#because if i don’t offer something she never will and we just exist in silence

[touchlikethesun]

my mom: so that l-… that long john guy, what’s his deal here?

me:

my mom:

me:

me: do you mean lan zhan?

my mom: yeah probably i don’t know how to pronounce it

me: what do you mean you don’t know how to pronounce it????? wei wuxian literally says it 20 times an episode how how do you not know????

[augustinewrites]

“i sent a text,” you mutter to yourself as you push and hold the door open with your foot. “and yet nobody came down to help me with the groceries.” 

you push the door shut with your elbow, turning around to see why exactly no one had answered your text. the three of them are sat at the dining table. megumi’s staring at the table, tsumiki’s staring at a painting on the wall, and satoru's glaring at the pile of phones in front of him.

“what is going on?” you ask, setting your bags on the countertop. 

“family meeting,” satoru answers, still glaring at the phones.

“really?” you ask, pulling out your chair to join them. “last time you called a family meeting, you wanted to discuss whether or not you could pull off an earring.” 

“that was a short conversation,” megumi quips.

“hey, i’m still confident that you’re all wrong and i’d totally rock an earring,” he tells you. “but that’s not what this is about. this is about tsumiki.” 

“oh,” you say, surprised by this turn of events. “i thought megumi got in trouble at school again.”

“he did.” 

“i did.” 

figures. you’d address that later. 

“and that’s why i was at their school, where i saw tsumiki about to skip class with - get this - with her boyfriend, who none of us knew existed.”

you exhale a heavy breath. “oh…” 

but your reaction must be too mild for your fiancé, who sends you a funny look. “‘oh?’ that’s a little light. she has a boyfriend that none of us knew about!”

an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. satoru looks at megumi, who looks at tsumiki, who looks at you. 

you actively work to avoid his gaze, further incriminating yourself.

“wait…do you know something?”

“can i talk to you for a second?” you ask, nodding your head toward the kitchen. he follows you over, but not before telling the kids not to touch their phones. 

“how are we handling this?” he asks, pacing back and forth with a deeply conflicted look on his face. you don’t think you’ve even seen him look this serious about something before. “‘cause i know i’m usually the fun parent and you usually bring the heat when it comes to punishments, but i’m already there, babe! she’s grounded. phone, gone! food, maybe! and she is forbidden from seeing this boy for–  till– till she’s in college.”

“satoru–”

“i can’t believe she didn’t tell us she had a boyfriend,” he mutters, not finished yet. “who is this kid, anyway? her boyfriend?” you roll your eyes when he even gags on the word.

“okay, okay,” you laugh nervously, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “do you promise that you’re not going to freak out if i tell you something?”

“no.”

“fair enough,” you agree. “uh…i met her boyfriend.” his eyes widen, but you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything. “hold on! she only told me a couple of days ago because they just started dating two weeks ago. she was going to tell you, i promise.”

“but she’s too young to have—”

“satoru, keeping apart kids that are in love never works out for the people keeping them apart.” you loop your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “imagine if someone had told you that you couldn’t date me.”

“yeah, i know,” he grumbles. “i guess i’m just hurt that she didn’t tell me right away. we have a connection, you know. like you and megumi. last week when we went out for our weekly ice cream gossip session, she didn’t say a thing!” 

“you guys have weekly gossip sessions?”

“uh, yeah. as if you and megumi don’t talk shit about us illiterates whenever you go to the bookstore.” 

“i think we’re getting off track,” you deflect with a huff. “what are we going to do about the situation at hand?”

_____

at the sound of a knock on the door, tsumiki bursts out of her room. “i’ll get it!”

“be cool,” you tell satoru, who scoffs as he fixes his hair.

“i’m cool. the coolest. i’m like ice.” 

“i’m serious,” you grit as tsumiki pulls the door open. “do not be weird right now.”

you smile as tsumiki introduces you both, taking the bouquet of flowers that her boyfriend offers you.

“dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself at home in the meantime,” you tell him, filling a vase with water. 

“in the living room, preferably,” gojo adds stiffly. where tsumiki shoots him a look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “we’ll be in the kitchen, you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“the kitchen and the living room are the same room,” she mutters.

“then you can pretend that we’re not even here,” he says, tone light. then, after a moment. “but remember that we will be here. the whole time.”

“okay, you need to take all of that and put it away,” you tell him sternly, handing him a stack of plates to put on the table. “welcome to the real world, babe. this is what raising teenagers is all about.”

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SIX: MAKE OUT FAKE OUT

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SUMMARY ↳ An unlikely ally appears! “I know you’re Spinnerette.” . . . What. The. Fuck. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: (the non-existent) threat of blackmail wc: 4.4k

Victoria’s been acting weird. You suppose it’s normal given the events from last week. Since then, multiple articles have come forth speaking of Robin and Spinnerette saving the day. The people of Gotham seem to be taking to their new arachnid friend well.

But back to Victoria—she struggles to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. It doesn’t stop her from being a stern teacher though, so you guess nothing other than that has changed. Whatever, you have better things to worry about.

Progress has been… progressing with the badassium. You’ve begun assembling the makeshift particle accelerator, but Karen estimates that you’ve only built three percent. And it took you that long. Have mercy.

You’re currently in the Den, looking over your creation.. The walls are lined with various tools and blueprints, and the centerpiece is the skeleton of the particle accelerator. You sigh, wiping sweat off your brow. This is going to take longer than you thought.

Karen’s voice chirps in your ear. “Perhaps taking a break would help clear your mind, [Name].”

You glance at the clock. It’s already past midnight. Maybe she’s right. “Yeah, I guess so.. Let’s call it a night.”

Robin meets you on the rooftop you’ve perched yourself on. He crouches next you, watching the streets below. Robin’s eyes follow the movement below with a practiced vigilance, his dark cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. The city's nightscape is a blend of lights and shadows, with the occasional sound of sirens breaking the relative silence. He glances at you, his expression giving nothing away.

“Long day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“You ask, why?”

You groan, stretching out your stiff muscles. Robin tracks the movement. “Surely you wouldn’t come hang out with me just because you felt like it. I doubt one night of ass-kickin’ makes us friends.”

“This is not ‘hanging out’,” he grumbles, making you nod your hand in a ‘you’re proving my point’ fashion. “I am simply taking a short recess, you happen to be in my resting spot.”

“Yeah, uhuh.” You don’t believe him for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to really care.

“Batman wants you on the team.”

You damn near fall off the rooftop. “What.”

“Perhaps you are older than I thought, if your hearing isn’t on par,” he smirks.

“First of all, my hearing is way better than yours, fuck you,” you quip, quickly righting yourself. “Second of all…” you hesitate, “can we take a raincheck on that?”

Robin looks at you. “I… am busy right now. And do not have time for a team… yeah. Also, I just prefer to be alone.” The words come out choppy, as if you’re coming up with them on the fly (you are). That last part is a straight lie, you love your Avengers.

You know Robin obviously is skeptical, but he says nothing. “Why does Batman want me, anyway?”

Robin shifts slightly, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “You share the same goals we do. It only makes sense to join forces.”

Robin's words hang in the air, punctuated by the distant sounds of the city below. You shift uncomfortably, trying to process the unexpected offer. Joining Batman's team? The idea both excites and intimidates you. You've always admired the vigilantes of Gotham from afar, but becoming a part of that world was another matter entirely.

You don’t belong here. It was different when you were asked to officially join the Avengers, but fictional comic characters turned real? Your mind wants to melt. You don’t want to drag them into your mess.

“I really do appreciate the offer, but…” you sigh, and lean back. “...not right now.” And probably never. You clear your throat and stand up, Robin following. “Well, it’s been awkward. See you!” you rush out, quickly swinging away. Robin eyes you until you swing out of sight, thinking.

“They denied.”

Bruce sips his tea, humming. “Did they say why?”

Damian comes to sit next to his father. “Their reasoning was that they were ‘too busy for a team’ and preferred to be alone. It was very obvious they were hiding something, father.”

Bruce sighs, putting down his cup. “We’ll keep trying to convince them, slowly,” Bruce adds as he sees Damian moving to get up. “Stay cautious, but also stay amiable, Damian.”

Damian scoffs. “I am amiable.”

Bruce chuckles as Damian leaves.

Ms. Varley announces a project at the end of class the next morning.. The class groans loudly, of course. “It should be fun for you young folks,” she emphasizes, like it disgusts her. “It is a partner project,” the class lights up for a second, “with your tablemate.” You swear you see a glint of satisfaction in her eye as the class slumps. You and Damian look at eachother. “Together you will explore unconventional perspectives on any known superhero or vigilante of your choosing.”

The projector shows a powerpoint labeled “Hot Takes”. A few snorts are heard. “I want you to to challenge yourselves boldly,” Ms. Varley states, walking around to pass out the rubric. “You’ll select a figure that intrigues you and craft a thesis that challenges the traditional view. Support it with thorough research and present your findings in a persuasive manner."

“It’s not about being right or wrong, it’s about being able to defend your point.” Ms. Varley takes her place in front of the classroom. “This is your final project. From now until winter break, we will be spending our Fridays working on it. Only Fridays, so I suggest working on it with your partner outside of school.”

She sits down in her chair, signaling that she’s done talking for today. Buzz fills the classroom immediately, peers chattering and making plans. You scoot your chair closer to Damian. “I know what I want to do,” you declare.

“As do I,” says Damian, facing you.

“My take is better,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Damian scoffs. “I sincerely doubt you are capable of coming up with something adequate to the challenge.”

“Don’t be a hater Damian, it makes you look jealous,” you tease.. The bell rings, filling the class with sounds of hustle and bustle as students pack up. “Oh! Before you go,” you say, grabbing Damian’s wrist. You hold out your phone. “Number?”

Damian looks at your phone in confusion. You huff. “Your phone number, Dames. So we can contact each other and plan our project?” you clarify in a ‘duh’ tone.

You watch as he stares for a moment, before taking your phone and putting in his contact info. “You will come home to the manor with me,” he declares.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We will start working on it today,” he elaborates, handing you back your phone. You fumble with it for a second before shoving it in your pocket. “The faster we get it done the better.”

“Um, ok. Yeah, makes sense,” you gulp.

This time you’re the one distracted in ballet. Victoria huffs and snaps at you multiple times, so you figure she must be back to normal. Art class proceeds as norma, Ms. M making you practice your color theory. You hold back on designing new iterations of your suit, something you did a lot of back home out of sheer boredom.

Damian guides you out of the school with a hand on your back, like he did at homecoming. You wonder what exactly he is doing, since you know he feels the eyes and points at the two of you from other students. You sigh, hopefully nobody bothers you about it.

Alfred greets you at the gates, this time you make sure to actually get his name officially. Damian gets in the car first, pulling you in by the hand. Your shoulder bumps into his as you land with an ‘oof’. The ride to the manor is silent, leaving you twiddling with your thumbs. Thankfully, the ride isn’t too long.

The manor looks imposing, standing here looking at it. It’s different from seeing it from WEBBERs point of view or from an inked page. Damian grabs your arm, snapping you out of your daydreaming. He leads you through the grand halls of the mansion, his steps confident and purposeful. The interior is as opulent as you imagined, with rich furnishings and tasteful decor that speak of wealth and history.

"Your family's home is... impressive," you remark, trying to break the silence as you’re dragged along.

Damian nods curtly, saying nothing. You sense there's more to his demeanor than just his usual aloofness.

He leads you to a spacious study lined with shelves of books and a large, fancy desk at its center. Papers are neatly organized, and a computer hums softly in one corner. Damian gestures for you to take a seat. You do, placing your bag down beside your chair. Damian sits next to you.

You take out your laptop and open a new powerpoint. “My idea was that we do it on Batman,” you state, turning to Damian. “I think Batman is part of a cycle of violence. I think that he does help and protect people, but he also enables a lot of the behavior from criminals.” You stand up and begin to pace the room.

“He inadvertently contributes to a culture that normalizes violence as a means to solve problems. I mean, all of his criminals eventually break out of arkham. Scarecrow literally attacked our school a while ago! Criminals respond to Batman’s intervention with heightened aggression and increasingly dangerous tactics, which results in a cycle where each side justifies escalating their actions in response to perceived threats.”

You pause, stopping your pacing. Damian is staring at you. You cough. “That’s all to say, violence begets violence, hurt people hurt people, yadda yadda,” you grin sheepishly.

Damian nods intently. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the armrest. After a moment of silence, he speaks, his voice calm yet decisive.

"Your perspective is not entirely without merit," Damian begins, his tone measured. "Batman's methods have indeed perpetuated a cycle of violence in Gotham. His reliance on fear tactics and physical force against criminals often leads to heightened retaliation and more extreme measures from his adversaries."

He shifts in his seat, eyes narrowing slightly. "However," Damian continues, "one must consider the broader context. Gotham City is a cesspool of corruption and crime, where conventional methods of law enforcement have repeatedly failed. Batman's presence, while controversial, fills a void where the justice system falls short."

Damian stands up abruptly, pacing the room with a controlled energy. "His actions, while extreme, have prevented countless tragedies and protected innocent lives. The criminals he faces are not ordinary. They are deranged, relentless, and would wreak havoc unchecked if not for his intervention."

He stops in front of the window, gazing out at the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. "Batman's commitment to justice is unwavering. He sacrifices his own safety and personal life to ensure that Gotham's citizens have a fighting chance against the darkness that plagues our city."

Damian turns back to you, his demeanor earnest. "Our challenge will be to present a balanced argument," he concludes, returning to his seat. "Acknowledging the complexities of Batman's methods while critiquing their consequences. We must delve deep into both sides of the debate to craft a compelling thesis."

You nod, absorbing Damian's perspective. You’re impressed, but yeesh. He could’ve been more subtle, in your humble opinion.

“I’m impressed,” comes a voice from the doorway. You and Damian turn around to see–

Bruce Wayne. You sigh deeply inside your mind.

“Father,” says Damian, looking a bit lost. “How long…?”

“Since your friend started speaking. I apologize, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only meant to introduce myself when I heard your compelling argument, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, looking awfully apologetic. Of course, Batman himself heard all that.

He turns to you and sticks out his hand. “Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father.” You shake his hand humming in affirmation.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you smile. Alfred comes in with some snacks and refreshments, placing them down on the table. You and Damian thank him, seemingly on autopilot. Bruce smiles at Damian.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and then he’s out the door.

You rub your palms on your pants. “Welp,” you hum, sitting back down and pouring yourself a cup of tea. “I think he likes me.” You pour a cup for Damian and pass it to him. He sits back down as well, accepting the cup.

“I think he does, as well,” mutters Damian, sipping his tea.

The rest of the evening is spent refining your argument and laying out the skeleton on your powerpoint. Despite Damian's initial reservation about your abilities, you find that you complement each other well in terms of ideas and research methods. You check the time, it’s a little past nine.

“I should get going, I don’t wanna leave Nari alone for too long,” you say, beginning to gather your belongings. Damian raises a brow. “My cat,” you clarify.

Damian's eyes brighten very subtly. You know what he’s thinking, so you show him the picture you took of Jon holding Nari. “He’s cute, right?”

Damian analyzes your picture like it’s an art. He nods in approval. “You shall have to bring him over to meet Alfred.”

“The.. butler?” you question, as if you don’t know better.

“The cat.”

Damian walks you out of the manor where you find Bruce. His eyes spot you two approaching and nods in acknowledgement. “Alfred is already waiting outside for you,” he tells you. You nod and step outside, feeling the cool air hit you. You thank Alfred as he opens the door for you, stepping inside. Damian and Bruce are standing together on the porch. Bruce is telling Damian something, but he is only looking at you.

You send him a hesitant smile, and he nods at you.

Bruce watches the car drive off. “Still suspicious?” he asks.

“Nothing of note has happened,” Damian begrudgingly tells him. Bruce warmly chuckles.

“Well,” he starts, looking at Damian. “I like them.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “I do not like what you are insinuating.” Bruce shrugs innocently, stepping back inside the manor. Damian stands in the cool air for a moment, before following him inside. 

The dance instructor has a headache, so she says that you all can do whatever you’d like, as long as you don’t bother her. You sit against the far wall, laptop on your legs. You’ll use the time to finish the assignments you’ve been procrastinating on.

Victoria surprises you by sitting next to you. She surprises everyone else to, if their wide eyes are anything to go by. They quickly look away at her glare. “Hey, Vicky,” you mumble, unbothered.

She pretends to look interested in what you’re typing. Her eyes watch your fingers as they rapidly move across the keys. She clears her throat.

“I would like to practice some more after school. I expect you to be there,” she says primly.

You raise a brow, still looking at your screen. “There’s no practice today.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t be asking you if there was. I just think… it would be beneficial to us.”

You look at her. She’s crossed her arms and is looking down at her lap. You exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t have anything planned after school anyway. Victoria nods, sitting beside you for the rest of the period.

Damian suggests that you come over again to work more on the presentation, but you have to deny. “I have a ‘special’ practice session with Vicky,” you wink.

Damian ignores your innuendo in favor of furrowing his brows. “You don’t have practice today.”

“First of all, what do you know?” you huff, putting your pencils away. “Second of all, you’re right. However, Vicky has ordered extra practice. Just the two of us.”

Damian grips his bag a little bit tighter. You wave goodbye as you leave the classroom, heading to the dance studio. Victoria’s waiting for you, still in her uniform. You place your bag down, suddenly tense. Victoria crosses over to you, grabbing your hand. “Shut the door,” she demands.

You obey, curious. “Something wrong?”

She fidgets with your web-shooter-turned-bracelet, like she’s looking for something. You’re not worried, the form it’s in right now gives nothing away, but you are really confused right now.

“Vicky?” you implore, trying to catch her eye.

“I…” she hesitates, before straightening her shoulders. “I know who you are.”

You furrow your brow. “What exactly does that mean–”

“I know you’re Spinnerette.”

.

.

.

What. The. Fuck.

You blink, because that’s all you can do. “What?”

“Don’t try to deny it. There’s no use,” she crosses her arms.

“Vicky, this is crazy. I’m not Spinnerette! Was it the Scarecrow attack? Are you still scared? Maybe you should see someone–”

“Spinnerette called my Vicky!” she snarls, pointing a finger at your chest. “No one calls me that but you.”

Your tongue pokes your cheek, stepping back. You never would’ve thought Vicky would be the first to figure you out. Though you suppose you haven’t been as careful as you thought. Fuck, how could you be so careless? Do you still try to deny it? Surely it won’t be that hard, but clearly Vicky is smarter than you think.

“Perhaps she could be a formidable ally,” suggests Karen. “She may have access to resources we need.”

You straighten at Karen’s voice. She’s right, of course. Victoria’s loaded. She can throw money at people to get you the materials you need. Expensive, high quality material. There’s just convincing her…

And maybe… it’ll be nice to have someone else know in this universe.

You sigh and hold out your arms. “Fine, you got me. I’m Spinnerette.”

Victoria smirks victoriously. “Show me.”

“Show you…?” you mutter.

“Show me some proof.”

You blink at the audacity. She was just accusing you of being Spinner, and when you admit that you are, she tells you to ‘prove it’ to her!? You sigh, tired of it all.

You walk to the wall of the room, placing your foot on it and climbing up. It’s a comical sight, the way your body completely changes rotation effortlessly. You walk along the ceiling, moving back to Victoria. Jumping down, you purse your lips and spread your hands. “Happy?”

Victoria’s got a glint in her eye that makes you nervous. She nods, and you set your hands on your waist.

“Okay listen, you know now, there’s no going back from here. If you tell anybody–” you begin, voice taking on a threatening tone.

“–I want to help you!” she blurts.

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Let me help you do your… saving people thing!” she says, waving her hand around. She steps closer to you, eyes shining. Huh. Well, you were going to threaten her and her parents' credibility as members of society. Rich people always have some skeletons in their closets, and you sure as shit are capable of finding them. This is a surprising turn of events.

Still, you scoff. “This is insane–”

“I can be your sponsor! Like whoever makes all of Batman's stuff!”

“I would’ve never expected this from you—why do you want to help me?” you ask incredulously.

“Nothing I do satisfies my parents!” she growls. Oh dear, backstory time. “They literally left me the company to inherit, but doubt my ability to run it. I pay attention, I get good grades and I do everything they say, but they still doubt me. I even try to get with stupid Damian Wayne.” She throws her hands up. “I don’t even like him!”

“I know I can’t tell them you’re Spinnerette, but if I can successfully help you do what you do…” she curls her hands together. “Then at least I would know that I’m good at something.”

You’re left speechless. It’s like you’re listening to a brand new person. You place your hands on her shoulders. “You already are good at something, dance!” You gesture to the room. “You work harder than anyone else here!”

“Dance isn’t my future,” she scowls.

You purse your lips. You have no idea how she feels. The adults in your life have always let you be yourself. Even if they didn’t you’ve always had the backbone to tell people to step off and let you do your own thing. Rich people like Victoria’s parents can get pretty extreme. You wouldn’t be surprised if they disowned her for not wanting to inherit the company.

You sigh, running a hand down your face. “Okay,” you mutter. Victoria stiffens in anticipation. “You can help.” You’ve been evaluating her this whole interaction. She’s a sheltered rich kid looking for adventure and on a weird journey of self discovery. She isn’t looking to rat you out (she kind of needs you, anyway).

She squeals and claps her hands, before clearing her throat and composing herself. “I look forward to our partnership.”

Arms crossed, you grumble out, “uhuh.”

“How do they work, anyway?” she says, grabbing your wrists, pressing around your bracelet.

“Uh, it won’t work in the state that it’s in–” a web shoots out of it, sticking to Victoria’s blazer. You guffaw. “Karen!” you gasp, knowing in the web-shooters’ bracelet form it wouldn’t shoot unless she made it.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” she asks cheekily. Traitor. God, she’s been waiting for someone else to talk to, hasn’t she?

 Victoria looks mystified by the web actively attached to her. “Who’s Karen? she asks as she tries to grab the web.

“Do not–!” you grab her hand. “–touch it.”

“Why? Oh, right. It’s sticky, huh?”

“Yes, Vicky. The spider webs are sticky–” the door to the dance room opens, and you stiffen. Shit, the web–

Victoria closes the distance between you two, jumping on you and wrapping her legs around your waist. You instinctively hold her thighs to support her, looking at her in alarmed confusion.

“What–” she silences you by pressing her lips against yours. All coherent thought goes out the window, because literally what is your life?

Her hands wind around your head, and her lips caress yours with a soft yet firm pressure. Your heart races, pounding in your chest as you instinctively tighten your grip around her legs, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body against yours and the taste of her lips make everything else fade away.

After what feels like an eternity, she slowly pulls back, leaving your lips tingling. She gazes at you with a mix of mischief and satisfaction, running a hand through her hair to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. You stare at her in awe, your breath coming in short gasps. She's got balls of steel, no doubt about it. You just gained a whole new level of respect for her.

She looks to the side. “Oh, hi Damian.”

Oh god. You look to the entrance of the room and sure enough, Damian’s there. He’s looking at the two of you with wide eyes, unable to school his expression. He’s stopped dead in his tracks with your phone in his hand.

Wait… your phone!

You shift so Victoria’s back is facing him. You balance her with one hand, reaching between you two to get rid of the web that’s squished between you. You do it quickly, balling it up in your hand and setting down Victoria on the floor and heading over to Damian.

“Thanks, I didn’t even notice I left it,” you smile casually, internally screaming.

Damian says nothing as you take your phone from him, stuffing it in your pocket. You place your hands on his chest and guide him out. “Okay. Bye now. Talk to you later!” He seems to finally realize what’s happening, brows furrowing and looking at you before you close the door in his face. You lean against it, listening. There’s no sound for a bit, before you hear Damian walk away. You sigh.

“Holy shit, Vicky. What the hell?” You can’t help but laugh. You throw the balled up web in the trash, making your way over to her. She’s got a cheeky smile on her face, hands behind her back.

“It’s like I don’t know you anymore,” you tease. She’s looking at you.

“I like you,” she says, making you freeze for probably the tenth time this afternoon. When will it end?

“I have feelings for you,” she elaborates, pacing. “I know that you don’t feel the same. I just…” she stops, turning to face you. Her eyes peer earnestly into yours. It crushes your heart. “...I know your secret. Now, you know mine.”

You whisper, painstakingly soft, “oh, Tori…”

She sniffs, swatting your shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not in love with you or anything.”

Still, you feel like the worst human being ever. It’s not your fault you don’t have feelings for her, you know that. And yet… you’re probably the first person she’s ever shown this side of her to. Dare you say, her first real friend.

You pull her into your arms. “I’m so sorry.”

She melts into your arms, gripping you tightly. Her light sniffles fill the room.”I’ll get over it,” she promises. You only hold her tighter. After what feels like an eternity, she withdraws from you, wiping her tears.

“Okay, some ground rules,” you say, hopefully providing a much needed topic change

“Number one, you can’t tell anyone.”

She nods. “Obviously.”

“Number two, I call the shots. If I say do something, do it. I know better, it’s for the best.”

“Number three, this changes nothing. We can act like friends if you want, but if your grades start dropping or people start noticing you acting strange, we’re done. Got it?”

“Got it,” she agrees. You heave out a sigh. “Go home, Tori.” You web over her bag and hand it to her. She goes sparkly-eyed again.

“Will you patrol?” she can’t help but ask.

“I think I deserve the night off. The Bats can handle it.” You grab your stuff and turn towards the door. “I’m gonna take a long nap when I get home.”

“Let me take you home then!” she blurts.

“Jesus, do all you rich kids have chauffeurs?” you ask. She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just wanna lay down and not wake up for three years.”

Victoria bids you goodbye as you make you enter your apartment. You drop your bag, groaning at your stiff shoulders. You sag your way over to your bed, flopping face first into it. You knock out almost immediately, letting the stress of the day leave you. Spideys never have it easy, do they?

notes: y'all i've had that tori scene in mind since i first made her LMAO

[s-lverwing]

PECADO ; teaser

SUMMARY. Duty—the inescapable concept drilled into you from birth, embedded in your mind by relentless echoes and insistent tones. But now, since you’ve grown and become entangled in a tumultuous relationship with the King’s firstborn, duty has evolved into a word you loathe, a bitter reminder of the constraints and sacrifices that shapes your existence. As your world spins, the prospect of marrying Aegon's honorable twin, Maelor, intensifies the bitter irony of your plight, deepening your resentment and sense of betrayal from everyone.

PAIRING. aegon ii targaryen x targaryen!reader x maelor targaryen (aegon’s twin)

WORD COUNT. 1.3k

WARNINGS. just angst. english isn’t my first language. THIS IS MY NEW BLOG !! MAELOR IS AEGON’S TWIN !!!

A/N. I’m thinking so many thoughts. I want to make this a series, or smth but I don’t really know. I have 8k words now, and I want to keep going.

no betaed we die like viserys

She gazed at you, her lips parting only to release the haunting melody: “Pōja istin jehikagrī ēnka sir rāpūltan, isse iā rāpa, lyka nārhēdegon” (Their once bright hues now softened, in a tender, quiet loss).

Soon, the groans and heavy footsteps melded with the birds’ chirping and the distant murmur of voices from the hallways. Yet, the garden remained an isolated enclave, housing only Helaena’s ethereal song and your tumultuous thoughts. A palpable silence descended, compelling you to whip your head toward her.

Alicent’s only daughter was already regarding you with eyes brimming with worry and regret. It was uncommon for her to look at you this way, and the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sealing the bond,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “One will drift away, the other will be chasing phantoms for an eternity” The innocence of her phrase was a dagger to your gut, making you want to retch, as you tasted bile on your tongue. Desperation clawed at you, and you fled, seeking refuge in the only place that could never offer you peace.

The room reeked of stale alcohol and sweat; a reminder of the first and last time you visited an inn. The once repugnant scent was now a grim familiarity. Each morning you arrived early, loyal as a hound and pristine as a dove. But not this morning; delicate petals from the garden were still tangled in your hair. You smell like fresh cut grass. And you’re late.

Aegon lay sprawled on his bed, utterly naked and feigning sleep. He was waiting, because even if he played the role of an idiot, a part of him still cared.

You swallowed hard, “Aegon?” Your voice trembled, a fragile thread of hesitation woven through it. Fear of him was not the issue; it was the looming dread, the haunting sense of something profoundly wrong, lurking just beyond the edges of your understanding.

The mere sight of him being humiliated by any member of his family or by himself was something you’ve become to accept, to make peace with. Aegon hasn’t been on a leash since he was a kid; since his father proclaimed Rhaenyra as his legitimate heir. And so he decided to indulge in the pleasure of the flesh… and alcohol — a sweet but ultimately lethal form of enjoyment. And the fact that he has harbored feelings for you doesn’t even move him into change. Not because of you, but for him. He deserves to be respected and the honor of a house such as the Targaryen. Though, he’s not even respected by his own kin. By his own parents. Viserys was old, and probably had an ounce of love for him which burned when he had realized he didn’t need more children to secure the bloodline. His firstborn was still very much alive; even if he was a woman. And Alicent only cherished his twin brother.

Aegon often wondered what it would be like to be the one born looking like a Hightower—instead of being a living reminder to his mother of the sacrifices she had to make, of her stolen childhood, and of every unavenged wound. Would he then be wanted as much as Maelor is? Deep down, he knew it was a futile dream. He tried not to care, but the fear of being crushed under the weight of everyone’s expectations gnawed at him incessantly.

After all, Maelor, has much more of a tender temperament and Aemond’s intellect and wit, which seemed to embody everything Aegon was not. His eyes were a warm, inviting brown, complementing his auburn hair—a perfect reflection of Alicent. He looked human, soft, approachable, and kind. In Aegon’s eyes, Maelor was the epitome of what Alicent desired, a role Aegon could never fulfill.

You dusted off your pale dress, swallowing down your rising frustration and anger. It wasn’t in your nature to be quick to anger, to point the finger, to blame others for their mistakes. But today, his actions felt unbearable. “Do—Do you even care?” Your voice sounded pathetic, a desperate plea for recognition, affection — just to be seen by your lover.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Everything was too bright, too loud for his liking, especially after Otto Hightower’s sermonizing. “Uhm—? Ah, oh,” He yawned, shifting to make himself more comfortable in bed. “Yes, sure.”

His indifference sparked a surge of anger within you, the bile rising to tinge your throat with its bitter taste. “I’m being serious.”

“Don’t speak so loud…” He groaned, dismissive. “You should go, I don’t want any of your services”

It makes your blood seethe, each word from him striking like arrows piercing through your heart. The indignity of being called a whore stings with a venomous edge.

It was always a struggle to engage in conversation with him when he was saturated with the remnants of last night’s excesses. But today felt especially grueling; your patience is unraveling, eroded by the relentless tide of his cruelty.

You approached his bed, standing close enough to block the sunlight that accentuated his handsome features. You wanted to scream, to hit him, hoping that maybe then he would love you, maybe then he would strive to be better and meet your mother’s expectations, so then they could be together. But Aegon wasn’t a fool; he knew you were the only one who forgave him every single time, without him even trying. Gathering all your courage, you spoke the words that had been festering within you: “You’re pathetic.”

So you think that too? He knew everything couldn’t be perfect. Aegon understood he was doomed, marked by fate’s cruel design. He knows this truth intimately… yet, despite everything, he clings to hope with a desperation that borders on madness. Because you’re the only one seeing him with different and softer eyes.

He can’t think because his mind is flooded with guilt, of everything that happened last night… Of everything he’s ever done to you, wether good or bad. But he keeps going, he doesn’t know anything else. “Go pester Maelor, he looks just like me. I’m sure he can entertain you… Maybe he won’t pleasure you as well as I do. But after all, all whores are the same, I’m sure he won’t mind”

Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. His cruelty cuts deep, making you question if any of it is worth it—the sacrifices, the hurt, the strange looks, and your bleeding heart. Are they worth the fleeting moments of bliss? He’s capable of loving, and being kind — he has shown you that. Sometimes you like to fool yourself thinking that he actually cares about you, that maybe he thinks you’re more than just a pawn following everything he says… More than just a girl staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Thinking maybe, just maybe… he actually sees you.

But it’s the indifference, and his insolent words that creates a wall. One you’re too tired to try and bring it down.

You snort, deciding to play his game, ethough you know it will keep destroying everything. “Maybe I will, Aegon. Maelor has more honor in his little finger than you’ll ever have. You just wallow in your own filth.”

You speak with distaste, the words hurting you as much as they hurt him, because they come from a place of anger, a vengeful side you despise. It makes you want to throw up; the mere idea to succumb into your rage. After all, there’s pure dragon blood running in your veins, and it burns within you.

You turned around, unable to bear looking at him. If you meet his eyes, you’ll collapse under the weight of your own emotions and beg for forgiveness, even though it’s not your fault. You just wanted to make amends. “Do you know you’re throwing everything away, Aegon?” you ask, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken despair. You don’t expect an answer. He already knows.

first chapter

[masterstr0ke]

PUSH AWAY ALL THE PEOPLE WHO KNOW ME THE BEST, BUT IT’S ME WHO’S BEEN MAKING THE BED.

PLATONIC!WELT YANG x GN!READER.

WARNINGS: self deprecating thoughts, dissociation, homesick for a home that doesn’t exist, angst to comfort.

WORD COUNT: 704

You sat on the bright red couches of the Astral Express, the window in front of and behind you show the intense beauty and vast nature of the Universe everybody lives in, but you’re not content like you usually are. You wanna go home, where’s home? you don’t know, but you’re homesick.

Everybody in the Astral Express knew something was off with you nowadays; You don’t hang out with March and take pictures anymore, you didn’t discuss with Dan Heng about the data bank anymore, you don’t offer Himeko coffee (that you desperately fail to perfect, but Himeko drinks it nevertheless), you don’t do Pom-Pom’s requests, you don’t sit in comfortable silence with Welt as you read whatever book you’ve chosen for the week, and you don’t wash off Stelle/Caelus’ clothes after she/he’s gone dumpster diving. Something’s wrong, and everyone’s felt it

You fidget with the watch you wear on your hand, not noticing the footsteps that get increasingly louder as they approach you. Eventually the couch dips beside you, you turn your head to see Welt, with a cup of tea, except he hands it over to you. “It’s late.” he spoke, keeping his words to a minimum.

“I don’t want the tea.” You spoke bluntly and turn your head away from Welt. He placed the cup down near the radio and faced you. “Look.. I’m not one to interfere-“

“Then don’t.” you interrupted him.

“Something’s wrong with you, and it’s not going unnoticed by anybody in the Express.” he paused. “We’re a family, and we look out for each other, so it’s our duty to take care of each other, and you need the help and the care.” He elaborated, his tone of voice so gentle, so kind.

“I don’t need help.” You spat out, before standing up and leaving for the sleeping chambers.

You laid on your unmade bed, it made you feel disgusting, but surely it was because you were, right? Surely it wasn’t just random and you were disgusting. You get out of bed, albeit with difficulty, and make your bed with heavy arms. You found your eyes tearing up all of a sudden, your body wasn’t heavy because you were tired, it was heavy from regret and guilt. All they want is the best for you, and vice versa. You never want to harm them, but you ended up doing just that.

You fell down to your knees beside your bed, clutching your bedsheets as you sob; A stupid replacement for somebody’s shirt, since nobody probably cares anymore.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door, which halted your sobbing. You quickly wiped away your tears and opened the door. Welt. You blink at him, and he stares at you, before he began speaking. “May I enter?” He asked, his voice so gentle, so kind. You step out the way and open the door wider for him to step inside, and he does just that.

You sit on your bed, and he closes the door behind him, what a gentleman. He sits down beside you, and put his hand on your shoulder, and leaned in closer to you. “Please, let me help you. Something’s wrong with you and it’s obvious you can’t overcome it alone. Please,” He pleaded. “Let me help.”

And with that you broke. Tears flowing out and stupid, stupid whines coming out of you. And yet he doesn’t push you away, he instead hugs you and rubs your back at an attempt to calm you down.

He was warm, and you liked that.

Slowly but surely you calmed down, and emotional exhaustion quickly caught up with you. You pulled away from him and yawned. “Thank you.” You smiled at him as you rubbed your eyes. “Don’t mention it.” He spoke as he returned the smile.

He stood up, and looked at you. “I’ll leave you to sleep.” He spoke calmly. “Sleep well, alright?” He requested with his so gentle, so kind voice. You nodded. “I promise.” You smiled.

“Goodnight.” He spoke before he exited your room, closing the door calmly behind him, what a gentleman.

You laid down on your bed and pulled the sheets over your head as you thought to yourself, maybe somebody does care.

[vanderwoodlings]

how do you kill a feeling: a blair/dan playlist (x)

Tracklist and commentary under the cut:

This is also entirely country music, because, uh… I wanted to? And at least one person (hi Liz) seemed into the idea? Generally when it comes to GG, we skew more towards pop than anything else, so it was a fun experiment!

1. “Easy Silence,” The Chicks. And I come to find a refuge in the/Easy silence that you make for me/It’s okay when there’s nothing more to say to me

2. “Walkin’ After Midnight,” Patsy Cline. [dan voice] I’ve been walking around the city all night with one paralyzing, all-consuming thought

3. “Found It In You,” Tiera Kennedy. The confidence to know that I can be happy/Just ‘cause you tell me that you got me.

4. “Friends Don’t,” Maddie & Tae. [Insert obligatory aromantic disclaimer that Friends Do, Thanks, here.] That aside, this is just… so stupid best friends in pining denial dair-coded

5. “I Try to Think About Elvis,” Patty Loveless. When you’re ass backwards crushing on Blair Waldorf and you would like to not be, please

6. “Hey, Good Lookin’,” Hank Williams. This one was one that just clicked as a dair song at random somewhere—something about the I’m gonna throw my date book over the fence bit especially—and sparked this playlist into being

7. “Lay It On Me,” Mickey Guyton. I want the truth and all your lies/I want your perfectly imperfect

8. “I’ll Be,” Reba McEntire. And mayhaps Dan has a white knight complex. I’ll be the rock that will be strong for you/The one that will hold on to you

9. “Marigold,” Paisley Fields. Marigold, bold and bright/Marigold, through spring and summer/You brighten up my night, marigold

10. “After I Fall,” Lee Ann Womack. And mayhaps Blair is a bit traumatized. After I fall, where do I stand/After my heart is in your hands/And you’ve got it all

11. “cowboy take me away,” Brittney Spencer. This one is in the Vibe—because God knows neither of them want to get out of the city and get dirt on their hands—it’s more something wild and unruly

12. “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still in Love with You),” Johnny Cash. Dan pining moments

13. “This Kiss,” Faith Hill. I always love story imagery with Blair, so of course we’ve got Cinderella said to Snow White/“How does love get so off course/Oh, all I wanted was a white knight/With a good heart/Soft touch, fast horse.”

14. “Wrecking Ball,” Emmylou Harris. This song’s got the narrator offering a first date if the other person is in, in spite of the lack of privacy she’s got/the things the other person might know, which is very Gossip Girl, but there’s also something about the Meet me at the wrecking ball (wrecking ball)/I’ll wear something pretty and white that feels very Blair

15. “Death Of Me,” Reyna Roberts. Took this barely beating heart and brought it back to life/But this love might be the death of me.

16. “Starting Over,” Chris Stapleton. Gotta give them something good. And, honey, for once in our life/Let’s take our chances and roll the dice

17. “Grow Old with Me,” Sunny Sweeney. They all said we’d never fit so well together/Grow old with me, I’ll keep you young forever

18. “Jolene,” Dolly Parton. I’ve used this as a Blair’s Serena complex song before, way back on the blairena playlist and uh… I was right ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

19. “Milwaukee,” Wyatt Flores. Okay, yeah, wrong city, but—You can hate my eyes for watching you leave/You can hate my should have chased you down feet/…/Please don’t hate my heart

20. “What Brings Life Also Kills,” Kolton Moore & the Clever Few. Dear, I’m writing this for you/As I contemplate tomorrow/Why did it end so soon?

21. “Buddy,” Willie Nelson. S6 dangina hours!!!!

22. “Why’d You Come in Here Lookin’ Like That,” Dolly Parton. Exists in the theoretical Dan slut era of my dreams. He’s out slow dancing with every girl around/I’m a soft-hearted woman, he’s a hardheaded man/And he’s gonna make me feel just as bad as he can

23. “Foolin’ Ourselves,” Evan Honer. Welcome to the dairfair! We get a little chronologically blurry here for the sake of the Sound being right, but I trust y’all to follow along

24. “On the Other Hand,” Randy Travis. On one hand, I could stay and be your lovin’ man/But the reason I must go is on the other hand.

25. “Summertime,” Orville Peck. You and I/Bide our time/And I miss summertime

26. “Satin Sheets,” Tammy Wynette. If Serena gets “Jolene” (or even, sort of, the pseudo-honorable “On the Other Hand”), Chip gets this. Blair canonically sings Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man” about him (which really fucks me up), so I knew she had to be on here somewhere, but I wasn’t expecting something quite so suitable to jump right out. But your money can’t hold me tight/Like he does on a long, long night

27. “Your Someone,” May Erlewine. I thought that I was stronger/I willed myself to be/But love can be so tender/I feel a tenderness in me

28. “To June This Morning,” Ruston Kelly, Kacey Musgraves.

29. “Love is Alive,” The Judds. Love is a man and he’s mine/Love is alive/And at our breakfast table

30. “Love Is A Wild Thing,” Kacey Musgraves. There’s no way to stop it, so don’t try to

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Real Cowboys Don’t Run

Natasha Romanoff x female!OC

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, eyepatch.”

“I think you’ll find yourself talking in no time, cowgirl.”

She smirked, feeling the dried blood on her face crack with the motion. The pain was excruciating but she’d never show it. She’s been through worse interrogations. Torture that not even SHIELD—corrupted as they are—could match.

“How about we start with a name?”

She merely yawns, looking around the dark concrete room.

“No? Alright then. You like steak? Lobster? Been a while since you ate.”

“I could go for some Mac n cheese. The box kind.” She says blankly.

“Really? You are not kidding right now?” She merely shrugs. “Fine then.”

He leaves the room and she’s left alone with nothing but silence and the metal cuffs digging into her skin. She breathes slowly, ensuring no aspect of her body language changes. She knows they’re watching.

2 hours and 43 minutes later—she counts each second that passes—a redhead woman stalks into the room. She sits carefully in the metal chair across from her. She does nothing but stare for 57 seconds. “Who are you?” The redhead finally asks. The blonde offers no response. Not even a twitch. “How about a name? Doesn’t even have to be a real one.” Absolutely nothing.

Natasha doesn’t show it, but she’s unnerved by the steely exterior. Never before had she been unable to read someone. She had perfected the art of body language at a disturbingly young age. Interrogations were her forte.

The stare down continues, neither party giving an inch.

“Look, I don’t know who you are. I don’t care. I just want to know why you were sneaking around that facility. If you pose no threat, you’ll be free to go.”

The blonde knows that’s a lie. They would never just let her go. But she won’t show it. Never give them anything, because a good interrogator will use anything and everything against you.

“Well since you’re feeling a bit shy, I’ll carry this conversation for the both of us. We tried to run prints but they’ve been burned off. Likely hydrochloric acid, according to forensics. Was it forced? Or did you do it willingly? Made killing a little easier, did it? One less thing to worry about?”

People usually jostle when she brings up the subject of murder, but the woman doesn’t move an inch. Natasha is having fun with this, though she knows she shouldn’t be.

“And then there’s the fact that you simply don’t exist. We ran facial recognition, DNA, toe prints, everything. Searched millions of records for something that might resemble you. Absolutely nothing. So tell me, where did you come from?” She leans forward.

The blonde woman smiles. “A farm.”

“Ah, yes. The cowgirl. I like the hat. And the belt buckle. It’s a cute touch,” she gestures to the silver buckle at the woman’s waist. “Tell me about this farm. Are we talking a normal farm? Or a place that breeds serial killers and mercenaries?”

“Cows. Potatoes.”

“Cows and potatoes. Nice. No serial killers?” The woman shakes her head in denial. “So why talk now? Why tell me this and not the goons who spent hours trying to beat it out to you?” The blonde offers no response. “C’mon, just tell me. Weak spot for beautiful women?”

The woman smiles slightly at that. It’s calculated, Natasha thinks. “Because no matter how much I tell you, Natalia Romanova, you will never get what you want. You caught me because I let you. You will never know who I am because I am no one. I am a ghost. Merely a puppet in the shadows. I cannot be broken. Believe me when I say many have tried and failed. I will tell you this much: I am not HYDRA, but I am not on your side. There are no sides in this game, Agent. I do what I need to. It has nothing to do with you. Never has, never will.”

Just like that, she leans back in her chair, her face set in stone once more. Natasha nods and leaves, refusing to show the anxiety she feels about the fact that the woman knows her name. Her real name.

One hour and twelve minutes later, several agents enter the interrogation room. They unchain her from the chair, leaving the cuffs on her wrists. After a bag is placed over her head, she’s escorted to another room. This one is a cell. With a toilet and even a blanket. There are no windows, but it’s an improvement. The cuffs arw removed and she is left alone in the cell.

Eventually a tray of Mac N cheese and a bottle of water is slid through a slot in the thick metal door. She eats it without worrying about poison, knowing they would’ve killed her by now if that’s what they wanted to do.

~

Tucked in the corner of the cell, she breathed deep and slow as she let her body sink to the floor before pushing through her pinky fingers, raising her body back up. Her feet remained still and straight in the air as she went through the exercise, determined to stay in shape throughout her captivity.

She slowly moves into a planche, loving the way her muscles strain with the movement. When the door beeps and clicks and the redhead enters, she doesn’t flinch. Agent Romanoff leans against a wall and watches.

The blonde woman moves into a tuck planche before sitting on the ground and taking a swig of water. “You like watching, do you?” Agent Romanoff says nothing but smirks. The blonde stands and wipes her face with a towel, leaving the rest of her body sweaty in her black sports bra and sweatpants. She watches Romanoff’s eyes as they move down her body, taking in the tattoos and scars.

“That’s a lot of scars for a cowboy.”

“I’ve been in my fair share of rodeos.”

“Touché. Do the tats mean anything?”

“They mean everything. But you’d never be able to figure it out.”

“I know. You’re an enigma. I’ve learned that by now.” She unlocks a door, revealing a basic shower. “Get cleaned up. You stink.”

When the blonde emerges from the shower—feeling much better, though she’d never admit it—there’s a fresh pair of sweatpants, underwear, and a t-shirt waiting for her. She gets changed and takes a seat on the concrete floor.

“Get up, we have places to be,” Natasha says as she enters the cell.

The blonde doesn’t budge. “Were you standing out there watching me change? That’s a bit creepy, Agent Romanoff.”

“You’re a prisoner. You’re being watched 24/7.” The woman’s smirk tells Natasha that she already knew that.

She stands and follows the agent out the cell door. “No cuffs?” The blonde asks.

“No cuffs. Don’t make me regret it.”

The woman chooses to remain silent, following Natasha through the maze of white hallways. They arrive at a conference room, a familiar man inside.

“Eyepatch! Nice to see you again.”

“Cowboy. Wish I could say the same.”

“Why did you drag me out of the comfort of my cell?”

“Well, glad to know you’ve settled in nicely. We’re done with these games, cowboy. We’re gonna sit down and talk like adults.” He gestures to a seat across from him and the woman takes it, showing no signs of nervousness.

“How may I be of assistance to you, Director Nick Fury?”

“You are very good. I will give you that. But I am better, Hallyn Chase.” He tries to shock her with the knowledge of her name, just as she’s done to them.

Hallyn remains stoic for several seconds before bursting into laughter. “That’s it? Seriously? I’ve been here for two weeks and all you’ve got is my name? That’s cute.”

“Your name is all I needed. Now we can have an actual, civil conversation. So tell me, Hallyn, why were you at the facility?”

Hallyn sighs, shaking her head with a click of the tongue. “I needed information. A friend of mine went MIA a while back. Just trying to find him.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Well, yes, he’s not an animal,” she states obviously.

“You’re not gonna tell me his name, are you?”

“No, no I am not, Eyepatch.”

“Well I appreciate the honesty. Moving on. You’re very skilled. What’s your background?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t you?”

“You know I can’t. And I won’t.”

“I gotta say, my first impression of you was military. But there’s no record of you. So special ops maybe? CIA even?” He asks the question even though he’s already fairly certain of the answer. He slides a picture across the table to her. Three MARSOC uniforms stand side by side, weapons in hand. Every face and name is blurred out. Hallyn merely raises a brow. “That’s you in the middle, is it not?”

“At one point that was me. Not anymore.”

“That’s what I thought. So you enlist in the marines, go into special forces, and kick ass. You get promoted to a team that’s so secretive, even I don’t know the name. Maybe you still work for them, maybe you’ve gone rogue. I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do wanna know is if you are a threat to me and my organization.”

“Nick Fury, the only threat to your organization is the one that’s already penetrated it.”

His eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know. I think you’ve suspected it for a while but didn’t want to believe it. But Steve Rogers cut off one head. Another one was bound to grow back.” His one good eye goes wide as Hallyn leans back in her seat. “May I go home now?”

“Does someone like you have a home?” Romanoff asks.

“No,” she answers honestly.

“You can stay here for the time being. Under close surveillance. Play this smart, and you just might find that I can be a useful ally.”

“I don’t need an ally.”

“Maybe not. But I guess we’ll see.” He nods at Romanoff and she grabs Hallyn’s arm, signaling her to stand. Hallyn gives Fury a nod before following the redhead.

Natasha leads Hallyn to a different floor in silence. They end up in a basic bedroom with a small attached bathroom. The walls and bedspread are white, much like a hotel.

“This will be your room for the time being. There are cameras in the bedroom and directly outside the door. None in the bathroom, don’t worry. You will be heavily monitored, but behave yourself and you just might earn a bit of leeway.”

“Really? That’s it? You guys snatch me up, beat the shit out of me, lock me in a cell, and then give me a bedroom and freedom?”

“Yes. Because for some reason, Directory Fury seems to trust you. Frankly I’m not sure what he sees.”

“Me neither. But I will not betray you, Agent Romanoff. You are not my mission.”

“What is your mission?”

“I’m not quite sure anymore.”

She hesitates for a moment. “What happened to you?”

“That’s a conversation for another day.” Hallyn answers vaguely.

Series Masterlist

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 32: Sisters and Secrets

This post is dedicated to something that I am more than obsessed with in anything I write: realistic sibling relationships. Yes, siblings can be the bane of your existence during childhood and may still be so when you're an adult.

But it's equally likely that your sibling will be your partner in crime. So if you see shades of Sophia and Tyche in this, know that's because of my own relationship with my youngest sibling.

As always, co-written with the incredible @baelpenrose. Extra shoutout to @lavcircuts who may not realize it but reminded me today is Friday and that means I need to post!

I really hope you get it

And don’t live to regret it…

I hope you’re happy in the end.

I hope you’re happy, my friend” - Wicked, Glinda and Elphaba, “Defying Gravity”

Lash

Once Baba and Mama were asleep for a while, I took advantage and asked Mori to walk to the store with me.  While we were both aware that she had filled the freezer as much as possible with meals, there was an oppressive sort of silence that filled the apartment now that Lucas and the boys were back in Puyallup.  She gladly took up my offer, left notes with our parents, and practically shoved me out into the setting sunlight.

“This way,” I reminded her once we hit the bottom of the stairs. Years of habit told our feet to turn towards Uncle’s shop, but… “There is a market this way with Turkish coffee.”

Forcing herself to be cheerful, she clucked her tongue. “Not as good, but better than American.” 

Her imitation of Baba’s frequent words made a hard stone in my chest.  I reminded myself that Baba was still with us and blinked the tingling from my eyes. “I bet you can’t wait to get home,” I teased, gently bumping her shoulder with mine.

She shoved back with her hips. “I had to beg Lucas to take away the computer when I was looking at properties nearby,” she confessed.  When I gaped at her, she tugged my hair with a grin. “Who is going to cook until Mama is well?”

“Clearly you are,” I announced, thinking on all the food she had made ahead.  “And I know Fatima is waiting until you are home to come visit.  She told me so when I went to check on the girls last wee - Wait.” I stopped in my tracks and pulled Mori’s hand. “You are sending Fatima to check on us??”

Mori smoothed my hair and patted my hand, the way Mama did sometimes. “Fatima needs someone to fuss over, and Mama and Baba need fussing.  Mama won’t hurt for having little girls in the house after my boys, either.”

I groaned in mock-agony. “Again, you outmaneuver me!”  Coming to my senses, I squeezed her hand seriously, stroking her arm. “Thank you. I don’t think I could take care of them both without help, and you always know what to do.”

She tugged me to keep walking, well aware that we didn’t need to go to the store and were just getting out of the house for a talk. “So. Tell me about Nils.  Not what you told me at the hospital, I want the truth.”

There was a small bubble of hesitation, but it was immediately pushed down by a thousand memories of Mori and I chattering away into the night about things Mama and Baba would never understand. “I met him after a funeral,” I told her. “His best friend.  He picked a fight with some people he shouldn’t have, and thought I was going to jump from my bridge.”

Mori clucked again. “You and that bridge. Mama always hated it, but Baba talked her down.”

I grinned, letting a stray breeze hit my face. “Brayden had just screwed me over again, and this time he’d taken the money with him - “

“I never liked Brayden.” She’s never even met Brayden.

I pushed on. “Nils has a way with computers, and he got my money back - “

“And Brayden’s…”

“Am I telling this story, or are you?” I scolded. “Anyway, we decided to work together on some… less than legal things that would help people who had been screwed over.” I bit my lip, hesitant to be more specific.  “Beyond that, he lives on his own in a not-yet-gentrified apartment block, helps the homeless by letting them stay in a building I think he owns, and goes to college. Great relationship with his mom, but - you met his dad.”

“You never did let unfair laws stop you from doing the right thing,” Mori sighed. “And yeah, I would be telling you to run for the hills if he had a good relationship with Doctor Iceblock Godcomplex. I am going to assume the ‘less than legal things’ have to do with Baba’s car suddenly being paid off, and beg you not to confirm that. I already had one interview with the FBI, and I…”  She stopped in her tracks and trailed off, staring in the distance.  I let her sit in silence for a couple minutes until she slowly turned her head toward me and grabbed both my forearms. “Lash,” she hissed. “That wasn’t about the fire at all, was it?”

“I don’t think so,” I answered, slowly but truthfully. “Nils and I had nothing to do with the fire other than being there when it happened,” I swore. “I would never put anyone who was there at risk. Me, yes. Nils, if he was willing - which he probably would be. But our parents? Uncle? Imran?” I scowled and shook my head.  “We really were there to get coffee after a date.”

My sister pressed her fingertips between her eyebrows until the nail beds turned white. “Baba’s car, that was you and Nils?”

“Yes.”

“The men who were shot at the bank?”

“Were volunteers, and we did not ask, tell, or imply that they should pull guns on the police.”

Her fingertips migrated to massage her forehead. “Are Mama and Baba in danger?”

“Not if I can help it, no. I didn’t even want them at the cafe, although it had nothing to do with the rest.”

“Nosy, nosy aunties,” she exhaled, opening her eyes. “I swear, they should be studied as a force of the universe. Quantum mechanics probably hinges on nosy aunties.” Mori dragged me by my arm again, walking briskly for several minutes until we found a bench. Rather than sitting, she had us cross the street. “So the attack, that was real and you didn’t cause it.”

I swore viciously until she pulled me to a stop and levelled a glare that told me to wrap it up. “No, that was something separate that has been escalating despite several police reports,” I promised.

“So, I haven’t lied to a fed, that is nice,” she answered breezily. “Is Nils your boyfriend, or is that a cover?”  My face flushed with heat, and she started laughing. “Ooooo, more than a boyfriend, I see!  So you haven’t been crashing on someone’s couch all those nights you didn’t come home!”

“I will have you know, I did sleep on a couch,” I argued, indignant. “His bed is rock hard, Mori! It’s the worst!”

Her peals of laughter let me know that all was accepted and forgiven. “And the couch is better?”

“Like a marshmallow,” I shook my head. “It’s amazing.”

We walked for another block, elbowing each other in silence and erupting into giggles.  It was when we had stopped in front of a chocolate shop that Mori leaned over to ask the hard question. “How much trouble?”

‘Are you in’ went unsaid. I shrugged and carefully chose my words - for the people walking past, not for my sister. “The FBI haven’t asked directly about anything but the fire, and I didn’t lie to the agent,” I answered truthfully. “But we’re pretty sure that she’s here for more than just a fire.  I had nothing to do with the deaths of those guys connected to the fire.” Slight fib, but technically true from a legal standpoint. “Nils and I are… trying to make things better for people who have been getting the shit end of it all.  I don’t know how far that is going to go, yet, but I needed to make sure that if something happens, someone can tell Mama and Baba.”

My ear stung like fire when she flicked it with one long nail. “You are asking me to tell our parents if you are dead,” she hissed. “That isn’t fair.”

“I’m asking you to tell them if I’m arrested,” I clarified, managing to get my hand up in time that the next thump hit a knuckle. “I know it isn’t fair, but it’s even less fair to let them think I am a missing person if someone is able to let them know I am arrested or dead.”

“And why can your Nils not tell them?”

I raised an eyebrow and glared at her in my best ‘don’t be stupid’ glare.

She relented and held up her hands. “Okay, yeah, even I can tell he would be right there in it with you.  That’s at least somewhat fair.”  She placed one hand on my upper arm and rubbed it briskly. “Just… try to make it as long as possible before I have to make good on that promise?”

“Without a doubt,” I answered, shaking my head.  “Although…” She glared at me and I gave up the joke. “I met Nils’ parents the other night, and his mom wants to do a ladies’ day before you head home. You, Mama, me, and Ms. Katherine Andover.”

“Yay….” Mori cheered with zero enthusiasm. “Rich white lady day…”

I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, oh no. We pick the restaurant, and she’ll pay. I only ask that it isn’t the Ethiopian place, because apparently she eats there often.”

“Are you serious? She’ll pay?”

I nodded. “I can confirm, she is very adventurous with new foods, and the only thing that kept her from eating with her hands was that she didn’t know it was not just permitted but encouraged.”

“Crap,” Mori swore. “Now I don’t know if I want to try an expensive place, or if I want to watch the rich lady eat cheap ethnic food…”

I squeezed Mori’s arm with laughter. “Oh my god, I know, right?”

[hotchs-bitch]

Hiiii, hope you're doing good today 🤠 could i get a blurb from the Well Respected universe with Hotch and reader from before they got together 🥺 maybe her first day on the job or something, idk I'm feeling fluffy lmao

Hiiiiii <33 you absolutely can!!! I hope you’re having an amazing day. Also if I ever write a prequel chapter you have to pinky promise to pretend this doesn’t exist bc continuity errors give me a headache <3

Ps I do not think this is fluffy enough and I’m so sorry😭 pre relationship makes me so nervous to write fluff for cause I don’t want them to be TOO familiar yk

“Sir? The new agent is here to see you!” Garcia chirps from the doorway, and Hotch glances up from his paperwork without lifting her head. “I like her. She’s very… well, you’ll see!”

She flits away without a word, leaving Hotch only slightly nervous as to what she means. Her presence in the doorway is replaced by a shadow a second later, and then he sees you.

It’s a good thing that Hotch’s unwavering professionalism is one of his strong suits. Otherwise, god only knows what sort of embarrassing reaction he would have the first time he sees your smile. He blinks once, twice, snaps himself out of the haze he didn’t realize he had fallen into while you stick out your hand.

“Agent Hotchner, it’s nice to meet you. I’m here for orientation,” you say, and your eyes are so wide, your face is so eager, and Hotch is just grateful that your profiling skills aren’t as developed as his own. Yet.

He shakes your hand as he stands up from his desk, and nods when you introduce yourself. He commits both name and pronunciation to memory, then rounds the desk. “Let me show you around,” he offers, and when you nod he starts towards the open door.

“This is a really nice office,” you tell him, and he can’t tell if you’re trying to fill the silence or if you genuinely think that. “It’s an honour to work with you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Hotch hums, a short noise from somewhere in his throat. “Not all bad, I hope,” he murmurs. It’s fruitless; he knows you’ve probably heard all about what an overworked asshole he is. His reputation precedes him in most circles, for better and for worse.

“Not at all,” you assure him as he leads you to the conference room. When you start to turn in the wrong direction out of his office, he guides you with a hand on your back to keep you on track while letting you speak. “Well, I mean. I’ve heard a lot.”

A wry chuckle escapes him against his better judgement. “I’m sure you have. This is the conference room; every time a new case comes in, we meet here to go over the details. Garcia is currently transitioning us away from paper files, so we should be a little more high-tech in a few months.”

“Penelope, right?” you double check and he nods in answer while you look at the TV screen, chairs, and file folders. “She seems nice. Very bubbly.”

“She’s very nice. Bubbly is a good word for it,” he answers smoothly. Something about you is bringing his guard down, and he hesitates for a moment. “You’ve heard a lot, you said. About the team?”

You shrug one shoulder and follow him out of the conference room and down the stairs to the bullpen. “Some stuff about the team. Some stuff about the leader.”

Hesitancy is written all over your face. Hotch stops walking, forcing you to stop as well. When you make eye contact with him, he raises one eyebrow. Tell me more, it seems to say.

Maybe you’re feeling ballsy because it’s your first day, or maybe something about the arch of that eyebrow makes you want to tell him anything he wants to know. “They just never told me you’d look like that,” you murmur, averting your gaze again. “What’s next?”

That’s… well, it’s not what Hotch was expecting to hear. He files that thought away for later, then puts a hand on your back to guide you towards the cluster of desks that make up the BAU. “We’re full of surprises,” he says quietly, and it doesn’t take a profiler’s eye to see the way goosebumps rise on the back of your neck when you walk in front of him. “Let me introduce you to my team.”

[ifidiedinadream]

Aleksi and olli! Babies!

Since this came us as a babies of the band mood, maybe something along the lines of them being off tour and olli sleeping over at aleksi's and maybe some not-bad but important secret one's been keeping comes out because he feels a special bond with the other baby of the band 👀

hello anon i came up with something a bit emotional hope it's okay 😅

also on ao3

The band has a photoshoot in the morning and Olli is staying at Aleksi’s.

(They don’t even talk about it anymore, the others don’t ask, they don’t suggest Olli could sleep at theirs, because he’s always with Aleksi anyway.)

They took Rilla out together, they had dinner, and now Olli isn’t talking much. Olli’s been weird for a few days, even via text before he flew over from Oulu. Aleksi won’t pressure him, but now that it’s late it’s even more evident.

He’s sitting on Aleksi’s couch, Rilla curled up on herself beside him, but not really touching him. Like she knows something’s up and she wants to give him space. In his hand is the bottle of non-alcoholic beer Aleksi offered him earlier, and he’s holding it in contemplation more than sipping on the drink, spinning the bottle and watching how much foam the movement generates inside, sometimes rotating it in his hand to read what it says on the label.

Aleksi is sitting at the table, another bottle by his laptop, and he’s answering some emails, but Olli is in his line of sight.

Somehow it’s like he always is, even when they’re 600 kilometers apart.

***

Olli is still quiet when Aleksi announces he’s calling it a night hours later; he follows him to his bedroom (although Aleksi had prepared the pullout for him in the living room) and Aleksi hears him sigh twice as he’s walking behind him.

Aleksi excuses himself to the bathroom and once he’s out, he finds Olli asleep on the side of the bed Aleksi doesn’t usually occupy. He doesn’t disturb him; it’s not that he isn’t worried, not that he doesn’t feel like their friendship (or whatever it is, at this point, really) isn’t deep enough – he simply knows Olli will speak when he’s ready and insistence will only make him close in himself like a hedgehog. It’s always been like that. Maybe that’s why Aleksi is the one Olli turns to, more often than not.

Aleksi makes sure the duvet sits comfortably on Olli’s body and then gets under it himself. Despite Rilla coming to rest between them, Olli scoots closer to Aleksi, until he’s all but hugging him. Rilla gets the memo and goes to position herself at their feet, not even protesting. The oxytocin rush changes everything in Aleksi’s body for a moment.

“Sorry I’ve been weird all day,” Olli mumbles in Aleksi’s shoulder (it’s a low, low sound, and hadn’t it been for the vibrations against his shoulder, Aleksi probably wouldn’t have caught it), “Wasn’t great company. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Aleksi wraps one of Olli’s curls around his finger. The silence is total (except for Rilla’s snores) yet Aleksi can barely hear his own voice and Olli’s, like the sounds are struggling to exist in the dark.

“Usually we have fun when we hang out. Maybe you were looking forward to it. Sorry.”

“I said it’s fine,” Aleksi reiterates, but there’s no bite in his tone. Another finger gets trapped in one of Olli’s soft curls.

“It’s just that – ” Olli starts and Aleksi tenses, not because he doesn’t want to hear it, but because he knows Olli is about to open up and he wants to be as attentive as he can; despite the tiredness, despite the dark suppressing their voices. “Schedule’s been hectic, I’ve been as tense as a violin’s string and I –”

Aleksi presses Olli’s head closer to his chest. The words will sound muffled and even harder to understand but Olli has to know Aleksi is there.

“- and I’ve been getting panic attacks. It’s – it’s a new thing for me. I’ve never suffered from them before.”

Olli buries himself further into Aleksi’s body, like he’s trying to hide inside him, but Aleksi pulls away, intent on looking him in the eyes – despite the dark, despite the difficulties. Something reflects light in Olli’s eyes and it’s probably because they’re wet.

“Who knows about this?” Aleksi asks. Olli shakes his head.

“Only you.”

Aleksi does what he always does: he flashes Olli a smile, one he probably can’t see because of the dark, and hopes the softness he feels inside somehow reflects in his expression. Olli’s veiled eyes grow bigger, like he’s ready to cry, to finally explode after heaven knows how long that he’s been keeping it inside; Aleksi says what he always says, hoping the oppressive darkness doesn’t drown out the sincerity of his words, of all things.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Olli tenses up and his breathing comes out broken. Aleksi takes him back in his arms, holds him tightly, and suddenly the darkness doesn’t seem to weigh as much. Olli isn’t letting loose of his emotions completely, Aleksi can tell (he’s trying to keep silent, his body is stiff), but he fully trusts him and Aleksi wants to be worthy of it.

“For now, how can I help?”

“I don’t know.” Olli’s voice is feeble and his tears are wetting Aleksi’s collarbone. “I just… I need you to be there. I don’t like sleeping alone. Be with me at night. Nighttime is the worst.”

Aleksi’s heart grows heavy with the fact that they live in two different cities. “I’ll tell Tommi to check in on you when –”

“No,” Olli interrupts, his hands grabbing tightly at Aleksi’s t-shirt, “Tommi isn’t you.”

Aleksi exhales and somehow it helps him relax. “I’ll text you. Call you? We can facetime.”

Olli nods in Aleksi’s chest, and new tears wet the hairs under Aleksi’s neck.

“Only if you don’t mind. Only until this shit ends.”

Aleksi snorts. “As if I could ever mind spending time with you.”

Aleksi bites his lips together. The sentence sounded wrong, out of place, even if it was exactly what he meant – exactly what he’s wanted to shout from the top of his lungs for what felt like an eternity.

“I mean, as if helping you could ever be a bother to me. I care about you, you know?”

“I know. I just don’t wanna feel like I’m a burden to the most important person in my life.”

Aleksi’s heartbeat picks up; now it’s not the time, it’s most definitely out of place, but he can’t help it. He holds Olli tighter in an attempt to calm both his friend’s emotions and his own, and maybe it works with Olli’s, but his heart only gets wilder.

“You’re never a burden to me. I want this. I wanna help you.”

“Thank you.” Olli’s body is pressed so close to Aleksi’s that he can feel his sniffles from the inside, and they break his heart, but at least now he’s no longer alone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” In more ways than I care to admit. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure everything out.”

[hongtiddiez]

i Need to Know about wip 6 👁️👁️

ask me about my wips 🌸

oh man so i shared some of this like two months ago but i've kind of expanded on it, so if you've read this before SORRY.

basically Gumpa and Techit (Not Me) were friends in their 20s that ran in a very similar crew as the boys currently do. they had a mostly casual fwb relationship, some feelings involved but nothing they ever admitted to. one day Techit took off and the next thing Gumpa heard he had begun working for Tawi of all people.

hurt and confused he tried reaching out but was never successful, it was like Techit had never existed in their lives. the huge blow eventually lead to their group falling apart and Gumpa isolated himself in his garage (until he met Black and the rest of the crew.)

Techit only took the job with Tawi because Tawi had incentivized him by offering to pay his sister's medical bills and provide treatment for her. sadly, the treatment didn't work and she passed away, leaving Techit still indebted to Tawi - though he'd never admit any of this, his pride is too strong.

somehow, Gumpa and Techit cross paths again, old passions flare up, and Gumpa decides he's allowed to make a terrible decision for just one night.

“We aren’t that different, Gumpa.”

“Except I didn’t become a corporate shill.” Gumpa is straddling him, sneering down at him, but it doesn’t seem to deter Techit from wanting him.

“Shut the fuck up Gumpa, we can’t all be content to live in a shitty rundown garage. To be forgotten.” Techit rolls his hips up against him and Gumpa suppresses a snarl at both the sensation and the memory.

“At least I’m free and not leashed like a dog. I’m surprised they let you out to play.” Techit surges up and presses his lips to Gumpa’s, anything to silence his judgement. He grips his hips tight and he knows it'll leave bruises tomorrow. Good. Something to remember him by.

Techit pulls away but Gumpa catches his lip between his teeth, biting until he can taste copper on his tongue. He barely hears Techit swear before he’s flipping them over and pinning his arms with his thighs. A drop of blood drips down onto Gumpa’s cheek as Techit wraps one hand around his throat - just the slightest of pressure, a warning, a threat, and a promise.

“You’re a junkyard dog and that’s all you’ll ever be! You have this stupid fucking moral superiority complex, well news flash Gumpa, not everyone adheres to your bullshit code, not everyone is content to fight for fucking scraps. Who the fuck are you to judge me?”

“We used to be fucking friends, Techit! We used to be more than that!”

“Used to! You don’t fucking know me anymore and you don’t get to judge me.” And it was true. Gumpa had no idea who his former lover had become. They’d fallen asleep tangled together one night and he'd woken up to a stranger.

[gregorygerwitz]

The Platt Gerwitz Siblings

“You’d better behave while we have that girl in the house.” “Why do I have to live with some little sister I’ve never met, exactly?” “Because your father decided to screw around and make her.” “Then why am I the one being punished?” “Gregory, you are not being punished for your father’s behavior.” “Really? Because it feels like I am.” “It’s only for a few months until the media finds something else to focus on. I’m sure she’ll be out of our hair again by the start of the school year.”

When the whispers began around the city about Gregory Gerwitz III and his affairs, enough people dug a little deeper than the surface. Within days, the articles and blog posts were everywhere, sharing theories with plenty of evidence that there was more than one child in the Gerwitz bloodline. In a desperate attempt to save his reputation and his marriage, Gregory made the decision to bring one of those children into his home, offered a nice house, paid for an expensive education, and that was enough for his lawyers to negotiate for full custody of a daughter.

The girl, Kimberly, was the perfect addition to the household. She was a few months away from starting high school, one signed check away from being accepted into her first year at one of the best prep schools in the city, the perfect age to be taught everything she might need to know for her future, and now every family picture would have every key component - father, mother, son, daughter. She was the perfect solution to all of his problems, and he hardly had to do anything at all - just sign a couple checks, and the paperwork that would legally change her last name to Gerwitz, and one of the extra rooms could easily be converted into any teenage girl’s dream bedroom.

The thing was, Kim didn’t want to be a Gerwitz. She didn’t want to go to an expensive private school with a uniform. She didn’t want to move into the big house. All it held was a father she didn’t even know, a step mother who ignored her existence, and a half brother who would rather scowl at her than actually give her a ride school. It was miserable, and isolating, and she spent all of her free time hidden away in her bedroom with headphones and school books. If she could make it through the next four years until she was a legal adult, she could take the money in whatever bank account her father had set up for her and get out, as far away as she could.

At least, that was her attitude through the summer and the first months of the school year. Then, things started to change.

“Look, Kimberly, I-” “I know you don’t like me, Greg. You don’t have to explain it all to me.” “What? No, I wanted to say... I know my mother can be a lot. She has a lot of high expectations, and a plan for everything. And if anyone deviates from her plan...” “Like her husband moving his child into her home? That’s a pretty big deviation.” “Yeah. Like that. It’s nothing against you, personally, I’m sure.” “Right...” “Do you want to do something today? I have to stay late for practice, but after that?” “What, exactly, would we be doing?” “I don’t know. I didn’t think this far ahead.” “Fine. But your mother will kill us if we’re late for dinner.” “Oh, believe me, I know.”

By the time the first snow of the season started to fall, there was a new energy in the house. Instead of scowling, Greg smirked across the dinner table when certain comments were made. The morning drives to school weren’t spent in silence anymore. Once a week, after they were let out of school and he was done with his fencing coach, they took the long way back to the house and stopped for ice cream. It probably ruined their appetites for dinner, but they both preferred to spend an extra hour together than sit in a quiet house for all that time.

They were pretending less, when it came to family photos, and Greg knew the best hiding spots at the winter charity gala so they didn’t have to mingle and make small talk. He even wove through the crowd so smoothly that he could swipe two glasses of champagne from a passing tray without anyone batting an eye. For the first time, in a dim back office with a little too much alcohol, they were free. There was no family pressure when no one could see them, and there was nothing to do but talk, especially when the champagne ran out and neither of them wanted to risk sneaking out to get more.

Tipsy discussions just happened to lead to secrets and confessions, and a stronger bond than any member of the family could have foreseen.

“Wanna know something else? I think you disrupt my mother’s plans less than I do.” “I doubt it. You’re perfect, and she hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you. She hates what you represent. And I only pretend to be perfect.” “You have a perfect GPA, you spend weekends with homeless animals, and you won all of your matches last year.” “Yeah, I’m perfect, for now. After I graduate next year...” “You’ll be perfect at college?” “She wants me to get a business degree here in Chicago and have an equally perfect girlfriend where all the cameras can see.” “So? You get to take over the family business and have a perfect wife and perfect kids.” “What if... what if I don’t want that? What if I want to go to MIT and have a boyfriend, instead?” “Oh...” “Yeah...” “...welcome to the disappointments, Greg.”

They probably should have known from the very beginning - those first four years weren’t an obstacle to everything she wanted. They were the easy part.

[kcyars99]

Reminder :

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I know that I said this before over a billion times but I’ll just say it again since this has been a year since the trial I want y’all(yes every single last one of you, heck even the aliens if they exist among us) to realize Tory had the opportunity to take a plea deal and serve no time. Megan lied to police to protect Tory immediately after he shot her, he slandered her in the blogs and so she decided to tell the truth to law enforcement.

The courts offered a plea deal, Tory threw it back in their face and dragged this out for years to keep the lie going and burned up his own money on legal fees and taxpayer dollars on a trial.

The courts gave bail, Tory used that time to torment and harass Megan which only hurt his case and was a key factor in his heavy sentencing when the day came.

At every single turn the goodwill of the universe/God offered this man an opportunity to save himself — and he laughed at it and sabotaged it. He could have owned up to his actions.

INSTEAD, he was so arrogant in the process bc he thought painting Megan as a liar on social media would hold up on trial. It backfired in the worst way possible.

He tormented her for three years and all that did in the end was made him look like a complete and total sociopath and narcissist who deserved every single day of those ten years in prison.

If you don’t believe that words matter and they don’t hurt then remember that his own words are the reason why he’s where he is and deserves to be

Words can hurt more than any weapon could and I don’t want to hear anything about words not mattering nor sticks and stones may break bones but words will never hurt me again

And because of things like this 👇I also don’t want to hear anything about women being too emotional while these men are being violent for no good reason ever again.

*Meg cut him deep wit that “The only reason why your popular at the moment is because you are in a feature with Jack Harlow “comment and he with his violent tendencies and toxic masculinity couldn’t take it.(Ironically enough because of you hoteps and pick mes in the black community slutting out being such hoaux for an abuser to dehumanize a black woman I might as well be falling for someone like jack Harlow anyways. More ironically them black bastards being so slutty towards an abuser that deserves the old fashioned death penalty is why he got ten years in prison so thanks for making him potential targets for shankings you hellbound heathens!)

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And don’t forget about this too. Who does he think he is, a male Karen? Getting all loud, belligerent , violent and acting outraged over the smallest things? Next I supposed he’ll be wearing a short bob demanding to speak to the manager

ALT

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Clearly this man a menace to society and America. If he can’t handle someone not shaking his hand or someone criticizing his music without resorting to violence, then he shouldn’t be among us

Canada, in ten years from now when he is deported back to his home country, you’ll need to stay out of his way because apparently he is a violent psychopath and/or sociopath and when there’s people like him amongst us then something has got to give

He could be the neighborhood grocer, he could be the next-door neighbor, heck he could be the Gardener . Who knows?

Just don’t let him become a politician, your friend, your husband, your boyfriend, or any member of a social Circle of yours

but seriously all of this could’ve been avoided

I mean...it was RIGHT there

Like doesn’t America already have a gun violence problem .

The last thing we need is some second rate musician shooting at someone because of something unreasonable and something that’s not worth shooting at someone for

Thanks for proving why silence is golden, we need gun control, and why if we were Megan we’d be choosing a group of these over him any day and twice on Sunday

[quietwingsinthesky]

if i ever end up writing even’s actual first encounter and adventure with the doctor, one of the running themes is going to be how there aren’t any windows on the ship.

which doesn’t seem like such a big thing at first, but that’s from our point of view, or the doctor’s, because we (and him) know the size of the universe. we know what space is, maybe not entirely, but enough to know the shape of it, yeah? we know what stars look like even when their light is a trillion years and miles away. but there are no windows on this ship. and even has never seen the night sky, has never seen a star or a planet or just the empty space that’s separated from them by feet of metal and a great deal of luck. even has lived their whole life inside, and space is not a thing they can see or touch. it’s an abstract threat beyond their walls. they could not imagine the enormity of it if they tried.

they don’t know the shape of the ship either. imagine someone let you run through a maze and then told you to draw it. you could draw the corridors you walked through and the dead-ends you ran into, but could you for certain say that you ever found the edges of it? that know the walls on the outside look like the walls on the inside? how big is it? and really, what you should be imagining is that your maze is one of a dozen different mazes all tied together with rubber bands, and none of you actually know what the whole thing looks like, and you don’t have time to talk through the walls to figure that out because if you stop moving for too long, the food dispenser at the end won’t give you anything despite reaching your goal because you were too slow, better try harder next time, stop talking and start running.

even isn’t surprised that the tardis is bigger on the inside. it doesn’t hit them until the doctor lets them see the ship they were on from the outside. like a farewell wave, opening the doors of the tardis as she orbits the ship, and even takes in the shape of it first. (they can’t figure out where they lived, where they worked, from the outside. they don’t recognize any of it.)

but then they see everything else, beyond the ship, while the doctor is standing behind them and saying something reassuring, ‘they’ll be alright without you, don’t worry about them, we fixed everything’, absently, kindly, because he knows they need a moment alone to say goodbye but someone has to stand at the controls and the silence gets to him a little too much. doesn’t see that even’s eyes are so, so wide staring beyond the ship at the universe around it.

it’s too big. they panic. they shut themselves inside the tardis.

that’s what gives the doctor pause. makes him waver, here, because even’s good companion material, they’ve got that spark in them that makes them want to help, whatever it takes, (this is what will undo them, eventually.) and he doesn’t want to leave them there. but you can’t just take something out of its natural habitat and expect it to flourish. that’s how you get wilting leaves and patchy coats and enough stress to kill something from heartbreak alone.

‘i can take you back,’ he offers. it’s the last time that’ll ever be true, but if he knew that when he said it, it’d be a very different kind of story. so he doesn’t.

even is shaking. tearing up. scared. elated? hiccuping on little gasps of air. the stars are beautiful, and terrifying, and now that even knows they exist, they can never go back to before they knew.

the doctor is cruel like that. he wants to show you the universe.

but here’s what’s true now and will be true forever: even doesn’t want to go back. i mean, god, could you blame them. one day, in a few years/decades/centuries/after the long way round to the end of the universe and the short trip back, he’s going to tell them that they can either say to his face that they’d rather he’d left them on that ship or they can stop adding it to his list of sins. they won’t be able to.

so they say no.

and they pull the doors back open just a crack, wide enough for one eye, small enough to shut again with the tremble of a hand. and they peek back out at the universe they’ve been living in. they don’t notice the ship, as the tardis breaks her orbit, speeding further and further away to a destination its passengers will never see.

that’s why there are no windows on the ship. well, that, and it wasn’t very well-designed in the first place.

[angeltreasure]

Hi! Its Cecilia here, hope you're well! So weird thing happened during the Mass I went to tonight. It was the Sacred Heart mass tonight, and as I was in the choir loft kneeling during the Transsubstanciation (can't spell) I was prompted by a little voice inside myself that said since I care for the souls of the dead so much I should make a litany for the dead. I agreed to give it a try, feeling that similar tug that I feel when I think about religious life. However, I haven't the slightest clue how to create a litany, do you know about litanies or resources or should I just keep trying on my own to make something? A little confused but I want to do what God would ask of me. Hugs from where I'm at and happy month of the Sacred Heart! ❤️

Good Evening Cecilia!,

I am going well, thank you! It’s always good to hear from you.

Wow!! That’s amazing. You know I really think Jesus was speaking to your heart. That’s a powerful devotion if we can find it, because Purgatory is real. (If you want an excellent Catholic course on Purgatory here you go.) Let me see what I can find specifically for praying to the dead. I don’t know if you knew this already or not but praying for the dead is actually one of the works of spiritual works mercy in our faith AND souls in Purgatory cannot pray for themselves they rely on us to pray for them.

Now then…here some inspiration. I suggest buying a journal and writing these prayers down. First I’ll provide you with some prayers I know.

There is a prayer made by St. Gertrude according to tradition which can greatly ease the sufferings of souls in Purgatory.

Prayer of St. Gertrude

Eternal Father, I offer Thee the Most Precious Blood of Thy Divine Son, Jesus, in union with the masses said throughout the world today, for all the holy souls in purgatory, for sinners everywhere, for sinners in the universal church, those in my own home and within my family. Amen.

Prayer for the Deceased:

Remember, Lord, those who have died and gone before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those for whom we now pray. May these and all who sleep in Christ find in your presence light, happiness and peace. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Prayer for the Poor Souls in Purgatory:

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord. And let the perpetual light shine upon them. And may the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Fatima Prayer:

(you can say this by itself and part of your Rosary)

O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, and lead all souls to heaven, especially those most in need of Thy mercy.

Anima Christi by St. Ignatius of Loyola:

Soul of Christ, sanctify me. Body of Christ, save me. Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Water from the side of Christ, wash me. Passion of Christ, strengthen me. O good Jesus, hear me. Within Thy wounds hide me. Separated from Thee let me never be. From the malignant enemy, defend me. At the hour of death, call me. And close to Thee bid me. That with Thy saints I may be Praising Thee, forever and ever. Amen.

Prayer of Sr Maria Consolata Betrone, a Poor Clare Capuchin:

(She is amazing. Read more here.)

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I love you please save souls!

Divine Mercy Chaplet:

(This can be prayed for the living, those about to die, and of course, ones in Purgatory…many miracles have happened through this Chaplet. Download the Relevant Radio app to hear livestreams and so much more.)

These Marian priests livestream the Chaplet daily. It’s how I learned it.

And nowww

Yes a Litany DOES exist!!!

I read this exact copy.

If you can’t afford to buy it now click here to read it.

…….

Lastly, yes you can also make your prayer too. I would first do as Jesus said. Go to your room to pray in secret. Make time for it. I would open a new page of your journal and pray to God about this. Ask Jesus to have the Holy Spirit give you inspiration to make a new prayer. Write down what you hear the Holy Spirit speaks in the silence of your heart. And yes it’s totally ok to borrow from other prayers to add to your own. I’m sure Jesus will love it. As you make it, share it with Jesus.

If you feel comfortable enough in the future, share it with others. We can save many souls.

What a wonderful thing! May God bless you.

[rphelperblog]

A Curse So Dark and Lonely Book Quote Rp Meme

feel free to edit quotes or change pronouns for rp purposes

“I am always surprised to discover that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.”

“We are all dealt a hand at birth. A good hand can ultimately lose - just as a poor hand can win - but we must all play the cards the fate deals. The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.”

“Failure isn’t absolute, just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you didn’t save anyone.”

“The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.”

“Not all scars can be seen.”

“Words spoken in the dark in the middle of the night always feel so much heavier than they would at any other time.”

“it is possible to be strong and yielding at the same time.”

“I don’t understand how she can fill me with such hope and fear simultaneously .”

“I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I’m kind of done with prideful men”

“It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that came before.”

“Never offer blindly, my lady. Not for your family. Not even for yourself.”

“You are merciful and kind. But kindness and mercy always find their limit, beyond which they turn to weakness and fear.”

“She’s not the type to swoon for pretty lies.”

“You have an unusual definition of luck.“

"Spoken like someone who lives in a castle with an endless supply of food and wine, but calls himself cursed.”

“Our relationship seems to tick forward like the hands of a clock, always changing in relation to each other.”

“I’m not sure precisely what has changed between us, whether it’s trust or respect or simply the ability to see each other in a different light.”

“I was born this way and I’m going to die this way, so teach me to work around it.”

“When I was young and I’d wake with nightmares, my mother always used to say, All you have to do is think of me, and I’ll appear in your dreams. I’ll help you chase the nightmares away.”

“Fury and fascination wage war in my thoughts.” ‘

“While your weakness may be a disadvantage in some ways, it is an advantage in others. One I think you could use to your benefit.”

“There was something about knowing how long you have to suffer that was better than just waiting.”

“If I put a crystal goblet in this one’s hand, she’d likely smash it and use the shards to cut me.”

“Just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you didn’t save anyone.”

“No one stops me.

Then again, I don’t ask for permission”

“He has this uncanny ability to make his words a veiled threat and a whispered promise at the same time.”

“Whoa. I have no idea what I expected him to do, but that’s even better.”

“Right now, in this moment, I would grant her my kingdom if she asked.”

“I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I’m kind of done with prideful men.”

“I’ll take anything over days of silence.”

“i’m mad that I miss.”

“I had no time to say goodbye. But she knew I loved her. I knew she loved me. It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that come before.”

“She trusts me. I trust her. This feels more monumental than love. More precious. More earned. I keep my hands to myself.”

“I do not understand how he can speak of my failures as if they are victories.”

“discover that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.”

“I double over and barely have time to react before she’s swinging for my head.”

“Then we step out of the snow, into cursed warmth and dappled sunlight.”

“For a heartbeat of time, the world seems to shift, like I’m a breath away from figuring all this out. I want him to wait, to hold right there, to just give me one more second.”

“I’m used to loneliness. Despair. Sorrow. Disappointment. I’m not used to fear, at least not this kind. I have never met someone to reckless.”

“my family would anchor me here, that I was obligated to play a role in their drama. I don’t think I ever realized that I’m not trapped by their choices, any more than they’re trapped by mine.”

“In my head, I expected to feel fierce and lethal.

In reality, I can barely get a knife to stick in the ground.”

“Fate is surely playing a trick on me. Fury and fascination wage war in my thoughts.

Fury that armed men are terrorizing my people.

Fascination that this reckless, maddening girl stood up to them.”

“It’s not until later, when we reach the inn, that I realize she never let go of me, despite her sharp words.”

“I’m confident in my strengths, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about my weaknesses.”

“I often find comfort in the thought that fate has already drawn a path beyond what seems impossible.”

“Knowledge should not be greeted with scorn.”

“Scars mean you survived something terrible.”

“not every interaction is a challenge that I must win.”

“I forget that the world can narrow down to two people, a moment of vulnerability and trust. To a moment of love that seems to outshine the rest.”