#and not at all what I was originally going for

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[kianamaiart]

Just asking but say this pilot blows up and it's amazeballs (don't criticize me for saying that we're on Tumblr of all places), like we know it'll be. What would it actually take to make IDWTBAMG a full on green it series? Would you have to go through Disney or would you try to source it to something like Glitch and how could we help in making the show a reality?

That's a great question, I don't really know!

A lot of it would be on me to take the time to actually go out and make the effort to pitch around. Though if the pilot does REALLY well then there would likely be more interest and also gives me legs to stand on when pitching. It will serve as a nice proof of concept! Studios are really big on existing IP and built in audiences currently. I was told by an industry veteran and one of my showrunners that I'd have a decent chance pitching original IP because "I myself would be the the existing IP and I have the built in audience already".

That itself isn't enough obviously, the product also has to be good but I do think that I have something fun here. So honestly, the best thing as the audience that you can do to help is just spreading the word, supporting the pilot when it comes out and showing interest in the other art/comics I've been doing with the characters (which most of you are very much already doing, thank you ;0;)

I will say I do have a couple leads and have some studio interest but I also wanna make sure that if I make this, it goes somewhere where it's a good fit. And then also just wanna get the pilot first just to gauge interest. One step at a time!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

 book 7 chapter 12 part 2 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 12 OF THE MAIN STORY!!*** This spans part 245 to part 268, focusing on Trey and Ace.

We will get Riddle's dream in a future update (scheduled for Feb 7th)!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

The group lands on a tropical island! These are reused assets from the Lost in the Book with Stitch event.

Cater indicates that he's fine from the bumpy ride; he likes the thrill! It reminds him of sky diving. He also shares that he once lived by the sea in Pyroxene/the Shaftlands and that he enjoys board-related activities (snowboarding, surfing, skateboarding, etc.)

IHBASOUFA8TVVAD8FA RIGHT AS THEY'RE TALKINGA BOUT THIS, LEONA INTERRUPTS AND TELLS THE KIDS TO STOP WASTING TIME, THEY GOTTA FIND THE DREAMER 💀 (Can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to shake his hand for reminding everyone to get the fuck back on track instead of standing around talking for several parts in a row...)

They find some footprints in the sand and decide to follow them. Due to the size and shape of the footprints being similar to Deuce's, they think the footprints must be Ace's and will lead them to him.

We bump into Ace (who is wearing his beachwear clothes from the Stitch event), along with dream!Riddle (also in his beachwear) and dream!Trey (who is in his Yasmina silk from the fireworks event). Trey was cooking up BBQ for everyone! afhlbllbaiad THE TWST DEVS ARE REALLY GETTING MILEAGE OUT OF THOSE OLD ASSETS, HUH...

Ace speaks to Deuce, Cater, Grim, and Yuu in a familiar tone, but is shocked to see everyone else. He also mentions dream!Cater leaving to change into swimwear and to take pics by the sparkling sea; it looks like he was dreaming of all of Heartslabyul and Grim + Yuu hanging out here. Apparently, dream!Cater rented a place for them by the beach from Kalim's family.

Ace and dream!Trey explain they're celebrating because Yuu can now freely pass between Twisted Wonderland and their original world. asdbihasiodasqevyf IS THIS SLIGHT SHADE AT THE THEORISTS THAT PROPOSED SOMETHING SIMILAR TO KEEP YUU AS THE MC IN TWST... (Turns out, Ace must have been really wishing for Yuu to not leave their friend group forever www) This seems to be their summer vacation after the first school year.

Cater volunteers himself, Silver, Leona, and Idia to help Trey with making BBQ. This is so they can monitor the darkness while giving the first years a chance to wake Ace. Congrats to Cater for being a little useful in these dreams 🤡

The first years directly confront Ace as he is showing them options for beachwear to change into. However, to everyone’s shock, Ace is in complete denial and brushes it off when his head starts to hurt. He tells they are all being overly negative and it's harshing his vibes! It's vacation time, so why are they trying to ruin things with jokes that are in poor taste? This marks the first major instance of the dreamer resisting the feeling of “waking”.

Sebek intervenes and tries to take charge of the argument. Even with Sebek shouting about all the havoc Malleus's magic is causing... even when Sebek says Malleus's magic will eventually swallow the world, Ace has no problem with it. He claims it's not his problem. Besides, everyone's going to be living happily in dreams, right? And this is the path that Malleus chose for himself, so he should accept the consequences of his actions. What's the issue there? Besides, he doesn't want to cooperate with a person like Sebek who constantly looks down on others and paints all the dreamers as victims in need of saving.

Ace storms out in a fit of anger. Grim starts blaming Sebek for things emotionally escalating. Then Ortho confronts Sebek with this question: if it was not Malleus Draconia behind the current situation, would Sebek really be trying as hard as he is to rectify things? This question shocks Sebek into silence.

Cater and the others show up to check in on us. From our crestfallen expressions, he can tell we failed to wake Ace.

HUHHHHHHHH 😟 Silver suddenly gets super strict with Sebek and scolds him for the trouble his rudeness has caused everyone + their seniors. He says that the people around Sebek have been too lenient with him and thus spoiled him; he needs to reflect on his actions!! Sebek uses a really quiet voice and apologizes to us (but he still uses kisama which is a pompous and rude way to speak to others 😭).

LEONA 💀 He suggests they are wasting too much time trying to wake a small fry like Ace and it may be more efficient to skip him and move onto the next dreams. THE DAD THAT LEFT FOR MILK, FOLKS

… What the fuck. I did not expect Ace’s dream to better my opinion of CATER of all people but lo and behold, it is. Cater agrees with Leona that it may be more efficient to skip Ace’s dream. He and Idia do not need to worry about Ace anymore. This first year is Heartslabyul’s so it’s not their responsibility. Cater walks off and Yuu, Grim, and Deuce chase him. The others follow in a separate group due to the radius for Ace’s dream world not being very large.

Deuce begs Cater to let him try talking to Ace one more time before they give up on him. AND THEN CATER ACTS LIKE THE DAD THAT STEPPED UP because he tells Deuce he never had any intention of abandoning Ace 😭 Deuce, Grim, and Yuu decide to team up with Cater to wake Ace, especially considering they may have to combat darkness this time.

Cater finds Ace by himself and asdbhlabsyod8ysaas8fb uses Split Card to make a bunch of clones to gang up and pummel his junior... "I'll show you this is a dream :))" *PROCEEDS TO BEAT THE CRUD OUT OF ACE* Unfortunately for Cater, dream!Riddle, Trey, Cater, and Deuce show up to put a stop to things. (I want to add it's hilarious that Cater is also in Yasmina silk but Deuce is stuck in his P.E. Uniform asdhbasoyafae)

Ace is tempted by the darkness and mumbles a bunch of stuff about how he doesn't want to do difficult things like fighting Malleus. He says he’s just an ordinary mage and doesn’t even have his UM yet. We're shocked by Ace's cowardly side but Silver points out that darkness being present feeds and amplifies your most negative emotions.

Anyway, Sebek and co. want to barge in to save Ace, but Leona holds them back; they should leave it to Cater.

fuasboyfg8fdasibTHER'S THIS ON e FUNnY MOMENT. Leona says that those that it's easy for the darkness to indulge in the dreamer when they're at their lowest/acting cowardly. Idia voice) Eeeeh, aren't you talking about yourself, Leona-shi... abhlfbioasfoasobifadib LEONA NYOOMS OVER TO IDIA'S TABLET AND COMES CLOSE TO BREAKING IT... Watch yourself, Idia...

WOW CATER 🤯 He blew my mind… Cater reminds us and Ace that when Riddle OB’d, Ace was the one that stepped up to fight even when the battle seemed unwinnable—and it was Cater who wanted to run. He tells Ace he looked so cool back then, but he hasn’t had the chance to thank him for it until now.

ACE LAUGHS AND CRiES

Cater pulls Ace out of the darkness!! He calls to Leona and co. for backup~ (One neat touch here is Ace says one of his battle opener lines: “Okay~ I’ll get this over with fast.”)

Deuce and Grim bonk Ace on the head for giving them a hard time. augwjsjs Ace starts to given’m lip again but Leona tells him to watch how he speaks to upperclassmen OTL

do skwguwuwn AcE CALLS oUT SILVER AnD LILIA foR SPOILING SEBEK… Cater interrupts to remind them to get along + respect their seniors or the red demon Riddle will come for them!

Adeuce are embarrassed about having to shout Dream Form Change. Idia enjoys it. Cater does too; he thinks it’s cute and wants Adeuce to do it again so he can take a video (they refuse to).

Deuce makes a passing comment about how maybe they don’t know Cater as well as they think they do?? The Cater they think they know is obsessed with taking pictures… but maybe he can be reliable too!

Sebek and Ace bicker again as they prepare to dream hop. Once again, Leona comes in clutch by telling them to stfu and for Silver to hurry it along.

They land in front of Heartslabyul dorm in Trey’s dream.

Ace didn’t have an issue with their travel; in fact, he posed when Cater pointed his phone at him!

We tell Ace we’ve basically gotten about 20ish people recruited to our cause already, plus the support of S.T.Y.X.! However, their group is 10 people now (Grim, Yuu, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Silver, Sebek, Idia, Ortho, and Leona), which will make it dangerous to dream hop.

Grim mentions that if he is without Yuu, he won’t count as a student. That’s weird, because earlier in book 7 he mentions moving to the second year even once Yuu has returned home… Maybe this will be formally discussed later??? It sounds slightly contradictory.

They smell butter and follow it to the Heartslabyul kitchen. Cater stops everyone suddenly?? He doesn't think it's wise if all 10 of them cram into the kitchen at once; he will go since it's not odd for a Heartslabyul student to be present in the area. Plus, if things get dicey, he can always use his UM as an excuse or in a combative pinch!

asdhasbyofasd Leona and Idia get dragged along with Cater since they're the oldest. This conveniently allows the others to listen in on the conversation in the kitchen by using the mic built into Idia's tablet. (Idia however is not happy that he gets stuck with the sunny Cater and the grumpy Leona.)

WHOA check out the cakes and other baked goods here???? I don't even like sweets, but this looks tasty.

Cater tells the other two with him that Trey handmakes goodies for unbirthday parties. He has advised in the past that Trey take shortcuts (using commercial goods/already made cakes or box mixes, I presume), but Trey doesn't listen. Cater suspects it's because Trey thinks it's way too fun to bake to give it up, even if it would be faster to use another way.

They overhear people talking and... WHAT THE HECK, CHENYA'S THE HEARTSLABYUL DORM LEADER NOW????? ? ? ?? ??? ? ? ? ?? ? ? He's complimenting Trey's meat pies...

P.S. That chef's outfit looks so good OTL

Ortho casually hacks into the RSA student database to report on who Chenya is (since Silver and Sebek have no clue who he is).

We sort of get an explanation for Cater’s dream??? He says he wished to live comfortably and happily, as if every day was like his birthday. Somehow that got twisted to him being dorm leader…

xhsvhwiwkw The first years are bickering outside… Ace and Grim are fighting to see what’s happening, Sebek is being too loud so Ortho chastises him.

Trey is able to tell the original Cater from the clones??? Bro is Haruhi Fujioka OHSHC… He comments that Cater looks different than usual, so he knew right away.

Riddle seems to be a regular card solider. He tried to challenge Chenya for his dorm leader seat.

Chenya explains Riddle lost to him because his UM doesn’t work on Chenya. He then demonstrates his UM…! (Note: some creative liberties taken while transcribing in order to slap in an Alice in Wonderland quote :3c)

“Most everyone’s mad here. You might’ve already noticed I’m not all there. Not All My Head!”

(More direct translation of the incantation would be, “Everybody's weird here. You've noticed that already, haven't you?”)

It doesn’t just refract the light and make Chenya appear invisible; his body is literally NOT there. This explains why Riddle’s UM doesn’t work Chenya—there is literally nothing there to collar.

cHENYA bULLIES RiDDLE A LIRTKE BY HsRaiNH An EmBaarRsING StORY 😭

Anyway, Riddle has challenged Chenya many times but lost because Chenya is an expert at avoidance. Riddle uses up his magic and burns out easily.

Oooh? Chenya talks about a special language his grandpa taught him. It reminds me of Riddlish from Ever After High.

Trey’s ideal Heartslabyul… it’s one with loose rules, a huge ass kitchen that can be used freely, and a dorm leader that is easygoing. It’s pretty mild and grounded.

Trey asks the third years to sample a prototype lemon jelly and yogurt dessert for him. The only sweetener is honey so eve Cater should be okay with it—and Chenya won’t be mad if someone violates the “dorm leader gets the first bite rule”, even if desserts like jellies are excluded from that rule. Cater agrees but insists that Trey joins them.

dhisbwkwnw Leona has meat pie instead of the lemon dessert. Trey wants to make more to feed his guests and decides to make enough for all of the dorm.

The first years are drooling and jealous that the third years get to eat when they’re supposed to be investigating!

Cater is impressed that Silver had the fortitude to go through so many dreams. He thinks he may have given up a while ago if he were in Silver’s shoes???

Trey says he likes baking because it is satisfying to see the finished product—and others can enjoy it too, so it is killing two birds with one stone. Even Riddle is able to eat as much as he wants now. Apparently Riddle was the close to the same age as Trey’s younger brother at the time (Trey was 9 or 10; Riddle is one year older than the Clover brother). Trey describes Riddle as very mature for his age.

Hmm, interesting… The part of Riddle’s past where his mom caught him eating a strawberry tart remains unchanged.

LMAO the Clovers got scolded for 5 hours by Mrs. Rosehearts… Trey claims he and his family now laugh about the incident. Out group theorizes that this is result of trauma; it’s Trey’s way of coping.

Oh????? Trey says Riddle has changed a lot since he left his parents. Due to Chenya’s encouragement, Riddle now eats as much as he wants. Apparently both he and Chenya see Riddle like a little brother and they love seeing him be able to grow up.

ASGYUGYASNNYFOYADSSD Leona's theories keep being proven wrong in these dreams... He theorizes that Trey might have been angry when he became vice dorm leader, but Cater says that's not the case.

Trey was very excited when Riddle entered NRC; he told the other Heartslabyul students that his childhood acquaintance is joining the school. Although Riddle is quiet, he is talented at magic and Trey hopes they get along well. But then when Riddle enrolled, he was a completely different person than how Trey remembered him. He had developed a short fuse and become very controlling... cutting himself off from his feelings in order to rule. Riddle also acts detached from Trey.

In the flashback we see, Riddle has a heart mark. I guess this is what he had in reality too, not just the dream world.

Anyway, when time came to appoint a vice dorm leader (dorm members vote for them), Trey kind of got handed the job. Cater suggests it was probably tough on Trey to see that Riddle had changed so much; at one point, Riddle even beheaded Trey because the rules do not discriminate. He also suggests that maybe Chenya is in Trey's dream so that both friends can be present to support Riddle.

ajbuasiodyasida CATER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT... He confesses that he's always a spectator and now, seeing this, he wonders if he should have done more or intervened sooner.

UUUUUUH, there's a big BOOM!!???!! heard over Idia's tablet. It sounds like the other group is in trouble! But what are they dealing with...?

... Oh. OH.

THIS IS LITERALLY THE TWST ORB MERCH 😭😭😭😭😭 Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber... and round Cater and Riddle...

uMMMMMMMM I feel like I learned about one of Trey’s secret special interests and I don’t like it one bit 🪦

Riddle is now the tallest second year... bigger than a horse... How is he gonna ride Vorpal?! Ace and the others are in distress, saying that he can't do basketball and Deuce can't do track and field with those round bodies!!

We attempt to fight the massive dream!Heartslabyul boys, but it's useless!! Silver tries to form a barrier, but the dream!boys just roll too fast and knock him over before he can complete the spell! Cater tells Leona to use his UM to help out, but Leona can't because there would be collateral damage if used in an enclosed space.

The dream!boys try to convince Trey to stay in the dream but they start to present information that doesn't make sense. For example, dream!Riddle does not care about nutritional content; he will eat anything if it's something Trey made! Dream!Cater starts to eat a bunch of sweets to demonstrate his willingness to consume what Trey makes for them; ah, but that's not right either because in the real world, Cater doesn't like sweets at all!

Trey is able to wake up on his own...!

Aaaand we got the context for his groovy...? AFBADAVADSPB SO THE CATER AND RIDDLE PICTURED HERE, LOOKING DOWN AT HIM... IT'S THE ROUND ASS ONES AKHLBAFSIYBAFIYVAFOV8YQEOVYPQRWBFUEFABIHFDIB THAT MAKES THIS ILLUSTRATION SO MUCH LESS SERIOUSSSSSSSS

There's a big BOOM!! BHLFBIAFSIYBAFSIBYADFBIADVBLDFS LEONA SANDED SOME OF THE BIG ORBS?? ? ?? ? ? ???? ? ? Bye-bye, round Adeuce...

We rally with Trey and he has an admittedly cool line... "Don't talk with your mouth full. It's poor manners under the law of the Queen of Hearts!"

After the darkness is dispelled, Trey is caught up to speed and expresses he's not sure if a normal mage like him can be of much use against Malleus; why didn't they go for Riddle, who is way more powerful, first? asfhbasyuvfgfyoaodasi Ace has a cute moment where he reminds Trey that it was HIS unique magic that overrode Riddle's and saved his ass. Besides, we need Trey to help out with Riddle. He's Riddle's bestie, right?

HAHAHAHAHAHAFHAFH Sebek quietly says he is indebted to Trey... I just think about how Sebek has said Trey reminds him of his father OTL Ace whines about how Sebek treats him and Trey so differently and Sebek shouts that a third year will actually be HELPFUL, unlike Ace. afbaiuliafiefa GIRLIEPOPS YOUR BICKERING PLEASES ME... continue--

Cater takes a picture of Trey in his chef clothes before he swaps over to his dorm uniform; he wants to show Riddle later! I think Trey also brings along a strawberry tart...? Not sure if it transfers from dream to dream or if I'm misunderstanding the wording there.

Then they all gather around Silver and move on to Riddle's dream! (Leona closes off this section with a banger line about how it's time to get back on the small crowded bus. LMAO)

Alright, so what were my overall thoughts on this update? I definitely feel as though the writers got better at writing the dreams as they continued. The first few felt awkward and stilted, but the more recently ones (Savanaclaw and Heartslabyul) are noticeably smoother, even when kept in the confines of already established patterns.

I really appreciated how often Leona was kept telling everyone to shut up and move on with the story. He sounds so tired, annoyed, and wanting to get to the end of book 7 already. It feels like the devs are speaking to us through Leona bilfiaylasdpasod

I'm a little surprised that Ace didn't get his UM in his dream, but I guess maybe they're saving it for the very end battle? I find it suspicious that he brings up and laments his lack of UM while talking about how he's a "normal" mage that doesn't stand a chance against a big boss like Malleus. This sounds like intentional foreshadowing for that confrontation.

As I expected, Ace had a special interaction with Sebek, much like most of the other first years have. (I've updated my "Sebek and the first years in book 7" analysis post based on this.) Ace capping things off by openly calling out Sebek's flaws helps to bring everything full circle. I was also pretty spot-on about Ace's dream covering Yuu being able to stay in Twisted Wonderland. I'm surprised that they did the "Yuu can go between the two worlds as they like" thing; it's a very convenient idea proposed by many theorists in the fandom in order to maintain having Yuu as the POV character in Twst while also allowing Yuu (the in-universe character) to be able to return to their friends/family back home. More and more... the dreams feel like vague fanfiction addressing some fun fandom theories and ideas.

I found it really fascinating that Trey's dream didn't erase the moment in his life that tore Riddle away from him. I wonder if the trauma is just so deep-rooted that even Malleus's magic couldn't get rid of it...? Or if the event was framed by the magic as something sad that had to happen so he could spoil Riddle and give him a happy life now??? I can also understand an interpretation in which Trey feeds others or does his best to help them out even if he finds it bothersome because some part of him still holds onto that immense guilt he feels for his role in the Tart Incident. And in that sense, it's the dream allowing Trey to indulge others without stop, without moderation--a weakness of his that he was warned about in Vil's Labwear vignettes.

asdlhbasnyurnoabafsi NOT GONNA LIE, TREY'S DREAM IS GOING TO GIVE ME NIGHTMARES. Don't get me wrong, I love how whimsical it is, and how he can just enjoy baking to his heart's content. I also love that we get Chenya's UM name and incantation, as well as more about how it actually works. HOWEVER. The massive spheres that Trey made of his dorm members freak me out 💀 THERE'S SOMETHING SO GROTESQUE ABOUT MASSIVE BODIES WITH SMUSHED TINY FACES ROLLING AROUND TO CRUSH PEOPLE...

The MVP this update was most definitely Cater. I was shocked to see how proactive he was. He took the lead in both Ace and Trey's dreams and we got to see him put his craftiness to some good use. Stepping up for the first years, roping the other third years into helping him, even not hesitating to kick Ace's stubborn ass... I hate to say it, but I could really see Cater's dashing big brother side coming out here 🤡 YES I AM UNFORTUNATELY PREDICTABLE I had to pause reading so many times to go, "Waaaah, Cay-kun is so cool!!" which is not a thought I typically have. I'm also such a big fan of him regretting his past actions (or rather, inaction) and finally FINALLY being able to verbalize some of his deepest and most concealed feelings to other characters. When Cater thanked Ace for what he said back when Riddle overblotted... man, it hit me right in the heart.

Sebek was also pretty bashful this update. I don’t think I’ve heard him being quite so… humbled??? His quiet voice is cute 🥰 Was not expecting Silver to speak sternly to him though. The shouting came put of nowhere??? And it’s not as though you aren’t part of the problem for spoiling him, Silver…

Those are my thoughts for this update! I'll see you in the next one. Riddle's dream, on the 7th...!!

[angrybell]

Oh for fucks sake.

MAGA supporters are not going through the streets beating up DEI trainers or bombing businesses that support Harris.

There is no equivalent to the Nuremberg Laws even being suggested.

Yes, some people are being deported. But you what? They entered illegally. The ones being prioritized for being at the head of the list are ones who have committed crimes that qualify as felonies. They’re not kicking citizens based on their race, religion, national origin. Only on their immigration status.

The Trump Administration is also not seeking to deprive workers of union representation by dissolving unions and creating a single one that would be loyal to the regime and not the workers.

Then again, most unions these days don’t give two shits about their members. They only care about pleasing their Democrats masters. I say this as union member who got told to suck it up and make less for doing more work because instead of fighting, the union wanted to suck the cocks of various Democrats politicians.

If you actually were taught anything about the Holocaust, then you should have been horrified by the Biden Administration. Among its many sins it

Supported the state having more of a say o we how children were raised than their families;

It used the DOJ to persecute its political enemies. Leave aside the January 6 cases, they were more worried about harassing people who opposed democrat school boards than they were about child sex trafficking.

They used their connections with social media companies to silence opposition and promote government backed propoganda.

All of those things were part of the Nazi program.

And until you’ve actually read Project 2025, instead of the memes, shut the fuck up.

Stop appropriating the Holocaust because you lost an election.

As a kid learning about the holocaust, I never understood how people could let Nazis rise to power. But now I’m watching it happen in real time.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

You're the only person I know on Tumblr who I feel like I can send this ask so I hope this is ok.

I'm absolutely sick to my stomach terrified. People keep talking about not acquiescing early and to keep fighting and that's good but... I'm a trans person married to a trans person and we have a kid. We are so, so scared that we are going to lose our parental rights and have him taken away, even if he's biologically my partners. We are pretty fucking sure that the only way we could even possibly stay in the US and even possibly keep our family together is to detransition. But then we would still be queer, and I remember the 90s and how it was pretty recent that gay couples were considered unfit parents.

And this isn't us blowing things out of proportion, we have an education in politics so we've got a pretty good freaking idea about how bad things can and will get, but also we don't feel like we can afford to NOT take things extremely seriously. The worst case scenario is pretty horrific for us, so we've talked at lengthe about leaving the country. Which is it's own basket of heartbreaks because then there's a real chance we will never be able to come back. And I don't really feel like I can talk about it because a) the Internet doesn't feel safe to be trans on and b) there's been SO much chatter about how we need to stay and fight and people who can leave are privileged etc etc

I just... I'm scared and heartbroken and angry and I feel extremely hopeless. I guess I don't really have a question after all. I just needed to talk about it because it feels like not enough people are seeing this kind of true tragedy that could come from all this.

I wish there was actual help we could get. But there doesn't seem like there's anyone who can.

You're right, Anon - you're not blowing things out of proportion.

I want to say that I'm relieved in a sense that you are talking about where your lines in the sand are are and what you plan to do if they are crossed. There is hope and comfort to be found in a plan, even if it is a plan for the next generation's survival, instead of our own.

Every trans person needs to start thinking about real answers to the following questions:

What will I do if I'm fired tomorrow?

What will I do if I'm denied a loan? Housing?

What will I do if I lose my HRT?

What will I do if information about trans people is considered illegal to circulate?

What will I do if I I'm declared an unfit parent?

What will I do if my marriage is annulled?

What will I do if I'm declared unfit to own my own property or make my own legal decisions?

What will I do if I'm about to be arrested?

There are answers to all of these questions that aren't just "give up and die." But there's no one-size-fits all solution. People will have varying priorities based on how they see their role in fighting fascism and what resources they have access to.

Community is going to become incredibly important. Trans people have always existed. Sympathetic cis people have always existed. Trans people have always found ways to survive and even flourish, even though it often meant not being able to pursue their original dreams.

If you don't know where to begin with strengthening our community, the Trans Literature Preservation Project is a good place to get ideas. The virtual book burnings have already begun on .gov websites, so maybe doing a little preservation work will give you more hope that you're working to make a difference.

Because the work is important, even if the progress won't happen until after our time.

[deadmotelsusa]

Another February means more dead honeymoon hotels. 💘

For the last few years, I’ve been researching and sharing about these forgotten motels, hotels and resorts. Every year - just when I thought I already knew it all - I learn more, explore a new place and discover new dead honeymoon lore. Before I share some new spots, I want to go back to one of my OG favorites: Pocono Gardens Lodge.

Today, all that’s left of the original resort is a foundation of the outdoor pool and a few dilapidated concrete pillars. While walking through the property, you would never be able to tell what was here less than 20 years ago.

So let’s go back to 2006, the year before the abandoned property was destroyed by fire. It had already been closed for 6 years at that point. The honeymoon era was in a swift decline. The hotel’s original pink exterior had been repainted and covered in graffiti. Both pools had been filled in with dirt. Each suite - once so vibrant and gaudy - now in disrepair from vandals. Each heart tub - having long served its purpose - now awaiting inevitable destruction.

[organic-bloodbath]

Hwang In-ho x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: You're In-ho's wife, but know nothing about him being the Frontman. Without his knowledge, you've been taken to play the games too. One night he explains everything to you about being the Frontman.

A/N: This was a request i got, i hope you like 🫶🏻 I haven't written about him before so i wasn't sure how to portray him here. This also became a lot longer than how i originally thought it would turn out.

♡♡♡

Your husband was lying to you about something. You knew he wasn't telling you everything, but every time you asked about it, he would just deny that there was anything going on.

He told you that he'd soon be leaving for a 'work trip' and would be back home in a week. He didn't tell you any details, nothing about what it was even about, he was really dodgy about the situation. You knew it wasn't just a work trip, something was going on and you had to find out what.

♡♡♡

You were in a large field with hundreds of other people, all dressed in identical green tracksuits, including you. People were getting shot, the ground was full of blood and fresh corpses.

You were running towards the finish line behind everyone else, until you fell on your back when someone pushed you, running past you and not caring about your life at all. You winced and held your head as you sat up and realized too late what you had just done.

You had moved.

You had moved when the giant doll was scanning for any movements in the area. You were going to die and so was your unborn child. Someone was going to shoot you to death and you buried your face into your hands, as if that would prevent you from getting shot. A few people here and there were being eliminated and you waited for your turn.

But it didn't come. The doll had turned around and the players continued running. Had they missed you? Not noticed that you hadn't stayed still?

"Psst," someone said next to you. "You better get up if you want to get to the finish line and live."

He was right, you were far behind from everyone else and if you didn't start running soon, you'd be dead for being too slow.

♡♡♡

The Frontman was sitting on his leather couch, watching the game on the big screen and sipping whiskey. When the first player had moved, a chaos ensued and people started running around in panic, bullets dropping them down one by one. In-ho's favorite part of this game was the players realizing what 'being eliminated' meant for them.

Then, his heart stopped and he almost spilled the whiskey on his black suit. He saw someone familiar among the players.

Y/N. His own wife was taking a part in the games. How the hell had she ended up here?!

Just a few minutes ago he was enjoying the show, relaxing and taking a bet in his mind how many players would survive through the game. But then there was you who had no idea what you had just gotten into.

No, no, no, no - this wasn't happening.

He needed to know why someone allowed her to come here and why he wasn't aware of it. He had seen all the files of the players, all of them. You weren't even in any debts, Hwang In-ho knew that, so how was it possible you were pulled here? Someone had stripped you and put the same green tracksuit on you as everyone else.

Maybe he was seeing things. Player 002. That was your number. Maybe she just looked like you. The camera which was recording this game had done a close-up on a few players and it was enough to recognise you.

He wasn't going to let you stay here and play these games. This wasn't your place to be, this was meant for people who needed money urgently and had no other choice.

♡♡♡

The moment you saw your husband walk through the crowd, anger rose inside you. You wanted to hit him, kick him, throw all sorts of insults at him for lying to you.

Your eyes met, about thirty metres between you two. You were the first one to start walking towards him and he came to you half way.

"What the hell is going on, In-ho?!" you shouted, not caring how many people heard and how much of it.

"Y/N, please-"

"'Y/N please', just tell me what on earth you're doing here? What is this place? Is this your so called 'work trip', hm?"

Another man was near him, looking at the two of you, confused but not wanting to intervene what was going on.

"I didn't want to tell you because you'd only get worried and-"

"Worried? Worried?! You came to a place where you could be killed! You didn't tell me anything where you were going!"

"How are you here?"

"I tried to follow you."

"Follow me?"

"You were hiding something from me, for weeks you were acting so suspicious and i needed to know what was going on," you explained, standing so close to him that you could smell his breath and barely letting yourself to breathe between the words, you wanted to get everything out of you as fast as possible.

"I would have explained everything after i'd come back."

"Well sorry i didn't know that because you don't talk to me anymore." You stepped back and started pacing back and forth, fingers brushing through your hair. You took a few deep breaths to calm down before looking at him again. "But what if you hadn't come back anymore? What if you got killed? Would i ever know about that?"

He stepped closer to you again and wrapped his arms around you, even though you tried to resist at first.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, i truly am," he apologized with a sincere voice and then made you look at him again. "But like everyone else, i didn't know i was going to die and i really needed to get more money to pay off a few debts."

You looked at him for a moment until just stormed away and left him stand there alone.

♡♡♡

At night while lying on your bed, you were gently rubbing your bare stomach, as if trying to comfort your baby that everything was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. The baby's dad was going to be okay.

You would get back home, all three of you, and continue your life like before.

Who were you fooling? Nothing was the same anymore. In-ho had abandoned you for money, lied to you because of money, not giving you attention all because of more money.

Your baby was three months old by now and you could see the bump but it could still be hidden under your shirt and jacket well enough. You hadn't told In-ho yet, you should have told him weeks ago.

But he had put everything else before you in the past couple of months. You were also scared to tell him, especially now because you thought he would be mad at you for not telling him sooner that he was going to be a father. You had waited for a moment where he would notice you again and spare a moment of his busy day just for you, but that day had never seemed to come anymore.

Now thinking about it - he had no right to be mad at you for not telling him. Still, you were nervous, and being trapped in this place didn't help it at all.

It took you almost an hour, but eventually you fell asleep and it was one of the worst night's sleeps you'd had during the pregnancy.

♡♡♡

You were safe. In-ho had made sure that you stayed safe. He argued with the guards for an hour how it was possible to allow his own wife to get involved as a player but nobody knew any details. But somehow they had tricked the system in the first game that the doll ignored any movements you had made.

But what's done is done. He couldn't get you out of the game by just letting you leave while everyone else stayed. Majority of people wanted to stay here, according to the votes, they needed the money for their own good and didn't care about any casualties that didn't involve themselves.

You were mad at him and he understood why. But he couldn't tell you about the game and how all his time was spent to plan everything out. What if he had told you all about these games? Would you still love him or would it make you leave? You were his entire world, much more important than these games.

But he wasn't able to quit, not now, not yet. It would absolutely ruin him if you packed your bags and never wanted to see him again.

He would make sure that you will get out of here and back home, no matter what. And he'd have to tell you everything eventually, and that thought terrified him, seeing how angry you had been earlier.

♡♡♡

"You doing alright?" Gi-hun asked the next morning when you had woken up, taking careful steps towards you as if you were going to bite him if he approached you too fast.

"Yeah, fantastic."

"Listen, i don't want to meddle between you two because i don't know either of you well, but we'll have to work together to get through these games," Gi-hun explained. "The most important thing now is to survive and get through the games so we can get out of here as fast as possible."

He was right, of course there had to be one man to talk sense to the rest of the group.

"I know, i know," you sighed. "It's just been hard for me lately and he hasn't shown appreciation to me and we don't communicate anymore."

"In-ho seems like a good man," Gi-hun admitted. "And none of us told our friends or family members that we would be joining the games, it wasn't allowed to spread the information to outsiders. Please, don't blame him, not right now."

You slightly nodded. "You're right, thank you, Gi-hun."

"Let's go eat before the next game starts, okay?"

♡♡♡

After you had passed the second game, you were getting a little suspicious of him once again.

It was only a small thing which nobody else probably noticed, but why did he throw the toy with his right hand? He failed several times, but succeeded immediately when he threw it with his left hand. You had always known he was left-handed.

You woke up at night and had to go to the bathroom.

It was like he was wasting time on purpose to leave your victory to the last second and it pissed you off. However, you had passed the game so you decided to leave it be - for now.

"Please, i really need to go," the small girl from your group pleaded.

"Nobody is allowed to leave the area at this hour."

"I need go too, just let us through. We'll only take a few minutes," you said, tired to argue about getting to go to pee.

The guard looked at you through the glass for a short moment until opened the door without further questions.

"5 minutes."

You were surprised and Jun-hee looked at you in even more shock but hurried inside.

You came out of your stall after couple of minutes and was about to go wash your hands when you heard crying and sniffing from one of the other stalls.

"Hey," you said and knocked on the pink door. "Hey, you good?"

No answer, only quiet sobs.

Oh my god don't you dare to start giving birth right now, you started thinking inside your head. You were not going to start delivering a baby in the bathroom while guards with guns were telling you to hurry up.

"Hey, can you open the door?"

But the door wasn't locked, as you had thought, and it opened easily, showing the girl crying, her cheeks wet from the tears and eyes red. You kneeled down in front of her and held her hands in her lap.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Is it something to do with the baby?"

"I'm scared," she sniffed. "I want to go home."

Your heart broke just by looking at her.

"We'll get you home, i promise," you said. "We'll all go home and you'll be able to raise your child."

"You promise?" she asked, looking at you directly in the eyes.

"I promise. I'm pregnant too."

Jun-hee stopped crying for a moment and looked at you, shocked. "You are?" she gasped and looked towards your stomach. You nodded with a weak smile. "How far are you?"

"3 months."

"And the dad...?" she started. "Is it the man in our group? In-ho?" She wasn't sure if she remembered his name correctly.

"Yeah, he doesn't know yet," you said and felt ashamed.

"You should tell him. Soon. We don't know how much time we have left here," she encouraged.

"Stop it, we have all the time in the world."

But she was right, you had to tell him as soon as you could.

You got up and put your arms around Jun-hee, brushing her back with your hand to try to calm her down a little bit. It seemed to help after a little while.

"Time's up," a guard said behind the door.

"Just a second," you yelled and turned back to Jun-hee. "You good to go back?" She nodded and wiped the remaining tears from her face. "Come on, let's go. If you need anything, just come to me, okay?"

You were on your way back to your bed, when you saw In-ho walk away from his bunk. You were confused, since he wasn't going to the bathroom, it was a different door where the players never went and weren't allowed to.

You quietly walked towards the same door where your husband has sneaked into. A guard stood in front of you, stopping you.

"That area is forbidden from players at this time, go back to sleep," the guard instructed but you weren't having it.

"Funny, since a certain player just went in there," you said and put your hands on your hips. "Now tell me where he went or i'll cause a scene."

"Player 002, go back to your bed, you'll see him in the morning."

"I am not leaving anywhere before you take me to my husband."

"Please, player-"

"I said now."

You were standing right in front of the guard, mere inches between you two. Eventually, since there was no way you weren't going to give up and would cause a massive scene, he hesitantly opened the door and let you in.

The guard started walking upstairs and through several corridors you haven't been in before, you walking behind him and starting to internally freak out what was going on.

You ended up in front of a large door and the guard hesitated for a moment, until he glanced at you and knocked on the door.

When the door was opened, your beloved husband was standing there, looking at you with a terrified face.

"Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Sir, i'm sorry but she insisted-"

In-ho grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room past the guard.

"Go back to your duties," In-ho commanded the guard.

"Yes, sir," was the only response the guard gave and then hurried to leave. In-ho closed the door.

Looking around the room, it looked like an office and it was only you and him in the room, nobody else. You crossed your arms against your chest.

"Now tell me exactly what the hell is going on. And no more lies or excuses - nothing. You're going to tell me the truth about everything or you can say goodbye to me."

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down. Just please let me explain."

And he did tell you everything. His involvement in the games, being a former winner, becoming a Frontman and everything he could think of.

Your face was horrified, you two had been together for the past 5 years, married 3 of those years and he had basically lived a double life and keeping everything a secret from you?

All those 'work trips' he had used as excuses over the years made now much more sense, all the pieces were connecting to each other and falling into their places.

"I understand if you hate me right now, despise me or however you feel about these games - i understand," he explained, letting out a deep sigh. He took your hand in his and looked at you directly in the eyes, his dark eyes mixed with several emotions all at once. "I was afraid to tell you because i feared you would leave me and stop loving me."

"I could never stop loving you, no matter what, In-ho," you said and put your hand on his cheek. "I said it in my wedding vows too, i'll always love you until the day i die. In good and in bad, yes?"

Of course you weren't fine with this. These games were brutal, almost barbaric. But you loved In-ho more than anything in the world and you were fighting with yourself how you could learn to be okay with this.

"I just... i just need time to think these things through," you said, then taking a deep breath and taking his hands in yours, just like he had done to you only a moment ago. "Now that we're talking openly, there's something i must tell you and should have told you a lot earlier."

"Yes?" he said, encouraging you to continue when you had fallen silent for a few seconds.

"I'm pregnant," you revealed, it was almost a whisper but he had heard you, loud and clear.

"You... You're what?" he gasped, looking at your stomach and then back to your eyes.

You brought his left hand on your stomach.

"We're going to have a baby, my love," you told him.

He looked like he was about to cry and pulled you into a tight hug. You knew he wanted to become a dad, had wanted for a long time but you hadn't been able to become pregnant before, no matter how much you tried.

He held your face in his hands, kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered, as if it sounded too good to be true.

"And i'm going to be a mother," you said back. "To your baby."

You stayed there for a long time, until both of you were forced to go back to your beds.

♡♡♡

The Mingle game had started and you were all spinning on a huge carousel. In-ho was holding your hand, squeezing it hard.

When it was time to choose 4 people to find a room together, you and In-ho were separated. People were pushing and pulling each other and the time was running out.

Everything happened so fast.

The time ran out and In-ho had ended up in a room with three other players. And you? You were left outside, still on the carousel which was now stopped.

The pink guards shot the remaining players, pleading for help and to spare their life, but their cries were for nothing. You looked on your right and saw Jun-hee standing there too, looking at you with a terrified face.

One of the pink guards came in front of you, the black gun in his arms.

♡♡♡

The plan to get you out of there was simple. You were going to fake your death and In-ho was going to act all heart broken for the loss of both his wife and his unborn child. He would act like only a shell of a man who he had used to be. Anything to convince Gi-hun and others that his wife was dead and he blamed it all on himself.

You only had one requirement for doing this. One wish that In-ho had to make happen or you weren't going to cooperate anymore.

To let Kim Jun-hee go home with you. Let her go as well and raise her child in safety. You knew she wouldn't otherwise survive to the end and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you left and she stayed.

You also made In-ho promise that she'd get her share of money and wouldn't leave this place empty handed. In-ho had gotten protective over Jun-hee during the short time she had been here, so even though he was reluctant to let any player out of here without all of them leaving, he allowed Jun-hee to go with you.

They would need to keep an eye on her for some time, to make sure that she wasn't going to do anything funny regarding to the games but you trusted her.

Before you left that night, In-ho came to see you one more time before he'd eventually come home too the next week.

"I love you," In-ho said, holding you tightly in his arms. He took your face into his hands and pulled you into a passionate kiss, kissing you like he was going to a year long war, but it was only going to be a few days anymore, under a week.

"I love you too," you said, couple of tears running down your cheeks.

Now, you and the girl were free to go. The guards escorted you out of there and you were taken back home. They didn't gas you or Jun-hee, in case the gas would harm the babies, but they did blindfold both of you, just in case you wanted to do something stupid and reveal the location to others - which you certainly weren't going to do.

The fact that so many other people stayed there to try and stay alive just to win money made you feel bad. But they were allowed to quit if they really wanted to. The game would be possible to end if the majority wanted it but they decided to stay.

You had to focus on your baby and prepare a good life for him or her, give them a nice and healthy life with you and their father who promised to quit the games after these were over.

He wouldn't take the job as the Frontman ever again, he had to move on and raise his child with the woman he loved the most in the world - you

[nestofstraightlines]

I’ve always found Gaiman’s decisions and statements around GO rather tacky and sus, and it’s tempting to feel vindicated now it turns out he is in entirely unrelated ways a shit. But of course the emergence of separate crimes and abuses reveals nothing about this part of his life.

I’m just glad, if that’s the word, that Gaiman’s downfall removes him from his position as a handler of Pratchett’s legacy.

I really don’t like the Good Omens series but it was of course very popular. Probably the most popular adaptation of a book Gaiman (co)authored in recent years, and the adaptation he was most actively involved in. Given that Prime would surely be clamouring for a follow-up of sone kind to capitalise on the audience , and given so much of Gaiman’s own work has already been adapted for screen I had a vision of Gaiman moving on to overseeing adaptations of Pratchett’s own books for screen - and all in the vein of Good Omens. Agh.

On the whole mine is no more noble an objection than personal taste. But I will say my problems with the GO series were at base founded in the profound lack of understanding or respect the show paid to Pratchett’s craft, the craft he employed to make the book what it is as the clear senior creative voice in the books creation - that is, comedy as a storytelling form and art form.

No comedy personnel were employed in any key roles in the original series. Gaiman isn’t a comedy writer, Doug McKinnon has no experience in comedy directing, and the editors were likewise only versed in straight drama. I should give the production credit for course-correcting for the second series to some extent by bringing in John Finnemore as co-writer.

But for all Gaiman’s talk of honouring Pratchett with the adaptation, it doesn’t feel like this respect amounted to much when the adaptation treated as utterly disposable to working with the text the art form and skill set that Pratchett used to write it.

On the whole I don’t ascribe this to hubris or cynicism on Gaiman’s part, more him just not being very intelligent or skilled in the kind of storytelling forms we’re talking about here. I would say Gaiman is incredible in terms of his Sandman work and is elsewhere most successful where he works in a similar form to that - short story-ish neo-folk-tale stuff. He’s honestly just not in a similar league to Pratchett as a novelist. So I don’t quite blame him for not really having a basic recognition of what Pratchett is doing.

But the upshot is an adaptation that fundamentally disregards the author that Gaiman claimed to want to honour, and I’m relieved - supposing I ever had anything to worry about on this front, which pure conjecture on my part - that we are now at least guaranteed not to see any more Pratchett adaptation overseen by a man who hasn’t got a basic respect for - because he so totally lacks an understanding of - comedy storytelling.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[reiding-writing]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭.

a case involving female students being murdered in their dormitories brings the team to stanford university. You have more of a connection to it than you originally realise.

cold!reader ❅ 8.4k ❅ cold!reader masterlist. ❅ main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, violence against women, detail of murder and injury, abuse of power, student-professor relationships, miscarriage and abortion, character death, manipulation, cynicism

“Three women, all doctorate students of Stanford University, have all been killed inside their dorm rooms in the last two weeks,” There’s a click of a button, and then three images flash up on the screen, headshots of the girls. “All three were found with their stomachs cut open and their reproductive organs removed,”

What a lovely way to start a Monday morning.

“So much for the best University in California,” Morgan nudges your arm with his elbow, and your roll your eyes.

“What was the medical knowledge of the unsub?”

“You tell me,” JJ clicks another button on her remote, and the smiling photos of the victims are replaced with their crime scene photos.

Hands and feet tied to their beds, a large incision at the pelvic bone that had been stretched open to leave the internal organs bare, and the uterus cut out of the body. The surface knowledge was there, but the execution was not. Messy lines and uneven incisions that left the gap left in the victims more blood and tissue than actual hole.

“So we’re not looking for a professional then,” Morgan points out the obvious with a cross of his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“They clearly know something about it though,” Spencer leans forward as Morgan leans back, squinting his eyes like it’s going to make the images clearer. “There’s several different ways to perform a hysterectomy, but for a complete hysterectomy like our unsub is doing, the most common method is to start with an incision just above the pelvic bone,”

We’ll discuss the details of hysterectomies whilst we’re on the plane,” Hotch taps both of his hands on the table as he stands. “Gather your things, wheels up in thirty,”

There’s a chorus of “Yes Sir,”s as you all follow him out of the conference room to return to your respective desks and gather your belongings for the flight, an air of fatigue still surrounding the group even through the graphic imagery you were presented with.

“Going back to your alma mater, how do you feel?” Morgan clasps his right hand into a fist and holds it out to you like an invisible microphone.

You push it away without much thought as you pack your laptop into your bag, rolling your eyes at him for what feels like the tenth time since you’d walked through the door an hour ago. “It’s been almost— no, it has been ten years since I graduated, what’s there to ‘feel’?”

“Okay robot face, damn, no lingering love for the College that gave you your career?” Morgan’s taunt is laced with that familiar air of light-heartedness that’s there to remind you that he really is just poking fun, but you’ve never been very receptive to his humour.

“No.”

He lets out a sharp laugh in a mix of amusement and surprise, opening his mouth to make another comment, but the expression on your face tells him you’re definitely done talking about the topic.

He does have some self restraint.

—

Stepping out of the San Jose International Airport almost felt like going into a time machine, spitting you right back out where you’d left that decade ago just 18 miles from your old campus.

It felt even more surreal actually reaching Stanford’s main site, walking around the place you’d dedicated four years of your life to. Not much had changed since you’d left, not that you really expected it to, but it felt almost foreign to you to walk around the campus as you were now, a properly matured adult compared to the almost naive teenager you started as.

You began where you always did, at the most recent crime scene, a college dorm room on the south-east side of the campus.

It was pretty standard, a bedroom big enough for a double bed and a desk, a built in wardrobe, and a private bathroom; Decorated how you would expect from a girl in her early twenties, covered in memories and interests that gave it a personality outside of the off-white paint on the walls.

Of course, it was mildly ruined by the fact the previously pink bedsheets were stained in a pool of oxidised blood that dripped down onto the rug adorned floor and ledger small spatters on the skirting boards, but what can you really expect when the girl had been cut open whilst she was still alive and most definitely struggling against it.

“There’s no signs of forced entry,” All Morgan could do was shrug as he examined the fire door that acted as the room’s only entrance. “The inside lock was unfastened and there’s no marks indicating it was forced open, or that it even could be without heavy grade tools,”

“So our unsub had his own key then?”

“Or,” Emily’s suggestion was side-stepped by Spencer, “He was let in,”

There’s a small hum from Hotch as he stands beside you, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “Alright,” He turns his eyes onto you with a small nod, “Take Prentiss to the Mortuary and check the autopsy. Morgan, Reid, get Garcia to find a list of professors the victims shared and go and speak with them, they might’ve noticed a change in the girls’ behaviours before their deaths.”

“Will do,”

“Got it,”

There’s a series of shared nods between you as you spilt up, leaving Hotch, Rossi and JJ at the crime scene in search of any more information they could utilise.

—

Trying to catch a Professor when they’re not busy is harder than most people would think. So hard in fact that Spencer and Morgan had been left with standing inside one of the lecture rooms to endure the last twenty minutes of a forensic psychology lesson so they could get the professor between classes.

“Professor Callahan?”

“For any personal feedback on your essay please send me an email,” The professor doesn’t so much as look up from the papers he collects and organises on his desk, seemingly already in a rush even after barely two minutes of the lecture ending.

Morgan and Spencer share a glance.

“My name’s Dr Spencer Reid, and this is Agent Morgan, we’re from the FBI,”

Callahan looks up this time, rectangle glasses reflecting the two back to each other through the overhead lighting.

“We were hoping we could ask you a few questions, Sir,”

Spencer watches the Professor’s eyebrows knit in confusion before his eyes spark with a hint of realisation, and then understanding.

“Yes, of course,” He nods, collecting the pile of papers in his right arm. “Please, follow me into my office,”

His office is filled with bookshelves stacked with psychology texts and framed accolades lining the walls. Small busts of philosophers in the mpty spaces. His desk is littered with small rememberences of his former students, and lining the opposite wall is another, a small plaque reading Dr. Wittchen at it’s forefront.

“Did you notice any changes in the girls’ behaviour, or anything unusual leading up to their deaths?” Spencer’s question is cautious, if not a little bit emotionally insensitive.

Callahan’s expression shifts to one of concern. “Honestly, I hadn’t noticed anything alarming. They were all such high achievers, incredibly driven. The stress of their programs sometimes affected them, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Spencer nods, then glances toward the accompanying desk. “What about Professor Wittchen? Does he interact with the students much?”

Callahan hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Robert is highly respected, very dedicated to his work. He can be a little tough on their grades, but more often than not he’s sat in here doing one-on-one tutoring in his spare time,”

Spencer hums softly at Callahan’s assessment. “Do you know if he turoed any of the girls? He might have a better insight into any changes in their mannerisms,”

“I’m not sure I’m afraid,” Callahan shakes his head, “I leave him to his teachings most of the ime, but I can let him know you’ve asked,”

As they speak, Morgan’s gaze drifts to a nearby display shelf adorned with photographs of past students on the far wall, each one framed and labeled with a name and a date.

Etched into the wood of the shelf itself an engraving reading, “Shelf of Stars.” stood front and centre, and as Morgan’s eyes wandered the pictures, a certain label caught his attention.

Front and centre, there you sat, “2006 PhD” followed by your name, a picture of you and your Professors in what’s presuambly your first year.

“No way,” Morgan breathes out a laugh. “Reid come look at this,”

“What? What’s wrong?” Spencer and Callahan’s expressions mirror each other as they glance over at Morgan in concern, only for him to quash any need for worry as he holds up the frame in their direction.

“Look how different she looks! What happened, did she get hit by a truck when she turned 20 or what?”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Spencer’s eyes, one that almost turns to fondness as he takes in the bright smile printed behind the glass. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that since you’ve been with the team.

“You know her?” Callahan raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s on our team,” Morgan nods with a chuckle as he places the picture back where he found it, pulling out his phone to snap a photo, probably to make fun of you later.

“Really?” Professor Callahan looks more than a little surprised at the revelation. “I knew she was destined for great things, but the FBI, wow,” He breathes out a short sigh, nodding. “Robert’ll have a field day when he finds out she chose forensics over clinical,”

Spencer gives what’s almost a laugh, clearing his throat. “Well, Professor, thank you for speaking with us, we’ll contact you if we find any more information,”

“No problem at all, my door is always open,” Callahan follows Spencer and Morgan over to the office door, holding it open for them as they leave.

“Oh, Agents?” He stops them before they get too far. “If you have any time in or after your investigation, ask her to pay us a visit? It’d be nice to catch up,”

“We’ll let her know,”

—

“From what I can tell, the removal of the uterus was done antemortem, and the victims cause of death was the blood loss that resulted from it,” The Coroner lifts the muscle torn by the initial incision to give you and Emily a proper look at the damage.

“The nature of the incisions tells that they were most likely done with proper surgical instruments, a scalpel most likely, but their nature is unpracticed, see here for example,”

She points towards the left side of the victims pelvis, where the muscle had been separated from the uteral lining. “In a professional hysterectomy, this tissue here would also be removed, but in this case it’s been left attached to the surrounding tissues, and the same can be said for the others,”

“So our unsub knows the basics, is that something that would require medical training?” Emily furrows her eyebrows at the sight, and you’re much the same.

The sight is almost enough to make you feel nauseous, but you don’t need sickly thoughts clouding your judgement right now.

“Possibly, although with how the internet is, it’s possible they read an article or watched a documentary on how the procedure is done,” The coroner sways her head side to side, “I’d say that whoever did this has had some training, but not necessarily in the field,”

Emily hums, turning her gaze from the victim towards you. “Medical student maybe?”

You hum absently, eyes trained on the gaping hole left in the girl’s stomach. “Maybe, probably won’t still be a student though,”

It affects you more than it should, you think, a malingering nagging in the back of your head that won’t leave you alone but also won’t tell you why it’s there in the first place.

You sigh, “We should look at biologists too, clinical fields,”

Emily gives you an agreeing nod. “I’ll call Garcia,” She pats your shoulder deftly as she leaves the room.

“Was there anything else strange about the body?” You tear your eyes away from the girl to look up at the coroner, who only gives you a small shake of her head.

“Not that I can see,” Her gaze, though objective, flickers with small amounts of uncertainty. “It’s so upsetting, things like this, what spurs someone to do something so… primally horrific?”

“A rejection probably, a denial of a sexual relationship or children that’s projected onto other women because he can’t get to the person he really wants to hurt,” You shrug out an exhale. “More common than you’d think,”

She frowns. “it’s awful,”

“Yeah,” You purse your lips together. “But it is what it is,”

—

“Did the three girls have any clear connections?”

Garcia taps away on her keyboard, and the jingling of her earrings over the reciever suggests that she’s shaking her head. “Apart from being Stanford students, not really. Julie was doing an MsC in Pediatric Therapy, Ophelia doing an MA in History of Medicine, and Marie doing a PhD in Psychology.” She sighs. “None of them had any classes together, no mutual friends, I don’t even think they knew the others existed,”

“There has to be some overlap,” Morgan groans exasperatedly, glancing over at the mostly bare profile board that him and Spencer were trying to put together. They’d spoken to most of the girls’ professors by now, and apart from offhanded comments about stress and pressure, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

It was frustrating, really frustrating, and for all they knew, the team was on a time limit before another girl suffered the same fate. They needed a break in the case, sooner rather than later.

“What about the students Emily asked you to look into? Spencer bends almost awkardly towards Morgan’s phone, trying to raise his voice into the speaker whilst still writing against the whiteboard.

“Nada, I’m afraid, no one who had connections to all three girls, past or present, I’ve hit a wall,”

“No kidding,” Morgan exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his phone. “Thanks anyway, sweetness,”

“Of course my love, I’ll hit you back if I find anything, Penny G out,” —

“So we’ve got three dead girls, no connections, and no signature to help us track down this guy, lovely,” Emily sips on her coffee, leaning back into her chair with a sigh.

“Isn’t this like every other case we’ve ever had?” You raise an eyebrow is disinterest, stretching you arms above your head and almost hitting Morgan in the face as he and Spencer reenter the room from their lunch break.

The Psychology department had been kind enough to loan you one of their staff rooms during your investigation, and comments had already been made about Hotch’s demeanour as he walked around you like he was keeping an eye on a group of toddlers.

“There’s something we’re missing here,” Rossi pours over the whiteboard with a disgruntled sigh, his palm dragging down the side of his face. “There’s always something,”

Reid nods, tapping his pen against his notebook as he takes a seat. “Even perfectionists leave traces. It’s just a matter of understanding their logic—how they justify their actions.”

“Change of subject quickly,” Morgan holds up a hand as he walks around the table, his other hand landing on your shoulder. “Talking of leaving traces, who was going to tell us that you actually knew how to smile?”

You shrug his hand off of you with a furrow of your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m talking little nineteen year old you beaming like you were trying to compete with the sun,” He digs his phone from his pocket, holding the screen out to face the group. “I mean look at this, look at you, its weird,”

You snatch the phone from him as soon as you recognise the picture. “Why do you have that picture?”

“We took a trip to see one of your old Professors,” Morgan wrestles the device back out of your hands before you have a chance to what he assumes will be deleting the evidence of your past sunniness. “He asked to see you at some point by the way, wants to ‘catch up’,”

“Delete that photo, Morgan.” You cross one leg over the other with a huff.

“No way, Ice Queen, I’m gonna make fun of you with this forever,”

“I hate you,”

”I love you too,” He blows an air kiss in your direction.

The shrill ring of the door opening cuts through the room, snapping everyone to attention. A mildly out of breath PD officer leaning against the doorframe.

“There’s been another one,” she says, her voice tight.

The room erupts into motion.

—

When you arrive, the scene is eerily similar to the others. The victim, a young woman in her early twenties, lies in the middle of her dorm room, fully clothed and carefully positioned. Her face is serene, as though she’s simply sleeping. The blood pooling out of her lower abdomen tells you that she’s not.

“Victim’s name is Natalie Yu. Twenty-one, Psychology major. She fits the profile—academic, driven, top of her class.” JJ fills you in easily.

You step closer, your heart sinking as you take in the meticulous staging. The unsub’s reverence for his victims is apparent in every detail. No signs of a struggle. No personal belongings out of place.

Reid crouches near the body, his eyes narrowing. “Same as the others. No physical trauma that would suggest a cause of death other than bloodloss. Removal of reproductive organs.”

Morgan stands by the door, his jaw clenched. “This guy’s escalating. Three murders in three weeks, and now this. He’s not slowing down.”

Something catches Prentiss’s eye. She kneels beside the victim and carefully lifts the edge of her blouse. Tucked neatly into the waistband of her jeans is a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she murmurs, pulling on gloves before unfolding the note. The room goes still as she reads aloud:

“It was meant to be you.”

You lean over Emily’s shoulder to get a glance at the writing yourself. And then you immediately regret doing so. The handwriting is unmistakable—sharp, angular strokes that you’d recognise anywhere.

But you can’t say that. Not yet.

“‘It was meant to be you’?” Rossi repeats, stepping closer. “What the hell does that mean?”

Reid frowns. “It’s personal. Direct. He’s targeting someone specific now.”

“It could be a taunt,” JJ offers. “A way to throw us off or instill fear in the team.”

Morgan shakes his head, his expression grim. “No. This is different. This isn’t just about control anymore—this is about sending a message,”

“It’s personal,” Reid says again, his gaze sweeping the room. For a brief moment, his eyes land on you, and you feel like he can see right through you.

“Excuse me,” you manage, your voice steady despite the panic clawing at your chest.

You step outside, the crisp air hitting you like a jolt. Your hands shake as you pull out your phone, staring at the screen without really seeing it. The note wasn’t just a taunt—it was a reminder. He knew you were here. He’d known the moment you stepped onto campus.

It was meant to be you.

The words echo in your mind, a sinister promise that leaves no room for doubt.

—

“This is different from the previous victims,” Spencer says, “The note changes everything. If we assume the unsub has been fixated on someone specific all along, the other victims could have been surrogates—stand-ins for the real target.”

Prentiss looks at him sharply. “You think the unsub is escalating because the real target is now within reach?”

He nods. “Exactly. The murders were practice, perfecting the method. But now that the target is accessible, he’s shifting focus.”

“Great,” Morgan mutters. “Wonderful.”

JJ gestures to the note. “We need to figure out who he’s targeting—and fast.”

You stand by the door, your stomach twisting. You can’t let them figure it out, not like this.

“I’ll follow up on the note,” you say, forcing a calm you don’t feel. “Maybe there’s something about the phrasing or handwriting we can use to narrow down suspects.”

Morgan eyes you, his brow furrowed. “You sure you’re good? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

You nod quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

—

You barricade yourself in the staff room, spreading out the case files across the table. You stare at the note, the handwriting glaring up at you like a brand.

“It was meant to be you.”

You were just a kid, desperate to prove yourself. He saw that. He used it.

You grip the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You can’t let him win. Not again.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s Spencer, holding a cup of coffee.

“Thought you could use this,” he says, setting it down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You manage a display of gratitude, but his gaze lingers, sharp and questioning.

“You’ve been off since we got here,” he says softly. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Your heart skips a beat. Reid is too perceptive for his own good, and you know he won’t let this go.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, stepping back. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

As he leaves, you let out a shaky breath. The walls are closing in, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this to yourself. Not if you don’t want anyone else to die because of it.

—

Spencer stands near the board, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his palm. Morgan is leaning against a table, arms crossed, while Prentiss and JJ exchange quiet remarks by the coffee pot. Rossi, as always, is seated with his chair tipped back, his eyes fixed on the board.

But it’s Hotch who breaks the silence. “This unsub’s timeline is escalating, and the note makes it clear they’re getting bolder. If we don’t figure out their connection to Stanford soon, someone else is going to die.”

Morgan sighs. “We’ve gone through the victim profiles a dozen times. There’s no overlap other than the school. No shared clubs, professors, dorms, nothing. It’s like this guy’s picking them at random.”

“Not random,” Spencer interjects, his voice sharp. “The victims are stand-ins for someone else. I’m sure of it. The note confirmed it—‘It was meant to be you.’ The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re trying to send a message to someone.”

Rossi tilts his head. “None of them bear any significant physical relation to each other,”

Reid nods. “It doesn’t have to be physical. It’s an ideal, there’s something specific that ties all of the victims together, something linked to whoever the unsub is actually after,”

JJ frowns. “But who is it? If it’s not one of the victims, how do we figure out who the unsub is fixated on?”

You tense in your chair, your hands curling into fists under the table. You can feel their eyes shifting to you, their collective attention like a spotlight burning against your skin.

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “You did go here. Maybe there’s something you’d recognise—something we’ve missed.”

You meet their gazes with forced calm, willing your voice to remain steady. “Just because I went to Stanford doesn’t mean this case has anything to do with me.”

Prentiss leans forward slightly, her tone gentle but insistent. “No one’s saying it does, but if there’s even a chance—”

“There’s not.” you cut her off, sharper than you intended. The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret your tone. It doesn’t change anything though. “We’re here because of the victims, not because I graduated from here a decade ago.”

The room falls quiet, and the tension thickens. Hotch watches you carefully, his unreadable gaze a weight you can’t escape.

“I need some air,” you say abruptly, standing before anyone can argue. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You leave the room before anyone can stop you, the sound of your boots echoing down the sterile hall.

—

Stanford’s campus feels both foreign and familiar as you wander its paths. The sprawling quads and ivy-covered buildings haven’t changed much in the years since you left, but the memories they stir feel sharp and raw.

You stop at a bench near the Psychology department, the cool breeze doing little to calm the storm inside you. Your arms wrap around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together.

“You’re not fine.”

The voice startles you, but you don’t turn around. You’d recognise that soft, observant tone anywhere. Spencer.

He sits beside you, leaving a respectful distance between you, his lanky frame folding awkwardly on the bench. “You’ve been different since we got here,” he says after a moment. “Quiet. Hesitant. That’s not like you,”

You don’t respond, staring out at the students passing by, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the weight in your chest.

“I know it’s not just the case,” he continues, his voice gentle but unyielding. “There’s something else. Something you’re not telling us.”

Your jaw tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,”

His certainty grates on your already frayed nerves, and you finally turn to him, your eyes flashing. “What are you trying to say, Reid? Spit it out.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing as he chooses his words carefully. “I think you know who the unsub is. Or at least… you suspect,”

You laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. “That’s a hell of an accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says quickly. “I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself, and the way you reacted to that note…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It was different. You looked like you’d seen a ghost,”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you snap, the defensive edge in your voice sharper than you intend.

He doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s more than that. I can see it. You’re scared,”

The word hits you like a slap, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. He’s right, of course. You are scared. Terrified, even. But admitting that feels like surrendering, like letting him win.

“Stop it,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Spencer leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “I think I do. I think this unsub has a connection to you. And I think that’s why you’ve been avoiding us—because you don’t want us to figure it out.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, and you glare at him, your composure threatening to crack. “You don’t know what he did to me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, you see the understanding dawn in his eyes. “Who?” Spencer presses gently. “Who are we talking about?”

Your chest heaves as you fight back the tears threatening to spill. “One of my Professors.”

“Did he…” Spencer hesitates in pressing the subject, a mix of his usual timidness when it comes to you and the fear that he’s broaching on a very concerning topic.

“It was consensual.”

Spencer watches you closely, his eyes searching your face for a sign, some clue, as if trying to understand the puzzle that is your inner workings.

He doesn’t push, but the silence between you both is suffocating. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks again, but it still cuts through the heavy air between you.

"You were just a kid," Spencer murmurs, his words soft but no less sharp. "He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, when you were still figuring things out. That’s manipulation."

You flinch at the truth of it, at the way he so easily sees the pieces of your life you've tried so hard to bury. You didn’t want to think about him anymore, didn’t want to remember how he twisted every gesture, every word, until it was all about him, all about what he wanted.

You can still feel the weight of his hands, the way he made you feel like you didn’t have a choice, that this was all part of the price you had to pay to succeed, to be seen as worthy of your place in academia.

Spencer shifts slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “He used his power over you. You were just a kid, and he was a professor. Someone you trusted.” His words are steady, but they cut deep. "You were in a position where you thought you had to do what he wanted. But it wasn’t your fault,”

“It was consensual.” you say again, more firmly this time, though it feels like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than him, the words raw and drenched in a cold calmness you didn’t really feel.

“Was it?” Spencer asks gently, his voice low. “If you were 19 and you thought you had to do it to get ahead, was it really? Was it truly your choice?”

You feel the air leave your lungs, and you want to scream at him, to deny everything, to make him stop asking these questions, because the answers are too painful, too complicated.

But he’s right. You were a child—so young, so desperate to succeed, to make a name for yourself in a field dominated by people like him. You thought you were lucky when he took you under his wing, when he offered you guidance, extra attention, time. But you weren’t.

“I had an abortion,” you finally confess, the words coming out in a broken whisper.

Spencer’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s silent, processing your admission. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes. He doesn’t push, though, just watches you, his expression a mix of sympathy and concern, but there's no judgment in it. Not like you expected.

“In my shitty college dorm room,” Your voice catches, and you blink rapidly, trying to stop the sting in your eyes. “I thought I was dying. The amount of blood—” You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling in your lap. “I didn't know how to make it stop.Sometimes I wish it didn’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

Spencer leans in a little, his gaze intense, but gentle. “You were just a kid,” he says softly, his words like a balm, soothing yet cutting through the guilt. “He took advantage of you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

You want to believe him. You want so badly to hear those words and let them erase the shame that has clung to you for so long. But the voices of doubt are louder in your head. The fear that somehow, deep down, it was your fault. That maybe you could’ve said no, maybe you could’ve gotten away before it went too far.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you say, your voice low, almost ashamed of the vulnerability. “I couldn’t tell my parents or my friends… or anyone. It was like everything I worked for, everything I had, was tied to him. If I said something, everything would’ve been ruined.”

Spencer’s brows furrow, and he lets out a soft exhale. “No one should ever have to carry that weight alone, especially not at your age.” His voice is steady, but there’s something deeply empathetic in his tone. “It’s not a burden you should’ve had to bear by yourself.”

“I lied to him too,” you whisper, the confession hanging heavily in the air. “I told him I miscarried. He was devastated. He wasn’t even angry—just sad. But I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything.”

“You…” Spencer starts, hesitating to make sure he words his response correctly. “Being in a state of shock is normal after a traumatic event,”

You shake your head. “I know what shock feels like. I was just numb. I murdered my own child and I didn’t even feel guilty about it.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens slightly, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, but it’s not directed at you. It’s directed at him, at the man who should’ve protected you, not preyed on you. His voice is tight, but he keeps it calm.

“You did what you had to do. That’s not your fault.”

“It was alive. Seventeen weeks. I flushed it down the fucking toilet,” You drag your palm down your face, leaning forward until your elbows are resting on your knees.

“I didn’t even want to graduate after that,” you admit, your voice raw. “I couldn’t face him. I just wanted to disappear, but I was not going to put myself through hell without getting something out of it.”

Spencer is quiet for a long moment, taking in everything you’ve said. His gaze never wavers from yours, like he’s trying to understand every piece of you, trying to reach that place where you’re still hiding, still locked away from the rest of the world.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what happened. You did what you needed to survive. And you are surviving. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. The storm inside you hasn’t calmed, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like it’s not threatening to swallow you whole. The walls you’ve built around yourself feel just a little more porous, itching to crumble.

“I’m scared,” you say, the vulnerability you’ve been holding back creeping into your voice. “He’s murdering people because of me.”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. He sits up straighter, his expression serious. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll help you, and we’ll make sure that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you.”

He lets out a sigh of your name.

“Promise me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” He nods solemnly. “I promise.”

—

The moment you walk through the doors of the empty lecture hall, you feel it—that same nauseating mix of dread and anticipation curling in your stomach. The air is stale, thick with the weight of memories you spent years trying to forget.

He’s already there, standing at the podium like he belongs there, like nothing has changed. Like he hasn’t left a trail of bodies behind him.

“Ah,” Professor Wittchen exhales as if relieved. “There you are,”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I should’ve known you’d pick this place.”

His lips curve into a small smile, a smile that used to make you feel seen. Now, it makes your skin crawl. “It’s fitting, don’t you think? This is where it all began,”

He watches you with the same unwavering gaze he always had, the one that used to make you feel special—chosen. Now, it just feels predatory.

“I missed you,” he says simply, stepping closer.

You don’t move.

“You should’ve visited,” he continues, his voice warm, inviting, like this is a casual conversation and not a confrontation between a killer and his last loose end. “You were my brightest student,”

“I was your victim.” you correct, voice sharp.

His expression doesn’t falter. If anything, he looks pleased. “Victim?” he echoes, like he’s rolling the word around in his mouth, testing its weight. “That’s not how I remember it.”

You swallow hard, jaw clenched. You knew this was how he would react. Knew he would twist things, make them blurry, like he always had.

He tilts his head, studying you. “I heard you became a profiler. That’s impressive. Though I always thought you were more inclined to be a Psychiatrist.”

“You shouldn't be surprised,” you say flatly. “I learned from the best manipulators.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Now, that’s not fair,”

Your nails dig into your palms. “I know it’s you,” you say, cutting through the act. “You murdered four innocent women because you couldn’t move on.”

He exhales, almost disappointed. “That’s not quite right.”

You don’t let him continue. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

His gaze darkens, and for the first time since you stepped into this room, the warmth fades from his expression. “It’s been ten years since you left me,” he says simply. “You never even had the decency to say goodbye. I tried to find a substitute, but they weren’t like you. No body is. You’re special.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you force yourself to hold his stare. “I didn’t owe you anything.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him. “That’s not true. I shaped you. I made you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You ruined my life.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and then—slowly—he steps down from the podium, closing the distance between you. “You don’t believe that.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t move.

He stops inches from you, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I see it in your eyes. You still need me.”

You know what he’s doing. You know how his mind works, how he bends reality to his will, how he rewrites history to suit his narrative.

And for the first time, you don’t fall for it.

“You’re pathetic,” you whisper. “You think killing people will make me what? Love you? Miss you?” You shake your head. “You mean nothing to me.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but you catch it. The crack in his mask. The first glimpse of the monster beneath.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

There it is. The control slipping.

Good.

You see the flash of something dark behind his eyes—anger, frustration, maybe even desperation. He knows he’s losing control, and for a man like him, that’s unbearable.

You take a step forward. Not away, but closer.

“I hate you.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

Wittchen’s lips barely twitch, but you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he thinks you’re still playing a game with him. Like this is another debate, another test of wills.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”

He sighs, tilting his head like you’re disappointing him. “I did anything you didn’t ask for,” he says, like it’s a fact. “You wanted me.”

Rage burns through you, hot and all-consuming. “I was nineteen,” you spit. You knew exactly what you were doing. You took advantage of me.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that,”

“It was exactly like that,” you snap, stepping closer. “And do you want to know the worst part? I spent years telling myself it wasn’t. That maybe I did love you, that maybe I wanted to be with you. But I didn’t.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t regret leaving you,” you continue, voice trembling with fury. “I don’t regret moving on, or never looking back. But do you know what I do regret?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches you carefully, like he’s waiting for the killing blow.

“I regret ever letting you touch me. I regret every second I spent thinking you were something special, that you cared about me. You didn’t. You only cared about what I could give you.”

Something shifts in his expression—subtle, but enough. His fingers twitch again.

You steel yourself and drive the dagger deeper.

“You think I miscarried?” you ask, voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what I told you, right? That I lost the baby?”

His face remains eerily blank.

“I lied,” you whisper. “I had an abortion.”

His entire body stiffens.

“Because the thought of being tied to you for the rest of my life made me sick. And I would’ve rather died from sepsis than deal with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

For a moment, Wittchen doesn’t react. Doesn’t breathe.

Then, without warning, he moves.

His hand goes for his waistband, and in a split second, you see the glint of a gun.

But you’re faster.

Your own weapon is already in your hands before he can fully draw his, aimed directly at his chest.

“Don’t.” you warn, your voice steel.

Wittchen hesitates, his gun halfway raised, his eyes locked onto yours.

For the first time, there’s something close to uncertainty in his expression.

—

The team is listening.

They hear every word.

Spencer’s grip on his gun is tight, knuckles white, jaw clenched so hard it aches. The rest of the team stands tense beside him, ears trained on the conversation happening just beyond the door.

They could go in. They should go in.

But they don’t.

Not yet.

Because this isn’t their battle.

Still, when they hear the shift in the conversation, the moment Wittchen reaches for his gun, every muscle in Spencer’s body tenses, ready to move.

And then—

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

Then a single gunshot.

—

“You’re lying,” Wittchen snaps, his voice rising as his fingers curl tighter around the revolver’s grip. He pulls back the hammer with a metallic click, the sound loud in the charged silence of the lecture hall.

His arm is steady, the barrel aimed at your chest, but you don't flinch. “You miscarried. You were sick. That’s the truth. I took care of you. I was there when you needed me.”

Your lips curl into a bitter smile.

“The baby was fine,” you say, voice cold and firm. “I just didn’t want it.”

The words hang between you, heavy and raw.

For a split second, something akin to disbelief flickers in his eyes. But he recovers quickly, his jaw tightening as his grip on the gun tightens. The cold, calculating look is back.

The man who used his power over you is right here, still trying to control the situation. But he’s unraveling, and you can see it now—the cracks in his façade.

“You think you can just walk away from all this?” Wittchen growls, his voice a low threat. His eyes dart between you and the gun in your hand, calculating the distance, the time it would take to react.

“You’re going to watch me.” you reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside you. You take a step forward, gun lowered in favour of a pair of handcuffs.

He lets out a sharp breath, taking a step backwards, his arm still outstretched, but his expression is one of rage and something else—desperation.

“I gave you everything,” Wittchen sneers. “I could’ve given you more. You were a star, you were going places. But you threw it all away.”

“I didn’t throw away anything.” you say, voice sharp, anger curling in your gut. “I made my life what I wanted it to be.”

You take another step toward him. Your hand grips your gun tighter, its cold weight a reminder of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve survived.

“I was a kid,” you say, quieter now, more dangerous. “A kid who wanted to make something of herself. But you? You made sure I’d always be tied to you, that I’d never escape your reach. You took that from me. And now?”

Now, you’re not just angry. Now, you’re done.

“I don’t need you anymore,” you continue, voice quiet but lethal. “And I don’t need to live in fear of you. Not anymore. Just give up.”

Wittchen’s face hardens. His finger moves closer to the trigger, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still. His eyes are cold, calculating—he’s trying to force you to back down, to make you fear him again. But you don’t. Not anymore.

And he knows it.

The silence stretches out, suffocating. And then, without another word, he turns the gun away from you and towards himself.

For a moment, the world is frozen.

The sharp scent of gunpowder lingers in the air.

You don’t flinch.

You don’t move.

Wittchen stares at you, almost smiling.

A slow, dark red stain spreads across his chest. His gun falls from his hand, clattering uselessly to the floor.

Then, his knees buckle.

He collapses.

The impact is dull, almost anticlimactic.

His breath comes in shallow gasps, and for the first time since you walked into this room, he looks small.

Weak.

The man who once held so much power over you is nothing more than a dying, pathetic heap on the floor.

And somehow, there’s no satisfaction in it.

You watch as the light fades from his eyes, as the last breath leaves his lips.

And then—

It’s over.

—

The gunshot sends the team into action.

Spencer is the first through the door, gun raised, eyes scanning the room for threats.

But all he finds is you—standing still, gun loose in one hand, handcuffs in the other, staring blankly ahead.

Wittchen is on the floor, unmoving. Blood pools around him.

For a second, no one speaks.

Then you move.

Without looking at any of them, you turn away from the corpse.

And then, numbly, silently, you walk past them.

You don’t stop when Spencer calls your name.

You don’t stop when JJ reaches for you.

You just keep walking.

Because it’s finally over.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t feel like a victory at all.

—

The air outside the lecture hall is thick with tension.

Your gun feels heavy in your hands, and at some point, you register someone gently taking it from you. You don’t resist.

The hallways of Stanford feel different now. The ghosts you tried so hard to forget have been exorcised, but their shadows still linger.

You reach the nearest exit and step outside, inhaling sharply as the crisp night air hits you. You brace your hands on your knees, grounding yourself.

Then you hear footsteps behind you.

You know it’s them.

You straighten, forcing yourself to meet their gazes.

Hotch stands with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his presence steady. JJ and Emily exchange a look, worry etched into their features. Rossi, as always, watches with quiet understanding.

Then there’s Morgan.

He looks… shaken.

Guilt lingers in his eyes, and when he steps forward, his voice is lower, softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You blink, caught off guard.

“For what?” Your voice is hoarse, raw.

Morgan exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw with his eyes full of regret. “I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. You don’t want to talk about it. But there’s something in his voice, in the way his usually confident demeanor falters, that makes you nod stiffly.

“I know.”

It’s the closest thing to forgiveness you can offer right now.

Morgan nods, accepting it.

Spencer is the last to approach.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes, though, say everything.

You hold his gaze for a moment before sighing. “What?”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits. His voice is careful, but there’s an edge of something else—frustration, sadness, maybe even anger. Not at you. Never at you. But at what happened. At what Wittchen took from you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur.

—

The hum of the jet is steady and low, a constant presence that fills the silence between breaths.

You sit by the window, staring out at the clouds, your reflection barely visible against the dark glass.

You should be exhausted.

You are exhausted.

But sleep won’t come.

Your mind won’t let it.

The seat next to you shifts slightly, and you glance over to see Spencer settling beside you.

He doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t ask if you’re okay, because he already knows you’re not.

Doesn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances.

He just sits.

And somehow, that’s reassurance enough.

Sleep comes a little easier after that.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Ok, obv you shouldn't replicate it if you don't want to or don't have time to, I much rather you were able to focus on what matters more to you than some dream I had but if you still want to know what it was here it is

It was basically a post final war setting that I made up in my dream where for a little bit every one thought luffy died, the actual drawing was a reunion between Sabo and luffy after the whole thing

Both of them are in tears but Sabo is straight up ugly crying cus for a good bit he thought he'd lost the only brother he had left, their both on the floor clutching each other like crazy, it looks like Luffys comforting Sabo while also looking a bit freaked out himself, and Sabo is still a complete mess

That's essentially what it was, but I remember it being specifically your art style probably because I love it so much

Thank you so much for the links to your other art, I love them all and they always get me to go crazy inside

I would be honored if you appeared in my nightmares lol

Again you don't have to draw this if you don't feel like it but I still wanted to tell you about it in case you were curious

Anyways, love everything you do and I hope you have a great day/night and that everything goes well for you! 💜

And i did. And i did draw it. And i DID. OKAY??

Been feeling in an angst mood but havent had any ideas for angst that i havent. Done Before. So thank you for that delicious angst i devour it up whole even though it was only a paragraph or two. It’s all i needed.

Thanks for the ask! And the inspiration

(Original ask)

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[ultramaga]

a) There's no link to the original post, let alone some archive. We have no idea what he said, or even if he corrected himself later, or even if this is an outright lie. Leftists have a terrible relationship to honesty as the foundational statement is "Truth is a Social Construct". b) The ADL and Israel say it wasn't the Nazi salute, despite the ADL being incredible sensitive to anything vaguely right wing - It's ok to be right, the ok symbol, etc. c) linking to a frame rather than the full unedited video is a Coolsville tactic that makes me inclined to assume the author is a Leftist who outright knows they are lying - I could link to countless other left wing figures in the same position. "jews have been sounding the alarm about the rise of antisemitism" Yes, there certainly are a lot of people killing jews lately - and they are supported by Leftists. And opposed by conservatives. Huh.

Guess we're just skipping over the entire movement that is dedicated to exterminating jews now.

"antisemitism is a canary in the coal mine for fascism" It's unconnected. Japanese fascists did not give a fuck, and if anything helped protect jews. Mussolini said that the Nazi obsession with race as a distraction, but later tried to suck up to the Nazis when they turned out to be more successful. And the communist persecution of jews was notorious.

Plus, you seem to be skipping over two thousand years of antisemitism that occurred before fascism had existed.

A fascist jewish state would not be a contradiction in terms - and many Leftists already claim Israel is fascist. Being jewish doesn't make you an expert, it makes you jewish. As many historians pointed out, there were many members of the Nazi Party who were ethnically jewish.

The tests were argued about endlessly because separating jews and germans was a nightmare - the two groups had mingled and merged*.

The Leftist claim that there is a racial hierarchy, and certain people are intrinsically superior on topics simply by birth sounds very familiar. Race. Ism. Race. Ism. Gee, I wonder if that could be shortened? It sounds like a bad idea in any case. *

Addendum: So I had a look at the source - and he's a Leftist. As such, he doesn't believe in Truth to begin with. If your starting point is that there is no objective reality, then there is no chance of honesty. The dude constantly proclaims he is THE holocaust historian, and denies any opposing views exist.

So classical education is "alt-right" - which is an undefined buzzword term used by Leftists to shutdown thought. Nah, bitch, classical education was around for the last two thousand years. To decide that only a Nazi would want to read about Roman history is a typical Leftist tactic, because they hate historicallyeducated people, such folk know that they are wrong, they want INNDOCTRINATED people, which is why he obsesses endlessly about the need to purge home schooling. So what other dirty tricks does he use?

"trad christian"??? Sorry, but almost all christians are trad christians. The few american christians calling for the transing of kids are a tiny minority.

Catholics and Orthodox are the vast majority. His contempt for "trad christians" is typical for a Leftist, sure, but to use the term whilst claiming academic prowess as historian just means that you despise history, and love propaganda and historical revisionism instead.

I could go on, but pronouns in the bio is a bit of a give-away, and I noticed posts on "whiteness" and how architecture is "white-coded" and ... this man is clearly just another fascist, they just have their racism directed at different targets.

jews have been sounding the alarm about the rise of antisemitism and neo-nazi rhetoric around the world for years now, and have been largely dismissed by all sides of the political spectrum. they’re playing the victim, they’re exaggerating, they’re lying, they’re a distraction from other more important issues, etc etc.

i hope this can be a wakeup call for many. if this is shocking to you, i urge you to find jewish voices and creators to follow. antisemitism is a canary in the coal mine for fascism and jewish people are the ones most equipped to recognize it and oppose it.

we will all need each other more than ever for what’s to come. make sure the coalitions and networks you build include jewish people too.

[lustlovehart]

OH MY GOSH RIDDLE??? He is ACTUALLY a pretty princess now omg. And tangled?? Me and Riddle are the same person fr 🤞🤞

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE imagine being the Eugene to Riddles Rapunzel. (With a few creative liberties <3)

Cw: Rapunzel Riddle, Mother Gothel Ms.Rosehearts, A blade is held to your throat, Threatens of Beheading, You both get really close, Low key just cheesy stuff, Riddle deep in his mothers control and you’re the one who breaks it <33

The moment you set foot into his tower shelves upon shelves of books surround the room, all of which seem pertained to studies that you simply could not care in the least about. A vast majority of them are related to medical while a smaller portion is other educational subjects like Math and English.

It has no matter to you though, all you need is shelter before the guards inevitably catch your thievery. Originally, you believed this place to just be an abandoned library, but the closer you look at it… Fresh tea and a warm plate filled with food that looks plain yet nutritional tells you a different story. Especially how organized and tided the room is, and… The long cascade of red hair that has circled around the room.

You don’t have the chance to fly out the window before someone holds you in place, a blade to your throat.

“Mother said the most important rule is to not let anyone inside.” You don’t turn around to look at your captor, only tightening the grip on your bag.

“Is her rule more important than the law? I hope not—“ before you know it he pulls you to the floor, his long hair tangling into your legs. You finally see his face in all its glory, the sun hugging his skin. He looks… Familiar.

“Yet you’re trespassing. If you really cared for the law you wouldn’t be here!” The blade is closer to your neck, his fingers grazing your skin. He opens his mouth to say more truth, his eyes shifting over to your bag. In turn you catch his gaze when he reaches over.

“Ah ah—! Hey that’s mine you recluse—!” You stretch over to grab your rightful steal before he can, but you’re too late.

“… What’s inside?” It’s a book no doubt, he can tell from the indent of the object through the fabric.

“You don’t talk to anyone but your mommy do you? I’m not telling someone who just tried beheading me!” For a moment his face goes red, expression shifting to anger, ready to yell every rule you’ve broken so far. His rage subsides when he notices the way your freed hand grips his hair.

No one else has touched it but his mother.

When you notice the natural progression of his emotions, you lean into him, your faces a few inches apart. It takes a moment before he realizes how close you are, his body falling back in shock. He buries the book into his body, looking up as your body pins him from above. It’s weirdly a pretty sight, the strands of his crimson hair highlighting your features as it webs your body like webs. He winders what kind of person you are.

“Do you wanna leave?” The words don’t fully process, as if he has never even considered the thought. He doesn’t reply, furrowing his eyebrows in suspicion. He really shouldn’t trust you, not at all, yet your smile seems so genuine he can’t help but feel his worry dissipate at your face. You lower your body down, your chin placing itself on the book, the only obstacle blocking you both from practically embracing each-other. “I’ll help you out, and you can give me the book back.”

He shouldn’t believe you, but the moment you smiled at him, he can’t help but put his belief in you.

“… Riddle.” He leans back up, his hair following him, which only further traps you in himself, but you don’t seem to mind for some reason. Your finger twirls his hair, your hand grabbing onto his.

“Let’s go then, Riddle.” Little does he know, the familarity you felt has been realized.

This Riddle, is your childhood crush who suddenly moved away.

[cressidagrey]

Schrodinger's... Girlfriend? - Chapter 9: Of Bombshells and Big Disclosures

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Original Character

Summary:

Oscar Piastri’s love life is the talk of the F1 world—mainly because no one’s ever seen his girlfriend. Does she exist? Or is she just a figment of his imagination? Detective Lando Norris to the rescue!

Warnings: 

I don't think there are any?

“How did you even manage this?” Oscar asked her, as he lead her back to the McLaren Garage. “I thought you were going to write another final next week.”

“So did I,” Vanessa said with a snort. “Until the professor figured out that he got the date wrong on the syllabus…I wrote it on Friday already.”

It had been quite annoying, because orginally...Monday had been supposed to be the date...And that had messed up her study planning... but oh well.

 If she was only going to get a 94 instead of a 99, she was going to survive it. 

“So I thought…hey…I can make it to the race…2 hours later I had a flight booked," she told Oscar with a grin. Like there had been anything that would have stopped her from finally getting to see her boyfriend race from somewhere else other than the comfort of her couch.

Oscar squeezed her hand tightly.  “Thank you for coming,” he told her and she squeezed his hand right back.

“So, show me where the magic happens,” she teased him.

The next ten minutes was an absolute whirlwind of introductions around the McLaren garage, between engineers, strategists and mechanics, before Oscar pulled her into his driver’s room.

She had seen a lot of these throughout the last months, though she had always been on the other end of a facetime call.

Oscar closed the door behind them and grinned as Nessie looked around the room, eyes darting around the place, taking in his suit and helmet on the desk, before her gaze landed back on him and there was a sparkle in her eyes. She stepped closer to him and his arm wrapped around her back, tugging her closer against his chest.

“You have no idea how good it feels to have you here in person,” he murmured, his hands sliding down her sides, pulling her even closer against him.

She hummed softly as her head leaned against his shoulder, her face nuzzling against his neck. “Maybe I have a little bit of an idea,” she murmured against the skin, her lips brushing against his neck. “But it’s definitely much better than watching you through a screen.”

His hands slid beneath her top and onto her bare skin, fingertips drawing lazy circled onto the small of her back. “Much better,” he agreed with a low groan, one hand going up to grab the back of her head and tilt her face upwards for a proper kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of his neck when she stepped as close to him as she could get. She sighed softly against his lips when they parted for a breath before she kissed him again, lips opening eagerly to deepen the kiss.

God, she had missed him.

Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles through the thin fabric of his polo shirt. There was no doubt in his mind that he had missed her just as badly as she had missed him.

She pulled back, slightly breathless. “So how long until the race?” she asked him.

“Another 2 hours or so,” Oscar answered, chasing her lips for another kiss. “Lando is probably busy taking a nap right about now, otherwise he would have already come out screaming about you being real after all.”

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "He still thinks I am some sort of elaborate joke?” Vanessa asked curiously.

Oscar just sighed. “Who knows what is going on in that head of his,” he said with a long suffering sigh. “But I do know that he will absolutely flip out, when he sees you in person.”

“Can’t wait to see his face," she told him, her mouth already curving up into a smile just picturing the scenario that was about to unfold as soon as Lando found out about the fact that she was actually there in person. 

And Nessie got to see that earlier than they both thought.

A few minutes later, she sat cross legged in the corner of the sofa, while Oscar was shifting through stuff on his desk… And in walked Lando Norris, without even bothering to knock...or glance in her direction. His mind was clearly focused on whatever racing question he had for Oscar. “Osc, I’ve been thinking-”

Vanessa couldn’t help it. She leaned back against the sofa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Lando,” she said, her voice cool and calm, “you don’t seriously still believe I’m not real, right?”

Lando froze in place, mid-sentence, eyes wide as he whipped around, scanning the room in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His gaze landed on Vanessa, and it was as if the world stopped.

The high-pitched noise that came out of his mouth was enough to make Oscar nearly drop the stack of paper in hands in shock. Vanessa couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles, because that had been exactly the reaction she had hoped for.

“AHHHHHH!” Lando screamed, stumbling backward in shock. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“Surprise," Vanessa said with a grin, her voice filled with amusement, clearly enjoying the absolute shock on Lando's face.

In one swift movement, Lando collided with a chair, falling backward into it with such force that it tipped over. He scrambled to his feet, half-hysterical, his voice rising in panic. “OH MY GOD, SHE’S REAL! SHE’S REAL!”

Watching Lando flail about like that was enough to send Vanessa into hysterical giggles, and she was pretty sure that the sound of her giggling was only adding to Lando’s already panicked state.

Oscar, on the other hand, had slumped against his desk, his entire body shaking with laughter at the sight of Lando, absolutely losing it over Vanessa’s existence.

“Lando, I told you she exists,” Oscar finally said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Lando practically scrambled towards him, grabbing onto his arm and shaking it as if his life depending on it. “She’s right THERE,” he shrieked, pointing at Vanessa frantically. “SHE IS!”

Vanessa couldn’t help another fit of giggles. “I am, indeed,” she said in a calm voice, still leaning back in the sofa, clearly enjoying herself.

Lando gaped at her, his eyes wide with astonishment, before whipping his head around to fix Oscar with a look that was a mix between shock and disbelief. “Why the hell is she here?”

Oscar couldn’t help but burst out laughing again. “What do you think? To see me.”

Lando spluttered, still clinging onto Oscar’s arm, his mouth working soundlessly. “But she’s— she’s—” he sputtered out, unable to finish a single sentence as his gaze wandered from Oscar to Vanessa and back, his mind clearly at war with what he was seeing.

“A living, breathing human being,” Vanessa filled in, her voice dripping with amusement. “Not a white whale...not a mannequin...not imaginary either."

Lando let out a strangled cry, his grip on Oscar’s arm tightening, as if he was afraid she was going to vanish into thin air any second now. "You’ve been dating her...this whole time...and she is just…here?” he managed to sputter out.

Oscar snorted, clearly enjoying Lando’s reaction a bit too much. “See? I told you I wasn’t messing with you. You really should’ve believed in the ‘white whale,’ mate.”

Lando, now starting to laugh at himself as the tension eased, shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I screamed when I saw you. I thought I was going to pass out.”

Vanessa chuckled, crossing her arms as she shook her head. “You’re not the first person to be a little shocked by me.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Lando replied, finally getting to his feet, his face flushed from the whole ordeal. “I’m just... still processing it.”

Oscar clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. “No worries, mate. Just be glad you didn’t faint or something. That would’ve been a bit more embarrassing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando muttered, rolling his eyes but still laughing. “I’ll never hear the end of this, will I?”

“You’re going to hear it forever,” Oscar said with a grin.

“Oh, absolutely,” Vanessa joined in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “This is prime material for future jokes and jabs."

Lando groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”

"Oh, come on, Lando," Oscar said, his tone almost mockingly cheerful. "We're just keeping you on your toes. It's all in good fun, mate."

"It's very nice to meet you though," Vanessa said brightly. "I have heard a lot about you, Lando."

Lando's expression turned from one of mock despair to a genuine smile at her words. "Yeah, likewise," he replied, his voice still tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "Sorry about, you know, the whole..." he trailed off, waving.

"Making the whole internet think I didn't exist or that I was Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster?" she asked drily. "Don't worry, I found it quite amusing."

Lando winced with an embarrassed grin, his cheeks flushing once more. "Yeah, that," he admitted sheepishly. "It was all a bit ridiculous."

She shrugged, a bemused smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I’ll admit, it was rather funny seeing everyone online debating my existence."

[hellhunde]

This was an illustration requested on my patreon for $5! This was the illustration for December!

homunculushound on Patreon requested "Something About Condor and Crane". There's not a lot I can show without dipping into spoiler territory, so I decided to just go with their meeting!

Instead of a long winded explanation under the cut this time, I wrote a little scene to go with it! My prose isn't the best, but I thought that would likely be more fun than just hearing me talk about it! I'd honestly love to write more little scenes for these illustrations, but we'll see!

--------

Crane was still lost on what to do without her mother. The flock had only lost Goose a couple of days ago to wounds caused by that supposed King. Watching the life drain from her mother’s eyes, hearing her final words rasp out of her mouth—”Keep the colony safe”—it all weighed heavy in Crane’s mind. Crane had been trained and groomed to take Goose’s place since she was a kitten. But now that the time was finally here….

Crane wasn't a fighter. Not many in the Flock really were. While Goose had made the judgement to allow refugees fleeing the King’s conquest to join the Flock’s ranks, many were not battle hardened either. The majority were widowed mothers and fathers with kittens to raise, the elderly, and the already injured. Not much to be able to honor her mother’s dying wish.

The Flock were sitting ducks if she couldn't get her colony in a place to actually defend themselves. She wasn't going to roll over and let that barbarian wipe out Goose's Flock—Crane’s flock—for his own gain. 

“Mother Crane?” Crane’s ear twitched at being called leader’s title. She still was not used to being called it. It was only the original Flock members that used the Mother honorific anyway. She sensed it often made the refugees too uncomfortable. She tilted her head around to see Blackbird, her medic. 

“Yes?” Crane answered.

“Uh,” Blackbird stammered out. “That cat is awake.”

Crane's ears perked. After her mother's passing, she’d taken a walk to clear her head. How convenient then had she instead found the broken body of a muscular cat in a ditch. She thought he had been a corpse, until she saw his body twitch and his eyes train on her. She sent for the medics to treat him only as insurance. She hadn't expected him to actually live. 

“Oh, good.” Crane wrapped her hairless tail around her paws. “What has he said?”

“Nothing,” Blackbird said. “Nothing at all. He just…stares. I think he might be incompetent.”

“Incompetent or not, he must be a strong soul to survive with those terrible wounds,” she said. “And the Flock needs more of those. Take me to him, maybe I can get him to talk.”

Blackbird scoffed. “Don't see what you could do that we haven't already tried.

“You should never doubt the feminine wiles, Blackbird.”

---

Blackbird was right about one thing. This cat sure did like to stare.

His head sat flat with the floor, paws on either side sheltering his muzzle. Without all the blood coating his body, Crane could more easily see the other scars that littered his huge body. This wasn’t his first tussle clearly. Crane winced as she saw the red bandages on the underside of his belly and neck. 

She spared a glance at Blackbird before she walked towards him. His large amber eyes stayed glued on her. In the morning light they showed almost red. 

“Hello, there,” Crane said soothingly, her mother had taught her. He blinked. “I’m Crane and this is the Flock’s base. Or at least a makeshift base. Our old home got ransacked and destroyed by the King’s army.”

The tom blinked again. Crane shot a look over her shoulder at Blackbird. He shrugged. 

“What's your name?” She tried instead, turning back to the tom.

Still no response. In fact, no indication he had understood her at all. Just those same large red eyes looking at her. They reminded Crane of a kitten’s: innocent, curious, scared. What a ridiculous thought. This tom must’ve been several months her senior. 

“See, Mother Crane?” Blackbird called from the entrance. “Incompetent. Can’t understand a word you say to him. We might as well throw him with kittens for all the good he would do in a fighting force.”

Crane sighed. She was about to open her mouth to sadly agree when the tom lifted his head. 

“...mother?” He said, in a raspy voice. His eyes were still blown out wide and staring at her. 

“He can talk—” Blackbird said, trotting inside to stand beside Crane. “Well, why didn’t you speak up before?”

At Blackbird’s scolding, the tom put his head down again. Crane smiled for a moment, thinking it looked like a turtle retreating into its shell with all the neck fluff he had.

Blackbird gave an aggravated huff. Crame ran her tail down his back. 

“Let me speak with him alone,” she said. “Maybe he’ll respond better to me. I’ll report anything he says back to you, okay?”

Blackbird hesitated. He eyed the tom once more before nodding. He leaped back out through the entrance, leaving Crane alone with the strange cat. Crane watched his eyes follow Blackbird out of the den, unblinking.

“Now,” she said, sitting down in front of him and getting comfortable. “how about you tell me your name?”

He took several moments to answer. Crane was beginning to worry he had gone mute again when his mouth opened.

“Tiny,” he said. Crane couldn't help but huff a laugh. She was glad to see whoever his mother was clearly had a sense of humor. Tiny’s ears perked at the sound of it. 

“Well, Tiny,” Crane said, laughter still in her voice. “This is my colony, The Flock. We’re the ones who saved you. Can I ask what happened?”

“Got ambushed.” Crane watched Tiny’s claws sheath and unsheath. 

“Now why would they do that?”

“I killed some of them.” The frankness at which he said the words sent a shiver through Crane. That had not been what she expected to come out of Tiny’s mouth. He pouted. “It's not fair to get ganged up on though. It’s mean!”

Something is seriously wrong with this cat, Crane thought. She considered for a moment speaking with Blackbird and maybe killing Tiny themselves. Something painless. That's what Goose would've done. With so many mothers and kittens joining the colony, he might be more of a liability than anything. Though, Goose wouldn't have dragged a shambled almost-corpse back to their base during this desperate time in the first place. 

But something kept her from making that call. For one, Blackbird and the other medics had used so many resources on helping this cat, it would be a waste to just kill him now. And for two… the way he looked at her. While before he had been staring at her non-stop, now he seemed to find anywhere else but her face much more interesting. He spared shy glances at her, seeming to gauge her reaction. 

She’d done the same with Goose several times. Whenever she’d come back with prey after a long day for them to share. Whenever she made an order around the colony that her mother had taught her. Whenever she’d brought Scout back to her mother, claiming him as her mate.

Approval. 

But Goose wasn't around anymore. Crane didn't need to get approval from anyone.

She fixed Tiny with a warm smile, a purr escaping her throat. “That isn't fair. We’re in that same situation now.”

“Really?” Tiny said, genuinely surprised. 

“Yes,” Crane continued. “See, the King’s Army is bullying us small colony cats, it's just not fair. We need as many cats in our corner to hold them back. You seem like a strong fighter, you can join us if you’d like.”

“I can?” Tiny said excitedly. He pushed himself up, before wincing at the pain of his injuries. “I’ve never been in a colony before!”

“Yup. All you have to do is change your name to a bird. That's all.”

Tiny thought for a moment, his lips pursed like an overactive kitten being asked some history fact. While his demeanor was definitely odd, Crane was becoming more charmed by it as the moments passed. Tiny was handsome. His build was much different than Scout’s, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all. She felt the burning shame of what her mother would think, but Goose didn’t have a say over her life anymore. Lost it the moment life had faded from her eyes.

“That cat called you mother,” Tiny said, pointing with his muzzle towards the entrance. “A mother is the one that names kittens, so you should name me!”

“Oh, I’m not—” she began before cutting herself off. She didn't think it was worth it to explain to this cat that ‘mother’ was just the Flock leader’s honorific. She wasn't sure he would be fully able to understand it anyway. “...Whatever, sure. I’ll name you. Hmmm, how about Condor? We found you in a bloody heap of yourself afterall.”

At that Tiny—Condor—finally cracked a smile, all teeth. Crane wasn't scared by the sight of them. 

“I love it!” Condor said.

[runesinthenight]

There are so many ways that this is a different piece. Not only did they change how it is arranged and remove the context inportant to understanding the piece, but they changed "please take one" to an allergy warning.

The fact that they removed the "please take one" portion of it from a museum standpoint changes so much too. In a museum, you are not supposed to touch any of the pieces unless there is a sign which expressly says you can. The original sign expressly said that. That is the sort of sign that will get visitors to interact with the piece. I would take a piece of candy from that pile.

However, the new sign only has a warning on it. The first sentence is an allergy warning. That in it of itself isn't bad. Having an allergy warning is good if you're inviting people to take a piece of candy. The second line is a choking hazard. While this may be true, it feels more like a way for the museum to cover their ass.

Actually, that whole warning comes across as a legal message. It gives the feeling that the museum is putting all of the blame on you if you decide to eat the candy and something bad happens. It is not inviting. It puts off the visitor. I would not take a piece of candy from that piece.

Now, if in an ideal world where politics and political messaging were not involved and the change was purely for liability reasons, I still would have done it differently. I would have placed it under the "please take one" or on a smaller sign under the original sign.

Doing a little research, the signage for this piece has changed a few times over the years, some having the warning, some not, some mentioning AIDS, some not. But the main outcry has been when this sign does not mention AIDS because it is such an integral part of understanding the piece. This piece is meant to be interacted with and that interaction is meant to spark an emotional connection in the visitor. Taking and eating a piece of candy from it should make you think about Ross and his struggle. It should not just be "oh! Free candy!" That removes so much meaning with the piece. Especially to people who have never interacted with this piece or this artist before.

I am in the museum industry. This is my career. And signage is a critically important part of how a museum presents itself and interacts with the public. I really wish there was a way I could see all of the itterations of this sign and see how they've changed over the years and across institutions. Because this piece is on loan to the Smithsonian from the Art Institute of Chicago and I am curious about what aspects were or were not included as part of the loan agreement. But I also want to see when exactly the first sign was from. As doing a quick search shows that the Art Institute of Chicago aslo got into some hot water in 2022 for not including AIDS in the interpretive portion of their text (which is excluded altogether in the Smithsonian sign).

Signage can be difficult. It's a balance between too much text and not enough. You have to make signage that appeals to a wide range of visitors, especially visitors not knowledgeable about the subject. Art museums tend to lean on the shorter side of signage text with the curator often largely in charge of what does or does not go on. The second sign is an example of what I, in my professional opinion, would consider too little text as important context to understand and connecting with the piece is left out.

the david zwirner gallery and the felix gonzalez torres foundation in the smithsonian removed the descriptive plaque for portrait of ross in la by felix gonzalez-torres. the old plaque explained portrait for ross' origins as the artist's partner's aids related death, and replaced it with a plaque with absolutely no information about the piece itself, who ross was, or who gonzalez-torres was either. portrait of ross was also reeranged to lay on the floor long ways instead of in a pile as it typically is situated, and the plaque outside the exhibition FOR GONZALEZ-TORRES omits his sexuality, as well as his aids related death. i'm in utter disbelief