#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.

[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.

[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)

[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)

[urfavesarequadranted]

adaman and irida from pokemon legends arceus are kismeses!

Adaman and Irida from Pokemon Legends: Arceus are kismeses!

[this-dude-over-here]

The memorial for Johnny Gaudreau at the arena. Honestly tearing up just looking at it.

He and his brother Matty were so loved, it's devastating. Thinking of their friends and family today. Hopefully all the Blue Jackets team members & staff have solid support systems after this tragedy too, especially after the loss of Kivi a few years ago. It's just heartbreaking all around. The hockey world definitely won't recover from this for a long, long time

Video from Adam King on Twitter

[flamestar126]

I'm YOUR idiot.

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

I'm somehow always drawing him like a li'll action hero, even though he's technically in a shoujo manga aaahah!

[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.

[meownotgood]

currently thinking a lot about blushing aki

[nerosdayinanime]

drawing my au sabitos- this ones swap au :)

I only really have 1 full scene for this au- and it started from me thinking him & Shinjuro both being depressed drinking buddies, lamenting about their deceased dark-haired beauties

When Sabito became a pillar he turned the water estate into a sort of training hub for all breath of water users, to try and help more people to mastery. He pretty regularly spars with people in his downtime, makes comments and tries coaching people from the sidelines very often

Most people are kinda weirded out by him- hes aggressive and stern, very snarky, but he never takes off the mask and it makes him look perpetually sad- sometimes he has this air of melancholy around him, listless, the mask fits in better when hes in those moods. But aside that hes usually very kind and genuinely tries to look out for the skayers under his roof, very hospitable as long as they stay out his shit.

So hes very well received, but no one has seen his face- ever. They have all kinds of rumors and theories about why he wears it, what his face looks like, what the mask is even supposed to mean. Some of the more daring(/disrespectful/immature) inahbitants try to sneak a look in the mornings before he puts it on- but he's always wide awake, sightless blue eyes of the mask staring them down from an inch away the moment they open it

Anyways, one day he's out in the yard sparring with a higher ranked slayer in front of a group doing their own training and whatnot too- theyre both intensely into it, movements hard to keep track of and training swords clashing so loud it echos in the area. The slayer accidentally aims at his mask, the mood changes with a sudden pressure in the air when Sabito deflects the swing and reaches towards them in a flash- a harsh grip in their hair and yanking them so theyre centimeters from his face

"Don't touch the fucking mask."

Everyone drops dead silent at the utter malice dripping through his tone, a moment passes as Sabito realizes what he did and lets go of their hair. He gently ruffles it and straightens his back instead of posturing over them

"I deeply apologize. ...I think i should call it a day." he says in an uncharictaristically quiet voice before putting his training sword up and going to his room

NO ONE bothers him for the rest of the day, or the day after, they give him plenty of space and try their best not to prod at him or tick him off like they usually do- the slayer who was sparring w him was scared shitless and tries their damndest to stay out of his way and not piss him off again. They've never seen him genuinely angry like that- he gets pissed off and annoyed plenty, daily even, but that sudden cold fury over the near hit of his mask was terrifying to witness.

[nyctoheart]

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

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[connectionterminated13]

I think Sammy worries a lot that he's not a good dad since the only experience he has with parental figures is William and Henry... Like Sammy really really doesn't want to be a father like either of them