesn’t need a reason, either. Getting comfort, giving comfort, happy to see you, sorry to see you go, any occasion all do. It was a little much for Bruce, in the beginning—everything about Dick was too much in the beginning—but he couldn’t imagine life without it.

Jason’s hugs are fierce, but all the sweeter for their fierceness. He was careful to keep out of arm’s reach his first few months in the Manor, to circle in Bruce’s orbit but not his influence, and would shy away if Bruce reached for him without thinking. If given a hug, Jason tends to go stiff and awkward, too out of touch with his own knobby limbs to know what to do with himself. When he does start reaching for Bruce on his own, it’s with a dismissive roughness, as if shouting don’t read too much into this. All playful pushes and teasing slaps. But when he latches onto Bruce—in fright, in sorrow, in relief after a bad scare—his grip is tight and fierce fierce fierce, like he’s trying to pull Bruce directly into his heart. Mine, you are mine, you are mine.

It is a long, long time before Bruce finds out what Tim’s hugs are like. Too long. They wasted so much time. Bruce was prickly and dying, Tim was struggling under the load of not letting him die and desperate not to be pushed away. If asked, Bruce would have said Tim wasn’t a touchy person. That is incorrect, a lie Tim tells to himself as well as to others. Touch him and he melts. Physical contact to Tim Drake is like a heating vent to a cat in the middle of winter. He huddles against broad chests and basks in affection. It’s like he’s eating for the first time in his life, too scared to go too fast, too scared it will all go away.

Cass is a lot like Dick, very physical, very open. Even though she comes to Bruce after he’s changed, after he’s different, she gravitates to him like a moth to a light. Hers is the language of movement, after all. She doesn’t cling like Dick, though. She prefers light touches—gentle pokes to the side, kisses to the cheek, resting her head against the warm, flat spread between Bruce’s shoulder blades, being tucked up under his arm. She’s a scary person, so scary even her siblings are scared of her and what she can do, but Bruce never is.

Stephanie is… Well. Her relationship with Bruce has always been rocky. She’s too much like him, and they spark like flint. But they hug. A lot. It started because she was trying to annoy him, and because she needed it, and because she wanted to hide her need beneath the disguise of annoying him. But then she found out that Bruce Wayne smells amazing. Now every hug hello, every surprise embrace, is to annoy him, to comfort herself, and to find out what the aftershave of the day is. (And there is literally no way for anyone to make her feel embarrassed about this, because she’s Steph and because she does it to every single person in the Wayne household. They all smell ridiculously good and it’s unfair.)

I’ve already talked about Damian’s relationship with hugging here: lurkinglurkerwholurks.tumblr. com/post/180416328632/damian-for-the-headcanons

And I don’t know Duke well enough yet to comment.

#headcanon #headcanon time #batfam #batman #batfic #my fic #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown

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quatschmachen · 5 years

Text

Watchin’

Me writing a fic out of spite and desperation.

Also me while writing Ben’s dialogue: why doesn’t anyone write him?????????????????

XXXXXXX

“Nuh uh, there is no fucking way you are going to get me into that,” Bert exclaimed as he eyed the tiny little rowboat with high suspicion. This entire plan had been bad, and he knew he should have nixed it the moment Ben got that gleam in his eye, which usually meant suffering for him.

“Luh, steady ‘n sweeter than condensed milk ‘n tae,” Ben exclaimed as he gently rocked the boat out into the water, “ready for ye to steps in goes fer a row.”

Crossing his arms, Bert looked away, eyes crossing across the water of the tickle, wondering why he was even visiting Ben. Sure they were best friends who tended to get into a hell of a lot of trouble, but usually it was Ben visiting him, not the other way around. The other way around meant he had to touch ocean, and not that he was scared or anything, but somehow Ben had no fear of the water, and even laughed about how once his house got swept out by a tsunami and he had to row it back in and – if that wasn’t terrifying he didn’t know what counted.

“Seas calmer den grandmudders underpants on de line b’y,” Ben continued to cajole, as he held the boat steady, “Steps in will ye, or I’s be tellin’ de odders how afeared ye are of de sea.”

With a huff, Bert stepped into the water, glad he had learnt his lesson from last time, and was wearing the fishing waders and rubber boots, as he quickly stepped into the rowboat, and sat his ass down onto the wooden plank seat.

Not liking the wide smile Ben had as he gave the boat a strong push and hopped into it in an action of pure fluid poetry, Bert clutched to the seat and watched as Ben picked up the oars, and began to use big long strokes to pull them farther away from the shore. Ben was the type of man who seemed to hate silence, and as he stroked be hummed to himself, taking them along the shore line, and turning a corner, until he finally reached his unspoken destination.

“Dids I ever tells ye ‘bout de time I’s got swept out to da sea with da tsunami?”

“Yes.” Bert responded as he took a glance, appreciating that it was rather rugged and beautiful. The landscape that is.

“So’s y’knows Betty and Juanita me neighbours at de time, guess ye could be calling dem lesbians, afore Juanita be meetings Betty she had a husband, bad man, not sad he drowned, ‘n she had tree kids, which she ended up raisin’ wit’ Betty wha?”

Bert was half wondering if he should be listening intently or tuning the other man out. It wasn’t that hard to tune him out, he thought as his gaze drifted over the bunched up biceps as they gave a lazy stroke in the water. Ben’s hair was glistening in the sun, one of those rare sunny days, Bert appreciating the man not wearing a hat, while at the same time glad he had managed to remember to keep his on.

“-so’s the great great great great great great great granddaughter—hell dat the righ’ number of greats? Shit I dunno, n’yways, the great times infinity granddaughty she’s been runnin’ a local microbrewery off by Bona Vista ‘n the beers better ‘n any in Alberta-”

Bert perked up, as he frowned at the other man, “Excuse me? You took me out here to insult Alberta beer – the BEST beer in the entire world?”

“Jus’ checkins to sees if yer listenin’ b’y,” Ben had the audacity to wink, “I tooks you here to see dat actually.” He gestured with his chin in the distance.

At first Bert assumed it was the iceberg. Sure it was nice, but visiting the other man he had seen plenty of icebergs, breathtaking, beautiful, the usual. He didn’t see why he had to be in a boat to see it.

That was when he saw the spouting mist of an exhale, as a whale surfaced.

“B-Ben—is that.”

“Mmhmm, figures ye mights wants t’ be seeings them afore they’re all dead, if ye looks closely there be a lil’ tot aside the mudder.”

Heart racing, not in fear, but in self-preservation, Bert stared as the two right whales moved closer. “M-mother and child? Aren’t we in a whale murder zone?”

Ben let out a loud guffaw, “Lord jaysus me son, ye thinks I’d be to widya to a whale murder zone?”

Bert did not respond, absolutely fixated, staring at them. He was not sure how much time had passed, but he felt himself slowly relax as the whales moved on, away from them.

“Been seein’ dem in dis area for a while, figures it would be nice to shares it wit’cha.” Ben explained. He looked up to the clear sky and frowned, “Best be getting’ in now, the weathers ‘bout to change.”

“The sky is clear,” Bert said in puzzlement.

“Can smells it, gonna be a nasty storm, best be inside afore fog rolls in.”

Bert knew better than to question further, and settled into his seat, his gaze flickering to the other man, taking in the sweat on his brow as he rowed them around the bend to where they had pushed off. Perhaps Ben was not the most beautiful of people, certainly didn’t have anything on a pretty lady, but there was something about him that kept drawing his gaze.

Not letting himself think any further on that, he let himself feel relief as they reached shore and he once more set foot onto the solid ground, helping to drag the boat up out of the tidal line, and up onto the truck.

As Ben started it, he watched with amazement as the heavy fog began to roll in, and wondered if they would get to where they were staying in time.

#iamp #iammatthewian #projectcanada #aph alberta #aph newfoundland #pc: alberta #pc: newfoundland #quatschfic #what is this #dirtymoney #iamp alberta #iamp newfoundland #project canada #trashoilmoney

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egopocalypse · 6 years

Text

25 Days of Egos- Day 1: Mistletoe

Marvin never expected this to happen when he put the spell on the mistletoe.

Well, technically Chase was the one to come up with the idea, but it was Marvin’s own fault for falling for it.

So now here he was, stuck in the doorway to the kitchen, unable to move until someone else got trapped under the tiny plant. And the only way to break the spell was to kiss.

Oh, he was so going to hex Chase when he got out of this.

“Marvin??”

The magician turned around to see none other than Jackieboy Man staring curiously at him. Marvin flushed in embarrassment, and was grateful that his mask covered most of his face so that it hid his expression from the superhero.

“Oh. H-hi, Jackie.” Marvin stammered. Immediately he started to curse himself for his stupidity in his head. Why did he have to be the one to find him?? This was going to ruin everything. Stupid Chase.

“Are you alright??” Jackie asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Marvin didn’t know if Jackie was concerned about him or was just wondering why he was standing in the middle of a doorway like an idiot.

“Y-yeah, of course!!” Marvin exclaimed, flinching as he realized he had just shouted in Jackie’s ear. Smooth, Marv. Now he definitely knows something’s up.

“Are you sure??” Jackie asked, confusion evident in his tone. Marvin deflated, figuring it was better to get it over with now than have some other poor soul- or worse, Anti- get trapped and be forced to participate in this mess of a holiday tradition.

“No.” Marvin stated, sounding a little sullen as he admitted the truth. “I put a spell on the mistletoe that would keep whoever walked under it stuck until they were kissed by someone else under the spell, and now I’m trapped in the doorway until someone else falls for this stupid thing.”

Jackie quickly glanced up at the mistletoe before turning his gaze back to Marvin, an unreadable expression on his face. “Have you tried to break the spell with your wand??”

Marvin’s face flushed even more, and he rubbed his hand behind his neck as he refused to meet Jackie’s eyes.

“Well, you see…” Marvin started, dragging on the last word. “I uh, I may have left my wand in the kitchen after I performed the spell, and I was going back to get it when I got stuck.”

Jackie peered into the kitchen, and was able to see Marvin’s wand lying innocently on the counter from where he was standing. He stood for a moment, his eyes flicking back between the mistletoe and the magician, before he finally came to a conclusion.

“Well, I guess then I’m going to have to get you out.”

Marvin’s eyes widened considerably, and he paled as he realized what Jackie’s plan was. “B-but the only way to break the spell is to kiss!!”

Jackie’s eye had a hidden gleam to it, and he smirked as he stepped closer to the boundary of the spell.

Marvin tried to convince Jackie to stay back, that it wasn’t worth it for both of them to be trapped, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. As Jackie finally was encased in the spell’s confines, he noticed that Marvin stepped back a little bit to make some room for him, even though they were restricted to the width of the doorway.

“We can probably get away with j-just kissing on the cheeks.” Marvin said, twiddling his thumbs as he seemed to close in on himself. “It technically fulfills the requirement for the spell, and then we can just move on and forget about this-”

“What if I don’t want to??” Jackie interrupted. Marvin’s head whipped up as he stared at Jackie, his mouth agape.

“W-what??”

“I said,” Jackie took a step towards Marvin, his eyes gazing into Marvin’s soul. “What if I don’t want to??”

And with that, Jackie cupped Marvin’s face into his hands, and kissed him firmly on the lips.

Marvin let out a gasp of surprise, but let his eyes flutter shut as he started to return the kiss. It was slow and unsure at first, but they quickly fell into a rhythm and started increasing the intensity as they grew confident that the other wouldn’t pull away. Marvin pushed down Jackie’s hood so he could entangle his fingers in the hero’s hair, and in response Jackie pushed Marvin against the doorway. It was like time had stopped, and they were the only thing that was real in each other’s worlds. They felt like they could do this forever.

Until they heard the sound of a photo being taken.

“Got ‘em!!” Chase yelled, taking a second to scroll through his pictures of the couple. Marvin and Jackie’s eyes burst open and they jumped back from each other as the moment dissipated. Marvin winced as his head slammed into the doorway, having had nowhere else to go, and he rubbed the sore spot to try to soothe the injury.

“Chase!!” Jackie exclaimed, a little irritated at the man for ruining the moment.

“Well, it was about time you two got together!! You two were just lollygagging and hoping the other would say something, I just finally made it happen!!” The father said, trying to defend himself. His eyebrows suddenly rose as he remembered something important. “Oh hey, I gotta tell Schneep about this. He owes me twenty dollars!!”

Before Jackie could get a word in, Chase turned around and took off in the direction he came from, disappearing around the corner in a flash. The hero let out a frustrated sigh and turned back to Marvin, an unconscious smile tugging at his face as he laid eyes on the magician.

“Do you wanna go after him, or…” He trailed off, hoping that Marvin could understand what he was trying to say.

Marvin glanced in the direction Chase went before his eyes met Jackie’s once again. “I’ll let him off the hook for now. It’ll make our revenge taste so much sweeter if he’s not expecting it.”

Jackie hummed in response as his eyes flicked to Marvin’s lips. “And for now??”

“For now,” Marvin leans in and pecks Jackie’s lips, quickly pulling back to speak. “I’m fine with just staying here and kissing you.”

Jackie looks gobsmacked for a second, but then a lovestruck grin appears on his face. “You know what?? I’m fine with that too.”

#egochristmas #jacksepticeye #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #marvelsepticeye #marvin x jackieboy #egochristmas day 1 #River’s Writing

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onanomnomotopoeia · 7 years

Text

A Bringer of New Things, Chapter 4

Fandom: Arrow, Rating: Explicit, Pairing: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AU, Pre-Island Oliver/Felicity. WIP. What if Oliver never met Samantha, but met Felicity instead? Told mostly vignette-style.

Finally, another chapter! Thank you all for hanging in there. We’re coming up on the end of the chronological chapters, basically this one and the next. You’ll notice that the chapters are getting longer, and the next is going to be really long, so I’m considering splitting it up so that a) you don’t have to wait as long for an update, and b) so that it’s not as unwieldy to read. If I do, I’ll note it before the chapter. @peacefulboo has been instrumental in keeping me encouraged and this chapter on track; thank you so much for your help. Also, this is likely obvious by now, but: there’s still no update schedule for this fic. :)

Oliver’s cheek was still stinging when he walked into the mansion.

He’d just come from the Lance house, where telling Laurel had gone as horribly as he’d expected it would, although she hadn’t yelled or cried as he anticipated. He wished she had, because the deep, quiet hurt that filled her eyes as he came clean had been so much worse than tears.

And then there was her anger, which built up slowly as his confession settled in, and finally erupted as the word pregnant fell like an anvil between them. The slap had been a surprise only because Laurel was so much more skilled with words than violence, not because he didn’t deserve it.

Weirdly, though, the slap had been something of a relief, because even her anger was silent. As painful as being struck had been and still was, at least it was over, and he didn’t have to feel the oppressive dread of her reaction anymore.

In the end he’d gotten exactly what he wanted when he decided to fall into another woman’s bed: he and Laurel wouldn’t be moving in together. Actually, they wouldn’t be doing anything together, since she no longer wanted anything to do with him.

He held no illusions that it would blow over this time. Their on-again, off-again relationship was permanently off.

It was a truth that felt terrible.

He wanted a drink desperately, but the house was too busy with people to indulge from his parents’ expensive liquor–his father had business associates over to finalize some last-minute details before their trip, and his mother and her staff were doing their part to make them all comfortable–so he decided to raid his own collection of booze he’d hidden away for private parties in his room. It wasn’t as good, but at this point any alcohol would do.

He’d just gotten into his closet and the box tucked away behind some clothes when he heard his bedroom door open. “Ollie?”

Thea. Her door had been open when he passed it in the hall, and she must have heard him come in. He closed his eyes, took a slow, calming breath, and then shoved the box back where he found it. Then he grabbed a few polo shirts in one hand and a suitcase in the other, and walked back out of his closet. “Hey Speedy, I was just packing. Wanna help?”

With as much as he’d been away lately, and with their parents so busy with the company, he knew Thea had to be lonely. She’d spent more time with Raisa recently than she had with her own family, and now Oliver was leaving again for weeks over New Years, a holiday they’d always celebrated together.

It was just more guilt to pile on to his already steep mountain of misery, and Oliver contemplated kicking Thea out so he could get quickly and thoroughly drunk and forget he’d ever gone to Boston in the first place.

But Oliver told himself that there would be plenty of time for that while he floated on a yacht in the middle of the ocean, so instead he set his things on his bed and reached out to ruffle Thea’s hair, which was already falling wildly around her shoulders.

“Hey, don’t, I just brushed it,” she whined, smoothing the dark locks back into place.

He forced a laugh. “Sorry, I couldn’t tell.”

Thea stuck out her tongue, then hopped up on his bed and crossed her legs. She frowned when she looked up at him. “Why is the side of your face red?”

He hid a wince. “Dry skin,” he said, doing his best to turn his face away as he unzipped the suitcase and opened it to lay flat on the bed.

“You don’t get dry skin,” she said quizzically.

“Well, I do today,” he said shortly. “Do you want to help or not?”

“Yes, geez,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Then she mumbled, “Someone’s grumpy.”

He sighed. “Sorry. I just really need to get this done. We’re leaving this afternoon.”

She seemed to stew over that while she took out the folded clothes he’d put into the suitcase, rolling them instead and tucking them back in. After a few minutes, she spoke up hopefully, “I could come too? It won’t take me long to pack after I help you.”

“You have school,” he said.

“So do you,” she shot back.

“The spring semester doesn’t start until February, I’ll be back in plenty of time.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly; classes at Harvard did start late, he just didn’t really intend to be there when they did.

Except, depending on what Felicity decided, Harvard might be back on the table as more than a cover story by the time he and his Dad got back. He’d need to be there to support her, wouldn’t he? The thought made his heart beat uncomfortably in his chest, a weird feeling that could have been excitement or trepidation.

Not for the first time, he wanted someone to talk to, someone who would help him sort out his feelings, understand his fears, and reassure him that he was doing the right thing. His mother would know what to do, and he’d very nearly gone to her the night Felicity called to break the news, but then a rush of shame and embarrassment had stopped him.

Telling his mother meant explaining what he’d done–the cheating and the drinking–and he just couldn’t bear disappointing her like that again, especially after she’d been so approving and happy about his going back to school (and even that had been a lie he’d have to explain). He knew he’d have to tell her eventually, he couldn’t hide it forever, but he just wanted to put if off as long as possible.

He briefly considered telling Tommy, but dismissed it nearly as quickly as he thought it. Tommy was his best friend and a good guy, but he was too much like Oliver to be any real help. Tommy would likely try to convince him to run, and considering he was constantly fighting that instinct already, Oliver would cave. Oliver also didn’t want the reminder of what assholes they’d been, worrying about being ‘trapped’ by a girl, like their own behavior had nothing to do with it.

“So I’ll miss a week at school,” Thea shrugged, totally unaware of his inner turmoil, “lots of kids do for vacations.”

“It’s not a vacation, Thea, it’s a business trip. You’ll be bored out of your mind. Besides, you’ll never convince Mom.”

“No, but you might. You could talk to her, ask her to let me out of school so we can spend time together,” she said plaintively, eyes big.

Another bolt of guilt ran through him. At twelve, Thea already knew how to work people, how to manipulate a situation to her advantage. It was a lesson that the Queen kids learned young. But he could tell that wasn’t what she was doing. She honestly wanted to go on the trip so that she could spend time with her brother and her father.

It wasn’t that kind of trip for Oliver, however, and he’d always drawn a line between Thea and whatever trouble he could get himself into. If anyone ever asked why, he would say it was because she was still so young, that she had plenty of time to find her own vices.

But he was self-aware enough to know that, deep down, it was because he didn’t want it for her. She was sweeter, smarter, better than he was in every way. She was actually going to do something with her life, despite the studied aimlessness she observed running after him and Tommy all the time.

Oliver needed room to breathe, to get his head on straight. And yes, space to bury his anxiety and fear and pain in whatever substance he could get his hands on for a few weeks. He couldn’t do that around Thea, and that meant she couldn’t come with them.

“Thea,” he said, sitting down next to her on the bed. “Honestly, I just need to get away by myself for a while.”

She crossed her arms, and familiar gesture that indicated she was preparing to dig in her heels. “You’re going with Dad,” she pointed out stubbornly.

“But on a work trip. Trust me, Dad won’t want me anywhere near his investors or whoever he’s going to meet,” Oliver said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“You know that’s not true. He’s probably super happy that you’ll be on a boat where you can’t escape from his business 101 lectures.” When that made him smile, Thea deflated. “You hate those lectures. Why do you even want to go?”

He sighed again, knowing now that there was no way to avoid telling Thea the truth, or at least a version of the truth, without hurting her feelings. “Laurel and I broke up.”

She lifted a shoulder. “So? She’ll calm down and you’ll say something to fix it and you guys’ll get back together. Faster if you stay, too.”

That depressing summation of their relationship didn’t help his mood. “We’re not getting back together this time.”

When she saw he was serious, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. “Really? Why not?”

There was no way in hell he could tell her it was because there was chance she was going to become an aunt at thirteen to a kid whose mother wasn’t Laurel. “We’re just not.”

Thea and Laurel were close. They’d hit it off immediately after Oliver first brought Laurel home, and that rapport was probably a major reason he and Laurel had hung on as long as they did. So it’s not surprising to Oliver that Thea would take news of the break up hard.

Her small frame bunched up defensively. “But why-”

“Thea!” He said curtly, then made an effort to soften it when he saw her lips tremble. “I’m sorry, I know you’re disappointed. But that’s between me and Laurel.”

Thea turned away from him and started rearranging the contents of his suitcase. He couldn’t see her face, but he was willing to bet she was still upset. “Laurel and I may be broken up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t see her anymore. She still likes you.”

He heard her sniff, then huff. “Of course she still likes me, I’m awesome.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, he had to fight back a grin at her bravado. “Eh, you’re okay.”

She turned quickly and punched his arm. “Hey!”

He laughed. “Your fists are so tiny, it’s like being bitten by a mosquito. Actually, I take that back, at least mosquito bites hurt.”

She punched him again, this time harder, and it did sting a bit. Not that he would ever let on. “Pathetic.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed, but she looked less upset at least. He threw an arm around her shoulders. “When I get back, we’ll take a whole day and do something fun, okay? I’ll even pick a school day so you can play hooky.”

“Fine,” she replied, and her tone was annoyed but her mouth was pursed, like she was trying not to smile, so he could tell that she was pleased.

“Why don’t we–” His suggestion for their ditch day was cut off by his cell phone ringing, and when he pulled it out of his pocket, he went from marginally relaxed to fully tense again at the name on the screen: Sara.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Thea, and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Hello?”

“Hey Ollie. Where have you been? I thought you’d call.”

He had told her as much a few days ago. Why don’t I call you, and we’ll get together? He’d thought it was smooth, and the subterfuge of it had been exciting. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Yeah, uh, sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Laurel told me that you were going back to Harvard. Big move. Kinda sad, you’re going to be on the opposite side of the country.” There was a teasing, sexy tone in Sara’s voice, and normally Oliver would appreciate how well she hit her target, but all it did just then was make him feel cornered. And then what she actually said registered: she’d talked to Laurel? When?

He knew that Laurel and his mother talked, so it’s possible Laurel had heard about Harvard from her earlier in the week, and it could be that Sara had heard it from Laurel then too. But if she’d talked to Laurel today, then she would know about Felicity and…everything, and if she knew about that, why was she calling?

He didn’t have the energy to puzzle it all out. He just wanted to get away. “Look, Sara, I really don’t have time to–”

“Yeah? Are you going on that big trip to China with your Dad? Laurel mentioned that he wanted you to go.”

“I am,” he said impatiently. “And we’re leaving soon, so I really need to get going.”

“Well, I was just thinking that it would be a great chance for us to get to know each other a little better, you know, away from everyone else.”

“Sara…”

“Seriously, Ollie, it’ll be great. It’ll be just the two of us, having fun. And then when we get back, if you don’t want anything more than fun, no one needs to know. I’ve never been anywhere, Ollie, and we could go together.”

If only he didn’t recognize the longing in her voice, didn’t sympathize with what it felt like to want adventure, something new. And, for a moment, he thought: what harm could it do? It’s not like he was trying to maintain the illusion of being faithful to Laurel anymore, and if Sara didn’t care about sleeping with her sister’s (ex-)boyfriend, why should he? He and Laurel weren’t together anymore.

And Felicity…well, Felicity would never know. He told himself she would never need to know. What he did with Sara had no bearing on what they did about their situation, did it? And the release of meaningless, fun sex, away from all his impending responsibilities, sounded incredibly, temptingly good.

At least until a terrifying thought jolted into his brain: what if it happened again?

Oliver had been too drunk at the time to be responsible, but Felicity had been careful (or at least had tried to be) when they had their one-time fling, he was certain of that. Their time together was supposed to be meaningless and fun too, but she’d still gotten pregnant.

What if it happened again, this time with Sara? There would be no coming back from that, for Oliver or Sara or Felicity, or anyone.

What the hell had he been thinking? Of course it mattered if he ran off with Sara, of course it would matter to Felicity. If he did this, even if she never found out about it, he would know. And if she did find out, it would ruin whatever tentative trust they’d built, and she’d never trust him again with anything, let alone a potential child. He’d never know what she really wanted, just what his irresponsible, thoughtless decisions made her think she had to do.

“Ollie?” He heard Sara ask, and realized she was stilling waiting for his answer.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, wishing badly that he’d lived a better existence before now, hell, just a week before now. So that all of his bad decisions weren’t coming back to bite him all at once. “No,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear how his voice wavered. “Sara, we can’t.”

“No one would know,” Sara repeated, sounding uncertain, and he understood. He knew his sudden change in behavior was confusing, and probably unkind. “I could sneak in–”

“No, you can’t,” Oliver interrupted, firmer now, knowing that Sara was willful enough to do just that. “I don’t want you to, and the crew won’t let you on, so don’t try.”

“Ollie, I don’t understand,” Sara said, obviously taken aback. “This is what you wanted, what changed?”

“Ask Laurel,” he said tightly, swallowing before adding: “I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.”

He didn’t wait for her reply. He ended the call, and went back into his room to finish packing.

~*~

It was cold and windy at the docks that afternoon, particularly in the large shadow of the Queen’s Gambit where Oliver stood with his phone, waiting for his call to connect to Felicity.

It did after the fourth ring, music audible in the background. “Hello? Oliver?”

“Yeah, it’s me. How–how are you doing?” he asked, hating that he couldn’t even check on her without being awkward.

There was rustling, and then the volume of the music went down so that he could barely hear it. “I’m fine, I guess. Not much has changed since we last talked,” she said, her voice sounding muted in places, like she was stuffy from a cold.

“You sound like you’re sick.”

“It’s December in Boston, everyone’s sick,” she joked. “But yeah. I can’t really have most cold medicines right now because of the–” She broke off, then: “It’s okay. It’s not that bad. How are you doing?”

Oliver figured she was just being polite, and he honestly didn’t know how to answer that, so he skipped right over it. “We’re heading out in a few minutes, and I wanted to check in.”

“You said you would.”

There was a surprised yet amused note in her voice that made his lips twitch. It was a lightness he hadn’t expected, but definitely welcomed after the day he’d had. “Yeah, I did. You didn’t believe me?”

There was a beat before she answered. “Let’s just say I’m trying to keep my expectations low.”

“Fair enough,” he said lightly, mood dampened again, but he wasn’t offended. He got it–she still didn’t know him very well, and he hadn’t given her many reasons to really trust him so far. And he was still trying to trust himself; it would be a long and difficult road to being responsible to and for himself if today was any indication, and he was a man accustomed to things being easy.

“I talked to Laurel.”

“What?” This time she was very surprised, and there was a sound of a sharp movement and then a soft eep! from far away, like she’d pulled the phone away. A second later she was back. “Sorry, I, uh, I spilled my coffee. Sorry. What?”

“I talked to Laurel,” he repeated, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

“Oh. How did it go?” she asked, although her tone indicated that she knew exactly how it went.

“Not great.” He remembered the sound Laurel’s palm had made against his face, and his inadequate, hurried explanations after, how they seemed to go right through Laurel’s pained eyes. “She was…very upset. We’re not together anymore.”

She blew out a breath. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry you told her, but I am sorry about the rest of it.”

All he had for her were platitudes. “It’s not your fault.”

“I cheated,” she said, sounding hard.

He closed his eyes. He’d wrecked three lives just because he hadn’t wanted to tell the truth, and hearing yet another confirmation of that sucked. “No, I cheated. I lied. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Felicity scoffed angrily. “I feel like I did.”

His emotions had been all over the place the last few days, and for some reason hearing that simple statement–I feel like I did something wrong–brought on an intense flash of irritation, because he understood that she meant it was his fault she felt that way.

He was annoyed that she was still upset with him over the lie of omission that brought them together. What had he expected? Did he think she would just forget it, that she would praise him for telling the truth to his girlfriend about his cheating, when she clearly saw it as the most basically decent thing he could do?

And the thing was, he had thought she’d forgotten it already, or at least moved on from it. He had expected praise for doing the difficult but right thing. He wanted some acknowledgement for how hard telling Laurel was, and he wanted Felicity to think that he was a good person for having done it.

In that moment, he wished for so many things, none of which were particularly good: he wished he was on the boat already, sailing away from the reminders of his problems; he wished Felicity and Laurel would absolve him, and in lieu of that, just forgive him. He didn’t want to earn it or wait for it, he just wanted it done. He wished for a shortcut, so that he could jump ahead to a place where he didn’t have to feel guilty or think about it anymore.

But there was no shortcut, and he didn’t know what to say to make it better, and he couldn’t help the petulant words that came out of his mouth. “I said I was sorry.”

He heard her suck in a breath, and then nothing for a long moment, long enough for Oliver’s face to redden with shame. And then: “And that’s it? You think you can just say sorry, and that’s it, everything’s fine?”

“Felicity–”

She ignored him, and her voice was thick, with frustration or tears or illness, he didn’t know. “Is that what you expected with Laurel? That you would admit you cheated, say you were sorry, and that she would just forgive you and you guys could go back to the way things were?”

“No,” Oliver said, passing a shaky hand over his head, “no, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Which didn’t really help, seeing as they both knew he did. “Okay, well, I’m not sure what you did mean, because some of us can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t go back because you lied to me and I slept with you and now I’m pregnant, and I don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen that way or that you being sorry about it will change it.”

“I’m–”

“Do not say you’re sorry. Don’t. Just don’t, Oliver,” she said raspily, and when she pulled away to cough in the background, Oliver thought he couldn’t possibly feel worse. “I’ve got to go.”

And he was wrong. Alarm had him clenching the phone hard. “Wait, Felicity, don’t hang–”

A beep announced the end of the call, and Oliver cursed. He stood, staring at the side of the Gambit and trying to figure out what to do next, when he heard his mother call his name.

His father was just moving away to board the yacht when Oliver started down the pier on autopilot, his mother waiting patiently for him.

He still wasn’t quite present when he stopped in front of her, and Moira frowned. “Is something bothering you? I’ve hardly seen you the past few days.”

Oliver resisted the urge to laugh bitterly, but just barely. What wasn’t bothering him? “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? If it’s about going back to school, I don’t want to you to be concerned,” Moira said, reaching up to adjust the collar of his coat. “It’ll be hard work, but I know you’re more than capable. And I’m very proud of you for looking to the future.”

God, if only she knew what his future looked like. “Right,” he said, voice clipped.

Moira searched his face. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

“Not right now,” he said, afraid that if he said anything, he would just tell her everything, and then he’d never be able to leave. “But there are some things we should talk about when I get back.”

Moira drew back, regarding him seriously. “Well, that certainly sounds ominous. Is this something I need to get our lawyers involved with? Because if it is, I’m not sure about the prudence of you leaving–”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing like that, Mom. I’m not in trouble,” he said, sighing. At least not the way she meant. “And it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

She stared at him for a long moment, until she seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth. “Alright. You can tell me anything, Oliver. I’ll always help you in any way I can.”

He gave a small smile. “I know, Mom. I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get home.”

“Good,” she said, then held up her arms for a hug, which he leaned into gratefully. “Now, you’re going to behave yourself, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.” It was one of the easiest promises he’d ever made–it’s not like he needed more to worry about.

“I love you so much,” she said, and it was exactly what he needed to hear right then.

“I love you too, Mom.” He squeezed her tighter, just for a moment, and then he let her go.

~*~

Oliver spent the better part of the next five days holed up in his cabin, either drunk or asleep or staring at the ceiling, trying to drum up the courage to call Felicity back.

He should have tried immediately after she hung up, or at least later that day once they’d pulled out of the harbor. But every time he looked at the phone that day, he was reminded of how inadequate his apologies and denials were, and how quickly Felicity would see through them.

So he didn’t call that day, or the next, or the day after that. He had dinner with his Dad on New Year’s Eve and went to bed early, and when they made port for half a day in Hawaii to refuel, he left the yacht only to restock on booze and to sit on the beach in silence while the sun set.

It wasn’t until the morning on the sixth day that he forced himself out of his cabin to retrieve the satellite phone, and then trudge right back to his room to lay down on his bed. He looked at the phone for a long time, tracing out her number on the keypad, before he actually dialed.

When he did, the quick beat of his heart was nearly as loud as the ringing tone.

“Hi,” she answered on the fourth ring, obviously having seen his name pop up on caller ID. “How’s life on the high seas?”

He swallowed at the question, made more nervous by her tone. It was flippant, with a forced lightheartedness, but also somehow reserved, like she was afraid to be as open with him as she had been before. It told him that maybe she wasn’t still angry, but she definitely wasn’t over their argument yet either.

It didn’t seem like the right move to match it, so he went with a solemn, straightforward answer. “Quiet. Are you feeling better?”

“Mostly, just some coughing here and there. You know how colds are, they take forever to go away.”

“Yeah,” he said, then tried to breathe through the terribly awkward, tense silence that followed the little small talk they were capable of. “Look, Felicity, I wanted to–” he cut himself off, because even almost a week later he had no idea how to make this right. “I know you don’t want me to say that I’m sorry, but I am.”

“OIiver…” she trailed off.

“Really, Felicity. I fucked up and I’m sorry.”

“Which part?” she asked, her weariness coming through clear.

“I-” Oliver started, then frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Which part are you sorry for? For lying and cheating, or for getting caught?”

Oliver felt another flood of the shame he experienced out on the docks, because it’s just what he was afraid of, that she’d zero in on his weaknesses. It sent him back to his night with her, how he’d loved that there was no pretense in her, and that was still true, but it was also apparent that she saw straight through his.

He was still grappling for words when she made a troubled noise. “Oliver, I’m not trying to be unfair to you, but-”

“You’re not,” he rushed to say, because as challenged as he felt, it seemed important for her to know that he understood why she was upset and that he didn’t blame her for it. “I don’t think you’re being unfair. I just…I don’t know what to say.”

“I get that, Oliver,” she said, softer then, and despite it not being forgiveness, it was still probably more than he deserved. “And I’d rather you admit that than say things you don’t mean.”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing again. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Okay,” she replied, somewhat hesitantly. “Listen, I uh, I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood for next week.”

“Oh,” was all he could manage at first, because his lungs had seized up painfully. “Does that–does that mean you made a decision about the-” and he couldn’t say baby. He couldn’t make his mouth form the word. “About what you want to do?”

“It’s just a counseling appointment, I’m not doing any procedures yet, but…yeah, I think so,” she finished quietly.

He’d waited too long. He just laid there for a moment, staring blankly at the beige ceiling of his cabin, thinking that he should have called her back right after their fight. But he’d waited too long, and his honesty had come too late.

Or maybe they’d have always ended up here; God knows Oliver wasn’t father material. Felicity was smarter than he was, and maybe she’d just come to the logical conclusion sooner than he did. He should be relieved she was making the choice for him, that she was helping him avoid a huge responsibility he didn’t really want. And a major part of him was relieved, had unwound as soon as she’d told him her decision.

But another part of him, the part of him that had been trying for once, that thought maybe this was one thing he could do– that part was making his eyes burn and his throat ache with emotions he wasn’t equipped to name.

He pushed that part down inside himself, as deep as he could, hoping he could fool himself into pretending it’d never been there at all.

It didn’t work. Which was perfectly fine, he had plenty of booze to fuel the effort later.

“Okay,” Oliver said, then cleared his throat.

He didn’t want her to hear his turmoil, didn’t think it was fair to her, but apparently she heard it anyway. “Oliver, I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m not ready for a kid. I don’t think you are either.”

“No, you’re right,” he said, forcing his voice to sound strong and sure. “And you don’t have to explain, Felicity. This was always going to be up to you.”

There was a noise on her end, he thought maybe it was a sniffle. “Thank you, Oliver, for…for not making this harder.”

“Can you wait until to do it until I get back?” he asked, since he couldn’t bring himself to say you’re welcome.

“If they have an opening for me before then, I think I should take it,” she told him, a little sadly. “I think it’s just better to get it over with. Waiting isn’t going to change anything.”

He was about to say but you wouldn’t be alone when he realized that she was already alone; he’d seen to that the minute he’d told her he was leaving on this trip. No wonder she’d made this choice – he’d just made one mistake after another with her. What else was she supposed to do?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying block out his disappointment in himself. “Okay, then, just…call me when it’s over, so I can…I don’t know. Just call me, okay?”

He heard her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. “Why don’t I call you after my appointment on Tuesday? We can talk it over again then. What’s the time difference between here and China?”

“I’d really like that,” he told her, a tiny bit of hope rising, but he did his best to squelch it. She just wanted him to feel included, it didn’t mean she was going to change her mind. “Don’t worry about the time difference, just call whenever you get the chance.”

“I will,” she reassured him. “I should get going, I have to get ready for class.”

He didn’t want to let her go, tried to come up with a reason to keep her on the phone longer. Maybe if he kept her on she’d want to get to know him better, maybe she would think differently about him, but then he dismissed that as a pipe dream almost as soon as he thought it. The pregnancy was the only thing bringing them together now, and with that gone soon, there wouldn’t be any reason for them to stay in touch at all.

He shouldn’t let himself get any more attached than he already was – the less he knew about her outside their mutual mistake the better, and vice versa. “Alright. Talk to you next week, Felicity.”

“Yeah. Bye Oliver,” she told him softly, and then she was gone.

He pictured himself throwing the phone across the room, imagined the satisfying crack it would make hitting the wall. Instead, he set it deliberately on the bed next to his hip. Then he turned over to face the opposite wall, shoved his hands under his pillow, and closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep.

~*~

Oliver knew he couldn’t put off leaving his room any longer when his father sent a steward to summon him to the master cabin later that evening, interrupting his action-packed night of wallowing and listening to the rain hit his window as the storm ramped up outside.

He’d skipped eating in the dining room, instead taking his meal in his cabin and asking for seconds, trying to soak up the bottle of vodka he’d finished off earlier that afternoon. The vodka had been a bad idea even before the gale rolled in, but by dinner the rocking of the ship in the troubled seas made it a particularly poor choice, prolonging the effects of the alcohol and making it churn in his stomach.

Thankfully, when the summons had come, Oliver had a pounding headache and an overstuffed stomach full of cheeseburgers and greasy fries, but at least he no longer felt like he was about to have the worst case of seasickness ever.

Still, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to a night of pretending to care about (or understand) his father’s dealings from that day, or enduring conversations about his future, or whatever else it was that had his dad calling Oliver to his room at 9:00pm on a Thursday night.

Honestly, all Oliver wanted to do after the day he’d had, after the week he’d had, was go back to his bed and pretend to sleep. And at least then he could occasionally get it right by accident.

But within his father’s sphere he was a dutiful son, or was at least smart enough to appear to be, so when he found himself outside his dad’s door, he knocked and waited to be invited in.

“Oliver!” his father greeted as he swung open the door, and then he threw an arm around Oliver’s shoulders and pulled him inside.

Robert guided him toward the large office situated to the right of the main cabin. Where most people would have put a comfortable sitting area suitable for relaxing or watching TV, Robert had opted to construct an office that rivaled the one at Queen Consolidated headquarters, replete with a massive desk perfect for intimidating corporate rivals and family members alike.

“Have a seat,” Robert said, gesturing to the leather chair secured in front of the desk as he rounded the corner to sit in his own chair.

Oliver was tempted to refuse, but the unpredictably rolling hull reminded him that that would not be smart. The last thing his head needed was him tumbling to the floor. “Are we in trouble?” he asked, gesturing toward to the cabin’s large windows, through which heavy rain and frequent lightning could be seen.

“Not yet, but we’re getting there. The Captain’s recommended that we turn around, crew’s working on it as we speak.”

“We’re heading back to Hawaii?” he asked, adjusting in his seat, trying to get comfortable on the stiff leather.

Robert nodded. “By the time we get there the storm will have run its course, and we’ll do a quick refuel and head out again. We shouldn’t be delayed more than a day or two.”

“Great,” Oliver said, working to inject some interest into his tone. He really couldn’t have cared less about where they were or where they were going or when they’d get there. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Not all,” his father said, a strange tension filling his features. “I thought I’d prepare you for this business in China.”

The way Robert said ‘business’ – this business in China – it didn’t sound as though he meant it like corporate work, it sounded like he meant some kind of matter that was suspicious, even dangerous, but that didn’t make sense. Somewhat discomfited by that, and the incessant shooting pain of his headache, Oliver shifted again in his chair, and felt the satellite phone thump against his thigh in his pocket. He reached in his cargo shorts to take it out.

“Before I forget.” He held up the phone and then placed it on his father’s desk.

“I was wondering where that had gotten to,�� Robert said, pulling the phone closer and taking a look at it. “I was about to take it out of Pierson’s pay.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was…” Oliver started, then drew a blank on how to describe his conversation with Felicity. “I needed it to call someone this morning, spaced on bringing it back.”

Robert relaxed back into his chair, amused, but for a moment he also looked relieved somehow. “Would that someone be Laurel’s sister Sara?”

“Sara?” Oliver parroted, taken aback. How had his father known about Sara?

“Yes, contrary to what you might think, I do pay attention to my children lives,” Robert said, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. “And I have to tell you, son, that is not going to finish well. For them or for you.”

“Believe it or not, I figured that out for myself,” Oliver replied dully. “No, I won’t be talking to Sara. This was a…different person.”

“But still a girl. Is that what’s had you so twisted up since we left? Is there a girl out there resisting your charms?” Robert asked him with knowing humor lacing his voice.

“That’s not the problem,” Oliver said wearily, not bothering to deny that it was a woman he was calling.

God, he was so tired. He was so tired of hiding the whole mess – what was the point? This trip would be over soon enough, and then they’d be home, and there would be questions about him and Laurel and Harvard, if Laurel hadn’t told his mother the whole tale already. The truth would come out eventually, so what was the point of hiding it any longer? He just wanted to be done with it.

Oliver hadn’t explained himself for enough time that Robert frowned, and Oliver thought: to hell with it. “The problem is that I got her pregnant.”

Oliver’s statement seemed to grind everything in the suite to a halt. Then Robert blinked, and there was an expression of such surprise and confusion on his normally unreadable face that, had they been talking about almost anything else, Oliver would have laughed.

“I’m sorry?” Robert asked, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard Oliver correctly, despite sitting only feet from him.

“She’s pregnant,” Oliver repeated.

Robert still seemed to be processing the news, and his reaction was so uncharacteristically mild that it only highlighted the absurdity of the situation. “Are you sure that you’re the father, and this girl’s not trying to–”

“Yes,” Oliver interrupted, irritation bleeding into his reply. “I’m sure.”

“Oliver, I taught you to be careful, I taught you to be cautious about how you conducted your affairs,” Robert said, steel entering his words, and there was the father Oliver recognized, “so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that this girl is trying to deceive you to gain access to our family’s resources.”

“She’s not like that, Dad, she’s a good person,” Oliver insisted, then barked a harsh laugh. “And she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want me or our family’s resources, so you don’t have to worry.”

Robert frowned again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that she doesn’t think I’m ready to be a parent, or that she is,” Oliver told him tightly. “She’s getting an abortion. So there’s nothing for you to be concerned about, it’s all going to be taken care of.”

He regretted the bitter words as soon as he said them, because they weren’t true to how he knew Felicity felt. It wasn’t any easier for her than it was for him, but the small crater in his chest that he’d tried to fill just seemed to reopen at random, darkness spreading out of it.

Robert didn’t respond, however; he was silent, studying Oliver gravely for what felt like a long time before he spoke again. “Has she had the procedure yet, this–what’s her name?”

“Felicity,” Oliver supplied, oddly relieved that his dad wasn’t referring to her as ‘this girl’ anymore. “And no. I guess she wants to talk to the clinic about it first.”

“Good,” Robert said, standing and grabbing the satellite phone and holding it out to Oliver. “Take this back. Call her as soon as we’re out of the storm and tell her that you’re ready to support her like you should have from the beginning. Tell her that she can cancel her appointment.”

Oliver stood as well, taking the phone mechanically, looking dumbly down at it and then back up at his dad. He couldn’t have been more shocked by Robert’s statement if he’d announced that he was quitting QC and moving to Hollywood to devote himself full-time to show business. “But you just said–”

“I know what I said. But if you’re right about Felicity and you’ve made a child, and I believe you when you say you have, then you have to take responsibility, and so do we. We’ll call your mother in the morning, update her and have her talk to the lawyers about what we need to do to confirm paternity and set up a fund for Felicity and the baby’s care.”

It was an overwhelming sense of whiplash that kept Oliver off balance and searching for an answer that would satisfy his dad. “I offered to support her. I offered her all of that, and she decided she didn’t want it. I…I can’t make her have the baby.”

“Of course not, I’m not suggesting that. I also don’t think you really gave her a choice. You may have offered our money, but that’s not the same as offering your full support, not when the next thing you do is leave the country,” Robert replied, tone hard. “It’s time for you to grow up, Oliver. No more equivocating. You have to show her you can be a man she can trust and depend on.”

Oliver thought he might actually be going insane. Who was this man standing in front of him, talking about trust and lawyers and Felicity and funds for supporting Oliver’s child? He didn’t know what he expected out of this conversation – no, he did. He expected his dad’s anger, his impatience, and an ultimatum to make it go away quietly. He absolutely did not expect this kind of disappointment, or his father’s sudden insistence that Oliver do right by Felicity immediately.

To say that Oliver was lost and confused would have been a massive understatement. “Where is this coming from?”

Robert went completely still, and an odd expression passed over his face. “I really have failed you if that’s a question you need to ask me. Felicity is carrying your child, that makes her family, and we do whatever we have to do for our family,” his father said, his voice going harsh with intensity. “Son, you can’t begin to imagine the things I’ve done to protect this family.”

Dread hollowed out Oliver’s stomach. “Dad, what are you–”

An incredibly loud boom drowned out his words, and the ship shuddered and groaned under their feet. Robert made for the door as two, three heartbeats passed, just enough time for Oliver’s adrenaline to spike, then the yacht pitched violently sideways.

For years, Oliver would have nightmares about the moment he and his father flew into the wall. Not because of the painfully hard impact, which knocked the breath out of him and made his ears ring, or because of the falling debris that were nearly as dangerous as their initial collision with the wall, or because of the split second before the emergency lighting kicked in, when it was so dark Oliver was convinced they were already under water.

It was because of the satellite phone. One second he was holding it, and the next he wasn’t. In his dreams, Oliver would relive the moment he opened his eyes, looked over at his hand, and realized it was empty, that their best lifeline to the outside world after the yacht’s radio was gone, and that he was responsible for losing it. He’d see himself looking frantically for the phone, turning over whatever he could while his father yelled at him to forget about it and go. Everything would slow down, exaggerating the time he wasted which could have been spent gathering food or water, until Robert finally wrenched him up and shoved him down through the doorway toward the deck and the lifeboats.

The nightmares wouldn’t allow him to feel the shock and fear and mortality that they all felt, that any man would have felt in his position. Instead, he’d be overwhelmed with horrible, consuming shame. Because even as they battled wind, rain, swelling waves, and a listing ship to launch the lifeboat, his mind wasn’t on the calls he could have made to summon help to save them.

No, his mind was on Felicity, on the call his father had told him he had to make in order to save his future, and the fact that Oliver knew he never would.

#arrow #olicity fic #olicity #oliver queen x felicity smoak #a bringer of new things #chapter 4

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thezombiemamma · 7 years

Text

About a month ago, my amazing friend Young Ajummah and I were wandering around KCON NY, talking about this and that and as we were wandering around the Prudential Center in the sweltering heat, an idea came to us. We both realized that while we both shared a passion for Korean music, we had both chosen to focus our passion on more specific areas. Where Young Ajummah is pretty much an expert on all things R&B, hip hop and indie, I’m more of an idol group uhh…

Ajummah: Aficionado, lol. We shouldn’t call ourselves fangirls or fanatics (even though we are). Aficionados sounds much better.

Zombie: That works for me! At least it makes me sound a little less crazy… Hahaha!

Anyway… Realizing we’re both aficionados in different areas, we thought it might be fun to get together once (or twice) a month and talk about different artists/groups, as a way of sort of expanding our musical horizons. And so our Tater Tot Music Talk was born!

Why Tater Tots, you might ask? Well, because compared to the big potatoes in the world of Hallyu content creators, YA and I consider ourselves to be nothing more than tiny tater tots.

Ajummah: So why did we start with Monsta X and Millic? Because the sun aligned with the planets and created this perfect…. Actually Zombie had just returned from Monsta X’s concert and had a special moment during her hi-touch. I need to live through her. PLUS I knew next to nothing about the group and was currently going gaga over Millic’s new album. We decided it would be best to trade information.

Zombie: So trade we did! Or maybe I just got a bit carried away with my post-concert fangirling, which is probably really what happened. Sorry about that!

Ajummah: It’s quite alright! I have heard of them before and know of like, 1 song. I need to learn more about them. Also I want to tell you all about Millic because he is so amazing and he doesn’t sing or rap or…well we’ll get to that, lol.

Zombie: Hahaha! I love that we both have so much to fangirl over! Though you might end up regretting that you said you ever wanted to know more about Monsta X… Don’t worry, I’ll try not to fangirl too much. *falls over laughing* Pretty sure I’m gonna fail in that department but let’s give it a go anyway, shall we? I think it’s time I introduce you to the seven ridiculously amazing bias wreckers, otherwise known as Monsta X…

I’m starting with Shownu because he’s my original No Mercy bias and I will always love him no matter what.

He’s also the leader of the group, an incredible vocalist, a lethal dancer and the cutest munchkin ever. He also has arms you can actually climb on and I swear, someday he’s gonna kill me.

Ajummah: Oooh he’s very handsome! These photos…

Zombie: Right!?! He’s the one I made eye contact with at the concert and made smile like a shy puppy because I made a heart at him. HE WAS SO CUTE!!! Augh! He’s such a sweet teddy bear! I just love him! Have I mentioned how much I love him? Because I really flipping love him!

Ajummah: Lol!

Zombie: Okay, moving on… This is Jooheon…

He’s my other favorite. He’s the main rapper of the group, a songwriter, lyricist, producer… You name it, he probably does it and he’s just amazing. At everything.

Ajummah: Do they take lessons on how to take pictures like this?

Zombie: See!?! Amazing at everything! Including taking pictures! Hahaha! He has the incredible ability to be both freaking adorable and insanely sexy. Which, honestly, I don’t know how he does it but he does and really, it’s just not fair. His dimples kill me. His smile kills me. His songs kill me. His rapping kills me. He just kills me. In every flipping way possible. And I love him for it. At the concert he admitted that he was the most “romantistic” of the group and I died because I can totally see that about him. The other members said it was because he writes such sweet songs and you know what? He totally does! In some ways, he kinda reminds me a little bit of Zico, but sweeter. And when he sings… Oh lordy! I melt. What is it about rappers when they sing? I just can’t handle them when they do that! It’s like my friggin’ kryptonite! And so is Jooheon… ㅋㅋㅋ

Ajummah: I like the blonde picture.

Zombie: I love him as a blonde *siiiggghhhh* It’s my favorite look for him and, of course, he was blonde at the concert so I was dead. Dead. Dead. All night long. Dead.

Ajummah: He’s probably young enough to be my child but he looks so handsome here!

Zombie: He’ll be 23 in October so he’s not that young. Well, not young enough to be your kid anyway.

Ajummah: Okay, good! Oooh maybe I can teach you about Millic since he just came out with the best album I’ve heard in a while.

Zombie: Yes! Maybe you should jump in with a little Millic now before I end up spazzing myself into a frenzy… Though maybe it’s a bit too late for that. Hahaha!

Ajummah: I think you should keep going.

Zombie: Okay, then! This is Kihyun…

I can’t even with him anymore. Not after the concert and the high touch… Just… Nope! You can see why I always thought he was an adorable munchkin though.

Ajummah: Pink hair. The pink hair looks very nice on him.

Zombie: That pink hair is my absolute favorite and also just so darn deceptive! It makes him look cute and innocent so you fall for him because you think you’re safe. But then, when you see him in real life, you find out he’s not an adorable puppy! Oh no! He’s a darn sexy, flirty, gorgeous little angel-voiced bias wrecker! AUGH! At one point during the concert he decided that he needed to flash his abs, just to make sure I (and everyone else in the room) was really good and dead. Needless to say, it worked. He’s always been a favorite of mine but now he’s a favorite in a whole different way… Little punk! Haha

Ajummah: Oh I like glasses on him.

Zombie: Glasses are a particular favorite of mine. I don’t even know why. I mean I wear glasses every frickin’ day! It’s not like they impart any magical power when I put them on and yet, when these darn boys wear them, it’s like they become irresistible! What gives!?!

Okay, moving on…

This is Minhyuk and I love him too. He always makes me smile.

He’s so funny and goofy and kind of a punk but in a fun way. At the concert he said he was the bad boy of the group and NO ONE believed him. He’s too sweet to be a bad boy! lol

This is Hyungwon…

He wasn’t there last night because he was recently diagnosed with cellulitis and he’s being treated at home instead of touring. He’s a fantastic dancer and always seems to be pretty quiet but since he wasn’t at the concert, I can’t say anything about him for sure. All the members missed him a lot and kept apologizing for him not being there but no one was upset. We all just want him to get better soon.

This is I.M. He’s the maknae and the other rapper of the group…

He lived in the US for a while when he was a kid so his English is pretty good but he had moments when he’d forget a word in English and just be so adorable trying to figure out what to say. He was wearing his glasses during the high touch and I just wasn’t prepared for that level of cuteness. All thoughts went flying right out of my brain! Imagine that!

And this is Wonho…

He’s pretty much everyone’s favorite. Mostly because he looks like an actual god. (Hello muscles!) He’s super sweet and has a great voice and is an amazing dancer and is just completely swoon-worthy in every way. Jooheon actually stopped the show every time Wonho took of his jacket because the crowd would cheer so loudly they couldn’t go on. It was so funny. Jooheon was just like “okay, let’s all stop and cheer for his muscles” and we would and then the show would go on. Beyond his muscles, he’s a beautiful person, inside and out and his smile and touch will make your feel like life is worth living. I swear, my hand in his was more than I ever expected in life and it was wonderful. Even if I did forget to breathe.

Ajummah: I feel like I need to take notes. What song do you suggest I listen to from them? The only song I know is “Hero.”

Zombie: “Hero” is good but they have so many other songs… It’s kinda hard for me to pick just one so here are a few videos for you; just to help you get started…

This is their newest track so it’s probably the one you’d hear people talking about the most right now. It’s the track they added to their latest album repackage. This next track is the one they named their world tour after and I absolutely love the choreo for this one. That’s why I went with this video over the original MV.

I love the choreo for this one!

Ajummah: Lol, okay I will check them all out

Zombie: This is one of my favorites

It’s not exactly a Monsta X song but it’s written by Jooheon and performed by him and I.M and Sam Ock and it’s just so sweet, I can’t help but love it. Plus Jooheon sings in it and that kills me. And it’s about coffee… sort of… so how could I not love it? lol

Ajummah: Okay now it’s my turn to fangirl. I think the only thing Millic has in common with Monsta X is that their names both start with M, lol I apologize for random acts of spazzing in advance.

Zombie: Bwahahahahahaha! I’m pretty sure you already know that spazzing is something you’ll NEVER have to apologize for! At least not when I’m around. lol

Ajummah: I’ve known about Millic for a while because I like the music crew he’s part of (Club Eskimo which Dean & Crush are a part of) but he recently came out with his album called Vida.

Zombie: Okay, so Dean and Crush I know and I’ve heard of Club Eskimo… That’s a start, right?

Ajummah: Good start! I saw him when Crush came to the States last year (on my bday no less) and I remember commenting that he was my new favorite but I was drinking a lot at the time and well…you know my brain.

Zombie: OMG! Was Millic the DJ for Crush’s U.S. tour last year!?! Gah! If you say yes I’m gonna feel totally stupid! I was at that show in Chicago and didn’t even realize this was the same guy!!!

Ajummah: I felt the same way. I am sticking to my story of alcohol clouding my brain, lol But also they didn’t do much with promoting him, so if you didn’t read the fine print, you wouldn’t have known.

Zombie: Hahaha!

Ajummah: Anyway after listening to his music on YouTube and buying the album (support good music people) I went fangirl mode and have been searching the interwebs for everything about him. Of course he’s baby. 24 y/o but I won’t hold it against him. He’s a dj/producer and is on the HIGHGRND label. What does this mean? No rap, no singing, just really good instrumentals but his album has a lot of features on it.

Zombie: I’m all for solid instrumentals.

Ajummah: I think you should listen to Paradise which features Fanxy Child (Dean, Zico, Crush & Penomeco). It’s a very chill R&B song, perfect for summer in my opinion. My favorite song on the album besides that one is Treasure Island. I don’t really know the artist singing the lyrics but my goodness he and Millic make a great combination.

Zombie: Oooh! You just put Dean, Zico & Crush together in the same sentence… I’m sold!

Ajummah: There doesn’t seem to be much about him compared to what you told me about Monsta X.

Zombie: Well, he is just 1 guy and Monsta X is 7…

Ajummah: True. But I wish there were more on the internet about him. He did release a video interview where he talked about his time in the States and how he learned how to create music. That was a recent interview though.

Zombie: I’m gonna have to go check that out! Especially now that I know I’ve already seen him in concert once… *smh* Also, “Paradise” is amazing! You’ve successfully convinced me that I need more Millic (and Fanxy Child, ‘cause OH MY WORD! That’s a fantastic combo of greatness!) in my life and you only have to have me watch 1 MV! I think that’s a pretty solid testament to how great this music is!

I suppose we should probably wrap this up but before we go, I have to ask… Did my over-enthusiastic love of Monsta X (combined with an unhealthy dose of post-concert feels) scare you away from this idol group or have I convinced you they’re at least worth a listen?

Ajummah: I’m definitely going to listen to them more now. I mean besides “Hero” because that is truly an awesome song.

Zombie: Isn’t it though? *sigh*

Well, I guess that’s it for the first edition of our Tater Tot Music Chat. If you have anything you’d like to add to this conversation, feel free to do so in the comments below. Ooh! And if there’s anyone you’d like us to talk about in the future, just let us know. Until next time, be sure to check out Young Ajummah’s website and be sure to follow her on Twitter and Facebook.

Also, before I go, I have to give credit where credit is due. To to all the amazing fans out there who share all their photos with the world, I have to say thank you for sharing your work with the world! What would the rest of us do without you? You’re the best!

Tater Tot Music Talk: Monsta X x Millic About a month ago, my amazing friend Young Ajummah and I were wandering around KCON NY, talking about this and that and as we were wandering around the Prudential Center in the sweltering heat, an idea came to us.

#K-pop #Millic #Monsta X #R&B #Tater Tot Music Talk

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voyagerafod · 7 years

Text

Star Trek Voyager: A Fire of Devotion: Part 3 of 4: Sweeter Than Heaven: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Seven of Nine stepped out of her alcove, fully recharged, and was greeted upon opening her eyes by the smiling face of her wife. “Morning, Sam,” she said. “Morning, Annie,” Samantha said. “Feeling better today?” “Much,” Seven said. “An extra day of regeneration was, as the Doctor said, exactly what I needed.” “And hopefully you’ve learned a valuable lesson,” Samantha said.

“A few actually,” Seven said. “The most significant one, of course, being not to attempt to download an entire starship’s memory banks into your brain all at once. I am embarrassed that I did not foresee the unfortunate side effects of that.” “That’s a nice way of putting it,’ Samantha said, now walking next to Seven as the two of them left the cargo bay.

“I will say in my defense,” Seven added, “that I was not acting entirely irrational. My conclusions were based on the facts I had at hand. It was the lack of proper context that led to my more, well, paranoid pronouncements.” Samantha laughed, and Seven gave her a look.

“Sorry,” Samantha said, “I know I shouldn’t have laughed. I just, you know, I love your gift for understatement.” Seven rolled her eyes. “I choose to take that as a compliment,” she said. “Anyway, that also was one of my lessons; that facts without context are meaningless.”

“It’s one of the perils of being human, love,” Samantha said. “Our ability to recognize patterns allowed us to survive and thrive beyond our early days of dwelling in caves, but sadly that means sometimes we see patterns where they aren’t.” “That is certainly something I need to be more careful of in the future,” Seven said. “I don’t think you have to worry that much,” Samantha said. “There were extenuating circumstances after all.” “The cortical processing subunit I installed? Yes, well, in hindsight that was clearly a mistake. I have uninstalled it, however. From now on I will digest newly acquired data the ‘old fashioned way;’ by reading.” “It has worked pretty well for us so far,” Samantha said, winking.

“Speaking of reading,” Seven said, “Mister Paris sent a number of documents to my personal PADD this morning regarding someplace on Earth called Roswell, New Mexico. Do you have any idea why he-” Seven’s question was cut off with a groan from Samantha. “That cheeky little… Don’t read that, trust me. I’ll talk to Tom. That was not funny, he shouldn’t have done that.” Seven stopped walking and tilted her head in confusion. “Sammy, why do I get the feeling that by ‘talk to’ you mean ‘yell at?’”

---

“Neelix, get off of there,” Lieutenant Reginald Barclay said, turning away from his apartment window looking out over the San Francisco Bay, and yelling at his cat. The cat complied, albeit slowly and not without a soft grunt, and leapt off the top bookshelf where Barclay kept all his PADDs related to the Pathfinder project, as well as a 1/200th scale model of the U.S.S. Voyager. The last thing Barclay wanted was to have to pick all that stuff up, especially since his guests would be arriving any moment.

For the fourth time in ten minutes, he checked to make sure the food he’d prepared was coming along nicely. He didn’t need to cook, his replicator worked just fine, and in fact he had used it for the ingredients, but since having moved to Earth after leaving the Enterprise, he found that cooking soothed his nerves.

The door chime sounded, and Barclay smiled as he told the computer to open the door to welcome two of his old friends. He tilted his head though when he realized that one of the two people entering his apartment was not who he expected. “Commander LaForge, I didn’t realize you’d be joining us. I’d have made more food,” Barclay said. “Actually,” Geordi LaForge said, “I’m filling in.” “Will’s father was hurt in a shuttle accident,” Deanna Troi said. “It’s not serious, but Will wanted to check in on him anyway. He sends his apologies.”

“Oh dear,” Barclay said to. “Well, send my regards to Commander Riker when you see him next.” “I will,” Troi said. “Commander,” Barclay said, now looking at Geordi. “It’s good to see you again, but I’d assumed you’d be busy overseeing the new upgrades to the Enterprise.” Geordi laughed. “Well I planned to be, but Starfleet’s R&D people decided I was being too overbearing and basically kicked me out of my own engine room. I suppose I can’t blame them, but empathy needs to go both ways. How would they feel about a bunch of strangers poking around their ship?” “Well, I’m sure it’s all for the best,” Barclay said, smiling. “The flagship of the fleet should always be in tip-top shape.”

“I can drink to that,” Geordi said. “If you have anything that is.” “Nothing stronger than synthehol,” Barclay said. “I do a lot of work on Pathfinder in my off-time; don’t want to risk impairing my judgement.” “I’m glad you brought that up,” Troi said. “I’d heard about the project to try and contact Voyager. How’s that coming along?”

“Not terribly well,” Barclay admitted. “Commander Harkins refuses to allow me use of the MIDAS array to test my new plan.”

“Why do you need MIDAS?” Geordi asked.

“The idea I had,” Barclay said, “was to use it to direct a tachyon beam at a class B itinerant pulsar, with enough gravimetric energy to create an artificial wormhole.” Geordi’s eyes widened, enough that even from several feet away Barclay could see the ocular implants adjusting. “That’s pretty ambitious, Reg, I like it.”

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Troi said, “but I’m not familiar with the MIDAS array.” “Oh, sorry,” Barclay said. “It’s the Mutara Interdimensional Deep-Space-Transponder Array System. I know the acronym isn’t an exact fit, but Commander Harkins called me ‘nitpicky’ when I brought that up.”

“It’s a way to make communications travel even faster than they do now, basically.“ Geordi said. “Tachyon communication is good enough for us for now, but as exploration takes us out even further into the galaxy, and with the Gamma Quadrant open to us now after the war, we need new ways to be able to keep in touch with ships and bases in a timely fashion.”

“And you think,” Troi said, looking at Barclay, “that this micro-wormhole could allow us to speak to Voyager again?” “At least briefly,” Barclay said.

“Better than nothing,” Geordi said.

“But that’s only if I can convince Commander Harkins and Admiral Paris to go along with my theory,” Barclay said. “Unfortunately, Harkins thinks I’ve relapsed on my holo-addiction, and he’s convinced the Admiral of the same, so he doesn’t trust me.” “Why would they think that?” Troi said. “You see my cat over there?” Barclay said. “I named him Neelix. After the alien crewmember that Voyager picked up in the Delta Quadrant. They included him in the information their EMH was able to provide us. I’ve spent a lot of time reading about the crew of Voyager. Pete, that’s Commander Harkins’ first name, he thinks I’ve become obsessed with Voyager.” “Over a cat’s name?” Geordi said. “That, and the fact that I’ve been using a holodeck simulation of the ship itself to run simulations on my theories,” Barclay said. Troi shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. The line between interest and obsession can be thin sometimes, sure, but I think your commander is overreacting.” She turned to look at Geordi. “Do you think we should talk to him?” “I’d rather you didn’t,” Barclay said. “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to use my time on the Enterprise as a cudgel to get what I want.”

“I get it,” Troi said. “You’re worried about coming off as arrogant and entitled. But having one commander not like you seems like a small price to pay if it means that Starfleet can talk to one of its lost crews again.”

Barclay looked down at the drink in his hand, having forgotten that he’d even poured it. He felt that she was right, on both counts. The fact was, he didn’t talk much about his time on the Enterprise. It always felt too much like bragging. She was also right that they were more important things in the galaxy than being afraid that strangers would think you had a big ego.

“Okay,” he said. “So, how do we want to handle this?”

---

“So, what do you think?” Tom Paris said, smiling as Seven of Nine read the PADD that he had handed her while the two were in the mess hall for lunch.

“You want my opinion on your new holodeck program? Why?” she said. “I’m asking a lot of people actually,” Tom said. “Diversity of opinion and all that.” “Very well. In brief, your simulation, while visually accurate, is filled with characters based on broad stereotypes that could be seen as offensive by any humans on this ship who may have Irish ancestry.” Tom frowned.

“Well, it’s not meant to be historically accurate,” he said. “I just meant it as a place where the crew could unwind.” “The crew already has multiple options in that regard,” Seven said. “Including the Chez Sandrine program that you also created.”

“Nobody really uses that program anymore,” Tom said. “I think people got bored with it. Last time I was in there the only non-holograms around were you and Sam.”

“There was also Insurrection Alpha,” Seven said. “Which most people stopped using after the program tried to kill me and Tuvok.” “The cabana program?” “Harry and Neelix still use that one sometimes,” Tom admitted, “but it’s not all that popular anymore either.” Seven sighed. “I concede your point.” “Do you have any suggestions then?”

Seven thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps a recreation of Ibiza? It is an island off the coast of Spain on Earth.” “That was where you and Sam spent your fake honeymoon on the NX-01 mission right? Yeah, that could work. The way Sam describe the beaches there… It might be a little too close to the old cabana program though.” “It is your program, Mister Paris, the final decision is yours. I merely offered the input that I was asked for.”

“That you did. Thanks, Seven,” Tom said, finishing his coffee before getting up and leaving. Seven finished her own beverage and meal and left to head to astrometrics. She hoped that when she got there to perform her assigned task for today, teaching Equinox survivor Noah Lessing how to operate the lab, that she would be able to remain completely professional. After all, Noah was the one who had shot her in the back in Equinox’s engineering.

---

Barclay’s apartment had been silent too long. Even the cat had gone quiet, which meant he was either asleep or getting into trouble. The three Starfleet officers had spent the last ten hours going over Barclay’s plans regarding the MIDAS array and the plan to contact Voyager.

Troi said something that Barclay had considered, but didn’t want to admit could put his plan in jeopardy. “Based on Voyager’s location when they contacted Starfleet two years ago,” she said, “they had already managed to trim at least a decade off their journey home, right?” “Correct,” Barclay said. “When one of the passengers they picked up, Kes I think her name was, used her developing psionic powers to help Voyager bypass Borg space.” “Right,” Troi said. “But who’s to say that Voyager didn’t find other ways to shave off even more time in the interim? All the projections on where they might be in the Delta Quadrant now are based on the assumptions that they’ve only been going in a handful of directions at a speed lower than the maximum cruising speed an Intrepid-class ship can go, which is, warp 9 right?” “9.975,” Geordi said, “but they can’t hold that speed indefinitely, they would need to slow down occasionally just to keep from burning out the dilithium crystals.” “True, but even so, Harkins’ projections don’t account for them ever going at that speed. He’s being too conservative in his estimates,” Troi said. “This isn’t even my field of expertise and I can tell that.”

“If we can solve the power issue,” Barclay said, “that won’t matter. We can try multiple times. We can just start with Pete’s projections of where Voyager is and work our way out from there. We’ve got our pulsar, we’ve got our array, how do we get our wormhole is the question.”

“Yeah,” Geordi said, rubbing his eyes. “We are talking about a massive subspace reaction here.” Barclay snapped his fingers. “Massive. That’s it, that’s the problem!” “Reg?” Geordi said.

“Maybe we need to think smaller. How much bandwidth do we really need? The average wormhole is huge, but if we compress the data stream we wouldn’t need a conduit anywhere near as big.” “A micro-wormhole,” Geordi said. “Good idea. So good, in fact, it’s a wonder none of us thought of it sooner.” “I’m a psychiatrist, not an engineer,” Troi said. “There’s no way I would’ve thought of it.”

“The outside perspective helps, trust me,” Barclay said. “In fact, I think Pathfinder could stand to have a few non-engineers on staff, but that’s a topic for another time.”

“We still need to work out the details,” Geordi said, “but if we can do that, we’d have a solid plan to present to Commander Harkins and Admiral Paris.”

“We’ll need to do it fast,” Troi said. “The Enterprise leaves tomorrow morning.” “I’ll talk to the Captain,” Geordi said, looking at Troi. “I’m sure he’d be willing to extend shore leave in this instance.”

Barclay smiled. He did feel some guilt, a voice in the back of his head telling him he was taking advantage of his friends’ status as Federation celebrities to get his way, but it was overwhelmed by excitement. If all of this worked, he would get to speak to the crew of the Voyager, the most famous missing starship in almost a century. How could he pass that up?

---

Seven of Nine was consciously aware that she was in no danger around Noah Lessing. Yes, he had shot her once before, and she didn’t forgive him for that, but she also knew it wasn’t personal. Since then, Lessing had integrated into the crew of Voyager. Not as successfully as Gilmore, or Sofin, or Morrow perhaps, but far more so than Tassoni. He did his job, he showed up for shifts on time, and he didn’t carry a phaser. So why am I still concerned that he’s going to shoot me in the back again? She thought. It is a completely illogical fear.

“I’ve completed the first round of diagnostics,” Lessing said. “Everything is in working order, ma’am.”

“Very well,” Seven said, not bothering to double check. She had observed Lessing’s progress while he did his work. “Your tasks were completed well ahead of the allotted time. You may leave early if you wish.” “Not much point,” he said. “I’m still not allowed to use the holodeck, and I don’t really feel like hitting the ship’s gym.” “What you choose to do with your free time is none of my concern,” Seven said. “You’re right, it’s not,” Lessing said. “I guess I should consider myself lucky to have any free time, all things considered.” “Perhaps you should,” Seven said. Lessing simply nodded. Seven wondered what the man was thinking. He didn’t seem to be trying to earn a chance at redemption the way the majority of his surviving crewmates were, but he wasn’t openly hostile and insistent that killing the Ankari ‘spirits’ was justified like Angelo Tassoni still did, even all these months later. His apparent apathy bothered her, though she couldn’t explain why. She was prepared to finally just ask, when something on the astrometrics lab screen caught her attention.

“Is that a micro-wormhole?” Lessing said.

“I believe you are correct,” Seven said. She began tapping buttons on the console to redirect sensors to do a more thorough scan of the micro-wormhole. “And it would appear as message is being transmitted through it.”

“To whom?” Lessing said. “It’s on a Starfleet emergency channel,” Seven said, looking down at her console. Lessing smiled for, as far as Seven knew, the first time since before Captain Ransom’s crimes had been revealed. “Wow,” he said. Seven tapped her com badge and told the Captain what she had discovered. “Let’s hear it,” Janeway said, and Seven quickly complied, applying a narrow band filter to the signal processor in order to improve the quality of the message. “Starfleet Command to U.S.S. Voyager,” a voice said, the transmission full of static but still audible. “Come in Voyager. Do you hear me? This is Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.”

“Captain,” Seven said, “we must respond quickly, the wormhole is collapsing.”

---

“This is our third try, and still nothing. The micro-wormhole is collapsing. I’m sorry Mister Barclay, I just don’t think this is working,” Commander Peter Harkins said. Barclay was disappointed, but he could tell by looking around the room he wasn’t the only one. All of his fellow Pathfinder teammates, Deanna, Geordi, Admiral Paris, all had similar looks on their faces.

“The pulsar has not moved out of position yet,” Geordi said. “I think we can squeeze a few more attempts out of it, but the power consumption might not allow for-” A noise cut him off. “We’re receiving a transmission,” one of the Pathfinder techs said. “Where from?” Admiral Paris said. “Coordinates 343.6 by 27,” the tech said.

Barclay and Harkins shared a look. “The wormhole,” Barclay said. “It worked,” Troi said, smiling. “Starfleet Command, come in,” a barely audible voice said over the speakers. Barclay recognized the voice right away from the Voyager crew records he’d gone over. “Reg,” Harkins said, “give me a hand clearing up the signal.” “Yes sir,” Barclay said, moving quickly to a nearby console and manipulating controls. He was excited and nervous, yet his hands were steady and his work efficient.

“This is Captain Kathryn Janeway, do you read me?” Barclay looked at Harkins who was simply smiling. “I think she’s talking to you,” Admiral Paris said, having moved closer to stand next to him. “Captain,” Barclay said, suddenly afraid that he would start stammering again, “this is Lieutenant Reginald Barclay at Starfleet Command.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Lieutenant,” Janeway said. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.” “The feeling is mutual,” Barclay continued, “Unfortunately the micro-wormhole is collapsing. We have only a few moments.” “Understood,” Janeway said. We are transmitting our ship’s logs, crew reports, and navigational records to you now.” “Acknowledged,” Barclay said. “And we’re sending you data on some new hyper-subspace technology. We’re hoping that, eventually, we can use it to keep in regular contact. We’re also including some recommended modifications for your com system.”

“We’ll implement them as soon as possible,” Janeway said.

“There is someone else who would also like to say something,” Barclay said, motioning towards Admiral Paris.

“This is Admiral Paris,” he said. “Hello sir,” Janeway said. “Been a long time.” “How are your people holding up?” “Very well,” Janeway said. “As someone pointed out to me recently, we could’ve had it much, much worse out here. But we’ve made it as far as we have thanks to an exemplary crew, including your son.”

“Tell him… Tell him I miss him, and I’m proud of him.” “He heard you,” Janeway said. “The wormhole is collapsing,” Barclay said. “I want you all to know,” Admiral Paris said, “we’re doing everything we can to bring you home.”

“We appreciate it, sir,” Janeway said. “We’ve had some good luck on our end lately though, we may end up making it home before you even-” The transmission became garbled, and ended. However Janeway intended to end that sentence, they would likely never know. “You did it, Reg,” Geordi said. “Great work.” “I’m sorry I doubted you,” Harkins said. Barclay nodded, and sighed. Troi walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Why are you sad, Reg?”

“Because… Because it’s over, Deanna,” Barclay said. “No, Lieutenant,” Admiral Paris said, smiling. “Project Pathfinder may be over, but Project Voyager is just beginning. And I want you on that. I assume I don’t have to make it an order?” “You do not, sir,” Barclay said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” “Darn,” Geordi said in a joking tone of voice. “And here I was thinking of asking you to come back to the Enterprise.”

---

“So, does anyone know this Barclay character?” B’Elanna said as Neelix topped off her glass of champagne in Voyager’s mess hall. The senior staff, along with some other crewmembers, including Samantha Wildman and Joe Carey, were attending a celebration of the contact with Starfleet. “I took the liberty of reviewing his personnel file,” the Doctor said. “He’s had a rather colorful career. Not to mention an unusual medical history.” “I don’t think you’re allowed to tell us about that, Doc,” Tom Paris said.

“I’m not saying anything that’s not available to anyone with Starfleet clearances,” the Doctor said. “All the same,” Captain Janeway said, “let’s respect our new honorary crew member’s privacy, shall we? Maybe one day he’ll have the chance to tell us his story in person.” “Hear hear,” Carey said, raising his glass. “I’ve finished analyzing the data Mister Barclay sent,” Seven said, her arms around Samantha’s waist. “The hyper-subspace technology is promising. I believe we can look forward to future communications with the Federation.” “Well that calls for a toast,” Neelix said. “Care to do the honors, Tom?” Janeway said. B’Elanna looked at Tom, who seemed reluctant. She poked him gently in the arm. “Go on,” she said. Tom took in a deep breath and raised his glass. “To my Dad, Admiral Owen Paris, it's nice to know he's still there; and to the newest honorary member of the Voyager crew; Reginald Barclay, whoever you are.”

“To Mister Barclay,” Janeway said, the rest of the crew members joining in, even Seven of Nine.

---

Barclay, Troi, Geordi all stood in the center of the living room of Barclay’s apartment, holding drinks of their own. “To Voyager,” Geordi said, the other two repeating him before taking a sip. “I couldn’t have done it without your help,” Barclay said. “Thank you.” “Thanks for letting us help you,” Troi said. “Though we all understand why you were reluctant.” “I just wish Hope was here right now,” Barclay said. “Who’s Hope?” Geordi said. “I didn’t mention her?” Barclay said. “Not once since we got here,” Geordi said, smirking. “Nice of you to wait until we’re almost leaving to tell us you’re seeing someone, Reg.”

“Sorry, I got so wrapped up in talking about Pathfinder and Voyager, it just kind of slipped my mind. Besides, we’ve only gone a few dates, it’s too soon really to know where it’s going.” “Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Troi said. “What can you tell us about her?” “Well, Pete introduced us actually,” Barclay said. “She’s his wife’s sister.”

Troi and Geordi looked at each other. “I honestly did not expect that,” Geordi said. “Should I have mentioned that sooner?” Barclay said. “Eh, probably not,” Troi said. “I don’t think it really had any bearing on the project-” The sound of the door chime interrupted her. “Come in,” Barclay said, expecting it to be Commander Harkins. He turned around, and saw immediately that he was wrong. “Lieutenant Barclay, sorry I’m so late,” Commander William Riker said. “I just got back from seeing my Dad. I hope I didn’t miss anything interesting.”

#a fire of devotion #Part 3 #chapter five #fan fiction #sam7 #star trek voyager

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sfjazz · 7 years

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Burt Bacharach Photos & Review - The Bay Bridged

http://thebaybridged.com/2017/06/13/photos-review-burt-bacharach-quips-wonder-still/

Photos + Review: Burt Bacharach quips, “You wonder why I am still doing this.”

By Carla Bova|June 13, 2017

With the first piano key he struck, legendary composer Burt Bacharach brought his San Francisco audience to a sweeter time through his musical message – what the world needs now is love.

He played a resounding retrospective showcasing his boundless catalog of classics from a golden era of music that he revolutionized.

Right up to the last chord, Bacharach had the crowd swaying, singing, and smiling as attendees recognized hit after hit from his parade of songs that never went out of style. He made sure everyone left smiling by inviting all to join an irresistible singalong to his beloved “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head.”

“Let’s sing one song together,” Bacharach said. “The audience and me and the band.”

Considered one of the most renowned and accomplished living composers, Bacharach’s career spans six decades that are marked by 66 US Top 40 hits, six No. 1 songs, eight Grammy awards, and three Academy Awards.

Bacharach’s impact on music history is undeniable. A pioneer of creative standards, his compositions are credited as helping define popular music dating back to the late 1950’s. He claims hits in a breadth of styles, from rock and soul to Broadway shows and Hollywood films. He has influenced artists across genres, with his works recorded by hundreds of singers from Perry Como and Gene Pitney to Barbra Streisand and Diana Krall. Over the years, he maintained global appeal to generations of fans.

The 89-year-old songwriter, conductor, arranger, producer frequently broke from playing the piano during his June 7 show at Davies Symphony Hall, and stood center stage in front of his grand instrument. He leaned casually against it while chatting with the audience.

“I love this hall,” he said. “It is one of the greatest halls I’ve ever played in so I am glad to be back.”

Between songs, he spoke of memories including his mother’s influence, getting a divorce in Las Vegas, appearing on the Tonight Show with James Brown, and touring with actress/singer Marlene Dietrich. He was her music director from 1958 to 1961. Prior to that he worked as piano accompanist for many singers includingPaula Stewart. They were married from 1953 to 1958.

“I guess you guys wonder why I am still doing this,” Bacharach said. “I don’t play golf. ...What grounds me is to make music, to continue to write music, to continue to play music, and to continue to perform for people like you. If I could make you feel a bit better, lift a bit of the heaviness off you, then I feel very happy.”

Bacharach performed with a seven-member band and three singers. Still, he played piano the entire show, sang some of his own hits, and through sharp conducting displayed how he earned his reputation as a perfectionist.

At the end of every piece, he stood from his piano bench. He spoke or sang the last few words of each song, guiding the singers to end on the note he wanted, at the tempo he wanted. With a flick of his hand, he likewise guided the musicians to end on point.

Bacharach is considered a visionary whose music is often described as having unconventional time signatures, unusual chord progressions, atypical instruments, catchy melodies, and combinations of jazz, pop, Brazilian.

He told the crowd he loved jazz and sited his major influences as bebop legendsCharlie Parker and Thelonious Monk. “Dizzy Gillespie was my hero,” he said.

By some accounts, Bacharach wrote about 500 compositions. His charting songs are too many to name and too many to play in a two-hour show. He tried though, by including two jam-packed medleys. “We are going to do a lot of music for you,” he said. “Some old, some not so old.”

The first medley was a group of hit songs and a nod to two of Bacharach’s longtime collaborators.

“Many of these songs have lyrics written by the brilliant Hal David,” he said. Bacharach and David met when both worked at New York’s famed Brill Building, known as the site where some of the greatest American songs were crafted. The two men first collaborated in 1957, writing "The Story of My Life" which was recorded by Marty Robbins.

“This is the very first record we did with Dionne Warwick,” he said, to start off the medley. The band then played “Don’t Make Me Over.” The song reached No. 21 in 1962. It was the first of 20 Top 40 hits that Bacharach and David would write and produce for Warwick over the next 10 years.

The medley continued with “Walk On By,” “This Guy’s In Love With You,” “I Say A Little Prayer,” “Trains and Boats and Planes,” “Do You Know the Way To San Jose,” “Wishin’ and Hopin’,” and “(There’s) Always Something There To Remind Me.”

The latter was sung masterfully by John Pagano and accompanied by big horns. This Bacharach/David song was recorded by three different artists in the ‘60s alone and was made popular again in 1983 by the British synth pop band Naked Eyes with a cover version that reached No. 8.

The second medley featured a slew of hits and award-winning songs that Bacharach wrote for movies. He reportedly began scoring films after meeting his second wife, actress Angie Dickinson. They were married from 1965 to 1980.

“Motion pictures, film, cinema has been good fortune for me. Here’s some of the music I’ve done for them,” he said.

He returned to his piano and sang “The Look of Love” which he wrote for the soundtrack of the 1967 film Casino Royale. It was originally performed by Dusty Springfield.

The medley continued with snippets of “The April Fools,” “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” “Making Love” (a hit for Roberta Flack in 1982), “Wives and Lovers” (a hit for Jack Jones in 1963), and “Alfie” which won a Grammy award for Best Instrumental Arrangement in 1967.

There was only time for a verse or two, but people jumped to their feet for “What’s New Pussycat?,” the No. 3 title track hit for Tom Jones in 1965. Then came a small taste of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head,” written for the 1969 filmButch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The No. 1 hit and film score earned Bacharach two Oscars and a Grammy award.

The audience grew sentimental as Bacharach played “Arthur’s Theme (The Best That You Can Do)” from the 1981 film Arthur, which he also scored. Sung byChristopher Cross, the song was yet another No. 1 hit and won an Oscar for Best Song.

“Arthur’s Theme” is also notable as the start of Bacharach’s relationship with lyricist Carole Bayer Sager, who became his third wife from 1982 to 1991. The pair collaborated on many hits played that evening including “That’s What Friends Are For,” the 1985 No.1 Grammy-winning hit sung by Dionne Warwick and Friends, and the 1986 No. 1 R&B duet “On My Own” sung by Patti LaBelle and Michael McDonald.

“Some I like better. Some I like less, but they are mine,” Bacharach said of his songs.

Other highlights of the show included singer Josie James’ rendition of “Anyone Who Had a Heart” (originally sung by Warwick in 1963) which Bacharach called spectacular. And singer Donna Taylor’s striking version of “(They Long To Be) Close To You” with sparse accompaniment by Bacharach on the piano. The Carpenters’ version of this track hit No. 1 in 1970. Also notable, Pagano’s “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself,” which earned a hug from the composer.

“This is a very, very old song I wrote years ago with Bob Hilliard, ‘Mexican Divorce,’” Bacharach said, when introducing the 1961 track. “It was recorded bythe Drifters.”

“There were three ways to get a divorce that I knew of. The standard way was to go to court with expensive lawyers. Another way was to go to Las Vegas and establish residency for six weeks. That’s how I got my first divorce. Then there was a Mexican divorce. It was long before anyone had an idea to build a … wall.”

He continued, “We thought it was going to be a hit but we lost the South. They didn’t want to play anything that had divorce in it.”

Oliver Bacharach came out to play keyboard on a few songs including “Make It Easy On Yourself.” Bacharach praised his son as a gifted keyboardist who took to the instrument naturally.

“I got a push from my mother and look where it got me,” Bacharach said. He recalled that his mother forced him to take piano lessons. Though he fiercely hated the lessons, he continued playing. “I did not want to disappoint my mother.”

Bacharach married his fourth wife Jane Hansen in 1993. He has seen countless tributes, accolades, and compilations, as well as a resurgence throughout the '90s and beyond. Some noteworthy examples include a 1996 appearance with Noel Gallagher of Oasis; cameo appearances in three Austin Powers movies; several appearances on American Idol; and a 1998 collaboration with Elvis Costello on the Grammy-winning single “I Still Have That Other Girl.” In 2005 he released the Grammy-winning album At This Time, which had contributions by Dr. Dre, Chris Botti, Rufus Wainwright, and Costello and was the first record to feature lyrics written by Bacharach.

The San Francisco show started to wrap up with “Any Day Now,” then the encore “That’s What Friends Are For.” Bacharach asked the audience to join him in singing “Rain Drops Keep Fallin' On My Head.” As the song played, he blew a kiss, signed a fan’s album, fist bumped his three singers, hugged his son, and waved goodnight. He walked off as the memorable melody concluded. Another precise ending, conducted Bacharach style.

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