#they’re dead kids but at the end of the day they’re all apart of someone else’s story

[ikilledyvette]

(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

*

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough. 

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney). 

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

*

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby. 

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps. 

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face. 

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap. 

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.” 

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

[cherrysnax]

oh yeah we were also wondering why we flock to media with dead kids that haunt the narrative both figuratively and literally and uh :) yeah we know why

[wolfish-chan]

More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them

- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly

- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s

- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults

- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks

- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly

- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together

- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL

- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice

- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce

- Alfred keeps every single one

- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)

- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.

- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking

- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end

- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver

- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban

- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it

- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him

- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”

- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him

- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home

- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home

- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too

- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them

- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling

[peachesofteal]

The dead disco break up Pregnancy au got me in my feels all day. Literally all day.

And all I can think about is when the guys get home? Find her not at the apartment and they’re both like, “can’t blame her, I get it” and are over come with guilt. Their own relationship getting a little rocky. Maybe Johnny gets frustrated more easily with Simon. Simon withdrawals a little more into himself bc that’s how he handles pain and grief. But they make it through. They always do. Until they find out about darling and the baby. However that happens, be it in a grocery store or whatever. But Simon comes from a very traumatized childhood. He sees the baby and just knows. That’s their kid. And is overcome with so much grief bc now he’s no worse that his dad is he? What’s worse than someone that’s there and beats you? Someone that’s not there at all. Not knowing. And he has always promised himself he’d never be like his father, but than this is just too close to comfort.

I imagine he surprises not only himself but Johnny and darling the most when he ends up doing something drastic. There were no words he had to defend himself or Johnny. He’d be mature. Whatever it takes, whatever darling needed just let him be in his child’s life, let him be in your life, let him do better. Don’t LET HIM HAVE THIS WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS.

Darling would have more whiplash than Johnny but even Johnny is taken back by the lengths Simon would go? (Getting out the military? Domestic security and law enforcement jobs so he can be home? Idk?) but Simon just comes out of no where, with “I’m here. I’m not going no where. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.” Bc he does love darling and he does love Johnny, but that kid? He’d move heaven and hell for that kid. It was Ryan Reynolds who was like “I love my wife, love her more than anything. Then we had our baby girls and realized I would use my wife as a human shield to protect my kids” As a joke of course but it’s to that extent. Simons 2 priority’s become taking care of that child and mending the relationship between the three of them, not bc he loves them (he totally does, and his devotion to his partners is infallible) BUT BECAUSE that kid needs to know what healthy relationships are based out of love and communication not grief and missed social cues and resentment.

Simon takes fatherhood seriously. Most serious job there is. And he’s not going to let darling’s (low key selfish) feelings of betrayal and self deprecation keep him from taking care of his child and said mother of that child.

———

Johnny however? He’s the one that’s hesitant surprisingly. He’s hurt. Beyond hurt that you wouldn’t tell them something like this. It’s the adult thing to at least say something right? Even if they did leave. This is more than them now. And he goes along with Simons initiative to fix all of this but Johnny needs some serious reassurance and maybe an outlet for all this anger and hurt he has. And there’s so much going on that it’s easy for Simon and darling to kinda miss that a little bit,

Until Johnny doesn’t want to hold the baby. Says he’s scared he’d drop it. But Simon knows better.

Johnny feels lost.

Darling feels lost.

Simon is their beacon of light in the darkness.

It comes down to the sexiest night known to human existence, and a lot of crying and confessions while fucking all those emotions out. Simon has always known how to get these two to let down their walls. Breakfast is for figuring out detail’s schedules ect. But that night? That was them fixing it. Letting go and moving forward. In the sexiest. Way. Possible.

^look what you’ve done to me. I’m serving alcohol at a bar thinking about these characters, THE DISTRACTION IS REAL AND I NEED MORE.

You’re fantastic. I hate you for doing this to my brain. Love ya!

Um… hi? Hello? Come back. Let’s talk about this more, let’s break it down. I am obsessed with this. I love this. 🩵🩵

Simon goes into protective overdrive the second he see’s you. Not sure how or when or where it happens, but Bee is not even two months old, and he doesn’t even need to ask you. She’s so little, cocooned in a linen wrap, cradled to your chest, and he already knows. How could that baby be anyone’s but their own?

He does exactly as you’ve described, drops everything and retires early. Price and Johnny always thought he’d make captain soon, but none of that matters now. His military aspirations have meant less and less every year since he met Johnny, and meeting you only sped his career’s ultimate demise along.

He’s not going to let the cycle repeat. He’s not going to let his child grow up and feel like they’ve been abandoned by him. He’s not going to let Bee grow up without him being there. Loving her. Supporting her. He won’t be his father. He refuses.

You agree to let them see her, and agree to let them take her for nights or days if they’d like. But you won’t let them in. Won’t do much more than co parent with them, won’t engage in anything real with them, won’t give them a single inch. You stonewall them, block them out, give them excuses and refusals at every turn. Sure, they can be in their daughter’s life… but they can’t be in yours.

While Bee is important, you are too. He wouldn’t use you as a shield to save her, he’d save you both. There’s no option. No choice. You’re the love of their lives, the now mother of his child. He’d lay down and die for you.

But none of that matters. You won’t let them in.

It drives Simon insane. He’s understanding, and mature about it, and patient (compared to Johnny, who’s running hot over it… frustrated, agitated, consistently visibly upset, holding onto his anger and resentment over the fact you never came forward and even told them about Bee. Johnny can’t get over that you went through everything alone… can’t understand why you wouldn’t tell them, give them a chance to be there for you.. and it stings. It hurts him, so fucking much, and that hurt melds into anger, it burns into his heart and twists his feelings until they’re a jumbled mess.) but he can’t seem to make you understand that they love you, that they thought about you everyday when they were gone, that they mourned the end of the relationship. It’s not just about the baby, they were coming back for you no matter what. They knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that they weren’t meant to live their lives without you. They made a mistake.

But… they fucking abandoned you. And now they come back, and see that you have a baby and just decide they want to be back in your life? No. Absolutely not. They didn’t want you anymore, before Bee… nothing has changed. You won’t let yourself fall back into their grasp, and you’re so adamant about that that you fight them nearly at every turn. Can they take Bee? Sure. But “family trips” to the store? “Family trips” to the park? Not happening. You pack her diaper bag and kiss her goodbye, while Simon watches you with an intense scrutiny, eyes tracking your every step while he holds little Bee is his giant hand. He doesn’t miss a single thing, doesn’t miss the way your hands shake when you press a sweet kiss against her cheek, doesn’t miss the way your body moves sluggishly, like you’re exhausted, even after the nights they’ve had Bee, which means you should have gotten plenty of rest. Johnny just stands in the corner and stares at the floor, hands in his pockets during these exchanges, practically unwilling to engage with you in any way because he’s just so… upset with you, still. He’s better with Bee, loves her dearly, but can’t get past what he’s holding inside of himself, can’t get past how he feels so betrayed you, even though a part of him thinks he has no right to those feelings.

I love your last little bit - about the night Simon breaks you and Johnny apart and then puts you back together. There is something very similar/along those lines in the actual fic outline.

BUT ALSO… let’s imagine: They try to fix it. They try to get you to let them back in, to open up to them, to let them be there for you. As time goes on, Johnny changes, the red hot fire of anger that burns inside of him eventually goes out, lovingly smothered by Simon, and his resentment and feelings of betrayal all melt away. How could he ever have felt those things, when you were the one who was left all alone? Pregnant, with no way to contact them? He lets it all go, fully embracing parenting with you and Simon, trying to get back into your life, trying to love and support you from afar, any way they can. They start to notice a change in you… you seem a little happier, a little lighter on your feet, a little more relaxed and they think it might be working… that you finally might be growing more amenable about letting them in, about building back the relationship.

Until… they show up for Bee’s first birthday party, and there’s a man with his hand splayed on the small of you back in the backyard, holding you, tugging your body into his, while Bee shrieks and giggles on the blanket in the grass. There’s another man, watching their daughter, holding their darling girl close, while they stand in the doorway, shell shocked.

[kywaslost]

omg hello! Can I get a scenario of Aizawa and Mic maybe going on a patrol and finding a child in an alleyway, like maybe lost and injured. So then they like take them to the hospital and then they find out that they’re related to Oboro Shirakumo?

I Can’t Believe He Lives On - Aizawa and Present Mic

A/N: Omg hi!! I absolutely love this request! Sorry it took me so long, but I just finished finals today and now I have time to do a lot of writing. I hope you don’t mind but I made the reader a teenager. I feel like it fits my idea best. I hope you enjoy it!!

“Come on Shotaaaaa!” Hizashi hummed excitedly. “Shinsou’s out with his friends and Eri is spending the night with your class. We have the house to ourselves! We could go out to dinnerrrrr.” Hizashi cut in front of Aizawa as they walked across a rooftop, now walking backwards so he could still talk to his lover. “Or we could order takeout and watch a movie on the tv?”

Aizawa raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t know Mic. I’m tired. I just want to sleep.” He dragged a hand through his long black hair. “It’s been a long day. I just want--” Aizawa stopped talking, then stopped walking, looking around with the same raised eyebrow.

“What?” Mic asked, now confused. He took a step closer to the other pro. When he went to speak again Aizawa cut him off.

“Shh.” Aizawa continued to look around. “Do you hear that?” Shota walked to the edge of the building, peering over the small wall that was there. “Someone’s crying.”

Hizashi followed his friend over to the edge, trying to see what he was looking for. “That could be anyone, Sho. We’re right next to an apartment building. Someone may just be having a bad night and left the window open.”

“No.” Aizawa’s voice left no room for argument. Then his hand shot out, pointing down at the end of the alleyway. “Look. Someone’s down there.”

Yamada followed the invisible path Shota’s finger left, and then he saw it. There was a kid, somewhere between 15-18 years old, limping quickly down the alleyway. They kept looking around in a panic, and that was when Hizashi finally registered the sounds of soft crying. “They look scared.”

That’s all it took for Aizawa and Yamada to jump down into the alleyway, not too far from where you were currently. Their sudden appearance startled you, and you made a startled sound as you frantically backed away from them.

“Hey,” Aizawa said calmly, holding his hands out to show you that he wasn’t there to harm you. “You’re alright.”

“We’re heroes,” Yamada added. “We can help you.” Now that he was closer to you, he could see blood dripping from your hairline. There were countless rips and holes in your clothes and more wounds scattering your body. “Oh, honey you’re bleeding.”

“Let us help you,” Aizawa quietly said. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Your back met the rough brick wall of one of the buildings. It was odd how it somehow soothed some of your wounds. You looked desperately between the two men slowly walking towards you. It was better than no one, you supposed. So you took in a shaky breath and muttered, “they have my brother.” You squeezed your eyes shut as tears finally made their way down your face. “They have the body of my dead brother.”

“Woah,” Hizashi rushed forward to catch you as you fell to the ground crying harder. “Ok, it’s ok.” He looked up at his lover. “What do we do?” he whispered. “They’re clearly too distressed to be thinking clearly, and they’re bleeding. They have a lot of wounds.”

“So we take them to the hospital,” Aizawa concluded. “We take them to the hospital, let them get treated, and then question them when they are better.”

Aizawa soon realized that his plan was easier said than done once they got to the hospital. Hizashi had carried you the entire way there, whispering comforting words as you bawled into his chest. But when they tried to admit you into the hospital, the nurse running the ER wouldn’t allow them to since they had no idea who you were. They had to file you as a John/Jane Doe, and that process took longer. Then they weren’t allowed to visit you in your hospital room until they could prove that they were there for official hero business.

Needless to say, it was a very long 24 hour battle with the hospital. On top of that, Aizawa and Yamada had to make sure Shinsou and Eri were taken care of while they were gone. But eventually they made it up to your room, quietly knocking before entering. You were awake, staring out the window. Your soft blue eyes drifted over to the two heroes.

“Hi.” Your voice was shaky and rough from misuse. Hizashi handed you a cup of water as he sat down with Aizawa next to your bed. You thanked him once you were done with the cup.

“How are you feeling?” Aizawa asked.

You shook your head. “They still have my brother.”

“What do you mean, little listener?”

“Can you tell us your name?” Aizawa needed to know who you were. “We’d like to inform your family of your condition and location.”

You shook your head yet again. “My only family is dead, and those people have my brother’s body.”

“Who does?” Hizashi asked, placing his hand on your own that rested against the hospital bed you were in.

“Those villains.”

Aizawa asked, “The league?”

You nodded.

“Can you please tell us your name, dear?” Aizawa was being gentle. “We’ve been working against the League for quite some time. Maybe we know what they want to do with you and your family.”

Your water eyes met Aizawa’s crimson ones. “My name is Y/N Shirakumo.”

The two heroes in the room swore their heart had stopped beating. Their lungs quit working and all they could hear was intense ringing in their ears.

“What?” Hizashi choked out.

“They have my brother.”

“Oboro?” Aizawa didn’t think he could even say his friend’s name. “Is that him?”

“Yes. He died several years ago, and now the League is using his body as a meat suit for one of their members.”

“We know.” Hizashi was crying now, his green eyes glossed over with tears. “Honey, Oboro was our best friend in high school.”

Aizawa muttered a low, “I was there when he died.” He felt like he couldn’t speak through the tears. But then he looked up at Hizashi, then to you in the hospital bed. “You’re his only family left, and I swear on my life that I am going to protect you. To keep you safe. Because you’re the only piece of Oboro left and that means you mean the world to me and Hizashi.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Hiashi smiled softly. He ran a hand through your hair, watching as you began to cry. “But only if you want us to.”

You nodded quickly. “You knew him. That’s all that matters to me.”

[ellabism]

someone should write an ellabs fic where they knew each other as kids and were fireflies together and had dated, but one day fedra bombarded them in an all out attack where they got separated amongst everything and never end up finding each other, assuming one another is dead. then the canon events happen within the first game and the second game, but ellie doesn’t know who killed joel, only that they’re WLF. but when ellie goes out to seattle to avenge joel she finds out her long lost gf from when they were kids is in fact alive and apart of the WLF. and it causes so many emotional wars for the two

idk i’ve had this idea of them knowing each other and actually dating before being separated for years and reuniting when they’re older and still having that love for each other but the circumstances with all the canon events make it hard

[amhrosina]

Wherever You Go, I Go (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST REQUEST

A/N: Requested by a nonnie! I love writing readers that give Frank an attitude when he's being a dumbass, so here's that lol

Request: “wherever you go, i go” with frank pls🥺? maybe a hurt/comfort where he tries to push the reader away to protect them but they’re adamant about staying by his side? of course pls disregard this if it doesn’t inspire you <3 have the best day 🌷💝

Summary: Frank hasn't spoken to reader in two weeks and then shows up battered and bloody on their doorstep. Reader accidentally reveals their feelings in a fit of anger.

(Warnings: all the normal Frank things, so like blood, descriptions of stitches, wounds, etc. also, lots of cursing, soft!frank, idiotboy!frank, loml!frank)

Frank Castle was a mystery to most people, but you thought you’d cracked the code in understanding him; key word – thought. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him last, and the idea that Frank had lost interest or abandoned you gnawed at your stomach at all hours of the day. He wouldn’t just leave, would he? 

It wasn’t like you were officially together or anything, but after the months of long nights sewing up cuts and whispering secrets into each other’s skin inbetween teeth clashes and hair pulling, you couldn’t really call Frank just a friend of yours. He’d made that clear every time you were anywhere near him. The familiar weight of his hands on your waist, the way he knew exactly where to press his lips on your neck to make you moan, the soft kisses he’d press into your hair when he left way too early in the morning.  

You weren’t crazy for thinking he cared about you – you knew that – but his lack of contact for two entire weeks was a growing concern. Was he hurt? Dead? Did he meet someone new? More interesting? You were losing focus in your day-to-day tasks, and it was all his fault. Your boss had sent you home early and told you to get some sleep because it was clear that you needed it, but it was now past midnight, and you were beyond sleep at this point.  

A loud thump against your front door startled you out of your haze. You grabbed the pistol Frank had left for your protection and inched towards the door. Your apartment wasn’t in the safest part of the city, but you’d never had to use a gun on someone before. Frank’s words had been clear when he was teaching you how to shoot it: “Safety off, cock it, aim, and unload the entire clip in the bastard’s face.”  

You repeated his steps like a mantra as you peeked through the peep hole. You stared into your dim hallway, searching for the source of the noise, and found nothing. You grunted in annoyance. Dumb kids being dumb, you supposed. You went to move away from the door, already over the disturbance, when your eye caught a tiny bit of movement towards the bottom of the peep hole.  

It was a subtle movement, one you would’ve missed if you blinked, but it was there, and you recognized those god damned boots. You set the gun down, swiftly unlatching the deadbolt and swinging the door open. Frank laid in a crumpled heap at your feet, a low groan emitting from his throat. He’d been leaning against the door when you opened it, so he had landed flat on his back in your haste to open the door. 

A gasp caught in your throat when you finally took him in. Frank was covered in blood. You could just barely make out Frank’s dark eyes looking up at you. His nose was crooked and bleeding, definitely broken, and you could see a cut across his chest that was flowing more blood than you knew a human could have in their body. 

“Oh my god, Frank!” Your voice finally came back to you in a hushed whisper. 

You curled your arms under his shoulders, tugging him far enough into your apartment that you could shut the door. Frank was tall and muscular, so you knew he’d be heavy, but his dead weight was almost impossible for you to move. You ended up falling backwards, landing on your tailbone. Frank’s head rested in your lap; face pulled in a painful grimace.  

You cradled his head, tears welling up in your eyes.  

“Where have you been, you fucking asshole?”  

The way you were softly stroking his cheeks juxtaposed the anger laced in your words. Frank’s eyes were half lidded – he was barely conscious, but still breathing. You crawled out from under Frank’s weight and ran to the bathroom, grabbing at anything and everything that could help.  

Frank was struggling to move when you dropped down next to him, pushing him back towards the floor.  

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t move.” You mumbled, tugging his jacket off. His shirt was being held together by a few strands of fabric across the collar, so tearing it off him wasn’t difficult. The hard part was having to peel the sections of fabric that were so coated in blood that they were stuck to the gaping wounds. Frank’s breathing stuttered as you started putting pressure on the wound across his chest.  

Blood was bubbling out of the cut, falling down his sides and onto your freshly mopped floor. Your Christmas pajamas were coated in red, but you weren’t worried about any of that. The more pressure you put on Frank’s chest, the more his eyes widened, and he needed to stay conscious.  

Once the bleeding slowed, you began to sew stitches into the gash. Frank’s eyes followed your movements. It was a slow and painful process, but it gave you enough time to figure out what you wanted to say to him. 

“You’ve been gone.” You mutter, pushing the needle through his skin. “You’ve been gone, for weeks, and then you show up half dead and bleeding all over my floor. Where were you?” 

“’m sorry, baby.” Frank’s rough voice had a direct line to your heart, which ached in response to the two weeks of radio silence.  

“I thought-” He gritted his teeth as you pushed the needled through his skin again, “I thought you’d be safe if I wasn’t around. I thought you’d be happier.” 

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at him and then back down at the stitch you were working on. “If you really thought that, then you’re an idiot.”  

“I never said I was smart.” The smirk on his lips reminded you of the rage you had swallowed down earlier.  

“You. Left. Me.” You spit. “You couldn’t even say goodbye? You just fucking left me and thought I’d be happier? Fuck you, Frank. You should know by now that wherever you go, I go. If you really thought that leaving was a good idea, then you’re either blind or I’m a fucking idiot for falling in love with you.”  

You freeze, squeezing your eyes closed. Your planned speech had been thrown out the window the minute you’d let yourself feel just how angry you were at him for abandoning you, and you’d just accidentally said the L-word to Frank fucking Castle. 

Frank’s hands hover over yours, still mid stitch. You didn’t want to open your eyes and see the rejection written on Frank’s stupid face.  

“No. No. I didn’t mean to say that. Forget it.” You shook your head and focused your gaze on the chest wound that was almost completely stitched up.  

Frank’s hands wrap around yours, halting any more movement from you. You didn’t want to look, refused to, even. Frank mumbles your name, slightly squeezing your hands. 

You finally look up, meeting his gaze. His expression was mostly neutral, but his lips rested in a small smile.  

“You love me?” he asks, nonchalantly running his thumbs over your hands. 

You let your head bob in a single nod. 

“I lo-” You cut him off. 

“Don’t say it unless you mean it. And don’t say it if you’re going to leave again.” You plead with him. He lifts one bloody hand to cup your cheek and shakes his head. 

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. I love you. And I left because that scared me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been taken from me. I know it was stupid to leave, and I’m sorry.”  

His words weakened the fire in your blood. Your eyes softened and you leaned into his hand, still cupping your cheek.  

“I thought you were dead.” You whisper into his palm, pressing a soft kiss into his skin. 

“’m sorry. I’ll never leave you again.”  

The weight of his promise sits on your chest for a moment.  

“Okay.” You respond, nodding your head. Your attention returns to his chest, a comforting silence overtaking the apartment as you finish stitching up the cut. You slowly make your way down Frank’s body, searching for and patching up any injuries you come across.  

You help pull Frank to his feet. You’re both thoroughly covered in his blood, and you’re almost positive you won’t be getting your security deposit back on account of the giant puddle of it on your floor. 

“Are you staying?” You ask, warily glancing between him and the door.  

Frank cups your jaw and pulls you into a searing kiss. You stumble into his hold as he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. 

“I’ll stay forever if that’s what you want.” He mumbles against your lips. 

“That’s what I want.” Your voice is breathy, seductive, even. 

“Okay.” His tone is final as he nods and kisses you again.  

“Okay.” You respond, smiling into the kiss. He pushes you backwards towards your bedroom, but you stop him. “We both reek. Shower, then fun, okay? And only if your cut doesn’t hurt too bad.” 

“Got it, boss.” He chuckles, pulling you toward the bathroom.  

After your shower, you walk into the bedroom, fully intent on ravishing Frank whole when you notice his sleeping form. He’s already in a deep sleep, arms resting behind his head on the pillow. You knew the adrenaline from the night would eventually catch up to him. You crawl into bed next to him and rest your head on his chest, carefully avoiding the cut you’d covered in gauze after your shared shower.  

Frank turns, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. 

“Mmmm, love you.” He mumbles, still mostly asleep. 

“I love you, Frankie.” You whisper, content to spend the rest of your life wrapped in his arms. Frank Castle is a mystery to most people, but not to you, you decide as you drift off to sleep, not to you.  

Tag List:

@alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @mymamalife @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt

[elvishdemigod]

Screw it, I'm never gonna actually write this. So here, fanfic idea for anyone interested in writing it. I've been holding onto it since I was like 16 or 17 and I'm in my 20s now. Someone else can write it.

Adopting it, you can do what you want with it. But this is all I’ve personally thought up for it:

So it'll start with Percy and Nico being adults, they're married, they're happy.

Then Nico gets a prophecy and he leaves to do the quest.

But when he finally comes back via shadows, he's halfway dead and beyond saving, having used the last of his strength because he didn't want to part from someone he cared for without telling them goodbye.

A month or two goes by, it's the day after Nico's funeral, and Percy is sitting in their room, still in shock that his husband is dead.

There's a knock at the door, he ignores it. Once, twice, gone.

Then Aphrodite appears in front of him, startling him, saying something along the lines of "Well, I WAS trying to be polite but that apparently wasn't an option."

Before Percy can shoo her off, she tells him there's a pocket of Kronos's powers only she knew about and she's willing to give it to Percy so he can go back and save Nico. Not out of kindness, but because it's basically like a movie having a shitty ending to her and she wants to fix it.

He ends up accepting, but gets thrown too far back, to when he was 12 in the Lotus Hotel & Casino.

He realizes what's happening, tries to find Grover and Annabeth like last time. But on his search, he bumps into a young boy asking if Percy's seen his sister, and saying everyone’s being weird and saying it’s different years. And Percy feels just a wave of emotion remembering how Nico looked back when they had first met. But then he’s confused because this hadn’t happened last time he was here.

He helps Nico find Bianca, Bianca doesn’t trust Percy but her and Nico agree to follow him because he’s the only one with some sense of normalcy compared to everyone else. They help him find Annabeth and Grover, who once finally out of the Casino are confused at the two new kids, but Grover senses that they’re demigods.

This time, Percy knows his mother is alive and Hades has her, but on top of remembering he has his helmet, he now has 2 of Hades’ kids. So he doesn’t know what to do there (In other words: I don’t know)

Then when he gets to Olympus, all the gods acknowledge the time change. They want to just strike Percy then and there, but know he’s the prophecy child, and aren’t risking putting Nico or Bianca in that place because at least Percy is mostly guaranteed for them.

So another thing is that this time around there’s no Hunters of Artemis around to pull in Bianca. So she sticks with the trio and Nico at CHB. Whether her destiny is to die or not is up to whoever adopts this.

And with Bianca alive, or at least having a more settled life for him to properly mourn, Nico might end up living life differently.

Nico cautiously opens up to Percy about liking guys (Specifically in the scene where Nico popped into Percy's apartment window and was invited in for cake), and by TLO they’re a couple.

In HoO, when Percy loses his memory, all he recalls is a skull ring and that it belonged to someone he cared about. When he gets to Camp Jupiter, he just senses he knows Nico, and it’s amplified by the fact Nico has that same ring. But Nico, knowing he can’t reveal too much, pretends Percy has the wrong guy. When Percy finally remembers, he embraces Nico, but stops when he remembers Nico’s closeted still.

Story goes on mostly as normal, but with more of the two together and Percy thinking about their future and how to protect him.

Due to Nico’s fears, they keep their relationship secret aside from Grover and Sally. But then the Cupid scene happens, and Nico tells Jason about his and Percy’s relationship. Jason is supportive. When they all meet again, Jason lets Percy know that he knows and that he’ll keep them secret.

By the end, instead of the “You’re not my type” talk, it’s instead “I think I’m ready for the world to know.”

And it’s Annebeth being the surprised one (Unless you want to include her in the few people who knew)

Stuff goes on as normally, ToA happens, they’re somewhat long-distance except when Nico sneaks out via shadow travel to see Percy. Adult life comes around, they move in together, get married, and this time around have a surrogate kid. But the day is closing in, the day Percy has been dreading since he went back to the Lotus. And when it finally comes, he begs and pleads for Nico not to follow the prophecy, who’s about to put his foot down. But then he exposes the truth, how this wasn’t the first life they’d lived, how this wasn’t the first time they were there. And how Nico was going to die.

And at this point, Nico knows what’s going to happen, the quest isn’t going to stop just because he said no. And he would’ve walked out the door anyways despite Percy’s protest because at least his death will keep them safe, if their kid hadn’t overheard everything and now knew their dad/step-dad was going to die.

This was the point where my brain also pooped. Does Nico die anyways? Do the dangers come to their home instead? If so, could that lead to a sequel/just continue where they go to save their kid? Or does it conclude around here? Because there WILL be consequences to them majorly defying fate. And probably some consequences from Percy using a speck of Kronos’ power.

So feel free to do with this as you want. I have so much thought out but I’ll never actually write it.

I also have other ideas I’ll never actually write myself, but I’ll talk about those some other time.

Also, it was inspired by this fanart by @minuiko

[aurumacadicus]

October's coming and the theme is horror! Tumblr will vote to help us narrow it down to three books, and then we'll vote for the winner on Discord. If you'd like to join the book club, send me a message, and I'll send you an invitation link! Book summaries are under the cut!

Family Business by Jonathan Sims JUST ANOTHER DEAD-END JOB. DEATH. IT’S A DIRTY BUSINESS. When Diya Burman’s best friend Angie dies, it feels like her own life is falling apart. Wanting a fresh start, she joins Slough & Sons - a family firm that cleans up after the recently deceased. Old love letters. Porcelain dolls. Broken trinkets. Clearing away the remnants of other people’s lives, Diya begins to see things. Horrible things. Things that get harder and harder to write off as merely her grieving imagination. All is not as it seems with the Slough family. Why won’t they speak about their own recent loss? And who is the strange man that keeps turning up at their jobs? If Diya’s not careful, she might just end up getting buried under the family tree…

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix In horror movies, the final girls are the ones left standing when the credits roll. They made it through the worst night of their lives…but what happens after? Lynnette Tarkington is a real-life final girl who survived a massacre. For more than a decade, she's been meeting with five other final girls and their therapist in a support group for those who survived the unthinkable, working to put their lives back together. Then one woman misses a meeting, and their worst fears are realized—someone knows about the group and is determined to rip their lives apart again, piece by piece. But the thing about final girls is that no matter how bad the odds, how dark the night, how sharp the knife, they will never, ever give up.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero In 1977, four teenagers and a dog—Andy (the tomboy), Nate (the nerd), Kerri (the bookworm), Peter (the jock), and Tim (the Weimaraner)—solved the mystery of Sleep Lake. The trail of an amphibian monster terrorizing the quiet town of Blyton Hills leads the gang to spend a night in Deboën Mansion and apprehend a familiar culprit: a bitter old man in a mask. Now, in 1990, the twenty-something former teen detectives are lost souls. Plagued by night terrors and Peter’s tragic death, the three survivors have been running from their demons. When the man they apprehended all those years ago makes parole, Andy tracks him down to confirm what she’s always known—they got the wrong guy. Now she’ll need to get the gang back together and return to Blyton Hills to find out what really happened in 1977, and this time, she’s sure they’re not looking for another man in a mask.

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell. But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming serioes know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, “for the algorithm,” in the upcoming season finale. Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles. Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future—before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Stepping far afield from his medical studies, Victor Frankenstein brings to life a human form he has fashioned from scavenged body parts. Horrified by his achievement, he turns his back on his creation, only to learn the danger of such neglect. Written when Mary Shelley was only 20 years old, Frankenstein has been hailed as both a landmark of Gothic horror fiction and the first modern science fiction story.

The Sacrifice Box by Martin Stewart

In the summer of 1982, five friends discover an ancient stone box hidden deep in the woods. They seal inside of it treasured objects from their childhood, and they make a vow: Never come to the box alone. Never open it after dark. Never take back your sacrifice. Four years later, a series of strange and terrifying events begin to unfold: mirrors inexplicably shattering, inanimate beings coming to life, otherworldly crows thirsting for blood. Someone broke the rules of the box, and now everyone has to pay. But how much are they willing to sacrifice?

A Lonely Broadcast by Kel Byron

If you find yourself driving down a winding mountain road near an endless stretch of pines, try tuning in to 104.6 FM: the radio station that shouldn’t exist. The village of Pinehaven has a secret of monstrous proportions. Evelyn McKinnon, a radio host falling on hard times, finds herself utterly unprepared when she learns that the radio station isn’t just for entertainment. It’s a watchtower. She’s stalked by a bird with human eyes. Her co-host won’t stop singing show tunes. And when the fog rolls in, the beasts of Pinehaven Forest begin their brutal hunt. Evelyn and her friends are suddenly face-to-face with something much scarier than ravenous flesh-giants and vengeful spirits: responsibility. ‘A Lonely Broadcast’ is a darkly comedic tale that mixes elements of cosmic horror, gruesome gore, and a touching story about friendship, grief, and finding hope when all seems lost. It’s also the story of an unhinged woman’s personal war with a goddamn bird.

Episode Thirteen by Craig DiLouie

Fade to Black is the newest hit ghost hunting reality TV show. Led by husband and wife team Matt and Claire Kirklin, it delivers weekly hauntings investigated by a dedicated team of ghost hunting experts. Episode Thirteen takes them to every ghost hunter’s holy grail: the Paranormal Research Foundation. This brooding, derelict mansion holds secrets and clues about bizarre experiments that took place there in the 1970s. It’s also famously haunted, and the team hopes their scientific techniques and high tech gear will prove it. But as the house begins to reveal itself to them, proof of an afterlife might not be everything Matt dreamed of. A story told in broken pieces, in tapes, journals, and correspondence, this is the story of Episode Thirteen—and how everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

[must4rdmha]

What situation?…

Mustard fanfic, made by: SidJ08

AU! Where Toga and Mustard are Compress’ adoptive kids,they’re still in the lov.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Sunday afternoon, on a fall/autumn day where most teenagers were going out or playing videogames. This wasn’t Mustard’s case.

He was being driven in a car to a talk with a psychiatrist, but he wasn’t being driven by the police, he was being driven by his friends (Or the League of Villains). He didn’t like the idea, but he was neither doing anything to stop them, he just wasn’t being himself.

The reason of this sudden visit to a psychiatrist(known by the league, ofc. They would never go to someone who they didn’t know everything about (and when I say everything is EVERYTHING.).) is because a few weeks ago the league was chit-chatting in the hideout as always, and they were talking about their past and all that.

When it was his turn of asking him about “whAt Is the ScarY rEasOn of WhY yOu sTarTed to kIlL 👻” he just didn’t respond, everyone thought he would say something like “WW1, Soviet Union, guns, bombs” but he just stayed there,without saying a word(literally).

Toga thought he would have fell asleep,so she approached to him trying to “wake him up” and when she was about to touch him, he quickly sit up, surprising the league.

“Stop.”

He looked really tense, and his hands were really sweaty, and when they started to look shaky he saved them in his trousers’s pockets, after that leaving the hideout without saying a word about where he was going, for then to return 2 hours later.

After that strange moment, it looked like things for Mustard weren’t the same. He had a poker face and he almost didn’t say a word, like if he was thoughtful all the time. The plans he would usually accept to make now he declined them and he spent most of his day on the rooms the hideout had for the members that preferred staying there/ they had nowhere to stay. If he wasn’t in his room he was out, he tried to avoid the bar the best he could, which it was mostly successful due to his ability to be silent.

This was kinda worrying for most of the league, but more for Compress and Toga, that they were the ones who were the closest to him.

They tried talking to him but he just responded with short answers and he ended up avoiding them. Until it was beginning to be stressful for him and he exploded.

—“ Hey Mustard what if we go t-?”

— “STOP. Stop trying to make me talk! If I don’t wanna socialise,neither go out with you it’s my problem AND ONLY MINE. Stop trying to apologise for that night! You guys don’t know what is my story or if my parents are dead,are heroes or they just don’t want to know anything about me, or if I’m traumatised or if…*he sighed* JUST STOP.— and he left. After that he went from responding with short sentences to avoiding everything and not talking. Making Compress to call Getaway to tell her “Hey, could you drive us where I sometimes ask you to drive me? The kid who’s obsessed with WW1 needs it.”

So now,here we are, Mustard sitting at the left back of the car looking at the window,seeing the cars moving and people having fun.

“…Where are we going?” He said leaving them surprised, he didn’t speak since a few days ago.

“You didn’t forget how to talk! …To see Mister’s psychiatrist”. Toga answered, Mustard don’t turning his head to look at her.

After that comment everything was silent, even Getaway was starting to get uncomfortable with that awkward silence.

“So…How have you all been doing?” Getaway said for trying to maintain a conversation.

After that they all started to maintain a conversation,except Mustard,that was still looking at the window.

A few minutes later they reached to their destination, Compress thanked Getaway and when he was about to pay her she suddenly stopped him,telling him that for today he didn’t need to,that when things got better he would can.

Getaway left and they reached to an apartment building, Atsuhiro grabbed his phone and started to call someone,while Mustard and Toga waited. Less than a minute later a young woman was seen going down the building stairs and opening the door, letting them in.

She presented herself, her name was Lady Honeycomb or Hachi for friends. They go up stairs and enter an apartment.

Her apartment looked like a clinic, of course it was an illegal clinic, but there was a few people there,no one that they know. Hachi told Compress and Toga to wait outside, telling Mustard to follow her.

At her office:

She closed the door behind them, leaving them alone in the room.

“Alright, Mustard. Take a seat” Hachi pointed at a sofa and to a chair, leaving Mustard to choose where he wanted to seat.

Mustard nods and sits on the chair facing her and the desk.

Hachi sat too, facing him with a calm smile.

“Mr Compress,or your adoptive dad,however you call him, told me that in this few weeks you have been without talking to anyone since while talking with the league, or your friends, you were asked about a topic that you seemed to be sensitive with”. She explained to him slowly,trying to make him talk.

There was an awkward silence, a silence that Hachi expected to be. Mustard was looking at the desk, not making eye contact with her, but this time instead of having a poker face, his face looked kinda pale and he had a blank stare.

Hachi sighed and kept talking “But that’s not the main reason of why you’re here, the reason is because after that situation you had with-“ She was interrupted.

“What situation?…” He asked, now directly looking at her with open eyes.

“The fight” She responded. “When you exploded and started to say that everything that was happening to you it was just your problem” When Mustard heard that, he broke the eye contact,again.

“When people explode emotionally, they tend to vent about what happened to them, but in an aggressive way” Hachi explained, trying to make him understand what happened.

There was an akward silence again.

“Look, Mustard. You’re here because they’re worried about you… What happened for you to have this sudden change of personality?” She asked, making him more nervous,saving his hands on his sweater pockets.

“Because this isn’t you-“ she was interrupted.

“Of course this isn’t me” He lifted his face,facing each other. “Do you really think I like being like this? Like if I enjoyed making the others to be worried? Why do you think I told them to stop worrying?!” He was starting to get annoyed, which was noticiable because his widened eyes.

“I don’t know,I wasn’t there” She responded. “Why?”

“Be-because… Because these are my problems, just my problems. I have dealt with them always! And I’ll keep dealing with them alone…” He answered,slowly opening to her.

“And how long have you been dealing with them? Which were the times where you find the hardest to deal with them?” She asked while writing something in her notebook.

“I have been dealing with them always…” he started to think about the second question. “I…” he looked at the floor “I don’t know”.

“You can’t think about any moment?” Hachi asked,observing his blank stare at the floor.

After a few seconds he shook his head. Making Hachi to write another thing.

“And…What are that problems you’re mentioning? Does it have something to do with when you joined the League…or before joining”

“…Before joining” He said “The league isn’t as bad as people paint them” he slightly chuckled.

“I know” Hachi smiled and wrote something down. Then checked her watch, noticing that they had only 10 minutes left.

“Look, we only have 10 even 15 minutes left. Before you leave, could you confirm me that before I asked you about “the situation”, did you forget about it?”

“ You’re asking that before I got here…If I did forget about the fight?”

“Exactly, did you?” Hachi had her pen prepared to write something. “Please,Mustard,be honest-“

“I did.”

After that Hachi began to write down something, she searched some things in her computer too, leaving Mustard clueless and kinda confused. She pulled out the prescription pad,write down something in it with some illegible handwriting and afterwards wrote the same thing on her notebook. She checked again her watch and the 10 minutes had already passed.

“Alright, you may go now, but please after that tell Compress to come in”. She smiled at him “Have a good week!”

Mustard nodded and got out of the office, some seconds later Mr.Compress coming inside the office.

( Hachi’s color will be this since now)

“Good morning! Take a seat” Hachi said, pointing at the chair in front of her desk.

“So, how did it go?” Compress asked,removing his mask.

“Before I tell you anything, I just wanna make sure he isn’t allergic to any pills”.

“No,he is not…Is everything okay?” Compress seemed kinda concerned and confused.

“Alr, so let’s see…” She checked some notes “Mustard probably has a dissociation disorder”

“Why? And w-why probably, and what is that?” He asked, his face turned quite pale when he heard that.

Hachi expected this to happen.

“Compress,look, don’t get nervous. Hearing the word disorder can be confusing and concerning, but it’s more common that you think it is. Dissociation is a type of response towards a trauma, dissociation “buries” the trauma with it’s pain, and when someone remembers you or makes you to remember unconsciously the trauma, it rakes up. Making the dissociation progress to repeat.” She explained slowly, seeing how he started to understand.

Compress sighed. “And…Did you know if he did just developed it? Because he has never been like this!”

“It doesn’t look like so, but I believe I would need to have more sessions with him for confirming completely that, he has this disorder and when did he develop it.” Hachi glanced for a moment her notebook. “You mentioned me before coming here that he finds difficult to sleep,so I prescribed him some pills that will help him to sleep and after it the pills have an effect to make him feel more relaxed.” She gave him the prescription. “If you need something ,call me…Oh and, don’t forget to come to our appointment.” She said,now looking at him in a more serious way, making him to chuckle slightly at her reaction.

“I won’t… Thanks for everything, Doctor” Atsuhiro smiled,more relieved.

Hachi nodded,seeing how he would leave and close the door behind him.

When he came out of the office he could see Mustard crying on a chair while Toga trying to comfort him while asking why was the reason of his crying. Atsuhiro was about to do it too,then he realised something: Mustard remembered again.

THE END.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought this would be short, but I had time,so…

I hope you guys liked it 💚 please, I would really appreciate it if you supported this post,this got me days of making.

Special thanks to @tokkiyuni who lent me her ocs, tysm again 💗 (AND CHECK HER ACC, SHE DOES AMAZING DRAWINGSSS 💕)

People mentioned: @marbled-magician @little-sis-toga @honeycomb-hachi @just-getaway

-🌬️🌪️

[typical-simplelove]

Hidden Words (R. Spiers)

Summary: Ron comes home from the war, wanting quiet and solitude, but when a friend from his childhood saves him when he needs it, a new friendship is formed. What happens when the lines are blurred and demands are made? Can Ron recognize he can have peace and quiet amidst the noise?

Author's Note: This is my Secret Santa fic for @latibvles. Thank you for bearing with me, and I'm sorry this took a moment. Between the end of the semester and the jump right into the family and holiday stuff, I've barely had time to breathe. Nonetheless, here it is, and I hope you like it!

Warnings: implied!female reader; mentions of the war (canon typical); mentions of having/wanting children in the future;

Word Count: 6.9k

Ever since he returned home, his mother continuously tried to step him up on a date. She didn’t understand that he didn’t want that; no part of him was ready to date. For starters, how could he explain the things he’d seen—done—in the war to anyone, especially someone he should be spending the rest of his life with? 

Besides, he doesn’t think it’s worth it to spend all this time working on opening himself up and getting to know someone only for the relationship not to work out. There’s no point in trying to make something work when he knows it won’t.

But his mother wants grandkids, so he can’t say that to her. 

Since he came home from the war, it’s as if the entire world is dead-set on producing the next generation. While Ron sees no flaws in that, he doesn’t want to partake. It’s not that he doesn’t want kids; it’s the process of finding someone to have children with. The time and effort weren’t worth it to him if it could fall apart—either by war or personal faults. 

But his mother wants this for him, and he can never say no to his mother. 

Presently, Ron and his family are on their way to a block party, hosted by a couple of families down the road. He remembers the names—some of the people he grew up with. 

As they get closer, he starts to feel the anxiety building up. Everywhere he goes where people remember him from his childhood, they immediately begin to thank him for his service and want him to tell his stories. While he knows they have good intentions, he’s not always in the mood to talk about his experiences overseas, and sometimes, he would prefer to pretend they never happened. 

As expected, once they arrive at the small corner of the neighborhood where the party is being hosted, he’s surrounded by people who want to hear his stories and tales. There are so many voices, making different requests, that he isn’t able to pipe in and ask to have this conversation another time. 

He looks around for his mother, but she’s nowhere to be found. First, she drags him to this gathering; then, she leaves him alone. He shakes his head, frustrated. 

“Excuse me,” a voice pipes in from being Ron. “I need to borrow him for a moment.” 

Their hand intertwines with Ron and begins to pull him towards one of the houses. The moment is so hurried that he doesn’t have a chance to look at the person who’s dragging him away—his savior. 

He’s so shocked and confused that he doesn’t register to which house they’re heading towards. He doesn’t register the familiar steps of stairs or the familiar room he’s in or the recognizable bed he’s sat on. 

“Hi,” Ron says when he finally recognizes that you’re his savior, and you brought him up to your childhood room. “Long time no see.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, there was this war in Europe; did you know about that?” 

“Vaguely,” he replies, a small smile begging to be released. He can’t remember the last time he smiled. “Thanks for saving me.” 

You nod. “You look horrified, and as much as that amuses me, I figured today wasn’t the day to be bombarded.” 

Living just down the street from each other, your family and his family often interacted. For a while, your lives orbited around each other. There was nowhere you went where Ron didn’t follow closely behind. He was your shadow, just being happy to be around you, soaking in your aura and liveliness. 

He would spend hours of his days with you, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you or talking about you to anyone who would listen. 

By the time you both reached high school, your friendship wasn’t socially acceptable anymore, so you and Ron drifted. Anyone who knew Ron before high school would say that a part of him died or drifted away when you both stopped being friends. A chunk of his soul, personality, and heart was chiseled out, waiting to be put back when you returned. 

By the time Ron went off to war, you were pretty much strangers to each other. But, even if he didn’t know it, there were still parts of him that longed for you. 

Sitting on your childhood bed, looking at you as you organize all the guests’ belongings that were scattered around your room, small parts of the missing pieces of himself started to be pieced back together. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him, a curious and amused look in your eyes.

He nods. 

Deep down, he knew he wasn’t letting the friendship go again. 

. . .

“I didn’t have the chance to make anything, so I just went to the store,” Ron apologizes as he begins to take out food containers and lays them out on the picnic blanket. 

“You were going to cook? Wait, actually, you know how to cook?” 

He gives you a faint eye roll. “Yes, I’m not entirely helpless, by the way. But also, my mom has been trying to domesticate me in the event I decide to settle down. That’s been her post-war plan for me.” 

You nod, ignoring the small pitter-patter of your heart. What would it be like to live with a domesticated Ron?

Whoa, you’re not sure where those thoughts stem from, but as he opens up the containers and begins to make you a plate of your favorites, you couldn’t help but wonder. He took the initiative in planning this. He was never late, and if he was going to be late, he made sure to communicate it. He was always conscientious about your feelings and what you wanted to do. He was just—

Were your standards that low, or was Ron just genuinely that great? 

“What was it like?”

“What was what like?” Ron inquires in between bites. 

“The war, being overseas.” 

In a matter of seconds, Ron’s entire body tenses up, and you see the muscles in his neck tighten. “I would rather not talk about that.” 

You nod. “What about the people you served with?”

“Don’t,” Ron replies, sharp and pointed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked, sorry.” You wanted to know, but you understood why he wouldn’t want to share this information with you. It wasn’t an easy experience or an easy topic to discuss. But did that give him the right to be that rude and abrasive with you?

“I shouldn’t have responded the way I did, though, and I apologize for that.” 

“It’s okay,” you reply. 

A few minutes of awkward and heavy silence follows. The only sounds are the other families laughing and talking as they take in the nice weather. Now, you feel incredibly bad for bringing it up, but a part of you feels almost rejected. He doesn’t feel comfortable enough around you to open up. 

The only way you know to end this weirdness is to talk about stories from the people around you, so you dive into the stories of people in the neighborhood and work, throwing in little quips and jokes. It takes a minute for Ron’s icy exterior to melt, but soon, he’s laughing along with your jokes and making small comments here and there. 

Despite the way he’s interacting in the conversation, you can’t help but feel that he’s holding back from you, still. It’s almost as if he doesn’t feel at ease with you right now. 

But then he flashes you one of his brightest and rarest smiles and the way his eyes sparkle as he looks at you and the sunlight shrouding him in a glow sets your entire body on fire. He was always known for being guarded, so you shouldn’t be surprised he’s holding back from the difficult conversations with you. But he doesn’t smile like that for anyone, right? So that has to mean something. 

He means something to you. 

Yeah, you’re screwed. 

. . .

All he said was to come to dinner. You didn’t know what to expect, but all he said was to come to dinner, and no, you shouldn’t bring anything, despite your insistence. Just yourself, he said. 

Just yourself. 

Those words echoed in your mind for the days and the hours that passed between him asking you to come and you arriving at his doorstep. 

Just yourself.

Just yourself. 

Just yourself. 

You’re not someone who often reads into things, especially when it comes to things with romantic feelings involved. For the sake of self-preservation, you didn’t let yourself read into things, but with Ron, you couldn’t help yourself. With every interaction you have with him, you so badly want it to be more. 

Does Ron asking you to go to his mom’s house for family dinner mean something, or are you supposed to go only as friends? 

The spiraling and spinning thoughts don’t stop as Ron welcomes you into the house, takes your jacket, and you shrug off your shoes. Did his fingers linger on your shoulders for a brief moment? Did he hug you a little longer than necessary, than normal? Did he give you a small smile, his eyes twinkling with a purpose? Did he treat everyone else this way, or were you special? 

You so badly wanted to be special. 

As the night went on and you were reintroduced to Ron’s family that you remember from when you were growing up, you pretended not to recognize the curious and interesting looks they gave you and Ron. You ignored the way their eyes drifted to where his hand was guiding you on your back or the way his hands rested on your shoulders when he was introducing you to someone. You ignored their pointed looks as he whispered in your ears every now and then or the looks he gave you. 

No one wanted to say it or ask it, fearing the glare Ron would send them. 

As much as you wanted them to ask or say something, you didn’t want to know what he would say. You didn’t want your worst fears to be confirmed. 

“No,” Ron says, interrupting your thoughts as you make your way to the dinner table, finding a seat on one end of the table, not near where Ron was sitting. He rests his hands on your waist and guides you toward the other end of the table where he’s sitting next to his mom. 

“I can sit there.” 

“No.” 

“Ron—” 

“Don’t make me carry you over there. I want to sit next to you.” 

“Okay,” you reply softly, ignoring the pitter-patter of your heart with the meaning of his words. 

As the meal progresses, you’re sitting, chatting with the people around you, and you nearly jump out of your chair when Ron’s arm goes to rest along your shoulders. No way you can’t read into that, right? Ron’s not known for being a touchy person. That’s how it was growing up, but recently, with you, you can’t help but wonder if that reputation no longer exists for him—at least not with you. He was constantly trying to have some part of his body against yours, but was that something you could read into? 

Your thoughts are interrupted when one of Ron’s aunts calls your name from somewhere across from you. “Are you single?”

You nod, taken aback. “Waiting for the right person to come along.” 

“Well, if Ron isn’t going to do anything and give you an honest life, I have a few children and nieces and nephews who can and will.” 

“Um, thank you.” You’re not sure how to respond to Ron’s aunt, but you look toward the man in question, trying to see what his reaction will be. 

He gives you a small, courteous smile, a smile he never uses with you, a smile he only reserves for those he doesn’t want to talk to. He never uses that smile on you, but tonight, he did. “You can do whatever you want with your romantic life. We’re friends, right?”

Oh. 

“Right,” you reply, turning your head away from him and back to your plate. 

There goes that. 

The way you turned away from him made Ron’s heart drop. You’ve never turned away from him like that, so dejected. The normal fire and spirit you have with Ron disappeared. He watched the sparkle in your eyes die right there in from of him. But he doesn’t know where he went wrong. You’re allowed to do whatever you want; he will never try to control you. He was just telling his nosey aunt the truth. You’re friends, and you can date whomever you want—not that any of his cousins were good enough for you. 

The rest of the night continued, but a nagging feeling pulled at his heart as a deep pit opened in his stomach, and he had no idea where it came from. All he knows is that as he watched you help his mother with the dishes, the string on his heart pulled against him, warming his body in places he never knew possible. As he watched you do puzzles with his younger cousins, he couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling that he felt to the tips of his fingers. 

When you hugged him goodbye, he knew he never wanted to let you go. He wanted to hold you against his body forever—keeping you safe from the world. 

Ron couldn’t explain the agony in his body as he watched you walk to your car and drive away. 

Maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with you. He wouldn’t mind making his life for you. 

Well, what does that mean? 

. . . 

Ron’s mother was at her reading club for the night, so Ron invited you over for dinner. He promised a “home-cooked meal, don’t give me that face,” and it excited you. Despite your realized feelings for the man, you can’t help but want to spend your time with him. You know that nothing will ever come of your feelings for Ron, but you can’t stay away from your friend. The happiness it brings you is indescribable. 

But you have an exit plan when you feel yourself getting too much in your head (and delusional) around Ron. 

Setting boundaries, you promised yourself. That was the only way you’d be able to spend time around him and not go crazy, breaking your heart. 

As Ron welcomes you into his mother’s home, the smells from the kitchen hit your nose, and you’re instantly warm and fuzzy as if you’ve been wrapped in a warm blanket. Once your coat and shoes are off, Ron takes your hand and guides you toward the kitchen, giving you a soft smile as he watches you walk through his childhood home. 

You’ve been down this hallway, seeing all the pictures of little Ron, many, many times, but there’s something different about it now for Ron. There’s a new meaning and feeling to it for him. 

But he just chalks it up to being happy that it’s finally peacetime. That he can enjoy moments like these without the fear of being bombed or killed. The people and things most important to him are safe. 

“Penne-vodka,” Ron answers when you inquire about what you’re making. 

Your favorite, you think to yourself, trying to hide the toothy smile begging to be released. 

“Your favorite, right?” he asks, a small twinkle in the corner of his eyes. You give him a small nod, and Ron can’t help the triumphant, happy feeling deep in his chest. 

Ron turns back to the stove, stirring the pot, and you take the time to watch him cook. He’s different than high school, and as your eyes roam over his body, you’re appreciative of the changes his body has undertaken since graduating. The very good changes. 

“Have you talked to anyone from our graduating class since being back?” you ask after a few minutes of silence. 

“Not really,” he replies, short and to the point. “It’s not something I’m too keen on.” 

“Why’s that?” you question in between bites of bread.

He shrugs, ending the conversation there. 

Right, that’s Ron’s new thing. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he’ll shut down. These conversations only happen on his time—which means never. While you understand that some topics may be too difficult for him to talk about, you wish it wasn’t so hard to talk with him. Often, you were the one who was starting the conversation, pretty much begging for Ron to say something. You knew he was engaged in the conversation because he maintained constant eye contact, laughed at your jokes, smiled at the appropriate times, and nodded when needed. But it felt like you were the only one who made an effort to talk. Sure, Ron was a quiet person, but there’s a difference between being a quiet person and letting the conversation be one-sided. 

Besides, it was you. If Ron couldn’t talk to you, then he couldn’t talk to anyone. Or was it that he wouldn’t talk? 

Why did it hurt you that Ron kept his words hidden and tucked away from you? You were supposed to be one of the people he trusted the most, so why couldn’t he untuck those words with you? 

As you help Ron set the table to eat, you recall the time a few weeks back when you went to Ron’s for a family dinner. You remember that he didn’t say anything really to his relatives. While that made you feel slightly better, it didn’t fully appease your feelings. At least you knew that it wasn’t just you that he held back with, but then again, it was you, and there was no change.  

As the meal continues, you put your confusion and doubts to the side. It didn’t matter his lack of talking or conversation because the safety, comfort, and warmth you felt around Ron significantly outweighed the talking issue. Even if you only got friendship out of him, you knew that you couldn’t go the rest of your life without the way he made you feel. 

He made you feel safe and loved (even if platonically), and that by far was one of the most important things to you about finding a partner—romantically or platonically. 

The rest of the night passed in quiet moments and short conversations, but it was never awkward. That’s how Ron was. There was no need to compensate for the lack of conversation because the quiet wasn’t awkward. It was secure and calm. It was the kind of quiet that came from years and years of learning and growing around the person you loved. 

Well, shit, you chose to ignore that. 

When it was about time for you to head home, you began to voice a goodbye, and Ron led you towards the front door where he helped you put on your coat. 

“Wait, hold on,” Ron says as you’re putting on your shoes. “I have something for you.” 

He quickly makes his back to the kitchen and comes back with a tray of food. You already had a large container filled with leftover Penne vodka, so you’re confused about what he was now handing you. 

“I made you mac and cheese,” he tells you softly, the cheeks and the tips of his ears tinged red. “You can either put it all in the oven at once, or heat up chunks separately. I don’t know why I told you that because I’m sure you know how to cook for yourself. Anyway, I’ll help you take it out to your car.” 

You can’t help the silly smile that takes over your face. You try to fight it, but the smile is there if Ron’s reddening face is any indication. You’ve wanted this boy to talk to you, and by the time you finally get him to say more than two sentences to you, he’s a stern, babbling, blushing mess. It was cute.

“Thank you, Ron,” you tell him, the smile heard in your voice. He nods and makes his way to put on his shoes and walk you to your car. 

With the food and leftovers securely placed in your backseat, you and Ron linger at the driver’s side door. You’re leaning against the car as Ron stands close to you, towering over both you and the car. His eyes are searching your face for any indication of what to do next. 

“Thank you for having me and cooking for me,” you finally say. You didn’t want to leave, but it was getting late, and his mother will be home soon. 

“You’re always welcome here,” he tells you, his eyes sincere and honest. You nod. Without thinking, you lean forward and briefly kiss Ron on his cheek, your lips burning when you pull away, but it’s not any comparison to the way his cheek burns around where you kissed him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way Ron’s hand stiffens into a fist as he processes what just happened. His breath is shaky and fast as you pull back, and his eyes are in a daze. 

This time, you’re able to hide your smile as Ron’s face turns crimson red. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you tell him, unlocking your car and getting ready to leave. “Good night.” 

Ron stands there in a daze as you drive away, too confused to move. He’s standing there, unsure of what just happened and why his body reacts the way it did. 

When his mother returns home almost twenty minutes later, Ron is still standing there. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks as she walks over to Ron. That seems to mostly pull him out of his daze. 

“She kissed me,” is all he says, and his mother smiles. 

“You’re a lucky guy.”

He nods. “Very lucky.” 

If only he could control his body temperature and heartbeat then maybe he’d be able to figure out what just happened. 

. . . 

“Do you remember Arden from middle school?” you prompt, your heart tugging at the meaning of your words. 

Ron thinks for a moment, his thumb drawing circles around your ankle. You’re sitting on the couch in the living room of his mother’s home. She’s out, so you feel comfortable resting against one of the armrests, your feet in Ron’s lap. You’re reading a book. The minute your legs rested in Ron’s lap, he placed his arms on your ankles, tracing small patterns, leaving trails of fire in his fingertips’ wake. 

“Yes,” Ron voices, his tone neutral. He doesn’t know where this is going, but if it’s going where he thinks it’s going, he’s not going to appreciate it. 

“They asked me out,” you say after a few moments. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Ron asks, terser than you expected. You’re taken aback by his response. 

“Because you’re my friend—one of my best friends—and we tell each other things,” you reply. “Well, at least I tell you things.” 

“What does that mean?” Ron asks, him now taken aback. 

“It means you don’t tell me anything. I know nothing about your life since we finished high school, and what I do know, your parents have told me. It’s not fair for me to be the only one to share things! I don’t exist as a form of entertainment for you.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

You know it’s not entirely fair. 

“I don’t have to share what the war was like for me,” Ron spits back. But that’s not what you’re referencing, and deep down, you know that he knows that, too. 

“It’s not just that,” you reply. “I’m not talking about that. You’re not required to tell me anything about your time in the war, and that’s not what I’m asking for. There’s so much more to your life that you choose not to tell me about. It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“You know everything about me, and I know pretty much nothing about you, and I’m tired of that.” A deep sigh leaves your mouth. “You don’t need to tell me everything, but I shouldn’t be disappointed in the lack of open communication between us. It’s as if you don’t trust me.”

“How can you say that? I trust you more than anyone else in this world!” Ron hears the rise in the volume of his voice. He leans back on the couch, trying to stop himself from yelling because you’re right. He doesn’t share much with you. As much as he wants to share with you, he can never get himself to say anything, and it’s not just about the war. He’s holding back; he knows he is. 

“I’m going to leave.” 

“No, please, don’t,” Ron pleads. Despite this, he releases his hold on your ankles. He won’t hold you back despite how badly he wants to. 

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, Ron.” It’s a thinly veiled confession of love, and you know Ron picks up on it, but you know he won’t say anything or give you a response.

“What makes you think I want that?” So, he was going to address it, but it still got you fuming. 

“I don’t! That’s the whole point! You don’t talk to me, so I have no idea what’s going on in your mind! I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!”

You’re staring at him, begging for him to say something, anything. If he told you it was all in your head, you’d believe him. All he needed to say was anything, but you know he won’t. That’s not the kind of person Ron is. He has his walls up; he always has. The war only reinforced them, and while you can’t blame him for keeping things to himself, you can’t help but feel that your worth in his eyes diminished because of his lack of want to share. It’s almost as if you don’t mean as much to him as he means to you. It’s as if you’re more invested than he is in this relationship—platonic or romantic. 

It’s not fair to think those thoughts, but he’s not saying anything to you. He’s not making you feel any better. If he really cared for you in any way, he would say something, right? Ron’s perceptive. He very likely has a clue to what you’re feeling, but you also know he won’t say anything. He stays away from uncomfortable conversations because he isn’t comfortable having them. 

“I’m going to leave, now,” you finally decide. “It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.” 

“You’re wrong,” Ron spills, reaching out to gently grab your hand. You know that he could have held you tighter, but he didn’t. That makes your heart melt, despite the conclusions you’re gathering tonight. He’s giving you the ability to walk away. 

“Tell me why.” You’re looking deep into his eyes, and you want to read into all the looks he’s giving you, but you won’t. Not anymore. 

A few minutes pass where you’re looking at him, silently begging him to say something. 

“I’m leaving now. Please don’t contact me unless you genuinely understand where I’m coming from or why I’m doing this.” With that, you shake your hand out of Ron’s hold, walking away from him, your heart breaking with every step you take. 

As he watches you walk out the door, fuming in anger, confusion, and frustration, Ron can’t help but wonder if he let the best love of his life walk away forever. 

. . . 

A few days pass, and Ron feels a deep aching in his soul. He watches the phone for hours, begging and hoping you’ll call. He knows you won’t call. He knows the cards are in his hands. That doesn’t mean he knows what to do. 

Well, he knows what to do, but he doesn’t know if he’s capable of carrying it out. 

Ron doesn’t know where to start. 

There’s so much of what you said that’s bothering him, but he can’t tell why it’s bothering him. Maybe it’s because of the way your words pierced a hole through his heart, but then again, there are so many other feelings and things that only came out in his heart, mind, stomach, and body whenever you were around. Are those things connected? 

The first thing that made his blood boil and had Ron seeing red was the idea of you going on a date with someone. In theory, the person who asked you out (they who shall not be named) isn’t objectively a bad person, but Ron just doesn’t want you with them. Why would you spend your time with they who shall not be named when you can spend your time with Ron? He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling this angry about you spending your time with someone else. 

It’s a date, Ron tries to reason with himself. I can’t give that to her.

But could he? 

Those thoughts ran through his mind one night at 2 am when Ron couldn’t fall asleep. Could he give you all of your wants and desires romantically? Could he find it in himself to give you a life with more than just friendship? Objectively, Ron knows that out of all the people in the world, you’re the best option to build a life with, and you’re the only person Ron knows he can handle. But that’s not fair to you, to be the last resort (or is it the best resort? Ron hasn’t gotten there, yet.) or someone to “handle.”

The thought of spending the rest of his life with you freaks him, but it also comforts him. Who knew someone could feel both at the same time? Is this what it means to love someone? 

Once he has that singular thought, your other comments spring up in his mind, pushing away any thoughts of love. 

It’s not fair or right that I’m an open book, and you take it all in, not giving anything back in return. 

The war broke Ron. He was already broken, but the war broke him in ways that he never knew he could break. He’s so broken that he couldn’t imagine subjecting you to that. But that’s my decision to make, Ron, he could hear you saying if he voiced those words to you. And imaginary-you is right. It’s intimately clear that you know what you’d be getting when it comes to Ron, and it would be your choice to choose to make a life with him, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He knows he can prevent that pain if he keeps you at arm’s length. 

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Ron doesn’t want that. He wants you as close to him as molecularly possible. He wants to stay away, but he can’t. That’s the effect you have on him. 

He thinks he has it all figured out, and then he remembers the pain in your eyes as you walked away, and when you said,

It’s not fair for me to keep hanging around when I clearly don’t mean that much to you.

He’s already hurt you. By not having the capacity or the ability to tell you just how much you mean to him, he hurt you. You think you mean nothing to him when the truth is the exact opposite. You are his entire world, the reason his heart keeps beating, and the reason he takes a breath. But it’s gone. 

He’s never going to be able to tell you how much you mean to him. He’s never going to tell you how much he loves you.

That thought scares him but also excites him. He’s always been so afraid to think that of himself, but when it’s connected to you, it’s okay. He loves you and knows he’s not good at loving, but somehow, loving you is much better than anything else. He knows that because it’s you, he’ll find a way to fix his shit and be the best possible person for you. But he knows that you won’t let him go and you won’t let him fall. Loving you is the best thing he can do because he found someone who will hold on with their entire being, and Ron knows that he’ll hold onto you with his entire being. 

Loving you means that he takes those scary steps in opening up and being vulnerable. For so long, it was ingrained in Ron’s mind and survival that he couldn’t be vulnerable. Now, he’s learned that in some instances, it’s important not to be vulnerable, and in other circumstances, it’s okay to be vulnerable and open. Being vulnerable is okay because there’s someone there who will take your vulnerability and build a wall around you to the point that you’re safe and comfortable. 

And Ron knows that person is you. 

You’ll take his fragility, emotions, and vulnerability and make it your own. You’ll protect him and love him, and you won’t hurt him because he chose to be fully himself around you. 

Because that’s what love does. 

Love cures. Love protects. Love endures. But most importantly, love loves. 

Ron loves you. 

He loves you. 

He loves you so wholly that he wants to spill his entire world right at your feet. He wants to lay everything at your feet, but he knows it will take time and patience. He knows that you’re that person who will let him get there, and he knows that he’ll love you for it and make it worth your while to give him the time and the way to be vulnerable. 

For a moment, Ron’s scared that maybe he lost his chance with you, but then he remembers something you said that struck him deep in his heart, not knowing the effect it had: 

I don’t want to waste my time, but I don’t want to spend my time with anyone else but you!

He knows it’s not guaranteed that you’ll let him back in your life, but he knows he has a small chance. He knows he has a small chance to tell you how much he loves you and to show you that he’s worth it. He’s worth taking a risk for because you’re worth taking a risk for. 

You’re worth everything to Ron, and it’s about time he finds the words to tell you. 

Maybe all he needs to start with is three little words.

. . . 

“You’re right,” Ron blurts out, barely letting you open your door. 

“I mean, yeah, but why do you say that?” you say, a small smile on your face despite the conversation you both had a few nights ago.

“That it’s not fair of you to be the only one to share things. I’m not ready to tell you everything, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to tell you some parts of what happened to me, but I want to try. But you’re right, there’s so much more to that than just the war, and it’s not fair of me to have made you feel lesser because I’m not emotionally capable of telling you things or being the person you needed me to be. ”

“Ron—” 

This was everything you wanted him to say to you, but does it change anything?  

He shakes his head. “If I want to be with you and make a life with you, I shouldn’t be a ghost to you. I shouldn’t be someone you know nothing about.” 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with,” you attempt to reassure. “That wasn’t the point.” And that was the truth. 

Ron nods, and a small smile tugs at his lips. If only he knew the things he could make you do with just that small smile. “I’ve always been afraid of people knowing too much about me, but I guess the part of falling in love is learning to trust the most important person in your life, and I trust you. I trust you. I want to tell you all the words that are building up in my mind because you’re the only person I want to share them with. I have so many words built up in my mind that it feels like my body will explode. I never wanted to try with anyone else, but you make me want to do better and be better. Even if this goodbye, I’m still going to make an effort for all the people that matter in my life.” 

“If it feels like your body is going to explode, maybe you should go to the doctor. That can’t be a good sign.” 

A chuckle of disbelief leaves Ron’s mouth as he shakes his head. 

“What?” you question. No response follows. Ron gently grabs your upper arm and pushes you into your home as he lets himself inside. Gently and with reluctance, he lets go of your arms and shoves off his shoes. 

“I tell you I’m in love with you and I trust you, and the only thing you got from that was maybe I should go to the doctor?” 

“Oh, oops.” 

“Yeah, oops,” Ron mocks, one of the widest smiles you’ve ever seen stripes his face. “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, and you never were going to lose me.” 

He shakes his head. “You really know how to make a man’s heart weaken and emasculate him. But I guess I deserve this bit of agony and anguish.”

“I’m not doing anything!” 

“I’m telling you I love you, and you keeping skipping over that part.” 

“Because you keep saying things that warrant my more imminent response!” you defend.

“You’re doing it again,” Ron points, stepping towards you. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

“I’m going to try something,” Ron teases. He’s never teased you before. That was new; it was a new tone to his voice that you wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of your life. 

“What’s that?” your voice shaky. You can’t tell if he can hear you over the rattling of your heart, but by the twinkling in his eyes, you know that he’s in complete control, hoping to elicit a response from you. 

“I love you.” 

It takes a few seconds for you to register what he’s saying. A few blinks help your visual field clear up. Those three little words wipe the air out of your lungs. The ringing in your ears matches the beat of your heart as you process those three little words. For so long, you’ve been waiting for Ron to utter those three words. You didn’t want to be the first one to say those words. He’s so incredibly guarded that you weren’t sure if you were making up how you felt or how he felt, but now you know. You’ve been waiting so long to hear him finally tell you those three little words, and you have no idea what to do next. 

“Hey,” Ron whispers, gently lifting your chin to match his eyeline, taking you out of your thoughts. “What’s going on in your mind? Did I say the wrong thing?”

“What—what did you say?” Your breath is shaky, words finally leaving your lips. 

“Do you promise that if I say it again, you promise not to silently spiral?”

“No.” 

Ron chuckles. “Fair enough.”

A few seconds pass. You’re looking deep into his eyes. You want to say it to him, but you’re unsure if you dreamed it. But also, the way he said those words, his voice deep and husky did so many things to your body that you needed to hear it again. 

“I love you.” A small, nervous smile tugs at his lips as he looks at you expectantly. It takes you a few seconds to get your bearings straight, but when you do, a wide smile overcomes your face, and instantly, Ron knows you’re on the same page as him. In a matter of milliseconds, Ron pulls you against his chest, nuzzling his face against your neck, taking in deep breaths, laced with your calming scent. He’s whispering small “I love you”s into your neck as your arms find their way around his shoulders, your fingers creeping into his hair. 

Despite wanting to be in his embrace for the rest of your life, you pull back slightly, your nose resting against his. “I love you,’ you whisper, wanting so badly to close the gap between your lips and kiss him. 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” Ron replies, his lips brushing against yours. It doesn’t take much for you both to lean in, closing the gap, resting your lips on each other’s. It’s a soft kiss, hesitant and scary. There are still things that need to be sorted out, but right now, things are alright. Things are okay. The basis and the foundation are there. 

You love each other. Without that, nothing else matters. With that, you and Ron can build and develop things from there. With love, all the hidden words will no longer be tucked away, slowly finding their way to the surface. 

The future is uncertain, and there’s no telling if this will work out. But because you and Ron love each other, everything and anything is possible. With love, the future is endless. 

Fin.

Likes are appreciated; reblogs are better

[cultofdixon]

It Should’ve Been Me

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • They/Them Pronouns • You have always seen the archer as the father you’ve always wanted, and got eventually. But you didn’t know he saw you as his kid until both of you thought your time has run out • ANGST/SFW • TW: Gun Violence / Canon Violence [Saviors Arc]

Requested by: Anon

One thing for certain

You can mess with Daryl Dixon all you want. But the second you lay hands on his kid?

Better start digging your grave, baby.

Daryl was taken by the Saviors after the line up. He had lost some parts of his family that night and every fiber of his being thought it was his fault. But no one could’ve seen that coming…no one could’ve stopped a terrible man like that in their situation.

At least they’re safe Daryl thought on the drive to this place called the Sanctuary.

But when Rick returned to Alexandria without Daryl, how was he going to tell Y/N that someone important to them was just taken by this monster asking for half of their supplies? Carl knew his dad was going to sugarcoat it so he did what he thought was right.

“You’re lying”

“I’m not Y/N. They took Daryl. This bastard killed Glenn and Abraham right in front of us…”

The tears threatened to spill from the teenager’s eyes as they took a step back from Carl when he tried to hug them.

“Is Maggie—-“

“She’s okay…she’s at the hilltop. But Y/N I-I’m sorry”

“Nah…” Y/N continued to step away from the young grimes as they clenched their fists. “I’m not letting this fucking bastard hurt my da—-“ they cut themselves off shutting their eyes tight causing the tears to spill and Carl to grow more worried. “I’m done running Carl”

I’m done running from these fucking bastards.

________

The group settled in the prison and we’re going to defend their home from this asshole threatening to take it from them. Daryl started his return to the prison after having to put down his walker brother…guess he did some good in his life, but at what cost?

He heard sobbing on the walk back and didn’t think much of it at first until he heard struggle.

“Let me go!”

“You can’t run away from the community that gave a spoiled brat like yourself shelter!”

“You’re hurting me!” They shouted and that was enough for the archer to make himself present taking down the Woodbury guard that was familiar to him from his time in the ring days back.

Daryl didn’t hesitate to kill the guy and that action brought a bit of fear to the teen he saved.

“Sorry. Just.” Daryl didn’t know how to sugarcoat what just happened as he kept a respectable distance from them. “Yer safe now…But I ain’t letting yea stay out here”

“Y-You…you were the guy from…f-from that night in the ring”

“Right…and you are?”

“Nobody…”

“Yer somebody. But given the situation I ended for yea, you’re not really apart of them” Daryl states watching them nod confirming that they aren’t a threat. Hell. Given by the fear and injures on their person, they weren’t going to hurt Daryl or anybody. “I have a community. Or starting to become one…we can keep yea safe. As long as you don’t turn on us”

“H-H-How do I know you’re not g-gonna hurt me”

“I just killed a guy that was hurting you. I think that’s proof enough…for now” Daryl extends his hand toward them as they hesitantly accepted it. “The name is Daryl”

“Y/N…”

________

The two devised a plan for when Negan, the big boss man, came to collect half of Alexandria’s sources…that they would sneak on his truck and not only take out Negan in his place called the Sanctuary but also retrieve Daryl in the process.

But this was a new threat

with unpredictable actions.

“We stopped moving”

“One of us should check it out”

“You two are kids” Jesus scoffs. “You shouldn’t have done this because what would your dads think?”

Y/N wanted to say their parents were dead but deep down the reality of it was Daryl is their dad now. He stepped up when Y/N really needed it and life continued on. But the anxious look that glued to their expression thinking that they will be losing another parent to this madman with a bat, didn’t go unnoticed by Carl.

“Their fucking dad is who we are saving, besides if we go at it at the source? We’ll get shit done sooner rather than later” Carl whisper snaps at Jesus watching him hold his hands up in surrender.

When the three reached the sanctuary, Jesus planned to get off at the right window—-said window closed shut on both him and Y/N when Carl picked up the gun he brought, stepping out and making himself known to the Saviors that met the other end of his automatic.

“You stay here” Jesus tells Y/N watching them nod as he covers them in case someone decided to enter the truck and investigate further. But that never happened. Carl was detained by those still standing.

Once the coast was actually clear, Jesus gestured for Y/N to come out and decided to help them get Daryl out of the prison when his original plan was to find the Sanctuary.

“What if he’s de—-“

“What we don’t know is what we know. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead, so we can still be hopefully.”

“Jesus fucking Christ everybody” Y/N scoffs slightly annoyed by that as they started to approach the back door before quickly hiding behind the rack of bikes. “I just want…my dad.” they told themselves waiting for anyone to come out.

And it felt as if that was a cue for Daryl to step out of the Sanctuary. He quickly sprinted toward the bikes and flinched when he heard the rapid movements of their feet.

Y/N quickly made their presence known to Daryl and that’s what startled them most.

“Y/N” He breathed out a breath of relief watching their smile shine out. Something that kept him going while imprisoned.

“Da—-“

BANG

His relieved expression fallen when Y/N felt their side after the sound rang through to notice the blood dripping from their finger tips.

“Shit hurts…dad” and then they passed out.

Daryl felt frozen in place and the Savior noticed his presence and the pipe he had in his grasp. The grip the archer had on his weapon of choice, his rage could’ve made him snap it in half.

But something else snapped.

The archer didn’t let the Savior live and his actions is what lead to Jesus coming out of his position but instead of stopping Daryl…he ran straight to Y/N and addressed their injury the best he could in the moment. Before his words finally got through to Daryl.

“Y/N’s bleeding pretty bad but there’s a pulse. We need to go now!”

“I’ll Hotwire a car” He states lifting from his knelt position and following Jesus to a nearby vehicle that wouldn’t be missed—entirely—to get them out of there and back to the Hilltop.

________

“Hold it steady” Daryl whispers to Y/N as they held his crossbow securely.

They took aim and a deep breath…before finally pulling the trigger and landing the bullseye on the target he made for them.

“Great job kid”

“Yes!” Y/N yells happily aiming and shooting the cross bow up.

Both of them quickly looked at each other and Daryl didn’t hesitate to grab them quickly moving out of the radius the arrow could fall to.

________

The small group from Alexandria after Negan paid a visit to return what was there, Carl, had arrived to Hilltop and Maggie let them in with open arms hugging the retired sheriff immediately.

Carl quickly took notice of Daryl and his stressed expression accompanied with dried tears. His anxiety quickly made him run past the archer and toward the medical trailer.

The young grimes’ action didn’t go unnoticed as Rick approaches Daryl relieved that he was okay and now gaining them same sense of worry when his kid didn’t make their presence known along side him.

“How are they doing?” Rick asks after pulling away from the hug with Daryl.

“They lost a lot of blood. But that’s not a big issue” Daryl crosses his arms adjusting a bit given he had a bandage on the part where he gave blood. Dr. Carson took a pint from the archer when he told him he’s o negative and gave it to his kid. “They haven’t woken up”

“They will. They’ll pull through” Rick reassures his brother even if his mind was running a 5k about the incident.

After discussing more of a plan against the Saviors with Maggie and Jesus, Daryl entered the infirmary trailer finding Carl and Enid on either side of Y/N’s unconscious form.

“Your dad is goin’ to this Kingdom place. See if they are willing to join the fight”

“I should probably go with him…” Carl frowns turning to Y/N once more before getting up and leaving.

Enid watches him go before turning to Daryl and seriously, the man radiates his stress that it makes others stress and bring up their own suspicions of what might happen.

“They’ll pay, Daryl”

“They fucking will” He hissed slightly as Enid left on that note to check on Maggie.

Daryl returned to his spot right beside Y/N carefully taking their hand into his, feeling how cold they were…making him anxiously check their pulse before coming to the conclusion it’s just that they were cold.

“This world keeps takin’ from us, kiddo. You can’t let it take yea too…please don’t let it”

________

“You doing alright?” Daryl frowns sitting on the porch steps beside Y/N who hadn’t turned in for the night and it was dangerously close to becoming morning.

“Yeah. Or I don’t know…best that I could” They frown bringing their attention back to their hands. “I don’t trust it here…”

“Neither do I”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…But I promise to keep yea safe” Daryl reassures wrapping his arm around his kid’s shoulders as they instinctively leaned against him.

“You really promise?”

“I do”

________

You know I do

“Daryl!” Enid barges into the infirmary. “You need to hide. The saviors are here and they can’t find you”

Daryl nods quickly rising to his feet and trying to think fast enough to bring Y/N with him or to cover them up like they were dead. But maybe they’d think they were hiding under the blanket—or that he’ll aggravate the pain if he moved them.

Then Enid’s voice snapped him out of it.

“Go! Go to the pantry and I’ll take care of this” Enid states carrying bloodied sheets. The same sheets were Y/N’s when they first arrived to hilltop. So they were dried but it was enough for Enid to flip it so the main blood patch would be by their head. To show they finished the job before they could shift.

Maggie and Daryl hid in the pantry underneath the main house of Hilltop until the Saviors left. The time alone lead to Daryl stating how it was his fault for Glenn’s death and even if Maggie did her best to tell him it wasn’t, anything could’ve happened. He started to sob even harder.

“It’s my fault if they die”

“Daryl…”

“I shouldn’t…shouldn’t have tried to take the guy out…then Glenn will be here, and Y/N wouldn’t have had the thought of coming to get me…” he kept his gaze toward the ground trying to calm himself and not thrash when Maggie brought her arms around him. “They’re not gonna make it…”

“They will Daryl, and the saviors will pay for that they did. They’ll fucking pay”

Once the Saviors left, Daryl went back to the infirmary trailer to make sure they didn’t mess with Y/N in any way. But his anxiety skyrocketed when their body wasn’t there.

“Fuck. They took them. They took my kid. THOSE FUCKERS” He snaps right before he heard the sobbing. But it wasn’t coming from inside the trailer.

The archer stepped out and it was a bit louder compared to inside. He slowly approaches the crying until he found the source.

Y/N…oh god. Oh my god. Daryl frowns feeling the tears return on himself as he approaches their curled up form kneeling before them. “Y/N…you’re okay”

“You’re not real…I’m dead. This isn’t real” They continued to sob as their body started to shake.

“Y/N, I’m here…I’m actually here” Daryl frowns resting his hands on their face as they immediately wrapped their arms around him just from the touch to snap them back. “See I would’ve pinched yea but you just got shot”

“I thought I lost you dad…”

“‘M right here kiddo”

[hurlingsupport]

Can I request inside job Reagan x reader platonic who teen prodigy who works at congito inc and reader always looks up Reagan compliments their work and aslo reader has chaotic energy personality lol I hope this ok

It's definitely okay! This is a nice idea, also thanks for the request!!

(Reagan and Teen Prodigy! Gender Nuetral Reader One-shot)

It’s a sunny Monday morning, the temperature's around 78°, and the birds are happily chirping away. It’s a perfect morning, leading to a similarly perfect day. 

However, that suspicious tranquility is interrupted with the sound of sizzling circuit board joints, a sound you consider music to your ears. So much so, that you hum a melody that vaguely matches the wires attaching themselves to joints on said circuit.

Now, what could a kid—scratch that—TEEN genius possibly create with a singular circuit board? Ah, the possibilities are truly endless. However, before you can use your intellectual mind to make the world spin to your rhythm, there’s a knocking at your door.

The sizzling stops, and your content humming comes to a close. There’s silence, and you have an underlying sense of anxiety about what may be waiting behind the wooden door that you oh so desperately wish you could upgrade. Is J.R going to order someone to put a bag over your head again? You hope not. The first one smelled odd, and you’d rather not catch anything.

A voice, one that isn’t gruff and attempting to micro-chip you, appears behind the alder wood. 

“You there? You’re not dead are you—that’d be the third one this week—please don’t be dead.” You squint your eyes at the mystery person’s words before making a run towards your apartment door. And once you pull it open, you nearly squeal. 

“Reagan!” Your lips curl into an excited smile, bouncing on your toes as you stare at her. She’s not much taller than you, yet you look up to her both literally and figuratively. She smiles back, though it’s more out of relief than excitement. 

“Hey, what took you so long to answer the door?” She walks in, wiggling her shoes off before going any further into your home. Which you’re thankful for. Since she has some unidentifiable liquid on her shoes, you wouldn’t want to clean whatever it was off your carpet.

“Sorry, I thought it was the CIA again!” The two of you let out some chuckles, but yours ends with a fearful hiss. “They won’t do that to me again, will they?” 

Reagan grimaces, then gives you a half-hearted pat on the back, as if to say ‘no, they totally will’—before retreating into your workspace. Really, it was just a rather messy area in your living room, since your apartment wasn’t all that spacious. 

“Tasty circuit work. What’re you working on in this little lair of yours?” She smirks at you, pointing at the unfinished circuit board with a soldering iron resting on its own holder nearby. 

Your eyes widen, as you were planning to show the finished product to Reagan as both a present and a message which stood for: “I wanna be your evil assistant even though you’re not inherently evil but whatever” 

It’s not until silence fills the room that you realize you said that aloud. 

“UH–” You spin around looking for any kind of distraction to convince Reagan that she didn’t hear those words exit your mouth. You find a solution once you spot the modified goggles that sat on top of her head.

“Wow! Look at those goggles—they look super useful. What do you use them for, Reagan ma’am?” Reagan sputters at your use of the word ma’am before answering.

“They’re, uh, a bit of a mix between safety goggles and a magnifying glass. But what did you say-” you interrupt her sentence as you continue to compliment her impressive creation.

“How do they work? Is there a separate layer with convex lenses or is it a mix between that and a polycarbonate lens?” 

“Oh, haha- um, it’s just separate layers.” She pulled the goggles over her eyes and flicked a layer of glass over the structure of the goggles. “You just flip the convex lens over the polycarbonate layer and—viola! A multi-layer tight-fitting eye protector perfected for situations such as chemical splash, irritating mist and/or vapor, AND activities such as soldering!” 

She proudly puffs out her chest, taking in your amazement like a dry sponge, and therefore forgetting your previous statement just as you had hoped. You let out a huff of air as you began to wonder why Reagan was in your apartment in the first place.

“Hold on, why are you even here?” Reagan pauses her monologue about the safety goggles and pulls said accessory off her eyes.

“Huh.” 

There’s a moment of awkward silence, though you can’t comprehend why it’s awkward on your end. 

“Oh! Dammit, I completely forgot about what I came here for.” She loses her grip on the goggles completely, flinching when they slap her head, and makes her way towards your front door. Slipping her shoes on as she grabs the handle, she turns toward you with a more serious expression.

“Change into some work-appropriate clothes. I’m driving you to Cognito.” And with that, she’s out your door, and you’re left to look down at what you’re wearing. 

It’s a dinosaur onesie.

After the awkward acknowledgement that your role model saw you in a onesie, you sped into your bedroom to change into a white button up and black slacks. You almost—no, scratch that you actually do tumble down your apartment complex stairs as you hurry to Reagan’s car. 

She stares in concern at your slightly disheveled appearance before starting the engine. Then silence ensues, leaving you to wonder if she was going to bring up what you thought you had successfully distracted her from.

“Evil assistant…” she mutters.

God dammit. 

“Y’know, I think you’d fit into that role perfectly.” This makes you look in her direction.

“Scuse me?” The words scramble out of your mouth, and you wince at the improperness.

Reagan laughs, keeping her eyes on the road as she slightly leans her head towards you. “I’m not too sure about the evil part, but you do commit some rather wicked acts.” 

You briefly remember her saying something similar after you had blown up their meeting room. You swore it hadn’t been your fault. You only wanted to show off a gun that could shoot things other than bullets. You didn’t know that Andre had pumped it full of nitroglycerin when you had suggested he fill it with ‘literally anything’ earlier that day. You made Andre do your paperwork for a month after that.

You shudder, and Reagan raises a brow before continuing. 

“You seem like a good evil-doer. Or at least as good as an evil-doer can get.” She nudges you with her elbow, encouraging you to loosen up. “I’d like it.”

You smile, staying silent since you really had nothing else to say. You had finally told Reagan, someone you aspired to be one day, that you wanted to work underneath her; and not only had she accepted, but she wanted you to work under her too! 

You struggle to keep happy noises from escaping your mouth, the only evidence of your exhilaration being the wide smile on your face and your feet unintentionally kicking the glove box every once in a while.

Reagan snickers and mumbles under her breath, “Evil assistant, huh?” 

[charcadett]

Hello I was wondering if you can write a scenario where the gym leaders/elite four find The Squad (Player, Nemona, Arven and Penny) after their adventure in Area Zero. I’d imagine that the gym leaders/elite four would be concerned seeing the squad disheveled but their reactions differ when the squad tells them the story of the events that happened in the Area Zero. The Player even shows off a paradox pokemon they caught.

Okay so. I, again, got carried away. This mostly features Larry and Hassel, with Grusha, Kofu, Rika, Brassius, And Tulip sprinkled in towards the end. Sort of a list of headcanons for the hypothetical what happens in between exiting Area Zero and the Post Game. Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted but I hope you enjoy anyway!

TFW You Witness Horrors(tm) And You Try To Convince That One Miserable Looking Gym Leader To Buy You Dinner. General Headcanons.

- Considering how close Medali is to Area Zero, they’d end up running into Larry first out of anyone. The group drags themselves into the Treasure Eatery, dirty and starved, and Nemona chattering about how exciting what they just experienced was. And fun! A little scary too, she admits after a dry remark from Penny. But ultimately it was the adventure of a lifetime!

- It’s not uncommon to see bedraggled teenagers wandering around towns. A particularly nasty encounter with a wild Pokemon happens to even the best, so the group wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention. The only reason Larry even notices they’re there is that Nemona recognizes him and Penny wonders if they can get him to pay for their meals again. I mean, they all recently went through a traumatic experience, and a free dinner is the least they could get out of it.

- Larry sees Nemona and tge MC approaching and his immediate reaction is: “Oh, no.” It’s not that he dislikes either of them, but he’s eating dinner and would really, really rather not battle right now. Larry prides himself on being a realist, and an unfortunate fact about reality is Nemona can and will strong-arm him into a battle if she wants to. When they ask him to buy them dinner, he’s too relieved to care about the bill. He is dragged over to their table, much to Penny and Arven’s dismay. The logic is that he works for the League and if they tell him what happened, he’d be the one to tell Geeta, who would then tell Clavell where they’ve been. Hiding it would only work for so long, this way, they can avoid that whole conversation altogether.

- In true teenage fashion, none of them are particularly quiet whisperers, and Larry places his head in his hands halfway through their conversation. He would have let them get away with it too if not for Penny’s not-so-silent question to Arven.

- Out of everyone, Larry is the least interested in the secrets Area Zero holds. That’s above his pay grade. So is a bunch of teenagers sneaking down there to do Arceus knows what if he’s being honest. But, upon overhearing that in one day, Arven found out his parent has been dead this whole time, and then functionally watched them die again, it’s suddenly his problem. Made even more so when he hears out about the multiple monster attacks. On the outside, they seem fine. But once the adrenaline wears off and they’re alone, in the dark, and everything comes rushing back, what kind of person would he be if he let them deal with that alone. So, he shoots a message to Geeta (ugh) under the table, buys everyone dessert, and then corrals them to the Pokemon League.

- Well, that was originally the plan until the sun set, and now, with full bellies, the group is practically dead on their feet. He is not equipped to deal with kids long-term, so he calls someone who is. Hassel makes it to Medali in record time. Larry grits his teeth through a lecture about how he should have called Hassel immediately before he sidles off to his apartment, wallet noticeably lighter. If the group were any less disheveled, they would have gotten a lecture as well. But, they’re tired, and judging by how exhausted even Nemona looks, Hassel gets the feeling they already know.

- When Hassel hears that they went to Area Zero upon the Professor’s request, he considers heading down to the Zero Lab and pulling them back to the present himself to give them a piece of his mind. He quickly dismisses that thought. What’s more important is remaining calm for his students. Even if that’s easier said than done. Hassel has to turn his head to the side to compose himself. It’s pretty obvious what he’s doing, but I think the group would find it more amusing than distressing.

- Unlike Larry, Hassel is interested in Paradox Pokemon. Though his interest extends about as far as: were any of you hurt, an interest in the aesthetic differences between their modern counterparts, and a stray thought about seeing a Roaring Moon or an Iron Jugulis for himself. The latter of which he keeps to himself, he doesn’t want to encourage a revisit (even if that doesn’t stop the MC).

- After shepherding the group to their dorms, he lets all four of them know he will be staying overnight at the Academy to grade papers. Should they need anything, he will be in the art room. Admittedly, he has no papers to grade, but to say he is worried would be an understatement. Periodically, he’ll walk by their dorms, just to be sure they’re alright. Brassius will be hearing about the entire ordeal before the rest of the league. The second Hassel closes the door to the Art Room, the floodgates open and Brassius is hit with a long-distance hydro pump through his Rotom Phone.

- The last people the group directly tells what happens are Clavell and Geeta. Geeta will inform the rest of the League, so the teens can return to daily life. After that, it’s the general post-game. Add in some off-screen therapy for all four, though Arven and Penny go for longer due to previous issues.

- Rika eventually checks in, at least in the case of the MC and Nemona considering she knows them personally. She feels a little awkward trying to comfort Arven and Penny considering she’s never met them, though she will try if she sees them. Rika gives them her patented “Uh, you guys doing okay?” and then calls it a day.

- Grusha will pay the group a visit. It’ll take about a week before he shows up, but he inevitably does. While he’s not usually one to offer a shoulder to cry on, Grusha thinks his own experiences give him a unique perspective. He offers to give any advice should anyone need it. He’s especially happy to see the MC and Nemona are doing alright. Grusha offers, then he leaves. It’s really that simple. I feel like out of everyone, Penny would end up taking him up on his offer. The only reason she goes is that it makes logical sense, her therapist encouraged it, and she does think Grusha would have a unique perspective. Highly doubt they will get emotional with each other, I just want to see them interact.

Bonus: I am imagining Grusha and Penny sitting in almost complete silence before Penny asks if he likes anime. He says he’s never seen it, and she’s like. Hold on. And presses play on Yuri on Ice.

- Kofu decides the least he can do is offer a free meal at his restaurant. Then, once he meets Arven and sees his passion for cooking, offers to teach him what he knows. Arven deserves a father figure, and if it’s not Kofu, it’d be Saguaro. Honestly, why can’t be both?

- Brassius and Tulip are very interested to see the Paradox Pokemon the MC caught. Tulip would be over the moon to see Iron Valiant, and to be quite honest, I think Brassius wants to see them all. Expect to see a few new sculptures pop up around Artazon. Whenever Tulip sees the MC, she asks if they would treat her to a battle with their Iron Valiant.

[luvrodite]

An AU that I’m too scared to fully write but I’m desperate to share:

You can see ghosts. You’ve been able to since childhood, and for you they’re as real as any living person. You don’t tell anyone, really. There’s enough flavours of weird in Gotham that people would probably believe you, but it feels a little invasive. Most people wouldn’t want others digging into their business while they’re alive, why would they feel differently when they’re dead? So for the most part you live an ordinary life. You wake up and go to work. You go out to dinners with friends and on disappointing dates. Maybe sometimes in between you remind a little old lady ghost that she’s no longer living, or give directions to a little boy that no one else seems to see. It’s your normal.

One day you meet Jason and his grin is bright like the sun. You meet at the local library when you drop your stack of books heading to the return desk. He helps you gather them up, accidentally knocking his knuckles into yours, starts a conversation about one of your books. By the time you leave, you’ve got his number in your phone and a new book under your arm.

Things with Jason are so, so good. You fit together in places you didn’t even realize were missing. You move into his apartment, too quickly according to his little brothers. Dinners out with friends turn into entertaining at home. Taking it in turns bringing dishes that fill the apartment with mouthwatering smells. Nights out at the movies ending with heated discussions about how “the physics of explosives don’t work like that” on the couch. Agreeing to be a plus one at a gala only if there will be french fries after. You love him so much, and if the completely unsubtle questions about your taste in jewellery are anything to go by, you’ll get to love him forever.

Until one night he comes home haunted, unable to bring the perpetrators of a little boy’s death to justice. Jason knew him personally, from the youth shelter he volunteers at. He takes it so personally that someone so young and under his protection has been snuffed out. Something about this dead boy reminds Jason a little too much of himself. Maybe because they died at the same age, or he was once that scrawny and featherlight too. The police have no leads, chalking it up to just another Crime Alley street kid meeting an inevitable end. He is tearing himself to pieces trying to discover who could be so cruel and you can’t bear to see him in pain any longer. And so you offer, gently, to see if the ghost of that boy, who stands at the entrance to Crime Alley and asks for directions home, can remember who killed him.

He jerks back and there is such a look of horror and fear in his eyes. Not of you, never of you and your abilities, but for what he fears you might see clinging to him. The choking sensation of grave dirt. The faces of the people he’s killed to make Gotham safer. Literally the blood on his hands in a twisted parody of Lady Macbeth. He is terrified that you can see the monster he has always feared himself to be. Jason is up and running, escaping out into the night through the window before you can do more than reach after him.

You don’t get the chance to tell him that all you see is a 15-year old with a gap toothed, blinding grin wearing the Robin colours with pride. You don’t get to tell him that that 15-year old boy always tells you when Jason comes back hiding an injury or asks you to make sure he’s eating more than cigarettes. You don’t get to tell him that even from beyond the grave, Jason Todd never stopped saving people.

- 🍂 (@fic-over-cannon)

i think this has so much heart and love and i hope one day you'll be able to share a full fic with us because i would love to read this.

"Maybe because they died at the same age, or he was once that scrawny and featherlight too."

i think featherlight is so !!! the emphasis on how young he was and small. that the world should've done better by him but the cycle continues and the system fails more and more children like him - waving it away as inevitable. it makes me grieve. it reminds me of that one piece that's like 'every version of this story ends with you being slaughtered' and it's so tragic.

thank u for sending this in <3

[thats-very-like-a-whale]

I just sat on the floor of my kitchen, with my mother, and sobbed.

I’ve hardly had time to vocalize my thoughts in the past few days and I feel like I’m going crazy. Our hearts, our minds, are torn apart by grief and anger and despair and fear. I just want to speak my thoughts out loud. So if you hate every word I say, if you hate everything I stand for, if you hate me or you hate the people I love—please just don't say anything. Let whatever I say echo in silence.

The magnitude of the horrors that the people of Israel have faced on October 7th and the days that followed are only now beginning to sink in. The testimonies, the videos, the photos are coming wave after wave. It’s not something that can or ever should be captured by words. I’m begging you, for your own sake, not to look up the horrors online. There are images that will never leave your mind. I, alongside thousands and thousands of people, am in mourning. I’ve lost a friend who fell protecting the civilians of Kibbutz Be'eri. Some have lost whole families.

On the other side of the Gaza border, thousands of innocent lives—over a third of them children—have been lost. Hundreds of thousands more live without electricity and water, not knowing if they’ll survive the next day.

This is hell. For both sides. This is war, and war is hell. People on both sides of the border with Gaza are living their worst nightmares. I, right now, am living my worst nightmare.

As a kid, every year on Yom HaZikaron—the Israeli equivalent of Memorial Day—my school would organize a ceremony dedicated to telling the story of one fallen soldier. Every year, a new face. Every year, a different story of a different lost life. Beautiful, beloved, brilliant, lost lives. My worst fear was that someone I love would become one of those faces. On Thursday, I visited my friend’s grieving family, sitting shiv’a for their fallen son. Maybe next year, a school somewhere will dedicate a ceremony to him.

A generation of people are going to have this war engraved in their minds and etched into their flesh forever. A generation of Palestinians, and of Israelis, are never going to forget these days.

So I say this with all the agony, fear, wrath and grief that me and my family and my friends have suffered in this past week—this violence, this terror, this grief will only end once Hamas is eradicated forever. Their regime has to fall, their resources have to be destroyed, and they need to be hit so hard they can never get back up. A death cult dedicated to Nazi ideology and genocide has no place in this world. Hamas use Palestinians as human shields and their objective is to get as many of them killed as possible to serve their goal of incitement against Israel. For decades now, Hamas has perpetuated a cycle of violence that has claimed the lives of tens of thousands of Israelis and Palestinians alike. And this war will not and cannot end until they are obliterated.

Hamas have taken hostages. No one knows if they are dead or alive. If they’re being tortured. There are Holocaust survivors, young children, people with autism, full families, being held captive by Hamas. And this war won’t end until they’re home.

So no one, no one, sitting comfortably distant from the death and carnage and horror of the war going on in Israel and Gaza now, has the fucking right to say Israel can't defend itself. And Israel can, and will, do whatever they must to end Hamas and bring home our family being held hostage.

My heart has been broken 2,329 times for the Palestinians killed in this war. Their leaders have chosen they will die in the name of a genocidal war they've waged. And so, so many more will be killed before this war is over.

And it is Israel's responsibility, once and for all, to make sure this never happens again. For the sake of Israelis and for the sake of Palestinians. Hamas started this war, and Israel has a duty to end it once and for all. Never Again is now.