#curse writes

[cur-sedd]

𝘊𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘹?! ₊˚⊹

RAHH okay currently thinking of some concepts for vampire!TXT BUT BUT BUT !! i thought of the most delicious soobie boobie car smut while i was on a late night drive SO please take this silly fic i wrote at like 1 in the morning (also ty for the love on my hyuka fic, yall ate fr)

MDNI!! NSFW CONTENT BELOW !!

╰┈➤ dom!soobin x sub!fem reader, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap!) slight size kink, petnames (baby, bunny, sweetheart, soobs), one mention of hair tugging, car sex, and making out! lmk if i missed anything 💕

In the two years you and Soobin have dated, you both had NEVER touched each other sexually . Despite you both being the horniest people you both know, it was just a matter of who was going to make the first move. Sure, a few hugs and kisses here and there. And of course, cuddling. But you both had never even gotten to the makeout stage. Until tonight. You and Soobin had been giving small hits to each other the last few days. Soobin’s hands always dangerously near your boobs when he would be the big spoon, or how everytime you both would kiss each other goodbye to leave with friends, your lips would linger in certain places you KNEW he was sensitive in just to get a reaction. One that same day, Soobin texted you, asking if you wanted to “move forward”. Knowing exactly what  he wanted, you agreed in less than a second. You both were so childish around each other, giggling whenever Soobin would put his hand on your thigh. You both would just burst out into laughter. It was silly and you both couldn't take each other seriously. So, setting the giggles aside you made up a little plan. You guys would clear your schedules for the next day and  try your best to makeout

Except, of course it didn't go to plan. Soobin being forgetful of this whole plan had you confused on why his friends were now sitting in your shared living room. Soobin had invited his friends over, thinking nothing of it. So when you walk into your house, you can imagine the face Soobin had made as soon as he saw you, all dolled up for him. Closing the passenger seat of the car, you turned your head to glare at Soobin, whose face had guilt spread all over it. Soobin had told his friends he was out to get some dinner, to which they all happily agreed, given they were hungry. But you and Soobin both knew it was gonna take a bit longer.

Soobin had put the car into reverse and slowly backed out of the driveway before shifting the gear to drive. His car was fairly big so it was great for transportation-.. Among other things. “Bunny, I’m sorry, I really am. I completely forgot. I must've mixed up the day or something.” “Soobs, we made the plan together! You could've at least texted me that we would’ve had people over.” “I know, I know. I really am sorry baby.” Soobin mumbled, a hand reaching out to caress your thigh with his thumb You gave Soobin a small glance, just to see if he was laughing or anything but surprisingly he was serious. In a few minutes, Soobin parked his car in a secluded area. If he drove a little further, you could've sworn you could see the whole city. You both quickly made your way to the back seat and wasted no time. Soobin crashed his lips into yours, to which you reacted quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wanted to make up for that little mistake. That and because he was tired of hiding the fact he had jerked off to you so many times + he was horny. Soobin pulled you into his lap as you two kissed, large hands squeezing the plush flesh of your ass. You jumped slightly, causing Soobin to break off the hungry kiss, leaving you both breathless. “Are you okay?” Soobin asked, tilting his head to the side. You nodded with a slight giggle. “Your hands are cold.” “Get used to it quickly..please.” He quickly responded, to which you nodded, leaning in to kiss Soobin once more.

Feeling you slightly grind on Soobin’s thigh, Soobin let out a small chuckle. “You want it that bad sweetheart?” He teased, lips slowly trailing down to kiss at your breasts. “It's not my fault you make me feel this way.” You breathed out, feeling Soobin’s cold fingers pull your low cut shirt down, only for his heart shape lips to latch onto your nipples

You feel your breath hitch as Soobin’s tongue licks and sucks your mound of flesh with such hunger, giving each one the same treatment. You felt his boner come up through his jeans to hit your right where your soaking core was, under your skirt. Your hands tucked softly on Soobin’s hair, causing him to look up at you with his big eyes, faking innocence. Your eyes said it all, and Soobin was more than happy to serve. The car shook slightly as Soobin’s hard thrusts gave out. Your hands held onto Soobin’s broad shoulders as mascara filled tears trickled down your cheeks. Soobin’s hand gently was placed over the small bump in your stomach, watching as it disappeared and reappeared with each thrust. Your moans were like music to Soobin’s ears. He waited, he was patient for two whole years just to hear you cry out his name, saying it was “too much”

You hiccuped and sobbed, removing all of your pretty makeup. Hours of getting ready, doing your hair, doing your makeup gone in a mere 20 minutes :( You watched Soobin pound the living daylights out of you as your grip on his shoulders tightened. Soobin lowered his face to kiss at your lips, to which you gladly kissed back in between soft sobs

“Baby gonna cum- gonna- oh fuck! ‘M gonna cum-” “Its okay- just.. God you’re so fucking tight- gonna cum too.”

Soobin’s thrusts were sloppier than ever as you both nearly reached your high. You guy’s moans became much whinier until you had came, to which Soobin had pulled out and came onto your stomach right after. Soobin let out a tired sigh, placing small kisses all over your face. “You felt so good, my love.”

“Why did we wait 2 years for this?” You asked, letting out a breathy laugh. Soobin shrugged slightly, chuckling a bit as his kisses trailed to kiss at your boobs. It was only until a text from one of Soobin’s friends had brought him out of his lustful trance.

“Hyungggg!! When will you and y/n be back? We’re starving and i swear i will actually burn your house down if you dont hurry” ✧˖°

(a/n: bonus points if yk who texted soobin LMAO)

[kriz-smthn]

[lousyglitch]

The wildest thing about Ben 10 is that it took until 2005 for someone to have the idea "what if a kid could turn into a bunch of aliens" like this isn't obviously the coolest and most marketable premise for anything ever. Each design is a new toy. A new powerset. Come on.

But to prove that it wasn't a fluke, they continued to have the best ideas for every aspect of it. How does he transform? A cool watch you can also sell as a toy. That watch's name? Omnitrix. Say it. It's so satisfying. How many aliens? Ten. Nice round number. The kid's name? Ben. The show's name? Ben Ten. His full name is Benjamin Tennyson, a normal, plausible name, but he also turns into 10 aliens.

Bigger brands dream about this synergy. Better writers would kill for this coherence. So holistic. So intuitive. The identity alone!!! The retro alien sound motif? Chilling. The green? Any other color would be wrong. The kirby krackle pattern? It seems so obvious in retrospect. The roadtrip format? Genius. Lesser writers would've done the spider-man high school thing. His arch nemesis being Cthulhu darth vader? Inspired, iconic, intimidating!

The execution has its highs and lows, but the idea??? Game changing. So self-evident that it seems inevitable. If Ben 10 didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[cryptid-stimming]

Fuck Around & Find Out

[autumnillustration]

"Perhaps a lesser-known gift of Kenobi's was his ability to listen."

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM, strapped with a fundamental distrust of the Jedi, an apocalyptic vision of the future, and a mandate to help Anakin Skywalker. So, in all this, it's nice to have a confidant.)

edit: link to the fic

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[cb-writes-stuff]

Everyone’s always posting about how the cursed amulet is making their friends evil. If everyone has a cursed amulet, have you considered that not having a cursed amulet is making you evil? Maybe the cursed amulets are actually saving us from being evil. That’s probably why people feel compelled to share theirs. Here, take a hit of mine, see how it feels.

[cur-sedd]

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?₊˚⊹

UHM are yall okay?? 😭 the last time i checked i was at like 10 followers and now im at like 40?? Almost 40, its 39 as of posting this. THANK YOU GUYS??? Still shocked!! Also so sorry for not posting last week, i broke up with my bf so i decided to take a small break from everything in general <//3 I will try my best to post once a week though <33

MDNI!! NSFW CONTENT AFTER THE READ MORE!!

╰┈➤Vampire!Ot5, subby!kai, softdom(?)!taehyun, subby!soobin (?), not rlly sure for gyu and yeonjun sobs, mentions of biting here and there, blowjobs obvi, cumming eating/ swallowing cum. OH OMFG and inexperienced!Kai, and hair playing!! gn!reader. if i missed anything lmk!

You plop down onto the couch, snuggling up against your boyfriend, a nice popsicle to soothe your late night cravings. Opening up the wrapper you see your boyfriend eye you every now and then before going back to his phone. One arm wrapped around you as happily had your popsicle, watching on your TV “Baby?” He mumbled, placing his phone down and turned to you. You respond with a small ‘hm’ eyes still glued to the TV. You felt him grab your hand and place it on his hard cock. Immediately, you whip your head to him, shock filled your eyes as you mutter his name. “Can you suck me like that popsicle..please?” 

Yeonjun✩ -you stared at him as he stuck his lower lip out - “that was so smooth” you laughed. - MOANS! Guys this man has the prettiest moans when you give him head fr -would bite his hands to not be too loud bc its late -fr though if he was not stifling those moans, your neighbors would give a noise complaint LMAO - would grab your hair to ground himself - he would defo push your head down on himself just to hear those cute gags its such a turn on for him -he would cum in your mouth and then force you to swallow

Soobin✩ -the look that you gave him, he was so shy abt it too LMAO -”never did i imagine you of all people would say that.” “its not my fault im horny.” -soft, staccato “ah, ah, ah” would leave this man’s lips and its like heaven - after every moan he would smile here and there, flashing those fangs oml -he isnt very loud in general but when you give him head its just another thing -binnie is like begging you to keep going -he would buck his hips up bc i feel like he is so sensitive!! -would ask if you could swirl your tongue around his pink tip - he defo would cum v messily like he would js pull out and cum all over your face KHSBGDHV

Beomgyu ✩ -you were more confused than shocked, thinking he misspoke -”what??” “i said please!” “please for what?” “Dont make me beg, i’ll get harder” LMAO - more grunts than moans, though when he does let a moan peep out, it sounds so subby? Like hello?? -melting under your mouth fr -i would say he isnt as loud as soobin but he isnt as quiet as Yeonjun either -okay but gyu would be so like? Switchy??? from like “little piece of shit, making me all horny and hot for no reason” to “thats it, fuck! Good job- FUCK! Do that again. Youre doing so good.” -The way he would look at you when you suck him off?? Its like so loving yall KASHBDGHV - He literally trying his best to hold himself together but the longer yall go the more is just much more whiner.  -”gonna cum and your gonna swallow no matter what.” -YALL HE WOULD CUM INTO UR MOUTH AND THEN LIKE FORCE YOU TO PUT UR TONGUE OUT TO VERIFY YOU SWALLOWED AHHH -got hard again bc he thought of yall fucking and him like biting and licking the fresh bite -someone jail me, my vampire!beomgyu is feral Taehyun✩ -Taehyun is much more unexpected than Soobin tbh. I feel like he would js say it out of nowhere catching you off guard -”im? Was a popsicle all it took?” “i guess so bc im hard now so i mean its a win win” -he is so quiet like tyun sir please -on top of that its more like fucking WHIMPERS -You would look up every now and then js to see if like he is okay, or if he is liking it. -ofc the silly noticed and he would caress your hair to show you he alright -very soft tbh! Soft and loving, its so cute JKHDGJHG -would you reward you with v rough sex later though with biting bc other than sitting there and looking pretty, his teeth have OTHER USES!! -he’ll end up pulling out and cumming on your shirt bc he wanted to take a shower before fucking you ruthless -maybe if he is extra eager he’ll ask you to join him in the shower and fuck you there hehe

Huening Kai ✩ -BIG DICK KAI BIG DICK KAI BIG DICK KAI! -tbh i feel like you sort of expected this from kai but not THAT quick.  -if soobin was shy, kai was shy-er  -”but but you dont have to do it im- fuck im sorry-” “no- kai, baby its okay!! Why are you stressing?” “Your pretty mouth is gonna suck me off, who wouldnt be stressed in that situation?” -LOUDD he is so loud - and poor bby he is trying so hard to be quiet too -mumbles shit like “nngh! I cant i cant.. No please keep going.” “feels so good!” -i feel like he would struggle to talk while getting head -would bite his shirt to try and quiet himself down -that only make him louder so he resorted to his hand -with his free hand though he is playing with your hair, holding your head down while he bucked his hips up -also very sensitive !! stop i love him sm aughh AND INEXPERIENCED!! -he would normally cum outside of ur mouth but if its very special or he is js extra horny he’ll cum inside without any warning whatsoever LMFAOO

(a/n: also i forgot to thank my mooties for reblogging my stuff, i love yall hehe. This doesnt rlly make sense in the vampire aspect but it does in my world bc 1) this whole thing was a dream i had and 2) i have my own vampire world for my silly autistic hyperfixation saurr 😭 i didnt want to write anything too gorey)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

☕️ cursed café edits 🧪

The new Disney Villains Cursed Café game has some pretty Twst-coded dialogue 😭 There’s a ton more iconic lines than just this; I just picked some of my favorites from the first few days of gameplay to edit with some of the OB boys + some staff!

(Original screenshots taken from BattleBunny's Youtube playthrough of the game!)

And, finally, just wanted to share that the game ends on this hilarious note:

[r-aindr0p]

✨The shroud brothers (and yuu) wish you a happy pride month ✨

[zuzu-draws]

Just a pair of friendly sorcerers out on a stroll~

[bamsara]

I love writing again. Except for that One Paragraph

[humanjarvis]

it's nice to have a friend

big glasses and a bowl cut. 

for the bulk of his short life, that was all anyone saw when they looked at zayne.

no one knew much about him, other than how annoying it was when the teachers praised his intelligence. more than a classmate, he was a goalpost. a standard they couldn’t meet. 

more often than not, his head was buried in a book. he found it much more worthwhile to study people than to speak to them. so he hid in the shade, away from the constant chatter and blistering heat of recess.

that day in september, he’d been too busy absorbing neatly stacked paragraphs to process the muffled voice above him—until you lightly shook his shoulder. 

you’d asked him if he wanted to play. they’d said it was his birthday, after all. but after a long pause and bewildered blush, zayne said no. 

the first three times you asked him, zayne said no.

his answer changed when the leaves did. 

in the brisk november air, pushed forward by a gust of wind, he bumped into a rowdy group of older kids. apparently, his murmured apology hadn’t been good enough. 

first, they threatened to snap his glasses. shatter the lenses so he couldn’t read anymore.

the wicked sneers and guesses that he was special came after. 

through it all, zayne hadn't said a word—he didn't have to. 

because before he could decide whether to tell a teacher or walk away, you were blocking him from view as best you could with your shorter frame, glaring at the boys with molten hatred in your heart. 

and when their leader snorted and took a step toward you both, you unclenched your fist and scratched him right across the face. 

zayne had never been one for violence. his parents told him it never solved anything, and he’d always seen more value in helping people than hurting them. 

but the next time you asked him to play, he nodded his head yes.

he was surprisingly good at make-believe—the doctor to your nurse. and when you invited him back the next day, and the next day, and the day after that, zayne felt he’d made his first friend. 

adult zayne still gets teased, sometimes. 

for the way he speaks like a nonfiction narrator. for the way he retreats from interactions and rejects invitations. for the way he’s hard to read unless you’re fluent in the language of him.

but with you by his side, he’s learned to pay it no mind. 

you like his cadence and his reticence and his rigid kind of softness. you tell him all of it, so he doesn’t have to wonder.

and when the crueler slights wear down the barrier you’ve helped him build, you repeat yourself. 

day after day, you save him. just like you did on the playground. 

so when zayne finds himself in linkon’s finest jewelry store, browsing through shimmering stones he never thought he’d have a need for, he knows one thing for certain: his first friend is his best. 

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Police Officer Wes

"Excuse me, sorry, Mr. Batman, sir!"

That's definitely not a voice he knows. Bruce halts in his steps, aborting his usual retreat into the shadows, and turns back around. Commissioner Gordon, who was still in the process of wrapping up his small talk with Tim - the term 'grumpy banter' would describe their conversation more accurately at this point, but Bruce knows better than to argue with the two over semantics - also turns around, pausing in the middle of the sentence.

A ginger haired boy, wide-eyed and obviously either nervous, starstruck, or both, is staring at him from a few feet behind the Commissioner. Bruce can see a few more faces peeking from behind the half-opened door to the roof, all of them filled with anticipation. He knows two of them: detectives that work directly under Gordon, Isaiah Vasquez, and Tasha Kuznets. The third one, a black man in his forties, also looks vaguely familiar, but Bruce can't recall a name.

Yet, he knows absolutely nothing about the ginger, who hasn't blinked once since Bruce noticed him and is now biting on his lips. But he is wearing a police uniform, so, possibly, a new hire?

"Weston, get out," Jim sighs, waving a shooing hand at the boy with a look of barely concealed exasperation on his face. Definitely a new hire, then. That's the level of annoyance he reserves only for the overachieving rookies that he begrudgingly likes but never admits to.

"I-" newly named Weston starts but cuts himself off. Then, he takes a deep breath and straightens up, "Just one question, sir!"

"Weston, I swear to God," Commissioner pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up a bit. But Tim tilts his head to the side, looking in the ginger's direction and raising his eyebrows. His domino mask hides it, but Bruce knows his menagerie of kids well enough to see that he is at least a bit curious about the boy. So he turns back around fully and inclines his head, giving Weston his attention. He doesn't mind talking with those rare few members of GCPD that Gordon likes.

Weston perks up like a very eager dog at the sight of a treat. In the contrast lighting of the BatSignal, his hair looks like it's on fire.

"If you don't mind, was the 'Smiling case' relevant to Joker in any sense?" The boy asks, loud and clear - maybe even too loud - with his unblinking gaze still glued to Bruce. Like he is afraid that if he closes his eyes for a moment, Gotham's vigilantes are going to disappear without a trace.

It's not a question Bruce expected, to be honest. The 'Smiling case' was closed just a few days ago, Gordon was still not done with the paperwork, as far as Oracle's records went. A murder of three, where all victims had some badly drawn clown makeup on them - post-mortem makeup, as it turned out, the murderer tried to deceive the investigation by trying to cover it up as Joker's doing. Only, he didn't do a good job at it, all the Bats were way too familiar with the Mad Clown's signature style. Not to mention that Joker was still securely sealed in his Arkham cell.

Bruce turns to look at Red Robin. He was the one working on the case, so Bruce gives him the choice of answering or not. Tim jerks his shoulder, looks the ginger boy up and down, and then shakes his head.

"Aside from a poor attempt at leading the investigation in the wrong direction, no, it wasn't," Tim shrugs, "The guy isn't even a Gothamite, he knew of Joker only from the rumors and media. And the clown faces were a makeshift cover-up."

Weston visibly deflates at the answer. Bruce watches in a slight amusement as Tasha nudges the other officer, one he doesn't remember the name of, in the shoulder, and stage-whispers, "Pay up." The older man huffs and disappears behind the door, followed by Isaiah.

"Thank you, Mr. Red Robin," Wesley nods politely and takes a step back, his eyes darting to Gordon. Tim snorts a laugh but doesn't correct him. Commissioner, though, gives the boy a long, dreadful sigh.

"Is that all, officer Weston?" He asks, not even bothering to hide his 'tired dad' voice.

The ginger nods again, "Yes, Commissioner Gordon."

"Then get out of my sight before I make all your shifts double," Jim commands, and Weston nearly runs back to the door with a speed that makes Bruce involuntarily think of speedsters. Must be the red hair.

Tim turns to look at the Commissioner right as the door to the roof slams shut behind both Weston and Kuznets.

"Who is he?"

Bruce is also a bit curious now. New recruits in the GCPD are nothing out of the ordinary, but Jim seems to know this one personally, and Kuznets, who is one of his trusted detectives, seems to also like the officer.

Gordon briefly huffs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat. It's quite chilly today; Bruce makes a mental note to switch everyone to their more insulated suits. Scarecrow is currently out on the loose. It won't do any good if any of the Bats went down with a cold.

"Wesley Weston, fresh out of the Academy," Commissioner sighs, but, somehow, Bruce gets the impression it's not a sound of simple exasperation over a new officer eager to prove himself. Jim proves his assumptions by looking around the shoulder to make sure the door to the roof is still closed, and continuing, "Born and raised in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, but GCPD was his first choice. He explained it as having a few friends living in the city, which, unfortunately, proved to be right."

Bruce frowns and grunts, alarm bells ringing in his mind. Deliberately choosing to work in Gotham despite not being from here can be caused by many reasons, and nearly none of them are good reasons.

"Unfortunately?" Tim inquires suspiciously, also with a slight frown, but Jim waves them both off.

"No, he's got nothing to do with any of the criminals. It was the first thing I checked when he mentioned 'friends'. If anything, he's quite on the opposite; he'd make a great detective one day, what with his countless conspiracy theories, determination and the insane urge to dig up every single detail known to mankind," he laughs a bit, and Bruce notices a slight, teasing twinkle to the Commissioner's eyes behind his glasses. "On his second day here, the boy went and plain told me he knows that Batman is Bruce Wayne and that he's saying that because he knows I know and he is aware we're working together."

The alarm bells in Bruce's mind turn into sirens. They never discussed the matters of Bats' real identities with Gordon - Bruce had his suspicions that the man knew it and simply kept his status quo. In all fairness, James Gordon didn't make it to Gotham's Commissioner by sheer dumb luck, so all the Bats kind of expected him to figure it out one day.

But Jim knowing who's behind the cowl is one thing. A new, out of town officer is quite another.

"What did you answer?" Tim asks with an easy smile, but Bruce sees the barely noticeable tension in his shoulders.

Gordon nearly grins, "I didn't believe him, which turned out to be exactly what he expected. He also told me of some kind of a familial curse - he called it 'Cassandra's curse', I believe you're aware of what it means. And then, when I naturally expressed my doubts, proceeded to show it in action. Believe me, it works. Sometimes, it even works too well," the man looks to the side with an amused huff, "That's why officer Weston is strictly prohibited from voicing his opinions on any of the ongoing cases outloud. Detective Kuznets almost missed some critical evidence because of his input once."

Cassandra's curse, Bruce has heard of that saying before. Granted, he never thought it could be a real thing, and he is not intending on starting now, not before he investigates the matter thoroughly. But he does trust Jim - years and years of working together would do that to people - so he simply nods in understanding, leaving the matter of supernatural aside for now.

"What about his friends?" Red Robin asks again, and that causes Gordon to wince momentarily.

"That, I believe, was the cause of his performance just now. One of his friends runs an occult shop, and the other one loves to hang around our forensic scientists and coroners occasionally," the man waves their immediate frowns off again, "I don't go into the morgue often, but I heard he's good at finding out the causes of death by a few looks at the body. And they run a lot of bets between them three," Jim shrugs nonchalantly, "The last one was about the 'Smiling case', I take it."

"Any reason to worry about them?" Bruce can't help but ask. It's not unusual for people to be weird in this city, and running an occult shop and hanging out with pathologists are not exactly reasons to go through background checks when they've got much more pressing issues on their plate. Namely, Scarecrow: it's been more than a week since his escape, but none of the Bats have heard anything about him yet. Oracle is already busy enough with that and the current uprise of gang activity in the Narrows, there's no point in piling even more work on her shoulders just because of some gossip that rubs Bruce the wrong way.

Gordon, thankfully, doesn't take his question lightly and pauses, scratching his chin.

"No," he finally concludes after some thought, "They are a bit strange for non-Gothamites, I'll say that, but in terms of this city? They are no stranger than my neighbors from upstairs." Gordon doesn't tell them to leave it alone, Bruce notices. However, it's probably not because of any doubts he has; the Bats just have a habit of tripplechecking everything anyways, and who would know that better than Jim Gordon?

A quick glance to Tim proves Bruce's thoughts. Red Robin, despite the mask, looks thoughtful. How many cases is he already working on, seven? Bruce makes another mental note to ask Alfred to cut his caffeine intake. It might be a bit hypocritical of him, what with his own plans to send a few messages to JLD about the 'Cassandra's curse', but Bruce excuses himself as the adult in the family.

Commissioner Gordon clears his throat.

"Do you want me to turn around so you can make your mysterious escape, or-" he starts, but both vigilantes are already gone by the time he finishes, "-or not, okay."

[taradactyls]

It's thinking about Darcy desperately yearning running into Elizabeth at Pemberley hours.

Like, you fell in love with this woman, but rationally (pridefully) you though it wasn't something you should pursue. But you can't forget her, and then she's at Rosings... and the more you see her - with her wit, her eyes, the liveliness of her mind - the more she undoes every expectation of who you should marry that you'd ever had. You prolong your trip to see more of her, you start imagining what it will be like married to her and unwisely after only seeing her again for a week begin asking how she'd feel living far away from Longbourn, and even hint things like she'd be staying at Rosings next time she visits Kent.

It's too much. You're feeling too much.

She's due to visit for tea the night before you take leave, and an evening gives far more opportunity for privacy and conversation than sitting in Mrs Collins' drawing room for half an hour the next day.

But she doesn't come, she's feeling ill, and you won't see her. If you don't make an effort, you might never see her again. It's not like Bingley will be going back to Netherfield anytime soon, after all.

You bail on the evening and go check if she's ok.

It's late, but you have to see her.

She's not super friendly when answering your questions about whether she's feeling better, yet that's to be expected when someone has a headache. But she's there, sitting with you quietly, and then you're so agitated that you begin pacing.

It's inescapable. You love her too much.

You'll marry her, and deal with all the impropriety of her family's connections and behaviour. She's worth it.

Because of course she'll say yes. You've been so open that she must be expecting your addresses. It doesn't occur to you that you're wrong to assume she's wishing for it.

Then she rejects you.

And she doesn't only reject you: she shatters your entire perception of self. Not immediately - oh, she creates a large crack, but it takes some time for you to do justice to her words. But they linger, inescapably.

"Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."

You're bitter, and angry, and hurt, and offended, and the sense of doubt isn't going away. But there is one thing you can do, that you have to do.

You write her a letter to explain yourself against the accusations she levied your way - some unjust, but others will eventually gnaw at you until you're forced to face them and stare directly at all the faults you didn't know you had.

You know it won't make her accept you.

The turn of her countenance you'll never forget, as she said that you could not have addressed her in any possible way that would induce her to accept you.

But you need to write the letter: to explain, to warn, and maybe - just maybe - make her think a little better of you.

If she even gives credit to anything you say.

She thinks so little of you she might dismiss your arguments and only hate you more for what you said of her family.

God, you basically insulted her family again in the letter. With an apology, yes, and as an explanation, but you knew at the time that those comments and what you divulged of Wickham would give her pain. But it's necessary. You still believe that, even as time goes on and you begin to wonder if all it achieved was making her hate you more.

The last time you saw her was as you handed her that letter.

She hadn't spoken.

You weren't yet master of your emotions enough to see her and be friendly, the best you could do was try be composed.

If only you'd been truly as calm and composed as you thought you were when you wrote that letter. You can see now that you wrote in a dreadful bitterness of spirit. There were some expressions you used, the opening of it, which alone would be enough to justify her hate. Though, despite your emotions, you never doubted for a moment in her goodness - never doubted that she won't spread around what you divulged of your sister.

She hates you, but all the reasons you love her are still there.

That's something that doesn't change as you slowly unravel the flaws her reproofs revealed to you and you try to become the person you always thought you were. So many behaviours, and the emotions that governed them, were not what they ought to be. Your principles were always good but you followed them in pride and conceit.

You were blind until she cut you to the quick. Opened your eyes to yourself and taught you such a hard lesson - but it was for the best. She properly humbled you and taught you how insufficient all your pretensions were to please a woman worthy of being pleased. Even if you never see her again you will be worthy of the title gentleman.

You will work to become the person you want to be.

Her rejection doesn't hurt so much as the knowledge that she was right and you failed yourself and so many others. Any anger or blame you felt for her words when refusing your hand are long since passed. If she had been able to overlook those flaws she wouldn't have been the woman you love.

The more you reflect and seek to rectify your behaviour the clearer it all becomes. In trying to understand yourself you realise that so many of these flaws have existed almost your whole life. And yet, despite how obvious it now seems, you had no idea.

Though your parents were good themselves they spoilt you - first as an only child, then as an only son - and you grew selfish and overbearing, caring only for your small family circle. Thinking meanly of the rest of the world, wanting to think meanly of their sense and worth compared to your own.

You owe the world so much better.

Your position, far from giving you leave to treat others as inconsequential, means you have a duty to think of others and ensure they are not wronged. Yes, you've done that broadly - especially on your estate, and always with servants and the poor - but what of in smaller ways, to those closer to your own rank? Have you directly treated them with civility and respect?

You know the answer now, but you're doing your best to fix it.

For almost four months, you ruminate on her words and turn yourself into a gentleman you can respect. Someone worthy of the respect you've so rarely had to actually earn. Someone who might've been worthy of her respect from the beginning.

You've never stopped loving her.

Almost four months, and you're not sure if you'll ever see her again.

You certainly weren't expecting to leave the stables after arriving at Pemberley and find her standing in front of your house.

Your eyes meet.

You freeze in place.

Four months of distance and then twenty yards away from each other.

She's blushing (so are you).

Your brain is too surprised to work.

She's here.

She's here and you're just standing there.

You have to go to her. Even if you didn't still love her, it's the polite and friendly thing to. (But you do still love her, and so her presence is a physical weight in your chest that you could scarce resist).

She had turned away briefly, but turns back when you approach.

You hardly know what you say, she hardly raises her eyes to meet yours, but you hear her voice, and she doesn't sound annoyed when she answers that her family is well.

Honestly, despite how discomposed you are by seeing her without time to prepare, your instinct is to stay by her. Even if it means speaking like a fool. You're pretty sure you ask her when she started travelling and how long she's been in Derbyshire at least thrice. But you start to recollect yourself, breathing a little more evenly, and run out of things to say. Remembering that she's here with friends and you've just come from the road, you take your leave.

Your thoughts stay with her though.

She was still just as lovely as ever. More civil to you than you have any claim to.

Your housekeeper says a gentleman and two ladies were taking a tour of the house, and have now gone with the gardener to see the accustomed part of the park. You know the place.

As your valet helps you change your thoughts solidify: you can meet them, and, through every civility in your power, show her that you aren't resentful of the past.

She's so close, and you can't lose this chance to perhaps obtain her forgiveness, lessen her ill opinion, by showing that her reproofs have been attended to.

And, maybe, you're just desperate for any excuse to see her.

By now, you've been in love with her for more than eight months, despite trying, really trying, to forget her both when you left Hertfordshire and Kent. It's pointless, either you'll recover in time or you'll spend the rest of your life in love with her. At this point you don't even want to fight it. Despite the pain of her not feeling the same way, she did you the greatest good anyone could, by showing you who you really were. You improved yourself because you should, without any expectation of seeing her again, but one thing that you can't alter about yourself is your love for her.

Right now, what matters is being near her and showing her you can be a real gentleman.

So, you follow her and her companions to the stream.

She speaks first this time. Putting herself forward to be friendly and polite. Proof, surely, that she doesn't hate you so much anymore? She's almost her usual smiling self, though she goes red and silent while admiring Pemberley's beauty.

You can understand why - you had determined to not ask whether she liked your home in case it sounded like you were wondering whether she regretted rejecting you and thus Pemberley. You know she didn't mean anything by her praise (and she'd known you were rich when she turned you down) but you understand her sudden embarrassment.

Although... when did she start caring that you might misunderstand her and think badly of her? She didn't care the last time you met.

But that's not important now. It's for you to ease the conversation and prove yourself. So you change the subject, and ask her to do the honour of introducing you to her friends.

Her surprise is obvious, and fair. Seeking the acquaintance of strangers, even respectable-looking ones, just wasn't something you used to do regardless of what the well-bred and civil action was.

And what does it say about you - with all your newfound respect and civility - that you're still surprised when the fashionable couple she's with turn out to be the very aunt and uncle you'd previously declared would be a disgraceful connection. You recognised you were wrong to be so dismissive, so rude, but the core assumption that the tradesman brother of Mrs Bennet and his wife must be noticeably vulgar had clearly remained. Yet here they were, everything elegant and well-bred.

How right Elizabeth had been about you.

But now you can show her that was the past, and your manners are improved and prejudices lessened.

You walk back with them, talking to the uncle, who has intelligence, taste, and sense. You like him a surprising amount. He points out trout in the water, and you're glad to invite him to fish here while they stay in the area. You have all the supplies he might need, and know the best spots. As you speak with him your attention is only half distracted by who walks behind you at a short distance.

Hopefully her uncle's happiness makes her happy also.

You have the chance to see, when the walking arrangements change and then she's the one walking beside you.

Honestly, you're not immediately sure what to say, but again, she speaks first.

Yes, she almost certainly doesn't hate you anymore.

Her explanation that she'd been assured of your absence before visiting sounds more like she doesn't want you to think her rude, than expressing disappointment that you are here.

Yes, whatever her past insults, she definitely cares that you don't think badly of her...

As though you ever could.

In mentioning why you returned a day early you mention who you're with, and too late saying Bingley's name reminds you that the last time you two spoke of him was when she (rightfully) blamed you for separating Bingley and her sister.

That silences you for a moment - but she doesn't respond with anger.

Composing yourself, you ask if your sister might be introduced to her. You've spoken of Elizabeth so highly to Georgiana, and so often, that your sister would love to meet her. You don't need to ask - your sister is the social superior, her wishing for the acquaintance is strictly enough for the introduction to be made - but you want to. You mean it, when you ask Elizabeth whether you're asking too much by facilitating the introduction. You want her to have the chance to say no.

But she says yes.

(Even sounding pleased about it, though surprised.)

Which is also a yes to seeing you again during her stay at Lambton. Renewing your acquaintance, despite everything.

The happiness, however irrational, this creates cannot be quelled.

You love her too dearly to not appreciate every fragile overture and sign that she must no longer think you so bad. The letter - your own improved civility - one or both has done away with her dislike.

Replaced it with... well, anything other than dislike is a place to begin.

This time the silence stretches as you walk; she, perhaps, just as lost in thought as yourself.

You could get used to walking around Pemberley with her.

A dangerous thought.

You scarce know what to say as you wait by the carriage for her aunt and uncle to catch up, after she declared herself not tired when you asked if she wanted to come into the house. But, again, she makes the effort to talk to you. You've never spoken of Matlock or Dovedale so persistently, but you want to keep talking to her - hearing her voice - receiving her smiles - for every moment that you can steal.

Four months apart and then the first day seeing her again your heart loves her more than ever before.

And she no longer hates you.

You would have them all come inside, take refreshment, stay, please stay a little longer, but they felt it was time to return to the inn. They're leaving, but you've already organised to bring your sister to see her the day after tomorrow, so it's only a short parting.

Not another four months.

You hand her aunt up into the carriage - and then Elizabeth.

Who is dearest and loveliest to you still, though you might never be able to say those words to her.

You're so aware of feeling her hand in yours, though gloved; the weight and warmth of it. The brief tightening of her fingers on yours as she takes the step up, leaving you bereft when she lets go.

You don't watch them drive away, though you feel her absence palpably as you slowly walk back to the house.

But it's only two days - two days before you'll see her again.

And they're staying for a little while.

All of it is more chances to show her the person you are now. Both the good qualities you never properly revealed before, and the newer ones deliberately acquired to remedy the errors she revealed. Show her you're a man she might admire.

Perhaps a man she might one day be able to love.

It's almost embarrassing, to admit how quickly that wish introduced itself after seeing Elizabeth again.

It probably took under half an hour after you saw her again.