#and I'm still shaky from that experience l

[pigeons-conversion-sideblog]

Like I expect this kind of thing from the Hamasniks.

It hurts way more when it's coming from someone who explained why the exact thing they're doing is wrong three posts ago.

I've been seeing a nonzero amount of Jews saying...really sickeningly hibernophobic things in response to Irish individuals being viciously antisemitic.

I've posted about this on my main blog, but it's getting really tiring. Now isn't the time, the potato famine wasn't that bad, the IRA is exactly the same as Hamas, Irish Catholics and Palestinians are the same so Irish Catholics are Scandinavian settler colonists somehow???

It's really making me scared and upset to see people being willing to use collective judgment on Irish people as a whole, to rewrite history to demonize us, to rescind all their viewpoints on how to be decent to marginalized ethnicities as long the ethnicity is Irish Catholic, who rightly point out how fucked up it is that people make exceptions for Jews having human rights...

...and then turn around and make those exact exceptions for Irish people.

This isn't something that needs to be dragged out on posts with people using Irish tragedies to illustrate leftist hipocrisy against Jews, although I do think that rhetorical method is itself hypocritical and it bothers me that anyone anywhere is EVER willing to make exceptions to their principles for ANY ethnicity that exists.

I think that's wrong.

I don't want to take away from anyone's pain. We don't disagree overall. We really don't. I'm infuriated by the "uwu ireland standa with palestine uwu" nonsense too!

I just...I really really hate that the answer seems to be "so we take everything we've been begging people not to do to us and we do it to those filthy micks instead" for an alarming number of people.

I say this here because I think the hamasniks fetishizing Irish history cannot be reached at this point. They need to be fully, formally deradicalized. I'm saying this here because I trust you guys to take me in good faith and actually be open to thinking it through.

I'd like to read some works by Irish Jews, if anyone has any recommendations. I really hope it doesn't need to be said that I would prefer if those works did not also demonize Irish Catholics while uplifting Irish Jews.

[zomb-rabbit]

full nsfw alphabet for toby??

posting this from the glue trap i'm stuck in

🪓 Toby Rogers NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare, what they’re like after sex

checks in with you a WHOLE BUNCH- he wants to make sure you know he loves you and cares about you no matter how hard y'all were going not even 5 minutes ago

B = Body part, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

on him, i think it's a tie between his arms and his hair if that counts lolz. he likes how strong his arms are and likes to try n show off in front of you- he likes both how his hair looks, and he thinks his happy trail suits him

in you, i'd say your chest- in both a romantic and sexual sense :) he loves laying on you, listening and feeling your heartbeat, the closeness, all of it. he also loves leaving hickies all across it, little mindless bites and kisses decorating you from him getting lost on the feeling of you.

C = Cum, anything to do with cum, basically

he's a sucker for cumming inside, he just can't get over how you squeeze him and how fucked out you look

D = Dirty secret, pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

he jerked off to the thought of you WAAYYYY before y'all were dating- he was too embarrassed to tell you when you first started dating and he's too scared now. probably.

E = Experience, how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

love him to the ends of the earth, he has nothing. nada. zilch. you're his first everything, be patient with him cus he's gonna be nervous !! that does NOT mean he has shame though. he is not at all embarrassed to tell you when he wants you.

F = Favorite position, this goes without saying

anything with you on top- as i said he's a boobs/chest kinda guy, he wants to watch

G = Goofy, are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.

he's more serious, but it's mostly because he's concentrated. he wants to do his best to make you feel good and he wants to focus!!

H = Hair, how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

i think he trims, but he doesn't wanna shave unless you ask him to (mostly because he has a tendency to accidentally nick himself with the razor)

he gets some facial hair on his chin, but it's nothing super serious. he'll jokingly ask you to help him with it sometimes, if you say yes you'll be rewarded with a very flustered boyfriend that keeps letting out shaky breaths every time you put your hand on his chest to keep him still

I = Intimacy, how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

it really depends on his mood, but most of the time he's romantic about everything; telling you how much he loves you, all the noises you make, how fucking good you feel. if he's in a mood though, expect most of the words flowing out of his mouth to be about how bad he needs you, and reminding you that you're all for him.

J = Jack off, masturbation headcanon

it's. a lot. and it's mostly because he thought too hard about you- whether it was a small thing you did earlier that day that he thought was hot or his mind drifted to certain memories of you

K = Kink, one or more of their kinks

Toby praise kink truthers in this house !!!!!!!! lean over into his ear while you're riding him and tell him how pretty he looks when he's close, tell him you feel so full when he fucks you; he's putty in your hands

L = Location, favorite places to do they do

anywhere private- not big on getting caught by other people (catching you on the other hand is something else)

M = Motivation, what turns them on, gets them going

dead serious anything. you stretching in front of him, bending over to grab something, you smiling into a kiss- you get him hot and bothered by doing nothing and everything. (he does also really like it when you take any kinda control over him- even if it's just telling him in any kinda stern tone to go do something)

N = No, something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs

nothing that would seriously hurt you, and nothing to do with a daddy kink, sorry shawtys

O = Oral, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

he definitely prefers giving. loves how your thighs squeeze around his head, the feeling of you tugging at his hair, getting fistfuls of your ass as he pulls himself further into you.

he's such a mess receiving though, he's so sensitive and you look so pretty when you look up at him while he's halfway down your throat. he likes it when you take control when you're giving him head

P = Pace, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

tends to get lost in the feeling of you and ends up fucking you at a rough and fast pace, no matter how slow he started off. of course you can tell him to slow down if you really need him to, but his rough grip on your thighs and the whimpers and pants in your ear tell you just how bad he needs you.

Q = Quickie, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

they're not his favorite, but there have definitely been a few times where he just could not keep his hands off of you when the two of you were out and he pulled you aside. prefers to be able to take him time with you and draw things out a bit, but he'd never say no to you

R = Risk, are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.

he'll experiment with you !! it just has to be thoroughly talked about first

S = Stamina, how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

UNTIL HIS BODY GIVES OUT BABES- he does not care how tired his body gets, if you're down to keep going, he is too.

T = Toys, do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?

doesn't own any himself, and might be a lil shy using them on you, but he's a crying mess when you use them on him. he gets so overwhelmed so fast- make sure you tell him how good he's being <3

U = Unfair, how much they like to tease

he had no idea how to tease you for the first little bit- but as soon as he figured out how he could draw out little whines and begs for him to keep going, he could not get enough. can't do it for too long, though, he gets impatient

V = Volume, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

he is LOUD, panting, whimpering, whining- the whole nine yards. you feel fucking heavenly to him and he just can't help it :(( poor boy's sensitive

W = Wild card, a random headcanon for the character

he likes to have music in the back when y'all are going at it- he doesn't need it and it wouldn't be super loud, but it is nice to have background noise. some she wants revenge or somethin

X = X-ray, let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

~6.5, skinnier with such a sensitive tip

Y = Yearning, how high is their sex drive?

VERY this boy is down for anything 24/7 if you mention it. will wrap his arms around you from behind and whine into your neck if he's feeling needy.

Z = Zzz, how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?

if he was more rough or dominant with you, he doesn't wanna fall asleep until you do. if you were the one to take more charge, he'll certainly try to stay up !! but he's usually pretty spent and ends up asleep on your chest, gently holding your hand

[quinnysnursery]

quinny may i request a little!matt with pots fic pretty please 😁

[🩹] salty kisses | matt sturniolo one-shot

paring : pots!little!matt sturniolo x fem!cg!reader

summary : collection of moments with pots!little!matt and his cg navigating his symptoms

warning/extra tid-bits : throw up in the first section!! to skip it just start reading at "Air Hunger" instead!! crying, i think that's all?

word count : 2,195

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (little leafy dot things (cg says it's peas) from @saradika-graphics)

a/n : guys guess who's helping me write this? if you guessed "quinnys cg, who has pots" you'd be correct (not proof read, i'm just a girl!)

Those with POTS may experience...nausea,

Matt groaned, the uneasy feeling in his stomach had been relentlessly getting worse for the past two hours. It didn’t help that he was deep in littlespace, which only made him more sensitive to the discomfort. What did help though, was you. His caregiver.

“I know baby, I know.” You comfort, wiping sweat from your little’s forehead. “Do you think you're gonna be sick?” You ask quietly, not wanting to scare the regressed boy. Matt hated puking or anything to do with throwing up for that matter, but if he did think he was gonna be sick- then you needed to be prepared. 

He shrugged, curling further into your side- frustrated with his current situation. He felt too nauseous to do anything.

“Mama’s gonna get you some ginger ale to help.” You decide, standing up and pressing a delicate kiss on Matt’s temple before excusing yourself to the kitchen. 

You swung the fridge door open, eyes darting around for the stash of mini Canada Dry cans that you made sure to keep on hand for situations just like this. Grabbing one, you crack the tab open on your way back to your little one.

You stop in your tracks- finding that Matt was no longer on the couch. “Matty?” You call out, placing the miniature can onto the coffee table with a soft “clink!”.

You felt your heart break as you heard the familiar sounds of Matt retching- his nausea had won. “Oh baby boy…” You coo, pushing the wooden bathroom door open and crouching next to the boy hunched over the toilet. Matt choked out a pained whine, tears running down his cheeks. 

“Shh, mama’s here. Just let it out.” You comfort, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

When Matt’s stomach finished betraying him and he rinsed out his mouth, he leaned back into your chest- soft sniffles escaping the boy. You placed gentle kisses atop his head, assuring him that you were right there with him and weren’t going anywhere.

Those with POTS may experience...air hunger,

“Mama’s here, mama’s right here.” You comfort, holding onto Matt’s hand tightly- thumb rubbing the backside of his hand. Matt gasped out for air for what felt like the 100th time in the past twenty minutes, “I-Is’ not workin’!” The regressed boy cried out, panic obvious in his voice. 

“Hey, baby-” You push Matt’s hair away from his eyes, bringing his attention to you. “Big breath in with mama, ‘kay?” You readied him, he nodded- despite his panic, he trusted you. 

“In,” You took a deep breath in, Matt following. You pause for a moment, “Out.” You breathe out your nose. Matt followed, though you weren’t sure if it helped due to his shaky hands continuing. 

“Did that help? D’you wanna try again?” You offer, causing Matt to shake his head. “Hug.” He sniffled, still trying to fulfill his lungs' need for air. You wasted no time in wrapping your arms around the boy, placing your chin atop of his hair. 

You knew how scary this could be for Matt- especially since both he and his doctors hadn’t found a way to alleviate the symptom yet, other than to “wait it out”-  and it broke your heart that you couldn’t fix the situation. However, you could sit with him until it passed, which you were always happy to do.

Those with POTS may experience...brain fog.

Matt let out a low, frustrated whine as he slammed his index finger down on the left arrow-key of his laptop’s keyboard. He’d be rewinding this 22 minute episode of Gravity Falls for the past 40 minutes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to keep track of the episode’s storyline for the life of him.

“Everything okay, angel?” You ask him, looking away from your own work to focus your attention on your brunette boy. Matt shrugged, trying to find the words. 

This only made you shut your own laptop, scooting it away from you. “Are you feelin’ too little for Gravity Falls? D’you wanna watch something else?” You offer, lowering your head slightly to meet Matt’s eyes. Your heart broke as you realized they were filled with tears, “Oh baby…are you feelin’ bad?” 

That broke the dam. Matt was exhausted, his brain felt too heavy for his skull and he felt as if the world had a haze over it. Yet, he had no way to communicate that. Words were too much work.

“C’mon love, let’s take a nap.” You hum, standing up off the couch and offering him your hand. Only then did you realize Matt was in no position to walk up stairs, nor did you want to risk a fainting spell. 

“Couch nap?” You ask, Matt stared blankly at you for a few moments before nodding slowly- lowering himself to lay down on the couch. You snagged a throw blanket out of the blanket placed near the couch, laying it over your boy. “Get some rest, I love you.” You murmur, moving his hair away from his forehead and planting a kiss against his forehead.

Those with POTS may experience...dizziness,

The sound of giggling littles filled your living room as Chris and Matt played with action figures on the plush carpet. “Wooosh!” Chris giggled, sitting up on his knees and making iron man soar through the sky. Matt watched his younger brother (older, if you were referencing their current headspaces.) with excitement in his eyes. 

It occurred to Matt as he watched Chris move the action figure through the air that he wanted you to be a part of their imaginary game. You were currently in the kitchen with Nick, chatting over a cup of coffee…but you always said he was more than welcome to ask you to play!

“Mama ‘n Nick?” Matt asked, grabbing Chris’ attention. “You wan’ them to play ‘oo?” His brother asked, earning a confirming nod from his quieter brother. “Okay! C’mon!” Chris giggled, quickly bouncing to his feet and rushing towards the kitchen- before stalling for his brother. “C’moooon Matt!” Chris whined impatiently. 

Matt attempted to do the same as his brother- bouncing onto his feet in one swift motion. Sadly for him though, Matt’s body wasn’t programmed the same as Chris’ body was. 

He stumbled back on his feet, his brain scrambling into a staticy mess- making his vision go white for a split second as the floor swayed beneath him. 

Chris’ eyes widened at Matt’s uneasy posture. “Y/N! NICK!” He called out, instantly sending both caregivers out of their chairs and into the living room.

“What’s going on?!” Both caregivers called, Y/N’s eyes instantly looking towards Matt. “Oh honey,” The woman cooed, placing a gentle hand on Matt’s shoulder as he steadied himself- waiting for the room to stop spinning.

“Got up ‘oo quick.” Matt mumbled out, leaning into his caregiver’s touch. Y/N nodded, understanding.

Once Matt was able to stand up on his own, confidently, Chris sprung into apologies. “M’ sorry Matty…forgot ‘m gotta be gentler with you.” He mumbled sheepishly, earning a quick “...’s okay! Play still?” From his brother.

Chris nodded enthusiastically, looking towards Nick and Y/N with hopeful eyes. “Mama play?” Matt asked quietly. You wasted no time nodding, “Of course, baby.” 

Those with POTS may experience...blood pooling.

Both you and Matt were standing in the kitchen, waiting for dinner to be ready. “Do you want apple juice or fruit punch with your soup?” You ask as you open up the fridge, the cool air hitting you in the face as your eyes travel around to the drink options. You paused for a few moments, waiting for your little one to respond.

“Baby?” You call out, turning your head to see Matt staring down at his feet. Matt looked up, pointing down at his feet with his index finger. “Puw’ple.” He said softly, he was right- his feet were discolored to a light shade of purple. You couldn’t help but gently chuckle at the casualness of his tone, it truly was just another part of living with POTS for Matt.

“I’ll get your socks, can you sit on this stool for me?” You ask, turning off the burner of the stove and patting the countertop stool near you. Matt nodded, shuffling into his seat. You wasted no time rushing upstairs, grabbing a pair of compression socks from his dresser and one of his stuffed animals. 

“Fox!” Matt smiled excitedly at your choice of socks, “Yeah baby! Foxes!” You enthuse, helping him get the compression socks on. 

Those with POTS may experience...fainting.

You knew it was coming since Matt came downstairs this morning. Whether it was intuition or sheer-dumb-luck…you knew. 

That’s why you insisted on being a part of the video the triplets were filming later that night.

 “Can I come?” You asked, knowing you wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “Umm, I can ask if we can change our reservation for a plus one.” Matt explained, pulling out his phone to ask his brothers. 

As you stared up at the neon sign that read “AMERICAN NINJA WARRIOR ADVENTURE PARK” you realized that this was possibly the worst video idea the triplets ever had- considering Matt’s disability.

Of course, you knew that Matt knew this but the ear to ear smile that he had plastered on throughout the entire drive to the adventure park, signing the waivers and while explaining to the camera what the three boys were going to be doing was enough for you to keep your concerns to yourself.

That was until the last obstacle course. The boys had decided to save the biggest one for last, and Matt decided to go last- which terrified you immediately seeing as Matt had already been complaining about feeling dizzy. 

“C’mon Matt!” Chris teased as his older brother clung onto one of the ropes of an obstacle. The three boys continued screaming out “encouraging” words as Matt’s legs shook on the unsteady surface- the changing of positions had to be triggering Matt’s dysautonomia. 

Matt accepted defeat and let go- falling onto the inflatable cushioning. “Matt!” Nick laughed, holding the vlogging camera. Matt sat up, using his elbows to prop himself up- his eyes immediately darting to yours. 

“Ma’...” He sniffled, a familiar feeling looming over him as his eyesight started to go. “Oh shit,” Chris cursed under his breath, signaling for Nick to put the camera down. You wasted no time rushing to your boy, crouching next to him.

“I’ve got’ya.” You comfort, reaching out for your little. Matt stood up on shaky feet- wanting to get off the course before fainting. “Are you okay to walk?” You asked, offering your arms out for Matt to balance against. 

Matt whined, his regression had come on so suddenly that he was even more disoriented than usual. “You alright, bud?” Nick asked, worried for his younger brother- he’d been Matt’s caregiver for years before you took over.

Matt’s head spun at the amount of concerned glances and worried looks he was getting and his heart was beating at a rate that hurt his chest. “C’mon baby,” You attempted to redirect, guiding Matt off the course.

The two of you made it about five steps before Matt’s feet felt too weak to continue, his eyes falling shut and his body falling forward. Your reflexes were lightening fast, grabbing onto Matt before he could hit the floor- thanking Chris for rushing to help you get Matt onto the ground safely. 

Nick rushed to get your purse, assuming you’d carry things to make Matt’s fainting spells easier. “Thank you Nick,” You smiled, putting your bag under Matt’s legs in an attempt to elevate them- a technique you learned whilst researching POTS.

When Matt finally came too, he whined at the bright lights- instantly shielding his eyes. The youngest triplet was the first to recognize, “Hey bud, you feel okay?” Chris’ voice was unusually gentle. 

Matt let out a low whimper, eyes searching for you. “Mama?” He asked, still disoriented from his fainting spell. You shushed him, resting your hand on his shoulder- not wanting him to sit up just yet.

“I’m here baby, Nick’s here too.” You smiled as Nick waved playfully at Matt- causing him to giggle breathly. 

After a few moments, Matt sat up. You instantly began digging around your purse, searching for a favorite salty snack you kept on you at all times- for cases just like this. You let out a cartoon-ish, “Aha!” as you pulled the small packet of goldfish crackers out your purse, handing them to your little. 

Matt smiled, head clearer than before as he began chowing down. “I’m gonna ask for a water bottle.” Nick declared, standing up to find an employee. Chris opted to go with him to give you two some space- not before you thanked him yet again.

“T’ank ‘ou mama.” Matt smiled at you, salt from the fish-shaped crackers on his lips. “Of course baby, we’ll grab dinner on the way home so don’t eat too many.” You informed him, though you didn’t have the heart to take the snack away from the regressed boy. Matt nodded, setting the bag of goldfish down on the ground next to him and leaning over to press a salty kiss onto your cheek.

taglist !! :

@natedoeswife @blahbel668 @nicksloverrr @flow3rsturns13 @pkfferoo @pixxiies @mattsturnswhore @17welch17 @pinksikhewei @v33angel @mattssturnz @littlestar44 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @sturnsxplr-25 @cherry-red-heart @pr3ttyf4wn @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx @tyummyz

[jaikoyaki]

Stop staring, Kang Haerin!

CHAPTER 1:

Love Hate at first sight.

Masterlist - next

SYPNOSIS:Haerin, the vice president of the debate club, always seemed to give you cold, dismissive looks—or at least, that's what you thought. Convinced she couldn’t stand you, you never expected to have anything to do with her. You assumed she just hated you. But when the club loses a key member before an important competition, you—known for your academic excellence—are the obvious choice to step in.

Words: 1.2k

You stood outside the debate clubroom, staring at the door as if it might bite you. You hadn’t expected to be here, let alone as the club’s last-minute solution to their unexpected crisis. It was only a week ago that your best friend practically begged you to join, explaining that one of the club’s key members had transferred schools. She made it sound like the club would collapse if you didn't join, a bit dramatic maybe, but it worked. So, here you were.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

The room fell silent as the members looked up from their seats. It wasn’t a large group, but it was definitely enough to make you feel out of place. You quickly scanned the room and spotted her—the person you had been dreading ever since your best friend mentioned you joining: Kang Haerin. Vice president of the debate club. Everyone knew about her, with her sharp mind and even sharper stare. She sat near the center, her arms resting on the table as she fidgeted with her fingers, her gaze fixed on you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. You had never spoken to her before, but you always seemed to lock eyes with her in the hallways or the cafeteria, only to be met with that piercing stare. Over time, you just assumed she didn’t like you.

Your heart sank a little as you caught her eyes again just like almost everyday. She was staring at you like you were an unwanted intruder, her gaze hardening the longer you stood there. Her expression gave nothing away, but it felt like judgment, and it made you want to turn around and leave.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You’d already committed to this.

"L/N, I'm so glad you could make it!" the club president—Danielle, said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "We’ll start with introductions. Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s joining us to help out with our upcoming competition."

You gave a nervous smile and waved awkwardly, trying not to glance at Haerin again. But it was impossible not to feel her eyes on you.

What the hell did you even do?

You quickly tried to shake the thoughts from your head as Danielle continued to speak, unaware of the growing pit in your stomach.

"Alright, Y/N! Since you’re new here, we’ll just ask a few questions so you can get settled in. Then, we’ll go into some practice."

You nodded, forcing a smile, but your mind was still stuck on the girl. Why did she always look at you like that? Her feline eyes were now focused on something else—thankfully—but it didn’t erase the feeling of being under constant scrutiny.

"How familiar are you with debates?" one of the members asked, pulling your attention back to the group.

"I’ve participated in a few competitions before," you answered, your voice a little shaky but honest. "But not anything on the scale of what you guys are preparing for."

"That’s great! We need all the help we can get right now." Danielle beamed, clearly relieved to have you there.

A few more questions were thrown your way—what topics you preferred, your strengths in public speaking, whether you had experience with research— blah blah blah, and you did your best to answer. Still, every now and then, your gaze would flicker to Haerin, who hadn’t said a word the entire time. She just sat there, fidgeting with her fingers but always watching. Judging. Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

Eventually, the questions died down, and the practice session began. Danielle explained the plan for the upcoming competition while passing out some papers. You tried to focus, but your nerves made it hard to absorb much.

As you shuffled through the notes handed to you, a piece of paper slid across the table toward you. Startled, you looked down.

It was from Haerin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you hesitantly unfolded it, expecting some kind of passive-aggressive note telling you to do better or not screw up.

But it wasn’t.

It was a neatly written list of points for the debate topic.

Confused, you glanced over at Haerin, but she didn’t meet your gaze. She simply stared straight ahead, her expression as cold and unreadable as ever. Was she helping you? Or was this just for the club’s benefit? You couldn’t tell.

You went along with it, following the points she’d given you. As the discussion went on, you occasionally heard whispers from Haerin’s direction, something like, “Mention that stat here,” or “Bring up the counter-argument now.” Her tone was low, controlled. Her instructions were precise, helpful, even. But it only deepened the confusion.

Why was someone who supposedly didn’t like you going out of her way to help?

Still, it all felt... impersonal. Like it wasn’t about you at all. Like it was just for the sake of the competition. There was no way this was personal. Not with how she looked at you every time your eyes accidentally met.

By the end of the session, your nerves had settled, though the weight of Haerin’s gaze hadn’t. You collected your things, ready to make a quick exit.

"Good job today," Danielle called out as you waved a polite goodbye to the rest of the group.

As you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but replay everything in your head—Haerin’s silence, the notes, the whispers. Maybe she didn’t hate you after all. Or maybe she was just doing her job as vice president, making sure everything ran smoothly for the sake of the competition. The two voices debated in your head as you absentmindedly walked toward the exit.

It wasn’t the first time you'd felt this way around her. The memory hit you like a wave, taking you back to that moment in math class last semester—the first time you really noticed Kang Haerin.

Back then, you were seated next to her, and you had felt it from the beginning: that stare. You’d glance over, only to find her already looking at you, her cat-like eyes unreadable. It was unnerving, like she was silently criticizing every move you made.

One particular moment stood out to you. You had been working on a problem in your notebook, struggling with a tricky equation. You glanced over, hoping for some clue that maybe she was having just as much trouble, but there she was, solving it effortlessly—her expression calm, focused, and... sharp.

When your eyes met, it felt like time froze. Her gaze was intense, like she could see right through you, picking apart your every flaw. It wasn’t a glare, not exactly, but it felt just as piercing.

The longer she looked, the more your anxiety built up So you broke eye contact, quickly returning to your own notes, feeling your hands clam up. You’d been so rattled by that stare that you ended up switching seats with a classmate the next day, just to get away from her.

Just then, Haerin brushed past you, heading in the opposite direction. You caught a glimpse of her bag and noticed a small frog keychain dangling from the zipper. It was an unexpected contrast to her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor, and for a moment, you found it oddly... cute. You couldn’t help but smile a little to yourself as she disappeared down the hallway.

Who are you Kang Haerin?

Taglist: @saysirhc

[hackerqueen]

In The Stars

author's note: i missed writing one shots (you also know that i love writing sad stories) hope you like it!

She couldn't tell fact from fiction anymore.

She hadn't slept through the night in so long because thoughts of him haunted her constantly. Every attempt to nap ended the same way. With her eyes closed, she saw the hundreds of messages she exchanged with him. From the worst ones, where both lacked hope, but their presence gave them strenght, to the sweet ones, where they forgot about the world around them. Where the group, the Hannah search or the government didn't matter. Where they were just two people who were blindly in love with each other. Where in these small moments they could breathe a sigh of relief and find their own definition of peace.

She was reliving them all. And she regretted so much that those moments were so few. That she didn't get to know him fully. That they did not experience what other lovers in great romantic novels did.

Despite the passage of time, she could not come to terms with it, much less erase it from her memory. Then it was all about him. Every thought, every dream or whisper in her head. She never expected his departure to be so painful. The hole that was still bleeding in her heart was making her breathing more shaky than normal. Every day she fell apart, only to put herself back together again in the evening. However, after the nightmares that haunted her at night, the morning came when she had to face the world again, pretending that she was still alive, even though she couldn't live anymore.

Every day she tried to forget everything. Get rid of every memory left of him. But she felt him all the time. And she was sure that she will always feel him.

A few months later she was sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs hanging loosely and the cool night wind chilling her body. The night was absolutely beautiful. A full moon and thousands of stars illuminated her face. With a sigh, she reached into the pocket of her black sweatshirt to pull out the box of pills she put away each day. She poured some into her palm and swallowed them without sipping. She closed her eyes, blowing steam from her mouth due to the low temperature. She tried to let herself feel the blissful state she usually felt after the drugs that somehow allowed her to fight another day.

– Bad day?

Hearing a soft voice behind her, she immediately opened her eyes and turned her head.

He was standing there. In the darkness of the night she couldn't see his face, but the silhouette of the hacker made her feel a longed-for peace. A pleasant warmth spread inside her, as if someone had poured hot water on her frozen body.

– You are here. – she whispered in a trembling voice – You're here again.

She watched as he started walking towards her, nodding his head in response. He sat down next to her. His face was still blurred as if pixelated, but she could recognize his blue eyes, which were always calm, harmonious, and warm. So much warmth that could have lulled her to sleep. They felt so real that once again she was sure it was really him.

– You know these meetings of ours are... – He paused and scratched the back of his neck, searching for the right word. – Alarming.

She smiled. However, the smile did not last long, because after a few moments tears stung under her eyelids and she was not going to stop them. Not here and not with him.

– You can't keep doing this.

– I'm trying to quit it, all the time, but it's just too hard. – she looked down at her lap and he took her hand

But she felt nothing but coldness and lasting emptiness.

Then she burst into even more sobs that shook her whole body. She choked on it, as she had that night when she found out about the mine explosion.

– Please don't cry. – he said softly as his other hand caressed her cheek where he was wiping away the tears – It's okay.

– No, it's not. – she croaked – Tell me what I can do to make you stay? What can I do so you won't leave?

He looked straight into her eyes, still gently holding her cheek, on which he was drawing patterns unknown to her with his thumb.

– You can't do anything because you know perfectly well that I'm not..

– Please don't say that – she whimpered, looking pleadingly into his eyes

She didn't want to hear it because each time it felt like the hole in her heart was growing even bigger.

– I'm not here, MC.

The words vanished into the air with the gust of wind. MC squeezed her eyes shut as more hot tears ran down her face. She hated those moments. She hated them because even though she knew he was right, she still couldn't accept it.

She opened her eyes and the seat next to her was empty. He hadn't been there for long, endless months. He never showed up. It was only an illusion and an image of her riddled psyche, which she could not part with. It was the last thing left of him.

It's been five whole months. She knew that tomorrow would be another day when no one would notice that something was wrong. And she would come back here again to feel his presence for a while. In the middle of the night, where only the stars will witness their meeting. She knew it was bad for her. But she couldn't muster the courage to say goodbye.

More than anything in the world, she wished Jake would still haunt her.

"I don't wanna say goodbye, 'cause this one means forever

And now you're in the stars and six-feet's never felt so far

Here I am alone between the heavens and the embers"

[anewbeginningagain]

​Have to say that while the top 4 skated well, it was the teams below them that I enjoyed the most, Lajoie/Lagha and Carreira/Ponomarenko especially. 

Going one by one:

​Harris/Chen - finally redemption for them after a horrible season, still have a way to go but this was a step in the right direction.

KoKo - surprisingly enjoyable and overall clean and getting decent levels, I was positively surprised.

Soucisse/Firus - will forever be hampered by their ability to only interpret one style of dance, mostly stagnated even after moving to Carol Lane but at least the country switch will get them to the Olympics before retirement.

Orihara/Pirinin - I dig them so much and they nailed their Chicago FD, not in the same class as some of the rest in terms of skating skills but my god do they commit to their performance. Kudos to Juho for legit committing to the performance more than 99.99999% of ice dance men.

Taschlers - clearly not over their injury, sloppy unfortunate mistake in the RD with the lift, and not enough experience to save the situation. FD was better but they need time to heal.

Demougeot/Le-Marcier - I like them a lot but they are being held up by lifts and pazzez, their step sequences were not great, especially the one-foot.

Davis/Smolkin - terrible swan lake program, terrifying straight line lift that is supposed to impress but is mostly shaky, and mediocre skating skills. Their score was a travesty and seeing their swan lake followed by that of the Mrazeks was so telling.

Mrazeks - the first time I was really impressed by them, their FD was powerful and skated with confidence beyond their experience, they will go places for sure.

Smart/Dieck - not gelling together like you would have expected or they would have wanted just yet. Potential is there but it will take more time. Decent first half of the FD but then really falling apart. Scores too harsh though.

Lim/Quan - like the Mrazeks they are going places, but with them I'm not surprised. Hannah Lim is a STAR. Their FD grew on me and improved over the year, but I did miss their Dance Macabre FD.

Fournier-Beaudry/Sorensen - For the first time she was way more shaky than he was, I feel for her as mentioned before, this FD was skated overall well but it was clear that they didn't stand a real chance of winning anything, doubt they can even feel it was that much rewarding. My hope for her is that they will move on and retire, and that she can somehow put this behind her (whatever way she chooses to).

Turkkila/Versluis - the first time I managed to enjoy their FD, still not my favorite team and I find their skating skills lacking in the step sequences. It's legit a travesty how they are scored in and out of Finland, one of the most egregious cases of home ice inflation when you think about it.

Reed/Ambrulevicuis - love them, would have had them behind CPom overall, they are great but the basics are not as good as some of the rest.

Carreira/Ponomarenko - one of the two major highlights for me, improved power and speed, best one-foot of the event (L/L close second), and while Christina has been on an upward trajectory for two seasons now, today Anthony really managed to deliver as well, strong twizzles, and great interpretation. I will miss this FD so much, and I pray Scott, Madi, and Adria can get them two great programs for next season as well.

Lopareva/Brissaud - just not the team for me, nice skating but doing nothing for me. I hope they move on from Gui's pretentious choreography not gonna lie.

Lajoie/Lagha - second highlight of the night for me, stunning FD skated to close to perfection, and with so much emotions. After the injury they had it's just a testament to their strength that they managed to nail this FD. They too are going places, and hopefully very soon.

Fear/Gibson - were close to unwatchable for me since they were following the emotional high of L/L's FD. To their credit no matter how cringe their material is for me the audience always gets behind them and they did so today as well. But that Rocky FD is a big no for me, and it's depressing to know they will come out with another campy cringe FD next season as well.

Chock/Bates - came close to disaster with the rotational lift but saved it with their experience, this FD is not their strongest and it was skated well but didn't create a moment. Will they retire or not is the biggest question for me.

Guignard/Fabbri - came close to disaster too and also saved it with experience. He was shaky during the FD but they skated well. Bronze makes sense here. I kind of wish they would retire as well but at this point, it is clear Milano is their target.

Gilles/Poirier - Dislike their shtick, but manged to enjoy their FD for the most part. Put of the top 3, deserved to win the FD. Here as well, will they reitre is the biggest question for me (time to leave the stage to L/L).

Final note - praying P/C don't come back, with so many amazing young teams on the horizon it will be super depressing watching them do the same FD for the 8th and 9th years but still be rewarded.

[hiramaris]

Dusk til Dawn

Part 12

Summary: Following Episode 9. And spoilers for Episode 10. 

Author’s note: As Episode 10 is just released I just want to say heads up for those who are not yet finished. Completing the game without spoilers really made a difference, and as much as possible I want everyone to experience that. And for those finished, I’ll gladly welcome you to my domain where MC took a different route.

Disclaimer:  I do not own Duskwood or any of the related characters. Duskwood is created by and owned by Everbyte Studio. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Duskwood story belong to Everbyte Studio.

Warning: Mentions of blood, suicide, violence, pedophiles, drugs, gun, murder, sex offenders, kidnapping

GIF on GIFER - by Tadal

Minutes had turned into an hour. And still, no news from either you or Jake.

Jessy couldn't contain her anxiety any longer. Pacing back and forth, she gnawed at her lower lip, a sense of unease gnawing at her. The last update you have given was when you went down from the shaft. You already told them the reception there is pretty unstable, and the more you go deeper into the cave, the less reliable it will be.

They waited, every second feeling like an eternity, and her worry grew with each passing moment.

A knot of dread tightened in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"Jessy," Cleo called her from her seat, her voice laced with concern. "Sit down. You're making us all nervous."

Jessy's frustration was evident as she flailed her hands in frustration or anger— she doesn't even know at this point!

"It's been an hour, Cleo! I can't just sit and calm down!"

"I understand, but we can't do anything else right now, can we?"

Normally, Cleo would have used this to clash opinions with her but this time, her voice was soothing, trying to bring reason to the situation, and yet Jessy doesn't have the right mind to notice that right now.

"Y/n/n and Jake are a capable duo," Lilly stood up to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure the reception is just pretty bad down there."

Jessy can see Lilly's own worry in her eyes but surprisingly, the usual short-tempered youngest Donfort is keeping it together now, and Jessy envies her for it.

Because her emotions are a whirlwind right now, caught between utter fear and uncertainty.

"I—" Her words caught as her phone suddenly rang, its familiar ringtone breaking the tense atmosphere. She glanced at the screen, her eyebrows furrowing at the unknown contact number flashing before her eyes. She had been expecting your call, not this.

"It's an unknown number..." She showed the others, her anxiety growing even more.

Thomas, who had been glued to the stream since your departure, stood up as well, his nerves evident. "Do you think it's the culprit?" His voice was shaky.

"Should I answer it...?" Jessy's bottom lip quivered as she tried to maintain her composure.

"I... hic think you s-should." Dan slurred, now fully drunk. He's been downing his whiskey since you left. Knowing him, he's probably trying to wash his fear down with alcohol but is too stubborn to admit he's scared for your safety as well.

Cleo's disapproval was evident as she shook her head at Dan's state before turning her attention to Jessy. "Yes, that would be ideal."

"Put it on speaker," Lilly suggested.

With trembling hands, Jessy tapped the answer button, her breath catching in her throat. "H-hello..?"

"Is this Miss Jessica Hawkins?" A brisk and unfamiliar female voice echoed through the cabin from the other end of the line.

"Uhm, yes. This is her speaking. Uh... may I ask who you are?"

"I am Agent Hartmann. One of Chief L/n's subordinates. I have news for you."

****

Jake cursed softly, and even his own voice felt unfamiliar to him. He tried to open his eyes, blinking against the harsh light, he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The world around him became a swirl of disjointed colors and muffled sounds. His head throbbed relentlessly, each beat sending shockwaves of pain through his skull. The taste of copper filled his mouth, a metallic tang that seemed to cling to his senses.

He tried to lift a hand to his head but found that he was unable to move his arms, and he found himself not understanding why. His thoughts were fragments, fractured pieces that refused to come together. It was as if his mind was trapped in a haze, a foggy labyrinth that he couldn't navigate.

Whispers and voices reached his ears, but they were garbled, and distorted. The world seemed to sway and tilt with every attempt to focus. He fought to push through the fog that had settled in his mind, each moment a battle against the overwhelming weight of dizziness.

A hand reached out to him, a blurry figure emerging from the haze. Their words were distant, lost in the echo chamber of his mind. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, a jumble of syllables that refused to form coherent sentences.

Fear gnawed at him, an instinctual realization that something was seriously wrong. He fought against the pull of unconsciousness, desperate to hold onto some semblance of awareness. But the darkness loomed, threatening to engulf him in its embrace once more.

He could only understand one thing coming from the figure. Their voice is cold and menacing as they whispered, "Sweet dreams."

Then, once more, everything dissolved into blackness.

****

Fuck this shit.

You had let your guard down and now you're paying the price.

You've been trying to budge from your restraints for what seemed like forever. Your wrists are starting to grow itchy as you struggle against the restraints that bound your wrists. It probably has rashes by now but you didn't have the presence of mind to worry about that.

You also find it hard to break through your restraints as you have suffered a huge concussion in the head. The bloodied baseball beside you and the now dried blood that streaked down the side of your face and over your left eye serves that reminder.

Beside you, Hannah lay unconscious, a small sense of relief washing over you as you noted the lack of visible injuries.

In front of you is a laptop on a fragile-looking table on the verge of collapsing. You have a perfect visual of what's playing and then realize it was the stream from earlier.

And it seemed to be... looped?

Because how the hell is Hannah still there with Richy when she's beside you all this time?

Fuck. This is indeed a trap. The video was merely a trap for you to get here and you bit it!

You scanned your surrounding once again, searching for anything sharp that could cut through the ropes binding you. But the room is spotted clean from any weapon, and you're sure the culprit— no, Ted had stripped you from your weapons.

"Of all the damn luck," you muttered to yourself. Irritation bubbled up within you. When was the last time you let yourself get caught by a criminal? You couldn't even remember and yet here you are, tied inside an abandoned mine like a scene from a cliché kidnapping movie that would never hit the big screen.

You needed to find a way to get both of you out of this situation – and fast.

Your thoughts raced, a mixture of irritation and anger swirling within you. How had you missed such a significant piece of information? The mere thought of Ted sent your blood boiling, and you cursed under your breath.

Then a bitter realization hit you.

"Maybe because it seemed insignificant at that time," you muttered aloud, a self-directed comment born of frustration. The letter Lilly found had seemed legitimate because Hannah herself had supposedly sent it. However, the memory of the sticky note with "missing signature" written on it suddenly made sense. The Department of Corrections had returned Hannah's letter due to the absence of a signature on her request— a detail you had initially overlooked.

Your mind pieced the puzzle together in real time. The culprit had forged the letter to create an alibi for Ted. With him supposedly in prison, he would be exempted from suspicion. But he hadn't been able to replicate Hannah's signature, leading to the "missing signature" note. In which it should have been a huge red flag if only you had noticed.

Jessy even started to question you about that credibility. Because out of all your findings, Ted Madruga being in prison have the weakest foundation.

Your mind flickered back to the conversation you had with Jessy about her findings.

"Ted must have stolen the file." She assumed. "Because it would have incriminated him!"

You hummed thoughtfully, a hint of skepticism in your voice, "possible, but Ted's in prison."

"He is?" she questioned. "How sure are you about that?"

You paused. You haven't really thought about it that often. Back then, you were satisfied with Jake's findings about him. Plus, Lilly has already traced him all the way to prison.

“Based from what we gathered, we know he’s in prison,” you answered truthfully. “But right now, I’m not so sure.”

But you're sure it got to mean something. If Hannah ran over Jennifer using the AMC Gremlin that Ted owns, will that be the reason he's in prison? And the reason she tried to contact him is to admit the crime she did.

"Maybe he just sent someone else to steal the file for him?" You were snapped from your silent stupor when she spoke again. And then she added, voice cracking for a bit, "Y/n... is this why Richy has to die?"

Fuck, just what the hell were you thinking? How could you have overlooked that one simple fact?

"You shouldn't have come here, Y/n," a voice you recognized all too well shattered your thoughts, sending a surge of panic through your veins.

"Wha—" Your gaze shot up, eyes widening in disbelief. "Richy?! oh, man, I'm so glad."

You tried to rise on your feet, which was proven to be a difficult task. Your wrists were tightly restrained behind your back, held together by a rope, making your attempts to free yourself futile.

What you had failed to notice was Richy's look of indifference when he tried to help you stand on your feet. Because all you can think of is everything's going to be okay from here on out. Richy's finally here. You have Hannah with you. If you played your cards right, all four of you can make it out alive.

"I need to get out of these." You said in haste as turned your back to Richy, showing him your wrists. "Have you seen the culprit anywhere?" You began to question.

A tense silence hung in the air after your request. You're not really sure but you can feel the sudden drop of temperature in room. The air felt a little colder, suffocating even.

You waited, hoping for a response, but all that greeted you was the sound of your own labored breathing, and then...

A sharp intake of breath echoed in the room. Suddenly, you felt a chilling touch against the back of your neck—a cold, metallic object pressed firmly against your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum of impending danger.

And then, a distinct click pierced through the silence, sending another jolt of panic coursing through your veins. You knew that sound, recognized it for what it was.

"What..?" You started to question, your voice shaky, the word barely escaping your lips.

"You shouldn't have come here." He repeated, his tone carrying a weight that sent a shiver down your spine. The words, once familiar, now held an unfamiliar edge, a coldness that you couldn't comprehend.

"Richy..?" The name escaped your lips in a mere whisper. You wanted to turn around. See for it yourself but you couldn't. Maybe if you didn't you would delay the inevitable.

But you know to yourself that delaying the inevitable is a luxury you couldn't afford.

So, you steeled yourself to turn. At that moment, you wished you had remained oblivious to the truth unfolding before you.

Because the Richy standing before you was a stranger, a far cry from the person you once knew. Gone were the familiar easy smiles that used to light up his face, gone was the sparkle in his eyes that had been a constant during your time together.

Instead, his face bore the weight of exhaustion, etched with lines that spoke of countless stress. The bags under his eyes revealed sleepless nights and endless worry, while stubble adorned his jawline. His once neatly groomed hair was now tousled and unkempt.

What happened?

If Ted was the real culprit, why the hell is Richy pointing a gun at you? Never mind that was your Glock to begin with.

His gaze bore into you, intense and unrelenting, as if trying to convey a message you couldn't decipher. His eyes were red, the telltale sign of unshed tears, and you realized you were on the verge of the same emotion.

"Why did you have to be here?" His voice trembled, a lump forming in his throat. "He just told you, he won't spare no one!"

You took in the scene, his arm shaking as he held the gun. It was clear he had no experience handling a firearm, yet the cold barrel remained pressed against your forehead. You remained still, not out of fear that he might pull the trigger, but out of the unsettling realization that he might be behind all this madness.

"And I told you," you struggled to maintain your composure, yet your voice was firm with resolve. "I'm not leaving this mine without you and Hannah. I promised Jessy... I promised everyone." I promised myself that I won't let someone die under my watch again.

A flicker of emotion passed through Richy's eyes at the mention of his friends. If you had blinked at the same time, you might have missed it. His gaze wavered for a moment, revealing a hint of conflict beneath the surface.

"You already know how this will end," he continued, his voice faltering as he spoke. "Don't make it even more complicated than it already is."

A lot of questions came crashing into your mind like a harbor wave. Most of them are whys and hows only Richy could answer. Because you still refused to believe that the Richy you know is capable to hurt someone.

To hurt Jessy!

For fuck's sake he was the same guy who tried to calm down Alfie by fixing his toy car. You refuse to believe he's the same guy.

But as you stared at him, it made you question if you really did know him as well as you thought you did.

"There was a moment," he began, his voice wavering with a mix of emotions. "Where you were so incredibly close to the truth. But you were wrong about one thing."

Your brows furrowed, "what do you mean?"

His gaze met yours, and in his eyes, you saw a torment that mirrored your own.

"There weren't just two people involved in the incident back then." A lone tear escaped his right eye, tracing a path down his cheek. "There were three."

There were three.

Those words echoed within you. What is he implying?

Wait.

No.

It can't be.

He can see the realization in your eyes. And you didn't try to hide it.

You tried to open your mouth but no words came out. He must have seen something shift in you as his stance seemed to deflate, the gun he had pointed at you lowered against his side.

And for a moment, the Richy you once know seemed to resurface.

He approached you slowly, a knife in hand that you carefully noted was yours, too. The blade glinted in the dim light, but you held your ground. It was a strange juxtaposition—wary and trust warring within you. Richy could easily betray you in this vulnerable moment, but the foundation of your friendship held strong, and you believed he wouldn't truly harm anyone.

"Ten years ago, Hannah and Amy showed up on my doorstep," his voice quivered as he began to reveal his story. As he speak, you felt the rope behind you loosen, and with a final tug, you were finally able to break free from the restraints as Richy cut them off. "Pine Glade was almost over. It was dark already. They wanted me to drive them to Grimrock because Amy had lost something there. I can't..." he gave a soft, pained chuckle. He turns to free Hannah, too before facing you again. "I can't even remember what it was. I had..."

A low grunt escaped him, and you noticed he was clutching his shoulder. It was the gunshot wound you had inflicted.

"I had been at the festival the whole day so," a slow, shaky breath followed, his laughter masking his pain. "I was drunk, I had a couple of drinks. I said no, but they insisted. They were in a hurry, and they already had made this huge detour to get to me so..." he shrugged. "And I had been driving around our yard a couple of times so I gave them the keys to an old AMC Gremlin— one that should have been scrapped a couple of days later so I thought there's no harm in that, right?" He glanced up at you for a brief moment, seeking understanding in your gaze. "A couple of minutes later they showed up again and I almost didn't recognize the car. In the dark, I could only make out the blood on the windshield. There was also blood on the bumper, and none of them were able to utter a single word."

A heavy pause followed as he seemed to relive that fateful night. You could only listen in stunned silence as he finally confessed to you the truth.

The truth you were seeking from the start.

"So... I thought they must have hit an animal— some deer that jumped in front of the car so I drove them to the spot and there she was... a girl covered in blood," he recounted, his voice trailing off as if the words themselves were too much to bear. "Lifeless."

"Richy..." You reached out, your hand hovering in the air.

"Worthless!" He hissed, more to himself than to you, and you retreated your hand like you were burned. "We buried her in the forest, and we never spoke a word of that again. I..." His voice broke, and his resolve crumbled as tears streamed down his face. "I'm sorry..."

You can only stare at him. Eyes probably wide in horror. You told yourself you're prepared for whatever truth you'll find. Your work has already desensitized you into swallowing bitter pills with no water.

And this shouldn't be any different.

But what you didn't expect is to find the truth right next to Richy.

"I suspected you're involved in the incident... but I didn't want it to be true," you finally found your voice. You tried clenching your fist to contain your emotions but it felt like it did nothing to soothe you. As you stared at the person you once called your friend, you can only allow him to cry. You wanted to comfort him but you couldn't allow yourself. You're not sure if he deserves it.

You thought you were prepared for the ugly truth. When you found out that Hannah and Amy ran over Jennifer, you thought there couldn't be any worse truth than that.

You thought wrong. This is a bitter pill you didn't realize you have to swallow.

"Why, Richy?" It was supposed to sound accusatory but you're unable to mask the feeling of sadness and confusion you're feeling right now. "How could you hurt our friends? Jessy? She means something to you, is she not?"

"Let me explain, Y/n..." His eyes met yours, and the vulnerability you saw in them almost shattered your resolve.

He looked so broken and lost. At that moment, your emotions got the better of you, something you didn't allow yourself around criminals. But Richy... Richy is your friend. And he is a criminal now. To you, both words seemed to be two foreign concepts akin to water and oil— they never mix.

You couldn't see the man without a face in Richy the same way you can't see Richy in the man without a face.

"I hadn't thought of the accident for a long time." He went on when he noticed your lack of response. "Until Hannah came to the garage one day. Her oil sump was broken because she had driven into a pothole"

"So, at least the thing about the oil sump wasn't a lie," you found yourself retorting, a touch of bitter humor lacing your words.

"No, it wasn't." He managed a weak chuckle, the memories of your previous conversation resurfacing. "I noticed immediately that there was something wrong with her but she didn't want to say what it was. I would have probably just left it at that if I hadn't seen Amy in Hannah's car before she turned into my driveway. That..." He slumped back against the wall, still clutching his side. "That worried me."

"I suppose you weren't in contact with Amy since the accident," you noted, your brow furrowing as the pieces started to fall into place. "Which is why the others thought Hannah didn't know her."

"That's right." He nodded slowly, his gaze distant as he recounted the past. "So, I took a look at Hannah's satnav."

"Just like what Jessy did yesterday."

"Y-yeah... I knew it. I knew she had the skills," he mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I bet she can fully handle Roger's garage on her own now." A cough interrupted his words. "Good to know."

"She learned from the best." You tried to smile but you knew you ended up grimacing.

When you imagine meeting them, it wasn't like this. You were supposed to be goofing around with Richy, spreading mischievousness around Duskwood, and causing headaches for Jessy and Cleo.

But none of those happened.

"H-heh, yeah..." he chuckled weakly, his eyes clenching shut from the pain. "The address in the satnav was that of Iris Hanson. And then I knew that my worries were justified. I drove to Amy and she told me everything. Hannah found that bracelet. And then she suddenly saw a figure by the edge of the woods." His voice wavered, the memories still vivid despite the years that had passed.

"So it really was just her imagination?" you asked, lowering yourself to sit at his level.

He shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "It was Ted. He was keeping a close eye on Hannah, Amy, and me... probably for years. Fuck— I don’t even know… he said he saw us burying the body, and... I didn't know it was him at that time, and I thought it was just Hannah's guilt manifesting in ways only she could see it. But I knew to myself that it was probably time. We had run away from it for long enough. I care about Hannah and I don't want to see her get destroyed more than she already has. Maybe he would only go away if we finally faced our past. But I thought wrong."

"He wanted to make sure none of you forgets..." You thought aloud.

Ted planned all this. He was keeping an eye on all of them which is why he knows showing himself to Hannah first is a vital first step for his plan. Because Hannah is already suffering from depression already, her credibility about seeing him wouldn't be much believable to anyone. But it would suffice to trigger a chain of guilt in all three of them. There's a lingering question in your head, however.

"Why did he have to wait for ten years to make a move? And why..." you pursed your lips at your next words. "Why did he have to make you his accomplice?"

"I don't have any idea, but he was probably gathering evidence and resources for his revenge," Richy groaned, his pain evident. "S-sorry... I— argh got a pretty bad gunshot wound. And my bandages just came off."

Your instinct was to reach out to help, but he waved his hand in dismissal.

"I'm fine." You knew that was a lie. "I didn't know you were an Agent, Y/n. If I had known, I probably wouldn't have messed with you." He let out a soft laugh, wincing slightly. "I thought they said laughter was the best medicine. Well, it doesn't apply to gunshot wounds."

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. "I've missed your jokes."

"And I didn't think I'd ever be able to joke around with you again, not after what I did to Jessy, to you... and to the others." He tried to sit up straight, wincing at the effort. "I told Amy that maybe it's time to finally turn ourselves in but she didn’t want to hear about it. She said Hannah was only imagining the man without a face and that she just wanted to forget everything. I couldn't convince her. And when I left..."

"Ted decided it's time for her to see him, too." You continued for him.

"Yes... but I think it didn't go the way he planned. Amy killed herself shortly right after a few days. I..." Richy's voice faltered, the weight of his memories pressing down on him.

"You thought it was your fault."

"I thought that I pushed her too far. And that I made her get eaten up with guilt." Richy's voice trembled as he admitted, his fists clenching in frustration. "That time, I have no idea Amy was dead or that she was missing. I think Hannah didn't know as well."

You chewed your lips, deep in thought. "Ted must have gotten Amy's phone and texted Hannah to meet at Michael Hanson's house. It was there that Ted kidnapped Hannah."

"When an unknown number— Jake," he corrected himself, "told us that Hannah was in danger. I immediately sprinted towards her house. And there I met Thomas... but Hannah was nowhere to be found." He took a deep breath, his eyes locked onto yours. "I knew to myself that Jennifer, or whoever Hannah was seeing has decided to finally take back what we owed."

As minutes pass by agonizingly, Richy was able to tell you everything, almost.

He told you that it was just a few hours prior to learning about you, while he was closing up his garage, he suddenly blacked out. When he woke up, he was presented with an unconscious Hannah in a place he was unfamiliar with.

Ted planned to kill him at the same time as Hannah's which was Jennifer's death anniversary but decided not to.

Your sudden presence was an unknown territory to him that's why he decided it will be best to have an eye on the group of people against him in exchange for Hannah's life and the safety of the others. That's why almost all your actions against him were known by Ted, even your lead about the man without a face. His brilliancy to use the legend to point all possible clues to the unknowing father of Jennifer Hanson, and with him being 'in prison' serves him a full proof plan, and be crossed out from the suspect list.

But of course, it wasn't smooth sailing for him with Jake being in your group. And you're not one to be underestimated as well. Your skills with people made it easy for you to analyze clues being given to you and manipulate people to spill the beans. Though you're not proud of that since you used them once on your friends. At one point, you knew all of them are suspicious. In order to eliminate possible suspects, you have to manipulate the situation to give you the information you needed.

That made Ted realize that he was doomed if he didn't stop you. And that's where Richy swoop in. Initially, Ted plans to kill them or even harm them one by one to scare you. But that will be against his and Richy's deal, that's why he volunteered to do the job to minimize the damage. That's why Cleo was unharmed and so is Jessy.

You were closer to the truth than Ted ever imagined, and so, his last resort is to fake Richy's death to make it easier for Richy to roam around and watch over Hannah.

Jessy and Thomas invading his hideout the other day was part of his sick plan though Richy has no idea in which part it plays apart from revealing the group's location to Ted, which is irrelevant at that point because Richy already has the location with him. Plus he was the one who visited the cabin and thus, got shot.

Ted was so angry when he returned bloodied and limping. At this point, the man is not only a danger to other people but to himself as well. He looks like he completely lost it. And Richy has to tiptoe around him like he was a ticking timebomb ready to explode. That's how deranged Ted is.

Despite his deranged state, one thing was clear: he's going to kill Hannah and Richy on the night of the Pine Glade festival and nothing will stop him.

"The receipt..." you say as you remember that one significant detail. Throughout your conversation, you were casting occasional glances ahead toward the room's sole exit. The dim light struggled to penetrate the shadows, making it nearly impossible to sense any movement in the pitch-black passageway beyond. "Hannah mentioned a receipt to Alan."

Richy leaned wearily against the cool, damp wall, his labored breaths punctuating the heavy silence. "I guess she wanted to prove to Amy that he was real and that she finally had proof. Hannah had set up a camera in front of Amy's house, directed to the forest. She must have filmed Ted with it."

Your gaze flickered to Hannah's unconscious form. "I know that camera. It was in Hannah's apartment before."

Richy leans a bit away from the wall as he tries to reach his side. Only to wince in pain, a soft hiss escaping his lips, his hand instinctively pressing against the bandage on his shoulder. "T-there must have been a receipt in his pocket. It must have fallen out, which Hannah h-hah... saw on the footage."

With a determined nod as he tried to reach his side once again, Richy retrieved your Glock, knife, and badge, passing them back to you.

As the cold metal settled into your hands, you looked at him quizzically, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Why are you giving these back to me?

But Richy refused to look at you. Only then you realized that he must have realized that he can't do anything now. But you? You can still save Hannah. You nodded in understanding.

"Alan did mention that. She asked him if it were possible to track down the owner of the receipt." Your movements were deliberate as you stood up, securing your weapons back in their respective holsters. "Which would essentially incriminate him right on the spot."

There was a brief moment of silence as another question formed in your mind.

"Why did you mark Jessy...?"

"I did it because of Phil. I wasn’t expecting him to get arrested, so I had to prove it couldn't have been him."

"It was not part of the plan, wasn't it?"

"Yeah... Ted wanted everyone to focus on Phil which will earn him a little more time for his plan." He hesitated, his voice lowering. "He was so angry Y/n... that he attacked me. You know already what happened next."

You crouched down again, your eyes level with Richy's as you sought to understand the turmoil within him.

"Why put yourself through all this, Richy?" You know the answer. But you wanted to hear it from him. "If Ted's going to kill you anyway, what's the point?"

His gaze met yours, a mixture of regret and vulnerability swirling in his eyes. His fingers flexed against the rough texture of the stone floor as if grappling with his own internal conflict. "I had to weigh the risks, Y/n." His voice carried a hint of resignation, of a man who had been pushed to his limits. "Ted is smart, but he's also unstable. I knew that there might come a time when he'll let his guard down, even if it's just for a moment. And in that moment, I hoped we could find a way to end this nightmare. But I couldn't risk Hannah's life by telling the group or going to the police. I had to stay close to Ted to keep Hannah safe and minimize the damage."

You can only listen. Richy's actions, as painful as they were to understand, were driven by a desperate attempt to protect his friends and ensure Hannah's safety. And you couldn't find it in yourself to pin the blame all on him.

"But now," he continued, weariness evident in his voice, "I've run out of options. Ted's plans have spiraled out of control, and I don't see a way out for either of us. I don't know how to save Hannah or myself from what he's planned for Pine Glade."

You ran a frustrated hand over your hair. No amount of experience could have prepared you for this situation.

"I just don't understand." Your gaze fixed on Richy, your eyes searching for answers. "Who the hell is Ted Madruga? How is he connected to all of this?"

"Good question." A third voice, unfamiliar and chilling, sliced through the air, freezing you in place. Panic tightened its grip around your heart as you instinctively moved to shield Hannah's unconscious form.

You tried to squint your eyes into the darkness ahead. The darkness seemed to part, revealing a figure stepping out from the shadows of the tunnel. Sounds of heavy footsteps bounced across the room that grows louder with each passing second. Echoing alongside them was the sound of something being dragged across the dirt.

You drew your weapon, arms unshakeable, and breath even. Ted.... you gritted your teeth.

As the figure drew nearer, the dim light revealed a sight that froze you in place. The source of the dragging sound became apparent—it was a person, unconscious and being dragged by the culprit.

Your eyes widened in shock and horror as recognition set in. It was Jake, his body limp and seemed lifeless, his face marred with bruises and cuts.

Raising your gaze, you finally met the eyes of Ted Madruga.

His features were concealed by the faint lighting, casting his face in an eerie half-shadow that made it difficult to make out his true expression.

He is a big man, a little over six feet. He was a little lean but you can see he is of pure muscle. His tattered clothing clung to his frame. He can easily crush your skull with ease if he pleases.

His hair hung in greasy, unkempt strands around his face, framing eyes that held a wild and frenzied intensity. Filth and blood streaked across his face and hands. Blood you knew wasn't his.

You clenched your jaw. He's a dangerous man. Much, much dangerous as you have expected. No wonder Richy was so scared of him. And Jake... Jake has no chance against him. Compared to Ted, he was just a rag doll to be thrown around.

As Ted came into clearer view, the flickering light revealed a face etched with scars and bruises that didn't seemed to heal properly. His gaze, fixed on you and Richy, held a mixture of malice and derangement. His lips curled into a sickening grin.

When he noticed what you are looking at, his wolfish grin widened. As if to taunt you, he thrust Jake forward. His chuckles were sickening, inhuman even.

"Did you enjoy the little trap I set for you, Y/n?" He stood tall, his shadow looming over you as he cackled almost maniacally.

You let out a cocky smirk, not wanting to back down to the likes of him. "What trap?" You questioned in feigned innocence. "I suggest you put the man down and get on your knees, or I'll shoot."

It was a desperate attempt, but you didn't want to risk shooting him when Jake was in such close proximity.

He seemed to find amusement in your words. "I don't think you're in any position to demand, Agent." He crouched down, revealing a magnum revolver that he pointed menacingly at Jake's temple. Your breath caught at the sight of his finger so close to the trigger. "Or would you rather witness this young man's brains splatter across the floor?" He licked his lips. "Now that's a sight to see."

You gritted your teeth. "You're sick."

"Oh, am I?" Ted's voice dripped with mockery as he leaned closer to Jake's face, his crazed eyes locked onto yours. "I thought you fight for justice, Agent Dolos? How was it so wrong to avenge the death of someone you love?"

You shook your head, your grip on the base of your gun growing tighter, your knuckles turning white under the pressure. "There's a right way for everything, Ted. I think you've done enough damage."

He laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of the dimly lit tunnel, "And what may be the right way? The law?" His tone dripped with scorn as he sneered at you. "Don't make me laugh, Agent." His eyes bore into yours, his stance unwavering. "And if I were you, I would drop the gun."

Your gaze hardened, battling with his own one with ease.

"I said. Drop. The. Gun. Now."

Fuck.

With a reluctant sigh, you let the gun fall to the ground, your fingers loosening their grip. You really need to get Jake away from him first. But how? Hannah is still unconscious beside you, Richy has a bad wound and he's also near Ted. You're not sure how to protect all three of them.

"Very good," he smirked, his gaze locked on you. "I heard you were a stubborn one. It's good to see you have your priorities straight."

Anger bubbled up within you. Criminals were something you despised to your very core, and those who acted like they got you where they wanted are the worst of the bunch.

'You got this, motherfucker.' is the mantra you kept playing over and over in your head. 'Don't ever let your emotions get the better of you.'

You exhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure amidst the tense situation. Lose your cool and you'll be dead.

After a couple of seconds of pep talk to yourself, clarity soon follows. Though your mind is still not as calm as you'd prefer because of all the questions running in your mind, you manage this time to isolate the one that held a constant presence in your brain and could possibly unveil the whole truth.

"Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to all of this?"

"Forgive me for my rudeness," he said with an eerie, sarcastic grin that did not reach his eyes. "I am Ted Madruga, the original owner of the Gremlin. I assume you already know that."

His nonchalance made you stop. He wouldn't go to such lengths just because he's the owner or wants to clear his name. It would have made sense if Iris or Michael went berserk because they're her family, but Ted? You couldn't think of a plausible reason why he's doing this… unless—

Your eyes begin to widen in a slight fraction as realization dawned on you.

If Jennifer's case were to happen to Jessy, you wouldn't guarantee that law will be able to stop you.

So, in Ted's twisted logic, it would mean Jennifer is to Ted the same way Jessy is to you.

"You're Jennifer's boyfriend…" It wasn't a question, but rather a chilling realization.

"I am a simple man, Agent," his voice remained eerily composed. "I have loved Jennifer with all my heart. And for her to be killed by my own car, and be buried like some kind of animal in the middle of the forest…," emotion started to thicken in his voice. You could hear his grief and sadness, but the anger was much louder than the two will ever be. "Do you really think I'll let that pass?"

"You could have stopped it if only you had let the law take care of it!" You know to yourself that's a screwed reasoning. The only reason this case has gotten this far is because the police were not competent enough to find the real culprits.

"Look around you, Y/n," his voice still held the same edge as earlier. He shot Hannah and Richy a dirty look, making Richy flinch in his place. "Look where the law has gotten us! It's been ten years, and Jennifer's death has long been forgotten!"

He walked closer, dragging Jake with him. His large shadow loomed over both you and Hannah.

He spat in great disdain as he stared down Hannah. "And yet our little princess's disappearance managed to get all the locals to gather and look for her. She even got the attention of the highest ranking criminal investigator in the region, as if she was so innocent." He turned to you with an undecipherable expression, his words spoken slowly. "Isn't that just unfair?"

Your words got caught in your throat at the sudden question.

"Have you ever thought that you've been fighting on the wrong side, Agent?" he questioned once more as he crouched down to your eye level.

"What do you mean?" you whispered.

"You vowed to prioritize the welfare and safety of women and children," he told you seriously, his gaze unrelenting. "Look around you," he gestured to the dimly lit tunnel, "look me in the eye and tell me that the ones you're protecting are not murderers."

You couldn't find your voice. You could only stare at him. It was as if you saw him in a different light, even though the said light is the same as the flickering and dim one above you. Suddenly, he doesn't seem as dangerous as you thought he was. He's still dangerous, and he's still likely capable of killing all of you if given the opportunity.

But.

You couldn't help but see yourself in him.

Because you did the exact same thing when Jill was killed. You never let the murderer get away.

"The law doesn't give a damn about Jennifer. The locals doesn't even remember who she was." He leaned in once more, bitterness lacing his words. "And now that I've taken matters into my own hands, I'm the bad guy? Tell me, Y/n. Is this what you called justice? Some kind of agent you are."

The only difference is you're protected by law. You have the means and privilege. And Ted's only got are his grief and thirst for vengeance.

And this is where it lead to.

So, what are you really? Do you really deliver the just in justice or are you nothing but a plain hypocrite?

"That night..." you finally found your voice. "You were with Jennifer, weren't you?"

He leaned back, his eyes growing distant as memories seemed to wash over him. "The festival has always been a traditional date night for us. Michael... Michael doesn't like me for his daughter." He sat down on a boulder near Richy, Jake's unconscious form still gripped tightly in his hand. "And Duskwood being a small town that it is, it is very difficult to sneak around and hide a relationship." His gaze drifted off, as if he was transported back to that night. He's staring at you but it feels likes he's staring through you. "Pine Glade was a perfect day for us to spend time together. In the darkness filled with drunkards celebrating, and fireworks covering the whole sky, it was a perfect date. No Michael Hanson, no prying eyes, no judgement. Just us."

"But it didn't end the way you planned." You murmured cautiously. Normally you would have internally celebrated for getting your culprit at exactly where you want them to be.

Yes you did get Ted talking, and be quite less aggressive but you recognize that look all too well.

The thousand yard stare.

Ted's eyes remained distant, locked onto something only he could see. It was as if he was mentally transported back to that fateful night, lost in a sea of memories.

You recognized it as a sign of dissociation, a defense mechanism triggered by overwhelming emotions or trauma. It was as if he was slipping away from the present, into the depths of his own mind. This calmness, this detachment, it was the eerie calm before the storm. You had to tread carefully.

"It didn't." His voice was almost inaudible if it weren't for the enclosed space you were in. "Jennifer was spotted by her friends before I walk her home."

"You walked her home?" You questioned slowly. This almost reminded you of your counseling sessions with some patients before you decided to be a fulltime agent. "Aren't the roads far too dangerous for people to walk on especially given that Duskwood doesn't have much street lights despite having so much curvatures?"

"Yeah, I was going to walk her home. My car was scheduled for scrapping and I wasn't able to buy a new one just yet," his voice turned monotonous, as if he was detached from his own memories. He spoke like an observer, recounting events from a distance.

He's slipping into depersonalization. This is not good.

"You said Jennifer was spotted by her friends. What happened?"

"She denied me," he responded after a moment of silence, a sharp edge returning to his voice. His hands clenched around the gun and Jake's hoodie, his knuckles turning white. "She told them I was one of her dad's bodyguards." His voice tightened with bitterness. "And they all laughed. Praised Michael for being such a great dad." His eyes seemed to regain focus briefly before drifting away again, lost in the past. But his voice sharpened as anger took over. "They ridiculed me!"

"Despite that, you still walked her home?"

"Yes. But we were arguing along the sidewalk." He went on after a minute of silence. You even thought he wouldn't answer. For a brief moment, his grip on reality seemed firmer. "It was dark, and the only light we have is from the moon." He clutched his head, his fingers tangling in his hair, as if trying to pull out memories he wished to forget. "I was so angry that I couldn't let her touch me. So, I... pushed her away. And then..."

He lets out a scream. The sound that erupted from his throat was primal, an agonizing wail that reverberated through the tunnel like a chilling echo of despair. It was a raw and loud and deafening that it was able to wake up Hannah.

Hannah's eyes fluttered open, the sight of Ted made her hand instinctively clutch your shirt, seeking solace and security in the midst of the chaos. She trembled against you, her grip unyielding as if she was afraid of losing her last anchor.

"Oh," Ted's gaze refocused, his demeanor shifting with unsettling ease as he turned his attention to the newly awakened Hannah. His tone was oddly calm. "The princess is awake. Good. I'll continue the story."

"Please, stop..." Hannah's voice quivered with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Silence!" Ted's voice thundered, making Hannah flinch as he rose to his feet. "As I was saying... I pushed her off me, and I didn't notice I pushed her with all my strength. And before I knew it, I heard a loud honk from a car, and Jennifer's body being thrown at the side of the road because of the impact."

"What...?" your voice caught in your throat.

"Two girls went out of the car. I remember their faces," his expression turned grim, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Especially, I can remember the plate number of the car. Because it was mine."

What the fuck..?

Fortunately, Ted was lost in his own ramble as he jogged up his memory to notice the look of utter shock not only in your eyes but as well as Hannah's and Richy's. It was then you knew you all shared the same thought.

"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go to her body..." Ted's voice continued, the distance in his tone suggesting he was reliving the scene he described. "So, I hid. I watched the car drove away as if they only hit an animal. However, not long after, a car went back, this time, a car I wasn't familiar with but the man who accompanied the two girls, I knew him. He was the one I talked to about scrapping my car." His eyes flitted towards Richy, and they grew dark at the sight of him. "I just stood there and watched in silence as they go deeper into the woods with Jennifer's body held by the man. And when they come back, Jennifer wasn't with them..." His head bowed, a curtain of greasy, unkempt hair obscuring his face, but you didn't have to look at his face to know the pure rage radiating from him. "I assumed that's where they left the body." He finished.

Ted's story hung in the air, and a heavy silence followed.

Another one.

And then another.

Until you couldn't help the sudden laughter that had escaped from you. It wasn't one of pure genuine laugh when you find something funny.

Neither was a sarcastic one nor a laughter that originated from tickling.

It was one of your rare belly laughs that you knew was obnoxious and loud as hell.

So you weren't surprised when the sound startled Jake, who was beginning to regain consciousness or the look of sheer horror from both Hannah and Richy as if you had laugh in a situation that you shouldn't.

Which is, to be fair, not farther from the truth though because a pair of glaring red eyes met yours as another laugh bubbled within you. You can only throw your head up in the sky.

No. This is not a sarcastic laugh nor a laugh from a joke.

This one is of pure joy and relief.

Why?

"Sorry, sorry. You were saying you pushed Jennifer on the road, which prompted two teens to bump into her in the middle of the night." Ted's furious gaze met yours, his eyes glaring red with anger. Your laughter dwindled, replaced by a steely resolve as you met his gaze head-on. "That's what you're getting at, right?"

Your words seemed to cut through the tension like a knife. Ted's expression wavered between anger and something deeper, a mixture of emotions that you couldn't quite decipher.

Maybe you weren't really a good person as people thought you are.

You feel sorry for Ted. You really are.

But no amount of guilt could have weighed any better than finding that Amy, Hannah and Richy didn't actually committed manslaughter.

~~~~

Previous

Next

A/n: Hi, everyone! Sorry it took a little while doing the next part. As I have said, I find it quite challenging to write this part due to many reasons.

1. As you may have noticed, I have strayed far from the original ending and original culprit so, I really have to make the reasons why Ted was our culprit believable and still aligned with canon events from previous chapters in the game. Let me know what you think if I did justice with him to be our primary suspect.

2. There were instances that I have used psychology jargons, and I would like to add a disclaimer that I am still merely an undergraduate psychology student so I wouldn't recommend to take what I have written in this story to heart. If you may have experience such events that may effect you mentally and emotionally speaking, I would suggest to speak to an actual mental health professional, and please don't rely alone on what the internet may tell you.

3. Lastly, I'm going to be honest to y'all. I haven't really established a concrete ending to this story yet so this will probably go for a couple more chapters, I'm sorry. So it have taken me a while to make a feasible plot for this chapter, and I have to watch several walkthroughs and play the game again just to make sure I didn't miss anything.

I think that's all. Again, I apologize if my writing seemed to be focused too much on the details and that I may have dragged this story more than I should have. But I just want to let you know that putting much focus into details such as the character's emotions, body language, the settings etc are important in this part of the story because this is where we unveil the truth about Jennifer's death, Amy's death and Hannah's disappearance.

Initially, I was planning to put a fair share amount of fighting scenes for the sake of the final meet up of Y/n and the real culprit but I realize that the game itself have put much focus on the psychological aspect of the game rather than an actual fight, and I feel like I should keep it that way. Though I'd probably put some in the next chapter. Who knows?

Hahaha I didn't notice I already rambled. I'll see y'all on the next part. Let me know what you think about this chapter down in the comments. Adios! ;)

[yourangel137]

Bloodstains on the curtain /chapter 1

Here is chapter one! I hope you all like it, I'm very proud of it myself so it's okay if you don't like it <3 @weney specifically made for u tbh

Pairings: yandere/murderer!Childe x GN!reader

Warnings: Murder, Blood, panic, stress

Genre: Angst (+ small bit of fluff)

Type: series

Word count: 1117 words

Summary: Why do you have to fall for him out of everyone? You know damn well you caught him in the act of murdering someone.. but you’re wrapped around his finger.. Turning a blind eye for him and only him.

I wish I didn’t see that, but I did.

You wipe the slightly sticky liquid off your hand with the towel you found in your gym bag. Breath is uneven, showing signs of anxiety and fear. Your eyes saw more than they wanted to see, yet your brain can not comprehend what exactly happened right before you. Remembering the details, how your body stood stiff from fear before the scene of horror u witnessed. How did you manage to even escape such a horrible scene? How did you manage to silently step away and he didn’t notice it? Did he notice you though, but decide to ignore you? He knows, you know he knows, but why are you still here? Why are you still alive? Why did he spare you?

You look at the towel in your hands, covered in the substance you once had on your hand. Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to touch the blood from a dead student you once knew. ‘Will I be next in line?’ You think to yourself, a thought you hoped you never had to think about. A big lump of saliva almost chokes you up, stomach aching and gurgling up acid from feeling sick. ‘Where is my phone??’ You search in your bag for your phone, eventually finding it in the side pocket next to your headphones. Quickly you dial the emergency number and wait for someone to pick up. The moment someone starts talking on the other line your brain speeds up a speech to tell them. “You’re speaking to Y/N L/N, please send the police!”

“Please calm down L/N, Can you tell me what happened?”

Your shaking continues as you find yourself sit down on the chair in the classroom you ended up running in. You took some deep breaths before answering the lady on the other line. “I-“ You swallow down a bit lump of saliva. “I witnessed one of the students being stabbed by an unknown man. Please! Please send help! I don’t know if the man is still here and I have no idea what to do! I’m located at **** University. Please send help!”

“Help is on the way L/N. Please stay on the line until help has arrived. Are you alone right now? Where are you located?”

With shaky breath you look around, not fully sure which classroom you ended up in. “U-uhm I don’t know.. I forgot..” The hallway outside the classroom once silent begins to echo the sound of footsteps. Footsteps light and airy, almost as if someone is happily skipping around unbeknown of the horror that happened in the gym changing room. How long has it been since you found out? Since you saw the murder happen before your very own eyes? “Can you go outside and check for me? The police will escort you out of your school safely.”

“U-uh.. I hear footsteps.” You whisper out the words, afraid to be heard by the person outside the classroom. “Okay, Are you located on the ground floor?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Alright, please stay on the line. Can you describe what you saw?” Your memories of the event flash before your eyes once more. The blood splashes on the walls, the man with the black mask on, the dead body of a woman on the ground. Everything feels like an explosion in your brain, causing a headache you rather not experience right now. Dissociation happens, body becoming weak once again, tear stained cheeks glowing from exhaustion and eyes slightly dilating. “Hello? Are you still there?” Your train of thoughts can’t seem to be broken yet.

“Y/N? Why are you in this classroom alone?”

The sudden voice appearance makes you gasp in surprise and you start choking on your saliva. Your eyes dart to the door, eyes full of fear and anxiety. “Oh my god, Y/N are you okay?!” You watch your best friend run up to you and you are too slow to react before you feel his arms pull you into a hug. “Hello? Are you still there?” The voice on the phone called out.

You feel your best friend let go of you before you watch him grab your phone and start talking. “Hello? Who is this?”

...

“Ah.. emergency services? Yes, I see. You’re talking to Tartaglia, their friend. I came to pick them up and I found them in a classroom.”

...

“It’s classroom 15A on the ground floor. Yes we’ll stay on the phone till then.” Tartaglia gives you your phone back before sighing and sitting down next to you. “What happened? Let’s stay calm okay? I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” He shows his usual soft smile towards you, the smile you ended up loving more than anyone elses smiles.

“I went to the gym changing room.. A-A friend forgot something and I came to grab it.. but in the showers.. I turned on the lights and I saw a man hovering over a dead girls body a-and he had a knife. I ran..”

The lady on the phone listens close, just like your friend does. The panic is clearly seen in your body language but also in the way you communicate. Trembles in your voice, stutters and heavy breathing, making it very difficult to understand. “It’s going to be okay L/N. Your help has arrived.” The lady speaks out on the phone and you soon start hearing many footsteps echo through the once empty hallway and towards the classroom you’re located at. “You’re safe.”

The classroom door opens and the police enter it, they immediately go to your side and check up on you. The other police make their way to the crime scene, a scene so bloody its best to close off the school so they can do full research on it. In the end, research teams enter the school too to check out the crime scene. Despite how desperate you are to know more about the murder and what clues they might be finding, it’s best for your own safety to stay by the side-line for now until they reach out for you to ask you questions. Your friend Tartaglia keeps you close, being sure to make you feel safe while explaining to the police what he was doing at school and what he witnessed by himself while being in school. He provides his own alibi to the police and it all seems to check out in the very end, but one thing seems off to you. You aren’t fully sure but.. You could’ve sworn you saw those keychains at the crime scene as well..

I wish I didn’t see that, but I did.

--

Hope u liked chapter one! Have a lovely day<3

Much love, angel

[mystryxx]

// THE VERITY OF BEING A PRIMAL BEING //

Ever since the previous eclipse season closed full-circle, l've felt unlike anything... and it's been difficult to describe. In-step with the flux of existence, l've been quite involved with a new stage of metamorphosis, and once more l am a brand new being: a shaky-legged newborn, who barely knows up from down... except for the calm and decisive needle of the compass of my heart. Its gentle corrections are clearer than ever. It directs me and I allow it— for I trust in equilibrium in the end.

Everything ripens. Everything is a swing of the pendulum; an arc, a curve... a season— the flash of light in the blink of an eye... is no more insignificant and drawn out, than the fecund-and-dripping, chlorophyll-laden detonation of spring. And so I'll wait as long as I must wait. I'll bloom when I'm at last permitted — writhing feverishly, at the absolute pinnacle of Luscious and Opportune. I believe in the genuine veracity of Love and its outcomes... my spirit will not waver in this.

Some nights, I still remain in deeply visceral coldness and pain... and in one sense, I will always be submerged. There is a need to stay connected to it... softly cradling it... In understanding the brokenness that brought me here, I am able to repose in glorious, silent, human humility. But not in shame~ for we all deserve to have our wounds kissed tenderly. Yet it is indeed, feeling like heartbreak eternal... at least, until even that decides to ripen and fall off the vine. I know this dawn is imminent.

My current vexation is the fact that there are parts of me that go severely unexpressed; arguably, the deepest, most fundamental parts of this existence... crave to be seen as they are, and to be held softly and compassionately ... not judged... but loved. Loved, until I forget I was ever treated less than.

But it's more than that too. I crave to be Met where I am— with an understanding of creature to creature; heart to heart. It really is quite profound ...

I am an animal that wants to be seen as I am ... and so much more than that.

I used to seek to be Understood; Cherished and Danced with. It has felt like I'm learning to remember how to dance again, and maybe that is a fundamental truth of the movement within everything I had been denying myself— the cosmic waltz of which we all partake in, with each other and Everything.

My lore is strange and deep . Rationally, I do not hold my breath on ever being Understood. Maybe it crosses some sacred line of where we each individually occupy time and space; the sanctity of our unique perspectives. I am at peace with this. But perhaps to cope with my complexity ... each day, I feel the need for new expressive avenues, ceaselessly churning and evolving within my being. And I see this in some of you too; I find that restlessness pretty beautiful~

So writing is just another avenue I've really needed to embrace and explore. To me, words are indeed magical formulae; powerfully indicative of the shapes of our Experience. To speak is to give the unspoken, form.

[ "The unknown is the largest need of the intellect, though for it to be intellectual, the unknown must be clothed secretly in the known. This is poetry: to put forth what we know and feel and are, into language that has not been before." — Ursula Le Guin ]

Growing up in Evangelical culture, my status as a young woman meant I was expected to be silent, obedient, conveniently morally ambiguous... and severely dumbed down. I kiss my lucky stars that such modes of domestication never took; unlike many around me. To this day I prefer to remain unruly, uncompromising; fiercely and wildly, Me.

My sheer intensity has at this point alienated more than its drawn in. Ultimately I consider that to be a good mechanism; healthy, Natural. But painless? Not always. Although I am an orchid, something in me hasn't desired to necessarily stand alone. I find that human impulse, quite endearing. And so I honor it.

Each step I take, proves that I'm unlike anything anyone has ever seen... and with each passing moment, those steps have steadily broken into a full blown run. I'm sprinting through the trees, constantly crescendoing in my wild and strange natures. Letting my mind Unleash.

Those who would come at me with societal expectations of what I should be, don't understand how ludicrously painful it is. A creature who itself has always been collared, cannot comprehend the tragedy of being caged. (I'll stick to being feral.)

Plunging into the Unknown for me, involves showing the world my rawness and voluminousness in an overculture that pushes people to be Restrained. It is Nature that whispers the invitations to Unleash who we are; to give in, to Bloom, for better or for worse. Painful or not, at least it is honoring my truths. I wouldn't choose anything else...

I am reminded often, how James Baldwin never held back in his Artistry and I respect him ineffably for it. In his words he was so stark, so prone, so sensitive... in that, I find, is such a Power.

There was an anecdote from a hospice worker, who observed that the number one regret people have on their deathbeds, is having held back far too much in life. They wish they had spoken more openly, tried more things, and lived truer to their authentic impulses. But the terrifying nakedness of being vulnerable, paralyzed them from ever embracing that. I find it awfully sad.

While I watch people smugly tear each others' throats out for not conforming to some supremacist-oriented lifestyle, I still see strong undertones that we are collectively fostering a culture, where judgement is loosening its vice grip on those desiring to learn what it means to live their own instinctive Truths... instead of clinging to the tedious pre-fabricated ones that have been manufactured for our ultimate subjugation.

We must cease all attempts of commodification toward each other if we're ever going to get through these literal dark ages. And that does indeed begin with excising those inclinations from within ourselves, treating ourselves more tenderly and humanized.

Not everyone is capable of truly fathoming that others have personhood worthy of basic decency. Some are trapped in a state of constant dehumanizing-opportunism of their fellow species and always will be; simply far too weak-willed and craven to feel the brunt of empathy for someone. Their need to profit and extract at every level, in every situation, is all-consuming... rendering them utterly hollow souls indeed.

So the question remains, how to stay uninhibitedly true and vulnerable, among the sea of disingenuous, the predatory, the hateful. My stomach gets a knot when I think about the callous and cold reality that Mr. Baldwin woke up to everyday. His sheer drive to persist and unleash his pure lustre against the grime of a very sickened world, is deeply admired and appreciated. Today his words are lighting the torches of revolution, and powerfully so. That is some potent artistry. That's the Real Thing.

As for me, I'm nothing but a Mystryxx, a heathen; an absolute cad. Where do I fit into all this? I keep sprinting, to hopefully truly see this answered properly one day. I'm bloody from catching myself on thorns; sometimes I've tripped and staggered. Picking myself up from some of the most harrowing of plummets, has at least unveiled my indestructible, indomitable nature... the momentum of evolution never stops; the compass is true, and my endless curiosity remains. 🌹

[jeritten]

Death Note L x Male!Reader: Chapter One.

yoo!! i'm back :P sorryy its been so long and sorry that i havent updated anything else recently,, ive really been struggling for motivation :(((( but i should (hopefully) be back now!! with that said,, have this fic that i wrote with a burst of motivation i got at two in the morning :] story begins under the cut as always!! - Jeri <33

Darkness. 

The street is delved in the solid obscurity of night, the tall buildings lining the pavements blurring together into a mess of shadowed industrial brick and sleek, tinted glass. The road ahead lacks any sign of human life: no cars or loud drunks making their way home after a night out drinking. All there is to experience is the smothering silence, the kind that brings a ringing to your ears if you keep your mind focused on it for too long. 

You’d seen this place before. The realisation hits you in a sharp, desperate attempt to stun your legs into action- a raw, primal instinct to preserve your life: yet, as you hastily command your muscles to move, they bitterly refuse. Letting out a poorly stifled noise of frustration, you are compelled to accept your fate of being unable to flee, being trapped on the spot as if tied to lead and sinking slowly, forcibly into the inky, eternal darkness of a calm ocean current. 

It appears in front of you. A figure that towers over your own, silhouetted black and gold against the dull glow of the amber streetlights lining the alley. With deep, crimson eyes boring into your own, it perches over you, unmoving. A cold shiver rockets down your spine. You take a deep breath. 

“Why…” You find yourself asking to the air, struggling for a way to stand your ground, “why am I here..?” 

You don’t get any form of an answer. You never do. 

You’re forced to watch as the beast extends a singular, slender clawed finger towards your chest. Your body seizes as if in a perpetual state of fight or flight, the blood that’s pumping in your ears shaking your eyes and blurring your vision. 

You open your mouth in another attempt to speak your case, but it doesn’t discourage the monstrosity in front of you from resting the tip of its vile, slim finger atop the middle of your ribcage.

You’re immediately hit with an overwhelming electric sensation, a mangled, startled cry crawling out of your lips as you find yourself crumpling to your side on the cold, dark tarmac. You desperately claw at the uneven road with weak fingers, casting a heavy, strained glance up at the carmine eyes of your darkened captor. 

It grins back down at you. Your vision fades sluggishly to darkness. 

You startle awake, a small gasp slipping from your lips as you subconsciously reach a hand to grasp the fabric of your shirt where it sits over your heart as if to verify that you are, indeed, still alive. 

A shaky breath rattles from your lungs. You’d had identical night terrors to this one time and time again, but that vile creature had never in any of them smiled at you. 

You take a deep breath in and exhale it through your nose, attempting to forcefully remove that look of malice that the silhouette had given you from your active mind.  

Heartbeat beginning to settle, you cast your eyes down at the hardwood desk below you, scanning over the sprawled out files and haphazard note paper- that’s right, you were working on a case. 

You lift your arms above your head, attempting to rid your back of the tension from your previous experience and the crick caused by the awkward wooden chair you’re currently sitting on. You sigh heavily, trying your best to draw your attention back to the notes you were taking before succumbing to slumber. You spare a glance at your watch: only thirty minutes had passed. That’s good. Rain hammers down on the window panes of the library building as you get back to work. 

It is only when you take your pencil back in hand and begin to scratch down ideas that you notice a presence over your left shoulder. At first you ignore the feeling, but as you realise that it’s not disappearing you decide that confrontation is required. 

Turning your head around, you’re somewhat startled to be met face to face with a young black-haired man. He has a… peculiar air about him, and the dark circles under his eyes suggest that the two of you have at least one thing in common. 

“Can I… help you?” You quiz the boy, watching as his attention shifts from your unorganised work splayed out on the desk to you. He tugs on the hem of his white t-shirt, placing a tentative thumb on his lower lip as he speaks. 

“I’m sorry.” He talks slightly bluntly, although you can read the conviction and deliberate placing behind his words. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re struggling with whatever it is that you’re working on.” 

He takes another somewhat hesitant look over your paperwork before continuing, his eyes drowsy yet intelligent and focused, speaking volumes yet revealing seemingly nothing at all. 

“Are you a detective..?” 

And thus began the friendship that would pin you right in the crosshairs of a killer. 

imma be real,, i rlly enjoyed writing this one lmaoo

i just love writing edgy shit oh my goddd

anyways,, i hope you enjoyed!!

(i'm working on togami chapter 2 next!! :DD)

-Mod Jericho :3

[queen--kenobi]

Hi Lady Kenobi, this is Anon 🐸 ( irony of anon trying to differentiate myself from other anons ) I hope one day u be able to differentiate me from other anons just from my writing style !

Dam, It take so much shaky courage to type & send an anon msg (sweats)

🍍🍊🍇🌶️

🌶️ -the place I’m sitting at typing to you has this phase ichi-go-ichi-e

I would still ship you with Tymon L. Why? Because why not choose someone who actually beat silently Aemond or any guys first to everything ( practically actually the final one saving the female protagonist, being the first not second person to wish her happy birthday & meal & gift ) He plans everything practical logistics u need in life ( coffee lunch invites u to family lunch ) & also get rid of all your adversaries that stands in your way ever ! Although he is hurting so much inside ( the letters ) the only thing he lets u see outwardly is his grin when he is finally reunited with u. True there is a possibility of him disappointing u but there is also that possibly of him of throwing himself in the face of danger ; u having a chance to experience such a silent selfless act of love to protect u. He would be good for you my lady. Sorry for still speaking up for the underdog but I guess I’m a type of tymon lannister myself, a rare breed of a curveball. I know u hold the pen to his fate on paper. It’s a god like power u have. I don’t want him to die in the next episode nor tragedy to befall him in this fanfic of yours I plead ! ( audience plea ) If there’s a fan request would u also consider creating a totally original new female OC that matches his badassness, smartness, craziness & devotion. I know a love triangle is always a good read but a love quadrant is also a novel idea too! And maybe Elayna would realise how she has always taken him for granted all her life.

I love how your tumblr friends would tease u with brat & their comments make me lol many times. Such wit “love” & community spirit

On Starlight Kau’ra, Leena “It doesn’t go away, some parts of her doesn’t want it to. That’s fine. She can learn to live with it” this line stays with me forever. I wanna know … as time passes as all things does, how is she doing … ? The reason I ask is so I can apply this answer for myself

And also thanks for your selfie. You wouldn’t need to on tumblr. You look great btw. Like the phantom that never needs to be unmasked, It’s your writing and voice that touches the soul.

I guess the difficulties I face in life is still there, which I guess don’t we all do, that’s why we are all on tumblr. But your blog has helped me such that in the need to fulfilling the mundane tasks of everyday to survive, like the netflix I watch on tv, there is also an anticipation to a new episode /chapter here - yours truly anon 🐸

Anon. I really appreciate that you've taken the time to not just read my writing but also talk about it. That always makes a writer's day. I love the questions you have about Kau'ra and Leena

But. I'm not trying to be mean, and I do genuinely appreciate you sending in something for an ask game. That always makes my day.

All that being said. It makes me very uncomfortable that you ship me with Tymon. I'm fairly open about Tymon being absolutely awful and how he's only going to get worse. He is going to hurt Elayna physically and do so often. He basically tortures her at a point in the fic

I don't want to make you scared to send nice messages to people with this. But I do owe it to you, and myself, to say when something makes me uncomfortable and crosses a line. And this does that. Again, I'm not trying to be mean, I'm being honest with you

I hope you understand

[athenasdisappointment]

Tangerine finding out he's going to be a dad

Pairing: Tangerine x f!reader

Warnings: 16+; no use of (Y/N); mention of pregnancy; fluff; Tangerine working out his emotions

Words: 694

Reading time: 2m 46s

Notes: I have watch Bullet Train two months ago and I can't believe I am only now starting to write for our dear Tangerine. He has bewitched me body and soul. I hope you all enjoy it. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any possible mistake. Feel free to correct me. Thank you!!!

When Tangerine discovers he's going to be a dad, he's speechless.

He needs time to process everything.

"That wasn't in our plans" is mumbled with a shaky breath.

Even though Tangerine is a lot quieter than usual and his mind is distant, never for a moment does he think of leaving your side.

He's not mad or scared of the pregnancy but more of himself.

"What if I'm not good enough of a father?" is a constant thought in his mind.

Tangerine knows of his anger issues and work derivated problems.

What if he lashed out at the kid because of his temper?

What if he somehow put the baby in danger?

What if he ended up being an absent father?

What if something happened to Tangerine, and you had to raise the baby on your own?

You and Tangerine had discussed having kids before. Both acknowledged that you weren't getting younger, opting, either way, to wait until a point in your lives when Tan had enough money for early retirement.

Maybe he would start an ordinary business. Invest his money and open a restaurant, something like that. 

Two days after telling Tangerine about the pregnancy, you came home to a candle-lit dinner and a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

"Baby, what is all this?" you questioned, still shocked by the sudden action.

"Both an apology and a celebration, my love."

That night during dinner, Tangerine voiced out all of his concerns.

By the end of the meal, you had decided that Tan would find a mental care professional to help with the issues and give him better coping mechanisms. 

"Parenting is not going to be easy. Unfortunately, nobody teaches you how to do it correctly. We will find it out together, make mistakes and learn from them. Everything at its own pace."

You spent the rest of the night wrapped in the arms of the other talking about baby stuff. 

Tangerine had a smile on his mind for the totality of the night. He couldn't feel more proud of you. You were carrying his baby and already handling the situation so well.

"You are going to be an amazing mother, love. You already are."

That comment and the look on Tan's face make you tear up. Damned pregnancy hormones! 

"You too, honey! I know it."

The next day Tangerine had a heated argument with his contractor to find him a trustworthy person for Tan to visit.

Right after scheduling the first appointment, Tangerine calls Lemon inviting him for dinner.

He wanted his brother to know in person, he was going to be an uncle.

"I can't wait to find out which Thomas the Tank Engine the baby will be!" are the first words pronounced by Lemon.

To which follows an incredulous look and long sign courtesy of Tangerine.

"I'm so delighted to hear that! Congratulations! That is what you should have said. Gosh, you're getting on my tits!" yells Tangerine, making you put your hand on his shoulder, embracing his arm after, and resting your head on his shoulder. That should soothe him.

"I'm sure that was Lemon's way of congratulating us, honey." you say softly sending Tan's brother an apologetic look.

The waters calmed down. Tangerine and Lemon engaged in a conversation, remembering all the fun they had during childhood and how they wanted to experience some of those when the baby became older. 

You sat on Tangerines's lap on the couch, listening to their voices while tracing patterns on your lover's chest.

You knew that you and Tangerine had a long path to walk and that he would need a lot of reassurance.

Even though he rarely demonstrated, it was written between the lines how he could get insecure sometimes.

You would do everything to let him know he's doing alright.

"I will never leave your side or this baby's life. I want you to understand that I will always be by your side." is mumbled into your hair when you are already in bed.

Tangerine doesn't know if you heard him having into consideration that you appear to be soundly sleeping. He just had to say it out loud. 

[shysneeze]

vulnerable love (draco malfoy x fem!reader)

Vulnerable Love 

Description: Draco looks for the reader in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts for @psychogolbrock (hope this is what you wanted) :)

Warnings: Death (not me writing the description vaguely as to avoid spoilers like i wasn’t gonna go and spoil it in the warnings 👁👄👁 ) this is legit sheer angst you have been warned

edit : i didn’t mean to but i wrote ‘good enough’ like months after this one but somehow it works really well as a prequel... might make it hurt more though

....

There is no big celebration, no victory cheers or rounds of applause to mark the end of the battle. Harry's wand is lowered and the enemy is gone, but so are the castle walls, so are the childhoods of all the students who fought and so are the lives of so many friends and family. The end of the battle isn't much more than a shift in priorities from the living to the dead.

Now that the fighting has stopped, the heart breaking reality settles across the castle grounds. Where there moments ago had been the deafening sound of curses flying through the air and various war cries, is now an eerie quiet, filled only by the whimpers of grieving families and the occasion desperate call of a missing person's name.

Draco tries not to look at any of these families as he makes his way across the courtyard. His last minute defection has kept him out of Azkaban, but it certainly hasn't awarded him people's good opinion and people glare at him as he passes. He's not even sure where he's going, not sure where to start to find her without becoming one of the anguished name callers.

He's about to start asking people if they've seen her when his eyes find a crowd  gathered around what used to be an alcove and his heart jumps in his chest painfully. His legs drag him forward on their own accord, his body taken over by a sudden panic as his mind pleads for it not to be her.

As he gets closer, he can hear people crying, a broken melody of shaky breath and chocked sobs. People clench their jaws as he tries to gently push through the crowd, his own breath becoming ragged with the fear of whoever's body he's about to face. A few, more sympathetic, people move out of his way and allow him through and he soon stumbles through the last row of observers.

"Malfoy..."  

The voice is quiet and strangled by tears but one he knows well as Hermione Granger's, although he can't lift his eyes to check. His eyes are stuck on the lifeless figure who's head she's cradling on her lap, face bloodied and bruised but so familiar to him that he's beginning to tremble. He feels winded, as if someone has punched every last breath form his lungs and he's left teetering on his feet as he's smacked with an overwhelming burst of emotions.

"(Y/N)."

Her name comes out in splinters, shattered under the grief that seems to pull at every nerve in his body. He doesn't care now ,about the eyes on him as he lowers himself onto his knees before Hermione, he doesn't care what they think as he reaches out with trembling limbs for (Y/N)'s body, he doesn't care that they can see him cry. It doesn't matter, not right now.

"She- she was healing someone's wounds." Hermione voice cracks. "She was hit by a stray curse."

Draco doesn't reply, he doesn't even look up. Hermione allows him to pull (Y/N) into his arms, a fresh set of tears trickling down her cheeks as she watches him gently push (Y/N)'s hair from her eyes. Hermione doesn't know what to say, 'sorry' doesn't quite cover it these days.

Some people will tell you that the only times they've ever seen Draco Malfoy genuinely smile, was at (Y/N) (Y/L/N). No one could possibly doubt their affection for each other, when it was so obvious in how they interacted, with love sick glances and whispered secrets that made them smile.

To Draco, she was his courage when he had none. She was never afraid of what people would think of her for being with him, head never turned by the outlandish rumours about him. In sixth year, she kept him together when he was falling apart under the weight of an unimaginable task, unjudging and sympathetic.

He wishes he could have some of her courage now, as he holds her in his arms, completely and utterly terrified. Her face is becoming blurred through tears and each silent sob feels like it's ripping him apart. Blinking away another bout of tears, he looks up to Hermione, mouth opening with no sound for a second until he's sure his voice won't break.

"Has someone told her parent's?" He manages, voice hoarse from crying. "They need to know."

"I-I sent someone for them." Hermione nods. "I know it doesn't help... but she died h-honourably."

"She shouldn't have died."

The statement isn't angry or harsh, but tragically honest. Hermione nods, turning her head slightly and lifting her hand to her mouth to capture a sob, that instead comes out as a muffled groan. Draco turns back to (Y/N), and if it weren't for the stillness of her chest that would normally rise with each breath, he could imagine she's sleeping, with her eyes shut and an almost peaceful expression on her face.

He leans down slowly to press his lips gently to her forehead. She's cool to his touch, a reminder once again that she's not just sleeping, that this is her permanent state from here on, and he's caught with another painful sob.

"You didn't deserve this." His voice trembles. "I'm sorry."

People were always saying that she made him soft, and in a way, she did. To be in love is to be vulnerable, to give your love to someone willingly and to let them have such a fragile part of you. It's exciting, the thrill of being in love with someone, and to be loved by someone, is a beautiful experience.

There are two sides to this vulnerability though, one that Draco is beginning to think out weighs the excitement of loving someone. Draco is suddenly experiencing the painful side of love, the consequences of giving his heart to something as fragile as another person.

"I love you." He whispers hoarsely. "I love you so much and I'm so sorry."

He clutches her closer, too scared to let her go knowing he'll never have her back in his arms again. He can't cope with the finality of this situation, he longs to feel the warmth of her hand in his, the feel of her arms wrapped around his middle or her lips on his cheek. He's desperate to hear her tell him she loves him again but she never will.

She's already long gone with every ounce of love he had.

....

authors note: y’all i did warn you!!!

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-A New Home

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: this is a repost considering it didn’t show up in any of the tags yesterday. have i mentioned how much i despise tumblr sometimes :) again, i want to give a special shoutout to @avengersbau for giving me a second set of eyes on this one.

word count: 2k

warnings: canon-typical violence and descriptions of injury.

The Purest Things Masterlist

gif is not mine! credit goes to @hqtchner

au! october 2007

Bookend: “It’s never too late to become who you want to be. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald

++++

"I am SSA Hotchner. Welcome to the team Agent Y/L/N," his voice reminds you of the transatlantic accents of Hollywood stars of old. The kind you used to hear in the old black and white movies you would watch as a child.

"It's an honor to be here sir," you stare directly into his brown, soulfully deep eyes.

"J.J., get us started, please," SSA Hotchner suggests.

Sitting down, you look to the screen that displays the frightful footage of bombs detonating in various locations.

"Yesterday, an 81-year-old woman was severely injured when a bomb exploded in the toilet of a women's restroom," J.J. informs.

"Interesting spot to hide a bomb," Agent Prentiss sneers.

Jennifer flips through the slides and shows another bombsight located in a subway station, "Last year a similar bomb that had been attached to a phone box detonated. No outstanding injuries were reported. However, the bombs' similar makeup alerted detectives to dig into other bombings throughout the years. They have positively identified attacks over the past twelve years as perpetrated by the same bomber."

Spencer adds, "His M.O. is similar to George Peter Metesky, better known as the Mad Bomber. He terrorized New York City over a period of 16 years. He planted bombs in theaters, subway stations, libraries, and offices. They were left in phone booths, storage lockers and restrooms."

"Do you think we are looking at a copycat?" Derek questions.

"If we are, we need to stop him soon," declared David.

"He's escalating-becoming bolder and more vicious," you say, scanning the report.

"Tell Boston we can be there by 9:30," Hotch notifies J.J...

++++

"It seems like he's a textbook paranoid schizophrenic. People suffering from this disorder may think that other people are regulating them or plotting against them. They tend to be reclusive, antisocial, and obsessed Hwith hatred for their presumed enemies," you twist a loose string from your shirt around your finger, unwind it, then repeat the process.

It's a nervous tick you developed over the years that has worn down numerous tops before achieving their intended lifespan. You glance at Agent Hotchner, seeking a sign of approval. His eyes meet yours, and he poignantly nods.

Did I say too much? No. Don’t overthink this. They can probably smell fear.

"In his letters left at the bombsights, he uses words like 'broad' and 'chick' to signify women," Dr. Reid chimes in.

"Do you think the unsub is motivated by hostility towards women? "

"It's possible," he continues, "These speech patterns age him significantly, however. Phrases such as these were mainly used in the 30's, 40's, and 50's."

Agent Hotchner begins to delegate tasks before the jet lands, "Morgan and Reid, I want you to head to the bombsights and see if you can't work out the motive. J.J. and Prentiss talk to the victim's families, determine our victimology. Y/L/N, Rossi, and I will head to the precinct and familiarize ourselves with the lay of the land and see if we can't formulate a geographical profile."

++++

At the precinct, you observe Agent Hotchner's ability to singlehandedly transition an entire police force's obligation to under his jurisdiction.

"Captain Moreno, this is SSA David Rossi and SSA Y/F/N Y/L/N," the Unit Chief introduces you.

The captain tilts his head at you, "Aren't you a little young to be in the FBI? How old are you anyway?"

You nail him with a you're-full-of-crap look. 

Everyone gets to be young once; your turn is over, old man.

Choosing to take the high road, you say, "I'd like to get my hands on the bombers handwritten notes. There has to be something in those letters that can give us a clue into the who, what, when, and where of this case."

Skeptical of your request, he narrows his eyes and looks to David and Agent Hotchner.

"You hear her," Dave exclaims, "Lead the way!"

Your enigmatic smirk no doubt gives away the great pleasure Dave's gibe brings you.

++++

"Agent Hotchner," you hand him your preliminary geographical profile. With his arms crossed, he intimidatingly peers into your research.

Don't burn a hole in my paperwork; I worked hard on that.

He is impressed by your work, taking in your comprehensive outline of proof that details the unsubs point of origin. For someone so young, your attention to detail puts even his most observant profilers to shame. "How did you come to this conclusion?"

"My family is from Chicago. When I was little, I used to read through my grandfather's old newspapers that he collected throughout the 1950's. On the jet, I knew some of the phrasings that Dr. Reid was using sounded familiar, so I cross-referenced it with some of the particular articles I remember from my childhood and found his wording to be exact iterations of the Chicago Crier."

Without taking his eyes off of the paperwork, he commends you, "Impressive use of your prior knowledge. Often, the information drilled into us through education is lackluster compared to that of real-world experience."

You turn to walk back to your makeshift desk when he calls out to you, "And Y/L/N, call me Hotch."

Your shoulders relax from the tension you hadn't even realized you'd been clinging onto, "Alright. Hotch."

++++

You immediately regretted your decision. In pursuit of the unsub, you had wandered off down an abandoned subway tunnel and cornered him.

"Harold Watts, FBI. Gently place the remote detonator on the ground," You shout. Grappling to keep your gun from slipping between your clammy palms, you grip the weapon tighter.

Ordinary people's first days of work are uneventful; they're given a series of mundane tasks at most. Me? Of course, my first day involves being secluded in a subway tunnel facing down a man decked from head to toe in explosives and wires.

"D-don't come any closer. I have my finger on the trigger! I'm not afraid to die, and I will not hesitate to take you up in flames with me," he stammers.

The stampede of footsteps, no doubt from your colleagues and half of the Boston police force, resonate through the echo chamber you're standing in. Watts spooks and loses his balance. You begin shouting for the people behind you to stand down.

"The tracks are live, one wrong step, and we all blow up. I repeat, stand down!"

Turning your attention back to Watts, you attempt to soothe his irrationality. You slowly return your gun to its holster, raising your hands up in surrender. Hotch yells something unintelligible from behind you, but your focus is on the unsub and trying to prevent any more casualties.

"Harold, let's just talk this through for a couple of minutes. My men behind me will leave us alone. It's you and me now. Before this, you never wanted to hurt yourself. You wanted to be heard. All of your life you felt like you were forced into the shadows, and you began to fester there in your pain and rage."

He tenses up; you have his attention now.

"Those girls who teased you and ripped your masculinity from you needed to be taught a lesson. But you didn't just stop there; you decided to do all women a favor and demonstrate to them the kind of pain they could cause, hoping to prevent them from making the same mistakes. In fact, you helped me to see what I can do better. I never want to make someone feel the way you did."

"Y-you learned that...f-from me?" Harold quietly sobs.

You nod, "Yes! Yes, Harold. And you can still be heard, but not if you die today. I could be your greatest advocate. If we walk out of here right now, think of how famous you could be. Harold, you will never be stuck in the shadows again."

It is crucial to your survival and your teams that you are brave just long enough to analyze the situation and keep your self-control. Panic won't do anyone any good right now.

Your mouth dries as you await Harold's next move. Suddenly, he hunches over, extending the hand gripping the detonator. Pausing for a moment to be sure he isn't making any drastic moves, you promptly hurry to his side and gently pull it from his clutch.

As the police officers and your colleagues rush to your aid, Harold looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Make me famous," he murmurs with a grin that churns your stomach.

Hotch ushers you away from the unsub, backing you up against the wall of the tunnel, "You actively defied my orders."

Searching every inch of his face for an accurate reading of his emotions, you are unsure of how to respond.

"I'd like to think it won't happen again," his eyes studying you just as intently.

You swallow hard, aware of the lump in your throat and take a deep breath, "You have my word, Agent Hotchner."

"Good," he affirms, eventually freeing his hold on your arm.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief and relax your spinning head against the wall.

Opening your eyes, you observe your new team tieing up all loose ends. They're safe. You are safe. Despite this first day not being as mundane as others, you wouldn't have it any other way. This feeling is what you signed up for, and it's already fulfilling you in ways you couldn't fathom before stepping inside the BAU office this morning.

++++

Aboard the jet, you tuck your legs underneath you and open up a book to read.

A cup of steaming hot coffee appears on the table in front of you.

Hotch sits across from you with a similar cup and offers you a subtle smile, "Impressive work out there today. I'm sorry your first day of work couldn't be more eventful."

A joke? I didn't take him as the joking kind.

Rolling your eyes, you put on a disappointed tone, "God...if you guys drag your feet like this every day, I might have to consider a transfer."

In a more serious nature, he asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. You were right, you know, no amount of studying or lectures can truly prepare you for what it's like when you're staring into the eyes of a killer. I've learned the negotiation techniques and memorized the textbook 'put the gun down' speech, but all of that flies out the window when you're in the moment."

"You will find that improvisation at times is the key to success in this job. Just know that this team is a family. You will never face this alone or be at a loss for anything. Your career is in its infancy, but I can tell you have a long and triumphant journey ahead of you. We will do whatever we can to ensure that you are at home here and can use this team as an opportunity to refine your abilities. All I ask in return is that you work with us, not against us. You have nothing to prove. They see your resourcefulness. So do I. You are one of us now."

Some gazes are the promise of protection; his is all that and more. The words "at home" resonate in your mind. You've spent your whole life searching for a home, and here it is, its doors being opened to you. After a lifetime of running from place to place, perhaps this is where you can finally settle down.

"Get some rest," Hotch whispers to you. And with that, you lean your head against the chilled window and shut your eyes.

++++

Tag List 🏷

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[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

An old friend - Part 1

Summary: You're back in London after years living in the countryside and tonight you're attending the Cowper's ball. Who knows who'll you meet there?

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader

Other characters: Violet Bridgerton, Sir Hugh Feversham (OMC)

Words: 2k+

Warnings: very slight mentions of attempt at harassment, a bit of Regency-era yearning

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Not my gif, credit to the rightful owner

Whoever entered the Cowper’s estate to attend that evening’s ball would’ve been blinded by the richness of the decorations: the cristalized tears of the chandeliers glimmered in the dancing lights of the candles and at every corner colourful flowers spread their sweet and enchanting scent all around the huge ballroom.

Every person in it could just stare in silent awe of the magnificent view, taking in even the smallest detail as the music caressed their ears, a silk touch to the soul... but to you, that wonder was your last interest.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

You, right now, had the hardest task to accomplish: lose in the huge crowd a terribly improper suitor, Sir Hugh Feversham, who followed you in the gardens and tried to forcefully kiss you. Luckily the slap he received had shocked him enough to give you a ten seconds headstart before he stubbornly followed.

“Miss Y/L/N, please.” His voice was closer than before, so you tried to quicken your pace without looking like running away from anyone. ”If I could just explain myself to you...”

Part of you just wanted to turn and face him - or to be more accurate, slap him, again - and thus expose his terrible behaviour to every soul in the room. However another part of you, the thoughtful and rational one, knew that the situation in which you were tangled was very inconvenient, with or without your willingness to be part of it.

Keeping this in mind, avoiding him for the rest of the night was the best choice you had, if not the only one. Nevertheless, you couldn’t spend every second left at the ball running in circles trying to outrun him... you needed somewhere to hide.

Since the gardens were off-limits, you scanned the room, looking for a dark corner in which you could disappear or, even better, a friendly face who could save you. But having just moved back in London after years living in the countryside, you wouldn’t recognize an old friend even if you bumped into them.

As you kept walking, a kind voice reached your ears: “You must dance at least with one girl, Anthony. You can’t stand here on the side while many young ladies wait hopelessly to be asked a dance”

That name stopped you in your track, opening memories you thought you forgot. It couldn't be...

Slowly turning to the woman and the young man she was talking to, you scanned them closely, searching in their faces those features you kept for so long in your mind.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

The woman turned towards you with a gentle smile on her face, even though her eyes scanned you with a puzzled look. "Shall I know you, dear?"

"I believe not". You curtseyed, somehow remembering the manners you've been learning since you were born. "It has been a while since we last saw each other"

"Then would you please us with your name, miss?"

You moved your eyes on the young man, Anthony Bridgerton, his furrowed glare locked on you. He probably thought you were some crazy lady or whatever... he surely didn't remember.

"Of course, my lord. I'm-"

"Miss Y/L/N" Lady Bridgerton's eyes finally widened in recognition. She left her son's arm and took your hand in hers. "It has been quite some time. You left that you were just a child but now..." - she took another look at you, from head to toe - "you've bloomed into a beautiful woman"

You gently squeezed her hand. "It's a true joy seeing a friendly face in this buzzing crowd. You wouldn't believe what happened to me just-"

"Miss Y/L/N"

You tightened the grip on Lady Bridgerton's hand when Sir Hugh appeared by your side.

"I've finally caught up with you" he smiled, slick as he was in the garden. "I believe we could talk better on the dancefloor"

He stretched out his hand but you didn't want to take it; every inch of your body screamed to stay away from him. However you had no excuse to refuse him a dance without exposing yourself in the meantime.

You let go of Violet's hand, ready take Sir Hugh's, when a third hand broke in between the two of you.

"Sadly sir, miss Y/L/N is already engaged for this dance", and with that, Anthony guided you to the dancefloor, just in time for a waltz.

"I believe you just saved me" you sighed in relief, watching your suitor finally walking away. "I shall be forever in debt with you, Lord Bridgerton"

"Please, call me Anthony" he murmured with a knowing smile gracing his lips. "We know each other too well to be bothered by these titles"

You raised your eyebrows, faking surprise. "Are you to tell me you haven't changed in the slightest, my lord? Even after all these years?"

"Surely I have, but deep down I'm still the boy who ran with you down the hallways of our estate", and looking in his eyes, you caught a glimpse of the mischievous kid you once knew.

You smiled. "So you do remember me"

"My lady... you wound me". Anthony pulled you closer, leaning over your shoulder. "A gentleman never forgets his first kiss"

“A real gentleman would never discuss such matters while dancing with a lady” you reminded him. “Besides, we were nothing but two kids trying to emulate adults: I remember well the disgusted look on your face as you run back crying to your mother”

You noticed an hint of red on your partner’s face but he didn’t seem to care. “Shall I not cherish those old days regardless?” Anthony fixed your gaze in yours. “I recall adventures in the wild corners of the gardens, afternoons spent searching for treasures through my mother’s drawers and rainy days watching my father’s atlas on the settee near the library’s window...”

"...dreaming of all the places we would visit together" you finished for him, smiling fondly at those memories. "I do miss those times: everything was much more easier back then"

"Indeed" Anthony's grip on your hand slightly tightened as the look on his face grew serious. "Now, would you like to tell me what that man has done to put you in such distress a moment ago?"

You freezed in his arms, almost losing the tempo of the dance. "I don't think you would like to hear it..."

"That is for sure" he agreed. "But I need to know what happened. This way I shall find a way to help you"

"And how could you possibly help me?"

"You would be surprised by the power I have, miss Y/L/N". Then, after a twirl: "So? Are you going to enlighten me or shall I beg you?"

With a sigh, you told him what had happened in the gardens, even though the mere remembering gave you chills down your spine.

"I truly cannot understand why he did that" you told him, shaking your head. "I was just trying to make some new acquaintances and he seemed nice... but I did not gave him any hints that I fancied him!"

"I'm sure you didn't, but some men know nothing of honor and virtue". His knitted brow framed a marble face. "I shall make sure Sir Hugh Feversham is exposed for his actions. If he did something to you, rest assured that many other ladies will have more to say on the matter"

Finally, a smile appeared again on your face. "I can't find the words to convey how grateful I am to you, my lord"

"It's the least I can do for an old friend" he said, his mouth now mirroring yours.

For a moment, you just spinned around the room, letting the music guide your steps as you gazed in each other's eyes. You felt so light that it seemed your feet weren't even touching the floor.

"I know this might sound egoistical" Anthony said, breaking the silence, "but, as much as this experience must have been terrible for you, I'm delighted that it brought you back to me, Y/N". His hand moved to the centre of your back, his eyes never leaving yours. You didn't realise how disgracefully close the two of you had gotten. "I shall believe we will see each other more frequently from now on, if you still enjoy my company"

It took you a moment to realise the music had stopped and you two were now still on the dancefloor as everyone moved around like bees above flowers. A shaky breath left your lips.

"I fail to see how I could deny my presence to you after so long"

The smile Anthony gave you took away the last air in your lungs. Suddenly your corset felt too tight around your chest as he put a hand on your elbow to gently pull you to the side of the room. His mother was there, a pleased smile tugging her lips.

"You're a marvelous dancer, my dear, lighter than a butterfly" she said, before looking at you with worry. "Are you quite alright? You seem slightly overheated..."

"I'm feeling wonderfully, Lady Bridgerton. It has been a very pleasant dance, your son is very talented" you swiftly cut her off, taking the focus away from your flushed cheeks.

"I only wish he would show his hidden talents more often" she sighed, giving a side glare to Anthony who simply rolled his eyes. You stifled a laugh, curtseying once more.

"It's been the most welcome surprise meeting you here, Lady Bridgerton. Thank you for being so kind to me"

"The pleasure was all ours". She took again your hand in hers, smiling at you just like a mother would. "And I shall hope we will see you again soon. Perhaps tomorrow for tea? I'm certain your presence will be appreciated by everyone in the household"

You kindly accepted Violet's offer, promising to take her greetings to your mother.

She then eyed Benedict on the other side of the ballroom. "I shall go now and retrieve all my dear children". When Anthony offered his arm to her, she gently shook her head. "There's no need. I'm capable of wander through these rooms without a chaperone. But thank you, dear".

You watched her walk off to his second son and giggled seeing Benedict's resigned look when Violet caught his arm. Like a predator on its prey.

"Even after all those years, my family doesn't fail to make you laugh"

At Anthony's comment you felt the heat in the room rising once again. "I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

"You couldn't offend us even if you tried". He smiled again at you, earning a shy smile from you as well. Then he took your hand.

"Are you to dance with me twice in a evening, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked cheekily. "I wonder what the ton would say".

"As much as I would like to be the next front-page scandal of Lady Whistledown," he said, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, "I shall now reunite with my family as well"

You lowered your gaze, cursing your boldness more than ever. "Of course, my lord"

"But it has been a pleasure dancing with you, miss Y/L/N. And trust my word when I say that isn't something I can often admit"

He didn't wait for your answer. He took your gloved hand to his mouth, placing on the fabric over your knuckles a light kiss. As your heart pounded against the strings of your corset, you never wished so hardly your skin was bare just were he touched it.

"Goodnight, miss Y/L/N". Anthony bowed. Then, his voice the softest whisper: "Tomorrow won't come fast enough, my lady, and I shall wait impatiently for us to be in the same room again"

Breathless, you watched him walk away, his phantom touch lingering on your hand. You slowly moved it to your mouth, placing a kiss just were he did and with closed eyes, it was like kissing his lips.

"Goodnight, Anthony"

[bag-of-broadway-snacks]

So I finalky finished my Starlight Sequence Comparisons. And just a disclaimer: I think all the actors/actresses listed are amazingly talented. I am only rating one performance so who knows why they sounded like they did at any given time. Also note that these are my opinions! So don't freak out at me.

OLC (Ray Shell, Lon Satton)

-Okay so I'm biased in this case but Ray has always one of my favorite Rustys he has an credibly powerful voice with amazing diction. So easy to understand him and because of that you can connect with the emotion that the Starlight sequence is supposed to bring. The actor playing Poppa here also did a marvelous job he kept his voice very powerful and clear. Sometimes actors end up dropping off when Rusty starts singing but he didn't have that issue. I really liked both performances here. Overall one of the best performances of the Starlight sequence. 10/10

NSE (Greg Ellis, Lon Satton)

-Okay so for this production I still thought Rusty did very well. His voice wasn't as powerful as I like and he had a bit of a slurr to his words. However, I could still understand him very clearly thanks to his good diction. Overall I had no problem with his performance, I thought he did good. My problem with this performance is Poppa. Lon Satton was returning to the role and, for whatever reason, despite his amazing performance in the original London cast, he amped up and sounded way too much like a boy band gospel singer. And it just takes me out of the performance because the Starlight Express is supposed to be this God, this Heavenly being and that's why the powerful booming voice really works. It's supposed to leave you breathless in wonder not make you feel like you're in a concert. I have a problem with actors over singing in general so Poppa over singing here kind of took me out of the experience and its a shame because Rusty did fine here. He was just being out shined. 7/10

1988 Bochum (Steven Skeels, Trevor Georges)

-This is another performance I really like. But I do have one issue with it. Although Poppa and Rusty both sound very good, Poppa was a bit too loud, so I couldn't I almost couldn't hear Rusty most of the time. So you have this effect where it sounds like the two voices are competing rather than coming in for a harmony. though they're both singing different lines Poppa and Rusty should be feeling the exact same emotions so they should complement each other. It's always difficult to do Duets like this where you're singing two different lines over top of each other, so I can understand the difficulty they had here with moderating Poppa's voice to accommodate Rusty. So overall it was a very good performance I only had very minor issues with it. 9/10

1987 Japan/Australia (Bobby Collins, Richie Pitts)

-So this is how I die. All right now just a little disclaimer, I love Bobby Collins. I love his performance in a lot of songs from Starlight Express. However, I do not like how during the Starlight sequence, he sounds like Sandy from Daria singing The Starlight sequence. I have no idea what happens to Bobby during the song but he looses a lot of the emotion in his voice and he suddenly gets weird diction too it. I just don't like it. Poppa here had his own issue, he sounded like he was tense during the whole song and singing a bit too much from his throat. So while I like both of the singers in other numbers they just didn't come together to make this a good listen. I can see the appeal to some people, but not for me. It's not the worst performance favorites. 5/10

1991 Bochum (Colin Munro, Stevie Woods)

-I don't have too much to say about this one. I will say it almost had the opposite problem of another version. Rusty was a little bit too overpowering, but not so much that was noticeable for the whole song. Overall both Poppa and Rusty were very good singers, the diction was there. I could use a little more emotion but other then that I don't have many complaints. Good job for both of them. 9/10

2007 UK (Oliver Thornton, Michael Samuels)

-

Oh my gosh, okay this one is so beautiful. Rusty had wonderful voice that actually reminds me of Ray a little bit. Poppa brought home the whole number, he had this deep, booming, enchanting voice that I personally look for. My only nitpick is at the climax of the song, Poppa didn't quite reach that last note so the song didn't have that full on hit you in the chest feeling, but honestly that's so minor. 10/10

2015 Bochum (Kevin Kohler, David E Moore)

-

Another number that starts stellar! Poppa did so good here, he kept such a strong voice that really hit. It was more aggressive I'm usually used to but I honestly thought that fit the song as well. Kevin Kohler, of course, did good as usual. Unfortunately, he was just no match for Poppa and when it came time to sing his part of the climax you just could not hear him at all. A little bit of a shame but I mean with how loud Poppa was being, anyone would have trouble overpowering his voice. That would have to be fixed with mics rather than just singing alone. Overall its very good preformance. I love the energy that both actors kept up during the whole thing. I only have the one complaint. 8/10

2017 Workshop (George Ure, Mica Paris)

-This is just kind of a fun one for me. Rusty here short of sounds like a bratty teen. He has this problem throughout the whole Musical and I don't know if it was the day or that's how he usually sounds, but it was not my favorite performance for this song. Momma did fairly well for the most part. You can hear in her voice she was having trouble hitting her notes. I wouldn't be surprised if her vocal range was a little higher than was written for the Starlight sequence. As this was the first time Momma had sung to the public, are l I think it was a great first impression. I don't have much to say about this as it of course wasn't professional since it was just a workshop. So, I'll give it a 9/10.

2019 Bochum (Blake Anderson, Bianca Atalaya)

-This version is so underrated. Momma's voice is just as powerful as the original London cast. She sounds gorgeous and she really brought in a lot of emotion. Rusty here as well had a lot of emotion the voices collide and it just hits you. I really loved it. My one complaint is that Rusty did start off a little bit shaky. I was worried for a little while that he wouldn't be as good as he ended up being towards the end of the song. Really good tweaking it would have been perfect. 9/10

30th Ann. (Dan Ellison, Reva Rice)

-And to top it all off, this version may be like my favorite of all time. Dan Ellison as Rusty always puts a smile on my face. He really has earned his hype in the stex fandom. He's got a voice that carries so much emotion and projects like nobody's business. Ms. Reva Rice also does so beautifully as Momma in both productions I've listened to her in. She absolutely hits it out of the ballpark every time. I certainly hope that they'll release an album at some point. Its a gorgeous performance and deserves that sort of preservation that many others have gotten. 10/10

I had fun with this and if you want me to talk about any other songs let me know and I will!