#do they have any idea how many people were looking forward to the spin off

[aster1sque]

When i thought Netflix couldn’t get worse…they cancel Shadow and Bone AND the Six of Crows spin off

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David Tennant at This Morning show with Alison Hammond and Dermot O’Leary talking about Good Omens Season 2, 11.07.2023 :) ❤

DO: And David joins us now. I mean, this looks like a great show.

David: Oh, yeah.

DO: So, I mean, It's pure Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, isn't it?

David: It is, yeah.

DO: The whole thing. So tell us, so if people haven't seen the first series and they want to go back, set the whole scene.

David: So I'm Hell's representative on Earth, Michael Sheen is Heaven's representative on Earth, put there to do the biding of our respective Head Offices. But we found out that if we became mates and sort of helped each other out, it kind of cut out the workload, cancelled each other out. So we're best mates. But in Series One we end up having to avert the apocalypse, which we managed to do, but as a result of that, we get cut off. So we're now living on Earth as independent individuals.

AH: So do you still need each other, then?

David: We still need each other. We've only got each other now because we don't have Heaven and Hell anymore.

DO: Because you both love earth so much, you both like.

David: Oh, we much prefer living on Earth because Heaven's a bit stuffy and Hell's awful.

DO: So you conspire to thwart the Armageddon. Exactly.

David: We thwart the Armageddon. That's fine. But Series Two begins when the angel Gabriel, Jon Hamm, who you just saw there, shows up at Aziraphale, Michael Sheen's bookshop, naked with no memory, holding a cardboard box. So suddenly we're locked into the politics of Heaven and Hell again. We don't know what's going on. We've got a mystery to solve. Why is the angel Gabriel here? The angel Gabriel tried to kill us both at the end of the last series, so we've got to...

DO: But now he's kind of got amnesia and...

David: Yes. So he becomes like our weird child, in this sort of weird sort of eternal marriage that Michael and I are locked in.

DO: So many shows now use a book as their base and then they do really well and you can see the company and the writers go, better come up some new ideas, I suppose. So the book's obviously Terry Pratchett and then Neil Gaiman, correct?

David: That's right. They wrote that together years and years and years ago. Much beloved. And that's what the first series was. But Neil and Terry had always talked about possibilities of this sequel that they never got around to making. Terry's no longer with us. But when the possibility came up, Neil thought, well, listen, I've got some ideas. Let's spin it forward. Let's see if we can tell the story we were always going to tell. So we get to come back.

AH: Should we have a little sneak look at the new series? Let's have a look. So good. Did you ever think it was going to be this successful? Did you even know that you were going to go into a second series

David: Oh, no, not at all. No. There was only one novel, so we just thought we were coming together to do that. And I didn't realise how beloved this book was. I first read a script. But it means a lot to a lot of people.

AH: And the look of you is so striking. Did you have any input into that? A bit, yeah, we sort of all found it together, myself and makeup and costume and Neil Gaiman, who ran the show. So, yeah, we kind of arrived... in the book he's a bit more - because obviously the book was sort of early ninetues, so he was a bit more sharp-suited and a bit more Wolf of Wall Street. So we've kind of had to find the kind of modern equivalent of that.

DO: Is he... obviously you're playing a demon. Has he got any humanity in him or is he purely self-centered?

David: Well, he's not a very good demon. He's good at sort of the snarl and the swagger and pretending that he's terribly cynical, but actually his problem is that he's a bit too...  there’s a bit too much heart, really.

DO: He's alright

David: Yeah, yeah.

DO: Must be wonderful playing a baddie.

David: Oh, it's great fun, but he's not a baddie, is not really a baddie.

DO: Yeah, yeah.

David: And just like Aziraphale angel is not always as goody goody as he likes it, so they meet very beautifully in the middle.

DO: You and Michael Sheen. I mean, you've worked together a fair bit, don't you. I loved Staged. That was such fun.

David: Yeah!

AH: Have you ever not worked together?

David: Now we only work together.

AH: All the time.

David: Yeah. I mean, He's not sitting on this sofa, but he is backstage. We can't be apart.

DO: He's speaking in his ear right now.

David: Exactly, yeah.

AH: But you are... you have got a genuine friendship. You're growing old together gracefully.

David: We're growing old together?!

AH: You look good for it, I'm not going to lie. What's the secret, babe?

David: A lot of makeup. It's very thick.

AH: We've got to talk about the fact that you are returning to Doctor Who.

David: Ah, yes.

AH: I can't believe this. And can you tell us anything at all?

David: I mean, beyond that I'm doing it? I think...

AH: No.

David: Really. Because that's the fun of it, isn't it? Hopefully tt was a bit of a surprise when I showed up. When Jodie Whittaker regenerated into me.

AH: We were shocked.

David: It was a bit of a surprise, so we wanted to sort of keep some shocks, but Catherine Tate's back, so it's a bit like 15 years never happened, to be honest.

DO: Know about it for a while. Like... did Russell T get in touch and say...

David: Yeah, it sort of gradually kind of evolved as an idea and we thought maybe they'd let us do a one off for old time's sake. And then suddenly it became a bit more than that and we were back for a bit of a run.

AH: So how many episodes did you get to do?

David: We did three.

AH: Wow. That's incredible. What's it like to be back? Did he just slot straight back in?

David: I mean, sort of. It felt weirdly familiar. Yeah. And you think, 'Oh, will I still able to run as fast? Can I still kind of...?' But it was like we'd never been away. It was joyous. Yeah.

DO: And could we talk about your son? Because is your son in Good Omens with you?

David: Ty's in... has a part in Episode Two of Good Omens.

AH: Is he?

DO: And I loved him in House of the Dragon.

David: I know. He's very good. He's very good.

DO: What a relief.

David: There he is. I know, what a relief. Exactly. No, I mean...

AH: Imagine if he was bad.

David: Imagine if he was rubbish. How would we tell him? Sit down, listen...I know it's sort of the family business, but maybe joinery? So... no, he's really good. And he's annoyingly good looking. You know, he's just got it all. So it's lovely and great to get to work together. Brilliant.

[asapeveryday]

NEVER THE BRIDE

Oikawa Toru x Reader

Your best friend is getting married and it’s starting to seem like you’ll never get to have that experience. The grooms best man serves as a reminder…or perhaps a change.

INHALE, EXHALE. You’re starting to feel a normal beat, a comfortable rhythm in your breathing as you coax these two words to yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your tears have mostly dried, your makeup has been touched up, your eyes are only slightly red-rimmed.

Inhale, exhale. You haven’t cried this erratically since your high school boyfriend broke up with you. The idea seems so small and irrelevant now compared to all the adult troubles you’ve experienced so far.

Inhale, exhale. Today is the best day of your best friends life thus far. She is legally entwined with a man she’s in love with, she’s going to spend the rest of her days next to him, working through every obstacle and celebrating every achievement. She’s not just your friend anymore, she’s someone’s wife, and soon enough she’ll be someone’s mother.

Inhale, exhale. You feel your stomach lurch as you exit the washroom and spot him at your table, laughing, joking, celebrating the love his own friend Hajime has found in your best friend. You can feel a billion memories stampede any prior attempts to stay collected.

Being next to the bride just hours earlier at the ceremony was colourful and exciting. Being her maid of honour cemented the depth of your friendship even more, even though you had been fighting this nagging feeling that she was leaving you behind. You could stay positive, all you had to do was avoid his gaze as he stood across from you, beside the groom.

When the vows were being read it became apparent just how much he was staring at you, as if begging, no, challenging you to look at his face.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

He clenched his jaw ever so slightly when your eyes flitted to his.

For better, for worse,

You held his gaze despite the growing, gnawing feeling of yearning inside of you at the memory of watching him outgrow your love.

for richer, for poorer,

He shifted on his feet, undoubtedly remembering the many arguments money once caused you two.

in sickness and in health,

The sight of his pale skin accumulating an embarrassed blush that you often saw when he would catch a cold after training outside for too long flashed through your mind.

to love and to cherish,

He practically winced at these words spoken. His face was tense, uncomfortable, but un breaking under your stare. Had he cherished you?

till death do us part.

Words you had wished you’d been able to utter, staring him in the face like you were then…only under different circumstances.

Snapping back to reality, you shake off the residual sadness as best as you can before returning to your table where your problem resides.

“Having fun?” He says, turning to look at you as you sit down.

“Plenty.” You respond curtly. “I’ve been rooting for my girl and Hajime since day one.”

“So have I.” He responds, though the far-away look in his eyes makes you shiver. He’s analyzing you in this awful way, searching for any hidden feelings. You used to hate it when you were together.

“Quit staring at me, Oikawa.” You mutter, and he’s taken aback for a moment.

“Oikawa?” He says, eyebrows furrowed. “Toru. Please, call me Toru.”

“You stopped being Toru a while ago.” You scoff, turning your head. He doesn’t say anything. Even when the table slowly empties into the dance floor and there’s nobody else to distract from the tension, neither of you say anything at all.

You find yourself looking at the mass of people, couples and friends spinning and dancing, laughing and crying tears of joy. You’ve witnessed the same scene over and over again throughout the past year, and you’ve become more and more ashamed with each wedding you’ve attended. Not too long ago you had thought one of these weddings would be yours.

“Does it still bother you?”

You jerk your head towards the voice. “What?”

“Er, does it still hurt you. The weddings.” Oikawa says quietly. You remember now that he was aware, that you had told him about how left behind you felt. You also remember thinking he might be the one to resolve your problem.

“What do you think?” You finally say, turning your body towards him. “Everyone is settling down and I’m alone. All of those weddings this past year, alone? Yeah, it still hurts.”

“You weren’t alone for all of those weddings.” He says, almost too quickly, though you can tell he regrets it. You can feel anger bubbling inside of you regardless. Oikawa had been your plus one almost every time.

“I might as well have been.” You snap. “Or else I would’ve been tied down by now.”

A beat passes. You’re looking down, playing with the plastic table coverings. You know he’s looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry.” He says, soft and considerate. A tone that once soothed you.

“Don’t be.” You say. “You chose your career and it worked. Plus, we would’ve never made it through that, not with your travelling to all these foreign countries, with foreign women and…” you trail off, feeling embarrassed. He wasn’t able to give you what you wanted: stability. It wasn’t in his schedule. He needed to take risks to ensure his place in the world was set, not as your husband, but as an athlete.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by weddings.” Oikawa says. You just look up, hoping he elaborates.

“Me n’ Iwa used to always say we’d have a double wedding.” He chuckles, though it’s slightly hollow. “I remember thinking it wouldn’t work out. He always said I’d probably beat him to it, me being a bit of a ladies man in school and all.” He mumbles the last bit under his breath.

“It’s, uhm. It’s just embarrassing. Looking back at how I just assumed love would come so easily to me. And here I am at his wedding. He found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with before I even managed to establish my career. He found someone he loves.” He finishes.

“And you?” You ask just above a whisper. Oikawa sucks in a breath before meeting your eyes.

“I did too. But I threw it away.”

You hold your breath as you look at him, face warming and body honing a shell shocked buzz. You hold the brunette boys gaze for what seems like ages before one of the bridesmaids comes to your table.

She tells you and Oikawa that the best friends of the bride and groom should be on the dance floor, pulling you and him with each hand and patting you on the back when you glare at her. You awkwardly walk behind him, weaving between masses of white clothed tables to reach the space in the middle of the venue, it’s packed with people and concentrated with upbeat music.

The party music fades to a more somber tune as you and Oikawa enter the crowd. The bride and groom have already had the first dance, so this dance is obviously meant for any other couples. You watch as children and singles filter out, though many friends stay back for the fun of it. You glance around search for someone else to be with during the song when Oikawa turns around to face you.

His hand is held out to yours in an invitation that makes your heart both swell and ache. You stare at his calloused palms and extended fingers in a moment of contemplation, but when he utters a quiet “please” You finally slip your hand in his.

One hand gingerly finds the small of your waist while the other holds your own. His thumb grazes soothing strokes on the skin of your hand and you can feel him looking at your face with such intensity, likes he’s memorizing your features.

You haven’t been this close to Oikawa in ages, you haven’t been handled so softly in just as long. You forgot about the stray sunspots on his face, about the way his ears grow pink when flustered, about how he takes you in so completely. Dancing with him is reminding you of so many beautiful things you’ve forgotten.

“I want you back.” He says.

“If your best friend wasn’t getting married before you would you have still wanted me back?” You quip.

“Forget about Iwa. I wanted you back the minute it ended.”

You glare at him as the two of you slowly spin through the floor. His expression is serious, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tight-lipped.

“I don’t know if I can take another disappointment.” You say. “Not from you, not from anybody.”

You inhale, you exhale. Surprisingly he does too. Your palm is starting to sweat, though he doesn’t pull away. Your breathing is in sync with his.

“I missed you, Toru.” You sigh. Your voice wavers at the confession, but his eyes sparkle at the use of his given name, at the reciprocation of his feelings.

“I’ve wanted to hear that for so long.” He smiles with relief.

“And I’ve wanted to wear white. And be with someone who’ll be mine for the rest of my life.” You respond, frowning. “I don’t know if you can manage that.”

He thinks for a moment, eyes trained on yours still as if it would kill him to look away. He smells like the apartment you two once shared, like the past and something more new and mature.

“Back then I probably couldn’t.” He admits, a small and ashamed smile pulling at his lips. “But I know I can now.”

Inhale, exhale. The song is ending soon, and you’ll be back to your table. You can say no and never be this close to him again, or you can say yes and fight for a chance to be more than a bridesmaid someday.

“I’ll need time.” You finally decide. “And commitment for real this time.”

The music fades and couples begin to part ways. Toru’s hand leaves your waist but his other stays entwined with yours. “All yours.” He says, and you can feel that he means it.

[botnasty]

Miguel O'Hara X reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara X Reader

Summary: You've finally moved on from the man, but did he?

Words: 1,3k

Warning: Angst, mention of miscarriage, big intimidating man, it's just sad people.

Note: Thank you so much character Ai for giving me the idea. Go check out @ fairybaby on c.AI. Also please do tell if I am missing some warnings^^

MAIN MASTERLIST

Please DNI if you are under 18! This is an 18+ blog!

Also, please don’t steal my work, on any other platform, unless you have my authorisation

It happened so fast. One moment you were kissing your new boyfriend goody-bye and the other you had a big scary spider in your living room. Well, a “wanna-be-scary" spider, because that man was your ex-boyfriend.

You sighed removing the high heels you wore to that date. “What are you doing here, Miguel?” When he said nothing, you scoffed. “Can you even have the decency to remove your mark? It’s not like I don’t know your secret.”

“You left your window unlocked.” He said in that deep voice of his that used to make you melt on the spot. He removed his mask, His eyes were glaring at you. He looked the same as the last time you had seen him, which kinda made you sad. You thought that the break up would affect him as much as it did you, but you should’ve guessed. Nothing fazed Miguel O’Hara except for his Spider business. “How many times have I told you to lock it?” You rolled your eyes, but said nothing. instead you stepped closer to him and looked straight in his eyes, something not a lot of people were able to do from how muscular, tall and intimidating the man was.

“You already found another boyfriend?” Miguel asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Miguel’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

You took a step back, fighting the glare of the man with our own. “You are not my boyfriend anymore. You can’t dictate what I do in life.”

When he hears that, Miguel has to bite back a snarl. He's livid that she's not giving an inch - he's not used to that. He's always been able to be the dominant one in the relationship.

"Sure, sure. Fine," his tone is cold and bitter. "Do whatever you want."

“Yes, I will. Good bye, Miguel. Please close the door once you’ve left.” You turned around and started to walk to go get a drink. You were in deep need of one after seeing him.

“Come home.”

‘No.”

He hates this so much. He doesn't want to be the one to lose control, but it's happening anyway. And it's all his own fault. Miguel can feel himself start to boil with rage. His fingers flex as his fists clench.

As you turn to walk away, Miguel grabs your wrist, spinning you around. With a sneer on his face, he glares down at you. "I told you to come home. I am not a man who begs, so just do what I say. And come back home with me."

You tugged your arm off his hold. “And I told you that I don’t belong to you anymore. You can’t control me Miguel. I’m not like all those other Spider people you can just control around to do whatever you like. I am my own person and that is why we aren’t together anymore; because you only see me as this doll for you to manipulate.”

His head snaps back a little bit as you yank your arm away, but he doesn't let go and instead he steps forward, his eyes blazing. Miguel's never been in this situation before - losing control to someone other than himself. His hands wrap around your wrists with a painful grip as he glares down at you.

"You think you're better than them?" He growls. "You're nothing but a pathetic human, and you belong with me."

“You’re hurting me.” Your eyes started to get glazed with tears. Your wrist hurting from his powerful hold and by his claw digging into your skins.

Miguel's eyes widen when he realizes he's hurting her. He lets go and steps back, taking a second to regain himself and calm his temper. "I'm sorry." He says, but he doesn't know if he really means it, or if he's just trying to be a good person.

You rubbed your now slightly bruised wrist, trying to soothe the hurt. Fury and pain were clashing inside of you. You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or slap the man for having the audacity. “I know you aren’t, Miguel. Please leave me alone. This is the exact reason I broke up with you.”

"You broke up with me because I get angry easily?" Miguel repeats, with a scoff. "That's ridiculous." He steps back to cross his arms across his chest, glaring down at you. "You just don't like people standing up to you - and I was the only one who did."

“You call that standing up to me? I call this abuse and over-protectiveness. You weren’t in love with me Miguel. You just liked knowing you had someone you could control.” Your eyes were frantically looking in between his brown one you used to love staring at in the morning.

Your words sting. Miguel winces, taking a few seconds to let out a frustrated growl. His head snaps back for a second before he takes a deep breath. His tone is calm, but cold, "I did love you."

"You just never let me prove it."

“I gave you plenty of chances, Miguel. And every time… you just proved me the opposite. Where were you when I had my miscarriage? Where were you when I needed you the most? You were just out there being Spider-Man, Miguel.” Tears were now flowing down your eyes.

He knows you are right, but part of him doesn't want to admit it. Miguel felt his temper start to boil again, his eyes narrowed in anger.

"That's what I had to do," he growled, defensively. "I have responsibilities. I couldn't be there for you."

Miguel knew he was wrong. He was terrible to you. But that didn't mean it was easy to admit that she deserved more.

“You are right. That is what you need to do… Spider-man has taken a big part of your life, Miguel. I don’t see where I fit in anymore.”

You sighed. “I'm done with this conversation. Good bye, Miguel.” You pointed at your door.

He's left with two options at this point: he can either let you leave, and face the reality that he's lost control over you... Or he can try to stop you, and maybe, somehow, get you back. And that's the option he chooses. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like he can't stand the thought of walking out of that door.

"Wait!" he calls out, stepping towards you. "Can I- We can talk about this-"

‘No, Miguel. There is nothing to talk about this. Please.” You placed a hand on his biceps with a sad smile. “If you love me like you say you do… let me go. Let me be happy.”

He wants to argue, but he knows she's right: he can't keep her against her will. You have good reason to leave him - and you really want to.

Miguel lets out a pained sigh and steps back, crossing his arms across his chest. "Fine." He says, in a bitter tone. "Do whatever you want. Just... take care of yourself." He's obviously holding a lot back - he wanted to tell you everything - but he's not going to force you to listen.

“Thank you… this is goodbye, Miguel. And don’t worry, your secret is safe. Take good care of yourself.” You smiled at him one last time then opened the door and left.

Miguel watched her go for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, before sighing and burying his head in his hands, a mix of emotions running rampant through him as he contemplates what's just happened.

After a while, he sighed, and looked to the open door, looking out into the city that he's spent so little time in these days. He knew that, if he didn't want to lose her... He had to make some changes.

[literaila]

ten minute walk 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

“i’m going to punch you in the spleen.” 

“you don’t even know where my spleen is.” 

“only one way to find out.” 

warnings: my dearest fluff 

a/n: i’ve just become aware of how much my characters argue. i’ve no excuse except for arguings fun. 

*

"it's okay, peter." you smile at him, feeling something inside your chest yearning to escape. "really." 

he raises a brow at you, questioning your sanity. "you think that's going to change my mind? 'it's okay?'" 

you frown. "i'll be fine." 

"well, i won't." 

and he grabs your hand--without asking because this is normal now--pulling you with him as he begins to walk. he could be leading you anywhere. taking you down any path--foreign and unknown and completely fine as long as you're with peter. 

as long as he takes you with him, you're willing to go. as long as he keeps holding your hand. 

and even though you already know, you don't ask anyway. it doesn't much matter. 

"it's a ten-minute walk." 

you scrap your feet against the pavement, effectively getting him to stop even though he pulls at your arm. 

there are remnants of pleading in his eyes; a yearning of your heart to just let him lead you along. 

but you refuse to listen to your inhibitions. 

"ten minutes for anything to happen." 

"nothing's going to happen," you give an inkling of a smile, hoping to persuade him. 

peter does the same because he's not stupid. "it's ten more minutes that i get to spend with you." 

you snatch your hand away from him as if burned by his sickly sweet tone. 

you snort. "you get to walk home alone." 

"i'm not gonna walk." 

"peter, i'm trying to get you to bed on time." 

"sweetheart, i'm trying not to go crazy worrying about you." 

you raise a brow. cross your arms, making sure that he can't reach. "this is purely self-serving," you complain. 

"yup." 

and if you were to look at him, really--which you're not because you refuse to lose this game again--you might see the unspoken words in his eyes. you might just catch the tenderness. 

the push and pull of his lips, the falling apart, and daring to breathe. 

you might just catch his smile. 

"c'mon," peter says, taking a step forward and leaning his head down towards you. "it's getting late." 

"it's going to be later if you walk me home." 

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, effectively spinning you around so that he can begin pulling you along. dragging you across the pavement like you're a child. 

which, in hindsight, isn't too far off. 

"peter," you whine. 

"the more you argue the later it's going to be," peter chides softly, right in your ear. 

because he knows how to break you down. 

he's done it enough times, convinced you to follow him blindly with only a couple of pleas, kissed your skin until sensibility was a meek thing--not as potent as the way peter whispers in your ear. 

you shiver, trying to shake him off. 

and you can feel his breath when he laughs. 

still, there are the smallest parts of you that need him to let you go. that need a moment to remember what it's like to be normal, and thoughtful. 

and not broken at the idea of holding his hand. 

"i'm going to hit you in the spleen." 

resorting to violence is the only option. 

peter laughs louder, voice echoing in the air. "you don't even know where my spleen is." 

"only one way to find out." 

so peter removes his arm from around you, hand reaching out to grab your face and pull you towards him. 

your feet seem to go without an ounce of restraint; your eyes don't, because you look at the ground, wondering about germs. 

about how close you have to be to someone to melt into them. 

"hey," he says, softly, smiling--you can hear it. "look at me." 

you do, but only because you want to see him. 

you want to see the honeysuckle, the tight little lines on his skin that tell you more than just one story. 

"just let me walk you home," peter whispers to you, fingertips brushing over your ears and down your neck. "it'll make me feel better." 

"i just don't get why i can't--" 

"do you know how many people i see each night, walking by themselves?" 

you swallow, eyes meeting eyes. skin far too close to yours. 

"it's not worth it, baby," he says, a quirk of his lip. "even though i know you just want to argue with me." 

your brows furrow. "i don't argue." 

"yeah," peter laughs. "you do." 

"only when you're being stupid." 

you can feel his breath against your skin. his hands haven't left, and his eyes are permanently stuck on you, apparently. 

"peter," you say when he doesn't. 

"it's only ten minutes," he says, as an argument to himself. "please?" 

and it might just be the way he's looking at you--magic in his eyes, lighting up your face far more than any streetlight could--soft and smooth and so lovely. 

it might be his pleading smile. it might be because he knows you so well, knows just where to push and pull you. 

but eventually, when staring at more than just his eyes, you nod. 

peter chuckles, against your face. "good." 

you frown. 

"if you'd said no i was gonna have to follow you home." 

"objection." 

peter still hasn't moved. 

you still refuse to breathe. 

still got that annoying pulling of your chest. the want to be alone just so you can exhale. 

but peter is there because you're not going to tell him to leave. because you don't think you can. 

you smile at him, finally. maybe it's because he's smiling back. 

"let's go," he whispers to you. "it's getting late." 

but not before he kisses you, soft and relentless. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog​​​ @v1ci0us​​​ @preciousbabypeter​​​ @alexxavicry​​​ @directioner5life​​​ @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​​​ @localrockstargf​​​  

[starlight-eclipsed]

DPXDC Social Media AU

Fic below!

The video started, the camera focusing on the scene before it. A teenager’s bedroom was shown, decorated with posters of space and model rockets. It was deceptively normal, had it not been for fans pointing out that they weren’t labeled LexCorp, Wayne, or any of the other leading names in aerospace.

“Hey everyone!” The teen in question greeted, smiling at the camera as he waved. “Danny here! Sorry for the radio silence—two of my rogues decided to do a collaboration and kidnapped a bunch of people. My parents grounded me and took all my video games since I kinda trashed a bunch of their equipment saving them, so I finally had enough time to record this. Again, grabbing a smartphone from you guys’ dimension was absolutely the right call. Looking forward to when the ones here will get to that level and I can use mine in public.”

Sitting back in his seat, Danny waved his hands. Papers from around the room were pulled up in the air, showing a variety of news clippings, report cards, and event flyers from the last year. “Sweet, that worked! I know it’s been a year, but I’m still getting used to these powers. Anyway, today’s topic is: secret identities! Specifically how much they can suck sometimes.”

The papers drop as he spins in his chair and folds his arms.

“Okay, so I’m gonna start this by saying I only speak for myself. Your dimension has a ton of other heroes who have all kinds of perspectives on this kind of thing. It’s also not an invitation to start harassing your friends and coworkers if they pull any stunts like the ones I’m gonna talk about. Some people are just flaky, some have other things in their life going on that they don’t want to talk to you about. In the extremely unlikely chance that you’re right and the friend who keeps bailing on you is a vigilante, you should leave that shit alone. No matter how justified you are in getting upset that they don’t have the time for you, trying to expose them can kill not only them, but everyone they want to protect. Don’t do it.”

Clapping his hands Danny tilts his head to listen for something before continuing. “With that out of the way and my whole family leaving the house, let’s get to it. Going ghost!”

A flash of light marks the transformation, revealing Phantom at the end. He adjusts the camera so that he remains in frame as he now floats in his room.

“So if you’re new here, let me run through the basics. When I was fourteen, I died and came back wrong. No, I won’t go into the details—I don’t need any of you getting any ideas. I can appear as human, so me and my two best friends decided to keep it a secret from my parents, who are ghost hunters. The current arrangement is that I go out as Phantom to fight off aggressive ghosts when they attack, and the rest of time I try to lead a somewhat abnormal civilian life.”

“Onto the topic. Now, the main reason people keep their identity secret is so that their enemies can’t use it to hurt them. I…sorta do that? I mean I’d be in a lot of trouble if ghost hunters figured me out, and the government here kinda revoked my human rights so there’s that. But there’s no hiding from other ghosts. Not when we can sense each other. I’m just lucky for the anti-ghost hunter solidarity, it’s probably the only reason my rogues haven’t revealed my human identity to the world.”

He shivered dramatically.

“So, humans. People. Being a superpowered vigilante is all fun and games except when an attack happens during class. I don’t even ask to go to the bathroom anymore, the teachers gave up on stopping me,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Don’t get me started on how many times I’ve gotten grounded or given extra detentions because I was busy stopping someone from torching a building or possessing someone to ruin their life in creative ways. I can’t just tell them why I wasn’t there, so I either have to act like an idiot who forgot that I have classes to attend or pretend like I was skipping on purpose. Which I was, but not like that, ya know?”

“Another thing! My grades have completely tanked. I used to be a straight A student, I needed to be if I wanted to be an astronaut. But no, I had to go and get myself killed, and now my biology is all messed up so I can’t even qualify for the physical if my grades were good enough. Which they aren’t, because now I spend most of my time brawling whatever ghost of the day. And like, sure. I could do my homework and study in the rest of the time I have that’s not spent sleeping. But that’s exhausting, and honestly I’d rather take the F than spend all my time working.”

He sighed, slumping down a bit in his chair.

“It just sucks. My sister is setting records on her exams, and I’m a few pity-grades away from being held back a year. At least now I can handle most of the regulars by myself, so I’m not dragging my friends down with me. They deserve better.”

Danny opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by mist escaping his lungs. He groaned, using his telekinesis to put his room back in order (notably cramming his graded assignments behind his dresser) and reaching for the camera.

“That’s my cue. Here’s hoping I can handle whoever’s out there fast enough so I have time to get started on my book report. Over and out.”

The video ended there. For many, that would be the last they’d hear of what was speculated to be the best performance-style LARP series for a while. Fans would start analyzing the footage not in the comments section, which was disabled, but in a separate online forum.

However, there was one place, albeit less well known, that one Danny Phantom would respond in.

———

Anonymous said

its good to see yuo posting again, but you looked really stressed. are you ok?

phantompaining

lol no

—

metwise said

I completely agree with you on your recent video. Vigilante work is hard; I was lucky when I started out, and I still nearly died many times over. Don’t let your grades get to you, if your school system is anything like this world’s equivalent then it is based heavily on busywork. Next time you’re visiting this world, try looking into online schooling. There should be free resources online you can download and follow along at your own pace to supplement the classes you miss. So long as you score well on tests, you can make up for the homework grades.

phantompaining

oh ill have to look into that, sounds neat. not sure if ill get around to actually studying any of it, but its better than nothing. i cant wait for my earth to catch up with yours, online school sounds so much better

gottabeoakin

Ayo is that Red Robin? Why tf is he takin some kids larp so seriously

implusivefruit

bold words from the deathnote rp acc

—

phantompaining

shoutout to my rogues, who beat the shit out of me, dropped some new ghost lore, then backed me up in fighting an army of the undead

also mech suits hurt like hell how does skulker do it

beetletakethewheel

Mech suits shouldn’t hurt??

phantompaining

my parents’ one runs on lifeforce

anyway if i had a dollar for every time i woke up somewhere i didn’t pass out in these last few days i’d have enough money to buy a burger

killmetwise 

How much do your burgers cost

phantompaining

(:

—

phantompaining

when the hell did so many supers start following me where are you people coming from

superttk

‘why r there so many heroes’ says the hero on the hero site

01101001-01100011-01110101

its like the only anonymous platform left that doesnt suck

totallynotharleyquinn

Free entertainment <3

phantompaining

ok fair

phantompaining

wait a second

—

coalminesinger said

Hello Phantom! I just wanted to check in on you after your last few posts. Did you enjoy your weekend off?

phantompaining

nope lol, technus escaped and I used one of my parents inventions to split myself to try and relax while handling the ghost issue and just made more work for myself

metwise 

#on the plus side my house is now on the beach #just in time for summer

You live in the middle of town???

phantompaining

yea putting it back is gonna be a pain

—

phantompaining

ok this is gonna be a heavy one folks. like arkham asylum levels of shit. i just spent the last week with my family convinced i was going insane, and i need to vent

:readmore:

discowinginginging

That really really sucks, and I’m so sorry you had to go through that.

I went through a similar experience (only I was under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug that made me see, hear, and feel the villain in question, who wasn’t actually there). I was lucky enough to be on a team with someone who could read my mind and figure out what was happening, but if you can’t do that the next best thing is figuring out code words with anyone in the know. Obviously it’s not perfect, but some kind of word indicating that you feel like something is very wrong could save you a lot of trouble.

More under the cut.

:readmore:

phantompaining

…that could work? ill have to talk to my friends about it, but it sounds good

#thanks #still cant believe so many of yall are following this

[rottingpirate]

You're hurting me || Simon "Ghost" Riley x M!reader

Warnings; typical CoD violence, blood, gunshot wounds, slight angst

A/N: the title makes this sound angstier than it actually is, it's pretty fluffy tbh

The sound reached your ears before the bullet imbedded itself into your body. You fell to the ground with a thud, feeling sort of dizzy, your head spinning from the loud gunfire. It could be from the headache or maybe it was the bullet that pierced through your shoulder. You coughed up blood, gripping the bullet wound tightly.

"Fuck- Shit. Shit," you whispered to yourself as you tried to stop the bleeding. "Just stay awake," was all you could think of at that moment.

"Y/N" you heard Ghost through the comms, "You still with us? What happened."

"Ah, L.T., fuck. I'm shot. I've got no ammo left," 

You could hear him mumbling something under his breath, probably about how reckless and stupid you were. "How bad?"

"Just the shoulder. It's not that big of a deal…"

It was silent for a couple of seconds. "Get up and leave before someone shoots your brains out next. You need to get out of there." Silence followed, as you slowly sat up, wincing at the throbbing pain in your shoulder. Damn, the bastard got me good. 

Your vision starts to get fuzzy at the edges, all the colors and sounds seeming to blur together in your head. No no no stay cool, it’s fine, you can take this, Y/N. Whatever you do, just don’t get angry.

Your shoulder hurt like a bitch, The arm was covered in a thick layer of blood and it was dripping, slowly, down into the cold and muddy ground. The pain was welcomed though because it chased away the sleepiness that had been starting to creep over you and this time when you moved, biting your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. You can do this. You have to do this.

/

Ghost was determined to make a quick getaway, so he grabbed your better arm and helped you into the car as quietly as possible. Once you were in, he hurried around to the driver's side, hopped in, and drove away. You kept your head held in both palms and leaned forward during the ride, focusing on the scenery outside the window. The rhythmic hum of the engine was almost soothing, but you could still feel your heart pounding in your chest.

/

Ghost had searched the infirmary in vain, unable to find the person he was looking for. It was impossible that you hadn't walked in; you had to be here somewhere. With a small sigh of frustration, he turned to Soap, who stood at his side. "Have you seen Y/N?"

Soap glanced around, before answering, “Think I saw him go to his room.” 

Ghost nodded, “Thanks, Soap.” Ghost was determined to make it to your room in the shortest amount of time possible. He felt a sense of urgency as he quickly navigated through the crowded space. Every step was filled with intention as he noted the people around him, yet he also felt a sense of urgency. He knew that you needed medical attention and he was not going to let anything stand in his way.

You lay in your bed. Pain still ached from your wounds. You grimaced from a shock wave of pain that flowed in your body. You jumped slightly as you heard a light knocking on the door.

The door to your room opens with a small whoosh of air. You were shirtless, with dozens of wounds and bruises. You looked up. “Ghost...” You greeted nervously.

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.

If looks could kill you'd be dead by now. You probably thought he was pissed off right now. Which he is, but he was mostly horrified. Not because of the sight of blood, but because you had so many scars and wounds that you seemed to not care about. He always knew you were the selfless-type, but at this point you might as well be killing yourself. Ghost felt his heartbreak at the sight and he vowed to do whatever was necessary to help you.

Ghost took in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitted. He sat beside you, looking at all the speckles of blood on your white sheets before sitting down. “Y/N, why the hell did you think it was a good idea to head to your room instead of the infirmary?”

You muttered back that it wasn't a big deal, pulling the sheets up more closer to your chin. It was like you were trying to keep yourself warm. He sighed and wiped your hair off your forehead. “Leave me alone." you whispered, but he refused to budge. He looked at you with a stern expression, his eyes scanning your wounds.

“You're not fine,” Ghost looked at you.

He grabbed the first aid kit and took out bandages, an antiseptic, and cotton balls. Both of you sat still as he applied the chemical to your wound.

You were overcome with emotion as he wrapped a good amount of gauze arund the wound. “Told you, didn't think it was a big deal.”

"Y/N..." He was worried, scared.

His expression softened as he gestured at the gashes and cuts down your arms and neck,“ I’m pretty sure this is not fine.”

"I'm fine." You told him shortly.

You shrugged, “there’s more people with more injuries than me. Besides, this isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Still,” Ghost continued, treating to your wounds, “you have to go to the infirmary when you’re injured."

He breathed out when he wrapped the last gauze. You glanced up at him, “I’ll consider it, sir.” He nodded

"You broke your promise." Huh? 

"Wh-"

"You promised you wouldn't get reckless." His voice raised a little. "You lied." He was angry and hurt, but he kept his emotions in check. He knew you were trying to do what was right, but the recklessness had put you in danger.

“Uh, Ghost? You alright?”

His gaze still pinned at the number of scars on your body. His fingers clenched together. He felt a combination of emotions - anger, sorrow, and guilt. He was angry that he hadn't been around to protect you, and sorrowful that you had to go through this alone.

His gaze was still fixed on your body as he silently took in the sight. The pain in his chest seemed unbearable, yet he did not dare express it. He knew you were doing what you thought was best for him, but he wanted to be the one who could protect you. You were selfless and brave in the face of danger - a quality that Ghost admired. He was grateful for your presence in his life and vowed to return the favor.

He looked up, slowly shaking his head, “No, I’m not. I’m worried about you,” You laughed lightly, “since when were you worried about me? Isn’t this my job?”

Ghost ignored your joke, “since now I’m worried,” he shot back, “you have so many scars, it’s actually getting concerning.” you furrowed your eyebrows, your face turning serious.

“You always say we should be careful but at this point it doesn’t even look like you care if you get hit!” He said, his voice raising to a yell, “and honestly, it’s a little hypocritical.”

You glared at him, “I’m not being a hypocrite, Ghost. And even if I was, it’s for a good reason. I don’t want you guys to get more hurt.” Ghost laughed bitterly, “oh! So it’s okay if you get hurt? See, a hypocrite.”

“Ghost, I am not being a hypocrite," you stated firmly, you put on your ‘enough is enough’ face, the face that you’d usually use to end an argument. 

Ghost wasn't going to walk out the room just yet though.

"You don't get it, do you?" He shouted, "if you keep risking yourself like this, I might never see you again. Don’t you get it? You’re hurting yourself! You’re hurting me." The last sentence came out as a whisper, but you picked it up. 

A shot of pain and guilt had you doubling over, your fingers cleching.

"You're like a child!" Ghost continued, "You’re nothing but an irritating, self-centered bastard who only thinks about himself. You-”

You flinch back, looking regretful, but mostly infuriated, "Ghost-"

"No, just, shut up!" he shouted, regretting his outburst. Ghost's already menacing glare took on a murderous glint. You have never seen him this angry, seeing him yelling was a whole new experience.

He was scared. He was so, so, so damn scared that you might die one day sacrificing yourself for them. Why can't you see that?

You scoffed, trying to keep your cool "Ghost, I'm alive, so stop bitchin'" 

Ghosts head snapped up. You had just spoken to your superior in a manner that could be considered disrespectful - something you knew better than to do.

“Look,” you said. “I know how you feel, and I’m sorry you have to put through this. But, there’s a silver lining: you can cope with the current pain knowing that you will eventually have a dreamless sleep when you’re getting some rest. It may not be forever, but it could be a good trade-off.”

You just shrugged. "It's a nice bonus in some way."

You looked at him. He looked back, but said nothing. The tension in the room was palpable and you felt yourself shrinking as he continued to stare. He said nothing and eventually you looked away, unable to continue the silent battle of wills.

There was a sense of unpredictability in the air, and it didn't seem to get any better over time.

/

The rest of the day, Ghost stayed in his room and stared at an old picture of you and him. You were smiling, and you didn't look like you had any wounds or injuries.

Even though it would harm you, your insatiable desire to defend your friends to the fullest extent was the only thing that remained constant.

Ghost thought it was great at first. He was aware that no matter what, you would always have his back. He wishes you could now be a little bit selfish for a while.

You, to no one's surprise, was the one who opened his door. Probably going to lecture him about how "being in this line of work means you have to make sacrifices" or "I'm just trying to protect you" are examples of heroism and cliché. As Ghost took a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself.

"Ghost, I'm sorry."

That was certain to surprise him. An apology? His only word as he stared at you was a small "what?"

"You’re right," You said as you sat down on a nearby chair. "I'm being hypocritical."

You elaborated, "I want to stay here for as long as I can," adding, "I thought about what you said, and I promise that from now on I’ll try to think about myself more."

Ghost approached you and gave you a hug. Before chuckling and responding to the embrace, You let out a quiet "oh."

He cracked a joke, half-joking, "Glad I finally got through your thick skull." patting your back, you also let out a small laugh.

Now, all that Ghost wanted was for you to keep your word this time.

[blinddreams24]

Marine Biologist

A Mermay Prompt

(Note: please forgive me if I incorrectly write diving. I’ve never gone diving before so you’ll have to bare with me)

Masterlist

Next

Weightlessness. Peace.

You drifted lazily between the boulders riddled with coral and a few fish darted between the colorful plant life. You hummed out a couple bubbles, imitating the deep breath you couldn’t take while submerged. No oxygen tank this time, just a snorkel, you weren’t going that deep anyways.

The current pushed gently at you, trying to coax you out into deeper waters. You would not be fooled. The ocean was a terrifyingly dangerous place, one wrong stroke and you’d be swept out into the middle of the ocean with nothing but a snorkel. Bad idea. You could go deeper when you had the right equipment and company. For now, you were studying how the coral was adapting to its environment.

Something… big moved.

In all your years in the water, you prided yourself on being the most observant when it came to water pressure and currents. You could locate most of your fellow coworkers when you all would briefly spit up. Something about the awkward way they shifted the water always tipped you off. Fish, being naturally adapted to the water, were far harder to locate. Which made sense. They had to hide, whether predator or prey. It just came natural to them.

However, sometimes, something big enough would move too quickly and you’d notice it. This helped you warn your team of sharks and barracudas in the past.

And there was something big.

Behind you.

You spun around as fast as you could without startling an attack, which was much slower than you would like. Your eyes fell on… nothing. Just a few anemones and a school of fish quickly darting out of sight. Maybe the school set off your senses?

Something white vanished behind a boulder.

White? There weren’t any white aquatic creatures in your area. Your brows knit. It could be trash. Ugh. Why couldn’t people clean up after themselves?

A few gentle kicks sent you over the rock to find the stray bit of trash when a muffled scream and a flurry of bubbles blinded you. You yelped out a few bubbles yourself as you desperately tried to backpedal in water. Whatever it was, and it was huge, darted around you and went for your back. There wasn’t much you could do but try to spin to defend yourself before your arms were wrapped up in a hug from behind.

What in the drunken stars?!

You thrashed in the hold of this creature. What was it? A person? A fish? Some sketchy internet cryptid come to life here to take yours? Or worse… a giant cuttlefish? You shuddered. Hopefully, whatever it was would at least leave you alive. Not that that outcome was looking too likely.

Water pushed your snorkel to the side as you slowly realized you were moving. It was taking you somewhere. Where, you couldn’t tell. Every time you tried to look forward or up, something hard would push your head from behind so you couldn’t see.

You tried to growl out a warning and noticed just how much air you had left. Your eyes widened. You needed air. Fast.

Your useless flippered feet tried to kick behind you but you could barely move them at this speed. Your captor was a far better swimmer than you.

Light glanced off your goggles and into your eyes moments before a loud splash drenched you in air. You gasped and drank in the air before turning you attention back to escaping your captor.

You started thrashing again and screamed.

A skeletal hand clamped down on your mouth.

“Shh! You’re gonna get us both killed!” Whisper-snapped a breathless, masculine voice in your ear. His chest heaved gently as he tried to calm himself and you at the same time. He’d taken you to a cliff side shallow beach that would be completely submerged come tide. Not many people knew this little alcove beside you and you’d hoped to keep it that way.

“Mph!” You retorted. If he wanted you calm he shouldn’t have kidnapped you across the reef! You were… half a mile from your car!

“Ah. I’m sorry. I’m not used to… people….” His grip loosened. “I… Please don’t scream. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

…That wasn’t threatening or ominous at all.

You nodded.

With a heavy sigh, the hand over your mouth slowly let go, obviously ready to silence you without a moment’s hesitation but giving you a chance to speak.

You tried to push away from him but he held you still against his chest, not letting you see him. You growled. “What do you want from me? I don’t have any valuables on me. And I’m not worth much to anyone.”

“Woah. Uh, stars. No, I don’t- stars, are you okay?” Actual concern laced his voice.

You thrashed again but stilled when his arm came forward to cup your mouth. “I am not confiding in my kidnapper! You can go meet a sharks third layer of teeth first!”

“Heh, already have. Listen, I’m not here to hurt you, and I’m sorry for scaring you. If you really want me to leave, I’ll leave.” There was a… serious tone in his voice. Like a soldier awaiting a command.

“Yes! Go! I don’t want to be kidnapped today!” You snapped.

“Yessir.” His arms grabbed yours and pushed you away from his chest. “Little tip, get out of the water as soon as I let go. There are… sharks nearby. Very aggressive sharks. Stay safe.” He released you.

Taking your chance to see your captor, you spun around to see…ripples. He was gone. A nervous glance at the secretive waves had you taking the stranger’s advice and swimming to shore. You rode a wave onto the pebbly beach and heaved yourself into an upright position.

You could have sworn you saw something red flash across the water at you but nothing was there when you looked.

Flippers came off and you ran. Barefoot or not, you were not going back in the water.

Not today.

[soukokumychildren]

I. ABSOLOUTLY. ADORE YOUR IDEA WITH YOUR AU SO MUCHhhhhaaaaah!! ✨✨✨✨🖤🖤

Chuuya having WINGS!!? Even though he could in somee way fly before already, it feels so different with wings!! Like really cool!!

(( I have always Liked wings -

Is your AU going to follow the main time-line of the show? Like, the illustrations you've posted sure does look like it-- (love them- love this idea-) ((Soukoku Reunion where Chuuya has feathers!!? ✨)

Wait, wait, wait, No- dont spoil anything..! (maybe just a little yes or no- that wouldn't really spoil anything—) I will find out as I read—!

I mainly wanted to say I'm really looking forward to reading this!!

It's my first BSD AU where it follows the main time-line - just differently- as well! A thing I really like!!

Well, if it really does ofc, but It sure does look like it—Arg, I gotta just continue reading soon——

Even if it don't this seems really interesting already!!!

Ahem, anyhow, this became a bit long- I wanted to expres my excitement about this-especially after, you even looked at some of my BSD stuff after I followed you!!!!

Thank you soo much!✨ That became the last push to write this little too long text, that isn't really a question, but more like a thank you-ahh im excited for this-- that I had already considered writing to you after I started reading😅😅👍

This entire post just made my day and while I could I'd rather not risk dying from lightheadedness from spinning too fast in excitement in my spinny chair XDDDDD THANK YOU SO MUCH

I can't express how embarrassed I am just fshfhsgshgsghshg I have been CRAZY for wings for AGES now, and I just saw soooo many posts about how "what if Chuuya could fly Dazai" I thought, fuckers, I can make that REALITY And it is going to follow the main timeline of the show just...alot differently but at the same time trying really hard to stick to the normal plot In hindsight that means I must suffer with all my energy to watch the first season of bsd (When I first watched BSD, the first episodes were for setup, and rightfully so. That all made sense, it really put the characters together. But I watched it a second time and it dragged ON and ON and I COULDN'T STAND IT UNTIL CHUUYA CAME TO GRAB DAZAI gARgHHrhgh). I must admit I'm confused on the "Soukoku reunion where Chuuya has feathers" bit though 🤔 And currently during the plot I'm writing I have to improvise ALOT from what I know, and really this fic is also whatever the fuck I wanna write with whatever writing style I have on hand slapped into each 1K chapter so I'm really trying here LOL Also the fact when [undisclosed plot device] will be introduced, I'll be writing seperate smut for [undisclosed plot device] because I can then do WHATEVER I want wITHOUT any repercussions Hopefully I can add in [undisclosed plot device] just in a way that people will understand. Though I hear that Beast Dazai also came across [undisclosed plot device] at one point :D

I'm going SO offtopic here LMFAO And seriously? Really??? I'm surprised! I'm sure theres alot of fics that go by the timeline, I especially have run into cough ones which I liked which are specifically smut related..... and I go back to off topic I'm sorry LMAO But I'm sosoosososo glad you like it! It just means alot to me you wrote alot and now I'm just ranting because you've shown genuine interest without going off the rails (as far as I've seen) so this is pretty cool for me too!!! And I do usually look to peoples accounts who follow me (especially those who find interest in a SURPRISING amount of my stuff XD) so yeah, that's why and I found some GOOD stuff on your account too, so that's REALLY awesome. Talk to me any time! Dm me, reblog and talk to me that way, use replies, whatever the fuck! I love talking to people, and this was genuinely fun to write. :]

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author's Note: *peeks my head out* hi

You guys over here on tumblr can't see the chapter count, but this is the last chapter! This story has been… shit, at least three years in the making? From the first brainstorm to today it has gone through a fuck ton of changes and updates and fights between me and my own characters when they wouldn't do what I wanted them to. But I really honestly love where it ended up and how things worked out. I hope you did too, and thank you so much for reading! I've really loved seeing everyone's comments and theories as the story goes on, and sometimes I honestly can't believe how many people read it, it's easily my most popular story for this fandom xD

But anyways, thank you so much for reading it! This story means a lot to me, and I hope you enjoy the ending and that you enjoyed the whole thing overall!

Chapter Forty-Three:

Most days, Virgil woke up alone now.  Logan said it was a good sign that he no longer worried enough about Remus’ safety to have to sleep in the same bed with him every night.  If Virgil had a bad night, he’d end up there.  If it was a really bad night, sometimes Roman would already be there.  But those were becoming few and far between, and more likely, Virgil would wake up, get dressed, and head downstairs to find Remus making some kind of monstrosity in the kitchen with Patton.

That was precisely what happened this morning, as Virgil walked downstairs and found Patton had made a horrible mistake in apparently thinking Remus was ready to learn how to make pancakes.

Spilled batter was covering everything in the kitchen, including Patton and Remus themselves.  Currently, Remus was pouring batter onto the griddle, and Virgil cringed and stepped back lest Remus somehow find a way to launch it several feet.

But some of the practice must have paid off, because Remus pulled the bowl up in time to make a pancake that actually looked more or less okay.

“Alright!” Remus called happily, setting the bowl down on the counter and spilling more as he did so.  “Now when do we add the bacon?”

“Bacon is normally a side that comes with the pancakes,” Patton said.  “But we might be able to add some to yours after we flip it.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Language!”

“Good morning,” Virgil called, startling Patton into spinning around.  Remus simply glanced over his shoulder and called “Hi Virgil!”

“Oh, good morning kiddo,” Patton said with a smile.  “We’re attempting to make pancakes.  I’ll admit you were a much less messy student.”

“Thank you!” Remus called, beaming at Patton.

“It may be a while before breakfast, but I think Logan was actually looking for you,” Patton said.  “He went back up to his room, but he should be down any—”

“Ah, Virgil, you are just the side I was looking for.”

“Minute,” Patton finished with a smile and nod behind Virgil.

Virgil turned around as Patton turned to try and explain flipping pancakes to Remus.

“What’s up teach?” he asked, following Logan into the living room.

“I wanted to invite you to the editing session today,” Logan said, setting his notes and his copy of the script for the upcoming video down on the coffee table.

“For the video?” Virgil asked in confusion.  “I don’t normally have much of a part in that process.”

“I am aware.  However, Remus mentioned the other day that you used to do quite a bit of editing for his ideas, back when there wasn’t anyone else around to do so,” Logan said.  “And as someone more familiar with his contributions as I am more familiar with Roman’s, I thought it was only fair to see if you wanted to join.  I think it is an especially good idea considering this latest video will be heavily focused on you and Remus.”

Virgil smiled a little.  “Well, that’s… not a terrible idea, I guess.”

The corners of Logan’s lips turned up slightly, and he nodded.  “Excellent, I look forward to seeing you there.”

“Oh, are you talking about the editing session later?” Remus called from the kitchen, turning and flinging a pancake up as he did so which promptly landed on Patton’s head.  “Virgey, are you going to come?”

“I’ll be there, Re, pay attention!” Virgil called, though Patton was laughing and didn’t seem at all upset.

“Awesome!” Remus called, turning to pour more batter now that the pancake was ruined.

Virgil picked up on Roman’s footsteps just before they started down the stairs, and had just enough time to realize that he was going to be disappointed before he called, “I smell pancakes!”

“Remus is making them,” Virgil called as his head came into view.  “I’d stick with frozen waffles unless you want to wait a while.”

“…That’s probably best,” Roman sighed.

“Hey, I didn’t even add anything poisonous this time!” Remus called from the kitchen.

Virgil leaned back on the couch with a chuckle as Roman headed into the kitchen to make waffles.  Remus made sure to flip a pancake onto his head anyway.

The volume in the kitchen started to raise as Roman and Remus started exchanging banter, and Virgil used the cover to turn and face Logan.  “Do you know how Janus is doing?”

“A little better, I think,” Logan said with a smile.  “He did some acting with Roman yesterday, and didn’t seem to even have a motive beyond having fun with him.  At least, that’s what Roman said he thought was going on.”

“That’s good,” Virgil said.  He shifted so he could push himself up to sit on the top of the couch.

“He’s also started forcing people to take breaks again,” Logan said.  “And if he’s confident enough to do that, I think that’s a good sign.”

“People?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow at Logan.

“I did not do anything work-related after dinner yesterday, like we all agreed on,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses.  “I was researching purely for the sake of enjoyment.”

“Yeah?  What’d you find out?”

Logan’s eyes lit up, and he launched into a rant about astronomy that Virgil could mostly keep up with.

They were both there until Remus and Patton managed to finish one pancake for each of them, and Patton headed upstairs to take a shower with a remark that he’d grab Janus on the way back down.  Remus, on the other hand, was attempting to lick the batter off to clean himself, which would be more efficient according to him.

Patton’s showers didn’t take long, meaning about fifteen minutes later he and Janus started down the steps and over towards the kitchen.  Janus sat next to Logan on the opposite side of the table from where Virgil and Remus had picked, but the dark circles under his eyes were less heavy today, which was progress.

“So!” Roman called happily, and everyone turned their gazes to him.  “The video is making good progress, and Logan said he was going to ask Virgil to start helping with the editing…?” he gave Virgil a hopeful look.

Virgil gave a thumbs up around a mouthful of pancake.

“Excellent!  In that case, I believe we’ll be ready to start filming by the end of the week!”

“That’s wonderful, kiddo!” Patton said happily.

“Indeed, I believe we are all eager to get started,” Logan said.  “Not because it is unreasonable that this video is taking longer, but because I think we are all happy to be working on something again.  And I very much look forward to having the figurative record set straight with Virgil and Remus.”

“Good luck with that!” Patton, Remus, and Roman all called at the same time.

Logan looked up at the ceiling, seeming to be contemplating his life choices.

Virgil caught Logan’s gaze and gave a roll of his eyes that Logan returned a grateful smile to.  He was pretty sure they were both glad there was at least one other side to be annoyed at antics with, especially since Janus was obviously hiding a smile behind his hand at the other end of the table.

“When does the editing session start?” Janus asked a second later.  “Do we have anything else to do today?”

“The plan was to begin after lunch, and I don’t believe there’s anything else on the schedule, why?” Logan asked.

“Because I am in dire need of a movie night with Thomas,” Janus said.  “And I was hoping we could fit one in.”

“We’re all eating breakfast,” Logan pointed out.  “It would hardly be considered—”

“Movie night!” Roman called with a happy clap of his hands.  “I’m down as long as I get to use your hat for voting!”

Janus hissed and put his hands protectively over his hat.

“I think that’s a great idea kiddo,” Patton said with a smile.  “I’ll ask Thomas after I finish eating.”

“I’m done,” Virgil called, standing up with his empty plate.  “I’ll do it in just a sec.”

He headed over to the sink to wash the dish as the conversation continued behind him.  He washed the dish and set it over on the drying rack, and sank out to Thomas afterwards with a wave at the others and a call that he’d see them soon.

Thomas was already sitting in front of the TV flipping through Netflix, so clearly some of the idea had bled over already.

He did pause and give Virgil a smile once he noticed him, though.

“Hi Virgil!  It’s not game night already, is it?”

“Nope.  Janus suggested an impromptu movie night before the editing session later.  I came to ask if you were alright with it.”

“We’re going to try and settle on movie all seven of us agree on?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not, that’s why I got here early,” with a mischievous smile.  “I say we watch The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Thomas said.

“Well, look at that, the vote is unanimous,” Virgil said, moving to his spot on top of the couch.  “Let’s get it set up so it can be ready when everyone else gets here.”

Thomas huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “You know sometimes I remember why you were originally a villain.”

“Oh you’re right, it doesn’t get any more devious than rigging movie votes,” Virgil said.  “Clearly I’m the worst side you’ve got.”

Thomas winced, and Virgil paused.

“Too soon?”

“Maybe a bit,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry.  Joke rescinded.”

“It’s okay,” Thomas said with a small smile.  “So do we want popcorn for this movie night?”

“At 9 in the morning?”

“We’re adults, who’s going to stop us?”

“The debilitating social anxiety and shame,” Virgil said.

Thomas gave him a deadpan look, and Virgil laughed.

“No but you make an excellent point,” he said.  “Let’s make the rest of your popcorn all right now.”

“All of it?”

“There are seven of us.”

Thomas laughed, and they both headed to the kitchen to do just that.

Virgil expected it to be a little longer before anyone else showed up, but he was proven wrong when a second after he got out the popcorn he heard someone appear behind him and turned to see Remus.

He was holding something and looking uncharacteristically nervous, which set Virgil’s alarm bells off.

“Re?” he asked, setting the bag of popcorn down.

“I uh, made you a thing,” Remus said, shoving the thing he was holding at him, which looked like a wrapped gift.  “The thing that I was gonna make you before Janus was an idiot and ran off to the subconscious.”

Virgil took in it in surprise, looking down at it.

“If you want to go open that in private I can finish here,” Thomas said to Virgil.

Virgil gave him a grateful smile.  “Thanks,” he said, and he and Remus both sank out to Virgil’s room.

“I hope you don’t hate it,” Remus said instantly, with a casual tone Virgil could read through immediately.

“I’m not gonna hate it, dummy,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes with a fond smile.  “Hang on, let me just…”

He let his sentence fade off and pulled the wrapping paper off the gift, then set it to the side on his desk, and was met with a hoodie.

It was still black, but unlike his current one, this had bright purple patches and was the kind of brand-new fuzzy that hoodies had before you sent them through the wash.

“I figured, you kind of don’t have a color,” Remus said, still sounding very forcibly casual.  “And the rest of us do.  So.  You know, I made you it, and whatever and stuff.”

Virgil looked up at Remus with a smile, and then stepped forward and pulled him into his arms.  “You’re amazing,” he said.  “You know that, right?”

“Obviously,” Remus said, with a slightly choked up tone of voice.

“I love it,” Virgil said.  “Thank you.”

Remus made a small noise but didn’t say anything else, just pulled Virgil closer and squished him.

Virgil squished him back, and they both stood there for a moment being squished, which was as wonderful as always.

Eventually, they pulled apart, and Virgil took off his current hoodie and put on his new-and-obviously-improved version.

“You want to head out to Thomas and watch movies now?” he asked with a smile at Remus.

“Yes I do,” Remus said, starting to grin.  “You have to show off your amazing new outfit.”

“Naturally,” Virgil said with a smile, and he wrapped his arm around Remus’ so they could sink out together.  They had a 9AM movie night to get to, and a really good day after.

And a really, really good life to come after that.

[pentechnics]

Waiting Game

Chapter 7 of Latch

Summary: Things with the Mark do not go as planned. You need to grapple with new realizations and semi-new realities, but not all of that has to be bad or hard. Especially not at Cal's, and especially not with Din.

Pairing: Firefighter!Din Djarin x f!reader

Series Content: modern AU, firefighter!Din, coffee shop AU, fluff, slowish burn, sexual tension, mentions of fire/burning buildings, mentions of burn injuries/scars, mentions of trauma/PTSD, eventual sexual content (will tag for specific chapters), falling in love, Din is a sexy firefighter, and he’s BI, you’re a cute barista/baker, sweet and spicy, eventual mentions of abandoned children (will tag for specific chapters), some bits will be from Din’s POV but most is from reader’s, ALSO Fennec and Omera are a thing now I’m love them

Notes: HELLO MY LOVES SHE'S FINALLY HERE Thank you all so much for your patience -- this one was hard to write lol. I know how much so many of you look forward to this story and I can't tell you how happy that makes me! Whenever I felt badly or negatively about writing, thinking about that helped me refocus. So I hope you all enjoy, please tell me all about it and please reblog so more folks can enjoy it too! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Much love to you all! ❤️

Chapter Content: dissociative flashback

~~~~

It was all a bit overwhelming.

You were gathered with Karga and the rest of your former coworkers in front of the new Mark building. The foundation had been set, electricity and plumbing ready to go, and the walls had been fully insulated and plastered, leaving an empty shell for you and the volunteer teams to finish up. 

You couldn’t stop staring at it; your mind still saw the charred pile of rubble that they plastered onto the news. The image had your heart breaking all over again. 

But now the Mark was almost home once more… 

…So why were you so on-edge? 

“It looks great,” Rita said on your left. Karga hummed in agreement. 

“We’ll be starting the rest of the work in just a little while,” he said, turning to address you all. “The volunteer teams will be showing up soon, and I think a local news outlet will be here as well. Remember, if you don’t want to talk to them, you don’t have to.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as a sudden chill flew down your spine. This was the first mention of any kind of news media; the idea of them asking you anything had your head spinning. Aside from giving Dr. Jinn a few details, you hadn’t spoken in depth about what happened to anyone since you were in the hospital. 

Before your head could dwell on the possibility, Tom’s voice called your name and broke you out of your thoughts.

“Quick question for you,” he said, “Would you mind if I recorded a video of you talking about your rescue for the socials? And what things have been like since? I bet people would love to hear it!” 

Aside from the drop of your jaw, every inch of you froze. 

Did… did he really just ask you that? 

He seemed oblivious to the severity of his question, flashing you a grin and cradling his phone in his hand as if it were the most valuable object on Earth.

You narrowed your eyes as your vision flooded in red, biting back the urge to slap it to the ground.

“Are you serious?” you asked, voice low. “You want me to relive my near-death experience so you can get views?”

Tom’s smile disappeared, his eyes dropping from your face. “W-well, that’s… that’s not exactly-”

“You do realize you’re essentially asking me if you can exploit my trauma, right?” 

“I…” his voice trailed off and he sighed. 

You shook your head and walked away, worried you’d say or do something regretful if you stayed near him any longer. 

“The fucking nerve,” you muttered to yourself. 

It was hard enough coming back here. Aside from a couple walks past the site – from the other side of the block, where you could only make out a few recognizable landmarks from a distance – you hadn’t been near this area since the day of the fire. Even without Tom’s insensitivity, an eeriness in the wind refused to relinquish its hold on you. 

And now the memories of what happened slowly started running through your senses. 

It seemed as though the fire had ignited itself once more; your skin grew clammy, your muscles turned to stone, your breaths became shallow. You hugged yourself tighter and squeezed your eyes shut, figuratively clawing into the dirt of your mind for some purchase to keep you from floating away. 

A chill blew past you despite the sudden burning pinch in your arms. No matter how much air you tried to force down your windpipe, it never felt like enough. It felt as though you were being choked. The sounds of distant chatter morphed into muffled screaming, and the background buzz of passing cars turned into that of splintering wood and raging flames. 

“No,” you whispered, “No, no no…” 

Your throat went dry, as if you’d been screaming and your voice was finally giving out. Scratchy and parched. You placed a hand on it as if that would quell the sensation. 

Too hot. 

Everything was too hot. 

Yet goosebumps littered every exposed surface and your sweat ran cold. 

You desperately wanted to claw at your skin until there was nothing left. You pinched your arms to quell the urge, each individual nail surely leaving indents. 

You bit your lip as you succumbed to the fog. Now an all-too-familiar malaise seeped through your every nerve, turning your blood to ice and setting your heart aflame. 

This isn’t real, you internally screamed to yourself. A searing echo through the muggy air, dissipating before your brain could grab hold. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to yell. You wanted to move. But your muscles stood stagnant, unwilling to receive the message. Were you even breathing at this point or had your lungs stopped listening as well? 

A sudden hand on your shoulder made you jolt. 

You crash-landed back to the remade Mark, to Karga standing beside you with a look of concern, removing his hand from you but keeping it closeby. Honking horns and far off laughter assaulted your ears. You gulped as your eyes darted around, seeing the sun pour through the clouds onto the calm, faintly busy day before you. Your coworkers still stood in a little huddle, perfectly fine and not in a state of panic. You slowly looked back at Karga. 

“You okay, kid?” 

You scrunched your brow and willed an answer from your throat, but nothing came up. How could you even answer that, and would your body let you? Your mind ran on with its gloom, making you feel as though you were floating above, not quite tethered to your physical form. 

You shook your head. 

“Head on home. Don’t worry about this.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” he insisted. “If it’s too soon for you to be here, that’s fine. You need to take care of yourself first.” 

You looked around. More cars had surrounded the scene, with multiple volunteer teams gathered near the building’s entrance. A large fire truck was parked across the street. Your stomach churned at the sight, making you hug your arms closer. 

“... Okay,” you hated how small you sounded. “I’m sorry, boss.” 

“Don’t be. Let me know if you need anything.” 

You nodded and forced your feet to move. Once you were near the curb you pulled out your phone to call a ride. Every move of your muscles felt strained and foreign, like you were using them for the first time in years. 

Five minutes away, the app read. Might as well be an eternity. But there was no way you’d be able to walk home like this. 

You overheard Karga’s faint yet projected voice greet the crowd, thanking them for their participation and guiding them through the plan for the day. When you glanced over, a couple news cameras were pointed at him. Rita and Tom stood behind him, alongside a few other coworkers that showed up for the effort. 

An awful, stifling sense of dejection flooded your heart. Along with the rest of the group, you’d put so much work into making this day happen. Multiple meetings, hours of conversation and stressful planning, the weight of an unsure outcome being dragged about on your backs through everything, all for this moment. 

And you couldn’t stand to be there. 

It felt as though you were right at the finish line but didn’t have the ability to cross it. Even though the rest of the race hadn’t been an issue for you. 

All you could do was stand there and watch the rest of your team win it without you. 

Your eyes fluttered over the crowd of volunteers; several of them were identifiable by some kind of uniform or matching shirt, like the firefighters and the group from the local library. 

Part of you wondered if Din was in there somewhere. 

You sighed and looked back to the road. Even if he was, you weren’t sure you could hold an actual conversation in your current state. Sand still coated your throat despite how many times you swallowed, and your mind was still heavy with a dense fog. You curled your hands into fists to keep from scratching your arms. 

The car finally pulled up. You climbed inside and took a deep breath as the driver sped away, not daring to look back.  

~~~~

“All right, is the harness secure?” 

Cobb yanked at the lapels before giving Din a thumbs-up. Din turned and looked over the edge of the makeshift structure to give Mayfeld a signal. 

“Go ahead and lower him,” he called.  

The team was running a more advanced exercise: propelling into a building from above to conduct a rescue. Mayfeld sat in the rig while Cobb climbed atop the ladder, now slowly letting go and bracing himself as he was suspended downward. Din nodded and guided Mayfeld’s actions from above, keeping a close eye on Cobb. 

“Not so fast, Mayfeld.” 

Cobb’s descent slowed almost immediately. Din watched his figure dip down into the tower and waited. Once Cobb had given the cable a tug, signaling a successful landing, they concluded the exercise. 

“Back inside, get suited up for the next drill,” Din called out. One by one the company filed into the station. 

“Freakier than it looks,” Cobb said as he pulled on his fire suit. “Captain always makes it look so easy.” 

“She makes everythin’ look easy,” Mayfeld said, “If anything it should be a sign that our asses would be toast if we tried it for real.” 

Cobb laughed. Din fastened his suit in silence, not caring to look up as the conversation went on. 

“Where is Cap, by the way?” 

“She’s at the bookstore today,” Cobb said. 

Din’s hand clenched into a brief fist. Today was the third day of the build. He wondered how you were doing, if you were enjoying the process of recreating the place you showed so much affection for. 

Were you wearing that soft, glowing smile that came onto your face whenever you talked about your memories there? Or maybe you’d have a more determined look while doing the work, like you did whenever you were making a drink. 

He looked forward to seeing for sure once he could get down there. Should he text you about it in the meantime? Or would that be too much? He chewed on his lip as the thought marinated in his head. 

Once the team had finished preparing, they piled into the big rig. Din sat in the passenger seat and watched the shallow, gray morning sunlight filter into the garage as the door lifted, making way for the rig to roll into the street ahead. Cars parted for it as the sirens rang out. 

The next drill involved a live controlled fire, and was designed to test the company’s abilities to work together and successfully put it out. Din was also being tested; with Fennec out, everyone would be following his command. 

He gulped. While it wasn’t his first time leading the team in something like this, the prospect of reenacting a real scene and having to be just as alert as he would be in such a case still shook his core.  

When the rig arrived at the small field on the outskirts of the city, Din spotted a few local authorities and officials surrounding the blaze, alongside a fire crew from the station across town.  

The fire was small in comparison to what Din was used to, but no flame was to be underestimated. He immediately began to examine the situation alongside the company before divvying up responsibilities and ensuring every member of the group played their part to set up the support station, direct any civilians away, and begin the process of putting out the fire. 

“Remember,” he shouted, “keep the whole flame in your sights at all times! Do not get too close, and don’t get cocky!”  

His visor fogged up with the projection of his voice, temporarily painting the blaze in a blurry hue. Its smoke sat atop the already cloudy sky, outlining itself with darker shades of gray and the aroma of burning grass. Silhouettes outfitted in large, baggy black suits flanked either side of it just before the telling hum of the hoses rang through the air, the yellow reflective stripes shining with each of their movements. 

He ran over and connected with the leader of the other fire crew, and together they spread out their resources to cover the whole of the situation. 

Streams of white foam soared into the air towards the fire from multiple directions. Din took a quick mental assessment before jumping into the fray and providing assistance and further direction where it was needed. 

Minutes passed like days as the mini inferno slowly grew smaller, allowing both companies to close in and fully douse it. 

Where the fire once stood was now a pile of dark ash. Small clumps of the extinguisher foam were scattered about, puffs of steam escaping from them. A few members of the team walked around and ensured there were no surviving embers while a few others spoke with each other and with city officials. 

Din made sure to speak with law enforcement the way he would in an actual situation, though it was his least favorite part of being in charge. Throughout the exchange his hand was clenched in a fist; he willed his mouth to speak quicker as the officer before him took note of his report. 

“You made quick work of it, well done,” she said.  

Din nodded. 

“If that’ll be all, Officer Dune?”

She jotted down one last thing before looking back up to Din’s visor. 

“I think we’re set.” 

With an internal sigh of relief, Din walked back to the rig.

Once everything was packed back up, the crew made their way back to the station. Din headed straight towards Boba’s office and gently knocked on the ajar door. 

“Just finished up today’s drills,” he said as Boba waved him in. 

“Good, how’d we do?” 

“Pretty well. Everyone was cooperative and on top of it.” 

Din went on to describe each drill in detail, highlighting the positives and negatives of each one. Boba nodded along as he spoke. 

“And what did you think of-” 

The shrill ring of the office phone cut off Boba’s question. He held a hand up as he answered it. 

Din watched his face with interest. Boba’s brow furrowed as whoever was on the line spoke before his eyes met Din’s. 

“It’s for you, Djarin.” 

~~~~

“Sounds like that one was particularly vivid,” Dr. Jinn shifted in his chair. 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod. “I’ve only had dreams that felt that real. It was scary.” 

“I bet.”

“And Tom asking me to talk about it out of the blue like that really didn’t help,” you went on. “Part of me kinda felt like I was too harsh, but at the same time I don’t think it was a fair thing for him to ask me. What do you think?”

“I’d say it was definitely ill-timed,” Dr. Jinn said. “And getting yourself out of there was probably better than trying to continue a dialogue.” 

“I don’t think I could’ve even if I wanted to,” you breathed. 

From your periphery, you could see him nodding. 

“It might be a good idea to talk to him once this has settled down a bit,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s very possible he didn’t realize what he was asking of you. And while it’s not your job to explain anything to him, it’d be good to clear the air if you’re going to eventually be working together again.” 

You sighed before nodding. 

You weaved your fingers together in your lap, squeezing them in an attempt to relieve the pressure of the memory. It had been two days, yet the palpable sensations from the moments following that conversation still haunted you. 

“You might also need to consider that you’ll need more time before you can return to the Mark,” Dr. Jinn said slowly, “even after the rebuild is done.” 

These were words you expected him to say, yet they still stung through the comforting tenor of his voice. 

”Probably,” you breathed. “... But I really hate the idea of missing out on it.” 

You sat up as a pulse of frustration echoed through your nerves. 

“I put in a lot of work with everyone else to pull this off. And this was supposed to be the best part of it all.” 

It just wasn’t fair, being stranded while everyone else got to see the whole thing out. What had you done to deserve it? 

Memories of your childhood flashed through your mind, of so-called friends hanging out without you. Of missing a day of school and then hearing how great it was for everyone else. Of family members telling you all about the things they’d done together. 

Of missing out. 

And while you understood this was different, that no faults were to be had nor choices to be made, the bitter hurt in your chest was indistinguishable.

“That’s a very understandable thing,” Dr. Jinn said, “It’s disheartening to think you won’t be in the fray while everyone else is.” 

“Exactly. I don’t want to be left behind. And despite what any of them will say, that’s what it’ll feel like.”

Your words hung in the air, not heavy or foreboding, but present enough to make you think. Dr. Jinn nodded and released a breath through his nose. 

“Luckily, these things are never set in stone.” 

You glanced at him. He was peering at you with a grin, raising a brow when your eyes met. 

“Who knows where you’ll be in two weeks?” 

You couldn’t help the seeds of annoyance sprouting in your gut. He’s the one who just said you needed time, what sort of change could happen in just two weeks if that were true? 

“And if I’m still here?” you asked, putting little effort into hiding your feelings. “If I still can’t go back?” 

“Then you’ll still be two weeks further along in your timeline than you are now. And that’s got to count for something, right?”

All at once you felt guilty for your sudden anger. You eased back in the chair and digested his words. Of course that wasn’t his whole idea, you scolded yourself. Maybe you needed to keep an eye on your patience levels. 

“And hey,” he continued, “if you do find yourself in a place where you can go back, that’s great. Just don’t feel pressured to rush it — places can be very powerful.” 

You sighed. Places hold power, huh? 

Your thoughts drifted to Cal’s. The lingering aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mingling with that of sugar and cinnamon was the first sensation to come to mind. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, and you swore you could smell it all right there in Dr. Jinn’s office.  

Images of Kuiil and Omera filled your mind’s eye. Both such calming, joyful people. Baking in the kitchen, preparing drinks, and shuffling about cleaning tables – despite how hectic it could get, you found yourself fully laying back against the plush chair, your shoulders drooping downward. 

“May I ask what you’re thinking about?” 

Dr. Jinn’s voice was like a gentle hand urging you to wake – not shaking or shouting, but a small caress that cradled you back to the present moment. 

“Cal’s,” you breathed. “I’m thinking about Cal’s.” 

He nodded. 

“That’s the great thing about this kind of power – it goes both ways. Some places have horrible memories attached to them. But for every one of those, there’s another that has wonderful ones.” 

You smiled. The people and atmosphere of Cal’s really were some of the best. And you hadn’t even started thinking about Din yet. 

“How about that regular of yours, has he shown up recently?” 

Your head snapped back to him. Could Dr. Jinn read your mind?

You told him you hadn’t seen Din since the day he dropped you off in the rain, that he’d texted you multiple times in the interim. 

“It’s nice, we just sort of talk about anything,” you said, getting lost in the memories of peeking at your phone where it would sit beside you on the sofa, waiting for the screen to light up with his name. Then being unable to stop your smile from spreading each time it did. 

“And you two are planning a date?” 

“Yeah,” You sat up at the reminder. Dr. Jinn smiled. 

“We’re still kind of figuring out schedules,” you said, “but I guess mine’s a little more flexible now since I don’t think I’ll be going to any building sessions soon.” 

“What sort of date would you want to have?” 

“I’m not sure,” you said with a shrug, settling back into your seat. “I mean, I don’t even know if I should consider this our first or second one. Going on that walk and the arcade…” 

Your voice trailed off as you recalled it. The delicate taste of white mocha on your tongue, the weighted cold of the rain, the glow in Din’s eyes as they stared into yours. Heat traveled up to your cheeks. 

“... It felt very date-ish. But without any pressure, if that makes sense.” 

“Completely. That’s great!” 

“I’ve never felt pressured with him, actually, now that I’m thinking about it. He’s very easy to be around” 

Your mind wandered to his many visits to Cal’s. His soothing presence, the pleasant conversations, the way he so freely pulled out sides of you that you hadn’t seen in so long – or even knew existed. You looked out the window to the overcast day beyond, small pockets of sunlight bleeding through the clouds. 

You wondered what Din was up to today – was he working? Or was he home with Grogu? 

“That’s a pretty good sign,” Dr. Jinn said. “It’s good to surround yourself with people who make you comfortable.” 

You hummed, a smile pulling at your lips. 

“Did I tell you about when his baby called me?” 

You regaled the story while Dr. Jinn listened, those smoky eyes absorbing every word you said. His laughter was small but powerful – deep chuckles that made the very air rumble. 

“Sounds like he was mortified.”

“I liked that though,” you said through your grin, “It was the first time I’ve seen – or heard him, I guess – like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like… not fully composed. Caught off guard. I don’t know, I get the sense that he’s not one to get surprised by things. So it was nice.” 

Dr. Jinn gave you a nod before jotting down a note. 

“Maybe there will be more opportunities to see that side of him.”

“I hope so,” you breathed, not thinking about the words before saying them. 

Your shoulders tensed when it clicked in your mind. 

More opportunities with Din… you were hoping for all kinds. 

But now those hopes were actually tangible. Once you actually started pursuing him, none of your feelings would just live in your head anymore. 

You’d have to lay them out on the table. You’d have to let him see them. 

So much for not being nervous about this date.

~~~~

The next afternoon found you behind the counter at Cal’s, serving the few customers that were lined up before you. The air around you was filled with light chatter, scattered sunlight, and an assortment of warm scents. Omera shared the shift with you, her presence always a welcomed addition to your environment. 

 “How is Winta doing?” you asked her as you prepared a matcha latte. 

“She’s great,” Omera said with a bright smile. “She’s currently working her way through your book recommendations – she can’t seem to put any of them down.” 

“Aw, that makes me so happy to hear!” 

You placed a hand to your heart before resuming your task and handing the drink off to the customer. 

The chime of the door caught your attention. You turned to see a familiar face walk through and saunter over to you. You smiled at him. 

“Mr. Vanth,” you greeted, “it’s good to see you again. What can I get for you?” 

“Please, sugar, you can just call me Cobb. Here’s the list for ya.” 

He leaned on the counter as he handed you a slip of paper, which you immediately began to ring up. 

“How are things going for you?” you asked as you worked. 

“Same old, same old,” he said with a shrug. “Been runnin’ a few drills to brush up our skills.” 

“That sounds interesting!”

“Yeah, Mando was actually leadin’ ours yesterday until he left.” 

“Oh?” your head popped up at the mention of Din. “Did he not stay the whole day?” 

“Nah, got some kind of call he had to take care of.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“Don’t worry, hon, I’m sure he’s fine.” 

He seemed so assured and nonchalant, you couldn’t help believing him. Yet a sense of worry still nagged at the back of your mind, poking you like the scratchy tag on a new shirt. You tried to mask your concern as you gave Cobb a nod and resumed your typing. 

That would explain why Din hadn’t responded to the text you sent him yesterday; your mind began to wander, wondering what was so urgent. 

Once the order was paid for you and Omera began making each drink. You continued to make small talk with Cobb as you went, though your actions were shakier than before. 

You couldn’t stop glancing at the wall clock, willing your break to come sooner so you could try texting Din again. 

~~~~

“You’re sure he’s okay?” 

“Yes, he’s fine.” 

Din was holding Grogu upright on the patient table as Dr. Tano examined him. One of Grogu’s little hands grasped Din’s finger while the other was shoved into his mouth. 

“I’m glad we were able to get you in today. His fever is a bit high, but I’ll give you this,” she held up a medicine box. “Give him a dose in the morning and a dose at night for the next three days. If the fever hasn’t broken by then, give me a call.” 

Din nodded and took the box. 

“And you, little guy,” she bent down and smiled at Grogu. “You get lots of sleep, okay? You’ll feel better soon.” 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Din said with a sigh. 

As Din walked out of the clinic with Grogu strapped into his bjorn, the weight on his shoulders ironically grew lighter. 

“You really scared me, kid,” Din gave Grogu a pout, which just made the latter giggle. 

The partly cloudy afternoon glistened above while Din resituated Grogu in his car seat and plopped into the driver’s seat. He took out his phone and scrolled to Luke’s name, pressing the ‘call’ button beside it. He picked up after two rings. 

“Hey, Luke, it’s me. We just left the doctor.”

“Oh good, what did she say?” 

“Grogu’s okay, he’ll just need some medicine for the next few days.” 

“Ah, what a relief!” 

Din let out a laughy sigh. The sheer panic that had taken over when the phone call came through the day before was unlike anything Din had ever felt – even within work. He’d been completely inconsolable until he had Grogu in his arms again. 

His heart swelled with gratitude; what would he have done if Luke wasn’t there?

“Thank you again for calling yesterday, Luke. I’ll stay with Grogu tomorrow just in case.” 

“Of course, Mr. Djarin. I’ll be here if you need me.” 

Din wrapped up the conversation and glanced at the little bundle through his rearview mirror. Grogu was staring right back with a pacifier in his mouth, a smile forming around it as his little feet wiggled in the air from under a blanket. Din couldn’t help grinning. 

A sudden buzz in his hand called his attention back to the phone. His brow shot up when your name lit up the screen.

‘Wanted to check in! Hope everything’s okay with you. 😊’

A cluster of varying emotions swirled together in Din’s heart: a sweet concoction of happiness and nervous energy that encapsulated his being. He was used to being the thoughtful one. Yet here you were, giving him a run for his money. 

‘Thank you,’ he began to type. ‘Things are good. Could I call you later?’  

His thumb hovered over the ‘send’ arrow. Despite your positive interactions up to now, he still couldn’t help wondering if he was overstepping or causing you discomfort with questions like that. The nerves of possibility slowly crawled up his spine. 

When was the last time he’d spoken with you? He hadn’t been to Cal’s in a couple weeks. Felt more like months. Just imagining your voice was enough to make him let out a contented sigh. 

He sent the message.

Grogu cooed as Din started the car and began the drive home, Hakuna Matata beginning to play through the speakers. Din tuned it out and began formulating a to-do list in his mind while the world passed by his sight: call the Chief, start dinner, gather the laundry-

A buzz in his pocket. 

He grinned. Hopefully he could add a phone call with you to the end of the list.

~~~~

You were practically vibrating with excitement for the rest of the day. 

You and Din had only done a couple phone calls, but they were memories you thought about more than you realized. 

Your body remembered every jitter and bead of sweat, yes, but your heart also recalled the way his voice felt in your ear: gentle, sweet, the aural equivalent of biting into a freshly baked cookie. And the conversations were just like the ones you had with him at work: easy, diverse, and endlessly enthralling regardless of the subject. 

You couldn’t wait to do it again. 

You glanced at the clock: 6:30pm. One more hour before you clocked out for the day. You took a glance around before making your way to the kitchen. 

Kuiil was placing a tray into the oven, calling you over to pass him the ones waiting on the counter. 

“What kind are these?” you asked, peering at the colorful little circles that would soon become macarons. 

Once each tray was in the oven, he pointed at each color as he named them.

“Blue is vanilla, pink is strawberry, orange is pumpkin, and green is matcha.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “those sound amazing.” 

“Come, I’ll show you how I make the filling.” 

Like a spring had been let loose, you hopped on the balls of your feet before following him to the large island. 

For the next half hour, Kuiil walked you through every step for making the macaron filling, even putting you in charge of a couple of the flavors. While part of you was anxious about messing it up, his confidence and carefree attitude pushed you forward. 

“So, is this the right kind of consistency?” 

You tipped your bowl in his direction, giving it a couple stirs. It was stiff; your spatula fought to work through it. 

“Perfect,” he said, giving you a pat on the shoulder. 

You spent the rest of your shift helping with the macarons, piping filling onto them and sandwiching them together once they came out of the oven. 

Eventually they were all piled together in the serving tray, little labels front and center. Kuill picked up a vanilla one and held it out to you. 

“Try it.” 

You glanced over your piping handiwork before biting into it. The shell was perfectly crisp, giving way to the softness underneath and the creamy center. As expected from Kuiil, it was the perfect macaron. 

“Oh my gosh, it’s incredible,” you said mid-chew. 

He nodded with a grin. 

“Last week you learned the shells, now you know the filling. Next time, you’ll make your own batch.” 

Your eyes widened so fast you worried they’d bug out of your skull.

“Wait– really?” 

“Start thinking of flavors, dear. I have spoken.” 

With that he picked up the tray and left for the front, leaving you to gawk at his retreating figure. You looked around at the grand kitchen, a sight that never failed to send a wave of excitement through you, and tried to contain the joy that was bouncing about inside you like a rabbit on the run. 

Your own macarons? Where would you even start? There were endless flavor possibilities; a list of them immediately began to run through your brain. 

Your grin split your face in two. You had work to do. 

~~~~

After showering and applying your cream for the night, you plopped onto your bed with a sigh. 

You looked down at your arms and legs. The scars lined each limb like thick bolts of lightning, sticking out against your skin. Your compression sleeve poked out from under your sleeve; you ran a gentle hand over it. The scar underneath was a little less poofy when you checked it in the shower, but still pained you to look at. 

You hated that you’d taken to wearing long sleeves for reasons unrelated to the colder weather. The doctor assured you that you’d get used to the marks, Dr. Jinn told you to give it time, yet they still seemed so foreign. Not to mention the multiple encounters that just confirmed how much they made you negatively stand out.

How long had it been? Almost five months? You sighed. Not enough time to adjust, Dr. Jinn would say. Waiting games were the worst. 

Your mind drifted to a memory of Din tracing over your scar with his finger. It was the most gentle touch, as if you were something precious, and he wanted to savor the texture. Even before the accident, no one had ever made you feel so desired with a single gesture.  

You wanted to feel that again. Like a broken record, it played through your head over and over, eventually sending a small shiver up your spine. 

As if on cue, your phone began to buzz. 

You flung your arm over to grab it and smiled upon seeing his name light up the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey,” you could hear the smile in his voice, despite the phone’s grainy filter on it. “This still a good time?” 

“Yes, for sure,” you readjusted your seating position and gripped the hem of your blanket. “How are you?”

“Good, good, had a bit of a time until this afternoon. Grogu has a fever.” 

You gulped as your heart jumped, worry beginning to seep through you like you were absorbing it from the air. You could only imagine the sort of panic that would cause. No wonder he left work early. 

“Oh gosh, is he okay?” 

“He’ll be fine, just needs medicine.” Din’s voice was as calm as ever. “Slept through most of the day, which the doctor said might happen.”

“Well that’s good,” you let out a sigh of relief. “You must’ve been worried.” 

“I’m fine,” he chuckled.

“How long will he need the medicine for?” 

“Doc said three days. But hopefully the fever will be gone before then.”

You pictured little Grogu’s face in your mind. That bright smile, those poofy cheeks and shining eyes. His laughter echoed through your ears, bringing a smile to your lips. 

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” you said softly. “Will you give him a kiss for me?”   

Something clattered on his end. A staccato of static greeted your ears, making you recoil from the phone. You bit down a laugh. 

“You okay over there?” you asked.

“Y-yeah,” his voice rejoined. “Sorry, I… dropped my phone.” 

You couldn’t help giggling. 

“But yes, I’ll…” he trailed off, the muffled sound of him clearing his throat making your smile grow. “... I’ll give him a kiss for you.” 

You hummed, the visual of him cradling Grogu in his arms and bringing him up to plant a gentle peck on his forehead making warmth spill from your chest. 

“How are you? How’s the build going?” 

That warmth turned heavy. Dense. It was as if someone had shoved a boulder down your throat. 

You clutched the blanket in a tighter fist, willing any words to come out of your mouth. 

“Oh… I, um-” 

You took a deep breath. It went down rough, scratching down your throat like a cat on a post. His silence was palpable, but in a way that brought you further into the moment rather than pushing you away. You focused in on it and tried to redirect your tension to any other part of your body that didn’t need to be used right then. 

“... I actually haven’t been going,” you managed. “I don’t think I can.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

The soft concern in his voice caressed you like a hug. You smiled and leaned into the sensation. 

“Yeah, I just… can’t really stand to be there just yet.” 

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” 

“Yeah, it was definitely unexpected,” you gave a light chuckle to lighten the tone. “But it is what it is. They’ll be fine.” 

“... And you?” 

“Aw, I will be, too,” a more genuine smile found its way onto your face at his consideration of you. “Just need time.” 

He hummed in response. A smooth, natural silence fell over you both, one without pressure or discomfort. You imagined it’d be a moment where you’d just be staring at him if he were in front of you, like you caught yourself doing whenever he was at Cal’s.  

What it was about those brown eyes that had you stuck on them whenever he was near, you weren’t sure you’d ever know. They were magnetic. Hypnotic. Glowing gems that would reach out and grab hold of your soul the way the lovers in your books did: firmly, yet gently, with purpose and conviction, unwilling to let go. 

“Hey,” he started, breaking your trance. “I, um, wanted to ask you…” 

He let out a sigh. You mirrored his earlier actions and stayed silent in hopes of giving him the space to find his words. 

Once he did, your heart leapt into your throat. 

“Would you want to do our date next weekend?”

****

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[twdmusicboxmystery]

Hey soo. I just checked the cast for the Daryl Dixon spin-off and apparently Melissa is confirmed to be in the cast, as a main, I'm guessing?

I really don't think anything will happen between them (will certainly give Caryl shippers a LOT to moan about), but just wanted to hear your thoughts about how you think it'll play out in the story?

As I've said before, not only does Melissa being in S2 not bother me, I'm actually...kinda glad about it?

Not for the same reasons a certain ship would be, of course, lol. But rather, because after analyzing the way TWD does symbolism and foreshadow for so many years, I have an idea of the template they're going to use when Beth reappears.

Back in S5, Carol was WITH Daryl when they went looking for Beth. And I always thought she would be again when Daryl finally finds Beth again.

So when Melissa first bowed out of the spinoff, I wondered what they would do. Change things? Just NOT fulfill the symbolism? Maybe, but that's very unlike TWD. The only way I can see that happening is if Melissa really was retiring and was not going to be part of the TWDU at all moving forward. Of course if she's not available to be in the show, they'd have to change things.

(That is NOT the case, despite what some people online were throwing fits about after the announcement. She just needed a break and would be back later. It's what we and most of the actors said at the time. Now, it's proven to be true. Think about that, and which online fans were throwing those fits, so sure Melissa had been "done dirty" and written out, how they're crooning now and how seldom they've been right about anything.)

So, I guess what I'm saying is that Melissa's return to the narrative just tells me that we'll be one step closer to a Bethyl reunion.

You asked how I think it will play out. I think Daryl will find out Beth is alive sometime during S1 of the spinoff. Maybe even see her from a distance or something. But won't truly reunite with her. I believe the rumor is that Carol will show up during the final minutes of the final episode of S1 of the spinoff. (Phew, that was a lot of prepositions. 😉)

Carol showing up right at the end is only logical if she's going to be a big part of S2. Of course they would have her show up then in order to set up the story and prepare the audience for S2.

Of course, it's even less likely that Carol "just so happens" to end up in France than it is for Daryl to. So, we're thinking that they originally set off somewhere together. Maybe they were both on the boat that capsized, but ended up miles apart when they got to shore. Daryl wouldn't have any idea what happened to Carol, where she ended up or even if she's okay. He would simply have faith that she can handle herself, the same as he can. And right at the end of season 1, they'll simply find one another on land.

No idea if that's how it will play out, but that scenario or something close to it makes the most sense.

I think by then, Daryl will know about Beth and the two of them will set off together to find her.

Do you see how that mirrors what happened in S5? Even though Daryl knew "she's alive," he didn't know exactly where she was. But he catches a glimpse of where she might be (Grady car) when he's with Carol, and they set off together, away from the rest of TF, to find her. And eventually, they do.

And TWD loves to do that. Set up a foreshadow in one scenario that will be paid off later with a parallel sequence. So yeah. That's why Melissa showing up for S2 of the spinoff doesn't bother me, and actually makes me kind of happy.

Keep something in mind, guys. The very first thing we hear in episode 1, as we see Daryl floating atop the overturned ship on the ocean, is Judith's line from the finale about Daryl deserving a happy ending. That's the thesis for the entire Daryl spinoff. So, Daryl is going to find his happy ending one way or the other by the end of the spinoff series. The idea of it being with Carol are just utterly illogical. Logistically, why would they need to take him halfway across the world, to France, only to give him a happy ending with someone who's been by his side for 10+ years? It simply wouldn't make sense to do that.

By that logic, Isabel the nun being his happy ending would make more sense.

And no, that's clearly not happening either. Just by watching their body language in the trailer, you can tell there's nothing romantic there. He acts with Isabel much the way he does with Carol or Aaron or Rosita. I think he and Isabel will be friends, maybe even super close friends, but there's clearly no romantic chemistry there.

Which means it must be someone else. And remember that Norman also said in the spinoff we'd see familiar faces that the audience won't be at all expecting to see. Just in terms of a familiar face, it could be Heath, or Jadis. But do we really think one of them will end up being Daryl's happy ending?

Come on, y'all. It's not rocket science. The signs are all here. You just gotta know how to read them.

Xoxo! ☀️🔥❣️

[antihibikase2]

Zorua, the Tricky Fox Pokemon- to protect themselves from danger, they hide their true identities by transforming into people and Pokémon.

"Looking for a new party member, Giima?"

Looking up from his old Pokedex, Shauntal grins ear to ear as she leans forward, arms behind her back. The little wisps of her Chandelure spin around her as usual, illuminating the embroidered accents of her shawl- though the ghost type is nowhere in sight.

"No," He stuffs his Pokedex back into his league locker. "And even if I was, I still have my Houndoom from my cousin. I'd pick him over a Zorua or Zoroark any day."

"Aw, really?" Shauntal's Golett peers out from behind her leg timidly- the sight of it gave Grimsley the creeps. "Didn't expect a dark type specialist of all people to also give the Zoroark family flak! It's not good to still believe in old rumors, you know?"

"You know why I don't like them,"

"Giima, you don't like a lot of Pokemon. It's making it difficult to narrow down which ones you do like," She starts counting on her gloved fingers. "Let's see, let's see- Stunfisk gross you out, Tympole make you feel uneasy, any ghost type scares the wits out of you-"

"Shauntal-"

"The noises Elgyem and Beheeyem make your ears ring, you're squeamish about bug types in general-"

"It's not because I find them scary," How foolish- he was a dark type specialist, one of the more misunderstood types of Pokemon, home to many species unfairly blamed for disaster and misfortune. "It's- more of a personal thing, you know?"

"Huuuuuhhhh? Were you tricked by one?" She sways side to side playfully, skirt dancing with each of her movements. "Did it happen back when we traveled together? I don't remember encountering a Zoroark."

"It didn't, it was-"

He bit his lip.

"Two years ago. You know."

Her lips form into an o shape- though no sound comes out.

With a heavy sigh, he slumps on the bench across the lockers, and Shauntal plops by his side without a second thought- she takes her Golett into her arms, and with almost unfathomable strength, lifts it up to sit on her lap with no struggle.

"Mm, I don't remember that guy having a Zorua or Zoroark- what's his name again, Dennis?"

"Doesn't matter," Wherever he was, Grimsley hoped Ghetsis had dropped dead. "His son had one."

"...N?"

"N."

"Weird name," She kicks her legs. "But not the weirdest. More memorable than Dennis- it's not Dennis. Jarvis? Seriously, who names their kid 'Natural'?"

He couldn't care less what he was named as.

"I don't care what his name is, who he is- or if he and his Pokemon are victims,"

He finds himself saying such bitter things, without regard for his status; he wasn't under a spotlight anyway, or across the table from Alder.

"For them to up and leave the region and leaving us to pick up the pieces-"

"Among other things,"

"Interpol classified Ghetsis himself and his Pokemon as highly dangerous- some of them were released into the wild. I wonder if it's the same for N's Pokemon- especially Zoroark. As for N himself, we can't just pretend he's faultless."

Someone should be looking for him,

and it shouldn't be The Hero of Truth. Not when he's needed here.

"We aren't though. At least, I don't think Marshal is, nor Caitlin, nor any of the gym leaders," Shauntal watches as one of the wisps circle around Golett's vicinity. "Who is?"

"Alder."

"Oh, you know how he is."

"I- I don't think him stepping down now is a good idea, and what, leaving Iris to pick up where he left off? She's thirteen,"

"Certainly won't be our youngest champion, that's for sure."

"Shauntal,"

"Giima,"

"He could have picked a better time- any time, to leave! And look where we are now,"

Looking up at his still-open locker, the photo taped onto the door was almost mocking him.

Though the face of his mother had been obscured by the sun, and only his father's hands were visible, little Cheri looks up at the camera with big, curious eyes, as a much younger Grimsley held them up for the camera.

"At a stalemate. Completely stuck."

Unable to move, unable to help.

All while he's out there, wandering the region once more- and what of what's left of his heart?

Was he so willing to throw his second chance at life away, all for a boy who resembled the friend he had lost?

He wasn't willing to find out the answer.

"You know," Shauntal stands to her feet, her Golett clumsily bouncing off her lap and struggling to find its footing. "I heard they're going to Undella pretty soon,"

"Undella?" Already? Did that young trainer already get six badges, then? He was moving quick.

"Mhm! You know what a little birdy told me?"

The small heels of her shoes click against the floor as she departs from his side, spinning a pen between her fingers- no doubt inspiration struck her like lightning.

"I heard they're being accompanied by a very familiar looking character."

[gcnedark]

Fight Club

Character: (Saints Row 2) Aaron Trouble

Warnings: Murder, it's one of my Saints Row drabbles idk what you expected

Screams and cheers from the crowd in the stands filled the room as Aaron entered the cage, dried blood already covered the floors from previous fights in its radius. There was a tiny bit of curiosity that made him wonder if any of the blood was some that he had spilled previously, he never knew if the floors were ever cleaned, so it was more than possible.

The other fighters in the ring stared the boss down with daggers, unfortunately for them, he already knew how these things went. They'd try to jump him at once, he'd kill them and then walk out richer with a bit more respect to his name, and by proxy, the Saints would get some too. That had been the main appeal to doing this, after the initial entrance where he took one of the fighters spots.

He walked to the only side of the cage that didn't have some pissed off opponent standing there, as he moved past others he took note of the fact that there were a few more than normal. Maybe the owner decided watching Aaron make well known fighters into nothing more than corpses was getting too boring, so he had to up the number. He counted how many there were by the pairs of shoes he saw, 12 shoes, 6 people. He could work with that.

It mattered little to the gangbanger either way, nothing in his way ever stood much of a chance. From random punks on the street to other killers, they imposed no threat to him. The fact that they couldn't kill him no matter how many they had on their side was quite humorous to him, it also helped to inflate his ego as if that was necessary.

Green hues looked down at his hands, and his rings shined brightly back into his eyes. He quickly worked to remove all of them, he loved them, yes. But Aaron also knew how badly it hurt to punch someone while having the jewelry on, and if he had to do it more than a few times they'd surely result in broken knuckles.

Static cut through the crowds roars before a voice boomed out, prompting Aaron to stuff his rings into his pocket before readying himself for a fight. The countdown was the most tense part of the whole ordeal, everyone's hearts hammered in their chests as they awaited the go ahead to start their fight.

"3- 2- 1- GO!"

Just like that, a few of the fighters eyes turned to Aaron while the others went off to brawl with one another. His hands balled into fists, his arms raised up while he moved forward.

His first attacker came from his left, a wild haymaker is what came swinging at him. Aaron stepped back to avoid the initial swing, an arm wrapped around the others shoulder and pulled him down before his knee shot up and made direct impact with his features.

A scream of pain is what erupted from his throat before Aaron spun to his other side and let him go, the force of his spin had made the man stumble and smash directly into another with his full weight. It was enough to knock both down, allowing him to turn his attention to others in the cage.

Was it the best idea to leave two pissed off killers laying there with one bleeding? Probably not if he was being honest with himself, but he figured he could worry about that in the very near future. His sights went on a man that was a little bigger than him, blood was painted onto the bandages that found themselves wrapped around most likely busted knuckles.

Neither seemed scared of the other, something that excited Aaron, while simultaneously frightening the other. Aaron went on the offense, closing the distance between them quickly to wrap his arms around the larger males waist. With little effort, he hoisted him up over his shoulder before falling back, his head was pointed directly down at the floor which only meant devastation once it hit it.

A loud crunch and a slam against the ground is what gave the Saint his signal that his opponent wasn't getting up again, he scrambled to his feet and spun around so his back hit the wall. It seemed that the noise drew attention to himself, as several pairs of eyes were now focused directly on him.

Only two had gone back to their small fight in a corner, but the other three weren't so quick. It was almost like deja vu, Aaron was always the one to kill someone first, and then the others would get more pissed off and they'd attack him. It was either that or they grew fearful for their lives, so they made it their number one priority to try and take his life.

"HEY!" A voice cut through the sounds of heavy breathing and beatings in the corner, Aaron looked up to see a hockey stick get thrown into the cage. He decided he wouldn't go for it how he normally would otherwise, it would be more entertaining to see someone try to fight him off with it.

Aaron stood there and watched through his shades as one of the men stepped forward and snatched it up, he seemed much more confident with it until he looked back up and stared back to see a smile going across Aaron's lips. But it was too late now, he'd already gotten the weapon, it was do or die.

He stepped forward and swung blindly, something Aaron took advantage of. His left arm caught the force of his swing, and he delivered a greater force through his right fist. Knuckles cracked the man's jaw, making him stagger. He continued to try and fight without looking, raising the hockey stick and slamming it down.

Surprisingly enough, it hit Aaron in the shoulder, unfortunately however, it just pissed him off even more. Aaron let out something that was closer to snarling than breathing before he struck the man again, and again, and again. The repeated blows put him down on the floor, Aaron made quick work of him by stomping down on his head. He gripped onto the hockey stick for leverage as he began to splatter brains over his boot.

He'd gotten too into his kill to notice one of the men approaching, not to try and stop the murder as it was a few seconds and stomps too late for that. But he was hoping to get a surprise attack on the gang leader, keyword, hoping.

The mistake he'd made was being too slow, even in his haze Aaron noticed the shoes in the corner of his eyes. He stepped back from the corpse while pulling the hockey stick up into his grip, he rotated it to the side and thrusted the handle of it into the males throat.

Choking followed the blow, and Aaron continued his attack by kicking forward with his right leg. His foot crashed into his right knee, buckling and hitting the floor brought him closer to his death. Aaron threw the blunt instrument at the other male who'd been standing there, frozen in fear. His now free hands grabbed onto the sides of his incapacitated opponents head as he began to crush it, his brute and inhuman strength made it easier for his head to begin popping under the pressure.

The eyes came out first as blood rushed out of the ears, high pitched screaming rang out and felt like it was going to deafen Aaron, but nonetheless he continued. Seconds felt like eternity to his victim, he tried to beg and plead for a quicker death but he couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't fight.

Mere moments later and there was a thick and pulpy squish that came out, and the man went limp. Aaron let go of his head and watched as he fell onto his side, nothing more than a corpse now. The cheers of the crowd were louder than ever, proving now more than ever that the sick sons of bitches in Stilwater loved him for this, bringing a massive inflation to his ego. As if it weren't big enough.

Aaron rushed forward and grabbed onto the opponent who he'd thrown the hockey stick at, his nose now bleeding from the hit he'd taken. The boss didn't even think as he turned him around and slammed him against the cages barrier, one hand grabbed onto the back of his hair and the other kept him pinned by pressing against his back in-between his shoulder blades.

His head was ripped back and then promptly banged against the cage, that action being repeated again and again as crimson red came out from a face that was closer in resemblance to a mass of mush than an actual face. And just like before, screams came out, although more strained now. Each crash against the metal caused another gasp of pain, before there was nothing.

Now Aaron had really gotten into his element, he grabbed onto the hockey stick and started swinging at the only other two in the cage who had decided without a word to try and team up to take the killer down. It worked about as well as you'd expect, one immediately got knocked out from the sheer force that came from the end of the tool bashing into his head, and the other wasn't so lucky to be put down.

It struck against his jaw, he reached out to try and stop the attacks to mild success, for a moment he had gotten it to slow down. But when his hand gripped the stick, Aaron pulled him closer and headbutted him. His forehead cracked the man's nose which put him back on his ass, and he was stuck staring up at the boss.

The last things he saw were the end of the hockey stick coming down upon him, cracking him over the head with it, even when it snapped in half over his skull. Aaron only looked down at the broken handle he held, it would be enough. He just moved closer and kept hitting, blood came out from the wounds he'd created and dripped down the man's face, inevitably getting into his eyes.

The boss stopped the killing when there was no more response from him hitting besides the corpse shaking with each blow, and he turned back to the man he'd knocked unconscious moments before. He was now coming to, unaware of what was going to happen.

Aaron went up behind him and sat down on his knees, he wrapped his forearm around the man's neck and his other arm grabbed onto his wrist. There was an immediate struggle, of course, but it did little in preventing what happened next.

They both came up further, only stopping as Aaron got up on his feet and ripped his arms back to the side, making the fighters neck snap with a crunch. The body slumped forward and hit the ground, leaving only one man left standing.

This only proved to the people in the crowds that it didn't matter what the odds were, the leader of the 3rd Street Saints wouldn't fall in battle. He'd already known that, but now that they all did, they'd go around and tell their friends, and their friends would tell theirs. They'd know that the boss wasn't someone to be fucked with.

While he looked on towards the people, a sense of pride swelled up in his chest. He raised both arms up in celebration and began to laugh, the adrenaline, the cheers, the blood, the sensations couldn't be replaced, nor could the entertainment he brought to the people.

He was the baddest motherfucker in Stilwater.

[cherry-romper]

hey! hope you’re having a fantastic day. wanted to request a OP! reader saving reno, maybe he thinks he’s about to die and BAM reader comes in and saves him and then patches him up, comfort/fluff please! thank you for feeding my delusions:)

-🐟

Reno x OP!Reader

Better late than never >:D

Warnings; Strong violence, themes of spiders throughout

Contains; GN!reader, comfort/fluff

Word count; 2072

‘How many of these bastards are there?!’ Frustration coursed through you; your back pressed against the ruins of an office building. Sweat laced your brows as you relentlessly cut down the continuous onslaught of 8-legged yoju. You didn’t know how long you’d been fighting, nor did you care, if the yoju kept coming, you’d keep fighting. 

Using your gun as a knife, you pierced through the belly of a yoju that had leaped off the wall next to you. It cried out in pain, its grotesque pincers mindlessly biting and slashing the air, a desperate attempt to taste your blood. Staring the beast down, you clamped hard on the trigger, sending a blast of energy deep into the yoju. The shot eviscerated the creature’s core, what remained shook as it curled itself around your gun. Grimacing at the sight, you quickly kicked the carcass off before shooting another that stampeded towards you. 

You knew it wasn’t smart to stick around. You were growing tired, and your max output was decreasing by the second. Soon you doubted having enough power to even shoot through the yoju’s shells.

Why did it have to be spiders? You thought. Fear creeped its way into your mind. These yoju felt different from the rest. Their sheer number was second only to the ant yoju, but these had the ants in size and power. Just looking at them gave you the heebie-jeebies. 

This was not how you planned on dying, but there was nowhere to go. The original area for extraction had been overrun, your best choice was to wait for a new one to be set. 

But what about Reno? The little voice in your head sent you spinning. He had updated his position on the radio about 20 minutes ago, claiming to be headed towards the old extraction site on the very road you were on now. 

It was a gamble, any second you could be overrun and devoured by the monsters further down the street, but it was a risk you had to take to get to him.

Sucking in a breath, you took a brave step forward and began your assault. You kept your form tight, and you gun secure against your shoulder. You moved fast and precise, keeping each movement deliberate and every blast powerful. 

You stepped over debris and yoju alike, laying waste to anything that moved. This is what you’d been trained for. You couldn’t call yourself a Defence Force officer if you couldn’t even protect yourself. 

The more you progressed, the worse the streets became. 

Arachnid and human corpses lay bloody. The walls were painted in a strange, silky sting. You slowed your pace down, taking a moment to examine your surroundings. 

Your eyes widened at the horrors above you. Hanging corpses, wrapped in web, shook and squirmed. The people trapped inside were still alive. 

Your blood ran cold. These poor people would suffocate if you didn’t act quickly. The idea that Reno could be in one of these cocoons washed a wave of anger over you. 

The more you stared at the gruesome sight before you, the more the absence of spiders dawned on you. They were nowhere to be seen, but you could feel their beady eyes on you. The world seemed to stop for a minute. Impending doom taking hold. Your mind raced to find the right course of action. 

‘Don’t overthink, just do’. You recalled Reno words. He had uttered them to you after you froze up during training. 

You couldn’t afford to freeze up again. If you did, you’d be a midnight snack for some 8-eyed freak. 

You braced your legs and unsheathed the blade from behind your back. Leaping into action, you began to cut down web after web. You bounced off buildings and walls, taking great care with your footing to not trigger any vibrations. You freed the hanging cocoons, lowering them carefully to the ground. 

Quickly, you gathered them into a pile on the ground, trying you best to not get stuck to them, all the while, keeping your eyes peeled for any movement, ready to strike at the slightest noise. 

Removing the web from the faces of your fellow officers, you sighed in relief, they were all still breathing. No Reno, you thought. Shushing them, you asked for a sit rep. 

They relayed to you that a larger Kaiju had decorated this place. The cocoons they were in weren't the only ones. Deep into the ticker part of the web system, this beast had dragged more officers. In a shaky voice, one of the officers told you that the thing was cannibalistic.

You looked around to the smaller yoju corpses in disbelief. It had killed its own kind?  This had never been seen before. You attempted to use your radio but to no avail, the webs seemed to be jamming your signal. 

With no other choice, you stared down into the webbed tunnel system that lay ahead you. You knew what had to be done. 

“Get out of here,” you commanded, “it’s not safe for you. Stay together, find somewhere with better signal and call for extraction far from this place.” Handing your gun over to one of the officers, you gave them a sad smile. They knew it best not to argue with you, your mind was made up. 

You removed your mask; it would be no help to you in the upcoming fight. Taking you blade, you wiped it clean on your forearm. Once you were sure the remaining officers were out of sight, you walked over to where a thick string connected to the floor. You sucked in a breath before flicking a small tune on it. It sent a vibration into the thick section of the tunnel. 

You waited a moment, anticipation eating away at you. Then you heard a sticky scurrying and the webs around you started to shake. Due to the web’s movement, there was no telling where the kaiju would appear from. You positioned yourself in the middle, you blade held tightly in your hands. 

Silence followed. The creature had stopped moving. You scanned the abyss for any sign on it, but there was nothing. You steadied your breathing, circling on the spot to get a better look at all the tunnel openings, hoping to catch a glimpse of it; a leg, the shine of an eye, the hump of its back, but there was nothing. Only the scarcity of its presence. 

Your eyes darted around, panic and fear overtaking your every sense. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. It was foreboding, like you were already caught in its web. Now, you understood. It was playing with its food. That’s why it had kept they others alive. Blood must taste better when it is laced with fear. 

You calmed yourself as much as the adrenaline would let you. It was here, somewhere, you just had to find it. Straining your ears, you listened for any audible cue. To your delight, there was a faint clicking sound to your left, the beast was readying its pincers. 

Found you.

With a cry you slashed at the webs to your left, taking the kaiju by surprise. It shrieked in pain. You’d sliced through two of its legs, relieving it the appendages. A smug smirk play at your lips. “You shouldn’t have underestimated me,” you chuckled lowly, tracking the creature as it ran circles around you. 

It was huge, quadruple the size of the yoju you’d previously battled. You could see every hair on its dark, mud-coloured body, as though it were covered in needles. It spouted of head of 10 great, bulging eyes and razor like pincers. They snapped and clicked as it ran effortlessly in and out of the webs. It was fast, faster than you’d anticipated, but not fast enough. 

Predicting its movement, you threw your blade, lodging it deep in one of its many eyes. Following quickly behind it, you leaped next to the beast as it swayed and shuddered, not giving it time to recover. Pulling the blade from its eye, you sliced across its face, taking out its bottom row of orbs. A deep blood-lust compelled you to keep stabbing. 

The kaiju wailed, thrashing around trying to get you off it. Dodging its pincers, you used the handle of your blade as a step and twisted your body into a seated position on its back, unsheathing the blade as you went. 

Now, mounted on top of this abomination, you brought down your blade into its head. The kaiju spasmed, gargling on its own blood, as its legs gave out. It fell with a thump to the ground, paralysed. Its core was located in its rump. It watched helplessly as you dismounted. Wiping your blade clean on its back, you spat at the creature. 

Positioning your sword, you sunk it deep into its back, taking pleasure in watching the life leave its eyes. You stood victorious next to its corpse. 

Adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you made a mad dash for where the creature had emerged. Wasting no time, you began hacking away at the webs like they were plants in a forest. The only thought on your mind was Reno. 

What if he was dead already? What if you were too slow? Too weak? Your mind wandered and raced as you chopped away at the white strings. 

Soon, you could see the silhouette of a cocoon, backlit by the moon. The sight made you cut faster, crawling thought the sticky silk, pulling your limbs free where needed. 

Once you reached it, a sinking feeling befell you. It wasn’t moving, and it was drenched in blood. 

No! Please don’t let it be him!

Balancing yourself on the bed of sting, you freed the person from their prison. Brushing away the residue from their face, you could see it was Reno. 

Your heart skipped a beat seeing his sickly pale skin. He’d lost so much blood. Two large holes adorned his abdomen. Cradling him in your arms, you checked for a pulse. 

Relief hit you like a train when felt the rhythmic beating of his heart. It was slow, but it was there. A thankful smile graced your lips. You couldn’t help but hold him closer to you. Resting your head on his, you began to rock, coming down from the high of the adrenaline. 

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that before he began to stir. His face scrunched up at the immediate pain he felt upon awakening. Memories came flooding back to him and with them panic. 

He began to thrash around only for you to steady him. “It’s okay,” you reassured, “it’s me, you’re safe.”

Bewildered, his big orbs stared up at you. His hands shakily made their way down to his chest, his breathing quickened at the sight of his mangled body. You quieted him, “don’t panic. Let your suit repair your tissue.” 

Sure enough, the suit had begun the healing process, and his wounds were starting to close.

His voice coarse and throat dry, Reno coughed up blood and phlegm. Though he tried, he couldn’t seem to put together a sentence. His hand searched for yours, which you gladly gave to him. 

He looked so confused, so lost. It broke your heart. Your eyes stung at the threat of tears. Keeping yourself composed, you gave him your best smile, squeezing his hand, letting your body language talk for you. 

Gulping a few times, he began to speak, “I’m-ugh-I’m glad it’s you.”

You knitted your brows, confused as to what he meant. You opened you mouth to query him, but he stopped you before you could. “I’m glad you’re the one who save me, I-” he spluttered “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled the best he could, and you giggled back, heat rising in your cheeks. The moment was interrupted however by bright lights and the thrumming of a helicopter overhead. The spotlight beamed down on the two of you through the webs, you both shielded your eyes from the light.

“Thank god,” you breathed, looking back down at Reno. He gazed back at you, searching deep into your eyes. You both let out a laugh, smiling at each other like idiots. Slowly you came to rest your head on his, your hand still firmly in his grip, happy to finally be going home together.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Bring Back Madison Post + Norman Posting Bethyl!

A couple of things to point out today. I'll start with the shorter of the two. Yesterday, Norman posted a reel from Still in his Instastories. Yay!

It will still be there for part of the day today, if you want to check it out, but then it will disappear.

The next thing lots of people were sending me yesterday was this post from @feartwd on IG. It's about how/why they brought Madison back.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Fear the Walking Dead (@feartwd)

Here was my first reaction to it, which I sent to a follower on IG:

I think this is a hint. Sure, Madison had some fans who wanted her back, but not nearly as many as Beth. There was so much more “bring Beth back” after Coda than Madison ever had. I think this is them hinting that it could be true of other characters too.

And then my fellow theorists talking about it. I had not read their conversation yet when I wrote the above, but I had to chuckle because I did right after, and chimed in as you'll see below, and we all came to the EXACT same conclusions 😊:

@galadrieljones:

Hey friends. Interesting post from Fear AMC today. Am interview with Kim Dickens claiming that it was really due to the fan base and their vocal outcry to “bring back Madison” that the showrunners decided to bring her back.

Is this true? Look maybe there are like three dozen rabid Madison fans out there.

Interesting to me, because Beth had an actual real outcry that made national news, and ppl still actually do ask Emily about it, and they have been bringing Emily back to TTD as a fan favorite for years.

Is this tptb casually letting fans know that they listen and respond?

Once again, I can’t imagine the outcry was that big for Madison. I love Fear but frankly it’s just not that popular, and Madison was just not that good of a character.

@wdway:

I really don't think we can even compare the reaction between Beth and Madison death it's like day and night. The other thing is that Fear/tptb did not want Madison's being alive as a huge surprise remember last year, they announced it months in advance. The only unknown was when she was going to show up. The viewers had to wait till the very end of the season to see her. No surprise, no shock at all. In reading comments during that time there were just as many people if not more who didn't care for her character and didn't feel she needed to return as there were that were happy to see her.

@galadrieljones:

Yeah, if anything it seemed to inspire a lot of indifferent to slightly happy reactions. That said I see tons of ppl who are hopeful to see Alicia again.

@wdway:

Agreed. I'm one of those who is looking forward and hopeful of seeing Alicia again.

@galadrieljones:

Me, too!! She could be doing anything. I hope she’s gotten into some deep stuff with the CRM lol (I just want more info , but also, I liked her.)

@wdway:

I'm looking forward to watching Fear early on Thursday but I'm torn as to what I expect or hope to see. I don't expect to see any real hints of Beth because we're going to go into it with a time jump. There was be a lot of filling in information just from that happening. At the same time though they're not having a long season so they're going to have to finish the entire series in what, 12 episodes total?

@galadrieljones:

This random guy’s reply to the tweet about Madison being back made me happy because immediately I was like, “Hmm yeah would be a great idea to bring Emily back after Melissa pulled out of the spin-off” LOL

@twdmusicboxmystery:

I’m LOLing bc I hadn’t read this yet, but someone sent me this post on IG and I had the exact same thoughts as you too. Shocker, I know.

Did 60K people sign a petition to bring Madison back? Did Gimple receive—what was it? 5000 or was it more like 20000–spoons from fans, demanding she be brought back? Nope. Only Beth. I honestly think they’re forcing the Madison story a little bit because they want it to be a template for Beth. That’s fine, but they’re definitely inventing more fervor than is truly there.

@galadrieljones:

Madison’s entire thing was “No one’s gone until they’re gone.” They’re absolutely using her to normalize radical returns of “dead” characters lol. And like I’m sorry I think that tag was totally astroturfed to make it seem like there was an outcry so they could use that as an excuse. Madison has been gone for many years. There’s no way to investigate that tag (#bringmadisonback) and to see how popular it actually was!! Just imagining tptb talking about the public outcry for Beth and how they finally listened after all these years. They’re extremely excited to have Emily back on set and can’t wait to reveal what’s in store for her (and Daryl)

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Agreed! It’s been a long time in coming. Part of the reason I can’t wait for Fear is bc I’m sure Madison’s arc will be one great big template for Beth’s. Yay!

That's all. Just wanted to point out the suspiciousness of it. And could it possibly be significant that these things are being posted literally days before the final season of Fear starts? Hmmm. 🤔