#ghost writer overshadowed me for this one

[dannysdcxdpblog]

The only reason Dash had been captured was because he wasn't paying attention. Which was stupid. He knew he needed to always be on guard. But it was his anniversary! And he needed to make sure everything was perfect! He sat on the bank's floor, trying to figure out an escape plan with as little hostage damage as possible. The bank was small, obviously for the Gothamites living in the run-down part of town. It was right on the edge of Crime Alley but still close enough to the uppity part of Gotham for a few socialites to use it.

There weren't many doors or rooms in the building. It was the main one where the transactions and managing happened, then the back room where safes and money were stored. Dash spotted a few others from his hometown sprinkled into the crowd. Suddenly he felt his stomach drop. He knew that his presence alone could cause a bit of paranoia to strike up, but multiple Parkers in a small room? That was a surefire way to make the criminals a little trigger-happy. He could see on everyone's faces as they realized the true danger of the situation.

Dash really needed to get everyone out now. One of the guys was pacing in front of Dash's group. "Are you sure no one's gonna try to kill us?" He said, eyes darting between every window and door. This pulled multiple groans from his accomplices.

"We're fine! Once we get the shit, we go. No reason for us to get caught." Dash could see he had his finger on his trigger. He probably was also feeling slightly paranoid, standing right next to Mikey. The redhead visibly tenses. He glances around trying to catch the eye of any of the other Parkers. It's not hard, they're all looking at him already. Suddenly there's a shuffling sound, breaking the silence.

Then a gunshot.

Whimpers and cries break out as the hostages duck down, mothers shielding their kids. Someone starts sobbing. The perp that was standing beside Mikey held his smoking gun up, aimed in the general direction of the previous sound. Obviously, he hadn't aimed so it just resulted in a bullet hole in the wall well above the patrons. Dash sighed in relief.

"Hey, can I get some water?" He speaks up. It's a good way to get them to take their focus away from everyone.

"Why the fuck would we do that?" The one who just let off a shot is now pointing the gun at him.

He holds up his hands slowly. "I'm diabetic and I can feel my blood sugar rising too high. If I don't get it down, I'll crash and die. Then you won't be able to leave without being arrested for robbery and murder." He says calmly. It's a lie, his blood sugar is fine but he needs to get them away from the hostages and away from the ambient energy radiating off the Parkers.

The guys share a look before he lowers his gun and motions for Dash to follow. Dash gets up slowly and carefully, not wanting to get himself shot. He keeps his hands up as the guy leads them over to an employee. The employee brings them to the safe room that doubles as a break room. The employee is allowed to go back.

Dash gets some water and carefully sits in a chair. He makes sure to drink the water slowly and keep his moves as slow as possible. "Why this bank?" He asks.

A grunt responds. OK, so no small talk. He drops his water resulting in the gun being pointed in his face again. His hands shoot up. "Sorry, must be higher than I thought. I'm really not feeling well." He sways carefully in his seat. He can sense another Parker close by that isn't in the building, that isn't just Liminal. He senses Danny. He continues to successfully distract the man before he's left panicking. There's sirens and their close.

Dash is the hostage he grabs and uses as leverage. Dash fights back his groan when he's brought to stand in front of the glass doors. He really didn't like this. He just wanted to get some cash to spend at the arcade! Was that so hard to ask for?! He spots Danny in the surrounding crowd before he spots Batman in the shadows.

"Let the hostages go!" He hears the chief shouting.

"Fuck off!"

It goes like that for an hour before Dash decides to be dramatic. He had been swaying and trying to play up the not feeling well card, so now was his time to act.

He dead weights.

This throws the perp off. He falls with Dash, the gun falling out of his hand in his shock. This seems to be enough of a disorientation tactic for the cops to come barging in. He vaguely registers being surrounded by paramedics. Once he's sure the guys are cuffed, he sits up. This alarms the medics.

"Sir, you need to stay down. We don't know what's wrong but you need to take it easy." One says.

"I'm fine, just got tired of waiting." He shrugs. He registers yelling in the background before he's got a lap full of Danny.

"You idiot! That can only work so many times! You could've gotten shot!" He smacks him in the chest. Dash just laughs.

"I'm fine. And so are the other hostages. They didn't physically hurt anyone. Magic of being a diabetic!" He raises his medical bracelet. The paramedics aren't having any of it and still cart him off to an ambulance. They check his vitals and his blood sugar, and make sure he doesn't have a concussion before skeptically sending him on his way.

As Dash is about to begin his journey to his car, he has an armful of redhead nerd. Mikey is clinging to him. "Thanks, Dash." He says before pulling away and scurrying off. Dash smiles as he waves.

Amity Parkers have to stick together anyway.

Short DPXDC Prompts #1033

The ominous aura that all Amity Parkers emit can cause some issues when they move out of town. It hasn’t been looked into thoroughly but most believe it’s from ectoplasm exposure. This can lead to some unfortunate circumstances. For instance: being held hostage by a supervillain who is now incredibly paranoid and antsy from being in close quarters with the Amity Parker. A paranoid evil person with a weapon is never a good thing.

[daisymbin]

for lovers who hesitate - choi seungcheol

warnings: cheating ex, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), shotgun marriage (not reader), some curse words, mentions of blood (seungcheol in a fight), some angst (mostly on seungcheol's part, some of reader's towards the end) + this is a long fic so I'm sure I missed out stuff, my apologies. please let me know what I missed out so I can add them in!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: fake dating, resurface of old feelings (reader) & a down bad choi seungcheol

wc: 13k (not sure what happened i was aiming 3500-5000 but oh well.)

a/n: 13k words...my longest fic on here yet..... this took quite awhile, even proofreading was a challenge, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one! but fr, I early respect and admire authors who always belt out 30k word fics, it's really not easy i don't even wanna think about it. it's one thing to get a long fic done and another to proofreading it all oof. ... and no writer really only proofreads it once

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“you've got mail~” seokmin sings down the hallway of your shared apartment, “it looks like a wedding invite…” his voice trails off, “are any of our friends getting married? why didn't I receive one?”

seokmin's question was reasonable, you did both have the same friend group, you grew up together, having tons and tons of mutual friends, you went almost everywhere together. he's like the brother you never had. but now he's got your interest piqued as well. who could it be?

on your hand sits a wedding invitation, beautifully adorned with gold accents, pink flowers litter the edges of the invite, a bright pop of colour in contrast to the plain white.

seokmin snatches the invite out of your hand, opening the invite as he reads, “you are cordially invited to celebrate the joy of han- what the fuck? is this a joke?” seokmin shuts the invite close and crumples it, “what the hell does that guy want?”

“han minjun?” you asked as curiosity plagues your mind. seokmin’s reaction only amplifies your own confusion, and you reach out to grab the crumpled invitation from his hands, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. his name stares back at you, a name you had once thought you’d never have to see or hear again. but here it is, boldly printed, like a ghost from the past come to haunt you.

“han minjun…” you murmur, your voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of disbelief and absurdity. the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave, each one hitting you harder than the last. you remember the good days first, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. but those sweet memories are soon overshadowed by the darker ones, the ones you had worked so hard to forget.

you remember the way he’d become distant, how the warmth in his eyes had faded, and the excuses he’d given whenever you asked what was wrong. you remember the pit in your stomach when he’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was swamped with work, even though you could hear the laughter of friends in the background whenever he called.

then there was that one night, the night everything shattered. you had gone to his apartment, unannounced, carrying takeout and hoping to surprise him. the sight that greeted you instead was something you’d never forget. minjun had been in his living room, his hand tugging on another girl’s hair, the other on her waist as they makeout heavily. their light giggles echoing through the walls you thought you knew so well. you’d dropped the food in shock, the containers spilling onto the floor, and the way minjun’s face had paled when he saw you… it was a moment forever etched into your heart.

“its not what it looks like,” he’d said, scrambling for an explanation, but all you felt was betrayal, the heartache, the realization that the person you’d trusted had broken you in a way you never thought possible.

you come back to the present as seokmin's voice pulls you back, “oh i dropped a post it, ‘hope to see you there - kim hanna’ who the hell is kim hanna?” seokmin reaches for the invite again, his eyes scanning the words imprinted on the paper, “kim hanna…isnt she the girl he cheated on you with? that little bi- how dare she send this invi- SHE'S MARRYING HIM?” seokmin's mouth ran faster than body allowed, never finishing his sentence, but you heard and understood every word.

you snatch the invite back. the wedding is in 2 weeks.

are you hurt? no. heartbroken? no. sad? no. upset? just a little bit. angry? oh yes, yes you were. all the anger still simmering beneath the surface as you grip the wedding invite tightly. seokmin watches you with concern, his earlier frustration shifting into worry as he notices the way anger starts to consume you.

“you okay?” he asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

you softened, “yeah i just… i can’t believe he’s getting married after everything he did.”

seokmin’s grip tightens, his protective brother instincts kicking in. “you don’t have to go,” he says firmly. “and if you decide to, you won’t go alone. i’ll be right there with you, you know the boys will be too. whatever you need.”

his words bring a small sense of comfort, but the invitation still feels like a dagger, reopening wounds you thought had finally healed. “oh I'm definitely going,”

“why?”

“just because. & I need a date-”

“I can be your date.”

“no you can't.”

“why not?”

“because i need my date to be my fake boyfriend. i cant show up all single to an ex's wedding & everyone knows we grow up together. we're practically siblings we would never ever date each other! that's disgusting."

seokmin's fake dramatic gasp only leaves your laughing, the anger that once resided is now long forgotten. “how can you say that?” he continues, “don't you watch movies? don't you read books? or even better, fanfiction? that's like a really popular trope and it's popular for a reason! why? because it's real, it happens. what if I'm in love with you and you just don't know it? then what? you could have seriously hurt my feelings!”

“yeah could have, that means I didn't. and don't think I forgot about the time we all played truth or dare and chan dared you to kiss me and you literally threw up from how repulsed you were by me. how could you possibly be in love with me? unless...you puked because you were nervous.." you said as you wiggled your eyebrows disturbingly. “also what hell fanfiction do you read? why didnt i know about that?”

“EW!!!" he screams as he steps away from you, "AS IF YOU COULD EVER MAKE ME NERVOUS!"

“& the fanfiction? what do you read? come on, spill!”

“that's none of your business.”

“seok-”

“beyonce x reader.” it was almost as if he was dying to tell you.

the laugh you burst out only brings relief to seokmin, now he knows you're really okay. you've moved on, just angry at the audacity of them. “please beyonce would never pick you.” you joked as you got up from the sofa. “come on, be serious, this is serious stuff. I need a fake boyfriend.”

“ask seungcheol.” seokmin answers easily without missing a beat, as if the answer was obvious.

“why seungcheol?” you heart raced at the mere idea of seungcheol being your date for the night, let alone boyfriend.

“because…he never says no to you. like ever,” he gives a brief, small smile before he turns to walk away. “oh and also, don't you think he'd fit the role perfectly?”

[—]

but that's what happens when seokmin plants the idea in your head, because you now find yourself in seungcheol's apartment.

you sit in seungcheol’s living room, heart pounding as you try to muster the courage to speak. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest, looking at you with his usual gentle, patient expression. but somehow, today, that patience makes your nerves worse. you’re not sure why you’re suddenly so embarrassed; maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to search your face for any hint of what’s coming.

“so… what did you want to ask me?” he prompts, his voice warm and inviting, though there’s a hint of curiosity lurking beneath it.

you swallow, your palms damp. “you can totally say no if you want to, there’s no pressure at all but um-”

seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow at your hesitation, “you’re making me nervous,” he jokes, though there’s a genuine note of concern in his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you inhale deeply, avoiding his gaze as you force the words out. “so, i got this wedding invite. from…my ex.” you don’t have to elaborate for seungcheol to know which ex you mean. his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something dark passing over his expression before he smooths it out.

“han minjun,” he says, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. his hands uncross, one clenching the back of a chair as he leans into it. “are you… are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, “i’m okay, really. just…it's in two weeks, and he’s marrying the girl he—” you stop yourself before the floodgate of bad memories start flowing. you look up at seungcheol, feeling your face grow warm. “anyway, that’s not the point. the point is…i need a date.”

seungcheol’s eyes soften, his tension melting away just a bit. “oh,” he says, and a smile tugs at his lips in realization, “you want me to be your date?”

“yes. i mean-” you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “only if you’re okay with it. you don’t have to-”

“of course,” he interrupts, his answer immediate, his voice firm. “if it’s for that, there’s no way i’d say no.” his protective instincts flare up at the mere thought of you facing your ex alone, and he wants to be there for you, to shield you from any pain that might resurface.

you feel relief wash over you, but then the real request lodges itself in your throat. you take a deep breath. “but… not just as a date,” you say quietly. “i need… i need a fake boyfriend. i can’t just show up to his wedding…single.”

seungcheol blinks, and for a moment, he thinks you’re joking. you watch as his expression shifts, surprise giving way to something more complicated. his smile falters, and his eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation, or a joke even. any indication that you might realize what this could mean for him.

a fake boyfriend. the words echo in his mind, and his heart aches, even as he tries to keep his face neutral. he’s spent the past 3 years hiding his feelings, protecting your friendship, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. and now, here you are, asking him to pretend.

“a fake boyfriend,” he repeats, and his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something broken underneath. he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to hold your hand, to smile at you, to pretend to be the one who gets to loves you openly…only to have it all stripped away when the charade is over. he knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but how can he say no to you? how could he ever refuse you when you look at him like that?

“cheol?” you ask hesitantly, noticing his pause. “is that… is that too much to ask? i’m sorry, it’s just-”

he shakes his head quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “no, it’s not too much,” he says softly. “if that’s what you need, then… i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up with hope, and he wishes he could bottle up the way you look at him, keep it forever.

“really,” he confirms, even though his heart is already starting to fracture. he pushes down the longing, the desperate yearning to be more than just a fake. because he knows this is all he’ll get—a bittersweet taste of something he can’t truly have. but for now, he’ll take what he can get. even if it means breaking his own heart for the chance to be close to you.

[—]

“rules. we need rules. oh and boundaries. just to be safe, you know? not make it weird.” you informed as you pick up a piece of blank paper & pen from your desk before jumping onto bed.

seungcheol lies on his stomach on your bed as he waits for you, “what kind of rules and boundaries do you have in mind?” he asks.

“well for one, no falling in love. like, we both have to promise that this stays strictly pretend. we can’t let it mess with our friendship.”

for a moment, silence fills the room. when you glance at seungcheol, his expression is unreadable. “no falling in love,” he repeats quietly, his voice almost too steady. you don’t notice the way his jaw tightens, the way he clenches his fist against the sheets.

you give him a nervous smile. “exactly. we both need to agree to that.”

“right,” he says, his voice softer now. “no falling in love.” he repeats louder this time, his heart aches at the irony, because if only you knew how deeply he’s already fallen. but he forces himself to nod, to play along, to act like he isn’t breaking the very first rule you laid out just by being here. “any other rules?”

“um, yeah,” you continue, scribbling your next point onto the paper. “okay,” you say, oblivious to the turmoil in his chest. “it has to be believable. like, no half-assing it. if we’re going to do this, we have to commit. but, uh, within reason, of course.”

seungcheol chuckles at that, the sound breaking through the tension. “within reason?” he echoes, his smile genuine this time.

“yeah, nothing too….much,”

“& what exactly is too much?”

“kisses,” you answer without missing a beat.

seungcheol smiles, "so, i can’t kiss you, even if it’s just for an act?"

you pause, thinking over his question. the way he says it, so casual yet so heavy, sends a shiver down your spine. “i mean… kisses are too intimate. that crosses the line.” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how nervous the thought of kissing him makes you.

seungcheol watches you closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “too intimate?” he repeats, almost teasingly, but there’s something more in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but aren’t we supposed to look like we’re really together? won’t people think it’s suspicious if we… don’t at least pretend that we’re comfortable with that?”

“no one’s expecting a porno of us making out,” you argue, your cheeks warming at the implication. what a poor choice of words. “hand-holding, hugs, maybe a forehead or a cheek kiss if we’re feeling bold. but anything beyond that…” you trail off, your mind spinning and butterflies threatening to invade your tummy at the thought of seungcheol’s lips anywhere near yours.

he hums thoughtfully, propping his chin on his hand. “so, kisses are off the table. got it,” he says, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that you dont pick up. “any other rules?”

“that's all i can think of for now, what about you? anything you dont want me to do? anything to add?” you ask.

“no, I'll do whatever you want me to.” he says, a mixture of fondness and longing swirling in his chest.

“okay, i guess we're really doing this huh?” you ask as you feel some tension leave your body.

“yeah,” he murmurs, even as his heart screams at the unfairness of it all. if only you knew just how real it already was for him.

[—]

“did you actually really ask seungcheol to be your fake boyfriend?” seungkwan questions, taking another sip from his iced americano, his eyes narrowing at you suspiciously.

you sigh, pressing your palms to your face. “how did you even find out about that?”

“seokmin told me. now answer me! did you actually?” seungkwan presses, his tone both exasperated and concerned. he’s your best friend. he knows every secret, every late-night confession, and every tear you’ve ever shed over seungcheol.

you glance away, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “yeah... i did,” you admit softly.

seungkwan lets out a small groan, leaning back in his seat. he’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his judgment hanging between you. but there’s something else there, too. something heavier, deeper. regret, maybe.

four years ago, you were a helpless mess, pinning after seungcheol like a lovesick fool. seungkwan remembered the way you’d light up whenever seungcheol was around, the way your laughter sounded a little brighter, your smile a little wider. and he remembered the way seungcheol seemed oblivious, never showing a sign of returning your feelings.

seungkwan had wanted to help you. he’d been desperate to see you happy, to save you from the heartache that came from unrequited love. so he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time: he’d set you up with someone else.

“do you remember when i introduced you to minjun?” seungkwan asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more somber.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “of course i do,” you reply. how could you forget? you’d been resistant at first, clinging to the faint hope that seungcheol would notice you one day. but seungkwan had been insistent. he’d told you that minjun was a good guy, someone who could make you happy, someone who could help you move on.

“you were so against it,” seungkwan recalls, his lips curving into a wistful smile. “but you finally agreed, and... well, you actually hit it off.”

a small laugh escapes your lips, though it lacks any real humor. “yeah. we did.”

for a while, dating han minjun had felt like a breath of fresh air. he was charming, thoughtful, and everything you thought you needed. for a moment, you’d even believed you’d moved on from seungcheol. but now, years later, here you were again, tangled up in your feelings for him, pretending to date him, no less.

seungkwan’s expression softens as he looks at you. “you know, i really did think minjun was a good guy back then. i just... i didn’t want to see you hurt anymore.” his voice wavers, and you can tell he feels guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault that things turned out this way.

“i know,” you murmur. “you were just trying to help.”

seungkwan sighs, setting his juice box down. “but now you’re back to seungcheol, except this time it’s... fake. and that worries me.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know how to explain that being with seungcheol, even if it’s just for show, feels better than being with anyone else. even if it hurts a little. or maybe a lot.

“it’s complicated,” you whisper, but seungkwan isn’t satisfied. his eyes bore into yours, filled with worry and protectiveness, like he’s already bracing for the heartbreak he’s sure is coming.

[—]

“do you think we should pick something that matches or just, you know, kind of goes together?” you ask, sifting through rows of dresses, your fingers brushing over various shades of fabric.

seungcheol tries to focus on the suits in front of him, but he’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your voice lilts at the end of your question. “hm?” he clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice how he’s completely lost his train of thought. “yeah, matching is… good.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “that didn’t answer my question, cheol.”

he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry. what was it again?”

“do you want our outfits to match?” you repeat, holding up a dress. it’s a deep, elegant navy blue, and seungcheol’s heart does a weird little flip. “like this one? it’s the same color as that suit you’re holding.”

seungcheol swallows hard, imagining the two of you side by side, perfectly coordinated, like a couple in a fairytale. he tries to shake the thought away. “yeah, that’s… perfect,” he says, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you seem satisfied with his answer, disappearing into the dressing room to try it on. seungcheol stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, heart pounding for no reason he can justify. he’s known you for years, been by your side for countless moments, but something about this—the idea of the two of you dressed up together, the way you trusted his opinion—feels different, it makes his heart race.

“cheol?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, his breath catching in his throat as you step out of the dressing room.

he’s not prepared for the sight. you look… breathtaking, the dress fitting you in a way that leaves him momentarily stunned. his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.

you tilt your head, concern flickering in your eyes. “is it bad?”

“no!” he blurts out, voice cracking embarrassingly. he clears his throat again; surprised at his own voice, his cheeks burning. “no, you look—” he stammers, searching for the right words, his mind a complete mess. but then, he smiles his boyish smile, his dimples dipping more than they usually do & says “god, you look… beautiful. really beautiful.”

you blink, taken aback, and seungcheol swears he sees your cheeks flush a little. he’s painfully aware of how warm his own face feels, how his hands are suddenly clammy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. you look at him, eyes wide and earnest, and seungcheol can’t handle it. he has to look away, but not before he sees the small smile spreading across your face.

he fiddles with the cuff of his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “you… you really think this is the one?” he asks, his voice cracking again. he winces.

you nod, your smile growing. “i think it’s perfect. but… what about your suit?”

he’s still trying to recover from seeing you in that dress, but he manages to nod. “right, my suit,” he says, forcing himself to focus. “i’ll go try it on.”

you sit down on a bench, and seungcheol practically sprints to the fitting room, his heart pounding. he stares at his reflection as he pulls on the navy suit jacket, trying to breathe. he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up from how many times he’s run his hands through it, his face still red.

“come on, cheol,” he mutters to himself. “get it together.”

when he finally steps out, he catches the way your eyes light up, the way you look him over and nod approvingly. “that’s perfect,” you say, and his heart does that stupid flip again. “we’ll look great together.”

he laughs, but it’s a weak attempt to hide how fast his heart is racing. “yeah. we will.” the words come out before he can stop them; even he knows he sounds completely & irrevocably smitten but he can’t help it, not when you’re looking at him like that.

[—]

“so, did you say yes to being her date?” seokmin asked casually, thumbs tapping furiously at the controller in his hands as he and seungcheol tried to hold their ground in the game. “you know, her fake boyfriend and all that?”

seungcheol’s fingers faltered on the buttons for a split second, and he shot seokmin a glare. “yah, focus on the game, we can't lose,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up. but, of course, seokmin had to bring it up now.

“wait, what?” wonwoo’s attention snapped away from the screen, his character on the verge of getting attacked. he gawked at seungcheol. “when did this happen? and why didn’t you tell us?”

soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his character in the game momentarily stood still. “hold on, hold on,” he said, nearly dropping his controller in shock. “hyung, you’re telling us you agreed to be her date and fake boyfriend, and we’re only hearing about this now?”

“can we not talk about this?” seungcheol muttered, trying to refocus on the game, but his heart was racing. the way his stomach twisted at the mention of you and the fake dating arrangement wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—especially not with his friends teasing him about it.

“absolutely not,” soonyoung protested, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. “this is big news, hyung! you have to spill.”

“yeah, seungcheol,” wonwoo added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “why didn’t you tell us? don’t act like it’s not a huge deal.”

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders tensing as he kept his eyes on the screen. “because it’s not a big deal, its only for a day anyway,” he insisted, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“you’re so full of it,” wonwoo said, barely holding back a laugh. “you've been in love with her for god knows how long, now you agreed to be her date and pretend to be her boyfriend. how is that not a big deal?”

unfortunately, soonyoung & wonwoo, have possession over seungcheol's not so secret, secret. but really, everyone knows, it's only a secret to you, seungkwan & seokmin although seokmin has been starting to catch on for the past few months. everyone else has miraculously managed to somehow keep their mouth shut around seokmin and seungkwan for 3 years; knowing how close you are with the two of them. I guess in a way you could say the boys are loyal to him? anyways.

seungcheol’s grip on his controller tightened. “can we just focus on winning?” he pleaded, desperate to change the subject, but his friends’ curiosity was palpable.

“fine,” soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “but we’re coming back to this later.”

just as seungcheol was about to let out a breath of relief, the sound of the front door opening made his heart stutter, and he turned his head, unable to help himself. you stepped into the apartment, bags in hand, looking slightly windswept but effortlessly beautiful.

“hey, i’m home!” you greeted, smiling at everyone.

seungcheol’s mind blanked, his focus slipping away entirely as he took you in. he barely registered seokmin’s frantic warning—“hyung, watch out!”—before his character was obliterated in the game.

“yes!” soonyoung cheered, throwing his hands in the air. “we won, wonwoo!”

wonwoo leaned back with a smug smile, “thank you,” he said, looking over at you.

you blinked, confused. “me? what did i do?”

wonwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “it’s nothing you need to know… yet,” he replied, his voice teasing, and he shot you a knowing smile. “but thank you anyway.”

you tilted your head, clearly still confused, but you shrugged it off. “okay, if you say so,” you said, heading down the hall. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

seungcheol watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how badly he’d let himself get distracted. he could feel the heat rising to his face, embarrassment and longing twisting in his chest.

seungcheol couldn't let it show. or at least, he thought he didn’t. he tried to play it cool, act normal around you, and pretend that his heart didn’t stutter every time you called his name. but apparently, seokmin noticed.

“you’ve got that look again,” seokmin pointed out, a teasing lilt in his voice.

seungcheol turned to find seokmin leaning against the backrest of the sofa, a grin spreading across his face. he blinked, feigning ignorance. “what look?”

“you know,” seokmin drawled, pushing himself off the backrest to lean closer to seungcheol “that look you get when she’s around.”

seungcheol felt his pulse skip, an uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck. he avoided seokmin’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping his voice sounded steady.

“sure you don’t.” seokmin plopped down beside him, elbow nudging his ribs. “c’mon, hyung. you’re not exactly subtle.”

seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake. “it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

seokmin raised an eyebrow. “really?” he asked, voice softening. “because the way you look at her…you look at her like you'd burn down the whole world for her.”

seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together, finally meeting seokmin’s gaze. there was no judgment there, only curiosity and a quiet sort of understanding.

“i didn’t mean to,” seungcheol admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “it just… happened.”

seokmin’s smile was gentle now, the teasing gone. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

seungcheol’s hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, a sense of helplessness washing over him. “nothing,” he said, bitterness seeping into the word. “she’s too important. if i mess this up… i can’t lose her.”

seokmin studied him for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “but what if you don’t lose her?” he said quietly. “what if she feels the same way?”

seungcheol’s heart twisted painfully. the thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he always pushed it away, too afraid to hope. “and what if she doesn’t?” he countered, his voice breaking. “i’d rather be close to her like this than lose everything.”

seokmin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “i get it,” he murmured. “but you can’t live your whole life being afraid. sometimes, you’ve got to take the risk.”

seungcheol let out a humorless laugh. “easy for you to say,” he mumbled, but his chest felt a little lighter, the weight of his secret shared, even if just for a moment.

seokmin’s smile returned, playful once more. “hey, i’m rooting for you,” he said, clapping a hand on seungcheol’s shoulder. “but seriously, the way you look at her… it’s gonna give you away one day.”

seungcheol swallowed, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “maybe,” he whispered. “but not today.”

seokmin grinned, standing up and offering a hand to pull seungcheol to his feet. “well, just know i’ll be there to say ‘i told you so’ when it happens.”

seungcheol took his hand, rising to his feet. “yeah, yeah,” he said, but his heart felt a little less heavy & a lot more hopeful.

[—]

seungcheol stood outside your bedroom door with seokmin, heart pounding as he took a steadying breath. it wasn’t the first time he was picking you up, but today felt different. maybe it was the gravity of the wedding you were attending, or maybe it was the fact that this arrangement had slowly become more real for him than he ever dared admit.

“hyung, you okay?” seokmin asked, glancing at him curiously.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “yeah,” he lied, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt. “let’s just…get this over with.” he lied, it hasn't even started yet but he doesnt want it to end.

seokmin gave him a sorry look but said nothing, and before seungcheol could dwell on it, you opened the door to your room. his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. you stood there, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, hair styled perfectly, eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation.

he was so down bad for you, it was almost pathetic.

he couldn't help the boyish smile that adorned his face, “you look… beautiful.” he didn’t trust himself to say more, afraid that if he did, the truth would come spilling out.

a faint blush dusted your cheeks, and you smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was doing somersaults. “thanks, cheol,” you said shyly, adjusting your dress. “you clean up pretty well yourself.

he let out a laugh, hoping it masked the way his pulse was racing. “you ready?” he asked, extending his hand to you. “our grand entrance awaits.”

you hesitated for the briefest moment, but then you slipped your hand into his, and he had to fight the urge to hold on tighter, to pull you closer and never let go. he couldn’t, of course. this was all an act. just a performance to keep up appearances, to help you save face in front of your ex and everyone else.

but god, how he wished it were real.

[—]

the car ride was quiet at first, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio. seungcheol couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, noting the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress. he knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety, and his chest tightened.

“hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand in his. your eyes widened in surprise, but you dont pull away. instead, you stared at your intertwined fingers, and he wondered if you could feel his heart pounding.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more careful. “if you’re not, we can turn around. we don’t have to go.”

you shook your head, a small, determined smile forming on your lips. “i’m fine,” you whispered. “it’s just… weird, you know? seeing him get married.”

seungcheol swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. he hated that minjun hurt you and how he couldn’t do anything but hold your hand and hope it was enough.

“if you want to leave at any point,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “just say the word. i’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like he was being laid bare under your gaze, your eyes boring into his. “thank you, cheol,” you murmured, and your voice cracked just a little. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his chest ached, a mix of longing and fear swirling inside him. he wanted to tell you that he’d always be there, that he’d never leave, but he didn’t. instead, he settled for rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping you couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling.

the silence in the car was comfortable, but electric, charged with something unspoken. the way your shoulders relaxed under his touch, the way your breathing evened out as he held your hand—it was almost enough to make him believe that you felt the same way.

but that was dangerous territory, and seungcheol knew better than to get his hopes up.

“you know,” he said lightly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the ache in his chest, “you’re kind of incredible. not everyone could handle a situation like this with so much grace.”

you laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “i don’t know about that or this grace you speak of,” you said. “i’m still trying to convince myself not to run away.”

“if you run,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll run with you. we can both escape and go somewhere far away. just the two of us.”

the joke made you laugh, but there was a wistful note to it, and seungcheol had to look away to keep himself from saying something stupid. his heart was a mess, pounding wildly with every word, every touch, every second he spent in your presence.

“thanks, cheol,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “really. i’m so lucky to have you.”

seungcheol drove on, your hand still in his, hoping that this moment would last a little longer.

[—]

the wedding had gone off without a hitch, at least on the surface. the vows had been exchanged, laughter and applause filling the air, and now the reception was in full swing. seungcheol had been trying his best to stay close to you, to keep you from feeling the weight of the memories this day might bring. but as he returned with your drinks, he froze.

there you were, standing stiffly, looking more tense than he’d seen you all night. and, of course, minjun was in front of you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he leaned in, saying something seungcheol couldn’t quite hear. your polite smile was brittle, your shoulders tense, and anger flared in his chest.

he forced himself to take a calming breath before approaching, setting your drinks down on a nearby table and stepping in between you & minjun, “hey,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “everything okay here?”

your eyes darted to him, a flicker of relief crossing your face. you tried to smile, but it wavered. “yeah,” you said, your voice a little too tight. “we were just… talking.”

minjun glanced at seungcheol, an eyebrow arching. “seungcheol?” he asked, a smug smile playing on his lips. “fancy seeing you here, i dont remember including you in the invite?” he quirked an eyebrow.

you opened your mouth, your voice coming out steadier this time. “actually, he's my plus one, since we're dating.”

“dating? as in, he's your boyfriend?” minjun asked as he sneaked a glance at seungcheol.

“yes, actually.” your words sent your stomach doing flips.

the disbelief on minjun’s face was palpable. he snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of you as if you’d just told a joke. “boyfriend? really?” he smirked, clearly unconvinced. “come on. that’s a little desperate, don’t you think?” minjun tries to reach for your hand.

before you could react, seungcheol stepped forward, his hand moving to reach for yours protectively; staking his claim. “i don’t think your wife,” he said, emphasizing the word with a hint of sarcasm, “would appreciate you making my girlfriend uncomfortable.”

minjun’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “prove it,” he challenged, crossing his arms. “you really expect me to believe this… whatever this is?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “we don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “& you certainly don't have the right to ask for anything, much less a proof, not after all the shit you’ve done.”

minjun’s expression soured, but before he could respond, seungcheol turned to you, his eyes softening. “come on, pretty,” he murmured, his voice gentle and eyes earnest,. “dance with me?”

you stomach did somersaults, seungcheol watches you intently, he watches the way your expression melts into a grateful smile. you leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you whispered, so quietly he barely heard it.

his heart stuttered in his chest, warmth flooding through him. but he forced himself to push the feeling away, to remind himself that this was all for show. you were only doing this because minjun was watching, because you needed to keep up the pretense. there was no way you actually meant that kiss, no way you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he did.

but he couldn’t help the way his heart betrayed him, the way his entire body seemed to light up at the simple touch of your lips on his skin. he swallowed, hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks flushed, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go,” you said, taking his hand, your smile genuine and warm.

the music had shifted to a slow song, and seungcheol led you onto the dance floor, his fingers still intertwined with yours. his heart was pounding, his mind racing, but he tried to focus on you, on the way you were looking at him now, your eyes so full of trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“thank you,” you said again, your voice a little steadier this time.

he gave you a small smile, trying to keep his emotions in check. “i’ll always be here for you,” he said, his voice soft. “you know that, right?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your waist. “i do,” you whispered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something more in your eyes. something he desperately wanted to believe in.

seungcheol tried to ignore the way your body fit so perfectly against his, the way your smile sent his heart racing. he couldn’t let himself read too much into the way you were looking at him.

but it was so, so hard.

“cheol,” you said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “can i ask you something?”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “of course.”

“why did you say yes?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “to being my date and… pretending to be my boyfriend?”

his breath caught in his throat. he hadn’t expected that question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving himself away. “because you needed me to,” he said finally, and it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. “and i’d do anything for you.”

your eyes softened, and he wondered if you could see right through him, if you knew just how badly he was hurting, just how desperately he wanted this to be real.

“you’re too good to me,” you whispered.

he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said. “i’m just… selfish.”

you tilted your head, confused. “selfish?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t ruin this. “never mind,” he said, forcing a laugh. “just… ignore me.”

but you didn’t. your gaze lingered on him, searching, and he had to look away before he did something stupid, like confess right then and there.

“cheol,” you said, your voice so soft it made his heart ache. “what are you hiding?”

“nothing,” he lied, pulling you a little closer, trying to focus on the music instead of the way your eyes were looking right into his soul. “i’m not hiding anything.”

but he was. he was hiding everything. the way he loved you, the way he wanted you, the way he’d give anything to be more than…this.

“okay,” you said finally, but he could hear the doubt in your voice. “if you say so.”

“you know,” he said as he let out a small sigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “you didn’t have to kiss my cheek just now. not for minjun’s sake, anyway.”

you tilted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i didn’t do it for him,” you said quietly as seungcheol watches your eyes sparkle and dilate, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“then… why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

your gaze searching his face. “just because.. i wanted to.”

seungcheol’s mind went blank, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sudden, overwhelming rush of hope that filled his chest. 

“should we call it a night?” you asked, your voice gentle as you turned to seungcheol, who still seemed lost in thought. you weren’t sure if it was because of the way you had kissed his cheek earlier or if he was still worried about you, but his expression had been hard to read.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “let’s head home. but, uh, let me hit the bathroom real quick first?”

you nodded, offering him a small smile. “i’ll wait by the entrance.”

he nodded back, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he turned and made his way to the restroom. as he walked, he felt his heart racing, the memory of your soft kiss on his cheek replaying in his mind. you’d said it was just because you wanted to, but that couldn’t mean anything... right?

 seungcheol washed his hands, letting the cool water calm him down. he took a deep breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. he doesn't really want this night to end, he's not ready for that yet.

but that’s when he heard it: voices coming from one of the stalls, low but loud enough to catch his attention.

“man, i still can’t believe you're actually married,” one voice said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “and only because you got her pregnant. how the hell did you screw up that bad?”

what the hell? seungcheol’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet, listening.

“don’t remind me,” minjun’s familiar voice replied. “i know, okay? it’s not like i love her or anything. but i couldn’t just bail, you know? had to do the right thing, i guess.”

the right thing? seungcheol thinks to himself, yet cheating on you is okay?

the friend laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “still, hanna’s nothing compared to your ex. that girl is so much hotter than your wife. you should’ve stayed with her.”

seungcheol’s grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles going white.

“hey, i made a mistake,” minjun grumbled, clearly defensive. “she really is hot. i was just thinking with my other head back then, okay?”

“yeah, well,” his friend drawled, “i would’ve made a move on her tonight if she hadn’t walked in with that new boyfriend of hers. what’s his name again? seungcheol or something?”

“yeah, well, i tried to,” minjun admitted, and seungcheol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “but he showed up before i could.”

“did you see the dress she was wearing?” minjun laughed as he added, “she's got such a killer body…bet I could make her cheat on that boyfriend of hers, what do you say? 50 bucks? bet on it?”

that was it. the final straw. anger flared hot and fierce in seungcheol’s chest, and before he knew it, he was storming over to the stall. he yanked the door open, and the look of shock on both men’s faces did nothing to quell his rage.

“what the fuck did you say? you think you can talk about her like that?” seungcheol growled, his voice low and dangerous. “after everything you’ve done?”

minjun barely had time to react before seungcheol’s fist connected with his jaw. the fight was quick, brutal, and messy, with fists flying and the sound of grunts echoing off the bathroom walls. seungcheol didn’t care about the pain in his knuckles or the way his cheek throbbed from a poorly blocked punch. all he cared about was defending your honor, protecting you from these men who had no right to even think about you, let alone look in your direction.

when seungcheol finally left the bathroom, his heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. his cheeks were slightly bloodied and his knuckles were bruised.

but before he could reach the entrance to get to you, someone grabbed his arm. he turned, only to see hanna, minjun’s wife, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “oh my god,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “what happened to you?”

at first, she seemed genuinely worried, but then her eyes raked over him, and her concern twisted into something more flirtatious. she reached out, her hands brushing against his arms. “you look so hot like this with all the bruises,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his biceps.

seungcheol stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. “don't,” he held a hand up, “i have a girlfriend,” he said firmly, stepping back. he glanced around, hoping you hadn’t seen any of this.

but you had. your eyes had caught sight of the scene, the way hanna's hands lingered on seungcheol’s arms, and your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see it, why your heart felt heavy and your chest ached. this was seungcheol, your good friend. you’d moved on from this heartbreak years ago... right?

you tore your gaze away, your mind spinning. you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him with someone else, but it made no sense. seungcheol was just your friend. nothing more.

when seungcheol finally made his way over to you, unaware that you saw him & hanna, was careful not to mention it or the fight that happened. instead, he focused on the gossip he’d overheard in the bathroom. “hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “did you know?”

you barely registered his words, your mind still replaying the image of hanna's hands on his arms. your chest felt tight, and you couldn’t explain why.

“apparently,” seungcheol continued, “this whole wedding is a shotgun marriage. she’s pregnant, and that’s why they’re doing all this.” he paused, searching your face for any reaction, but you weren’t really hearing him.

“huh?” you finally said, blinking as you came back to the present. your eyes widened when you took in his bruised knuckles and the cut on his cheek. “oh my god, seungcheol. what happened to you?”

“did you hear anything of what i just said?” he asked, a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice.

you glared at him, your concern overshadowing everything else. “no, but i’m sure it’s nowhere near as important as this,” you snapped, gesturing to his bruised face and bloodied hands.

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders slumping. “it’s nothing,” he insisted, but he knew you wouldn’t let it go. not when you looked at him with so much worry, so much care, and it made his heart ache.

“nothing?” the depth of your furrowed brows going deeper, “you're bleeding, cheol.” your tone angry.  “come on,” you said, your voice softening. “i’m taking you back to my place. i need to take care of those wounds.”

he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t hear it. “please, cheol,” you whispered, and the way you said his name made his heart stutter. he wanted so badly to believe that you cared, that this wasn’t just about him being your friend.

“fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper. “but only because you’re so stubborn.”

you gave him a small, relieved smile, and he felt his resolve weaken even more.

back at your apartment, you lead seungcheol to the bathroom, rummaging through the first aid kit with a determined focus. he sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you with a mixture of awe and longing. it’s overwhelming how gentle you are with him, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you gather supplies to tend to his wounds. he wants to believe this moment means something more than simple concern for a friend, that the tenderness in your gaze holds feelings he’s been longing to hear you speak out loud.

“does it hurt?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on his cheek, your touch feather-light.

“no,” he says, his gaze never wavering from your face. the sting is nothing compared to the ache of wanting you. his heart pounds relentlessly, each beat echoing the longing he’s kept hidden for so long.

you move to bandage his knuckles, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. “you’re so reckless,” you murmur, but your tone is soft, carrying nothing but worry.

he swallows, throat tight. “i couldn’t stand hearing them talk about you like that,” he admits, the words escaping before he can second-guess them.

your hands freeze. you look up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he hesitates, regret mingling with vulnerability, wanting to tell you everything but afraid of what might come next. “just... they were saying things they shouldn’t,” he settles on, the explanation falling flat compared to the storm raging inside him. “i couldn’t let it go.”

the bathroom feels smaller, the air thicker. you lean in closer, a wrinkle of worry creasing your forehead. “seungcheol…”

his hand lifts before he can stop it, and his fingers brush your cheek, gentle and unsure. “i just want to keep you safe,” he whispers, voice cracking, heart lodged in his throat. “even if it means getting a little bruised up.”

you’re so close now that your breath mingles with his, warm and intoxicating. your chest tightens, and something inside you shifts. you can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in his voice or the way his eyes seem to hold a secret you’ve always yearned to know. you feel your pulse spike, your mind racing. all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury come rushing back with an intensity that scares you.

you kneel in front of him, biting back the realization that you never really moved on, that you never truly stopped loving him. your feelings have been buried, but they resurface now, raw and undeniable, and you can’t pretend anymore.

“tonight was...a lot,” seungcheol says quietly, breaking the heavy silence. his eyes search yours, trying to make sense of the tension thick in the room.

you nod, hands trembling slightly as you pull back, though not far enough to break the spell. “yeah,” you manage, voice unsteady. “it was.”

seungcheol watches you with a gaze so full of longing that it makes your heart ache. he’s proud of you, he’s always been proud of you, but the way he’s looking at you now is different. “you were amazing,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your breath catch. “the way you handled everything… i’m so proud of you.”

his words break something inside of you, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the distance. it’s an impulse, a mistake, but you just couldn't help yourself. your lips brush against his, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

seungcheol freezes in shock, but then he responds. his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, and he kisses you back with a fervor that leaves you breathless. the tension snaps like a taut wire, replaced by a burst of passion, and everything you’ve both kept buried pours out.

his fingers tighten around your waist, your hands finding their way into his hair, and you lose yourself in him. the way he tastes, the way he holds you, feels like a dream you don’t want to wake from. your heart races as the kiss deepens, desperate and all-consuming.

but then reality crashes over you like a tidal wave. you pull back abruptly, breaking away, your eyes wide with shock and horror. seungcheol looks dazed, lips parted, hair slightly mussed from your hands, and the sight of him so undone because of you only makes the guilt worse.

“i-” you stammer, voice cracking as you scramble to your feet. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.”

“wait-” he begins, but you’re already moving, stumbling backward, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “i shouldn’t have… we promised we wouldn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice gentle yet laced with desperation. he stands, reaching for you, but you take another step back, your emotions spiraling.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, overwhelmed and terrified by the feelings that won’t stop crashing over you. “i ruined everything.”

you feel tears prick your eyes, your chest aching with regret and confusion. the kiss shattered the fragile balance between you, and you don’t know how to piece it back together. “you should go,” you manage, voice cracking. “its getting late,” your head starts feeling dizzy, “I'll call you tomorrow.” 

before seungcheol can argue, before he can make sense of the whirlwind between you, you’re gone. you rush out of the bathroom, heart hammering, not sure where to go but needing to escape. the apartment feels suffocating, your feelings too much to handle, and you slam your bedroom door behind you.

you lean against it, sliding down until you’re curled up on the floor, tears spilling down your cheeks. what have you done? you kissed seungcheol, and now everything is a mess. the love you never let yourself acknowledge burns bright, and it terrifies you.

in the bathroom, seungcheol stands frozen, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips. he’s never felt more hopeless, more in love, and more afraid that he’s lost you forever. the echo of your apology rings in his ears, and he clenches his fists, wishing he could take away the hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

he tells himself he’ll wait for you to call, but he’s terrified that this time, waiting might not be enough.

but still, seungcheol waits. 

the days stretched on, each one feeling heavier than the last. it had been a week since the wedding, a week since that kiss had turned his world upside down, and still, there was no call from you. you had promised, but the days passed in silence. he wanted so bad to be the one reaching out, but he knows you well enough to know that it wouldnt end well, and that you needed your own time to process things. but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between you. each morning he woke up with a sliver of hope, a quiet, desperate wish that today would be the day you would reach out. but by every nightfall, the silence was all he had. the silence, and the ache that gnawed at him constantly.

he kept replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the feel of your lips on his, the way your eyes had searched his face afterward. the hope, the confusion, the raw vulnerability—it haunted him, leaving him restless and on edge. there was something about the way you pulled away from him, your apology spilling out in a rush, that made his heart ache. his own feelings were a mess, tangled up in things he hadn’t fully understood until that kiss, much less you, right?

he tried to keep busy, to drown the thoughts that plagued him. the gym became his sanctuary, his second home, a place to work out the frustration, the ache in his chest. he lifted weights until his body screamed for rest, hoping that physical exhaustion would bring some peace. but no matter how much he tried to tire himself out, the ache remained, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments when it all came rushing back.

work was just a blur, the hours blending together as he went through the motions. he found himself distracted, staring at his phone more often than usual, his thumb hovering over your contact, only to put it down before he could hit send. what would he even say? what if you weren't ready yet & him reaching out only made things worse? what if you didn’t even want to hear from him? what if his feelings were just a one-sided mess that he’d have to live with forever?

the days bled into one another, each one more unbearable than the last. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he missed you—how much he longed to hear your voice, to see you again, to figure out what all of this meant. so he kept it all inside, bottled up, carrying the weight of his emotions on his own. there were moments when he could feel it, the weight of his longing pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. he had tried to be patient, to give you space, but with each passing day, that patience was wearing thin.

he wondered if he’d done something wrong. had he misread the situation? had he pushed too far when he kissed you back? maybe you only kissed him because of the atmosphere or adrenaline or whatever? every time he thought about it, he felt sick. maybe you didn’t feel the same way. maybe he had crossed a line, and now he was paying the price for it. the thought of you slipping further away from him was unbearable.

his phone sat on the coffee table, screen blank, mocking him with its silence. he had told himself he’d wait, that you’d reach out when you were ready, but the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to believe that. he wanted to hear your voice, to know that you weren’t angry with him, to know that the kiss hadn’t ruined everything between you. but instead, he sat in his apartment, surrounded by the deafening quiet.

& seungkwan? seungkwan had been on you about it for days.

"seriously, you’re just going to leave things like this?" seungkwan had said one morning, his eyes narrowing at you over his cup of coffee. "you kissed him. you kissed seungcheol hyung. and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen. you think he’s not waiting for you to come around?"

you hadn’t responded at first, unsure of how to even begin to process it. all you could think about was the kiss, and how everything felt so wrong and so right in that moment, and how now, in the aftermath, everything was a mess.

"you’ve been so quiet about this. and it’s obvious to everyone. you’re both miserable. don’t you get it?" seungkwan continued, his voice growing more insistent. "you can’t just let it go, not after that. you owe it to yourself & especially to him to figure out what this is. what he is to you."

you had shaken your head, turning away, not wanting to face the truth. "i don’t even know what it is. i don’t know if i—"

"you’re making it worse by not doing anything," he cut you off, his eyes narrowing. "stop running from it. just talk to him, okay? if you don’t, you’re going to regret it."

you sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. you had never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it came to feelings. but something in seungkwan’s words made you pause. the last thing you wanted was to regret anything.

"i don’t know if i can," you murmured. "i don’t know if he’ll even want to talk to me after everything."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "stop thinking like that. he doesn’t know what to do either, so you’re both stuck, waiting for the other to make a move. just go to him. get your act together."

before you could respond, the door to your apartment unlocks, interrupting your conversation, and there stood seokmin, looking far too cheerful for the somber mood that had settled over you.

"hey, what’s going on in here?" he asked, stepping inside with his usual bright smile.

you shrugged, feeling the weight of seungkwan’s words pressing on your chest. "nothing much. just… thinking."

seungkwan immediately jumped in, as if he couldn’t help himself. "you need to go talk to seungcheol. i’m so done waiting for this mess to sort itself out."

seokmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. "ah," he crossed his arms, settling into the couch. "you’re still haven't called huh?"

"no," you admitted, your voice small. "i don’t know what to say to him."

"yeah, well, you’re not the only one," seokmin said with a sigh, his tone softening. "but running away from it won’t solve anything. look, and you know what cheol's like. if you tell him you need space & time & that you'll call him, he's gonna listen & wait for you. he’s not going to make the first move until you do so go talk to him, okay? figure it out. or at least to put that guy out of his misery."

you nodded slowly, trying to take in his words. it wasn’t that simple. it never was. but seokmin had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like maybe, you could take that first step.

seungkwan was still persistent, though. "seriously, i’m not letting you off the hook. you still love him after all these years, don’t you?"

"i don’t know," you said, your voice cracking. "i think i do, but i don’t even know how to deal with even coming to terms that i like him. everything’s so messed up. i kissed him, and now i… i don’t know what to do with all of it."

seokmin looked at you with an almost knowing smile. "sometimes, things don’t have to be figured out all at once. it’s okay to just… see what happens. go to him and talk. take it one step at a time."

seungkwan nodded eagerly, as if the suggestion had finally gotten through to you. "exactly. just go. trust me, you’re both miserable. just fix it."

the decision was made. somehow, someway, you had to go to him. you didn’t know what you were going to say, or how you were going to fix everything that had gone wrong, but you knew you had to try. the thought of never knowing how he felt, or whether you had a chance, was unbearable.

it had been days since you last saw him. days since everything had spiraled. and now here you were, on the verge of either fixing things or making them worse. you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. your hands trembled slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely out of control.

you knocked softly, but the sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway. a few moments later, you heard the shuffle of footsteps from the other side, and your heart skipped a beat.

the door swung open, and seungcheol stood there, looking absolutely stunned to see you standing there. his eyes widened in confusion, and for a brief second, you both just stared at each other in silence.

he seemed to take a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "you… you’re here," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "are you… okay?"

you didn’t know how to respond. you wanted to say so many things, but words felt like too much. you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. the silence stretched, and then he spoke again, his voice breaking the tension.

"come in," he said softly, stepping aside to let you in, but you didn’t move. "did i… did i do something wrong? if i upset you, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. i really didn’t." his voice was strained, as if he was holding back something. "i know we agreed on the whole fake dating thing for just 1 night, and maybe i crossed a line. but i didn’t mean to. i didn’t mean to make things complicated. I.. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he sounded so genuinely sorry, and that was the moment it hit you—seungcheol was just as lost as you were.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to step over the threshold. you walked inside, every part of you feeling as though you were making a decision you couldn’t take back. the door clicked shut behind you, and you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say next.

he gestured toward the couch, but neither of you sat. there was a tension hanging between you two, something unsaid but felt in the air. you stayed there, frozen, trying to process your thoughts while he watched you, waiting for something.

he cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. "come sit, please," he said. "talk to me, please. is it something i did? i… i can't fix it if i dont know what i did wrong."

you shook your head slowly, still unable to find your words. you felt like a mess, and you could tell by his expression that he felt the same. the weight of everything that had happened—the kiss, the awkward distance between you two after—was hanging over you both.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "it’s not your fault."

"what do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, a mix of hope and worry in his gaze. "what’s not my fault?"

"i kissed you," you muttered, the words coming out rushed, almost in a panic. "it was me. i shouldn’t have done it. and i’m sorry."

he seemed taken aback, a flash of guilt crossing his face. "but… why? why did you kiss me?” 

you bit your lip, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "i don’t know why," you admitted, the confession escaping before you could stop it. "i wasn't thinking…i just… i was jealous. i saw hanna with you, and i couldn’t stand it. i… i kissed you because of that, but now, i’m not sure if it was jealousy or because i like you."

seungcheol’s face softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. "you were jealous?" his voice was barely audible, as if the question itself was too much to bear. his eyes were glossy, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice breaking as he spoke. "you… you like me?"

you took in a deep breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "i think so, i don’t know..I'm not sure but i don’t want to lose you over a stupid kiss."

seungcheol exhaled shakily as his heart falters to the pit of his stomach. he felt a mixture of anger, bitterness and heartbreak flare in his chest, his fingers threading through his hair as he took a moment to gather himself. "a stupid kiss," he repeated, “you dont know if you like me?” and there was a bitterness to his voice that made your chest tighten. he looked at you, his eyes shining with something raw, something that made your heart splinter.

"it's not just a stupid kiss to me," he whispered, and your breath caught. "do you know how long i’ve been in love with you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve tried to hold back these feelings because i was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same?"

your eyes widened, your knees nearly giving out at his words. "you… you're in love with me?" you whispered, barely able to believe it.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound cracking in the air between you. "yeah," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "i’m in love with you. it’s been hell, watching you, waiting for the right moment, praying that maybe, one day, you'd feel the same. and then you kissed me, and god, for a second, i thought it was real. i thought maybe you felt it too."

your hands shook as you tried to process his confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you, leaving you breathless. "cheol…" you started, but he held up a hand, his gaze turning away from you.

"don't," he whispered, pain etched in every line of his face. "if you're not sure, if you don't know what you want, please… don't say anything. because this? this hurts too much."

your chest ached, your heart breaking at the sight of him, of the way he was barely holding himself together. "i’m sorry," you choked out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. "i didn’t know. i never realized—"

"that’s the thing," he interrupted, his voice strained. "i've always been here, and you never realized." he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his own tears. "i can’t… i can’t keep doing this if you don't feel the same,”

seungcheol softens as he took in a deep breath, “I can accept, no–I can understand if you don’t love me back,” he says, his voice breaking, “but i need you to at least be sure you like me. if you can’t even be sure you like me, then i don’t think i can do this.” his hands curl into fists on his knees, the weight of his words pressing into the air between you.

the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as everything you’ve been holding back crashes over you. “cheol,” you begin to confess, voice trembling, “i was in love with you four years ago. back then, before everything. before my ex.” your confession hangs heavy, and you can see the shock and pain in his eyes.

“four years ago?” he chokes out. he’s crying too, his tears slipping silently down his face. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you wipe at your face, trying to catch your breath. “because i thought it was over. i thought my feelings had become platonic, that they’d evolved into this safe, distant affection. but seeing you... seeing hanna flirt with you... it hurt. it hurt because i realized i never really let you go. i still love you, cheol. and it’s not just this soft, easy love. it’s the kind that makes me want you even when it hurts.”

his sob catches in his throat, and he reaches for you, his hands trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “i tried to hide it. i tried to hold it back, but i couldn’t. you’ve always been the one, even when i knew i shouldn’t feel that way.”

the two of you sit there, crying together, the years of longing, misunderstandings, and suppressed emotions finally crashing down. he cups your face, thumb brushing away your tears. “so now what?” you ask, voice small and broken.

seungcheol pulls back slightly, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes, but there's something vulnerable there too. he smiles as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "now... now i ask you out on a date," he says, his voice softer, but his tone filled with so much emotion. “but—” he pauses, his smile fading slowly as his gaze turns serious now, “i’ll give you…five dates.”

“what? what do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

seungcheol's smile returns as he takes in your pouty face before clearing his throat, “i'll let you decide if you still want me after that. no pressure. in case you change your mind.” his hand goes to reach for a stray hair near your cheek and tucks it behind your ear as he gives you a soft smile, still holding a certain sadness and uncertainty to it.

you smile softly, shaking your head. “i don’t need five dates to know my answer, cheol. i'm not changing my mind.” bold adrenaline suddenly pumps through your blood, and you hastily pull seungcheol closer to you in a quick motion, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then you place a quick kiss on his lips. it's nothing romantic by any means, neither was it movie-scene-worthy. it's nothing like that, but it is more than enough to soothe your soaring heart, and it's definitely more than enough to send your message across to seungcheol.

seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as you pull away. "you’re…sure.” this time, it wasn't a question.

"i'm sure," you repeat anyway for him, stepping into his arms as your heart flutters at the feeling of him finally pulling you in, his embrace as warm as you'd imagined.

his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and desperation that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like everything you've both been holding back for so long is coming unraveled, like this embrace is the start of something fragile but real. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, heavy and uneven, as he holds on like he's afraid to let go.

"i've waited so long to hear you say that," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. His words are shaky, the tremble betraying the vulnerability he’s still trying to hide. "i’ve wanted this for so long, but i never imagined it would feel this terrifying."

your hand finds his back, holding him just as tightly. "it’s terrifying for me too," you admit softly, your voice trembling. "but... i’m tired of being afraid.”

he pulls back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes search your face. “let’s give this a real chance, even if it scares us. even if it’s hard." he whispers, a hint of a smile breaking through the sorrow that had clouded his expression. 

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i want to," you say, feeling a fragile hope bloom in your chest. "i want us."

a soft, relieved laugh escapes his lips, and he pulls you into a real kiss this time—gentle, slow, and full of everything unspoken. It’s not perfect, but it feels like a promise, like a beginning you both desperately needed. you lose yourself in the moment, your heart pounding as the weight of everything finally starts to lift.

when you both pull away, breathless but smiling, seungcheol rests his forehead against yours. "so, about those five dates, even though you say you dont need them," he teases, his voice a little lighter now, a spark of his usual playful demeanor coming back. "should we count this one, or start fresh?"

you laugh, the sound bringing color back into the space between you. "maybe we should count this one," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full. "but only if it means you have to try extra hard to make the next four unforgettable."

his smile widens, the warmth in his eyes chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. "deal," he says, his hands still resting on your waist. "i’ll make every single one worth remembering, just you wait."

[kokoa-la]

Do yall know how many powers Danny acc has in the show

Cus I looked at the page from the Fandom, and I counted like 52 (including some I didn't believe in or had other explanations)

Let me list them here

1. Intangibility

2. Invisibility

3. Flight

4. Cryokinesis (ice)

5. Ghostly wail

6. Overshadowing

7. Ghost rays

8. Ghost sense

9. Healing

10. Reconstruction

11 - 18. Super strength, speed, durability, agility, balance, endurance, stamina, reflexes

19. Fuse two halves together - fuse with other ghosts

20. Gravity Manipulation (only on himself)

21. Back slide

22. Space travel

23. Repulsion Field

24. Energy strike

25. Ghost shield

26. Energy constructs

27. Power absorption

28. Energy absorption

29. Electrokinesis (electricity)

30. Power augmentation

31. Ghost stinger

32. Thermokinesis (temperature) [I was 50/50 on it- don't rly count it but I'll put it here]

33. Photokinesis (light)

34. Telekinesis

35. Restoration (only inanimate)

36. Technopathy - potential (dan used it)

37. Exorcism

38. Dream Invasion

39. Fusion

40. Pyrokinesis (fire) [he makes ectoplasmic fire at one point don't question it - I didn't]

41. Duplication

42. Spectral Body Manipulation (can make himself swiss cheese)

43. Plasticity

44. Size alteration

45. The void (not a Canon power- Butch Hartman headcanoned it for dp - thank u @madametamma )

46. Paranormal immunity

47. Vacuum resistant

48. Aural shock

Now some are very similar and for a lot of the kinesis (kinesi?) Only had like one small instance so they're a possible power (like making stuff melt or using ectofire- and that's not even counting the one time he had weather powers albeit temporarily)

Oh, and yes, I did count each super human ability as its own (strength, speed, endurance, etc.). My logic was if a superhero had a singular one of those and it was counted as a power (super strength, most common example), then it should be counted as separate ones for danny, too.

Anyways, the fanfic writers should go insane with this list.

It's insane.

Here's the link for it

[thegoogoomuckkk]

in another life pt. 2 -> if they weren't sorcerers & murderers, where might you find them? -> choso kamo, hiromi higuruma, takuma ino, toji fushiguro

despite his intimidating appearance, choso has a surprisingly soft demeanor around children. his students are never afraid of him; in fact, they find his calm voice and quiet presence comforting. he’s the kind of teacher who kneels down to a child’s level to speak to them gently when they’re upset. so so protective of his students, just as he is with his brothers. he’s quick to intervene in any bullying situations or if he feels like one of his kids is in danger. he makes sure his classroom is a safe space for all his students. 

he considers himself a very respectful man, he would never ogle at a woman, no matter how badly he wants to. right? that’s what he keeps telling himself, but that respect is growing more precarious each day when you walk in with your little girl each day, her hand in yours, giving her a little hug, & waving goodbye. the looks you give that poor teacher are sinful. 

hiromi writes late into the night when the world is quiet. he finds that the stillness allows him to focus and tap into his creative flow, often accompanied by a cup of strong coffee or tea. loves crime fiction, regardless of the cliches. it comes to him so naturally; he’s so patient with it, hardly ever getting frustrated, even if it takes him weeks to get past his writer’s block. he appreciates that the story will come to him in time; forcing it won’t help. 

he’s respectful of all writers, even if they’re not always his cup of tea. he would’ve said, not too long ago, that romance wasn’t his thing. it was too overdone, too predictable, & hardly ever realistic. but you’ve got him chomping at the bit: of course, your writing is amazing, it doesn’t matter if it wasn’t his previous genre, it is now. but it helps, too, that he finds you so disturbingly attractive. 

takuma would be the perfect coach. he’s so skilled at what he does but he’s also so nice & encouraging. his enthusiasm is infectious, & he’s the type of coach who gets super hyped on the sidelines, cheering the kids on loudly during games & practices. constantly getting yelled at by refs for yelling too loud or for being on the field. as someone who knows what it’s like to work hard and still feel overshadowed, he’d encourage every player to find their strengths, whether they’re the star forward or the quiet defender.

his pre-game pep talks would be half motivational, half comedic—trying to quote something profound but getting it a little wrong. takuma wouldn’t hesitate to stand up for them, making sure they feel safe and supported both on and off the field.

when the team wins a particularly tough game, takuma gets misty-eyed. he tries to hide it, but the girls totally notice and tease him about being a softie, which he accepts with an embarrassed laugh. you probably have some cliché meet cute, & he’d invite you to his games because he’s proud of his students (& he while definitely do some cool tricks at the end of the game).

sweaty line cook toji, sweaty line cook toji, sweaty line cook toji. probably at some family italian restaurant, & he has no business being as hot & massive as he is, takes up half the kitchen. probably asks the 18 year old college students for cigarettes, they don’t have any, but they’re so scared of him that they go out & buy some just to give him each shift. the owners hate him & so do all the managers, but he’ll never get fired ‘cause he’s too good at his job, he always trains all the new cooks to do things his way because efficiency over accuracy, right? when does he sleep? the world will never know, he is always in the kitchen of that goddamn restaurant, occasionally the walk in freezer, sticking his fingers down your pants & slobbering all over you. "c’mon, sweetheart, I know that boyfriend can’t fuck you like me." will ghost you, then show up to work the next day, shamelessly. probably texts you "u up?" at 2:00am weekly, even after ghosting you. 

did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[dp-marvel94]

Reveal via Clones

Summary: Maddie and Jack walk in on fives clones waiting for Danny in his room.

Word Count: 2,164

Also on AO3

For @lovelyunknown, @brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics.

Note: Losely set in my "Life and Death is All Perspective" (ie all the clones come back as full ghosts) Series. My last story for phic phight! Prompts Below: Maddie finds damning evidence in Danny's room. by LovelyUnknown Good Dad Jack identity reveal by Hazama_d20 I saw that first prompt and thought "What more damning evidence than a bunch of clones?" 😂 My original idea was a lot more cracky than what I actually ended up writing. But I'm a serious angst writer so that figures. Enjoy!

Maddie had made up her mind. Tonight was the night. She and Jack were going to talk to Danny about everything. His failing grades, skipping school, missing curfew, getting into fights. 

Ignoring the problem hadn’t worked. Punishing Danny, hoping he would change his behavior, hadn’t work. Talking to Danny, reassuring him that he could tell them anything, even that hadn’t worked. Instead, Danny took to avoiding them.

But the mother had had enough. She was getting answers out of her son tonight. Even if they had to wait in his bedroom all night for him to come home. Her son wouldn’t suffer alone in silence anymore.

As the couple approached Danny’s room, voices rang out through the door.

“Oh! What’s this?” A curious voice with a bit of a lisp asked.

“Ezekial, be careful with that.” A different voice, smoothly sophisticated, gently rebuked.

A crash. “Oops.”

The adults froze at the noise, exchanging worried looks. Jack reached for the door knob.

“That was Danny’s favorite model rocket.” A third spoke, words with a disappointed note.

Maddie’s hand rested on the other adult’s arm, stopping him with a nod of her head.

“Let’s pick it up.” A deeper male voice. “Maybe we can fix it?”

“There’s some glue in the desk.” The third speaker.

Who were these people in Danny’s room? Friends from school?

“Maybe we should wait until Danny gets back.” A pre-teen girl’s voice spoke up, sounding a bit unsure. “I don’t know how this is supposed to go together.”

The woman’s eyes widened. There was something odd about the other voices, compared to the girl who just spoke….

“I think I remember.” The third said. “This one wasn’t really that hard to put together. It was one of his first.”

The eye-roll was almost audible. “Not all of us received memories from our progenitor, Damian.”

Progenitor? What was he talking about?

“That wasn’t my fault, Neil.” A teasing point, presumably from this Damian.

“I’m pretty sure it was.” The girl quipped.

“None of us knew overshadowing could do that.” Another audible eye-roll. 

Overshadowing…. Something only a ghost could do and… A hint of dread settled in Maddie’s stomach. That is what she had been picking up on; every voice but the girl’s had a strange echo….

“Memory stealer.” The lisping voice teased. 

“It’s just copying!” Damian, the object of teasing, argued. “Pro, come on. You’ve gotta defend me. You know I’m your favorite sibling.”

“Nah, Ellie’s my favorite.” The deeper voice joked, the smile audible.

“Yes!” The girl cheered. 

Maddie didn’t understand. The echoes… these were a bunch of ghosts? Of sibling ghosts? How could ghosts even have siblings?

Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time ghosts surprised them. Phantom did, again and again showing that he genuinely wanted to help, hence their truce. Phantom wasn’t a bad ghost but, this group, joking with each other in…

“I’m your favorite brother, at least.” 

“Nah, that’s Danny.” The deeper voiced speaker again teased. “Speaking of, when is he getting back?”

In their boy’s room. Ghost might not have been as bad as she and Jack previously thought. But these were five strangers! Ghosts they’d never even heard before, waiting for their baby in his bedroom. 

With that thought, the mother pulled her ectogun out of her belt. She and Jack met eyes, the man doing the same. A silent count to three and…

The knob was turned, door kicked open. “Eat Fenton Bazzoa, ghosts!”

Maddie’s eyes quickly took in the scene. Four ghosts. One wearing a white cloak, red eyes and green skin. Phantom or… no, somehow she knew (maybe it was the way he held himself or maybe something else) this was a look-alike. Another Phantom look-alike, though all of four feet tall. And a towering ghost, covered in scars.

The woman set her sights on the big one, finger hovering over the trigger. She didn’t want to shot but she was prepared if-

“Mads!” Jack gasped in surprise beside her, his weapon lowering. “Look.”

“Jack!” Her eyes darted to the object of his interest. “What-” She cut herself off, eyes widening. 

The fifth occupant of the room, the pre-teen girl…. She was human, staring at them with wide, frightened eyes. That wasn’t the surprise. But…

The jet black hair and…. those eyes, crystal blue, exactly identical to… 

“Danny?” Maddie asked.

Her head shook. No, she wasn’t Danny, obviously, but…

“Who are you?” Jack asked, voice as numbly shocked as the woman felt.

“Clones of your son.” The Phantom look-alike’s eyes widened, mouth snapping shut as soon as the words left his mouth.

Maddie blinked, her own gun dropping at the surprise. “Excuse me.”

The ghost’s eyes panickedly flickered among the others. “We are all…. Clones of your son, Danny Fenton?” His chests turned green, in a blush(?). “We were created by your college friend, Vlad Masters. He wishes to kill Jack Fenton, blaming you for the accident which killed him and for stealing Madeline from him. He has planned to marry you, Maddie, and claim your son as his heir and apprentice.”

Neither parent reacted, numb with shock. The other ghosts and the girl also stared, jaws dropped and eyes wide with disbelief.

The lack of response seemed to just encourage the ramble. “Danny proved quite, understandably, hostile to this plan, refusing to betray his father. Despite his efforts, Vlad could not achieve his goal of acquiring Danny as a son. Therefore he decided to create his own version of the boy, one who would be amenable to his plans, hence…” He motioned awkwardly. “All of us.”

Maddie… hadn’t registered half of that. Yet her spinning minds caught on one thought. “But…. you’re all ghosts?” The words came out surprisingly quiet.

“We all died before becoming stabilized.” The Phantom (Danny?!) look-alike raised one brow, before motioning to the girl. “Except for Danielle, of course. Besides, Danny himself is half-”

Something in the statement roused the other Phantom look-alike, an elbow to the side cutting off the word. “Dude! You can’t tell them everything!”

The taller’s mouth snapped shut, visibility embarrassed. “I may have committed an error….”

“I’ll say!” The shorter raised his arms. “I thought you were the smart one, Daniel.”

The other look-alike, apparently named Daniel (?!), blinked skeptically. “Why would you think that?”

“You always use long words and…. It’s like you don’t even know what an apostrophe is.”

“Damian, I know what an apostrophe is.”

The shorter, Damian, placed his hands on his hips, an eyebrow raised challengingly. “Then use one.”

“I don’t think I will.” Daniel’s nose turned up. “You are not the boss of me.”

Maddie watched the argument like it was a tennis match. They were… arguing. Like normal siblings. Like… normal kids.

“Mads…” Jack’s uncertain voice beside her. The woman half-tuned out the ensuing argument, turning a tentative eye to him. “Mads. I think he… Daniel’s… telling the truth.” The next words came out more confident. “And if he is, then…” 

The man put down the bazooka, uncertainty still in his eyes but no doubt, the action completely deliberate. He stood, shoulders back as if steeling himself. Then, he calmly stepped forward.

The kids froze, chatter cutting off. All eyes widened with fear.

Jack put his arms out, hand up disarmingly. His gaze fixed on the largest ghost “You’re a big one. Regular chip off the ole block.” A step forward, his expression strangely soft compared to his normal boisterousness. “What’s your name, son?”

The ghost shifted nervously, frantic eyes flickering from each of the other clones to Maddie and finally to Jack. He swallowed. “Um. It’s Prometheus, sir.”

“Prometheus.” The adult tested out the name. “That sounds greek. Isn’t it?”

“It’s uhh…. A long story.” The ghost, Prometheus, rubbed the back of his neck. (And didn’t the gesture look achingly familiar). “And everyone calls me Pro.”

“It’s a good name.” Jack chuckled. “And look at you! Swimmin’ in my end of the gene pool. Those spare hazmats we made for Danny and Jazz definitely won’t go to waste now!”

Pro did not respond, trading a vaguely panicked look with the girl. But the tension didn’t deter the man from continuing. He turned to the Phantom look-alike. “And you’re Daniel. Sharing a name with our Danno, I see.”

“Well. Yes, that is true…” A nervous swallow.

“Mads picked out the name. I wasn’t the biggest fan but she let me pick out Jazzy’s name.” He shrugged. Then, taking in the embarrassed face. (Maddie’s heart ached… it reminded her of a four year old Danny, caught stealing from the cookie jar). “You’re as green as an unripe tomato.” A kind chuckle. “Don’t feel embarrassed, kiddo. You’re not the first Fenton man to panic and say something he shouldn’t. And you probably won’t be the last.”

Daniel traded a look with his shorter look-alike, a silent conversation passing through. (Jazz and Danny had done the same, even this morning. These two… they all really were siblings, weren’t they?). Both relaxed ever so slightly.

“You’re taking this well.” The shortest said cautiously.

“I’m sure it’ll hit me later.” Jack laughed. “And your name was Damain, right?”

The ghost boy, Damian, nodded, puffing out his chest slightly. “I picked that out myself.”

“It’s a good one too. And…” His eyes flickered up, over Damian’s shoulder. “And who’s the quiet one over there?”

The short ghost floated to the side, the cloaked one drifting forward. “He’s Ezekial.” Damian answered.

“Zeke.” The thin figure lisped, spelling out the name with his fingers.

“Zeke.” Jack smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Cautiously, Zeke floated forward, just two feet in front of the man. A tentative hand reached forward. Jack offered, letting the thin fingers brush his for a hand shake. “You are… kinder than I thought.”

Something in the man’s expression cracked. “Oh kiddo…” With gentle squeeze off the fingers, he removed his hand, the motion deliberate, unlike the falling of his shoulders.

Jack turned, finally smiling at the girl. “And you’re Danielle.”

“Ellie.” She shifted nervously. “Sorry for barging into your house.”

“Non-sense, princess.” He waved her off. “You, all of you are….” Maddie saw it, in the moment their eyes met. He was seconds from pulling this kid, all of these kids into his arms. “You're all….” That word, on the tip of his tongue….

“Family.” Maddie could hardly believe the word coming from her mouth. But… “You’re family.”

She knew it was true, like the way her heart ached and her hand shook, the ectogun…. Ectogun…. She should holster that. The weapon returned to her belt, eyes fixed back on the children.

The faces looking back at her… she saw Danny in them, herself and Jack’s features, despite the ghostly glow and…. The woman felt seconds from crying. That ghostly glow… meaning they, most of them, had died. Her own flesh and blood passed away, gone before she even knew about them, much less held them.

No. Not gone.

Maddie stepped forward. “How many clones…” She swallowed. “How many of you are there?”

Ellie’s brow furrowed, eyes on each sibling. “Well, there’s the five of us. And… how many does Percy count as?”

Suddenly a green swirling portal opened. Just when Maddie thought her world couldn’t be turned anymore on its head….

A ghost with four arms floated through. “I heard someone say my name.” The opening closed, leaving a sixth similar-looking figure floating in the room.

“Percy!” The quiet, cloaked ghost exclaimed. “How many do you count as?” The words, again slow and lisping.

One of his hands tapped the new ghost, Percy’s chin. “One or…” The three eyes (he had three eyes?!) blinked, brow furrowed in thought. “Twenty-six. Depending on how I feel.”

Maddie just blinked at the sight, a hand going to her forehead. “We have so much to talk about when Danny gets home….”

Still…. The woman looked over the group of kids, five(?) ghosts and one human. The girl, human and seemingly healthy was a relief. But the others… even if they were ghosts, they were her children. That was as clear as the siblinghood in-between them, an undeniable truth her heart spoke.

Though, something niggled in her mind. Their apparent relationships with Danny. Their origin, created by Vlad. That sounded insane but… her stomach turned. With his obvious obsession with her, his strange interest in Danny, and questionable behavior, it made a sick kind of sense. 

But that comment, about Vlad having… died? And Danny…. Daniel had been about to say something about him.

Her mind was flailing for connections, that familiar ache welling in her chest. That familiar spectral appearance. Phantom look-alikes, she’d thought when she’d first seen Daniel and Damian. There was a resemblance to Danny too. Almost… almost as if….

Just then, Phantom phased through the window. “Sorry that took so long.” A bright white ring of light flared from his middle as soon as he landed, passing over him. “What did I… miss?”

The light disappeared, revealing….

“Danny?!?!!?”

Note: So that's the story. :) I'm uncertain if this will remain canon to the "Life and Death is All Perspective" Series. I'd always pictured Danny choosing to tell his parent about all his clones but this is fun too. So we'll see.

Also, I can't believe that I finally wrote the "Jack and Maddie meet Ellie" story, despite hinting at it a bunch of times in other phics. And this is freaking it. 🤣🤣🤣

[fandom-reblog-central]

I wish there were more af x dp and af x dc content

Artemis is prime adoption material as a child genius with black hair and blue eyes, and the clone and time travel stuff with Danny would slay

Post TLG: “You… overshadowed your clone?” “He was empty.”

Tim may have figured out the Batfam’s identities as a wee lad, but Artemis discovered and finessed a fae government

Holly has to fight a rogue (from either dp or dc)

Danny meets another weird rich person who is at least a little evil and obsessed with something inhuman

Orion and the batkids become besties

Artemis is rich: there could be gala shenanigans

Artemis starts studying ghosts since he’s on better terms with the fairies and the Zone is confused by this pallid living boy and his tank of a Butler

There’s even a chance for reformed rogue nonsense since he was raised to be an unscrupulous figure

Everyone bonding over the massive responsibilities they have despite being children

Bonding over the lack of real recognition

Arty and Timber bond over their absent parents and batshit (heh) shenanigans

Perhaps even Artemis (post character development) bonding over being slightly annoyed about needing to protect and always be better (Danny or batfam tbh)

Liminal!/Halfa!Artemis since he’s died before

Butler and Alfred know each other

Bruce trained at Madame Ko’s for a stint and met Juliet or Domovoi

Danny brings a message from Root/informs the poor man about what Holly is up to with everyone’s least favorite Mud Boy (and maybe angst where they meet again??)

Would Orion be in the Zone?

Arty and Damian bond (first over scathing judgements of others, then over shared interests, or they fill in each other’s gaps of knowledge, and they both have issues with their parental figures that remain unresolved)

Damian bullies Artemis for being weak and having generally bad reflexes (he’s so stabbable)

Artemis helps Danny modify his parents’ inventions (and/or gets into a friendly competition with Foaly and/or Tim to do so, Mulch tries to steal it)

Mulch tries to rob Bruce Wayne and gets in over his head

Goblin in Gotham

Troll in Amity Park

Ghost in Fowl Manor

Constantine is desperately avoiding the LEP

Holly blows up the Nasty Burger in a mission gone wrong (why is the sauce so flammable???)

The Riddler just can’t get one over on Artemis Fowl II

Tucker and Artemis end up in a hack-off with Foaly as the ref (or any combo of that lol—maybe even toss the dc computer batkids in there)

The Batfam finds they can’t speak another language to avoid being understood by Holly

Damian giving into whimsy and trying to disguise it as a diplomatic/vigilante/“just curious” thing when asking Holly about elves

Foaly messes with the batfam or tucker (or even the fruit loop)

Arty and the Bats are allies, find Holly, and when they take her in, she says something like “reminds me of the time Artemis kidnapped me” (Cue concern and confusion from BatFam, or, alternatively, “yeah, that sounds right”)

Batsy adopts another emotionally constipated child with a moral compass that knows where North is most of the time, but doesn’t like facing that direction

Barbara powers through some interference trying to defeat a rogue and discovers the LEP

Portal issues lead to Arty and the gang in the Zone or Gotham

Lazarus is a portal to the demon world, explaining the hair change (and possibly rage)

Dick trains Artemis to get more flexible, Jason bullies him into lifting weights or working on his punches, Damian keeps him on his toes with the whole stabbing thing—

Danny is enlisted by the LEP to tail Mulch underground, finds BatCave

There’s so much that could happen

This was so fun and exciting to think of, but I can’t do any of them justice

I am not a fanfic writer but I want this so bad

If anyone has any more concepts or perhaps even a snippet, please tag me!!

[allthefoolishdreams]

hi! 14, 17, and 18 for the fic writer ask game 👀💞

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

if I had to pick i think i'm going to go with the obvious choice of spidey minlix because comic book inspired

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

a lot of my research tends to be random geographical or cultural or in the case of spidey minlix I did research through the comics and heists and art history etc. but I can not tell you most of what I learned because it gets buried by other random stuff i've learned

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

okay this was so hard for me! but right now I think i'm going to go with this section from my fic we've taken different paths (and traveled different roads) aka my umbrella academy au:

He looks away, he knows that he means it, but it’s hard to feel at home in a place that reminds you that you were an outsider even in your own family. A place that is a museum of things you’d rather forget, filled with the ghosts of your childhood and a man that always reminded you of how small you were. The good memories that had once made this place a home are overshadowed by the fact that it’s become a relic of all those bitter moments, of all the loss that they’ve been dealt with. 

[miss-dollette]

Your fandom rants and icks... finally someone said it. I've been thinking about this lately and couldn't put it into words but you hit the nail on the head. There have been so many things that have recently been in the fandom and/or fanfics that have driven me absolutely insane. I'm never one to be a debbie downer or shit on anyones fun but some things have just made me incredibly uncomfortable recently that I've actively had to go through and block/mute tags or blogs because it's overwhelmed the COD tag. It makes me so sad because it's basically stopped me from engaging in anything at all in relation to COD because I feel bombarded and it's not enjoyable. The biggest thing recently that's bothered me is stories being written that are completely out of character for the COD guys. Like I get that it's fanfiction but seeing stuff written that clearly doesn't match the individual(s) written about feels weird and at that point it's not even the original character anymore so whats the point?? I know some people probably strongly disagree but at a certain point it almost feels disrespectful to the original characters and their stories. It also feels like a way for some weird shit to be fleshed out and, again, to each their own and it's fiction blah blah blah, but for fucks sake. Like literally for. fucks. sake. Like you said, It's like people writing stuff about Ghost that would be completely out of character for someone like him, with all of the trauma and experience that is literally canon to him as a character. Maybe it's because I have a degree in psychology and know people who have been through things that are written/portrayed in COD that it all just doesn't sit right with me... Let's not even get started on having a degree in psychology and seeing things like pedo shit practically glorified, let alone being written about. Holy. Fucking. Shit. There are a few writers that I think truly understand certain characters and write about them in such a beautiful way that it makes me so upset that it gets overshadowed and bogged down by absolutely horrendous things in the tags. I'm so sorry this is so long. I didn't intended to write a whole ass dissertation on this but I'm so happy to see someone else is feeling this way.

Everyone is on my ass for what I said. But to be honest, I don't careeeee. I don't. I really don't. They're real mad but I'm just laughing. I'm just expressing my feelings and having fun doing it. It's funny, cause my post got 100 likes in a day. That's telling something.

You should see the messages im receiving. I don't mind, I love trolling a little.

I said the hard truth, and they can't handle it.

'Preciate your message. Great minds think alike.

If you wanna laugh, check out my responses to these messages. I had fun.

[katusjuice]

Hi, don’t mind me, just Anais facts (some of you know this stuff but eh i wanna post on here-)

Note that this will be updated if I think of something else, so you can come back at look at this if you want to.

Anais Wartooth facts :p

Personal shiz:

Anais is neurodivergent. She has ADHD (mixed combo). When she was younger, this caused her to get bullied a lot.

Her stims include: oral stimming, verbal stimming (she’s a chatterbox), auditory stimming, and tactile stimming

Anais is not on medicines though, she does go to therapy for it. (She gets lollipops after each session :D)

Not surprising, but Anais is very forgetful. She’s have to repeat what someone wanted her to do in order not to forget it

Anais has therapy cat! It’s name is Spider. Anais named it

Anais doesn’t play guitar. She doesn’t like the feel of it. Now, she loves the sound, but don’t expect her to pick one up.

Anais is 16 years old

^^ Her birthday is February 12th, making her an Aquarius ♒️

Due to bullying and the effects of puberty, Anais is not much of an extrovert. She’s more ambiverted

Anais has a favorite in Dethklok (it’s Nathan)

Anais actually enjoys (mostly) all types of music. Just anything that scratches her brain.

Anais is ambidextrous (she can write with both hands)

Anais can see ghosts. She doesn’t tell people this though

The necklace in her ‘Anarchy’ wear is actually a chewy toy.

Toki gave Anais the straw doll he had as a kid. It gives Anais good luck during shows. (She still has it to this day)

Anais loves animals, even the ones that will kill.

Anais is a huge Space nerd. She even went to Astronaut class (unlike Toki)

^^ She has a thousand hyper-fixations but Space and Music are definitely hyper-focuses she has

Unless she trusts you, nobody is allowed in Anais’s room (she doesn’t wanna be made fun of again)

Anais lives with her mom. Toki doesn’t live with them simply because he refuses to leave Mordhaus.

Anais grew up in Athens, Greece until the age of 12-13. She moved to America and started middle school there.

Anais has trouble making friends, but luckily she has a small group of friends that stick to her.

Anais is a lesbian and had a girlfriend (Harley-)

Musical shiz : D

Like Toki (sorta), Anais is naturally musically talented.

Anais is the lead singer and one of the song writers for Human Anarchy

Anais and Harley created the group

Anais can do the death voice (death growl whatever-)

Anais usually writes the songs

Human Anarchy is a lot of the times referred as Dethklok Jr. and Anais hates this

Anais is often overshadowed by Toki.

Anais usually makes songs through melodies that just pop in her head.

Anais is a very hard worker when it comes to music. She loves it dearly

(That’s it for now, but again this will be updated when i get more ideas-)

[askthedarksidersfam]

In the Pines

Chapter 2: Morbid Curiosity

Summary: A first meeting with the new soul, but there is more to this strangely dressed man than you expect. Especially when the Dead Court demands his presence to the King.

A/n: This series is slowly becoming a favorite of mine, but why is plot so hard to make. And apologies for the longest wait ever 😭. The band Ghost do be pulling me out of my writers block bless Life Eternal. Please excuse any typos or format weirdness. It's a much shorter chapter this time y'all.

The method of dying isn’t a stranger to War. It is an unwelcome experience than a closely held fear that all creatures hold close to their chests. He wouldn’t be one to boast about having been through the whole shebang of death, but he wouldn’t shy away from exclaiming he doesn’t fear it.

This time however he can’t ignore the waves of shame that ache like a slug to the gut. Indeed, he’d felt shame when he perished in battle when carrying the Ravaiim relic to safety. But this was beyond what he felt all those eons ago.

A failure to keep a relic away from enemy hands was vastly overshadowed by the obliteration of War’s image, his legendary honor. All knew of War’s pride of being the warrior he was, the oaths he’d made and the extensions he’d reach to see them fulfilled. He’d been a poster child, in a sense, of the perfect enforcer of the Balance.

The favorite of the Council with his diligent work ethic, outshining them all in how he’d throw himself into his duties. As if he’d have something to prove despite the need not to.

How far he’d fallen…

Stripped of his power, thoroughly chewed out by them and put under their chopping block to serve as their punishment for a supposed crime he didn’t commit. After War opened his eyes, he didn’t need to see the sickly green hue clinging to his being to know he’s been transported to the Kingdom of the Dead. The stench of stale air and a musk of the ever decaying souls assaults his nose. Beneath him is a ground devoid of any green, and instead substituted with layers of dust that flutter through the air at the slightest disturbance.

He can still feel the vague wetness of tears that trail his cheeks. The rider never felt more vulnerable than before.

The racing images of the past events came flooding through his mind, from the moment of the call to his arrival. The chance meeting with Abaddon…

Abaddon. He must be here, War vaguely thinks between the onslaught of thoughts that plague his mind. If he can find him here, then he will find out why he was there… one way or another…

But that very thought sends a wave of anger through his chest, as War is only able to reflect on the accusations and confusion that follows. What purpose did the Archangel serve among the ranks, he was leader of the Hellguard, a division dedicated to the protection from Hellish infiltration of protected areas, especially the borders of Heaven. They were not at all meant to march at the front lines of the Apocalypse as it wasn’t their duty.

Yet there they were, among the ranks fighting with just as much ferocity as the summoned legions. The gears in his brain churned at an incomprehensible rate as he tried to key together this mystery.

What purpose did they serve, and what secrets are they hiding?

Something greater was at play here. Abaddon, the Call beckoning him to do his duty, and no sense of his brothers and sister in the Earth.

All at once, the frustrations bubbled and broiled over within the Horseman. The memories that lay bare across his vision began to crumble and branch into webbing cracks as his own wrath, hot as frothing lava, rose in terrible tidal waves, fueling dead veins with his famously irremovable ire.

Then, akin to a weakened dam holding back a tsunami, the images of his mind, and the last of his reserves, explode in an extraordinary display.

Pulling his lips back to unleash terrible canines, War’s prosthetic arm clenched tight enough to nearly break the metal fingers. Eyelids snap open to reveal the blazing glow of glacial blue, near blinding as they’re fueled by his rage. He raises his fist above his head and, in one great swell of strength, swings it down with a terrible velocity as War unleashes an agonized bellow of betrayal. The momentum of his arm stops short, colliding with the ground below, stone beneath shatters upon impact. Dust flies everywhere as the shockwave sends throughout.

War doesn’t need to see the ground to know he’s left a crater.

Though he doesn’t need air, War huffs as greatly as a rhinoceros. The fire within him surges through his body, showing no signs of slowing down soon. The rider can only stare hatefully at the cobblestone below as he tries to ride out this immeasurable wave.

For an immeasurable amount of time, the Nephilim stays motionless, sucking in deep lungfuls of dust laden air before forcefully exhaling. His right arm, the flesh one, shakes with tremors under his gauntlet, before it slowly spreads across his body.

The great injustice of it all enraged War greatly, but he can’t reflect upon what the Council said to Fury of their elder brothers being absent. Strife had been sent out on a mission according to them, but Death’s case had his mind reeling.

The Eldest had done this before, in the distant past. Disappearing for five hundred years without a trace until finally showing his face in the wake of the Council’s urgent summons. He had disappeared, likely for his own sake of solitude after the Nephilim’s fall.

But what reason had he now to disappear? Where could Death go that not even the most sensitive ears or eyes could detect him on the furthest comer of Creation?

He wouldn’t abandon them. Not again…

So caught up in the haze of his muddled thoughts, War doesn’t hear gentle footfalls coming up to his side. His hood, far over his head, obscures his peripheral vision and had he noticed, he’d be ashamed for letting an unknown person get so close.

But he doesn’t scold himself as he’s still caught in the fray. At least, that is until he hears a throat be cleared before asking him a question he’s never been directed to in his eons of existence.

“Hello there sir. Are you alright?”

——

The behemoth of a man doesn’t move when you call out. But you know he’s heard you if the tensing of his body is any indication. His face is obscured by the hulking copper pauldron and blood red hood pulled far over his head, blocking off any view of his features.

There’s a tremble to his figure, albeit faint, you can spot the quivers beneath his strange armor. You’d would’ve guessed him to be a frightened Angel if it weren’t for the lack of wings and the doubt of seeing one so scared. Demon was far out of the question due to the obvious absence of a tail, malformed wings or the faint sulfur stink they possessed (a surprising fact to learn).

Was this stranger human? The question rattled in your head as you took in his huge figure, the apex of his shoulders were equal to yours at your full height. But the sheer size of him alone suggested Maker, but even this beast of a man would be minuscule compared to Engri.

But it didn’t matter who or what he was, but rather, the shaking that didn’t cease even as you both stood in silence. A pang of sympathy wells in your chest, remembering how you were just as frightened when you first arrived.

‘He could probably use a hand, after who knows what he went through.’ You shudder at the thought of the untold horrors that he must’ve endured at his death.

‘Friendly face…’ you remind yourself as you clear your throat and try again.

“Sir, are you alright?”

This time you get a reaction. The man’s head whips around in record time, near startling you as you’re suddenly stared down by the mysterious newcomer.

Behind the copper pauldron and his hood, you spot two bright eyes staring you down, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. They’re pupilless, glowing like sulfur fire with just as much intensity. The twin flames stare you down like a wrathful lion roused from slumber, and you the culprit.

You can’t help but find yourself lost in the void, sinking further into the crashing storm of anger and despair. It’s too powerful to pull away now, and you can’t gather the strength to as you spot something within him.

For just a moment, in the moment that time was creeping between the two of you, there was the slightest hint of fear swimming beneath the surface. As quick as you caught it, it was dashed away as those wild and raw eyes hardened. It was not unlike watching the surface of magma cool into solid rock, but beneath did the liquid fire still burn.

Caught up in the swirling hues of burning blue, you failed to catch the stranger’s face contort into something more offensive. If you did, you would’ve wisely backed away instead of gawk dumbly as lips pulled back to reveal glimmering teeth.

“What?” He snarls the question at you, the deepness of his breathy tone pulling you in like a magnet. You still don't give an answer, caught between the urge to swallow up your concern and run and to stay and comfort the man. If you could call him that.

Quicker than you’d expect a man his size to move, the stranger throws himself backwards. Adopting a protective stance, his left arm is poised to cover his body more effectively as he bares his teeth warningly. Simultaneously, you jolt back instinctively putting distance between you and him.

How ironic.

Dead as dust trying to keep alive as if you still possessed a beating heart and blood in your viscera. Even more so considering how you’d been so adamant on approaching him first.

Briefly, there’s a thought that comes into mind, asking if this was a wise idea. But what could one soul do to another when both are dead?

You doubt the dead can be killed again. With that logic you feel less insecure about an attack. So you gulp down your nerves and clear your throat.

“Everything‘s okay,” you begin, arms held up placatingly as the man eyes you warily, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Not that you could even land a single blow on your best day.

The man thinks the same, as his lips pull into a deeper scowl as his nose curls. Though he has no discernible pupil, you can feel him sizing you up. Definitely determining you to be as much of a threat to him as a fly is to a lion.

Seconds tick by like eons, neither one of you twitching a muscle as you stare each other down. One with barely restrained apprehension, the other suspicion and lingering animosity.

Until finally, the man curls his nose with a huff.

Completely unimpressed, he motions to leave you in the dust, metaphorically and literally as he spins on his heel and makes his way out of the tiny pocket of room off the road. The ground below shudders with a muffled tromp, displacing dust to flutter into the air and stray pebbles to rock.

If you’d a moment to think about his sheer impact on the ground, you probably wouldn’t have so brazenly charged forward to meet with him again. Hellbent on trying to understand what was his grand plan here.

Maybe you would’ve wisely backed off, especially when you were so hesitant to approach due to the very threat of bodily harm. Even beyond the grave. You’d definitely be reflecting on this tonight to find the answer to this crazy ass decision. But the only answer you’d receive after racking your brain to find is probably “whoopsie” or “I’m not fucking up my first day of Soul Guiding”.

Just as your hand is about to make contact with the man’s armored arm, there’s a great flash of gray as the world suddenly spins on it’s axis. Roughly your back slams into the ground as the beanie hugging your head jostles loose, half handing to your skull. If you’d any breath it’d be knocked clean out, but all you do is gawk, breathless regardless.

In one swift motion you’d been slammed into the ground with the giant of a man hovering over you. Enormous legs cage you in as he keeps a grip so ironclad on your guilty arm you can legitimately feel the pressure near breaking. You fear he’d break your bones had you not been so caught up in staring him down, dead heart lurching in your throat.

Pinned, outsized and far in over your head, the only plausible thing your panic riddled mind can do is teeter on the precipice of two options. Gather the last remnants of human survival and urge you to break loose or relive the last moments of your life cornered in that concrete trap like you are now. The only difference you felt was no roaring of blood into your ears nor the stir of a certain pounding cardiac organ.

You swear in this very moment this man was really those hound monsters in disguise, ready for a part two in their revenge.

Get off.

You see those hungry eyes through the cracks. Blues bleed into fiery orange, the shadows eclipse into coal black leathery skin.

Get off.

Pulled back lips contort into snarling maws like permanent grins. Bare gums glinting with teeth bigger than your arm. A heavy pant like laughter among the prowling pack that close in on their prey.

GET O F F !

The crushing grip melds into the pain of your arm — your missing arm —

You can taste the blood, feel it running down your throat and flood your lungs-

G E T O F F !

The proximity between him and you is near atoms apart. You feel the wisps of breath he exhales, fluttering over your cheeks like ghosts in the wind. There is no heat, unlike the breath of the hounds whose felt hotter than the pits of Hell. A complete antithesis-

“GET OFF ME!”

The shriek echoes across the empty field, rattling the naked limbs of a nearby tree and disturbing the dust to flutter around the air. Dancing between the two of you carelessly.

The man above you does not move as you demanded, instead he keeps his grip steady, the only indication of him listening to you are his raised brows and slightly widened eyes. Clearly surprised by the outburst. But he still doesn’t make a single move, instead vying to keep you pinned as his lips form words that your brain fails to comprehend. It’s only after a few seconds of silence after his words have passed his mouth did your brain catch it like a delayed echo.

“Who are you?! What is the meaning of this?” Though he near splits your ears with his bellow, the demand sounds as if you’re hearing him with cotton stuffed in your ears. And underwater.

When you don’t give an immediate answer, his patience seems to wear thin, given by the deepening furrow of his brow. Vaguely you think how it’s even physically possible before your ears pick up on a voice ring through the air.

“I-I just-!”

“It will do you good to let them go boy!”

Both you and the man’s head swivel to the origin of the newcomer. Poised for attack, the stranger is dressed in armored regalia, finely detailed with bone imagery long since worn down. He carries a glaive, or at least an imitation of the weapon due to its dramatic length of the blade. It’s pointed in your general direction, but not at you. But the head of the man above you.

He stares you down with well worn eyes, cataracts cloudy yet sharply focused on you.

The stranger doesn’t give away what he feels about the situation, but from the pinching of his brows and snarling of teeth, he doesn’t like what he sees.

The soldier jabs the weapon, the edge near kidding the red hood of the man above. He merely grunts at the proffer of the metal blade, unphased about this. Which was rather ironic given his need to attack weaponless you.

“I will not ask again! Let the ‘uman go.” He snarls, dripping with authority to make you rigid upon hearing. The man above you snaps his head between you and the newcomer, brows pinched together as you shoot him a weary grin, silently begging he’d listen.

“Yeah, uh, please let the human go…” you say weakly, struggling under his grip as you feel an atom more confident with this stranger. Though that is promptly squashed when the man glares daggers into you, sending a wave of cold dread shooting through your chest. The crushing grip tightening even more.

“I am not asking you again boy! 'ave you no sense o’ honor that you’d attack one without a weapon?!”

That gets his attention.

His ironclad hold violently wrenches free, and you immediately scramble out from underneath him. You drag yourself away from the man and put some distance between you and him, with the stranger as a barrier. Despite not knowing either, you’d take your chances with the soldier rather than the goliath.

The guard shuffles until he’s blocked the view of the red hooded behemoth, weapon poised at his head. He tilts his head back to eye you as he calls out. “You alright ‘uman?” Dazed, you can only offer an unsure grunt, grasping at the arm with fresh indents in the dead skin. You wince as you doubt there’s a chance it’ll recover.

“Y-yeah.” Is the feeble answer.

He grunts before turning his attention to your attacker, whose face is twisted into a vicious snarl half hidden by his hood. Those blue eyes are pure murderous as he glares at your savior. However, he is completely unaffected, instead vying to puff his chest out and raise his shoulders. Immediately, the man becomes larger than he already is, the armor assisting him as the oversized pauldrons that sweep towards the air flare out like boney wings.

The tension growing between the two is heavy, like a thick fog and tingling with electricity. Though you’re not caught in the middle of it, you can feel the sharp sting that leaves you dizzy.

Just when you’re sure the fog will stretch out to you and wrap you in the static blanket, it’s so abruptly interrupted.

“I do not know why you attack this ‘uman, but know that this will not go unnoticed by me. However that is not why I am ‘ere,” the man straightened his posture as he keeps his glaive pointed straight at the man, “I am ‘ere to escort you, Red Rider, to the King, for you are hereby summoned to appear ‘fore the Dead Court.”

That gets your attention.

Engri had spoken of the monarchy and his exclusivity on the few to no guests he harbors in his Court. In fact, practically no one has made company with the king in the last century other than his guards and royal advisors and overseers.

Not that making company was as simple as approaching the throne room and waltzing in to share your grievances. Between the tales of the men of the Arena who’s battle prowess could match that of the aged Maker and cynical advisors, you’d heard of one such obstacle to meet the king.

The Arena and its heralded unbeatable Champion.

Engri had shared the stories of the Champion, a creature of bone and sinew nigh invincible. How she’d faced the beast before in boast, promising to bring the skull to the Court not for an audience, but to wipe the smirk off their smug faces when they claimed she’d be unsuccessful as the others. And they’d been right.

The monster was unpredictable in its attacks and twice as formidable in strength, even against a seasoned warrior as Engri. In the end, the battle mage decided it best to abandon her quest and turn tail to save herself the near severed limbs during the excursion.

That was the only ticket to meet the king.

And this guy gets a free fucking pass.

A trickling sensation of horror and suspicion runs up your spine as you wearily eye the stranger. What had he done to warrant the king’s audience per his demand?

Probably something terrible. Right?

The “Red Rider” or he’s been addressed, near snarls at the soldier whilst rising to an impossible height. Your eyes shamelessly bugle from their sockets as your jaw fails to keep itself hinged while you wordlessly gawk.

You knew he was tall from how he nearly reached your shoulder on his knees, but not like this. He towers over the soldier who himself boasts an impressive height, and his glaive stands taller than his helmet which adds a few extra inches. You doubt your head even reaches the bottom of his sternum if you stood on your toes.

“What would your king,” he spits the word out like rot on his tongue, “want with me? I am no stranger to this realm nor am I a foe.”

The soldier doesn’t stop the scoff, making the taller shoot a nasty glare. “Do you think us so shut in from the world of the living we do not know o’ your affairs?” The hooded man immediately stiffens, your head tilts as you questioningly stare at the accused wondering if-

“I've done nothing of the sort. I am not guilty of the crimes the Council accuses me of!” He bellows, voice so powerful you can feel it punch you in the chest. Though the other male seems completely unaffected, not even a flinch.

“Whatever those slags o’ molten rocks decide is not my concern. I am here merely to escort you to the Court.” He cooly says.

Council? Crimes? Molten rocks?! What in fuck’s name are they talking about?!

Too caught up in the haze, you shake your head in efforts to clear the very muddled thoughts you’re trying to piece together. You don’t even register their conversation.

Yeah, the man straight up attacked you, but he hadn’t seemed to do so blindly. Though the whole parameters of why he’d think of you as a threat doesn’t click.

But beforehand, prior to his… lashing out, he seemed completely caught up in himself. The scream you’d heard, how the raw bellow was pained, opposite to his aloof attitude. How he sounded so… betrayed?

Scared.

Like when you first opened your eyes on the cobblestone road.

A pang of sympathy worms it’s way through your chest, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste of the past. A frown stretches across your lips, remembering that wretched feeling.

Why should you not extend that mercy to him? Because of some self preservation to your corpse? A guard claiming he’s to be punished for a possible crime? Your survival instincts screamed not to, and logic dictated that this was none of your own business.

But the man’s protests of innocence were too heartfelt. Too… fervent.

Unlike the aged corpse of a soldier, you listen to those cries. You know them well. Distant wails that cut through the ears of the endlessly noisy city like a gunshot. Too many times you lie awake on your bed, listening helplessly to the sound.

You once burst out of your room with an urgent desperation to quell those cries. Tirelessly searching for the endless laments, overwhelmed to find the city overrun with souls that scream for a life stolen away, of being lost with this insufferably ceaseless city.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help anyone. It seemed as if the screams were not from souls, but part of the very ambience of the city.

You barely slept a week after that, regardless of your exhaustion.

This man, this soul- you can’t bear the thought of leaving him to his fate. It’s selfish but you don't want to bear another moment in the city after the day is done. Returning to that unshakable tune. Maybe this once, you could quell this one’s cries so he wouldn’t join that accursed choir.

Leaving him to go to the Court did not sit right in your gut. You couldn’t stop it, but maybe you could sway them.

Engri’s talk of the King did not soothe your nerves however. But in spite of that, you do not stop yourself from the words that spill out your mouth just as the soldier was about to escort the soul out.

“Uhm,” you scramble to your feet, something more dignified if it weren’t for the dust and beanie falling out of place, “wait right there! I’m coming along!”

The soldier snorts, actually snorts before he can cover his mouth with a hand. That near permanent grin of a half rotted skull seems to widen as he attempts to collect himself. You scarcely notice curious blue eyes drift your way as you pull your beanie back over your scalp, suddenly bashful.

“You ‘ave no business with the King,” he declares, tone trembling with barely held back chuckles, “it’s ‘im that the King wants, ‘uman. You’ve no idea of what magnitude the offense this one has committed.” The Red Rider shoots him a poisonous glare from behind.

“Well, I don’t happen to believe that!” You lamely retort, chest clenching at your weak protest that makes both men take pause. The soldier eyes you with suspicion while Red remains otherwise impassable, other than the slightest widening of his eyes behind his hood.

You absently wonder if he is even affected by your protest. Something within your dead chest screams that it does, that he is in fact, thinking about what you’re doing, but your head seems to think otherwise, filled with doubt.

Your brain weighs the outcomes of both possibilities at blink-fast speed, considering both extremes that could come to haunt you. Either one, this man is indeed what the guard claims, to have committed the worst of crimes, hiding behind a red hood and devastatingly convincing face to trick the bleeding hearts into his scheming and letting him roam free.

Though the worst possible crimes he can commit in this godforsaken realm such as murder was null and void, that didn’t make him less of a threat. You could let him walk free, unpunished and unforgiving into this world, here forever if you can even convince the Court.

Or…

This man is indeed innocent. A victim of circumstance, or even a setup if his protests have any hint of what had happened. You could save him from taking the fall and being wrongly punished for someone else’s crimes. You couldn’t imagine living, or rather, continuing on this dead life with that on your conscience for eternity. Not even after a million years could you imagine that the guilt would even erode in the slightest.

Then, you think about when you first laid eyes on him, how frightened he was, that scream, and those wild eyes that you almost drowned in. There was a deep powerlessness that you recognized that you couldn’t forget.

You’ve seen that look in the eyes of your fellow humans as they were slaughtered on the streets, hopelessly overpowered in the eyes of Angels and Demons. Pure, unadulterated terror soaking into the very bone, leaving no atom unmarred. Then, a ringing in your ear turns into his scream and it blends in with hundreds more you hear a familiar voice come through.

“‘M off tae take ‘em to the city,” It’s Engri’s voice from hours ago, “I doubt there won’ be any other souls while ‘m gone,” you had decided to stay behind, using the excuse of wanting to help ferry souls as a reason not to go back to that wailing city. You did want to help, but you never expected, well, this.

“Well, what should I do if someone comes and they won’t go with me?” You asked, unsure of what to expect, to which she had answered simply.

“Then follow ‘em wherever they go. With time, they’ll go with you.”

Sucking in a breath, you hope this won’t be the biggest mistake of your undead life. Squaring your shoulders and straightening your spine, you boldly stare the guard in the back as you unsteadily declare,

“Take me with him to the King’s Court, I am acting as his voucher of character.”

Sometimes, the heart is bigger than the head.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Friday, February 16, 2024

february 3_february 16

RIGHTEOUS SIMEON THE GOD-RECEIVER and ANNA THE PROPHETESSE (1st c.)

A sermon in honor of the feast of the Presentation to the temple, from his beatitude Patriarch of Jerusalem Theophilo III

The grace of the Holy Spirit which overshadowed Saint Simeon the God-receiver has gathered us all in this Holy place, where the Tomb and the honoured Saint lies, in order to celebrate in Eucharist the Meeting of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple, when Righteous Simeon received Him in his arms.

This feast of the Meeting of the Lord is a projection of Christmas, and this is so because God the Word who became incarnate from the pure Ever-Virgin Theotokos Maria, and was made a perfect man, was also following the Law of the Old Testament to the letter, according to the custom of the time.

According to the Law of Moses, the Lord said; “Sanctify unto me all the firstborn, whatsoever openeth the womb among the children of Israel, both of man and of beast” (Exodus 13:2, 12-13). And with their entry to the Temple after the completion of forty days since their labour, the women who bore children had to offer “a lamb of the first year for a burnt offering, and a young pigeon, or a turtledove, for a sin offering unto the door of the tabernacle of the congregation, unto the priest” (Leviticus 12:6); or in case of being poor, “two turtles, or two young pigeons; the one for the burnt offering, and the other for a sin offering” (Levit. 12:8).

Joseph and the Mother of Jesus, “when the days of her purification according to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought him [Christ] to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord” in Solomon’s Temple , where the righteous Elder Simeon received Jesus as a baby in his arms according to the witness of Luke the Evangelist (Luke 2:22-35).

Today, the Holy Orthodox Church and especially the Church of Jerusalem honours and venerates the synaxis of the Holy and Righteous Simeon the God-receiver and of Anne the Prophetess; because the pious and righteous Simeon recognized the incarnate Son and Word of God by the power of the Holy Spirit. “The same man (Simeon) was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord’s Christ” Luke the Evangelist narrates (Luke 2:25-26).

According to Saint Basil the Great, Elder Simeon and Prophetess Anna saw the divine power in Christ “like light through light bulbs through the human body”. In other words, just as we see the light inside the light bulbs, likewise those who are pure in heart see and distinguish the divine light through Christ’s body. And according to Saint Athanasius the Great, while appearing to be a normal man, righteous Simeon was however a man of a higher status in meaning. He had the earthly and visible Jerusalem as a home city, but his metropolis was the heavenly Jerusalem.

This is theologically depicted in the hymn of Saint Cosmas Euhaiton by; “Thy virtue, O Christ, hath covered the heavens, for proceeding forth from the Ark of Thy sanctification, from Thine undefiled Mother, Thou hast appeared in the temple of Thy glory as an infant in arms, and the whole world hath been filled with Thy praise”.

According to the hymn writer Cosmas, the Theotokos Maria, being a new tabernacle “with a soul and logic”, according to St. John Damascene, held within her as a fetus the “sanctification”, namely “the holy body of the Lord, which was sanctified and deified by the divinity it had before it was conceived”. Therefore, “having come forth” from his immaculate mother, Christ appeared as a baby “in the temple of glory” “being brought into their arms”. “For while being God”, said John Damascene says, “he becomes a man…and is being held in the arms of men as a baby”.

And the “earthly arms” are those of the Elder Simeon. St. Luke the Evangelist says that Simeon “then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel” (Luke 2:28-32).

The gift of prophesy St. Simeon had enabled him to foresee that this baby, Christ, was to be the Saviour of the whole world, as Prophet Isaiah also said: “And all flesh shall see the salvation of God” (Luke 3:6). And according to the psalmist; “The Lord hath made known his salvation: his righteousness hath he openly shewed in the sight of the heathen” (98:2).

The apostolic reading of the main feast is related to the event of today’s feast. “And without all contradiction the less is blessed of the better” (Hebrews 7:7), St. Paul preaches, referring to the meeting of Patriarch Abraham with Melchisedek, the King of Salem and priest of God (Genesis 14:18-20). This is precisely what happened with the meeting of the baby Christ by the Elder Simeon. The eternal and Great High Priest Jesus Christ as a forty-day-old child is met with Elder Simeon in the temple and just like Abraham was blessed by Melchisedek, likewise, Simeon is being blessed by the Lord as he received Him in his arms (Luke 2:28).

In other words, the pious Simeon realized that this divine child is above him, while he is below, and rejoicing he cried out “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace” (Luke 2:29).

If we want, my dear brothers and sisters, to become communicants of the blessing that the righteous Simeon received, we should have as a prototype the faith and the desire, along with the patience he had, when we approach the Lord of glory, namely our Lord Jesus Christ, in the mystery of the Holy Eucharist, where we become of one body and of one blood with our God and Saviour.

And along with the hymn writer let us say: “Come let us as well with songs inspired of God, go together to meet Christ; and receive Him Whose salvation Simeon hath now beheld. This is He Whom David proclaimed; this is He that in the Prophets hath spoken; Who is incarnate for our sakes, and Who speaketh in the Law. Let us worship Him” (Minaion 2 February, Great Vespers, Sticheron 3). Amen.”

Source: Patriarcate of Jerusalem ( Sunday, February 3/16, 2020)

HOLY EQUAL-TO-THE-APOSTLES NIKOLAI, ARCHBISHOP, APOSTLE TO JAPAN (1912)

Saint Nicholas, Enlightener of Japan, was born Ivan Dimitrievich Kasatkin on August 1, 1836 in the village of Berezovsk, Belsk district, Smolensk diocese, where his father served as deacon. At the age of five he lost his mother. He completed the Belsk religious school, and afterwards the Smolensk Theological Seminary. In 1857 Ivan Kasatkin entered the Saint Peterburg Theological Academy. On June 24, 1860, in the academy temple of the Twelve Apostles, Bishop Nectarius tonsured him with the name Nicholas.

On June 29, the Feast of the foremost Apostles Peter and Paul, the monk Nicholas was ordained deacon. The next day, on the altar feast of the academy church, he was ordained to the holy priesthood. Later, at his request, Father Nicholas was assigned to Japan as head of the consular church in the city of Hakodate.

At first, the preaching of the Gospel in Japan seemed completely impossible. In Father Nicholas’s own words: “the Japanese of the time looked upon foreigners as beasts, and on Christianity as a villainous sect, to which only villains and sorcerers could belong.” He spent eight years in studying the country, the language, manners and customs of the people among whom he would preach.

In 1868, the flock of Father Nicholas numbered about twenty Japanese. At the end of 1869 Hieromonk Nicholas reported in person to the Synod in Peterburg about his work. A decision was made, on January 14, 1870, to form a special Russian Spiritual Mission for preaching the Word of God among the pagan Japanese. Father Nicholas was elevated to the rank of archimandrite and appointed as head of this Mission.

Returning to Japan after two years in Russia, he transferred some of the responsibility for the Hakodate flock to Hieromonk Anatolius, and began his missionary work in Tokyo. In 1871 there was a persecution of Christians in Hakodate. Many were arrested (among them, the first Japanese Orthodox priest Paul Sawabe). Only in 1873 did the persecution abate somewhat, and the free preaching of Christianity became possible.

In this year Archimandrite Nicholas began the construction of a stone building in Tokyo which housed a church, a school for fifty men, and later a religious school, which became a seminary in 1878.

In 1874, Bishop Paul of Kamchatka arrived in Tokyo to ordain as priests several Japanese candidates recommended by Archimandrite Nicholas. At the Tokyo Mission, there were four schools: for catechists, for women, for church servers, and a seminary. At Hakodate there were two separate schools for boys and girls.

In the second half of 1877, the Mission began regular publication of the journal “Church Herald.” By the year 1878 there already 4115 Christians in Japan, and there were a number of Christian communities. Church services and classes in Japanese, the publication of religious and moral books permitted the Mission to attain such results in a short time. Archimandrite Nicholas petitioned the Holy Synod in December of 1878 to provide a bishop for Japan.

Archimandrite Nicholas was consecrated bishop on March 30, 1880 in the Trinity Cathedral of Alexander Nevsky Lavra. Returning to Japan, he resumed his apostolic work with increased fervor. He completed construction on the Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ in Tokyo, he translated the service books, and compiled a special Orthodox theological dictionary in the Japanese language.

Great hardship befell the saint and his flock at the time of the Russo-Japanese War. For his ascetic labor during these difficult years, he was elevated to the rank of Archbishop.

In 1911, half a century had passed since the young hieromonk Nicholas had first set foot on Japanese soil. At that time there were 33,017 Christians in 266 communities of the Japanese Orthodox Church, including 1 Archbishop, 1 bishop, 35 priests, 6 deacons, 14 singing instructors, and 116 catechists.

On February 3, 1912, Archbishop Nicholas departed peacefully to the Lord at seventy-six. The Holy Synod of the Russian Orthodox Church glorified him on April 10, 1970, since the saint had long been honored in Japan as a righteous man, and a prayerful intercessor before the Lord.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_OCA

1 PETER 1:1-2, 10-12; 2:6-10

1 Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ, To the pilgrims of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, 2 elect according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, in sanctification of the Spirit, for obedience and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace be multiplied. 10 Of this salvation the prophets have inquired and searched carefully, who prophesied of the grace that would come to you, 11 searching what, or what manner of time, the Spirit of Christ who was in them was indicating when He testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would follow. 12 To them it was revealed that, not to themselves, but to us they were ministering the things which now have been reported to you through those who have preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven-things which angels desire to look into.

6 Therefore it is also contained in the Scripture, "Behold, I lay in Zion a chief cornerstone, elect, precious, and he who believes on Him will by no means be put to shame." 7 Therefore, to you who believe, He is precious; but to those who are disobedient, "The stone which the builders rejected Has become the chief cornerstone," 8 and "A stone of stumbling and a rock of offense." They stumble, being disobedient to the word, to which they also were appointed. 9 But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light; 10 who once were not a people but are now the people of God, who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy.

MARK 12:1-12

1 Then He began to speak to them in parables: "A man planted a vineyard and set a hedge around it, dug a place for the wine vat and built a tower. And he leased it to vinedressers and went into a far country. 2 Now at vintage-time he sent a servant to the vinedressers, that he might receive some of the fruit of the vineyard from the vinedressers. 3 And they took him and beat him and sent him away empty-handed. 4 Again he sent them another servant, and at him they threw stones, wounded him in the head, and sent him away shamefully treated. 5 And again he sent another, and him they killed; and many others, beating some and killing some. 6 Therefore still having one son, his beloved, he also sent him to them last, saying, 'They will respect my son.' 7 But those vinedressers said among themselves, 'This is the heir. Come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.' 8 So they took him and killed him and cast him out of the vineyard. 9 Therefore what will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the vinedressers, and give the vineyard to others. 10 Have you not even read this Scripture:'The stone which the builders rejected Has become the chief cornerstone. 11 This was the LORD's doing, And it is marvelous in our eyes'?" 12 And they sought to lay hands on Him, but feared the multitude, for they knew He had spoken the parable against them. So they left Him and went away.

[denimbex1986]

'How is the world different for queer people? Ask any gay man about their relationship with their parents and there will no easy way out. The wobbly, transient space for queer relationships out in the open, to be accepted by our dear ones, is still inaccessible to many. There's coming out and there's no going back from there. A gay man might just be different because he wasn't heard long enough, and so he has forgot what it feels like to be heard, or even seen for what they are. These are some questions that breath life into the new drama All Of Us Strangers.

A tricky tightrope of balance threatens to disrupt the beauty of Andrew Haigh's fifth feature: a film that refuses to be slotted into the frenzy of a genre. It is a ghost story embedded in a love story. In the hands of a lesser director, the thrill of the former would have overshadowed the vitality of the latter, but the British writer-director is somehow able to bring these two elements together with feather-weight skill and intensity. The more you think about it, the more All Of Us Strangers expands. You know immediately that this is a story that comes from someplace deep and personal.

A masterful adaptation

Haigh loosely adapts the 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada, which was earlier made into a Japanese film called The Discarnates. Here, the focus rests on Adam (Andrew Scott), a lonely gay man in his forties, who never got to come out to his parents. They had died in a car crash when he was just 11. Yet, one fine evening, Adam finds himself tracing back to the familiar corners of the suburbs, where he finds them again (played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell). Both mum and dad are living in the small house as it is. Time has stopped for them, they still reside somewhere in the 1980s.

The premise

Back in his solitary London building, a surprising connection blossoms up with the only person living there- the much younger and handsome Harry (Paul Mescal). At first, Adam doesn't want any sort of connection with him, but Harry charms his way into his apartment, and the two men share the softest of kisses, guiding each other along the way. Adam finds out that Harry is lonely too, having cut off connection with his family and living mostly by himself.

Adam is drawn repeatedly back to his parents house, even as his relationship with Harry takes shape along the way. In this journey that extends between the past and the present, Andrew Scott's presence acts as an anchor, grounding the circles around dreams and memories, reality and fantasy. Adam's trauma cuts deep, almost debilitating him to care less about himself. Haigh's deeply compassionate and tender direction in the scenes with Harry and his parents provide him space to finally come out to them and talk about his feelings. Emilie Levienaise-Farrouch's lovely score undercuts many of these expressions of love and longing.

A superb cast

It all works largely because of the quartet of actors. Haigh assembles a triumphant cast to bring this wrenching story alive. Jamie Bell and Claire Foy are terrific together: a late scene by the Christmas tree is unforgettable in the way Foy masks complicated feelings through the humming of 'Always on my Mind'. As Harry, Paul Mescal is in scene-stealing form, rising to the occasion whenever Jamie Ramsay's tender camerawork inches towards his face. Yet so much of All Of Us Strangers works because of Andrew Scott- and the actor outdoes himself in a fiercely intelligent and receptive performance. How is he not locked in for a Best Actor nomination at the Oscars is beyond me.

The impossible begins to feel miraculously unique and necessary in the way All of Us Strangers weaves reality with the ghost story. Yes, there's predicament, but there's great skill with which Haigh asks the tough questions, eager to bridge the generational gap between parents and children. To love; to give in to all its questions and joys and agonies is perhaps the most vital sort of life force. Haigh's brave and beautiful ghost story rests on that question, and says that every inch of that emotion is worth the effort and pain.'

[invisibleicewands]

Lord almighty!” a middle-aged Welsh woman says in the first episode of Michael Sheen’s steelworks drama The Way (BBC1, Mon). “Isn’t the deal meant to be that we’re hit with just one crisis per generation? Like a war, or a crash, or a pandemic? My daughter … she’s had one of each!”

Now I hate to be pedantic, but I’m not sure that one crisis per generation ever was the deal, cosmologically speaking. “Sorry,” the Great Fire of London didn’t say to the Bubonic Plague. “I’ll just let you finish up.”

Still, you can see the point she is trying to make. Climate emergency, AI apocalypse, far-right lurch: it is a bit crisisy out there, isn’t it? It’s not hard to see why an ambitious TV writer might feel an urge — a calling, even — to try to make sense of a world that seems to be spinning out of control.

Just look at the TV schedules this week as The Way went head to head with ITV’s medical drama Breathtaking, which offered the delightful prospect of reminding everyone just how bleak the Covid-19 crisis was.

The Way is centred on the Port Talbot steelworks, which is so crisis-ridden there’s literally a crisis there right now. But such hyper-topicality is double-edged. For viewers actually living through this stuff you can see why, say, dogs getting cute haircuts on Instagram might be more enticing.

Still, this three-part series about a workers’ uprising has a dream team feel. It’s Sheen’s directorial debut (he also stars as the ghost of a coalminer). The script comes from James “State of the Nation” Graham, and the maverick documentary maker Adam Curtis completes what Sheen has described as an “Avengers assemble” line-up.

The Way makes much of Port Talbot’s dramatic skyline, as well as its status as a last bastion of industrial power. We have steelworkers falling into vats of molten slag, foreign owners indifferent to local communities, smatterings of Welsh folklore, and the rather good line “The British don’t revolt, they grumble”. Curtis’s influence is immediately apparent in the ominous electronic soundtrack, the flickery archive footage and a sinister pouting penguin that on closer inspection appears to be a bin. Perhaps the most Adam Curtis bin ever.

At its centre is the Driscoll family, estranged parents and warring adult kids who find themselves pursued by the British Army through Afan Forest Park, having become accidental revolutionaries. It might be the volume of drugs ingested by Owen Driscoll (Callum Scott Howells), but things escalate fast. The mood shifts from portentous to hysterical to OK this is really quite silly now. The result is Gavin & Stacey meets The Road: a misfit family of Welsh fugitives on the run in a hostile England where suddenly — inexplicably — the merest hint of a Welsh accent is enough to have you lynched by private security forces. I don’t know, I missed Uncle Bryn.

We’re supposed to find the family endearing, maybe even amusing, but honestly there were more laughs in Curtis’s seven-hour dissection of the fall of the Soviet Union. Overall it reminded me of children’s TV dramas from the 1980s. Was it the archival footage? The ancient sword? Or maybe just the hammy crowd scenes? It’s a strange project for Sheen, Graham and Curtis, who have all excelled at verbatim dramas or documentaries that hew close to the facts. The best thing that I can say about The Way is that it’s reassuring that something this eccentric can still make it to screen. Better a mad human mess than more algorithmic mush.

[...]

Which leads us to The Baftas (BBC1, Sun). By strange coincidence last week’s award ceremony was also overshadowed by a Michael Sheen joke that overstayed its welcome. The show’s opening skit was an excruciatingly long prerecorded bit in which this year’s presenter, David Tennant, tried to wriggle out of dog-sitting Sheen’s pup, Bark Ruffalo. Little wonder a bemused Claire Foy described the event as “very LA”.

[mediaevalmusereads]

Lincoln in the Bardo. By George Saunders. Random House, 2017.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Series: N/A

Summary: February 1862. The Civil War is less than one year old. The fighting has begun in earnest, and the nation has begun to realize it is in for a long, bloody struggle. Meanwhile, President Lincoln's beloved eleven-year-old son, Willie, lies upstairs in the White House, gravely ill. In a matter of days, despite predictions of a recovery, Willie dies and is laid to rest in a Georgetown cemetery. "My poor boy, he was too good for this earth," the president says at the time. "God has called him home." Newspapers report that a grief-stricken Lincoln returned to the crypt several times alone to hold his boy's body.

From that seed of historical truth, George Saunders spins an unforgettable story of familial love and loss that breaks free of its realistic, historical framework into a thrilling, supernatural realm both hilarious and terrifying. Willie Lincoln finds himself in a strange purgatory, where ghosts mingle, gripe, commiserate, quarrel, and enact bizarre acts of penance. Within this transitional state—called, in the Tibetan tradition, the bardo—a monumental struggle erupts over young Willie's soul.

Lincoln in the Bardo is an astonishing feat of imagination and a bold step forward from one of the most important and influential writers of his generation. Formally daring, generous in spirit, deeply concerned with matters of the heart, it is a testament to fiction's ability to speak honestly and powerfully to the things that really matter to us. Saunders has invented a thrilling new form that deploys a kaleidoscopic, theatrical panorama of voices—living and dead, historical and invented—to ask a timeless, profound question: How do we live and love when we know that everything we love must end?

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: self-harm (cutting)/suicide, child death, rape, slavery, use of the n-word, allusion to pedophilia

OVERVIEW: Friends and family have been telling me to read this book for ages. FINE. Now I've read it. And you know what? You were right - this book is interesting. It's not historical fiction in the strictest sense - it doesn't seek to narrate a moment in time the way one might expect. But as a work of literary fiction, I find it's construction deeply fascinating, so for that reason, this book gets 4 stars.

WRITING: This book is told using a "multi-vocalic" technique; some chapters are comprised entirely of excerpts from scholarship or first-hand accounts of Lincoln's presidency (some real, some fictional), while other chapters are narrated by different souls in the afterlife, each narrating for a word, sentence, or paragraph at time.

I very much enjoyed this technique as it made me think a lot about perspective and how characters related to one another. Sometimes, characters would narrate the speech or thoughts of another (especially in the afterlife), so there was a very thin line between where one soul ended and another began (at least, textually speaking). I also liked that the more straight-forward parts told through scholarship/eyewitness accounts conflicted with one another, producing an image of the Lincolns that was both imprecise yet shockingly real and human.

The downside to this narrative style is that sometimes it can feel like form overshadows function, and there were definitely moments when I felt that. But since this book moves so quickly, there isn't really a lot of time for things to drag, so if you find yourself lost, you'll probably find your way again quite easily.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows a number of souls in the "bardo" (the intermediate state between heaven and earth where souls go after death) as they try to get Willie Lincoln - son of President Abraham Lincoln - to move on.

The parts of this plot I liked the best were when characters would reflect on things like grief, connection, unity, and empathy. Souls had to work together at various points in time, and it's very clear that in the bardo, there is very little to motivate such cooperation. Willie's presence and President Lincoln's grief, however, seems to move a lot of them, and I liked seeing them come together to help a boy let go and move on.

That being said, I don't quite think this book hit as hard emotionally as I would have liked. I can't put my finger on why, but when I was finished, I was grateful for the experience, but not left feeling gut-punched. This is hardly Saunders' fault since books affect every reader differently, but I do think more could have been done to drive home the book's main themes, especially in the last pages when Lincoln himself reflects on death on the battlefield or when Willie decides to move on.

CHARACTERS: Rather than speak of individual characters, I'm going to speak more about how Saunders crafts them.

The souls in the bardo are fascinating to read because none of them realize they are dead and all are defined by something that they hold onto from the world of the living. Roger Bevins III, for example, is a gay man who killed himself but regretted it last minute, so his soul appears as a monstrosity with multiple eyes, noses, and hands, representing his attachment to the sensory pleasures of life. His companion, Hans Vollman, has an enormous erection because he died just before he was about to have sex with his wife for the first time.

The primary way these souls "develop" is to not only accept their deaths, but to show care and empathy to each other. While all of them have easy companionships with other souls in the bardo, it is only when they band together to try to help Willie that they truly come to know each other and try to help one another. It was deeply moving, and I loved the changes in Vollman and Bevins by the end.

TL;DR: Lincoln in the Bardo is a multi-vocalic novel that centers grief and empathy over recounting a historical moment in time. While I wish some aspects of the book had been pushed to create a heavier emotional impact, the style of narration is endlessly fascinating and humanizes one of America's most iconic leaders.

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FLP POETRY BOOK OF THE DAY: Cantos, Incandescent by Rod Carlos Rodriguez

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Cantos, Incandescent is a testimonial that runs the gamut through a multitude of realities of war, illness, heartbreak, and more. Various territories and stark observations are painted in cultural textures and landscapes that are sometimes pastoral and at other times, unforgiving. The different voices in each piece dare the reader to witness their collective, unvarnished truths. There is something for everyone within these pages. The messages and concepts imparted in this book will remain long after the last words echo in the reader’s soul. #poetry

Rod Carlos Rodriguez has a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing from the University of Texas at El Paso and has trained as a guest lecturer at the University of Texas at San Antonio Writing Program. He is a poet, fiction, and non-fiction writer who has been writing for over 40 years. He has 3 books of poetry published: the award-winning Exploits of a Sun Poet (Pecan Grove Press, 2003), Lucid Affairs (Sun Arts Press, 2012), and Native Instincts (Human Error Publishing, 2016). He also has his upcoming 4th book of poetry, Cantos, Incandescent, that has been accepted for publication from Finishing Line Press. He is founder/chair of the Sun Poet’s Society, South Texas’s longest running weekly open-mic poetry reading (1995-2022). He was nominated for the San Antonio Poet Laureate in April 2012, April 2014, April 2016, and April 2018. He was poetry editor for Ocotillo Review, a literary journal/periodical and he was the editor of the Texas Poetry Calendar 2023 (Kallisto Gaia Press).

PRAISE FOR Cantos, Incandescent by Rod Carlos Rodriguez

Cantos, Incandescent is a testament to family, rites of passage, bloodlines, and the preservation of culture and language. Rod Carlos Rodriguez honors and opens the wounds within his words of those that society overlooks and overshadows—those forgotten souls weaving together the intricate fabric of our collective histories while maintaining a backbone of beauty. Rodriguez never shies away or sugarcoats the truth, and readers, should you find yourselves flinching, I challenge you to sit within the deep hurt and love bleeding on each page—a heart split open for us to devour.

–Hillary Leftwich, author of Ghosts Are Just Strangers Who Know How to Knock and Aura, a memoir.

Rod Carlos’ pages in Cantos, Incandescent are filled with poetic pioneers traveling through unsettling truths in certain territories. From the captured cries of the borderlands, his tonal passages reassure us that we are not alone in our moments of migrating through vulnerable terrains. Each poem is a nomadic glimpse into a scenic cache of nostalgia or the coursing fresh cuts of our inmost pain.

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In this heartfelt collection of poems, Rod Carlos Rodriguez presents scenes gathered from landscapes that are both harsh and beautiful. The speaker’s voice holds the collective pain caused by heartbreak, illness, and war, “Tried to leave/ the desert where/ it was. It came with me”. These poems are songs in transit, that straddle the borders of land and of beliefs. Songs in the wind searching for meaning and a nurturing embrace, wishing “for one last lullaby”.

–Sarah Joy Thompson, Poet, author of The Everyday, the Mundane, and the Brave (Finishing Line Press, 2019) and Driving into Black Mountains(FlowerSong Press, 2020).

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This just prompted me to try to come up with a reason they might all have been at the Nasty Burger in the original timeline.

Could be that Danny was better at hiding that he cheated in the original timeline. Maybe the explosion took place after the test results were revealed so Danny and his friends and family went there to celebrate his perfect score.

However Lancer, upon seeing Danny’s score compared to his usual test scores, suspected he cheated and a previously unknown teacher ghost with a vendetta against scholastic cheaters overshadowed him and went to confront Danny at the Nasty Burger.

The Nasty Burger was open, but a ghost showing up meant everyone evacuated—except Danny and his friends and family who stayed to fight. The sauce was overheated by a couple of stray ecto-blasts, and it blew (or there was a pressure buildup or a gas leak or a building collapse or what have you). Everyone still in the restaurant, including overshadowed Lancer (but probably not the ghost overshadowing him all died but Danny managed to turn intangible just in time.

I’m sure the original writers probably just didn’t think it through that much, but I feel like this could be a plausible explanation. And I kinda need one for a fic I’m writing.

The Ultimate Enemy is a Disappointment (and How I'd Fix It) (Part 3)

Happy holidays, everyone! Welcome to part three of my analysis on The Ultimate Enemy. If you want to check out the previous parts, you can start at part 2.5 and go backwards. After this, there's only two...maybe 2.5....more to go! To make up for the long waffle on why the "Dan is a fusion" plotline doesn't work, this one's relatively shorter.

(Part 2.5), Part 3, (Part 4)

This one is about the issues with the episode's time travel. To be honest, I couldn't find much to say about it logistically because it was so vague/poorly defined. I have more to say about the time-travelling characters and their decision-making, which will be part four.

Problems with the Time Travel:

The events leading to Dan’s timeline only happen in the episode because of the very time travel used (in an attempt) to prevent them

The episode never actually shows us how Danny’s tragedy started in the alternate timeline itself, outside of Vlad’s flashback of what happened at his castle. But that was the very end of the chain of dominoes that led to Dan. However, we do get to see the alleged events leading up to that play out in the main timeline (before Clockwork saves Danny’s loved ones)—as part of the episode’s plot. The only problem is, the way it happens in the main timeline was only possible because of time travel.

(Clockwork is literally the only reason this happened)

In the main timeline, Danny’s alleged cheating—the first major event in the alternate timeline—only happened because Clockwork set it up. He wanted to give Danny a “moral test” of some sort. And it only happened, logistically, because he sent Boxed Lunch back into the past to attack Danny.

Then he sent back Skulktech, which facilitated the trio hitching a ride to his tower and getting access to the alternate future. Which facilitated Dan realising that his creation was in jeopardy and coming back into the past to cheat in Danny’s place.

The second major event, the Nasty Burger explosion, also only happened because of time travel. Arguably, in order for Danny to go to Vlad (assuming he went un-coerced/of his own choice), everyone that was there had to die. At least one survivor would’ve enough to change his fate.

If he still had Jazz, for example—they could’ve been moved into an orphanage or with Aunt Alicia or some sort of temporary care but (hopefully) still at least had each other. Sam and/or Tucker surviving would’ve given Danny social support and an external voice of reason against going to Vlad. At least one of his parents surviving…that’s a no-brainer—he doesn’t leave their care.

But in the episode, Danny’s parents and Lancer were only at the Nasty Burger because Dan time travelled back and cheated on the CAT in Danny’s place. Sam and Tucker were only there because of their own time travel (they learned of their deaths in the future, and came to the NB to warn everyone), and Jazz because of Dan’s (she came to warn everyone “Danny” was an impostor).

The episode makes these events specific consequences of time travel. There’s no indicator of whether Danny would’ve come up with cheating on the CAT/getting the answers without Clockwork’s prompting, or just given up and flunked the test in frustration (and Danny failing the test couldn’t have led to the parent-teacher meeting at the NB because the results wouldn’t have been out yet). While you could argue Sam and Tucker have reason to be at the Nasty Burger without Dan (because they hang out there regularly), Jazz doesn’t really have one…unless I guess she wanted in on the parent-teacher conference…? Why?

But even then, the newspaper article in the alternate timeline implied that Danny, his loved ones and Lancer were the only ones caught in the explosion (they died and Danny was the “sole survivor”). So that means no one else was at the Nasty Burger.

The explosion happened on a school day, in the afternoon/evening after school, with all of them having a different reason to be there and there was no one else at the restaurant? Not even any staff?

In that case, it’d have to be closed…but it was only closed in the main timeline because of the smaller explosion from the Boxed Lunch fight. And if another previous Nasty Sauce incident somehow closed it early in the alternate timeline, that means Sam and Tucker had no reason to be at the Nasty Burger for the explosion. Why go hang out when it’s closed?

I guess we just have to assume there was some other offscreen reason that they happened in the alternate timeline, with little prompting or explanation…but I still argue that if Danny cheated of his own volition in the alternate timeline, then Clockwork shouldn’t have given Danny the answers in the main one—and the "what could've been" in the alternate timeline would’ve been the better/more compelling story to tell. And Danny’s loved ones lining up for the explosion just feels…it feels like it’s busted there. Without the time travel seen in the main timeline, it just couldn’t happen the way the episode said it did. But the episode can’t be a time loop (where the time travel happened in the alternate timeline) because it would’ve been broken at the end.

Unfortunately, I don't have any real ideas on what to do about this except for my now-repeated insistence of Danny steals the answers of his own volition and gets to finish cheating. And there's probably some way to change the circumstances of the explosion/whatever kills Danny's loved ones so everyone has a reason to be there without time travel.

2. The Boo-merang shouldn’t be able to reach Danny in the alternate future because it didn’t time travel. It could even potentially risk a time paradox.

The Boo-merang takes Jazz’s message from the present-day events of the episode (main timeline) to Danny in the Ghost Zone of alternate future, without using any time travel. Instead, it simply waits the long way around. It seems clever and creative at first glance, but it doesn’t actually make sense.

The Boo-merang’s ten-year wait to reach Danny runs simultaneously to the school day, the CAT and the final fight at the Nasty Burger, which differ from the events that led to Dan’s birth. By the time the Boo-merang had only been in the Ghost Zone for a few hours, Danny’s loved ones would’ve been saved and the future it was headed to would’ve been/become non-existent. Reaching Danny’s destination in Dan’s timeline would’ve been impossible. He never would’ve gotten the letter.

How it’d affect the timeline/events of the episode if Danny didn’t get Jazz’s letter…well…it depends. All Jazz’s letter did was remind him of Vlad, so it’s still possible he could’ve figured it out on his own if given more time. Jazz’s letter not arriving would just remove the guarantee that Danny found Vlad. Assuming that he could’ve eventually thought of Vlad on his own, or found someone in the GZ to help him remove the Time Medallion, there’s still a chance he could get back to the past without Jazz’s letter, Vlad or the Ghost Gauntlets. But that leaves a problem:

Without Vlad, he never would’ve heard about Dan’s backstory. He’d have watched his loved ones die (or been sent back to the past by Dan, in the aftermath of their deaths) and been liable to follow the path to Dan’s existence (not knowing that he had to avoid going to Vlad and the fusion). However, that would’ve created the alternate future, resulting in the Boo-merang’s destination in the future existing in the main timeline, and being able to reach Danny just by waiting. Danny would’ve then found his way to Vlad, and resulted in an eventual victory over Dan (and avoiding the alternate future) as per the episode’s ending (making the Boo-merang unable to reach its destination again). This creates a time paradox.

I'm not really sure what to do about this. It was what the writers set up the Boo-merang for (outside of outing Dan to Jazz because it doesn't react to his ectosignature) and it feels like they were really trying to be clever. I feel like you'd have to give Jazz some other role in the story. Maybe Dan brought a Time Medallion back as his only way of accessing the past (stolen from Sam/Tucker, instead of canon where he seems to just open a portal to the past??) and she gets a hold of it? I don't know I'm just spitballing here.