#to show me how much these things have affected me and how much it hurts me

[aikoiya]

Exactly! My preferred avenue!

Even better if you treat Maddie & Jack as individuals with their own personal experiences, traumas, & biases regarding ghosts & their reasoning behind their views.

For me, I tend to hc Jack as being the one who would be quickest to change his beliefs & that Maddie would take longer.

Yes, Jack's egotistical, but I see him as being he's egotistical in a very similar way to how Papyrus from Undertale is also egotistical. In that, he holds himself in high regard & sees himself as great, but he also sees those he loves & cares for in the same way.

Meanwhile, I see Maddie as much more stubborn & biased in her beliefs, but this is partially due to the Flynn Walker thing.

Flynn Walker being a reimagining of Flynn Fenton from the Butch Hartman pictures where Jack & Maddie had another son named Flynn, who was kidnapped by ghosts as a kid. In this re-imagining, Flynn is instead Jack & Maddie's nephew & son of Alicia Walker & her now ex-husband. They'd been visiting the Fentons at the time & Jack was supposed to be watching the kids while Maddie, Alicia, & her husband were out getting something.

But, when Jack wasn't paying attention, Flynn was stolen away by ghosts who took him into the Ghost Zone through the still unfinished portal.

Naturally, Alicia blamed Jack, which is why she hates him in the show. This was also the event that would put strain on Alicia & her husband's relationship until they divorced.

I tend to hc that this plus other traumatizing experiences as a child would cause Maddie to have a bigger grudge against ghosts than Jack. In other words, I see her as a tragic bigot. A bigot as a result of past trauma regarding the subject in question.

I think that she'd initially be very resistant & stubborn about this, but if given imperical proof that Danny Phantom was Danny Fenton, that they were not separate entities, that he wasn't possessed... then she would reluctantly believe it, but it would also cause her world to sort of go topsy-tervy inside her own head until she could rationalize her own mental dissonance.

In my mind, one way to go about such would be for her to use the Fenton Ghost Catcher on him, then immediately uses the Thermos on Phantom.

Now, obviously, Fenton would want Phantom back, but Maddie would essentially say that it was for his own good before hiding the Thermos away.

... But I honestly don't think that this is something sustainable. Because, as we see in the show, they aren't just separated physically. It also affects both halves' personalities.

Also, keep in mind that we don't ever see them at 2 separate individuals for longer than that one episode.

So, it's entirely possible that their health might begin to deteriorate the longer they are 2. And, eventually, both may even die completely without the other.

Think the end of Steven Universe where his Gem is removed from him.

Something like that, but slower.

And, because of this, I also think that Fenton would likely be missing a bunch of biologically necessary components or that they would be unstable now due to how very integrated ectoplasm was into his DNA. Remember, "hiw molecules got all rearranged."

So, I imagine that everything else in him all the way down to his molecular makeup was likely altered, too.

And, it would likely get to the point where Maddie & Jack had to examine him to understand just... why? Possibly even thinking that maybe there was still ectoplasm left that, without Phantom there to control it, was poisoning their boy.

But they would find that he was back down to normal levels of ectocontamination for an Amity Parker which shouldn't have any affect on him at all.

So why was he deteriorating?

And the pressure & worry & fear for his life would begin to mount until Jazz & Danny's friends put on a heist to free Phantom.

Like, maybe they get one of Danny's ghost allies to distract the Fentons by making them think that they were going to hurt Danny & while they were distracted with protecting their son, the Team would actually save him.

Only to find that Phantom... wasn't doing okay...

Like... imagine Dani & the other clones. He's destabilizing, but... like... it's more like he's fading & evaporating & falling apart at once... Like he's losing cohesion...

Almost seeming to dissolve into mist before reconstituting himself. They can barely touch him & he's so very quiet. He looks like a gaunt Victorian child stricken with the plague. Not to mention his hollow cheeks making him look like he hasn't eaten in years & the dark circles under his exhausted eyes.

So, Sam, in a fit of brilliance, gets the Fenton Fishing Pole & ties the line around Phantom's waist to pull him towards Fenton.

But as they get close, Jack & Maddie return to see... They've never really seen anything like this before.

There are angry questions & fearful attempts to protect, but then Danny... he whispers, "Mom..." & then Phantom looks up, his eyes beginning to lose their glow, fading like to reveal a hauntingly familiar, but now clouded over, empty & faded blue. And he finishes, "...I'm scared..." The echo in his voice, now gone, leaving him to sound exactly like their son. And at that moment, the Danny in the bed let out one final sigh & goes completely still...

And, that was when the ghostly glow that Phantom normally had also began to blink out of existence to show raven hair & a now horrifyingly familiar white hazmat suit with black accents, the left arm fried to a crisp. The... phantom? Lifts the arm tiredly to look at his hand in confusion. Revealing a burning circle in the center of his palm with the word 'ON' underneath it as though seared into his flesh. As though only mildly surprised, he gives a quiet, breathy, "Oh..." before starting to fall forward slowly as his form faded away like a puff of smoke dissipating in the wind to leave a glowing orb to tink against the ground with a sound not unlike that of a glass wind chime.

It's glow seemed to flicker & fade.

Shaking with wide-eyes, they all turn to look at the Danny in the bed, Maddie surging forward to try & shake him awake, before reaching up shakily to feel for a pulse...

...

..

.

... "Nothing..." She whispered in shock & horror, quiet tears coming to her stricken eyes.

That was when Jack gently, but insistently pushed Maddie out of the way & began to perform CPR on his son. "Come on..." He pushed down on his chest, eyes shiny with tears.

The kids were... they were panicking! Sam was hyperventilating as she clutched the orb in her hands, holding it to her chest protectively as she mumbled, desperately that it was still flickering so he had to still be there while Tucker was frantically searching his PDA on how to restart a person's heart without a defibrillator & Jazz seemed to be going over ways to get the "his Core" back inside him at a frenzied pace, her eyes darting around wildly as though literally seeing the options in front of her before dismissing one after the other.

The world around her began to darken & close in around Maddie as her reality narrowed down to this singular point in time.

What did they do? What did they DO!?

She trembled, frozen as she too began to hyperventilate.

Jack's voice was getting frantic. "Come one! You're a Fenton, Dann-o! You're... You're a hero! You can do anything!"

Tucker began chattering about how if they could restart his heart within the next 10 minutes, they might be able to push Danny & his Core through the Merge side of the Ghost Catcher to put them back together!

That was when Jack stood up straight, looked at Maddie, & realizing what was happening, something shifted in him as he grabbed her upper arms & got up close to look her dead in the eye. "Mads, look at me. Dann-o needs us. I'm gonna go juryrig a pair of d-fibs, but I need you to keep doing CPR or we might lose him for good." He was strangely calm & gentle, but firm & insistent.

At his words, Maddie's eyes seemed to focus again, shifting to look at him & take in his words before, with a shaky breath, she nodded, brows furrowed as those steal nerves of hers snapped back into place.

With that, Jack gave a slightly cracked thousand watt smile before telling the kids to get a few things as he rand to get his tools.

In the end, they manage to get Danny's heart started & his lungs pumping again, but it was weak & halting.

And, almost in response to his renewed life, the orb's glow became stronger, but was still weak & flickered like a candle close to going out.

The kids began to urge them to have put Danny & the "Core" through the Ghost Catcher, but she was still resistant. So, Sam snapped, telling the Fenton woman to look for herself as she marched up to Danny with the orb & held it close to him.

Maddie & Jack jerked forward to try & stop her, but Jazz yelled at them to look at Danny.

... And they did... & he suddenly... looked so much healthier & the orb was glowing brighter & more steady in it's rhythm. More like, "A heartbeat?" Maddie asked in slight awe at how it seemed to pulse in perfect sync with the beeping of Danny's heart on the monitor.

"They're 2 pieces of the same whole. They can't survive without the other."

So, Jack picked his son up & yelled to get to the Ghost Catcher as he booked it. They all rushed down, Maddie looking to Jazz & asking if she was sure that this would work, who responded with, "what else can we do?"

Anyway, they turn on the Ghost Catcher & Sam places the orb in the fold of Danny's arms. Then, with a hesitant look at his wife who just wanted her baby back, Jack pushed his son through the Merge side where Danny was caught by Maddie.

The orb gone & Danny with a much healthier color to him & his breathing now deeper, though still unconscious & very weak & sickly looking.

...

Sorry, when I see a really good idea, sometimes I just can't stop myself.

But yeah, I definitely think there'd be a degree of "you're the exception because you're half human & not dead" to Maddie's behavior afterwards if not both.

Though, I also think that once he knew that Danny was alright, Jack would go back to his old self & would very excitedly begin to brainstorm inventions to help his son to fight & catch ghost better.

Though, I also think that it'd take a lot of adjusting as I see Jack tending to start talking about experimenting on ghosts only to then add Danny & go, "Oooh... sorry Dann-o..."

i get why so many fics have either good reveal or bad reveal for the fenton parents, but consider: the infinite expanse of "its complicated"

they see danny as an exception (because he isnt really a ghost!)

they believe him but disregard what that means for him, supportive in theory but not in practice (sure he is a half-ghost, but why does he have to [insert ghostly thing here]?)

they dont believe that he is a ghost but do believe that something happened and want to help, however the way they try to help is questionable. (if danny was suffering from delusions [he isnt], they would be playing into them. they [think] they know it isnt real, but believe that indulging him is better than any other option)

they believe him and support him, but that doesnt change that they are bad parents regardless and therefore neglect their children. if asked they have completly changed their view on ghosts, but now they have so much more to study and are around even less as a result. maybe they only interact with their children for research purposes.

or they dont belive or support him, but do their best to be attentive and loving parents. maybe they have convinced themselves of a different explanation (the fanon liminal lore perhaps). while they protect and love danny, they disregard what he says and undermine his experiences.

thats just some situations i could think of right now.

[dissapointu]

“Tired of Watching You Hurt”

The tension in the air is thick, the silence hanging heavy between you and Vi. You stand in the middle of the small room, your chest rising and falling with frustration, while she’s leaning against the wall, her arms crossed defensively. The fight has been brewing for days, and now it’s finally spilled over.

You can’t hold back anymore.

“Vi, seriously!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended, but you can’t stop it. “Why do you always do this to yourself? Why do you keep throwing yourself into danger like this? You’re always getting hurt! It’s like you don’t even care about your own safety!”

She flinches slightly at your words, but only for a moment, before her gaze hardens, her jaw clenching. “I do care about my safety. I don’t need you telling me how to handle myself.” Her tone is sharp, defensive, but there’s an edge to it—a crack in her armor that shows she’s more affected by your words than she’s letting on.

“You don’t act like it!” you shout, taking a step closer to her, your frustration boiling over. “Every time we’re together, it’s the same thing. You get yourself hurt, and I have to pick up the pieces. I hate seeing you like this, Vi. I’m not doing this anymore! I can’t keep watching you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, you wonder if she’s about to explode. But instead, she sighs, the hardness in her expression softening just slightly.

“You think I want to get hurt?” Vi mutters, pushing herself off the wall. Her voice is quieter now, almost tired. “You think I like it? You think I don’t know how dangerous it is out there? I do it because I have to. Because it’s the only thing that makes sense in this fucked-up world.”

You want to argue, but something about the way she says it catches you off guard. You can see the exhaustion in her eyes now, the way her shoulders slump under the weight of it all. It’s not just the physical pain from the constant bruises and cuts—it’s the mental toll, the emotional exhaustion that comes with living a life like hers.

“I know it’s hard, Vi,” you say, your voice softer now. “But I don’t want to lose you. You’re always so damn reckless, and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t keep watching you get hurt and pretend like it’s okay.”

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s going to say something to push you away. But instead, she takes a slow step toward you. Her eyes are softer now, the walls she’s built around herself faltering for a second.

“I know you care,” she says quietly, her voice rough. “But I can’t stop. I can’t just sit around and do nothing while everything around me falls apart. I can’t be weak, not when there’s so much at stake.” Her gaze flickers to the floor for a moment, almost ashamed. “I guess I don’t know any other way.”

You feel your frustration start to dissipate, replaced by something more tender—concern, worry, love. Vi has always been the tough one, the fighter, the one who could take on the world and come out the other side covered in blood but standing tall. But underneath all of that, there’s a person who’s terrified of what might happen if she stops fighting.

You step closer to her, gently cupping her face in your hands, lifting her gaze back to meet yours. “You don’t have to fight alone, Vi. You don’t have to put yourself through this. I’m here. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself this hard.”

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just staring at you as if trying to process your words. Then, with a deep breath, she lets out a shaky sigh, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I don’t know how to stop, though,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what it means to stop fighting.”

You pull her into your arms, wrapping your arms around her tightly, wanting to offer her the comfort she desperately needs but doesn’t know how to ask for. “You don’t have to fight all the time. Let me be your safe place, Vi. Let me help you.”

Vi goes still for a moment, but then, slowly, she melts into your embrace, her face pressing against your chest. You feel the weight of her body as she lets go of the tension, her hands gripping your shirt tightly as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her voice muffled by your chest. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I just want you to be okay,” you whisper, running a hand through her hair, your thumb brushing across her temple. “I don’t want to lose you, Vi. Not like this.”

She stays silent for a moment, just breathing in the quiet comfort you’re offering. Finally, she pulls away slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you don’t often see.

“I’m trying,” she says quietly, her hand finding yours and squeezing it. “I’ll try to be more careful… for you.”

You nod, your heart swelling with affection for her. You know she’s a fighter, and that’s not going to change overnight. But you also know she’s willing to let you in, willing to listen to your worries, and that means more than anything.

“I just want you to be safe,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Vi doesn’t say anything more, but the way she looks at you, the way her hand lingers in yours, tells you everything you need to know. It’s a rare moment of softness between the two of you, a small crack in the tough exterior she wears so often.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

[scarletwinterxx]

in the quiet of us - choi seungcheol imagine

tbh this fic came about while listening to milk teeth and did you like her in the morning by niki 🥺 dare i say i'm getting better with the angst haha ofc it's gonna end in a cute way

anywayss i hope you like this one🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and Seungcheol have been dating for nearly a year, and on the surface, the two of you seem to be an ideal couple—you’re the shy, introspective type, while he’s outgoing, expressive, and always the center of attention. 

Your love for Seungcheol is quiet. It’s gentle, steady, and sometimes, you feel like it’s almost too quiet to be enough for someone like him. You have always loved him in a subtle, understated way, hoping that your affection is enough without needing to shout about it. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is the type who wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s affectionate, always complimenting you and showing his love in grand, showy gestures. 

He never shies away from declaring his feelings to the world.

You will never tell him your reasons for holding back when the truth is you love him with every piece of yourself. You’re terrified that your calm, reserved nature won’t compare to the passion and intensity of his past relationships. You about his ex-girlfriend, the one he once spoke of like she was his soul mate. Cheol has always been open about his past, and while he never directly compares you to her, you can’t help but feel like there are times you’re falling short of the vibrant, adventurous, free-spirited image of the girl who’s still a part of his memories. 

You and Seungcheol are sitting together on the couch, having just returned from a weekend getaway. You’re quiet, lost in thought.

"That trip was amazing, huh? I love how we just got to be spontaneous and go wherever we felt like." Cheol says while looking through the photos of your quick weekend getaway with some of his friends, you watch the big smile on his face 

"Yeah... it was nice." softly you say, Cheol being the mind reader he is, immediately looks at you when he hears your voice

Leaning closer to you he asks, "You don’t sound convinced. What’s on your mind?"

“I’ve been thinking a lot about... us, actually."

Cheol felt his heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. There’s so many breakup scenes that start off with those same words

"Us? What about us?" he asks

"I know you’ve had past relationships. I know you loved… you loved her. And I... I don’t know, Seungcheol. I can’t help but feel like... maybe my way of loving you isn’t enough."

Your sudden confession makes him sit straight up, wondering where all of this is coming from, "What do you mean? Of course, it’s enough. You love me in your own way—"

"But it’s so quiet. I’m not like the others. I’m not as... exciting or loud or memorable. I don’t do the big, dramatic gestures like they did. I’m just... me." you cut him off

You see hurt flash across his eyes, wishing you never said anything. You should’ve just said nothing. To avoid his stare, you look down at your hands that were resting on your lap 

"You’re not being fair to yourself. You’re everything I want, just the way you are." he whispers, feeling more sad and disappointed that you think that way about yourself when you’re quite literally everything to him.

Softly, almost to yourself you say "I’m just scared that you’re going to wake up one day and realize that I’m nothing like the girls you’ve loved before. That you’ll want... someone more. Someone who loves you in a bigger, louder way."

He looks at you, a thousand things running through his mind.

"Look at me." he tells you but you don’t move from where you’re sitting

"I just... I don’t know if I can keep pretending that everything’s fine when I feel so... small in your love." 

Gently turning your chin to face him, he smiles at you

"You don’t have to pretend with me. Not ever."

"But what if I’m not what you need? What if you want someone who—"

Cutting you off gently, he speaks again "I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I love you, the way you love me, and it’s more than enough. You don’t need to be like anyone else, because there’s no one like you. You love me in a way that’s so quiet, so steady—it’s the kind of love I’ve always needed, even if I didn’t realize it until now."

You can’t stop the tears falling down on your cheeks, Cheol does that for you. He wipes them away one by one, with each one he says a vow in his mind to never let anything or anyone even himself make you cry in this lifetime. 

"But... I don’t know how to love any other way. I’m not like you. I can’t... do all the big things you do for me." you whimper

"You don’t need to. I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need loud. I need you, exactly as you are." he shakes his head, holding your face between his hands

He waits for you to say anything else but you don’t. You just embrace him, letting yourself fall apart infront of the only man who knows how to fix it all. And he lets you be. He lets you cry in his arms until you fall asleep, he lets you let go of what you’re feeling. Whispering words of assurance and affirmation, letting you know you’re not alone. 

You’ll never feel alone as long as you have him. 

The next morning, after a long conversation, you and Seungcheol are sitting in the kitchen together. He already made breakfast for the two of you. 

You look at him, still feeling a bit unsure but more at ease.

“So... you’re okay with the way I love you? Even if it’s not loud?" you’re the first one to speak

Softly smiling, he takes your hand "Your love is exactly what I’ve always needed. You love me with a softness, a patience, and I’m so grateful for it. I love how you take the time to listen to me, to show you care in the quietest ways. You don’t have to change who you are for me. I want you."

This makes you smile, little by little your worries disappear. You know it’s going to take some time before you feel okay, it’s a war between you and mind and yet here’s Cheol ready to fight that battle with you.

"I’ve always loved you like that. I just didn’t think it would ever be enough." you whisper

He walks over to your side, leaning in and kissing your forehead) "It’s more than enough. You’re more than enough. Always have been." he tells you

Later that day, Seungcheol left to get some errands done. When he comes back, he surprises you with a small gesture—no grand gesture, just a simple note with a favorite flower from the garden.

"Seungcheol, this is... really sweet." you smile up at him

Leaning against the doorframe, looking at you with affection "I know it’s not a big, loud thing, but I hope it says what I’ve been trying to tell you: I love you exactly as you are. In your quiet, beautiful way."

"I love you, too. In my own way." chucking softly, you shoot him a smile. Walking towards where he was, you throw your arms around him. His arms immediately wraps around you, 

"And I’ll never want anything else."

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[lara4eclipze]

“i wish you were sober"

— ( �� ) take me where the music ain't too loud

— ( 🎰 ) angst , fluff , drinking , drugs, no label relationship , sort of good ending! , dw they become gir-

— ( 🎥 ) @wonysugar hii bae! , here's some angst for you :)) , idrk how I ended up with this but 🤞😘

this party shit , wish we could dip — go anywhere but here

you never knew what you and lara were , it was like you both were pining each other just waiting until one of you breaks and succumbs to love

she would be mad at you when you showed affection towards others but when she shows affection to others it's alright , it felt like you were getting fried in your own oil

you couldn't leave her — you didn't want to leave her , as much as it hurt you — you were never gonna leave her she was a part of you , someone who made you complete , you couldn't think about your college life without her

"I'm fine lara we should leave you know?—it's getting crowded in here" you wince as you took a look around seeing a bunch of teens passed out or drinking

"y/nnie come on!" lara manages to slurr out of her mouth , she was obviously intoxicated — she looked hypnotizing , her hair perfectly framed her face — lipstick smudged from drinking out of red plastic cups

"gosh your so b-boring" she hiccups, her hands now on yours trying to lift you off the couch you were sitting on

her words struck you — you were boring? for not participating in some stupid shit no teen should do? , "I just don't want to do this" you reason pulling back your hands and shooting her a sympathetic smile

"fine leave then" she suddenly bit — her tone was icy cold leaving no room for argument , she turns away from you and goes to a group of teens who were wasted

"okay...— I'll just go" you awkwardly mumble to yourself , you stand up and make sure all your things are in your bag — as you're walking out of the house you spot lara in the corner of your eye — smiling and flirting with someone

don't kiss my lips and please don't drink more beer

you wanted to storm over there and just scream at lara as if that was gonna make her sober — it really did fucking took a toll out of you , having to put up with this BS from lara — having to see her flirt with everyone but you

you check your watch and see it was already too late, by this point weird men start popping up in the party so you've taken it upon yourself to get lara home safely

"laru—we have to go" you lower your voice and whisper to her , she looks at you confused her eyes were half lidded and she reeked the smell of alcohol

fuck you fell for it again.

"I don't wanna go yet" she whines , her body slumped against yours as you tried to balance her, "I'm not asking if you want to , you're coming with me either way" you sternly declare

you turn to walk away still holding to her , she grips your shoulders and makes you face her — lara's lips soon was on yours , it felt soft and warm , she tasted sweet and almost like chocolate

as you both pull away you saw how her eyes were glossed over , her lips still having your lipstick on it some smudged over

"why won't you love me? hcc , I've done everything yet you never even tried reciprocating my feelings!" lara accused as the previous alcohol she has consumed made her sensitive , tears start to leave her eyes as she continues to reason why she had always wanted you

"i will always choose you over any of these people!" she screams , her voice broke as she kept on tearing up

you held her body , hugging her , as her tears fell on your shoulders — hiccups and many more thoughts left her mouth unfiltered

"I love you — don't you love me back?" she questions, looking up at you — her eyes were filled with tears her nose was red from all the sniffling she had done and god her voice trembled as if she was afraid of losing you

"I love you too , now don't cry I'm not gonna replace you ever" you replied using your handkerchief to wipe away her tears, she clings onto you and sniffles murmuring some thank you and I love you's

[ducktoo]

First love…till not?

Aespa’s Giselle x M!Reader

Note: uhhh this is gonna be some angst stuff

You knew it was coming.

It was inevitable, really. The moment you felt the coldness settle between you like a frigid barrier, a silent warning that all was not well.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you thought of love as a kid, all those times you ran across the playground with her, climbing trees and scrabbling through dirt together, shoulders bumping and laughter rising. Those were the days when the world felt simple, like it was just you and her against everything else. But somewhere along the way, things changed.

She changed.

Each day felt like a new level of hell with her, a twisted game of push and pull that you never signed up for. The little comments that once felt like playful teasing morphed into daggers aimed right at your heart.

“Are you really going to wear that?” she'd scoff, eyeing your outfit with disdain. “You know I can’t be seen with someone who dresses like they’ve just rolled out of bed.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the sting lingered.

And then there were the late-night texts, the ones that should have been sweet but instead came wrapped in barbs.

“You’re still at home? Wow, I figured you’d have outgrown that loser phase by now.” She’d dismiss your attempts at conversation with an eye-roll emoji, as if your thoughts were nothing more than noise.

But it didn’t stop there. Every time you shared an accomplishment, her reaction felt like a punch to the gut.

“Nice job, I guess. But did you really think you’d be the best? Get real.” The first time it happened, you’d been so proud of yourself. Now? It just made you feel small, insignificant.

And it wasn’t just the words. Her actions stung too.

When you invited her to your family’s gatherings, she’d show up late, tossing off excuses with a smirk, leaving you to face your relatives alone while they questioned your choices.

“You’re not going to let them set you up with anyone, right? I mean, look at you,” she’d say, and you’d feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

When you confronted her about it, you’d been hopeful, thinking maybe she just didn’t realize how her words affected you.

“Aeri, it hurts when you talk to me like that,” you’d say, voice trembling slightly. But instead of a comforting response, she’d laugh, brushing you off.

“It’s just how I am. If you can’t take a little heat, then maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

Every insult chipped away at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You found yourself hesitating to share anything with her, fearing her reaction would cut you deeper. Wasn’t love supposed to lift you up? Instead, she made you feel like you were constantly on the edge of a cliff, teetering between despair and defeat.

The breaking point arrived like a thief in the night. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Giselle plopped down next to you, scrolling through her own feed. “Why do you spend so much time staring at that? It’s embarrassing to watch,” she said, her tone dismissive, like she was talking to a child.

“Just catching up on things,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but she rolled her eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Just admit it—you’re wasting your life on this junk. You should be out doing something worthwhile instead of living in your phone.”

And that was it. That was the moment everything fell into place—the endless string of insults, the constant belittling, the nagging voice in your head that told you you were never good enough. You were exhausted, drained from the battle of trying to please her while she tore you down.

“Why do you talk to me like this?” you finally asked, voice soft but strained. “You… you didn’t used to. We didn’t used to be like this.”

For a moment, a flash of something crossed her face—surprise, maybe. But it was gone before you could even grasp it. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe you’ve just stopped living up to expectations. People change, you know. Or did you think you'd be the same forever?"

And there it was, her words hanging in the air like poison. You could feel your grip slipping, whatever shred of patience you’d been holding onto breaking apart. It felt like all those memories—the good ones—were slipping out of reach, fading like distant dreams.

With a deep breath, you gently pried her hand off your wrist, letting it drop. "I loved you, Aeri. So much. But… this isn’t love anymore. It can’t be."

For a moment, the silence was unbearable. She just looked at you, her gaze flickering between a hundred emotions that she was probably fighting to hold back.

But you couldn’t stay. Not this time. Without another word, you turned, letting the pain settle in your chest as you walked away. You didn’t look back—couldn’t look back—because if you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep going.

And as you stepped out into the open air, the weight of it all came crashing down, the memories, the love, the heartbreak.

It was over.

-

The days after the breakup passed in a blur. It was like walking through a fog where time lost meaning, and every step felt heavier than the last. You’d try to distract yourself, burying your head in anything that didn’t remind you of her—work, friends, even old hobbies you’d forgotten about.

But she was everywhere, haunting your thoughts like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

Every morning felt like waking up with a hollow ache, like something vital had been ripped away and left behind a void. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, and the thought of her would drift in, unbidden. You’d remember the warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes used to light up, the small things you’d loved about her before everything went cold. But then, as always, the memories of her words would resurface—the cutting remarks, the icy looks, the way she seemed to take joy in tearing you down. It was a twisted mix of love and hurt, a scar too deep to simply fade.

Yet, every time you felt the familiar ache start to ease, you’d see something that reminded you she’d moved on faster than you could even breathe. A passing rumour, a social media post, or friends mentioning her out at parties, laughing and smiling like she hadn’t lost a thing. It felt like a punch to the gut every time, like she’d left you struggling while she skipped off, unbothered.

One night, as you were out with friends, someone casually mentioned seeing her with someone else, some guy you vaguely remembered from school. “They looked close,” your friend said offhandedly, not knowing the silent chaos those words set off inside you. You forced a smile, tried to shrug it off, but inside, it felt like reopening an old wound. She had already moved on, it seemed. To her, whatever you’d had was just another chapter easily closed.

But for you, it wasn’t that simple.

You’d thought you’d hate her for it, for how quick she seemed to erase you from her life. But all you felt was numbness—a hollow ache that refused to fade. You wanted to forget her, to move on as easily as she had, but that scar ran too deep. It was the kind of hurt that sat heavy in your chest, that kept you awake at night, wondering if you’d meant anything to her at all.

-

For Giselle, it was different.

She had always been good at compartmentalizing, at locking away her emotions somewhere they couldn’t hurt her. To her, breaking up felt like ripping off a bandage—quick, clean, and necessary. She had convinced herself that it was better this way, that maybe her words hadn’t been that harsh, that maybe you just weren’t strong enough to handle her. It was easier that way, to justify it as your fault.

The first few weeks were easy enough. She threw herself into her life, meeting new people, going out more, laughing louder, living harder. To anyone watching, she seemed fine—more than fine, even. But every so often, in the quiet moments, she’d feel the echo of your absence, a strange emptiness that crept in like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She would scroll through her phone, accidentally stumbling upon old photos of you and her, looking so carefree, so close. Her thumb would hover over the screen for a second, maybe two, before she would snap out of it, closing it out and shoving the memories back down. Those images, those memories—they belonged to a time that was over, she reminded herself.

You were just someone she’d grown out of, that was all.

But as the months went on, that hollow feeling gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit. She’d be at a party, surrounded by people, laughing and smiling, but somehow, she’d feel like something was missing. She’d catch herself looking for you in the crowd, expecting to see your familiar face, only to be met with strangers. She’d brush it off, remind herself that she’d made the right choice, that she’d only been honest with you, even if the truth hurt.

But every so often, in the quiet of her room, she’d find herself staring at her reflection, wondering if she’d been too harsh, if she’d let go of something too quickly. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but there was a part of her that felt like she’d lost more than she wanted to.

-

As for you, time passed, but the scar remained. You’d tried moving on, had even gone out on a few dates here and there. But no one quite fit, no one felt like home the way she had. You were left with memories that haunted you, moments that hurt to remember but felt impossible to forget. You knew, deep down, that she wasn’t the same girl you’d grown up with, that the person you’d loved was long gone.

And yet, the weight of it sat heavy, like an invisible chain holding you back.

You stopped going to the places you used to frequent together, stopped listening to the songs you both loved. You thought distance would help, that if you could just put enough space between you and her memory, you’d finally be free. But the scar she left was too deep. The memories didn’t fade; they stayed with you, a constant reminder of a love that had turned bitter.

The worst part was, you realized, that you still loved her in some twisted way. The memories of her, of the good times before everything fell apart, were a part of you that you couldn’t let go. She was a scar you couldn’t heal, a ghost you couldn’t escape.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you was afraid that you’d never be able to let her go entirely.

-

Giselle wasn’t sure what went wrong.

One moment, she was heading home after yet another bad date, heels clicking against the pavement as she clutched her phone, scrolling through a string of half-hearted messages from the guy who’d seemed like a good match on paper but ended up as anything but. He’d been polite, decent-looking, even funny at times. But the entire night had felt… hollow. Forced. Empty in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.

She barely noticed her own steps changing direction, her feet carrying her somewhere familiar, somewhere she hadn’t been in ages. And before she knew it, she was standing at the edge of the old playground where you and she had spent countless afternoons together, racing down slides and swinging as high as you could go, daring each other to jump off at the last second.

The place hadn’t changed. The swings still creaked in that comforting, rusty way, and the worn-out slide was the same as ever. A wave of nostalgia hit her, stirring something deep inside. She almost smiled, but the ache in her chest was too sharp.

What had she even been thinking, she wondered, letting you go like that? She’d told herself it was your fault, that you’d been too sensitive, too weak. She’d built up a wall, convinced herself she’d done the right thing. But standing here, she felt the cracks in that wall spreading, threatening to bring everything down with it.

Her hand brushed over the chipped paint of the slide, a strange sadness bubbling up. She could almost see you there, hear your laughter, the way you’d tease her for being afraid to jump off the swing while you soared through the air without a second thought. Those moments had felt so simple, so… real.

She realized, with a sinking feeling, that maybe she’d lost the one person who had ever truly understood her.

She glanced around the empty playground, a hollow sense of regret settling in. She had dated since then, had gone out with people who showered her with compliments and treated her well enough. But none of them had ever made her feel the way you did. None of them had seen her the way you had. She tried to shake the thought away, but it clung to her, a stubborn ghost that refused to let go.

-

Meanwhile, you were… okay. Better than okay, actually.

It hadn’t been easy, getting over her. For months, the weight of her memory had felt like an anchor, dragging you down, keeping you tethered to a past that hurt to remember. But somewhere along the way, you’d managed to shake it off, bit by bit. You’d thrown yourself into new things, surrounded yourself with friends who brought out the best in you. Life was lighter now, free of the constant ache that used to sit heavy in your chest.

You’d learned to enjoy your own company again, to go out without the shadow of her looming over you. You went to new places, met new people, tried things you’d never thought to try before. There were days you didn’t think of her at all, days when you felt like yourself again, like a weight had lifted and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be.

One night, while out with friends, you found yourself laughing so hard your stomach hurt, genuinely, for the first time in a long time.

It was strange, realizing you didn’t miss her anymore.

The ache had faded, replaced by a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of what was and what could never be again. You were okay with it. You were happy, even.

You hadn’t looked back at the old playground in months, hadn’t let yourself go back to the places that reminded you of her. You’d finally put that chapter behind you.

And it felt…liberating.

-

Back at the playground, Giselle sat down on one of the swings, her hands loosely gripping the chains as she rocked back and forth, letting the memories wash over her. She could almost hear your voice, the way you’d laugh as you tried to push her higher, always challenging her to go beyond what she thought she could. Back then, she’d loved that about you. Now, she felt the loss of it, sharp and unrelenting.

She was supposed to have moved on. That’s what she’d told herself, what she’d wanted to believe.

But in the quiet of the night, alone in a place filled with ghosts of what used to be, she felt the sting of regret settle in her chest like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It was different from her other breakups, the kind that left her with nothing more than a faint memory, forgotten after a few weeks. This one hurt in a way she hadn’t expected, a scar too deep to ignore.

Maybe the both of you were childhood friends? Maybe the both of you were each other's first love? Maybe this was you two's first break up?

It hit her, suddenly, how much she missed you. How much she missed *everything*—the quiet talks, the shared laughs, the way you’d been there for her, even when she pushed you away. She’d tried to bury it, to pretend it hadn’t mattered, but now, sitting alone in the darkness, she couldn’t escape it.

And maybe, she realized with a bitter smile, this was the cost of letting someone who truly cared about you slip away. The echoes of what could have been lingered, haunting her with every swing of the chains, every quiet creak.

She wondered if you’d forgiven her, if you’d moved on the way she was supposed to. The thought hurt more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she’d never get an answer. You were out there somewhere, living a life she wasn’t part of anymore. And she had no one to blame but herself.

The playground was empty and silent as she rose from the swing, feeling the weight of her own choices settle in, unshakeable.

-

The tunes whistled from your mouth were light and airy.

You decided to take a break from your routine one evening, heading out to grab some groceries. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the streets as you walked down familiar paths, feeling at ease in the skin you were slowly rediscovering. Life felt good, lighter without the weight of your past relationship clinging to you. The grocery store was just around the corner, and as you pushed through the automatic doors, the familiar sounds of carts and chatter surrounded you.

You grabbed a basket and began making your way through the aisles, casually tossing in essentials—bread, eggs, some snacks for your late-night snacks. The mundane act of grocery shopping was comforting, a small, simple pleasure. But as you rounded the corner into the liquor section, you froze.

Giselle.

Arms full of booze, like she was gearing up for a rough night. She wore the same careless look she’d always worn, lips slightly pursed, eyes focused on the labels with a calculated indifference. And then, without thinking, you let out a small, involuntary laugh.

It was almost comical, really.

After everything, after the breakup and the haunting memories, here she was, acting like nothing had changed. Like she could just keep moving on in that easy, self-assured way of hers. But something about the way she clutched that last bottle, fingers trembling just slightly, caught you off guard.

“Hey,” you found yourself saying, before you could think better of it.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly, then narrowed into something unreadable. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was sharp, almost mocking. Same old Giselle. She gave a short, cold laugh, tossing her hair back as if to brush you off like you were nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

“Just… groceries.” You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness settle between you. But something kept you there, rooted to the spot. Despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

She watched you for a moment, her mouth twisting into something almost like a smirk, but there was a crack in her facade that you could see now—a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She tried to hide it, tried to carry herself with that same arrogant pride, but it was different. Her eyes looked hollow, a little desperate.

Without another word, you took some of the bottles from her, your hands brushing for a second. She didn’t resist, didn’t argue. She just looked away, almost embarrassed, and it was the most real she’d been in a long time.

“Let me at least walk you back,” you said, more of a statement than a question. "You don't want to just sleep on the street now, right?"

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Not like I need your help, though.” Her voice was cold, dismissive, but the flicker of pain in her eyes betrayed her. She’d always been too proud to show any weakness, to admit when she was struggling.

The walk was quiet, filled with that uncomfortable silence that you both knew too well. She stumbled once, catching herself on your arm. You didn’t say anything, just steadied her, feeling the weight of everything left unspoken between you. Her grip tightened, and you could feel her fingers digging into your arm, like she was holding on to something more than just her balance.

After a while, you realized where you were headed—a nondescript hotel on the edge of town, the kind that began to run down after a few years, the kind with rooms that can be comparable to a prison cell. She let go of your arm, a bit too quickly, her face flushing as she fumbled with her keys.

“Staying here?” You couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Just for now,” she replied, jaw clenched, defiance in her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Why not just… I don’t know, go home? Or crash at a friend’s place?” You tried to keep the curiosity out of your tone, but the question hung heavy in the air.

She scoffed, but it sounded hollow, forced. “Why would I? I can take care of myself. Don’t need anyone.” But her voice wavered, just slightly, and for a second, she looked like she might break. She didn’t want to admit it, but you could see it in her eyes—she was struggling.

You sighed, a mix of frustration and pity welling up inside you. “Aeri… what are you doing?” You shook your head, feeling the weight of everything come rushing back, all the hurt, the pain she’d put you through. “This is just… horrible. Why are you even putting yourself through this?”

Her eyes flashed, that old arrogance flaring up. “What, you think I need you to tell me what to do?” She crossed her arms, glaring at you, but you could see the hint of desperation beneath the bravado.

“Actually, yeah,” you shot back, feeling your anger rise. “Because this? This isn’t strength, Aeri. This is you hiding, pretending like you don’t need anyone. Like you didn’t just ruin everything because you couldn’t handle being honest.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “Oh, and you’re the expert now?” Her voice was mocking, but her eyes betrayed her. “You don’t get it. I did it for us. I thought… I thought if I made you think I was all you had, that you’d never leave.”

You felt your chest tighten, anger flaring up like a wildfire. “All you had to do was be real with me! All you had to do was let me see the real you, not this… mask you wore every day. You broke me down, Aeri. And for what? Some twisted idea that I’d stay because I had no choice?”

She looked away, her hands clenched at her sides, her mouth a thin, stubborn line. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d actually go.” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability you’d never seen before.

“Well, I did. Because you left me with no choice.” You felt the weight of those words, felt the pain they carried. “And now… it’s too late. I can’t go back to who I was with you. You broke that part of me, Aeri.”

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, she just stood there, staring at you, her pride shattered, her arrogance stripped away. And for the first time, you saw her—really saw her—raw, broken, and alone.

You stepped back, letting out a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Aeri. Our love was great…until it wasn't. ”

As you turned to leave, you heard it—a faint, choked sound, like the start of a sob. You didn’t turn around, didn’t let yourself look back. But in that moment, you knew. She was crying, silently, the first real tears for everything you’d both lost.

And you walked away, leaving her with the fragments of a love that could never be whole again.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 9

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 9: | UNTHINKABLE |

In the early morning light, you woke up feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through you, the aftereffects of the morning-after pill settling in. Your body felt heavy, and there was a dull ache in your lower abdomen, but it was the emotional weight that hit you hardest. The events of last night played over and over in your mind—the panic, the fear, the desperate rush to make things right. The memory of that fear, the thought of what could have happened, made your heart pound even now.

You lay still, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, and before you knew it, silent tears began to slip down your cheeks. They were tears of fear, of relief, of everything that had been bottled up inside you since last night. It was the first time you had taken the pill, and the uncertainty of how your body would react, coupled with the emotional turmoil, overwhelmed you. You were crying because the thought of getting pregnant had been terrifying, like a shadow looming over you, and now that shadow was lifting, replaced by a fragile sense of relief that you’d done the right thing.

You turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your sobs, not wanting to wake Rafe. But even as you tried to be silent, you felt him stirring beside you. His presence was solid, and grounding, and then you felt his fingers gently brushing through your hair, his touch so soft it almost broke you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Rafe’s voice was thick with sleep, laced with concern. “Look at me.”

He gently cupped your chin, turning your face towards him, his blue eyes filled with worry. His thumb brushed away your tears, his touch tender, as if he was afraid you might break. The intensity of his gaze, the genuine concern in his expression, made your heart ache even more.

“Nothing. Everything is okay now,” you whispered, forcing a small smile onto your lips. You didn’t want him to worry, didn’t want him to feel guilty for what had happened. But the smile felt weak, shaky, and you knew he could see through it.

Rafe’s brows furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “It clearly isn’t if you’re crying,” he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of pain. He hated seeing you like this, hated that you were hurting because of him.

“I just feel emotional. It’s because of the pill,” you explained, your voice trembling. You tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal like it was something you could handle, but even as you said it, more tears welled up, blurring your vision.

Rafe’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching as he looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry you have to go through that because of me,” he murmured, his voice rough. You could see the guilt etched across his features, the way his shoulders tensed as if he were carrying the weight of it all.

“It’s not just your fault,” you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble under your fingers. “I should’ve remembered too.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, his breath shuddering. His hand came up to rest over yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, a silent gesture of comfort. “We’ll both be careful next time,” he said quietly, his eyes opening to meet yours, his gaze steady and sincere.

You couldn’t help but smile at him then, a real smile, small but genuine. The fact that he was here, that he cared so much, made everything feel a little less overwhelming. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with affection, with everything you couldn’t quite put into words.

Rafe kissed you back immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His kiss was gentle, reassuring, but there was an intensity there too, a need to show you how much he cared, how much you meant to him. His hands moved up and down your back, his touch comforting, grounding.

But even as his body responded to yours, even as you felt his desire pressing against you, Rafe pulled back, breaking the kiss. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. He looked at you, his eyes filled with so much emotion it made your heartache. He wanted you—god, he wanted you so much—but he knew this wasn’t the right time. You were still emotional, still processing everything, and he didn’t want to push you, he didn’t want you to feel pressured or overwhelmed.

“Not now,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything, okay?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with love for him. The fact that he was thinking about your feelings, that he was putting you first, made you feel safe, cherished. “Thank you,” you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion.

Rafe’s arms tightened around you, holding you close, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapping around him as you let his warmth, his presence, soothe you. And as you lay there, held securely in his arms, you felt the weight of everything slowly begin to lift. You were still scared, still processing, but you knew you weren’t alone. Rafe was here, with you, and together, you’d figure everything out.

After getting out of bed, you and Rafe sat on the patio, eating the remaining pizza from last night. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow over everything. It was one of those lazy, summer mornings where everything felt a little slower, a little more relaxed, but there was an underlying tension between you and Rafe that you couldn’t quite shake.

Rafe finished his slice and reached for the bong that was sitting on the table. You watched as he inhaled deeply, the smoke swirling around him as he exhaled slowly, his eyes half-closed. You knew he was using it to escape, to numb whatever he was feeling, and it made your chest tighten with worry. You hated seeing him like this, relying on substances to cope, even if it wasn’t cocaine this time.

He glanced over at you, a small, almost sheepish smile on his lips. “You want a hit?”

You shook your head, your expression serious. “No.”

“Have you ever smoked?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if there was a part of your life he hadn’t yet touched.

“No, and I don’t plan on doing it in the middle of the day,” you replied, your tone gentle but firm. You weren’t judging him—you knew he was struggling, but you couldn’t bring yourself to condone it either.

“It helps me relax,” Rafe muttered, taking another hit. You could hear the strain in his voice, the way he was trying to justify it, not just to you but to himself. You knew he was carrying so much weight, so much pain, and this was the only way he knew how to deal with it. His father’s harsh words, the accusations of being a liar and a thief, still echoed in his mind. He hadn’t just been kicked out of the house; he’d been rejected by the one person whose approval he craved most.

Just then, you heard a voice cut through the air, high-pitched and familiar. “Rafe!”

You both turned quickly, Rafe setting the bong down on the table as Wheezie entered the patio. She stood there, looking at the two of you, her presence a sharp contrast to the tense, almost charged atmosphere.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably, his hand hovering near the bong as if to hide it. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

Wheezie took a few steps closer, tossing her bag onto the table with a casual, almost careless ease. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anybody,” she said with a small laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced between the two of you. Then she looked at you, her expression turning sly. “I knew there was something going on between the two of you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, surprise and a hint of panic flaring up. “You did?”

Wheezie nodded, her smile widening. “Yeah, I saw you sneaking out of his room one time, so I figured.” Her voice was teasing, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity there. She was recalling the night of the storm, the night you had sought comfort in Rafe’s arms. “Does Sarah know?” she asked, her tone turning more serious.

“Yeah, I told her last night. She didn’t take it well.” Your voice was soft, laced with sadness. The memory of Sarah’s reaction still stung, the way she had looked at you like you were betraying her.

Rafe glanced at the bong, clearly uncomfortable with his sister being there, seeing him like this. “Uh… do you want some, or…?” He trailed off, his voice awkward, almost desperate to change the subject.

Wheezie rolled her eyes, exasperation clear on her face. “You legitimately just offered me drugs? I’m 13.”

Rafe scratched the back of his neck, his awkwardness intensifying. “Uh…”

Wheezie, always quick to move on, looked around the patio, her eyes taking in the surroundings with a discerning gaze. “This is a sweet crib. How’d you con the Gilsons into letting you crash here?”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, trying to project a nonchalance he didn’t really feel. “I, uh… I didn’t tell them, is how. They’re in Sun Valley all summer, so keep a lid on it, please.”

Wheezie’s lips twitched in amusement as she moved an empty pizza box aside to sit on the armchair. “Yeah, sure. As long as you let me stay here whenever I want.”

Rafe eyed her warily, suspicion and a touch of protectiveness in his gaze. “Yeah… Dad trying to kick you out too?”

Wheezie let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Worse. I’m officially the least favorite daughter.”

Rafe chuckled, but there was no real humor in it. There was a shared pain there, a bond of mutual disappointment and rejection that seemed to hang heavy in the air between them.

“Sarah and Dad are going to the Bahamas, and did they invite me? Nope.”

You saw Rafe’s body tense at her words, his jaw clenching. “Wait. They’re… they’re going to the Bahama house? In summer?” His voice was disbelieving, tinged with anger and hurt. It was clear this was news to him, news that cut deep.

“Yeah. According to Rose, it’s business,” Wheezie explained, her tone casual, almost indifferent. “They’re all wrapped up in some new development, and for some super-secret reason, they’re going to the Bahamas.”

You could see the frustration building in Rafe, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to keep himself calm. “You know, I know about like, a billion times more about the business than she does,” he muttered, standing up abruptly. He began pacing, his movements jerky, running his hands through his hair in a familiar gesture of anxiety. “What… what is this?”

“Ugh, we’re the black sheep. Get used to it, Rafe,” Wheezie said with a resigned sigh, her voice laced with bitterness. She made a mocking bleating sound, rolling her eyes as she got up, clearly trying to make light of the situation, but it only seemed to infuriate Rafe more.

“Hey! Shut up!” Rafe snapped, grabbing her forearm tightly, his voice sharp and strained. “Wheezie, I told you to shut up, okay?”

Your heart lurched in your chest at the sight of him, his grip too hard, his voice too harsh. “Rafe—” you started, your voice soft, trying to calm him down, but he was too far gone, too lost in his own spiraling emotions.

Wheezie yanked her arm free, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt. “Don’t tell me to shut up!” she shot back, her voice strong, defiant. She reached into her backpack, pulled out a wad of cash, and shoved it against Rafe’s chest. “Here, my life savings… Life savings.”

Rafe’s anger faltered, his face softening as he looked down at the crumpled bills now scattered on the ground. Guilt washed over his features, his shoulders slumping as he bent down, his hands shaking as he gathered the money.

“Oh… oh, shit,” he muttered, his voice thick with regret, with self-loathing. You could see how much he hated himself at that moment, how much he wished he could take it all back, the drugs, the anger, the way he had lashed out.

After collecting the money, he sat back down heavily, his face pale, his eyes distant. “I’ll pay it back,” he mumbled, his voice hollow, almost defeated.

“Whenever,” Wheezie replied with a shrug, her tone indifferent, but you could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she looked at her brother with a mixture of love and frustration.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself, trying to find the right words. “I know this looks really bad right now, but… I’m gonna… I’m gonna get my shit together, okay?” His voice cracked with emotion, his hands trembling as he poked at his chest, his desperation clear. “Like, I will. I’m gonna get it tight, like… you know…” He knocked on the table for emphasis, but the gesture felt empty, hollow. “Like, real tight.” He forced a laugh, but it was weak, strained. “You’ll see.”

Wheezie just nodded, her expression unreadable, before she turned and left. You watched her go, your heart aching for both of them, for the brokenness that seemed to hang between them like a dark cloud.

After a few moments of tense silence, Rafe suddenly stood up, his movements sharp and restless. You watched as he began pacing back and forth, his hands running through his hair in that familiar gesture of frustration. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed as if he were fighting some internal battle. You could see he was struggling to process everything, the news about Sarah and their father going to the Bahamas, the sense of being left out, cast aside once again.

“I’m going to go and find Sarah and dad,” he declared abruptly, his voice tight with determination as he headed into the house. His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged.

You jumped up, quickly following after him, your heart pounding. “You’re going to go to the Bahamas with them?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion and worry. The idea of him chasing after them, of confronting Ward, made your stomach twist with anxiety.

Rafe stopped abruptly in front of the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned to face you, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. “No, but I want to see why they’re going,” he snapped, his voice sharp, almost desperate.

“Why does it matter?” you pleaded softly, taking a tentative step closer. “Just stay here with me.” You reached out, your fingers brushing his arm gently, hoping to calm him, to anchor him somehow. You hated seeing him like this, so consumed by anger and pain.

“It matters, okay?” he shouted, his voice rising, his frustration spilling over. “She—she—” He struggled to find the words, his hands gesturing wildly as if trying to grasp something just out of reach. “Aren’t you sick of her?”

“Rafe—” you began, your voice soothing, trying to placate him, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were wild, his body tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“You know she doesn’t want us to be together!” he continued, his voice loud and filled with a raw, bitter edge. “She’ll convince you to leave me. She always gets her way!” There was a deep, simmering hatred in his voice, a resentment that went far beyond just your relationship. It was rooted in years of feeling overlooked, of watching Ward choose Sarah time and time again, of being made to feel like he was never enough.

It wasn’t just about you and him—it was about everything. It was about the way Ward always chose Sarah over him, about the way she was always the favorite, the golden child. And now, even in this, she was the one Ward was taking to the Bahamas, as if he were grooming her to take over a business she had no real interest in, leaving Rafe out in the cold once more.

Without another word, Rafe stormed inside, his shoulders rigid, his movements jerky with anger. You stood there for a moment, the weight of his words pressing down on you, your heart aching for him. You could feel his pain, his sense of betrayal, and it tore at you because you knew he was right—Sarah would never approve of the two of you, and that would always hang over your relationship like a dark cloud.

You took a deep breath, gathering your resolve before you followed him into the house. He was already halfway to the front door, his keys clutched tightly in his hand. You quickened your pace, your heart racing, your mind scrambling to figure out how to stop him, how to reach him through the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

“Rafe, wait!” you called out, your voice echoing in the hallway as you hurried after him. “I’m going with you.”

He paused, his hand on the door handle, his head snapping around to look at you. There was a mix of surprise and confusion in his eyes, his anger momentarily derailed. “You don’t have to—” he started, his voice softer, almost hesitant as if he couldn’t quite believe you were willing to come with him, to stand by him in this.

“I want to,” you interrupted firmly, your voice steady, leaving no room for argument. You walked past him, pulled open the passenger door of his car and slid inside without another word.

Rafe stood there for a moment, staring at you, his expression a mixture of surprise, relief, and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. It was as if he were seeing you in a new light, realizing that you were truly there for him, that you weren’t going to abandon him, no matter how hard things got.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he released some of the tension coiled inside him. Then he moved, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car. He glanced at you, his eyes lingering on your face, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, almost hesitant smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with a sincerity that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t just for coming with him—it was for being there, for choosing him, even when it felt like the rest of the world was against him.

You reached over, your hand finding his on the gearshift, squeezing gently. “We’re in this together, okay?” you said softly, your eyes locked on his, willing him to believe it, to let go of the fear and anger that had been eating away at him.

Rafe nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his gaze steady and warm. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.

When you and Rafe arrived at the airstrip, the tension in the car was almost suffocating. You could see the tightness in his jaw, the restless way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel. He was a storm barely held in check, and you knew whatever he was planning, it wasn’t going to end well.

“I need you to stay in the car,” he told you firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a plea in his voice, a desperate need for you to listen, to trust him, even though everything inside you screamed that something was wrong.

“I don’t want to stay here,” you protested, your heart pounding. The thought of him going in alone, of facing whatever was waiting, filled you with dread. “Let me come with you.”

Rafe shook his head, his gaze softening for just a moment. “Please, just stay. I’ll be right back, okay?” He reached out, his hand brushing your cheek, and for a second, the chaos around you faded, leaving just the two of you in that small, enclosed space.

Reluctantly, you nodded, biting your lip as you watched him get out of the car. You hated the idea of staying behind, of not knowing what was going on, but you could see the determination in his eyes. He needed to do this, whatever it was, and you didn’t want to make things harder for him.

As soon as he disappeared from view, a knot of anxiety twisted tighter in your stomach. Minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity. You kept glancing at the door, half-expecting Rafe to come rushing back, but the silence was eerie, almost oppressive.

Then you heard it—a loud, sharp crack that split the air. Your heart stopped, the sound reverberating through you like a physical blow. It took you a moment to process it, to realize what it was: a gunshot.

Panic surged through you, your mind racing. Something kept telling you to stay in the car, to wait, but the fear, the need to know what was happening, overpowered every rational thought. You pushed the door open, your legs shaking as you stumbled out of the car, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

You followed the sound, your footsteps quick and uneven as you made your way toward the plane. The scene that greeted you was one that would be etched into your mind forever, a moment frozen in time.

Sheriff Peterkin lay crumpled on the ground, blood pouring from her chest, her eyes wide and unseeing. The sight of it made your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. Your gaze was drawn to the figure standing over her, to the gun clutched tightly in his hand.

Rafe.

Your eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. It felt like the world had tilted, everything slipping out of focus. “Rafe..” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roaring in your ears.

Sarah was there, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. She looked like a ghost, frozen in place, her hands trembling. “Rafe, no,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. There was a raw, pleading note in her tone, a desperation that cut through the shock.

Ward stood a few feet away, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. “Rafe,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “What did you do?”

Rafe’s response was almost surreal, a laugh bubbling up from his chest, his eyes wild and unfocused. “I saved you, Dad,” he muttered, his voice high and shaky. “I saved you.”

TAGS: @wearemadeofstardust0 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @thepopcultureaddict @deeznuggetsbebussin

[teruwasright]

LITERALLY‼️‼️‼️ KOU. WOULD. HATE. YOU. ALL.‼️‼️‼️‼️

if he saw ANY of the horrible stuff they've said about Teru (even just the shit they straight made up??) And if he saw you all were calling him HIS MURDERER HE WOULD LITERALLY BE FURIOUS-

Kou loves Teru JUST AS MUCH AS TERU LOVES HIM!! (Will never forget how Kou was the FIRST ONE to lose his shit when Teru got hurt-) there love is ABSOLUTELY NOT one sided- Kou loves Teru and HE'S SHOWN IT- he may not be as physically affectation as Teru (he probably finds it a little embarrassing) but he's NEVER be uncomfortable with Teru showing physically affectation for him- (this fact is why I hated the whole Teru being a "groomer" shit- fucking HATE that with my soul Kou's never been uncomfortable with Teru and Teru's never been weird about it STOP.)

Seeing them interact feels like seeing a mom baby her son and he gets embarrassed about it (witch makes me even sader....)

But Kou has show affectation for Teru in different ways- just bc there not as open DOESN'T MEAN HE DOESN'T LOVE HIM!!

I'm sorry I'm getting a little off topic- (I ramble really easily and I get really upset when people genuinely think Kou doesn't love Teru-)

But I absolutely agree- it's ridiculous that people are blaming Teru (the person that loves him THE ABSOLUTE MOST) and then have the NERVE to be sad and crying about Kou- kou would literally tell you to stfu-

Sighhh me too fr- I literally hate this fan base rn and it's pissing me off so bad- people have accused Teru of a lot of things....but killing his BROTHER? to far man and I genuinely hate you all ^^

Kou's death

He died as the selfless idiot he is, but most of the fandom is missing a part. I've seen so many people talk about Teru and Akane seeing his dead body down the well, but nobody who said this:

He looks comforted by the lightning, some kind of wicked comfort.

"My brother's lightning…" he doesn't look like he feels betrayed, at all.

He was trying to kill Nene, one of his best friends, and he never would've been able to forgive himself if he succeeded. He's glad his BROTHER stopped him, that he was the one to wipe him away from the living world, even tho it was an accident

He finally understands what Hanako and Mitsuba meant by saying they want HIM, someone they trust, to exorcise them. It's hard to imagine as a living person, but as a dangerous supernatural it's as clear as day

What was Kou's best departure, was Teru's worst goodbye

[giddythekitty]

A little speculation of mine regarding shifting

Disclaimer: Everything I say in this post is only what I think might be blocking some of us in shifting to not-parallels. Take it as you wish but don’t come for me because I warned you.

So, shifting.

We already know social media is an issue, lots of people talked about it before. But I kinda want to dive a little deeper.

Because yeah, social media(including Tumblr) does affect you, but why?(and also a few secondary causes)

Burnout

Usually(me personally) I spend a lot of time doomscrolling on Tiktok or here on Tumblr and looking at things about my s/o or my cc or a friend there or the likes. While it’s not exactly a bad thing to look for ‘motivation’ per se, it kills some intention to shift to that reality because you have a small substitute for it here.

2. AI chatbots

Remember, your subconscious can’t tell the difference between what you see and what you tell it you see. Same goes for conversations or movies or books. Maybe even dreams. It doesn’t differentiate between a real conversation and one with a chatbot, so again, some of that intention is killed.

3. Daydreaming/‘roleplaying’

Am I saying either of those are bad things? No. Am I saying they are absolutely terrible for you if you want to shift? No again. What I’m saying is if you do it too much it might also affect your intention and/or motivation to shift. If you need an example, I’ll give one. I like to listen to music a lot, because it’s a coping mechanism and an escape from ‘the real world’. Usually many of these songs are accompanied by scenes I make up in my head and most of the ones I personally have are related to who I am in one DR but talking to some characters from a different place. Like a crossover of the sorts. There is not a single day where I haven’t listened to at least one song.

4. Looking at other shifters for help

So many shifters have said it before and by god am I tired of saying it too, but shifting is a path of self discovery. Like a puzzle. You’re given the pieces and the final image, but you’re the one who has to put them together, not someone else for you. You already have all you need, wasting time looking for answers to questions like ‘why am I not shifting’ or ‘what else do I have to do to shift’ can become hurtful. Sure, advice from time to time is helpful, but constantly doing it won’t get you anywhere.

Your mom didn’t spoon feed you your entire life, did she? She showed you how to do it yourself when you were old enough to learn, and you had to practice on your own and build up strength in your little toddler hands how to hold a spoon properly so you can eat.

So what do all these have in common and to do with shifting?

Simple: Intention and Motivation. Your will to get there.

Now I’m not saying to stop them all together, but I am saying that they should be cut off— rationed if you will— significantly if it means those of us with said issue want to get rid of it.

Again, it kills the intention to shift. Your conscious can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s fake, so it always thinks seeing an edit of your favorite person is really similar to seeing them IRL. From my point of view(mine personally), intention isn’t always there.

Let’s give another example and pretend intention is sugar. Sweetness in general. If you have it sometimes, you’re fine. Maybe you want more, but it’s okay. If you take it in big quantities though, it can become an addiction and lead to diabetes or an insulinic shock.

Now pretend all those things I counted out above as the sugar. You take too much and you might end up hurting yourself at some point or just staying at the same level. Spending all day doomscrolling, looking at other peoole for help, chatting with ais and so on, all while having the ‘it’ll help me shift tonight’ mindset won’t get you too far because you’re just exhausting yourself.

And no one’s saying the change has to be instant. You can’t stop an addiction immediately because it’ll just hurt you more, but you can slowly lessen the dose until it’s minimal or nonexistent. At the end of the day you’re only helping yourself, and what’s a thousand years to an eternity of bliss?

I know this is long, but I feel it needs to be put out there. This feels like important information/advice/take it as you will, and let me know if you have questions and I’ll make sure to answer/clarify them.

Happy shifting and take a break if you need to.

[neuroticbookworm]

i know it aired a while back but i cannot move on: tien from la pluie

Friend, I absolutely relate to not moving on from this show and this character.

SAENGTIEN, MY PERFECT CHILD!

(linking the The Great La Pluie Meta Roundup, because we deserve to read and reread those posts forever and ever, till the end of time)

How I feel about this character

He is my sassy little son and I love him so much!

He has opinions and he is not afraid to let people know about them.

He read his brother for filth right from the beginning, took absolutely no shit from Lomfon when he was being a sulky, annoying pest,and was the #1 hype man for Patts and Tai’s relationship. I don’t think he really needs any protection from me, I know that he can comfortably eviscerate his enemies without breaking a sweat, but I will be there for him at the end of the day, on the couch, with fluffy blankets and snacks and soda, so he can unwind and tell me all about how most people in his life are stupid, are making their stupidity his problem.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Listen. As much as I hated Lomfon and his stupid ass for the mess he made, I really believe that the Lomfon we saw in the finale is a good match for Saengtien. And I believe Tien is the right match for Lomfon because when that boy throws another tantrum, a whack from Tien is what will set him straight (heh) once again. So I only ship him with Lomfon and vice versa. Also, take a moment and send a prayer into the universe for a La Pluie sequel, please and thank you.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

I wish we had gotten to see more banter between Saengtien and his dad. They are both extremely perceptive and witty. I would love to be a fly on the wall when they have a gab session.

My unpopular opinion about this character

Saengtien is a very strong, level-headed, and complex character, and I feel like his maturity and ability to handle bullshit by himself was underplayed by the audience as the show went on. Him being quirky and high-energy and jumping up in excitement whenever he feels like it without a care in the world does not mean that he is immature. He does not need to be rescued, and he definitely does not need to be coddled. He’s been taking care of his self-absorbed elder brother for years while he refused to work through his soulmate bond issues, and he made sure Tai still kept in touch with his parents even while nursing a misplaced anger on their mother. Taking care of himself? Pfft. My son is fine. All he needs is considerate love and companionship, not pampering.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

We only ever saw him have a really strong outburst of emotions when Tai was stuck on the mountain. The hurt on his face when he finally faced Lomfon after their fight in the rain was heartbreaking, yet measured. And when he returned home, he didn’t lash out at Tai. Instead he sat down with his brother and calmly talked it through. I like these original character choices for him, and I understand the character and thematic cohesion reasons behind it. But I still wish we’d seen him scream out in anger just once in the show. Has he ever gotten to express his frustration in his whole life without having to consider how it would affect the people in his life, and ultimately holding back? Based on what we saw on the show, I would safely bet no. And that hurts my soul.

The bestest boy to ever best boy.

Give me a character ask game

[pentechnics]

A Little Leap

Chapter 9 of Latch

Summary: The long-awaited night is here, and both you and Din struggle with casting your cautions aside. Will it hinder your time together?

Pairing: Firefighter!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Series Masterlist

Notes: Very long awaited, but hopefully worth it. And not even a power outage could stop me from getting it out today! Poured a lot of love into this one and I'm so excited to see what you all think of it! Sending you all so much love and well-wishes!!

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A few days later, Din was stepping back into Lando’s shop and greeting him with a handshake. Lando led him to the back where a rack of black garment bags hung, plucking out two and handing them to him. “Here we are, all set for you.”

“Two?” Din pointed to the second bag. “I only bought one.”

“Luke had me make up another for you. He noticed you liked the brown one, too.”

Lando winked and pressed them into Din’s hands. Din glanced between him and the suits, unsure of what to say. How did Luke do that without him noticing?

“... Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Lando nodded and waved as Din made his way out of the boutique.

Din hung the garments in the back seat of the car and clambered inside with a huff. During the drive back he rehearsed what he’d say to Luke upon his return – why’d you do that? How’d you do that? What the hell, you didn’t have to do that. 

Din sighed. That kid was too giving for his own good.

He tried to keep an air of authority as he stepped through the front door and dramatically held out his two garment bags. He threw a stern glare at a gleeful Luke, who was sitting on the couch, not affected by Din in the slightest.

“... I don’t pay you enough to be doing things like this.”

Luke just laughed. Din gulped down his annoyance, standing up straighter in an attempt to keep up his angry demeanor.

“Relax, it’s a gift! It’ll come in handy.”

“Luke,” Din warned.

“Mr. Djarin, I promise, that is the last sort of intervention I plan to do.” He lifted his palm into the air. “You have my word.”

Din gave him a solid nod and made his way to the bedroom.

“It better be.”

~~~~~

“Your nerves are understandable. Is there any specific thing you’re worried about?”

You shifted in your seat before returning Dr. Jinn’s gaze. Each little thing seemed to pile together: some rational, some very much not. And more came with each passing day. What if he stood you up? What if you said something stupid? What if you spill your drink all over him?

“I just… I’m not sure what to expect. I’m not a big date person, I haven’t been on very many good ones in the past.”

“Ah, so because you really like him, you’re extra worried about it not going well?”

A bullseye, as usual. But damn, did he have to say it so bluntly each time? You nodded.

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Let me ask you this,” he tapped his pen against his knee as he spoke. “Do you think you were the reason those other dates were bad?”

You thought about it. One person made offensive jokes. Another turned out to be cheating on someone with you. One stared at the waiter’s ass the whole time. You winced at the memories.

“I guess most of them were out of my control.”

He gave a slight grin.

“Then I think it’s safe to say you won’t screw anything up.”

“… But what if he does?”

He paused, taking in your expression before asking, “What do you think is the worst thing that could happen during this date?”

A bead of anxiety led to sadness, shame, and anger. It wouldn’t be the total end of the world, but it would hurt as if it was.

“... Him not showing up. Or changing his mind.”

“Okay. Solid concern. Now tell me this: when you think about him, what are the biggest traits that stand out to you?”

Flashes of his face and of conversations the two of you shared ran through your mind. Those kind eyes and warm smile took over your senses, sending a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“... He’s kind,” you began, “and smart.”

Grogu entered your mind’s eye.

“...And he seems really loyal to the people in his life.”

“Seems like a great guy.”

You smiled and nodded.

“So, you’ll just have to take a little leap. Trust that he’ll come through.”

You stared at your lap. He was right. But just how were you meant to do that?

“Is that something I can learn to do in two days?” you asked with a dry laugh.

Dr. Jinn shrugged.

“Personally, I don’t think it’s something anyone is ever done learning. But we all have to start somewhere.”

~~~~

Din straightened his collar in the mirror, letting out a huff that made the tip of his hair bounce up.

He took in the sight of the grey suit in the mirror, hoping to summon that same magical feeling he got wearing it for the first time in Lando’s boutique. He turned around to face Grogu’s crib.

“What do you think, kid?”

Grogu smiled up at him from his standing perch, patting the edge of the crib with his hand. Din chuckled and went over to lift him out and carry him into the living room.

“Luke will be here any minute. You better be good to him, okay?”

Grogu laid his head down onto Din’s shoulder in response, wrapping his arms around him as much as they’d allow.

Din stopped in his tracks. Little waves of warmth and love flowed through him; he held Grogu close and basked in it. 

Something seemed odd – typically, Grogu would cling like this and whimper when he wanted support. Then Din would’ve doubled down and stay home for him.

But this seemed different. Grogu was silent, save for a few gentle, happy coos. It was as though Grogu was trying to tell him something else. To ease his worries. It had Din swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.

This was hard. Leaving him was always hard. But as Din ran his hands through Grogu’s little curls, the prickly, heavy anxiety began to slowly loosen its grip.

He gave Grogu a kiss on the cheek just as Luke knocked on the door.

Deep breath. It’s now or never.

“All right, buddy, wish me luck.”

Grogu giggled and tapped his hand against Din’s chin, making him chuckle.

During the drive, Din couldn’t help the way his muscles seized. Every alarm bell in his system was ringing – not the way they usually did when he was away from Grogu, but something insistent and foreign. Good signs or bad, he couldn’t tell.

The evening sent a chill through his half-open window. The sky poked through the high-rises, its colorful clarity a direct contrast to the electric storm brewing inside him.

His mind was jumping from place to place – anxious, guilty, excited – they all melded together and created a dizzying new emotion he wasn’t sure how to name. Din was no stranger to running into a situation he wasn’t familiar with, but something about this seemed so much more fragile. It had more variables than he was used to. Larger margin for error, and less room for it. He resisted the urge to hit his head against the steering wheel to get his brain to shut up.

When he parked in front of your building and stepped out onto the curb, he forced himself to take a breath. One feeling at a time, one worry at a time.

Grogu’s okay. Focus on her.

It’ll be good. She’ll be happy to see you.

You look fine. Stop thinking about your stomach.

The voice speaking to him was collected and confident next to his racing heart. He chanted the words over and over again in his head, breathing in time with them until he could muster up the nerve to pull out his phone. He glanced at the clock – per Luke’s instructions, he had arrived ten minutes early.

Won’t she feel rushed, though? He’d asked. What if she needs more time?

Trust me, Luke had said. You’re the one who’s going to need it.

Damn that boy. Why was he always right? Din allowed himself a few more minutes of nervous pacing and obsessive jacket-pulling before opening up his messages.

~~~~

You sat in front of your mirror, making your final preparations before Din was due to arrive. Dress was on, accessories were added, and now it was time to wait. Your phone sat on the bathroom counter, taunting you. He’d be texting you any second now.

You were putting essentials into your little wristlet purse. Your hands were shaking, each little item struggling to get into the opening.

A thousand pep talks and reminders to breathe from Harley couldn’t even scratch the surface of your brain without interference. It was like you were shut off from your fear sector, unable to soothe it even if you wanted to. You stared at their messages of encouragement blankly before shutting your eyes and heaving a deep sigh.

Even though he really didn’t seem like the type, you couldn’t shake your fears of Din running away. Deciding he didn’t want to do this, that he didn’t want to see you. It took everything you had to not cancel first and beat him to the punch. And yet every time you snuffed the temptation, part of you wondered if you’d regret it later.

‘You’ll just have to trust him a little.’

As if on cue, Dr. Jinn’s voice rang through your mind like a bell. A soothing chime that cut through all of the abrasive, self-destructive noise. It reminded you of what you were meant to be trying. The clog inside you was pushing to be cleared – you just needed to help it along.

You rose from your spot and wandered into the living room, phone now cradled in your hand. The evening was settling in and basking its iridescent glow upon the city, the buildings surrounding your apartment cloaked in its blues, purples, and pinks. You thought about Din, about the memories you’ve already made together. His smile, his laugh… 

… His baby.

You clutched your phone in your fist as another wave of anxiety pulsed through you. What would you do if you messed this up? The mental image of Grogu’s smiling face had your heart singing – what if you never got to see him again?

But then again, when did this date become the make-it-or-break-it of this whole thing?

It’s not as though this would be the first time you and Din sat together and talked. You’d done that several times at Cal’s. You had no reason to believe this wouldn’t be just like that, right? Calming, fun, and easy. You let out a slow breath, shoulders drooping down with it.

Yeah, that’s all this is, you told yourself. Just another fun meet-up across the counter. 

Your phone buzzed.

With a jolt, tension returned to your muscles as you looked at the screen. He was here.

It was time.

Shit.

You texted back with frantic fingers, running to grab the last of your things and put on your shoes before heading out the door – but not before taking one last glance out the window.

The calm of dusk, an everlasting being of promise and beauty. The dull quiet in your apartment, a guaranteed comfort when you returned, regardless of what happened.

Certainties you could hold onto in a world of unknowns.

You pushed yourself out the door.

~~~~

You focused on each breath as the elevator made its painfully slow descent. You patted your dress, your head, your purse, anything that could possibly fall out of place between now and the lobby.

Part of you began to wonder where he’d be taking you. Him taking the reins on those details was a welcomed surprise; you couldn’t help feeling pampered by the prospect of not having to make that decision.

A smile tugged on your cheeks as the elevator signaled your arrival to the lobby. You sucked in one more breath and squeezed your bag. Here goes nothing.

You walked out and made it a whole five steps before almost tripping over your feet.

He was a vision: standing outside beside his car, leaning against the passenger side. Hands in his pockets. Gaze turned to the side. His suit was perfectly tailored to him, outlining his broad shoulders and full hips. Those arms that could rip his uniform into shreds were less of a threat to the suit jacket, though still made their presence known. The stubble on his face was short but visible, and it gave his jawline even more of a sharp edge. He turned and gave a small grin at the sight of you.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and regained your footing.

“Hi,” you greeted as you stepped out the door. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Not at all,” he said, hands slowly making their way out of his pockets. “You look… “

He trailed off for a moment, glancing down at your dress before meeting your eyes again.

“... Amazing.”

You swallowed again, the heat in your face making it harder to breathe.

“So do you.”

You couldn’t help stealing another glance at that marvelous suit, subconsciously biting your lips together in hopes of keeping your cool.

“Thank you.”

You returned his gaze upon hearing his voice, letting yourself get lost in them. Any semblance of nerves that had just been assaulting you were long gone, like you’d been in a crowded room, and he was the one to walk in and make every voice fall silent.

Who could blame them? He left you speechless, too.

After a moment he cleared his throat and opened the car door for you.

“Shall we, then?”

You smiled at the gesture and climbed in, your heart already aflutter. Who knew people still opened car doors for each other?

You watched him walk around and get into the driver’s seat, phone in hand.

“I’m a little embarrassed at having to use the GPS to get there,” he said with a chuckle.

“Don’t be!” You laughed. “Everyone needs the help sometimes.”

He glanced up at you before resuming his search, a small dust of color brimming on his ears.

Once the GPS began to speak, he pulled onto the road.

“I don’t recognize the name of the restaurant,” you commented, rubbing your thumb along the back of your opposite hand. “Have you ever been?”

“No, actually. I don’t go out very much.”

“Me, either,” you nodded.

“New for us both. That’ll be nice.”

He pulled up to a stoplight and turned away from the road to look at you.

“Yeah, that will be nice.” You said with a smile.

An unspoken feeling passed through you: uncharted, exciting, deep. By the way Din looked at you, you’d swear he was feeling the same thing. His eyes seemed to be speaking for him again – a language you were so desperate to learn. Yet at the same time, it felt as though the message was crystal clear.

The light turned green, but the spell didn’t break. Somehow, without even having to look at you, those eyes were still relaying their words. The comfortable silence between you was so loud with them that it was almost too much to bear.

Din ended up driving you to a separate sector of downtown from where Cal’s and the Mark were located. A spring of joy lit up inside you; this was an area you never got to explore.

When Din pulled into a parking spot, he rushed to undo his seat belt.

“Hang on.”

You halted your hands from reaching for the door handle and instead watched him jog over to open it again for you. A wide smile sprouted on your face. What a precious gentleman.

You glanced at the hand he held out for you before placing yours in it. Just as it had the last time, back in Cal’s, electricity shot through you. There was a slight jolt in his grip before he pulled you to your feet, giving your hand the slightest squeeze before letting it go.

You instantly missed his warmth.

He pointed the way after locking the car and the two of you walked side by side. You held tight to your bag, still unsure of what physical boundaries should be kept. You glanced at his hand, dangling along his side. It swayed with his movements.

How nice would it be if it just stayed wrapped around yours?

Upon approaching the restaurant, he opened that door for you as well, making you giggle.

“Will you be opening all my doors tonight?”

“... Is that okay?”

The concern that clouded his eyes made you wish you hadn’t said a word. You smiled and held out a hand towards him.

“Of course, yes! I’m just not used to it is all.”

You paused and looked at your feet, nerves threatening to keep the next words from escaping your mouth.

“It makes me feel really special.”

He let out a breath. You watched the tension dissipate from his shoulders and a calmness come over his expression. 

“I’m glad.”

He turned from you and greeted the approaching waiter.

You took the moment look around. The restaurant was quaint and elegant, warm yellow lighting reflecting off the maroon walls. Wide open dining areas and a dancing area down a farther hallway. Shimmering chandeliers dangled from above and reflected constellations off themselves.

It was gorgeous.

When the waiter grabbed two menus, you began to prepare yourself. Your heart was pounding deep and loud – a boisterous show of its limits.

And the evening had only just begun.

~~~~

Light chatter surrounded you both as you sat at the intimate little table for two, waiting for your orders. The candle sitting between you made Din glow; specks of yellow danced across his face, making his eyes shimmer. He was looking out the window, his side profile made ever sharper by the contrasting shadows.

“It looks so other-worldly outside,” he said, “... does that sound weird?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head.

You took a glance out the window, taking in the pale city lights as they twinkled against the dark backdrop of the encroaching night. As cars drove past, the headlights would briefly splatter the surrounding surfaces. It was like several little light shows just for the two of you.

“I see what you mean. It’s kind of magical.”

He turned to you and grinned. His eyes betrayed a hint of embarrassment.

The waiter came by and set your food before you both. Din cleared his throat and glanced about the room until they walked away.

The smell immediately graced your nose, making you breathe in a deep dose of it. Your stomach grumbled its approval just before you both began eating. You were grateful for the food – it gave you something to do when you couldn’t think of what to say.

Clinking silverware and padded footsteps of passing waiters filled the air. You glanced up at Din between bites – he would either be pecking at his food or glancing out the window, seemingly wringing his hands together.

Good to know he was also nervous, though it left you unsure of how to break the tension. You took another bite and thought back to the pep-talk you gave yourself.

Just another chat across the counter.

You took a sip of your water and set down your cutlery.

“How’s Grogu doing?”

His eyes darted to you, expression a little lost.

“Oh- he’s… good.”

“No more fevers, I hope.”

That got him to smile a bit.

“No, he’s okay. He’s actually been really active lately.”

“Yeah?” Tell me more.”

He did. And as he spoke, his demeanor shifted. The weight left his shoulders, the buzzing air calming. You could swear you were actually at Cal’s, and he was sitting at the counter. You couldn’t help smiling – at both his and Grogu’s cuteness.

Conversation flowed much more easily after that, the evening drifting along with it. He made you laugh, you made him blush, and everything in the world made sense.

Before either of you knew it, the waiter had left the check on the table and at least a solid two hours had passed. Din didn’t even entertain the notion when you lifted your little purse to help pay, giving you a good laugh and another flutter of the heart.

The two of you walked out into the night soon after, you nursing leftovers in your hand. The walk to the car was slow and peaceful, the breeze a relief on your beaming cheeks. When you reached the car, you stopped Din with a hand on his forearm before he could open the door.

“Hey-” you looked up at him. “Do you want to…”

You gulped. You didn’t want the night to end just yet. But what would happen if he said no? Just imagining the awkwardness made you want to run away. He glanced down at your hand before meeting your eyes again.

“... walk around a bit?” he finished for you.

You nodded with a smile, hoping the utter mental pain you were enduring wasn’t visible in your expression. He straightened up and took your to-go box out of your hands.

“That sounds nice. Let’s drop this off, then.”

The relief was so sweet yet drastic. You sighed with a small laugh and gave his forearm a little squeeze.

~~~~

The walk reminded you of that spontaneous arcade day the two of you shared, yet this was somehow even sweeter.

The night was rich with energy. Light spilled onto the sidewalks from the little shops that lined the streets, a slight breeze whisking around you, and a healthy flow of words still running between you. Din’s voice grew just a bit more animated than it had been at the start of the night, and you reveled in the soothing sound of it.

One shop caught your eye: a little ice cream parlor, painted in creamy pastels and boasting a host of flavors, with indoor decor that was reminiscent of a vintage diner. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking in the sugary vanilla scent. You turned to Din with a grin.

“Do you want some dessert?”

He stared at you with wide eyes and hesitated. A beat passed before he gulped and tore his gaze from you to look at the list of flavors outside the door.

“Sure—yeah, let’s do it.”

You insisted on paying once flavors had been selected, mirroring what he had done in the restaurant.

It took him all but five minutes to finish his. You weren’t even at your cone yet.

You looked between your hand holding your ice cream and his empty one crumpling a napkin across the little circular table. Gesturing between them, you gave him a puzzled look.

“How?”

He just shrugged with a chuckle. You shook your head and continued to dive into your cone.

“Oh, hey- you’ve got something right there…”

He gestured to the side of his lip. Fighting off the embarrassment, you tried to wipe it off with your hand.

“Did I get it?”

He shook his head. You tried again. Whatever it was continued to elude you, leading Din to reach for a new napkin.

“May I?”

You laughed at your own helplessness and scooched your chair closer to him. 

He met you halfway and wiped at the edge of your mouth. Even through the layers between you, his fingers burned into your skin. You couldn’t help staring at the concentrated expression he held, your muscles freezing up under his touch. He drew closer and continued on his mission to clear off the ice cream, though the napkin just felt dry against your skin. His thumb darted out to caress your cheek, and you gasped at the touch.

He had to stop teasing you like that. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself otherwise.

His gaze slowly made its way up from your lips until it met yours, his eyes giving you that familiar sensation of being effortlessly dissected.

How do his eyes do that, you wondered.

“… How do you do that?”

You may not have meant to voice your thoughts, but no regret followed.

“Do what?”

“it’s just that- I don’t know, every time you look at me, it’s like you’re staring into my soul.”

He let out a soft laugh.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you quickly added, “I’ve just never experienced it before.”

He leaned back the slightest bit, his hand falling from your face.

“You do something similar, you know. It’s like there’s…”

He leaned in again and squinted a bit, peering even deeper. You jumped a bit in your seat, the sudden proximity sending a jolt through your veins.

“… I can’t quite explain it, but they’re pretty incredible.”

His voice was soft and quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

You melted into his gaze, losing yourself chasing the shining stars that made up its inner galaxy. A deep warmth ran through you, and you couldn’t help smiling. He returned the expression, his eyes crinkling.

You could look at that face all night.

The rest of your ice cream sat abandoned in your hand, the slight sensation of it dripping onto your hand the only indication that anything else still existed.

“Oh-”

Din bounced back into action to clean you up, leaving you to careen back to Earth’s surface. The chatter of other customers, the faint music in the background, it all came rushing back too fast.

“Better get a jump on this if you don’t want to end up doused in ice cream soup,” he said with that beautiful grin.

It was hopeless. Hardly anything had happened, and yet… You were trapped in his orbit.

~~~~

Your throat was so sore by the time Din was driving you home, hours having passed by without you. You were certain you’d never talked to someone for so long before.

The fatigue was showing on his face as well, in the form of tired eyes and deeper sighs.

“I’m sorry to have kept you out so late,” you said.

“Oh, please, don’t be.” He stole a glance before returning his attention to the road. “I had a great time with you.”

Like a blanket straight from the dryer, you were wrapped in that sweet feeling again.

“Likewise.”

He smiled with his teeth for the briefest of moments.

Moments later he was pulling the car into park in front of your building and popping out to open your door one more time for the night.

You looked up to see him staring at the ground with his hand outstretched, that adorable red tint decorating his ears. You smiled and let him pull you out of the car, but this time he didn’t step away.

Your heartbeat quickened without your permission, sending a flurry of butterflies through your gut. You were craning your neck the slightest bit, eager to take in his features from this close up, despite the growing clamminess in your hands.

His gaze was slower to meet yours; he took his time examining you, starting from your shoes and working his way up. When he did catch your eyes, something in his stance deflated. And his smile once again took all the remaining breath from your lungs.

“I meant it,” he all but whispered, “I… had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” your voice came out quieter than intended, matching his. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’d like that a lot.”

Your smile was hurting your cheeks, but the pain was barely registering. The crisp night air whisked around you both, as if sweeping away everything else until all you could focus on was Din.

He took up your entire field of vision, your every sensation, each breath you tried to take.

You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder, giving yourself enough leverage to pull him towards you and plant a kiss on his cheek.

Your entire body was heating up, your lips tingling. His skin was so soft, the slight scratch of his stubble a pleasant sensation.

His eyes betrayed surprise, blinking a few times before regaining their focus. He gulped and looked back down to the ground between you both, the red tint stretching to his cheeks.  

God, he was so cute.

A big gust of wind broke the moment, making you shiver. His face immediately shifted to concern.

“Oh, are you cold?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Just a bit. I guess that’s my cue.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go and retrieving your leftovers from the car.

He closed the car door when you stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“Good night, Din. Thank you for everything.”

He smiled at you, giving a small nod in your direction.

“Good night.”

One last look at him before you forced your feet to start moving. Every instinct in you tried to pull you back to him, but you had to press on.

The heated building began to thaw you out, but it was nothing compared to him. You didn’t stop until you got to the elevator, the curb thankfully out of view to keep you from running right back outside.

Every moment, every feeling, it all came crashing down on you all at once. Right there inside the moving metal box. You had to lean against the wall to catch yourself.

What a night.

~~~~

Your apartment was dark. The city lights still penetrated through your windows, illuminating select areas and helping your brain adjust, but you were still left fumbling for the light switch.

Your movements were almost robotic as you toed off your shoes, put away your food, closed the curtains, and made your way to the bedroom. You plopped your purse down and stared at yourself in the mirror.

Okay, I’m wearing the dress, so none of that was a dream.

You changed into your nightwear and took a seat on the couch, blankly turning on the TV and letting the white noise fill the space.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with how much the two of you had spoken, yet it still didn’t feel like enough. By the end of it all, you still wished it didn’t have to end.

You brushed your fingers over your cheek, where the invisible indent of his hand still remained. Warm, strong, and soft – that’s how his hands felt. Just the memory of them had your skin tingling again.

Magic. It was the only word that could describe the night. Something about it all was just pure magic.

You sighed. You’d never been more eager to see someone again. To feel that enchanting bliss again. It seemed so foolish, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You lifted up your phone – it’d definitely be too much to message him now, no matter how much you wanted to. Some self-control had to be practiced.

You elected instead to put on Golden Girls, your muscles relaxing as the familiar score began to play. You reached over to your side table and pick up your most recent read: Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand. Funnily enough, the story involved a new love for the titular character.

But for the first time in a while, the pages went on without you. You made it through the first few pages before the train derailed. The words were there, your eyes moved over them, but you weren’t encoding a single one. Your mind’s eye projected those eyes, that suit, the gorgeous smile, all over the page.

You shook your head. Maybe if this chapter involved Jasmina rather than the discomforting country club group, it would apply more to your mind’s incessant stick to the topic of romance.

“Sorry, Major,” you whispered as you closed the book. “Even you can’t compete right now.”

The girls were chatting over cheesecake when you picked up your phone again, scrolling aimlessly until you decided the only way to calm yourself down enough to go to bed was to expel everything.

The phone only rang twice before Harley picked up, skipping every pleasantry and going right into the, “Tell me everything.”

~~~~

Luke turned to the next page in his book, readjusting in the chair as he did so.

The apartment had been quiet, blanketed in the yellow glow of Din’s floor lamp since Grogu fell asleep. The perfect backdrop to get engrossed in a book and forget where he was.

The one thing to break his trance was the gentle rustling of the front door. Luke looked up and checked his phone – the 11:55pm timestamp had him slightly recoiling in disbelief.

When Din walked through the door, Luke closed his book and gave him a smile.

“Welcome back,” he said, “How’d it go?”

Din shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it on the sofa. He plopped down, leaned on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. When he sat back up, Luke noted the flush in his cheeks, the shine in his eyes, and couldn’t help grinning.

“That good, huh?”

Din shook his head.

“I don’t even know what happened. She’s… just incredible.”

Luke had never seen Din like this. Sure, he was quiet, but this was fully tongue-tied. A blissful tone was evident in his worn-out voice.

As quick as it came, though, it vanished. Din’s expression narrowed.

“Wait, how long has he been asleep?”

Ah. Dad mode was back.

“A few hours,” Luke said with a shrug. “It is almost midnight.”

Din straightened up.

“What? I was gone that long?”

“It’s okay, Mr. Djarin, he’s completely fine.”

“I’ve never missed bedtime on a day off. Are you sure he was okay?”

“Yes,” Luke said, moving to sit next to Din on the sofa. “I promise, he’s great. Besides, he goes to bed at eight. Even if you were home earlier, there’s no way you’d have been back that early.”

Din leaned back until he collided with the backrest, slightly shaking his head.

Luke internally sighed. Just when he thought the guilt would stay away…

He turned in his seat to face Din and got his attention with a hand to his shoulder.

“Mr. Djarin, listen to me. I want you to think about how you felt being out tonight. How you felt being on that date.”

Din eyed Luke before turning his gaze to his lap.

“You don’t have to say anything – just think.”

Din closed his eyes, his chest slowly inflating and deflating with deep breaths.

In the time he’d known Din, Luke had never seen him do anything for himself. Everything he ever did, he did for Grogu. It was hard to see him like this, almost punishing himself for the smallest deviation.

The best way out of this for now, Luke reasoned, was to reframe it in a way that included Grogu.

“Now, don’t you think Grogu would enjoy hearing about those feelings? Won’t it be nice to tell him all about this tomorrow?”

Din’s gaze rose back up to him.

“You’ll see for yourself, he’s going to love that you went out and did so much. He is going to love seeing you happy.”

Din gave a small nod, though there was still a hint of doubt in his expression. He sat up and let out a puff of air.

“Can I ask you something, Luke?”

Luke straightened up with a nod.

“Why are you helping me so much?”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I don’t understand why you’ve gone out of your way to do so much for me. Especially with all this date stuff.”

What an innocent soul he was. Luke smiled and shrugged.

“Because I want to.”

“But… why?”

Din looked genuinely puzzled. On the one hand, it was endearing, but on the other, Luke couldn’t help wondering why it was so hard for him to accept that people would just want to help him.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Djarin,” he started, “spending this much time together has made us friends. Friends help each other. If I needed something, we both know you’d be there for me. It’s the same both ways.”

Din’s expression relaxed a bit. A small grin pulled at his lips.

“Well, friend, I’m sorry to have kept you here all night.”

The swell of warmth that came from hearing Din call him a friend was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Luke gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No worries, pal. I’m really glad you had such a good night.”

Din gave him a wider smile.

“You were right about getting there early,” he chuckled, “I did need the extra time.”

Luke laughed.

He sat back and listened as Din relayed parts of the night, pride growing within him with every moment, every story, every little hint of bashfulness and glee on Din’s face.

A happy Din was quite the sight to behold.

****

Additional notes: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson is one of my favorite books ever. Full stop. It's a beautiful, skillfully told story about an old man finding new meanings in life. The characters are so flushed out and amazing and they just tug at your heart. I am very picky about writing style and I just gotta say, Helen's is one of the most talented writers I've read. Only something like this date could've derailed my mind from her gorgeous words!!

latch taglist: @the-scandalorian @tobealostwanderer @captain-jebi @prismaticpizza @sunipostsstuff @jaa1682-27 @onebrownoneblue @kesskirata @fangirlalexia @tortles @girlofchaos @spideysimpossiblegirl @just-a-sewer-goblin @kotemorons @hotchlover @keldabe-kr

[wulvercazz]

Hello again!

What are your Grimmichi Headcanons?👀

And are you a fanfic reader? If yes, do you have some favourite fanfics?

hihi sorry this took a lil while! hmmm there's quite a few aghdgfh so.. here's a list agdhgfh

All these will be canon/canon-adyacent :> (for me that's til aizen's defeat lmao!)

🍓Pre-relationship🫐

Ichigo does get his powers back but slowly and yes w some help like in canon but mostly by himself,,, I have a beef w no one ever telling him shit when he's in distress so,, that part of canon stays lmao!

In relation to this; Grimmjow's one of the few who help him train but also fight the angsty feels from losing his powers in the first place. At first, Ichigo isn't aware Grimm's there, until Grimmjow practically forces Ichigo to be able to see him adsffd

Figuring out their feelings for each other and, worse, actually getting together is a nightmare at first bc neither wants to acknowledge it in the first place, and second... flirting with Grimmjow fckn hurts.

On that thought; Grimmjow not only fights for fun, the fucker bites to show affection. It takes Ichigo a long while to figure this out. It Yuzu actually who first proposes Grimmjow's too excited to see him/be with him to know what else to do with himself,,, so he bites him to relieve the too-strong feelings. It's practically cute-aggression asdhfh Ichigo doesn't know what to do with this info (and his fourth nasty bite of the month, that he hopes doesn't get infected) until he decides retaliation is the only way to answer.

Grimmjow goes full playfight-mode when Ichigo does bite him back and it's the first time anything gets close to intimate.

Grimmjow can be very shameless when it comes to straightforward sexual intimacy, even though the kinkier (closet kinky tbh) one is Ichigo. But he's also very easily flustered by more innocent touch. Or other demostrations of affection.

He's straight up against kissing at first, even. Bc Hollows only put their mouth on each other for one thing and, shinigami or not, Grimmjow can feel Ichigo's Hollow side just as much and it gives him fight-or-flight response when his teeth touch him. (He does punch him the first time, gets his hands pinned for this while poor Ichigo tries to figure why the fuck he almost broke his nose)

Ichigo had a very hard time understanding Grimm at first, the arrancar, smart as he may be, doesn't say much and doesn't care to elaborate on anything he says most of the time. It takes actual hollow behavior training on top of simply getting to know him to really get the gist of how he thinks.

Shinji is the third to learn about the budding relationship because of this. The first being nosy Urahara and Yoruichi.

🍓On relationship🫐

Ichigo ends up balancing both human and spirit life first to keep tabs on the safety of the seireitei and HM, but also to make sure Grimm's safety is assured (though he doesn't tell him this, out of his own safety lmao!)

Grimmjow comes and goes even after they get together-together, even if Ichigo wished he stayed... he understands Grimm gets restless staying too long in the human world. It's kinda like owning-not owning a feral cat. Sometimes Grimmjow even brings back stories of his kills with gruesome detail<3

Ichigo and Grimmjow slowly develop a more hollow-esque relationship the closer they get and the more they spend together,,, but it's still "tainted" by humanity lmao! There's a lot of non verbal communication (that's louder and more expressive when people aren't around bc Ichigo's still conscious about the feline-bird sounds) lots of careful violence and weird kinky-not-kinky things. Like marking each other, with wounds and scent and behaviour.

It's still much like wrestling a feral animal though, getting Grimmjow to receive more soft touch; specially new kinds of touch. But Ichigo's learned Grimmjow enjoys the pursue. 'If Ichigo wants it so much he can fight me for it' is his thinking. Ichigo's gotten good at trapping all his flailing limbs in a little cuddle ball, Grimmjow would be more impressed if he wasn't so mortified about how it becomes easier each time... and how he always leaves the embrace with a painfully fluttery feeling to his chest and purring against his will.

But Grimm too has his ways, although most he's not entirely aware make Ichigo so nervous (at least not at first, he learns eventually). Things he'd never consider to have an effect on him and usually come naturally like the rest of his instincts. The first time he attempted to groom Ichigo with his raspy resurrección tongue the shinigami squeaked and flailed under his weight, almost made a mess of himself from the feeling on his nape and ears alone. The claws and the teeth are another; Ichigo's a freak, don't let the goodie sad eyes say otherwise. Grimmjow hurting him gets him going and it's one of the things that Grimm likes the most about him.

Purring is another one of those things Grimmjow had to learn how to manage responsibly. Ichigo was so engrossed by it when it first happened around him he'd even considered to never do it ever again... but it does serve the purpose of settling Ichigo down when Grimm can't deal with his panicky antics, or when he can't stop whining in his sleep. When he wants the human to settle down and give up on his stubborn wishes... he's stubborn too, he'll play dirty if he needs to.

When they're not in the Human World, Ichigo often tries to let go just a bit more in HM. Grimmjow does all these human things for him, it's only fair... and tbh, he comes to enjoy it a lot. He's not yet sure he can consciously eat another Hollow like Grimmjow wishes he did... but he can fight a little messier without letting Shiro take over. And Grimmjow is so infatuated with the physical aspects of his Hollow it's very hard not to look forward to letting lose a bit. He used to be so terrified of it, sure it served no purpose unless he could harness it to save someone else, sacrifice for the grater good. Then Grimmjow taught him how to 'selfishly' and shamelessly enjoy being so strong. Resurrección and Hollowification at full only to race across the sand, play-fight so dangerously parts of the desert end up destroyed, and fuck loud and messy like animals<3

Grimmjow's actually good with kids, it comes as a surprise to everyone, but specially Ichigo, who'd given up on the idea of children when he and Grimm became official... after that, it's like the dam bursts and all he can ever do is wonder what it'd be like to raise children with him. Grimmjow's not amused by the breeder kink that that particular fantasy awakens on Ichigo afsdgfh but he's also not complaining.

After they do become parents (be it adoption or some other way,, varies depending on the AU but,, I do love Omegaverse bc I love pregnant Grimm uwu) it's all unexpected,,, in exactly the way you'd expect them to work. Grimmjow's all instinct and violence, and he's the most aggressively protective parent, growling and biting in a second at the first little cry or complaint. But also the one who's always thinking about strength and survival. He's the one always proud when his children are a bit violent, fight back and get away with what they want, but also the one who they listen to more when they overstep; Ichigo's a bit jealous, as much as he's learned, the instinctual understanding Grimmjow has with part-hollow children is unparalleled. Ichigo on his part,,, is the soft overly-worried parent. He's always been too protective, he's aware of his kids' strengths- but he's also aware they're just children and would rather they don't go through anything he did; he tries his best to give them human child experiences, even if it takes Grimm a while to understand them (he gives in as soon as he realizes they're enjoying themselves). He's also the level-headed parent, the 'don't use your strength to hurt others' parent, the 'use your words' parent... The keeps a camera around at all times to snap pictures parent, bc of course he became his Dad, much to his dismay.

As for fanfic, I haven't read much, or anything new for that matter, in a lil while but I do have quite a few I love, some I've reread a few times so ,,, these are just a few from my listt may share more when I have the energy to sit and write long posts again (I need to learn how to be more concise 😩)

🍓- Sight for Sore Eyes by mitsuki_chan98 (SFW - oneshot)

🫐- Bound to Happen by Neuron (nsfw - oneshot)

🍓- bury all your secrets in my skin by voxofthevoid (nsfw - 3ch)

🫐- Can Tigers Purr? by FoxgloveandDogbane (nsfw - oneshot)

🍓- devour me with certainy by voxofthevoid (nsfw - 3ch)

🫐- Down by the Bay by Messier_47 & Vikishus (nsfw - oneshot)

i also.. because what I write is mostly self-indulgent... reread my own fics all the time agdhff I'm not gonna toot my own horn but I am confident enough to say it's good food lmaooo but I'm not gonna link those afsgdg

[dissapointu]

How Jinx Would Act After an Argument with Her Partner

1. Immediate Withdrawal, Then Overwhelming Guilt

After an argument, Jinx will initially withdraw. She tends to shut down emotionally when she feels like she’s hurt someone, or when the conflict hits too close to her heart. She might storm off to her room or go somewhere quiet to cool down. During this time, her mind races, and she’s probably replaying everything that was said. As much as she acts tough and chaotic on the outside, she’s very sensitive underneath it all. The guilt sets in quickly, and she’ll often feel like she messed up, even if she didn’t entirely. You might catch her staring at the ground or fiddling with something absentmindedly, trying to process what happened.

2. Struggling to Apologize

Jinx’s pride and wild nature make it hard for her to say sorry, but deep down, she’s aware when she’s wrong. She’ll struggle with it, often making up quirky excuses for why she behaved the way she did, trying to brush it off with humor or deflection. “Okay, okay, so maybe I said a few things I shouldn’t have, but you know me, I just—uh, I get passionate! That’s all!” But even with her usual deflection, you’ll know it’s her way of easing into the apology she’s been avoiding. She wants to make things right but doesn’t always know the best way to go about it.

3. Acts Out Through Affection

Instead of directly talking about the argument, Jinx will show her remorse in a more physical way. She might randomly surprise you with a hug, jump into your lap for comfort, or start bombarding you with affection to make up for the tension. She might even be extra clingy, holding onto you a little tighter than usual, trying to feel that connection again. It’s her way of saying she’s sorry without using words, because deep down, she wants to feel the warmth between you two again.

4. Over-the-Top Distraction Tactics

If the argument is weighing on her, Jinx might try to distract you both from the uncomfortable tension by doing something completely unexpected. She could start playing a ridiculous game, break into a silly song, or suggest doing something completely off the wall—like running through the streets with sparklers or having an impromptu Nerf gun war. Anything to pull you away from the argument and get back to a playful, carefree vibe. While she’s not directly addressing the issue, she’s hoping to shift the mood, so it’s not all bad energy between you two.

5. Insecurity Creeps In

Although Jinx often masks her insecurities with humor, after an argument, she’s more likely to feel them come to the surface. She might start doubting if you actually want to be with her, or if her actions pushed you away. You might catch her sitting quietly, biting her lip, staring off into space. If you approach her during these moments, she’ll likely try to brush it off, saying something like, “I just—I don’t know if I did something wrong, but if I did, I’m sorry. I don’t want to mess this up.” The more vulnerable side of her emerges after an argument, even if she doesn’t fully express it.

6. Stubbornly Avoiding the Conversation, Then Cracking

At first, Jinx might avoid talking about the argument. She’ll act like everything’s fine, but it’s pretty clear it’s not. You’ll probably notice her getting quiet, picking fights over little things, or trying to pretend nothing happened. But as time passes and the weight of the unresolved issue starts to wear on her, she’ll crack. It might be in a sudden outburst or her just sitting down next to you, looking up at you with puppy eyes and mumbling, “So… about earlier… I don’t like it when we fight. I hate it.” She’ll want to resolve things but struggles to take the first step toward healing the tension.

7. Acts Like Nothing’s Wrong, but It’s Obvious

If Jinx is really unsure of how to fix things, she’ll probably try to pretend like everything’s normal and continue on with her day. However, her body language will tell the truth. She’ll avoid eye contact, fidget with her fingers, or act a bit more on edge than usual. If she’s feeling especially vulnerable, she might even start teasing you more than normal, trying to act like herself, but you can tell something’s off. “Hey! I know you’re still mad, but I’m totally not avoiding you, okay?” she’ll say, overcompensating in her usual, chaotic way.

8. Small, Tender Gestures

When she finally does acknowledge the argument and the hurt between you, Jinx will try to make it up to you in small, tender ways. She’ll give you an extra kiss on the cheek, hold your hand when you’re walking somewhere, or leave you sweet notes (written in her typically wild handwriting) around the house. She might even bring you something she thinks will cheer you up—like a random gadget, a weird snack, or something quirky she knows you’ll find amusing. Her love language is often unorthodox, but the tenderness behind these small gestures shows that she truly cares.

9. Dramatic Overcompensation

Jinx, being Jinx, might go to extremes to make up for the argument. If she feels like she really messed up, she’ll act overly dramatic to try and win you over again. “What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll give you a thousand fireworks, an entire circus, and a monkey that plays the violin if I have to!” Her over-the-top antics are her way of showing you that she’s sorry in the only way she knows how: big and loud. You’ll probably laugh, but it’ll be a laugh full of affection because you know she’s truly trying her best.

10. Reassurance (Through Humor)

As much as Jinx struggles with vulnerability, she’ll reassure you in her own quirky way that everything is okay. She’ll joke around, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, look, I’m still here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You’re not getting rid of me that easily!” she’ll say with a grin, a mischievous glint in her eye. She might even pull a funny face or make an absurd noise to show you that she’s not letting the argument get in the way of her feelings for you. It’s her unique way of letting you know that, despite everything, she’s not going anywhere.

11. Physical Affection to Reinforce Her Feelings

Jinx knows that words can be hard for her, but she’s not afraid to show you her affection through touch after an argument. She might grab your hand and hold it for a while, lay her head on your shoulder, or give you a big hug and refuse to let go. Her body language will speak louder than anything else, trying to reassure you that the love she feels for you hasn’t wavered despite the argument.

After an argument, Jinx will always show that she deeply cares, even if she struggles with finding the right words or way to fix things. Whether it’s through her chaotic antics, physical affection, or more vulnerable moments, she’ll do her best to make things right because, despite her wildness, she values the relationship and doesn’t want to lose the connection you share.

[nomlioart]

i was supposed to do it earlier but i was really lazy lol, but here you go

my pepstavo hcs in a nutshell

a lil more in the tags 👁️ 

[bowtiestash]

one of the things i find funny now with my past shitty dnd experience is the fact that the problem player only seemed to really care about their own character, and whenever they drew dnd art it would look like this:

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Might be a hot take but a major character’s death is really only as good as the weight and the treatment that the narrative gives it. Sure, any author has the ability to write death as they see fit. But whether the consumer (of any given form of media) is actually able to emotionally connect and resonate with the departure of someone who has occupied a good chunk of narrative space very heavily depends on how it’s treated within the story. If it’s a major character, the narrative needs enough built-in breathing space. As in, the consumer doesn’t have to fill in the blanks as to how the death impacted the plot or the remaining characters. Let the narrative do that for them, and that would actually allow the consumer to better react and relate to that major death (sadness, anger, joy, etc). Allow the rest of the characters (who were impacted by the deceased) to react to their parting. Let them engage with the death in a manner that helps justify the character’s inclusion in the narrative to begin with. Make it clear how the character’s life and (especially) their death relate to the larger themes of the story. Because most consumers aren’t stupid. We don’t want our hands held at every waking moment, but we also don’t want our investment in a story to be insulted just for the sake of a cheap shock. Give us time to breathe and grieve. And respect that we have put in a lot of emotional investment in a story and its characters, and we deserve to have that acknowledged.