#I probably saved his life just being there

[wormspoodle]

okay. au thing (?) i needed to get out of my head (its been sitting there for 2 months) its pretty half baked so bear with me

more context/ drawings under the cut:

im not sure if this has been done before, im pretty out of it fandom wise,, but!! this takes place during "Time Traveler's Pig" (s1 ep9)

the idea is that, while fighting over the time tape, dipper and mabel end up running into krampus and henceforth get taken by the krampus and the time tape gets dropped/ left behind in the process (classic)

ford hears the ruckus ofc and goes to investigate like he does in tbob j3 pages and also gets taken by krampus,, dipper and mabel see him and assume it must be a young stan or something bc at this point in the show they don't know anything!

they've never met bill, they only really know/remember mcgucket from the gobblewonker, and they don't know stan has a brother

so they just assume life was hard on stan and he looks different because he's younger (something still feels off to them ofc)

anyway story proceeds how it does in canon, ford is arguing at the krampus while dipper and mabel remember that they dropped the time tape and are also trying to plot a way out, mcgucket shows up and saves the day, and because dipper and mabel don't really know where to go from here, they decide to see if that guy is stan (which he is but not the one they're thinking of)

they all make their way back to the lab/shack for the time being, dipper and mabel find the time tape on the way back and it's damaged (another classic) so ford and mcgucket will have to fix it ofc

some conversations are exchanged, information is gleaned, dipper and mabel watch tv to pass the time and end up seeing on of stan's commercials on the tv and the dots start to slowly connect that something is going on here

those are the more. fleshed out concepts, everything else is pretty vague and undecided but ill also probably never revisit this

some more details/thoughts:

- ford is wearing no winter clothes bc im assuming when he grabbed the lantern to investigate the foot prints, he didn't think much and just threw on his boots or something, which is why he has to take refuge in that cave to stave off frostbite

- dipper and mabel don't connect that old man mcgucket is fiddleford mcgucket bc i don't think they a) think about mcgucket that much to make that connection at this point and b) assume he's just related and not the same person given how old old man mcgucket looks

-dipper does have the journal on him but he's keeping it hidden ofc just in case,, after they find out about stan he'd find out ford is the author probably but i don't want him figuring it out beforehand bc it would complicate things (i also don't think hed show ford his journal bc of. time/ space continuum reasons

- maybe bill will show up or something i dunno. dipper and mabel are armed with the j3 that knows bill is dangerous but they've also never met bill

- idk if they'll find out about the portal, idk if mabel will try and bring stan and ford together, idk what happens,, maybe the time police catch them before they do anything,, shrugging my shoulders

-this au doesn't really have a point i just wanted to draw it bc its fun for me to think about the implications !!

[shysuccubusstuff]

L&DS LI are for those that... pt. 1

Content: Reasons why some people may find themselves feeling more attracted for some of the LI ♡. Gender neutral reader! + Non proof-reader + SFW content

Possible TW: Mention of unsafe child bringing + yelling + parents issues +

Note: My brain has been so lazy lately... So sorry for not posting! Together with the fact that my tumblr page has been acting a lil weird is just so---. I hope that everyone who reads this is having a good day!! This is actually my first time writing about Rafayel!

Question: Who is your favourite LI in L&DS? Mine are probably Sylus, Zayne, and Caleb (in that order). Something interest abt this is that my first LI was Xavier!

Xavier:

Xavier is for those that need someone that loves taking life slowly. The ones that have that feeling that they have been running their whole life's, always having that fear of loosing to someone they don't even know.

Xavier is for those that have quality time as love language. The ones that enjoy spending time with their significant other. It doesn't matter if they are making a trip to some lost place or if they are laying in bed together, the fact that they can spend the whole day together is more than enough to keep them shining the whole day.

Xavier is for those who prefer a calm yet confident lover. The ones that love someone who is able to remain calm even when they can clearly see someone trying to hit on their lover. Still, as soon as it's just the two of you, rest asure that he will make sure to show you just how much he loves and wants you, leaving trails of his kisses all over your neck, not one spot free from his lips.

Xavier is for those that long for an everlasting love, the one that grows over time. The type of love that goes beyond the boundaries of life and death, the one that all those novels talk about. One that allows the other to simply know who their lover is regardless of your physical appeareance. I mean, how could he simply ignore those small gestures? From the way that you smiled, those sweet wrinkles appearing in your eyes as he made a silly joke, to that loving gaze you gave him while the two of you were cooking together, your arms wrapping around him as you tried to avoid him from burning the little pastry. He is aware that the one he met and the one he knows now are not the same person, he knows it, he isn't the naïve prince from centuries ago that decided to run away as an attempt to save you. So he makes his decision, choosing this time to stick close to you, his sword always following yours as if the two of you had been fighting your whole life, protecting you from each wanderer, while reassuring you and your abilities, as he is aware of just how strong you truly are.

Zayne:

Zayne is for those that love being taken care of. The ones that have spent all their life feeling as if everyone is relying on them. It's not something just about being the oldest sibling, but always having to be the bigger person. The one friend that is always taking care of the other friends, never being asked how they feel or what they want.

Zayne is for those that love a gentle lover. The ones that have grown up in an unsafe environment. The ones that were constantly being yelled at or insulted. Zayne is for those that need a gentle love, someone who will never raise his tone, his voice always soft even when you keep testing his patience.

Zayne is for those who yearn for physical affection. The ones that have always been too scared of asking for it, the ones that get uncomfortable with the feeling of being close to someone. You have always been afraid of it, fear of them rejecting it, so you have grown accustomed to it, hugging your soft plushies as you dream about having a someone to hug and be hugged by.

Zayne is for those who always fall in love with the socially awkward men, the ones that aren't even aware of the way their frowns are always furrowed. The ones that love seeing a more than capable men become a mess because of love, those that keep their exterior face completely frozen, yet their mind is rushing, heart beating as fast as if they were running away from a wild animal. The ones that begin to feel their face heat up as they keep noticing the presence of their loved ones, his pupils expanding as they lock eyes with you.

Rafayel:

Rafayel is for those who have a fear of abandonment. The ones that have that constant feeling that the people they love are actually tired of them. Rafayel is for those that have grown always feeling as if they are the black sheep, the ones that were always the friend that had to walk behind the rest. Rafayel, who makes sure to let you know just how much you are loved, sending messages constantly, calling you everytime you let him know that you're free. Rafayel, who sends pictures of every little thing that reminds him of you.

Rafayel is for those that always feel kind of pessimistic. The ones that need someone that reminds them that the world didn't stop when they failed on that something that they were supposed to be the best at. The ones that yearn for that feeling of hopefulness, the ones that love being reassured that nothing will happen if they take a small break, letting them rest during a whole day after working so hard during the week.

Rafayel is for those who never got to really act like a children. The ones that were forced to grow up, pushed by the different circumstances that made them realise just how harsh the real world is. This is exactly why you need someone like Rafayel, someone who is able to bring that inner child, making you laugh from the top of your lungs while you chase around him as if the two of you were still children. He is the kind of man that may get on your nerves at first, always joking around while you treat everything as a matter of life and death, but this same attitude allows you to relax, becoming more and more playful as the time that the two of you spent together increased.

Rafayel is for those that dream about a love that gives just the same as you. Rafayel is for the ones that have always felt like they get the short end of the stick, the ones that always love too much and too hard, the ones that don't mind hurting themselves as long as the other person doesn't feel hurt. Rafayel is for those that seek for someone that is ready to give them everything they have just as they would do. He is for those that have always looked for someone that will accept them as a whole, not just the soft and funny part, but also the part that they have been trying so hard to hide, the one that is so scared of being abandoned after giving everything to their loved one.

[diushek]

One day, Shen Qingqiu comes from the city with a little baby in his arms. He says: "His mother died during childbirth and I am taking care of him." He names the child Shen Yuan when he is old enough to give him a name, and the child grows up in Qing Jing.

Everyone, absolutely everyone, believes that Shen Qingqiu is the biological father of that child. Only have to LOOK at them both and see the resemblance: the same eyes, the same hair, the same facial structure, the same lips, even the same angry pout. Rumors - Shen Qingqiu had a child with a prostitute who died and now he is taking care of him!! - are open secrets.

Shen Qingqiu, as usual, ignores them. He cares for his little one, raising him with the closest thing other Peak Lords can call love. Impeccable robes, the best meals, the best early education. Shen Yuan grows up as a polite, gentle, kind-hearted, sweet-faced child. He frees insects before killing them, isn't afraid to dirty his robes if he must go after someone, and has an avid interest in beasts and monsters beyond comprehension. The Peak Lords jokingly think: this child has taken his father's face and surely the good heart of his mother, may she rest in peace.

When he comes of age, he doesn't even have to dig a hole to be chosen for Qing Jing Peak - everyone knows that Shen Qingqiu has already made a place for him there. However, Shen Yuan insists on doing it on his own! He wants to earn his place. The Peak Lords respect him for it, and there are various interests, but he still ends up in Qing Jing Peak.

And Shen Yuan becomes Shen Qingqiu's clear first disciple. He is a skilled scholar, excellent martial artist who is not afraid to tear someone rude with foul words, but with an almost natural disposition to be kind, sweet and gentle with those who deserve and require it.

It is then that Luo Binghe arrives at Qing Jing Peak.

The Peak Lords hear of the rumors and they spread them like pollen in spring: apparently there has been a HUGE discussion between Shen Qingqiu and his spoiled son! Something involving a child with water burns, a beating, and a woodshed. No one understands what happened, but a day later, Shen Yuan completely disappeared from the Cang Qiong Sect.

And he has taken a young disciple with him.

Shen Qingqiu begins to act as if he never had a son - as if his whole life has been all about him, hostile and unpleasant. His mood is worse than ever and his cruelty is undeniable. No one understands what has happened between father and son, but these are rumors that even if whispered, bring the very bad faces of Shen Qingqiu. And no one wants to be behind Shen Qingqiu's wrath when it is unleashed.

(Shen Yuan had transmigrated. Into a baby! Into Shen Qingqiu's son! Yes, indeed his memories had been gradually unlocked, thank god. It would have been so weird to be a baby with the mindset of an adult... And he had believed, for a long time, that perhaps Shen Qingqiu could change. That loving him and caring for him would make him better when Luo Binghe reached Cang Qiong.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

So, Shen Qingqiu can hate him for this reason if he wants! But Shen Yuan has to leave there and take Luo Binghe with him. He will teach him cultivation and do everything to make him become a powerful cultivator before his demonic seal is unleashed, he will do everything possible to prevent him from the Endless Abyss, and will prevent Shen Qingqiu from being turned into a human stick.

Probably, a single night of punishment and humiliation wasn’t enough for Luo Binghe to want revenge so hard. Actually?? He just would save the lives of all his martial uncles and his father in the process to kindly educate Luo Binghe and make him as powerful yet happy as possible. They should thank him!! He's sacrificing himself, his comforts, and his reputation to save everyone's asses!!!)

...

(Although Shang Qinghua had wanted to give Shen Qingqiu a son - a magical pollen pregnancy between Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu, which Shen Qingqiu would NEVER tell Yue Qingyuan was his child until the very last moment - for the drama and secondary revenge and angst 7/9, that had been a damn draft!!! He didn't even get to develop the background of Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu!!! And now that son ran away with his Protagonist!? System, what's going on!? Why do HE make sure the Endless Abyss arc be completed!? He doesn't even fucking know where the protagonist is!!! System have mercy on AND HELP!!!)

[cutielando]

runaway bride | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which he saves you from making a mistake

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

The soft music echoed through the church hall, making you let out a deep breath.

There you stood, in front of the huge double oak doors, waiting for the moment to finally walk down the aisle and marry Aiden, your boyfriend of 2 years.

After you had broken up with Charles, you didn't think you would ever find the same kind of love again. The bond that you shared with the Monegasque was something so strong and beautiful, you thought it was for life.

Then, you met Aiden.

He was sweet, kind, understanding, loving. He was an incredible guy, a guy who took care of you, who respected you and who made sure you were safe and taken care of.

However, deep into your heart, you knew the truth that nobody could ever change: he wasn't Charles.

He didn't make you feel the same things that Charles could, he didn't make you feel alive, like every fiber of your being was on fire, he wasn't as passionate and intense as Charles was.

He was just...Aiden.

But you felt comfort that you hadn't felt in a long time, which was the primary reason why you had accepted his proposal. He offered you safety, offered you comfort and stability.

You would learn how to truly love him down the line.

Or so you tried to convince yourself whenever you would get cold feet about going through with the wedding.

"Are you ready?" your father's voice suddenly pulled you back to reality, the oak doors now open, the entire hall looking at the two of you.

You smiled tightly and nodded, looping your arm through his as you slowly started walking towards the aisle.

Watching all the guests around you, a sort of guilt settled deep inside of your gut.

All these people, all of your families having gathered here today to watch you and Aiden get married, watching you supposedly seal your fate and look to a 'happy' future with him.

Not knowing that, deep inside, you knew it was anything but that.

Upon reaching the altar, your father gave you away to Aiden, who took your hand and helped you up the steps.

"You look beautiful" he whispered, his eyes twinkling.

You smiled, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

He didn't deserve this, you knew that. He deserved to be getting married to someone who truly loved him, who wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

But that person wasn't you, and it was probably very selfish of you to go through with the wedding while knowing that your heart belonged to someone else.

What choice did you have, though?

All of these people, your entire families, waiting for this day for months. Aiden, finally happy to have found his one true love.

How could you possibly ruin that?

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the wedding of Y/N Y/LN and Aiden Becker" the bishop started, prompting the entire wedding hall to sit down and listen with eager.

You didn't hear anything else after that, your feelings all over the place as you looked anywhere but Aiden's eyes.

The church was silent, all oblivious to the internal turmoil you were having before their eyes. Your mother couldn't keep her eyes off of you, and once you had made eye contact with her, you could have sworn that she nodded slightly, a look of understanding in her eyes.

She knew, probably better than anyone, about your conflicting feelings for both Aiden and Charles. She knew how hard it was for you when you and Charles broke up, and she knew that Aiden would never measure up to the way Charles made you feel. She was your mother, after all. She knew you better than anyone.

Out of the corner of your eye, suddenly, you saw movement at the far end of the room, right by the big oak doors you had walked through mere moments before.

Your heart started beating out of your chest as you saw who it was.

Him.

He was standing there in a clad black Ferrari suit, his hands in his pockets, not moving an inch.

Your eyes widened slightly, fixated on his figure standing a mere few feet away from you. He didn't make any move to walk closer, to actually enter the church hall.

He just stood there, his eyes widening in awe as he took you in, tears slowly welling up in his eyes.

Your stomach was in shambles as you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. He was just as beautiful as you had remembered, his eyes just as kind as they used to be.

All kinds of emotions were running through you, making your head spin and your nerves go into overdrive.

Why did he do this? Why did he show up on what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life? Why did he have to show up at your wedding?

Maybe because he knew you would leave Aiden behind and run to him, you thought to yourself.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" the priest's voice suddenly made you whip your head around.

The entire hall was staring at you, Aiden looked concerned and was looking at you with a worried expression, and nobody had seemed to have seen Charles standing right outside the doors.

"I, um, I..." you croaked, not being able to find your words.

You looked around once again, Charles' figure giving you a sad smile before he slowly began to retreat, up until he was now out of sight.

Desperately searching for a sign on what to do, your eyes gravitated towards your mother, hoping you would be able to communicate with her through your eyes.

And there she was, smiling subtly at you, her eyes sparkling as she gave you a very tiny nod.

That was all the confirmation that you had needed.

You looked back at Aiden, who had an expression like he knew exactly what was about to happen and he knew it had been a long time coming.

"I'm so sorry, Aiden" you whispered, slowly letting go of his hands before you sprinted out of the church hall, leaving behind you dozens of shocked guests.

You quickly ran out of the church, bursting through the front doors and stepping out into the warm summer day.

And then, there he was.

Leaning against his car right in front of the church, his hands crossed against his chest.

And he was smiling.

For a little while, neither of you knew what to say. You had just left your future husband at the altar for him, and he had just shown up at his ex-girlfriend's wedding.

What could a person even say in this situation?

"What are you doing here?" that was the best you could muster up, your voice not louder than a soft whisper.

Charles could only imagine how you must be feeling.

Years after you guys broke up, on the happiest day of your new life, he decides to show up. He knew it was going to be a very long shot, and he was aware that it was extremely rude of him to be showing up at your wedding.

But he couldn't help himself.

He couldn't bear the thought of ever seeing you married to someone else, someone who wasn't him.

Just like he couldn't bear not being with you any longer.

"I couldn't let you go through with the wedding" he said, his expression now somber.

He knew he was already pushing his luck, but he had already ruined your wedding. What more harm could he do?

Dozens of emotions were cursing through your veins, some of which you couldn't even identify.

Hurt? Anger? Disbelief? Disappointment in yourself? Longing for what you once had with Charles? Guilt over a thrown-away future with a great man?

But even in the midst of all the confusing emotions, there was one that stood out between the sea of doubt, clear like a new day.

Your unwavering love for Charles.

A feeling that has not changed from the beginning.

"Why now?" you whispered, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

There was no point in trying to act like you weren't so glad to see him, like your heart wasn't beating out of your chest as you stood in front of him, like you weren't dying to be in his arms after such a long time.

Charles sighed and pushed himself off the car, taking a few steps closer to you until he was almost chest-to-chest with you.

Your breath hitched as you felt the warmth of his body against yours for the first time in years. You had missed it so much, so much more than you had ever admitted to yourself.

"I've spent the past couple of years kicking myself for making the mistake of pushing you away from me. I've never forgiven myself for the way our relationship ended, and I don't think I'll ever be able to put into words just how sorry I am. The moment I found out you were marrying someone else, I couldn't not do anything. I know I sound selfish, and I know it's not fair of me to barge in like this, but if there was even a tiny chance that you might still feel the same way about me, I had to take it" he said, and as you stared into his eyes, you couldn't see even a sign of dishonesty.

He was being real, he was being brutally honest, probably more honest than he had ever been with you before.

And he was completely right, which was probably the worst thing about the whole situation. He was right, you did still love him just as deeply as you had before. And deep down, you probably had hoped that he would show up and save you from making a mistake by marrying Aiden.

"You've always had a flair for the dramatic, you know" you said, hoping the joke would lighten up the atmosphere.

Charles chuckled, nodding his head. He looked up at you again, his eyes sparkling with a sliver of hope.

"Do you want to go somewhere quiet and talk about this?" he asked, a deeper, hidden meaning planted behind his words.

You drew in a breath, but didn't feel any pain or heaviness in your chest. All you felt was peace, peace and love for the man standing right before you.

"Yeah, I'd like that" you said, smiling before giving him your hand, which he gladly took.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his Ferrari, his hand tightly holding onto yours, driving away from the church and ceremony that was supposed to change your life.

But why change it when you had everything you had ever wanted for, right in this car?

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[stew-skys-husband]

This is the engagement I hope to bring to this fandom. There's so many parts about being "poor" that could make for interesting content or whatever.

Money worries extend to every aspect of your life: you spend your time making budgets, wondering if your next paycheck will be enough, making cuts in some places. Every spending is filled with guilt. As kids, they learned quickly that the world had a price and they couldn't buy it. They knew that what they wanted would cost their parents money and often they had to restrict themselves. They'd see those other kids with pools in their background or who would go on vacations or anything that was barely above surviving, let alone living, and think they must be millionaires or something. they'd be excited to have their first jobs and be able to buy they stuff they want. You learn how to make things last longer and you hold onto them. it's always a question of money and what's more affordable. Darry would have no idea how to deal with a budget. All the money he'd save would be gone in a few days on rent, utilities, groceries. He'd probably have learned as a child how to find the cheapest stuff while doing groceries with his mom because she couldn't leave the kids at home. going to the dentist maybe once, twice a year. the doctor even less. refusing to take meds or see a healthcare professional because "it's just a cold" and "what if I need it more later".

arg! the outsiders fandom should all collectively talk more about poverty! ah! talk about cps. talk about food stamps talk about government cheese talk about stealing and not in the fun way talk about fear of going hungry talk about the reason the gang is a gang and not just a friend group. um. talk about dallas living in buck merril's like spare room talk about soda giving up his paycheck to darry so they can stay together talk about MORTGAGE talk about the vietnam war and poverty and enlistment and the draft! ah! talk about the class divide! talk about debt! talk about how darry could never "go soc" because no matter his skill in football or the way he wore his hair he could never rise above his socioeconomic class enough to be considered one of them! talk about paul holden punching him in the face! talk about county lock up! talk about police brutality! talk about pony craving escape!

[bob-bobb]

I'm sure this has been said before, but I really love the way Kim Rok Soo is such a vital part of who Cale is and becomes. That all the relationships and memories of the past still carry over to the interactions he has.

I feel like that doesn't happen that much in isekai. Where almost all of it is pushed aside so the protagonist can go focus on the fantasy. (Save for the usual my last life pretty sucked.tm) Where they just kinda wake up one day and just go "Sweet! Magic time!"

But there's just something off when Cale wakes up, like he already gave up on himself a long time before this. Like he was alive, but not really living. Like he's ready to go close everything out again despite being an absolute bleeding heart and failing miserably. (Because let's be honest, a bit of this guy probably died with the soos)

So when you find out about the absolute Trainwreck that is is previous life, it really is just rewarding to see him opening up again. This punk holds onto so much of his past, but it's really nice to see him walking forward too.

[deebris]

Heartbeat

Simon "Ghost" Riley x child reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Simon Riley has always known that the world was dangerous, but he never imagined that the greatest threat to his daughter would come from within her own body. At just eight years old, you struggle with a heart condition that makes you too fragile for shocks or exertion. To protect you, Simon keeps his military life as far away as possible, and his home, a safe refuge. But everything changes when an intruder, unaware of Simon's true identity, decides to rob them. What should have been a simple burglary turns into a desperate race against time when fear triggers a heart attack. Now, Simon is not only fighting the thief — he's fighting to save your life.

Warnings: Profanity, firearms, panic, mentions of death, the reader is 8 years old, has Long QT Syndrome and is a girl.

Word count: 4.5k

Observation: English is not my first language, and I have very little exposure to British English specifically. I had a really hard time writing Simon and Price's dialogue, but I hope I at least got close to something more realistic.

Simon put you to sleep, just like he had for the past two nights, and now he lay with his head resting against the pillow, the insomnia visiting him once again. He was exhausted from the day, chasing after you and handling your tantrums – but still, sleep wouldn’t come. No one would believe it if they were told that he, a shadowy wall of muscle and silence, spent his afternoons playing dolls and tea parties with an eight-year-old girl.

Your father always watched you sleep for a while, his calloused fingers gently brushing your chubby cheek and smoothing your hair. He admired your serenity, as if the world were perfect and no problems existed. Simon wished you could stay that way forever, carefree and small. The thought of you growing up and facing the world unsettled him, but it was inevitable.

You were a wellspring of joy, something that warmed his heart. Always looking for him, and always worried about how he felt, if he was okay, when he should be the one asking you that. Something inside Simon shifted every time you asked if he was hurting when went too quiet.

He used to think that a child’s mind was too oblivious to understand how adults worked, but you always noticed every time his eyes tightened just a fraction differently, wondering: Why is Daddy sad? And not every time was he exactly sad, but sometimes, his gaze grew distant, thoughts reaching faraway places. Now, he was much more careful not to let it happen around you, not wanting his daughter to think something was wrong with her father.

Everything about you made him immensely happy, a feeling buried deep in his chest that he had to protect you at all costs. But Simon couldn’t protect you from his greatest fear. Your heart worked differently, he had told you that himself, and it had brought him to the edge of panic more times than he could count. When it wasn’t clear what was wrong, he felt useless, powerless, as if he would never be enough.

Once, you couldn’t breathe at daycare, and he was thousands of miles away. Your babysitter called him in tears, it was one of the worst moments of his life. He thought you were going to die, and the very idea haunted him like some loathsome creature. He had faced death many times, in many forms, but with you, it was utterly devastating. You couldn’t disappear. It would destroy him.

When he was near, he handled you like porcelain, always cautious, as if something invisible could suddenly trigger another episode, making you cry from a pain he couldn't take away.

That’s why he refused to take anything that might help him sleep, twisting at the thought of you needing him and him being too dazed to respond. He forced himself to stay awake, alert, every little noise in the house making him tense. A creaking window, the sound of distant footsteps, a whisper in the hallway – he always checked – even knowing it was probably just his mind creating monsters. But he couldn’t help it. The fear of something happening while he was lost in the darkness of his own mind was unbearable.

In the middle of the night, he would get up several times just to check if you were still breathing. The room was silent, except for the rhythmic, comforting sound of your breath. Occasionally, there was a small hesitation, a brief pause that sent his heart into his throat, before the steady rise and fall of your chest resumed. He knew it was paranoia, but he couldn’t stop. To him, you were more important than the very oxygen in his lungs. Every beat of your heart mattered more than his own life.

But he wasn’t unshakable, no matter how much he wished to be for you. Eventually, exhaustion would take hold, his bloodshot eyes pulling him into the dark. When it did, he would wake at the first sign of morning – his sleep never lasting long. But tonight, something was different. He woke up much earlier.

A crash from the hallway, the sound of a lamp shattering against the floor, yanked him into full awareness. Like an instinct buried deep within him had been triggered, Simon’s hearing sharpened instantly. His body tensed, slipping into a readiness only someone like him could know. With a single swift motion, he was out of bed, his bare feet touching the floor with such precision that they barely made a sound.

Then, a sharp, terrified scream shattered the silence, echoing through the house.

It was your voice.

“Daddy!”

Cold fear rushed through his veins. His heart pounded violently, but he didn’t hesitate. Instinct seized him like a crushing weight, and he moved with the speed of a predator. The sound of his own ragged breath and the pounding of his heartbeat were all he heard as he bolted toward your room, his only thought to reach you before anything else could.

He burst through your door, flipping the switch to flood the room with light.

Someone was there.

A boy, probably a teenager. He wore a balaclava and clutched a pistol, the serial number scratched off. Simon noticed it instantly. He always noticed details – nothing escaped him – and guilt tore through his chest.

He should have prevented this. He should have seen the signs before the intruder ever set foot in his house.

“Stay there!” The boy shouted, his voice trembling. His hands shook so much they could barely hold the gun. He seemed on the verge of collapsing, as if he might wet himself at any moment. Maybe he was just a young man making a stupid mistake, a rash decision. That's what Simon's rational side told himself. But his emotional side could only feel anger – a muffled, uncontrollable fury burning inside – because of how that gun had been pointed at you just seconds ago.

Simon's figure must have terrified the invader even more. The boy hadn't expected to find someone like him. Tall. Intimidating. His face covered in scars, his eyes cold and empty. Instinct screamed inside the younger: this is no ordinary man. Even when Simon raised his hands, in a gesture of surrender, he didn't seem to feel safe.

“Calm down.” Simon's deep, imposing voice filled the room. The boy trembled even more. The lieutenant opened his hands, trying to show he wouldn't do anything.

He heard your crying. He could feel your heart racing, almost as fast as his own. And that was not a good sign. Your chest was rising and falling irregularly. He knew you needed help. Now.

“Put the gun down, kid.”

“I'm not putting anything down, Motherfucker!” He shouted, his voice shrill, desperate. You jumped in bed. Simon diverted his eyes for a second, just to see how you clung to the blanket, your fingers gripping so tightly they were turning white. Your father knew the swearing, the yelling, and that gun were terrifying you.

“Look at me! Don't look at her!” The boy yelled again, hysterical. Fear was written all over his face. He thought Simon might attack him at any moment.

“You can take whatever you want, just put the gun down.” Simon's voice came out brutal again, cutting. He needed to appear in control, even though he wasn't. He moved his hands slowly, cautiously, trying to convince the stranger he wasn’t a threat.

Meanwhile, your mind was on high alert, painted red as you saw the barrel of the gun pointed at your father. For a dark moment, you thought that guy was going to hurt him.

“I didn't know she was here, I swear.” The kid whispered. His breathing was erratic. “I don't want to take anything, I just want to leave. I'm very sorry...”

Simon saw the tremor in the boy's shoulders, saw the tears forming behind the fabric of the balaclava. He was crying, probably from the shock of finding a child while doing something so horrific.

“Fine. Then go.” Simon agreed, his mind spinning, his heart hammering in his chest. He just wanted to get to you. Your breathing was becoming difficult. You were so scared you could barely speak.

The thief swallowed hard. His gaze wavered for a second.

“As soon as I get closer, you'll grab me.” He said as if it were a fact, sizing up Simon’s physique – a man who knows how to fight. A cop, maybe? Military? The boy knew he wouldn't stand a chance against him.

“I won’t.” Simon kept his voice firm, but he felt the fear seeping in. His eyes quickly shifted to you, seeing your feet moving under the blanket, you were in agony.

Then he saw it.

Your small chest rising and falling erratically. You brought your hand to your heart, your face contorting. Pain.

Panic exploded inside Simon.

If it weren’t for you, Simon would have already lunged at the invader and ended it. But he couldn’t risk it. A stray bullet. One wrong move.

“What’s your name?” His voice came out softer, controlled.

“J-James...” He stammered.

The oldest in the room nodded, memorizing the name. “James. I’m Simon.”

The boy just nodded.

“You look young. I reckon you made a mistake comin’ ‘ere, and now you’re regrettin’ it.” Simon measured each word with precision. “I don’t care if you walk out that door and vanish, just as long as you’re outta my daughter’s sight.”

He was lying. He was lying with every word. But he needed James to believe it. He needed him to leave. He was definitely going after him later.

James averted his gaze and, for the first time, really looked at you.

Your body was trembling. Tears streamed down your face. Your lips were trembling so much you couldn’t speak.

“W-What’s wrong with her?” The young man asked hesitantly. His voice was different now, but Simon didn’t want to talk. He needed to get to you.

“You're frightenin' her.” He said through clenched teeth, and something seemed to change in the boy. His gaze softened.

But the gun was still raised.

And Simon was running out of time.

He saw you try to call his name once more, but the sound died in your throat.

He knew what it was.

The cold soldier’s face crumbled, giving way to that of a desperate father, and he looked into James's eyes before finally exploding:

“If you don’t let me help her, she’s gonna die!”

The boy blinked at hearing the threat, confused, and Simon took a step forward.

“She’s ill.” He gushed the words harshly, laden with an emotion he couldn’t control. “If you don’t let me go to her, she’ll die. Do you understand, bloody hell?!”

For a second, after the beastly shout he gave, only silence filled the room.

James froze.

And Simon waited.

The boy gave up and nodded, his fingers still trembling as he lowered the gun. Simon didn’t waste any time. In an instant, he crossed the room to you, his steps heavy and determined. You were pale. Small. Your hands still clutching your chest. The fear in your huge eyes was enough to break something inside him.

Simon crouched beside you and held your face between his hands, forcing a softer tone than he had used with the intruder. James, panicked, couldn’t do anything but put his hands over his head, sliding down the wall while apologizing repeatedly. He pulled the balaclava off his face, revealing his features. He was just a teenager, between 16 and 18 years old.

The boy had no idea what he was doing there, nor how he had reached the point of thinking that breaking into a family’s home for some cash was a good idea. The moment he realized what he had done, a chill ran down his spine as he understood that, for an instant, he had pointed a gun at a child.

A child.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here, sweetheart. Look at me.”

You blinked a few times, as if trying to focus, searching for safety in your father’s face. But your body trembled. Then came the first unsteady breath. Then another. Small, desperate gasps. Your chest rose and fell too fast, and Simon felt his blood turn cold.

No. Not now.

A sob escaped you, and you clung to his shirt as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did.

He held you tightly, as if he could shield you from everything, as if just pulling you closer could stop life from slipping through his fingers. Heart pounding, he descended the stairs in long strides, muscles tense with the urgency only a father understands. Nothing else mattered now – not the stranger still in the house, not the shards of glass on the floor, not even his own fear. Only you. Only getting to the hospital in time.

“D-Daddy…” Your voice came out as a weak whisper, so soft he only heard it because your face was pressed against his shoulder.

Simon’s stomach twisted. You were scared. More than that, you were terrified. Your small fingers clung to his shirt so tightly they could have torn it, as if you were drowning.

“You’re gonna be okay, my love.” The words came out fast, hoarse, more for himself than for you. He yanked the car door open and carefully placed you in the back seat, making sure you were positioned safely. His eyes quickly scanned your pale face before he rushed to drive.

Simon didn’t look back. He didn’t think about the stranger, the house, anything else. He just turned the engine on and slammed his foot on the gas, the headlights cutting through the darkness as he sped down the nearly empty streets. His mind was torn between the road and the sound of your unsteady breathing in the back seat.

“Stay with me, sweetheart.” he murmured, glancing at the rearview mirror. You were curled up, your wide eyes locked on him, trying to stay focused as your small hands gripped the seatbelt.

Simon’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something to soothe you, but all that came to mind was the corrosive fear that maybe – just maybe – he was already too late.

✧✧✧

A few hours later, the sun was shining brightly as morning advanced. Simon shifted in the uncomfortable hospital chair, elbows resting on his knees, his hand holding yours. The warmth of your skin against his was the only thing that a little peace, his thumb tracing slow circles in an unconscious gesture of comfort. He had been silent since arriving, but not in his usual way. This silence was heavy, suffocating, filling the room like an unspoken weight.

He didn’t dare take his eyes off you, afraid that even the slightest lapse in attention could make things go wrong again. The constant beeping of the heart monitor was offering him fragile relief, a reminder that you were here, alive. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just a temporary illusion – that at any moment, the rhythm would spike again, and you’d be in danger.

Two hours ago, you had woken up, still drowsy, sedated by the doctors to prevent stress. Your eyes opened sluggishly, scanning the room until found him. You were scared – for him. The image of the boy pointing a gun was still vivid in your mind, and the fear overflowed. When the panic set in, your heart rate spiked again, and the medical team had to intervene, sedating you once more.

Simon could do nothing. He just sat there, motionless, fingers pressing against the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts. Simon turned his head and saw Price standing there. His captain, one of the few people he trusted, and someone who knew you well enough to understand what had happened.

Simon had never minded being alone. Solitude was an old companion, a shadow he had learned to carry without complaint. But this time, for some reason, he had picked up the phone and called John. Something inside him had pushed him to press that button, an insistent, uneasy force hammering inside him.

He wanted to believe it was just for your sake, because you and Price were close, because he had a duty to inform him - because his captain would be furious if Simon didn't tell him about it. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He needed someone else to be there.

Your “Uncle John” never failed to send you gifts when he could, and sometimes even made the hour-long drive from his city just to say “hi” to you. Price cherished you as if you were his own daughter.

“Oi, Lieutenant.” The older man’s voice was steady, comforting.

Simon took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, falling back into the tactical demeanor he always used in the base. But even when he wore his mask, John could read him like an open book.

“Captain.” That was all he managed to say.

Price knew him well enough to understand that Simon needed support. He was used to dealing with Ghost. But this – this was just Simon.

“How’s our Thumbelina?” Price asked softly, as if afraid to wake you. He walked over to Simon, placing a hand on his shoulder in a brief, almost hesitant gesture.

“She'll wake up soon enough.” Simon replied, his eyes fixed on you but not really seeing you. His gaze was distant, unfocused.

“You said she went into shock, didn't you?” Price murmured, trying to follow a line of conversation.

“The doc thinks so.” Simon sighed and leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly. “They’re going to refer her to a shrink. Don’t want those memories messin’ with her head.”

Price nodded, remaining standing.

“I made a few calls,” he announced, watching his friend's reaction. “I got some info on the brat.”

Simon looked up, attentive.

“He didn’t even try to leg it. Found him in her room, and I called in a contact from the coppers.” He scratched his mustache at the memory of the encounter.

At first, Price got confused. But within seconds, he was already gripping the teenager by the collar, fury burning in his eyes. He only started to rein himself in when James, terrified, began apologizing, without even knowing who the man pinning him against the wall was. His empathy took over. The boy had hurt you, yes, but he didn’t know the severity of your condition. He was wrong, but he wasn’t a demon.

“His mum showed up at the station right after. It was a proper scene. The two of them were at each other’s throats, shouting. The woman was in tears, all disappointed, and the boy looked right sorry for himself.”

Simon clenched his jaw. “I couldn't give a toss about that nonsense.” The irritation was evident, even though he hadn’t intended to be rude.

“He thought the house was empty, Simon. Got it mixed up with the neighbour’s.” Price added carefully. “It was a daft dare from friends who knew he needed the money, so he nicked his father’s gun. He’s off to court. With what he’s done, he might end up in a juvenile centre.”

Simon remained quiet for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth. Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Yeah. Great.” he muttered, irritation dripping from every syllable.

Price watched his reaction, hesitating before continuing.

“I know you're pissed off, mate, but...” He paused, studying Simon's tense face. “Maybe it’s worth figuring out what the hell was goin’ through that boy’s head.”

Simon heard every word but didn’t reply. He absorbed his captain’s advice and kept his gaze on him. The memory of how you screamed, the tears, all the agony... It made Simon clench his free hand into fist.

You thought he was going to get shot. You were desperate.

Price noticed the movement. He saw how Simon’s fingers were practically digging into his own skin with the force of his grip. He decided not to press the issue. Instead, he walked to your bed, observing your face for a moment. A faint smile flickered on his lips before he reached out and ruffled your hair in a gentle pat.

Then, John pulled something from his pocket and held up a stuffed hippopotamus, showing it to Simon.

Simon frowned, clearly displeased with the choice.

“Come on, you know she fancies it.” Price said, trying to lighten the heavy mood. “Hippos are tough, you know?”

But Price’s joke was cut short when he noticed you were waking up. Your eyes opened slowly, blinking several times as you oriented yourself. Simon shifted in his chair, and a quick glance was enough for John to understand that maybe it was best for you not to see your father right away – not while his image was still tied to the terror of the night.

“Hi, Uncle John…” Your small voice came out in a hoarse whisper, heavy with sleep.

“Oi, little doll.” he murmured back, his expression filled with a warmth he only used with you.

He didn’t need to say anything else to make you smile. As soon as he lifted the stuffed hippo, shaking it like it was going to devour you, you let out a giggle.

The sound relieved Price, and especially Simon. He watched as your tiny fingers grabbed the toy, hugging the plush creature to your chest.

“Thank you…” you murmured, pouting a little as you placed your index finger between your upper lip and nose, mimicking his mustache.

Price copied the gesture, but the face he made was much funnier than yours.

“Where’s Daddy?” you asked just like the first time you woke up, your brows furrowing in worry.

The beeping on the monitor sped up slightly. Simon noticed immediately and ran his thumb over your hand again – a reminder that you weren’t alone. You turned your head and found him there, still sitting in the same chair, his dark eyes betraying the sleepless night he had spent.

“I'm here, love.” His voice was firm, both a reassurance and a promise.

You gripped his forearm tighter than you had held your new stuffed hippo. Simon felt the tension in your small fingers and let you cling to him without saying a word. You seemed calmer now, less frightened.

Price grabbed a cup of water and handed it to Simon, who helped you drink. You took a few small sips, the way children do, but it was enough.

Then, your eyes locked onto your father’s, serious, as if you had something important to resolve. He braced himself for anything. Maybe a question about what had happened, maybe a request to go home. But not this:

"You said a bad word."

Simon blinked slowly. “What?”

“He said ‘bloody hell’.” you whispered to Price, as if revealing a forbidden secret.

Price raised his eyebrows, holding back a smile. “Oh, really, eh?”

Simon sighed, running a hand over his face. “Prob'ly did.”

Price let out a low chuckle, satisfied to get some reaction out of him.

Suddenly, you started paying attention to your surroundings. A hospital room wasn’t strange to you, since you had been here a few times before, but that didn’t mean you liked it. The doctors always said they needed to keep you under observation until the crisis passed, and the worst situations happened quickly, in the middle of chaos, before anyone could stabilize you.

There was a time they had to use a defibrillator, and just the thought of it sent a shiver down Simon’s spine. To his relief, this time all you needed was to simply shut down, a milder way to calm your emotions.

“I want to go home…” you pleaded, your voice thick with emotion.

“We will, in a few hours.” Simon replied firmly. If he gave you an inch, he knew you’d push until the end.

“Is Uncle John staying with us?” you asked, grabbing the hippo by the ear and waving the plush toy in front of Price, who pretended to try catching it but failed miserably.

“No, Princess. I'm sorry.” he answered regretfully. “I wish I could stay longer, but I only came to see you. I’ve gotta head back home soon.” He pinched your nose between his fingers, making you giggle.

“Okay…” you murmured, disappointed, but already starting to feel a little stronger.

You shifted on the bed, getting on your knees to hug Price, who held you firmly, running his hand over your back before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. As soon as you let go, you turned to your father and practically buried yourself in his lap, seeking shelter. You settled on his legs, leaning your torso against his broad chest.

Simon was used to this, but this time, you seemed even more in need of security. Your small fingers poked at the dog tag hanging around his neck, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Simon knew you were still scared. He knew that, in the coming days, you wouldn’t leave his side. And he didn’t mind.

Because deep down, he wanted to stay close to you too.

He held on to this moment, feeling you fidget with the metal piece on his neck. Simon knew things wouldn’t be easy for now, but he chose not to get lost in thoughts of the future. He held you even tighter, his arms wrapping around you like a blanket while you found comfort in the calm. Simon felt deeply grateful that you hadn’t asked questions about the boy, and in silence, he turned to Price, who responded with a simple nod, as if he had understood the unspoken message.

Price took a few steps closer and crouched down, looking at you with affection. “Goodbye, Thumbelina,” he said, extending his fist for a farewell bump.

“Goodbye, Mr. Mustache.” you replied softly, but with a smile that made Price chuckle as he ruffled your hair. He stood up, turning to Simon with a look that carried the same unwavering trust as always.

“Take care, lad. I’ll see you soon.” he said, not waiting for a response, already knowing the lieutenant’s temperament well.

Simon watched Price leave, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. His hardened expression softened the moment there was no longer a need to hide behind it. He still made an effort to appear confident for you, but as he closed his eyes and held you tighter, he finally allowed himself to relax. The silent gesture of protection he offered was an unspoken promise.

He knew that as long as he was with you, nothing else mattered. He would always be by your side. And even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, Simon allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe the future would be a little lighter. No matter what came next. Together, he and you would face it all.

[fanganfessions]

Something I find hilarious about Damon, is just how he's completely wrong about talents. His isn't better than everyone else's. Its probably on the same level as most of them.

Jean has to know first-aid, weather patterns, memorise multiple sea routes, keep group morale high and actually save people from drowning in order to qualify as an Ultimate. Diana has to have the skill to be able to instantly identify what kinds of makeup looks good on her client, probably transform people's faces into something entirely different, and make sure to never make a mistake as she'd have to redo everything. Her eye for detail isn't something you'd find everywhere. Heck, even Kai has to memorise algorithm trends, do partnerships and such, and according to his FTEs, he manufactured an entire zeitgeist from one account, when he was doing an online marketing job his coworkers were cheating off of (even Damon thinks this is impressive), and also influenced the marketing strategies of companies that try to seem more "friendly" and "casual" on social media accounts. Wolfgang's work changes the course of lives, helping innocent people who could've gotten live sentences live freely. Wenona's responsible for basically all the food in the country.

Not to say Damon's talent isn't also extremely impressive. He has to memorise the details of any kind of topic in order to have an expert's opinion in an incredibly short period of time, and weigh it's pros and cons in order to argue for or against it. He's pretty good at the thing too, judging by his Ultimate title. Him winning enough competitions that his parents don't have to work anymore, and supposedly paying for the welfare, groceries and overall living expenses for three (or more if he also pays for any siblings or uncles and aunts) people is pretty damn impressive. It's just that most of his actual arguments about talents are so far-fetched that it's impossible not to poke holes in them.

Yeah, sure buddy, you can argue about ethics and politics, but so can literally everyone. Has he ever went outside near his country's election day?? Or ever went to a family gathering?? And that's only talking about politics. Beause he's definitely not the only one to ever have an opinion. Yeah, his arguments are backed up by actual data and stuff, but he's not the only person to ever do that, and like 99% of those people probably work office jobs. Intelligence also doesn't make his talent superior cause you have to be intelligento for every talent. He also admits in Wenona's FTEs that he wipes his memory clean in order to prepare for his next debate, so he doesn't actually learn anything.

Some talents are obviously more useful to society, like entrepreneurship or law, but debate isn't one of them. In fact, it barely changes society as a whole. It's extremely important to Damon's life and his family's, but unless he goes straight into being a politician or something, odds are he's not changing anything. Damon is pretty impressive as a person, probably more intelligent than most of his classmates, but his talent simply isn't betters than their's. Like I mentioned above, all Ultimate talents are impressive, but comparing a cosmetologist to a entreprenur, an influencer to a historian, or a debater to a lawyer... doesn't make that much sense.

Personally, I think all the characters are extremely impressive in their personal talents (because they're ultimates, duh), but tons of characters like Damon and Eva (most obvious examples) definitely aren't defined by their talents in regards to how intelligent they are, even though their characters do revolve around their Ultimates.

⠀

[razorblade180]

The Line

Carmine:Mom, I have a serious question.

Ruby:I have a serious question. *flipping eggs*

Carmine:You hate me going on a missions involving criminals. More over, you hate the idea of me taking a life.

Ruby:Most parents do. What’s up? A mission pop up?

Carmine:No. I was just thinking…you’ve obviously dabbled in extreme violence. What’s the line?

Ruby:Your life, or someone else’s that is caught in the crossfire.

Carmine:That’s a broad spectrum in our work.

Ruby:Yeah! That’s why I don’t let you take those missions regularly. Always try to be strong or clever enough to the point you don’t need to take a life. You’re a very talented person. *ruffles head* But you’re also too practical. Even hostages would be scared of you if you took down everyone to save them.

Carmine:I…guess that didn’t cross my mind.

Ruby:I will take you on bounty missions personally after you get a little more experience. Although…it would be a problem if you got put in danger around me. I wouldn’t want my own kid being scared of me.

Carmine:Why would- oh. Right, I guess you would kill for me.

Ruby:Any good mother doesn’t play about her kids. I wouldn’t take any risks; it’s why I don’t get on you too hard. I’ve been in your shoes. Just ask your father. One time he got captured on a solo mission and I went to get him. This was back when i was still his fiancé.

Carmine:Was he scared of you?

Ruby:Pfft, nah. He knew who he was marrying. It’s honestly refreshing you see me as a softie. It means I haven’t completely blundered as a mother.

Carmine:Honestly…I think I’d be okay with seeing you like that. Sometimes it’s hard; seeing how perfect you can be at times. Makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.

Ruby:….You’re doing everything you can, and that’s always going to mean something to me. There’s no right or wrong in this; just learning as you grow.

Carmine:For what it’s worth, I’d never be scared of you.

Ruby:Thanks, kiddo. One of these days we’ll probably end up looking scary together.

Carmine:Heh, that’s a weird way of bonding. *leans on her*

Ruby:Yeah, but since when have we been normal?

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; “a pocketful of Kons”. Rewrote/added-to/edited the first few paragraphs of this scene, so including the adjusted intro in here too. content warnings: Cassie is a teenage girl with anxiety/self-worth issues who is not old enough to understand why her mom is so concerned about the idea of "Superman" being her soulmate and therefore has some, like, somewhat unhealthy/concerning thought processes about how she should BE Superman's soulmate. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Cassie’s never actually been to the Watchtower before, and it’s maybe a little embarrassing how cool she can’t help thinking it all is. Cas seems to think it’s pretty cool too–which makes sense, since it’s technically his first time here too and on top of that also a pretty important place to Superman–and keeps zipping ahead and around curiously and then back to her again and again. Sometimes he takes Odie with him, but mostly he gets excited and forgets to. 

He'd gotten really excited when Cassie'd changed into her costume before they'd come up here, but she's still kind of flustered about that particular experience so like, she's maybe just . . . not gonna think about it right now. 

He'd been really, really excited, though. She doesn't think anybody's ever been so happy to see her version of Wonder Girl, even people whose lives she was, like, actively saving at the time. 

Diana gives Cas a thoughtful look while he’s following the elevator buttons as they light up from floor to floor, but doesn’t say anything about it. 

“I spoke with Zatanna when I called in earlier,” she says instead as they step out of the elevator, and Cassie feels increasingly embarrassed about . . . literally everything, basically. How many people exactly did Diana tell about Cas? And how many of those people are gonna be here and want to ask her questions about him, possibly at the same time?

She’s not, like–Cas is her Pocket; she’s not ashamed of him. 

She is super, super embarrassed about the idea of Zatanna and Black Canary and Green Arrow and the Flash and every single Green Lantern and probably, like, Batman all asking her why Superman’s her soulmate. Like–definitely that sounds embarrassing. 

Or life-alteringly mortifying, at least. 

“Uh, did she . . . say anything?” Cassie asks awkwardly, not really sure why Diana mentioned that anyway. “Like, um–about . . . Superman, or whatever.” 

“She informed me of the fact that he appears to have returned to Metropolis, of course, but also that he has made no attempt to contact the League,” Diana says. “Nor anyone else he might've been expected to.” 

Cassie . . . blinks. Who else would he even . . . ? 

Well–probably Supergirl, she guesses. She doesn't think Supergirl's in the League or anything. But otherwise, well . . . it's not like there's all that many people running around with the “S” on or anything. Like, it's really just the two of them, right? 

And if his first soulmate isn't dead–like, he'd want to see her, obviously. 

Or maybe Diana means, like–her. 

Superman has to have a Pocket of her too, after all, and if hers showed up in costume like Cas did . . . well, it's not like she'd be that hard to find. Especially not for Superman. With how fast he is, he could've been in Gateway about five seconds after deciding he wanted to be in Gateway. So like, if he had wanted to . . . 

Cassie feels a little–weird about that, for some reason. Like . . . a little freaked-out, maybe. She doesn't know why; he's her soulmate. There's nothing to get freaked-out by. Even if he's probably the greatest hero of the sector after Diana and basically everyone not a supervillain idolizes and adores and trusts him and he’s, like–he's Superman, and she's . . . 

Well. She's definitely not Wonder Woman, if nothing else. Or Troia, either. She's just kind of . . . here, maybe. Like–by comparison and all, she means. 

Cassie thinks about how cold and empty Superman’s face had looked on the feed from Metropolis and feels a little weirder, and still doesn't know why. Which–she needs to, like–stop that, obviously. Needs to step up here. If Superman needs her, she can't be weird around him. Whether his other soulmate's dead or not, whatever's wrong with him is clearly really wrong. 

Just–his face. He’d looked so . . . 

She just needs to not get–weird, or anxious, or whatever about that. She just needs to be, like–just needs to figure out what he needs, and how to be that. That’s all. Like, what if he had come looking for her and she’d gotten freaked-out on him? How would that help him? He literally got beat to death in front of the whole world by a monster nobody else could take out, and his other soulmate might be dead, and his face looked like that, and . . . 

She just needs to figure out how to be what he needs. That’s just, like–that’s obviously what she has to do. She has to figure it out, and then she has to be it. 

She doesn’t understand why her mom’s so upset that someone actually needs her, for once. 

“Uh . . . so do they think that’s, like . . . a bad sign, then?” she asks, a little awkward. She’s heard a few million weird ways that people in the community “died” or un-died, and plenty of them weren’t really, like . . . necessarily benevolent ones, she guesses would be the best way to describe it. “Like do they think he’s got amnesia or something? Or like, did he not even actually die, or did he only just come back, or–I dunno, was he only gone so long because somebody just had his body locked up somewhere or–?” 

Cas makes a weird sound she’s never heard a Pocket make before, and she–blinks, and looks over towards him reflexively. He zips over and hovers over her shoulder, tugging insistently at the long ends of her wig and making the sound again. It’s sort of . . . 

It doesn’t sound like he’s singing, but it’s . . . musical, sort of. 

Diana tilts her head and gives Cas another thoughtful look. 

“Cas?” Cassie asks, frowning at him. “What’s . . . wrong?” 

She’s not actually sure something’s wrong, but the musical sound is–weird, kinda. Like, it’s sort of cute, but also she’s just never heard any Pocket make it before. Like, not even on TV or in a movie or anything. 

Is it a Kryptonian thing, maybe? Or is it because of whatever made Superman’s face look so–empty? 

“Wondy!” Cas protests. “Wondy Wondy!” 

“Um . . .” Cassie trails off, not sure what he’s upset about or if he actually is upset, or is just trying to tell her something. He looks kind of upset, now, but more in a frustrated way than anything else. 

Cas makes an indignant face, his cheeks puffing out in–frustration, maybe? annoyance?–and yanks at her wig again, this time hard enough to tug at the clips in her hair and nearly pull it crooked. Cassie reflexively grabs the other side to tug it back down, and Cas makes the musical sound again, louder. 

It actually doesn’t even really sound like a sound a person would make. More like something, like . . . maybe more like something an instrument would. 

Odie churrs inquisitively, and Cas lets go of her wig, scowls at her, and then zips over to Diana’s shoulder instead and throws himself at Odie, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and lets him burrow in against his side and very obviously sulk there like a grumpy little kid. 

. . . yeah, Cassie has literally zero clue what to take from that behavior.

[slcmml]

charlie & gn! reader — as long as i’m with you.

“i’d like to see the sharks.”

☆ this one is very self indulgent, because i adore sea life, but i like to imagine your first date with charlie was at an aquarium.

☆ he LOVES the touch tanks; he thinks they’re so fucking cool (and they are, by the way).

☆ walking through the underwater tunnel with him.. “are they fucking?” “..i think so.” “us?” “sure.”

☆ FEEDING THE ANIMALS WITH CHARLIE AUGGHHH!! he named each and every single animal he fed (despite them already having a name). “can i call you glub? you seem like a glub with the way you eat that fish.” “what does that even mean, charlie?”

☆ if you’re anything like me, then you definitely brought a polaroid camera with you. TAKING THE SILLIEST PHOTOS WITH CHARLIE AUGGHH.. kill me now.

☆ also buying the stupidest shit in the gift shop before you leave (shark gun shark gun shark gun)

“hey, that statue kind of looks like you!”

★ would it be horrible of me to say this is also self indulgent because i also adore museums?

★ now. i do not physically believe this museum date would be one of those cute ones where you hold hands and enjoy the silence together. because this is charlie we’re talking about.

★ he’s probably giggling at the paintings of naked people. “oh wow, he’s got a small cock.” “charlie, you said that so loud.”

★ physically cannot stand there and look at a painting for more than thirty seconds. he NEEDS to be in the kids section with all the interactive stuff.

“i fucking hate being an adult. why do stinky children get the cool shit?”

★ as always, will take the goofiest photos in front of anything he finds even slightly silly.

★ you both probably spend nothing more than an hour and a half in there before leaving to get something to eat, but that’s okay, the ice cream you shared was a banger.

“you spent fifty dollars trying to win me that?”

☆ arcade dates.. aughhh they’re so cute.. AND WITH CHARLIE??

☆ i think we all know the claw machines are rigged. but i’m not one to lay there and take it in the ass so i WILL spend as long as it takes trying to get a toy from it if charlie even SLIGHTLY mentions thinking it’s cute.

“babe, it’s fine, you don’t have to—” “i’m not letting this fucking machine dictate whether or not my boyfriend can have this goddamn octopus plush.”

☆ also i just KNOW that charlie would suck ass at dance dance revolution but he’d still spend at least half an hour going through songs and trying to win.

☆ spending SO fucking long going through the arcade games, trying to beat the high score on at least ONE of them (you never end up getting the high score).

“i’m tired, can we start heading back, please?”

★ i.. also enjoy hiking. another self indulgent one. but whatever.

★ you two probably take the silliest photos (like always). you laying on the ground, playing dead, in one photo while charlie has a shocked expression in the next.

★ collecting rocks and leafs. placing said rocks on the ground once you both decide to go off trail because it seemed fun. losing track of said rocks and getting lost.

“where the fuck are we?” “i think we’re in hell.”

★ watching as charlie tries to climb literally ANYTHING, and being slightly worried that he’ll fall.

★ getting SO fucking bored as you’re walking, trying to find the trail again, that you both just start playing i-spy.

“oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! help me, i’m fucking falling!”

☆ roller skating dates.. mmmm.. has anyone seen that clip of charlie spinning around and then pointing to the camera? because of that clip, i don’t think he’s a HORRIBLE skater.. but definitely not a pro.

☆ he sure acts like it, though! tries to do these cool ass tricks and lands directly on his ass before whining about it.

“if i can jump and spin, can you please buy me nachos?”

☆ his ass does NOT land. you buy him nachos anyway.

☆ teehee.. i really like the idea of holding hands and skating around and just being silly little goobers.. charlie please save me, charlie if you can hear me, please save me charlie..

☆ takes your hand and dramatically dips you, “so, uh.. you come here often?” and then you both get off balance and fall.

© slcmml

[shobolanya]

you know what is something i really love about J. R. R. Tolkien's works?

the emphasis on how an act of kindness can change the course of the world.

i think this is one if the most important things you can learn his works and i honestly think it helped me become a better person. knowing that a small act of kindness did some good in the world even if you weren't rewarded for it and sometimes you don't know how much it helped, is a very good feeling.

some exemples that came to mind are:

Barahir coming to rescue Finrod and his men in the Fen of Serech, even if he could have just fled to save his men and himself, led to Finrod swearing to protect Barahir and his kin, thus helping Beren in his quest and sacrificing himself for him. This led to Beren and Luthien retrieving the silmaril and getting married, having Dior, whose daughter Elwing had Elros (Aragorn's ancestor) and Elrond (Arwen's father and Aragorn's foster father) who played a crucial role in the destruction of Sauron's ring.

Maedhros and Maglor sparing and adopting Elros and Elrond was just as important, because they could have killed the two and then none of the events of The Second and Third Age, including the events of the Lord of the Rings would not have taken place like they did and probably Sauron would have taken over Middle-Earth somehow.

Bilbo ssparing Gollum's life, led to Gollum leading Frodo and Sam into Mordor and ultimately to Gollum falling into Mount Doom with the Ring

Frodo sparing Gollum's life, taking him as a guide and actually being kind to him also led to Sauron's demise

so did Faramir letting Frodo and Sam go and not taking the Ring, even if he could and he would've made his father proud of him

the Fellowship volunteering to help Frodo destroy the Ring

Boromir protecting Merry and Pippin led to Pippin saving Faramir's life and Merry saving Éowyn and helping slay the Witch-King of Angmar

One of my favorite scenes in The Hobbit movies pointed out exactly this:

"Gandalf: Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love."

rant over, i just got emotional over this 😌

[more-than-a-princess]

Well, at least he realized it early on. Considering geography and that she assumed Wylan knew where Novoselic was: it bordered the country they were currently in. That meant that snow was a certainty. "I apologize on behalf of my country for the weather you will encounter from around the end of October until April," She told him sincerely, but with a grin as she plucked out various pieces for him to try on. "If it is of any reassurance, it is very common to go out of the country during the two weeks' holiday in January that the Royal Council is in recess, often to somewhere warm." She usually chose somewhere tropical and her family had a preferred resort in the Maldives, but Sonia was open to trying something new. She briefly wondered what Las Vegas weather was like that time of year before going back to browsing. His only other option, besides going along with whatever she chose, was learning how to ski and enjoying it.

Unfortunately, she doubted ski gear would include cartoon character prints: or at least the sort of gear her family would approve of anyone being seen in. "And what age is that, exactly?" Sonia asked, half-teasing and half out of ignorance as he appeared to disapprove of her clothing choices. She'd never exactly asked Wylan his age, it wasn't exactly a polite question and despite how much he enjoyed taunting, Sonia found it in poor taste to be rude in return. Now that they were dating, however, the rules were relaxed. He had seen her naked, after all. "Twenty? Twenty-two? And you can wear your cartoon characters in private. I certainly do." Though hers were, admittedly, more horror icons and anime characters on the occasional t-shirt or sweatshirt.

Still, she pushed the clothes into his hands and ushered him into the changing room with far more effectiveness than any staff member. She was used to getting her way, save for the people she needed to stand her ground with the most: that was what happened when your father ruled a country and your mother was...

Well. She could only hope that Wylan would meet her wearing trousers. Sonia couldn't hide her shock when he emerged without them, causing several men in the vicinity to cough and turn away in disapproval. A turn of her head left and right was enough to indicate that they were her incognito security, and Wylan had managed to startle them. Sonia gave a deep sigh in return: they'd have their hands full trying to keep watch over him, and this was before her parents even knew that he existed. Again. As far as they knew, for now at least, he was a random American who had abandoned her there, never to be seen or heard from again.

She politely declined a coffee but accepted a bottle of Perrier from one of the salesmen, with an empty glass to pour it in. The carbonation was a welcome distraction from her two dueling thoughts: how handsome he looked in a proper shirt and how he would tolerate it: starched collars, no logos, winter, being seen, at least for some time, as an extension of her and the Royal Family. He'd lived a life of independence, albeit one with a likely target on his back, but independence nonetheless. Was it worth giving that up?

Was she worth staying for, with all of the imposed rules from etiquette to dress to royalty-approved conversation topics?

Sonia let the bubbles fizz and dissipate on her tongue, leaving the mineral taste of the sparkling water in her mouth before swallowing. A fitting analogy to his life, perhaps: fizzy and exciting before becoming dull and tasteless upon staying by her side. She had to ensure that didn't happen: she was a princess, yes, but she was also his partner. She wanted, needed, to make sure that this was a life he could not just live but thrive in, as opposed to feeling resigned to it. Resentment of being her support would not do, ever.

"Don't worry about it, I am, as you say, 'thrown under the bus' for quite a lot and I probably only have earned it half the time," She insisted with a smile, getting to her feet. At least these would last until they returned home and royal seal-appointed tailors got their hands on him. Sonia supposed she should be present for the first few fittings, at least: Liam would only encourage him, Sam wouldn't hide his annoyance, and Cecily might burst a blood vessel from stress. "But I think you look wonderful and, ah, appropriate for the autumn weather in this part of the world. Not as warm as you'd like, I presume: for anything above 60 degrees Fahrenheit, one must go towards the Mediterranean. But let's get these and decide what to do next. I am open to ideas." She'd been to Paris more times than she could count, but she presumed it was the first time for him. Or at least the first time he didn't have to kill anyone, which was significant indeed.

Right. The woman is a cinephile. Every quip he makes finds itself traced to one movie reference or another. But how the hell does a rock climbing wall have to settle that too? He laughs, more at Sonia than the actual reference itself. He's satisfied he got the flush, making sure to stare appropriately when she makes the remark in turn.

Not to worry, Sonia. Wylan is adept at multitasking. As seen here as they go about their shopping excursion amidst the displays and racks.

"If it's somewhere that gets snow on the ground, I try not to be there when the snow is. Alas, we can not in fact always get what we want." And, really, he should be epitomized by that sentiment. Though the twisting nebula of timelines had brought him to this point, taking clothes from his now-girlfriend to try on in extravagant fashion. It never evades him how many other opportunities were missed because of his circumstances. What kind of person could Zachary Reis have grown up to be, otherwise? "But if you try sometimes... Well." Wylan lets the remainder of the line be left to the air as the variety of items are taken in hand.

The wrench to his lips is played off comically, despite being sourced to the distaste of how his initial control of fate had set him down into the pits. No, Sonia, he doesn't really dislike your choices, but it's funny to act as though he's being judgmental. A leer sent her way as he leans in.

"There's a severe lack of cartoon characters and humorous logos on these shirts. I wear this and I might be considered someone who acts my age. Not a problem, I'll just compensate. It seemed to work some on your cousins, and I was barely even trying there. It was more trying to keep myself from being beaten up, but y'know."

After a hum, he smiles. Then slips into a changing room to start the show. Everything fit fine enough. And he made sure to dramatically present the fits to Sonia. One time going so far as to step out without any pants on. One of the sweaters being put back because he disliked how far it fell down his hips. That in itself doesn't alleviate some of the creeping feeling underlying this endeavor. That evasive part of his mind, one that wished to stay slippery and never wanted to be pinned down, knew what this was.

Reflecting on movie references, how many were there that included a scene of the rebel being cleaned up and pressed into a stiff ensemble? Sure, these clothes didn't itch as the stereotype usually implied, but Wylan felt a similar sentiment. After all. This wasn't a one-off attire or event for the purpose of fitting into a role. This was going to be him. Wylan Rechtur needed to be a clean cut individual so that he might be a fitting partner for Sonia Nevermind.

For her. For Sonia. For Sonia.

The wrench in his heart is swallowed back. The man stands, staring in the mirror, pensively. It clicks away, he clicks away. Adopting several different poses to see if he couldn't break free character-wise. Or if that mattered. Did it? Probably not. Just as Sonia was handed clothes to wear, the assassin imagines it'll be the same case for him. Some little assistant toddling after him that could go so far as to fuss over which buttons he bothered to snap.

Right then.

"These'll work." He lies, smoother than the coffee he had just been drinking with no betrayal on his features. The smile he passes to Sonia is genuine as he slips out of the changing room one last time (this time his pants are on, not going to pull that twice in one setting). Now back in his prior clothes with everything he was inclined to grab over the arm. "And if they don't, I'll make sure to take the blame, and not immediately throw you under the bus since you picked them out."

[hers-underwraps]

Does barnacles have rizz (aaa sorry this question is dumb)

I mean he clearly he had enough to rizz you up

Ok but jokes aside yes he does have rizz but it's a different type from Dashi's IMO.

I feel like his rizz exists more outside to the viewers than in the show. With the examples I used for Dashi her "rizz" could be clearly be perceived as "romantic" by the audience with little debate as what the character's feelings were. This isn't always the case for Barnacles.

I feel like one of the common debates about Barnacles within the community about whether he can/should be shipped with anyone within the show which I believe stems from the way his actions and intentions are perceived.

Barnacles is brave. He's kind, incredibly selfless and he's also a little dorky. He's also got a strong physical presence and is shown protecting other several times throughout the show. He's also very empathetic, he's a good problem solver and an excellent leader. All of these aspects make him a very comforting character.

These qualities in someone you consider romantically are very comforting; they provide a sense of security. Especially when comparing it to the real world, since in reality people are usually lacking in these qualities. He’s also very charming, heroic and masculine which are qualities that we as a society “swoon” over. Hence there is a large portion of fans who idolise him romantically because he is the "ideal" man.

However, a lot of his qualities are also quite similar to that of a parental figure or even a quality human being. Unfortunately, in reality, people are also lacking in these qualities. Some men are physically strong but lack empathy and depth, or excellent leaders who will berate their teams behind the scenes or people who were supposed to be there for you and provide security and comfort but were unreliable and fell short. These issues are heavily present in both a romantic/nonromantic context.

People cling to Barnacles for comfort in the way that best suits them which then changes how his actions are perceived.

There's also his character to take into consideration. Someone like Dashi being intentionally rizzful suits with her as a character as she is often outgoing, laid-back and fun. I genuinely can't imagine Barnacles hitting up anyone with a one-liner or being like "hey bbg" which is what people would classify as classic"rizz" (which I can totally see Dashi doing)

He's a nice person and sincere by nature. I can imagine if you were his coworker and if he was constant looking at you with caring eyes, nonchalantly saving your life at the expense of his own and always believing in you it could easily be perceived as romantic. However his intentions aren't, he just does it because he's a good person.

I can imagine people falling in love with him or professing their love and he would just be confused because he wasn't trying to be a rizzler, his actions and aura are just rizzful. He also seems like the kind of guy who would be oblivious about his own feelings for another and would take a long time to process whether he like LIKE's someone but by the time he's realised it's really easy to transfer his intentions from platonic to romantic because he's naturally acting that way already. That's the type of rizz Barnacles has.

You were probably looking for a silly answer but logistcially speaking I'd say that Barnacles absolutely has rizz

[lu-is-not-ok]

hi this is a random thought i had to your most recent post (teaser cgs where you discussed the scene being where hes making a distraction etc). is there any merit to a theory where daiyu acted as a sacrifice to get hong lu/baoyu out of the jia household?

my thoughts with this were that if the jias did indeed want to make hong lu/baoyu immortal but hl/baoyu didnt want that, and since daiyu and hl/baoyu were really close, daiyu would have sacrificed, or more likely *surrendered* to protect baoyu against his will?

and since hl/baoyu would need to go back anyway the sacrifice would have been for naught, leading into the canto title The Surrendered Witnessing, which in this context i would interpret as like "the surrendered witnessing his failure of sacrifice"?

idk its late but i wanted to hear your thoughts on it. probably off base a lot.

Yes and no!

Yes to the idea of Daiyu sacrificing themself for the sake of Baoyu/Hong Lu.

With the most recent example of Hong Lu snapping at someone and interrupting them because of the implications of death not being meaningless, it's clear that the idea of someone's life being taken for the sake of letting someone else live is directly tied to Daiyu's death. Ergo - Daiyu likely sacrificed themself for the sake of saving Baoyu's life.

No however to the idea that Daiyu's sacrifice was to get Baoyu out of the household. If I'm correct about my interpretation of the Teaser CGs, Baoyu's chance at escaping the Jia household likely came long after Daiyu's death, meaning it's unlikely for the causal link to be That Direct.

I theorize the reason for this sacrifice to be far simpler.

My theory (which directly ties into my wider Two in One theory) is that, just like in DOTRC, Baoyu ends up beaten to death (or near death) by his father, and just like in DOTRC the jade he was born with is what helps him come back to health.

However, I don't believe Limbus's equivalent of the jade is as straightforward as just letting Baoyu heal quickly, but rather I believe it has something to do with the Jias' search for Immortality of the Mind - perhaps it's an object that stores all of Baoyu's consciousness in it (after all, the original jade in DOTRC is established to have all of what it experienced as a human written on it after it returns to the Land of Illusion).

Daiyu's sacrifice in this case would be a direct giving up of their own life to save Baoyu's - essentially dying to become the vessel for his consciousness.

A death which, as we can see from Hong Lu's behavior, he views as completely meaningless.

[lilacxquartz]

I saw from your post back in october that you might do requests.. for reigen arataka... teehee

What if the loser man got drunk while hanging out with reader , and as reader's holding reigen's hair back when throwing up, he confesses to them drunk.. 👁👁💧💧💧💧

untimely confessions;

reigen arataka x reader

plot: after a night on the town and an unfortunate morning of you nursing the guy, reigen confesses something special — themes: fluff, romance, confession, reigen being reigen — cw: alcohol, sickness — w.c: 1.4k • masterlist

a/n: ahah, you bet i can! this insert can be read as gender neutral so feel free to insert as you’d like 🫶

Out of all of the things you thought you would do in life—going on a date with Reigen Arataka was never one of them.

You bumped into him by chance initially, recognising him as your once good friend that you had long drifted apart from and somehow, by the end of the discussion, you found yourself not only exchanging details and texting him just like old times, but also agreeing to go out for a drink with him.

And so, there you were by the end of the evening, hunched over a bar stool, watching on with fascination as the guy really tried to haggle the fixed bar price for drinks, completely unashamed of what he was attempting to do.

After a while, Reigen then swooped back in to your side, leaning shoulder to shoulder with you as he proudly presented a bottle of partially open sake, and what appeared to be two egg cups instead of glasses.

You couldn’t help but warily sigh as a result, wondering just what strange trouble you were getting yourself into. Though, if you had to be truly honest, you did suppose that he was entertaining and after a while, you found yourself listening to one of his many overly exaggerated stories, where he claimed to be something close to a god.

(Despite you knowing fully well, that he was in fact, a conman.)

“I’m telling you,” he continued, trying to cosy up to you at the same time, “I’m that kid’s hero,” he emphasised, trying to prove a point, “I saved him and now I’m paying him back with my masterful expertise and techniques—”

“Such as your ‘salt technique’?” you couldn’t help but point out, reluctantly taking a sip from the egg cup.

Reigen faltered slightly, but kept on going, unable to let his pride suffer, “It’s an ancient special technique, ghosts hate salt, probably.”

Your eyes widened as did your smile. “Oh sure, let’s go with that. Ghosts famously hate salt –that’s right.”

Reigen seemed to ignore your sarcasm, pushing past it, or perhaps was oblivious to it altogether. Instead, he knocked back yet another drink all the while you were still sipping on your second. You didn’t quite trust the state of this bar—Reigen was fine, he was seedy, but only as a conman—it was just the fact this bar was empty on a Friday night that was offputting.

(Or maybe, it was somehow impressive?)

Noticing your thoughtful expression, however, Reigen swept in with the moves, something he called one of his special techniques, coining the ability as ‘masterful flirtation’. “You know,” he murmured, dropping his voice to a low, slurring drone, “I don’t just bring anyone here,” he revealed, swinging his arm around your shoulders. “No, no… this place is special. You can feel it too, right? Psychic to psychic. It has a sort of… unique energy, perhaps attuned to fulfill your wildest dreams come true.”

You blinked, plucking his arm off of you.

“Reigen, please,” you sighed, shaking your head, “the only thing that this place is attuned to is food poisoning.”

He nervously laughed in response, trying to shake off his failed attempt at winning your heart, quickly retreating to renew his cup of sake, hastily forcing it down with one big gulp.

Soon though, he grew almost comically drunk, with his cheeks all rosy and his posture swaying back and forth. He could barely hold his ground, all the while, you were completely fine. You sighed as you physically had to wrangle him out of ordering more, dragging him out of the bar and into the cool air that met you both from the second you slipped outside.

“You smell so nice,” he slurred as he leaned his into you, trying to find his balance, while you instead tried to drag him back home, “so, so nice…”

“Uhuh, follow the scent home, I suppose,” you muttered under your breath, “what way do you live exactly?”

Reigen pointed in a whole slew of directions, eventually leading you back towards his consultation office. You blinked, turning to face him while he hadn’t a clue what was going on. “Do you live in your office or are you just confused?”

“It saves money, alright?” he whined slightly, though quickly schooled his reaction to mean something prideful instead, “I’m good with frugality, you see.”

“More like good at giving yourself the worst hangovers,” you shook your head, your voice laced with a hint of sympathy, “did you really have to drink that much, Reigen?”

He rolled his eyes back at you, dismissing your concerns with the wave of his hand. “It’s fine. I’ve done this before. I’ve got a gut made of steel, I totally can handle—” he burped, swallowing something rather unpleasant down, “...hold that thought.”

Your eyes widened in the realisation of what was yet to come. “Oh, god.”

Quickly, Reigen dipped a hand into the pocket of his slacks, planting the key right into your hand. In a flash, you opened up the door, tugging him upstairs and letting go of him briefly as he stumbled towards the bathroom. You reluctantly followed him, figuring that you might as well see him through this unfortunate experience, feeling a little bad about what could potentially happen should you leave him alone.

“This sucks,” Reigen moaned all the while, flinging his forward once again, “but you don’t,” he added in between breaths, focusing on you between the bouts of nausea, “you’re so good to me, even when I get so embarrassing,” he sighed, feeling the shame settle in. “Why’d you even come out with me tonight?”

“I’m starting to ask myself that…” you trailed off before shaking your head, choosing to play the role of who he needed you to be right now, a good, helpful friend, he’s done that for you in the past too, “but no, really, I just wanted to catch up. We go way back, right?”

His lips melted into a lazy smile, his eyes glazed and red as he focused on you for a moment more than he had meant to. “Yeah, I suppose we do… besides, I… I had a really good time with you, I’ve got to say,” he admitted, “I missed hanging out like this,” he paused, “well, not like this… but you know, just out, together.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame you still can’t hold your liquor though, maybe we should figure out something else to do the next time I’m in town,” you suggested.

“The next time?” Reigen paused, seeming surprised. “You mean… you’re still willing to hang out with me?”

You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course, I know what you’re really like. One night of you being drunk out of your mind is nothing I can’t handle. Maybe we should go bowling? Or try an escape room? I feel like those types of things could be fun.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nodded in agreement, regretting the decision to do so as yet more alcohol left his body, “but… maybe when I’m not dying. I feel like this is really it actually… this is how I’ll go.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. “You’re fine. You’re not dying. I’ll make sure of it. Stay right here and I’ll pop over to a convenience store, alright? I’ll get you something that you can actually keep down and not suffer of dehydration too much the next day.”

Reigen nodded, waiting for your return. He continued to be sick all the while, gripping onto the porcelain throne for his dear life. By the time you had come back though—he seemed in an even worse shape than before, his eyes wide, almost manic—locked onto you like you were some sort of divine saviour.

Just as you were about to tell him to take a few slow sips of the drink though, he spoke up first before you ever had the chance.

“I love you.”

You froze as soon as you heard it. “You what?”

He lifted his chin slightly, his bloodshot eyes meeting yours with an affectionate stare. It was so strange, but he seemed to be genuine as if this was a truth that he had known deep in his gut for the longest time.

“I mean it,” he continued, “I love you.”

You stared at him for a long time, trying to gauge whether or not it was a joke, but again, he very much meant it—it was obvious, even.

“You’re drunk,” you dismissed initially, handing him the bottle.

“So? I don’t have to be sober to understand my feelings,” he argued, “you didn’t have to do all of this either, but you did because you’re amazing, and I… was always too much of a coward to say it, but… I love you.”

You remained silent beyond that point, a million thoughts running through your head at once.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated, leaning forward, before realising that he was covered in sick and then leaning back slightly as a result, giving you some space.

“Aw man,” you lightheartedly sighed, “why’s this working?”

It was honestly ridiculous when you really thought about it, but there was something oddly endearing about everything that had unfolded that night. With anyone else, you would have run for the hills if they put you through what they did tonight, but the fact that you felt comfortable enough with Reigen to keep going, obviously said a lot about how you felt, too. As much as you hated to admit it, you wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

He laughed at your unsure response, seemingly on the verge of tears. Oh, what a pathetic man. You were absolutely so sure that you did in return, but you couldn’t admit such a thing to him while he was covered in sick.

No, he had to be cleaned up, looking at least 40% presentable to society.

Besides, you were looking forward to seeing him become impossibly flustered, maybe even panicked at the prospect of his drunken confession catching up to him when he was sober.

Oh, you couldn’t wait for that, in fact.

Just thinking about what he’d say then.