#and he gets drunk when he gets sad

[settle-down-frohike]

I just love your username so damn much. Also your blog, but like... seriously, A+ on the username.

So, fun fact. It was “dropletsofjupiter” when I first made my way into the TikTok fandom. And as I usually do when I’m having a bad day, I was eating Ramen noodles and watching X-Files as my comfort. That particular day it happened to be E.B.E. This was back when we actually used to have chat groups on TikTok. And I entered the chat as settldownfohike and people just went nuts over it. But truthfully, it’s because I genuinely have a very large soft spot for the lone gunman, frohike in particular. And also because it was one of the first very territorial displays you saw come from Mulder in regards to Scully. If you watch that scene, you see his facial expression go from amused to quite serious quite fast. It’s one of the first indications that you see of his feelings towards her. And it just stuck with me.

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[deadsetobsessions]

Much of his misery were consequences of his own making. Danny accepted that. He drowned in it, really.

But this?

Jason stood before him, dressed in traffic cone colors in front of a still but apprehensive Batman. Jason- that was his baby brother, damn it, this universe’s version of his older sister!- hunched in on himself, knowing he had been caught and recognized. Danny’s world narrowed and crumpled onto itself, the bloodied face of his dead sister superimposed on Jason’s masked one.

This was all Batman’s fault.

Suddenly, he remembered all those time Jazz looked at him with terror in her eyes. She wasn’t scared of him. No, she was scared for him.

Looking back, Danny finally understood the fragile look in her eyes when he asked her- quietly, so his parents didn’t hear- to patch him up. He had broken her heart, had soured it with fear tempered by love. Danny stared at his baby brother- his sister, with that red hair and impossibly blue eyes and that kind but sharp wit- and realized with a sense of finality that he too was about to experience that heartbreak. He too would know the pain of watching some break themselves for a city they loved, a sense of responsibility he wished they didn’t have- one that he had, before it and grief tore everything away from him.

But Danny wasn’t willing to admit defeat. He would rather suffer another half death than let a life of vigilantism hurt his loved ones. The world could burn. He’d learned a long time ago what this life cost and Danny wasn’t going to lose Jason too.

He set down the bottle of wine with a loud and clear thunk. It was untouched. He hadn’t opened it, hadn’t had the chance to when the duo dropped down unsuspectingly on his apartment roof top.

“No,” Danny said, voice filled with crackling brimstone and spine laced with cold hard steel. It’s the voice he used when he fought Vlad. It’s the voice he had when he helped the Ancients shut Pariah Dark away. It was the voice he had when he begged Jazz to not die.

“Wait, Danny,” Jason- Robin, Batman put his little brother in bright kill-target clothes and named him after a fucking bird- pleaded. Danny cut him off, in a way he’s never done before. He loved it when Jason talked. It was a sign that Jason felt safe enough to talk about his interests and things he cared about without fear of retaliation.

“No,” he repeated, face carefully blank. Jason didn’t like aggressiveness. It reminded him of terrible days, so Danny watched himself around Jason, learning the neutral face and carefully non threatening body language until he did it like breathing. “We will be having words on the matter of you lying to me, sneaking out, and meeting up with a strange old man later. But you, Jason Peter Todd, are done with whatever this is right now. Go inside, change, eat, and wait.”

“You’re drinking again,” Jason mulishly said, though the stubbornness was dulled by his apprehensiveness. “I ain’t taking-”

“And I will apologize for that later. Home. Now, please.”

Jason paused. His eyes, surrounded by the fabric of a domino mask, surveyed Danny’s stance. He mumbled a gritted “fine.” With one last glance, Jason disappeared off the scaffolding- giving Danny half a heart attack because when the hell did Jason learn to do that? What if he got hurt??- and into the open window of his bedroom.

Danny kept eyes-to-lense contact with Batman the entire time.

“Close the window,” he called down to Jason, glaring at Batman the entire time.

He heard a curse mixed with grumbling before Jason closed the window with a thud.

Danny immediately rounded on Batman.

“You. How dare you trick my baby brother into all of this?” His eyes glowed a sickening green, hazy in the beginning of a drizzling Gotham rain.

“He would have done it with or without me. This way, he has support.”

“You? Support? You think that’s enough? You think you’re enough?” Danny stalked closer. He was stone cold sober now, and Batman was about to witness what he was capable of when he’s sober.

“I’m better than nothing,” Batman growled.

“No. You’re worse,” Danny snapped at him. The thing about heroes, current or former ones like Danny, was that they tended to know what made people tick. It was how they knew to comfort them, after all. Danny honed in, words brutal and cutting. “You encourage him, yes, but you encourage him to go into this life of yours like it’s a healthy thing to do. Without you, he’d be stopping muggings here and there. Maybe, he’d get in trouble with a crime syndicate. But you? You take a dip in the worst Gotham has to offer, and you expect it to never taint you? You think you’re protecting him but what you’re really doing is dragging him with you. The mud you track in will eventually drown my baby brother, Batman.”

Batman tilted his stupid pointy eared head. “You have experience with this,” he said quietly. A realization.

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone because you decided to pull him into this life. I do. So don’t fucking drag him into your fight because he deserves a chance at a life that won’t try its damn hardest to break him. Your self sacrifice and sense of justice will mean nothing to a dead boy.”

Because in the end, it hadn’t mattered for Danny.

Because in the end, he was still left bereft of the family he had and made, all because he chose responsibility.

Because in the end, the dead boy was Danny, but he was left alive enough to grieve.

Danny took a deep, wavering breath before whirling on his heels and marching back inside. Batman watched him walk away. He took a moment before walking down to their apartment.

——

Jason sat at their dining table, homework out and Robin mask laid carefully on the table. He’d changed into his pjs while Danny laid into Batman and seemed to be on his best behavior. Danny took a moment to lean against the doorway, quietly cherishing the last moments of peace he’ll ever know.

He needs your support, Jazz whispered into his ears.

He needs to not be a vigilante, Danny argued back. His throat missed the spice of the wine he’d yet to drink. But he’d promised not to drink around Jason.

And when had telling vigilantes no crime fighting ever work, dork? Jazz laughed. It certainly hadn’t worked with you, Invis-o-bill.

It made Danny’s heart ache something fierce and he didn’t think he’d ever stop missing his older sister.

I just… don’t want to lose him.

I know. Tell him that. But you will if you don’t support him. You will, because he’ll go off on his own like you did. Don’t do our brother dirty, Danny.

It probably wasn’t healthy to be talking to himself like this.

He walked into the room. Jason stiffened. Ah, he should have noticed. Jason always had exceptional spatial awareness, but recently he’d been even more so. Danny knew why, now.

He sat himself across from Jason, who set his jaw stubbornly. He couldn’t look Danny in the eyes, though, and kept fiddling the edges of his red “The Flash” themed pajama shirt.

Danny couldn’t bring it in himself to be anything but gentle, even in his anger.

“Do you want to tell me why you want to be… Robin?”

“Yeah, it’s Robin,” Jason crossed his arms, looking defensive. His fingers now drummed anxiously on the worn wooden table Danny had picked up for their kitchen/dining area. “I wanna help. Ya- y’helping but not enough. I gotta do more.”

Danny tried very very hard not to bury his face into his hands and scream. He did, however, make a dying whale noise that had Jason making offended faces.

“I thought Alley kids were supposed to have self preservation instincts?” Danny bemoaned.

“How d’ya think I’m still alive?” Jason shot back. “Robin’s magic. The other day-”

See, Danny had a plan. He did. He wanted to shut this down.

But as he watched Jason describe the crooks he took down and the people he’s helped, all he could see was Jazz, passionately advocating for improvements in mental health and how much she could help people. He saw the spark in Jason’s eyes, and could only think of Jazz’s heart and how Jason had inherited it and made it his own.

And, what hurts above all, is that Danny saw himself, before everything was ripped from him. Danny saw the hope that Jason carried, the care he had for others and it made him want to cry. Is this why Jazz hadn’t tried to stop him, all those years ago?

Was his choice to become Phantom not a choice that brought her despair but rather something that inspired his older sister?

“I ain’t the first Robin- but- I’m helping.” Jason said, desperate for Danny to understand. “I’m good at it.”

And he does- he does, but.

“You’re better than the first Robin,” Danny said, clearly without bias. Really, he was being fair about it. “You’re already my hero.”

And he was. Even from the moment they met, Jason’s small form, determined despite the fear, had inspired Danny to be better. To be what Phantom used to be.

“Y’re just sayin’ that.” Jason mumbled. “So… does this mean you’re gonna lemme be Robin?”

Danny hesitated. “The reason that I’m against it isn’t because I think you’re incapable.”

Then Danny told his little brother everything. Almost.

“I used to be a vigilante, a long time ago,” he began. Danny wove a tapestry of stories. He spoke of the scars he’d gotten, the things he’d seen and done to help, and more importantly, of the people he’s loved and lost.

“You remind me of my sister, Jay.”

“‘Cause I got red hair?” Jason asked quietly.

“Yes and more. You’re so brave, and your heart is so big. You want to help people at the roots. You care so much and you’re both incredibly intelligent.” Danny closed his eyes. “Losing her broke me. I’m not against you becoming a vigilante, Jay. I’m just scared about losing you and being a vigilante increases those chances.”

“I won’t die.” Jason promised.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jay.” Danny leaned over and ruffled Jason’s hair. “But I know that you’re eventually going to go back to vigilantism eventually. That’s… that’s just kind of how it is.”

Danny hated it but he knew that he wouldn’t have listened at Jason’s age.

“But you haven’t.” Jason gripped his wrist. “Y’ain’t right?”

“What did you think happened to Charlie?”

Jason blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Danny smiled, tired and sad but buoyant. He’ll be there for Jason like Jazz was for him. “I guess there’s only one choice left.”

“What’s that?”

Danny smiled mischievously. “I just gotta be a vigilante again. But don’t tell Batman. That asshole’s gotta suffer a bit.”

Jason giggled and Ancients, Danny could hear Jazz’s little snort in there. “Really?!”

“Yes. I’ll train you if you want. I gotta be out there to make sure you don’t die on me.”

“I won’t.”

This time, Danny actually believed it. Mostly because whoever tried to cross his little brother was about to find out why even the Ancients bowed when he got angry.

——

Jason: *is cute and happy Robin*

Criminals: *fear*

Jason: see that, Danny? They were so afraid of me! I’m super intimidating

Danny, who had been standing behind Jason and making silent threats at them like a demon from Constantine’s hell: yeah, baby brother you’re the scariest, I’m so proud of you���

Me, trying to write Danny and Bruce getting along: *challenge failed*

Listen, Danny has too much fight me you rich weirdo vibes

[dykedvonte]

Curly had two days to act and Swansea had two months.

I think it’s just interesting that every defense of Swansea not immediately acting are the same ones that are argued against for Curly. “He didn’t want to alert Daisuke or makes things worse for Anya either Jimmy!” I mean people also assume that about Curly and the crew. “He has to think about his plan of action and a right moment!” Again so did Curly, power and authority aside, he still would have to think of what he had to do. “He makes sure he doesn’t have to be around Jimmy!” So did Curly and they only do this to an extent, both give Jimmy more than a few opening to keep harassing Anya.

This isn’t defense of Curly nor a damnation of Swansea. Their actions are very parallel to each others in tragic and sour ways when it comes to how they approached helping Anya. In the grand scheme of it all they both did the same thing: Nothing. No action either took stopped the inevitable outcome of her death nor Jimmy’s continued damage to themself.

The only real difference is Swansea didn’t like Jimmy which is pretty substantial, but also just as damning as Curly knowing how bad Jimmy could get to an extent. He had even less of a reason to wait, even more of a reason to act seeing as he was now worried for Anya AND Daisuke. He is not bound by the possible procedure as Captain and actively does not care about what happens next. So what does it matter if he acted in the moment? Why did he wait? I think he’s just as morally complex and grey as Curly and we hold him on a pedestal that still perpetuates things in rape culture the game critiques.

It’s not just enough to dislike and be abrasive to predators/abusers like Jimmy. It’s not enough to just put yourself between them and the other person. It’s not enough to hold tensions when you know someone is vulnerable. He and Curly do the exact same things but on different sides of the coin. I ask how is it better to not turn a blind eye but still not really do anything about what you are seeing? Not until it affects you atleast…

The game makes a big point to not put men doing the bare minimum or who wait to do more on pedestals and I’m actually surprised so many are missing that point.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

thinkin bout magneto's lil list of aliases from that One Shot of his government file or w/e in 97 and how it lists the three main men who've played him (David Hemblen, Ian McKellen, Michael Fassbender) and kinda cackling at the idea 1.) if they included All his names 2.) having 'michael' on that list twice

[sparklingchim]

[lazer-screwdriver]

The Master not realizing the dinner party he had to go to had a main dish that included (what is it that gets time lords drunk? Ginger? That) and ending up absolutely hammered on accident. Having a terrible time trying to keep his composure the rest of the night & ending up sitting in the backseat of his fancy car looking like this

& asking his driver to call Lucy bc he’s so stressed and he misses her sooo much (the driver doesn’t have her number) (he saw her 3 hours ago)

[pinkyjulien]

[urfavesarequadranted]

adaman and irida from pokemon legends arceus are kismeses!

Adaman and Irida from Pokemon Legends: Arceus are kismeses!

[good-to-drive]

I totally agree with the general consensus that Ringo provided a lot of emotional support and coolheadedness to the other beatles to the point where they'd have probably killed each other without him but I do also wonder sometimes how much of that is being supernaturally patient and easygoing and how much of it is Ringo just having a tumultuous and isolated childhood where he was never taught to recognize and assert his own emotional needs so he became a blank slate on which others could process their emotions

(And tbh I also wonder how an inability to access or assert his feelings may have contributed to his tendency to process pain by numbing himself and the pretty shitty way he treated women)

[oph3liatlou]

— YOU’RE NOT FINE

pairing(s) - drunk!joel miller x comforting!reader

word count - 1,420

warnings - light cursing, lots of angst, mentions of alcohol and being drunk, mentions of death / trauma, verbal argument, non direct mentions of suicide.

proofread? - yes

note from author - i hope this does justice

summary - joel is grieving on sarah’s birthday, years after her death. he drinks way too much and comfort ensues.

You and Tommy were both well aware of Joel’s seasonal depression and how severe it got - usually a few days before Sarah’s birthday.

While it never tended to be too concerning, you knew that something was especially off - your gut feeling didn’t help soothe your anxiety either.

A sneaking suspicion that Joel wasn’t in a good state of mind whatsoever, caused you to go to his house. You didn’t even bother knocking, that’s how worried you were.

You opened the door gently, knowing he probably hadn’t locked it - you were met by the strong smell of bourbon in the air.

He heard the door and spoke to you from the couch, a bottle in his hand. “The…hell d’ya…w-want?” He grumbled drunkenly.

You sighed. “Jesus Joel…” You started as you let the door close behind you.

“I haven’t seen you all day, I was worried you-“ But I didn’t finish my sentence - knowing what he had tried to do all those years ago.

I looked around the house now, waiting for him to speak. I noticed it’s mess. The empty bottles everywhere…

He looked at you before the next bout of words escaped him. “I’m fi…just fin-..” He couldn’t even speak properly.

He tried his best to maintain a level-headed tone and remain in control of the situation. It was a clear struggle given his current state.

His fingers wrapped around the bottle as he took a swig. “Leave…”

You had been friends for a few years now so, you had seen Joel in his anual depressed states a few times.

You shook your head responding to him. “No.” You stated. “I’m not going anywhere - not with you like this.”

Joel watched as you moved toward the couch, sitting at the opposite end. His expression showed clear disapproval. “I’m f-fine, alright?!”

Your presence likely triggered him in this state, but the alcohol exacerbated his feelings ten-fold. Despite his irritation, he knew you were coming from a place of concern - not that he would admit that.

He took another swig of bourbon, and tried to adjust his position on the couch.

You looked at him with sheer concern. “You’re not fine, Joel.” You tried to keep your voice calm, but you were getting more and more agitated with his words.

You knew what you were going to say next would cause an argument - but he needed to hear it.

“…would she really want you to be grieving her like this?”

Joel’s eyebrows narrowed at the unexpected reference to his daughter.

He lowered the bottle and gave you a look of dissatisfaction at such an inopportune time - he wanted nothing more than to be alone, and drown his sorrows.

“Don’t.” He warned you.

He trailed off, then took another sip - clearly not wanting to engage in this conversation anymore.

You shook your head again as you turned your body to face him.

“You know that I’m right - she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

His gaze shifted away from you, as he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“J-jus’, leave me be…go home…”

He was quick to dismiss your remarks and how his current state of his mind made him feel in regards to your intervention.

His hand found the bottle once more, bringing it with him as he scooted away from you.

“Joel, please…” You sighed with worry. He was just as stubborn as you, if not more so.

You stood abruptly and snagged the bottle from his hands and started pouring it down the kitchen sink. “If you won’t help yourself - I’ll just make it easier.” You left the empty bottle in the sink.

“I tried to comfort you, but clearly that’s not working.” You were frustrated and just wanted him to vent to you - anything but denying how he was feeling.

He watched as you took the bourbon, and emptied it in the sink. His blood boiled as he watched his only coping mechanism get chucked down the drain. “Oh, reall-?!”

He trailed off. “I can take care of myself!”

You turned on your heel and pointed a finger towards him.

“No you can’t!” You were pissed now, more so because he worried you.

“I get it Joel - you miss her immensely but, drinking until you shit-the-bed isn’t taking care of yourself!”

Joel winced at your harsh words feeling them strike a raw nerve - he couldn’t even deny that it was true. “I don’t need your help…”

He shifted his legs while on the couch, turning to face you with a tinge of annoyance mixed with regret. “I…w- don’t need anyone’s help on this!”

You sighed before crouched in front of him. “Please…” You mumbled, pausing to reach for his hand. “Let me help you…”

The contact with your fingers made him instinctively shudder. He didn’t want the comfort or the sympathy - to feel like a burden. Especially to you.

He tried to pull his hand away but decided against it. “I…I jus’ nee-…”

He paused, realizing his words of defiance. He could feel his emotions bubbling as he fought against them - tears welded in his eyes. “…I need…her back!”

You didn’t respond, you just pulled him into a hug.

Joel didn’t fight back against your hug, he simply folded into your embrace as he was reduced to tears.

“I jus’…I just want it to st-stop!” He sniffled, his voice breaking as he spoke.

He tried to keep his emotions reserved, but he couldn’t deny the cathartic effect of someone listening without judgement or comments.

You pulled away from he hug, but you still stayed close to him. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from me…it’s okay to feel things, Joel.”

Joel’s emotions continued to get the best of him, he tried his best to reign them in - but the floodgates had already been torn open. “I’m…I’m sick of…”

He took a brief moment to find his words, taking a breath to compose himself as he tried to maintain his dignity in front of you. “I can’t…keep feeling empty because of her loss…”

You understood what he felt. Loss was a big part of this world now - nothing ever lasted. “It’s always going to hurt but…it gets easier.” You continued. “Especially if you stop blaming yourself…it’s not your fault, what happened.”

Joel’s heart felt some amount of warmth at your words, as they gave him hope for the future - but they also caused him to feel somewhat conflicted, given that he was unable to accept the fact that there were people who cared.

He didn’t fight back as you spoke, as he simply looked down at the floor - listening intently to your advice. “I…I know you’re right…”

“Do you want to talk more about it…” You asked gently looking at him. You were there to listen, help and to care. “…or maybe you should just rest?” You suggested.

He took a few moments to contemplate your question, considering his options. But he was done talking. “I think…I…I jus’ wanna’ get some sleep.” He tone was tired and weak, it was clear he needed to sleep off his current state.

You stood to help him up, clearly he couldn’t walk in his drunken state.

Joel let your assistance guide him towards his bedroom. He felt weak in his legs, but he didn’t argue against your help. The weight of grief took a serious toll on him. As you both entered the room, Joel sat on the bed and immediately fell into it with a sigh.

You moved back into the doorway of the bedroom before you spoke. “Ok, goodnight then. I’ll um, I’ll come back to check on you in the morning. Ok?”

Joel’s head rested against the pillow, but his eyes remained open - he wasn’t able to fall asleep yet as his mind was still racing. “S-stay, if you want…” He offered with more clarity.

But, you shook your head. You knew all too well that staying, was a bad idea. “I’ll just come back in the morning.”

He was reluctant to dismiss your presence and offer, but he knew your actions made the most sense. “Fine, I’ll get…some sleep.” His eyes closed with a weak yawn, and his breathing grew heavy as he fell into a deep sleep.

You watched him for a moment before turning his light off and shutting his door - leaving his home with the strong smell of bourbon still lingering.

[softquietsteadylove]

I have an idea for the lawyer au. Inspiration from Boston legal season 8 episode 9.

A girl, make her young like sprite, comes to Gil one day and asks if he is a lawyer and if he can help her. Gil thinking she is being a kid jokingly asks how much money she has and when she answers 10 bucks her father comes and wants to take her with her. But she holds onto Gil and says please help me, if I go back to Poland they’ll force me to marry a man in this country. in this moment he realizes it’s a serious matter and protects the girl. At the end of this case it’s a very depressing situation for him. Thena is there to gently lift him up

Im sure you’ll manage to do something with it

"Gil."

Gil didn't even pick his head up. He was all but sleeping in his mug of guinness. "Gil's not here."

Thena didn't let him get away with it. She did pat his shoulder with some sense of pity for him. "Come on, Gil. It's well past midnight and you have another court date tomorrow."

He groaned at even the mention of going into court again. He didn't know if he had it in him after his day today. "I'm not going back there."

Thena shuffled her purse on her shoulder and perched herself on the stool next to his. "You don't mean that."

"I do," he huffed, pushing the goblet away with distaste. All he could smell was the thick, sweet stench of it. "And I should have punched that judge in the face."

"It wouldn't have changed the ruling," she pointed out in a very Thena way. "Unless you want to be barred from practising law for a year, if not the rest of your life."

He shrugged. He wasn't sure how he felt about the law after today. He had always thought he was on the side of the good guys, as cliche as it sounded. Sure, the law was far from perfect, but he really thought he was doing some good with his job.

"You did everything you could for that girl, Gil."

He scoffed and rubbed his eyes. The dim lighting and loud music of the bar were making his vision blurry, and all he could taste in the back of his throat was cheap beer. "Is that what you call letting her get shipped back to Poland to get married to some old creep?"

She was a kid, no older than Sprite. It was a sickening 'case', no matter how sudden or pro bono it had been. She had even offered to pay with the only 10 dollars to her name, kept safe inside the birthday card it came in and everything. But none of it had done any good.

"We don't win every case, Gil."

"Well, you'd think this one would matter more!"

A few heads turned. He had been quietly sulking at the bar for hours, by this point, enough beers in that the bartender was beginning to eye him every time he asked for another.

Thena didn't even flinch.

Gil groaned again, scrubbing his face with his hands even though he'd been touching the bar that was cleaned only god knew when. He sighed, "I'm sorry."

But she understood his outburst, maybe even condoned it. "It's okay. I can't say I blame you for coming here and burying it under...how many is it now?"

More than he wanted to admit to. So, instead, he ruffled his hair and attempted to pull himself up in his seat with some dignity. "Doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure he's cut me off quietly anyway."

The bartender turned around, ears already burning and a towel slung over his shoulder. "Time to pay up, Boston Legal?"

"Very funny," Gil snarled at him. He knew it wasn't this guy's fault he'd had the worst day of his entire career, but that didn't mean he was in any mood for it. He slapped his hands over his jacket, his rumpled tie and then his suit pockets. "Shit."

"Oh come on, man, you're a lawyer, I know you've got-"

"It's okay, I'll pay it," Thena held her hand up, already reaching into her purse.

"Fuck," Gil cursed, hanging his head (as if he needed any more reason to be ashamed of himself tonight). He misjudged the distance, even knocking his forehead against the counter edge. Maybe it would be a little sobering, if he was lucky. "Thena, you don't have to-"

"It's okay," she assured him yet again, but she was still sounding more like 'work' Thena than the Thena had come to know and prefer.

Gil watched as the bartender took her card to close out his tab. He couldn't get any more pathetic anyway--what was a little more humiliation? "What are you doing here? Are the girls okay?"

Thena finally smiled at him, and it was the real Thena he saw, no matter how blurry. "They both asked to have sleepovers tonight. It's rare, but tomorrow is a half day at school, so I dropped them both off. When I asked how you were, the response wasn't all that clear, so I figured I would try here."

Gil made a face. He didn't remember talking with her. He felt around again for his phone, which he didn't so much pull out as clumsily drop it onto the bar. He blinked a few times, really trying to focus on reading his messages.

She had texted him, asking if he was doing okay and where he was. His response was a jumbled mess, but he unfortunately could make out something resembling him telling her that he was going to drown himself in beer and that she could join if she wanted.

He couldn't even remember reading, let alone responding to it. He really did need to be cut off for the night. He wasn't young and in college anymore--he would probably have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning (afternoon).

Thena nodded as her card was handed back to her, Gil's debt settled. She turned back to him, "think you can walk?"

He grumbled. If he wasn't already, he would flush with guilt at the insinuation. "I'm not that bad, Thena, really."

She was kind to say nothing about him wobbling a little as he got up at first. But he made it to the door easily enough with her behind him. Maybe he did need a little hand on his back, but as soon as he was out in the cold night air it was at least a little better.

Thena pulled her jacket tighter around herself. She should have been at home, relaxing during her kid-free-evening. She could have been curled up reading or watching that funny ghost show she liked with a glass of wine or a mug of tea or something. Instead, she was picking up his drunk ass from a dive bar a block away from work.

"I'm sorry, Thena," he began apologizing, for the first time of many, he told himself. He owed her plenty more, and that was beyond his bar tab, which he would pay back with interest, too. "I just...that kid-"

He pushed his nose deeper into the soft material of her white turtleneck. The cotton or cashmere or whatever it was soaked up his tears. "She was just a kid."

Thena probably didn't consider herself a hugger, but she gave really nice ones. She was really gentle, and soft, and even if she was small boned, she still felt warm. Even in her boots, she was up on her toes just slightly to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his face into her shoulder. "I know it's terrible. But you did everything you could, and we're just going to have to live with that."

"I know." Thena did know--she had sat in for the final leg of his plea. She had witnessed his loss and she had been the one to restrain him from mouthing off to the judge presiding and possibly losing his license. "It's not fair."

"What are we doing?" he asked, even hiccuping faintly as he closed his arms around her as well. He was a mess, probably stank of beer, and he shouldn't have been here in the first place. But he melted into Thena's good graces, letting her absorb some of his misery for him. "What good is any of this if I couldn't protect her?"

"That wasn't your job today," Thena whispered to him, and it felt as if it was right next to his ear. "Your job was to argue for her in her place, and you did that. You fought with all you had. But the law wasn't on our side, today. And there will be more days like this."

He knew that. He'd had hard cases before, lost cases before. But never anything like this. He'd had his faith in the judicial system and the court system and the social work system waver before--it came with the job. But now he wasn't sure how he was ever supposed to go back to work again.

"You lost a case, and it's never easy. But what that girl's parents are enforcing is not your fault."

It sure fucking felt like it was. Gil could still remember the look on the kid's face as it sunk in that it really was over, that they had lost and that her parents had every right to drag her back with them. He had handed her back the card with her birthday money in it, unable to accept it after their defeat.

"Come on," Thena leaned back, putting a hand on his cheek, probably checking his eyes to see if he was sober enough to make it back to his car. If she even called him an uber and watched him slump himself into it, it would already be more than he deserved.

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, swallowing the lump in it. He looked around the parking lot, increasingly empty by this time on a work night. "I, uh, left my car back at work. It's probably where my wallet is, a-actually. I should-"

"We can get it tomorrow, Gil," she cooed in that melodic voice of hers. She insisted it was like cold, hard ice, but he thought it was gentle and elegant, like a curtain dancing in a window.

"I've gotta get home," he all but whimpered. What a wet blanket he was being, but whatever. He pulled out his phone again, attempting to find an uber she could toss him into and be rid of him.

"I know, come on," Thena pulled at his arm gently. And when he stumbled anyway she leaned closer, letting him rest his big, meaty shoulder against her little one. "I'll get you home."

He just stared. She looked really pretty in the streetlight glow, all blurry at the edges like it was a dream sequence in a movie. "You didn't have to come and get me."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Was I to leave you drowning in your beer?"

It would be a fitting end, at least. But he shrugged, leaning on her as little as he could afford as they made their way to her car. "You shouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of my shit."

But she shouldered him easily, getting him to the passenger door first and unlocking it with her fob. "We have the same job, Gil. Same job, same shit--I know what it's like to want to dive head first into a pool of cheap wine coolers and forget everything we've ever learned."

But she didn't, that was the difference. Because Thena had other obligations and responsibilities. And took them seriously, unlike how he had come over here without even his wallet somehow.

Gil leaned against the top of the car before letting her elbow him in. She was supporting him under his other arm, tucked into his side. He would rather be supporting her, like he had after she broke her arm. "Thanks, Thena--even if you're seeing me make a huge ass out of myself."

She gave him a really sweet smile as she separated herself from him at last, letting him get into the car seat. "Quite impossible."

She even closed the door for him, being a real gentleman to his drunk ass. Gil crossed his arms, tilting his head as he looked out her windshield. "I don't think that's true."

But she climbed into the driver's seat without a word, not wasting any time as she began backing out. "I've only picked you up a few times, but I believe I remember the way."

"You'll be fine," he murmured, still with a slight slur to his words. He would let her go and if he really had to correct her, he would. "Just look for a depressing bachelor complex and I'll be on the left."

Thena let out a laugh, which added at least some levity to the night.

She had a cute laugh. He looked at her again, although hopefully with her focused on the road she would just think he had a sore neck or something. "Y'know, maybe we should change firms."

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged, his eyes getting fuzzy again. He was tired. "I mean, we're not allowed to do any pro bono work, which sucks. I know it's a small firm but come on."

"I do agree with you on that one," she muttered quietly. She could act all 'ice queen' if she wanted to, he knew she also had a soft spot for the kids they ended up working with.

"And the guys at the office," Gil made another face, but Thena was driving so she couldn't appreciate how funny it was. He made a noise to accompany it. "I don't like the way they look at you."

Thena didn't answer for a few minutes, probably trying to actually focus and navigate amidst his yapping. "I didn't think you noticed."

He blew a a raspberry, although with his dry lips it really sounded more like a wet fart. "Please, those pigs think they're being subtle when they look at you like--well, they're not, is what I'm getting at. And they wonder why I don't like them."

Thena let out a faint laugh again as she made a turn. She was driving a little slowly, but that was probably because she was afraid she would jerk him around too much and risk him hurling on her nice off-white interior. "I figured you were just too nice for their crass tastes in drinking buddies."

"Not disgusting enough, more like," Gil huffed again. He had to reel himself in and keep from divulging anything else. He didn't ever want to have to repeat to Thena the kind of language he'd heard them use to refer to her when they thought no one was listening.

And it didn't matter how many times he told them not to talk about her like that. All it ever did was get them convinced he was sleeping with her and beg him to tell them all about it.

"You would leave the firm just because of them?"

He slumped down further in his seat. He wasn't paying nearly enough attention to direct Thena if needed, but it was kind of nice just being in the car with her. Just them, a quiet drive, not even Sersi or Sprite or the loud, bouncy pop they liked to listen to between them.

Well, he did like some of the music they made him listen to.

"It wouldn't be just for that reason, there are more," he sufficed to say. But then he dragged himself up again and looked at her. "But I wouldn't leave without you."

Thena, driving, spared him a quick glance. She seemed surprised. "You wouldn't?"

"Of course not," he scoffed more lightly this time. Because that question was actually funny. "If anything, you're the reason I stayed past my probation period."

He wasn't supposed to tell her that. Well, he hadn't wanted to admit it to her, and certainly not like this. Whoops.

"Well," Thena began as they pulled into the parking lot of his building (unfortunately). Her voice really was like a lullaby. He had to wonder if he would even make it inside, at this rate. "If you decide to leave...then so will I."

[flamestar126]

I'm YOUR idiot.

[meownotgood]

currently thinking a lot about blushing aki

[cyarskj1899]

THANK YOU! Like it's very weird and quite frankly... rapey when men wait to approach you until you lack good control over yourself. Idk how anyone is defending him just bc she said they drunkenly had sex, as if that permits being shot at

[nyctoheart]

I’m getting a dog soon and its kiiiind of all I can think about lmao