#i at least deserve for them to be dead to my consciousness for the shit they put me through

[sluttyspiderpolkacock]

tumblr stop recommending me people who've treated me like utter crapshit i never wanna see again challenge

[waitmyturtles]

Dead Friend Forever: I managed to catch up in time to watch the finale, and here are my immediate, uneducated, "holy shit" thoughts

First off: I acknowledge I am an utter interloper on this tag, having written exactly zero meta words about this mostly great show. Second: everything I know about slashers comes from my childhood memories of "Scream," and my recent conversations with the lovelies @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm. So I'm not an expert here. Thirdly! I was inspired in part by them to watch this, and also by the friendies who jumped into comments on my recent KinnPorsche liveblog watches for my Old GMMTV Challenge project. I've been waiting these past few weeks to finish Dead Friend Forever before putting pen to paper on my KP rewatch thoughts, because I thought Be On Cloud did something fabulously experimental with DFF as its second major serial drama.

Anyway: all of this is to say that now that DFF is over, in the near future, I'm gonna write a bunch on KP and a bit more on DFF -- but I want to offer just some quick wandering thoughts on DFF now.

I think like many of y'all, I found the tone of the last PheeJin moments to be discordant with the tenor of the rest of the finale episode. The way I'm calculating this, as I'm sure many of you are, is that I think there was a commentary on fate and Buddhist purgatory, particularly with New/Tan being able to hear from a thankful Non one more time before New's passing. New suffers, it seems to me, the least painful death, and I think that was in part Non’s doing.

In order to conclude the tone on PheeJin, I do wish that we would have seen a flashback back to PheeJin at the house. I guess we’d assume that Phee and Jin never regained their consciousness, that the antidote didn’t work, and that their cyclical fate would be returning back to the lakeshore, only to be haunted by Non again. While it seems to me that Tee, in whatever realm of fate they ended up in, got his appropriate ending — I don’t think that the PheeJin cyclical ending at the lakeshore assigned enough “blame” of fate to either of them, especially Jin. I know @lurkingshan notes that that’s a nod to the need to appease any hopes of surviving ships, and I agree with that assessment. But also — god, BLEH, they sucked, we were left with PheeJin?! JIN??? My boy White, my bubbala, he’s the good one that got really in-your-face off-ed? Wah. (But I do see and understand why White needed to die, to make Tee’s residual fate the utter living hell he deserves.)

Like I said: on a more macro note, I’m gonna have thoughts about DFF, Be On Cloud, and KP in the coming days, because I just like that BOC is dabbling with some experimental writing while allowing solid acting to really shine. (And I compare that to what’s happening at Idol Factory and the recent writing miss that was The Sign.) I wish the ending wasn’t as milquetoast as it was, but BOC still traffics in BLs, and I guess they felt they needed to throw the fans some kind of BL bone (huh huh).

But overall? I am REALLY GLAD I watched this, and it absolutely belongs on the OGMMTVC syllabus. This was incredibly new for the Thai BL genre, and I gotta give BOC — AND ESPECIALLY BARCODE AND TA, WOW — their flowers for taking Thai BL into this new direction. For the most part of this run, I had a great time with this show, as brutal as the content was.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

august 25, 2021 9:00 p.m. seoul

**TW: SUICIDE MENTION**

[grant] hey, not to bring up the previous conversation, but uh, i wanted to say i'm sorry you had to deal with me the same year you were going through so much. it wasn't fair.

[henry] it's okay, grant. i don't think your motivation for being an addict and attempting suicide that year was, "yeah, fuck henry, i want to make his life so much worse right now. his dad's dead, he may not have enough credits to get his degree this may, and now me!"

[grant] it doesn't matter what it was. the fact is that my problems hurt other people. i didn't just harm myself. and i was not a pleasant person that last year when you really needed pleasantry.

[henry] yeah, i'm not going to lie to you, that very last year of college, i thought the version of you i knew and loved was gone.

[grant] i was insufferable.

[henry] correct. you were an asshole.

[henry] for the most part. you did try to be good again and be there for me when my dad died.

[henry] it was weird. i hadn't seen you sober in years, but when i called you for the first time in a few weeks because there was no one else besides soobin i wanted to talk to about my dad dying, you showed up to my place kind of normal again.

[henry] i don't want to say "sober" because you probably weren't, but you were at least on fewer substances than i was used to at the time, so you seemed sober.

[henry] you weren't in a place to show up for people long-term because you were suffering, too, but you tried. you checked on me every day for a few weeks until finals hit and everything got crazy for everyone. well, no, until we threw that intervention for you right before finals. nonetheless, i appreciated the effort.

[henry] it stopped me from cutting you out, so there's that.

[henry] i'm not trying to sound rude either, please don't take it that way. it was just a lot. i would have regretted it if i cut you out, and i didn't want to at my core because i do not want to do life without you, but i didn't think you had it in you to get out of that spiral you were in for years. i really did not. i thought you were done for.

[henry] i'm sensitive, even if i never sound like it. i was mad at you for bad behavior, but i was also, um, really sad to see you like that. i love you. i've loved you as a brother and a best friend for almost my entire life. and i did not think i could stomach watching you die at your own hand. it made me sick.

[henry] and it probably makes me a bad friend to have felt that way. one, to have thought about cutting you out, and two, to have had so little faith left in you. you deserved more faith from me. if the roles were reversed, you'd never give up on me.

[grant] don't say that. everyone has their limit, and it's hard to know where it is until you finally hit it. i would have one, too.

[grant] and man, you were meant to feel that way. i meant it when i told you i pushed people away purposely.

[grant] whatever conscience and consciousness i had during that time always reminded me that i was terrified of hurting other people. i was very well aware i was probably causing, like, terrible amounts of pain to my friends and family, and i didn't want to do more damage when i killed myself, so...

[grant] yeah, i always meant to kill myself. i thought about it every day for years, honestly all the way back into high school, and i got super close to trying it about a billion times, but i only ever went through with any of my plans once.

[grant] and i'll regret for the rest of my life that you and my grandparents had to see what i did to myself on graduation night.

[grant] but anyway, i chose to have those awful behaviors because i felt like if i ran everybody off and made them leave, they'd be glad i was dead and wouldn't hate me for what i did and just forget me.

[grant] terrible, terrible strategy! like holy shit! i also entirely regret acting out like that, the much happier and stable version of myself from the last, like, eight years realizes that made everything worse and wouldn't have fixed anything anyway.

[grant] trying not to hurt people by hurting them upfront is a fucked up strategy. just entirely fucked up and counterintuitive.

[henry] no, it wouldn't have worked. you'd have left everyone traumatized by not being able to repair things with you.

[henry] so, whether you like it or not, people do like you. people tend to really, really like you. you have a very magnetic, charming personality that very few other people in the world share.

[henry] and people do want you around. i want you around.

[henry] i know what i just said, but i really do want you around.

[henry] but also, wow. i guess you did a great job at trying to run us off since it almost worked on me.

[grant] it was easier than acknowledging people care about me or worry about me. i'm not good at that.

[grant] oh, and in those rare early moments where i thought that i needed help, i was scared everyone would only ever see me as a fucked up shell of a human being. like if i got better, i would still be reduced to the guy with problems.

[grant] i'm glad that i regret trying to kill myself. there's a lot i would have missed out on, including the chance to be nice to myself. but i do worry that some of those things are true, that fucked up is the only way people see me, even strangers.

[grant] i feel like glass sometimes. like everyone looks through me and sees the worst in me and only the worst.

[henry] i'm sorry you feel that way.

[henry] it's a little ironic, though. the more you hold back from telling your loved ones these things or try to push us away so we never see you struggling with anything ever, the more we worry you have the same exact problems that almost killed you before.

[grant] i've really backed myself into a corner, eh?

[henry] there's about a million things i could respond to that with, but here's the most important one. you're worth worrying about.

[henry] you spend your life looking after people and telling everyone to care about others, like you just told me to worry about my future kids, but you seriously do not believe you deserve that in return, and i don't get it. no, i do, but i don't.

[henry] yes, your parents taught you that you don't deserve love, but then again...

[grant] i'm trying to believe. and i have gotten at least a little better. my birthday, you know? i handled that pretty well.

[henry] everyone has flaws. we could and should try harder to not emphasize yours so much. but i don't see those flaws first. and if i do think about them, it's because i don't want them to take you away.

[henry] you don't see my flaws first, do you? clearly, you don't. right? you don't act like you see them.

[henry] the person i see you as is the kid who became friends with me two decades ago. some random nice kid who approached the one new kid at the park sitting by himself and played with him even though they couldn't talk to each other yet. some random kid who learned the basics of my language on the internet to write me a sweet letter saying, "hi, i'm grant, i'm six years old, and i want to be your friend." it didn't even matter it was written poorly.

[henry] i see a lot of good things in you. remember, i was just telling everyone about how nice you were to help me save the first dinner i hosted for soobin. a day ago, you helped me get over failure, one of my lifelong biggest fears, for an hour or two.

[henry] but i think our beginning sums you up nicely. i don't know anyone else who would have gone to such lengths for some nobody new kid. you didn't owe me your time or your respect and yet you gave it to me. and that was a weird time in my life. everything turned upside down when i moved. to have a friend like you then was...

[henry] and of course, nothing's changed. you're still a kind person. you're funny. you're smart. you're just you. you're one of the only people on earth who isn't fake. the kid i remember isn't gone. i'm glad he survived. i'm glad i didn't lose him.

[grant] despite everything, it's still me?

[henry] yes. but so we're clear, you don't have to do nice things to be worthy of being liked. you're likable on your own. i'm only saying that your kindness stands out to me, and i know that you value that trait, so it bears mentioning. you've been very good to me. i can forgive the times when you weren't. i've been a jackass before, too. i've probably been a jackass to you.

[grant] i feel like we've said thanks a lot today but thanks for sticking with me. don't feel bad that you thought i couldn't get better. that was my fault. but you're still here. and you showed up on graduation night for me. i'm beyond sorry that you had to see any of that, like i cannot repent or apologize enough in my lifetime, but thank you.

[grant] i owe you my life.

[grant] i owe you a lot but that first.

[grant] i've said it before but it should be repeated, you know? i definitely would have died if you didn't come that night. aside from my uncle, you're the only one i know who can pick a lock.

[henry] just do not make me do it again. i would show up a second time, but it would be better on my psyche if that was unnecessary.

[grant] it won't happen again. i've been good for a long time, but i'm great now and most of all, appropriately medicated for bipolar disorder. it's all going to be okay.

[grant] we're going to go home, continue being best friends forever, you're going to be a great dad one day.

[henry] and you will get your job back!

[grant] great minds think alike! now, how much longer until the arcade? i promise i'll let you win a game of air hockey for once.

[miss-cydonian]

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Review (If you want to read, of course).

Disclaimer 1: ⚠️HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

Disclaimer 2: I’m not a professional movie reviewer, this is just my opinion™. I’m not a good writer either, so you’ve been warned. Also, this is my first time writing a review, a “proper” one.

These are just the main points that I have some critiques of.

That being said, let’s do this.

Alright, let’s organize this by chapters:

Chapter 1: Gabriel and The Entity

So Dead Reckoning introduce us to the new antagonists of the franchise, a man that goes by the name “Gabriel”, the major antagonist that Ethan Hunt used to know, before his time on IMF and a super intelligent AI, named “The Entity”.

The very brief plot explanation is that Ethan and his team are trying to stop said AI and Gabriel before everything goes awry. To stop them, Ethan must acquire a key that unlocks The Entity, rewriting its programming and setting things back to default mode. Or, as Ethan wishes, to destroy the AI completely, leaving no one to control it.

The whole AI plot is interesting. McQ and Tom took things more on the Sci-Fi route. And yes, you could argue that all MI movies are of a Sci-Fi nature, but that was narrowed down to the gadgets that they used. Here, this AI has gone rogue and seemly gained consciousness and is acting on its own, posing itself has a real threat to the whole digital world as we know, playing a huge role in the narrative as a real enemy.

And there’s Gabriel, the threat to the physical world. He was responsible for the death of a woman, named Marie, and it is implied she was close to Ethan. To be honest, I didn’t feel connection to this whole backstory plot, because it was shown merely seconds on screen. I was hoping they would show more of them interacting to make the audience feel something for her death, but unfortunately, that was not the case. Maybe in Part 2, will see more of this backstory unravels.

If a had to change something, would be that Gabriel was, somehow, involved in the deaths of Ethan’s first crew, back in the first MI, that I think, would get me more invested in Gabriel and his backstory, and be a stronger motivation for Ethan to stop him, he would be afraid that the same would happen to this new crew that he grew so close to.

Chapter 2: The Death of Ilsa Faust

This is a tricky one.

Ok, first of all, I don’t believe Ilsa is dead, but McQ could easily pull a “Kingsman move” and do that. After all, a death of a major character in which the protagonist cares about can be a great driving force to move the plot forward. The reason I don’t think she’s dead is because that would be too easy. Her death didn’t have the enough impact in my opinion and the characters didn’t seem very shocked by it.

Now, there’s some possibilities here. First, she survived, and Ethan gave her the “final choice”, a release from her espionage chains for good, but that also would be too weak of a plot, and it was discussed in Rogue Nation by Ilsa herself, her wish to just get away from everything and everyone with Ethan, but they're never really free from this world.

The other possibility would be that Ethan and Ilsa calculated a final plan, just the two of them, and which she is the main key (HA!) to this said plan, and is just waiting for the right moment, to be in the right spot, in the right time. That would give “Dead Reckoning” its true meaning of the word in the movie, at least, the meaning that I know of. The problem with this possibility is the whole “Deus Ex Machina” thing, in which is also overused in movie media.

As I said, it’s a tricky one. Guess I’ll have to wait and see.

Chapter 3: The Action and Found Family

There are two things I love about the MI franchise and that is: the action scenes, the commitment and passion Tom Cruise has to realism and to deliver a proper action scene that deserves everyone's attention, being a car chase or a fight, and the train scene, holy shit, THAT train sequence in Dead Reckoning... And the second thing is the found family that was formed since Ghost Protocol. To tell you the truth, I really begin to enjoy MI with Ghost Protocol and the other titles that came after it, and seeing the familiar faces every movie was so good and had me hooked in the franchise, especially Benji Dunn, played by Simon Pegg, he’s, by far, my favorite character. Dunn brings a lot of expression and personality to the movies and is a major backbone of the group, alongside Ilsa and Luther. Basically, Ethan can’t live without them, and them, without him.

This found family is what makes Mission Impossible movies unique and differentiates itself from spy movies overall and I’m glad this choice was made, and Ethan didn’t fall into the “Lone Wolf” personality of most protagonists of this kind of genre have. I’m excited to see where McQ and Tom are going to take the characters next in Part 2 because I felt that Benji, Luther and Ilsa didn’t get enough space in Part 1 compared to Rogue Nation and Fallout.

Conclusion

Is the movie worth seeing? Yes, absolutely. Dead Reckoning brings a lot more in action, sequences that will really have you in the edge of your seat, recurring characters that you know and probably love (at least love Benji, ok? He’s trying his best), breathtaking visuals, the cinematic and photography are marvelous! This movie had my full attention from beginning to the end and I can’t wait for Part 2.

Rating: 4/5 ⭐

[hms-no-fun]

Sarah, Do you hate Rose Lalonde? Not in like the heavy malicious way people associate with Andrew and his relationship with hussie but like, as a fan of godfeels for probably the wrong reasons (my autistic ass really likes the way you approach the character and also me when someone writes Dirk and doesn’t make him a irredeemable piece of shit and a active creep) something that’s stuck out to me reading your tumblr and thinking back on the story is that rose is, to me at least, one of the most unluckiest characters in godfeels, both from a writing and in character perspective,m.

she’s the first to display the kid’s transphobia and thereby the first to get reality checked by June (which, to be fair to both June as a character and your reason for that scene in your godfeels video, she deserved) and therefor the first forced to learn the lesson of “you can move on and continue being friends with people but still not forgive them for the shit they put you through” (which I will admit I might be wrong on) and I’m pretty sure the first one to die when June does the whole kill everyone (or at least everyone that’s considered gods) on earth c thing, and besides that, unless I’ve misremembered something, besides the first chapter of divergence syndrome, she doesn’t really do much until she gives her final message to kanaya and well, the shit all goes down.

I’m not a big big fan of rose Lalonde, but it just feels like there’s something like, there, like there’s something about rose that you’ve never agreed with, and thinking back on it I don’t hate it, but it feels like sometimes rose is a means to a end, which is what all characters are but I mean like, a means means to a end, “how do Segway into the beta kids transphobia of June” through Rose’s constant biased Psychoanalysis failing her in the worse way possible, “How to keep epigone in after Dirk’s absolute asskicking” possessing her corpse, “how to finally get Gerald’s halo out of the story” get her dead, “how do I pronounce death to all endgame ships” kill the lesser used part of the pair, it just, feels like there’s something there, not something outright malicious, but something just, there, like the reverse of the hussie Vriska stuff, creator’s Chew toy stuff.

I apologize for the rudeness this ask may give off, I do truely love godfeels and read up to date anything about it that gets released, this just has been negging the back of my mind for so long.

spoilers for godfeels 3 here but i guess that ship's kinda sailed if you read the question lmao

i don't hate Rose at all! i mean i think freudians are all cranks and it really bugs me how much mid-century and contemporary marxist theory is couched in freudian/jungian/lacanian bullshit, but that's not really got anything to do with Rose lmao. i can't say that i hate any of the characters in godfeels the way andrew seemed to hate, say, Jake English (though there *are* homestuck characters i dislike and wouldn't enjoy writing, which is why they're not in the fic). i'm of the mind that every character sucks in their own unique ways and that's precisely what makes fiction fun to read. that Rose doesn't have a ton of direct agency in the narrative just comes down to, in part, this being a story focused primarily on June. that i didn't really understand how to write Rose in gf1-2 certainly doesn't help. but it's also related to how i interpret her role as a Seer of Light.

her role in gf3 onwards is defined by the Epilogues, where she either needed to transfer her consciousness to a robot body that could contain her ultimate self before her physical body died, or otherwise exist in a universe untethered from canon where connection to her ultimate self is irrelevant. she's had visions of, presumably, a great deal of the events of chapter 8, and i think understood that VV's whole gambit (whether or not she knew it was VV specifically playing this game) was to split the difference between Candy and Meat by disconnecting from Homestuck canon while still maintaining existential relevance in the shadow of some other story.

a lot of the best narrative premonitions/prophecies, especially in Homestuck, use them for dramatic irony-- that is, by trying to avoid a projected future, you only end up creating it. classic macbeth shit. if there's anyone in this story who viscerally understands that vicious narratological cycle, it's Rose Lalonde. so rather than pushing back, warning her friends, trying to rally the troops, she instead accepts that her universe's survival requires sacrifice, namely Major Character Death.

in this way, her so-called suicide wind is an echo of Dirk's own suicide in Candy, albeit towards existentially opposite purposes. and in that sense it's an equally selfish act, because who knows! maybe they *could* have done something substantial to prepare for Epigone's coming if Rose had bothered to warn anyone! but such is the passive nihilism of our beloved Seer, whose death could never be anything less than a dramatic tragedy. this was, in fact, an exercise in absolute agency-- Rose chose to accept her fate rather than fight back against it, perhaps even vibed with how poetic it was to be decapitated by her own beloved wife.

all of this is very relevant to the future of godfeels-- i didn't put her at the center of a load-bearing polycule just to have her death be meaningless. :)

[fictionkinfessions]

I made the terrible horrible awful mistake of listening to my character song and now I’m just thinking about how unbelievably cruel it was for fate or whatever the fuck it was that did this to make my brothers think I was dead and make me forget them entirely. And the only thing that made me remember was learning one of them died. I never even got to know him. He lived half his life thinking I was dead, and I was fine, and I could’ve been there that whole time, but no, I wasn’t. I didn’t know. He didn’t know. They both didn’t know. I barely have any memories from this kintype yet because I’m actively repressing them until I can get to my debut in source, but I can’t repress the feelings. I’m so fucking disappointed. Like Im disappointed in a very cosmic way. But also a bit at myself? Like a very weird kind of guilt? Like I forgot. I forgot. How the hell did I forget all of that? I know it’s not really something I could help, but it still eats me up. I know that I wanted to know him. I wish I could’ve known him. I wish he could’ve known me. We deserved that. I could have loved him that entire time. It’s so heartbreaking? He got a fucking tattoo to memorialize me, but I was fucking fine! I just FORGOT. What the FUCK! Ugh. I hate this. I hate this. This fucking sucks. I hope he’s well now. I hope they both are. I’m happy I got to know at least one of my brothers. I’m happy for that at least. I hope they both know I love them so deeply it hurts my heart. And that’s not even me being dramatic, my chest is in pain right now. I’m typing this out and my chest hurts. God. I miss them. I love them. God. Fuck. I’m never listening to that song again. (I’m lying. I saved it.) Sorry for the block of completely incoherent text, but I’m fucking emotional right now. God. I want to grab them both by the arms and pull them into the world’s tightest hug ever. If either of them see this, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t remember. I’m sorry. Please be careful and please know you’re loved. I love you both so much. I’m sorry. This reads like hot garbage because it is hot garbage. This is the most stream of consciousness kinfession I’ve ever fucking sent in. Good god. Shit. Sorry.

📦

[unoisveimved-un-proffesional]

Hey uhhh, thanks all y’all’s, for uhh, putting up with my virtual insanity. Really, it’s still perplexed me why so many people follow me, it’s obviously not for the stuff I say. I’m gonna start working on another version of my post regarding the refugee situation, to atone for engaging in this billionaire media bullshit, since my last one I had worked so hard on was eaten up. That’s something I think I’m more proud of than the un-proofread shit that goes from my brain straight to the micro stream of consciousness I have on here.

(Adding read more’s to more posts as to not take up your dash too much)

It’s honestly incredible that people still follow me when I know my bullshit ends op on their dash and they do see the things I say. Especially to you mutuals. I mean, you’re like the closest things to consistent friends I’ve had in recent years. This place has been a real pillar in holding up my mental health, one of the only pillars really, especially in the past year, which I mean you know, that sounds pretty bad but, I’ve honestly had a really nice time on here.

And again, thanks for staying around in spite of my insane ramblings I throw up here every now and then. I can only imagine the major annoyances I’ve caused you, so I appreciate the sticking by, even if most things that appear on here don’t interest you at all. I wish I could do more things on here that people would engage with. My favorite moments on here have got to be when I, even anonymously or just very very slightly, made someone’s day a little better, or left them more informed or seen, maybe just happy or interested and a little thought provoked, any good I could put into the world. It always feels good to make other people feel good, you know? I wish I could more of that for people. Doesn’t hurt either that being acknowledged and engaged with soothes my aching ego and releases the “See? Life is worth living!” Chemicals into my head. Buy I’m fine staying small, completely alright, maybe I don’t want the kind of pressure being a really big blog.

I think I just gotta stop lowballing myself and keeping my expectations of myself so low, and at the same time, not thinking I don’t deserve things. I probably keep a lot I need or want away from myself because I think I don’t deserve it. Well, until I finally do something useful, helpful, positive, funny, or fun, I’m just gonna be here, doing some useless mental health blogging. Look forward to that post about the refugee ship. It’s just going to be a kind of opinionated report about the stuff I’ve read and include some links to some articles. It’s not going to be anything groundbreaking, it’ll just take a while to come out because the last one I spent a long time on got eaten and that damaged my moral, still peeved about that. But I want that kind of conversation to be more talked, because it’s an important one, far more important the the case of the 5 dead billionaires in a submarine, and I want to make at least a little bit of change in the public consciousness.

Until next time. Ciao!

[gynii]

Actually I want to expand on some of the stuff I would change.

Definitely like most of ethans characterization, lmao. The writers barely gave that kid a personality beyond main character, nerd, like his friend. Me? I've got a vision.

So realisitically, I don't think the whole seer powers thing would just totally suddenly manifest conveniently at the start of the movie or whatever, but in my head this guys been like unnaturally intuitive for so much of his life, and it gradually grows to what we see in the first movie from like, bits of deja vu, having unnatural insight on people and things, to nightmares that vaguely represent the future, to full blown waking visions. And I think that'd fuck him up okay.

My design for him has the dead ass tired eyes with the under eye bags cause a. His eyes are pretty thematically important to his character, and b. I don't think this kid can possibly have a healthy relationship with sleep. He has premonitions of the future ffs this guy's gotta be bound up in anxiety and stress like no other. With my version of his powers and their progression, it would make sense he'd be an an anxious wreck and an insomniac.

I also think he should be an asshole. Hear me out! In the show and movie, we've seen hes pretty invested in his personal image, to at least not be a complete and total outcast. I think the whole supernatural powers (and queer theming) would make him incredibly aware of how he's perceived, to an unhealthy degree, and there's small itty bitty hints of this in the actual media. I also think this self consciousness would (and have in cannon) manifest in some pretty mean ways. Like shutting down his friends from being too enthusiastic, avoiding certain characters for not reaching his standard of visibly normal enough, and acting in an assholish way that's vaguely cool when you're in highschool.

Also getting like no sleep would absolutely destroy his patience and temper. So while the show, I think, tries to portray him as like this little 'oh no, people' shy guy (👉👈🥺) I choose to interpret and portray him as the 'fuck people' (🖕🖕)introvert he deserves to be.

So basically what I'm saying is that, externally, he's a pretentious and self conscious, mean geek, who gets no sleep, and fluctuates between anxiety and bitterness.

WHICH would act as a great foil to Benny and Rory's personalities who are much more eccentric and enthusiastic, they're like the definition of "I may be cringe, but at least I am free." (especially rory, who's writing is near perfect, I have no notes for him) And I think ethan would only truly feel comfortable being a more comfortable and earnest version of himself around them, his closest friends at the beginning if the franchise! He loves video games and shitty tv shows, Sci fi and fantasy and I think he genuinely gets interested in researching mythology and history for their supernatural endeavors. Hes incredibly empathetic, partially due to seer thing, and it simultaneously scares and helps him a lot. He also really fucking loves his friends and family, but like in a very overwhelming way that he doesn't always feel comfortable expressing. But he's so deeply self conscious that he feels ashamed whenever he expresses this sort of stuff.

And that would be a great character arc for him, slowly growing from this anxious and bitter kid, to a more self confident and expressive guy. Along with his seer powers growing and shit, he'd be learning what truly matters in life, and it isn't how others perceive you or how embarrassing you or the people around you are, but the honesty and rawness of loving and being freely! And the honesty and finding truth works so well thematically with seer abilities like how could that not be perfect!

And it works so well with a better fleshed out arc for Sarah, where she has to learn how to cope with her vampirism, and that she should live in the moment more. That while eternity is inevitable, the moments with her friends should be cherished, including how fleeting they will be. They both have vulnerabilities they hide, but as they grow, individually and together, they learn to show and express their vulnerabilities and to exist more comfortably in their skin.

Also also, I think this gynii(tm) characterization for ethan would have such interesting interactions with erica !! Who he barely interacts with in cannon, Which I think is criminal. Erica's writing and characterization is really fun, and my biggest complaint is that she doesn't get enough time to show off those more interesting facets. Like they'd be two sides of the same coin, erica veering towards hyperconfidence and extravertedness in response to her outcast status, while ethan veers towards introvertedness and shame. And they'd both be mean ass bitches together and I think that'd be beautiful.

This is literally just a fraction of my thoughts and literally only focused around one character, so like yeah I have a lot of thoughts about this show :) like holy shit

Thinking about my babysitters a vampire, like it had so much potential and in my head it’s the perfect piece of high school supernatural comedy media ever and I think I should be given a lot of money to direct and write an animated reboot for it (<- I’m so qualified to do this)

Anyway, hopefully new fanart for it soon ^_^

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[shkspr]

hi. on your post where you may or may not have ended on 'moffat is either your angel or your devil' did you have maybe an elaboration on that somewhere that i could possibly hear about. i'm very much a capaldi era stan and i've never tried to defend the matt smith era even though it had delightful moments sometimes so i wonder where that puts me. i'd love to hear your perspective on moffat as a person with your political perspective. -nicole

hi ok sorry i took so long to respond to this but i dont think you know how LOADED this question is for me but i am so happy to elaborate on that for you. first a few grains of salt to flavor your understanding of the whole situation: a. im unfairly biased against moffat bc im a davies stan and a tennant stan; b. i still very much enjoy and appreciate moffat era who for many reasons; and c. i hate moffat on a personal level far more than i could ever hate his work.

the thing is that its all always gonna be a bit mixed up bc i have to say a bunch of seemingly contradictory things in a row. for instance, a few moffat episodes are some of my absolute favorites of the rtd era, AND the show went way downhill when moffat took over, AND the really good episodes he wrote during the rtd era contained the seeds of his destruction.

like i made that post about the empty child/the doctor dances and it holds true for blink and thats about it bc the girl in the fireplace and silence in the library/forest of the dead are good but not nearly on the same level, and despite the fact that i like them at least nominally, they are also great examples of everything i hate about moffat and how he approached dw as a whole.

basically. doctor who is about people. there are many things about moffats tenure as showrunner that i think are a step up from rtd era who! actual gay people, for one! but i think that can likely be attributed mostly to an evolving Society as opposed to something inherent to him and his work, seeing as rtd is literally gay, and the existence of queer characters in moffats work doesnt mean the existence of good queer characters (ill give him bill but thats it!)

i have a few Primary Grievances with moffat and how he ran dw. all of them are things that got better with capaldi, but didnt go away. they are as follows:

moffat projects his own god complex onto the doctor

rtd era who had a doctor with a god complex. you cant ever be the doctor and not have a god complex. the problem with moffats era specifically is that the god complex was constant and unrepentant and was seen as a fundamental personality trait of the doctor rather than a demon he has to fight. he has the Momence where you feel bad for him, the Momence where he shows his humility or whatever and youre reminded that he doesnt want to be the lonely god, but those are just. moments. in a story where the doctor thinks hes the main character. rtd era doctor was aware that he wasnt the main character. he had to be an authority sometimes and he had to be the loner and he had to be sad about it, but he ultimately understood that he was expendable in a narrative sense.

this is how you get lines like “were the thin fat gay married anglican marines, why would we need names as well?” from the same show that gave you the gut punch moment at the end of midnight when they realize that nobody asked the hostess for her name. and on the one hand, thats a small sticking point, but on the other hand, its just one small example of the simple disregard that moffat has for humanity.

incidentally, this is a huge part of why sherlock sucked so bad: moffats main characters are special bc theyre so much bigger and better than all the normal people, and thats his downfall as a showrunner. he thinks that his audience wants fucking sheldon cooper when what they want is people.

like, ok. think of how many fantastic rtd era eps are based in the scenario “what if the doctor wasnt there? what if he was just out of commission for a bit?” and how those eps are the heart of the show!! bc theyre about people being people!! the thing is that all of the rtd era companions would have died for the doctor but he understood and the story understood that it wasnt about him.

this is like. nine sending rose home to save her life and sacrifice his own vs clara literally metaphysically entwining her existence w the doctor. ten also sending rose with her family to save her life vs river being raised from infancy to be obsessed w the doctor and then falling in love w him. martha leaving bc she values herself enough to make that decision vs amy being treated like a piece of meat.

and this is simultaneously a great callback to when i said that moffats episodes during the rtd era sometimes had the same problems as his show running (bc girl in the fireplace reeks of this), and a great segue into the next grievance.

moffat hates women

he hates women so fucking much. g-d, does steven moffat ever hate women. holy shit, he hates women. especially normal human women who prioritize their normal human lives on an equal or higher level than the doctor. moffat hated rose bc she wasnt special by his standards. the empty child/the doctor dances is the nicest he ever treated her, and she really didnt do much in those eps beyond a fuck ton of flirting.

girl in the fireplace is another shining example of this. youve got rose (who once again has another man to keep her busy, bc moffat doesnt think shes good enough for the doctor) sidelined for no reason only to be saved by the doctor at the last second or whatever. and then youve got reinette, who is pretty and powerful and special!

its just. moffat thinks that the doctor is as shallow and selfish as he is. thats why he thinks the doctor would stay in one place with reinette and not with rose. bc moffat is shallow and sees himself in the doctor and doesnt think he should have to settle for someone boring and normal.

not to mention rose met the doctor as an adult and chose to stay with him whereas reinette is. hm. introduced to the doctor as a child and grows up obsessed with him.

does that sound familiar? it should! bc it is also true of amy and river. and all of them are treated as viable romantic pairings. bc the only women who deserve the doctor are the ones whose entire existence revolves around him. which includes clara as well.

genuinely i think that at least on some level, not even necessarily consciously, that bill was a lesbian in part bc capaldi was too old to appeal to mainstream shippers. like twelve/clara is still a thing but not as universally appealing as eleven/clara but i am just spitballing. but i think they weighed the pros and cons of appealing to the woke crowd over the het shippers and found that gay companion was more profitable. anyway the point is to segue into the next point, which is that moffat hates permanent consequences.

moffat hates permanent consequences

steven moffat does not know how to kill a character. honestly it feels like hes doing it on purpose after a certain point, like he knows he has this habit and hes trying to riff on it to meme his own shit, but it doesnt work. it isnt funny and it isnt harmless, its bad writing.

the end of the doctor dances is so poignant and so meaningful and so fucking good bc its just this once! everybody lives, just this once! and then he does p much the same thing in forest of the dead - this one i could forgive, bc i do think that preserving those peoples consciousnesses did something for the doctor as a character, it wasnt completely meaningless. but everything after that kinda was.

rory died so many times its like. get a hobby lol. amy died at least once iirc but it was all a dream or something. clara died and was erased from the doctors memory. river was in prison and also died. bill? died. all of them sugarcoated or undone or ignored by the narrative to the point of having effectively no impact on the story. the point of a major character death is that its supposed to have a point. and you could argue that a piece of art could be making a point with a pointless death, ie. to put perspective on it and remind you that bad shit just happens, but with moffat the underlying message is always “i can do whatever i want, nothing is permanent or has lasting impact ever.”

basically, with moffat, tragedy exists to be undone. and this was a really brilliant, really wonderful thing in the doctor dances specifically bc it was the doctor clearly having seen his fair share of tragedy that couldnt be helped, now looking on his One Win with pride and delight bc he doesnt get wins like this! and then moffat proceeded to give him the same win over and over and over and over. nobody is ever dead. nobody is ever unable to be saved. and if they are, really truly dead and/or gone, then thats okay bc moffat has decided that [insert mitigating factor here]*

*the mitigating factor is usually some sort of computerized database of souls.

i can hear the moffat stans falling over themselves to remind me that amy and rory definitely died, and they did - after a long and happy life together, they died of old age. i dont consider that a character death any more than any other character choosing to permanently leave the tardis.

and its not just character deaths either, its like, everything. the destruction of gallifrey? never mind lol! character development? scrapped! the same episode four times? lets give it a fifth try and hope nobody notices. bc he doesnt know how to not make the doctor either an omnipotent savior or a self-pitying failure.

it is in nature of doctor who, i believe, for the doctor to win most of the time. like, it wouldnt be a very good show if he didnt win most of the time. but it also wouldnt be a very good show if he won all of the time. my point is that moffats doctor wins too often, and when he doesnt win, it feels empty and hollow rather than genuinely humbling, and you know hes not gonna grow from it pretty much at all.

so like. again, i like all of doctor who i enjoy all of it very much. i just think that steven moffat is a bad show runner and a decent writer at times. and it is frustrating. and im not here to convince or convert anyone im just living my truth. thank you for listening.

[chefdoeuvre]

Inevitable

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader

Description: Sometimes death is inevitable no matter how hard you try.

Words: 1,248

Requested: yes by anonymous; Hii I was wondering if you could write a one shot jay x reader are dating and then the reader gets kidnapped or something and she dies with a lot of angst

Warnings: mention of injuries, blood, angst (if I can even pull it off), language, death, sad Jay Halstead.

A/N: Jay Halstead only deserves happiness and I stand by that. I just moved into uni the past week and had full day trainings so I’m sorry that this is going up a little late and it may not be my best work, but I will try once my schedule is less hectic. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

Did you know where you were currently? No. The last events you remembered were going out to your car, heading to the store to pick up a few things before Jay came back home from work. Apparently, you never made it to the store, you barely even made it to your car. Your hands were tied behind your back and your legs were bound to the legs of the chair you were sitting on. Your head was pounding and you could barely keep your eyes open. Something felt wet on your stomach while it kept pulsing in what seemed to be pain. The room where you were held was dark and musty making it harder for you to breathe. Outside of the room, there were muffled voices speaking unintelligible words you could tell were probably not good.

Meanwhile, Jay was running around Chicago like a crazed mad man trying to find you before it would be too late. He knew he shouldn't have dragged you into his mess of a love but he loved you too much to stop. The second he noticed you hadn't come home after he arrived he had a gut feeling that something was wrong, entirely wrong. Immediately he began to look for you while also telling Voight to get together the team to find you before a missing persons case turned into a homicide case. Voight had already started on putting together your last knowns and looking through security cameras to find where you could have been taken of where you had been taken. All of Intelligence including even Trudy were working their asses off to try and find you, not only for Jay but for themselves.

You were loved by the entire team. The second Jay had introduced you to them they had fallen in love with you too, platonically of course. You, Kim, and Hailey spent a decent amount of time with each other even without the other guys around. It was safe to say you were everyone's best friend and sometimes even a close confidant.

The entire time Jay had only one thing on his mind, he needed to find you and soon. He was already losing his shit the second he knew you didn't come home. Now with a missing persons and possible kidnapping he was barely holding on to his sanity by a thread.

You sat there in pain and drifting out of consciousness. To say the least you were screwed over and twice over again. Your shirt was now soaked in your blood and the pounding in your head only seemed to get worse by the second. At this point, you knew if someone didn't come now you most likely wouldn't be able to make it. You had lost too much blood in too little of time. The problem was you didn't even know who had done this to you and where they had gone. They left you there to bleed to your own untimely death. Even if you were fighting your hardest to stay awake and keep going until someone would find you, you were beginning to lose hope and a sense of mind.

You and Jay were practically losing your minds. But for somewhat similar reasons. It was over losing each other, you loved each other more than anyone else could understand and that made it that much harder to even think about it. Simply thinking about the loss of you was too hard to bear for Jay and it worked both ways.

You felt it becoming harder to breathe and stay awake that’s when you realized Jay probably wasn’t coming in time to find you. It took you a while to finally accept the fact that the last you would have would be of Jay but somehow it was bittersweet.

Jay was already running up to the warehouse you were being held unshed tears in his eyes as he charged through the double doors. Intelligence followed after him as they scanned over the building trying to find where you were. Jay looked frantic as he ran to the last door and ripped it open to find you almost passed out, your blood in a puddle underneath you. He ran toward you, pulled away the binds holding against the chair, and knelt down, gently cupping your face holding it up.

“Baby, hey look at me.” Jay spoke softly.

Your eyes fluttered open for a second before they shut again. Jay kept on saying your name as you slumped down into his arms. Eventually, he began yelling and the rest of Intelligence and the paramedics arrived into the room. Voight had to pull him away as the paramedics worked to do their job. They were doing whatever they could to resuscitate you but they were trying and failing. The puddle of blood showed that you lost a significant amount since you had been taken and it was obvious how slim your chances had been. As one of the paramedics declared it Jay simply fell onto his knees beside you. Kim held back a sniffle and turned to look away as tears began cascading down her cheeks. Adam quickly pulled her into him as he choked on his own tears. Hailey simply stood there in shock with her own tears eyes wide open. Voight clenched his jaw tightly and held his balled-up fists at his side. Kevin held a solemn look on his face as he placed his hand on Hailey’s shoulder comfortingly.

Jay continued to sit there with a blank face and tears staining his freckled cheeks. His eyes had already become red and seemed to be off in another world. No one else had the guts to actually say it. You were dead. Your last moments were spent staring into Jay’s wondrous blue eyes that held all the emotions in the world. His eyes told you what he didn’t have the time to tell you. Voight had ended up storming out with heavy steps as he cursed to himself. Kim tried to quiet her crying as Adam squeezed her tightly rubbing his hand up and down her back. Hailey let out a mix between a huff and a sniffle before turning on her heel to walk out of the room, finding it too hard to watch the scene in front of her. Adam ended up pulled Kim out of the room making sure she wouldn’t lift her head up again with Kevin following closely behind.

Jay was left in the room with you to say his final goodbyes. But he couldn’t say goodbye he barely got to spend the rest of his life with you. The two of you had plans for years to come and all of a sudden those plans turned into dust. Your death was in no way expected or even close to being wanted but it had happened. Even when you tried your hardest to stay strong sometimes it was inevitable that you couldn’t stay strong for long no matter what you had tried. Jay could barely accept the fact that you wouldn’t open your eyes and tell him what had happened, he thought the two of you would have had a nice date night in. The last thing he expected what to find you barely alive only for you to die in his arms. Tragic end, was all that could come to his mind and he felt that he would never forgive himself for what had happened to you.

[haloburns]

Name: Ecto or Ectoblast

Cat or dog person: Cat, by a mile

Favorite Fic from the Phandom: Trust Your Instincts by peachdoxie or The Suave and The Awkward by Dream_Trance, i can't choose 😭

Favorite character from the show: Dan, for sure

Favorite genre to write: Angst and/or Romance

Current Wips: HAH i have 46 because i can't finish Anything to save my soul, but here are my most current ones

heaven's grief brings hell's reign

quit telling everyone i'm (permanently) dead!

my resistance was once much stronger (i can't go on like this much longer)

perky beans, a pitch pearl coffee shop au collab with EmeraldsAndAmethyst

with every sin, i still wanna be holy

the kids are all wrong

Link the story you are proudest of: this is the road to ruin (and we started at the end) or literally anything i wrote for phic phightt

Share part of that story: (this is the road to ruin snippet under the cut for length and also maybe some spoilers)

Tag your favorite authors in the fandom: @cheezygoddess @dreamwraith @gamma-radio (there are probably more people i'm forgetting but my brain is mush)

Danny shifted his weight onto the bed easily, moving the pillows up until they made a comfortable cushion against the wall. When Mateo was settled (by Danny’s standards), he curled a fist into Danny’s zip up hoodie and tugged him closer with one hand.

“Danny,” he started, his voice laced with warning when the halfa started to pull away. “I’ve spent too much time in very stressful situations without you, I would like it if you’d sit with me a while.” Danny started to move away and Mateo yanked at his jacket again, causing him to stumble forward. “Please?”

“I—”

“No.”

Danny reared back as much as Mateo would let him, startled. He blinked a couple of times, a small frown of confusion eclipsing any other emotion that had taken up residence on his face.

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean, no, you’re not going to try and worm your way out of this one. Ass, bed, now.” Mateo curled his fist into more of the fabric and jerked harder. One knee landed on the mattress, hands on either side to keep himself balanced. Danny forced himself to ignore the faint brush of interest that ghosted past the edge of his consciousness because now was not the time.

“Teo, please…” he begged, hoarse from the emotional whiplash that he could never seem to escape.

“I said, no.”

This time, he pouted. Full on, bottom lip stuck out, eyelash batting pouted. Danny made a weak noise at the sight. “I just got out of the hospital, you’re really going to deny me cuddles? You couldn’t lay in the bed with me without wires and shit getting in the way, on threat of death from my mother. I survived, I made it through surgery, and I even woke up from an almost coma! I deserve to be held for at least a little bit.”

Danny huffed out a breathless laugh to hide the stab of pain at the unneeded, painful reminder. “Well, when you put it like that.”

“I do. Now come here and hold me, dammit.” Mateo sniffed, tilting his nose in the air until Danny had climbed onto the bed and hauled him close, settling his back against his chest. Then Mateo turned his face until he could press it into Danny’s neck, melting into him immediately.

Another breathless laugh and as tight a squeeze as he dared, Danny bowed his head until his nose touched Mateo’s.

“Brat,” he whispered. Tears pricked at his nose. He beat them back because he was done crying. Mateo was here, being demanding and bratty and full of life. Tears could wait for after. After he went through with his decision. After his things were packed.

After he left Mateo.

“Brat,” he whispered again with another laugh, pressing a featherlight kiss to the bridge of his nose, smooshing his glasses against his face.

“Damn right,” Mateo mock-grumbled back. He tightened his arm around the one Danny had looped across his waist and pressed a kiss to Danny’s nose in return.

(Danny was lying to himself if he thought he was going anywhere anytime soon.)

Phandom Author Introduction

I want to meet more Phandom authors/writers so I made this introduction form for people to use. Once you're done reading make your own and tag me in it.

Name: Toni Cat or dog person: Cat! Favorite Fic from the Phandom: Dark Prince Favorite character from the show: Valerie Gray Favorite genre to write: Romance Current Wips:

Cost Penalty Long Live the Tyrant The Ghost King and I The Nightmare at the Fenton Home Link the story you are the proudest of: I’m Humanity's Last Hope, But My Hot Arch Enemy Came to My Balcony Missing His Arm, and Confessing his Love for Me?!? Share a small part of that story:

“No, I wanted to change the past,” Dan turned his gaze downward. “To tell you the truth all I could think about inside that soup can was you. I know with everything I have done things could never work out between us. I realize far too late that this was a mess of my own doing. But maybe I could go back and get a second chance as Fenton. To be able to tell you, I love you, without the guilt of what I’ve done. But I was weak from captivity and I fought the ghost of time, and you can see the rest.” 

    TIK TOK TIK TOK. The clock in her kitchen dragged every second through her body like a rake.  She always knew who Phantom really was. It wasn’t hard to figure out, Danny disappeared whenever trouble appeared, and he always came back with his skin painted in shades of pain. She didn’t want to notice, she loved him. Danny was her first kiss, and she had broken up with him to protect him. What a fool she was. 

    The second time Phantom ruined her life was when she was 15 years-old. The Nasty Burger had exploded, destroying the entire Fenton family and Danny’s Friends. Danny disappeared with a rich relative and Phantom's presence in Amity Park was gone. She spent months looking for him in every shadow and rooftop. At that young age she would never admit it, but without him there she was lonely. At 27 she was still lonely without him. He was the only one that knew who she really was. Ghost Hunter, soldier, hero, teen girl. If she could go back, Valerie would want to find out more about him, to know him like she knew him. Or at least to know him before his return. 

Tag your Favorite authors in the Phandom: @nickelodeonstudios @chintastic gothmoth @bubblegumbeech @lexxosaurus

[haruhey]

chronological thoughts of THE WALKING DEAD FINALE???

- im literally SO EXCITED

- SOMEONE HELP JUDITH SHES LIKE 3

- NOOO THE STORM TROOPERS

- lmaooo daryl got got

- omg judith doing the absolute most rn

- im sorry passed out daryl is such a funny shot

- if i dont see rick i will throw a fit

- OMG first girl off my list

- CAROL LEADING THEM IKTR ❤️

- OMG JUST A HARD CUT??

- aw omg i feel so bad for him

- NOO 5 MINUTES IN AND IM SOBBING BYEEEEE

- NOO I LIKED HIM A LOT

- I HAD FAITH IN HIM

- they r really going thru it

- OMG MY HEADCANON OF HIS BLOOD TYPE WAS RIGHT???? im publishing that fic rn

- stop sharing looks ur gonna make me scream

- judith if u die im gonna kill u

- PRINCESS SAVUNG UR MAN FRRRRR THIS SHIT IS VALID ASF !!!

- NEGAN GET AWAY FROM MAGGIE GET AWAY BACK

- THAT TRUCK IS MASSIVE

- COCO IS SAFE COCO IS SAFE IM GONNA SCREAMMMMMMM THIS SHOW IS SO AWESOME

- omg judith is alive thats so legendary

- she had plot armour anyways

- tender daryl ik he slayed ❤️❤️

- JUST KEEP HER BARRICADED

- omg ik it

- omg who tf was that that died

- UMMM they’re fucked

- i would simply die i could not survive this sorry to daryl but im different

- CLIMB FASTER ROSITA’S GONNA DIE

- SHES GONNA DIE

- ROSITA SLAY ROSITA SLAY

- my heart is literally beating out of my fucking chest holy shit

- omg i forgot about tomi i hope he survives

- tomi is kinda…

- hey tomi….?

- I CANT BELIEVE THEY DID THAT TO MY GIRL LYDIA

- NO JERRY IS GONNA BE FINE HE HAS SO MANY KIDS HE’LL BE OKAY IF HE DIES I’M GONNA THROW A FIT

- MAGGIE DOESNT NEED SHIT FROM YOU NEGAN

- whatever negan i hate you i hate yoy i hate you so much i hate you sooooo much

- at least he’s apologizing genuinely now

- ok coco is so cute

- EUGENE IS SO CUTE MY PATHETIC BABY

- look at how far he’s come

- NOOO SHE GOT BIT NOOOO

- ur really cramping her vibe rn eugene get over urself

- I LOVE THEM SO MUCH UR HONOR PLEASE 😭😭😭

- rosita it should have been gabriel ik im so sorry it should have been ME

- CARYL PARENTS 🫶🫶🫶🫶

- THEYRE KILLING PEOPLE????

- ummmm

- EZEKIEL SLAY ily ily

- omg caryl just radio silent

- OOOO BIG BAD FIGHT BIG BAD FIGHT SLAYYYY

- OMG THAT GIRL FROM THE KINGDOM IS STILL HERE thats so awesome i love her

- YOU SHOT A CHILD LMAOOOOOO

- HOLY SHIT THAT IS SO MANY WALKERS

- slay gabriel

- omg daryl gained consciousness

- JUST ALL FIGHT THE WALKERS I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER YALL HAVE A COMMON ENEMY

- SLAY DARYL SLAY

- KILL HERRRR KILL HERERR

- JERRY IS ALIVE IK MY MAN WOULD MAKE IT IK IT JERRY I LOVE YOUUUUUU

- lmao lance

- she fucked him ik she did

- sniper on the rooftop

- OMG A ROCK DIVERSION

- i just know @belatalbotgf is getting flashbacks

- omg they have little codenames thats awesome

- OMG THEYRE BLOWING THEM UP

- simply a rick parallel

- OH MY GOD THEY BLEW UP EVERYTHING

- carol looks so hot rn im sorry im distracted

- SHE IS SO PETTY I LOVE HERRRR

- omg leaving w her boytoy in tow that’s such a power move

- i wish maggie would just be toxic and kill him

- GLENN WAS BEAUTIFUL I WILL NEVER LOVE ANYONE LIKE THAT AGAIN SHUT UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP UR CRAZY FOR THIS MAGGIE

- MAGGIE SLAY DONT FORGIVE HIM

- BECAUSE ALL I HAVE ARE MEMORIES AND I DONT WANT TO REMEMBER GLENN LIKE THAT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UPPPPPP

- OMG A MEAL LIKE RICK’S DREAM SEQUENCE

- CAROL LAUGHING SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL 🫶🫶🫶

- omg negan giggling and blushing after daryl nodded to him

- YES A SAPPHIC COUPLE

- NO ROSITA PLEASE

- NOOOO ROSITA

- oh judith knows what’s up

- MY GIRLIES PLEASE 😭😭😭 THEY DONT DESERVE THIS IM SORRY ROSITA IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEEE

- ARE YOU KIDDING ME PLEASE ROSITA YOU DIDNT DESERVE THIS

- THE SHOT OF HER SHAKING HAND WHEN GABE GRABBED COCO THIS SHOW IS SICK AND TWISTED

- TIMESKIP

- omg he named his kid after risita

- EZEKIEL IS THE GOVERNER SLAYYYYYY

- MICHAEL MERCER LOOKS SO HAPPY PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE

- CONNIE AND DARYL ARE SO CUTE

- STOP WAIT JUDITH R U KIDDING ME NO WAY

- fuck its negan nvm i thought it was rick whatever

- CAROL SHORT HAIR AGAIN IM IN LOVE

- EVERYONE LOOKS SO HAPPY SHUT UPPPPP

- carol is so gorgeous beautiful and show-stopping im gonna cry

- omg maggie sent daryl to france

- STOP STARING AT HER LIKE THAT IF YOURE NOT GONNA KISS HER DARYL

- I WISH YOU WERE COMING WITH ME

- SHUT UP??? THIS IS??

- no i can FEEL this sadness shut up

- STOPPPPP

- JUST KISS GUYS

- JUST KISS

- STOPPPP THE CUDDLE BY THE LAKE???

- A HAPPY ENDING WITH CAROL SHUT UP GUYS

- THE FUCKING I LOVE YOU NO FUCKING WAY

- THE WAY HE LEANT INTO THE KISS

- THEY SAID I LOVE YOU

- HE CANT STOP STARING THIS IS CRAZY

- WHAT WE COULD HAVE HAD WHAT WE COULD HAVE HAD WHAT WE COULD HAVE HAD 😭😭😭😭

- THEY SAID I LOVE YOU TO EACH OTHER

- RICK AND MICHONNE SHUT UP

- RICK GRIMES RICK GRIMES MICHONNE GRIMES MICHONNE GRIMES

- HERSHELLLLL

- michonne hello??? she looks so??? good???

- RICK GRIMES PUT THOSE DOGS AWAY

- CALLBACK TO HER INTRO

- LEAVE RICK ALONE LEAVE HIM ALONE HES GOT PLACES TO BE

- WE’RE THE ONES WHO LIVE

- leave him alone 😭😭😭

- that was crazy i cant believe it’s over (i will not be watching the daryl spinoff)

- maggie looks so good in dead city????

- i have now fallen back in love w the walking dead this is the best show ever

[house-of-no-regrets]

No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

-------------

I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge. 

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[jolalibrary]

Stood Up + Salads

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Words: 1.5k AN: Set with a S1 Diego but not S1 or S2 storyline. For a friend, you know who you are.

He didn’t need to look up when the door goes, he knows it’s you. Because when it rains, it pours.

Diego wonders if he should be more upset about his father, rather than being upset he’s had to see the others. Only for him to take his frustration out on you, consciously or not.

The fact you allow the door to meet the frame with such a loud thud is enough of a signal to him that you’re pissed.

Diego takes a second, thinking of his next steps as he swipes his tongue over his teeth, staring at the punching bag, as if it’s going to provide any answers on what he should do. How he could get out of this. Because if he plays this wrong, which he will, it’s going to spiral. Becoming so much worse than it already is.

A whole lot fucking worse.

And it’s already bad.

Hitting the bag once, twice and then thrice, he pays attention to your footsteps nearing. Not turning, not needing to see if your arms are folded, lips pursed and giving him one of you signature dead expressions. He knows you will be, because Diego fucking knows you and you know him.

And he hates it.

He despises that you know about his tick. About his family. About his upbringing, talent and everything else in between. He hates that you suggested calling off the meal before he did, and he hates himself for agreeing to go even if he knew he wouldn’t attend.

Because he’s decided he hates being happy.

He likes being miserable, likes fighting petty crime without anyone to come home to.

“Asshole.”

Rolling his head, he casts his eyes over you. Finding you exactly as he’s imagined. The only—slight—difference is the look in your eyes.

Sadness. A look which doesn’t suit you. One which stands out to him, because he’s seen it so rarely.

It swirls in your eyes, mixing with your usual shade, darkening them as they pin him to his spot. Or try to.

Letting his hands fall to his sides, he lets out a sigh before he can help himself. And the glare you send him is enough to force him to turn to face you.

When it comes to you, he isn’t sure if he hates how close you are to him physically or metaphorically; not sure if he dislikes it more that he wants to kiss you or let you love him.

“Hello to you too.”

Your lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t deserve a hello.”

“Touché.”

“Surprised you know that word.”

“Under all this, I’m clever y’know?”

“Are you?” you snap, and you roll your lips together.

Those painted plump lips that’s kissed every inch of him. That he’s woke up dreaming about and gone to sleep pressed against.

“You’re angry—“

“Oh, I’m past angry, Hargreeves,” you says, tapping your foot on the gym floor. “I was angry when I was on my second glass, wondering where you were. I was fuming when I left, embarrassed and ready to hunt you down. Now, now I’m almost murderous.”

He hasn’t been called his surname in sometime. Hasn’t found himself in hot waters, with you at least, in sometime. Even angry, he feels your eyes rake down his frame, following a bead of sweat which falls from his neck down his chest and stomach.

Pulling the gloves undone with his teeth, snaps your eyes back up. And he finds himself smirking at you and his own foolishness simultaneously.

Because deep down he’s known this day would come, where you—like most—tired of him. Finding yourself irritated with his ways, of his selfishness and his impulsiveness.

“Let me have it then.”

He throws the gloves to the floor, shifting his weight as he notices the slight narrowing of your eyes. The way your lips twitch, whether a smirk or a smile, he can’t be sure. Usually, there’s less talking when you’re like this; usually you’re already pinned under him or against something. Now, you don’t even look at him like you’d welcome that.

Diego hates you for that too.

Despises that you have gotten under his skin, throwing him off his game. He’s dated. Well, since Patch they’ve not been constant. Real or permanent.

But you, you got to him. He still doesn’t even know how.

You don’t bend as easily, don’t surrender as you should. You fight him, sometimes tooth and fucking nail, and fuck, he doesn’t hate that about you. He loves that. He loves it when you steal the wind from his sail; when you cut him down. You don’t pander to him, you call him out, and he needs that even if he can’t admit it.

He even doesn’t mind that you sooth the insecurity, recognising when enough is enough. Halting anything before it goes too far, leaves too many wounds. You make him want to try to be a little better, even if he fails most days.

“No.”

“No?”

You snort. “No. Because if I rip you a new one, you’ll find some way to say sorry. And, then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll melt, and then you will forget that you’re an asshole.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Your jaw tenses, almost impossibly so. “For someone in your position, you have a lot of snark.”

“Be careful, you may hurt my feelings.”

Nodding, your lips twist before straightening to an unreadable expression again. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m done.”

His muscles relax.

And his heart stops.

Yet Diego is somehow, not as surprised as he should have been.

Even if he looks at you, staring at your eyes and hoping to see a tease, a jest. He looks hoping you will change your mind, that he hasn’t successfully pushed another person away.

“Took you long en—“

“Im done talking,” you continue, cutting him off. Taking closer steps, slow ones, full of purpose as you dig your eyes into him. “I’m not gonna ask you to do right by me, I’m not gonna ask for an explanation why you decided to stand me up tonight. Hey, you don’t even have to talk to me.”

His forehead creases, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your mouth.

“Because I know why. You want me without the commitment, without the expectations of being a good person. You want a hole to fuck, so here I am, Hargreeves. You’ve got one.”

Fuck.

He stifles a sigh, especially as your finger press into his chest, nail digging down into the skin as you roll your lips and then he has to focus on not groaning. Especially when you bat your eyes lashes and smirk so condescendingly he wonders if you’ve been sent to test him.

“You want to pretend you don’t crave normal, that you don’t deserve it,” you continue, looking up at him, “I’ll play pretend. Hey, I’ll become the best damn actor in your movie you’ll ever know. But, I’m done talking.”

You place your other hand on his, moving his to your hip as you smirk.

“So, lights camera action, baby. Where do you wanna fuck me first?”

He feels your lips ghost over his. His hand clenching around your hip. Everything inside of him telling to just go with it, to not talk, to not burst open in front of you.

To kiss you.

To throw you down on the mats and not talk for hours.

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

“No. No you’re not,” you says, full of sadness, your expression not changing to match your tone. “If you were, you’d have come to dinner. You’d have stabbed your fork into the salad before I’d have told you I want street food.”

You didn’t move, and neither does he. Your hand spreading over his chest, his hand still on your hip.

“You don’t let yourself enjoy anything, because what? Your dad was an asshole and your brother went to the moon?” You ask, head tilted. “Diego, I don’t give a shit if you’re number two, you’re number one for me. But you have to try. You have to try at least ten percent otherwise it’s just me, forcing you to be with me.”

He never feels forced. Not with you.

You’re sometimes the only thing which is good. Which isn’t fucked, tainted or ruined. You’re good, if not a bit too sweary and a bit too good at drinking. But, you’re… nice, and unwilling to let him settle.

“You’re m-my number o-one too.”

“Cool.”

“I mean i-it.”

“Nice.”

“Baby, c'mon?”

You sigh. “What, Diego?”

Diego. He’s Diego again.

He doesn’t smile, even if he wants too.

He doesn’t kiss you, even if he’s fighting every part of himself.

He just stares, using his other hand to cup your cheek. “I am sorry.”

“Salad at a fancy place too good for you?”

He smirked. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Good. Because it’s too fancy for me too.”

“So why we’re we even fucking going, baby?”

“Because,” you say, defiance in your tone, “it’s what normal people do. They don’t meet over a bad game of darts and several beers, and fuck on a boxing ring. They don’t fight a literal mugger with trained assassin-level knife skills a month after beginning to sleep together.”

Your shoulders sink, your expression softening. “They date, at restaurants who charge too much and hold hands across parks. And for a second, one tiny fucking moment, I wanted that for you. I wanted normal, meet-cute type romance before we grabbed whatever was in a cart and we fucked on my new sideboard.”

His thumb brushed over your cheek. “I’d have liked that.”

“You’d have loved that. But—“

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer, more meaningful, “I’m s-s-sorry. I really am.”

“I’m still mad.”

“That’s okay.”

“You owe me a fancy salad.”

Smirking, he nods. “Baby, I’ll give you a salad bar if you want it.”

“I don’t like salad.”

“No?”

“No.”

Smirking, he cups your cheek with more purpose. “What do you want then, baby?”

He watches your eyes darken. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed. You have a lot of making up to do.”