#3) i sound like i'm getting a cold which is probably the case | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nerdy-novelist017 · 3 months

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i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club.

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door.

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation.

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you?

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore.

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent.

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you.

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence.

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.”

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look.

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say.

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.”

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you.

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times.

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!”

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

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#Benny loves a yapper #opposites attract #the bikeriders #benny cross #benny cross x reader #austin butler #benny x bunny #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #fluff #imagine #austin butler fandom #little bunny #requests

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softestqueeen · 16 days

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hiii ! im a sucker for the early stages of crushing, so i was wondering if i could request a hotch fic where it's chilly out, and you forget to bring a jacket so hotch offers his suit coat to you and it's just so warm and it smells so good that you end up blurting out how much you like the way he smells and how much you appreciate him. aH idk i hope this made sense 😭 ty!! 🫶

a/n: omg anon, i'm literally OBSESSED with this!! i hope you like it <3 warnings: none, pure fluff, almost 1k words (damn)

Most people would say Nebraska is a lovely place to be. Breathtaking views, mostly nice folks and no 100-degree weather like Quantico, Virginia. But you had to disagree.

The team has been called in for a sensitive case regarding four missing children. So, the team immediately grabbed their go-bags and hopped on the jet.

Now having settled at the police station, you realised – you had forgotten to pack a jacket. The one essential for this kind of weather was currently hanging on a rack in your flat. After you had gotten blood on it at the last case, you cleaned it and hung it up so you could pack it again. Damnit, you thought to yourself, you thought you had packed it. Now you would have to try to stay somewhat warm and not catch hypothermia, while also staying sharp so you could get the children in time. Great.

You prayed that Hotch would group you with Reid, so you could stay at the station and work the geographical profile. But with your luck, of course you were chosen to check out the abduction sites – which were all not just in the middle of nowhere, but also in the open aka the cold – with no one less than the unit chief himself.

After hyping yourself up a bit, you were convinced you could do it. The car ride was nice, the heating making it enjoyable, but the moment you stepped into the cold you knew you couldn’t do it. As much as you tried to keep your teeth from clattering and your whole body from shivering, sometimes you could hear your teeth or see your hands shaking when you took them away from the warm comfort of your body.

You hoped Hotch wouldn’t notice it, but who where you fooling? He probably knew you forgot your jacket before you even noticed.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket, agent? It’s freezing. Did you forget it in the car?” to everybody else it sounded like everything else he said, stoic, emotionless but after working with him for quite some time you could make out the genuine worry in his voice.

Immediately trying to reassure him you said, “Oh, I think I forgot it at the station, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” The moment the lie left your mouth, you both could hear that that wasn’t the truth.

Of course, Aaron had already noticed your missing jacket in the jet while everybody was wrapping themselves in their thickest winter clothing, you obliviously kept reading your book.

He didn’t have to think much before shrugging off his coat and offering it to you, already holding it in the perfect way for you to just slip into it. Ever the gentleman.

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but that’s not necessary, really,” you hoped that he would blame your reddening cheeks on the cold and not his boyfriend like behaviour. You don’t know why you were this flustered, you were sure he would do the same thing for Emily or even Reid.

“Please take it, you’ve been shivering since we arrived, and I don’t want to lose one of my best agents because of hypothermia. It really is no problem.”

He wiggled the coat a little bit and you were actually too cold to resist the promise of a nice and warm coat. Stepping forward you let your arms slip into the warm fabric before closing one of the buttons in the front.

It was easy to tell that it was way too big, but it was so warm also smelled just like Hotch’s cologne.

“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to, Hotch. I don’t want you to freeze now,” you told him in an almost scolding voice.

“I’ll live. Shall we get back to the scenes, see if there’s anything we’ve missed?” after humming in agreement the two of you fell into your usual rhythm again.

There was one problem – now that the cold wasn’t distracting you, it was his scent that lingered on the coat. And it was not just his cologne but also something that was just undeniably him. Masculine, raw and absolutely to die for.

You knew you couldn’t keep your feelings for the unit chief a secret for long. After confiding to the BAU-girls at a get together in the local bar, the rest seemed to catch on rather quickly too. The only person that was still completely oblivious was Hotchner himself. What would shock you, was that he also had feelings for you, but just genuinely didn’t think that you would like him as a friend or even a romantic partner. And you were also very oblivious to the looks he gave you and how often he smiled around you.

Suddenly his voice brought you back to reality “Is everything all right? Are you still cold? Do you want to go to the station?” Still lost in your own though you answer “Oh no, it’s all right. Your jacket smells nice by the way,” without really realising that you had just said that out loud you add more conscious now, “I think we did what we could here. We should head back to the others.”

Immediately after saying it you turn around and walk back to the car, leaving a baffled and slightly blushing Aaron Hotchner behind. In that moment he was very glad that you didn’t see him.

But now he knew, he definitely had to find a way to tell you how he feels, or else you are going to be the death of him.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBan

#x reader #love #reader insert #fluff #no y/n #criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #ao3 #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #request #requests open #reqs open #writing requests #anon request

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sanguineterrain · 2 months

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could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.

#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #red robin x reader #red robin x you #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake imagine #dc fanfic #dc imagine #batman fanfic #batman imagine #inbox #blurb

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dont-offend-the-bees · 3 months

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Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? Chapter One

First DBDA multichapter, yay! let's hope I finish it 😅 Nah should be fine, I already know exactly what happens, just gotta get it on the page! The ending will be happy, but there WILL be angst along the way, please heed the tags/warnings!

WARNINGS: This fic references or directly addresses traumas from the characters' pasts. So that's of course bullying, abuse, homophobia, hate crimes, death etc. There's also a very, very brief reference to a possibly creepy teacher eyeing up Edwin (more on that in the end notes), but nothing comes of it, it's just part of the tapestry of his shitty school experiences. Death, loneliness, abandonment, touch starvation, along with morbid things like burials and bodies and bones are core themes of this fic. The ending will be happy eventually but we WILL have a sad ride to get there. So please be aware of that before reading.

I'd like to shout out my bestie kieren-fucking-walker/electricteatime for the absolutely banger headcanon about Charles sometimes manifesting his trauma by getting really cold/his breath misting. It's such a visually cool and emotionally rich idea and the show SHOULD have done it. Chapter one is 6.6k. Chapters 2/3 coming soon (hopefully). Also on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read)

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.

"So what are we looking for, exactly?" asked Crystal, ever practical. She'd been inordinately serious today, clear-headed and straightforward. Taking pains to rein in her more combustible tendencies. She'd also been casting worried glances at him and Charles all day. Edwin was trying to take the gesture in the spirit in which it was intended. Even if it did make him feel like a mad old maid, half-expected to succumb to hysterics at the drop of a hat.

"We've no way to know for sure," said Edwin. His eyes flickered to the imposing main doors, then upwards, scanning each storey window by window. It was well past lights out, but a single lamp glowed through from the third floor, east wing. The dorms. Most likely the night steward, on the listen for boys up and about and causing mischief. In Edwin's short and tragic experience, such staff were not the most effective of deterrents. Still, best avoided. They didn't want to call attention to themselves.

He flipped to his notes from their client interview. "The groundskeeper reported a low, continuous droning sound, along with unease, malaise, and a sense of being... 'called' to."

"Any words? Phrases?" asked Charles. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer. His tension was audible as well as visible – Edwin could hear the subtle clenching of his jaw where it clipped his words. "No spooky voices whispering 'come to the cellar?'"

"No, nothing so helpful as that, I'm afraid."

"So what's the plan?"

"We begin searching for causes or disturbances in a methodical fashion," said Edwin, putting his notebook away. "I suggest we leave bedrooms and dormitories for last, to minimise the risk of interruptions. Crystal, you'd best wait outside until we call you. If anyone wakes you're more likely to be seen; not to mention liable to stand out. This is a boys' school, after all."

Crystal looked unhappy about it, but for once didn't rush to argue his logic. "I don't know. Are you guys gonna be... you know...?"

"We'll be fine, Crys," said Charles, giving her a strained smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Got each other, don't we?"

"Yeah – in the place you both got killed," she said. "You really shouldn't be back here."

Edwin rather agreed with her. And yet, undeniably, he still felt that strange, morbid draw that had coaxed him into accepting the case. There was a mystery afoot, and he and Charles would answer the call. "We'll be quite alright, I'm sure. With any luck, this will be a flying visit. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Charles, have you the torches?"

"Yeah, just a tick." Charles crouched down and riffled through his backpack, disappearing up to the shoulder in its daunting expanse. "Better be careful with them, eh? Try not to flash 'em about too much, make anyone come looking."

"Agreed. For empty rooms only – we'll switch them off at the first sign of footsteps."

"Here we go." Charles handed the two stout electric torches up to Edwin. "Oh! Got something else, too." He dove back in, and re-emerged holding three black plastic blocks. He passed one each to Edwin and Crystal with a grin. "So we can stay in touch with Crystal – and each other, 'case we get split up."

Edwin sincerely hoped such a thing wouldn't come to pass. But he inspected the device with curiosity, its buttons and mesh panel and its little protruding antenna. "Oh. This is one of those... portable radio contraptions."

"Walkie talkies," Charles corrected. He held down the yellow button on his device and a babble of static erupted from the speaker. "Hold the button to talk, yeah?" His voice rattled out through Edwin and Crystal's handsets.

"We gotta get you guys cellphones," Crystal muttered.

"Excellent idea, Charles," said Edwin, ignoring her comment. "But I'd advise against using these except in cases of emergency. The noise could alert people to our presence."

Charles gave a lax salute, and tucked his handset into his coat.

"I really don't like you guys going in there alone," said Crystal, crossing her arms.

"I know," said Charles. "But you get it, yeah?"

A moment of tense silence passed between the three of them; the school looming at their back like a slumbering monster. Inside that building lay several dorms full of teenage boys. Different boys than from Charles and Edwin's times, but alike in breeding, in privilege and temperament. Those boys had tormented Edwin for his mannerisms, and beaten Charles to death for daring to do the right thing – undoubtedly, his parentage had also factored into their violent recourse.

None of them stated their precise fears out loud. The fear of what could transpire if a lone, dark-skinned teenage girl were to find herself in the belly of this particular beast in the dead of night. Even one with considerable psychic powers and two ghost bodyguards at her disposal. No one said a word, but the possibilities hung over their heads like a dark cloud nonetheless.

Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, to imagine a school full of modern boys could devolve so abruptly into The Lord of the Flies. But Edwin wasn't prepared to roll those dice with his friend's safety. Against his own better judgement, he'd grown... fond of Crystal Palace. He shouldn't like to see her hurt, or killed. In fact, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, he'd be most perturbed by such a thing.

Crystal sighed. "Yeah. Fine. I get it. Just..." She lurched forward and wrapped her arms around Charles, tightly. "Be careful. Okay?"

"I'm always careful!" he lied, a smile in his voice. It didn't match his face which, thankfully, was hidden from her view in her hair. But Edwin could see it; Charles' careful mask, knocked askew.

He averted his eyes.

Crystal snorted. "Great. Thanks. Makes me feel way better." She broke away from Charles and looked at Edwin, who took a reflexive step back. "I know, I know – no hugs," she said with a roll of her eyes. She compromised by giving his upper arm a firm squeeze instead. "Don't die. Again."

"We'll do our level best," said Edwin, patting the back of her hand briskly. "Now, we really must away – while we have the night on our side."

"There's some pretty dense trees off that way," said Crystal, gesturing. "I'm gonna wait there, should be easy to stay out of sight – hopefully it's close enough to stay in walkie range."

Charles stiffened. "The trees... near the lake?"

"Uh. Yeah, why?"

Edwin watched him closely.

Charles shook his head. "Nah, don't matter. Just – stay safe, yeah?"

"You too." She looked between them. "Hey... look after each other. Okay?"

Charles glanced at Edwin, and his posture softened. "Yeah," he said, with the shadow of a gentle smile. "Always do."

That assurance, at least, was not a lie.

"Charles, we're wasting time," Edwin hissed. Honestly – five minutes into their investigation and they hadn't even made it inside the building, yet! "We can simply walk through this door and bypass the lock altogether."

Charles didn't spare him a glance, preoccupied as he was squatting on the doorstep with his lockpicks across his knee. He'd been faffing with the old iron lock on the main doors to no avail for some time. "Yeah, but what if we've gotta call Crystal in to help us out right quick? Dunno if her psychic powers stretch to door hypnotism." He tossed Edwin a cheeky grin. "Only polite to open doors for ladies, innit?"

Edwin, unable to argue the logic or the etiquette, settled for squeezing his fists together and lurking discontentedly. So far he'd not heard the droning the groundskeeper had spoken of, nor felt any ominous supernatural feelings. At least, he assumed he hadn't. But it was a mite hard to focus on anything besides his own anxiety at being back in this place after so many years. Hard to differentiate between personal discomfort and something more sinister.

The lock gave a promising click, and Charles grinned. "Abracadabra."

Edwin stopped his hand when it went to turn the handle. "Best not. We mustn’t announce ourselves."

"Yeah. Yeah, good point." Charles straightened up, tucking his lockpicks away. "So. Hop right on through, then?"

"Indeed."

Charles' jaw gave a nervous tic. "...On three?"

"...Yes. yes, on three." Edwin braced himself. "One..."

"Two..." said Charles, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Three!"

Their voices joined on the final count; and together they stepped through the ancient, unyielding oak, and into the hall within.

"Oh," Edwin exhaled, taking in the great hall with darting eyes.

"Huh," said Charles, squinting. "Thought it would look... different."

"You took the words right out of my mouth."

The entry hall had changed very little from Edwin's day – and by extension Charles'. Evidently, money and care had been put into the upkeep of the place; Edwin had spotted a plaque on the outside labelling it a registered building. Biggest change to speak of was the burgundy carpet now covering the floor; to protect the old boards from the footfall of thundering teenage boys, no doubt. Other changes were limited to minor modern conveniences. A plastic hand sanitiser dispenser beside the door. A corkboard papered over with glossy flyers for local sports and after school clubs. They surely must have updated the lighting, as well, but he and Charles weren't to benefit at this time for obvious reasons.

The familiarity was unsettling, to say the least. Like stepping back through the decades, into a time he'd gladly leave behind for good. Edwin cleared his throat, and straightened his jacket. "Well. I suppose we must set to. We're wasting the night."

"Where d'you wanna start?"

Edwin pulled out his notebook. He had notes and sketches in there based upon the floor plan that Crystal had sourced via her miraculous internet. Though he suspected he wouldn't need them. Already the sprawling skeleton of this old haunt was reassembling itself in his mind's eye. "It is as I said. We'll scour the lower levels, then work our way up." He furrowed his brow. "Strictly speaking, we should have started lower. This is the first floor, thanks to the stairs outside the main doors – the ground floor is below us, but it's mostly utilities. Kitchens, laundry, storage. Still, we shouldn't rule out that something of import could be down there."

"Easily solved." Charles got down on his knee and stooped, until he could press his forehead to the floor. Then he kept pressing forward, bent double with his backside in the air, and his incorporeal head bobbed through the carpet. Like an ostrich in the sand.

"Laundry room," he called, voice muffled by carpet and floorboards. "No one there. Should be safe to drop right through."

With a fond smile at Charles' bobbing back end, Edwin steepled his fingers. "A quick detour, then," he said, and hopped neatly through the floor and into the room below.

An unnecessary detour, as it turned out. But attention to detail was a key part of any detective's toolbox. After scouring the warren of utilities, they rejoined the first floor via a small service staircase between the kitchen and the mess hall.

"Ugh," said Charles, wrinkling his nose as he investigated the new (since Edwin's time) glass-fronted serving station. "Can't believe the last thing I ever ate was school dinner. Didn't even finish it, it was that rank.

Edwin blinked at him, pausing in his inspection of the head table. "You were permitted to leave food on your plate? They excused you?"

"...I mean. Yeah?"

"Goodness," Edwin chuckled, shaking his head. "What a liberal time you lived in."

"Not that liberal, mate. Got beaten to death, remember?"

Edwin smirked. "Perhaps if you'd been disallowed from leaving until you'd cleared your plate, you might not have found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His deadpan achieved the desired effect. Charles laughed, a bright spot in the dreary gloom. "Right. Brills. Bob back in time and tell myself to choke down the sweetcorn, then."

"Wise course of action."

"Right." Charles lifted the lid of a pot that someone had forgotten to clear away, and mock-gagged. "Nope. Not worth it. I'll take death, cheers."

The dining hall turned up nothing. Nor did any of the offices, lounges and staff rooms. Their exploration of the first floor came and went with no discoveries or fanfare, and soon it came time to move on. To the central staircase, and the second floor where the majority of the classrooms presided.

Edwin felt his apprehension mounting with every step. Two floors of fruitless searching was starting to irk and unsettle him. He longed for something decisive; a supernatural feeling, an apparition, even a blood-curdling scream. It felt worse to worry incessantly with no stimulus, unable to prove there was anything amiss outside of his own childish fears.

"They've replaced the blackboards," Edwin commented upon entering the first room. Craving a discovery, a distraction, anything.

"Oh. Yeah, I remember – they started switching them out my last year here. Headmaster was mad about these shiny new things. Probably got whiteboards in every room, now." Charles squinted at the plastic panel with its chunky black frame. "These ones look different to what I remember, mind."

"What do you write on them with?"

"Pens. Special pens, like."

"Hm. Probably for the best. Chalk dust was bothersome. I always developed the most wretched cough when it was my turn to beat the erasers." Edwin found the pens attached to the board and picked one up. "Let's see. No lid..." He tried an experimental scribble. "And not a drop of ink. Dry as a bone." He eyed the branding on the whiteboard's frame, sceptical. "Smart Board, indeed."

"Don't think there's anything in here. Unless we're looking for something sucks the ink out of whiteboard markers." Charles took the pen from Edwin's hand, turning it over and inspecting it. "What d'you think? Some sort of ink vampire?" he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Don't see any fang punctures."

"I hardly think an ink vampire is what we're looking for," said Edwin, activating his torch and sweeping it in a wide arc. The abandoned classroom came into hazy, yellow-tinged relief under his beam. This had once been his English room, many decades ago. Save for the impractical board, it remained largely unchanged – although the wooden chairs had been replaced with ones of metal and plastic. The bookshelves at the back of the room remained in situ; the thick, leather-bound volumes of Edwin's time supplanted by new editions with glossy cardboard covers.

Edwin hadn't much cared for his English lessons. He was good at them, of course, and he loved reading. Since escaping hell, he'd revisited a number of the books he'd once studied. But his heart had always sunk whenever he was called on to stand before the board and read aloud for the class. The snickers and guffaws of the other boys, the mean-spirited whispers and unsubtle name-calling. The nancy boy's, the Mary Ann's, and far worse when teacher's back was turned. God forbid he was asked to read a sonnet.

The sting of the memory hadn't faded with time, but had taken on some light and shade in the wake of his travails in hell. In the jeering blur of faces, he could imagine Simon's swimming into focus. Was that mockery in his eyes, or pity? Recognition? And was he really the only one? The only other boy in that room who'd wanted to reach out to Edwin, and felt compelled to push him away instead?

How many of them had passed through this room, like living ghosts, lost to time and to shame?

A cold, iron fist of grief clutched him by the throat. So tangible it damn near bowled him over. He caught himself on a desk, lest he lose his grip on the physical plain and plummet through the very floor.

"Edwin?!" Charles was beside him in an instant, hand on Edwin's back. "Edwin, what's the matter?"

Edwin screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Trying in vain to dislodge the ice that had seized upon his very soul, but it held him fast. He shivered, and Charles rubbed his back as if Edwin could feel it; as if he could coax the warmth back into a dead, frozen thing.

"There's... there's something wrong," Edwin bit out – alarmed at the resistance he faced. It felt like he had to force the words through chattering teeth. "Do you feel it?"

Charles hesitated, before exhaling a shuddering breath. "Thought it was just me," he said quietly. "Y'know. How I get."

Ghosts were beings of trauma – and dying of hypothermia was fairly traumatic, to say the least. Charles couldn't feel warmth anymore, but he could certainly feel cold; and in times of distress it seemed to shroud him, clouding his speech in icy vapour.

A small pang of guilt pierced Edwin like a thorn; perhaps Charles had already been feeling the chill for some time, and hadn't deemed it worth a mention.

"No. No, it's not just you," said Edwin, reaching back to pat Charles on the arm with a hand that felt like a block of ice. "It's not just you at all."

Charles gave a lopsided, flimsy smile. "Dead comforting, mate. Come on, let's get you up. There we go."

With Charles' support, Edwin managed to regain his footing, but the feeling remained. It had settled upon his essence like a dense snowfall; all-shrouding, all-permeating. Chilling him to the figurative marrow.

"D'you think this is it? What that bloke was on about?" asked Charles, jerking his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

"Struggling to see what else it could be. Although he said nothing about a sense of cold..." Edwin rubbed his head, trying to think past the immediate, intense discomfort. An image came to mind, unbidden, of Niko across from him at a café table. The drinking straw dropping from her lips, her entire face crumpling as she clutched her head and cried out "brain freeze!". Had he any inkling of how distressing the sensation was, he might've said something more consolatory than he had at the time.

The secondary knife of grief at recalling her face twisted itself deep in his back, pressing so hard on his shoulders his knees nearly buckled.

"Well," he said, strained. "At least we know we're not on a wild goose chase. There's definitely something here." He rubbed his gloved hands together. A peculiarly vivid, instinctual muscle memory, leftover from the days when cold wasn't a distant memory. "We must continue the search. Let us check the desks while we're in here."

Charles gave a sharp nod, his face drawn, the first phantom wisps of breath creeping from his lips. Normally, Edwin would have offered his own coat to fend off the psychic, psychosomatic chill by now. But with Edwin likewise affected, it felt like any attempt to shrug out of the garment would be met by cracking and splintering. Spectral wool rendered asunder by devouring ice. For the first time, they were each as incapacitated as the other. Not a drop of warmth between their two dead, insubstantial forms to make a dent in the frost.

But their hands found one another, nonetheless. And it did make him feel better, warmer, even only infinitesimally.

There was something to be said for the placebo effect.

It was a long shot, hoping they might happen across some kind of obvious cursed artefact or hex doll in a pupil's desk in the first classroom they searched. Still, best to leave no stone unturned. In they end they had to concede that whatever it was they were looking for, they weren't going to find it in the English room.

They passed through the other classrooms in a similar fashion. Each presenting them with no evidence, but an abundance of unwelcome memories. The maths room, where Edwin had acquired a small scar on his jaw from a compass flung in his direction. The geography room, where he'd once been soundly caned for a book he'd 'defaced' – while the real culprits got off scot-free, of course. The old history study, where he'd often sought refuge of an evening. Where he'd tried to focus on the kindliness of the professor; and not on the unreadable, uncomfortable way he would sometimes sit and watch Edwin from across the room. Like he knew something about him. Like he had half a mind to bid him come closer.

The feeling, such as it was, seemed to bear down on them with every room checked, every memory unearthed. By the time they reached the stairs to the third floor, they were both near panting from exertion; wading through the empty corridors with all the ease of stomping through snow drifts.

"If it isn't even down here, what's it gonna be like when we're closer?" asked Charles, blowing on his hands and stomping his feet. He looked pale and peaky, his words and breaths escaping in ragged puffs of phantom condensation.

Edwin was faring no better. He felt tight in the chest, frayed in the nerves. The chill had penetrated so very deep, he had begun to hear it; like a cutting wind, like ice creaking under foot. Like a crackling, throbbing drone in the back of his consciousness.

There were two more floors of this wretched place left to investigate, and already he felt crushed under the avalanche of ill feeling and dreadful recollections. He was tired of dredging up things he'd worked for decades to put behind him. Tired of wading through this viscous mire of magic and memory. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be back at the agency, where it was calm and safe and the walls were imbued with a kinder history. He wanted to find whatever was causing this disturbance at once, and put this damnable case behind them!

He about-turned to face the end of the corridor – and there was the mirror. An ancient thing, ornate frame carved from finest mahogany. He remembered it well. A hundred years it must have stood there. More than a hundred – it had already been old in Edwin's time. It had survived well, save for a small patch of woodworm damage in the lower right corner. Edwin used to stand in front of it, sometimes, when the other boys were outside shooting clay pigeons or playing rugby. Used to gaze, forlorn, at his own reflection; wondering if there was a way to be anything but what he was.

There was no reflection now, of course. He'd seen his reflection only once in the last thirty-odd years; on his return to hell, his introduction to Lady Despair. He'd seen himself a hundred years on from this mirror, marred by filth and bloody gouges. So different to how he remembered. And yet still, always and forever, the same frightened little boy. Trapped and miserable; searching for a way out.

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

A whisper on the gale, barely intelligible as words. Was the call coming from himself? Or from the thing they sought? It was impossible to know, but whatever it was, it was crying from the back of his soul. Clawing out, grasping for him with icy fingers of terror and desolation.

"Edwin?"

Charles' voice seemed to fade behind the whisper. Behind the steadily growing cacophony of creaking wood and shuddering glass. If this was real after all, and not just a trick of the mind, then this thing, whatever it was, could bring the entire blasted building tumbling down.

Edwin held his hand out to the mirror, no coherent thought behind the action. It was where he needed to be. Reaching out, reaching in, making contact with the space behind and between.

"Take me," he breathed. "Take me to the root of this."

"Edwin," Charles' voice came from far away. "Edwin, stop! You dunno what you're bloody walking into!"

No. He didn't know. But he needed to. He needed to find the cause, the catalyst, the beating heart under the floorboards. Needed to find the source of that cry – needed to know that it was external, and not a result of his own mind coming undone in this foul place. He reached to the mirror, through the mirror. Rigid glass parted for his fingers with a gentle ripple; the softly broken surface of a still pond. Calm waters, a silky embrace.

And then it gripped him tight, and dragged him under.

He was distantly aware of Charles' panicked cries, but they were cut off in moments as the mirror's surface froze over behind him.

Severed from the material plain, Edwin tumbled into freefall. Through that familiar trans-dimensional space behind the reflection; but it didn't feel familiar anymore. It felt tumultuous, violent. He toppled through the in-between space like Alice down the rabbit hole; twisted and turned, tossed from current to savage current. Beaten and battered from all sides by vigorous currents of nothing and everything and not-quite-almost-something. All the time followed by that whispering in his mind, growing in frequency and fervency: Don't. Don't. Don't leave...

And then he was through. Spat out without ceremony, without so much as a by-your-leave. He barely caught himself as he staggered back into the world – a cloud of thick, grey dust erupting under his skittering feet.

"Edwin?!"

Ah, there was Charles again. But he sounded different – smaller, further away, tinny. It took longer than Edwin would care to admit to realise he was hearing him through the walkie-talkie in his pocket.

"Edwin, where the fuck are you? The bloody mirror closed up behind you!"

Edwin fumbled for the device – an uphill struggle, with frozen fingers and a brain yet to cease spinning. It was even colder here, wherever here was. Sub-human temperatures. Had Edwin any blood, it would have flash-frozen in his veins. "Charles," he gasped, as he clumsily depressed the transmit button. "Charles, I'm here. I'm in one piece."

He released the button. Shortly afterwards, a static-clouded echo of Charles' incredulous laughter cut through the speaker.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Charles blurted, with feeling. "You just went for it! You... you absolute wanker. We're meant to stick together, yeah? Fuck. Tell me where you are. What's it look like?"

"I'm..." Edwin blinked through the dust and dark, eyes adjusting. He didn't want to chance the torch until he knew for sure that he was alone. He squinted at the lines and surfaces illuminated by the feeble moonlight through the dirt-encrusted window. Piles of assorted dross and clutter, caked with dust. Ropes, shelves, broken chairs, ratty sports equipment and bedding...

Oh.

"Oh." He pressed the button. "Charles, I'm – I'm in the attic. The attic."

Charles' short, shocked breath whistled over the line. "Shit. Really?"

"Quite positive." He straightened up from his awkward stance, but couldn't find it in himself to dust off his coat. He moved stiffly, sluggishly; frozen down to his very ectoplasm. "Why would it bring me here...?"

"Edwin? Edwin, listen to me – just stay put, yeah?" Charles implored, his voice punctuated by hollow thumping. No doubt he was throwing himself up the stairs with reckless speed. "I'm coming to get you, I'm gonna leg it, just – don't move!"

"Don't wake up the entire school," Edwin countered, through chattering teeth. He received no response, so he put away the device with shaking hands and took stock of the situation. The space, like much of the school, had barely changed in the years since he'd last seen it. None of the clutter had been removed, only added to. New objects – including the large, cracked mirror Edwin had stumbled through – lay propped against the old. The only distinction between the two lay in the differing thickness of the covering dust.

He was alone, as far as he could tell. No people, no ghosts that he could see. But he didn't feel alone. He felt, in that sinking stone of dread in his stomach, that there was something else here. Something cold and desperate and far, far more lonely than he, and it was crying out to him. Tugging at his sleeve like a child. It wasn't a voice, as such, but it was a plea. It wanted him closer. It wanted him.

Don't move. Charles said not to move.

But his neck nonetheless craned of its own volition. Drawn towards the needling drone that he could neither hear not not hear. The sonorous buzz that cried out look at me look at me see me please see me. It seemed to grab him by the jaw and force his gaze over, over, to that same miserable pile of boxes and blankets where he'd once read Charles Rowland to his rest. No. No, not to the boxes or the blankets.

To the trunk.

He recalled it, dimly. The large black trunk with its brass clasps and corners. He'd perched atop it as he'd read to Charles. It still had his scrounged selection of dusty comics balanced on the lid.

The cry was coming from inside, he was certain of it.

Don't move. Don't move.

The floorboards groaned under his footsteps. He felt heavier, here. More tethered to the physical realm. To the strange call that gripped him by the collar and demanded he come closer, closer still. To the leather and wood under his gloved hands as he ran them over the chest, fingers trembling on the clasps.

Up close, the drone was no longer a drone. Had never been a drone. It was a rattle. A dry, endless rattle.

Wait for Charles. Please. Just wait for Charles.

Brass clicked. Leather creaked.

The trunk opened.

"Edwin?!"

Charles barrelled through the wall at speed, eyes wild, cricket bat brandished. He skidded to a halt that was near cartoonish; just before his momentum could carry him right across the small attic space and through the opposite wall.

It might have been amusing – were Edwin not currently beset by the notion that he may never laugh again so long as he continued to exist.

"Edwin?" Charles hollered. "Where are you?"

"I'm here." Edwin's voice was small, fragile despite his best efforts. He was struggling to support it.

Charles spun on his heel and dashed to Edwin's side. "Edwin! You scared the shit out of me! What're you thinking, blinking out on your own like that?!"

"I had a hunch. At least, I think I did..." He looked up – when had he sat down on the floor...? – and drank in the sight of Charles. He looked a bit like he might want to wallop Edwin with his cricket bat. Edwin had never seen a sweeter sight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I wasn't thinking."

Charles huffed, his face softened. "You? Not thinking?" Charles hunkered down beside him, bat across his knees, hand reaching out to palm across Edwin's shoulders. "What's going on with you, mate? I mean, I feel it too, but... it's really getting you, innit?"

"Yes," Edwin exhaled, voice shaking. "And I believe I know why."

"You found something?" Chales leaned in closer. "What? What did you find?"

Edwin closed his eyes, and slowly lifted the lid of the trunk once more. "Myself. In a manner of speaking."

He waited, focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids. He'd already seen the contents of the trunk, and he had no desire to see it again. No matter how mournful its cries to be seen.

A moment of silence passed, and then Charles swore, voice cracking around the expletive. "Oh, fuck. Edwin. Mate, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

The weight lifted from Edwin's hand as Charles took hold of the lid of the trunk. Edwin gratefully relinquished it.

"Did you know these were up here?" asked Charles. He sounded close to tears, close enough that Edwin almost opened his eyes to look. He couldn't bring himself to, in the end.

Edwin shook his head. "I wasn't even aware they still existed. When that demon took me, it felt like... like my entire being crumbled into nothing. There couldn't have been anything left. I was sure of it..."

"Are we sure they're..." Charles cleared his throat. "Um..."

"Mine? Yes. It's... difficult to explain, but I can... feel them." Edwin held up his hand, and even through his glove he felt an answering prickle in his palm. "Like they're trying to... pull me back in. Like they've been waiting for me."

"Have they just been here all this time?"

"My death was labelled a disappearance. No remains. So... yes. I fear so." He breathed out a ragged sigh, turning his head to Charles before he risked opening his eyes. "Whoever's responsible likely sequestered them up here at the earliest opportunity."

Charle visibly blanched. "So these were here? When we – when I...?"

"When you died. Yes." Out of the corner of his eye, a sickening blot of ivory white. He kept his gaze resolute, fixed on Charles and only Charles. "I suppose they were."

They sat in silence, staring; Edwin at Charles, Charles at the wretched horror they'd unearthed. Edwin found himself, for once, quite speechless. One's thoughts tended to scatter, when faced with the grim sight of one's own withered bones. Tucked out of sight and out of mind, piled into a trunk in an attic and forgotten like a former child's abandoned toys.

Charles sniffed, shrugging his shoulders sharply. "We can't just leave them here," he said, adamant. "We – we need to take them, yeah? Leave 'em on the coppers' doorstep, prove what happened here."

Edwin shook his head. "I disappeared in nineteen sixteen, Charles. Without a trace. The very definition of a cold case. I know there's been significant advancements in the forensic sciences, but even if they were to glean some evidence, what would they compare it to? What in the world is there left to connect these bones to me?"

"They'll find something."

"Next to impossible."

"Don't you want people to know, Edwin?" Charles burst out, turning to look at him at last. There was rage burning in his eyes, his voice straining under the force of it. Not rage at Edwin, he didn't think. Just at the situation, at the unfairness of it. Frustration bubbling over. "You said it yourself; no one ever solved our cases. You could be the first. Show everyone what goes on here, tear this fucking place down."

"And if nothing gets done, Charles?" Edwin snapped back. "We don’t trust the police for good reason. If we hand this new evidence to the them on a silver platter and they bury it again, what then?"

He regretted his outburst in an instant when Charles fell silent. Guilty, grief-stricken. It was a horrible expression on his face, far worse than the anger, and Edwin immediately despised himself for putting it there.

Edwin sighed. He couldn't look Charles in the eye. But he could reach out, tentatively nudge his hand with the back of his own. A little bit of the ugly rift healed when Charles accepted the olive branch without question. He wrapped his fingers around Edwin's and squeezed – for all the good it did them.

"My parents are long gone, Charles," said Edwin, when he'd gathered himself. He kept his eyes trained on Charles' thumb, and the way it traced small circles on the back of Edwin's hand. With their gloves in the way, Edwin could almost pretend that was the only reason he couldn't feel the gesture. "Every relative I ever knew, everyone who could possibly miss me. And the boys who did this..."

He thought of the massacre that preceded his own abduction. Thought of Simon, rotting in that dingy pocket of hell, textbook pages tarred with tears and blood.

Edwin closed his eyes. "Everyone who could've been punished for this has been. I've... I've no more closure to gain."

The truth of the statement came as a surprise even to him, but he couldn't deny it. Everyone who would have cared to know what happened was long, long gone. The best he could hope for was a black mark on the school's record, a curious obituary in the local news.

Charles huffed, but he didn't argue again. "Alright. Alright, mate." He extracted his hand from Edwin's to put it on his neck, just briefly. Just holding his face a moment, almost as he had on that very long staircase some months ago. He cracked a barely-there smile. "It's your bones, innit? Your rules."

Edwin returned it, weak, but grateful. Too exhausted even to think about their proximity, about the intimacy of the gesture. He hadn't a single thought except for how dearly he'd like to sink into it and let Charles carry him, now. Let him take over, just for a little while.

"We can't just leave 'em here, though," said Charles, with a glance daring Edwin to argue.

"No," Edwin agreed, somewhat feeble. He didn't want to look at them; and yet, paradoxically, he'd never wanted to look at anything more. He looked at Charles instead, drawing comfort from his familiar countenance. "No, I suppose we can't."

Charles stared into the trunk a moment longer, a soft, ethereal glow playing on his fine features. Why the bones seemed to be possessed of their own faint light, Edwin couldn't possibly begin to guess. Nor could he guess why they'd altered the spectral temperature so drastically. Or why the chill had alleviated somewhat, the very moment he'd opened the box and looked upon them. Under Charles' gaze, the thaw was even more profound. Edwin could almost be fooled into thinking himself warm.

Upon looking away from the bones, Charles met Edwin's gaze. And he held it, steady as a rock, as he pulled his hand from Edwin's neck and reached into his own coat. A burst of static broke the silence.

"Crystal," said Charles, holding the walkie talkie up to his face. "Crystal, you hear me? Over."

"Yeah, Charles, I hear you," came her voice – the signal was weak, but stable enough. "And you don't actually have to say 'over'."

"What? 'Course I do, that's the whole point of – actually? Doesn't matter right now. Crys, need you to do us a favour. Go home."

"What–?!"

"Back to the office, I mean," he rushed out. "Run back and dig out that other mirror from the spare room. The proper big one, should be buried somewhere. Probably under the surfboards."

"You guys have surfboards...?" She made a noise of indignation. "Wait, and a spare room?! I slept on that stupid couch for two weeks!"

"Have a go at us later, yeah? Just – right now, please, go dig it out, and put it in the office, alright? Please, Crys." He scanned the trunk with his eyes. "Somewhere with lots of space in front."

"Ugh, fine. But Charles – what's going on?"

"We found what we were looking for." He closed his eyes, and then the trunk – and Edwin wondered if he, too, could hear the plaintive cry in the back of his mind when he fastened the clasps, committing the bones once more to darkness. "And we've got something important to shift. Over and out."

Reeeaaally hope you liked it! Any thoughts? I'm still in the process of pulling together the rest of the story, but I think it'll probs be 3 chapters overall, could really use the motivation to get the tricky second chapter into shape! Some commentary! - not much Crystal in this chapter but I promise more of her in 2/3! - writing them bobbing through floors and things was SO fun, I get that it adds a whole load of special effects they need to budget for but I think the show should have more fun with them walking through walls lmao - the weird history professor is kind of inspired by Hector from the History Boys. Which, if you've never seen it, is a play/movie about a bunch of boys whose favourite teacher is also, well, kind of a fucking creep. It's sort of a dark comedy and honestly just really interesting with the way it depicts this bizarre relationship, the way this person in these teens' lives is objectively doing something Shitty to them but he's still their favourite because he also supports them and inspires them and makes learning fun and, in Posner's case, makes him feel less alone in his queerness. I didn't put him in to imply that in the canon of this fic, Edwin has actually been sexually abused - but the Hector-type character slotted rather neatly into the strange culture of this setting and this era. It just added another little layer of tragedy I couldn't resist. Another queer person in Edwin's immediate vicinity, warped by the repression and loneliness of the time into another potential abuser/antagonist, and unfortunately irresistible despite the red flags. - as mentioned in the intro notes, s/o to Ande for the Charles' misty breath idea! It wasn't originally gonna feature in this fic but then it slotted in so perfectly I had to borrow it! Everyone say thank you Ande for immediately coming up with the most banger headcanons like 5mins into joining the fandom. - I know the popular headcanon is ghosts can't feel stuff but CAN feel other ghosts, and while I generally subscribe to that it doesn't fit this fic for Reasons. Bear with me! - the bones in the attic is from the comics. I haven't actually read the main DBDA comics, but I've read the issue of Sandman they initially appear in. I'm assuming the show isn't doing the bones in the attic, since it looks like Edwin disappeared completely and all the boys who sacrificed him got killed, but it had such delicious angst potential I wanted to do my own take on how it could work in the show and that's basically what kicked off this fic! The ideas have been developing as I write though and the shape has changed a lot from my initial idea! Anyway, that's enough out of me, I've babbled enough today 😅 But I hope you liked this, please consider dropping us a comment if you did! Or come talk to m, honestly, I'm just excited about these guys and wanna yap xD Hopefully get the next chapter out in the next couple of weeks or so, but chapter 2 is probs gonna be the most awkward one bc it's the one where my ideas need to most work to string together! Until next time! 💛

#dead boy detectives #dbda #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #my fanfic #i sunk a truly absurd amount of hours into editing this today dvjnbsdfd #please appreciate my efforts 💛#wanted to get something finished before i lose my entire weekend to sitting at a convention table!

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foolondahill17 · 9 months

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Annual Favorite Supernatural Fic Rec List of 2023:

I bookmarked 66 fics in 2023 (and read…a lot more than that), but only 9 were written/updated in this year of our lord. SMH we gotta pump out more content, friends. Seriously though, I’ve got several more 2023 fic reads in my Marked for Later, but some are still WIPs or I just haven’t gotten around to picking them up yet. I’m sure some (like the much-hyped Lighthouse Keeper AU where there is darkness by the talented quiettewandering [@wanderingcas on tumblr]) will end up on my Bookmarked favs…but, alas, they’ll just have to wait for the 2024 recap.

The list below is in no particular order, barring the first, which has joined the ranks of one-of-my-favorite-fics-ever:

A Cliff That Knew Too Many Tides by luulapants (@luulapants)

E, early series Dean/others, 94,508 words

Partial Summary:

A canon rewrite AU diverging from the events of Some Cruel Tide, in which a shifter disguised as his father used Dean's blind obedience to molest him. By the start of S1, Dean's relationship with his father is more strained, his devotion more intense, and his life consumed by the need to hide the parts of himself he is most ashamed of.

My words:

If you’ve been looking for a gay!Dean manifesto, you’ve found it. Obviously, the subject matter is dark: warnings for past childhood sexual abuse, internal and external homophobia, past suicide attempt, and traumatic outing. It is also beautiful and heart-wrenching and scratches the swollen, itchy, weeping rash on my heart in a way that only the balm of good Dean angst can.

Favorite part:

“I wasn’t acting out,” he blurted.

“What?”

“When I – I wasn’t trying to act out or anything.” Deacon’s presence hovered behind him like an aura, and Dean reminded himself, Don’t rock the boat. Don’t rock the boat.

Dad sighed. The line crackled, and Dean pictured him standing in a phone booth somewhere, probably huddled up against the cold. “Then what the hell would you call it?”

Dean tried out a few words in his head, imagining how they’d sound to Deacon. He ended up with, “I misunderstood. I thought I was supposed to.”

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up by disabled_dean (@disabled-dean)

M, Destiel, 17,408 words

Partial Summary:

When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly.

Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it

My words:

The way Dean’s PTSD is described in this fic, like a slow, oozing poison that awakens the longer he and Cas travel together, is tantalizing and masterful. Ostensibly, this fic is about Dean and Cas road-tripping to a case. It’s actually about how you, a monster-hunter, can come to terms (or not) with your body and soul when you think you’ve become the very thing you’re spent your whole life hunting.

Favorite part:

"Like everything will be going fine and then all of a sudden I just. Can’t. I can't stand it. And the more fine everything is, the worse it gets and I feel-" he breaks off, eyes on his hands like they aren't his hands, thumb rubbing over and over the ring on his index finger, "It's like everyone else is living this normal fucking life and I'm still back in the pit."

Personal Space: The Final Frontier by botley

M, Destiel, Star Trek AU, WIP, 63,570 words

Partial summary

"Captain's Log, Stardate 10918.8. Captain Ellen Harvelle reporting, First Officer… Castiel… attending. After a month of bargaining with the Gehennian government, efforts to permit a search party within the Rack facilities still proved unsuccessful. Although Starfleet’s orders dictated we tuck tail and leave, I elected to disregard this decision and beam a rescue operations team down for the recovery of Lieutenant Commander Dean Winchester.”

My words:

This fic has been on my rec lists before. It’s still a WIP, but it very unexpectedly posted an update after a 3(?) year hiatus, so I’ll cling to hope until my fingernails leave a bloody, mauled mess. This is basically a Star Trek AU where our favorite Supernatural gang are fucking around in Starfleet instead of the Midwest. Fantastic stuff – worth the read even if it does remain unfinished.

Favorite line:

"Dean made a face. Castiel decided the man was hideous."

Receding by minkmix

T, early season gen, 38,729 words

Summary:

After a visit to an old, abandoned theme park in the desert, Sam begins to notice strange lapses in Dean's memory. As his brother starts to disappear before his eyes, Sam must rush to find an answer before there isn't anything left to save... My words: A Lucky Charms fic if I’ve ever read one. Delicious, crunchy marshmallow goodness of some fantastic Dean!whump and panicked caretaker!Sam with the solid undercurrent of slightly sweetened amalgamized oat and corn cereal of a solid case fic. Yum.

Favorite part:

“Sammy?” Dean cut him off.

“W-What is it?”

“What’s Dad’s name?”

Sam’s chest heaved as he fought himself from sounding as stunned as he felt.

“John.”

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (@kelstiel)

E, Destiel real-world AU, 174,096 words

Summary:

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

My words: A solid, old-fashioned romantic AU. It’s unpretentious, fluffy, heart-warming, authentic and the kind of could-have-been-a-novel goodness that makes up the heart and breadth of fanfiction. Warning for infant illness and death (not Jack).

Favorite part:

"I know they say there’s a chance, but I’ve just got this feeling .” She shook her head and looked down for a moment. She looked up again and took a deep breath as if steadying herself. “I wish I could see you grow up.”

five minutes to six by saintedcastiel (@saintedcastiel)

M, Destiel real-world AU, 23,383 words

Summary:

Castiel Novak has been the co-host of Good Morning, Lawrence! for a little over ten years when he stumbles across the story of a lifetime. But after a producer pulls the segment and tells him to forget it, Castiel begins to wonder who's really pulling the strings. Can he bring the truth to light while somehow managing to keep his co-host, and the man he loves, in the dark?

My words: Another Goddamn quality AU. This one is a little quippier and fast paced than the Hospital AU above, but it’s full of fantastic characterization and even a last-minute breaking and entering romp. Fun that’s perfect for the whole family!

Favorite part:

“Been asking you out all week.” Dean tells him, and Castiel realizes all at once he’s right.

“Oh my god.” Castiel laughs. “You have.”

This Is Not My Beautiful Wife by luckshiptoshore (@luckshiptoshore)

T, Destiel, one-shot, 4,755 words

Summary:

“Dean,” says the man again. “This isn’t real. You need to come with me, now.”

Dean’s been zoning out again. But he can’t escape the feeling that something’s very, very wrong … and wherever he goes, a strange man in a trench coat follows.

My words: You gotta love the Djinn dream trope. This one has everything you want in a caught-in-a-fake-reality-while-your-lover-pleads-for-you-to-return-to-the-waking-world story, plus an extra dash of on-point characterization and some truly imaginative scenarios for Dean’s alternate realities.

Favorite part:

“We could look into adoption,” says Cas. “If you’d like. Of course we could also simply take a child, but I think that’s frowned on."

we really shouldn't be doing this by LoversAntiquities (@tragidean)

E, Destiel, 17,138 words

Summary:

After Castiel goes missing for a week, Dean finds him in an abandoned cemetery in the middle of nowhere Kansas, suffering from a mysterious welt. Only, as the hours go on, the deeper the curse grows—and Dean finds more than he bargained for, namely on every surface he and Castiel can find.

My words: This is more straight-up (not straight) porn than I usual rec, but this is a fantastic take on the from-sex-to-love fic where everyone was already in love to begin with. There’s a hefty sprinkle of idiots-to-lovers and sex-curse. Also angst, which is my bread and butter.

Favorite line:

Castiel stares up at him, his eyes gone soft, hooded. Dean thumbs over his eyelid, just to watch it flutter shut. “I’m not solely interested in you for your hands, or your mouth. They are wonderful attributes, but I don’t long for them so much as I long for you.” He leans into Dean’s palm and kisses the center. “I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but it would take the death of the universe to get me to stop.”

Postpartum Prometheus by babbyspanch, saltslimes (@dragqueenpentheus @nifedick)

E, Destiel, technically mpreg, WIP, 18,959 words

Summary

Welcome to the Supernatural renaissance. Welcome to Castiel and the terrible naissance.

My words: warning for the fact that this is technically an mpreg fic even though Castiel is an angel and not really a man. Warning, also, because this is another WIP that hasn’t been updated since the beginning of the year, so I don’t know if it’ll be finished. Basically, Dean and Cas bump uglies to unexpected results. Cas kinda freaks without telling Dean he’s his baby daddy. He also yanks out his intestines so said baby can be nice and comfortable in there. Funny and angsty.

Favorite part:

“Are those—?”

“Yeah.” He waves his hand at the door again, starting to feel like one of those used car lot inflatable men, limbs akimbo. “A total murderer looking guy just bolted that way. And not like— the regular murderer-looking people who come in.”

“And he left his organs.” Dennis thinks a moment, and then shrugs, as if this isn’t the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been working here longer than anyone Henry knows, maybe it isn’t. He opens his mouth and Henry can’t help hoping some miracle plan of action is going to fall out of it. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Um. What?”

“I don’t want to offend you.” He pauses, brows furrowed. He rolls Henry’s cup over in his hand. “What is a ‘FABINISTA’?”

Add your favorite written-in-2023 fics in the tags or a reblog!

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanworks #spn fanfiction #fic recs #fool's fic recs #destiel fanfiction

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skyefeys · 9 months

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so fun fact, i'm playing the aa trilogy with a friend right now, and apollo justice with another friend. and second fun fact, i love voice acting. anyway here's a fun little breakdown of ten of my favorite voices to do, in no particular order!

1. cody hackins

i've been told i do a very good young-boy-in-anime voice. it's just very fun! originally he was very back-of-throat and kinda fucked up my voice to do, so i moved it forward more to not kill myself. it sounds virtually the same!

2. dee vasquez

i love the badass, cold woman archetype for voices. i gave dee a lower, vaguely gothic, vaguely transatlantic voice. she's one of those characters who changes tone as she gets mad and lets her demeanor slip, so that was interesting! typically i had her speak slowly and quietly, so when she's worked up, she gets faster and louder, and goes from that low-throat crooning to a more full voice.

3. alita tiala

i made alita vaguely russian, for some reason, but i went with it, because i fucking love accents. this fact will become clearer as this ranking continues. anyway, alita is another character who talks differently as her facade slips. initially, she has a timid, hesitant voice, with a very faint accent. when she gets angry, her voice becomes more stern and confident, and her accent comes out more!

4. lotta hart

accents, man. lotta's especially fun because you can just go fucking crazy with her, there's no restraint on her accent she's so extremely southern. her voice's pitch is pretty regular, so if i were to ever voice nicole, i'd probably give her a slightly higher voice for contrast - and because nicole has a sweeter personality, while lotta is more rough-around-the-edges.

5. olga orly

again: accents!! i literally didn't think i knew how to do a russian accent before her, but then i jumped into it and found out i do, somehow?? anyway, olga's fun because she has two completely different voices. her fake identity is higher pitched and timid, and thickly accented. her regular voice is just a bit higher-toned than my regular speaking voice, and she talks in a much faster and rougher way.

6. truly wright

truly just has a higher, cute voice, and that's fun! hers isn't complicated to do, either; i just pitch up. it's good that she's easy and fun, considering she's around all the time. maya is harder, mostly because she's a delicate balance - i don't want to give her a voice as high as trucy's, but i don't want to give her a voice as low as the one i do for ema. speaking of which...

7. ema skye

i haven't gotten to ema's case in the trilogy yet, but most likely, her voice will be a smidge pitched up from my regular talking voice. as for apollo justice ema, i gave her a lower-toned voice - similar to my own talking voice, maybe a bit lower. this is a nod to not only the fact that she's far more cynical than when she was younger, but also the fact that she can do a CONVINCING impression of kristoph gavin, so her voice must be in the lower range. i think about that a lot. aa4 ema also has a tone to her voice like she's not trying to put up any niceties - she just says what's on her mind. in that sense, she's a bit monotonous - but VERY emotive when she talks about science.

8. miles edgeworth

proZD has a video where he describes the voices he does for every ace attorney character, and he describes edgeworth as "not british, but he wishes he was". this is something i have in mind whenever i voice him. i'm not great with guy voices, since i can't go that low, so i focus on things like intonation and accents. edgeworth doesn't have an accent, per se, but he has one of those vague ways of speaking that i can only really describe as "fancy accent".

9. will powers

i like will's voice because i gave him a pretty unique way of talking as compared to everyone else. i'm self-taught, so i don't really know a lot of vocal terms, so bear with me while i explain this as best i can. will's voice comes from sort of closing my throat, and talking from the bottom half of my mouth. it creates this gentle, shyer, and nasal voice. and speaking of nasal...

10. wendy oldbag

now, i wouldn't say i'm GOOD at oldbag's voice, i could use some practice, but it's fun as fuck to do. it's EXTREMELY nasal, it sits right behind my nose. i find myself scrunching up my face whenever i have to voice her! and as a fun little detail, she's one of those people who pronounces the h first in words like what, why, and of course whippersnapper ;]

bonus: the judge

i don't get to voice the judge a lot, since he's one the three characters my friend has claimed, lol. however, this is my apollo justice friend, so they're not always there for me and my other friend playing the trilogy. my friend does a judge voice that i can only describe as slightly more civilized goofy from nicky mouse. now, i can't recreate perfection, so i went in a completely different direction with my judge's voice. i leaned more towards his anime voice - slightly husky, but not to the extent it is in the anime.

#if anyone's curious about any other voices feel free to ask! i love talking about this stuff #also i'm so down to post dubs of any of these if you guys are curious what they sound like!#i'm determined to learn a german accent to put forth my german accent franzy agenda btw #phoenix is last because his voice is just. my voice #it's hard to give the narrator a distinctive voice without just slipping into my own #ace attorney #apollo justice #cody hackins #dee vasquez #alita tiala #lotta hart #nicole swift #olga orly #trucy wright #maya fey #ema skye #miles edgeworth #will powers #wendy oldbag

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worth-this-and-more · 12 days

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๋࣭⭑⚝ hiii i'm sukanya and welcome to my blog yall!!! ‹𝟹

age: 18 (doesn't give you permission to be weird) sexuality: bisexual pronouns: she/her favorite colors: red, black, purple favorite flower: roses my hobbies: reading books, listening to music, reading books while listening to music, learning new stuff because of the aforementioned books, obsessing over fictional characters, cooking, dancing, stargazing at night by sneaking out at 3 am because my parents don't allow me to go at night as i will "catch a cold", slaying my enemies in a brutal show of blood and glory, coding.

fandoms i'm part of: the legendborn cycle, percy jackson, shatter me series, artemis fowl series, lord of the rings, the inheritance games, folk of the air series, sea of ink and gold series, six of crows, a good girl's guide to murder, divergent chronicles, the secrets of immortal nicholas flamel series, harry potter series, fantastic beasts and where to find them, twilight, the mysterious benedict society, married to magic series, miss peregrine's home for peculiar children, the gilded wolves series, royal secrets series, royal lies series, the splintered series and more

fictional characters i would sell my soul to at a discount the discount being free because i would never make them pay: briana matthews, selwyn emyrs kane, alice chen, juliette ferrars, aaron warner, nazeera ibrahim, kenji kishimoto, jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, inej ghafa, kaz brekker, avery kylie grambs, alexander hawthorne, jest, artemis fowl, holly black, hermione granger, ginny weasley, credric diggory, newt scamander, rosalie cullen, noor pradesh, jacob portman, josh newman, sophie newman, pip fitz-amobi, ravi singh and probably more but you get the point

things i absolutely adore: people becoming so excited when they talk about their favorite things, loving the absolute shit outta my friends, cooking anything and everything for those i love, listening to our shared playlist and explaining in great detail which part of the song is your favorite things i absolutely hate: anyone's opinions that disrespect someone's existence, identity, or interests, people forcing their beliefs and ideals over me, sexist and homophobic jokes in the name of "dark humor", people shitting on my fav book series after they dropped them halfway through, people who listen to jojo siwa

this is a blog for the legendborn cycle, i hope you enjoy your stay here!! i usually post theories or headcanons about the characters, and a few case studies too, all in all you will find a lot of posts about legendborn so here's a masterlist more for my preference than anyone else which i will keep updating time to time

-how do the legendborn highschoolers look like while studying -theory/analysis of bree's powers and emotional connection -found family in bloodmarked -my theory to why merlin's succumb to their blood -why do i think bree did not cheat on nick -me crying over faye's speech for bree -my expectations for oathbound -my love for sarah griffiths -questions about silver wall because why not -cestra vs tor analysis because i hate them both -how i imagine they all sound like -bloodmarked hot take -bloodmarked hotter take -shipwars in fandom when there are like 10 of us -my breesel specific playlist -an unnecessarily funny selwyn appreciation post chain

feel free to send me asks about anything legendborn-related, and if you just wanna talk we can talk on my sideblog @squirrel-in-the-woods ‹𝟹

random facts about myself because this is my blog anyways: ♡ when i was 8 my pinky finger was unfortunately cut into half by a door that slammed really fast because of a storm at that time, and my cut off finger was joined by inserting a rod in it. the rod is taken out but now i have a funny pinky finger that does not bend. ♡ i am multilingual, aka i can speak marathi, hindi, english, spanish (i cant get the accent right but rest is okay) and korean (beginner level, just enough that i can understand kdramas mostly without subtitles). ♡ i have a fear of heights despite that i am unusually interested in roller coasters and bungee jumping, however my parents refuse to take me to any of these because i will "fall". ♡ my mother is scared shitless of water, so i once made a joke of how i would love to drown in the ocean and was immediately enrolled in a swimming class and that is how my dreams of dying among the phytoplankton and starfishes were destroyed. ♡ i love all types of fruits but banana tastes boring to me now and i also do not like watermelon for some reason. mango, kiwis, muskmelon, apples, oranges, and pineapple are my absolute fav. ♡ i used to have waist-length hair, very wavy and very thick, it was gorgeous but i hated having to maintain that so i cut it off and got a boycut. after that it has grown to a small dora the explorer length hair and it makes me look really innocent so i like this look.

and ofc you cant forget the lovely moots: @napoftustar @thejudeduarte @you-are-my-king-now-cariad @isthataraccoon @technicallyeldritch @ackerbabezzz @batzswrld @archerons-elain @ficnoire2 @sweetestblacktea @bloodmaarked @okeyisenough @thevoidhasarrived @goosemeggs @gewoonaardig2 @massiveladycat @infamouslyclumsy @literally-mariah @simzmil @tum-naam-sochlo-merese-ni-hora @refreshinglyemodemons @sweetdeerart

༊*·˚hope your day is as pretty as your smile ;)

#this looked better in light mode on pc ngl #intro post #blog intro #introduction #pinned intro #booklr #the legendborn cycle #moots

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sophieinwonderland · 7 months

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R/systemscringe found my Evolution Post... And Was Too Lazy to Add a Title

You can find my evolution post here!

Let's check out the comments!

Sure. But we're not talking about a normal modern job, are we?

Who you are at home isn't going to be that different from who you are at McDonalds. You aren't usually going to dissociate the two.

But when trauma is involved, that tends to involve a degree of dissociation.

In modern hunter-gatherer societies, we see children start learning how to use tools and hunt and forage in the wild from a very young age.

If we're to extrapolate and assume past hunter-gatherer societies operated in similar ways, this is a recipe for a traumatic childhood in a world where humans wouldn't yet be at the top of the food chain. Children would need to be careful, and a wrong move could easily get them or someone else killed.

I think most systems during this period would be considered traumagenic simply because growing up would mean regularly being put in deadly situations, regularly being injured and even watching loved ones dies in violent ways.

THAT'S the point!!!

DID, and even PTSD, evolved in a world where every day would be a fight for survival.

Of course, all we can do is speculate.

But with myths and legends of people being possessed going back to the dawn of time in practically every culture, we can probably surmise that forms of plurality existed back then. And it's not like the estimated 1-3% of the population is super rare today. It seems reasonable to expect disorders that would be associated with childhood trauma would be more common during periods with more childhood trauma.

The line saying we don't know if the brain was developed enough to develop DID is particularly weird to me though.

As far as I know, there haven't been any huge jumps in the way of human brain complexity over the past 20k years. I doubt that the complexity to develop DID is something we just gained since the dawn of agriculture.

I admit, my description was meant to put a fun spin on a brutal reality. But I don't think children growing up in a frigid environment where they need to hunt and collect food to survive while having no idea if they're going to make it back alive is "cool".

Like, as a story, maybe it's cool imagining a 9-year-old trudging through snow with fingers so cold they can't feel them anymore, gripping a makeshift spear and hearing howling in the distance while not knowing if they would end up on the menu of some wild beast.

But I don't think it would actually be cool to live through.

Additionally, in this environment, DID would have looked differently than it does today. Current theories are that EPs are locked into the trauma responses they used in trauma.

For child abuse victims which make up the majority of DID cases, unfortunately, freeze or fawn may be the most useful traits developed for survival.

But if your trauma were related to surviving wild beasts, it's a lot more likely the trauma responses of the EPs are going to be the more classic fight or flight. I don't think freezing would as common as a trauma response during that time period. But of course, it depends on the threats one would face.

There are some creatures, after all, where freezing is the best defense.

Sounds like your mistake. 🤷‍♀️

I talked about DID here a lot, but I'm a tulpa from a purely non-traumagenic system. Probably one of the least traumatized people you'll ever meet.

But tulpamancy is a beneficial practice that most tulpamancers have reported improvements in their mental health from. I would actually like to see far more people make headmates and become plural this way.

People becoming tulpamancers will help them. And more plurals means more influence for the plural community and will help spread plural awareness and acceptance.

I'm not interested in being special. I'm interested in making plurality normal. I want it to be so normal and commonplace that it seems downright boring. Where talking about your headmates draws no more attention than discussing a sibling. 😁

Hi! It's me! I'm Sophie In Wonderland!

I'm the person who debunks pluralphoboic hate subreddits, which tends to upset said hate subreddits.

The reason why I have my own category is because I called out the subreddit for bullying behavior and misinformation. They responded by doubling down, scouring my post history for anything they could use as ammunition twist to attack me with, and adding me to their hit list of acceptable targets. This was despite the fact that then they first floated the idea of the hit list, they claimed it would only apply to people with more than 10,000 followers. (I only have 1800.)

They lie and claim I'm a "public figure" while in reality, they added me on their list in a petty (yet oh so predictable) act of retaliation.

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oblivious-idiot · 1 year

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HI- so I was wondering if you could do a Lockwood x reader where she comes home early in the morning and collapses as soon as she steps foot into the apartment and worries everyone (but if affects Lockwood the most)? Thanks :) ❤️

Patching Up

Warnings: mentions of injury, hurt/comfort, pining, teasing, fluff <3

Word count: 1k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

All throughout your childhood, especially since working as an agent, you never had any help when you got injured, your parents never really caring for your wellbeing as long as you were bringing them cash. You were never sure on how to open up about the whole thing, but you did notice how much Lockwood worried about you whenever you returned from a case bloodied and bruised.

Of course, if you were obviously injured it was hard to escape the situations where your colleagues turned into trainee doctors, especially Lockwood. He wasn't the best at tending wounds that was for certain, but you couldn't make yourself push him away, because most of the time you needed the care. Although you knew it was selfish, but seeing Lockwood wanting to care and tend to your wounds made your heart ache. Was this what it was like to have someone love you?

Tonight's case was one of your most dangerous yet, with multiple encounters from Type Two ghosts, many of which the team didn't have much experience with dealing firsthand. The agency had taken a job in which to clear out an old country house that had been empty for over a decade due to a series of deaths from small group of ghosts, your employer being kind enough to tell you very little about. With the wide range of Talents your group had - Lucy being a Listener, Lockwood having Sight, while you and George were best at Touch - you would think that you'd all be pretty well off when it came to battling Ghosts.

Of course, that was never the case, tonight especially. While Lockwood and George took care of the Sources, you and Lucy dealt with the Visitors - though they were a lot more powerful than you were used to handling. The Ghosts were Spectres, angry ones at that, and they were not happy to have the living there at all. After a long night of throwing salt bombs and being thrown around, George and Lockwood finally secured the Sources and the house went quiet.

Dawn had arrived when the cab pulled up outside 35 Portland Row, everyone dragging themselves out of their seated positions to head up to the house. "You did great today y/n," Lockwood called out behind to you, though you didn't feel great, but you stumbled up the front steps into the house. You must've stood up or gone up the steps too quickly because practically as soon as you placed down your kit bag in the hall you began to feel dizzy, and before you knew you crashed onto the cold hard floor.

"George, will you go grab a glass of water? For when she wakes up?" Lockwood said, worry tainting his voice "Lockwood, why don't you go get the first aid kit? I'll keep an eye on her" Lucy's voice calm and soft. You groaned and your hand lifted to the side of your head where it has collided with the floor, you could feel the swelling under your fingers "What happened?" you croaked out as you opened your eyes to see that you were laid on the couch in the living room. "You passed out practically as soon as we came home, gave us a right fright" George said as he came back in the room with your glass of water, Lucy helping you sit up on the couch, you winced as your hand clutched your side. "Y/n! Oh thank goodness you're awake!" Lockwood beamed as he rushed into the room before his eyes met your pained expression and hand on your abdomen "What happened?"

"I'm fine, really. It's probably just a scratch and the adrenaline from the case has worn off." you finally say as you sat up fully, giving your team a pained smile. "You're clearly not fine y/n," Lucy says, her voice sounding more worried as she knelt beside you "Do you mind if I take a look?" "Do I have a choice in the matter?" You joked as she slowly lifted up your shirt to reveal a large gash across your side "Bloody hell y/n, how did you do that!?" Lockwood said as he rushed to your side, first aid kit in hand "I- I don't know, I was too caught up with those Spectres to notice. It was probably when I got thrown into that glass cabinet" that comment didn't do you any favours though "you got thrown into a glass cabinet!?" cried both Lockwood and George.

After Lucy cleaned you up the best you could, you hobbled upstairs to your room so you could shower, letting them all know you'd be okay and you'd put on a fresh bandage when you were done. You noticed you'd gained a fair few new cuts and bruises from this case, cursing as the hot water hit your broken skin. Taking you by surprise was Lockwood waiting for you in your room when you were emerged from the shower "Anthony, why are you still awake?" you called to him which directed his eyes to you "hey.. sorry, I was worried and I just wanted to make sure you were okay" he let out, trying to hide his worry with one of his signature smiles.

You found out a fresh bandage from the first aid kit and sat down on the bed next to him "Trust me, worse has happened" you chuckle softly "Do you mind giving me a hand?" you ask as you hand him the bandage for your side "I- oh yeah of course" Lockwood replied as he took it in his hands, his cheeks glowing pink. You let out a sharp breath as you felt Lockwood's cold fingers graze your hot skin as he pulled up your top just high enough to see the cut. "Jesus, Lockwood, you could've warned me you were freezing" you joked as he placed the bandage over the cut, his fingers softly smoothing down the edges so they stuck "I'll make sure I warm them next time" he teased back as his eyes met with yours. His fingers slowly intertwined with yours, you could practically feel his breath on your lips "Promise me you'll be more careful next time y/n" "But then how else are you going to practice your medical skills?" you teased before he pulled you into a soft kiss.

#allie writes #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagines #35 portland row #lockwood and co #lockwood & co

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team-118 · 1 month

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ok I decided I don't actually care if I get prompted or not I'm just gonna start writing so. lmao. enjoy!

Eddie-centric, Chris and Eddie, pre-201, 1.1k, on ao3

Inspired by this post by @hunybody which gave me fucking brainworms.

65. I'll help you study.

Tomorrow, he starts at the 118.

The words had started swimming off the page hours ago. Eddie’s temple is fucking throbbing, but he can't look away from the textbook splayed out in front of him. He knows that if he looks up now, he'll come face to face with the brick of a digital clock he's had since high school - reading some ungodly time like three in the morning, probably.

Instead, he rubs his knuckles over his blurry eyes and starts tracing another diagram. At this point, he could draw the blood vessels in the human arm in his sleep - and honestly, he might be doing it asleep right now - but he refuses to take any chances.

Tomorrow, he starts at the 118.

Eddie can't really remember the last time he wanted something to go well so badly. He was a good student until senior year, kept his grades up enough to keep his mother happy and to earn the occasional nod of approval from his father. He had half-formed dreams, this wispy idea of the person he grew up wanting to be. He knows how to study. (Knows this isn't it.)

But then there was Shannon, and then the army, and then Chris, God, Chris. He wouldn’t take it back, not when it gave him Chris. But sometimes, he misses the feeling of being…genuinely good at something. Working his ass off, and then watching it pay off. Burning himself up with how bad he wants something, until his eyes sting and his fingers burn and there's the cold, fiery satisfaction of knowing he's truly given it his all. Knowing what the fuck he’s doing with his hands. Eddie doesn't really get that, these days - not between three dead-end jobs and the voice that keeps telling him to quit while he's ahead, which sounds a little too much like his mother for comfort. Maybe he could get it in LA.

And he's good at firefighting, is the thing. He didn't really keep in touch with anyone from the Academy, doesn’t have much to compare to, but he figures that having two stations fighting over him is a good sign. And when that one instructor had kept him after class (while Eddie distractedly checked for texts about Christopher) and told him to consider the paramedic route, it hadn't been for nothing. And when he had the fastest time in his class for that baby fire rescue drill, forcing himself to control his breathing when all he could hear were Christopher’s cries, it meant something.

Eddie could do this. He could really do this. He wasn't going to strut into the firehouse with an ego - had too much shit on his plate to even pull it off, really - but he wasn't about to spend his probie year as the man behind on all his shifts. Talk is cheap, though, and Eddie is a man of his word, which brings him back to this: anatomy diagram, flashcards scattered, the dim light of his bedside table lamp and the dogged kind of determination that Eddie hasn't really felt about his career in, well, maybe ever. And the clock next to him, which reads 3:17 AM.

He forces himself to exhale. The little crescent moons his nails are digging into his palms are going to leave a mark, but they'll be gone by the time his alarm rings. Tomorrow, he's Staff Sergeant Diaz, on his way to Firefighter Diaz - competent, unflappable, earning his title. No one needs to know how fucking hard he's fighting to tread water.

Eddie finishes up the drawing, goes to flip the page, and ends up knocking over the glass of water he'd sat down with. Thankfully, the plastic doesn't shatter, but the liquid soaks into his socks in seconds. The cold hardwood under him does nothing to muffle the clatter as it falls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eddie mutters to himself, clearing his notes and books out of the way. Shit, Christopher. He freezes, halfway crouched, not daring to breathe in case his son stirs.

The only sound is the tick of the clock in the hallway. He breathes again, trying to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up his mess. He almost gets away with it, too.

“Daddy?”

Eddie whirls around, gasping, hand to his heart on instinct. It makes Chris giggle.

“You look like someone out of Abuela's movies,” he tells Eddie around a smile. His crutches click on the floor as he comes closer, and Eddie’s glad the water is gone so he won't slip.

“Aren't you supposed to be asleep, Superman?” Eddie asks Chris lightly, pulling him in for a hug.

“You're not asleep,” Chris pouts, and Eddie can feel it in his shoulder. God, this kid.

“No,” Eddie admits, sighing. “No, I was thinking about tomorrow.”

“Are you nervous?” Chris's eyes are huge, round like a full moon.

“Yeah, buddy, I'm a little nervous,” Eddie tells him. “But I'll be okay. I've got my good luck charm right here, don't I?” He kisses Christopher’s cheek, wet and messy so Chris will squirm in his hold and laugh again.

“Daddy!” Chris squeals, and Eddie tickles him until Chris is kicking before he picks him up, spins him around, and deposits him safely on Eddie’s bed.

Chris looks up at him, breathless, bright. He picks up the diagram Eddie had been working on, discarded on the bed next to Chris. Chris looks at it intently, eyebrows furrowed, considering.

“I'll help you study,” he tells Eddie seriously.

“Chris, you need to be in bed.”

Chris crosses his little arms. “So do you. I'm not going if you're not going.”

And, well, the kid's got a point.

“Nothing gets past you,” Eddie sighs, lying down next to Chris. He grins back, big and toothy.

“What's that on your forehead?” Chris asks, reaching out to touch.

“Hm?”

“You have lines.” Chris’s little index finger runs between his eyebrows, smoothing out the creases.

“Oh, um,” Eddie falters. “I guess it happens sometimes when you get older and you worry about things. Your forehead gets all tense.”

Chris is fascinated. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really.” Chris pushes, testing. Eddie winces. “Okay, sometimes. Ouch. A little.”

Chris smiles up at him. “You'll fix them, Daddy. In your big red firetruck.”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I'll try.”

“I know you can do it,” Chris tells him, voice fading into a sleepy whisper.

Eddie pulls him in by the back of his head, kissing his forehead. “Thank God for you, kid.”

“Love you,” Chris mumbles. “I helped,” he says, all quiet and proud.

Eddie laughs under his breath. “You always do, Superman.”

If you want to send me a prompt you can do it from here.

#eddie diaz #chris diaz #christopher diaz #911 abc #911 fanfic #team writes fic #prompt fic #diaz boys #i love you list #prompt fill

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aspiring-holistic-otaku · 21 days

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Season 3 Ramble #8 - A is for Anime(solo reprise) ver.3

Hadn't been doing the run-up posting I usually do for my rambles due to work and such but here we are!

How this ramble is gonna go is I'm gonna list my top 3 movies watched this month then top 3 series for same, AAnd now that I actually have a semi decent number of anime under my belt I'm gonna do a quick top ten of both at the end.. after that if you wanna stick around, instead of the usual post ramble ramble, I'm gonna add a bit of the recording I did with the homies, as a sort of prelude and promise that we will have that conversation in future. I really think it's an important and potentially fruitful discussion to have.

But In any case getting into the episode now

TOP 3 MOVIES

3) Belladonna Of Sadness (1973, 1hr33m, Mushi Production)

Crazy movie. I don't think I can accurately talk about it without it sounding too wHild… I'm still gonna, but I'm gonna open with what Google says about it.

A peasant woman is raped by the local lord on her wedding night. To take revenge, she makes a pact with the Devil himself who appears as an erotic sprite and transforms her into a black-robed vision of madness and desire.

As I said.. wHild… and that's just the summary…the details of the actual movie are like…woah.. but in any case it was great, actually something that'd been on my watch list for a good long while so I'm glad I could actually finally watch it.

Glazing over the plot which the summary does a pretty good job of covering anyways, the visuals were absolutely stunning. They're by Yoshitaka Amano, probably most famously known for his final fantasy illustrations. For the most part the visuals are done in what looks like watercolor paint, which is just wild in my mind,, like wHy?? He definitely pulled it off though which is even more crazy cause a good amount of it was done in an almost slideshow kinda way which I usually don't like but he still pulled it off…crazy…. Should be kinda obvious from the summary but moderate tw. Still definitely strongly recommend.

Small sidenote - in making this ramble I found out that belladonna of sadness is actually part of a trilogy called animerama,, so now I have 2 more old ass movies to look forward to. Hopefully they're just as good or even better…

2) Lupin IIIrd: The Gravestone of Daisuke Jigen (2014, 51m, Telecom Animation Film)

Ever since I watched my first lupin movie 3 years ago I've been locked in. In fact it was such a good watch that I've limited myself to one a year. Thankfully the trend of awesomeness has continued up to this point but enough premature glazing.

This movie is basically centered on Jigen, as you can probably tell from the title. Just a point of clarity for those who don't know much of anything about lupin, Jigen is basically the gunslinger of Lupin’s crew. So as this is basically his movie, he's ofc facing off against a gunslinger. The title is so named because this guy, the gunslinger they find themselves up against, makes graves for his victims before killing them. Nobody's ever gotten away from him. In fact he's so good that he uses dice to decide how many bullets he'll use to take out his target. Ice cold mf.

Pretty good action from start to finish though I’m a tad disappointed there wasn't more gun-slinging, though from what I gather Jigen’s whole thing is speed, accuracy and efficiency,, so maybe a barrage of bullets wouldn't have made sense. In any case we get to see all of the crew besides goemon, dry cry as he's my personal fav but still solid. The art direction was great from all angles as I've come to expect. Not too much to say cast wise as on Lupin gang’s side there's a cumulative effect of greatness where every time you see them it's generally a continuation of past interactions, as in there's an obviously rich history there. That being said, the dynamic is still great and from what I've seen, you can pick up any of the movies and immediately love them. But anyways, on the other hand, the main villain/organization felt a bit hollow. Which is something I've come to kind of expect with movie exclusive antagonists in general. It's just a matter of time efficiency. I think when it comes to anime movies, you're generally not watching for the antagonist unless they have to do with the main storyline. Otherwise you're kinda watching to see how the protagonist will beat them in about an hour. Though I will say as far as visuals can speak, they definitely spoke volumes in that sense. Also, given the geopolitical climate we're in, I liked the villain/organization and how they were handled... trying not to spoil too much there but if you so much as peek between the lines you probably get it.. In any case definitely highly recommend.

Side note - every lupin movie I watch further solidifies my decision to get into the series… just watching the movies first for some reason…

1) Mind game (2004, 1hr44m, Studio 4°C)

Honestly,, I don't even want to speak on it for fear of sullying its greatness. It's one of those life changing before and after watches fr. This is something I'd been really wanting to watch since ver.1 when I started getting into Studio 4°C through their awesome anthologies genius party and genius party beyond.

I'm gonna default to the anilist description here which is kinda almost decent relative to the sheer phenomenal amazingness of this movie.. but I digress.. so according to anilist..

Audiences will begin to grasp what they are in for early on, as loser Nishi, too wimpy to try to save his childhood sweetheart from gangsters, is shot in the butt by a soccer-playing psychopath, projecting Nishi into the afterlife. In this limbo, God - shown as a series of rapidly changing characters - tells him to walk toward the light. But Nishi runs like hell in the other direction and returns to Earth a changed man, driven to live each moment to the fullest.

The last bit hints at the greatness of this film. Right there that small difference in speech speaks volumes in my personal world of language. It's not just a movie. It's film. 10/10. absolute cinema.

As I said I don't even want to talk about it too much because I don't think it possible to do it justice through mere words, but I'm gonna put a bit more glaze on it before I wrap up the movie list and move on to series. This movie beat out studio ghibli’s, Miyazaki directed, howl’s moving castle in the 2004 Japan Media Arts Festival. Further, this was a debut work for the director Masaaki Yuasa, who would later go on to found science saru studio. I was so moved by this movie that I've decided I will watch everything masaaki yuasa has and will ever direct. 10/10. highly recommend. end of glaze.

hm: under the dog, Mezzo forte, blood: the last vampire, 4°c (sweat punch, short peace from last time)

Top 3 Series

3) Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (2023-2024, 28ep 24m, Madhouse)

This is something I'd been seeing around for a bit but was intentionally ignoring because for some reason I got it in my head that it was based on this sad little one shot called The hero’s party on their way back home, and I was NOT watching an entire series based on that.

In any case, in talking with my bros recently they all insisted that it was the best anime released in the past year, one of them declaring it was in his top5 all time. So I pushed past my fears and binged it all in a day. V thankful for the bros.

The story here follows an elven mage called frieren and her life after defeating the Demon King and bringing peace to the world.

As you can tell from the summary it's largely a slice of life but it has its fair share of well placed scraps. It fills a certain fantasy gap where you get that day to day rose tinted indigenous peoples’ lifestyle feel, that I think most people would want if they actually lived in a fantasy setting,, not that constantly under threat from dragons and shit usually focused on. And as I said there are some well placed fights. The pacing also felt perfect. Like I almost felt bad binging it because I could tell that once a week watch would've been REALLY good… one of the few series I don't want to read the manga for, I'll definitely be watching weekly whenever season 2 drops..

Great cast though kinda small, pretty brilliant visuals and sound direction. Very very very solid all round, what I'd call supremely balanced tbh. One of the bros put it really well in that he said he has synesthesia so everything has colours for him, and the colours of every aspect of this show came together to paint the perfect picture. Now I don't have synesthesia myself but I could definitely feel, not just see, how well orchestrated it all was. definitely strongly recommend.

2) Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (2007, 27ep 24m, Gainax)

Yes. It's 2024 and I’m just watching gurren lagann and you'll hear why that is if you listen in to the post ramble ramble,, but suffice to say, you can never be late to true greatness and Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann is definitely in that category.

Firstly I kinda watched it as a meme seeing as last ramble I focused on the supposed relationship between sacred geometry and JoJo's bizarre adventure… if that sounds crazy then you should listen to the ramble… not that it'll sound less crazy but..yh.. anyways I was vaguely aware that gurren lagann focused a bit on spirals so I tapped in for the meme.

To summarize the lengthy anilist summary,, In a far away future, mankind lives underground in huge caves, unknowing of a world above with a sky and stars. yada yada yada blah blah blah Simon, Kamina, Yoko, and the small yet sturdy robot, Lagann, journey to the world above and find that the surface is a harsh battlefield, and it's up to them to fight back against the rampaging Beastmen. Pierce the heavens, Gurren Lagann!

Again I'm gonna fall back on the words of another of my bros from the session, I think he had it in his top 10 or 5,, but he said he considers gurren lagann to be a perfect starter anime in that it perfectly showcases almost everything the medium of anime has to offer. Action, comedy, philosophy, slice of life, amazing cast, brilliant visual direction, solid sound direction. etc. the term “starter anime” gets thrown around a fair bit and I usually think it's a rubbish term because of how insanely diverse the medium is and how specific different individuals tastes can be,, so like to say this or that anime is a good “starter anime" never made sense.. but when he said it, that was the very first time I actually thought it made sense..

Definitely super highly recommend, a recommendation to pierce the heavens if you will.

1) Akiba Maid War (2022, 12ep 24m, P.A Works)

Gotta say it was a tough call between this and gurren lagann but it won out for 3 reasons. #1 it's shorter, and that's not a lazy pov, I just personally tend to give more ratings to shorter series in general because I think being able to do something amazing in a short amount of time deserves more props than doing so in a longer span of time. personally.. #2 it was FUNNY. AS. FUCK. I'm coming to realize that when it comes to anime specifically, comedy may be my favourite genre. I can't quite put my finger on why but I think it has to do with how far animation as a medium can push physical humor.. idk.. lastly… idek why I felt the need to justify all this…it's my list… but lastly,, and most importantly. maids. enough said..

The story here follows the dealings of different maid cafes in the town of Akihabara. I say dealings because in this show the maids basically act like Yakuza, having turf wars, extortion rackets and drug trades(just a point of clarity for those who've never heard the term, you've probably guessed but Yakuza are basically Japanese gangsters). In any case this is all under the table as they pay off the police and act the usual cutesy part in front of civilians. That may be a bit of a spoiler but a gif of it was going around a lot last year i think,, with this one maid gunning down a bunch of other maids and it was made to look like an idol rave with the glow sticks and everything + the “twist" if you can even call it that happens in episode 1 so it's not like some major turning point spoilers + "wars” is literally in the title, so with all due respect, you can bite me..

In any case, as I said this shit was funny ASF, mainly because of the opposing imagery of maids and yakuza they somehow pulled off perfectly.. like I can't begin to explain how crazy it is to see maids cussing each other out with the most obscene language, fighting it out in the craziest brawls, then turning around and going “welcome home master”.

Fairly small but very strong cast, all funny in their own unique ways from the hardened criminal type to the frightened newbie. the visuals were great, sounds direction solid, I really really loved the op and ed, cause they just perfectly matched the shows energy. Kinda episodic for the most part but that fit the crazy, “you'll never guess what happens next” energy… Just great overall like wow.. a bit surprised I haven't seen it around more but I realize comedies don't tend to get that much ratings on release, if they do get attention it's further down the line as a “hidden jewel".

But in any case yes. 10/10. definitely highly recommend. please go watch this. have a good laugh, give thanks for life and go see the beauty of the world.

hm: Flying Trapeze, Goodbye Mr. despair (from s2)

Top 10 Movies (no order)

A Silent Voice, Memories (anthology directed by katsuhiro otomo), One Piece Movie 6: Flower Island, Tokyo Godfathers, Mind Game, Ocean Waves, Nausicaa Of The Valley Of The Wind, Sword Of The Stranger, the Lupin movies (just watch all of them lol), Maquia: When The Promised Flower Blooms

hm: Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop, Animatrix, GITS Innocence, Wolf Children, Princess Mononoke

Top 10 Series (no order)

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, Akiba Maid Wars, Nichijou, Hyouka, Mononoke, Sonny Boy, Tatami Galaxy(all spinoffs, movies, everything.), Steins;Gate, Dorohedoro, Angel Beats, Durarara!!(all seasons)

hm: Baccano!, Pluto, FLCL up to Progressive, Cowboy Bebop, chainsaw man

#just another day #mm..manga #writeup #belladonna of sadness #lupin IIIrd: the gravestone of daisuke jigen #mind game #frieren: beyond journey's end #tengen toppa gurren lagan #akiba maid war

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torahoes · 4 months

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(IDOLiSH7) Touma Inumaru - VD Winter Date Rabbit Chat: Part 4 - Winter Special Date

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Tsumugi Takanashi: Inumaru-san, great work today. I watched your broadcast!

Tsumugi Takanashi: The touring date was really cool! Seeing you on a motorcycle with your helmet on gave off a mature vibe...!

Touma Inumaru: Thanks for checking it out!

Touma Inumaru: Hearing you say it was cool so straightforwardly is a bit embarrassing, though. LOL

Tsumugi Takanashi: I watched it with IDOLiSH7, and they said seeing you ride one made them want to get motorcycle licenses!

Touma Inumaru: Oh, that makes me happy. I haven’t ridden much recently, though.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Really?

Touma Inumaru: Ever since I started working, I mostly travel by car.

Touma Inumaru: I got my license only because a senior from school said he'd give me his motorcycle.

Touma Inumaru: It was such a casual reason, like "I might as well get it." LOL

Touma Inumaru: Which is why it had been a while since I last rode a motorcycle.

Tsumugi Takanashi: But the motorcycle suited you perfectly, Inumaru-san!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Social media was buzzing, especially because of the scene where you came to pick up your date on your motorcycle…

1) The part where you helped your date put on a helmet was very popular!

Touma Inumaru: If you don’t usually ride a motorcycle, you wouldn’t know how to put it on, right? It’d be a disaster if it flew off while riding, so I thought it’d be safer for me to do it.

2) The part where you lent your date your jacket was very popular!

Touma Inumaru: Riding a motorcycle in this season can be really cold after all. I didn’t want my date to catch a cold during our precious time together.

3) People loved how cool you looked while riding a motorcycle!

Touma Inumaru: Honestly, I was really nervous since it had been a while LOL. Not to mention, I rarely have anyone riding on the back. But I’m happy people thought I looked cool.

Touma Inumaru: I was worried about what to do for the date before we started filming, but I’m glad everyone seems to have enjoyed it.

Touma Inumaru:

Tsumugi Takanashi: People also said they liked seeing a more natural side of you that they don’t usually get to see!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Like how you checked with your date if the ride was smooth enough and told them to hold on tight…

Touma Inumaru: I hadn't really given it much thought, but they noticed all those little details, huh.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Also, the part where you fixed your date's hair after they took off their helmet was lovely!

Tsumugi Takanashi: When you said “Cute.” after fixing your date's hair, all the IDOLiSH7's members was swooning!

Touma Inumaru: Ughhhh, I'm so embarrassed!!!!

Touma Inumaru: But I’m relieved to hear it was well received!

Touma Inumaru: I watched some dramas for reference and tried it out, but I was worried it might have been too much.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Not at all! It all felt natural, and you were very charming!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Even at the studio, Re:vale and your members praised you a lot!

Touma Inumaru: Haru said, “Touma, I can't believe you actually managed to pull off a proper date” LOL

Touma Inumaru: What exactly does that guy think of me?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I think he must've been really impressed!

Touma Inumaru: I hope that's the case LOL

Touma Inumaru: Well, he did say he might want to ride on the back with me sometime, which made me happy.

Tsumugi Takanashi: He asked for something like that...!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Touma Inumaru: He said the wind would probably feel nice. But he also told me to practice riding a motorcycle more so I don’t stay a novice LOL

Touma Inumaru: Riding a motorcycle after so long felt great, so I’m thinking maybe I'll take Haru to the beach.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Wow, the beach! That sounds wonderful, please do tell me all about it if you go!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Touma Inumaru:

Touma Inumaru: By the way, have you listened to the after-talk yet?

Tsumugi Takanashi: The one with where the viewers get to hear you talk to them after the date, right? I'll be listening to it soon!

Tsumugi Takanashi: It’s been a hot topic on social media, so I’m preparing myself for it...!

Touma Inumaru: It's not that big of a deal LOL

Touma Inumaru: Ah

Tsumugi Takanashi: What's wrong?

Touma Inumaru: I suddenly got a bunch of texts from Riku. He said "You looked so cool riding a motorcycle! I want to try riding it!"

Tsumugi Takanashi: Riku-san kept saying you looked wild and cool while we were watching the broadcast...!

Touma Inumaru: Oh, Sougo messaged me too

Touma Inumaru: I’ll go reply to them real quick!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

End of Part 4.

#idolish7 translation #zool #idolish7 #ainana #id7 #i7 #rabbitchat #rabbit chat #touma inumaru #inumaru touma #toma inumaru #inumaru toma #i7 translation

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neverenoughmarauders · 4 months

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Honestly my fave marauders story

And it’s not really the marauders. It’s AU, Peter doesn’t escape. Sirius and Remus live together - platonically but wonderfully (not all stories about love have to be love stories). Sirius’ first focus is Harry; the second his friend and his life. And I’m here for every second of it. It’s love for Sirius. It’s love for James. It’s love for Remus. It’s love for Harry. And none of the characters are flawless <3

Here’s one of my fave extracts:

It was quite wonderful, having the whole of the British Isles open to him as a possibility to set up home in. He knew he wanted to get out of London. When he was seventeen, he'd bought a flat in Bristol, which had the benefit of being a city and not too far from James' parents, but now he thought he wouldn't mind the countryside so much either. It would probably be easier to set up somewhere for Harry to play quidditch there too.

"Oxfordshire's nice." Remus suggested as the two of them discussed the matter one evening. "It's where my parents lived before they moved us up north. But Yorkshire was very pleasant too."

Sirius remembered. He'd enjoyed the short few hours he'd spent at Remus' having snuck away there without permission after his first year. It had been so green and hilly with its picturesque rolling dales. A world away from concrete London.

"Can't understand a word they say though."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft."

"Daft." He imitated, emphasising the shorter vowel.

"I'm not really northern." Remus said, a little defensively, it had to be said. "But if I was, would that be such a bad thing?"

"No comment."

"Southern fairy."

"Northern monkey."

Remus flicked a spoonful of custard at him.

"I rest my case." Sirius said.

In the end, Sirius decided to talk to Harry about it. He met up with him in Hogsmeade one weekend and they'd gone for a drink.

"Oh my God." "It's Sirius Black!"

Students stared and pointed as he and Harry sat with their butterbeers in The Three Broomsticks.

Harry grinned at him. "It's nice not being the one being stared and pointed at for a change."

Sirius flicked his butterbeer foam at him.

"I don't mind." Harry said predictably as Sirius asked him where he'd like to live.

"What about near Ron? Ottery St Catchpole, right? Near the coast…?"

"That sounds nice." Harry said, though a little noncommittally, Sirius couldn't help but notice.

He frowned at his godson. "Where would you like to live, Harry?" He got the distinct impression he was holding back on something.

Harry looked down at the table then back up tentatively. "Sirius, where did my parents live?"

Sirius smiled. Of course. Why hasn't he thought of that? "You want to live in Godric's hollow." He said. "It's perfect."

He soon realised why he hadn't thought about it when he arrived in the little village with Remus the following week.

Being back here, in the place where Lily and James had lived and later died brought back memories that made it almost impossible to continue.

"Do you remember, we used to go for drinks here." He said to Remus, indicating the little pub on the high street. "Lily always insisted on inviting that bloody Bathilda. I can't say I particularly enjoyed her company." He'd spent far too many hours in history of magic at Hogwarts to appreciate being lectured at in his adult life too.

"Do you want to see it?" Remus said quietly.

Sirius didn't have to ask what he was referring to.

The last time he'd been to the cottage Lily and James had lived in had been the night they'd died. The memory of it still made his blood run cold. The terror, grief, horror and disbelief he'd felt on seeing their lifeless bodies was something that would stay with him forever.

"I dunno." He said. "Maybe when Harry's with us."

He'd do it for his godson. Surely Harry had a right to see where they lived. They would go together one day.

#a new life #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #anti marauders fanon #canon marauders #Sirius black #Remus Lupin #Harry Potter

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matchawrites-n-doodles · 1 year

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To Give Back

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Chapter 3: Comfort under Rain

Masterlist

Author's Note: Here you go! Hope you guys like it! I'll probably reread in case I made some mistakes :L

Summary: Finally safe in your ship, you've done everything for your guests to be comfortable and safe from the rain and Din returns the favor.

Warning: Angst, mentions of trauma?, mentions of blood, fluffffff

Words: 3,860 (I went all out.) ____________________________________________________

Chapter 2: A Safe Place

It was just a split second when Din noticed the cold, deadbeat look in your eyes after you killed the thug. With the stickiness of your soaked hair stuck to your cheek which framed your face. How one small section of your hair curled to the corner of your soft lips...

And with your knife at hand, colored blood which was barely washed from the rain. When that coldness of your eyes was replaced with worry, he felt a tug in his chest and a sense of familiarity. He saw the cold be replaced instantly. Eyes now full of concern. Concern for him. Why?

It was only just today that he first saw you at the market, and of course, he did receive a few bruises and a large cut on his leg but you didn't need to help a total stranger, and his kid as well.

You still did anyway. Of course anyone could of kidnapped the kid for bounty and left but you didn't. After taking care of the kid, you went straight for him. Telling him that the kid's okay and safe. However, he's a Mandalorian and he knew not to trust anyone's words but you're no droid or some bounty hunter, maybe. Not after what you did for the kid this morning. The adoration in your eyes for the child. No sign of you wanting to take him away from him when he's not looking.

So, he had allowed you to help him. He allowed you to lead him out of the dark, cold, rainy night. Deciding to trust your words since it seems that you're the last person to have seen the child. Din's only hope to seeing the kid again.

You at his left side, holding his waist and his left arm over your neck to help support himself due to his leg. You even gave him your name as you make your way over to your ship.

"So, everyone just calls you Mando?" You asked, giggling.

"Yes."

"Alright... Mando." You made a small smile, looking ahead, which Din would recognize from this morning. The look of longing.

After 10 more minutes of walking in the rain, it was then Din realized that you were leading him into the woods and he felt uneasy.

As if you could sense his uneasiness, you told him, "Don't worry. My ship's parked in there. I just prefer to stay hidden."

The woods may look thick with trees and roots but there's some space in the middle for your ship so it's kind of a nice looking spot to be in. It's also quite an unusual spot to park the ship but it blends in with the trees pretty well so no one could tell it's there unless you walk up to it.

Huge relief washed over him when your ship opened to reveal the kid at the entrance holding a blanket to keep his small body warm, and his plushy at his side. Safe and unharmed. Just like you said he would be.

"Hey kid!" He heard you say with a sounding smile. "I told you I'd get your dad back!" He glanced at you and noted how your cheeks puffed when you grinned, along with small dimples forming.

The kid cooed, happy to see the two of you back safe and sound. You lead Din up the ramp and let him sit on one of the crates you have on the left side of your ship and then closing your ship shut after taking one more look at the open to make sure no one followed you.

Din let out a small, relieved groan, relaxing a bit as he checked his wound. Then he watched as you quickly went to your supplies to grab something. The child waddled over to him and placed his head on his leg. All worried for his guardian. Din reached down patting his head, "I'm fine, kid."

"Are you hungry?" You popped up from behind the wall next to them. Under your left arm are dry clothes, while your towel is on your shoulder and your hair down allowing you to dry your hair.

"I'm okay."

"Perhaps something for the little one then." You smiled down at the child who ears perked up at the sound of food. You look back up to see that the metal man has hesitated a bit before nodding. Your smile widening until you remembered.

"Oh. Here. Some dry clothes. Refresher's is down there on the left. Towel is already in there." You set the clothes next to him and pointed the direction.

"Oh. You don't have to-"

You stopped him, "No. You must. You might be sick and I rather you be out of those wet clothes as soon as possible to stop you from getting more sicker. And don't worry, I'll watch over him. This is my ship so we aren't going anywhere. You have my word."

You lightly placed your hand on the side of his shoulder, tilting your head to the side, awaiting for his approval.

His head tilt up at you and apparently there's probably no way out of this. And after all you've done for the kid as well as for him, he might as well give in just a bit more.

"Thank you... Again. You really didn't have to." He stood up, grabbing the clothes you gave him. His head turned to you.

You shrugged, placing your hands behind your back with a smile. "You're welcome. Saw a person in need so it's only natural, for me at least, to want to help."

"Those clothes should fit you, so you'll be nice and snug in here once you're done." You picked up the child who made grabby hands up at you. "And you... Let's get you something to munch on, hm? Maybe some clothes as well... I already started washing your robe. So it should be dry the next morning. "

Your voice began to blur and Din watched as you turned, talking sweetness to the little one, and he let the image stay permanently in his mind.

And for the first time in a while, he somehow felt a bit safer in this old ship of yours. So long as the kid is near him. And for you to be around as well.

...

Din felt better for sure after a quick shower and into the dry clothes, but the achiness and slight chills are starting to affect him as well. Isn't that usually the sign that you're having a fever? He sighed, knowing that you're not going to let him leave until he's better. His leg seemed to look less irritating at least.

He heard the child giggling and he couldn't help but smile. It has been quite a rough week and the poor kid just needed a cheer up. Purchasing that plushy was enough. Having you around seem to make things better.

He thought about what the two of you are doing out there in the hull. His mind now towards you.

This... was actually not the first time he saw you. You've obviously never really officially meet each other but he's seen you before in Tatooine many years ago. He had one of the bounties over there and there was another Mandalorian from another clan who was with you. He worked with him to find their bounty and that Mando kept a distance from you while meeting with Din about the bounty but still kept an eye on you.

Din would noticed how protective the Mando would be over you and the only informative he has given him was that he had rescued you from a horrible place just about a week ago.

It was no wonder you looked so lost. So different and broken that day.

You were sitting at a table with a bowl of soup in front of you. Your clothes were ragged and dirty. Your hair wild and tangled. Your hands were clasped together tightly and your eyes were tired and sore from crying and there was a hint of trauma lingering behind those eyes as you stare into space. There was even a bruise on your right cheek where he could easily see it. Somehow that seemed to anger him a bit even though he barely knew you.

Years later now, he'd never thought he would see you again. You probably don't remember him since he wasn't wearing any shining new beskar armor at that time but for him, it was only then he'd recognized your eyes that he remembered you.

How different you are and how kind you are. More happier than ever and content with how you're living.

The small interaction with you and the little one made Din's heart jumped.

It was how you decided to give up the plushy and how much you first adored him when the two of you both met. The way you looked up at him, not even afraid of his tough, scary looking presence. Only startled at the sudden display of protectiveness he has towards the little one. He did recall you calling him Mesh'la.

No one has ever called him that. Ever. Not even in mando'a. You've never even seen his face at all since it's a part of his creed to never take his helmet off in front of any living creature.

How did you know mando'a?

Din frowned at his own question. Did that Mando taught you? Where was he? He realized that he hasn't seen the Mando the entire time he's here. He thought that you two would stay together since.

Has that mandalorian... ever call you mesh'la?

Din closed his eyes, shaking his head. Now he's thinking crazy. Maybe he really is sick.

His thoughts were interrupted by you knocking on the door lightly making him jump, grabbing his blaster.

"Mando? Are you okay?" Din inaudibly sighed, putting his helmet back on and holstering his blaster. "You've been in there for a while. Thought I-"

He opened the door and you froze, making you look up at him. The man towers over you and your eyes widen at how up close he is to you while Din has a close up view of your face. He is now wearing the clothes you've given him but he also has the rest of his armor on which you understood why. Him being a Mandalorian and all. The smell of your soap fills your nose. "Yea. I'm fine. I was just... Thinking through some things."

Tilting your head to the side, you replied in a small voice, "Okay." You stepped aside for him to walk out of the refresher and you followed behind. Him realizing the child isn't around and he turned to face you, almost storming towards you.

"Where is he?" Din asked, feeling the panic coming in.

You shushed, trying to calm him."It's okay. Relax, Mando. He's safe on my cot. He fell asleep after we played for a bit."

You smiled as you gently place a hand on his arm, nodding your head behind you where your sleeping chamber is at the corner on the right side of your ship. His shoulders relaxed when he sees him, sleeping peacefully.

The warmth from your hand left his arm sending tingles up his arm and down his spine. He finds himself missing it already.

"Are you hungry? I made stew yesterday and you should eat anyway. I can go upstairs or you can, wherever you prefer to eat your meal." You had already made your way to the small little kitchen, located on the other side of your ship. You grabbed a bowl for him as well as some warm tea. "How are you feeling? You feel warmer than usual or any chills?"

Din only stood there as he stare at you. You being unbothered by his constant staring. "Thank you. I... I'm okay right now. The shower helped."

You nodded, your back still facing him as you continue to prep his food. "And since it's still raining and dark outside, I can sleep better if you stay here where you're safer with the little one." You chuckled.

"I also have an extra bed mattress somewhere, so that I can sleep out here while you-"

"No." You turned your head, an eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Your hands on your hips, pouting a little. Maker, why do you look cute?

Din sighed, "I can take the mattress. That's your cot. This is your ship."

You crossed your arms over your chest as you stare at the metal man. "Well, yea. It's mine but you're my guest." You smiled.

Before Din could say anything, you continued, "It's also a lot warmer in there and I'd prefer you stay warm and get better. It's okay. It's just until the rain goes away and that you're better."

You grabbed the tray and hand it over to him. Your eyes met with his black visor where you assume his eyes are. "I assume you would you like to eat here so that you're more closer to him?" Your voice small and gentle.

Din opened his mouth, only to close it. It's the way you looked at him, stern and unbothered by him. A bit headstrong as well. Your expression would soften a bit when you mentioned the kid.

His shoulder drop slightly as he nodded firmly once, taking the tray, "Thank you."

You smiled, "You're welcome. I'll be upstairs if you need me." You turned and started to head up.

Once he's confirmed that you've gone, Din looked down at the tray, and his stomach growled. He closed his eyes and sighed. He noticed a small box and decided to move it over next to the cot so that he sit next to the sleeping child. The tray now on his lap, he took one look around the hull before reaching up to his helmet. The hiss going off from his helmet as he lifts it up and sets it next to his left.

He looked down at the tray and starts eating.

...

It was already getting late and it had only been about half an hour since you've stayed in your cockpit. All you've been doing is just staring into space, sitting on your chair with your legs tucked under your arms and your chin on your knee.

You were thinking of the Mandalorian who is in your hull. How you felt like you've seen him before but can't quite figure out where. It was all a blur and before you know it your mind starts to wander to your friend who past a year ago. Your lips trembled and your heart ached.

You breathe in through your nose, exhaling and you looked up, trying to stop the tears that threaten to fall.

"No more crying. It has been a year already." You mumbled to yourself, lightly slapping your cheeks. You closed your eyes tightly. "Just pull yourself together."

A stray tear would fall down your cheek and you sighed. You crinkle your nose when you felt the need to cry. You wipe away the stray tear with the back of your hand, jumping slightly when you heard your name being called.

"You there?"

You cleared your throat before replying to him. "Y-Yea. I'm here. Did you need something?"

You could see him walk down the small hallway to your cockpit, "No. I was just checking on you."

That made your heart swell so you giggled, "I'm okay." He would nod, although secretly, he heard everything you said and the little sniffles you made. He could even see a hint of hurt and pain in your eyes.

"Are you sure?" He tilt his head and honestly, you thought that that was cute.

You smiled, "Yea." You straighten your legs and your arms out, stretching which would bring your limbs together. Your nose would scrunch up and you gave a small yawn, closing your eyes. Din thought that that was cute.

"You should sleep. You're tired." You nodded.

"I guess so. You sleep too, okay?" You stood up from your seat and Din would let you go out from your cockpit and head downstairs first. He would follow behind.

You went to grab the rolled up mattress from your closet and set it on your crates which both would be at your waist in height and is closely next to the wall of your ship which makes it perfect for a little small sleeping area.

Din would watch as you went to grab blankets and a pillow and you made your makeshift bed for yourself, just so he could use your cot instead. Since you did have a small heater placed in your sleeping chamber.

"Are you sure I can sleep in your cot? I'm okay with-"

"I'm sure." You smiled sleepily at him. You had already used the bathroom to prep yourself for bed, so you crawled onto your bed and sat on it. Fluffling your pillow.

You watched as he would crawl into your sleeping chamber. The little one still asleep next to him.

He looked at you and you smiled at him. He finds himself smiling back but of course, you couldn't tell.

You turned off the light which is conveniently placed on the wall next to you.

Din would look at your direction, listening to you shuffling in your bed.

"Night, Mando. Sleep well and get better, okay?" He heard you say with a sigh, content where you are.

A few moments of silence before he replied, "Yea... Good night."

He shut the chamber and the heater would be on, not too hot. He decided that he's safe enough to take his helmet off since it's dark enough where the little one wouldn't see his face.

He then lay down on your pillow. The scent of you fills his nose which lulled him to sleep.

...

It was only a few hours later when Din heard it, causing him to wake and open his eyes.

He sat up, still met with darkness.

He turned and look down to the child. His eyesight as adjusted a little so he would faintly see the outline of the child, who is just sleeping peacefully next to him.

Then he heard it again. He looked up, listening carefully.

"Mando..." He heard you say, which sounded faint. You had mumbled out his name, whimpering.

He frown, feeling that something is wrong. He grabbed his helmet, putting it on before opening the door. The door would make a small swoosh which doesn't wake the child and you.

It's still quite dark in the hull but he is able to see a bit more clearly as he's used to the dark.

He scoot himself out of the cot, his feet would land on the floor with a small, soft thud. He was being careful not to wake you up, if you're still sleeping. He stood up, slowly walking to you and called your name in question.

"Mando... Don't..." Your voice trailed. Din stopped, wondering if you're awake but then he realizes that you've been sleep talking, so he continued on towards you.

You whined in your sleep, sounding afraid. He could see your face frowning and your eyes are still closed. You turned to your side, facing him.

He tilt his head, wondering if he should wake you. He hesitantly reached out with his left hand to shake your shoulder, until,

"Don't leave... Me..." You whimpered, bringing your hands close to your face, as if your trying to make yourself small.

Din's heart would ache at your words. Are you dreaming of him?

Suddenly, your hand would reach out, trembling. His hand is still out so when you grabbed his hand, his heart nearly stopped. He looked at your face and saw tears falling out from under your eyelids.

"Zenn... Please..." You mumbled, still asleep. Your hand gripping hold onto Din's gloved hand. His fingers would slowly close on your hand which somehow made you more relaxed. Your lips parted, and your eyebrows would relax.

He frowned at the name, bringing the pieces together and it clicked in his head. You weren't having a nightmare.

You're reliving a memory.

His gave his attention back to you when you started to breathe frantically and your tears continue to fall. He then used his right to shake you awake, calling your name.

You jumped, letting his hand go. Your eyes would widen when you realized that someone is in front of you. You gasped loudly as your voice cracked, "No please! Don't hurt me!"

Your arms and hands over your face as if you're shielding yourself on instinct.

Din reached out to grab your wrists, slowly and gently moving them from your face, calling your name. "It's okay. It's me, Mando. I won't hurt you." I will never hurt you.

"You were having a nightmare." He sat in front of you, trying to help calm yourself down.

You were breathing heavily and quick as you try to adjust your eyes and you would see a silhouette of a man in armor.

"Z-Zenn?" You breathe out.

Din bit his lip, "No. It's just me, Mando." He felt a bit of jealousy about to rise but he pushed it down, knowing how ridiculous it was for him to feel that way.

Your eyes would widen, "Oh. Sorry. I'm sorry, I thought you were..." You sighed, putting your hands onto your face, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Din shook his head, "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong."

You sighed, feeling the tears creeping up again. You place the back of your hand to your nose to stop yourself from crying.

"Are you okay...?"

You look up at Din, and somehow that seemed to break you. Tears would fall as you sobbed silently.

Din's heart dropped at the sight of you. You brought your legs close to your chest with your arms tucked in as far in as you can and your left hand grabbing your hair.

He didn't really know what to do until you asked, "Can I hold your hand for a bit?"

Din's shoulder drop slowly. It was only just silence for a moment which made you think that he didn't want to do any physically contact with you but you were wrong.

On instinct, he used his feet to pry his shoes off before crawling on to the bed. He scoot himself closer to you and wrap his arms around your body and pulled you onto his lap.

Your eyes would widen at his gesture as he guides your head to his left shoulder. Your body resting on his chest. His left leg laying straight on the mattress due to his injury. His right leg laying curve around your figure, and he would let you lay on him while his back is to the wall.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

You were frozen but you managed to nod your head, "It's good." You replied in a small voice.

Din would then grab your blanket and wrap it around you and him so that you stay warm and you felt safe.

You closed your eyes, feeling his gloved thumb rubbing your arm gently to soothe you. Your hand would reach out to his right hand which lay on his leg. He allowed you to grasp his hand and he would close his fingers to hold your hand.

"Thank you, Mando..." You mumbled out before falling asleep, not hearing him tell you.

"You're welcome, cyar'ika..."

The sound of rain sounded wonderful as well as it soothed the both of you. Your scent lulling him to sleep.

And after a year of nightmares, you finally let yourself feel peace in your sleep.

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 4: Nice to Finally Meet You

A/N: Ehehe. Thanks for reading! And stay tune for the next one!

#mandalorian and grogu #mandalorian x reader #mando x you #togivebackseries #mandalorian x reader series #grogu #disney #din djarin x reader #grogu djarin #baby yoga #for fun #new chapter

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