#i mean i was still fucked up back then but like. in a pre-middle school way.

[kezcore]

when i was in elementary school GT, my class read when you reach me by rebecca stead. i haven't read it since, but UGH. that book. was a core memory for me. i still think about it. whenever i see swiss miss or $2 bills i think about it. i need to reread it to see if it lives up to my expectations

[veryintricaterituals]

When I was in school I went to a friend's house to work on a project on a Friday afternoon. At about 6 or 6:30 when the sun was about to set her mom called us over to the livingroom. She lit two candles with my friend and then they proceeded to put the lit candles inside of a little cupboard so no one could see them. Me, a young jewish teenager asked her, my catholic friend, why they did that and she shrugged, said it was a family tradition to bring peace and prosperity, that the women of the family did it every friday evening and then hid the candles. They were very catholic, so I bit my tongue and we went back to her room to study.

This is just one of many, many, crypto jewish traditions that still exist in my hometown of Medellín, Colombia and I want to share a little bit about them with you.

Medellín is the capital city of a region called Antioquia and it is currently the second biggest city in my country. Now the weird thing about my region and my city more specifically is that it is in the middle of fucking nowhere, like we are in a valley in the middle of the andean mountains and it would take over two weeks by river, horse and river, and dunkey and mule to even get here before the invention of cars or trains.

Now Medellín was founded over 400 years ago, and families had been coming to the region for way before then, so that means that for centuries getting to my city from the sea or from the other big cities in the country was incredibly hard. This was by design, because Medellín itself was founded by about 28 families and we know for a fact that alteast half of them were crypto jews hidding from the Spanish Inquisition, and both before and the foundation more and more jewish families arrived to the region.

This is a known fact, the DNA of the people from the region has a lot of sepharadic jewish mixed in there. Early Colombian literature dating up to the 1845 would call the people of my region the Neogranadine Jews or the Colombian Jews. But because they were crypto jews the religion and most of the traditions were lost during the 400 years that have passed, now over 90% of the population is catholic and don't really know about their origins.

But some things stuck. And I want to tell you about them.

On the 7th night of December there is this pre-christmas festival called "El día de las velitas" or the little candle night that started and was unique to Antioquia. It's supposed to commemorate the candles that people had in the streets and the windows on the night Jesus was born and that helped Mary and Joseph to find their way. Do you know how this unique festival is celebrated in my city? People take to the streets to light candles, small colorful candles that they put in wooden planks or directly on the streets, it's the night that people decorate and turn on the christmas lights and it is so important and popular that we have an actual day off on the 8th of december.

Let me show you a few pictures

I don't think I need to explain this one. Even most goyim will know about Hannukah. But it is the weirdest thing when the dates coincide and we are all lighting candles together.

My dad was in the Jewish community board and we needed to rent a place to put our jewish daycare. They found this beautiful old house that had belonged to a family in colonial times but needed a little TLC. We had them remove some wooden floors because they were too old and rotting and found a huge Magen David made out stones in the center of the floor. The house also happened to have two separate kitchens and a mikveh or immersion bath in one of the rooms. These a very traditional things that colonial houses have in my region.

My grandmother converted to Judaism so I have a side from my family that is 100% from here and didn't arrive during the 20th century. I had the pleasure to meet both of my great grandparents from that side though they died when I was young. My grandma tells me that my greatgrandmother used to have one of these immersion baths in her house when she was growing up. Women were supposed to bathe in them after their periods had ended, my catholic great grandmother respected the mikveh traddition more than I ever have.

(I wish I had photos from that specific house but this happened over ten years ago, I'll show you some immersion baths from a different colonial houses that are also in my city)

Now how about we talk about traditional clothes. I'm sure most of you have heard of Ponchos, which are traditional in the Andean region, well the one from Antioquia is a little different and it's always supposed to be worn with a hat. Let's see if you can spot what I mean.

A few years ago Spain decided to grant citizenship to the descendants of the Jewish people that they had exiled in 1492. To get it you had to prove through family trees that your family had been Jewish. My city got the most ammount of passports out of everyone in the world, more than Israel. I could have applied from both my family that came from Egypt in the 20th century (we still have the keys to our house in Spain) or through my catholic side, as both of my grandmother's last names applied. I didn't but I could have.

I don't really know why I decided to finally write this post. I have so many more stories. I just think it's both incredibly sad that so much Jewish culture and people were lost but also it's a little heartwarming to see what survived even centuries down the line.

[moonyasnow]

Sleeping Beauty's Tentative Prince.

PROMPT : They kiss you in your sleep

CHARACTERS : Ace, Jack, Malleus, Sebek

CONTENT : fluff and angst, pre-relationship, they are PI-NING, the fae have…strange priorities. or maybe it's just Lilia in particular(Malleus' part), internalized racism (Sebek's part)

—

I do NOT condone doing this in real life to someone who hasn't consented. But this is fiction so fuck it we ball

While you were awake, he could not show the affection to you that he wished he could, caught up in his own fears it might not be reciprocated and could strain your current relationship.

But in sleep, you would never know. In sleep, he could more easily deliberate upon his fondness for you, as much confusion, anxiety, fear, hope and longing as they brought him.

Ace

Ace Trappola portrayed himself as a 'coaster extraordinaire', gliding only where turf is smooth, dancing through life without a care in the world for anything besides goofing off with his friends. Stuff like 'love' and 'romance' wasn't on his radar, deciding he'd rather steer clear of it after an experience dating in middle school that left him feeling so utterly...bored, not really there, as having to live up to some ideal decided by his partner. Was that what all those books and songs and movies was hyping up? He felt lied to! It wasn't fun, and he couldn't understand how his now ex-girlfriend, or anyone else for that matter, really thought of any of that stuff as desirable!

The 'ghost bride', Eliza, was really just a personification of everything that made him want to steer clear of it. After she finally decided to shuffle off this mortal coil for good, along with her equally ghost— to Idia's utter relief— husband, too tired from all that fighting to really feel like it was worth it, he decided he'd rather crash at Ramshackle than walk all the way back to Heartlsabyul.

You declared you'd make it a sleepover, which was why he was laying in a sleeping bag on the musty living room floor of the ancient, decrepit house, creaking and groaning from the wind and its own whims. You laid next to him, on a mattress(unfair of you not to bring a second, by the way), sound asleep. He was kinda envious of you in that moment, you know?

Despite how dead tired he was after not only all the battle stuff but cleaning up the cafeteria on top of it, sleep just wouldn't bless him with its embrace. And desptire how much he didn't want to, especially not after all the other first-years— including Deuce, the bastard— made fun of him for the thought he'd already put into it...he found the topic of 'love' spinning around his head again.

He sure as hell didn't want the kind that Eliza'd idealized it to be. The others claimed that he, out of all the other suitors, did at least seem to know what he wanted. "...someone you can laugh with, and cry with...someone who'll stick with you through all the hard times..." He felt flustered and like an idiot recalling he'd said that for the entire room to hear, even more so due to the fact they'd caught on he was actually being genuine.

Then for some inexplicable reason he got an urge to turn his head to look at you. You looked about as tired as he felt. By that meaning you looked terrible. Or so he'd say if you were asking him why he was staring. Why was he staring? Probably because he was concerned. Just a little bit. Crowley already threw enough shit your way on the regular anyway, now you have to deal with this, too. And he never understood why you still tried so hard.

You, while not even having magic, had still given it your all during those battles, throwing rocks and twigs and even a goddamn wall-mounted candlestick— or well, that used to be wall-mounted, though apparently not as well as anyone thought they were if you could just pull it off the wall— at the ghosts. It phased right through them, obviously, but it'd annoyed and distracted them enough to make his and the others' job a whole lot easier. It was long past time for him to take back everything he said about you the first day you met by the school's Main Street.

You really had become an all-in-one janitor, photographer, therapist, and law-enforcer in one in the time you'd been here. It really wasn't fair. But you'd once told him it was easier since you had him and the rest of the braincell squad around. And he had to admit, it was the same for him. When it came to you in particular. Sure, he liked Deuce, and maybe Grim too just a little bit, but having you there was...special. He's not sure how he would've dealt with the incident at that one absolutely horrible unbirthday party and his Housewarden's total freak-out if you weren't there...or if, before it, he'd have had to spend the night in Ramshackle all alone with just the ghosts for company.

His eyes widened. Wait... He started to feel warm from top to bottom. He didn't mean it like— you weren't— y-you were just buds! You know? Friends. Just friends. And then he wanted to strangle someone when he realized those words tasted bitter in his mouth. Getting up on his elbow and looking at your sleeping face he couldn't place every thought whirring through his head. He thought you were kinda pretty or whatever, sure, but it's not weird to think your friend is pretty! And maybe...

No. Try as he might, every new excuse he came up with for why that couldn't be the case was just that; an excuse. He liked you. As more than just a friend. Maybe he kept trying to deny it because of how different this felt to his middle-school girlfriend. He thought she was cute and all, but he felt so alone when he was with her. Like she was seeing some boyfriend-shaped cut-out in place of him. He never felt alone when he was with you. And he sure as hell would never take a whole day's worth of public transport to school on a break for anyone else.

But it's not like he was planning for this. It felt strange, the way you went from 'best friend' to 'best friend I wanna be with' in his mind. Because, those categories weren't supposed to intersect, were they? Or could they? It just felt weird.

…But when he got past his initial shock, he realized that, thinking of you that way felt…natural. It was strange. Strange that it wasn't something he had to psyche himself up for. Maybe he was more like Eliza than he initially realized, in that way. Not noticing that kind of love when it was right in front of him. Maybe he'd also gotten caught up in that idealization of love, never realizing before that love actually could be with someone like that…someone he cherished like a best friend.

Laying down again and turning his whole body to face you properly, he stared at you. You really were pretty. Not in that way where you see someone and can just tell whether they're pretty or not. Not in the attraction kinda way either. Well, there might have been a little bit of that too. But mostly, there was just something...special, about you.

About your face, and your eyes, hair, shoulders, nose, chin, neck, hands and just— everything. Just looking at you made him feel warm. It usually did. But especially in that moment. It was weird, how just thinking those things seemed to jump-start his heart like some old motor, because now it was racing in the night. He found himself leaning closer, until his breath fanned at your lips. Looking at you from such a close proximity was weird. Sure, he might wrap an arm around or lean it on your shoulder pretty often, and do things like flick your forehead or your nose to see you pouting at him, but you'd never really been this close before. The tips of your noses were touching.

He was planning on moving away. He really was. But then you shifted in your sleep and your lips brushed softly against his.

As quickly as he could, he almost leapt backwards and turned his back to you and hoped to the Seven you didn't realize. Not then, not the next morning— not ever.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep, and calm his racing heartbeat.

Sadly for him, he laid awake all night thinking about it and didn't get a lick of sleep.

He kinda hoped he could do it again one day. With you awake this time, of course. Yeah...with you, it might not be so bad. The Underworld would freeze over before he ever told you that though. Well, that was hyperbole. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn't like…laugh at him for it, or something.

…Maybe accidents weren't so bad sometimes.

Jack

Having grown up knowing that his parents, his grandparents, and most likely their parents and grandparents too, were mated for life— that they found each other and that was it— Jack Howl had always been sure that's how it would go for him too. That when he found 'the one' everything would be easy, and make sense instantly. And when he started to feel a strange new pressure in his chest around you, a desire to protect you more than even his other friends, he was sure that this was it. Yet something happened which he hadn't considered.

The person he fell for wasn't another wolf beastperson, nor any other kind of beastperson or mer who mated for life. You were human. And humans very much did not mate for life, as much as some might claim they would like to. For the first time he started to feel a bit of doubt about his future life plan. He was sure you were 'the one' for him… But now he had to start to contest with the fact that, he might not be 'the one' in your eyes.

So, he thought…he would try to court you in some way. Make it clear he could be a good partner for you.

During the second night at Vargas' training camp, when Grim hadn't returned from going to get blankets with the others, you had become so worried that you tried to run off to go looking for him. And Jack felt like he had no choice but to go with you; he would never risk you running into the shadow while alone. It definitely wasn't the smartest decision, and he had tried to stop you. But you had argued against him, insisting you wouldn't just leave Grim behind, no matter how much danger it put you in. That was something he had always respected about you; you always looked out for those in you pack. And he agreed to go with; he'd do the same for you— and then some— if you went missing, after all. But an hour of walking later, and you both realized that…you were lost. Now, not only was Grim gone, but those who remained at camp would think you both were gone, too.

You two had been walking for hours searching for the way back to no avail, when you had given up, swaying on your feet, saying you couldn't take another step. His eyes shot up in surprise, having been too caught up in getting you both back to camp to consider you didn't have anywhere near his levels of stamina, his ears flattening against his head with both guilt and a bit of embarrassment— guilt at not having realized you couldn't keep up, and embarrassment at not remembering the way back well enough. More like shame, really. He felt sure camp was the safest place for both of you right now, yet in his haste to follow you to make sure nothing jumped out at you, he'd neglected to keep good enough track of the scents around you both to be able to lead the way back. That wasn't how a good partner was supposed to behave! He was supposed to be able to make sure you were safe.

You were the one to suggest, with the night being so cold, that you sleep close to one another. He balked at the suggestion once it left your mouth, trying to hide the furious blush he knew would overtake his face if he let it— letting you see him like that would be way too embarrassing to consider; he was supposed to be cool! So you'd know he could protect you! Not act like some lovesi— o-overly affectionate— puppy! But when you reasoned that it was to conserve heat, to make sure neither of you ever became cold enough for it to be truly dangerous, he had no argument against it, and so was forced to go along with it. He didn't want you to freeze, after all. And no, don't misunderstand him! His tail did NOT just start wagging! And if it did, i-it was just nerves! N-not at being close to you— the shadow! NOT TO SAY HE COULDN'T TAKE ON THE SHADOW IF IT APPEARED—

He had to force himself to keep quiet, lest he put his foot in his mouth again.

He'd assumed you would just be sleeping next to each other. So when you slotted yourself right in his arms, your head on his chest, he froze in place, begging for dear life that you weren't hearing the way his heart was now racing. No matter if you did or not, you soon fell asleep. But Jack, like a protective guard dog (a comparison he didn't like but couldn't exactly deny at this moment) stayed awake for a while longer to make sure the area was truly safe, leading to him becoming lost in his thoughts.

He was confused why you were here at all. You weren't even part of a sports club! Or any club at all, for that matter; running errands for Crowley ate up too much of your time for you to be able to join one. But you were still here. You had claimed it was better than spending that time in school figuring out a way for a magicless student to succeed in magic assignments, Grim not often being fond of cooperating if there was no tuna involved, much to your frequent frustration. But it still really didn't sit right with him that you got caught up in all this when you were only meant to be there to take pictures. He thought Crowley should definitely compensate you for this, since you got caught in danger due to him making you go along with them. But by now he'd wised up enough to realize that was never going to happen. The thought began to really get on his nerves.

It was insane, how Crowley treated you like some slave with no mind or will of your own. Even worse, a disposable one he kept throwing at problems— dangerous problems...he still wasn't over how close you'd come to being seriously injured in the fight at the Mostro Lounge— that should have been CROWLEY'S job to handle. He almost began to growl just thinking about it. The mere thought of you, his m— friend...his good...friend...being hurt in the slightest scared him. Enough that his arms unconsciously tightened around you. The scent of your hair, a reminder you were currently not in danger, put him at ease. He exhaled in silent relief.

…If…

After you both graduate, if he asked you to come with him back to his home in the Shaftlands, what would you say? He'd be able to keep you safe. Make sure you never had to live like this again. What with your status as not being from this world and thus having no legal identifying paperwork, getting a job would probably be hard for you. So he'd get a job and support both you and him. And Grim, of course— if Grim was your pack, he was Jack's, too. He was already sure his family would love you, and welcome you with open arms. And then one day down the line he'd—

He couldn't bring himself to finish his thought, face having grown far too red. But his tail wouldn't stop wagging. He might have thought of it before, but that was when you weren't literally sleeping in his arms. You being so close just...made everything feel too real.

He took a deep breath to clear his mind. What mattered right now was that he would keep you safe. Take care of you. Now…and hopefully, you'd allow him to do the same in the future.

But the fuzzy, excited feelings brought on by the thought he didn't finish didn't leave him, them and your scent lulling him further into a comfortable sleepiness. So close to sleep and overflowing with affection, he didn't even notice, let alone have the sense to stop himself, from placing a kiss to your forehead, snuggling up closer to you to make sure you kept warm, unconsciously smiling against the top of your head as he, too, was claimed by sleep.

It just felt so...right, to hold you.

…The next morning you were confused by why he refused to look you in the eye.

Malleus

Malleus Draconia, crown prince and heir to the fae Kingdom of Briar Valley, was used to spending his time alone. Used to having only his guards and mentor for company. Used to spending hours wandering through empty stone hallways and rigorously up-kept gardens where none but he, his beloved gargoyles, and the occasional critter dared wander.

Perhaps that was because of him.

Though he came to Night Raven College to 'broaden his horizons', after the first few months or so of classes in which he was left to work alone even on group projects, smelling the fear of his peers in the air, he had all but given up on finding an actual friend. Someone who would stay by his side not out of duty or necessity, but purely out of desire to.

The way you haphazardly seemed to stumble into his life and make a home for yourself in his hollow ruin of solitude had still not caught up with him, even months later.

It was late in the evening, the old decrepit clock in Ramshackle had just struck 12. You were on the couch, leaning against him, asleep on his shoulder as he read a book. Or at least, he had been trying to. For all of five minutes. The soft pressure of your body leaning against his arm had made him lose all focus for anything not related to you. So here he was, staring like a fool at your sleeping figure.

That you, so small and fragile compared to him, were not afraid of the dragon by your side— the horned beast with power enough to destroy most of the school with less than a snap of his fingers— never ceased to amaze him. Yet it was on nights like these, when you were too tired to go for your usual evening walk with him yet still wanted him near, that left him most awestruck. Not only did you say, with your own words, that you wished to be by his side despite your lack of energy…you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. Leaning against his shoulder, no less. It intoxicated his heart with pride, peace and longing in equal measure.

Yet, it only occurred to him the first time it happened that he had never seen another's sleeping face before. At least, not with their knowledge. He had seen you resting through your window on his late-night strolls before. Yet this was different. You allowed him this. If he did not already think you were the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever bore witness to, he did once he saw the gentle, peaceful expression on your face so close. He couldn't help but liken you to the sleeping princess in the old story of the Thorn Witch from his homeland. Sleeping so peacefully…all whilst leaning against a dragon.

His heart ached with feelings he had no words for as he stared at your face, streaked with moonlight, book long since forgotten. Cupping your cheek, he cursed the leather gloves keeping him from truly feeling your skin. In the back of his mind he harbored a fear he dare not put into words: that were he to feel your skin against his, it would be a point of no return, and he would never be able to go without it again. A curse to one such as him, who— his logic was much too aware for his liking— would be forced to grow accustomed to losing the touch of all things in time.

Yet his emotions, not bound by logic of any kind, wondered if you would like that. If him discarding his inhibitions and letting his gloveless hands roam every inch of your body would delight you the same way the mere thought did him. One part of him told him that 'yes, you would'; he was the fae prince, one of the most talented mages alive. He could keep you safe, give you anything you could ever desire. Yet another part of him said 'perhaps not' with barely any hesitation. He was a dragon, feared by man and fae alike for his power which could wipe out whole nations, should he desire to. The conflicting answers left him with a confusing sense of whiplash, not knowing which to trust. Yet, since you were not, unlike many, afraid of him, he found himself hoping your answer would fall more in line with the former…

Heart filled with trepidation and yearning in conflict with one another, he searched his mind for that always comforting anchor of knowledge that was Lilia's words. All that came to mind regarding the matter of kisses was that 'it was not to be done once the sun had set', which to him was good enough reason to force himself to abstain. Or at least, so he'd hoped. He wished to listen to his mentor's words, clung to them when his own young mind felt overcome with what he wished to do instead of what he ought to do…yet found he could not. At least, not fully.

Holding your warm hand in his which was cold beneath his gloves, the heat still slowly seeping from yours to his, yours appeared so small. As Malleus resisted the urge to rub his nose against yours, he felt his pulse beat in his throat. A metaphorical fire lit in the candle of his heart, flaring higher as he slowly neared your lips.

At the last second he managed to force himself to place his gloved hand gently over your mouth, placing a light, chaste kiss to the back of it.

He yearned to traverse further, to not have this self-imposed barrier in his way, to truly know if your lips were as soft as he imagined them to be, if they tasted as sweet. It was difficult to draw a line for himself. But, despite pouting through it, he still did. Once more recalling Lilia's words of wisdom: it would be impolite to steal your first kiss— or at least, so Malleus assumed it was— without your knowledge, after all.

After that he made up his mind to keep himself in check. That was enough for tonight, he thought and tried to return to his book. But his thoughts never stopped drifting to you.

It equally unsettled and enthralled him.

Sebek

The son of a human father and a fae mother— a fae mother who went entirely against the norms and expectations of her people and culture to marry a human man, a man whose people had hurt hers, and whose union with her had barely been accepted, much less understood— to say that Sebek Ziegvolt feels many conflicting emotions interacting with humans would be an understatement.

He, having seen the scorn his parents' union brought his mother, had vowed as a young child that he would 'never be stupid enough to choose to marry a human'. For he, at his young age, fully believed it was something he had control over. And he still did well into his teens, Lilia's explanation that love cared not for what people had decided, while he admired, revered and respected the older fae greatly, was still not quite enough to persuade him that there could ever be a possibility of him, Sebek Ziegvolt, proud knight of the Lord Malleus Draconia, deigning to fall for a mere human. He couldn’t understand the appeal in any way, shape or form. Human were weak. Fae— he— were strong.

What use had the strong for the weak?

But when you saw him freezing in the cold winter air, you wrapped your scarf around him. He, predictably, began to chastise you, claiming through a runny nose that as a human you were weaker than he and that he could handle this cold, and would not lose to mere weather— which was evidently not the case, as his own words were cut off by a big sneeze, to which you simply laughed. What nerve you had, he thought, for you, a mere human, to laugh at him, Sebek Ziegvolt. To laugh at his weakness! But his thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when you removed the hand covering your mouth and he saw your smile. It was...dazzling. A depiction of beauty which he had only heard described before.

In his daze he almost missed you taking a napkin out of your pocket and wiping away the mess under his nose, still smiling at him the same way.

Though he chided you, claiming to not need it, he was powerless to stop the stutter in his heart at your gesture. The tip of your finger grazed his jaw for a fraction of a second as you withdrew your hands, and it haunted his dreams for weeks. And the gentle smile on your face, showing, as far as he knew, nothing but sincere care for him, was enough to make him feel as though he didn't need the scarf at all.

It was...dizzying.

He saw his displays of weakness as just that: weakness, not vulnerability. In his eyes he must not have either to be able to be a good, no, even passable knight to his Young Master! Deep down he knew his Lord Malleus was already strong enough to not really need a knight. But he could never shake the worry it was on him, that he didn't need a knight because Sebek wasn't knightly enough. That was why he worked so hard. His position, with Lord Malleus, in life, had to mean something. Make him mean something.

But you never seemed to care for how he thought of it, showing him small gestures of kindness over and over again. In time he found he had begun to expect those small gestures, despite how he might still had insisted they were unnecessary. That you continued them despite his insistence...warmed him, just like when you lent him your scarf— which he always returned to you each day, knowing you would wrap it around him again the next.

At first he was sure you must have bewitched him, cast some manner of curse upon him— forgetting the fact that you, as magicless, would not be capable of such a feat— for he could find no other logical explanation for what the feeling of full-body lightness and heart-stuttering you brought upon him could be. At least...none he wanted to listen to; none that made sense to him.

You were human.

What he could never let himself be.

And he, the knight of Malleus Draconia, couldn't make the same strange choice as his mother, no matter how highly he respected her.

Yet whether he wished to or not, they'd taken hold of him, struck his heart like lightning, leaving a permanent mark of you on his very being.

It was shortly after that incident that he had, one evening, come to Ramshackle in search of Lord Malleus, and instead found you on one of the Dorm's benches, looking moments away from sleep. For a moment, thoughts of his search for his liege left his mind. When he asked what you were doing out alone this late at night, interrogating you like you'd broken some kind of curfew Ramshackle didn't have, you smiled and said you were waiting for Malleus to go on your usual evening stroll with him. Something about that gave him a sour feeling in his chest. For you or for Lord Malleus, he couldn't say.

Huffing, he said he might as well wait with you. You said nothing at that, just smiled and patted the spot next to you. Reluctantly, he did.

You sat in silence for a while, him trying to ignore the way so many feelings he couldn't figure out the meanings of stung at his chest. He was so caught up in his mind that it was only once he'd finally figured out something to say to you and took a deep breath that he realized his shoulder felt heavier, and he looked over to see you leaning against it, sound asleep. He was about to begin to scold you for falling asleep while waiting for his Young Master! It was bad enough his Lord Malleus had to endure the tardiness of Silver on acount of the latter's propensity for falling into slumber at any given moment! But when he looked at your face again, the words, for once, froze in his throat and fizzled away.

The way your mouth was left slightly agape, leaving a small trail of drool running down your chin, really should have appalled him, been seen as something pathetic, left him feeling distaste of some kind. But when you'd still smiled at him when he had snot running from his nose, how could he?

Maybe it was fine to…let you sleep. You didn't fall asleep like this often anyway…

As gently as he could, so as not to wake you, he lifted your body up and sat you in his lap, shifting and angling himself to allow your legs to still hang over the edge of the bench, now exchanged for his legs. He looked up at your sleeping expression in reverence, bringing his thumb to wipe away your drool. In his other hand he took yours, which had been hanging limply at your side. With his other arm around your waist to keep you from tipping over, he leaned his head, cheeks burning, against your shoulder, yours falling atop his as he did.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand.

His heart fluttered with a novel tenderness...yet not one he found he minded. He would guard you as you slept. Care for you in your 'weakness', just as you had him in his.

To love a human might not be something he was yet capable of. But, if you would extend to him the same, not a half-fae, but him...

...he might be able to love you.

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First of all I just want to say: Thank you thank you thank you SO MUCH to everyone who engaged at all with my last (and first) writing post! > <

Knowing people like my writing was such a massive motivation-boost to me! I tend to struggle with perfectionism and feeling like my writing isn't good enough by my own standards, so all that stuff is very, very appreciated!

I also wanna say sorry if any of them seemed OOC— aside from Malleus, I don't feel as confident in writing these characters as I do for the characters in my first post, since I don't know them as well yet. A big thank you to @yuurei20 for their TWST character fact sheets (found here) for the help! And also to the people who contribute to the the English TWST wiki!

Lastly: A reminder if you didn't already know, that I do, in fact, take requests! Coming up with WHAT to write is usually the hardest part for me; when I get past that I have a blast! ^^

...Also I think doing the research for this has skyrocketed Sebek up my 'favorite TWST characters' list because damn. That's rough, buddy. And honestly same in a way. His part was definitely my favorite to write.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Kept Safe

[Art by Miu_A]

You ever give someone advice, knowing full well they aren't going to take it? Even AFTER they have begged and pleaded and WHINED at you, for hours, for it? Even after they poured their heart and soul out to you? And you, a good friend, carefully and tactfully, tried your best to help? LIKE THEY ASKED?

Ever find yourself the designated "run too dramatically weep in the arms off" friend?

I have.

It is hell. I am in hell.

This is my punishment for all those hours I spent reading and playing Otome Isekai junk instead of, I don't know, solving world hunger or something. Because it HAS to be. I am clearly being punished. Repeatedly. By some sort of petty, petty, anime God.

Fuck you too, buddy.

A fresh round of highly dramatic Protagonist sobbing peirces the air. Dear lord, she has a set of lungs on her, does she? It's like an air siren. But more... upset toddler. It was bizarre. I'd LIKED her as a character. I HAD. Bright and cheerful, determined with a good heart. She'd been a bit naive, yes, but she'd grown. Love had changed her for the better.

But THIS?

This was some middle school "he threw away my secret note, that I didn't sign, so that means he HATES MEEEEE~" bullshit. It went on and on and ON! God, it'd been MONTHS! Years!

I made friends with the Protagonist when we were in The Royal Academy. The story's setting. It SHOULD have finished by graduation. SHOULD. HAVE. But DID it? No! This nonsense had spilled into the COURT! The general population! Actual political factions were starting to get involved!

All because my "friend" COULDN'T PICK A MAN.

And she didn't listen. I tried. God, how I TRIED! No matter HOW I phrased "just fucking TALK to them" it didn't get through her dense fucking skull. I tried taking a break. To calm down. She HUNTED ME DOWN with her little Harem of political trainwrecks!

That poor port city STILL has yet to recover from the chaos they unleashed.

I don't... God, I don't even LIKE her anymore. I've just been reduced to her HANDLER. Forced into girlish tea parties devoid of any taste, because no one ELSE will come. Followed by winces and pitying looks by every lady in all of polite society. The sacrifice to keep HER distracted, lest her gaurd dogs decide its a good idea to do something unhinged again.

It's exhausting.

I'm not even listening.

She seems to have worked through her usual cycle of "cry, mope, what about meeeee~, then I going to go be Plucky at them! Tee Hee~♡!". Good, good. You go have fun, you little train wreck. I'm going to go find an actual ADULT to hide behind.

I have my maids change me out of an outfit that, frankly? I am too old for. I am not sixteen. We are not GIRLS, for the heaven's sake. We are WOMEN. It was a cute outfit. I enjoyed wearing it, back when I was physically young enough that it was appropriate. But even THEN... that's the down side of the whole "isekai" thing.

You keep your mental age.

Everyone around you? INFANTS. Fresh faced babies. You are being flirted with by fourteen year olds and? It is DISGUSTING. They can never be anything more then "cute kids" to you. The characters you once thirsted over? Reduced to actual, living, breathing, pre-schoolers.

There's no going back after that. I'll NEVER unsee it. Can only continue to age, even as they simply... grow up. And then? When they started behaving like FOUR YEAR OLDS? Forget it! I'm beginning to share my parents fears I may die single.

At least I have a refuge. A place of SANITY and SENSE.

I grab the imported wine I had purchased. I'd noticed him drink it before on special occasions. Found a tea seller that was willing to also bring some back. Mother LOVED the tea and my friend was going to love the wine, I could just tell.

Cautiously poking my head out of the guest apartments i was staying in, I checked the hall. Left. Right. Left. Thank god. No Protagonist in sight, she hasn't come back yet. Better hurry though.

I walk fast and keep close to the wall. Ducking into alcoves at every new female voice. Passing servants, Nobles, and the occasional Knight either murmur what they know of Protagonist's last known location or politely pretend not to see me. For anyone else, this would be scandalous behavior. For ME? Well... everyone knew EXACTLY why I was being driven to such extremes.

I thankfully reached the governance wing unmolested. It was far quite and none of the pack of fools ever really set foot here. Not ever the ones who were SUPPOSED to be busy learning their future roles as leaders of this country. God, I could only hope the third prince somehow quietly pulls a coup.

Not that I'd SAY that.

The gaurds don't even bother to announce me, I'm here so often. Merely opening the door. I maintain my decorum none the less. JUST long enough for the doors to finally close and I am able to drop my social mask like whipping of my bra after a long day. Oh thank fuuuuuuck. FREEDOM!

A familiar chuckle, like incense smoke, wafts from the second floor of the office.

"Oh my~, so tired?" My friend muses, his voice that ever lilting purr. I hear him closing whatever heavy tome he's currently studying. "And so early in the DAY! Was it the little nuisance again? Surely she must have SOMETHING better to do?"

Gently putting the wine I'm gifting him on his desk, I then throw up my arms. You would THINK! Wouldn't you?! It's an old complaint. And frankly? I'm glad he still let's me vent about it. It HAS to get old. Yet? He let's me complain anyway.

I met the, roughly translated, "Keeper Of The Shield" at one of the Crown Prince's many ridiculous parties. I was dragged along as Protagonist's plus one. Because GOD FORBID she bring one of her suitors! That might lean towards CHOICE! Can't have THAT!

It was an overly dramatic, gaudy, slow motion trainwreck from beginning to end. I? Got very, VERY drunk. I knew I shouldn't. It was wildly inappropriate. But I was HORRIFIED. Hid near the balconies and drank to forget. Contemplating jumping.

Was likely the only one there my age NOT in ten layers of bows and fabric flowers. It was probably why Crevan decide to talk to me. That and the look of abject suffering. He informed that, sadly, the balconies were locked. But if I planned to maim my self to escape, he could probably boost me up enough to reach the upper windows.

I choked on my drink and guffawd like an idiot. It was SUPER flattering. Very pretty. And honestly? The best conversation I'd had in YEARS. He was droll. Witty. Snarky. In just as much hell as I was. We gleefully narrated the drama playing out before us in as cutting a manner as possible. Grown adults, government officals! Behaving like fucking CHILDREN.

Only after, did I learn I had been chatting with the equivalent of the minister of the Defense. THE commander of our nation's defensive forces. All of them. Knights, army, spies. All of it. And the poor man had been dragged from his desk to play party prop by a glorified teenager. I was horrified. Appalled. Fucking OUTRAGED to learn that it was just... normal!

This country was a nightmare! Otome games are HELL. Lacey, sparkly HELL!!!

But at least I had Crevan to keep me sane. He was always willing to listen. Advise when he could. We had HOPED that Protagonist would start maturing... I'd even mentioned it, but it just seemed like she back slid again and again! Trapping me. Isolating me! Ruining my chances to move ON and have a LIFE!

I don't know what went wrong! Is it me? Am I too hand holdy? It's starting to destabilize the country! Not that the royal family even seems to notice! God no, if it weren't for Crevan, the whole PLACE would have collapsed!

I flop down on my couch. Technically it's not "mine", but honestly? He's fooling no one. The man barely had ANY guest furniture before we became friends. It's totally my couch. (He even got a tea table for us, the softy.)

"Oh? A gift? How thoughtful, dear~" It's only months of friendship that keep from jumping these days. I should get that man a BELL. "Would you like some?"

I can't help but huff a laugh. He always looks to PLEASED when he gets the jump on someone. Startles them. A mischievous asshole, that one. Touchy, too. Forever cupping my cheek or earnestly taking my hand. Patting my head. Guiding me by the elbow or shoulder. He has so few friends... I am certain he is touch starved.

A thought occurs to him, as he pours two cups. A sly grin stretching across his face as he turns to offer me a cup. The wine's scent mixes, burning and delicate, with the ever present smells of incense and his favorite herbal cigarettes. Blurring the senses and relaxing. It's a pretty strong drink.

"You KNOW... it just occurs to me! Darling, if you want to avoid that pest? Why not spend the day HERE? I'd love to have you. " his voice becomes low and serious for a moment, almost catching me off gaurd, bouncing back before I can really think about it. "You could trash my shelves again! Camp out on my couches! It'll be like a little party~ Just you and me! Not a care in the world. You won't have to worry a single thing~"

He grins, glasses catching the light, toothy like the old scheming fox he is.

"I'll keep you nice and safe~"

[deepcollectionredbird]

It’s such a mind-fuck, seeing Rod’s dad — Mr.Smith — all big and pregnant. That man’s been like a second father to me, pretty much my whole life. I mean, I still remember the days when he’d pick me up from elementary school, and drop me off at my house. He watched me grow up.

All these years of me being best friends with his son, hanging around at their house… and, after the better part of a decade, I never would’ve thought that I’d ever see Mr.Smith pregnant.

Seems like just yesterday when he caught me sneaking back into Rod’s bedroom, after I’d given myself that pre-performance pep talk in the guest bathroom. It was the middle of the night, and Rod and I thought that everyone in the house was asleep. That’s what we were counting on.

His older sister had finally turned off her Bluetooth speaker, his parents were in their room, and his brother was away for the night. Everyone was where they needed to be, and Rod and I were about to… you know… do what all guy friends do, at some point or another. We assumed that we were in the clear — ready to try things out, for the very first time — but we were so wrong.

Little did I know that his dad was coming down the hall, on the way to take his mid-night pee. The one time that Me.Smith ever spotted me in the hallway at night — looking shady in my plaid underpants — and I was fully erect, holding a long sleeve of condoms in my hands. That was just my luck.

I still remember the look in his eyes when he dragged me by my ear into the den, and accused me of having ill intentions with with Rod. His pupils were almost glowing with anger as he whisper-scolded me. Rod’s dad told me that it was normal for guys our age to explore each other’s bodies, and that, whatever I was planning on doing to his son, I was going to have to do it to him first… without using a condom.

I don’t think I’ve never been more afraid in my life, than I was then. There I was, bending Mr.Smith over the back of the couch, and pushing his filthy tightly-whitey’s down to his thighs, all while trying avoid making too much noise. I guess he thought that it’d teach me a lesson… that topping him would get my dick to shrivel up and become a limp, useless flap of meat… but, he couldn’t have been more wrong. I mean, it was weird, dominating the only man in my life — other than my father — who’d ever taken me out for ice cream after my little league baseball games… but I was too scared to question how I felt about it.

Seeing the state of Mr.Smith now, I don’t know what’s worse — the fact that Rod’s about to have an unwanted sibling soon, after being the youngest child for eighteen years… or the fact that we’re dating now, and he has no clue that I’m the one who got his dad knocked up in the first place. Hopefully, the baby doesn’t look too much like me.

[doctorcurdlejr]

Niko!! what'd you think of I saw the tv glow. I finally saw it last night and noticed you posting about it so I wanted to know your thoughts :)

Levi!!! I was JUST wondering what you were thinking about the movie after I saw you posting about it as well... we are so media discussion pilled in this way, it's awesome. ANYWAYS I've had so many thoughts since I first saw it and I've been trying to turn them into something coherent for a little bit now.

Ummm okay I have written 1k+ words about this movie, the suburbs, and escapism via teen TV.... clearly I was dying for somebody to ask this I guess so thank you for indulging me <3

First and foremost, I absolutely loved it! I've seen it twice now and the first time I watched it I got to see Jane Schoenbrun talk about the film right after. I already really liked it from that first watch alone. I found it so deeply relatable to my experiences - both in terms of growing up gay and trans, but where I am now in my 20s trying to navigate adulthood. Hearing what Schoenbrun had to say really cemented my feelings and thoughts about the film.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a big influence on the movie (it's why Amber Benson makes a cameo as Johnny Link's mom). Even though I don't have the same emotional link to Buffy since I never watched it, I recognize it as the same type of warmth I experienced growing up with Riverdale. When Owen says he feels like his insides have been scooped out but that he's too afraid to look and have that wrongness everybody knows is there be confirmed, Maddy simply responds "Maybe you're like Isabel. Afraid of what's inside you." Tears forming but not falling, breathing shallowly, I grabbed the paper and pen the theater keeps at the seats for people to order food with and wrote that line down - the slip of paper is still somewhere in my car. Writing it now almost feels lame in its simplicity, but it felt like my insides were being flayed open.

During the director discussion, Schoenbrun talked a little bit about this idea of how truly fucking bizarre it is to grow up in the suburbs. Like, when we think about the pinnacle of normality in American culture, it's the image of middle-class cis-hetero-white suburbia. At the same time, despite this cultural dream of normality, everybody is hyper-aware that the suburbs are one of the least normal things ever. So, the ACTUAL cultural understanding of it is that it's where we go to, like, passively kill ourselves (*George Costanza voice* WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY YOU KNOW!). This idea isn't new, I mean there are so many films and shows about navigating that specific bizarre dissonance from Rebel Without a Cause to Heathers to Twin Peaks. Probably half the pre-teen to teen TV I watched obsessively growing up, stuff like Strange Days at Blake Holsey High, Making Fiends, Truth or Scare, and eventually Riverdale, were never shy about being weird and morbid and saying "yes, the suburbs are exactly as bizarre and lethal in the ways you can already feel in your bones at 13." I Saw the TV Glow does a really good job of keying not only into that mental dissonance but more specifically into how those of us who have felt so intrinsically weird and different and wrong fell back on these shows like they were capable of doing the emotional version of a rescue breath maneuver after being drowned.

In high school, if there were two things about me that any person who even vaguely knew me could list off it was that I watched Riverdale, and I was a lesbian - and I was mocked more for the Riverdale. At that age, I was, without a doubt, the most miserable I have ever felt in my life. I rarely left the house because my family lived in a development that made me want to scratch my skin off when I walked out our front door. Owen didn't leave the house for days, afraid Maddy could somehow force him out. I sobbed constantly and frequently to depressing indie rock on the floor of my closet while hoping my family would just once read the (honest to god) KEEP OUT poster plastered on my door since I didn't have a lock on it. Owen didn't leave his room for days, afraid of what Maddy recognized in him. I didn't go on dates and kept my chest binder shoved to the bottom of my bookbag while wearing dresses that could've come from a how-to-be the perfect 50s housewife manual. Owen didn't leave his bed for days, afraid of Maddy touching his neck and Isabel's dress. I also watched Riverdale with the kind of zeal you see in a Pentecostal who has found God and started speaking in tongues to let you know it. I own a button that says, "Don't Make Me Go Dark Betty On You," I cherish it in a way that is only achieved by knowing exactly how corny and trite it is and then moving straight past that because well actually, and most people wouldn't get this, she's holding back something deeply dark and wild and- and disgusting. something painful yet intrinsically her. but i get it, obviously. or maybe not obviously! hopefully not obviously, but- basically, I'm just saying I get it: the experience of reflection and recognition through the other and all that.

Whatever, the point is that this movie is one big glaring trans allegory about how it sucks dog shit to live in the suburbs, and even at our most repressed we find these little snow globes of actualization in the glow of a tv screen that isn't afraid to show you the world you see. I've seen some people say that, like, in this context accepting or coming into your transness is this monumental death of self, which I get, but I feel there lacks a nuance in that because either way Owen is dying. Unlike Maddy who buries herself alive only to come out renewed, Owen doesn't kill himself upon facing the reality that the world is constructed to keep him miserable and the only way out is to take back what it is that the world wants to keep scooped out of him. Instead he just passively lets it drag him to a much more permanent death. This lack of suicide sucks in the kind of way that forces you to sit in your car on the midnight drive home and think to yourself am I letting myself suffocate because at some point knowing the misery became less scary than admitting I've been capable of doing something about it the whole time?

Clearly, I’ve been enchanted by the film’s narrative and meta-textual language. If you're familiar with it, you can see how Schoenbrun built this movie like a long-form dream episode of a canceled teen show filmed in Vancouver. Lynchian? Yeah, sure. Riverdalesque? THIS we cannot possibly deny. Schoenbrun said they included Amber Benson as an act of healing the inner rage experienced at Tara’s death in Buffy. This is a Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa ending Riverdale with a bisexual polycule after his gay Archie play got ceased-and-desisted type move. There’s probably more I could say about the soundtrack and the visuals, but I’ve hit over 1k words on this, so I’ll leave it at I enjoyed this movie a lot. :)

Maddy is an out lesbian who left town to escape the misery and found it strapped to her ankles. She slinks out, an animal pressed against the gymnasium floor, and says "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know." Owen looks into the camera and narrates. He cuts himself open with a box cutter, fully acknowledges what's there, and the movie ends with his suffocating apology parade for the unremarkable inconvenience of his excruciating suffering. You can be gay and trans, you can know it and you can stop repressing it, but you're not going to stop suffocating until you can find a way to destroy the part of you that truly deeply does want to die, reaching for the comforting euthanasia of normalcy. Stop visiting the dream of the life you want and make it into your reality with the same kind of unrepentant conviction seen in some underfunded but wildly ambitious teen television series. In other words: you must try to survive the ego death of being weird. A weirdo, who doesn't fit in and doesn't want to fit in!

[yuri-is-online]

I imagine Deuce!Yutu is either A. The Ultimate Honor Student with perfect grades and a plsmile that makes old nannies and mothers swoon (Yutu: "Thanks, its because me and my parent are the local "weirdos" I had to overcorrect and become a golden child (':") OR B. just as bad as pre-NRC Deuce was, a gang member who'd jump anyone who'd look at him wrong (but still cried until he was sick when he watched My Girl (1991) behind Yuu's back. They told him not to because they knew it was sad, he didn't listen).

I imagine Yuu's main memory of Deuce to their Yutu was how much Deuce believed in self-improvement and redemption, always trying to be a better man, which either version of Yutu can't help but admire or respect, despite their complicated feelings over their absent father.

Upon meeting him in the "current" timeline as a student, A or B either can't help but give Pop's an A for effort, despite missing the goal sometimes or finds him a little cringe for being such a tryhard.

I had to google the movie you mentioned and got jump scared by it taking place in Pennsylvania. Pretty sure I have driven through the place it's supposed to be set before... and fuck just reading the synopsis made me cry I don't think I could watch it ;-; poor Yutu should have listened to his parent.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

I feel like I have read too much Tokyo Revengers because... we can have both: an honor student with a delinquent mean streak sounds like a good set up for Deuce! Yutu. Not that I think he would behave like Kisaki does exactly, but still. Dylla mentions in the White Rabbit event that she wasn't on the best terms with her mother when she was a teen, and we know about how Deuce was in middle school, so the idea of Yutu having a bit of a temper and rebellious streak to him does make a degree of sense. Sadly, I think that extends to his interactions with Yuu... so things are about to be angsty on two fronts today.

Much like Deuce, Yutu was just the cutest baby. He loved all things cute and fluffy. Bunnies, kitties, puppy dogs, he was such a sweet little kid who really loved chasing around butterflies in the great outdoors. He really loved to read, and learned how to do so at a very early age. When Yuu was having a bad day he would pick out one of his favorite books and insist on reading them a bedtime story so they could take a nap without any nightmares. If he was especially worried he would bring his favorite nightlight with him.

Not that anyone would ever dare to suggest it given what Yutu is like now, but he was very afraid of the dark as a child. He still is, there's just something about the void that exists in the darkness that screams danger to him. When he's isekaid to Twisted Wonderland it evolves into an extreme fear of blot and phantoms. I'd like his unique magic to have something to do with light or stars, something inspired by the Second Star to the Right from Peter Pan? I think it would be cute for someone afraid of the dark to be able to provide their own light.

When Yutu reaches middle school there's a noticeable change in his relationship with you. He's still polite, still bringing home good grades and unoffensive comments from his teachers. But he's a bit cold, as if he is purposefully putting emotional distance between you. His friends all treat you respectfully, but you just have a feeling, left over from somewhere, that you know what is likely going on but you can't put your finger on what. He gets angry when you try to ask questions, yelling something about how you just don't understand, maybe even throws in something about this being your fault...

I wrote about Riddle! Yutu having some fights with Yuu, but Deuce! Yutu's fights are so much worse. While Riddle! Yutu typically comes out of his room blubbering big fat tears ready to apologize, Deuce! Yutu feels the need to double down and save face. He does believe his parent has amnesia, he's seen how they act, but what he does not get is why they insist on feeling so fond of his dad and refuse to move on. In his mind their life could be a lot better if Yuu was willing to be honest with themselves about who his dad probably was. Yutu is very hung up on why Deuce felt the need to be redeemed, focusing on self improvement is all fine and good if you are someone worth redeeming but he's not around for Yutu to judge. And Yuu doesn't remember...

He's young, stupid, and angry, and he takes it out on anyone who looks at him wrong. What's worse for authority figures who want to help is that he's veeeery smart about how he does it. When he jumps someone you can bet there won't be cameras around to see it. When the police start troubling Yuu about what he's doing it's mostly just in the hope that they'll be able to talk some sense into their kid rather than to arrest Yutu or anything like that, but it doesn't work. Yutu gets to see the same thing that his dad did all those years ago, his parent crying because of his behavior but there's no grandparent Yuu is asking advice of. Since I am in the mood to be extra cruel, let's say the day that fight takes place, the day Yutu sees Yuu crying is the day he hears a very important name for the first time.

Deuce. His father's name is Deuce and the reason why he wasn't around was because he was from the other world that came to swallow up him and his parent the instant they began to remember. He doesn't get time to cover up the signs of his rebellion, or really a chance to say sorry. He has to look Grandpa Crewel in the face and admit that he made Yuu cry and added to the overly stressed mess their life had become. Everything they said about Deuce was true, and what's worse he was like him.

I feel like Deuce would be the sort of person who wanted to make a lot of home videos. Cater probably would be too, but he'd store most of them on his phone and I think that would be lost to time by the time his Yutu came home. Maybe it's because of the ghost camera, or his desire to be an "honor student" evolving into wanting to be an "honorable husband and father" but Deuce totally bought a video camera to take cheesy videos to show Yutu as he grew up. Instead the kid gets to see fragments of a life he could have had as he listens to his dad tell him about his life and how he met Yuu.

"Honestly I have no idea why they said yes." Deuce is a dork. A complete dork who looks so... young and life like in the video. He knows what features he took from Yuu but watching Deuce talk, he can pick up on the ticks, the way his mouth sets when determined. The look of shock that always made Yuu laugh, it bursts into view when he hears Yuu laugh as they enter the frame to snuggle into Duece's side, to press their face against his cheek with a happily contended sigh. "Y-yuu you're making me look uncool in front of the baby."

"He's not here yet!" You giggle and for the first time in a long time Yutu feels himself choking up as he watches his dad get all silly looking at the thought of his arrival.

"We're really looking forward to meeting you kiddo. I promise, nothing will ever happen to you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Well. Technically kept that last promise didn't you." He tries to play it off like a joke, but Crewel isn't laughing and neither is Yutu.

Gets put in Heartslabyul, but isn't exactly determined to be an honor student like his dad. While Deuce enjoys a good fight or the feeling of the wind in his hair... Yutu mostly got into fights because he was angry and needed someone to take it out on. Because of that temper he struggles with learning and controlling his magic but he still does pretty well with the practical academic side of things. He's proud of his ability to understand these things, and takes a lot of comfort in knowing his dad would be excited at knowing he was good at things like math and science.

Like with the other Heartslabyul boys, he had to fight his father's phantom. He sees putting Deuce to rest as part of his penance for how he treated Yuu in the years leading up to getting isekaid. He refuses to go back in time until he's able to lay this version of his father to rest next to Yuu so he can promise both of them, to their faces, that he'll create a world where they all can be together and live as a family.

Deuce is extremely friendly to Yutu! He wants to learn as much about Yuu's world as he can so he can help them feel as at home in Twisted Wonderland as possible. He makes sure to let Yutu know that extends to him too once Yuu warms up to having him in the friend circle, Uncle Ace is much less enthusiastic but it's clearly from a place of care towards Yuu. He starts to warm up when he sees Yutu trying his hardest to tutor Deuce, though he claims it's because he just thinks it's funny but really it's because Ace wants to see Deuce succeed.

Very correct on his feelings about Pops. His dad is so wildly cringe it's unreal. His effort is inspiring until he starts getting embarrassed for losing his temper and stuttering, or seven forbid you look at his grades. The more he interacts with both of you the more certain he becomes that Deuce would never have abandoned him... and that he is so getting grounded when Deuce learns about how he treated Yuu. And what's worse is that Yutu sort of wants him to.

Surprisingly that's not what happens at all. When Deuce learns who Yutu is, whether by sleuthing or through a violent confrontation with a monster from the future, when the whole story is laid out before him and his son bows to beg for his judgement it doesn't come at all. His Pops yanks him up by the collar and turns him towards Yuu.

"Say all of that again to your parent." Deuce's voice is as stern as it is serious. Yuu looks distraught, not quite to the point they were on the day everything changed but getting there as Yutu immediately breaks down and chokes, crying and begging for your forgiveness and saying he's sorry as Deuce brings all three of you together into a strong embrace. "I'm not the one you need to make things up to, but it's ok. I know exactly how you feel and we'll work through things together."

Deuce doesn't feel like he can be overly angry at Yutu for taking after him. He does feel the need to apologize to Yuu, profusely and in private, for putting them in so much danger and not being there to help Yutu work through his temper. If I was writing this as a story, I'd make Yuu sort of afraid of Yutu's feelings? I could see them blaming themselves and things being a bit awkward within their relationship with Yutu where they had been very good before the reveal. With Deuce being the loving and understanding partner that he is, the bridge is once again mended and the whole family gets to indulge in hobbies that aren't beating the shit out of other people.

Yutu gets back into reading, and starts looking up manuals and histories of blastcycles so he has something to talk to his dad about. He was right about his dad being extremely proud of him for being smart, he's that classic mechanic working class dad who can't stop talking about his kid who went to college and has pictures of him in his garage he makes sure to point out to everyone who comes in. Said person is really just Ace who really wants to make fun of Deuce and Yuu for being cringe together but is too focused on this whole world ending thing and wants everyone to be more focused on that.

Deuce promises that he is, he has a lot of confidence in the ability of your little group to be able to win against stacked odds. You've done it before you can do it again. Yutu couldn't have picked better allies, he's really determined to show him that and be a dad his son can be proud of. He repeats his promise to Yutu that he's never going anywhere, even though the kid never told him anything about the tapes because he really means it. He wants that world little Yutu dreamed of and older Yutu swore to fight for to be a reality, and it's his job as an honorable dad and future husband (he gets so flustered when he says that) to be the one on the front lines of fighting for it,

... just please please please do not tell Yutu about the egg incident. He doesn't think he could handle that embarrassment.

[thebearer]

Teddy would be the cutest preteen, when Carmy still dropped her off she’d be embarrassed and would tell him to not kiss her goodbye but once he’s home she’d be jumping in his arms to tell him all about her day

oh god but that would destroy carmen. like absolutely wreck him the first time it happened.

"What's wrong with you?" You frown, watching Carmen shove a pan onto the stove, so hard it clanged against the metal backsplash.

Tina and Sydney had side eyed him carefully, sharing a mutual look with you that screamed the same thing- Carmen is in a mood.

"Nothin'." Carmen grumbled, huffing and turning in a semi circle, looking for his lamb. "Chefs! Where the fuck is my knife?"

"Right behind you, Jeff." Tina nodded towards the space behind him, where the knife sat- right where he left it.

"Hey," You move towards the stove, a pet peeve of Carmen's that always had him huffing, batting at you to move away from the surface. "What is the matter with you? You're in such a mood today."

"'m not in a fuckin' mood." Carmen snapped, huffing when you leaned back on the stove. "Can you stop? Gonna fuckin' burn yourself."

"No," You glare at him. "Not until you tell me what's got you in such a bitchy mood."

Carmen glared at you, eyes heavy and set in a firm stare. You knew it better than anyone. He was... hurt?

"Hey, come in the office with me." You nod, tugging at his hand gently. Carmen sighed, running a hand down his face, the start of an excuse on the tip of his tongue. After almost fifteen years together, you knew every single quirk and what it meant.

"Come with me." You glare, firmly, turning off the heat and moving the pan off the flame. You nodded at Sydney, a knowing look passing between the two of you as she commanded one of the new cooks to pick up for Carmen.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?" You crossed your arms, leaning against the office door when it closed.

Carmen fell into his office chair, elbows on his knees, sighing heavily. His knee bounced, running an inked hand over his face, eyes rising to meet your curious, raised brow. "I, uh, I dropped Teddy off at school today." Carmen started.

You waited, lifting a brow for him to continue. "And?" You press. "Did she... say something?" Teddy was a pre-teen, officially. She had just turned twelve in August, started middle and it had been a whirlwind for everyone. Hormones, raging emotions, changes all around; it was too much almost.

"No. I mean... fuck, kinda. It wasn't- she didn't mean it bad, I don't think." Carmen rambled, knee bouncing harder and harder.

"What did she say?" You ask.

"She, uh... I was walkin' her to the drop off, ya know? And-And she, uh, she told me- asked me not to kiss her goodbye anymore." Carmen's lips tightened in a line, swiping a finger under his nose to hide his emotions. "It embarrasses her now."

"Did she say that?" You hum, walking over to him slowly.

"No, but it was, uh, it was implied." Carmen pouted, watching you stand in front of him.

You bite back your own grin, sitting in his lap instead. "She didn't mean it bad, Carm." You give him a soft look. "She's just..."

"I know." Carmen grumbled, pulling you closer into his chest. The rational side of him knew not to take it personally, that she didn't mean it in a malicious way.

"You still have Willow." You add with a grin. "She'll still take her drop off kisses. Still hold your hand and all. You still have a few years left of that."

"Yeah." Carmen grumbled, looking at the picture on his desk. You, Willow, and Teddy- the two girls wrapped under your arms, smiling widely at the camera. It was taken when the booths had been changed at The Bear. Carmen had cooked for the families as a celebratory, "break-in" of the new and improved seating. Teddy had just lost her front teeth, Willow was still small enough to sit in your lap, both sharing your smile and Carmen's wild curls.

[nattroan]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞!!✦

Pre-crash

You were so fucking in love with Natalie, she and you have known each other for a while, ever since Lottie introduced you to Natalie, ever since that day you like to think that you have a special connection with her despite how different the two of you are, Even though Of course, you liked her a lot.

The soccer team was very well known, so they were always invited to parties. The cheer team was also famous for their impeccable victories in cheer competitions against other schools so they always invited you to parties since you were on the cheer team but you didn't go to get drunk or things like that you only went for one person and that person was Natalie. You were very close to Natalie. You were always by her side doing anything but lately you have distanced yourself from her because you were trying to understand why you are so in love. of her if she only sees you and treats you like another friend

(that's what you think but the reality was that she really liked you a lot and people could tell it very easily thanks to how she always looks at you with that loving look and all the compliments and hints she told you that you couldn't understand)

Natalie was confused and a little hurt when she realized you walked away from her without giving her any explanation.

She didn't understand why you walked away from her overnigh

You had been ignoring her every time she greeted you or said something to you and every time she got close to where you were you left super fast, until one day you went to a party at Lottie's house, you didn't want to go because you knew that Natalie was going to be there but your friends from the cheer team along with Lottie convinced you to go, as soon as you arrived you were praying not to see Natalie, until you saw her and stood there looking at her, she looked so pretty in that black leather jacket that she always wore and that dark makeup that you loved how it looked on her, you were wearing a white dress full of drawn strawberries that reached to your knees, with red converse and red heart-shaped glasses that she coincidentally wore. I loved seeing you with them, Natalie as soon as she saw you she thought she saw an angel, according to her you were the most fucking beautiful woman in the fucking universe, she thought you looked like a goddess and wanted to go greet you but you barely noticed that she was approaching you You left super fast, she was fed up with you ignoring her and the fact that she followed you only to corner you and ask you for an explanation as to why you were blocking her, you finally thought you had lost sight of her until you felt someone grab you. from behind and puts you against the wall, it was her, it was Natala who had cornered you, you turned super red because you still had feelings for her,

“why are you ignoring me?” She asked angrily, “Did I do something bad to hurt you or something? Because I don't think it's fair that you behave like a bitch to me overnight without me having done something."

You stayed silent because you knew what she was saying was true.

“Come on, tell me,” she said, more angry at your silence,

“because I like to” you said raising your voice,

"What" Natalie said confused,

"what you heard stupid-"

Suddenly Natalie kissed you, when you separated due to lack of air you said "why?"

"why the what?" Natalie responded

"why did you kiss me?" You said

"because I like you too," you smiled and kissed Natalie back. and you noticed how she

He smiled in the middle of the kiss,

"So that means we're a couple now," Natalie said.

“Of course,” you said and kissed her again.

That night at the party you spent it with Natalie kissing and telling each other how they fell in love with each other.

n/a: English is not my first language, if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry :)

[mrschristensen]

Kinktober Day 21 (10/21): Somnophilia starring Sam Monroe

Kinktober Masterlist

WARNINGS: smut (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK), female s/o, soft (ish) dom Sam/sub s/p, somnophilia, ass fucking (though no actual penetration), humping, pet names/name calling (baby), lmk if I missed any!

synopsis: In the middle of the night, it's just too damn hard to go to bed when Sam has some... unfinished business.

WC: 545 words

"Shit..." Sam curses under his breath, trying to be as quiet as he can. He can't even remember how he got into this situaton; oh wait, now he does.

It was a long, long day at school for the both of them. His lovely girlfriend is typically the one that's better at school, but she always helped him if he needed it, so his grades were definitely a bit better. However, both of them felt like absolute shit today, so naturally, they were gloomy for basically the entirety of the school day.

It comforted them to ironically be in all the same classes together, but it was nonetheless very draining, physically and mentally. So she hunkered down and went to bed pretty early, surprising because they usually weren't asleep until around 10 at the least.

So of course, he was left to his own vices since he was completely restless, no matter how hard he tried to sleep. And, go figure, his cock was raging with pent up emotions and hormones, pre seeping through his boxers a bit. It was frustrating, really. Since she was clearly so tired, he'd feel really bad if he woke her up. He knew that normally they'd have sex at least once on the daily (since they were so madly in love with each other), but it wouldn't make him feel any less guilty.

He tried his hand for a bit, but it was never the same, like always. He needed her, even if it wasn't really her because she was fast asleep. But he didn't think she'd mind; if she did, well... He just wouldn't do it again in the future. It was that simple, right?

So now he had his painfully hard dick between her ass cheeks, thrusting up and down through the hole he made to give him some friction. He treaded with caution and moved slowly, however, afraid she might stir while he continued his what he viewed as embarrassing acts. What the hell was he thinking, fucking her in her sleep?!

But he couldn't deny, it was pretty hot. No, scratch that; it was really hot. It was definitely getting him going, because he picked up the pace ever so slightly, and felt his orgasm building up.

"Yes, yes, yes-" he pants quietly, and he hears her let out a noise in her sleep, making him stop immediately. She shifts a bit, then seems to be still asleep, so he continues, getting him right on the edge again. He was pretty much humping her at this point, like a rabid dog in heat.

He was way too caught up in the moment, just nearing his orgasm, when-

"Sam?!-"

He couldn't stop, it was way too late; he let out a half groan, half whimper, his hot ropes of seed shooting out onto her ass. He could hear her breath hitch and hips jolt slightly at the contact, his eyes widening in shock as he came down from his high and realized what happened.

"Shit, baby, I'm so sorry," he breathed out, quickly getting off of her and hastily tucking himself back into his boxers. "I'll go get something to clean you up, I swear-"

"No, it's okay," she cuts him off, smiling just a bit. "I mean... you can get a cloth or somethin' yeah, but... That was kinda hot."

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 42: Rockin reception

Running down the aisle hands clasped together giggling like school children you both run to the side of the property where your reception is being held to see how absolutely gorgeous it looks the koi pond is to die for the gazebo has hand carved roses and vines down the pillars the yard it perfectly decorated & at the middle of it all is a one large table surrounded by the small round ones for your guests. Your wedding party table Jeff & Grant have the DJ station set & ready to go. You know it’s gonna be awhile for everyone to find their assigned seats so you decide on giving Eddie one of his gifts while you both wait. “My love?” He turns to you eyes of a child full of excitement love & adventure “yes princess?” Pulling his hand to your lips kissing his knuckles “I got you a few wedding gifts & id like to give you one of them since we have to wait a bit anyway” “well what the hell are we waiting for let’s go beautiful” you tug him around to the front of the property he starts to look very confused “uh honey I think it’s a little too early for us to leave our wedding just yet I still have to dance with you beautiful” you giggle “we’re not leaving goof ass come on” pulling him up to the front drive way to the newly built mailbox that you purposely had gareth wrap in wrapping paper so Eddie couldn’t see what was on it. “Go ahead Ed’s take the paper off this sucker for me please?” He furrows his brows “why in the hell would you wrap this mailbox in paper” he’s laughing but starts tugging at the tape and paper anyway as you stand eagerly to see his reaction as soon as he’s got it fully unwrapped he stands there emotionless the black mail box with purple numbers & lettering etched across the bottom “The Munson’s” he turns to you eyes brimming with tears “honey does this mean?…” you wrap your arms around his neck “yes Ed’s this our new home” you step back twirling his own set of keys to the house you made sure to fill the loop with loads of skull & d&d dice homemade keychains tossing it to him it bounces off of his chest & into his hands. “Come on handsome let’s take a quick tour” he smiles grabbing you pulling you to the front door “sweetheart I can’t believe this is ours I don’t even remember this place being up here” “baby I bought the property & built it from scratch well the contractors did” his jaw drops “honey are you fuckin kidding how much was all this?!” “Eds it doesn’t matter but to make you feel better it was cheaper then you think this area has been for sale for 30 years I got a deal now hush no money talk let’s go see” you tug him inside all black leather furniture black marble tables and lamps to match cherry hardwood flooring plush lavender carpets. Heading into the large kitchen with big marble island & countertops two fridges and a deep freezer because you know the guys will be over a lot. “Wow honey this is absolutely insane I love it” “love that’s not even the best part” you take him through your large dining room towards the stairwell “okay big gift first the second door on the right” he opens it to see a room painted black with a large table made of an old burnt tree & a custom thrown & every edition of all the d&d manuals you could get your hands on a closet full of dice & blank new figures for everyone to paint loads of pre set character sheets & an art station off to the corner along with a small bar “holy fuckin shit!! Holy shit baby what the fuck?!” He picks you up spinning you around the room before kissing you crashing his lips into yours “thank you princess this is the best gift I’ve ever received” tears in his eyes “that’s not all honey let’s go” you pull him into your new bedroom California king sized bed a mirror on the ceiling all black marble dressers & night stands leading into a master bathroom with a large jetted tub stand in shower & his & her sinks “honey this is absolutely gorgeous you did amazing” “no problem handsome anything for you this is our forever home so it had to be just right” hugging him from behind “come come still more” pulling him to the other 3 bedrooms.

Tugging him into the bedroom next door to yours painted yellow & already set up a full nursery with a beautiful round crib with canopy Eddie walks around the room at all the stuffed animals & books gets to the crib & turns to you “there’s a gift in the crib eds” he tilts over the top of the crib to see a pregnancy test & picks it up “princess does this mean?..” “you’re gonna be a daddy” & with that he sweeps you off your feet into a hug sobbing into your shoulder “I love you thank you sweetheart for everything I’m gonna be a daddy & without you that wouldn’t be possible I love you so much. Wait… does anyone else know?” “No I figured we could tell them together I just found out this morning I wanted a nursery set regardless for when we were ready I just didn’t think it’d happen that quickly haha” he pulls you back down the stairs you both look out the back door to see all your guests seated “ready princess?” “You know it” opening the door grant sees you both & grabs the mic “may I present to you the new Mr & Mrs Munson!!” Everyone standing clapping & whistling as you both make your way to the clearing for dancing as “My eyes adored you” by Frankie Valli & the four seasons starts to play you & Eddie wrapped in each other your arms around his neck his rested at your waist foreheads touching swaying to the music. Your ankles start to feel cold & you turn to see gareth with a fog machine giving you a thumbs up you mouth a thank you to him & he mouths an anytime back at you. You turn back to kiss your husband as your fairytale becomes a reality the song dies down at you both head to your table as Jeff finds an appropriate mix of music to play so everyone can be seated for food & drinks. “That cake looks great sweetheart where’d we get it?” “Oh no my aunt made it for us Ed’s she’s amazing I mean just look at it it’s art you can eat” you laugh together his hand resting on your thigh you both have been smiling at each other since you set foot on that aisle & just couldn’t stop yourself finally knowing what happy feels like you never want the feeling to disappear. As everyone enjoys their meal Eddie keeps his one hand on your belly & the other with fork in hand eating every so often kissing your cheek & whispering sweet nothings in your ear “that dress is gorgeous sweetheart but I bet it’d look even better on the floor” his breath tickling your ear sending chills down your spine. You lean over to reply to his naughty statement “oh yeah well you look good just sitting in that chair but I bet you’d look even better with me sitting on you instead” he groans “keep it up sweetheart you’re gonna pay for that later” “I’ll be looking forward to it” & with that you graze your fingers across his inner thigh watching him shift & squirm in his seat making you giggle but also excited to bless every room in the house as soon as this is all over. Everyone enjoys their meal & it’s almost time for speeches but first you want to make your announcement. You stand up brushing down the skirt of your dress & clear your throat while tapping a butter knife against your glass of sparkling cider everyone turns to you & you gesture for Eddie to stand up “Firstly I’d like to thank everyone for coming today & celebrating with us. You have no idea how much each of you truly mean to us. Now before we get into speeches & getting all sappy or goofy depending on who’s speaking but with that being said me & Eddie have some new news for you all & we figured what better time to tell everybody than now. So I just wanted to tell you that we’re…. HAVING A BABY!!” Eddie screams the last part with you his eyes sparkling with something that makes your heart race but melt all at the same time. Everyone is cheering & a few people stand up to head to our table. Wayne is full on sobbing along with Joyce & Robin who’s full on sprinting towards you to wrap you in a vice like hug “congratulations oh my god I’m so excited I’m gonna have a niece or nephew!!” You cry with her Steve’s next in line giving you a warm comforting embrace “I’m so happy for you both” to be continued…

[grandwretch]

only i must wander, pt. 3

[on ao3] [pt. 1] [pt.2]

content warnings: conversations about and references to genocide, murder, cannibalism, kidnapping, drug use, human trafficking, racism, war, and bullying.

Steve and Robin weren't exactly best friends.

They tried. Or, well, Robin did. Steve kinda did what he had always done at work, which was keep out of everyone's way and try not to fuck up too hard. Robin, though, was putting in the effort. Not an hour went by without Robin popping out of nowhere to try and start a conversation. Usually about some gossip she'd heard about their classmates or one of the few movies they'd both seen. Steve usually did his best to keep up with her, never being the first to stop talking and walk away, but it felt–

It felt a lot like high school did. Robin's smile never reached her eyes, and it only put more pressure on Steve to follow suit. Be normal, the weight on his shoulders whispered, and everything will be okay. So when she spoke, Steve answered, a smile on his face.

No matter how plastic and saccharine it tasted.

The kids didn't exactly make it easier. Dustin was even more desperate for them to be best friends than Robin was. It was hard to begrudge the kid the connection, though, when he had spent the longest in isolation. He'd been alone amongst humans before El and Steve even had any words for what was wrong with them. What was Steve supposed to do, tell him to stop showing up and asking questions?

Max was worse. She forgave a lot less than Steve and Dustin, and still showed up at least once a week. She enjoyed her shift of threatening glares. Steve had tried to warn her off of it, and Max had snorted.

"If I can take down my brother, I'm not worried about a bitchy fox demon, or whatever." Max was unimpressed by monsters as only a pre-teen could be. Steve wasn't even sure when El had told her about the Wesen thing. He couldn't exactly pretend to be surprised; They'd never been very subtle around her.

So, yeah, they were both under a lot of pressure to be besties. Enough pressure to guarantee they would never be anything even approaching 'close'. Which Steve was fine with. He was finally getting used to all his friends being nerdy middle schoolers. What would he even talk to a friend about? … Basketball? Steve hadn't watched a game in months. March had flown by without Steve even catching a single game. Not that Robin would even be interested in basketball, and–

Steve shook his head, and focused on wiping bits of ice cream off the glass counter.

He did not want to be friends with Robin.

Dustin didn't care, though, as he came in and slammed his backpack down in an empty booth. "Steve!" he greeted, if that could even be called a hello. "Where's Robin?"

"I don't know," Steve said, even though he knew Robin was in the back room. She was socially allergic to the food court downstairs. That wasn't the point, though. "Why do you care?"

"I've got news!" Dustin crowed, "Big news!"

"What's he talking about now?" Robin asked from the door, arms folded.

Steve rolled his eyes. One day, the universe would teach Dustin that his antics wouldn't always get him what he wanted. One day. Steve hoped he was there to see it. "I've got no idea," Steve said, throwing his towel down on the counter in resignation. "He came in and started screaming."

"So El was telling me and Max about your big plan," Dustin said. Steve watched Robin's eyebrows shoot way up behind her bangs.

"Jesus Christ," Steve muttered. "You guys gossip more than every cheerleader in our school put together."

"What 'big plan'?" Robin said, an appropriate amount of sarcasm behind Dustin's emphasis of the phrase.

"There's no big plan. There's a–" Steve turned to Dustin, trying to get the words through his thick little skull. "There's an agreed upon procedure between me and Hop, should there ever be a threat large enough–"

"What the fuck do you think procedure means?" Dustin asked, every inch as bitchy as Steve had trained him to be.

"Yeah, well it sounds a lot less fucking ominous. I can't have a thirteen year old going around talking about my big plans with the police chief." Steve hissed. He knocked his knuckles on Dustin's shoulder, following him as Dustin tried to squirm away. "Did you even think about trying to explain why Hop would be working on a plan with me?"

"Can someone please explain this plan to me?" Robin said, volume increasing to be heard over Dustin's squawks of protest.

"Steve's going to be a good Grimm!" Dustin said, cheerily, dodging Steve's swiping hand.

"Jesus," Steve cursed again as Robin turned a disbelieving stare onto him. "It's not like that! I was talking to Hop about what happens if my parents show back up. We decided we should have a plan in place if they or any other Grimms start sniffing around Hawkins. That's all."

Robin looked at Steve for a long moment. "You said that Hexenbiest friend of yours was Chief Hopper's daughter, right?"

Steve winced. "Kinda. She was part of a case a couple years ago, and she hasn't been allowed outside much, but–"

Robin shook her head. "Believe me, I don't want to know. Hexenbiest blood can be used in all kinds of potions and shit. The last thing I need, as a Fuchsbau, is to get involved with whatever all that's about."

Steve didn't even know what to say to that, so he turned to Dustin. "Why are you here, Henderson?"

"I'm calling the plan into action!" Dustin said, his limbs flailing as if he'd been saying that this entire time, Steve, you idiot. "I would have called in a Code Red, but it's not…" His eyes darted to Robin, then back to Steve. "You know."

"There's a Grimm in Hawkins?" Steve asked, his voice flat with disbelief.

"... No?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Henderson…"

"No, come on! There's– Look," Dustin said, holding one finger up as he reached for his backpack. He pulled out one of last semester's folders, green with 'English' crossed out on the front. Underneath, he'd written 'Wesen stuff'.

"Subtle," Steve said.

Dustin ignored him, pulling a stack of newspaper clippings out of the folder. They were rather large, not at all like the small sports write-ups that Steve's mom used to clip out for him. No, these were big, front-page articles, with big black-and-white pictures accompanying them. Dustin's handwriting was in the margins, tiny scrawled notes and circles and arrows and–

Steve shook his head, trying not to let the sudden wealth of information overwhelm him. He felt like this should be the kind of thing Nancy had done in the past few years. Definitely not the job for him, who had trouble pulling together a decent book report.

"So I was spying on my mom's phone call," Dustin began, which inspired a new round of cursing from Steve. "Shut up, Steve, this is important."

"Your mom not killing us is important," Steve hissed.

"My mom is a middle-aged beaver woman. You're a nineteen year old killing machine," Dustin said, ignoring Steve's flinch. "You'll be okay."

Robin came around the counter to stand on Dustin's other side, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the collection of wrinkled newspapers. "Focus, boys," she said, her hands smoothing out the topmost clipping, which featured a large black and white photo of a kid. He was about the age Dustin had been when Steve first met him, grinning wide in front of Fort Worth Elementary. "What is all this?"

"This is what my mom was talking about," Dustin said, his gaze snapping back to his research. "He went missing last week."

Nausea roiled in Steve's stomach, and he forced himself to look away from the bright grin as he struggled with his own gag reflex. It was a little silly, since he hadn't even known Will when it happened– had been a fucking shit about it, even. He hadn't been able to stomach missing kids since '83. Not even in movies. That was one of the reasons O'Donnell hated him so much– She'd tried to make him read some awful book about a missing little girl, and he'd refused. Hired some nerd to write the report. She knew it, and he knew she knew it, but he couldn't read it. Couldn't think about some mom, sick to death with worry, and a bunch of men who thought she was crazy. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. Made him want to launch the book through the police station window with Lucas's slingshot. Made him want to make every teacher who'd whispered behind the Byers' backs eat the pages the words were printed on.

It made him want to pay for the words he couldn't take back with blood.

"Dustin, not every… Kids go missing all the time, buddy." Steve tried to be calm, the reasonable older brother, as his own hands started to shake. "Will was a special circumstance, you know that, right?"

"Oh, shit," Robin mumbled.

"This isn't about Will," Dustin said, although Steve could tell from the way that Dustin's eyes were big and round that it had been very much about Will. "My mom called her friend in Fort Worth, and they were talking about the investigation, and they– He's a klaustreich."

Steve had no idea what that meant, but the German was enough of a giveaway to get the gist. "This kid is a Wesen?"

Even as Dustin nodded, Robin was snorting and shaking her head. "If he's a klaustreich, it was the dad. It's always the dad."

"Hey," Steve said, voice weak. It was hard to fight Wesen prejudice when he had no idea what the stereotypes were supposed to be. It certainly didn't sound flattering, though.

"It's almost always the dad for humans, too," Robin said, a flush of embarrassment across her face.

Steve and Dustin exchanged a look. "Dads aside," Steve said , because talking parents never went well for him. Especially with any of the kids present. "It doesn't matter who did it, because this isn't any of our business. The police will handle this, Dustin, I don't know why–"

"Because he wasn't the only one!" Dustin moved the newspaper to the side, revealing another black and white photo of a smiling child. And then another. And another. More and more pictures were revealed, until the children devolved into a blur of gray and sepia. "In the past four years, more than 38 kids have gone missing in adjacent counties alone."

"That's impossible," Robin said, immediately. "Someone would have done something. They would have caught the guy. There would be– There would be fucking dogs and search parties–"

"Oh, like there was for Will Byers?" Steve said, his tongue numb. He almost didn't mean it, didn't want to be saying it, but all he could think about was that fake body of Will's. His own voice, asking if Jonathan had killed him. "Kids go missing all the time," he repeated.

Robin was quiet for a moment. "So the guy who took Will…"

"No," Steve and Dustin said at the same time.

"That was completely different," Dustin said, "and it's handled."

"One of us would have noticed if there were that many kids involved," Steve said, trying to make himself believe it. "And they wouldn't still be going missing."

"I thought they never caught the guy who did it?" Robin asked.

Another glance. "I made sure of it," Steve said, his voice firm enough to broadcast that he would not respond well to pushing. Not exactly stellar for his new serial killer reputation, but there was no way in hell he was telling Robin about the Upside Down. She wouldn't believe it, anyway, in spite of all the Wesen and magic and shit. Whatever created the Upside Down, it wasn't a furry little guy. It was something sinister, and the last thing he needed was it to get its claws into Wesen society.

Robin's eyes narrowed, her gaze analyzing Steve's face, before she nodded and looked away. "Alright, so what's your theory, beaver boy?"

Dustin sighed. "After I left the library, the trail went kinda cold. It's not like a thirteen year old can call grieving families and expect answers, you know?"

"That's why you should bring this to Hopper," Steve said, tapping the folder. "You know, an actual adult? And a cop, by the way. The people who would actually have a good chance of–"

"A Wesen family would never talk to a human cop," Robin said, then shrugged at Steve's sharp look. "Sorry, man, it's true. We have a thing about handling our own disputes."

"Alright, well…" Steve huffed. It wasn't that he couldn't appreciate the sentiment. He was pretty sure that when Robin said 'handling it', she was using a definition like his own-- Beating the shit out of it with a bat and then setting it on fire. "That's one family that won't talk, but that leaves almost two dozen–"

"More are Wesen," Robin said, and then leaned over to tap at a picture on the table. The kid was older than Dustin, around Robin's age. He beamed out of the gray, wearing his letterman's jacket, a football tucked under his arm. "That's Carter Ridley. Goes to school in Jackson. His mom comes into my dad's shop sometimes. They're jagerbars."

"Hunter bears?" Dustin translated, his nose wrinkling.

"They used to be berserkers, in the old country. Now they're mostly yuppies," Robin said, shrugging. "Still built like a fucking mountain, though."

"Huh," Dustin said, looking thoughtful.

"Alright, so two families…" Steve tried, but Robin shot him a look that left him feeling small.

"If someone is hunting Wesen kids, two is enough."

"Hunting any kid is bad enough," Dustin corrected, but his face was still unfocused in deep thought. "It does take a special kind of person to capture two predator kids, though…"

"What?" Steve frowned down at the picture. "He's, like, fifteen, sixteen? He's big, but he's not going to take out a full grown man."

"He's a sixteen year old jagerbars," Robin repeated. "They used to hunt humans for sport at that age. No dad with a beer gut is going to be able to take a jagerbar raging on teenage hormones."

"So what?"

"So it's a Wesen that's doing this," Dustin said, determined. "Something powerful. Something evil."

"That's your job, right?" Robin said, turning to Steve.

"I'm not a fucking–" Steve paused, frazzled. "I mean, I am. But, like… ethnically. I'm not going to start hunting criminal Wesen and killing them! That's insane!"

"So we're supposed to let them keep doing it?" Dustin said, whirling around.

"No! Or… maybe? I don't fucking know, Dustin. Why didn't you take this shit to Hop? He knows about this Wesen shit, now. I'm sure if he knew about this, he would do something about it." Not as much or as fast as Dustin wanted, but Steve had never known Hopper to sit around and let a kid hurt like that. He would stop this. He would.

"You want to send your father figure after a monster that'll tear him apart?" Robin asked. She didn't even sound upset about it, just… curious. Which Steve thought was rather rich, considering she'd never even met Hopper in the context of Steve. Rich and cruel.

"Steve," Dustin said, before Steve could even gather his thoughts enough to tear into Robin like he wanted to. The kid's voice was solemn, deep in the way he only got when he was on the edge of tears. "I know. But when has bringing an adult into this ever fucking solved anything?"

Steve wanted to protest. They'd helped– Hopper and Joyce and even those stupid science guys, they had all helped. Been instrumental, really. But Steve couldn't deny that sometimes it made things harder. They didn't understand, sometimes, why things had to be done a certain way. Whatever help they would give had to be wheedled out of them, piece by piece, usually at a cost greater than anyone guessed. And that was only if they didn't die. Steve hadn't known Bob, but he had watched Joyce cry into Hopper's chest about it, which was more than enough to solidify the danger in his mind.

He loved Joyce and Hopper. He did. But they weren't the reason they were all still alive. Nancy was. El was. And, sometimes, when someone needed to take the hit, Steve was.

"Okay," Steve said, his shoulders going lax in resignation. "Alright. But if we're going to look into this, we're going to do it right. Now…" What would Nancy do? he asked himself. "We need to know how many of these kids are actually Wesen. Any ideas?"

"You could show up to their house and see if their parents woge?" Dustin said.

"No."

"I have an idea," Robin said, "but you both have to promise not to fucking touch anything."

"There is no way you can make me promise that without telling me what it is I'm not touching," Dustin said, seriously. "That's entrapment."

Robin sighed, chewing off all the lipstick on her bottom lip. "Okay," she said, finally, "my dad's shop is the only Wesen apothecary outside of Indianapolis. If any of their families have ever needed anything a human shop wouldn't handle, they'll be on his ledger."

"Alright, so…. " Steve shrugged. "Would he let us see it?"

Snorting, Robin replied, "Absolutely not. But if his darling daughter were to leave the back door unlocked the next time it's her turn to clean…"

"Oh, good, another crime," Steve said, rolling his eyes. A quick glance at Dustin proved he would be no help in finding an alternative. Glee was written across the kid's face so patently that even Steve didn't have to puzzle it out. It's for the kids, Steve reminded himself.

"Since when do you care about what's legal, Harrington?" Robin said. "You've been drinking since the cradle."

"Like you said," Steve said dismissive. "Police chief. Father figure."

"Steve has, like, chronic parental issues," Dustin informed Robin, sotto voice.

"Dustin…"

"They're fucking terminal," Dustin continued, ignoring Steve's sighs of complaint.

"When are we fucking doing this?" Steve cut in, voice harsh with frustration.

Robin's face went blank in thought for a moment, running through the days in her head. "I'm supposed to clean up after inventory on Thursday," she said, shrugging. "That's the earliest I'll be able to get you in."

Six days. That was more than enough time for the more rational parts of Steve's brain to take back over, more than enough time to talk Dustin out of this heroism kick. He found himself nodding, more than willing to put this off for another week.

"It'll have to wait, then," Steve said, and tried not to sound too pleased about it.

Despite Steve's efforts, the next six days didn't lessen Robin and Dustin's insistence on playing the hero. In fact, Steve found himself on tenterhooks every night. He watched the evening news with an intensity he had given very little since graduation.

The six o'clock news, then the ten– The morning news on the weekend, anchors and time slots that Steve usually slept through. He watched them all with his heart in his throat, every cell of him focused on the prayer that he wouldn't see another sunny, ignorant smile on the screen. Every night passed without a new addition to their list, but that did nothing to soothe the mounting frenzy in Steve's chest. Instead, he could only wonder what they were missing, if there were kids slipping through their fingers unnoticed.

Saturday morning when the anchors said goodbye, the local channel started reruns of old episodes of Batman. Steve, numb with anxiety, stayed curled in his father's pristine armchair and let them play. Primary colors and musical stings blurred together in his bleary mind.

He'd never been a huge superhero kid, not like Dustin and Mike, but there had been no one in his elementary school who didn't sometimes watch Batman. There wasn't much that he remembered. The characters were all unfamiliar and cartoonish, but the apathy made Adam West's booming voice softer. It soothed the shake of Steve's hands.

In one scene, Batman rushed onto the docks, a bomb in his hands. There was nowhere to go, no way to save the unbothered masses around him. It was supposed to be funny; Steve recognized the slapstick body language, the sigh in West's voice. There were baby ducks in the water, for fuck's sake. He had thought it was hilarious, once, in the way sheltered little kids always did.

Steve pulled his legs a little tighter against his body, watching the fuse burn down. The exaggerated resignation had grown too familiar to be laughable. He sat and he watched Batman accept that this bomb was going to go off in his hands, so it wouldn't go off on anyone else's, and it didn't make Steve upset. It didn't make him uncomfortable.

It made him nod, approving. Because Steve knew that if he found himself with a bomb in his hands, he would keep holding it. Would curve himself around it, letting it go off.

"Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb," Batman told him, and Steve clicked the television off. It was time to go back to bed.

The rest of the week wasn't easier. Work helped, the distraction as good for Steve as it had ever been, but Robin didn't. Her obsession had gotten its teeth into Dustin's little mystery, and there was very little else she was willing to talk about. Even when Steve managed to change the subject, he could see the missing smiles in the shadows behind her eyes. In time, she would lapse back into theories and ramblings about some story she had heard, once-upon-a-time. Steve was never sure how many of these stories were facts and how many were legends. The both seemed equally real to Robin, and by Thursday night, he had heard every word the Buckley clan had to offer.

He wished he could blame her. That terrible feeling got its claws into him every time, the paranoia and the guilt and the shame, and it would feel so much better if he could take it out on her. Steve knew it would. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest, taste the bitter words on his tongue. It didn't matter how long she rambled, though, every time he turned to face her, his voice refused to cooperate. It was too easy, he thought as she rambled through another legend too horrific to listen to. Even as Robin spoke, she broadcasted her fear louder than her voice. Every curiosity revealed another nightmare she'd never beaten. It wouldn't feel as good now, when he knew she was so fragile.

Or maybe he didn't want to be an asshole anymore.

So listened to every awful theory she had, and then drove home to find Henderson on his doorstep with his own set of ideas. Dustin's were at least a little less gory, but he had even less to work with than Robin did. Most of his 'theories', if they could even be called that, were cribbed from cop shows and nursery rhymes. The kind of thing his mother filled his head with so he wouldn't talk to strangers. They had never worked, because Dustin had never met a problem he didn't want to interrogate to death, but they left their mark all the same. So Steve soothed his fears, did his best to not sound too sarcastic when he assured Dustin that the bogeyman didn't exist, and then shooed Dustin off to bed.

Every night was the same, a shift of horror movie plots followed by a thirteen year old's best attempt at paranormal theory.

When the sun finally set on Thursday, Steve expected to feel relieved. After a week of fending off the worst of Robin and Dustin's impulses, he would finally be able to prove this wasn't their problem. All it would take was a quick look at Mr. Buckley's ledgers, and all three of them could finally move on.

Steve tried to remind himself of that, blocking Dustin's chattering voice out as he turned the thoughts over in his mind again and again. They did little to help the rising anxiety, though, the edges worn smooth with handling like well-eroded stones. Steve's fingers flexed against the steering wheel. The closer it got to go-time, the worse Steve felt. The air felt heavy around him, so thick he could imagine it darkening like in one of Dustin's movies.

"You are, like, the worst criminal in the world," Dustin said, halfway through shoving a Twizzler into his mouth.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"You look like you're about to throw up," Dustin said, poking at Steve's cheek with his licorice.

Being able to grab the candy out of Dustin's hand without looking was the only thing Steve's Grimm abilities had ever been good for. He tossed it through his open window, his other hand covering Dustin's mouth– Well, the kid's entire face. Steve wasn't trying to shut him up as much as annoy him into submission.

"You know, you could stand to take this a little more seriously," Steve said, frowning. "Jesus, where is Robin? She said eight, right?"

"It's only 8:15, man," Dustin said, leaning his seat back. "Chill."

"How is it that I'm the only one who believes there isn't a fucking serial killer on the loose and I'm still the only person taking this shit seriously?" he muttered to himself. He needed a fucking cigarette, but he knew Robin would bitch incessantly if she smelled smoke on him. Steve had no idea how he'd picked up another nerd to tell him what to do, or why he even cared about what she said–

"Steve, fucking breathe."

Steve heaved, realizing his lungs had stopped working a thousand thoughts ago. "Thanks," he wheezed.

"No problem."

They lapsed into silence. The moment stretched out between them like the infinite increments between one and two, until Robin's head popped out of her back door. She already looked mad, the too-familiar furrow between her eyes, and Steve sighed under his breath.

This hadn't been his idea, but he was pretty sure that it was going to end up being his fault when they all got caught.

"Come on, before she has a fucking heart attack," Steve said to Dustin as he opened the door. They sprinted across the road, looking twice as suspicious as if they had walked. Steve looked over his shoulder as their feet finally hit the sidewalk on the other side. Though the street was empty save for the Bimmer, he couldn't shake the feeling of something at his back. The feeling had been lurking for weeks, though, even in his own house, so he forced himself to shake it off and slip into the door behind Dustin.

"Took you long enough," Robin hissed.

Steve barely held back an offended squeak, turning it into a grunt in the back of his throat that left him feeling nauseous. "Did you want me to fly here, Buckley? We were waiting for you."

"Yeah, well, we don't have all night." Robin rolled her eyes, but her hands fluttered in front of her chest, as if she wasn't sure how she was expected to hold her arms during a B&E. Steve deflated. It was hardly worth the fight if Robin was picking it to hide how scared she was. It occured to him, for a moment, that it was odd for Robin to be so scared of being caught in her own home. But then Steve thought about getting caught in his dad's office, and winced when his stomach lurched.

Maybe that was the life of a predator kid, Steve thought. Maybe the fear he'd kept just under the skin for most of his life was... normal. Robin had it, El had it. Maybe that was the price you paid for sharing a roof with a monster.

Dustin didn't let Steve mull over that one for long, turning and glaring at Robin in the dim light. "So where are the records, then?"

"The ledger is in the back office," Robin said, casting a glance over her shoulder in the blackness of the rest of the store. "We move it there so Dad can balance the books--" Without listening to another word, Dustin pushed past them both to stalk into the shadows. Robin hissed, the most animalistic sound Steve had ever heard her make, and chased after him.

Steve tried to follow, but the heightened senses he had come into recently did not extend to his vision. He was as lost in the dark as he had been the rest of his entire life. He stumbled into the Buckleys' storeroom using only what little lamplight shone through the windows.

Squinting at the shelves on either side of him, Steve struggled to make sense of what little he could see. The closest Steve had to reference was a librar. The shelves were too cramped and close together to resemble any kind of store he'd ever been in, especially the familiar aisles of the Big Buy. Rather than books, though, every inch of available shelf space was taken up by jars and boxes. Some held dried herb leaves or pills, like Steve had seen in pictures of old pharmacies. Others looked like they would be more at home in his chemistry classroom, right next to the preserved pig fetus. Glad the shapes in the jars were shadowy and dark, Steve shut his eyes and followed the sound of Dustin and Robin's bickering voices.

Who needed to confront the vision of that jar of suspiciously eyeball-shaped soup when you had enhanced hearing? Not Steve, that was for sure.

Luckily, the storeroom wasn't as big as the looming shadows made it seem, and he only took a few steps before he felt the familiar prickle of Dustin and Robin's presence against his skin-- Wait, was that familiar? When had he started noticing that? Why did he not notice himself noticing that--

"Thanks for joining us, dingus," Robin said, muffled around the thumb she currently had shoved in her mouth as she chewed at her cuticules.

"You are going to get scars," Steve said, frowning down at her free hand. It was already ragged around her nails, as if she'd chewed through one hand and kept on going. "And a yeast infection. In your hands. Just so you know."

"Can we please focus?" Dustin huffed as he flipped towards the back page of an enormous, cotton-bound book. It was filled with all kinds of words and numbers that made Steve's head swim, so he was more than happy to look away when Robin snorted at him.

"I hope you get fired for your weird diseased fingers," he whispered, and didn't even grunt when Dustin punched him in the side.

"I get that you two have some weird sexual tension to work out," Dustin said, and Steve and Robin flinched, making twin noises of disgust. "--but I don't actually have any idea what I'm looking for, here, so I could use some help."

"I have the list of the missing kids," Steve said, pulling it out of his chest pocket. He'd kept it there all week, moving them from shirt to jacket and back. It had felt wrong to leave them behind. "We're looking for their last names in here, right?"

Dustin frowned at the book, index finger tracing a line down the page. "No, this is by date, not name. If we use this, we'll be here all night."

"The last few months will--" Robin started, but Dustin wasn't having it.

"I'm not going to leave someone behind just because they didn't need heart powder for exam season this year," Dustin huffed, slamming the book shut. "Your dad has to have, like, a client list or something, right?"

Robin shrugged. "I mean, we have the address book we use for deliveries, but if they come into the shop--"

"Sorry, heart powder? Like, human heart powder? Like, from humans?" Steve interrupted.

"Not always. It's an Eisbiber thing," Dustin replied. "My mom says it got her through college."

"Your mom microdosed?" Robin said, her voice rising an octave.

"Mrs. Henderson might have eaten people?" Steve took a moment. "And I'm the bad influence?"

"That is, like, so not what we're talking about," Dustin said, pushing away from the desk. "Show me this address book."

Huffing, Steve stepped back as Dustin and Robin pushed past them towards an ancient filing cabinet in the corner of the office. Robin was nattering about her father's extensive record-keeping system, and it reminded Steve so strongly of his own father's boring dinner sermons that he tuned it out almost on instinct. Their voices faded until they were swallowed up by the fuzz in the back of Steve's brain, like someone turning the volume of a static-y television all the way up.

Why was he even here? As desperate as Steve had been to get in here and get it over with moments ago, he could feel the frustration starting to build in his chest. This was getting them nowhere, and even if Mr. Buckley did have some computer-level organizations going on here, how the hell was Steve supposed to help? The last time he'd checked, Grimm powers hadn't healed his stupidity yet. He should be home in bed, pretending it wasn't absolutely pathetic he was already under the covers.

"This is it!" Robin hissed as she yanked some monstrous, stained book from underneath a sheath of papers. So much for Mr. Buckley's filing system, Steve thought. "All the addresses should be in here. The ledgers get replaced every year, but this should be everything since we opened."

"Excellent," Dustin said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon character.

"Okay, so--" Impatient, Robin laid the book on top of the cabinet with a thwap, opening the book straight down the middle. "Alright, so, what's the first... Oh. Huh."

Dustin peered over her shoulder, legs straining as his tip toed feet wobbled. "Huh," he agreed.

"What?" Steve asked. The double act was starting to wear on him.

"It's not just names and addresses. There's, like, dates and stuff? These must be sale and payment logs?" Robin didn't sound confident, and that, at least, made Steve look at the moldy book twice. "It's not a ledger, though. There's not a single dollar marked anywhere in here."

"Right, and we care about that because..."

"Because it might be a clue!" Dustin said, and began to scramble to open the list of names once again.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Sorry, are we putting Robin's dad at the top of the suspect list because he keeps records?"

"The first name on the list is Altheide," Dustin said, ignoring Steve. "Are they in there?"

"Cool," Steve muttered, starting to pace behind them. "Let's waste time trying to figure out if the most German last name we've ever heard is part of the German monster conspiracy in our town. Great use of our time, team."

Robin glanced his way, but turned back to the book without a word. With a little grunt of effort-- Steve was beginning to think the book got bigger every time somone looked away from it --she turned to the first few pages. After a moment of skimming the pages, Robin nodded. "Alright, here's one. We've got a G. Altheide from Lafayette."

Dustin grinned, his body barely containing his triumphant glee. He was practically vibrating out of his shoes. "That matches our missing kid-- What else does it say? If we can find some kind of connection between them, it might help us find out why they've been targeted."

"Assuming they were targeted at all," Steve reminded him.

Both of the excited detectives ignored him. "Altheide isn't exactly a regular," Robin said, her fingers following the rows of entries down the page. "He hasn't bought anything since 1982, but in '79 there was a rash of purchases for..." She paused, biting her lip.

"For?" Dustin and Steve prompted in unision.

"Milz," Robin said, looking a little grossed out. "It means 'spleen'. He bought 350g of it over the course of six months."

"Is that a lot? That feels like a lot," Steve said, looking between Dustin and Robin's blank faces.

"That's at least three full organs," Dustin said, shrugging. "Not exactly common, but..."

"No," Robin said, her voice sharp. "It's not common. And I'm sorry, Dustin, I know we were joking about your mom, but--"

"I wasn't joking," Steve muttered to himself. "It's weird."

"--It's exactly the kind of thing we aren't supposed to do. It's exactly the kind of thing that gets you run out of town again. Exactly what people expect us to be selling, and exactly the thing my dad always told me he would never..." Robin's voice trailed off. She flipped through the pages of the book, shaking her head. Steve and Dustin watched her in silence, the horrific humor of the situation completely gone.

They had gotten used to death, gotten used to staring it in the eye and making jokes. But it was different, when it was your dad. They both knew that.

"It's all like that. Every single purchase in this book is... Milz. Gehirn. Gallenblase. Herz. Not a single fucking herb or poultice in sight, just..." Robin shook her head. "How is he even sourcing this?"

Steve and Dustin traded a look.

"Let's solve one mystery at a time, okay?" Steve suggested, , when the question had hung over them for too long.

Robin shook herself, and Steve watched her pull focus over her face like a mask. He had no idea how she did it; Every time he even thought about his father with a Grimm's rage in his veins, it made him vaguely ill. He couldn't imagine holding proof of it in his hands. The mere thought had panic clenching around his throat like a fist.

"Give me the next name," Robin said, solidifying herself as one of the strongest people Steve had ever met.

"Barrett," Dustin said, and Robin was off.

They went through every name like that, one after the other. Some of the names were in there, followed by sales and dates the same as the first. Some of them weren't, although there was no way to know if the kids were human, or their parents were good people. They found more than Steve would have liked. Two dozen cozy little cannibal families in Indiana, most of them a twenty minute drive where Steve's kids went to school.

He didn't say anything, though. Didn't bitch and moan and protest as he had before. He didn't have to. Dustin no longer smiled when they found a name, all the victory of a lead paying off sucked out of it. Now, every confirmation deepened the frown on Dustin's face, made the lines between his brows go tight with worry. Every name was no longer proof that his theory was right, just another danger to Hawkins.

"I'm starting to think Mrs. Henderson is right about, like, everything," Steve mumbled to himself once they'd made it to the end of the list. It wasn't even much of a joke as a dawning horror. More and more, it was beginning to seem like Robin, Dustin, and El were actual outliers, not just proof that stereotypes were wrong.

"Don't say that," Dustin said, despairing. "You don't have to live with her when she's right."

Robin was still staring down at the book, shaking her head. "Out of the 40 missing kids, almost half had parents willing to eat human flesh for a cheap high." She slammed the book shut, and glared up at Steve. "I fucking told you it was the parents!"

"Okay, let's not leap to any--" Steve began, but Dustin cut him off with a rough snort.

"More like your parents," the kid said with a sneer.

Robin woged for a half second, fur rippling across her face and then away again. The gold in her eyes stayed, though, glowing eerily in the dim light. "Excuse me?"

Dustin pointed at the book, his eyebrows almost flying off his face with emphasis. "Your dad is peddling human body parts, and he just so happened to be selling to half the families whose kids are missing?"

"Yeah," Robin said, "Wesen families, not human ones. Why would that--"

"I don't know, the fact that he was collecting blackmail on them?" Dustin rolled his eyes when Robin growled. "There's no reason for him to keep evidence of illegal activity if it's not for blackmail or spying, and I think--"

"No one cares what you think," Steve said, stepping between the two of them. When a smug smile began to spread across Robin's face, he shot her a glare. "Either of you. You're both being stupid."

"Oh, good, the keg stand king of Hawkins High is going to preach to us about being stupid," Robin muttered under her breath but her gaze finally filtered back into its hazy blue, the sharpness of her teeth dulling as she spoke. Steve resisted the urge to sigh in relief.

"No offense, Steve, but you're not exactly--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Henderson." Steve drew himself up to his full height, a display that would have been more intimidating if his hands hadn't instinctually found his hips. "Because what I am is a Grimm, and that's as close as we're gonna get to an official on this thing, so what I say goes. More importantly--"

Robin tried to break in, a protesting whine to her voice as she said, "I don't think being born--"

"More importantly," Steve repeated, a little too loud for someone who was trying not to get arrested by his own father figure, "I'm the son of a business man. Do you know how many lectures I've had to sit through?"

"What does that have to do with any--"

"Getting rid of your own clientele is bad business. Especially if you can still get something out of them. And given that Mr. Buckley has blackmail on nearly every single wesen family in the state, I'd say that he has a lot to gain from keeping them around and no motive to speak of."

"Thank you," Robin said, relief evident in her voice.

"You weren't right either," Steve sighed. "Look, I-- I think it's as weird and gross as you both do, okay? I have no idea what we're going to do about this, but.. One mystery at a time, alright? These kids have to come first, and I don't think this--" Steve gestured to the book, so unassuming with it's tattered cover "--actually has anything to do with it. It was a good lead. It was. But this isn't a game."

"But all the names--"

"Less than half of the names, Dustin," Steve interrupted. He paused to put a gentle hand on the kid's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's enough to prove that wesen are getting targeted. But we can't force everything into connecting because it's convenient. That's how people get hurt."

"Then what does it mean?" Robin's voice was muted, her gaze still stuck to the floor. "If it's not a part of it, then why--"

And Steve got it, he did. It would be so much easier to swallow if this was part of some grand conspiracy. So much easier to accept that her father was a terrible person if there was a fantastical story to back it up. If Robin could pursue this thing and claim that the anger in her chest was for the kids, not for her own frightened heart. If there were a bigger evil out there, something she could focus it on that wasn't someone she loved. Steve understood it better than Robin could probably ever imagine, but there was nothing he could do to fix it for her.

"It means that there's a lot of stuff for us to fix," Steve said, "and it's going to take more to fix it than we thought. That's all."

Dustin sighed, slumping forward. He faceplanted into Steve's abdomen, hat tumbling off his head with the sudden jolt. Steve caught his weight, keeping him steady with one hand flat on his back. Dustin was getting taller, Steve realised with a pang. Next year Steve wouldn't be able to hold him up so easily.

There were no thoughts of his own impending adulthood in Dustin's head, yet. "What do we do now?" Dustin said, every inch the child he had been two years before. Steve looked over his head at Robin who shrugged, still looking lost.

It rankled that Steve didn't know how to help her. He couldn't pull her into his side to offer the support that the kids so eagerly took. The things he did with Hopper were no help, either; Steve didn't know much about her interests but beer and a game on the television didn't help much with forgetting that your dad was the most fucked up version of a drug dealer.

"We should go home, get some rest." Steve ruffled Dustin's hair. "We can try to figure out our next steps tomorrow, okay?"

"We're running out of time," Robin said, motioning at the list. "There's no way they're keeping those kids ali--"

"Stop it," Steve said, pulling Dustin further into his chest. "It's late, and we're all on edge. There's nothing we can do right now that's of help to anyone, alright? We need to get some sleep and come at this when we aren't freaking out."

"I'm staying with you tonight," Dustin said, muffled by the fabric of Steve's shirt.

"Dustin," Steve began, sighing, but Dustin wasn't willing to be swayed. He tilted his head up, frowning as he made eye contact with Steve.

"There's no way I can see my mom tonight, man," he whined. "She's going to know something's up, like, immediately. Call her and tell her I'm staying over because I ate too much lasagna and fell asleep on your couch again."

Fair enough. Claudia Henderson had an almost supernatural nose for danger, one that would be on high-alert when Dustin started asking too many questions about the illicit substances she may or may not have taken in the 60s. There was nothing that gave a scheme away like questions with too much specificty, and Dustin had never understood the meaning of the word 'casual'.

Steve looked toward Robin, resigned to not actually getting any sleep tonight. "What about you, Buckley?"

Robin's face creased with disgust. "Oh, ew, Harrington. Tell me you are not using this as an opportunity to pull."

"As if you would be so lucky," Steve said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Come on, you're telling me you want to make eye contact with dear old dad over the breakfast table tomorrow morning?"

Robin apparently hadn't thought of that. He watched it settle over her, the fact that this was her life now. That nothing, not Friday mornings or family games or birthday parties would ever be free of the knowledge of what her father had done. He watched her truly understand it, watched the nausea cause her jaw to work, watched her hands flex at her side.

Steve had spent the last two months dreading the day his parents came back home. Not even because he was worried about how they would treat Dustin and El-- That, Steve could handle. He had gotten very good at keeping secrets over the last two years. No, the worst of it was that it was very different, it turned out, knowing that your dad was an asshole who hurt people and having to acknowledge it.

Being a Grimm didn't make Bradley Harrington a monster; Steve had always been very aware of who his father was. Not that it had ever been much of a secret. Every dinner Steve had ever been forced to have with the man had turned into a lecture on how to screw the most people over, how to use it to control the narrative around you. It was framed as a lesson, but it was bragging-- A list of people whose lives he had ruined to buy Steve a shiny new toy he hadn't asked for, to keep him clothed in fabrics that made him itch and feed him expensive dinners that made his stomach churn.

Robin's father was closer, and kinder. He didn't want to think about how much harder this would be for her.

"That's... nice of you, Steve," Robin said. "But I should go home so no one suspects anything."

Steve nodded. "Then we can meet up at my house tomorrow afternoon," he said. "We'll go over our options then. Until then, we keep our heads down and try to forget everything we learned tonight, okay?" Robin and Dustin both nodded, and Steve felt something in his core finally unclench.

It was a long, hard night. Long after he'd gotten Dustin home and tucked into a guest room, Steve was wide awake. He found himself walking up and down the halls of the second floor. He kept his footsteps as quiet as possible, but he couldn't make himself stop. He wished he could blame it on the nerves that had made him so jumpy earlier, or even fear-- That, at least, would be familiar. Sleeping for months after the demodogs and Billy had been rough; Every time he closed his eyes, his heart would lurch with adrenaline.

That night, Steve felt calm. His brain turned every shadow and creak into an enemy, but with a confidence that shook him. He was in his own home, lancing at windmills, confident that whatever beast crept out of the corner wouldn't last long in front of him. They wouldn't touch Dustin. Every other Wesen kid in Indiana might be in danger, but not his.

Steve had never had a lack of self-assurance, exactly, but the complete belief in his own victory was new. And, if he was completely honest, unnerving.

That didn't stop his feet from moving.

He drove Dustin to the Wheeler's the next morning, the both of them silent and sleepy-eyed. Dustin hugged him for a little too long before he got out of the car, uncaring about embarassment or teasing in a way Steve could never fathom, but he returned every ounce of affection as long as the kid would let him. The drive home was lonely.

At least with Dustin out of the house, Steve could sleep. He didn't even bother going up to his room, just sprawled himself out on the couch and let the rising heat of the morning lull him into unconsciousness. By the time he woke, it was almost time to pick Dustin up.

Apparently, a single day with his friends was enough to shake Dustin from his fear. "So it's got to be another Wesen, right?" he said before he'd even closed the Bimmer door behind him.

"We're not talking about it without Robin," Steve said, absently adding, "and put on your seatbelt."

"Come on," Dustin whined. "We don't need a stupid girl to figure this out for us!"

"I'm going to tell El you said that the next time a monster crawls out of the ground to kill us all." Steve didn't even bother looking over at Dustin as they spoke, his eyes fixed solely on the after-school traffic milling around them. "See if she helps your ungrateful ass after that."

Dustin huffed and threw himself back against his seat, arms folded. "Sorry, it's-- Why does everyone have to be so stupid about girls all the time? They're just... they're just girls!"

Steve winced. He still kinda regretted the advice he had given Dustin about girls the year before. Sure, it had been true, but Steve had only recently learned that because things got you the results you wanted, didn't mean you could do them. Even if girls liked it. Even if it kept you safe. Hopper had laughed his ass off when Steve had confessed that he wasn't sure how to take it back without embarassing himself. In the end he had told Steve to keep an eye on it and help when Dustin ran into trouble, same as he would anything else. The problem was, of course, that Steve himself hadn't figured out a different way to talk to girls.

He could talk to them, yeah. Ring them up and ask them about their day, then send them off and never see them again. But dating? Steve couldn't exactly claim to be an expert anymore, especially since he hadn't given it a single thought in months.

"Oh, man," Steve said. He could feel his face twisting with discomfort. "I mean... it's kinda just what... boys do?"

"It's not what I do," Dustin grumbled, kicking at the floor in front of him. Usually, Steve would have snapped at him to not wreck the Bimmer, but it had been a rough week, and it was shaping up to be an even rougher day. Steve didn't have the energy.

"That's funny, because I remember a kid who wanted to talk to Max even when his weird pet was terrorizing the town," Steve joked.

Dustin didn't laugh, just looked up at Steve with big, sad eyes. "I don't know," he said, a little fear starting to creep into his voice. "I just don't care anymore. I feel like it's all Mike and Lucas even think about, anymore, and even Will... all Will ever talks about anymore is Mike and Lucas talking about girls! And it's stupid, 'cause there's so much other stuff to think about, you know?"

"Well, for one, Mike and Lucas and Will don't have to deal with the same things you do," Steve said, trying to talk around Wesen issues and medical scares as gently as possible. "Plus, well. It was pretty much the same way when I was your age, right? Everyone, even all the adults, expect you to talk about girls and sports at your age. And some people, you know, are more interested in others, and then some people just... pretend, because they like to fit in. Does that make sense?"

Dustin made a small noise of confusion. "Should I start pretending, too? Is it, like-- Is it important?"

"No, you--" Steve sighed, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. "It's good, that you don't pretend. Seriously, man, sometimes I wish you'd pretend to care about, like, volume control, but I like that you don't pretend. Your friends like that you don't pretend. Just, you know, you have to understand that not everyone is able to be that cool about it. Give it a few years, and people will stop caring about it so much."

"So were you pretending? Is that why you haven't been on a date in a while?" Steve squirmed at Dustin's question, feeling thoroughly grilled by the thirteen year old in his passenger seat, but it was better than the fear he'd had earlier.

"Not, um--" Steve cleared his throat. "Not exactly. I mean, sure, for a long time, yeah. I was... I was expected to behave a certain way, and when everyone else started going on about girls then, like, yeah. I put on a show for a little while. But, you know, then I met Nancy, and I liked her more than I've ever liked another girl. More than I had ever liked anyone, at that point. I haven't really... I mean, people kinda expect it from me, because I was a little too good at pretending, but it hasn't really felt like that again. It's not realistic to expect yourself to be crazy over every cute girl you meet. Even the really, reall cute ones. So, you know, don't be so down about it. Maybe you'll meet your own Nancy one day."

"I think Nancy was already my Nancy," Dustin said, frankly, and Steve snorted. Yeah, the kid's childhood crush had never been super subtle. "I don't know, man. There was this girl, you know, at camp? Her name was Suzie. And she said she liked me and I... I liked her, too, but there was just so much going on at home, and there's so much going on now-- How am I supposed to care? It just doesn't seem worth it."

"This is going to sound like shitty advice," Steve said, continuing over Dustin's eyerolling. "But you're young. You're probably not going to meet the love of your life in middle school. You're allowed to not care about it for a few more years, if that's what you want."

"What if I never care about it again?" Dustin asked in a small voice.

"Then you're luckier than the rest of us," Steve said as he pulled into the driveway. "Because, you're absolutely right: it's not worth it."

"Wow, you're such a romantic," Dustin said, hand already on the door handle. "I have no idea why you're still single."

"Mystery of the century," Steve said to his own black eyes in the mirror. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, where they usually spent most of their time snacking. Steve hadn't had the stomach for food in days, really, but he made Dustin a sandwich while nibbling on a package of stale Keebler crackers. 

Robin finally showed up thirty minutes after they'd agreed to meet up. She stomped into the house with the heavy gait of the thoroughly exhausted, and Steve eyed her sweat-damp hair and mussed clothes with a little frown.

"You know, I could have picked you up." He was well-aware that his house was a fair piece to bike to, even to people who technically lived close. Being in the woods didn't help, with less people to find you if you fell off your bike. Steve never let the kids cycle to his house, forever worried about finding one of them in a ditch the next morning, and it didn't sit right that Robin had made the trek clear across town on her own. 

"If my mom had seen me being picked up by Steve Harrington, she'd have a heart attack and then spend the next five years trying to 'cool mom' her way into finding out if we had sex," Robin said with a huff as she readjusted the plaid shirt tied around her waist. 

Steve could feel a grimace crease his face, both at the second-hand embarassment and what that said about his own reputation. Had the exaggerations of his sexual conquests really spread so far as to make it to the middle-aged population of Hawkins? Did people talk about his sex life with Hopper or the Sinclairs, or worst of all, Karen Wheeler? 

He hoped not. He really hoped that Mrs. Buckley was either just paranoid or extremely invested in Robin's love life, because the alternative was too stomach churning to bare. 

"Okay, ew. I didn't need to hear that," Dustin said, his face pulling into a mirror of Steve's.

"Sorry," Robin said with a shrug that didn't seem that sorry at all, actually. 

Rolling his eyes, Dustin said, "Since Steve promised me there would be no weird teenage romance energy tonight, can we please get to the point of this meeting?" 

"Which is?" Steve asked, leaning against the breakfast nook. 

Dustin picked up his folder of 'research' and slammed it down on the island in the middle of the kitchen dramatically, both hands splayed onto the paper. He leaned forward, making eye contact strong enough with Steve that he was almost sure the kid was trying to trigger a woge for dramatic effect. "We are going to find out the culprit of these kidnappings tonight or die trying." 

"Dustin, could you please stop predicting our deaths?" Steve groaned. "You're a total jinx. If I die because you said that, I'm going to invent ghosts just to haunt you." 

"Do you honestly believe in that stuff?" Robin scoffed. "Like, ghosts? Magic universe manifestation or whatever?" 

Which was rich coming from someone who had spent four days telling Steve about every fairy tale creature she could think of. 

Steve didn't even look her way as he shrugged. "Robin, I am literally friends with a wizard. I watch you turn into a giant fox creature daily. Of course I fucking do."

"Guys, can we please focus?" 

Under Dustin's militant reign, Steve and Robin dutifully helped him re-read all the newspaper clippings. There were a few commonalities that Dustin had missed-- All of them found by Robin, who had a better geographic memory than Dustin and Steve put together. However, there was nothing that would establish a functioning territory for a Wesen, or even a motive or means. Just a few common street names, a lingering presence for a month or two before it jumped across the county line to lurk somewhere else. 

It would be helpful, Steve thought as he listened to Robin and Dustin debate about jurisdiction laws, if he had access to any files Hopper might have in the station. He knew all it would take was a quick call and an explanation, but the last thing he wanted was to get Hopper and El involved in anything that involved missing Wesen kids. Anyone who knew the truth of what El was knew that she was the cream of the crop, and Steve wouldn't be able to think past the sheer worry. It was going to be hard enough to keep Dustin safe, and there would be no convincing Dustin to keep himself safe if El kept rushing into danger. And she always did, no matter what anyone told her.

Even worse would be dealing with Hopper, who had the tendency to be even more overprotective than Steve himself.

Eventually, Robin threw the newspaper down on the table. "I give up. There's literally nothing in here that we haven't considered, like, a million times before." Steve was only halfway through his own stack, but he had to agree. 

"There has to be something," Dustin said. "There's always a clue, we just have to find it!" 

Robin pushed a hand through her hand, her bangs sticking out from the top of her head at an angle. After a moment of silence, she said, "I think we're looking at this the wrong way. I was reading this book last year, about how the cops find big serial killers. You know, like last year, when Larry Eyler--" 

"Let's not talk about that." The last thing Steve wanted to talk about with Dustin was Larry Eyler. Even if he was comfortable telling his teen friend about a rampant serial killer, he wasn't exactly keen to find out what Dustin's opinions on gay people were. Or, even worse, have to explain what a leather community was. He shot Robin a look. 

"... Okay, fair," Robin said, giving the thirteen year old in the room a glance before moving on. "Anyway, when they look for these guys, the first thing they do isn't to try and figure out exactly who did it. They try and figure out what kind of person would do it, and go from there. You know, to narrow it down." 

Steve frowned. "We already know what kind of person did it. It was a Wesen; We already decided that." 

"No, not like that. Like-- What kind of personality traits do they have? Are they bold or are they skittish? Are they charming? Creepy? Stuff like that." The explanation didn't exactly make sense to Steve, but he supposed the general concept was reasonable enough. There had to be some way to find out who commited a crime when there were no witnesses, and the cops certainly put enough people behind bars without them. It might as well be psychology, Steve supposed, although to him that was about as meaningful as witchcraft. 

Dustin sounded more convinced. "How do we even find out something like that?" 

"Ugh. A psychology degree, I guess," Robin said, as if she had never thought about it before. 

"It's not a terrible idea, though." Dustin said. His eyes had gone hazy and unfocused, staring through the newspaper on the counter instead of at it.  "If we stop focusing on exactly who the kidnapper is, and maybe focus on what kind of Wesen they might be, that would definitely narrow it down..."

"Can we?" Steve asked. His frown grew deeper. "I mean, it's kinda messed up to just decide that one kind of Wesen is more likely to kidnap kids than another kind, isn't it?" 

"Steve, you're new to this, so I get it," Robin said. She had that tone in her voice that Steve hated, the one that said he was being a new level of stupid previously undiscovered by man. The kind that said they couldn't even blame him for being so unable to compute reality, because who would ever expect Steve Harrington to be capable of thought?  "You're still thinking about people as humans. We're all the same, we all bleed red, yadda yadda. But Wesen aren't like that. Some of us literally bleed different colors." 

He wasn't sure what that had to do with anything. "That doesn't seem like a good enough reason to--" 

"It's like zoology," Robin interrupted. "Cats and dogs aren't inherently good or bad, right? There's a mix, made up of enviromental and social influences. But they have specific instincts, and specific responses to certain stimuli. There's no changing that." 

"Yeah, but-- Cats and dogs aren't people, Robin," Steve said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsettled as always by the Wesen impulse to dehumanize each other. Maybe it made sense to them-- After all, they literally weren't human --but as someone raised completely in the human world, no amount of woge could  make Steve look at someone with two legs and a smile and think 'animal'. Even remembering the way demogorgon flesh collapsed under the weight of his bat still made Steve vaguely ill. 

"They're not human, you mean. Neither are Wesen. Look, I get it," Robin sighed. "But when a Maushertz dies, the first person you look at is the Klausreich. That's all I'm saying." 

Dustin jumped in, patience worn thin by their impromptu ethical debate. "So, what? You think we need to look through every species of Wesen and find out exactly who would be compelled to hunt the species of Wesen that are missing?" 

"It's better than our other idea," Robin reminded them, "which is literally absolutely nothing." 

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Steve said. This sounded like a good way to get their asses kicked. Or an even better way to end up like his parents. 

"When we start looking to you to be the ideas guy, Harrington, that's how I know we're really fucked," Robin said, rolling her eyes. 

"Great." 

"Do your parents have any books on wesen species?" Dustin asked, ignoring Steve's glare. 

"No." Robin shook her head.  "Maybe one about anatomy or something, but nothing general like this." 

Dustin looked thoughtful for a moment, and then began, slowly, "Is it possible that it's..." 

Steve stopped him before he could complete the thought, completely uninterested in revisiting last night's near meltdown. "Dustin, if Robin's parents were using the kids in a weird drug scheme, there would be bodies literally all over Indiana. Let it go." 

"Fine! Fine..." Dustin said, throwing his hands up in the air. "What then? We can't exactly go the library for this kinda shit. What else do we do? Call Owens? My mom?"

"Who's Owens?" Robin asked, turning to Steve. He almost wanted to rub it in her face, that he knew something she didn't, but Dustin looked all too willing to answer her question. 

"Someone we literally can't talk about without getting our asses kicked by Reagan," Steve said quickly. "Shut up, Dustin." 

The kid didn't look all too upset about Steve's intervention. If anything, he looked excited, as if Steve had reminded him of something great. "Hey, wait, what about your parents, Steve?" 

"My parents haven't been in town in months," Steve said, although Dustin already knew. Robin had probably already guessed, by the way Dustin talked about them like they were strangers, and for once Steve was glad to confirm his parents had all but abandoned him to Hawkins.  "There's literally no way this could be them." 

"No, I know that. But they probably have research or something, right?" 

Robin visibly brightened, straightening from her previously defeated slouch. "Oh my god, Dustin, you're a genius!" 

"Isn't his ego big enough already?" Steve sighed. Dustin was already giving him the smugest eyes imaginable, as if Robin's praise proved what Dustin had been telling Steve all along. He was starting to wish these two had never met.

"No, seriously, there's literally no way that professional monster hunters wouldn't have information on which monsters are more likely to commit which crimes," Robin said. "That's like if cops didn't keep info on gangs. And that's exactly what we're looking for! If we're gonna play the Grimm game, then we need to start thinking like a Grimm." 

"And that starts with getting a Grimm's information," Dustin finished, a gleam in his eye. 

Steve thought this was all rather rich, coming from the boy who hadn't known what a Grimm was mere weeks ago and a girl who had been ready to write him off forever for being one. Not to mention, Steve had absolutely no interest in actually being a Grimm. He might have been born with a Grimm's powers, but that didn't mean that he had to go around acting like one. If anything, trying to protect these kids was his first step in making sure he never followed that path. 

"This is insane," he told them, his voice brokering no room for negotiation. "What do you want me to do, call them up and tell them a bunch of Wesen kids have gone missing? Because that's going to either end up with them here, which we definitely don't want, or they're going to hang up the phone because, again, it's Wesen kids." And the guy they were trying to find probably wasn't doing much worse than whatever his parents had been doing in Prague for the last six weeks. 

"Doesn't your dad have a study upstairs? I mean, have you even looking in there since you found out?" Dustin said. 

Steve's stomach sank. His father did have a study, yes, on the far end of the hallway from Steve's room. He hadn't been in there since he was very little, not yet old enough to understand why rules existed. The bubbling rage on his father's face had been clear, made even keener by the fact it had nowhere to go. Steve's father hadn't laid a finger on him, but Steve never forgot the rule again. While the rest of his memories of that age had been washed away by time, that one had remained, far clearer than Steve was technically comfortable with. 

He wondered, now, if his father had woged at him, his child's mind unawakened to what he was truly seeing but keen enough to know he was in danger. 

 "I'm not allowed in there," Steve said, quickly. Without another word, Robin stood and walked out of the kitchen, Dustin scrambling after her. Steve leapt to his feet and overtook them with a few large strides, using his body to block the way up the stairs. "No, Robin, seriously. My dad will lose his fucking mind if he finds out anyone's been in there." The anger hadn't had anywhere to go when Steve was a kid, but who knew what he would do if he came home to find his 19 year old had been rummaging around in there? Even worse, what about kids that weren't even his? 

"Steve, I literally helped you break into my dad's store and look through his secret blackmail book," Robin said, her mouth curling into a snarl.  "Forgive me if I don't really care that your daddy might be mad at you when he gets home." 

"Sorry, am I the only one remembering that my dad might be an actual murderer?" Steve asked, looking from Robin and Dustin and back. Neither of them looked very impressed, and once again, Steve felt like the only sane person in the universe.  "Hello? Are you even-- Seriously, guys, this isn't cool." 

"Steve, chill out," Dustin said. "We don't even know when your dad will be back. You told me literally a few months ago that they said they probably wouldn't be back until Thanksgiving! We have, like, so much time. They're literally never going to find out." 

That was true. It would be months, probably, before his parents found their way back home. The dust would have more than enough time to settle, and Steve could spend as much time as he wanted trying to clean everything up. That didn't rid him of the queasy feeling in his stomach, or the panic tightening around his throat, but it was enough to make him quaver under Robin's glare. He stepped out of the way, rubbing at his nose while Robin pushed past him. 

"... Fine. Fucking fine," Steve muttered under his breath. "This is so fucking stupid." 

He followed Dustin up the stairs, eyes glued to the familiar carpet under Dustin's sneakers. It was getting harder and harder to swallow down the panic that always sprung up when he thought about his parents, a sign that did not bode well for Steve's career as an anti-Grimm. It was odd, he knew, but until all of this, Steve's feelings had been pretty neutral to his family. He hated it when they were around, of course, but didn't every teenager? That was why they all complained, right, because their parents made them feel like a rat in a cage, and they didn't have Steve's good luck of months and months alone? Even after dinners with the Wheelers and the Henderson, after he had learned that most kids loved their parents, he didn't examine his own feelings too closely. There was no reason for it, after all; They were gone, and had never hurt him. What would be the point of thinking about it now, when everything else in the world was out to get him? 

It wasn't until he realized what being a Grimm meant to his parents, meant for his relationship with them, that he realized how truly fucked he was, being afraid of his parents. Because how was he supposed to stand up to them if he couldn't even make himself walk into an empty study? All Steve could really do was hope it got better as he got a little older, and that his parents would stay out of his business until then. For now, his palms sweat as he thought about what they were about to do. Wiping his hands on the leg of his pants, Steve tried to ignore the panic. 

Robin didn't wait for permission to throw open the study door, immediately heading for the large bookshelves that lined the room. Steve looked around before stepping over the threshold, his heart in his throat. The room seemed normal enough, like the home offices on television shows. The walls were a boring beige, unmarred by his mother's personal touch, and the only furniture besides the shelves was a large antique desk, a high-back chair, and an over-large ottoman to the side. It was all brown and white and boring, covered in a thin layer of dust. 

Steve felt sweat pool on his back as he took two shaky steps in. 

"It's all business junk," Robin said, her fingers skimming over leather-bound spines. "And encyclopedias. Honestly, I don't think most of this stuff has ever been touched before."

"My dad's not exactly a huge reader," Steve said. For the first time in years, Steve felt the urge to chew on his bottom lip. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that his mother hated it even more than his father hated a broken rule. She hated the chewing and the fidgeting and the sounds, all things that Steve had driven her crazy with for the first ten years of his life, and she wouldn't put up with it for a second more. 

She couldn't hear or see him now, but Steve didn't dare break the habit. 

"Help me check the desk," Dustin said, and Robin darted across the room to join him. 

For a moment, Steve thought about stopping them, the intrustion feeling even riskier than opening the door had been, but what was the point? No one kept anything important in a desk they never used. Steve couldn't remember the last time his dad had spent more than a few minutes in his study. It wasn't a place meant to contain any semblance of real life. Steve had to imagine that even the dust mites suffered. 

He watched them rifle uselessly through marked pens and blank papers, every drawer unlocked and useless. 

"I don't get it," Robin muttered to herself as she stood, hands on her hips. She didn't even seem to be talking to either of them, too absorbed in her own thoughts. "There should be something. Why isn't there something?" 

"Because my parents aren't a movie. They're real people," Steve hissed, a little fed up. "They are also, unfortunately, my problem, so if we could get the fuck out of my dad's study--" 

"Hold on," Dustin said, breaking through the brewing spat. "I think I found something." He was standing over the too-large ottoman his dad kept in the corner, the matching upholstered top torn off the base and set to the side. Steve felt the air rush into his lungs, ready to lose his fucking shit, and then he noticed that the base was hollow. Well, it had been hollow, once. It was full, now, crammed to the brim with books older than Steve had ever seen before in his life. 

"Holy shit," Robin said, rushing to Dustin's side. Steve, despite himself, followed. 

They surrounded the disguised trunk by unspoken accord, all of them kneeling to get a closer look. Most of the books were trashed, the cloth covers water-stained and the pages wrinkled. Other than that, there was nothing common amongst them. Every book was a different size, a different shape, the pages cut differently or just a tad more yellow than the others. Some were worn white by time, while others had gone grey with dirt. Despite all that, they looked recently well-taken care of, and they were free of dust. The holes in some of the bindings had been neatly stitched with clean, white thread. 

"God, some of these look ancient," Robin said, reaching for one of the oldest. Steve and Dustin leaned to peek into the pages as she opened it slowly. Steve could smell decaying paper and stale ink as the pages flipped through the air, and he squinted as the stench made his eyes water. The letters swam in front of his face, but even as he blinked them away, the spindly handwriting on the yellowed page refused to make sense.

"Is that even in English?" Dustin asked, and Steve silently sighed in relief. 

"This is an old German dialect," Robin answered. She set the book to the side, perched on the plush ottoman top. The next few were in English, and Steve could tell she was disappointed, but then she reached for another. It was so old that the pages crumbled at the corners when Robin picked it up, and the words inside reminded Steve of the one time a teacher had given them their assignments in some old version of English as a joke.  "This one is even older than Modern German--" She reached for a another, her eyebrow furrowed in thought. "And I think this one's in Yiddish?" 

"Can you read that?" Steve asked, shocked. 

Robin shrugged. "It might take a little time, and the dialects might throw me off a word or two, but most of them, I can. I think." 

"Okay, great!" Dustin said, "So you can focus on those, and me and Steve can split anything in English between us." 

Steve picked up the nearest book carefully, holding his breath as he opened the front cover. He had never been a huge book person, and he had certainly never cared about the condition of a book when he finished reading it, but something about these books felt important. Not just because he was sure his father would kill him if he ended up ruining it. 

To his surprise, there was no title inside the book, just a name and a series of dates. "I think the ones in English might be diaries. This one is, at least." 

"They must be your ancestors, or something," Dustin said, grinning at Steve over the the trunk. He looked thrilled, like they had found actual treasure instead of a stack of dusty old books. "It's kinda cool, when you think about it. Having all this history in your blood." 

Steve could understand why Dustin, who had been cut off from the Wesen world completely, might think that. But Steve could already feel a pit forming in his stomach, "Something tells me I'm not going to like finding out what 'my blood' has been up to. But, uh, I think I should be the one to read these. Just in case." 

Dustin looked a little disappointed, but nodded. "Sure, man. They're your books."

Luckily, there were only a few proper diaries in the pile. At least, ones in English, anyway. The rest were almost like dictionaries-- "Bestiaries," Dustin corrected -- little more than impersonal lists and facts about the different kinds of Wesen. Steve listened to Dustin read a particularly sarcastic passage about Eisbibers, and then turned back to the books in his hands. 

If he had to be honest, Steve was a little thrown off by the fact that he now had physical proof that his parents were Grimms. He'd been preparing himself for the truth for months now. At least, he'd thought he had. Now, with the proof in his hands, Steve didn't feel very prepared at all. At least none of the books had been his parents' diaries. He wasn't sure if he could handle reading their thoughts, when they hadn't bothered to call in months. He wasn't sure if he could handle facing that they even had thoughts, when they'd mostly amounted to ominous shadows in the corners of his life.

He certainly couldn't handle thinking of these books in his father's hands, what his dad must have been thinking as he read them for the first time. Steve could feel his brain slip into fuzziness as he begins to flip through the first few diaries. The entries were short, and he found himself skimming over them, lingering on the ones with small pictures and diagrams scrawled in the margins. 

In one, he found a perfectly drawn and unfamiliar heart, every valve and aorta clearly labeled. Underneath, his great-grandfather said it was the heart of Siegbarste. Steve flipped the page, not wanting to find out whose heart he was looking at, but the entry only continues. The handwriting has changed, the ink a little fresher-- And Steve would be surprised, because it's not exactly how diaries are meant to be used, but apparently that wasn't how Grimms worked. Every single one he's looked through so far has had a note or two written by someone else. It would almost be heart-warming, the generations of collaboration, if it weren't a legacy of murdering people that now rested on Steve's shoulders. 

So, no, the presence of a second author wasn't what shook Steve. It was the familiarity of the handwriting that turned his stomach. Most of the contact he'd had with his parents had been in writing. Not in letters, of course; Steve didn't expect his parents had that much time for anyone, least of all him. But through the years, they'd talked to him mostly through notes. Simple lines explaining they would be back home in a few months, impersonal birthday wishes, a few kind lies of affection. Always written by his mother, of course, when she missed the easily polished child that Steve used to be. 

And that same writing was here, her looping 't's and slanted 'r's, only now instead of soothing the loneliness in Steve's chest, it told the tale of a particularly stubborn Siegbarste, who had been so unwilling to die that she had to take a crowbar to his ribs and-- 

Steve closed the book. 

Suddenly, he was nostalgic for the days when Nancy and Jonathan were the ones who did all the research. Sure, Steve had resented it a little at the time-- He'd meant it when he'd said that all he really wanted was for Nancy to be happy with the person she loved, but it had also stung, that Nancy had picked someone smarter than him, someone who could keep up with her. If this was what it was always like, though, he was grateful that he and Nancy hadn't worked out. He wasn't sure he could stomach this every single year. It was so much easier to just pick up a blunt object and keep some kids alive, even if he was the one who always ended up in the hospital afterwards. 

If this was what being 'smart' meant, Steve genuinely thought he preferred being stupid. 

Robin and Dustin had settled in with their books, though, and there was no way that Steve was leaving them up here alone. There was no telling what they'd get up to, and he wasn't exactly about to let them dig through his family's secrets. He looked from diary to diary nervously, with no real idea of where to start. Eventually, though, he looked to the cleanest diary, almost pristine except for what looked like a singe in the corner. On the outside, embossed in gold, was the name 'Otis'. 

Steve had known, intellectually, that if his dad was a Grimm then so, of course, was Grandpa Otis. Something in his brain, however, had rebelled against the thought. Because while his parents had triggered every prey instinct Steve had ever had, Grandpa Otis had never made Steve ever feel anything but safe and loved. Even though Steve had literally heard his grandfather's stories about the war, about the terrible things Otis had done and seen, he couldn't imagine him hunting someone. He had gone to war because he hadn't had any choice, and he had fought with honor and righteousness. At least, that's what Steve had always been told. That's what he wanted to believe, more than anything in the world. 

At least if he was wrong, though, he wouldn't have to look his grandfather in the eye again. There were some advantages to losing the one family member who cared about you, he guessed. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, Steve opened the diary to the first page and began to read. 

Otis' diary entries started in his first days of boot camp, desperate to keep some kind of record since the family's grimoire-- Steve had to assume that was some kind of fancy word for book --was no longer available to him. At first, there was almost no mention of Wesen at all. He wrote about Steve's Grandma Mary, mostly, and how much he regretted marrying her only to make her wait for him. A few weeks later, though, things changed. 

The longer Otis served, the more Wesen he met. His fellow soldiers, his commanding officers.... It seemed that Otis couldn't go more than a few days without forcing someone into a woge on accident. To Steve's surprise, Otis didn't seem upset or disgusted by being surrounded by Wesen. If anything, he seemed guilty to be causing them problems, and worried that his presence might keep his unit from performing at their best when he was shipped out. 

Then, the entries became more and more sparing, only appearing when Otis had met a new Wesen. Sometimes, they would be French or English allies. Usually, they weren't. Steve wasn't the greatest history student, the dates mixing themselves up in his head at every opportunity, but he had thought that the Second World War was mostly fought with bombs and guns. Apparently, Otis' unit hadn't been informed of that. It seemed every entry was now about Otis having to wrestle some Wesen enemy into the mud, feeling their hearts stop underneath his hands. 

He never talked about the humans he had to kill. Only the Wesen. 

Steve didn't know how he did it. He didn't know how Grandpa Otis could drink with a Wesen one night, and the next pretend it didn't matter when one died by his hand. But he couldn't hate him for it, either, because if he hadn't... If he hadn't been able to pretend like that, then the faraway look that he used to get in his eyes might have been so much worse. It wasn't what Steve would have done, but it meant he lived long enough to meet his grandson, and how was Steve supposed to judge that? 

After a few years of entries, they became vague and wistful. At one point, there was a long, rambling entry about a beach that Steve didn't really understand, and the next day, there was only a list of names. After that, there was scrawled poetry in German and English, followed by sketches of men long dead. Steve was almost tempted to put the book to the side, a little ashamed of snooping through his grandfather's worst memories. He hadn't been able to put it down when Otis was in the thick of it; That felt too much like abandoning him. But Steve's own search still loomed, and it seemed obvious that nothing he needed was in these pages. 

Steve flipped through the next few pages, eyes skimming over awkward verse and floral doodles, until his gaze caught on one entry in a heavy, unfamiliar hand. He sat straight up as he read, eyebrows raising so far in shock that it hurt a little to blink.

"I think I found it," Steve said, breaking the long silence that had settled in the room. "Blutbader! We're looking for Blutbader." 

"What? No, I already--" Dustin looked down at the book in his hands with a frown. "There's literally nothing in any of these books about Blutbader hunting other Wesen except for very specific blood feuds with the Bauerschwein." 

Robin didn't look convinced, either. "Yeah, I've never heard of a Blutbad pack picking fights with other predator species like this." 

"I don't think they usually do," Steve said, and flipped back to the beginning of the entry. "But I found a journal in here from Grandpa Otis. I don't remember him ever talking about it much, but I guess he spent some time in Europe after the war? One of his friends wrote some information down for him while he was in the hospital.  Turns out they were tracking some French soldier who gave them a bad feeling, and it turned out to be a Blutbad. Luther-- His friend's name was Luther -- said that the guy didn't hunt humans, which was weird because it should have been super easy in all the chaos. Like, he specifically says that literally almost every other predator species in France was on the hunt, but instead this Blutbad guy focused entirely on this species called... Waages?" Steve's tongue tripped over the pronunciation, and he looked to Robin for help.

"'Scale'," Robin translated, and then said: "I've never heard of them." 

"Good reason for that," Steve said, grim.  "Luther says that before Grandpa Otis could take him out, this Blutbad had killed nearly every Waage in Europe." 

"That's..." Robin looked sick.

Dustin had no such compunction, focused entirely on finding answers. "So, what? Sometimes a Blutbad just comes out the wrong way and goes after Wesen instead of humans?" 

Steve shrugged. "Luther doesn't go into a lot of detail, and said that he mostly avoids Blutbader, but he does kinda hint that maybe humans are just an easy target. And, yeah, some of them go after Bauerschwein because they're loyal. But a brave Blutbad, or an angry one--" 

"Or a crazy one," Dustin interrupted.

"Yeah, or that," Steve said. "They might go after literally anyone." 

"If there was a Blutbad pack in Indiana, I feel like I'd know about it," Robin said. She crossed her arms and sat back on her heels, frowning. 

"There is," Dustin said. 

"What?" Robin frowned. "No there isn't. I mean, there are the Munsons, but--" 

"What, Eddie Munson?" Steve interrupted. That was the last person he'd expected to be dragged into all this nonsense. Or maybe the first person, and he'd just dismissed it as being far too obvious. Steve would have pegged him more for 'vampire' than 'magical German animal monster', though. 

It was Dustin that answered. "Yeah, he's the reason Mom won't let me join the D&D club. He and his uncle are Blutbader." 

"Sorry, Eddie Munson is a werewolf?" Steve clarified. He just couldn't accept it. What kind of werewolf wore that much silver? "Eddie 'The Freak' Munson?" 

"Don't call him that," Robin snapped. 

"Sorry!" Steve said, his hands flying up in supplication. "It's just... He's not exactly subtle about it, is he? I'm pretty sure he wore fangs to school for like half of my freshman year. Not how I would pretend not to be a monster." 

"I think we're all very aware of how you pretend not to be a monster, Harrington," Robin said pointedly. Steve rolled his eyes. "And that's super not the point. Eddie and his uncle don't count as a pack. They're barely even really Blutbader." 

"How do you--" Dustin began, but Robin didn't entertain the thought of letting Dustin loose on a new theory. 

"Eddie and I have been in band together for the past three years. I've never even seen him squish a bug, much less hunt anything," Robin said, making stern eye contact with Dustin that honestly reminded Steve way too much of his own mother. "And like Steve said, he's not a subtle dude. I'm pretty sure if he had an aggressive bone in his body, he would be hunting jocks in the hallways." 

Alright, that was a much more believable reason, Steve thought. 

Dustin looked at Robin, donning that 'mysterious' expression he practiced in the mirror, the one that Steve had told him multiple times only made him look constipated. "Maybe he's more clever than you give him credit for." 

"Absolutely no way. No Blutbad would be able to deal with Hargrove for more than 15 minutes without throwing a punch back," Robin said, and Steve found himself nodding along. Dealing with Billy was hard enough without supernatural rage behind it. Even at his most human, Steve hadn't been able to keep his cool. There was no way that a roided up killing machine was going toe to toe with Hargrove and simply walking away. Robin continued, "There's a reason Eddie hates the basketball team, and it goes to the tune of daily swirlies until he hit his growth spurt." 

Steve winced at the reminder of his old friends' idea of fun, but he had to admit that Robin was right. Eddie had always been loud and in everyone's faces, all leather and smoke and pounding bass, but the moment any actual conflict started, he was the first to disappear. Eddie was always just... gone. Never apologized, never took anything back, but just disappeared, as if he had never been there to begin with. The rest of the team had always accepted it, content in knowing that their authority was no longer being challenged, but Steve had watched him as he walked away, always wondering what was happening in the freak's brain that made this cycle so unending. 

Then again, if Eddie was really a Wesen, was it really so surprising that he didn't want to fight a group of teenage assholes that included a baby Grimm? Steve wasn't sure how obvious it was to people, before he'd started wogeing. Sure, El and Dustin hadn't noticed until his eyes came in, but they were hardly experts on the subject. And Robin hadn't known, either, but she and Steve had hardly spent much time together before Scoops. 

Suddenly, Steve wanted very badly to know what Eddie Munson thought when he looked at him. 

He said none of that outloud, instead turning to Dustin and saying simply, "She's right. He and Tommy H. always had it out for each other, and Eddie was always the first to run. Not exactly the sign of a cold-blooded kidnapper." 

"Okay, fine," Dustin said. He scrambled up from the floor to put his hands on his hips in what Steve was surprised to find was a mimicry of himself. "What about his uncle, then?"

Steve and Robin exchanged a tense look. This kid and his theories were going to get them all killed if they didn't play their cards right. 

"Look, Dustin, you're right," Robin began, slowly. Her voice was the kind of gentle that Steve associated with kindergarten teachers and small children who were about to turn into the elementary equivalent of an emotional atom bomb. "Just because there's no pack in Indiana doesn't mean there are no Blutbader at all. But there's also absolutely no proof that the Blutbad we're looking for is from Hawkins, or even that it was actually a Blutbad-- This is all just supposition, remember?" 

"What was that quote you were telling me last winter?" Steve reminded him. "Something about forcing the proof to fit your idea instead of the other way around? Let's not have a repeat of last night, buddy." 

"So what are we supposed to do, just sit around with absolutely no idea of who it might be?" Dustin asked, his face flushing red with anger. "Wait for another kid to disappear? Just because we don't have any evidence? Jesus, Steve, you're not the fucking cops! You're a Grimm. Do something Grimm-like for once!" 

Steve blanched, his grandpa's words flashing through his head. "No thanks." 

Dustin shook his head. "I think maybe we should--" 

"No, this is stupid," Robin said, frustration leaking into her voice. The mom act had been abandoned just as quickly as she'd picked it up.  "Just because you think it isn't the Munsons doesn't make that true." 

"Ever heard of something called 'innocent until proven guilty', dickhead?" Steve said, immediately following Robin into the new plan of shaming Dustin into submission. 

To Dustin's credit, he at least gave it a few moment's thought. For a second there, Steve was almost relieved by the look of doubt in his face. Of course, he shattered Steve's dreams for a peaceful evening pretty much immediately. "Even if it's not them, we can at least talk to them, can't we? They've gotta no more about other Blutbader in Indiana than we do." 

"No," Robin said, immediately. "No way. Just because Eddie doesn't fight in school doesn't mean that his uncle is the same and, uh, they would make mincemeat out of an Eisbiber, and there wouldn't be anything Steve or I could do about it." 

"If anything, me being there would make things worse," Steve said, grimacing as he imagined a fully grown Wesen with the same rage El and Robin had shown when Steve forced a woge out of them. "A Grimm poking around and asking questions is going to make a lot of people mad, especially when you accuse them of a crime."

"We have to be smart about this," Robin agreed. 

Dustin huffed. "I'm sick of being smart about things and watching other people get hurt because of it." 

Guilt curled in Steve's chest. Maybe they weren't being the most sensitive about Dustin's clear trauma, here. Steve honestly wished he could make it all better for him. Wished it was as simple as Dustin wanted it to be, a bad guy for Steve to fight and make everything okay again. He wanted that, too; Wanted to be able to kill the monster that made Dustin afraid. 

But it wouldn't change anything for Steve to go fight a werewolf, even if he won. Most of those kids would still be dead. And Dustin would still be afraid. 

There was nothing Steve could do about that. His only job was keeping Dustin alive.

"Dustin--" He started, but Dustin could hear the weakness in his voice, and immediately leapt on the opportunity. 

"Can we at least drive down to the trailer park tonight, and look around?" he said, looking at Steve with shining, hopeful eyes.

"The trailer--" Steve repeated, stopping halfway through to look at Robin in disbelief. "The werewolf lives in the trailer park? Jesus Christ, what kind of weird ass horror movie bullshit plot--" 

"Not the time." 

"Fine, whatever." Steve turned back to Dustin. "Even if we do go down there, what exactly are you expecting to find? What do two grown men in a single-wide trailer even have room to hide? Not fifteen kids, I'll tell you that much." 

Dustin's face was flat and serious, but Steve could see the desperation bubbling in his eyes. "I don't know what we're going to find, Steve. I don't. But I'm so sick of having to know something for sure to be taken seriously." 

"That's not--" Steve tried to explain, but Dustin was already turning to Robin with a different tactic. 

"Do you think we knew what we would find when we went to look for Will?" he said, as if Robin had literally any point of reference for everything that had gone down in 1983. She knew what every other person in town knew, and Dustin knew that, and was using it against him. Steve's guilt about Will warred with the new rage against being played. Dustin continued, "No! We went out to find him, by ourselves, because all the adults were too busy sitting around and talking about proof and profiles instead of looking for him." 

"From what I've heard," Robin began slowly, shooting Steve wide-eyed glances to gauge his reaction to every word, "you and your friends got really lucky finding Will. And I'm not saying that it was a wrong decision, or that you shouldn't have done it, because you found your friend, and that's-- That's great, Dustin. It really is. But we can't rely on luck again, especially with so many kids missing." 

Steve jumped back in, a new level of anger in his voice. "What happens if you get hurt, Dustin?" he asked, trying to remind Dustin of the reality of what happened to Will. He didn't just go missing; He was attacked. This wasn't just going out and looking for someone. This could end up leading to war. "Whoever took those kids is actively going after Wesen, and you want to just knock on the door of the guy you think did it? I'm supposed to be the adult, and I'm not letting you be that stupid. Sorry." 

Dustin drew himself up to full height, and Steve was struck for a moment with the realization that Dustin had grown while he was away. He was still nowhere near catching up to Steve, but he wasn't the little kid who couldn't see over Steve's shoulder, either. He was going to be fourteen soon, Steve remembered, and the thought made his stomach churn with anxiety. The bigger they got, the harder they were to protect. There was no more scooping Dustin up to keep him safe. There was no more holding him back with one hand and a weapon in the other. In two short years he would be as old as Steve had been when all of this had started.  

The way Dustin held himself, chin high and feet planted, said he knew all that and more. "I'm going to Forest Hills whether you like it or not, Steve," he said. There was no more anger in his words, just simple fact. That, more than anything, told Steve just how grown up Dustin was becoming.  "The next time you leave me alone, I will get on my bike, and I will find my answers. It doesn't matter if it takes days, or months, or if I have to skip school or jump out of my window to do it. So you can give up and let me go now, or you can come with me." 

Steve knew he would do it, too. Wouldn't even think twice before he did it. Even worse, he would probably drag El and Mike and who knows else into it. And though Steve knew that, more assuredly than he knew anything else these days, he also knew that Dustin knew he knew that. As dizzying as that logic was, it all came down to Steve being manipulated by this punk kid, and part of him wanted to fight back out of sheer spite. 

But that would leave Dustin on his own, facing off against who knows what. 

Steve sighed.

"This is so fucking stupid," Steve said, throwing his hands up in defeat.  "Jesus. Okay, fine. Sure. Let's go talk to the fucking goth werewolf. Sure. I hate this plan. I hate you." 

Steve stood, pointedly ignoring Dustin's cries of triumph. One of these days, when the stakes were a little less high, he was going to have to figure out how to take that kid down a peg. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to rid himself of the sudden exhaustion that had descended over him, and when he opened his eyes he saw Robin, still on the ground, glaring up at him.

"I can't believe you gave up so easily, Harrington," she said. "That was pathetic." 

It had already been a long day of having his every opinion and boundary walked all over, and Steve had been itching for a good reason to put his foot down. The kids were always his best reason, so it was with a certain amount of glee that Steve snapped at Robin. "You have no idea what I've been through with these kids, and to be honest, I'm not all that interested in telling you. The only thing you have to understand is that it's my job to make sure Dustin isn't hurt, and if I have to drive down to Forest Hills to get my ass kicked to do it, then that's what I'm going to do."

"Or you can lock his ass in his bedroom until he turns 40 like the rest of the helicopter parents," she said with a fake smile. 

Steve huffed. "No one's making you come with us," he pointed out. Honestly, he would feel better about Robin staying behind. It was one less person for him to look after, and Dustin would stop trying to go over his head if there were less people involved. "You can stay here for the night, if you're nervous, or I can drop you off at home on the way." 

She stared at him, blankly, for just a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing herself to her feet. "You're just as crazy as the kid is if you think I'm letting you both run off and die without a braincell to share between you," she said. "Of course I'm going with you." 

"Of course you are," Steve repeated, and resigned himself to a repeat of the night before. 

Steve's only victory of the day was that they, at the very least, listened when he demanded they all eat something before heading out. It seemed that even Wesen with no self-preservation instincts didn't want to die on an empty stomach. Usually, Steve would cook something, but it seemed like a bad decision to leave dirty dishes behind when he wasn't sure if he was coming back to clean them. Despite his misgivings, Dustin dug up a frozen lasagna from the bottom of Steve's freezer, where it had been laying in wait for what might have been months. 

Usually, ricotta cheese made Steve's stomach tie itself in knots, but he couldn't even feel the oily, grainy texture on his tongue as he chewed. Every cell in him was focused on trying to think of anything other than what they were about to do and failing. None of them ate well, but Steve was determined to keep trying until he realized that Robin had disassembled her lasagna layer by layer and was restacking them in new, weirder patterns. 

It was a short drive to Forest Hills. Loch Nora was a richer part of town, sure, but it wasn't exactly a well-inhabited one. It was largely sought after for the privacy it afforded, surrounded by the woods on the edge of town. Turns out the edge of town was also a pretty great place to put all the people no one wanted in town, too. Steve tried not to think about that too much as he pulled into the lot, parking his car behind the diapalated sign. 

"You know which trailer is his?" Steve asked Robin, looking from home to home as if Eddie's would be as big and obvious as he was. 

"I don't know if I like us being parked so far away," Robin said instead of answering. "I mean, what if something happens and we need to make a getaway?" 

"Then you run," Steve said, dryly. "The Bimmer isn't exactly inconspicuous, Buckley. If I park this shit at Eddie's front door, he's either going to run or come through the windshield." 

"There's got to be a reaction somewhere in between, there," Dustin piped up from the back seat. 

"Shut up, Henderson," Steve said, glaring through his rearview mirror. "This is a conversation for adults who aren't actively trying to get everyone killed." 

As Dustin grumbled, Robin looked at Steve with wide eyes. "You really think Eddie would attack you out of nowhere like that?" 

"No," Steve admitted. "At least, not without seeing my eyes, first." 

Robin grimaced. Steve could still remember the way her forced woge had made her bare her fangs. If he hadn't seen her like that, he would have never believed that Robin was capable of violence, either. But he had seen proof of it-- In fact, the only Wesen who had ever not reacted with violence to his woge was Dustin. 

And, let's be honest, Dustin could hardly be counted when it came to Steve. Or having his guard up. Or really... anything. He was a weird kid. 

"Alright, fair enough," Robin said. After taking a deep breath, she looked toward the back of the park, where the older, dingier models stood. "I've only been over for like five minutes one time, but I think I remember he was in the very back. Big and white, wheels still on." 

"Right. Right, okay, come on." 

All three climbed out of the car silently-- Well, as silently as Robin and Dustin were capable of --and began to walk down the dirt path that cut through the center of the trailer park. There was no use in being sneaky, Steve thought, even as his hind brain scrambled to find a way to camouflage himself here. It was barely night, the last of the sun still painting the horizon a dusky purple. They were in plain sight of nearly every window in the damn place. There was no play that could give them any kind of advantage, outside of just... walking. 

It was what they were going to do when they got there that was the hard part. 

Maybe he could get Robin and Dustin to step back a little, Steve thought, and then he could just... knock. Sure, whoever opened the door would still freak the fuck out, but Steve had enough of a handle on his own powers that he could talk them down from attacking.... probably. 

He squared his shoulders, bracing himself to mount the rickety stairs to the trailer, but Dustin stopped him with a hand on his elbow.

"Wait, wait," Dustin said, voice hushed, "we should look around outside first. You know, do a perimeter check?" 

Robin sucked her teeth in disbelief and muttered, "Where do you think we are?" 

"Yeah, man," Steve had to agree,  "this isn't Fort Wayne. It's a trailer park." 

"I just want to be thorough!" Dustin insisted. "Come on, it'll be really quick."

Looking back at Robin, Steve lifted his eyebrows, receiving only a shrug in return. Fine. It was Dustin's stupid recon mission, anyway. They could play it Dustin's way. At least it was just looking around in some overgrown grass and not something dangerous, like plunging the depths of underground tunnels infested with demonic dogs. 

Sure, it wasn't likely that he would make the same mistake twice, but Steve couldn't be too careful around his little shits.

Dustin darted in front of Steve, leading the way to the back of the Munson's trailer. There wasn't much to be seen, especially in the dark. Even Steve, whose vision had been getting better with every day, couldn't see much besides a few pieces of plastic and rusted metal. Whatever they had been before, their forms were now almost entirely covered by the wild growth of the Munson's 'backyard'. Dustin tried his best, poking at any suspicious lumps, but there was nothing to be found. No weird smells, no unexplainable prints. There weren't even any out of place sounds, which was usually Steve's first clue that things had gone terribly. Even when he strained, Steve couldn't hear more than a few muffled conversations and a Reds game. 

Dustin crept towards the edge of the lot, where the foliage went from unkempt to wild, overgrown with ryegrass so tall it almost rivaled Dustin himself. Steve almost called him back, unnerved by the shadows in the weeds, but bit his tongue. It was fine, he told himself, heart pounding. Everything was fine. It was just plants and the summer wind. Everything would be okay. 

Robin sidled up to him, muttering under her breath. "This is a waste of time." 

"I know," Steve said, turning to her. "Just let him--" 

In the future, Steve will say that the Blutbad jumped out at them. It's a simpler story, and one easy to believe. Sometimes Steve believes it himself. Most times, though, Steve knows the truth. In one heartbeat, he was certain that they were alone, and in the next he knew they weren't. 

They moved at once, him and the shadow-- Steve was pushing Dustin behind him before he could even see what he was racing against. At first, it was just a shadowy form at the edge of the weeds, a blur in the corner of Steve's vision,  but as the figure leapt at them, it shifted into focus. He saw the eyes first, burning red in the monochrome night, and a flash of fangs in a snarling mouth. Claws extended from thick, swollen hands. Long, curling hair that covered a little too much face to be human. 

And then he saw the glint of silver jewelry, the moonlight reflected off a familiar leather jacket. 

Blutbad, Steve thought, and then: Eddie.

It was nothing like when he had first met Robin. That had been a standoff, nothing but time for his mind to think of a thousand ways to fend her off. This was nothing but a moment, nothing but a split second for Steve to figure out what to do next, and all Steve could think was how he didn't want to hurt anyone. 

He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Didn't want to have to, but he couldn't let him touch Dustin or Robin, either. Couldn't just sit back and do nothing, couldn't let them watch him be torn apart-- He remembered, vaguely, something Grandpa Otis had said about Blutbader having weak backs, but he couldn't remember enough to make use of it. 

Even if he had, would he even be able to make use of stomaching it? 

For the first time since he'd come into his Grimmhood, Steve was paralyzed with indecision.

Which was why it was somewhat of a relief when the moment passed, and Eddie rushed past all three of them without sparing them a second glance. 

"Um," Robin said. Steve could feel her fur brushing against his arm, just for a moment, before it melted back into skin. 

"Follow him!" Dustin barked. He tried to sprint off after Eddie himself, but Steve had never let go of Dustin's sweater. He pulled ineffectually at Steve's grip, but Steve only tightened his fist and hauled him back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  

Dustin sputtered, gesturing after Eddie. "He ran! That's a sure sign of guilt!" 

"Or a sure sign of a Grimm being in the vicinity?" Robin said, voice dry. 

Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. While he really, really hadn't wanted to hurt Eddie, now that the initial shock had passed, the instinctive adrenaline was a little harder to deal with. His hands shook against the fabric of Dustin's shirt. "Look, I agree we should talk to the guy--" If only to apologize for scaring the shit out of him in his own backyard "--but if we're going to do it then we're going to do it slowly. And you're both going to stay behind me." 

The only thing more dangerous than a feral animal was a cornered feral animal.

Reluctantly, Dustin nodded, and he and Robin fell into step just behind Steve. Even before they approached the corner of the trailer, Steve could already hear Eddie's voice, hushed and hurried.

"I'm serious, Wayne, we have to get out of here," Eddie said. Whoever he was talking to only hummed thoughtfully, and there was an upset little huff that reminded Steve so much of Mike Wheeler he rolled his eyes on reflex. "There's a Grimm on our ass, and he's got Wesen with him. I have no idea what's going on, but if it's Mom's shit, then I don't wanna be here when they figure out we don't have anything for them." 

That sounded exactly like the kind of thing Steve wasn't supposed to be hearing. Chest stinging with guilt, Steve walked a little faster. As he stepped into the dimmest circle of light from the Munson's front porch, the other man spoke up. 

"I don't think that's what they're here for, Ed." An older man stood next to Eddie on the front porch. He was everything Eddie wasn't, bald and solemn and plainly dressed, but there was something in their faces that seemed to match. Eddie's uncle, Steve realized, the Blutbader they were really here to talk to.  He already seemed to know they were here for him, because he was looking over the railing, meeting Steve's eyes before Eddie even had a chance to turn around. "Is it, son?" he asked Steve. 

"Uh, no, sir," Steve said, as Eddie turned around with what could only be called a squawk of surprise. "It isn't." 

"Oh, good," Eddie said, his cadence still familiar from the countless rants that Steve had been helpless to avoid for the past four years. "It's one of the Harringtons. Great, this is exactly what I needed. To get fucking thrown out of town--" 

Eddie knew his parents were Grimm, Steve realized with a start. That almost made sense, except that there was no way Eddie or Wayne had ever met his parents. Not in a normal, human way, anyway. They didn't exactly spend their days taking leisurely strolls down the streets of Hawkins. Hell, Steve was pretty sure even he wouldn't have been able to meet his parents if he didn't live in the place where they stored their birth certificates. 

But Eddie knew they were Grimm. More than that, he was scared of them, but not that they would kill him. 

For the first time in months, a hope sparked in Steve's chest. 

"Hush, boy," Eddie's uncle said.  "Let him speak." 

"We're not here to cause any trouble, sir," Steve said, trying to put on the voice that had once charmed so many respectable Hawkins parents. It was a rusty skill, but it was one he had spent years refining. He tried to smile. "Really, we're not. But there's been something weird going on lately, and I don't think I can ignore it anymore." 

Mr. Munson didn't look impressed. His bushy eyebrows drew together, and Steve resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze. Eddie, apparently, had no resistance at all. It was hard to focus on the elder Munson, and not Eddie, who was chewing nervously on a lock of hair. "And that brought you to our door?" 

"Well, Mr. Munson," Steve said, hesitating as he tried to figure out how to sound like a competent Grimm, "my... my parents aren't really home to take care of it, and it's not like the cops know half of what's going on in this town." Sorry, Hop. "I wasn't really sure where else to start. We just need some information and then we'll be on our way." 

It didn't take years of obsessively puzzling out peoples' attitudes to know that Mr. Munson wasn't entirely on board, no matter what he'd said to Eddie. "And who's 'we'?" he asked.  

Robin stepped forward. Steve could practically feel the vibration of her nerves, and he swayed into her space slightly, bumping their shoulders together. "That would be us, sir." 

On his other side, Dustin was much more enthusiastic. "My name is Dustin Henderson, sir. I go to Hawkins Middle. I'm really excited to meet you and your nephew, sir, because I'm pretty sure you can help us, even if I'm not allowed to join the D&D club next year, which is total bullshit, by the way, and--" 

"Dustin," Steve said, voice tense. "Now is really not the time." 

Ignoring them both, Robin waved up at the porch. "Hi, Eddie." 

Eddie dropped the hair he'd pulled into his mouth and stepped closer to the railing, eyes flashing red as he squinted down at the trio. "Buckley? The fuck are you doing running around with Steve Harrington?" 

Steve tried to ignore the flash of hurt. It didn't matter that Eddie obviously thought he wasn't good enough to hang out with. It didn't matter at all. Steve had absolutely no interest in hanging out with Eddie Munson, or even Robin, except in emergencies like dozens of missing kids-- 

"Well, uh. We work together," Robin said, and Steve stared into the Munson's porch light, frowning. "You know, at the ice cream shop in the mall?" 

There was a beat, and Eddie turned to his uncle, pleading. "Wayne, come on. There is no way you're actually buying this bullshit. None of this even makes any sense. What the hell is a Grimm doing running around with a Fuchsbau and whatever flavor of rodent this kid is?" 

"Hey!" Dustin protested, and Steve hated the way he felt a little relieved that Eddie had briefly killed Dustin's enthusiasm. 

"If anything, son, I think they speak very well to our ability to make it out of this night alive," Wayne said. He finally looked away from Steve, his gaze darting over Robin and Dustin before finally meeting Eddie's. "I don't think anyone coming here to cause trouble would bring these two along with them. No offense, of course." 

"Isn't that a good thing?" Robin whispered in Steve's ear. He shrugged, waiting for Eddie to argue. To agree. To do something, anything.

Whatever Steve was waiting for, however, it never came. He just stood there, glaring at his uncle and refusing to give the rest of them a second glance. It made Steve want to scream, just to see if he could get Eddie to flinch. Just to see if he could get Eddie to look.

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Harrington," Wayne said, after the silence had dragged just past the point of comfortable. Steve tried not to flinch at the address, hands clenching by his side as he thought of his father. "You sound like you're in a right pickle, and you at least had the good sense to come here unarmed. Why don't you come sit down a spell, and we can talk about what's got you climbing around in my weeds so late at night?" 

And didn't that sound like a recipe for disaster? Steve didn't think of himself as a very suspicious person, and he was all for giving the Munsons the benefit of the doubt, but he'd read a few fairy tales in his time. He didn't remember most of them, but taking invitations from wolves had stuck with him as a pretty stupid thing to do. 

Of course, there was no need to be impolite.  As Steve considered how he could suggest a more neutral territory without offending anyone, Dustin stepped forward. 

"That sounds great!" he chirped, and before Steve could stop him, he was rushing for the stairs. 

Steve met Robin's wide, nervous gaze. Into the wolves' den they went. 

tag list: @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @suddenlyinlove @plasticcrotches @adizzycollegekid

[hueningsloverr]

౨ৎ txt as musicals !

pairing: ot5 txt x musicals summary: god. idek where to begin. txt as musicals. word count : 0.6k im actually so sorry i even wrote this wow what was i thinking. if you dont know these songs LISTEN TO THEM.

yeonjun : heathers / mean girls there is also a tiny dash of moulin rouge in him

it boy energy is so reflected throughout BOTH

i’m sorry

definitely a candy store guy

he 100% cracks corny jokes like in stupid w/ love

but the amazing theatricality???

the vocals????

SO yeonjun

and ikik abt the soobin meangirl meme but like

lets be real

jjunie just has that energy

and not in a bad way

like in a 'yeonjun told me to dye my hair purple so i did!' way

and when i say heathers i don't mean the negatives

like that musical is fucked up

i mean the level of iconic-ness (?)

sassy man apocalypse fr

"i like looking hot buying stuff they cannot :3" - yeonjun (definitely)

soobin : six

...

i'm actually so sorry for this one!

he competes with himself, that much is obvious

soobin seems like the type to really question if he deserves something - if his suffering was enough

he's the type to compare past suffering to current

like 'well i suffered back then and i turned out fine, i'm not any more important for suffering now' type of stuff

he's the leader, its his job to be the strongest

and he lets himself have some fun

(i mean his first [?] scandal was him showing his middle toe.)

or he could be super serious like the great leader we all know he is

or he's just a total mess, but yet still so strong ??

hes admirable

he's in the history books fr

beomgyu : hamilton

the perfect balance of chaos and serious

i mean he's literally "lock up your daughters and horses!"

while also being "mom i'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me"

beomgyu was written by lin manuel miranda argue with a wall

its also just so interesting, like gyu

like you could study both hamilton and gyu

a fan favourite

you can't go wrong with hamilton

and you can't go wrong with gyu

hamilton has its… fans

and gyu has his bamtoris

both would doxx you if you speak ill of their favs

the gateway into the community

like gyu was the first member i found out about

and hamilton was the first musical i liked

you dip your toes in, and next thing you know you just spent $25 for some merch

taehyun : hadestown

it’s so sad

yet serene and passionate like tyun

i mean, just look at him

those eyes - that smile!!

boba eyes :3

also, he so was a greek mythology kid

probably bought every percy jackson book / related piece of media when it came out

he knows everything

theres just something so tyun about it all

hadestown is a musical you might not know about

but the second you do you're like "wow wtf i was missing out on literally everything good in this world"

and that's literally tyun too

like if you somehow don't know about vocal king taehyun

the moment you find him obsession forms

or at least in my case

my little tyun🤧

i could see him staring in the mirror going "who are you? who do you think you are"

hueningkai : be more chill (bmc)

you can not tell me this boy didn't have some sort of issue making friends

the photos of him sitting alone at lunch (?) pre-debut???

hes so jeremy heere

because he's really just a sweetie

but no one notices him besides his very close friends

definitely would almost accidentally take over the state of new jersey

type of boy to go all the way if he likes a person

im talking joining the same clubs as them

and even joining the friend group they're in

all of it

we all know he used to think so poorly of himself and talk down on himself

like he had those voices in his head

has his michael in the bathroom moments

thinks he's a loner, a loser, a freak

you know the usual high school insults

but he's able to grow confident, with some help

i luv hueningkai ;3

and i luv be more chill

authors note : i lied this is not based off of making the bed. my bad. whoops. maybe next time!

©2024 — all rights reserved to hueningsloverr , please do not plagiarise or translate any of my work

[elslovers]

chapter one

BLOOD IN BLOOD OUT

synopsis: medical school is hard you knew it would be you prepared for the long nights and breakdowns you prepared to run off only coffee and will power for four years what you didn't prepare for was Abby Anderson you thought after graduation you would be done with her but first day of your internship there she is ready to give you hell...and maybe something more

a/n this is basically going to be greys anatomy tlou version im not sure this is gonna land with people but lord I hope so doctor abby eats so lets see how this go - also this is my first not standalone fic yay for me

you had always been a healer in one way or another, mending healing sick younger siblings back to health from a cold or nasty flu turned to taking care of your friend's hangovers after discovering to never vodka and tequila

you've spent your whole life healing people mending broken hearts and broken women, and mending parents and friends during the lows of their life it only made sense that you would dedicate your life to mending the pain of others its what you do best, and if you're being honest, you loved it at first, you thought you might want to be a vet at the ripe age of eleven. You decided you prepared the company of your pets to those around you (you still do) and thought fixing them might be a decent way to spend your adult life but the concept of seeing animals in any form of pain put you off your dinner then in middle school, you thought maybe a nurse you liked the idea of a hospital, the concept of working alongside brilliant doctors and helping save people's lives by realizing you only wanted to be a nurse because you thought you couldn't be the doctor and fuck that

college, you spent every second of every minute of every goddamn day proving you deserved to be one of the doctors, and after four years of grueling pre-med classes, you were confident you deserved to be one of the doctors then came med school, which knocked you flat on your ass. You didn't go to a shabby school for undergrad, but you ran circles around your peers there - common knowledge was that you were the one to watch, but med school was different you weren't running the circles alone Abby Anderson had been breathing down your neck and your ego from the moment you stepped foot into your first class - the first question your professor asked your two hands were the only ones to fly up

it was world war three ever since that day constantly an all-out battle as to who can bruise the other's ego more you hated her stupid notes and the way she was so above using an iPad like everyone else and was insistent on surviving med school with pen and paper for notes, only using her laptop when needed be you hated her attitude. Her father is a doctor, and she always acted like she was born with a scalpel in her hand, ready to cut she always acted so above you if you were being honest with yourself, Abby made you feel weak. She was tailor-made for this life. She was stoic and hard level headed and cool under pressure. She poked fun at all the things that made you you

she made fun of the way you doodled in the edges of your textbook she made fun of how you dressed 'like an overgrown toddler.' She would say every time you sported your colorful shirts or pants, your cardigans or fun shoes- the day you wore pigtails to a lecture was one of the worst of your years there Abby always quipped that you were better-suited teaching kindergarten than in the OR, and sometimes you started to believe her

in high school, mean girls were blondes with Jeeps and low GPAs, but in med school, the mean girl was a cut-throat soon to be doctor who almost beat you out for top of the class almost

graduation day came and when and you stood on that stage beaming ear to ear - your dress may have been pink, but you were the only one with a gold cord draped over your cap and gown so suck on that, Abby Anderson was the second name to be called and the relief that flooded your body was unexpected

it was over. She was gone, and you would never have to feel that big hand wrap around your shoulder just to tug at your ponytail you had finally gotten rid of Abby fucking Anderson and you existed blissfully with that thought all summer you'd accepted your internship at Jackson Hospital and after four miserable years of med school spent proving to yourself you deserve to be a doctor, you now got to spend the next four years of your life proving to yourself you deserve to save lives when your alarm echoed throughout the four walls of your one-bedroom apartment, it felt like a gift

today was the first day of the rest of your life

it was a fresh start - a clean slate and nothing in this world could knock you off your high at least you thought

the light blue scrubs felt like a second skin right off the bat, and with your hair in a pink clip and two cups worth of coffee In your travel mug, you gathered around the other interns and spotted the only thing that could ruin your day a honey blonde braid hanging idly down the pack of the one person who could make you regret even waking up that morning

fucking Abby

Abby had a special gift for making you feel small, always pointing out the things you love about yourself as if they were the worst flaws she'd ever seen

it blew your mind to think your first impression of her was that she was stunning

"you have got to be kidding me" You meant it to sound firm and harsh, but you know it came out weak

you watched, gawking as Abby turned roughly on her heels to tower over you properly

this was going to be a nightmare

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

to say Abigail Anderson was meant to be a surgeon would be the understatement of the year

where you were born to heal

Abby was born to cut

her father was a healer,

but what she lacked in his warmth she made up for in discipline. Abby was controlled. She was hard-working. She knew what she wanted from the moment she was old enough to vocalize it and she spent every moment of every day working toward it. It would be admirable if she was humble about it but Abby was cocky, and she knew it

she was always the one to beat all throughout her life she spent most of her young childhood inside the walls of Jackson Hospital, absorbing every ounce of knowledge her mind could, and by the time she hit high school, she was a well-oiled goddamn machine Abby lived and breathed medicine, and although out college, every move she made had the sole purpose of bringing her closer to the goal - to the one thing she was made to do it is needless to say, Abby never had many friends. That's not to say she had none. Every overachieving perfectionist can attest that various social clubs help fill the void

Abby was president of the debate team Vice President of Model UN, captain of the girl's basketball team, and an active member of the gay, straight alliance per her father's request (begging) who often worried Abby didn't surround herself with 'people on your team' as he father would put it over breakfast most mornings

Abby had people but Abby was alone. She didn't play nice with others people who weren't on her level she found boring and impossible to converse with and people on her level (people like you) posed as a threat to the territory that was rightfully hers Abby walked confidently into med school posy undergrad, convinced no one could take the wind out of her sails until she met you

for every question asked you always seemed to have the answer a second faster for every quiz test or exam that she got an A on it always felt as though you got an A + she hated the way you showed her up and did so with a smile - did so with fucking pigtails

she hated how good you got and how kind you stayed she spent years convincing herself that the way she was is what it took to become bright that warm girls sweet girls girls who doodle and play nice don't become cut throat and that Abby was made to be cut throat

but there you were personified sunshine and holding a fucking dagger to her throat it seemed unfair so when you made her feel low Abby would make you feel lower she knew her teasing and taunts were pathetic and bordering on cruel but for four years taking the wind out of your sails put it back into hers

she would be a liar if she said tequila and late nights in her apartment didn't force her to think about how soft and broken your face looks when she teases you she would be a liar if she said those thoughts didn't want to make her stop but they just were never enough when she sobered up

after graduation all she could feel was relief sure you had one for a final time you pulling top the class out from under her would chase her down in her nightmares for years to come but she had the summer to nurse her pride and by the time day one of internship rolled around she was prepared to walk though the doors of Jackson hospital exactly what she was A legacy Abby was the second link in the chain of Anderson surgons in that hospital

her father was legend and now she could follow it up build her own reputation of excellence she like he had always intended when she gathered around the other interns sipping on her coffee as they all spoke in hushed whispers about how she was the daughter of THE dr Anderson she was confident nothing could bring her down until she heard your voice small and weak and taunting as she whips around her braid nearly hitting someone in the face

"oh come the fuck on" she hissed feeling the anger rising right to her cheeks

this was going to be a nightmare

[princess-of-the-corner]

how am I having more thoughts on the Cardcaptor!Katsuki thing?

Okay okay some plot notes:

I'm sticking this AU in a weird-ass place! During Katsuki and Izuku's last year of middle school!

So they're not in UA, but this is post-sludge villain so they're a bit weird, Kats is NOT dealing with the trauma well, and Izuku is still training with All Might.

This does mean they're not getting involved in the main plot of bnha yet, but they /can/ run into some characters on the adventures. (Maybe the Heroes are responding to the chaos the Cards make, maybe their future classmates are caught up in said chaos, hell you can toss a villain or two in because some of them might know things about the cards).

Also this is a CC-esque au so similar canon deviations exist. Like Katsuki being transfem but not actually out yet.

Card nonsense kicks off pretty early in.

So I'm imagining that Katsuki is having a Bad Time™ and just wants to be alone for a hot minute. Wanders off during the school day and ends up in some backrooms of the school library. Finds the book with the cards. All the cards except Firey excape(because this one vibes most with her). Kero appears and while Katsuki is like ?????? he gives the plot dump of 'hey! Magic is real! You're destined to deal with this shit!"

Izuku also gets involved because he noticed Katsuki sneaking off, followed like the little fuckin stalker he is, and saw the whole card scattering/Kero infodump thing.

Katsuki and Izuku are in a weird ass place right now because it's post-sludge but pre-ua. So Katsuki is trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Izuku and whether her life is a lie and all that but hasn't really had the push to confront all that. And at first she's pissed at Izuku but Kero is a decent mediator to this situation and it's. it's the first time any kind of adult(as much of an adult as a little cat bear thing is) has kinda. Taken control and firmly but kindly said 'hey knock that shit off' so it's easier for her to really just take a step back and take a breath and actually like. Properly be able to listen to Izuku because again: Kero is saying 'hey the guy was worried about you that's a good thing' instead of 'lmao he's worried about you he thinks you can't handle this show him you can through force!'.

bonus points for Katsuki getting dragged into Izuku's nonsense and finding out 'oh you met mcfucking ALL MIGHT and he's training you as a successor????'. Which. Yeah def spins everything because fuck it All Might is the ultimate authority on right and wrong so if All Might thinks Izuku is a good person worhty of respect Katsuki is switching it up right now. (and feeling guilty for everythig in the past so whoops more of Kero being like 'kid you're FINE!!)

Swinging over to Yue! I mentioned before but he was determined to handle the passing of the torch to a new holder better than the Clow-Sakura transfer he was going in optimistically but GOD he meets Katsuki and is like "THIS??? IS WHAT I HAVE TO DEAL WITH???"

So like. He still does something similar to last time in hiding in plain sight to keep an eye on the new holder. I don't think he'll go full dual personality again because while I love Yukito that's A Lot. But also there's like.... There's not really anyone in Katsuki's life where he could slide in as a 'haha you're not going to question me being here!'.

Which leads to the idea of Yue basically faking being a teacher and is now on the Aldera staff but he's the only sane person in this place and is constantly on the verge of killing his coworkers because holy FUCK how do y'all treat children like this????

All Might gets dragged into this because Izuku has Katsuki meet him and tbh with Izuku helping Katsuki figure out the Card stuff they get into nonsense that's /technically/ vigilantism according to the law but Katsuki is the only one who can deal with the situation.

The actual collecting of the cards happens over that school years so Katsuki has all of them by the time she and Izuku go to UA (and also they're all a bit healthier about things both each other and themselves).

At UA, Katsuki initially tries to keep to just using her Quirk for this shit instead of the cards(though she's become used to using both in tandem). This only works so well beause ofc when bigger threats come out, she's not going to hold back out of some weird 'oh it's not fair to-' no people are in danger she's gonna use everything she has to save them.

So while we don't get someone Eriol-esque crafting situations, the Plot forces her to transform the Cards into her own versions.

[kariachi]

Oh look, fic back in my proper fandom of doom!

Team Tennyson discussing mutants and schooling.

~~

“Just saying, think a lot of mutants could do with going to school separate from other kids for at least elementary. Homeschool, dedicated school, something.” Rook nodded along as he spoke, unfamiliar with any part of Earth schooling pre-university, unfamiliar with mutants outside of the ones he fought and was friends with, and willing to accept Kevin as an expert on the juxtaposition. The Tennysons didn’t look as convinced, but there was a degree of understanding in their gazes.

“And I don’t think isolating them like that would do any good,” Gwendolyn countered. “Kids who haven’t dealt with mutants before then aren’t going to be any nicer, and they might have problems socializing.”

“I don’t think we can talk on that one,” Ben said. “I mean, your powers didn’t come in until nearly middle school, and you kept them hidden really well, and you still didn’t do any better on the friend thing than I did. If we couldn’t manage because we were seemingly normal-weird, Kev probably has a point with mutant-weird.” At the other end of the couch, Kevin nodded.

“It wouldn’t fix everything, but it’d stop kids from getting as much of a reputation before they can totally control their powers,” he said. “Plus, they’d get the chance to grow a thicker skin before they get tossed to the fucking wolves.”

“It wouldn’t fix the socialization issue though.”

“G, babe, out of the mutants you know, how many of us are well socialized?” She opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She opened it again.

“Darkstar.”

“I think you’re just helping him with that one,” Ben said as Kevin gave her a small, smug smile.

“The cannibal is not necessarily a good example,” Rook agreed. Gwendolyn huffed a sigh.

“He does seem well socialized aside from that though. He managed a cult for fuck’s sake.”

“Great,” Kevin said, “one outta too damn many. At that point I gotta assume either it happened despite going to school like normal or’s a private school thing.”

“Which backs up your claim that dedicated schooling for young mutants is a good idea,” Rook said. A brief grin and a nod came his way in response.

“Fuck knows Cooper and I coulda used it,” Kevin added.

“Cooper doesn’t count,” Gwendolyn said with a shake of her head, “he was homeschooled.”

“After normal school didn’t work out,” Kevin countered.

“Yeah, but that was because his migraines messed with it.” Ben hummed and shrugged, gesturing his agreement at his cousin. Without missing a beat Kevin pulled out his phone and quickly dialed. Some song in Japanese played out of it for several seconds before it was answered.

“Yello~”

“Coop, man, real quick, school.” There was a long, huffing breath on the other end of the line.

“I can’t remember it so well anymore, but I still wish I’d managed to burn the place down.”

“Cooper!” Despite the shout Gwendolyn was biting back a mixed expression of amusement and concern, while Rook shook his head and Ben laughed.

“You weren’t there! I once got detention for ‘faking’ a migraine to ‘get out of punishment’ when I accidentally messed with a computer! Ask Kevin, he understands!” A quick look showed said older mutant nodding, shrugging.

“Got suspended once cause a classmate threw a rock at a girl thinking she was me. Adults decided I must have started shit. If it’s not other kids giving you shit for being different it’s teachers assuming the worst so you don’t ‘go bad’.” The others shared a look, this one pure concern. “Why it’d be nice to be able to keep mutant kids out of that mess until they’ve got their powers mostly under control and won’t be as fucked up by people being assholes.”

For a moment, the room sat quiet. The non-mutants looked between themselves, silent conversations going miles a minute. Faces slipping back and forth between concern, morbid curiosity, and anger. Gwendolyn was the first one to speak again, but by the tight-lipped, furrowed expressions on their faces, Ben and Rook were on her side.

“Alright, yeah, if that’s how people are to you guys, homeschooling it fucking is.”