#him identifying it was something important to her and grounding her…yeah

[senorscotty]

there's so much to expand on wrt helena's day job being a public school teacher and the role adding this tenderness to a character whose seeming roughness gets read as uncontrollably violent (a convo for another day). the huntress to helena is fueled with so much inner strife, part of it is putting a tangible mask on something she was doing throughout her teenage and young adulthood, going from protecting herself to protecting the vulnerable. her choosing to be a teacher further roots her in the community that she aims to protect and allows her to become the helping hand she needed as a kid. her being a teacher makes her character so much more compelling, marking her compassion and desire to be there for children esp., as a trait that exists beyond the mask. (imo this also allows a deg. of character development with what the mask is to helena; moving between a means of revenge, idealization of her strengths, to a tool to be there for when blood cries) although bat editorial has never fully understood her (some of that misunderstanding is played up solely to rehash conflict between her and the other bats), there is something about the lack of “screentime” helena’s day job gets and desire to have these figures protecting gotham but no desire to tell the stories of the people/communities that make up gotham.

[luveline]

Hi id love to send u a request but I just can't match your genius mind, id looooveee more zombie!au Steve!!! 🥺🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻 maybe smth about r or Steve almost being bitten by a geek?

hi!! thank you angel!! zombie au steve x fem!reader, 3k

"Sneaking around with your boyfriend would've been considered sort of scandalous a few years ago," you think aloud, eyes skipping over medication labels slowly. "Now it's the norm."

"We are the opposite of scandalous," Steve says. 

You push pill bottles aside to meet his eyes through the gap in the shelves. He narrows his gaze. "You know how you saw me naked, like, a week after we met?" 

Steve's glare turns playfully salacious. "Yeah?" 

"Did that make it less, uh, important? Not important. Was it less intimate for you when I was naked on purpose?" 

Steve returns his eyes to the pill bottles. "No." 

"Is that weird for me to ask you?" 

"No, that's not weird, why would that be weird?" He looks up again. His expression softens. "Don't worry, it's not weird. It's a normal question. You're wondering if I was… desensitised." 

"Yeah, exactly. Were you desensitised?" 

Trust Steve to say something snippy and then feel bad enough afterwards to immediately backtrack. There's no need for him to feel guilty because you'd known he was joking, and if he weren't it wouldn't matter to you —you know being outside of camp makes him nervous, and tightly strung. You aren't expecting him to be all smiles, especially when you're asking peculiar questions. 

"If anything," he says, his voice a murmur that evidences shy affection, "it was way more special. I knew you back to front already, but the first time you showed me you, on purpose, it was different." 

You grin at him. "Like a look don't touch scenario where you finally get to touch?" 

"I'm trying to be sweet on you." 

"What was it like?" you ask. Your smile is audible. 

"Like fucking relief." He reaches through the shelves to squeeze your hand. "You're being slow." 

You take your hand back and return to the task. You're looking for anti-seizure medication for one of the children at camp. It's an important mission and neither of you had hesitated when Joyce asked you to go, but you can't say you enjoy being out here. Talking to Steve makes things better. Easier to cope. Talking to Steve about loving him and being loved by him could make you forget a pike through the chest. 

You move to the next shelf below. 

There aren't many drugs for epilepsy. You aren't sure the child even has epilepsy, but no one has the knowledge to identify anything else. Sarah (Robin's fast friend from camp) read in her field medic journal that a seizure can be caused by lots of things, and she also said that sometimes what looks like a seizure isn't a seizure at all. What is it, then? you'd asked. 

The page was missing. 

You're working through a mental list of four drugs methodically, scanning and rescanning the labels on the bottles in the back of a pharmacy. This is the raw stuff, the kind that sometimes needs to be ground and poured into capsules with filler, so if you do find the right meds you'll also need to find a pestle and some other equipment. It's a hassle, but it's worth it completely if it helps. 

"Clonazepam," you read. You lift your head. "Steve, that's the right one, right? Clonazepam?" 

Steve's head snaps up. "Yeah, that's the last resort one. Where's that?" 

He rounds the shelves to be on the same side as you, seemingly hoping for similar medications to be in the same place. His hand drops casually to your shoulder as he bends, reading each label with a determined brow. 

"Valproate," he says, relieved, hand closing around another bottle. "Okay, two options. Thank god." 

"Do they have the side effects on the bottle?" you ask. 

Steve turns the bottle but there's no second label.

"The side effects are usually worse than the original problem," he says, frowning, "remember those migraine pills we found, the leaflet?" That's how bored you and Steve had become at one point in your isolation, you'd started reading medical pamphlets. "I'd rather have a headache than lose my sense of smell." 

"Depends on how bad the headache is. You keep looking for the, uh, the carba-Tegre one. I'll go scout the equipment." 

"Tegretol," he corrects lightly. "Carbamazepine, brand name Tegretol." 

You're impressed by his memory. He sees that, and he lifts his hand to you. Palm your way, you can see he's written the names of the medication as you'd been advised to find by one of the camp members, a retired carer who worked bedside for a lady who suffered from epilepsy. 

"Your spelling is terrible," you say. 

"Whatever," he says flippantly. You're barely ten paces away when he adds, "I love you." 

"I love you too," you say. There's no need to call. The building, this entire town, is silent. You'll hear a geek a mile away. 

You poke at dusty equipment sceptically. You don't need filler, you don't think, but it affects absorption, maybe? You're not a pharmacist nor a chemist, whoever's watching knows you didn't have time to become much of anything, you're just doing as the retired carer advised. There's a press contraption with what feels like hundreds of caplet sized holes toward the front. You put it in your bag and lament its weight as you search for a pestle. 

"I've found the filler," Steve says. "There's a huge container of it. Lactose. And another of starch."

"Starch, like potatoes? We could put her medicine in mash potato."

"I think we just need a pestle and a weighing scale now. And some hand sanitiser." 

"I'll have the scales and the sanitiser, what about Robin's deodorant?" you ask. 

"At the front. I'll get it. You'll have another one?" 

"Please tell me they have that Carribean Crush one again, it was lovely." 

"You're lovely. I'll find it." 

The weighing scale must get its name from how ridiculously heavy it is. That along with the pestle has your bag feeling like a boulder attached to your neck. Maybe Steve will be willing to share the load with you. Actually, there's no need for maybe. If you tell him, he'll carry it with you happily. 

You scan the room for useful things. Batteries, food, things you've trained your eye to pick out of a bomb site if necessary. You pocket a pen for Steve and leave the rest where it lays, stepping out into the slightly bigger medications room before rounding a plexiglass wall to the pharmacy counter. Steve crouches down the aisleway, rejected roll-on deodorant on the floor beside him. 

You're about ten feet away from him when the geek lunges for him. 

You can't even tell it's a geek at first, it moves quickly, quietly, smooth as a living human. They've become diverse as the infection thrives, and you should've been thinking about that fact. You should've been standing at the front of the room. 

You freeze. You freeze and you waste time. 

"Steve!" you shriek. 

Steve's flat on his side, kicking with the entire force of his body. The geek actually bounces back with the force of each kick, but he's persistent, and stronger than he should be, a mottled hand on Steve's shoulder and decaying teeth snapping with a sound like cracking marble near his face. Steve tries to scramble from under the geek and its face falls down by Steve's ribs and upper arm. He yanks his arm away, and there's an odd ripping sound. 

You run so fast down the aisle to protect him that you can't slow, the entire weight of your body and the heavy bag you carry throttling the geek with a horrid slap against the glass door. It flies open and you topple out onto asphalt, sliding across the geek's body and taking the brunt of your rolling in your hands and the top of your face. Steve shouts a war cry and barrels after you. You go on knees, hands trembling and rushing as you grab for the knife in your belt. Steve lands on top of the geek and drives the blade of his pen knife straight into the crease between its brows, grunting as he goes, his breath coming too fast. 

You've clipped your head on the floor, the warmth of blood trickling down your brow. It doesn't concern you. 

What concerns you is the sizable tear in Steve's coat. 

He almost cuts you with his knife as you run at him, yanking the sleeves of his coat and jacket down. 

"What– what are you doing?" he asks. You tug at his sleeve like you've been possessed, panic a coil that won't loosen in your throat. "What–?" 

If he's been bitten, you'll have to saw his arm off. It's the most horrible thing you can think of, hurting someone you love, hurting the one person you love most. Your breath is half sob as you finally get his outerwear off of his arm. You don't know how to do that to somebody and especially Steve, how could you ever sever a limb? But if it will stop the infection, if it would save him—

You push the long sleeve of his t-shirt up his arm and stare down at his arm. Bruised near the wrist, pale, threaded with dark-green veins, his skin is unbroken. He hasn't been bitten. 

You pull his arm to your chest and almost break down there in the street. Steve stands with his coat hanging off of his one shoulder and doesn't respond to your actions for a long, heavy second. 

"You thought it bit me," he says. 

Your breath catches. 

"It didn't bite you." 

"No," he says, "it didn't bite me." 

"Your coat." 

Steve pulls you back inside of the store. He looks around the room twice, and then leads you to an empty corner to hug you. 

You're frenetic and frantic at once, hands sliding up and down his arm, eyes tracing his light skin like an injury might materialise. 

"It didn't bite me," Steve says, "but you're bleeding." 

You hiss as his fingertip locates your cut forehead. It must be a very small cut considering how little it bled. You've had head injuries that wept for hours, leaving you dizzy and disorientated from the subsequent lack of blood. This one's a wimp. 

You've also seriously hurt your shoulder from the backpack's weight and your small skirmish. You're not going to tell him that, not now, not when you've been dropped face first into the horror of potentially losing him forever. 

Steve eases out of his jacket. He takes your hand from his arm and pushes both sleeves up, bearing both arms in front of you. 

"It didn't get me, honey. Try to calm down." 

He says it softly, with no judgement or condescension. Only concern. 

"I'm fine," you say. 

It's strangled, you'll admit. Steve turns his arms to show you both sides before he tilts your head up and toward the meagre filtering sunlight, analysing your head injury in detail. 

"Did you hurt yourself? When you fell, did it feel like you hit it hard, or was it something sharp?" You don't answer, and he gets snippy. "Y/N, tell me. Did it hurt?" 

"Steve, you're the one who almost got bit." 

"And you're the one who almost died of a fucking concussion not that long ago, in case you forgot. Sit down. I'm not kidding, sit down." 

You blink, mildly startled by his hissing, and sit on the ground. He's being snappy because he's panicking, that's all it is. You hold back an unhelpful comment that your concussion had been months and months ago, so it kind of was long ago. 

He lets his coat and jacket fall to the floor and jogs back up the aisle to the bandages and gauze. He takes a detour for antiseptic, and then he sets himself down in front of you. 

"Did you hit it hard?" he asks. 

You shake your head. 

He doused a piece of gauze in antiseptic. "Sting," he warns, washing the length of your forehead with his makeshift wipe. He quickly swaps the bloodied one for a clean one. "Hold this." 

You hold it. He gets back up, scouring the shelves by the bandages until he plucks out a small box. He crushes it with his hand and the medical tape inside falls into his waiting palm. He sits again, tears two strips, and lines the edges of your gauze with them. It would all be much easier if they had big band-aids. 

"Show me your pupils, baby," he says. 

Steve, for his street smarts and survival skills, used to freak out about injuries. But Steve freaking out freaks you out and he guessed that soon enough, so every cut and bruise these days is met with a silent approach. It's the opposite of your reaction. Embarrassment starts to creep in. 

You widen your eyes and let Steve check your pupils. 

"Same size," he says. 

"It's just a cut." 

Steve shuffles across the floor so his thigh is pressed to yours, rather than having his back to the store. He breathes out slowly, breathes in quick, and then forces the bottom of his palm into his thigh cruelly. 

"How the fuck did that happen?" he asks. If he weren't being hyper vigilant, he'd be scrubbing his eyes in a tell tale nervous tic. "We haven't had something like that in months. We swept this whole place when we came in, where the fuck was he hiding? I feel sick." 

"You do?" you ask, terrified. 

"It didn't bite me," he assures you again. Thankfully without any annoyance. 

"It ripped a chunk out of your coat with its teeth. Forgive me for thinking your skin was less hardy than pressed plastic." 

Your acidity shocks you both. 

Things are awkward for a split second, 'cos it's difficult to feel awkward around someone who you've spent every second of the day with since you met. You feel for a moment that you could just take him by the shoulders and shake him. You love him, you could never hurt him, but he has to see sense: he doesn't understand how much you need him. Not to keep you alive, but to give you a reason to do it yourself. If he got bit, you'd die. Plain and simple. Internally first, but surely the heartbreak would murder you in the end. 

"I didn't know you were so disagreeable," Steve says. 

"I didn't know you knew a word that long."

Steve laughs, startled. You want to be mad, but you're so thankful that he's not dying and so suddenly wiped you can only laugh with him.

"I forgot how quick you are when we fight," Steve says. 

"We don't fight anymore." 

"That could be amended. Especially if you're going to get fresh with me."

"You started it." 

"I always start it." Steve flicks your shoulder."Let me see your head," he says. You turn your neck so he can see the outermost side of your head. "You swelled up like a helium balloon when you fell through that floor. It was right at the back of your head and I could tell something was wrong… This is fine. It bulged out last time." 

"It what?" you demand, pulling another rare laugh from him.

He winds down, clasping your knee. You cover his hand, and only then do you realise it's shaking.

"Steve, you almost died." 

"But I didn't die, I'm fine, and you need to stop freaking out because high blood pressure is definitely bad for a concussion. You could die yourself if you don't relax, seriously." Steve clears his throat. "Sorry, for getting heated. And thanks for knocking that guy clean off of me, what was that? You holding out on me when we wrestle? That was clean." 

"That was like, a mom's adrenaline thing. No, not 'cos I'm your mom, idiot. Loved one's adrenaline. I thought you were gonna die and suddenly I could've run for fucking gold in the Tokyo Olympics." 

"How did I get some of that? Whenever you're hurt I just feel like crying." 

"I think the crying bit comes after. Maybe if you tried getting to me quicker you'd have enough adrenaline to save me." 

He smiles before he talks, so you know it's going to be bad, "If a geek eats me during an adrenaline rush, am I a human Red Bull?"

"Okay, you have to keep an eye on the store because I need to be hugging you," you say, giving him little time to disagree as you climb on top of his lap. 

It's not comfortable nor sexy, but for once you don't care how heavy you are. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and cradle his head, his face hooked over your shoulder so that he can still see your surroundings. He slides his hands underneath your coat and hugs you in turn. Your heart's still racing, and his hands are still shaking, but you lived. He lived. You've defeated danger for the hundredth time. 

"This really doesn't get any easier, does it?" you ask, petting his hair.  

He pats your back. "No, I don't think so. S'why I need you with me." 

"That's why I need you." 

Steve dots a quick kiss against the column of your throat. When he puts his chin back atop your shoulder, it's with a heaving sigh. 

"I can't believe you almost got bit," you say. 

"Yeah, well. Nobody has any manners anymore." 

[transmutationisms]

HI really love your thoughts on stuff. do you think succession - as a tv show with a script - makes all of its negative statements negatively or positively? this is something im having trouble with, specially with shiv and the overwhelming misogyny. i understand its quite literally real life. but they know the importance of media as a statement that defines real life - its sort of meta, but the whole thing with whether or not calling mencken, knowing it would affect politics, is something that can reflect on the show itself. i dont think i fully agree with what they do to shiv in the way they portray the misogyny. it feels like a "and thats how it will always be" more than "thats how its been". idk. maybe I just hate misogyny and cant stand to see that. but everything is a statement. what do u think?

well in general i agree that, yeah, the show is more interested in satire and criticism than offering any kind of imaginative solution or alternative. so, if you want to watch something that suggests alternatives to logan-style misogyny (& i'd understand why) then i think you're going to be dissatisfied with this show. like, obviously even with logan gone, his influence still haunts the company and the family, and anyway the broader structures of capitalism and its use / exploitation of women were always much larger than logan alone. all of this also applies to how roman and kendall (& to a lesser extent connor) are punished for failing to live up to standards of masculinity; logan feminised kendall to punish him for business failures and derided roman for what he saw as a more innate femininity that made roman disgusting to him.

i actually think gender is a strong suit for the show. it's very deeply interested in how they each relate to standards of bourgeois masculinity and femininity, and how these strictures are confining and punishing (often literally, as logan used them as tools of his abuse). for shiv she lived up to some of logan's femands for an heir (her emotional repression, flashes of killer instinct) but was ultimately always doomed by the fact that logan saw her as permanently being his little girl, denied a body (bc this was less disgusting to him than thinking of her as a woman) and never the right fit for his corporate mould, even when she was trying her hardest to fit it. roman and kendall ofc pick up on this and the way her gender can be used in itself to lock her out of the upper echelons of power (a walking pair of teats, all the men got together in man club). but ultimately this is a dissection of misogyny and masculinity, not a suggestion for escape.

i have mixed feelings about the sort of ethical argument here. it is fair to say that succession has a fundamentally conservative ethos in the sense that the satire and snark angle is uninterested in offering solutions or imagining alternatives. it's grounded in exploring capitalism, fascism, the resulting gender politics, &c, and to the extent that it challenges these things, it's by portraying them as worthy of mockery. it's not a leftist political treatise. but like, i think there's a can of worms to open here in terms of asking how revolutionary a television show is capable of being simple by virtue of the medium. like, even if the content is radical internally, does is matter that the form is still one embedded in capitalist production, ie, that the show is a commodity on the same market? i identify the root of misogyny within the capitalist mode of production; how far is something made within these parameters capable of going in offering any kind of alternative? and also, do we care? like, am i watching tv because i'm looking for radical politics? again, this doesn't negate the critique of succession's critique. but i do think it's a bit... trite? to ask tv to be some kind of moral guide---particularly on a show where the premise is such that any 'challenge' to misogyny would still be constrained within the bourgeois world the characters inhabit.

[tobiasdrake]

She-Hulk vs. DareDevil... IN COURT!

I both love and hate this case for separate reasons. I hate it because Matt's full of shit when he goes off about clients having an inherent right to anonymity if they're superheroes. He cites the repeal of the Sokovia Accords as the reason why Luke cannot be required to identify his clients under law.

But. Like. That's not a thing? First off, absolutely wild that the something as significant as the Sokovia Accords being repealed was just dropped on the audience as a throwaway line, but that's beside the point.

Matt is arguing for superheroes to be treated as a special class of people with special immunities to standard processes under law. Repealing the Sokovia Accords would not grant them this exclusive legal protection; there would need to be a separate bill passed that identifies the superhero class as having such special privilege.

Matt is full of shit, and he defends his argument with platitudes about the importance of superhero anonymity that, regardless of his personal opinion, has not been granted to them by law. Jen is absolutely right. Her motion to compel discovery of Luke's client list is legally valid and no judge in the world would ever have sided with Matt.

Writers, please stop having Matt go off on wild tangents like this and keep his arguments grounded in law. He did this in his own show too. Philosophical opinions about the perils of a superhero line of work are only admissible in court if they're supported by laws. You can give him fictional laws to make these cases with. But don't just have him ramble like a dipshit and then have the judge let him get away with it.

But.

To the larger point? Yeah. The moment Eugene admitted to violating the manufacturer's explicit instructions for use of the product, his case against Luke went straight out the window.

I love how they poke fun at Matt's whole, "Whoo, my ability to tell if people are lying gives me a secret edge in court!" It really, truly doesn't. But at the same time, they still manage to make use of Matt's enhanced senses by having him sniff out the jet fuel in Eugene's boots.

Satirizing his lie-detection while still giving him a way to use his superpowers to his advantage in court is a neat way of handling Matt.

[rachthepoet]

Cherry Analysis 🍒

Chérry, the catalyst. Harry's prettiest baby she is, but concurrently catalytic — for the backing voice peppers the track like the low-hanging fruit of a cherry tree, and the harvested details amp the appetite to indulge in the Fine Line album. And, we've only hit the surface of this piece's mastery, too often overlooked due to its divisive ending, which is tragic. The song's title not only builds on the artist's evergrowing fruit charcuterie but is ridiculously close to the French translation for my dearest and/or my baby, ma Chérie — connecting the plea we hear him beg perpetually.

Harry's prettiest baby. A painting of vulnerability, humanity, and storytelling. It's that tapestry of memories — though messy and imperfect from certain corners of the exhibit hall — that one can't stop themselves from luxuriating in. Even as it causes nothing but agony to experience devastating heartbreak all over again. It's a heart song, the type of song that people feel in their hearts before even making it to the end. The pain of still being in love with someone who's already moved on, and stuck watching them be their best with another. Masking the pain in feeble attempts, but unraveling as it comes out in bursts unwarned.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Cherry, from a poet. And one of my favorites to praise. Below Sunflower, though. Of course.🍒

Rhymes, Patsy Cline, & Word to the Wise

Oh boy, you get to have fun with the poet today! Because first things first, let's talk rhyme schemes — such an essential pillar in the structure of this piece, that far too many don't appreciate. Or, maybe they just don't see it like the poets do — but, that's why I'll explain it all, detail by little detail. Further down, in the ever-notable LYRIC PULL APART section, there's some color coding going on. I personally have always found it easier to understand and identify rhymes visually — and making it clear and visible to you is so important. It seems like something relatively simple to an untrained eye, but, you see, that's the catch in it all — it's a way of speaking without directly speaking, as in the piece he tries to suppress feelings while pain, jealousy, and heartbreak bubble under the surface.

Note that the chorus' rhyme scheme remains consistent, like a control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. This coincides with the language in the chorus being straightforward, while the verses can be less cohesive, allowing room for the writer to play around in his storytelling. This is where the consuming emotions are bubbling under his surface, which mirrors how, as the verses move along, the rhyme scheme gets weaker (more conversational, more casual, more messy) in contrast. Naturally, as we hit each part of the song, I'll give you greater detail, but I wanted to offer some summarization to warm you up to the idea. Yeah?

For a long while, Cherry has had this association in my mind with Patsy Cline's She's Got You. Cline's song is about a woman yearning and mourning over a lost love by looking back through old photographs and possessions that remind her of what's been lost. The drastically too short piece is a lament about how someone else has the love she lost or the love she let go, and all that remains are these small things and small memories. I believe Harry's piece — especially amplified in the chorus — holds a similar sentiment and story. However, Cherry seems adamant about focusing on just one little thing that meant so much to him — the nickname: dearest, baby, chérie. He selfishly wants to keep this exclusive to himself all while watching the other give their love to someone else. He doesn't want to lose it like he lost them. Both of these pieces are framed and executed eloquently, and I adore them both, so maybe it's only natural for me to draw a connecting line — but I wanted to mention it anyhow.

And, lastly, a word to the wise. I know this piece to be one of Harry's that gets caught in discourse routinely, whether there's those name-dropping or others' encroaching nature with theorizations. Here's a gentle reminder that we will not engage in that nature here. Given, that the principle I'm about to discuss applies to every song I analyze from Harry's collection and beyond, but, for some reason, it felt extra fitting to say it here especially.

A fundamental rule of songs and their accompanying analyses is that songs are practically never about anyone other than the songwriter and/or the speaker. Sure, other people might be included as a vehicle to conceptualize feelings, ideas, or experiences to add more detail — but it's never solely about the other. Think about it this way — when one's watching musical theater, a character onstage will be singing about a character offstage, but the audience's focus is on the character onstage amid their monologue. Even though the character is singing about someone else, the subject is not in view, so your focus shouldn't be on the other.

Once one comes to this realization, seeing this song without a clouded lens, the experience becomes much more nuanced. Bringing it back in, the big picture of Cherry is an internal struggle — and the storyline just supports the big picture, all the little details that inject life into it. Little supportive pillows uplift the core idea. It's not about the ex-lover in question, and not about the action, but, rather, it's about the writer's reaction! Get it? Good! :)

Lyric Pull Apart

[INTRO] Coucou

A hello to the listeners — looking into the translation, multiple possibilities come up, but given the context, I'm sticking to the intention of a greeting. Coucou leans more toward an informal greeting, between those familiar, which helps solidify an existing relationship between our speaker and the haunting voice present behind him. This voice is intrusive, following him throughout, as he's using the song as a processing stage. Attempting to push down and drown his feelings about the situation. This conclusion can also be discovered in how Cherry has a conflicting feel to its instrumentals — happy and sad together, at once. Could even go forth and say "balancing on a fine line", eh? Representative of the conflict present in the speaker himself, but gosh, I'm just getting too ahead of myself now. Gotta leave you something to discover, don't I?

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

As mentioned prior, the color indicates a rhyme scheme, and the chorus rhyme scheme will remain consistent. A control group, an anchor to keep him stable on the ground. But, now let's grant a deeper perspective into that. The repetition of the chorus, of this controlled rhyme scheme, is a way of the speaker trying to pull himself back from his own disaster. Trying to calm himself and keep a hold of his emotions as they bubble — the constant battle of these emotions to push to the frontlines is executed in the verses, and their differing rhyme schemes.

[VERSE 1] I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that There's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment

The first half of the verse holds strong to its rhyme structure, as listeners witness a moment more petty than pathetic through words. Sure, the speaker's not happy, far from it, but refuses to admit (directly) that he's missing them. The rhyme structure in the first half is stronger & more routine in comparison to the second half, resembling the speaker holding himself together more. Best and Confess (green) share the "es" sound, the main rhyme, with Tell That and Selfish (purple) sharing an "el" sound, the supporting rhyme. The purple emphasizes the green!

I, I confess / I can tell that you are at your best: The realization that someone you cared about so deeply is now at their best with someone who isn't you. A confession to oneself about the realization, and letting it hit right in the heart and the pit of the stomach. This line really hurts to me. Lyrically, a relatively simple line. But meaning? Surpasses. And this supports my notion that Cherry is focused on an internal battle rather than the person he's referencing.

I'm selfish so I'm hating it: This admittance is another piece in speaking to one's own internal structure and echoes 2017's Woman where he also admitted his jealous tendencies, and being selfish in said jealousy. Once more, we as listeners have found ourselves as spectators to the speaker's internal battle about the hurt he's experiencing time and time again.

The second half of the verse is when some unraveling occurs, coinciding with the admission of how much of an impact the other has had on him. The existing rhyme scheme continues with the "es" sound (green), with Noticed and Dress, creating a flow from one feeling to the next. Then, there's a playing rhyme that starts at the end of the second line, emphasizing the "et" sound in It and Compliment (blue) — but, the rhyme is interrupted subtly by the n. This mimics the speaker's feelings as both he and the rhyme begin to crack. In addition, the secondary rhyme (purple) is lost, creating a weaker structure than previously.

I noticed that / There's a piece of you in how I dress: There's an eloquence to this line, and I often struggle to put into words just how deep my admiration goes for it — guess I'll start with how I love when scenes are painted with lyrics. Like, you can picture so much within one singular line. Whether an accessory or piece of clothing they left at his house. Whether it's watching one's style soon melt into one's significant other's. Whether — delving into the more abstract — getting dressed in his normal routine and there are still pieces of them in every step. And, to take it further in the symbolic and abstract direction, one can even spark up a debate on how the way one dresses connects to identity — therefore, he's speaking of how there are still pieces of them left in himself.

Take it as a compliment: Naturally, this is a complimenting line to the lyric that precedes it. Take it as a compliment that I'm thinking of you still, which comes off sweet with a lingering tingle of that pettiness rooted in pain. Which �� naturally, I'm going to keep reminding — coincides with the rhyme structure, with Compliment being the one to alter the rhyme (blue) [subtly]. And, with that being the case, the "I'm so happy you're so happy" façade is slipping down to reveal the truth as the internal struggle peaks to the exterior.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me

A return to the chorus, the control rhyme scheme, the centering point. An anchor. With the first iteration of the chorus, I focused on the rhyme scheme, so in this second iteration, let's dive into the words said themselves.

Don't you call him baby: Lovers call each other baby. The realization hits now, how the other person is out and happy with someone else. The realization hits now, how deeply he doesn't want to share this one thing he can still grasp onto from what they had before. It's a moment of selfishness, childishness, and a moment of not wanting to share what meant the most to him. The intimacy. And, in addition, as mentioned previously, the French word for dearest and/or baby is chérie, which is artistically simplified into what we know as Cherry.

We're not talking lately: An admission to himself, within his internal struggle. A realization they haven't been connecting as they had once before, and they're both at fault for that. However, in the tone, it feels like the speaker is placing the blame on himself a little more, as I have interpreted it. In whatever way one hears it, the mentality of blame shifts as the listener travels deeper into the album, to To Be So Lonely, but that's just a little teaser there.

Don't call him what you used to call me: A lyric connected to the first line, emphasizing a plea, asking them not to bestow upon their new love the terms of endearment that were once reserved for him. And, there's a constant circle back to this, which indicates a central motif. And, further revealing — pulling back the façade — the speaker's difficulty in accepting his ex-lover finding comfort in someone else's arms. 

[VERSE 2] I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them?

The second verse's shift is a dramatic one. Something in the air feels different after the second iteration of the chorus has rounded. There's no more beating around the bush, or hiding behind a fake happiness for this person who's moved on — things are now being laid out on the table. And, there's almost a little petulance to it that's very complementary to the song, with a taunting sound to it.

I, I just miss / I just miss your accent and your friends: Now he admits to missing them, and admits that there's something to miss in his life now that they've parted ways. But, it's always in the details, you know? The things you'll hold onto. Your accent. Friends they bonded with together, or your friends to which they introduced him. There are assumptions of carrying out the rhyme scheme that preceded it, with the "es" sound (green). In the first verse, we had Confessed, Best, Noticed, and Dress. Now, in the second verse, the expectation is for Miss and Friends to follow suit. However, that's not the case — the rhyme has drifted away from the "es" sound. Miss is overpowered by the vowel change, and Friends is interrupted by nd. Once more, we're met with rhyme structures falling apart subtly, which only supports the big picture of the song, as the speaker crumbles and loses his poker face.

Did you know I still talk to them?: I love how I've always heard this line, like a child taunting. Almost a bit like... hmm, how can I describe it? Like, you can't take them away from me. Like you took everything else. It's just another added aspect to what he's going through, the feelings experienced, and the overarching internal struggle present. Rather than continue to hold it all in, he wrote a song about it. A beautiful one, at that.

[BRIDGE] Does he take you walkin' round his parents' gallery?

Oh, this bridge. How I adore it.

In the bridge, stylistically, the taunting note is held tightly, but there's a return to the rhyme scheme of the chorus. The controlled structure, the anchoring point to bring the speaker back from an emotional overwhelm (as categorized by the rhyme scheme crumbling in the verses). On a surface level, the lyric seems so simplistic, and will frankly remain so if one refuses to look into the details. I believe it carries a lot of weight, especially within the context of Cherry's storytelling. Even though the line is directed at someone outside the speaker — and one can just picture it said in a heckling whine — it's more telling of that internal struggle over anything. That big picture of Cherry to keep returning to.

Throughout Cherry, as listeners and spectators, we are experiencing and investing in the emotions the speaker must work through in the song's duration (and continued throughout the album, naturally). He's not only admitting to that post-breakup stage that everybody goes through but pretends that they don't — the bitterness that lingers like a cherry that's turned — but he really wrote a whole fucking song about it. He's sinking into the turmoil of this, into the pettiness, admitting that he is not free from this overwhelming bitterness and envy of an ex-lover who could be happy without you. And, something that rings true in the FINE LINE album as a whole, it's a song where we witness the (coping) method of capturing such an unpleasant feeling and transforming it into something lovely through the love language of music. For himself more than anybody else.

[CHORUS] Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me Don't you call him baby (Coucou) We're not talking lately Don't call him what you used to call me (Coucou)

Here we find ourselves again, back to the stabilizing rhyme scheme of the chorus. With the bridge returning to this standard of rhyme, it flows beautifully in the ear, but there's a symbolic/metaphoric factor in play. He's not trying to hide it anymore, he's allowing himself to embrace his bitterness, his green face of envy at seeing someone he cared deeply about move on with their life without him in it. And, in companionship with the bridge, the direct address to his lover's new partner is poignant and continues the pattern of the chorus' language being more straightforward.

[OUTRO] "Coucou! Tu dors? Oh, j'suis désolée… Bah non… Non, c'est pas important… Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on— Parfait! Allez!"

Okay, here we go. The ever-controversial voice note. If you aren't going to indulge in this section of Cherry's analysis with an open mind and heart — no clouded lenses — you can feel free to skip over, but I really invite you, genuinely, to remain and hear me out. Personally, I like it, love it even, and don't understand the relentless arguing that seems to fester from it. It's most important to bring in the context for full appreciation. And, to me, we discover that in the screams preceding the addition.

The final choruses are interspersed with this voice, her voice, alongside his screams. Pay attention to the screams, and each one is a reaction to the sound of her voice, always in this intrusive manner. This inclusion of the voice from the very beginning of the song and throughout serves as a subtle foreshadowing of where we stand now, the voice note. But, I digress — this series of screams, and the final, most agonizing scream is in response to silence. This lover he's been hung up on, the one he's agonizing over for moving on without him, is gone from him. And that idea hurts more than all else. Through the pettiness and anger we witness, there's also an underlying sadness, and it pushes to the foreground in those screams.

Then, in comes the voice note, echoing, very neutral, can be from any day — it's the final memory he's holding onto. All he has left, even the music — representative of his Hail Mary coping attempt — fades. He can't bring himself to get rid of it, so much so that he decides that a song composed from this inner turmoil couldn't be complete without it included. My interpretation? It's like not wanting to delete/remove the few reminders you have left of a person, even if they bring you pain to see them. In that final scream — that scream to the void of silence where there used to be something — he scrambles for a single memory, to let himself wallow rather than be stagnant in silence he never heard so quiet before. But, his wallowing is now compromised with catharsis. And, in all this, that is the beauty of Cherry. Harry's prettiest baby.

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[chvoswxtch]

hi again, court!

it's once again the anon that sent the massive ass paragraphs rambling about the punisher after i finished watching it. i feel like i should either just un-anonymise myself or give myself a name or something to make it easier to identify myself?? but idk?? i'm still new to tumblr so i dunno how these things work

anyways, just wanted to say, i also am just so happy that they are taking the reboot seriously!! i only really got into like the daredevil/punisher in like the past year or so. so i feel like i don't really have the same grounds to stand on as some longer term fans but i just remember being so disappointed with karen/foggy originally not being part of born again so i'm so so glad that that changed and we have the true trio back. and frank being in it just makes me SO happy because i have become incredibly incredibly attached to frank (it might be a little unhealthy but big strong men who are morally questionable is my type haha)

i totally agree with season 2 feeling rushed, it definitely felt like some of the plots were supposed to be fleshed out more or like storylines would have carried on into a season 3 and billy not being fucked up enough is SO FUCKING REAL. like frank literally BRUTALISED him but he comes out looking okay?? like idk?? it just doesn't look convincing i feel like ben barnes' acting is good and he plays the subtle psycho (though you're right, him being more outwardly bloodthirsty and vengeful would have been AMAZING) but the visuals don't hit right. but this is such a wider issue with pretty actors in hollywood?? especially cause they also did it when he played the darkling in shadow and bone. i dunno if you ever watched shadow and bone but like his character should have been way more scarred but they just didn't make it as brutal as it probably would have been in reality and it makes me so mad because i just don't understand why??

AND THE WILL THING, LITERALLY, WHEN HE FIRST CAME ON SCREEN, I LOOKED AT HIM AND WAS LIKE 'is that?? is that WILLIAM LAMONTAGUE??' and then everytime he came on and was being psycho, i was like 'someone get jj to sort her husband out' and also this is so DUMB but i love to think that this is what will was doing during criminal minds and that's why we never see him, he was just off being pilgrim and terrorising frank, obviously it doesn't really work timeline wise BUT the thought of it just makes me laugh so it is now my headcanon.

I HAVE FOUND ANOTHER MADANI LOVER. that makes me so BEYOND ECSTATIC. I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME. karen is literally a stronger woman than i could ever be. both with madani and tbh with frank, i dunno how she doesn't crumble in front of either of them. like i wish i had karen's strength. but like yeah if madani even LOOKED at me, i would be spilling all of my goddamn secrets. i'm so glad i'm not the only one who sees the lack of love (i may end up trying to fix that with some fics hehe)! i am such a whore for her, it's actually insane. like the past few days since i finished watching it, she has been on my mind 24/7, what i would let her do to me is EMBARASSING. i love that woman so much and i'm so glad i'm not alone.

i'm done ranting for now but i cannot promise i won't ramble in your inbox again. i truly have punisher brainrot (and criminal minds brainrot too but that's not important right now)

thank you for reading my ramblings again <3

welcome back nonnie!

totally up to you love! if you’re not comfy coming off anon & wanna give yourself a lil nickname, that’s totally fine with me :)

don’t even worry about how long you’ve been in the fandom, that doesn’t matter. you’re here & your opinions & feelings are just as valid as everyone else’s. to your point about big strong men with questionable morals: yes

I haven’t watched shadow & bone but I have seen ben’s character in that role and maybe he’s the problem like maybe they try to make him look bad & it’s just impossible bc it’s ben barnes 🤷🏻‍♀️

LMAO pls that would be so funny. hey will what have you been up to lately? oh nothing just terrorizing the punisher in new york no biggie

karen is a strong woman bc the second frank or madani looked at me like that i’d fold & be like yeah literally anything you want I will give you. if you do end up writing any madani fics pls send them my way! i’ll get around to writing for her eventually. it’s been hard for me to focus on writing anything other than bodyguard frankie bc that’s my baby

I don’t ever not have punisher or criminal minds brainrot so pls feel free to rant with me anytime <3

[myckicade]

Mayans M.C. - 05x04

Good grief. Let's roll around in some of this for a minute.

THE ACTUAL HELL IS EZ DOING TO THIS CLUB. Not only to the Mayans, to Santa Padre, but now he's getting the Broken Saints involved in it? Nothing good can come from this. Nothing. I swear, if we end up seeing more dead animals (fake, yes, but still deeply unsettling) because of this motherfucker... I've never watched Survivor, but isn't this grounds enough to vote him off the fucking island?!

Anyhow, to balance my bitching with a positive...

How fucking cute was Bishop's little smile, "It's early for us?" ^_^. That made me SO happy, and I don't quite know why.

I was hoping it would take longer for EZ to be identified as the rat. That could have been a fun little thing to watch for another week or two, watching Kody/Katie put things together, a bit at a time. While I realize this is all happening on a one-season deadline... Y'know. I was just hoping the pacing would be a little more exciting.

On that note, that's something else I feel that I am missing with these last few seasons is that feeling of excitement that a really excellent story offers up. It's a pacing thing, and a writing thing, so caught up in this sad little monologues from various characters, we lose out on plot.

Eh. Anyway.

GILLY. That was one of the other highlights of the episode for me. Whether or not there's actually a relationship there, at the given moment, that little moment of domesticity was just beautiful. I want that for him, which probably means that he won't get it in the end. -_-. Motherfucker. Anyhow.

I found the scene with Lobo disturbing. Not in a manner that left me wanting to hide my eyes. A dude wants to take a taste of pure, cooking-phase heroin ingredients, hey, that's just Natural Selection, right there. But, the fact that a group of his brothers stood around and watched him die? I dunno'. Something about that felt so cold and disconnected. Legalities of their activities aside, it's just the feeling that this Reign of Ezekiel is bringing with it, I guess. No real love, or loyalty, just fear, and the half-silent struggle of making it to the next day. Scarcity. This season makes me think of the Four Horsemen, that they've all somehow ridden into Santo Padre, and this is it.

I mean, sure, it is, but. Y'know.

Anyway. I'll unpack that Four Horsemen thing a bit later. It gives me an idea.

All the same, I was on Sofia's side on this one, despite the forced plot device. (Again, you'd think a full patch would fucking know better?!). Sure, there may not have been time to save the guy, and, yeah, there was the cook house to consider, amongst other things, but it had to have been pretty damned upsetting to watch no one give a fucking damn. I'm really stuck on that. It just doesn't arrange well in my head.

Postive: STEPHANIE!!!! I was very happy to see her, and that she was doing so well! Smiling! That poor girl. Seriously. I'm still crossing my fingers for her to get a Happily Ever After with Hank. <3 .

Negative: FUCK, do I miss Taza. While I'm glad that his being long gone means that I (probably) won't have to watch him die, it's just not the same without him around.

SAMDINO hit Yuma. Okay. Isaac has an interesting tactic. Makes perfect sense, but, again, it could have been presented with a bit more oomph. Every time someone gets nailed, it comes across as a, "Oh, shit... Ah, well." C'mon, now. If you're at war, be at fucking war. While the pipeline is important to their survival, so is, y'know, fucking surviving.

Sorry. People are dropping like flies around EZ, and he has tunnel vision on taking out the fucking Cartel. "Undermanned, with a half-assed plan." (Thank you, Dutch).

So, I think that that about sums up my major thoughts. Now, for some random things.

The List of Shit I No Longer Care About

Emily Galindo. That's it. I don't give a damn whether she makes it out, or doesn't. I'm just tired of seeing the inside of that fucking store, man.

The Angel/Adelita relationship. It's bound to go to shit (again), and it's not even all Angel's fault, this time!

The fucking pipeline. This one may be less about not caring, and more about not being particular on how it comes out. It will make for a better ending, I think, if they fuck it all up. But.

The entire Soledad vengeance thing. I need to re-watch a few parts, but that's where I typically tune out.

Sofia's ex? I hope that doesn't become A Thing.

Proper Fucking Grammar. This post is such a mess, and y'all, I am SO SORRY for it.

The List of Shit I Care Deeply About

I want the kids - ALL of the kids - to make it out of this okay. That includes Letty. Some real Sins of the Father shit she has going on there.

I know I already said it, but please, NO MORE DEAD ANIMALS. Thank you.

Bottles. Dude reminds me of my husband, especially when he talked about what he went through as a child. I wanted to give him a big ol' hug, just because.

ALSO. His friendship with Elio? LOVING IT!! That's about as deep a friendship as I've felt in this show, all season, and I am here for it!! P.S. I'm also pissed that they've been split up. >:(. >:C. I'm so upset, now!!!!

The Angel/Miguel scene teased for 05x05. *le sighs* I am sold-and-a-half on the Family Trauma Storyline, so this should be magical.

My work, which I should be doing right now, but hey. It's a slow day.

Catch y'all next week!

- Mycki

[firsttarotreader]

Was Pedro ever rejected for being bi? Man or woman?

Hello! Let’s start by saying we do not know if he identifies as Bi or if he ever has. We use the word “Bi” speaking of observable behavior because we believe he likes all genders, but we do not talk about it in a sense of label because we don’t know if he uses it or not. That said, you mean rejected as in someone didn’t want to date him when finding out he liked more than one gender, right?

I know I have posted a reading once about whether he had experienced biphobia and, from the cards, he most likely has, but let’s see if someone has turned him down for liking more than one gender. Always important to remember this is a reading and not supposed to be taken as the absolute truth, and in any case it also doesn’t mean he has been turned down his entire life for being “Bi”, but if it happened at least once in his life. We know labels are complicated and it’s always been very common for Bi people to tell others they are either gay or straight because saying “Bi” causes problems with both gay ppl and straight ppl, thanks to… biphobia from both sides.

So let’s start. The first card when I asked was Justice. That was kind of confusing at first because Justice might mean people he wanted to date and knew he liked everything could have been really fair to him, “just” and balanced and not rejected him… BUT it could also mean he did experience rejection BECAUSE he is “balanced”, since this card might be a sign of “being on both sides” and “liking all sides”. So I had to pull another card to see what would show up and it was The Tower. Well, yeah, the first card wasn’t really about balance, because with this one, all balance and stability goes away. Something falls down, collapses, or it’s shaken to its core. So this card does seem to point to someone being really shaken by the revelation of the Justice card and they couldn’t keep it together anymore, most likely turning him down.

Then I pulled the cards for more information and the first ones were the 5 of Hedgehogs, Suspension reversed and Page of Hedgehogs. 5 of Hedgehogs is the card that points to the lack of something. It’s loss, abandonment, rejection, feeling ignored, left out in the cold by a partner, and it might indicate breakups too. Suspension reversed, as The Hanged Man in regular decks, is about a lack of commitment, about not being able to deep dive in something, insecurity and uncertainty, and not feeling confident to surrender control and give the leap of faith. Page of Hedgehogs is the shy boy who is working hard to do something, with the best intentions, but many times being ineffective. So what we can see from these cards is there are signs of rejection and loss potentially because of this feeling that Pedro could not commit and even if he worked hard for it it would still not be enough, or the people could not commit to him even if he tried hard to get them to.

The next cards were Queen of Hedgehogs reversed, 7 of Spears and 10 of Hedgehogs. This is a very curious pull. Queen of Hedgehogs reversed points to someone who cannot really balance their attention to their home life with other fields of their lives accordingly. This Queen when reversed loses her confidence, her stability, and she is not the grounded and reliable “mother” in the family anymore. 7 of Spears is about the feeling of being fooled, lied to, of not being able to trust someone or a situation. 10 of Hedgehogs is the most “successful” a relationship can be. You have it all, a strong partnership, and it can even be a little selfish because you do want it all, all for yourself. So in these cards we could be seeing Pedro possibly being considered someone who was not reliable enough for a relationship, he could never be fully there for them, and it would cause them distrust, feelings of insecurity, jealousy and fear of betrayal. And right when they wanted it all, wanted all of him, but in their worries, he couldn’t be all theirs.

The last 3 cards were 4 of Hedgehogs, The Mystery and 3 of Flowers. Another interesting pull. 4 of Hedgehogs represents having it all, finally having what you fought hard to get, and being so scared of losing it, becoming selfish. The Mystery, as The High Priestess in the regular decks, is, well, about Mystery. That sense of having someone you can’t quite figure out, of not knowing what they want or what they feel and it causing, again, insecurity and uncertainty. The Mystery makes it hard to “go for it” as the 3 of Flowers suggests. You can’t team up and build this relationship on solid ground, and more than that, there is jealousy and the constant fear of a third person coming between you. You never know what to expect so you don’t trust them. These cards do seem to indicate people wanting him all for themselves but feeling like they couldn’t trust him for that, like they couldn’t figure him out and always in fear of the “third” person.

Well, all in all, it does look like he has experienced at least once in his life some type of rejection that could be linked to being Bi. These are actually the most common misconceptions about bisexuality, aren’t they? That they can’t commit, they can’t be trusted, they don’t know what they want, they will cheat… all bullshit of course because straight and gay people do absolutely the same thing just with one gender only. Of course these cards could be pointing to Pedro’s overall struggle to commit as a whole (commitment-phobe after all), but since you asked about rejection for being Bi and the “Justice” card being the first one, along with other signs, it could totally be the case of the rejection. This could have happened with either a man or woman too.

[generic-cleric]

Session 47

Session doc

Whole folder

*Obligatory spoiler warning for Curse of Strahd*

Heard it Through The Grapevine

We kick session off with a good ole grift. The rest of the party works on distracting Lief while Bedlam tries his newly acquired key on the chests in the room. Successfully, he pops each one open and finds varying amounts of money and a manual of bodily health. Bedlam grabbed a handful of the coins, but left the manual out of respect for Lief. After more conversation, the accountant was happy to draw a map to a piece of treasure that has been lost to time. It was an extremely crude map, like it only showed the route from the castle to the treasure and provided no labels or landmarks. Okrin had the great idea to lay it over the map that they have and sure enough, it appears to lead to an area just outside of Berez. An area that Bedlam already suspected held something important. They bid their farewells to Lief and proceed to their points of interest.

They first wanted to check out the Parapets and Archery posts, where Sasha was said to have been seen being suspicious. After a thorough investigation of the area, they find a hand mirror. They cast Identify on it and find out it’s a magic mirror used for communication, as well as the activation word. They take the mirror for a spin and the face of Fiona Wachter appears in the reflection. They were careful to face the mirror away from themselves and disguised their voices. After some questions and a little deception, they find out that Fiona is the new Bugomistress of Ziedenburg and she is helping Sasha quarter her army of undead in exchange for sensitive information regarding Strahd and the castle and such. They were pleased with what they found and pretty eager to get out of that conversation so it wasn’t long before they were heading off to the next location.

As they head toward the courtyard, they notice a group of commoners with torches and pitchforks, cowering in the hallway. The party stops and gets their attention, asking them what they might be doing here. The three villagers explain that they stormed the castle in an effort to kill the vampire. This prompted lots of laughing in and out of game. 

Okrin scoffs, “What level are you guys? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The party kindly explains that the villagers probably only made it this far because Strahd let them, and that its very dangerous here and they should go back home. The villagers were insistent that they could handle it, so the party tells them: “Look, if you can’t beat us, you won’t be able to beat Strahd.” so they engage in a fisticuffs. 

Needless to say, the party EASILY took out the three commoners. Okrin was able to disarm one by taking his pitchfork and then pushed him down to the ground. Jander grappled one while Vondal brought on the hurt. The third was no match for Bedlam and Veledrel. All the damage was nonlethal, and the commoners were healed up by Ireena, Vel, and Okrin after the scrap. The villagers asked Ireena if she’d like to come with them back to the village. She politely declined, explaining that she felt much safer with the party. They parted ways after the villagers insisted that they knew the way out, though the party was skeptical.

They eventually find their way to the more familiar ground floor of the castle and make their way out into the courtyard. As they very casually stroll around, their notice someone messing with one of the stones in the wall. The party descends on the gentleman with no mercy. Two of them begin interrogating him and the others begin investigating the area around. They find a loose stone, and behind it a crumpled piece of paper containing an incriminating message written by Ludmilla. After asking many a pointed question, the man buckles and explains he’s just a messenger. He tells the party that Kiril and Emil had a disagreement over the way the werewolf pack should be run, which caused a schism. Kiril now does whatever Ludmilla wants because she removed Emil from the situation, which allowed Kiril to become the leader of the werewolf den. In return, Kiril will bring potential new brides for Srtrahd, the most recent one being Gertruda, and Ludmilla was pretty unhappy with. The party was very pleased with the juicy goss that they had just received, they brushed off their new acquaintance, told him to keep his nose clean and to be on his way. 

They made their way over to the carriagehouse to check out the lead they had on Volenta. The coast was clear, so their investigation began. They were displeased with the lack of horses here and were surprised to find that the carriage house really just houses the carriage. It's not a stable you guys. However, their digging around revealed an empty hidey hole. After talking and marveling for a bit, they noticed a cat creeping along the windowsill, and even stranger, this cat appeared to have a folded piece of paper in its mouth. The cat noticed the party staring at it, and then made a mad dash for safety. The cat was fast, but the party was faster. A skill challenge ensued where the cat was nabbed and the note was secured after some Entangling and Animal Handling. They find out that someone has been asking Volenta to give them scrying material. The party takes a moment to admire all the irons in the fire and move on to the garden.

They thought it would be easy to get to the garden from here, but they were wrong. They called for Helga, who took them through the castling ever-winding halls and brought them out to the gardens. They investigate and look around and find a few spots under some dead brush where it looks like a dog dug up the dirt in several spots. Jander explains to the party that he would send wolves to Escher with letters and poems, through which Escher would give him all the information he needed to create his evidence board that he burned before leaving with the party to the winery. Wow, what a throwback.

I explain to the table out of game that this would be another way for them to meet up with Jander, but since they absorbed him into the group when they did, he did not continue his conversations with Escher, so if they want evidence, Jander can give them some of the poems from their conversations, but as of right now, there is nothing to find in this area, because technically they already found it. They all thought that was pretty cool and liked seeing how their actions can affect the story.

With that behind them, they decide to go check the last location. They make their way back up to their room and climb out the window and very carefully make their way to a more flat part of the roof. Everyone was able to make it safely across without slipping and falling to their death, though a few of the shingles were not so lucky. They make it to a landing of sorts and get to snooping. Their search yields them a letter written in gibberish. An arcana check tells them that there is a presence of Illusion magic on this paper, and an Identify tells them its Illusory Script. Bedlam casts dispel magic on the note, catching a glimpse of the original text before the words fade altogether. The bit they happened to catch though was thanking Anastrasya for her contribution of literature and was asking for a pendant. The group pieced together that Anastrasya must have been the one to get the book out of the castle, and they must be asking for the Holy Symbol. 

We decided to end the session there, it was a lot of information and I wanted to give my players some time to mull it all over together.

[witchyleehibernates-fics]

The Confusion Plan: How ya doin'

Summary:

“You kidnapped the four of us, you even recorded a video of you punching Tommy…” Tommy hadn’t known that, though his jaw starting to hurt was starting to make sense. “And then sent it to the X-Men. What did you think was going to happen at some point? Especially since we were always going to escape somehow… all Karl needed was to know how far back he was going to go…” Niki laughed lightly. There was the sound of a smack, which Tommy felt the rope constrict as Niki most likely shifted slightly, and then there was a grunt and a thud. A body hitting the ground? “How ya doin’?”

Content Warning's/Trigger Warnings: Attempted physical interrogation, tied up, kidnapping, mission gone wrong, mentioned death of characters (that was avoided because of time traveling), hinted at future self hate?, teens on life threatening missions, x men au

Let me know if you feel I missed something!

Characters: TommyInnit, NIki, Tubbo, Ranboo, Karl Jacobs, Technoblade, Kristin

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,558

Status: Complete

Fanfic Links:

|| Ao3 || Fanfiction Net ||

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Tommy didn’t know how he’d ended up in this situation. He was tied with his back to Niki’s, and across from him was Ranboo who had Karl tied at his back too. He shifted, trying to see just how tight the rope was, though immediately shifted back when Niki groaned from behind him. He glared at the floor as he listened to their surroundings, trying to see if he could pinpoint any important and identifying features. There were none.

Tommy glanced at Ranboo, concern flashing through him when he saw that Ranboo was still unconscious. He could probably guess that Karl was unconscious too, given that the rope around Ranboo wasn’t moving and Karl wasn’t talking. He let his head drop and a sigh escaped him.

His only relief was that both he and Niki were wearing sleeves, and Niki’s hood was still up for the most part.

“Tommy…” Niki sounded exhausted, and Tommy felt the rope around him constrict nearly painfully as Niki shifted.

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, taking a breath and trying to convince himself that relaxing wouldn’t kill Niki behind him.

“Next time we are on a mission together… We are bringing Philza with us.” Niki let her head fall back a bit, which lightly hit Tommy’s. Tommy laughed lightly, wincing when the rope dug into his ribs. Niki wheezed lightly behind him, though she was giggling too. “Maybe he’ll stop sending us in small groups.”

“Mission wouldn’t go wrong then just to spite us.” Tommy huffed, rolling his eyes. Philza was like a good luck charm on missions, which is precisely why Techno and Kristin had an all over claim for missions with Philza.

“True… damn, maybe we’ll bring Kristin then.” Niki mused.

“Same thing… We should bring Techno.” Tommy offered, his head tilting thoughtfully. “Mission would still go wrong, but we wouldn’t get tied to chairs and left for hours upon end.” Niki snorted slightly, though settled quickly when talking sounded from what must have been a hallway. Door must have been on her side of the room. Had to have been, now that Tommy realized.

Light flooded through the room, which hurt Tommy’s eyes. He wondered if Niki’s were okay, since Tommy wasn’t even facing the light and his eyes hurt. 

“Well, someone’s finally awake.” A voice sneered. Tommy didn’t recognize the voice.

“Yeah, well, knock-out gas affects everyone differently.” Niki responded, her voice chipper in the way it does when she’s being condescending. Tommy wasn’t used to hearing it, since she typically saves it for people who truly piss her off in the fullest.

“Well, we need some information.”

“You always do.” Tommy muttered, getting a snort from Niki. He could almost imagine her fighting off a smile.

“Well, well, well,”

“Totally not original.” Tommy rolled his eyes as the bad guy walked around to face Tommy. Tommy offered a sarcastic smile to him. He didn’t recognize the bad guy either, not surprising in his opinion.

“You nearly killed four of my guys.” The guy glared at him, and Tommy titled his head in confusion.

“I did?” It would probably explain away the headache he had, which he didn’t fully take into account until now.

“Yes, you did. Now you will repent for what you did… I just haven’t decided how yet.” Tommy rolled his eyes, and he wondered why Niki was so quiet.

“You have three seconds before the four of us are broken out of here.” Niki spoke up suddenly, Tommy made a face of confusion, but figured that maybe she could see something that Tommy couldn’t. Maybe she heard something that Tommy hadn’t, or she just knew something that Tommy wasn’t privy to. That was entirely plausible since several of the older members did think Tommy was too immature to even be an X-Men, let alone knew sensitive information.

“What are you talking about?” The big bad walked back around, probably to glare at Niki given his face was contorting into a glare when he left Tommy’s vision.

“You kidnapped the four of us, you even recorded a video of you punching Tommy…” Tommy hadn’t known that, though his jaw starting to hurt was starting to make sense. “And then sent it to the X-Men. What did you think was going to happen at some point? Especially since we were always going to escape somehow… all Karl needed was to know how far back he was going to go…” Niki laughed lightly.

There was the sound of a smack, which Tommy felt the rope constrict as Niki most likely shifted slightly, and then there was a grunt and a thud. A body hitting the ground?

“How ya doin’?”

“Wha-” an explosion rocked the area and Tommy yelped in alarm as he struggled in his seat. His eyes were wide and he was trying desperately to escape. He didn’t like explosions, he had good reason not to like explosions.

“Tommy, Tommy, stop moving!” Niki groaned, fighting back against Tommy’s struggling. Tommy wheezed as the rope dug into his ribs, he fell still as headphones appeared over his eyes. He blinked in confusion, though felt himself relax when he saw Purpled appear in his vision. He could also see Tubbo, no doubt the cause of all the explosions, checking on Ranboo. Kristin was also checking on Karl.

“There we go.” Purpled’s voice came through the headphones, initially causing Tommy to flinch. He stilled when Purpled brought out a knife and began cutting the ropes around Tommy, which would in turn also free Niki.

“What’s going on?” Purpled smirked slightly, helping Tommy when his legs nearly gave out upon standing. He turned and found Techno was helping Niki, who was definitely shaky on her legs. He knew, very vaguely, what was going on. They were being saved with a vague plan that Tommy barely remembered from the first time Tommy had ever been kidnapped and rescued.

“How ya doin’, don’t you remember that plan?” Purpled asked, pulling Tommy alongside him as they started moving. Tommy desperately tried to think about what the plan consisted of, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember in his panic. He shook his head when Purpled glanced back at him. “I’ll remind you later.” Purpled responded.

Tommy winced when Purpled suddenly shoved him through a door, closing it behind them. There was the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and Purpled was holding some of his cards. He pushed the door open and threw the cards, and a couple marbles Tommy realized afterwards.

It suddenly hit him what plan How ya doin’ was. It was a mass confusion plan where everyone scattered and met up at an agreed upon location. All the explosions and chaos and confusion were needed.

Tommy also really didn’t like this plan as it disorientated him too.

“Are you hurt?” Purpled asked as they started running again.

“Purpled, man, big man, I’ve barely been awake half an hour.” Tommy responded, eyes wide as he moved to keep pace with Purpled. He wanted to take flight. He wanted to escape and run and just not stop. He wanted to take Purpled with him because he wasn’t going to ever abandon his mission partner.

“Damn, we were really pushing it then.” Purpled huffed, Tommy eyed him in confusion.

“Pushing what?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Purpled tried to change the subject, but they both knew that Tommy wasn’t going to drop the subject. Clearly something was going to happen to the other three, probably because of Tommy, and they weren’t... Telling him…

Tommy halted them to a stop, which ended up causing Purpled to halt to a stop too. He turned and there was a look of desperation in his eyes.

“Purpled, Big man, what happened.” Purpled didn’t speak for some time. There were still explosions going off, and Tommy was in pain, and he was beginning to get the memories of the four men he’d supposedly killed.

“You… They forced, were going to force you, to kill Niki, Ranboo and Karl. You absorbed their powers and memories and were able to travel back to warn us. Five minutes. We were cutting it close by five minutes.” Purpled responded.

Tommy felt sick. That’s what the big bad meant when he said that Tommy would repent for what he did. Tommy swallowed, hard, as tears began to well up in his eyes.

“I-”

“We don’t have time right now, Tommy.” Purpled interrupted. “I know, you want to cry, the knowledge was going to be heavy on you, I knew that and I know how that must feel right now. I promise that you and I can work it out in the danger room, or we can talk and cry in your room, or we can bake later.” Purpled sounded stressed. Tommy swallowed again as he nodded.

They needed to escape wherever they were and then Tommy could process everything and cry. Purpled wouldn’t allow him to isolate, and Tommy knew that, but Tommy was feeling that beginning to creep up. He wanted to isolate, but staying by Purpled’s side also sounded nice.

Tommy took on a burst of speed suddenly, moving and picking Purpled up, a quiet utterance to ask where they needed to go. Purpled wrapped his arms around Tommy’s shoulder’s in semblance of a hug as Tommy flew them through the hallways.

[stranger-marauders]

shattered

twelve: the creel house

chapter summary: Steve and Kate deal with the consequences of the night before while searching the Creel house for clues about Vecna.

chapter warnings: language, slight angst

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | masterlist

THE NEXT MORNING, Kate could faintly hear someone speaking, but she couldn't identify who or where it was coming from.

"Hey, lovebirds, get up."

Kate quickly shot up at the sentence, more confused than anything. What the hell was going on? It wasn't until she sat up that she realized Dustin had been speaking, more specifically to her and Steve. Whenever they'd both finally fallen asleep next to each other, touching no more than by the linking of their hands, Steve had somehow gotten his arms around her, and she had been using him as a pillow, their legs intertwined.

Awkward.

She quickly pulled Steve off of her, trying to get up as quickly as possible so she could quite literally be anywhere else. He quickly became coherent whenever he realized Dustin was still staring at him, almost frightening similar to how his own mother would stare at him whenever he'd done something wrong as a child.

"Steve, get up!"

"All right, Jesus, Henderson!" he shouted back at him, pulling himself off the ground.

He finally met Dustin's eyes again whenever he'd gotten himself straightened out, he found his expression had changed, almost waiting for him to say something about what he'd just seen.

Steve almost couldn't blame him. He still couldn't believe he had been so close to kissing her and he hadn't gotten the chance before Dustin moved, making her pull away. Had she pulled away after the sound or before it? He'd replayed the moment so many times in his head that he was starting to think he was remembering it wrong.

Nonetheless, it wasn't any of Dustin's business, nor anyone else's besides his and Kate's. "Not... a damn... word. Got it?"

Dustin put his hands up in surrender, and Steve went to the bathroom to try to fix his hair as best he could before he wouldn't have the chance to.

Nancy had filled everyone in about Max's discovery in the car ride to Victor Creel's abandoned house.

Whenever she had been possessed by Vecna, Max had seen parts of the house when he'd had her trapped, a more dismantled version of it. She'd drawn pictures of it, and Nancy had pieced together the parts of it that formed the house.

As they pulled up on the boarded-up building, a shiver was sent down Kate's spine—there was a reason why this place was abandoned. What was presumably a beautiful house in the '50s and beforehand, the blue and white building had since been taken back over by vines and such on the first level, the other floors seeming to grow with mold and caked with dirt, not to mention the boarded up windows and door. There wasn't a thing about the place that breathed "welcoming," that's for sure.

Once they'd gotten themselves out of Nancy's car, they stood outside of the building, almost as if they were reassessing going in at all.

"Yeah, that's not creepy," Steve said to no one in particular while looking at Kate.

She shrugged, starting to move toward the house—they had to do this for Max.

Steve and Kate had been the ones to pry the nails off of the wooden panel that covered the door, both having a hammer each as the rest of the group watched.

"I mean, what exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?" he finally said, turning to Nancy behind him before starting to remove nails again.

"We're not sure," Nancy replied. "We just... know this house is important to Vecna."

"Because Max saw it in Vecna's red soup mind world?"

"Basically."

"Great."

"Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he's back. Why he killed the Creels," Dustin explained.

"And, more importantly, how to stop him before he comes back for Max," Kate added.

"We... don't think he's in here, do we?" Lucas asked somewhat worriedly.

"Guess we'll find out," Max said nonchalantly.

Steve looked at Kate, still holding up the panel. "Ready?"

She nodded in response, muttering a quiet "mhm" before they both let it fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Steve tried to open the door by the knob, but found it only rattled in response. "It's locked. Should I knock, see if anybody's home?"

"No need." Kate chuckled when Robin held up a brick. When Steve gave her an unconvinced look, she shrugged. "I found a key."

Steve threw the brick through the glass door, apprehensively looking inside before sticking his hand down to unlock the door and open it. He whistled when he walked inside, waiting for the others to come in behind him.

Robin was the first after him, then Kate, Nancy, and the kids, all holding flashlights in their hands. Kate stepped deeper into the house, trying to get a better look at the insides that wasn't just abandoned furniture, dust, and cobwebs.

Lucas tried turning on one of the lamps as Steve shut the door to the house. "Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill."

Dustin clicked on his flashlight, and Steve looked at him in confusion. "Where'd everyone get those?"

Dustin turned around to face him, giving him a shocked look. "Do you need to be told everything? You're not a child."

Steve hesitated to respond. "Thank you."

Dustin scoffed, pulling the backpack off his back to hand to him. "Back pocket."

He pulled the last flashlight out of the backpack, letting it drop to the floor whenever he turned it on.

Kate and Robin opened the door to what presumably was their parlor room, scanning over it with their flashlights.

"They just... left everything," Kate said, almost not believing what she was seeing. She couldn't believe that after thirty years, this was what was left.

"I guess a triple homicide isn't good for resale value," Robin replied.

Before she could respond, Max called, "Hey, guys?" Everyone walked over to where Max was standing, looking at what she was shining her flashlight at. "You all see that, right?"

The "that" in question was an old grandfather clock, one that looked like it hadn't seen the light of day presumably since the murders of the Creels.

"Yeah."

"Is... this what you saw?" Nancy asked, taking a step closer to her. "In your... visions?"

Max nodded hesitantly, almost as if she were still being haunted by them.

"I mean, it's... just a clock. Right?" Robin asked, her voice, for the most part, calm and steady. She walked around Max to get closer to the clock, trying to inspect it. She wiped the glass face off, dust caking her hand. She turned back to the rest of the group. "Like a normal old clock."

"Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?" Steve asked. "Maybe he's, like, a clockmaker or something?"

"I think you cracked the case, Steve," Dustin replied sarcastically.

Steve turned to him sharply, giving him a pointed look—now was not the time to be poking fun at his detective skills.

"All I know is... the answers are here," Nancy said. "Somewhere. Okay, everyone stay in groups of two. Max, you're with me."

"Rob, upstairs," Kate said, grabbing her by the arm as she headed toward the staircase.

"Come on, let's go," Max said to Lucas, making him follow her.

Steve and Dustin exchanged glances, Steve's bitter and Dustin's content. Steve only sighed as he started to climb up the stairs.

"Why'd you sigh?"

"I didn't sigh," Steve said, already halfway up the stairs. "Just come on, dude."

"I heard you!"

"W–We're just always partners, okay?"

"What, you have a problem with that?"

"It'd just be nice to, I don't know, mix it up a bit." More specifically, Steve wanted to be with Kate.

"So what, I'm boring you? Is that it?"

"That is—No, the opposite—"

As they argued their way up to the second floor, Steve and Dustin had completely missed the evergrowing luminescence of the light fixture next to the staircase.

Kate and Robin had already swept part of the upper story for anything interesting or of importance.

"I don't know if I'm late to the party, but did anyone ever think that maybe this asshole isn't... I don't know, doesn't come from the Upside Down?"

Robin gave her a funny look. "What do you mean?"

Kate shrugged, still looking in front of her. "I don't know, maybe this thing is from here. Our universe, dimension, whatever." She turned around to look at Robin, who now looked even more confused, and she sighed. "Look, as far as we know, my sister is the only person to have ever opened a gate, right?" When Robin nodded, Kate continued. "So why did this Vecna dude just randomly kill a family never to be heard of again before now? He's... He's gotta be from here. Has to be."

"But isn't he in the Upside Down right now?" she asked. "How... How would he still be alive?"

Kate shrugged. "Haven't gotten that far into it." She looked back to Robin again for only a second. She didn't know how to say she thought it had something to do with her sister. "Look, it's just a theory, okay? I just... It's stupid. It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything."

Robin nodded, seeming to finally understand her point. Maybe she wasn't that far off. As Kate led them into another room, Robin posed a question of her own. "Hey, why'd you pick me? I mean, I'm honored, but I'm confused as to why you picked me over..." Steve. "I don't know. Anyone else?"

"Because you and I've always made a great team, Rob," Kate answered, scanning the area she shined with her flashlight. "We translated a Russian code when neither of us spoke Russian, remember?"

"And as convincing as that sounds, I am one hundred percent sure that that is not the case."

Kate turned back to Robin, giving her a questionable look. "What d'you mean?"

"As incredible of a team we make, you and I both know you picked me before someone else could pick you."

She stopped in her tracks, sighing softly. "That's not... true."

Robin took a step closer to her, almost as if she were scared to get too close. "I know it's difficult to accept, but he, very obviously, still has feelings for you. A lot of them. I mean, we all saw you guys this morning—"

"You all saw it?"

She gave a nod, almost smiling. "Yeah, we all saw you two adorably snuggled up against each other, so don't even try to deny you don't still have feelings for him, too."

Kate didn't respond, but it only reminded her of the kiss that almost happened the night before. She wished she wouldn't have pulled away. Their lips had been so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She wished she would've closed to gap sooner, just for everything to feel right for just a moment. She knew, however, that it wasn't fair to do that to Steve. She had cut things off and she had to respect that, even if she wanted to, mor than anything, be with him again, because she couldn't do that to him. Not again.

"Kate?"

She shook her head, almost attempting to pull herself out of her own thoughts. She started walking forward again, her flashlight lighting her path. "Let's keep going, okay? I hate this house."

When Robin followed behind her, this time, she didn't ask any questions, especially not about the boy that was just down the hall from them.

Steve wished he would've said something before he got stuck with Dustin.

It wasn't like he was stuck with Dustin. He loved Dustin, even if the kid had started loving Eddie Munson more than him. Nothing, however, would make up for the fact that he could've been alone with Kate right now, had almost been given a moment to talk to her alone despite everything else going on.

He wanted to ask her about that damn kiss. Really, it was a non-kiss, a close-to-a-kiss, but it had still happened. That was the closest thing he'd felt to right since she'd broken up with him in terms of girls, and he didn't want to just give it up now, not if she felt the same way.

For that reason, he hated that he was stuck with Dustin.

"I get why you freaked out about Nancy the other day now," Dustin finally said, breaking the silence between them.

Steve turned to look at him, giving him a confused look. "What?"

"She was the only girl you ever really liked besides Kate. You were just projecting—"

"What? No, that's not—" Steve cut himself off, trying to collect himself. If he got flustered, that would only make things worse. "It's not... like that."

"It certainly looked like that this morning."

"It's not that simple, Henderson," Steve warned. He didn't want to talk about it with anyone but her.

"Of course not. Because things have always been so simple between you and Kate."

"Will you shut up about Kathy, please?" he whispered somewhat harshly. "You're being... We broke up months ago, why would I—" He cut himself off to sigh. "For your information, I've gone out with other girls since then. A lot of them."

"And none of them have been her, have they?"

That's what hurt even more. Dustin was right: even Nancy hadn't even been close to what Kate had given him. Even if she was still broken, still a husk of what she used to be, he still loved her and would love every form of her. He hadn't even minded all that much when she'd pulled a gun on him again, almost hesitating to put it down. He hadn't minded her shutting him out, only because he knew she wanted space. He hadn't nor wouldn't mind anything that she would throw at him because she was her. He wished, more than anything, that he could make everything better for her, to tell her that he loved her and make it all go away, he knew he couldn't. Kate had pushed him away, and for now, there was no coming back from that. All he could do was be there for her as best he could—that or keep the kids from bothering her.

"Hey, uh, Henderson?" he finally asked to break the silence again, following him into what presumably was a bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"Could you maybe, uh... clarify what sort of clues we're supposed to be looking for here?"

Dustin stopped in his tracks, not turning to Steve as he spoke, more specifically in a British accent. "'The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.'" Dustin turned around to look at Steve with a smile, which he immediately dropped whenever Steve gave him a confused look. "Sherlock Holmes." Dustin scoffed, walking away whenever his expression didn't change.

"That's great," Steve finally said, walking in the direction opposite of him and moving toward the bathroom. "Thanks. That's great. Really helpful." Whenever Dustin was far enough away, he mumbled to himself, "Sherlock..."

He shined his flashlight over the vent in the floor, something inside of the vent reflecting the light. Curiosity got the best of him, and he kneeled down next to it, pulling the cover off and reaching his hand down to grab one of the many jars at the bottom of it.

Steve didn't know what to think of the jar he'd picked up: leaves filled the bottom of it, and a spider lay dead on some of the branches from those leaves, cobwebs dusting the limbs. He started to set it back down when he felt something crawling on him, turning to find a spider on his shoulder.

He jumped back up quickly and dropped the jar on the tile floor, gasping as he tried brushing it off of him frantically. He ran backward into the hallway, walking through the bathroom doorway and getting even more cobwebs all over him as he tried to brush the spider off.

"Jesus Christ," Kate breathed, jumping as Steve manically tried to brush himself off in front of her—he'd almost collided with her in the hallway. "Wh–What the hell are you doing? What's wrong?"

"There was a spider," he said softly, still rubbing his hand against his arm to make sure it was gone. He almost sounded out of breath as he spoke. "It was a black widow." Whenever he turned around, shining his flashlight in front of him, he quickly closed the door to the bathroom he'd just come out of. "Don't go in there."

"Okay? Oh, shit," Kate responded, finally seeing the mess of cobwebs that he'd gotten into his hair. She tried pulling some of it out, but Steve ran his fingers through it, starting to move forward as if he were trying to walk away from her. "Wait, just..."

"What?" Steve said, walking in front of a dusty mirror with his voice still panicked. "Something? Shit. O–Okay."

"Wait. Stop moving!" she said, making him stop in front of the mirror and attempting to pull the cobwebs out of his hair. "Stop. I just... I got it. I got it. Just stand still. Don't move."

"Thank you."

"If there's a spider nesting in there, you're never gonna find it til it lays eggs and all the babies spill out," Robin said evasively, trying to freak Steve out even more.

"What's wrong with you?" Steve asked as Kate pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh.

Robin only chuckled in response.

"Robin, seriously!" Steve turned his head so Kate could start pulling at the cobwebs again, and she tried her best to not start laughing, pressing her lips together tightly. "She's got problems."

"Yeah, tell me about it. She should've just said we were gonna have to shave your head."

"Kathy, that's not funny, okay? Seriously."

"To you," she said, chuckling slightly. "You would've freaked out, though, and it would've been hilarious."

"Do you... Do you both just enjoy torturing me or something?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.

"No! No, it's not that, it's just..." She stifled a laugh. "You're just really particular about your hair, Steve. You're an easy target."

He scoffed, almost running his hands through his hair, but he stopped himself. "It's cool you two still talk. That you're, like... I don't know, still friends. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him... you know, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something." Steve turned to the side, almost as if he were trying to see her better. "You know? Me, you, Robin, Nance if she's down. Jonathan when he's back." Steve hesitated to go on, almost as if he were waiting for her response.

"Yeah, maybe you could bring one of those girls you've been going out with," Kate said nonchalantly. She hadn't meant it as a dig, but she wanted to slap herself after she'd said it.

"It's not like we're dating. Me and—I'm not dating any of them. Not really. Right? Robin told you? I'm not dating Robin either, so—"

"Yeah, I know," Kate said softly, still picking the cobwebs out of his hair. "That's... very obvious. I think I have a better chance with her than you do."

"Platonic with a capital P!" Robin said from down the hall.

"Yep. Thank you," Steve said loud enough for Robin to hear.

She put a thumbs up in response, still looking away from Kate and Steve.

"I mean... I don't know. I just—I don't only want to see you when the world's about to end, you know?" He paused. "I miss you."

Kate pressed her lips together again for a moment, almost as if she were thinking about how to word something. "Maybe... Maybe you could come visit sometime. Rob, too. Get out of Hawkins for a while."

He smiled. "Yeah, yeah, maybe."

She pulled the last cobweb out of his hair, taking a deep breath and smiling. "Okay, your hair's been saved. No buzzcut needed."

He fluffed it out in the back once, turning back around to her. "Great. Thanks." He chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Well... Great. Um..." He stared at her awkwardly, almost not knowing what to say. What was he supposed to say after that? "Guess we should, uh... get back to the investigation."

Kate nodded in response, pressing her lips together still so as to try not to smile.

"The obvious things are not what... people... observe. Or... Do... Don't observe. Or...," he said, trying to remember what the hell Dustin said about five minutes before. When Kate gave him a confused look, he stopped as to not make even more of a fool out of himself, nodding. "Sherlock Holmes."

Kate couldn't help but smile at him as he walked away, almost dumbstruck as she walked toward Robin. "What?"

And once again, Kate couldn't help but smile because of the stupid antics of the boy just down the hall from her.

next chapter

taglist:

@thatsonezesty13 @cece5298 @thepowerstoner @alovelytardis @coolchick333 @stand-tall-pineapple @littlet-holmes @guichu @cinderellacauseshebroke @blackbirddaredevil23 @mads-weasley @ilovemarauders @pearlstiare @liableperfections @khaylin27 @girlwiththerubyslippers @cyarikaaa

[diabolikpersonals]

Do you think shuuma has anything in common?

oh yeah!! oh yeah. here's some thoughts. (I'm kind of loopy from a booster shot when writing this so if it doesnt make sense then pls forgive me lol)

It feels almost too obvious to say, but I'll start by pointing out that the starting point of shuuma's story has to do with the fact that they have a shared history together but they're on unequal grounds about it. They are two kids in the same place who should've gotten along just fine, but there was the separation of species and class that messed everything up for them. You could even say that they share trauma about it, although it manifests itself differently: Shu who can't forget and Yuma who can't remember.

I thought it was really interesting that both Shu and Yuma have alternate names and they become a mark of how, like, they know each other better than anyone else. Shu knows that Yuma used to be Edgar, but he doesn't identify with this anymore. Yuma knows that Shu's "real" name is Lilie, because Shu told him in secret. With a gender lens (and u know I love the lens of gender n sexuality when analyzing media lmao) you could say that they know each other's deadnames. So, the fact that they both have deadnames is something in common.

How about refusal to ask for help, or trouble communicating when they're feeling bad? What's so funny about this one is that Yuma criticizes Shu for this, like "You always hold back when you're upset, I told you that you can just talk to your brothers or me if you need help!!" but then Yuma can't communicate well when he's upset either. (I love the Yuma LE scene where Yui is like "Can't you both just talk about your feelings? Should I just do the talking for you?" lmao literally what would we do without her)

SELF-SACRIFICE!!!!! GOD!!!!!!! these guys can't go a single route without taking a knife for somebody else. Particularly for each other. Yuma setting his own house on fire to get Shu and Yui together, Shu trying his best to hand off Yui to Yuma as some kind of reparations, Yuma getting his ass sent to snake jail and then nearly being beheaded to make things easier on Shu, Shu starting a whole war to save Yuma.......it just keeps HAPPENING and thats why these fuckers DIE SO OFTEN in their bf's routes like come on. cut it out. make them stop

On a lighter note, I really enjoy that they have totally different tastes in food but because of their past together, the venn diagram of the food they like has "apples" right in the center. That's so cute. Shu's like "yeah I only like meat basically, who needs fruits and vegetables?" until Yuma gives him a fruit and Shu's like "yes I love this one <3"

Shu keeps it a secret more than Yuma does, but they both love the Sakamaki and Mukami families so much, I wanted to include this too :')

Both proud leaders of the Ghouls Rights Movement. (this is important to ME ok)

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Come Back Home

Pairing: Dick Grayson (DC Titans) x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and miscarriage

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Years after the two of you broke up, Dick Grayson comes back to your life. But he doesn’t know you’ve been hiding a secret all this time.

A/N: @imcarolinashannon​ and I were talking about angst fics so I decided to write this. I probably might do a second part so if you want to be tagged in that then just send me a message or something

Dick lounged comfortably in Donna’s living room. She promised to meet up with him but unfortunately, she was running late. Dick had no trouble letting himself in and laying down on her couch, waiting for her to get home.

He heard the door open and opted to stay silent, wanting to see her reaction when she realized he had broken in. Technically he hadn’t really broken in but used the key that she hid underneath the doormat.

He silently waited for Donna to come to the living room, feeling childish but at the same time anticipating it.

“Don?”

That wasn’t Donna’s voice.

“Don? You here? The door was left open…”

Dick stiffened. That voice. He’s heard that voice before.

“Don? I—” Your voiced cut off suddenly, whatever was in your hands slipped and fell to the ground. You barely even realized, just hearing a faint thump in the back of your head as the plastic bag hit the floor.

It had been so long.

Dick Grayson hadn’t changed one bit since the last time you had seen him. You on the other hand, looked like age had caught up with you, but in Dick’s eyes you looked as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

That day flashed vividly in his head. You looking beautiful and holding him close to your heart. The ache he felt that day. He couldn’t bear to say anything and break your heart. He couldn’t break your heart again. Saying goodbye to you while you were asleep. Leaving a note on the nightstand.

And then leaving without a second look back.

He never let himself rethink his decision. When he got drunk, he’d shed silent tears when he thought about you, but he’d never let himself call you up. When he got your letters, he’d keep them by his nightstand, but he’d never let himself read it. He feared he’d listen to you and come back.

He didn’t deserve to have you in his life again.

Looking at you again after all these years. He wondered if he made the right decision. He wondered if he should’ve just given into his selfishness. But beyond everything, the void in his heart was made that much more apparent to him when he noticed the way you were looking at him. It was guarded, but at the same time emotional.

It was like you felt something, but you didn’t want to show him.

It was like that for a few seconds, where you were just stuck staring at each other, frozen in time. Neither of you dared to move a muscle. It was calm, too calm. And the two of you were afraid that it would start a storm.

So just as quickly as you came, you backtracked and ran away.

“(Y/N) wait—!” Dick started, moving for you before he could stop himself. He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers. He just needed a few more minutes. A few more minutes to look at you and realize what he gave up. A few more minutes.

But you were already booking it down the hallway when he made it to the door. It was then he found the strength to stop himself. He had to. He couldn’t ask for you to wait. You probably waited a lot already. He couldn’t ask you to wait anymore.

So, he let you slip through his fingers again.

But this time it was him who had to watch you walk away.

And it was only then he realized how much it hurt to be left behind.

***

When the Titans split up you were the only one who remained in San Francisco. Waiting. Just waiting for someone to return. Anyone.

Everything happened so quickly. Garth was taken from you, as well as Jericho, and everything just changed in the span of a night. The family that you had built had broken and no one seemed to have the energy to put back the pieces together.

You remember the same monotonous days, the days where you couldn’t feel anything, when you just woke up to go back to sleep and slept to pretend that none of this ever happened. It was suffocating and exhausting, but you had no way to pull yourself out into the light.

You remember holding onto your fiancé a little tighter that night, your body shaking even though you weren’t cold. You remember sleeping a little heavier that night, as if your body couldn’t bear to wake up to this existence anymore. You remember feeling cold and empty.

You remember waking up to find the space next to you on the bed empty and you immediately knew what had happened. Dick had taken off. You had known it was coming, for a while now, but you couldn’t seem to believe it.

For a while you just stared at the note he left behind with an emotionless gaze. This week had been hell enough, what was another punch? At least things couldn’t get worse.

For a while you just held the note loosely between your fingers, not bothering to move from your bed. You knew you were supposed to be feeling sad, but your heart couldn’t afford it. You couldn’t feel anything anymore.

So, you just stood up from bed, moving unsteadily to the kitchen, not being able to process anything. You just went to the fridge and got yourself a glass of milk before going back to the couch and turning on the television. It was playing but you weren’t watching it.

The sorrow of losing your best friends and your fiancé didn’t hit you until a few days later. You ran out of milk and were looking for something else to drink. Opening the fridge reserved for alcohol, you grabbed whatever touched your fingers first.

An orange soda.

Then your gaze moved to the diamond ring sitting snugly on your finger. The bottle slipped through your fingers, falling onto the ground along with your body. You held yourself as you cried, screamed for someone to come back. For someone to save you through this loneliness.

You cried for what seemed like forever, until you felt dry and then you cried some more. You couldn’t even bring yourself to get off the floor, letting the sticky orange soda soak into your pants and the glass shards of the broken bottle sink into your legs.

Crying felt like the only thing you were capable of. You weren’t able to do anything else, even consoling yourself was far from your mind. All you could do was mourn the death of your friend and the death of your friendships.

Your breath left your body, your stomach churned painfully and your heart clenched in your chest. You couldn’t stand the thought of saying goodbye. You just couldn’t do what the others had and leave your family in the past. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

So, you waited, for someone to return, for anyone to return. You waited and waited, until it had been engrained into your behaviour, until it had been the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last thing you thought about at night. You waited.

You knew the day would come when this void in your heart would be filled.

If you had just waited.

But you eventually gave up the hope of them coming back, you gave it all up. You figured they would never come back home. That they found new homes. That they forgot about you. At this point you wondered if even one of your family members would return.

Nothing could have prepared you for Donna’s phone call one day. She told you that she was back in town and wanted to see you again. Something told you it was too good to be true. Something else told you to give into your pride and bail on her like she did so many years ago.

But against your better judgement, you still agreed to meet with her.

You weren’t expecting to come face to face with the man who left you behind so many years ago. However unhealthy it may have been, you never let yourself think about how you were really feeling when this devastation hit you.

You never tried to identify your feelings.

Rather, you tried to distract yourself and move forward. And it had worked. Until you made eye contact with Dick and had to wonder whether you should break down, get angry and scream or just be happy and relieved to see him again.

It was something you couldn’t handle. You couldn’t even begin to think about it. You couldn’t.

So, you didn’t have to think twice when your legs stumbled back and sprinted out of Donna’s apartment and out of the building.

Only when you were safely back home did you stop running, ignoring the calls from Donna for the rest of the day and instead drowning your sorrows in orange soda, trying to forget this ever happened.

***

Donna eventually managed to track you down to your apartment where you were just laying around your couch. While you were feeling overwhelmed to invite her into your home you were also excited to just sit down and talk with her again.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Donna smiled, pulling you in for a hug, “It’s been so long. Nice place you have here.” She commented, taking off her coat as you shut the door behind her.

“Oh, it’ just your run of the mill, one-bedroom apartment.” You said absentmindedly, “You can look around if you want.”

Donna did exactly that, moving to the passageway and then towards the one bedroom. The door was closed and she wondered if she was allowed to enter. You did say that you could look around so it wouldn’t do any harm.

“Hey, um, the door is locked.” She called out to you and there was an awkward beat of silence before you answered.

“Yeah, I, um, I keep the old suit and weapons there. Don’t want anybody to get in there, you know?”

Oh. Well, that made sense.

“Why don’t you come here and we can have a cup of tea of something.”

“So, what have you been up to?” You asked, getting a cup of tea ready for her. It had been a while since you had anyone in your place so you weren’t even sure where the second tea cup was.

“(Y/N), as much as I would love for this to just be a visit, I’m sorry but there’s something important that I have to tell you.”

Donna told you all about how Dick had reinstated the Titans and was actually in the city right now. You had already known that and made a conscious decision to stay far away from them. You had waited and waited and waited for them to return but when you finally moved on, they decide to show up again?

She told you about how each of the original Titans members were being targeted by an assassin, reasons and identity unknown and that she was here to bring you to the base for your protection.

“Listen, Donna, I hung up that suit a long time ago. If you guys are getting targeted then it’s probably because you started to get back into this life again. I’m fine and I haven’t been involved in it for a long time.” You told her.

“Yeah, (Y/N), I know but we all just think it would be safer—”

“Donna, I told you, I’ve moved on. I’m just an elementary school teacher now. No one is out to get me.”

A shot rang out through the apartment and your windows shattered.

The butt of the bullet shined from its hole in your wooden floors. It was a warning shot. And when you turned you saw the silhouette of a man on the roof of the apartment complex next to your building. He hid well and you couldn’t really make out any features.

The man held the gun up to eye level again and you jumped grabbing Donna’s arm and running towards the closet in the hallway before throwing it open and handing her a gun as shots rang out one after the other.

“I thought you said you kept all your superhero stuff in the other room?” She asked, seeing your costume hung in all it’s glory along with a number of weapons and gadgets.

“Is that really important now?!” You shouted, trying to pocket as many weapons as you could and then ran out into the hallway and past the staircase to the other side of the building

“What? (Y/N) what are we doing? The exit is over there!” She shouted, following you through the halls and she heard you click the safety off your gun before shooting at a lock and kicking the door open.

She ran behind you through an empty apartment and then through the window, scaling down the fire escape before making a break for it.

***

“So, you’re telling me I know have a target painted on my back because the rest of you couldn’t stop playing dress up?” You asked with a furious bite to your voice. The rest of the members held their head down, trying to avoid your gaze.

You were always the mother of the group, looking after people and making sure everyone was okay. But everybody knew when you were angry, there was nothing topping you from ripping them to shreds. The only thing they could do was try their hardest not to agitate you.

Even though none of them were scared of you and they probably could be equally matched with you in a fight. They would probably ever win, because you haven’t been out in the field for a year. But there was just something about your fiery gaze and your sharp voice that made their hearts quicken and them lower their heads in shame.

“(Y/N),” Dawn began with a placating voice, trying to put out your anger, “I know your mad but—”

“Mad?! I’m furious! What the hell were you imbeciles thinking?! Oh, let me guess, absolutely nothing!”

Usually when you were this angry, the team would send Dick your way, knowing that you could never stay angry with him for long. Even though years have passed and your relationship was now broken, it seemed like their strategies were still ingrained into their minds.

“(Y/N), look we just—” Dick began, moving towards you gently so he could hold you but you snapped at him, glaring at him so harshly that he actually took a few steps back and sat back into his seat.

“Oh, shut up, daddy issues! I don’t even wanna start with you!”

Hank immediately stood up then, getting annoyed with you constantly yelling at him. He was a grown man, why should he have to hear you shout at him like he was a little kid?

“Look, (Y/N), none of us—”

“Sit! The fuck! Down!”

No one could appreciate how funny Hank looked, slinking back to his seat like a kicked puppy.

“I seem to recall all of you saying that you wanted to leave this life behind! And now because none of you could actually give it up, my apartment is trashed, all my stuff probably has bullet holes and now I’m stuck here with no clothes, no stuff and all of you!”

“I could lend you some clothes if you like.” Donna said meekly from beside Dick, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Oh, well all of my problems are solved! Thank you so much!”

“I can’t believe this.” You murmured with a quiet voice and the rest recognized that you were finished with yelling. To be quite honest it was just a lot to process. You thought you had left these monsters in the past. It felt like they were trying to pull you back in by your ankles.

“I’m sorry.” Dick spoke up quietly and you sighed, seeing how ashamed he looked. He probably felt horrible, and that didn’t excuse him, but you couldn’t bear to keep yelling when you knew they felt apologetic towards you.

Maybe that’s why you were always being taken advantage of.

“Not like we can do anything about it now.” You said quietly, not making eye contact with either of them and instead just turning around and walking out of the mission room, briefly passing Rachel as you made your way to the kitchen.

You needed a shot.

Rachel stepped into the room once you left with a dazed look, clutching her arm that brushed against you as you walked out. It didn’t go unnoticed by the others.

“Rachel? Is everything okay?”

“I—” You started but then stopped herself, not quite understanding what she was feeling, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

***

You were formally introduced to the rest of the team by the end of the day. Dick watched with a gentle smile as you made witty banter with Jason and told Gar how adorable he was as he blushed.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.”

“Hey, Rachel, I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and held out your hand for her to shake. As soon as her skin came into contact with yours a gasp l4eft her lips.

Behind her closed eyelids she saw bits and pieces of your memories. She saw you writing letters. Even though you weren’t speaking she could hear what you were writing in her head. It was just bits and pieces of you writing letters but she could feel all the emotions that you felt as you wrote it down.

‘Hey love, it’s (Y/N), I love you, please come home.’

‘Dick it’s been weeks, please come home. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you, and I was hoping I could do it in person but I can’t. Dick, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with your child so I need you to come home. Please.’

You sent an ultrasound along with the letter and behind it in your handwriting was ‘Please, come home, our baby needs you.’

‘Dick, I want to fly out to Detroit and see you but my Doctor says it isn’t safe for me to fly. I’m about 3 months along and I just heard his heartbeat today. I’m so scared of doing this alone, Dick. I can’t do this alone. Please come home. I need you.’

‘I don’t know if you’re even reading my letters, Dick, but I’m going to keep sending them. If it’s the only way I can talk to you then I’m going to keep sending them. I’m craving a lot of sweets, so if you decide to come home all you need to do is bring back a s’more or something to get me to forgive you, okay? I’ll forgive you, I promise, just please come back home.’

‘I found out the sex of the baby today. It’s gonna be a boy. Dick, we’re gonna have a son and I don’t think I can raise him without you. Please come back home, let’s raise our son together. Please just even call me, or even just sending me a letter back is enough. Something. Anything, Dick, please.’

‘He’s starting to kick more often now, he’s really very active. He loves it when we watch your favourite movie. I don’t know why but I can feel it when we watch it together. He feels happy. Come back home and you can feel his kicks yourself. You don’t know how amazing that feels until it happens. I talk to him a lot; I tell him about you and I know he probably doesn’t understand but It feels like he does. I’m so scared to do this alone, Dick, I don’t think I can. Would you please come home now?’

‘I’ve been getting these things called Braxton Hick’s contractions. They were scary and new but apparently nothing to worry about. That’s what the doctor’s say but I can’t help but get scared, you know? It was absolutely heart-breaking to have to get myself to the hospital. I have friends, but let’s face it, none of them can actually take on the burden of having a child. And I couldn’t ask them to. I still love you, Dick. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. Our son, he feels so familiar, like there was a piece of you left behind. I’m starting to lose hope of you coming back, but I’m still going to keep writing letters because our son needs his father.’

Scenes flashes one after another and her head began spinning with images and she felt dizzy. Eventually her head cleared up and her eyes focused on your staring at her with concerned eyes.

“Rachel, is everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, you blanked out for a second there.”

Yeah, Yeah I’m fine.”

You seemed to buy her explanation and left the room along with the boys when they offered to show you around. Rachel still stood in the middle of the kitchen, seemingly frozen.

Dick walked up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and that seemed to pull her out of her trance but she still seemed pretty shaken up.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“She sent you letters, didn’t she?”

His brows furrowed as he scanned her face. There was something about it that he couldn’t pin-point, that he couldn’t read. It didn’t surprise him that she knew that you had written letters to him but what surprised him was that she asked about it. Usually, she never did.

“Yeah, she did.”

“You never read them, did you?” She asked again, meekly, breaking eye contact with him. She sounded disappointed and hurt but he couldn’t understand why. Maybe if he just explained the situation to her, she would understand.

“No, I never did.” He was going to tell her why. He was going to explain himself. But just as the moment came, Rachel started pulling herself away, moving towards her bedroom like she was lost.

“You should have.”

***

After his conversation with Rachel, Dick wondered what could have been in those letters that made her so shaken up. That made her distance herself from him for the next few days. It was heart-breaking to watch her pull away from him whenever he wanted to talk.

The longer Rachel distanced herself from him, the longer he wondered what exactly was in those letters. Rachel seemed to think that he should have read those letters, but what could’ve been in there that was so terrible?

Obviously, you were well and you looked like you had completely turned your life around, so what could it have been that Rachel thought he should find out about even after all these years?

The curiosity was enough to make him find those letters but not enough to give him the courage to read them. But he still needed to, he absolutely had to, so he opened the first letter you ever sent him.

Around an hour later, all the letters were opened and scattered around his bed. Nothing was going through his head. He didn’t even here you when you called him for dinner from the kitchen.

“Dick? Dinner’s ready. What are you….?” It was then you noticed the opened letters sitting on his bed, “What is this?”

“The letters you sent me.” He told you, his voice cracking and your breath caught. Your first emotion was to run away, to run far away but at the same time it felt like your feet were bolted to the floor. Dick looked up at you and you vaguely noticed the tears in his eyes.

For the first time, it felt like he finally understood how much leaving you had hurt him. He finally realized that he did more harm than good by leaving you. That he was missing out on his life’s greatest dream by leaving you. That while he was missing you, were begging him to come back.

“We have a son…” He started and you flinched, taking a sharp breath but not moving from your place in the doorway with your arms wrapped around your waist to protect yourself from what was going to come.

“I—I can’t believe this.” He spoke again and you bit your lip. Was he going to scream? Shout? Was he going to tell you that you should’ve aborted it? He stood up, albeit on shaky legs but still made his way towards you, keeping a few feet of distance between you.

You were scared of how he would react. You were worried about what he would say.

“I want to meet—”

“You can’t.” You said firmly, clenching your jaw hard as your nails dug into your palms. This was possibly the worst thing he could’ve said.

“Look I know that I shouldn’t have left. I realize that now. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my entire life and I’m sorry. But he’s my son too, please let me—”

“I lost it.” You murmured, not being able to meet his eyes and instead just lowered your eyes, “I lost our son.”

Just like that, Dick Grayson’s world began to crumble before his eyes.

“I woke up one night, in a pool of blood,” You spoke, screwing your eyes shut as you tried to fight the onslaught of tears. Dick immediately pulled you into a hug and you didn’t fight it, instead you fisted his shirt in your hands to keep you in this world and keep you from reliving that day.

 “I called the ambulance and even though they got me to the hospital and did first aid, he was already gone when I got there.” You cried into his neck and his arms were tight around your shaking form, but he was shedding silent tears into your hair.

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said, voice cracking with guilt and a sob broke through you.

“That’s what everyone else said. But—I just—Can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I had just been more careful. If I had taken care of myself more. If I had tried harder. We would still have our baby boy.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He said once more, firmly this time, that you almost began to believe him.

“I was his mother. I was supposed to protect him. I failed.”

“I was his father. I was supposed to protect the both of you. I’m sorry I failed you.” He wanted to tell you that he loved you. The words were just on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t deserve to love you. And he didn’t deserve to tell you.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” He said again before he broke down and the two of you fell to the floor, crying in each other’s arms.

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee​

DC Taglist: @emmacata​

[triptuckers]

Honesty - Kaz Brekker x reader

Request: oh hell yea "I saw we could send in requests which you don’t need to tell me twice bc I have some things in mind if that’s okay? I had an idea for a Kaz x female reader where he’s had feelings for you for the longest time but has never acted upon those feelings due to his trauma. Until one day something doesn’t go as planned during a Dregs job because his thoughts are with you and he lost his focus for just a moment. This is the moment he realises he has to talk to you about his crush on you but when he looks for you he notices you somewhere secluded in the arms of Jesper making out. How would he react to the fact that the girl he has had feelings for has been secretly dating his right hand? Lots of angst if that’s okay? 😬" Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader (plus some slight Jesper x reader) Summary: When Kaz finally figures out his feelings for you, and wants to tell you about it, he finds something he wasn't prepared to see Warnings:  angst oh god so. much. angst. let's see what else uhh mentions of violence, bruises, language, kaz being a lil jealous jerk Word count: 2.6K A/N: this is the one yall I got this request and HA I was so ready to write some heartbreaking angst, get ready for this one (also I wasnt sure if I had to tag this as kaz x reader of jesper x reader, but as you can see I went with kaz) TAG LIST (grishaverse): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey @sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana add yourself to my tag lists here

Because it was a one-person kind of job and it involved picking quite a few locks, Kaz told the crows to take the night off, while he took care of it.

Given that it was very rare for Kaz to tell you all that you could have the night off, neither of you was stupid enough to question it. Instead, you all wished him good luck and took off to do all those things you normally missed out on when you were away on a job.

Everyone trusted Kaz to be able to handle a simple job on his own. You'd spend enough time with him to know he'd be alright.

And he was.

It was indeed a simple job, all Kaz had to do was sneak into a merchant's home, pick the lock of the safe in the office, steal an important contract between two merchants, and get out.

Part of him liked the solitude of wandering around a big house in the dark. But another part of him wished you'd be there with him. Kaz had shook his head to get you out of his mind, and continued to do the thing he needed to do.

After successfully completing the job and getting the contract he needed, Kaz is standing in front of a closed door, listening for any sounds in the hallway on the other side of the door.

His minds wanders off to you again.

You'd wished him good luck before he walked out the door, and you'd given him one of you signature smiles. Saints, he loved your smile.

He was sure you could fix anything, all you had to do was smile at him. You comforted him in so many ways, and you probably had no idea. Though you could figure it out if you sensed something was going on.

The clues were all right there, all you had to do was find out all the times he asked for you help were all just excuses to be able to spend more time with you.

It was stupid, really. He would invite you up to his office to go over plans for a job, even though he had figured it all out already. He'd pair the two of you on jobs. He did anything to be able to spend time with you.

A cloud slowly moves through the night sky, allowing the moon to illuminate the room. The sudden light abruptly brings Kaz back to reality.

He'd been standing in front of the door for way too long, just thinking about you. He curses himself for losing his focus. For allowing himself to get so lost in his thoughts on you.

Kaz really needs to do something about it. It's almost embarrassing how starstruck he is by you. And he really can't have you distract him on a job like that again, even if you're not in the room with him.

After listening again for sounds in the hallway, Kaz slowly pushes the door open. Upon discovering the hallway is empty, he steps out of the office and makes his way to the front door of the house.

All the way back to the Slat, he's thinking of ways on how to tell you. He's never been really good at talking about his feelings. And he wants to make sure he tells you the right thing. The last thing he wants is to stutter to try and find the words to say to you.

Eventually, he settles on just getting you alone first. He'll figure out what to say after that.

The walk to the Slat takes a while, given that the Barrel is on the other side of Ketterdam. His leg starts to ache but he ignores it, he'd endured worse.

When he finally sees the Slat in the distance, he notices there are still some lights burning. The window of your room is dark. Kaz hopes you're just sitting downstairs.

But when he enters the kitchen, it's nearly empty. Except for Nina, who is sitting there having a cup of tea before bed.

'Hey!' she says. 'How'd it go?'

In response, Kaz shows her the folded piece of paper.

Nina grins. 'Told you it would be an easy job for you.' she says.

'It was.' says Kaz. 'Have you seen Y/N?'

To his surprise, Nina starts smirking.

'Oh yeah, I've seen Y/N.' says Nina. 'She went out back a while ago.'

Kaz moves to walk to the back door but Nina speaks up again.

'Kaz, I wouldn't do that if I were you.' says Nina. 'I don't think she wants anyone to see her.'

He gives her a confused look, not noticing the playful look in Nina's eyes. He then starts to worry about you. Did something happen to you? Why didn't you want anyone to see you?

Kaz quickly walks to the door and opens it, ignoring Nina who yells at him not to do so. He abruptly freezes in the doorway.

You're indeed there, but you're not alone. A tall figure, who Kaz quickly identifies as Jesper, has you pinned to the wall of the alley.

Aside from the street lamp, it's completely dark. It's hard to tell which limps belong to you and which ones belong to Jesper.

Kaz just stands there, rooted to the spot. He can't move. He just stands there, watching the girl he fell in love with kiss another man. And it's not just any other man, it's Jesper.

The cheerful sharpshooter who had been his right hand for so long. He'd been by Kaz' side for years, joining the Dregs just shortly after you had. Jesper had managed to save Kaz a number of times with his quick shooting. And now he's standing there, kissing you.

Kaz feels sick, like he's going to throw up. Like the air got knocked out of his lungs all at once. The world is spinning. This must be some bad dream, he was asleep and this is a nightmare, it isn't real.

But then you finally seem to notice something is going on.

You pull away from Jesper and look past his arm, to see Kaz standing there with a bewildered look on his face.

'Kaz?' you say, not letting go of Jesper. 'Are you alright? Did something happen on the job?'

Jesper turns around as well now, curiously looking at Kaz.

Instead of looking at you and answering you, Kaz turns his attention to Jesper. The sick feeling in his stomach fades away and gets replaced by anger. Jesper had the guts to kiss you, his girl.

Rage takes over, the same kind of rage that had gotten him the name Dirtyhands. It flashes like a red light in front of his eyes. Without wasting another second, Kaz raises his cane and jabs one of Jesper's legs, sending him to the ground.

'What the fuck, Kaz!' you yell at him.

You rush over to Jesper's side, but Kaz roughly shoves you away with his cane, kneeling next to the taller boy. He angrily looks at him, gritting his teeth.

'You don't get to kiss her just because I can't.' says Kaz in a low voice.

Both you and Jesper look confused, having no clue wat Kaz is talking about.

'Saints, what on earth are you talking about?' says Jesper, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

'She belongs with me, and you can't kiss her because I can't- because I won't- I forbid you from it.' says Kaz.

You look at Kaz, not believing what you're hearing. You'd never seen him like this, so angry, so full of rage. And you'd never seen him use his cane to hurt his crows before.

'I don't know what the fuck you are talking about.' says Jesper. 'But I'd appreciate it if next time, you'd say something instead of using that damned cane of yours. Now if you could excuse us, we went out back to have some privacy.'

Kaz' eyes widen in anger and you watch in horror as he raises a fist and swings it down, hitting Jesper's cheek hard. Before he can strike again, you catch a hold of Kaz' arm and drag him away from Jesper.

You drag him all the way back through the door and into the kitchen. Nina looks up, probably having heard something was going on. It takes one look from you for her to hurry up the stairs, leaving you alone.

You take Kaz over to one of the tables and roughly push him into a chair.

'Stay here.' you say as you glare at him.

Kaz, a feeling of numbness washing over him, doesn't protest.

You walk out the door again and he can hear you softly talking to Jesper. A while later, you and Jesper walk into the kitchen. Kaz sees a bruise is already forming on Jesper's cheek, right where he hit him.

Jesper looks at Kaz with a mixed expression of pain and confusion on his face.

You find some ice and put it on Jesper's cheek.

'Keep that on there.' you tell him. 'Go upstairs, I'll come to your room in a second. I have to talk to Kaz first.'

Jesper nods and as soon as he's out the door, you furiously turn to Kaz.

'You're going to tell me what the fuck that was about right now. No lies, no excuses, you're going to tell me the truth. Now.' you say, dragging out a chair and sitting down in front of Kaz.

'You don't get to kiss her because I can't?' you say, repeating the words he said earlier. 'What the hell was all that about?'

Normally, Kaz knows exactly what to say. All the time. He's always got an answer ready. But whenever it's just the two of you, it's like he forgets how to talk.

'Well?' you press on. 'Say something, for Saints sake!'

When he still doesn't say something, you slam your hand down on the table, and Kaz flinches slightly. You never got this angry.

'I don't want to see Jesper kissing you because I want to do that. That should have been me.' says Kaz.

'Well you can't even take your damn gloves off, did you really think you'd be able to kiss me?' you say in a cold voice.

'With time, maybe.' says Kaz.

You sigh and softly shake your head. You've been part of the Dregs for years. You care a lot about Kaz. But the bond you have with him is just not a romantic one. Apparently, Kaz didn't think so.

'You fucking hit Jesper.' you say, your voice less loud. 'He's going to have a bruise on his cheek.'

'I was angry.' is all Kaz says.

'Clearly.' you say. 'You need to apologise to him.'

Kaz looks at you. 'Yes, Kaz, you have to say you're sorry.' you say.

When Kaz gets up, you stop him.

'Not now.' you say. 'He doesn't want to see you.'

Kaz sits back down again and starts to avoid your gaze. After sitting in silence for a while, you sigh.

'Why'd you have to do it?' you wonder out loud.

'I don't know.' says Kaz. 'Just- seeing someone else kiss you like that, it made me so angry. Like something snapped inside of me.'

'If your really feel the way you say you feel about me, why didn't you say something sooner?' you say.

'I was scared.' admits Kaz. 'That you wouldn't have me because I wouldn't be able to kiss you, to touch you.'

'Physical affection isn't the only thing in a relationship.' you say.

'I know, I know, I just-' 'Kaz.'

He finally looks at you and you can see he's hurt. But you'd rather tell him the truth than lie to protect his feelings.

'Even if you would be able to touch me, a relationship would have never worked. Not for me, at least. I'm sorry, Kaz, I'm not going to sugarcoat it.' you say. 'I love you and I care about you, but not like that. I'm in love with Jesper. We didn't tell you or the other crows because if word gets out, people will see it as one of our weaknesses. I don't want to know what they'd do to get to me, or to get to Jesper.'

You look at Kaz, scanning his face for a reaction. He's letting your words sink in, thinking about them.

'Look, Kaz, I'm sorry. I'd rather tell you the truth than lie to make you feel better. I love Jesper, and right now, I have no intention at all of breaking up with him. You're going to have to find a way to deal with that.' you say and you get up.

'Apologise to him tomorrow, I'll talk to him.' you say. 'And next time, use your words. Not your cane or your fists.'

Kaz watches as you walk toward the stairs, to get to Jesper's room. He watches you as you disappear out of his line of sight. Regret starts to set in. He shouldn't have hit Jesper. He just felt so angry when he saw you with someone else.

You love Jesper, and there's nothing he can do about it. Right now, all he could do was sit in silence, getting lost in his thoughts wondering about what could have been if he had only talked to you sooner.

Meanwhile, you have reached Jesper's room. You knock and open the door, finding Jesper sitting on the bed. He's still got the ice pressed against his cheek.

'Hey.' you say as you walk up to him. Jesper briefly smiles at you but winches immediately at the movement. You sit down next to him and carefully take his hand in yours so you could remove the ice and take a look at his cheek.

Indeed, the skin of his cheek is red, a bruise forming. You lean in to softly press a kiss to his cheek before putting the ice back in place.

'What did Kaz have to say?' says Jesper.

'Um, that he has feelings for me. And that seeing you kiss me just made him angry. That's why he hit you.' you say.

'Should've used his words instead.' mumbles Jesper.

'That's what I told him.' you say. 'But I also told him to find a way to deal with it, because I am not going to break up with you.'

At your words, Jesper smiles. 'Thanks for kissing my war injury better.' he says, making you chuckle. 'I love you.'

'Love you too, Jes.' you say. You smile and get up to go and get ready for bed.

Little did you know that Kaz was standing right outside the door. He'd stopped there on his way to his room on the top floor. The three words you spoke to Jesper stung in his chest.

He'd give anything to hear you say those words to him. But you had made it clear that wasn't going to happen. Eventually, Kaz would have to find a way to deal with it.

After all, both you and Jesper are two of his most valuable and skilled crows. He couldn't just dismiss you because you love each other.

He'd find a way to deal with it. But not tonight. For tonight, he settles for going to his room and opening a bottle of kvas instead.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[skiitter]

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.

[thicksimpx]

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4| Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch 11 |

Summary: Leaving the soul society for “research” - desperately looking to find answers, anything that’ll help him take down the Spirit king.. that is until he meets “HER” - She has him enamored, desperate and most of all curious… there’s something about HER

“Sometimes we do bad things for the people we love. It doesn’t mean it’s right, it means love is more important”

Warnings : 18+ , mature content, mature language, possessiveness , stalking , murder/gore, rough penetration, creampies , fingering, masturbation, cam girl y/n, Lots of Psychology lessons 😂, violence, public sex, unrequited love.

If I'm going to do this I have to do it right ..

—-

(Aizen Pov)

The whole ride I could feel her staring at me.

"Like what you see?" I joked

"H-huh?! What?" She quickly looked out the window. You can clearly tell she was embarassed from being caught. "It's just.. you don't look the way you look in class. I-mean... I wouldve never thought"

"I'll take that as a complement" I chuckled. She's so cute.

"You should" she said smiling looking out the window —— "Omg they finally put the fire out" she pointed as we pulled up to her house.

"Wow ,what happened?" I pretended to be concerned.

"Honestly I don't even know, I woke up for school and it was on fire. Fire trucks were trying to hose it down. Bodies we being bought out .. it was crazy"

"I'm sorry you had to see that" Atleast there's no evidence.

"Yeah, I'm just glad the buildings aren't connected otherwise I could've died"

I didn't even bother to check to see if there were connected in anyway.

"Well anyway" she continued. "I should get inside. Thank you again professor Aldridge" she said opening the door and stepping out.

On instinct I grabbed her wrist making her whip around to look at me with a face wordlessly asking what was wrong.

"You're welcome" I gave her a soft smile letting go of her wrist making sure to rub my fingers across the top of her hand.

She smiled back and stepped out the car closing the door. I watched until she walked in and pulled off.

————

I am an idiot.  I had her in my grasp and I took her home. I took her home! Slamming my hands down on my computer desk I search the cam girl website. None of them are y/n. Does she really only perform on wednesdays?.

I can't believe this is the only way I can watch her right now. Aizen you idiot!

Sitting at my desk in front of my computer I click open another tab and search for articles regarding the building fire.

After searching for 10 minutes I hardly found anything other than the building was burned down, there's no suspect and there's been bodies found but so badly burned they can't be identified. Sighing I move the mouse to click back on the camgirl page but hesitate. what the hell is that? Theres spirit energy coming but I can pinpoint what direction it is. Immediately I stand up my chair hitting the ground and turn around ready to strike.

"Whoa, relax its just me"

"what the hell are you doing here?"

"I can't come check on my friend?" Gin gives a closed eye smile.

"you didn't call"

"yeah, I forgot anyway shits getting crazy but everything on your end is cool though . They still think you're planned. By the time you get back the Hogyoku should be ready"

———---

Sat _Aug 28_ 12PM

(third POV)

Devante moved off the bed as professor Aldridge  took his place. He positioned himself in between your legs and leaned forward to kiss your lips, neck, and then moved to your breasts. He kissed and let his tongue circle your nipples for a bit. He moved your legs apart and moved between the  before pushing himself in to your throbbing cunt. He wasted no time and began thrusting at a quick pace.

He glanced up at you now and then as he kissed your body, you felt like you were floating.  Coming around to the other side, Devante placed his mouth on your other breast, sucking gently, letting his tongue circle your nipple. You looked between the two of them, professor Aldridge still thrusting his hips at a quick pace and Devante teasing your nipples much slower and tenderly.

The constant ringing and buzzing inside your head was distraction you from your oncoming orgasmz "do y'all head that ?" You asked looking back and fourth between them. "What is that?!"

Your eyes snap open to the sound of your arm going crazy on your bedside table.  fuck that dream. You took a moment, trying to figure out where you were, blinking a few times before sitting up and looking around. Realizing you were home you relaxed and laid back down picking up your phone turning off the alarm. You had several messages from your group chat, Shawn asking to come over and from Devante apologizing. rolling your eyes you through your phone back down and stared at the celling

You woke up later than normal. You don't ever remember you other alarms going off. Today you planned on waking up at 9, completing assignments early and then relaxing at home for once.

The events over the last day were too much for you and very shocking. To think professor Aldridge is that fine. I'm glad he doesn't look that way in class.. imagine the competition Kelsey already doing to much. The really runner is the fact that Devante was married this whole time. How does his wife no question where he is most nights? And who the hell took those pictures. It couldn't have been from next door, even before it's burnt down people didn't live there it was abandoned. "Fucking Devante got me into some shit with a woman I wasn't even aware off, crazy bitch probably outside my house" you grown sitting up and throwing the covers off you. ——

"and then I had the nerve to dream  about him and my fucking professor" you laughed telling your friend Ramani about the events that took place.

"Wow. I told you to get some dick for us not get choked out" she joked

"Bitch that's not funny and he didn't choke nobody out. I was good before professor Aldridge came"

"Professor Aldridge? That's the fine ass Asian outro to psych prof right? "

"Yup and he looks even better without them glasses and his hair back"

"And he came to your rescue.. WHY DIDNT YOU GIVE HIM SOME THAANK YOU PUSS PUSS?!" She shouted

"W-what"??" I asked choking on my juice "girl he is my professor he is not worried about me"

"How would you know ? Did you try to throw it at him?"

"No but besides.. he might be married and I'm not going through that again. He's also really cool... "

"I mean .. I don't see why you can try a little sumsum.. he did intervene when you said he didn't need to. He could've pretended he ain't know you. Kelsey says he doesn't even look at her so I thought he was a dick"

"But, I'm his student"

"Students and teaches fuck all the time! Just do something small and see how he reacts. And you need new dick anyway because you just lost the one you had"

"Dont say it like that! But I'll see. Anyway I gotta go Shawn is coming over" you rolled your eyes.

"Ew"

"Right anyway bye girl" you said hanging up

Walking to your balcony you sat down and leaned your head back. Would it be weird if I tried to flirt with professor Aldridge? What if he was really just trying to help his student.  If I'm going to do this I have to do it right.

--

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