#she got my mom to come over with her there and diffused things. my mom didnt really apologize and i didnt get to say

[kath-artic]

thank god for crazy women 🙏

[goldsbitch]

I could tell them where you were that night

part 3 to I gave so many signs

summary: They shouldn't. They really shouldn't...But they did.

warning: present + flashbacks, mature content, cheating, self pleasure, alcohol and smoking, typos

song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)

The Alibi - Dylan delicate - Taylor Swift

But if there was a crime If there was a body, if there was a knife If you told a real good, real bad lie I'd be standing by your side

Both of them knew this was not going to end well. This screamed "bad idea" on all levels. He should have just turned and run back home. She should have gone straight back to the bar as soon as she saw his unmistakable figure. There was no one to diffuse the tension, all of her friends were back upstairs ordering another drink. Nobody to play pretend to.

"So you're a smoker now," Charles said with a hint of disgust. She'd cursed herself for ever picking up the habit. He had never made her nervous back in the day, maybe she was cashing it in all now retroactively. Stood there like a lamb waiting for someone else to decide her destiny. Totally at his mercy and he had no idea. "Yeah, for a moment I was. Now just these," she pointed to the latest trendy vape in her hand, which Charles mistook for a cigarette. "Ah. Cool." "Not really," she said and inhaled extra large dose of fruity smoke just to breathe it in his face. The regular rules of proximity didn't seem to apply to to them. If he had been standing closer to her, he'd have to be touching her. "So, you're a runner now?" she took the opportunity she looked him up and down, trying not to let her imagination run too wild. "Always was." "No, you were not," she laughed genuinely. "What are you trying to play at here?" She was right. Charles picked up running with his first real girlfriend. "And what a bizarre thing anyway - to go for a run after a night out," she pointed out and he smirked, as both of them knew she got him with that. "I should not be seen with you for long. Doubt that you'd pass as a fan." It felt like an invitation from him, but she was well aware that he was not inviting her to his home. There was a strange spark in his face, as if he dared her to ask him to come over. Like a shameless devil testing her self control. "I'll take a cab and you can run over to my place. Let's see who'll get there first," she dared him back.

If there was a way That someone at the scene had saw your face I could tell 'em where you were that night You were standing by my side

"You should have told me that you parents were home!" he whispered angrily, as they snuck in like they used to back in the day. Funny how it worked like magic and Charles felt as if he just turned nineteen, terrified of running into Y/N's angry mom. "What? It's not like your place is empty, correct?" she shot arrows at him without waiting for an answer. Shot of guilt went thought Charles and he decided chased that by lying to himself, thinking that this was just a casual catch up with an old friend.

We can't make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

Charles waited on the balcony adjacent to her old high school bedroom, that remained untouched for years, serving as a perfect door for nostalgia, while she made their favorite Moscow mule. He had tasted many of those since they last saw each other. None of those tasted so intoxicating like this one.

"So, big racer boy. Always wondered. Which out of the cities you go to is the most fun?" "Define fun. I'm sure your taste has evolved over the years." Yes, it had. No longer was she blind towards the god like man sitting across from her. "Ok, where did you fuck the most girls?" "Monaco," he smirked at her. He realized he enjoyed teasing her. No longer was he the shy love stuck puppy dancing as she demanded. "You became quite forward, huh? I remember you avoiding these subjects," he followed up, testing the waters. She gave him a long look, before letting a loud sigh out: "Charlie, it's been years. People change. Mature. Gain experience..." "And then come back to where they started, huh?"

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

He leaned a little too close for an old time friend. Slowly, he touched her hand and waited for her to stop him. When she didn't, he tangled his fingers with hers. No longer were they soft baby hands, but adult fingers with tender touch. "I missed you," he said quietly. Old habit kicked in and she avoided his eye contact. But this time, he put his hand on her cheek and turned her face towards him, so that she couldn't just dismiss it, like she had so many times back then. "I missed you too." There was an urgency and a vulnerability that he had never heard from her before. It was addicting and intoxicating. He carefully closed the gap between them and their lips brushed so lightly that one could still pass it as friendly touch, if they really really wanted to. But with every second they kept their lips like that, the gap of morally safe evening kept closing inevitably. They stayed like that for just a few seconds, both of them waiting to see if the other one pulls away. Until finally, her lips moved slightly and then there really was no way back. Charles forgot that there ever was anyone else in his life and kissed her slowly. She took his bottom lip in and let her tongue lick it, breaking the soft kiss with urgency only years of daydreaming can bring.

Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share

This was bad. Ugly, disrespectful and not something a friend would do. Charles was locked in room again having the luxury to spend few weeks in a sunny Monte Carlo. But sunny days at home also meant that he and Y/N were spending a lot of time together. Charles knew he was head-over-heels for this girl, but kept himself at bay. But these thoughts he was having were a little too much. Inappropriate. Made him feel dirty and shameful. He was just a teenage boy and he just came back from a beach day with his crush. It was impossible to focus on anything, he was suppose be studying for his exam, exploring race strategies, anything! He could have been a good son and helped his mom out. But no, instead he was pacing around his room, desperately trying to block all the images that got burned to his memory under that day's bright sunlight. Why did he even suggest a beach day - and why would she ever agree to that. Stupid idea. Charles was mad at himself for being so stereotypically teenage. For a split second, he stopped with the self-shame and allowed himself to recall this afternoon. Perfect Monaco sunlight hitting Y/N lightly tanned skin, her hair falling out of her messy bun, just begging for him to tuck it behind her ear. This was all still pretty innocent. But then there were the shoulders. The collarbone leading way towards her boobs, covered by a piece of bathing suite fabric, that pushed her cleavage up just a little bit, but it felt like a weapon designer specifically to destroy him. He had to stop himself from looking. When that proved impossible, he opted for looking only when he had his sunglasses on. If only he could take his hand and lightly brush over her nipples, which he couldn't forget about since the Moscow mule night. And then if only he could squeeze her boobs while tracing the line of her waste and over to her ass, also barely covered by a bathing suite. If only he was brave enough to do so, to make his wildest dreams come true and to confess his feelings. To have her come over to his place, look him suggestively in the eye, lick her lips and take him in her pretty little mouth. It didn't matter that she was slightly younger, in his fantasy she was the more experienced one, the one to guide him, instruct him and tell him what she likes. And once he learned, he would make her moan like nobody before, because he would adapt himself to any style she'd want. The visuals of a daydream extension of their today's hang out crept in, and there she was, taking her bra off and inviting him to join her in the water. Free, happy and heavenly hot. By some miracle he managed to avoid having a boner in her company. What he didn't manage was to stop stroking himself while drowning in the thoughts about her and her body, no matter how shameful it was for him. The best orgasm of his life yet had his hands covered with his cum and his head with clouded with growing, never-stoping need for a touch from his crush.

It was a different man kissing Y/N than the boy who had imagined it more times that he would ever admit. Yet still, he was getting to live out his ultimate fantasy, one that he almost forgot he had, until all the desire rushed back in and screamed so loudly he couldn't hear anything else. And the best thing? The best thing was that she was responding enthusiastically, felt as if she was hungry for something only he could have. He was a different man now, experienced, understood the spectrums of what touch could offer. The confidence radiated from him and it was Y/N who was now who danced way over the line of self control. It was her, who drank so much cheap wine in the form of men bad at sex, that she could finally appreciate the Montrachet Chardonnay she overlooked the first time around.

"We should get inside, mon cheri," he whispered into her lips. She understood why and did not want to hear him say it. Because in his silence, she could insert any thought and that was probably better than the hard truth - they were too exposed on her balcony. She nodded and slowly opened her eyes. Even with the dim lights she saw the tender spark in the most captivating shade of blue the world can offer.

Oh damn, never seen that color blue Just think of the fun things we could do

He pressed her to the door frame while devouring her lips. Lines have been crossed and the room was filled with unresolved sexual tension. Charles wanted her - naked and moaning in pleasure. She pulled his hair while they made out and each pull was like gasoline to the fire of his desire. He traced her side with his cheeky finger and then slipped his hand under her t-shirt only to trace the line of her bra and then swiftly cupping her breast. "So you're wearing bras now," he let slip out of his mouth, already fucking her in his thoughts. His comment sparked a distant memory of an evening long gone by now. She was shivering his touch and wanted more and more. "Yeah...but now you're not gonna have to touch yourself alone or secretely," she said, hoping he actually had done that in the past, trying to tease him once more, while grabbing the hem of his belt and pulling him even closer. It worked. He was hard as a rock. He pressed his cock against her and started kissing her neck. She wondered if he understood the cocktail of pleasure and arousal he was preparing for her and felt even a bit shameful to crumble so easily. He felt her cave into his embrace as soon as he touched her neck and made a mental note, so come back to this spot once he was inside her. He thought about her devilish finger making her way to his cock slowly, just painfully slowly. She was teasing him and while he was loving that, he couldn't wait a second longer. He grabbed her hand pushed right onto his erection, which cause her letting out a surprised gasp. "I'm gonna fuck you, Y/N. Say yes if you want me to," he whispered into her neck. Not much second guessing went into her reply. "Yes," she moaned out, causing shivers on his neck. "Really?" he said, unhooking her bra. She smiled. This was no shy unsure Charlie. This was a confident man with intension to make her feel good. "Yes..." With that, he pulled away to help her get her t-shirt off and get rid of the cursed bra. Finally, he could stare as much as he wanted to.

He fucked her like there was no tomorrow. For them there really wasn't a tomorrow, because technically, there wasn't suppose to be a tonight. It was to stay as a blank page, moans written in an invisible ink, for no one but them to read. Morning would bring trouble, reason would wake up and start ordering around. As long as the sun wasn't watching, they were safe, hidden in each other and wrapped by desire.

Sometimes when I look into your eyes I pretend you're mine all the damn time

part 4

--------------------------------------------------------- @linnmee @itsjustkhaos @rhythmstars @blueflorals

[winniemaywebber]

The Apple Tree • part 2 🌳

2/7

read chapter one here

It's rainy in Thorpe Abbotts. Six planes go up, only five come back. Y/N worries about Rosie.

A familiar rumble distracts the class from their work, the scratching sound of pencils on paper ceasing almost immediately. Today, they had been sheltered from the graying drizzle of the village, much to their discernment. One look at their sad little faces pulled at your heartstrings, and the words “go on, then” had barely left your smiling mouth when they had all rushed to their cubbies to pull on their raincoats to protect themselves from the horrific weather. 

Six had gone up, according to the second teacher down the hall who had happened to be on a tea break when she saw the planes ascend. You hadn't told your class the number, not wanting to potentially make their miserable day worse. You wondered if the weather had affected anything - whether the thick, black clouds full of raucous thunder  had blocked their vision, the harsh wind causing them to break out of formation and bringing danger to themselves. And, in the back of your mind, you wondered about Rosie, hoping that he was safe.

It had been a couple of days since your last meeting, wherein you'd seen him taking a walk alone around Thorpe Abbotts, you spotting him as you rode home on your bike. You had waved nervously, precariously taking a hand off one of your handlebars to do so. Even from the opposite side of the road, you saw his face make a huge, beautiful smile, his baby blue eyes twinkling at the sight of you.

“Hi, Y/N. Wonderful to see you again.”

“Rosie,” you'd replied, your mouth also instantly bearing a grin at seeing him. “You, too. How was your weekend?”

“Ah, nothing special. I flew a practice mission, came back and wrote my mom. I try to keep her updated, she worries about me so, especially with me being so far away.”

“Oh, I understand. That's very sweet,” your heart melting at a man caring so much for his family. There is a pause as you keep smiling sweetly at one another, stuck for words due to being so excited at seeing each other again.

“So,” he breaks the silence. “Are you headed home?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “It's been a long day. It wasn't sunny enough to let the children play outside, and being cooped up drives them mad!” You laugh, hoping to diffuse the butterflies rising up in your stomach as he begins to offer to wheel your bike home so you can walk alongside him. 

“I can imagine!” He responds, once again smiling in your direction as his eyes dart around, trying to get his bearings. A crack of thunder from above distracts him, his shoulders sagging with a sigh. 

“We'd better hurry you home, ma'am.” 

Running through the rain, you arrive at the cottage quick as a flash. “Come in and warm up by the fire,” you shout over the loud pattering of raindrops on your slate doorstep, both of you sheltering under the front door canopy. 

“I'd love to, but I gotta get back to base. We have a briefing in the morning and I should get some rest.”

“Oh, of course. Well, thank you for walking me home again. You're great company.”

“You too, ma'am,” he smiles, exhaling through his nose with a slight giggle. “Are you doing anything Thursday afternoon?”

“No, I'm not,” you reply, the fastest answer that's ever left your lips. “I leave the school at around 2pm. You could meet me there? I could show you around a little. Bring your bike!”

“Oh, er–” he stutters, face turning red with embarrassment. “I haven't quite got to grips with that thing yet.” You try your best to stifle a giggle, shaking your head.

“I've heard you're the best pilot in the Army Air Force and you can't ride a bike?” You wink at him jokingly, his face now a cute shade of pink. 

“Leave me alone, Y/N,” he pokes at you, his face however, still holding that beautiful smile. 

“I'll teach you…if you'd like,” you say with a shrug. He nods, the color of his cheeks returning to normal. He reaches over and softly kisses your cheek, your hand coming up to touch it as soon as his lips break contact. 

“Miss, I saw five come back,” Penelope says in a small voice. “How many were there?” Feeling your heart jump to your throat and your breathing become ragged, you try your best to maintain composure. 

“I believe it was five, little one,” you respond, gritting your teeth into a reassuring smile. “Mrs Meldrum said five, but she was nose deep in the biscuit tin at the time. I'll ask her later, okay?” The wide eyed little girl nods and rushes back to her seat, pushing her round glasses up her nose as she sits down, once again ready to learn. 

Getting through the rest of the day without making your unease obvious is an arduous task. Every time you think of Rosie, you feel your heart almost stop, feeling like a phantom hand has its grip around it, crushing it bit by bit. You find yourself taking a moment while the children are distracted to place a hand on your chest, willing your breathing to return to its usual pace, arguing with yourself for feeling so anxious over somebody you've met only twice. 

To your surprise, you see your friend Sally outside as you corral the children out the door for home time, zipping coats and tying shoe laces as they rush out of the door into the cold drizzle. She's stood in a yellow rain coat, a black umbrella swaying slightly in the breeze.

“Sally?” You call. “Come in, doll.” A look of concern etched on your face, she runs in, dismantling her umbrella, a sob catching in her throat as she runs past you into the schoolroom. 

“Oh, Y/N,” she wails, her pretty face crumpled. Her eyes are squeezed shut, black inky trails from her mascara shooting down her face. “Only five–” she stutters, before taking a deep breath to try and compose herself. “Only five came back…and–and I don't know if James…”

“Hey, Sal,” you murmur, pulling her into a tight hug, her wet raincoat against your skin causing you to shiver suddenly. “It's all going to be okay, just–” you pause, a hand on her cheek now. “Just be patient. He'll be knocking on your door tomorrow.” She nods, a small sob escaping her lips as she wipes her eyes. You hand her a small white handkerchief, embroidered with your initials. This seems to make her cry all the more. 

“I still have the one your Granny made me,” she says as she dabs away the mascara lines. “Maybe I should start carrying it again.” You titter, exhaling as you do so. 

“She gave them to us when we were, what, six?” You look at Sally inquisitively, and she nods. “And she made us promise to always stay friends. I'm not sure why she thought matching handkerchiefs would cement that, but…”

“I'm glad we did, though,” she laughs, sniffing. 

“Me, too. Now, come on. You're about to freeze if we don't get you some place warm. I'll light the fire at home and you'll stay for dinner to take your mind off this.” You grip her softly by the shoulders. “He will be here tomorrow, okay?” But you're not quite sure who you're trying to reassure more: yourself or your best friend. 

A restless night awaits you, tossing and turning in your bed as the moonlight peeks through your thin curtains. All you can think about is if Rosie and James are safe, the weight of your thoughts crushing your chest with every attempted deep breath. You fall asleep just as the sun is rising, and you wake feeling horrific. You pad to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, hoping going through your daily routine will bring some color back to your pale face and somehow, take your mind off things. 

It's only when you pull your bike from against the wall of the cottage that you realize it's finally stopped raining for the first time in three days. You breathe in the fresh air, hearing the soft breeze blow through the leaves on the tree outside your gate as your eyes close softly. “Y/N!” you hear a voice call from down the lane. There, in his uniform, looking a little battered, is James. As he approaches you, you see he has a small scratch above his eyebrow and another gash upon his cheek. 

“James!” You reply, extremely happy to see him. “You're here! Oh, Sally came to see me in such an awful state yesterday. We only saw five planes come back, and–”

“I'm headed there now,” he responds, interrupting your train of thought. He smiles brightly at you, and gives you a friendly wink. “Thank you for looking after her,” he says, softly. “I sure do hate worrying her but…it's just the way of the job.” 

“I understand, James. I know. She just has such a big heart.” You begin to wheel your bike down the lane towards the school, waving a goodbye to James and trying your best to avoid asking the one question that kept you up all night. The temptation, however, is too much and you stop in your tracks. 

“James?” You call after him. He turns but keeps walking, looking precariously behind him every few steps to avoid potholes and small ditches. “Is Rosie okay?”

“Finally!” He yells into the distance between you. “I was waiting for you to ask. He's fine, Y/N. Teach him how to ride that darn bike before he puts himself in the infirmary again!” 

The day passes in a blink, which you think is mostly in part of you wishing the day away. The children leave in a gaggle of excitement, looking forward to feeling the warm sun on their sweet faces as they begin their short walk home, playing together all the while. As they disperse, you look out of the bay window and spot someone under the apple tree, reading, their brow furrowed in concentration. “Rosie!” you squeal, swing open the door and run towards him as fast as you can. He spots you immediately and stands up, just in time for you to fling your arms around him without second guessing yourself.

“Well, hi,” He murmurs, his face buried in your neck. You breathe a huge sigh of relief into him, your eyes squeezed shut. 

“I didn't know if you were--oh, I was so worried about you,” you hold him a little tighter, wanting to make the embrace last a few moments more. “Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Rosie.”

“Likewise, Y/N,” he replies, reciprocating the tighter hug. You finally break apart, your hand finding its way to cup his cheek. 

“Now,” you sigh, finally content. “Tell me why you can't ride this bike.”

He demonstrates, looking a little embarrassed when you see him begin to try pedal backwards. 

“Hey, stop!” You call after him. “What are you doing?” 

“I'm trying to stop the thing,” he laughs, but obviously frustrated.

“Darling,” you reply, the word just spilling out of you. “These–” you gesture to the long buttons just off the handlebars, “--are for stopping.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, comically slapping a hand to his head. 

“Wow,” he says, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I guess I can ride a bike. You really are a great teacher, Y/N. Those kids are lucky.” You shove at him playfully, laughing at his tone, until he grabs your hand. “Seriously…” he pauses, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “You're wonderful.” 

Both balancing your bikes against the schoolhouse, you find yourselves under the apple tree, the sun just beginning to set. You had grabbed a spare blanket from the classroom, just in case the weather began to turn at a moment's notice which you knew was a terrible habit England possessed. Rosie places it around both of you and pulls you in close, your head resting on his shoulder. You close your eyes and exhale, contentedly, the rollercoaster of emotions from the past day finally leaving you in that breath, grateful and happy to have him here with you and safe for the time being. You reluctantly check your watch as he runs his fingers through your loose hair.

“You probably should get going,” you sigh, eyes a little sad. “It's late. I don't want you in trouble.” 

“I can handle it,” he says quietly, his whole body relaxing underneath you. “Just a few more minutes, please. I just want to be a guy, watching the sunset with a pretty girl on my arm.” 

chapter 3

masterlist

[waltwhitmansbeard]

"You're going to stay in bed and heal. I'll handle this."

Keyleth and Vilya post-Red Center?

"You're going to stay in bed and heal. I'll handle this."

When Keyleth first opens her eyes, she only sees red. It takes one, two, three long blinks for the world to come into focus, for the golden hour light diffused through diaphanous curtains to illuminate a bedroom. Her bedroom. She is in Zephrah, on Tal'dorei.

Well, the world didn't end.

Every inch of her aches, but that is to be expected when one gets one's ass handed to her by some juiced up bitch with dangerous magic. Still, it's a stinging surprise when she pulls her hands back to push herself up and the still-open wounds on her arms flutter and stretch. She lets out a strangled howl, instantly collapsing back onto the bed.

It takes less than ten seconds for the door to open, and suddenly she is very much not alone. There are at least four different voices talking, faces swarming in and out of her vision. It is all entirely too much until one voice snaps, "Be quiet, for heaven's sake."

"Mom?" Keyleth croaks, her voice dry and cracked, like the desert that nearly killed her.

"I'm here, Keyleth." The bed sinks on one side, and even that small movement sending a screaming pain along Keyleth's body. Familiar red hair and green eyes appear above her. The first thing Keyleth sees is the fear. "Can you tell me how much pain you're in?"

"Um. All of it?"

And despite the very much not-funny state of things, Vilya cracks a smile. "Scared the shit out of us, you know that? You showed up looking more like a pile of parts than an actual person."

"Why..." She manages to creak her head to the side so she can better look at the unhealed slash marks on her arms. "Why are they..."

Vilya gently picks up Keyleth's hand, smooths the back of it with her fingertips. "We're trying, baby. Everything we've got. Nel and her people, they're on it."

Keyleth remembers the attack, the mystical wounds that prevented all regeneration and resurrection. Something tight and cold grips her heart; what if she's just like this now? What if the next thousand years promise her nothing but acute, omnipresent agony?

She doesn't feel the tear roll down her cheek until her mom brings a thumb up to wipe it away. "You're going to stay in bed and heal," she instructs, her tone firm but still wobbly with emotion. "I'll handle this."

Keyleth doesn't even know what this is anymore—did Ludinus succeed? What happened to Thull? Orym and his ragtag crew, did they make it out? And what about—

"Vax." The air in the room gets very still, and Keyleth suddenly remembers that there are others in there with them.

Vilya's brow furrows in confusion. "What's that, baby?"

"He was there, Mom." She feels the tears now, hot and stinging over the wounds on her cheeks and shoulders. "He...he saved my life."

Vilya blinks a few times in rapid succession, clearing away tears of her own. "Well. I guess I need to stop by the shrine, tell that boy how grateful I am."

"I don't think he'll hear you," Keyleth whispers. "I think...it was about him. All of it."

And it's too much, the pain and the grief and the missing and the guilt. She closes her eyes and lets herself fall, hoping the darkness of sleep has something better to offer her than the light of the waking world.

[hopetorun]

brady/quinn kidfic!

one hundred years later because i needed to let this cook in my brain for a while. i think this is only supposed to be 5 things that happen in the story but yolo. i do what i want.

the thing is, brady’s always been a natural with kids. he loves kids, and kids love him, and quinn knows he wants so bad, and maybe it's a sore spot that quinn has a kid and brady doesn't but brady's too nice to ever sulk in front of quinn about it. but brady's tried so many times, a couple of serious girlfriends and, most recently, a boyfriend quinn knows he talked about wanting kids with.

the kids weren't even the sticking point -- the boyfriend wanted kids too -- it was the everything else. he didn't want to be a secret and he didn't want the publicity of being brady tkachuk's boyfriend, either, and those were pretty much the only options. so they broke up.

brady's not handling it great. he doesn't say it in so many words, but quinn's known him for more than decade at this point. it's in the way brady calls more often, hitting in those hours where it's a little too late on the east coast but quinn's just winding down for the night. they're facetiming when brady asks him -- quinn's in the middle of brushing his teeth, so it's mostly just brady rambling -- and brady says, "you know, chris and i had this vacation planned for bye week. i guess i could get the money back but if you and mila want to come instead ..."

the first thing quinn thinks about isn't how much he'd like to see brady, it's how when the senators were in vancouver a couple weeks after the breakup, brady wanted to eat dinner at quinn's and watch a movie with quinn and mila. mila fell asleep in his lap and he helped quinn put her to bed and afterward he wouldn't look quinn in the eye for a full twenty minutes.

mila doesn't usually stay with quinn during the season. her mom lives in vancouver and it's easier to just not be shuttling her back and forth and subjecting her to quinn's crazy hours and crazy schedule. he's over there all the time anyway, for lunches and dinners and weekend breakfasts when he can and as many bedtimes as he can wheedle his way into.

it was an amicable breakup. (it wasn't really a breakup, because they were never really together, and quinn was about seventh-eighths of the way to being done sleeping with women entirely, but he was drunk and lonely and sophie was there and her mouth was warm when quinn kissed her and, well, you get the gist.) anyway: they're friends for real now. sometimes sophie looks at him and he can see that she's a little sad he didn't end up wanting to marry her. but this more or less works.

(when mila was three they had a bout of temporary insanity and tried having sex again and had barely made it to being naked when it became clear that it wasn't going to work, which made sophie laugh so hard she got the hiccups. which wasn't good for quinn's ego, but it was probably for the best. it turns out neither of them had a condom anyway, and it did finally diffuse the lingering okay but maybe you're not actually totally gay that was simmering under the surface)

anyway: quinn and mila go on vacation with brady. it's a nice long break, neither of them tapped for all-star weekend for once, and sophie seemed delighted about the prospect of a kid-free week in the middle of the season. (quinn normally takes mila for most of the summer, when he doesn't have to travel and he's back in michigan surrounded by eager babysitters of varying levels of responsibility.)

it's a lovely vacation! brady gets so sunburned he looks like a tomato and whines while quinn rubs aloe on his back and laughs at him. mila likes to poke the sunburn and see how the red skin turns white under her fingers, which absolutely hurts and brady does not complain about at all. it's not something they've ever done before, just the two of them and quinn's kid, but they settle into the routines pretty easily. upgraded the place at the resort to a suite so they aren't all crammed into one room, and after two nights it goes from being brady's room and quinn-and-mila's room to being mila's room and quinn-and-brady's room, because mila goes to sleep at 8 and they can watch like a whole movie after that.

brady doesn't realize until he's back in ottawa that it was fucking him up. it was so nice while it was happening and now he's back home and he can see like he's looking at his own life from the outside how he was putting way too much of his own longing on quinn and just substituting quinn (and mila) in for what he really wants, which is a family of his own. quinn has his own life, his own family (even if it's not a traditional one), and brady can't just steal that for himself!

it takes him another month to realize that it isn't just the abstract. he doesn't just want a family with someone. he wants the specifics: quinn's wrinkled nose when brady's snoring wakes him up. quinn's stupid bedhead. quinn's resigned sigh when mila gets tired and wants to be carried even though she's getting so big that it's honestly pretty exhausting. the fond look in quinn's eyes when he watches brady and the way he laughs at brady's stupid jokes and the mischievous curl of his mouth when he's gonna start winding brady up about something.

so. that's a problem.

[gaias-space]

The Maid and The God

Chapter Four PART TWO

Lokis POV

(Angst, NSFW, sexyal features, violence, spit, 18+)

I watch as the timid girl begins to tear up in front of me. She looks confused and afraid. “Mom why are you?- how?”

"Shhh my love come here mommy's got you" my voice exaclty like her mothers. I pray she doesn’t realise it’s not really her mother. I sit beside her on the bed. I could feel the hurt she was feeling already. ‘Just play the part loki’ I told myself. I wrapped my arms around her tightly. And lay beside her. She instantly relaxed in my arms and it was hard to explain but…I quite liked it. Perhaps I could get some things out of her, understand her some more. "What's been going on sweetheart? Tell me everything" I say stroking her hair. She looks up at me her eyes glistening with fresh tears. Oh. This was a new look. I…I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. She looked so scared, and hurt, and broken. How much pain was this girl holding in? "oh mom it's loki. He's awful! He always has made me feel so out of place and uncomfortable! I-I don't know how to act. I don't understand why he is so intimidating! Or why his parents love him! Who could love such a wretched"- she blurts out gripping her mother’s clothing tightly. Hearing her choke up over…over me? Was I that terrible and persistent to her? I thought she would just get over it the second she walked away.

"Uh uh darling" I place my fingers on her lips I don’t think I can hear much more. I didn’t realise how much she disliked me. I need to diffuse this. I take a second to think, but I needed to think quickly. "There is a lot you don't understand my dear. I know your hurting. I know your scared but-" perhaps trying to let her see from a different perspective could help, but instead she cried harder and louder. Tears rolling down her cheeks now, and little hiccups popping from her trembling lips. “I'm so damn scared mom. I don't know how to do any of this without you. Everything was fine. Then he showed up and he's ruined everything! I fear anything I do will start fights with him...I'm afraid I'm already on his bad side. I’m afraid he will hurt me! And what have I done!? Nothing!” She continued on for some time and I hadn’t realised the impact I had on her. And I couldn’t help the ache in my chest hearing such things. “I don't know what I ever did to him. And now I work for him! And -and" she sniffles into her fist. "I feel so helpless. Why am I here? What am I doing? A servant to a greedy jerk! Everything's so scary without you mom. I’m scared. I’m so alone and out of place here…” she cries more.

My jaw drops hearing her words. Was I really this to her? It can’t possible be me!? I needed to think of something and calm her down. My arms on her tighten and I gently rock her back and forth. Something my mother done to me many times as a child. “Hush now my little dove mommy’s got you. You’re safe.” I humm softly and cradle her until I notice her sobs softening, her eyes getting heavy. I could sense the security she felt being in her mother’s arms again. I can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. She didn’t deserve this. But why am I all the blame? I had lots to think about. Time goes by and I hear soft squeal breathing from her mouth, her grip on my loosened. She was asleep. My heart was hurting. I look up at the ceiling for a moment holding this precious girl. Where do we go from here? What do I do now? Why the fuck am I so cruel to her? Was mother right? I shake my head. I didn’t want to think about that right nowz I can’t. I look down at Y/N, she looked so peaceful… So beautiful almost. I hadn’t paid much attention but tonight I couldn’t stop staring at every detail. How her hair lit up from the moonlight, her pink lips looked so soft and plump. Her perfectly shaped body in that tiny nightgown. Was I attracted to her? No. What the hell was I thinking? I’m just tired. In fact, feel guilty taking advantage like this, pretending to be her mother. But this was for me right? To make me feel less guilty for how I treated her today? Yeah of course I’m only doing this to save my ass. Not because I care or anything. Right?

Loki Began to seriously doubt himself and his intentions. Was he really doing this for himself? Or had he realised that Y/N deserved better? And what deep repressed feeling was he having to treat her this way?

I gently remove myself off the bed, watching for a moment as she sleeps peacefully on her pillow. My work here is done I believe. And I make my way back to my room. And I finally was able to sleep.

It was the next morning and i was up early. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night. It was eating me up inside. I pace around my room until I’m startled by a knock at my door. “Loki open the fucking door” Y/N calls out. I chuckle at her attitude and step towards the door swinging it open. But it wasn’t how I was expecting. Her eyes had dark circles like she barely slept, she looked defeated. She had her casual clothes on, and had little effort to any part of her attires all she had was her cleaning equipment. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit empathetic for her, the poor girl, did just speak with her mother in a ‘dream’ I couldn’t imagine the toll that would’ve taken on her, but I thought it would’ve helped her instead, but she looked the complete opposite. "Can you move. I have work to do like today". She snaps. I can’t help but chuckle and step aside allowing her in. "Well my my, aren't we a grumpy little bird to"- she raises a hand and waves it in my face “Not today Loki. I'm cleaning and I'm gone. You won't even know I was here alright? Save your fighting for literally anyone else". She rolls her eyes and proceeds to do touch ups around the room.

"Gods Y/N, you look like you haven't slept." I say with a time of worry. She turns to me a confused expression in her face. But something in me changes. She noticed my worried expression. She can’t see that. I shake my head and clear my throat. "It's absolutely disgusting and I don't want to see my maid looking this way. Oh and your clothes. Why are you not in your uniform?" I scoff. But I take a second to notice what she was wearing. She wore a tight tank top that left little to the imagination. Was it wrong I was staring at her chest like that? She wore short jeans and sneakers. Plain, simple, but utterly arousing to the male gaze. Fuck what am I thinking? Get your head in it loki! Anger filled me again and frustration, this was painful to do. "Gods your pathetic." I say, my tone aggressive and rude. But I watch as a slight hopeful look on her face drops. And there she was again, that hurt little girl from last night. Shit what did I just do?

She finishes tucking my sheets in and making the already made bed look perfect. "Firstly it's absolutely none of your fucking business. Secondly there's so much I want to respond to that, but your not worth the air loki. Your room is done, my duties are done for the day. I am leaving" she yells and storms away. Her attitude was feisty. The way her body would sway as she walked away. Why was I getting this adrenaline every time she got mad at me? Where was she going? I didn’t want her to go. Not yet. Suddenly without thinking I smack my cup of water off my desk. A loud band and water seeping out on to the tiled floor. She turns around quickly with an annoyed look. And all I could do was chuckle and shrug “oops…guess you missed a spot”.

She sighs loudly and walks back over to me with a cloth. She slowly gets down on her knees and I choke up. She was so close to me. Her little body sitting so close below me. Why was I getting hot? It felt like the room became heated. Her pretty eyes looking up at me. Something primal was taking over. Was I that desperate that the house help was making me needy? Or was she actually attractive? Fuck! Why do I keep thinking this? I can just jerk off later, perhaps Its just been a while. If I get off later I won’t think about her again. She bends down and wipes the floor. Her breasts almost falling out her shirt, and the way she bent her back to stuck out her ass. Fuck. “Oh and one more thing” I say. I watch as she looks me in the eyes and something takes over. Was it pent up feelings of anger? Sexual frustration? I don’t know. I fist her hair and she gasps. I make sure she keeps looking at me. "Remember who the fuck you’re talking to before you come in here with that attitude" her cheeks flush bright red. “Your fucking pathetic!” I yell and spit on her face. Degrading her felt euphoric to me. A rush like no other. “You are just a maid, and nothing more now clean it up!” I yell. I let go off her hair and step back. Feeling quite pleased with myself. I storm off and exit the room. What had gotten into me? I wait in the hall across from me and hear her run out crying. I’d really done it this time havent I? I smack my head against the wall and sigh. “What has gotten into you loki?” I say out loud. I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing, what the fuck I am feeling. Do I hate her? Do I want to hate fuck her? Do I hate myself? I shake the thoughts away and make my way to my room again. Some down time could do me some good perhaps.

I lay in my bed staring at the wall. My mother’s words from the night before play in my head over and over. I spent hours thinking long and hard. And being vulnerable with myself is scary. Because I have to admit things I never wanted to. There’s a lot I am not ready to admit. But I do know I really have hurt Y/N and if there’s any chance we can love civilly I need to talk to her. And I believe I owe Y/N an apology while I’m at it. With an annoyed sigh I get out of bed. It was later now, the sky very dark, everyone had gone to bed again. And this time as myself, I walk to her door once more. I gently knock at her door and creek it open. Better now then never I guess. “Y/N? It’s uh…it’s Loki” I say softly.

[sugiwa]

SUGIWA!!! i’ve been on vacation and came back to four new updates!? happy birthday to me?? i don’t want to bombard you with my thoughts on every single chapter so i’ll focus on the ones that won’t shut up in my head right now.

a reunions between brothers!! ace and sabo, questioning ace’s tattoo (hilarious!), the dynamic and simplicities of brotherhood, “what does it matter what has happened, he’s here now” WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONE IS GOING TO DIE?!?! (she comments with tears in her eyes)

all the interactions with ace and sabo, ace sabo and penny, penny and luffy WOW these four doofuses really do gravitate and circle around each other like planets.

i eat up absolutely every single scrap of shanks and the red hair pirates so these past few chapters have fed me most wonderfully.

things that keep me up at night: whitebeard’s thoughts on penny. are you going to write the meeting between shanks and whitebeard? penny’s devil fruit (WANO COME SOONER). penny and sabo in marineford. will there be another showdown between penny and blackbeard? penny and shanks reunion when? smoker and tashigi seeing penny again.

p.s. but penny is so don quixote coded. illusions of grandeur, a trusty steed (boat), ever-hungry need for adventure and a good tale (all in all, just a lovable delusional idiot <3)

I hope you enjoyed your vacation!! Lol, yeah, I was very inspired over the last few weeks and writing's my way of diffusing, so real life stress kinda had me at the keyboard.

I live and die by that one-shot Oda drew of Sabo saving Ace--we could've had all three of them meet as adults!! But, Luffy's development is so central to the plot. When I first read OP, I was sadder for Luffy than I was for Ace. His grief is so poignant and the anime really cuts deep with the scream, but the manga panels live in my soul.

Hahaha, they do gravitate toward one another. We haven't had an Ace, Sabo, Luffy flashback yet, but when we do, you'll see that there were a lot of traces of Penny left in Foosha, so even though they never met, Ace and Sabo kinda knew what she'd be like before meeting her. Penny's the one that got blind-sided by Luffy's family 😂😂

TBH, I could write a whole story on just the Penny + Red Hair Pirates. Penny really shares that aspect of not wanting to coast on someone else's fame like Buggy, but unfortunately for her, she couldn't really escape it since Shanks is still alive. She's been away for so long that going back scares her because she's changed so much and already was kinda the odd-one in the group. But she misses them so much, it's in everything she does.

Whitebeard’s thoughts on Penny: we will get these and we'll get a little insight into how he knew Penny's mom. RIP Lucy 😔.

Her Devil Fruit....no comment.

Marineford Part II: it's going to be a war. We'll also see the Warlords actually do a bit more than they did in the manga, so that'll be exciting. Actually, Sabaody, Impel Down, and Marineford are kinda a team-up between Sabo and Penny 😂😂

Ah, Blackbeard has his role to play too. We'll see him again.

Penny and Shanks reunion...let's say Film Red's gonna look like the prequel 😭😭

We will see Smoker and Tashigi soon too. We're actually going to see them in the immediate aftermath of Penny's escape in an upcoming chapter.

Okay, this is where my nerd-self comes out, yes to the Don Quixote parallel but there's this medieval French novel called Gargantua and Pantagruel and it's kinda where Penny's character came from. In the books, there's a character called Panurge and that was Penny's inspo (tbh, I was going to have her use Penny as a nickname to hide her more awful name, but then decided against it). Panurge coming from the greek panoûrgos meaning knave or ready for anything and in the opening sequence, Panurge goes on this long rant introducing himself in ten different languages, but in terms of story, Don Quixote fits beautifully and the fall from delusion to reality does parallel here, but as we'll see in the time-skip, Penny's built for wishing.

[mercermultiverseofmadness]

she's got a baby inside...

Reese and Jayce have been married for five years. When she was 14 she gave birth to fraternal twins, Briar and Blair, who just turned 16. When she was 17 she gave birth to their third child, another girl, Elise who will be 14 in a month.  Now she's 5 months pregnant with their fourth child, a boy. She’s 30 and didn’t plan on having any children at all, but a dysfunctional home life mixed in with a whirlwind romance and raging hormones changed that real quickly. Naturally she's feeling overwhelmed.

After a difficult day at work as a real estate agent filled with picky clients, she’s trying to get dinner ready and on the table while the house is filled with the sounds of two of her teen daughters, insults and accusations being hurled between them. Glancing at the text from her husband and then at the time, she sighs. Jayce was usually better at diffusing fights with his calm demeanor. 

She could hear Briar's next insult get interrupted by Elise's coughing fit. The youngest Parker was still getting over a bad cold and in no state to be arguing over a borrowed pair of pants. Reese was exhausted and ready for the night to come so she could climb into bed. Not to mention the pregnancy was making her reach her breaking point. The laundry needed to be done, she could feel her irritation slowly build. She looks at Blair who was sitting at the table with her books out and typing on her laptop. "Have I mentioned you're my favorite?" It was something she said randomly to each of her kids. 

Briar came thundering down the stairs holding the jeans in question. "Your daughter ruined my pants. I think it's time we told her the truth and tell her she's adopted so her real family can come get her." She tosses the jeans over a chair with a small pout.

“Briar, do you really think that's going to get you what you want?" She tries to reason.

“Mother, these were my favorite jeans! What are you going to do about this?”

“She's sick right now, what do you want me to do? I understand your frustration and I will handle it, I just can't make her work off the expense while she's blowing her nose and hacking up a lung every five minutes.”

She’s moving the pasta to the sink, trying to carefully strain it when water splashes out onto her skin, causing her to hiss “Son of a...” Then, she remembers the garlic bread in the oven and how the timer beeped several minutes ago. quickly placing the pot of pasta down, she opens the door to find it black and inedible. 

Meanwhile, Briar was still complaining about her jeans and demanding something be done. Blair, realizing quiet time in the kitchen was over, gathers her things and heads up to her room. Reese lets out a frustrated sigh, turning the oven off and tossing the charred garlic bread. “I need a moment of quiet, please go into the other room.” She’s too exhausted to go after her daughter as she storms off, so she just lets her.

Soon after, the door opens and Jayce walks into the chaos. Jokingly, he says, “What happened in here?” 

Briar rushes over to her father. "Mom's on the verge of a breakdown and Elise ruined my ass-kicking jeans, and mom won't do anything about it." 

“Did you give her a chance to do something about it?” he asks.

The look of guilt on Briar's face answers the question. Jayce looks at his oldest and tilts his head, keeping his voice low. “Briar, you want to prove to us that you're responsible and that we should start giving you more independence right?” Briar nods. “You can start doing that by trying to resolve issues like these yourself, we'll be there to intervene if you really need us, but when it comes to a pair of jeans, I think you and your sister can come to a resolution yourselves. It would help your mom a lot while she's pregnant.” Briar thinks it over and nods again.  ”Alright then.”

Briar walks back into the kitchen, her anger leaving her. "I can wait for you to dish out Elise's punishment." She gives her mom a quick hug and kisses her cheek then head out of the kitchen and back upstairs, grabbing her jeans on the way. 

Jayce walks in after the tender moment is over and leans in to kiss his wife, pulls her close and rubs her back soothingly. “I’ll make dinner, babe, okay? Go lay down and rest.”

Reese, who now has tears leaking out of her eyes, nods while wiping her cheeks. “I might fall asleep, so please wake me up when dinner's ready?" 

Jayce gives her another kiss. “Of course.” Reese falls into his arms for another hug, his presence soothing her nerves almost instantly. His hands continue to rub up and down her back, making her more relaxed. “Everything's going to be alright love.”

[researchwithviolet]

‘Learning How to Learn’ by Babara Oakley and Terrence Sejnowski, with Alistair MsConville.

I’ve selected this podcast topic because when everyone was discussing about the topics they listened to for the first two articles, I found this topic practically interesting. I have always seen myself as the ‘Black Sheep’ of the family as both my younger sisters are straight A’s student with full scholarships. And then here I stand, who can’t even secure a fifty percent scholarship. I have also always find myself zoning out and day dreaming while studying. I can never sit still and study, I would get distracted by the sound of the birds, or the smell of my mother’s cooking, or playing with the stationaries on my desk… My mom never did really think highly of me too. When I scored over 3.0 GPA during my first semester in high school, she told her friends I only scored 3 point something and that I was never smart enough to score more. When I won fourth place in a music competition, she said from the audience seat that she did not think my skills could win any prize, to the judge who was presenting the trophy to me on stage. After listening to a few discussions about ‘Learning How to Learn’ in the auditorium, I knew I got to know about the techniques and how to learn things effectively and successfully.

Listen to the podcast here:

Over the weekend, I have listened to the podcast trice, zoning out a few times in the middle of it, and rewinding again to relisten. Until at the third time I started implying the ‘pomodoro technique’ I kept hearing Barbara discussed about, where I listened for about 25 minutes, and take a coffee break, make some notes, and continued doing the same thing until I finished listening to the podcast.

The book ‘Learning How to Learn’ is a modified version of Barbara’s best seller book ‘A Mind for Numbers’ to help people, especially kids and teens, to understand how our brain works and show us how to ‘hack’ complex subjects with simple tricks.

Barbara Oakley was a successful linguist working for the U.S. Army when she first went out into the world [1]. She used to be bad at math and science and hated it throughout her childhood, thinking those subjects were just not meant for her. But as an adult, technology is constantly evolving and Barbara had been put into different positions where the skills to operate technological equipment were required. It was challenging for the linguist as technology comes from science and math, and so Barbara decided she had to learn these subjects in order to level up the game in her career progression. By doing so, she discovered the secrets to learning and earned herself a Ph.D. in Systems Engineering[2].

In Barbara’s research, we have two types of memory. The working memory, and the long-term memory, which are related to the two types of thinking, the focused mode (also known as task positive network) and the diffuse mode (also known as task negative network).

Working Memory

The working memory, as defined by Professor Nelson Cowan, a psychologist and a professor of Psychological Sciences at the University of Missouri[3], are small amount of information that is being held in our minds when we are doing cognitive tasks like solving something and learning something new[3].

Long-Term Memory

The long-term memory, as defined by Professor Nelson Cowan, is the vast amount of information we gathered from our lives and stored in our brains[4]. It is in the back of our mind that will come to play subconsciously when we are executing a task we know how to do.

As per my understanding, it is like how RAM and ROM works in computer. We have the RAM, which the computer used when executing a program, and the ROM, which stores all our saved data.

Focused Mode (Task Positive Network)

In the podcast interview, Barbara explained the focused mode as an activation mode. She described it as like activating math skills when presented with mathematical questions, activating speech skills when talking, and activating writing skills when writing. This mode is activated when we need to activate something to solve something.

When we are focused, we put specific parts of the brain to work. When we are using our focused mode, it means we are paying attention[2].

Diffuse Mode (Task Negative Network)

According to Barbara, diffuse mode is when our mind is not thinking about anything in particular. When we are in diffuse mode, we are using parts of the brain that are different from the parts we use when we are focusing[2]. This mode happens when sets of neurons that are in resting state connects. It is usually when ideas and creativity come to us.

Often, when people get stuck working on something, and they decided to take a break from it, they come back with solutions after the break. What happened was that the focused mode part of our brain had the time to take a break from focusing and the diffuse mode part kicked in. Our brain managed to take a step back and process the information from a different perspective while we are not focusing on it. This happens subconsciously. During the interview and in her book, Barbara states that our brain go back and forth between these two modes to help us learn, but we can never be in both modes at one time.

The Pomodoro Technique

The Pomodoro Technique was developed by Francesco Cririllo in the late 1980s. This method implies using a timer to break work into intervals. The technique suggests to focus working on a task for 25 minutes, and then take a 5-10 minutes break, and repeat the process till the task is completed[5].

Barbara strongly recommends this technique to help achieve effective learning. But do not think of the task to be completed as it might demotivate your will to learn. Instead, focus on the process. For example, instead of thinking ‘I need to finish this research paper’, think of ‘I’m going to work on something for 25 minutes, and I can have my coffee’. This way you can trick your brain to not think on the stressful task on hand and build better focus. During this technological era, it is also important to switch off all distractions during the 25 minutes. Put your phones away, turn off the notifications, just for 25 minutes to keep you from straying away, and you will be able to work efficiently and effectively.

Another effective way of learning complex topic is to use metaphors. From the topics we have covered above, there are many scenarios where we are able to relate, where we are able to understand immediately because of the metaphors used. While Barbara was writing her book ‘A Mind for Numbers’, which is also an adult version book for ‘Learning How to Learn’, Barbara talked to many professors who were rated as top professors, to her surprised, many of the professors said the best way to convey their ideas to students so that the students remember is to use metaphors.

Barbara also talked about other tips towards the end of the interview. Persistency is one of the keys to effective learning, repeated practices can help create links to our long-term memory and enable us to solve the problem when it arises. One of the other effective ways is to have discussions, talk about the topics you have learned. When we discussed something with other people, this helps imbedding the data into our brains, and we may have mistakenly understood some information that when we discussed it out, others can help correct us. Barbara said that leaning is also a social activity as much as an individual activity. And lastly, Barbara also suggested us to push ourselves in the process of learning. Do not fall into ‘lazy learning’, go explore different ways of learning, and challenging ourselves to learn new things.

While looking for more information about Barbara’s book, I came across a free pdf version of the book and I have read through 20 pages of the book. It is over 350 pages in the pdf file, and I intent to continue reading a little bit every day. I have also come across her online course and enrolled into the class. The course starts on 10th October 2022, and it is free to join until December 2022. I hope that towards the end of Barbara’s course and her book, I will be able to control my daydreaming tendencies, understand the benefits of being a slower learner than my sisters, and be more content and confident with myself.

External Links:

Purchase Barbara’s book ‘Learning How to Learn: How to Succeed in School Without Spending All Your Time Studying; A Guide for Kids and Teens’: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36647421-learning-how-to-learn

Purchase the book ‘A Mind for Numbers: How to Excel at Math and Science (Even If You Flunked Algebra)’:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18693655-a-mind-for-numbers

The PDF book for ‘Learning How to Learn’ can be found here: (Kindly purchase from the above link to support if you are financially stable) https://www.pdfdrive.com/learning-how-to-learn-how-to-succeed-in-school-without-spending-all-your-time-studying-a-guide-for-kids-and-teens-e195220593.html

The online course can be found here: (Free to join till December 2022. This course contains assignments that need to be submitted, so make sure to commit when you enroll for the course) https://www.coursera.org/learn/learning-how-to-learn

References:

[1] https://barbaraoakley.com/about-me/

[2] Oakley, B. (2018). Learning How to Learn: How to Succeed in School without Spending All Your Time Studying: a Guide for Kids and Teens. J.P. Tarcher, U.S./Perigee Bks., U.S.

[3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nelson_Cowan

[4] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4207727/#:~:text=Working%20memory%20is%20the%20small,widely%2Dused%20terms%20in%20psychology.

[5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pomodoro_Technique

[lonespektr]

Oct 8th Day 22 Await Further instructions

Just racism right now 🤨🤨🤨🤨 which is as I have said the most horrific of all

Oh okay that was just to establish why he ain't been home

Be the change white boy

Drop that family

They did try to leave Hella early

They clearly got drugged and now some alien done metaled up the exits

The neighbors will hear.....

That you need help?

peak wasp

He just insulted everybody and himself

Reality show - correct answer

Celebrity show - airhead

The authorities -

She's observant though - clocks

Promote ORDER

Terrorism

They sit sis next to king racist?

Duty, this father is a Lil too archypical

Lol first lie

Also they are clearly observing

You know

Canned food?

Another... There's two health care workers bleach body scrub isn't..

They don't have a fucking tub?

Downstairs for what?

As soon as they make amends they introduced another variable

Just random insane back of needles unsealed no fake govt tag

Lol they decided to at least sterilize them

The guy literally looked like he did it IV and the other guy did IM

They didn't even ask about pregnant under 5 years over idk 75 years allergies

This is just the will people submit to unknown authority sociological experiment

I hoped they were smart enough to pretend to take it

That's the first time the TV acknowledged it can see what's going on instead of just a best guess

Acceptable loss

Now there is a default hierarchy struggle

Because there has to be "a person" "in charge"

They literally attacking each other

Mom is DOING THE WHITE WOMAN WASP WORK

Ignore

Downplay

Placate

Calm

Diffuse

Distract

Avoid fighting at all costs

Omg it's not amazing IT'S CREEPY

I never forget

She's really insecure about her intelligence. I never understand why people like that don't just like.. learn more?

I SEE YOU

One drink

I'm going to work on the study

(this is my dad when his kids are hurt he can't deal and he leaves the room)

So they have accepted they can hear them but Not That's its clearly NOT the government or they just don't care anymore because they have already submitted to that authority

How she get sepsis that fucking quick?

peak WASP go clean the house

Well dad might actually be making himself useful... Maybe

Holes in the house

The issue is that these characters are just a bit overplayed

Things can spiral without them being crazy

Is he planning to kill the kid?

Let's try logic. You bloodied his nose and taped his mouth those are the ONLY TWO breathing orafices if memory serves

Extract information from sleeper agent

Box cutting your kid

Now an eyeball

Whoop Katy Kate n bb

Not looking at the information is peak 2019 political climate idiocracy disinformation era

The facts are there and I will shut my eyes and slap them out of your hand

WHOOOO mama lost it the wasp crumbles on the death of one child

Here come the gas

Whoa shit it's like uh napalm burns on contact then explodes

His whole family just died (mom)

Sneks

So camera metal walls

Burning gas

Earthquake

Now religious angle

Curious they went with the your TV is the cause of disinformation not the internet

That angles it at main stream media plus the older white generations on racism

That's squarely fox news is making your old white family members crazy or what's UK? Murdoch owned sky? fox

And you too unless

Kill crazed older generation before they kill you

The young brown intelligent will kill the old whites

The TV will literally kill you?

So many possible metaphors to one scene

Technomancy

Lol but clamation

OK now it's

Your old white man is literally a puppet of your tv

Now the join me

Young white man join the hate like your father and be an abuser

Or fuck a hot smart brown chick and don't be a racist loser

Plug into the TV and do what it says until you die

Raise your baby on hate

Nicely done

And the pan out for the global invasion

Nice work slow clap

[brokenjere]

bad in the bones (ch. 4)

a/n: sorry it took so long to get this out! I’ve been so focused on the other story with it ending, that this just got the back burner but I hope you guys enjoy it!! Lmk what you think ✨✨✨

synopsis: conrad plays the guitar for Yn

“Susannah said so,” she says. Susannah says so. Is it always that easy? Do what

you’re told because Susannah said so. I wish I had a Susannah. I only had a Judy. An egotistical, materialistic, and manipulative woman who was used up like an old dish rag, tossed in the forgotten laundry. No matter how many chances you give it, no matter how much bleach you throw in it or how much laundry detergent you add, it still comes out stained and frayed. 

you’re told because Susannah said so. I wish I had a Susannah. I only had a Judy. An egotistical, materialistic, and manipulative woman who was used up like an old dish rag, tossed in the forgotten laundry. No matter how many chances you give it, no matter how much bleach you throw in it or how much laundry detergent you add, it still comes out stained and frayed. 

I didn’t have a sunshine and rainbows ray of light that could make even the most dismaying tasks seem like the best thing ever. I didn’t have a second family to make me feel whole, because I barely had one. I had a Judy. And then I had a Laurel, a hard-working mother, author, and, now, an ex-wife with enough decency and care to take a little almost orphan girl under her wing. I wonder if I wasn’t her niece, would I still have a home in her nest? 

I finish securing Belly’s hat and she adjusts it one more time before pulling on the white gloves, that Susannah told her to wear, and smoothing down her gingham dress. It was baby blue, with tied straps that presented her shoulders like a little present. I remember her picking it out before we left for Cousin’s, running her fingers over the hem, and deciding that was the one. 

When I go downstairs to see her off, Laurel is waiting in the kitchen. She smooths down Belly’s hair and kisses her forehead despite Belly trying to push her away and then they scurry through the front door. When the door shuts, I hear a throat being cleared from behind me. I whip around and Conrad is leaning against the back of the couch with his arms over his chest. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask. 

“Long enough to see that longing look in your eye,” he says, smirking as he pushes himself off of the couch and walks toward me. I instinctively take a step back and I’m not sure why. “Your mom doesn’t kiss your forehead like that?” He’s trying to be funny. Make a joke or be playful and tease me but it feels like an ice pick is being stabbed into my chest and I feel like Belly cursing under my breath. 

“I don’t even know where my mom is, let alone where her lips are going to be,” I tell him. His face falls and I can tell he’s feeling guilty so I add, “does yours?” He nods and then we’re quiet. 

“Do you wanna smoke or something?” He asks, kicking his feet at the hardwood floor awkwardly. He reminds me of a middle schooler asking out a girl for the first time. The way his cheeks turned a dark shade of pink and he has to clear his throat to ask me properly. 

“Is there anything else you like to do ?” I ask playfully to try and diffuse the awkward tension. It’s not thick like the butter you kept in the fridge or pantry. It’s like spray butter. Just enough oil and grease to feel it but not enough to make you truly sick. 

“I like to play the guitar,” He admits and shrugs his shoulders loosely. I narrow my eyes, trying to decide if this tidbit was an olive branch or something he used to impress girls. The kid that doted on him during the year, whispering to their friends as he passed them by in the hall about how good he looks. He holds his hand to me and I realize just how long I have been waiting to reply. He nods to it and I take it. I let him lead me upstairs. 

His bedroom was the one next to mine but Jeremiah claimed one further down the hall. Seemingly as far away as possible from Conrad and Susannah. Belly and Steven live down the hall with Jeremiah and Laurel resides next to Susannah. The house was evenly split, probably from the beginning. Little Conrad, begging his mom not to stray too far away and Jeremiah, younger in age but older in spirit, less a mama’s boy and ready to be independent. Jeremiah thought it was cool to sleep so far away. Conrad thought it was special to sleep so close. 

His room is clean and organized and so authentically him that it was a drastic comparison to mine. The stark white walls, bare comforter, and empty dresser were the opposite of his walls so covered in posters and awards that you could barely tell they were white. His blue bedspread and sheets up against the wall, warming the bright morning light up the fabric. His closet is the only thing messy about the room: clothes flooded out all over the floor into a heaping pile of neutrals. His guitar stands upright in the corner, a perfect piece of wood. 

I follow the natural arc of the room. From his open closet door to the window to the dresser that had photos and awards for sailing, I think. “What are these?” I ask, trailing my finger along the golden frame of one that reads CONRAD FISHER FIRST PLACE SOUTHERN MASSACHUSETTS SAILING ASSOCIATION. 

“I like to sail,” he tells me. “I’m pretty good at it.” He laughs and gestures to the endless shrine of first and second place awards. I remember the boating docks we passed as we arrived closer to the summer house. The seemingly endless string of them sticking out from the road to the ocean. People, families, scurry across the perfectly manicured boardwalks as they try to get their boats ready for the season. Opening the sails, making sure everything was in working order. Polishing off the stereotypical name on the side. 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“I’ve done it every summer since I was little.” He shrugs a little and then nods toward the ocean in the back of his house. “We have a boat not too far from here. A nice big one that I sail every year at these competitions. There’s one coming up in a few weeks. Maybe you wanna go?” I nod feverishly. Of course I’d want to go. It’s just the thing I need to distract myself from the debutante ball being held over my head. Belly was perfect. Of course she’d be a debutant. Not Yn though. She’s too scraggly. Well, scraggly got herself invited on a boat. 

“I’ve never been on a boat,” I tell him. He raises an eyebrow, just one, so he looks interested and taken aback. “Truthfully, I’ve always been a little afraid of the water.” 

“All water?” He asks. His voice goes up a few octaves and he’s shocked to hear this news. Why on Earth would I agree to come to a summer home on the beach if I was afraid of the water? Short answer: because it’s better than being alone. I nod my head in response to his question. “You were so close to the ocean the other night.” He points out. 

“It’s not that I’m scared to be around it. I’m mostly scared of being in it. People drown in bathtubs, you know?” I move around his room again, leaving the sailing certificates behind and move on to his desk where his computer sat all lit up. He must have one at home, too, I think. I wonder what’s on it. I click the keyboard spacebar and the screen illuminates a bright picture of the sky. A vibrant blue. 

“So you’re afraid of drowning?” He clarifies. “Not water?” I look over at him and he’s sitting on the bed now, one leg pulled up under him. He leans forward on his arms toward me and I skip over, throwing myself on the bed next to him and outstretch my legs in front of me. 

“No. Water. Whatever is in that ocean is too big for little ol’ me. You never know what can come up and snatch you. Most of it is undiscovered,” I tell him as if this is a revelating fact that most people don’t already know. Conrad smiles at me like he’s saying yeah I guess you’re right. 

“But what they have discovered is magnificent isn’t it?” He wonders almost to himself more than me and I shrug. “So then why did you just agree to come on a boat with me?” 

I look at him. Really look at him. Brown eyes and floppy brown hair and a smile that makes his cheeks dimple and top lip curl up. How do I tell him everything I don’t want to speak out loud? Why do I want to? “I’m trying new things. A reset, remember?” I hint at our last conversation. The last time we were alone. He smiles and nods. I remember his eyes say. “Are you gonna play that thing?” I nod toward the guitar in the corner. Conrad gets up and takes it by the neck and sits back down at the edge of the bed now, facing the window. 

“What do you wanna hear?” He asks. 

“Vienna,” I tell him. “By Billy Joel.” A hint of a smirk grows across his face. I don’t tell him that it’s because my dad used to sing it to me before he disappeared. I don’t tell him that we used to dance around the kitchen at night time while my mom was off galavanting around in the city to the song playing so loudly I could feel Billy Joel’s voice in my chest. I don’t tell him it’s the only positive thing I associate with my dad. His voice and this song bounced off the kitchen cabinets and refrigerator door. The sound of our heels clinking on the hardwood floor. The sound of our laughter filled the house. 

“I’ll admit I don’t know that song very well,” he says. He starts to pluck the strings anyway and I can hear a very faint tone of the song.

“Do you know what the golden ratio is?” I ask him, matching my voice to the quiet of the guitar tone. If the lights could dim, they would. If the sun could go down, it would. It was just me and Conrad now. And this little piece of wood between us playing a beautiful harmony. He shakes his head. “The Fibonacci sequence?” He shakes his head again. “Belly said you were good at math:” 

“Is that really math? Or is it science?” He laughs quietly, too. We’re talking so low that you wouldn’t even know we were in the room if not for the guitar strings fluttering. 

“What’s the difference?” Conrad rolls his eyes at me and gestures his hand out, palm up, encouraging me to continue speaking. “The Fibonacci sequence is when the following number is the sum of the two in front of it. 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13… so on. It’s called the golden ratio and they designed violins according to the Fibonacci sequence and that’s what makes it sound so beautiful.” I tap the edge of the guitar. The rounded butt facing me. “It was made to always sound magnificent.” 

“Is that true?” 

“You think I made it up?” I raise my eyebrows. Conrad stops strumming. “Of course that’s true.” 

“I didn’t know you were such a science geek,” he teases and begins to strum again. I hate science. It was always my worst subject and the most skipped subject. It just so happened that the one week I showed up consistently was the week we touched on the golden ratio. Patterns. How there was science in art and art in all science. 

“My parents forced me into everything as a kid. Dance, art, science, math, sports. If there was a children's program for it, I had been in it. They let me pick the path that intrigued me the most.” I say the last part like I’m mocking my mom. The speech she gave everyone when they adorned how impressive it was that I was a part of so many activities. That will really help her get into an Ivy League when she’s older, they would all tell her. They’d all be very interested to know I had only applied to Columbia and that was because I loved a boy. “I did ballet, and gymnastics, i even tried soccer once. I was a Girl Scout, participated in the science fair, and was in Spanish and French classes. Took art classes until my hands turned to dust.” I held up my broken hands. They weren’t so worn out anymore since I hadn’t done any art in years but they used to be so cracked the clay wouldn’t come out for days. My fingertips were always covered in pencil led.

“Everything except swimming?” He teases. We both laugh. 

“Everything except swimming,” I agree. 

“You ever play an instrument?” He asks, nodding toward the guitar. I shake my head. “Not a single one?” 

“I tried the piano. When I was 10. I got so mad I stormed out of the lessons and never went back.” That’s how most of my activities ended. Never in a succession of winning or string of gold medals. In a huff and tears and frustrated groans. Probably why none of them stuck. I was the jack of all trades without a real trade. 

“You want to learn the guitar?” He stops strumming and holds the hunk of metal and wood by its neck. He is offering it up to me on a silver platter like a deer he shot for sport and cooked up for his family of six. The art of learning things was not an art I possessed. Hence all the sudden stops in my early adolescence. I stomped my feet and ran out of gymnastics when I couldn’t do the bars at the age of 6 and they wanted to make goalie in soccer so I quit that too because it wasn’t quite glamorous enough to be a goalie. Science bored me and ballet made my feet hurt. Art was the only thing I stuck to long enough to really get good at it but then my skin started to flake and my nails got fragile and I quit that, too. The thought of letting Conrad teach me something new just for me to throw away all that time made me feel empty. So I changed the subject. 

“When did you learn?” He senses my dismal and sets it down next to his legs and without it sitting on his lap, he turns closer to me. “Why did you want to?” 

“I did lessons when I was twelve. It was just something to do that my dad didn’t like.” I give him a questioning look and he keeps going. “He wanted me to play football more than anything. I played when I got to high school, just to please him, but I needed something that wasn’t his, too. So I picked that.” He nods down to the guitar. 

“That makes sense,” I tell him. The charcuterie board of after-school activities was not in my greatest interest. If anything, it stressed me out. All four eyes of my parents, six including the glasses my dad wore back then, were on me. Waiting for me to pick something I liked that they could pour all their passion into but in the end, I felt like an experiment. What will she pick? My mom was nice about it, I suppose. She never pushed me to pick something or try something I told her I didn’t want to try. She didn’t strap the ballet slippers onto my little feet or put the sores on my toes herself. She never put the clay in my hand or the periodic table in my brain. But she helped me study when I asked and she held my hand as I practiced pirouettes. I wonder if I would have naturally found something I loved if I hadn’t had to try a little bit of everything. I wonder if any of us really had a choice. “Do you like football?” 

“I quit, remember?” 

“Did,” I correct. Conrad smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “At least you have a couple things you love.” I look around the room at all the things he loves. Sailing. Guitar. His family. There are no pictures of his dad. 

“And what about you?” He asks, catching my eye. “What do you love?” 

“Belly,” I say honestly. “Laurel and her kids. I don’t know what I would do without them.” It was probably one of the most honest things I have ever said, even to Josh. Even to Mallory. To the outside world, Mallory may seem like my shoulder to cry on. To the bystanders at school and people on the street, our laughter falling in perfect sync and the way her arm drapes lazily across my shoulders make us seem like we are two peas in a pod. We are both the happy high school seniors, gleefully on our next adventure to college, probably together. They don’t see the broken bones in my skin. Mallory was my person but Belly was my soulmate. That little family, my mother’s sister, and her perfect children were my saving grace. 

“I can see that,” he says. “Laurel talks about you like you’re her second daughter,” he laughs and I blush. For some reason, I’m embarrassed that she talks about me when I’m not around. Not that I think she would say anything bad but my life is filled with things I don’t talk about and Laurel knows most of them. 

“She talks about you like you’re her second son,” I tell him. Laurel gushed about Conrad all year long. While Susannah was the light of Belly’s life, Conrad was Laurel’s. “Have you two always been that close?” Laurel always told me that her Connie would talk to her about anything. He would go to her before his own mom. She was his safe space. 

“You sure are full of questions.” The statement was glossed over with a smile and a shake of his head. He doesn’t answer my question, though. I lay back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. I feel the bed moving under my limbs and then Conrad’s body is pressed next to mine as he looks up at the ceiling too. His skin is hot against mine. “Why?” He whispers. 

“Why what?” I look over at him, a piece of hair falling into my face distorting the image of his face in my eyes. 

“Do you ask so many questions?” 

I think about this for a moment. There are a lot of reasons, most of which I don’t

really want to disclose to Conrad quite yet but I decide on an answer that will satisfy us both. “Josh, my ex, I never really felt like I knew him. I don’t really feel like I know a lot of people in my life. So I ask questions because that’s the worst feeling in the world,” I say. “Being alone.” 

“Do you want to talk about him?” Conrad asks. Josh, he means and I know this but I give him a confused look. “Josh. Your ex.” 

“No. He doesn’t matter here. It’s summer, remember?” A reset. Conrad nods. 

“I have someone who doesn’t matter here, too.”

taglist: @marajillana @liltimmyst @angelayse

[our-happygirl500-fan]

You know the whole Baterang to the throat thing that causes a lot of discussion in the fandom? I think Bruce might not have been aiming for the throat

It ricochets

This point in comics Bruce has been through a ringer Steph's died, Barbara and Jim have left, Leslie betrayed him and he's had to send Cass and Tim away and now Jason is back but for revenge so Bruce isn’t at his best and I think Bruce threw the Baterang in a moment of panic and either over or undershot which ended up with well that.

This moment causes a lot of debate but I don't see it as “Bruce harming Jason to save the joker” the way a lot of fics paint it I see it more as he'd been aiming for Jason's arm or something to disarm him but overshot and it’s kind of like a symbolism of their relationship. 

 Which is basically Bruce takes an action to stop Jason from going down a path that he thinks will end up hurting Jason, but ends up hurting Jason in the long-run.

Like when he discussed taking away robin from Jason (because he thought Jason needed time to deal with issues that were becoming more prevalent) which only ended up making Jason feel insecure about his position in the Wayne household, contributing to why he so desperately pursued a stable parental relationship in his biological mother.

Bruce knows that if he gives in and kills the Joker he'll never stop killing we've seen timelines that prove that and I think Bruce also thinks the same of Jason that if Jason kills the Joker he won't stop at all so it’s not that he’s saving the Joker but that he’s trying to save Jason but Bruce ultimately misunderstands Jason’s needs and winds up hurting him.

Bruce is trying to save Jason from what he sees as a downwards spiral, but he ends up hurting him not just emotionally, but physically, and in the most extreme way possible. It's like an even darker echo of how trying to bench him as Robin led to his death.

Bruce has spent YEARS haunted by the memory of Jason’s death his death fundamentally changed Bruce's entire character Alfred said that Jason's death affected Bruce more than his own parents death.

In Underworld Unleashed it's revealed that his greatest desire is to have Jason back, in Hush he talks about how he wanted to put Jason in the Lazarus Pit and how he believes Jason knew he always loved him, and in As The Crow Flies we learn that his greatest fear is Jason coming back as an enemy and then in Under the Red Hood he gets Jason back (his greatest desire) but as an antagonist (his greatest fear) and moreover his belief that Jason 'knew' he loved him is WRONG.

Jason's insecurities from before his death combined with the perceived betrayal of Bruce not avenging him have led Jason to the point where he genuinely believes Bruce doesn't care, and in Jason's eyes, killing the joker is the only way Bruce can prove that he does but instead, in that moment, Bruce's attempt to diffuse the situation backfires.

Bruce misunderstands what Jason needs in that moment like he misunderstood what Jason needed at the start of Death in the Family it's just the ultimate representation of their constant emotional feedback loop. They trap themselves in a cycle of fighting because Jason can't read how Bruce really feels and Bruce can't read what Jason really needs and in that moment both those things are true, with Jason not seeing that Bruce truly cares anymore, and Bruce not knowing how to properly deescalate the situation and show Jason that he still cares.

It's extremely easy to read the batatrang throw as purposeful even though I wholly believe it was accidental but if that moment was explored more, I'm positive that Jason would believe it wasn't an accident, and would view it as proof of his already held view that Bruce doesn't love him anymore after all, that could have killed him, symbolically disowning him in the most extreme way possible.

Heck in Jason's appearance in Green Arrow (2001) Bruce had thought Jason might have died again! Before Jason turned up to mess with Mia.

The thing that's tragic about Jason that actually leads to a lot of his own suffering is that Jason doesn't really know what a healthy relationship looks like so I'm not sure when his actual 'last straw' would be.

Jason is the kind of person who sees love and acceptance as entirely circumstantial. He believes he must /earn/ love and acceptance, i.e. by being Robin, rather than it being inherently given.

A huge piece of understanding Robin Jason is understanding how much he lacked proper support systems back then. School was his only connection to his kids his age, and he didn't benefit much from that connection, his life was essentially: manor, school, Robin, repeat.

Jason loved school, but his school life was also pretty depressing. Jason kept to himself, he didn't have the time to participate in extracurriculars even when he wanted to and his peers didn't view him very positively. Jason was also really isolated from the rest of the hero community, there was his stint with the Titans, but it was pretty brief. He was also penpals with Kid Devil, but for the most part, he just had Batman.

The lack of support is actually one of the reasons I give for Jason and Steph dying in universe since they were the two Robins without support systems outside of Gotham. When Bruce was a jerk Dick and Tim could be like 'fine I'm going to go hang out with the Teen Titans or Young Justice' but Jason and Steph could only be like 'oh no' plus Bruce would deliberately try to take away Steph's support systems that she did have multiple times like when he ordered Cass to stop training with Steph.

But that's besides the point, I wouldn't be surprised if Jason confused being Robin with being accepted in the manor so when Bruce threatened to take away Robin from him, he might've seen it as his only proper support system being taken away from him, his world felt rocked back into instability once again.

When you look at it like that, it's very easy to understand why Jason sought out his biological mother. He had a hope that Sheila would offer him that stability once more, and that he'd get support and trust and unconditional love.

And that’s what make it all the more heartbreaking to me he came to this woman seeking love and gave her his greatest secret and she repaid him with a horrific death.  Jason’s death is one of the saddest to me because there’s no high stakes 'he died saving the world stuff' he’s just a kid who wanted a mom and got killed for it.

DC’s habit of taking away who he was is so detrimental to his backstory as the Red Hood because the transformation from someone who tried being kind and who did give it their all being killed for it and coming back like ‘no more’ is so much more interesting than ‘we always knew this would happen’.

Robin disobeying orders is nothing new. If that was the core of why Jason died, then any Robin disobeying orders should never be put in a positive light, but often it is. Jason (and Steph) were just the ones unlucky enough to emerge dead and judged for it instead of alive and praised for it.

Jason died because he was a child who just wanted to be safe and loved.

So many times Robin disobeying orders saved lives it’s nothing new and Jason had a pretty solid reason, the story of Jason Todd should be portrayed as the tragedy not make him some warning sign.

This is why I always hated the victim blaming after Jason & Steph's deaths because they died doing what if it had been Tim or Dick a Robin would be praised for, like take Steph for example we've seen constant stories of Bruce firing Robin, them going off on their own & Bruce realising he's wrong & taking them back but when Steph goes off on her own she dies the only reason Jason & Steph died is that the writers forced them to fail where they would have allowed the others to succeed.

But anyway back to my point the thing about Jason feeling like he had to earn love is why he was initially so hung up on the idea of Bruce 'replacing' him when he came back to life, he viewed Tim being robin as Bruce /transferring/ his love for Jason to another person, rather than seeing that Bruce could love Tim while still loving and missing him.

The reason Jason sought out his mother after Bruce benched him as Robin was that he viewed Bruce benching him as Bruce rejecting him and latched onto the idea of finding someone, i.e. a birth mother, who is supposed to give /unconditional love/.

The fact that his birth mother REJECTED HIM and then played a hand in his murder undoubtedly affected his attitude when he came back, if even his mother didn't want him, and then Bruce let the joker live and replaced him, then, in Jason's eyes, OF COURSE Bruce doesn't care and as mentioned previously Jason didn't really have any friends in school or the hero community, believing that the only real close personal connection in your live, someone you spent all your time with, had forgotten about you and rejected you is bound to mess a person up.

[cherryyharryy]

please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

[fangirlofall]

Some headcanons about The Boys

- Mylo was actually born in Piltover. He spent his very early life there, before his mother abandoned him in Zaun and he was forced to fend for himself until Vander took him in.

- Claggor never knew his parents. Apparently his moms were good friends of Vander, but they died soon after Claggor was born. His biological dad was “not worth the shit I scrape off my shoe,” according to Vander.

- Claggor loves to read, anything he can get his hands on. Mylo has never seen the appeal of it, not when it requires you to sit still for more than 30 seconds, but he still keeps the first book Claggor ever gave him when he came to The Last Drop, tucked safely away in a trunk with the rest of his things.

- Claggor is actually somewhat protective over Powder, and doesn’t like it when Mylo is mean to her. He gets why Mylo gets frustrated, and agrees she shouldn’t always be taken on some of the jobs she is, but he’ll give Mylo a scolding if he thinks Mylo’s taking it too far.

- Mylo has nightmares frequently, and will crawl into bed with Claggor to chase them away if they get too bad. If anyone brings it up the next morning he denies it vehemently, and sulks the rest of the day.

- Mylo and Claggor’s relationship is actually very symbiotic. Claggor is shy and a bit of a pushover, so Mylo protects Claggor from anyone who tries to bully or take advantage of him. He’s got a sharp tongue and isn’t afraid to make enemies, so anyone who goes after Claggor usually gets exactly what’s coming to them and then some.

- Mylo, meanwhile, has zero filter, which, when combined with how tiny he is, results in a lot fights picked with people double, triple, or even quadruple his size, not even always intentionally. Claggor always does his best to mediate and diffuse these situations, but if that doesn’t work he’s not afraid to get physical to defend Mylo. This doesn’t usually end well for the other people involved, so most have learned not to rise to Mylo’s bait whenever Claggor is around. 

[blessedshortcake]

doing the ask thing again

madeleine 🏳️‍⚧️🧡🗡

affogato 🏳️‍⚧️🧡🗡

latte 🏳️‍⚧️🧡🗡

When I tell you I SCREAMED when I saw Madeleine's name. I can talk about the cookie ever eeeeeeee

Madeleine

I am transing his gender. Gender has been transed. He realized he was trans when he was young and came out to his mom first and foremost (i hc him as a mommy's boy so he has a great relationship with her) and she helped him come out to his aunts because he was scared how they would react. The aunts adored that because they always knew Madeleine was their special sweetheart.

I feel like he used to have some level of internalized transphobia when he was small, like at the Paladin Academy (i think thats what his school was called but i forgot) since he was "not a real man" like the rest of the boys in his class. Training was harder because young afab people have a harder time building muscle biologically which frustrated him to no end but he got over it with time. He has a specific training schedule to keep up with his body by now.

I am getting off track hdjdjd

I ship him with Espresso the most. Their stupid banter and friendly rivalry caught my heart at day one. I would pay to see them hate kiss at one point. I ship him with Dark Choco to some extent but only with very specific situations.

I can see the appeal with people shipping him with Raspberry too. I don't ship them since I hc Raspberry as a lesbian but I support.

I think he has very quick reaction time and huge arm strenght. Like, he does look strong in general but his arm strenght is like 10 times more than people would think. He flails around that huge ass sword like a paper tube ffs.

Affogato

My personal frienemy. I need to read more about him.

Affogato is either genderqueer, genderfluid or a cis man so comfortable with his sexuality he wears whatever the fuck he wants. All 3 can fly with me

I don't have any ships on him yet myself but I don't mind any that people show me. If the content is appealing to my brain then I will interact

I think he has an excessive knowledge with botany and chemistry as someone who does stuff with poison. He knows So Many Plants and what they do. I feel like he knows how to cook more from the science parts of cooking than the actual process.

Latte

I feel like Latte is one of those cis people who actually went ahead and experimented with their identity before confirming that they are cis to be sure.

I am not crazy about Latte ships, kinda like with Espresso since she is also a blorbo for me just less projecting is going on. I ship her with Raspberry, Kumiho (fish if you see this, me shipping her with Kumiho is entirely your fault /lh), Financier, Pomegranate and to a small extend Almond. I ship them with Almond as divorced (/hj)

Latte is the type of teacher who actually realizes that she is statistically a parental figure in students' life, especially the younger ones so she shows support and good examples to them. She is the type to protect her kids (students) even against their parents when they talk shit in parent teacher meetings.

She is a skilled mage with critical thinking skills and amazing crowd control skills. She can diffuse situations in seconds and she is one of the best cookies at reading the room.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 4 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

The three of us were invited to stay for dinner. Since there weren't enough chairs, they were kind enough to pull out an extra chair for me, so Dustin and I shared the end of the table, opposite Mrs. Wheeler. Nancy and I seemed to be the only kids who were eating.

"Thank you so much for letting us stay Mrs. Wheeler. The food is amazing!" I said, followed by another bite of mashed potatoes.

"You're very welcome, Y/n. And thank you." She said, with a kind smile.

She looked around and noticed the boys were just playing with their meatloaf.

"Something wrong with the meatloaf?" She asked.

"Oh, no, I had two bologna sandwiches for lunch," Dustin said a goofy smile on his face. There's a noticeable pause before he speaks again. "I don't know why." I breathe out a light chuckle and take another bite of mashed potatoes.

Lucas chuckles nervously. "Me, too."

"It's delicious, Mommy." Nancy bats her eyelashes and a quizzical look flashed across my face. I know that tactic. Hell, every kid knows that tactic, she wants something and she is trying to butter up her mom. But to see a Nancy of all people do that is almost laughable.

"Thank you, sweetie."

I look to Mike to gauge his reaction to his teenage sister's odd behavior towards their mom. I fight back a laugh when his actions closely resemble that of an adult in a movie who takes a drink of beer with a thousand-yard stare, trying to forget something said at that moment in time; only this time it's a glass of milk.

"So, there's this... special assembly thing tonight... for Will at the school field."

I furrow my brow in confusion and shock. 'Nancy is nice and all, but since when does she care about Will?' Then it dawned on me. I remember Mike complaining to us earlier about that "douchebag Steve Harrington" and how he and Nancy have been dating. And how he's been sneaking in and out of Nancy's room.

"Barb's driving."

My jaw clenches.

"Why am I just now hearing about this?"

'Because she wants to use my best friend's disappearance as an excuse to leave the house and suck face with her stupid boyfriend.'

"I thought you knew." She said, playing innocent. Mike and I look to each other knowingly and then at Nancy. Well, glaring was a better term for what I was doing.

"I told you, I don't want you out after dark until Will is found."

"I know, I know, but it'd be super weird if I'm not there."

CLANG

I half drop, have threw my silverware on the table in a mix of shock and frustration. When everyone turns and looks at me silently, I quickly play it off with a chuckle.

"Heh, sorry about that. Lost my grip. I'm just thirsty." I say with an innocent smile as I hold up my water, gesturing to it before taking a large gulp.

Everyone but the boys seem to buy it.

Nancy continued and I had to bite my lip so as to not say anything.

"As I was saying, everyone is going."

Mrs. Wheeler sighs and looks to us, then back at Nancy.

"Just... be back by 10:00."

Nancy nods, happy with herself.

"Why don't you take Mike and his friends, too?" She suggested. We all panicked and spoke at the same time.

"No!"

"Mmm-mmm."

"I have a headache" I finished weakly.

"Don't you think you should be there? For Will?"

The four of us all spot Eleven walking down the stairs behind Mrs. Wheeler.

Mike nearly chokes on his milk while I accidentally inhale my water and I begin to choke for real. Mrs. Wheeler turns to see what provoked us so much but the mix of Dustin randomly slamming his fists against the table a few times and me going into a coughing fit was enough to grab her attention.

She looked between the two of us in shock. During my horrendous coughing fit, I was relieved to see El had gotten out of sight.

"Sorry. Spasm." Dustin says sheepishly.

However, it was still incredibly awkward seeing as it was quiet as and everyone just stared at me while I coughed obnoxiously. The coughs got less violent to a point where I could speak.

"Ahh..." cough. "I'm okay... really, I" cough. I hold up a finger and cough for a few seconds. I look up, a painful and sheepish look on my face as I awkwardly try and diffuse the tension. "Don't you hate that. Like, what can you do, wash it down with water?" I look around laughing weakly, but not for long because my awkward chuckles turn into more coughing and I groan. "Haha, ahawww god." I put hands on my knees and take a breather.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"El?" Mike called down the stairs. Mike and I had were able to sneak some food downstairs for her. Thankfully we found her down here, she was in the fort that Mike had made for her, fiddling with Mike's Supercomm.

"Hi, El!" I say with a smile as I walk over and kneel down next to her. Mike does the same and sets down the tray of food. Dustin and Lucas remain standing.

"We brought you some dinner,"

"Yep. No adults. Just us and some meatloaf." Mike replies.

She looks to me, then warily to Dustin and Lucas.

"Don't worry. They won't tell anyone about you. They promise." I assure her in a gentle voice. I turn for them and give them a look. "Right guys?"

Dustin gives her a goofy smile. "We never would've upset you if we knew you had superpowers." I roll my eyes and Mike turns around and swats Dustin in the shin.

I look back to El.

"What my brother meant to say was, they were just scared... earlier. That's all."

Lucas speaks up. "We just wanted to find our friend." I turn around and smile warmly at Lucas, mouthing a 'thank you'. He's a great person, he's just skeptical is all. And protective. He nods his head at me. I look back at El to see her face riddled with confusion.

"'Friend'?" She asks.

"Yeah, friend. Will?"

"What is 'friend'?" She asks.

Lucas starts to say something but cuts himself off, thinking better of it.

"Um, a friend-" He begins.

"Is someone that you'd do anything for." Mike finished for him.

"You lend them your cool stuff, like comic books and trading cards," Dustin said, wistfully.

"And they never break a promise," Mike adds.

"Especially when there's spit."

"Spit?" She asked, looking concerned.

"A spit swear means..." Lucas spits into his palm and shakes Dustin's hand. "you never break your word. It's a bond."

I cringed, while Dustin looked at his hand in disgust. I turn back to El and smile.

"That's super important, because friends... they tell each other things. Things that parents don't know. A friend is someone you can trust completely."

She seems to be soaking up the information, then she looks at me and smiles.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

We had all convinced El to come out of her fort. The three boys were huddled together whispering and I joined El at the D&D table. In fact, she sat where Mike sat during the campaign and I subconsciously sat where Will did on that night.

Although I was a little surprised to see how focused she became. She gently spread her hands along the table, her fingers touching the board.

The three boys walk over. "What's the weirdo doing?" Lucas questions. I give him a glare, to warn him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. "Sorry. Eleven."

I smile, silently thanking him.

"El?" Mike asks. She had her eyes closed for a short while and suddenly she opens them. She grabs Will's signature miniature, the cleric. I hold my breath in anticipation.

"Will." She says.

"Superpowers." Dustin whispered. Lucas rolled his eyes and Mike sat down between me and El, and started asking the questions that were on all our minds.

"Did you see him? On Mirkwood? Do you know where he is?"

She set aside the cleric as I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper.

"El?" She looks up at me. "Is there... is there anything, anything at all that you could tell us? Anything that you know about our friend?" I ask, my voice breaking. She gives me a sympathetic smile and clears the board by swiping her arm across the table. We all watch intently as she reaches forward and flips the board upside down.

We all stare at the board and then look to El as she grabs the cleric and slams it down in the center of the board. My stomach seems to drop in perfect sync with the miniature.

"I don't understand." Mike croaks.

The room is silent for a few moments as we stare at El, waiting for her response. "Hiding." Her voice came out in a whisper.

"W-Will is hiding?" I stammer.

She nods her head 'yes'.

My fingers subconsciously begin wringing together as I try and swallow all of this information.

"From the bad men?" Mike clarifies.

Her brows furrow ever so slightly as she shakes her 'no'. I take a deep breath.

"Then from who?"

She looks to her side and grabs another miniature, and places it next to the cleric. I let out a breath of air I didn't even know I was holding when I recognized the dreaded piece. We all look around to each other, a look of horror on our faces. Dustin puts his hands behind his head and I put my head in my hands as I try not to panic.

It was the Demogorgon.