#the poor man is probably distraught

[lilyprongspotter]

Nobody here is brave enough to ask the important question* that needs to be asked.

*What is Arthur Weasley’s theory on Kate Middleton’s well-being?

[fingertipsmp3]

Genuinely not sure if I cry easily or if I just have a habit of dwelling on my problems and past grief that I should really be well into the fifth stage of by now but am instead stuck on stage 3 or 4

[moonstruckme]

hiii! congrats on 7k and thank you for all sharing all of your lovely work with the world!

Could i request apple pie 🥧 for remus and prompt #13 please!

and happy birthday hun!!! 💛

Thank you angel <3

¹³⁾ frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise

cw: modern au, jokes about violence

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 521 words

You work hard not to make a sound as Remus presses the bag of frozen peas to your face, but the pain makes itself known in the purse of your lips. 

“Sorry, darling,” he murmurs, frowning. 

“It’s okay.” You try to smile at him. You’d shed a few tears right when it happened, more borne from panic than anything else, and your poor boyfriend had looked so distraught. You’re trying to make up for it now. “It doesn’t really hurt anymore.” 

Remus huffs like he knows you’re lying. “I’m going to kill James.” 

“It was an accident,” you remind him.

“I heard my name,” James calls from the living room. “Y/n, what’s he saying about me? Should I go?” 

“Probably, if you want your moneymaker intact,” you hear Sirius reply at the same time as you call back, “No. Stay, James, it’s fine.” 

“It is not fine,” Remus mutters. He lifts the peas just a bit to see underneath, as if the injury might not still be there. When it is, he harrumphs (some would say rather dramatically). 

Really, you should have known better than to get out Just Dance while James was around. It’s fine when he wants to play at his house, but you and Remus’ apartment is too small for the excess of movement James Potter produces whilst in the zone. You’d been stepping behind him to bring Remus a drink when James’ elbow had come back hard, catching you just underneath your eye. 

James has apologized a dozen times, even offered to go to the store to get you some fancy bruise cream he likes, but none of that is good enough for your boyfriend. You doubt Remus will be satisfied until you agree to sock James in the jaw as recompense. 

Unfortunately, everyone besides you is on board with this plan. 

“Look, dollface, I’ve got him all ready for you.” When you come back into the living room, frozen peas still covering your eye, Sirius has his arms looped through James’ and is holding his best friend in front of him like your own personal dummy. 

James puffs his chest out. “I know I need to atone.” He shuts his eyes, turning his face to the side. “You can hit me in the same spot if you want to, just try not to break anything, please.” 

You laugh, but Remus replies before you can. “She can break whatever she likes,” he says drily. 

“Seems only fair,” Sirius agrees. “You did hit the girl in the eye.” 

“Hold on,” you say, forgetting for a moment about freeing James, “what does me being a girl have to do with anything?” 

“Yeah,” seconds James, “I can hit her just as much as I can hit a man.”

“Well, we’re not advocating for hitting anyone.” 

“Right, yeah. I just mean it’d be equal.” 

“You want to hit people?” Sirius pretends to be aghast. “Y/n, punch this sick freak before I do it myself.” 

“I mean,” Remus shrugs, stepping forward, “if anyone can do it…” 

You grab your boyfriend around the waist before he can do any real damage.

[sirxlla]

Revival

--------------‐-------------------------------------

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Prompt: Being reunited with Jason after his death.

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

It had be over a year since Jason passed and every second was pure anguish, Bruce and Alfred had allowed you to take over Jason's room after he died, Bruce did especially since he was so distraught over Jason as well, he blamed every bit of what happened on himself.

Unfortunately, Bruce wasnt the only one blaming themself, you were as well. You'd ran through the events that led to Jason's death over and over and somehow blamed yourself everytime even though Jason decided to go after Joker alone.

His room was kept the same, you slept in his bed everynight, sprayed his cologne on his pillow as you cuddled it, a piss poor replacement for the love of your life. His clothes became the only thing you'd wear, another way to keep his memory alive.

Days passed like eons without him, he'd died and every bit of light vanished within the moment those words left Bruce's mouth. You couldnt believe it and didnt for a few days until it all sank in then his bed became the hole you hid in.

Alfred would often coax you out to help him in the garden and Dick would try to keep you active by getting you to train again like you would with Jason. You werent going to tell Dick but he was just training you to enact your revenge and that was all that fueled and motivated you to get up everyday.

They thought you were getting better but in reality you wanted vengence and Joker to pay for what he did. He wasnt gonna hirt anyone again, you werent gonna let Bruce throw him in prison again just for him to break out again. Joker was gonna die for the better of Gotham and you'd make sure of it.

"You think this Red Hood guy is still Joker like before?" Dick asked Bruce quietly, neither of them new you were hiding on the other side of the door.

You waited until everyone was on patrol to put on your black bodysuit on, pocketting Jason's lucky coin in the inner pocket of your boot. He had the coin ever since the two of you were homeless together on the streets as kids. Jason said he found it but you knew that he stole it from the arcade when they wouldnt let him in.

Bruce didnt want you hurting yourself so after Jason died, he had taken all your weapons away but lucky for you... Dick left his extra set of escrima stcks and Jason's baton were both left in the Batcave. They were easily fitted onto your suit, the escrima sticks were sheathed behind your back and the baton was so compact it fit on your thigh ready to be extended if needed.

You did some quick searches on the Batcomputer about this Red Hood guy, your fingers clacked against the glass keyboard and the projected letters onto it.

Red Hood

Name: Unknown (Suspect: Joker)

Height: Approx 6 ft

Eye Color: Unknown

Hair Color: Unknown

Shoe Size: 10 ½

Possible Hideout/Last Known Location: Gotham Plaza

* EXTREMELY DANGEROUS, DO NOT APPROACH, REPORT BACK TO BASE. *

You scoffed, Bruce said that about everyone but he never called for backup. This guy was probably cake...maybe not thought if he took down Jason but your anger flared it didnt matter, retribution is all that mattered even if it killed you.

You pulled on your domino mask and headed out to avenge your lover. The trip to Gotham Plaza when you're filled with a bloolust fot the person who separated you from your man by 6 feet of dirt and a hard wodden coffin.

You snuck around sneaky as a spider. The man spoke with a deep mechanical, clearly a voice changer but you couldn't see him yet. Stealthy as you crouched so nobody saw you you got closer.

A hand touched your shoulder as this Red Hood guy came into view, Dick put a finger to his lips and he pointed to Bruce. Your eyes scanned the area until you saw their plan, a plan to trap this Red Hood guy.

You heart stammered in worry fornsome reason as you glanced back at this Red Hood guy and before you knew it you were bolting at the man.

Small combat boots tapped against the tile which prompted this guy to turn around and start shooting, you didn't care. Why didn't you care? Why am I doing this?! Whilst dodging bullets all these questions went through your head but before you knew it you had jumped into his arms, his hands found your ass. (Side note: Imagine Bruce and Dick seeing this like "huh? wtf is going on?")

This is Jason, its gotta be Jason. He always held your back before moving a hand under your ass. The smell of him was overwhelming, you starred into the white eyes of that emotionless red helmet as his gun clinked onto the ground.

Tears fell down your face as you hugged him deeply, Jason's arms tightened around you. Your hands found the button on the bakc of his helmet which caused him to stiffen up. He was worried to face you, for you to see him. Did you blame him? Were you angry? Fuck...It didnt matter, I'd just like to see her with my own eyes and not through white mesh.

As you notice his hesitance calm, you pulled the mask off and saw your sweet man...the 'J' scar on his cheek and the little tuft of white hair he now had. Jason's eyes shown with a ton of storys, a thousand apologies and endless unsaid words.

Tears poured down the both of yours faces, life breathed into you both due to the warmth of one another. He didnt wanna think about putting you down cause then he'd have to let you go.

"My Baby..." Your voice cracked and you sucked in a breath as you sobbed and hugged him which only caused him to hold you tighter, one hand rubbing your back. He was speechless, no words and so many were coming at the same time.

You breathed him in, he now smelt like gunpowder, cigarettes and leather...it was older, more refined but still fit him to a tee.

Of course you smelled like his cologne from sleeping in his bed, practically bathing in it which of course the smell brought a smile to his face. Any last thought that you didn't love him vanished with that whiff of cologne that mixed so sweetly into your skin.

He finally set you down and smirked even more as he caught a glimpse of his initals tattooed on your collarbone. You were stroking his ego without knowing it. He had a hard time hating himself when you were around...his little cheerleader.

Bruce knew his son was back, that Jason's mind was much more stable. He knew Red Hood's reign of terror would more than likely be over. Your heart would be whole again with Jason back regardless of the condition he was in. Literally you'd take Jason even if he was a sea anemone if it meant he was happy and alive.

->Masterlist <-

[somedayillbepeterpan]

Penelope and her robe of power

Shoutout to @whistledownbad for invoking and taking this out of my subconscious. I didn't even realise I was thinking about this deeply (I shouldn't be surprised anymore since S3 has burrowed deep in my brain).

A short discussion on the Polisanity discord (a very very lovely, creative, and hilarious discord community of the residents of the Polin brainrot) showed me how this robe represents Pen's power-- not just in sexuality but in her character.

And it is shown on moments where she loses something, where her power was seemingly taken from her.

S3Ep3 - Forces of Nature

The first time we see this robe, Pen has just lost a flirting battle against Cressida for Debling's attention while pretending to be someone she is not. She looks defeated and annoyed which contrasts a similar scene on Ep 2 (after the fan encounter) where she looks more embarrassed and slightly amused at the situation.

S3Ep4 - Old Friends

The second time we see it is at the beginning of Ep 4. Pen is losing her battle from her resolve to follow the familiar tide of the marriage mart (I elaborate more on this scene here because it's not just Pen who is losing their resolve) on the day that Debling asks for Portia's permission to propose to Pen (where we get this poignant statement from Portia about security being romantic. Which I actually agree on coming from a poor family/country. Also, can I just say Nicola looks absolutely stunning in this scene).

She is distraught and seem to be in the middle of convincing herself that she is doing the right thing.

S3Ep5 - Tik Tok

In the middle of the chaotic 24hrs of Penelope's life (where she gets proposed to by the love of her life and experiences her first sexual encounter), she is seen crying and having to write about herself on Whistledown for the 2nd time for the current season (she probably writes about herself regularly in the column so as not to arouse suspicion but she would have most likely focused on mundane things) when we see this robe for the third time.

She loses the chance to feel completely and irrevocably happy about her engagement when Eloise points out that she is harboring a heavy secret from the man who just lovingly confessed that he would rather feel tortured with love for her than to carry on living.

S3Ep6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

Ahhh...Pen and this robe. I'm so curious now what actually is the design on the robe and the decision behind using it for these scenes.

The fourth time we see this robe, Pen seemingly decides to lose Whistledown forever, hiding a part of herself in the "name of love". A crossroad that she never thought she'd have to go through when she began that season, Pen gives up all power and decides (tentatively) to follow her mother's advise. It's admirable on one part as real life will tell you that sometimes, there are sacrifices you need to make for your partner. But this really is sometimes up for debate whether that action is made in love, out of love, or for love (or not at all). I've always thought that Pen also suffers the same hero complex that Colin has albeit more subtle than his. I think this was part saving Colin (from whatever trouble Whistledown brings) and also part penance for what her writing and decisions have put him through regarding Marina.

AND THEN-- the last last time on this season that we see her in it is so viscerally powerful that it probably made everyone forget that:

This wasn't the same wedding night robe (where Colin openly lusted on Pen and stubbornly wasted his opportunity).

That whenever we saw Pen on this robe in the earlier episodes, she seemed to be unhappy and devoid of power and agency within herself.

S3Ep8 - Into the Light

This wonderfully and deliciously short scene encapsulates Pen's embracing of her power-- the parts that she has been losing and letting go whenever she wears this robe. I also love that it's with Colin that she finally embodies the full strength of this power.

Come S4, I need this robe to be slowly taken off by Mr. Bridgerton off of Mrs. Bridgerton please.

[jordiemeow]

Am I guilty? Am I sorry? Do I miss you at the party? Am I dragging this forever?

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

summary: a lonely man drunkenly texting his ex in the middle of the night in an attempt to relive one of your cherished moments together.

The more time he spends without you, the deeper the cut feels. It aches and festers, until it’s an all-consuming sort of pain that leaves him sick every time you cross his mind.

Fuck, he misses you.

He's an idiot. Throwing away the best relationship of his life because he has the communication skills of an ape. (That's probably insulting to apes, if we're being honest.) Six months apart, and he's still calling, texting, and liking your Facebook posts.

You've tried telling Art to tell him to fuck off. Tried to get the poor blonde boy to knock some sense into his friend, which just turned out to be like sending him to make a square out of a circle.

Impossible.

So, one fateful night when you've gotten tired of the spam notifications and a slurred voicemail, you cave. Send a text with the hopes of putting an end to this cycle of misery for you both. Because he can't move on if he keeps reaching out to you, and you can't move on if he's in your inbox every other night.

When the text comes through, Patrick is sprawled out with a beer on the bed in his hotel room, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling; willing away the dots clouding his vision, the hammering in his head, the way his fingers feel like fuzz. And then he hears that little ping, and he jolts up so fast his vision blacks out for a moment.

His heart hammers against his ribcage and his fingers are shaking with anticipation as he opens his phone. The little preview message of your name in his inbox has him both distraught and excited all at once, a dizzying blur of sensations. It could be anything. An accident; a 'how are you?' God, maybe even a death. And then he sees the text.

2:02 AM get a grip patrick

That's all you say? That, and the little notification telling him you've read his messages. He stares at the screen for several long minutes trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to reply to that. If he was sensible, he would respect your boundaries. Leave you alone. Take that advice and get his shit together.

But when has Patrick Zweig ever been sensible? The word doesn't even exist in his dictionary. Hell, it's offensive to him. So it's no surprise to anyone (and certainly not you) when he does the exact opposite.

2:09 AM I can't stop thinking about you

Maybe it's the late hour, or the fact that Patrick's brain-to-mouth filter has always been more absent than functional. That, combined with several bourbons and a shot of vodka at a friend's 22nd birthday last night.

He says what he's been desperate to say since he last saw you. The text feels almost inadequate, as though it's a fraction of what he's actually thinking; an attempt to convey his tangled emotions via the limited functions of an iPhone.

But, what's said is said. And now he's left staring, blankly, at the screen—trying to come up with something else to say that won't make him come across as pathetic.

Which is a tall order, given all the things he's already sent you over the last few months. Pathetic almost doesn't describe it. He's already reaching past that; a man inebriated, and drowning his pain in the arms of whatever girl is willing. Or maybe it's a matter of self-pity. Because he's so utterly alone, without you. It doesn't matter what he does; the girls, the drink, the sex. You're still there, always, in the back of his mind—in the background of every thought. He's miserable without you.

He stares at the screen for what feels like an eternity, before he types out something else; something impulsive, and fuelled by the alcohol still coursing through his system.

2:13 AM Do u remember our first kiss?

That's a question he doesn't truly expect you to answer, because why would you? He's the last person you feel like reminiscing with. Especially not about the first time you kissed; a memory that's supposed to be sweet, and lovely, and romantic.

Instead, it makes his chest ache with a bitter sort of longing. An aching sort of regret that burns in his lungs, and is so strong, he feels dizzy for several moments. Or maybe that's just the alcohol. It's hard to tell at this point.

His heart is practically leaping out of his ribcage, his palms sweaty, as he awaits your response. As if staring holes into his cracked, fingerprint-smudged phone screen will make you reply any faster. This is a terrible idea. He's drunkenly reminiscing about your first kiss, that happened years ago. You probably won't even answer.

Or, if you do, you'll probably just tell him to go to hell. He doesn't have much pride left, but he still wouldn't be able to handle that.

Patrick waits, his breath stuck in his throat, with his phone clutched in a trembling grasp. It feels like an eternity before he feels the buzz in his hands, even if only a few minutes had passed.

2:19 AM i'm not an amnesiac

That's as close as he'll ever get to a confirmation from you. He huffs out a bitter sort of laugh. Well, at least it's better than a flat-out shut down or the insult he had been expecting from you.

The texts had been a desperate sort of attempt to get your attention, as usual, and it had obviously worked. For once. Even if he was met with more irritation than anything else.

He could work with that. He could work with anything from you; that's how desperate he's gotten over the last few months.

His fingers are still shaking as he types back to you, the click click click of the onscreen keyboard filling the silence of his room. The alcohol is fading, or maybe your response has just sobered him up. He still feels somewhat tipsy; a buzzing, drunken sort of energy left behind that makes him feel warm, and reckless.

Or confident. Confident is a better word.

He's just drunk enough to believe he's a little invincible. As though he can recover the relationship with an endless barrage of drunken text messages. It's a pipe dream, really, but he's going to cling onto the idea for as long as he can.

2:20 AM Remember where we did it ???

He sends the text before he can talk himself out of it. This is stupid. So, so stupid. You shouldn't be reminiscing over your first kiss with Patrick at all, let alone after two in the morning when his Facebook posts indicated he had been absolutely hammered an hour ago. Maybe you're just as much of a mess these days as he is.

2:22 AM art's birthday oh angel numbers

He laughs out loud at the reply.

Angel numbers. Are you serious? Probably not. It was probably sarcasm, or a jab at him, but god, it makes him miss you so fucking much.

He reads the text again, staring hard at his screen, as though if he willed it hard enough he could be transported back to that moment. To kissing you on Art's grandma's back porch, the cold biting against his skin, but you were so warm, he could forget about everything else. How was he supposed to care about the sound of 'happy birthday' coming from inside when his mouth was against yours?

Another huff of bitter laughter is torn out of him. How long ago had that been? Too long. He'd give nearly anything to go back to that moment and just kiss you for the first time all over again.

But that's not an option. It's not something he's capable of. No amount of reminiscing will change the fact that you aren't together anymore. That you won't be together ever again.

He swallows hard. The alcohol leaves a bitter taste in his mouth like a tangible reminder of what he's lost.

He reads it a third time. Trying to conjure up the image of you standing on the porch under the dim light, wearing that little black dress that hugged your figure, and shivering from the cold because of the thin ruched material. He can just barely remember the taste of your lips—strawberry, he thinks—and the heat of your mouth. The way you'd let out an embarrassed laugh when a gust of bitter wind hit you both, before he pulled you in for another kiss to shut you up.

God, he misses you. He misses you so much, it's almost physically painful; a constant ache in his chest that keeps him awake at night, and consumes his thoughts.

Whoever said time is supposed to be healing is a fucking liar. Because no matter how much time passes, he feels just as wrecked as he did when you first broke up. And no number of girls can fix it, because none of them are you. He's just drunk enough to feel bitter at himself; furious for being stupid enough to ruin the best relationship he ever had.

Because it's all his doing. You had tried. You had tried so hard to make it work, but he was the one who'd ruined it. He was the one who'd thrown away three years of you being devoted and patient and loving, just to act like a typical arrogant male.

He feels sick with himself. Utterly ashamed.

2:28 AM I wish we could go back

He's not even talking about the kiss anymore.

He's talking about everything. He wants to go back to being a clueless eighteen year old with an enormous crush on that cute girl that had viscously beat him and Art at an MRTA game with her partner. Wants to go back to being a young, immature kid who didn't know how to act around beautiful girls.

He wants to go back to being the naive guy who didn't know how to handle a good, loving relationship, so he threw it away. Anything is better than this debilitating heartbreak and self-awareness.

Patrick is straight-up spiralling now. Thinking about the years that made you who you were together, and how he's ruined them.

He types up another text. It's a mistake to be doing this. A terrible idea. But even the tiny bit of sober brain left in him has given up. He's just throwing petrol on the fire now. He's already a flame, why not become a wildfire? It makes sense, with how destructive he's been over the last few years.

2:29 AM I miss u so much it hurts

The last one is the worst, and it's a massive gamble, but he's past the point of caring. He's past the point of any sort of restraint. Everything he's been holding back is pouring out. Because even thinking about his relationship with you makes his chest ache so badly, he feels like he's actually dying.

2:31 AM Please come back i need u

Another wave of self-pity washes over him when he reads that back. He laughs.

He's pathetic, really. Sitting alone at 2:31am, sending his ex-girlfriend drunken, desperate texts, begging you to come back when he doesn't have a single say in the matter. When he's made his bed, so now it's time to lie in it.

It's not the first time he's done this, and it certainly won't be the last. He's lost count of how many texts he's sent at insane hours of the night, when the loneliness finally consumes him. It's much harder on tour, when he's left to his own devices.

And, just like all the other times, you don't reply anymore. He deserves it, really. But that doesn't stop him from drowning his sorrows in half a bottle of wine and crying himself to sleep for the third time that month.

the fic this bot was based off of :)

[romcomxdd]

Pete and Bradley were the hotheads of the family, always at each others throat, and it pissed Tom off to no end. Most of the time he was there to diffuse the arguments before they got to the point of Bradley and Pete saying things that they couldn’t take back, but the one time he wasn’t, it didn’t go very well. At All.

Bradley was your typical angsty teenager, but the fact that Tom and Pete weren’t his biological parents added a whole new dimension. Him and Pete were always going at each other for the smallest things, though they almost always resolved just as fast as they blew up. The tension between them reached its peak when Bradley was around sixteen, seventeen.

One day after school, Pete and Bradley had an argument, a big one. Ice was at work late that night, so it was just the two of them. Pete said something that must have triggered Bradley and within seconds they were in the middle of a full out yelling match. They both said things that they didn’t mean, and regretted saying instantly. Things along the lines of ‘fuck i wish you’d just left when you had the chance’ and ‘well if i’m such a shit parent, maybe i should have left you for a foster family to fuck up instead.’, were shouted across the kitchen bench. (of course neither of them meant this, they just had trouble regulating their tempers sometimes).

By this point, Tom had just got home from working late, and as he opened the door, Bradley stormed out, car keys and wallet in hand.

A furious Pete was hot on his heels, and he almost nocked over poor Ice for a second time, but he caught his husband in time. ‘Bradley! Bradley i’m sorry! I did’t mean it- fuck- Bradley covet back here!’

A very frantic Pete watched as his son slammed the door of his car and slammed on the accelerator, probably stalling at least once. Tom was immediately by his husbands side, confusion evident on his face.

‘The fuck was that?’ He muttered as the pair watched Bradley drive off. Pete was distraught, he knew how dangerous it could be driving in the emotional state that Bradley was in. He’d done it himself more than a few times, and counted himself lucky that he was still here to tell the tale.

‘Fuck- I- Shit-‘ Was all he could get out, his hands constantly running through his hair. ‘I-i’m sorry- i’m so sorry- fuck’

Ice sighed and pulled the wide eyed man into his chest, his fingers slowly interlocking in Pete’s hair. ‘Shhhh- hey- it’s okay. Bradley’s a smart boy. He’ll be fine.’

Mav nodded, his face still buried in Ice’s shirt.

‘What the fuck did you say to him?’

‘I-‘ Pete straightened up, his eyes still downturned in shame. ‘I told him that we shouldn’t have adopted him- shoulda let someone else take him- it- it just slipped out in the moment and you know I don’t mean it-‘

Ice sighed ‘Oh Pete- Jesus you really didn’t think that through did you?’

Mav just shook his head in shame.

To make a long story short, Bradley spent the night tearing down highways, and probably should have died but somehow he came out of it unscathed. The next morning he woke up curled in the boot of his car with drool dripping down his chin. Once he had time to clear his mind a little he made the drive of shame back home.

Ice and Mav were both at work when he got back, Bradley set about making an apology dinner, as per the family’s tradition. If you fucked up, but couldn’t find the words to properly apologise, you would make dinner. And do the washing up. No need for words. Not until everyone was ready.

It was a rule Ice had instituted a few years back, and had worked wonders in keeping the family running.

Once the older two returned home, Bradley had made all but a feast, it was an impressive sight. The relief that shone in both their faces sent another wave of guilt through the teen, and he went to say something, to apologise, but Mav quickly shook his head.

‘After dinner. Okay?’

‘But-‘

‘You’re safe. That’s what matters.’

[imaginationlover101]

Should Of Said No

Series List

Part 1

Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: An early morning out of the motel leaves unwanted questions brought up before the vist to Harvells roadhouse.

The September air was quite chilling for this time of year. The leaves on the ground began to change colors, and slowly but surely the heavier jackets were taken out of the closets and slowly making there way into the wardrobe. The September sun shows it's last few days of Summer before it makes up it's mind and a linger of the new fall air begins to show.

What used to be my favorite time of year soonly turned into my least, and it all happened when I saw Jo Harvelle wearing Dean's jacket.

This all started a few days ago when Dean, Sam, and I began to finish up our research on the "cold-hearted man." Now for context you see way back when in the 1950s there was this man named Jacob Treasure, who lived in Omaha, Nebraska. Townspeople say that since his death, he has been haunting young girls who are still hung up on their first love.

Now, this is because when Jacob was in his 20s, he was in love with his high school sweetheart. Jacob was convinced the two were out to be married, and the day Jacob went to propose to his dear love Amelia. He found out she was cheating on him with a business owner in the town over. Now poor Jacob was so distraught in what had just happened he had died of a broken heart, and since that day he haunts young girls who are still hooked on their first love as an order of revenge.

Well, Dean, Sam, and I had found Amelia to make her known to what all Jacob had done, and finally, Jacob's haunting seemed to die down. So we salted and burned the body and was on our way. It was as simple as that, and sooner or later we were on our way.

We hadn't seen Bobby in a while, so we decided to make a trip to him, and then go visit Ellen and Jo. Ellen was complaining all year long to us about how we don't go visit enough, and all the whiskey is getting lonely because "Dean" has stopped by to visit. So, with our bags packed, we made our way out of the motel and to our newest location.

Lifting my suitcase off the bed, I began to look around the motel room. Dean was downstairs starting the car, while Sam and I were doing one last search of the room. Walking around the room, I began to search the nightstand drawers. I could hear Sam stop in his tracks and look my way.

Turing around, I stop my rummaging and look towards him. "Doesn't it feel like we're missing something?"

Sam sighs and takes one big stare around the room. "No, Y/N, I promise we've done this like 10 times already. Is something wrong?" Oh, Sam, stupid Sam Winchester and his big brown puppy dog eyes.

Sighing, I stopped my movements and sat back on my bed. Rubbing my hand over the tacky red bedding, I finally stopped. "I don't know, Sam, something just feels off."

Sam stops for a moment and makes his way towards the edge of the bed to sit near me. Placing his hand in mine, he begins to smoothly hold it in a comforting way. "Don't take this the wrong way, Y/N, but are you hesitant to see Jo?"

Jo, really Jo? Miss, I wear shirts that are clearly too tight for me, and Miss I love to stand right next to Dean and hover real close to him in case "something bad happens."

Rolling my eyes, I begin to stand up. "Pffff Jo, please why would I be hesitant to see Jo?" Flicking my hair behind my shoulders, I began to walk towards the ranky bathroom mirror to fix my makeup. Though it was probably no use in the dark anyway. The bathroom bulbs were slightly fading, and the mirror looked 2 shades too dirty. I couldn't wait to take a clean hot shower.

"Y/nnnnnnnnn-" Sam says, practically singing my name. Following my footsteps, he leans on the door frame with a grin. "You don't have to pretend it's just me and you. No Dean, no Jo, just us"

Looking at him through the mirror, I roll my eyes once again, continuing to line my lips in the mirror. Groaning, he leans his head against the frame, closing his eyes. "Come on, Y/N, just tell me the truth. Besides, I was the same way with that girl Andrea back in high school. You remember her right."

Sighing, I close the cap to my liner, but not before putting on lipstick. Letting Sam's words sink in for a minute, I turn around. "Sam, that was different. You were in love with Andrea -" lowering my voice, I peak out from the empty space where Sam was standing (making sure no one was really around)

"I am not in love with Dean, and besides, if Jo wants to go prance around Dean like a fawn looking for water. Let her go ahead, I won't stop her." Placing a hand on my hip, I grab my makeup bag from the counter.

"What bothers me is how she just goes walking around with a smug grin on her like she owns Dean, when clearly -" moving past Sam, I place the makeup bag on my suitcase, but not before pointing in his direction "-she doesn't!"

With a grin on my face, I began rolling my suitcase towards the door waiting for Sam. I could tell he was in between his words, trying to figure out what to say or not. Laughing at my antics, he grabs his suitcase and follows me towards the door. "So you're okay with her."

Grabbing my stuff, I open the door and make a beeline for the stairs. "Sam, I am better than okay. All I need is a cool drink and a shower, and trust me, this attuide of mine will fade. "

Somewhere out of the blue, Dean appears at the end of the steps and takes the suitcase out of my hands. Smiling at me, he holds a hand above my head blocking the sun out of my eyes. "Almost couldn't see you there, sunshine. The sun was shining too bright on you today."

"Thanks D, what'd I do without you?" Rubbing Deans shoulder, he takes all my bags and begins to make his way towards the car.

Turning around, I face my attention to Sam as he makes his way down the stairs. "See, there's no competition. What would I need to be jealous about?" Sam just shakes his head as we makes our way towards Dean.

"Hey, what were you guys talking about up there. I thought maybe Sammy boy over here fell in the toilet or something". "Really Dean?" Sam says lifting his bag off his shoulder and onto the hood off car.

"Hey, Hey, Hey watch what your doing there Sammy, your gonna scratch the paint." Sam huffs a quick whatever before grabbing his bag making his way into the car.

"Ah some peace and quiet" Dean said as he leaned against the hood while staring at the motel in front of us. Sighing I follow his movements, "Yeah I'd say we had a good run".

Taking his attention off the scenery, Dean nudges my leg. "How are you feeling?" With a confused look on my face I nudge his leg back.

"I'm okay, what'd you mean though?" Crossing his arms over one another he stares off into the nearby greenery of the motel.

For a moment Dean hesitates, "I just want to make sure your all good sunshine." Laughing I lean off the car and stand in front of him now blocking the sun from his eyes.

"Hmmmm and how are you feeling Winchester?" Leaning further on the hood he grabs my hands motioning for me to help him up, but not before I muttered "grandpa" under my breath.

"Come on I hear a burger that's calling my name." Rolling my eyes I lean closer to him as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I could already see Sam's rolling eyes through the cars windshield.

Dean never mentioned a word to me that day on how he was feeling, and it wasn't until later that week he revealed what was wrong.

Making our way towards "baby," I couldn't help but look at the area around us and think of the calm before the storm. I had a feeling that things were soon to go south, but I tried to ignore them for as long as I could.

[doraambrose]

I see this alot in fanon and I think jason Todd's parents are completely misunderstood.

Disclaimer: I am not a victim of parents with drug abuse nor have a I ever done drugs. I sympathize and emphasize with people who struggle with drug abuse as there are many reasons to get into it and it's very hard on your body to get clean, I will link help organizations below. This does mean that I can be a little ignorant to the struggles so if I say anything offensive or wrong, please call me out and educate me so I don't make the same mistake

Jason's family has been retconned so many times, it's hard to keep it straight. But this is my headcannon based on what I've seen:

1. I feel like a lot of people write Willis Todd to be this awful abusive scumbag who hated his kid and his wife. If you are talking about young justice or arkhamverse, this canonically true, but I think that's far from the truth in the main universe, prime or whatever it's called. In batman 411, jason is clearly distraught by Willis' death and does try to avenge him by lashing out at Two face. We also can't forget about the incident with the penguin that led to the worst Bruce and jason characterization before gotham war. And that's because of one rhato issue where jason finally reads willis' letters (a truly heartbreaking issue: rhato rebirth 23)

I believe that Willis wasn't a bad dad. Not a good dad, but not an awful abusive one. I 100% believe he has never abused his family in this universe. And you know what, he wasn't a great person. He was a drug dealer and then a henchmen. But he CARED. He cared about his family. He tried so hard to provide for Catherine and Jason for their medical bills, food, shelter. He just had a poor upbringing and some real shit luck, trying to survive in poverty in Gotham city.

2. Catherine has been written in fanon to be a perfect caring mother who was nothing but a victim. I believe that she wasn't as good of a mother and a person as people make her out to be. And we haven't seen everything, but I believe this because she seems selfish. She seems to put herself and her drug addiction before her family, doesn't seem to even try to get clean or take care of jason or provide. Look at these panels:

She neglected Jason. He had to go out and put his life on the line day after day when it should've been the other way around. Jason was a kid. And don't get me wrong, she probably loved jason and had good intentions, no, she definitely loved him, or else jason wouldn't canonically think as highly of her and take care of her the way he did, but she wasn't perfect and I don't think she was as good of a mother as she's made out to be.

3. Canonically, jason seems to really care for Catherine, but not Willis. I have a theory about that. For why he thinks so highly of catherine: I've never had a parent who suffered from drug abuse, but I do have a parent who suffered from a lot of mental health issues like depression, diagnosed, and I feel like bpd, though it was never diagnosed. When things were bad, they were BAD. I witnessed a lot. But when things were good, things were REALLY GOOD. I feel like when Catherine would come off the drug haze, things were like that. She probably took care of him during those times and was loving and all that. Catherine is the one parent figure Jason has to hold onto (because of all the shit with Bruce, Sheila, etc.). He forcibly removes the bad shit she's done and hangs onto the good things she's done because she really did care about him and in life, it seems harder to hate your mom than your dad (from what i have heard when i did research on this from friends). I've done that for years, and idk if I'm explaining it right, but I think that's the best way I can. For why he doesn't love willis: I think up until he read the notes, he didn't have the full picture. From his perspective, willis leaves to do crime and then eventually gets caught and left forever. I think he blamed willis for making jason become "the man of the house" and have all this extra responsibility. Willis also strikes me as the type of parent who has trouble expressing feelings, so jason probably rarely, if ever, heard "I love you" from his dad. Willis also strikes me as the person who would believe that he needs to make his son stronger in order to survive, and there are a lot of parents like that, especially parents from a low income household or a history of poverty.

In conclusion, both parents were FAR from perfect parents, but they're not as evil or as innocent as people write them in fanon. They're just...people. fanon likes to write comic people as black or white, innocent or abusive, but in reality, It's a gray area. Willis had his flaws, I hc him as one of those old fashioned kind of dads who wants his son to be tough and strong and isn't good with sharing his feelings, but does truly care about his family and NEVER was abusive. Catherine was a mother who definitely cared about her family, but wasn't an innocent victim and had her own flaws.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[absolute-hooligan]

hi yes hello @void-dude's silly stan and square man adventures has me knawing on the walls, and i've written a silly (probably a little ooc) human(ish) tad fic in a fixation induced fuge state lmao. it's not beta'd, and only lightly edited (so far), so it's all a little subject to change, but hey! it's here! and it'll probably get more added to it tbh

i hope it brings y'all a little bit of joy :)

(ao3 link for anyone who wants to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59529469)

“T… tad… Tad! Grunkle Tad wake up!”

Wha… why’s everything sound like it’s underwater? Who was… wazat Mabel? Hehe, I like Mabel, real wildcard she is. Sounds kinda worried though…? Wait- MABEL?!

Tad shot upright, nearly bashing his head into Ford’s on the way. He looked around frantically for Mabel - who sounded pretty distraught while he was… why was he passed out? Not important- the kid he was looking for had just thrown herself into his arms.

“Mabes, sweetie, are you okay?” Tad asked, one hand coming to rest on her back, and the other reaching to cradle her face in a palm.

The poor girl was sniffling, eyes still watery from tearing up - her tears must’ve stopped before any could fall. “Grunkle Tad, we thought you died!”

Tad almost wants to laugh - death? Him? Don’t be ridiculous! - but the sincerity in her eyes stops him. Suddenly, Ford - who he’d forgotten was next to him the whole time - cleared his throat, gaining the attention of both him and Mabel.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright, Tad,” the man said, the genuine nature of it coming through his gaze more than tone. “And that you’re um… adjusting well.”

Tad quirked his brow at that- wait… wait that’s not right. That- two of them just moved. And wait a minute, his hands- holy carbuncle he has HUMAN HANDS-

Uh oh.

The last thing he heard before everything went fuzzy was Ford shouting his name.

By the second… okay, third time Tad had recovered from his fainting spell, he’d been relatively caught up with the situation:

Ford and Mabel - and himself, of course - went on a little mini adventure to collect some things in the secret bunker. Ford also apparently wanted to make sure that the shapeshifter was still frozen, and make sure that it wouldn’t ever be not frozen again. Mabel insisted she tag along - she’d defeated it before, after all - and with a wildly impressive “puppy dog eyes” maneuver, she got her way.

Tad, well, he came along for moral support - and backup, if things got real dire.

Long story very, very short, Tad found and touched something he shouldn’t have, and now he was stuck as a human for a few days. What was he going to do while he was trapped like this? Well, the only thing he ever found worth doing, messing with Stanley Pines.

As they were leaving the bunker, Tad made sure to clue Mabel in on the scheme - she was more than happy to help. Ford took little convincing - something about needing to be honest about the situation first and foremost - before Mabel’s eyes worked their magic a second time. It also probably helped that messing with one’s sibling was written into a brother's blood m, genius or no.

With the plan set, the three excitedly made their way back to the Shack, ready to prank the pants off of Grunkle Stan (Mabel’s words, not mine).

•••

It was a dry spell at the Shack, and everyone minus Soos was bored because of it. Dipper was frantically writing something in his own journal - a gift from Ford - and muttering to himself. Boring. Wendy was out today, her old man was taking her and her brothers camping again. Again, boring. And Soos? Eh, Soos was around somewhere, Soos-ing the place up as per usual. 

Boring.

“We’re back!” Mabel shouted, smiling wide as can be as she flung the door open.

Stan, Dipper, and Ford cringed as the door slammed against the wall. “Ya don’t say…”

“What did you guys get?” Dipper said, hopping down from the barrel he’d been sitting on. “And where’s Great Uncle Tad?”

“Nothing important, Dipper,” Ford said, closing the door behind himself after Mabel skipped in. “Just some notes I thought I’d lost long ago.”

“And Grunkle Tad’s taking a nature walk!” Mabel grinned, “Said the bunker was too cramped, so he needs some outside time!”

Stan chose to ignore the pang of hurt that explanation brought. Instead, he tossed out a half hearted, “Hah! Wuss.”

If any of the other Pines present heard, they ignored him. Mabel was already debriefing about their adventure to a diligently writing Dipper, and Ford was shuffling through his coat pockets to find whatever he’d gone out for in the first place.

Domestic? Yes. Boring… also a little bit, yes. 

Stan sighed, leaning an arm on the desk to prop up his chin, and his free hand coming up to drum against the well worn wood.

A few minutes - seconds? Who knows, he’s not countin! - pass before Stan hears the bell above the door chime. Snapping out of his staring spell, he quickly puts on the Mister Mystery act.

“Welcome, dear customer, to the Mystery Shack!” he’s all smiles and customer service before he even looks at who just walked in. “What can I do for you- Holy Moses…

If Stan had any brain function right now, he’d be embarrassed by how he’d whispered out the unplanned part of his spiel. But right now? Every neuron in his brain was either shut down or rapidly firing, because a beautiful man had just walked in. That’s beautiful with a capital B, folks!

The guy was tall - maybe a good three inches taller than him - broad shouldered, and judging by his face, was probably in his late fifties. His skin reminded Stan of the sand back in Jersey, with a squarish face and nose that he could tell fit the man without hearing him speak. And that hair- talk about a silver fox! The guy was rocking a relatively laid back pompadour, a couple of strands that refused to stay back dangling over his face. If Stan squinted, he could swear there were thin streaks of blue broken up into the gray, but maybe it was just the light? And call him crazy, but the dude hasn’t opened his left eye at all since he walked in.

Ah shit- how long has he been staring?

“Mystery Shack, eh? Seems like a scam, if ya ask me,” the man chuckled to himself - it sounded eerily familiar. “You run this joint?”

Stan - sensing a challenge - squared his shoulders back, hands now perched on his cane. “Maybe, who’s askin’?”

The guy smirked - and Stan was briefly distracted by how good it looked. “Just a curious tourist,” he drawled, leaning forward and placing his relatively large hands on the table. “Vagabond passing through, y’know?”

Stan swallowed, and prayed the guy didn’t see or hear it.

“Cat got your tongue, boss man?” the man tilted his head in question, but the amusement in his eye didn’t wane. 

Stan was quick to wave his hand dismissively - knowing damn well he’d been caught. “As if! You just uh… remind me of someone, that’s all.”

Guy’s voice is almost too close. But it’s not him, it can’t be. There’s literally no way it could be!

The guy lifted one hand up, taking one finger to tilt Stan’s chin up to coax their eyes to meet. He smiled slowly, “Do I sound like your husband?”

What? What?

The guy- no, fucking Tad’s hand dropped back to the counter, a well suppressed fit of laughter now freely flowing.

“Yes! Oh man, I got you, got you!” he turned on his heels to grin at Mabel, who was bouncing on her heels. “Nice plan, Mabes!”

She preened at the praise before settling her hands on her hips, and nodding to herself. “My work here is done.”

Stan - absolutely fucking dumbfounded - just looked between Tad, and every other person in the room, but mainly Ford.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Stan asked, not quite angry, but definitely not calm.

Ford immediately held his hands up, “I didn’t do anything! He did this to himself!”

Stan’s gaze flicked back to Tad, who smiled sheepishly in response. He sighed, long and weary, before straightening up, and taking a steadying breath.

“I’m gonna need everyone-” Stan jabbed a finger towards Tad, “not you- to get out of this room in about five seconds. One…”

Ford quickly ushered the children away, Mabel throwing double thumbs up, and Dipper sputtering syllables that desperately wanted to be questions. Once Stan heard the door to the actual house shut, he sighed again.

“Turn the sign on the door, wouldja?” he asked. “Blinds too, if ya don’t mind.”

Tad - suddenly losing any and all upper hand he might’ve had in this situation - did just that. What was he supposed to do? He… he didn’t know. But holy dungarees was this human heart thing hammering-

“Oi, square eye,” Stan said, much softer than he had any right to. “C’mere, I wanna get a good look at ya.”

Tad silently obliged, making his way over and around the desk Stan stood behind. He stood there, waiting for his next order - Stan simply leant his cane against the wall, and set his fez down on the desk.

His eyes ran over Tad appraisingly, and sweet grilled cheese, did all human bodies feel like this when someone looked at them? His hands were trembling at his sides, and he almost cringed at how his breath hitched when Stan met his eyes.

“You come up with this yourself?”

“Huh?”

“The body,” Stan said, “Threads too.”

“Oh! I uh- yeah, yeah I did,” Tad chuckled nervously. “Not too shabby for a first timer, eh?”

Tad saw something flash in Stan’s eye at the phrasing, but the human laughed all the same. “It looks nice. You look nice.”

He was dying. Stanley Pines was going to kill him with compliments and Tad couldn’t be happier about it.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” Tad admitted. “Made sure I looked more your dating range.”

Stan snorted at that. “I’d call that a low blow if you weren’t right.”

The two fell silent again, Stan looking over Tad while the other squirmed from the attention.

Stan wasn’t lying when he said Tad looked nice - his internal dialogue earlier made that very clear - but gosh, knowing it was Tad made it so much better. It’s like he’d modeled himself off the guys Stan privately appreciated in passing when he was young. There were clearly parts inspired by Dean or Presley, but it was all buried under the fact that this body was so uniquely Tad.

“I like to think I got the clothes pretty spot on,” Tad said, more to break the silence than anything else. “Tried to get as close to “random sleazy schmuck” as I could.”

A slightly unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, and some khakis? Yep, that’s about right… wait-

“Are you makin’ fun of me?” Stan asked, holding back a laugh at the scandalized sound Tad made.

“What? No- I would never!” Tad huffed, his tone sarcastic as all get. “I’d never copy an outfit you’ve worn before, call it slutty to your face, then deny I ever said it.”

“Ya just did, bud.”

Tad’s face took on a confused look, “Did what?”

The two stared at each other for about three seconds before cackling in chorus. Tad was - as he tended to be - less raucous than the human, letting him appreciate the genuine laughter he could bring out of Stan.

Sweet sarsaparilla, I’m so fucking gone for this man…

As their laughter peters out, Stan mimics the  chin move Tad did minutes ago, only now he’s gently coaxing him to lean down. Tad oblibliges, pointedly ignoring that damn human heart trying to escape his rib cage - it’s not his fault they were nearly nose to nose!

Stan’s eyes dart to Tad’s mouth for a split second before flicking back to the other’s eye. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Stanley Pines kisses Tad Strange’s cheek.

Tad feels his entire body lock up, and it’s suddenly too hot, but he also feels like if he looked at an ice cube it would melt instantly, but that has nothing to do with the fact he can’t move-

“Thought so,” Stan chuckles. “You blush blue like this.”

Tad just blinks, his jaw - metaphorically, of course - on the floor. He’s left bluescreening as Stan leaves the desk to rejoin the rest of his family. Tad follows the movement, still speechless.

The man stops in the doorway, turning his head to look over his shoulder. 

“Gonna get Greasy’s for dinner,” he said casually, “Wanna come with?”

“I uh… yeah- yeah! Yeah, sounds fun!”

As embarrassing as his inability to speak was, the snort Stan gave in response to it almost made it okay.

“Then get your ass over here, big guy.”

[awinterrosesstuff]

Do you think Tobirama was racist or discriminated too much against uchiha?

Hello anon !

First, thank you for this ask ! I wanted to talk about it for a while, but never found the space to do it. I like Tobirama, not because he's a good guy (he isn't), but because he's more nuanced than say Hiruzen, Minato (poor boy) and maybe even Hashirama. And the narrative clearly blames Tobirama for his faults. Something Hiruzen barely got. I made a post about that a long time ago.

Short answer, Tobirama is very prejudiced against the Uchiha clan and discriminated them quite a lot.

Lets start with one thing. Uchiha and Senju were rivals and always fighting before they founded Konoha. Tobirama, like Hashirama and Madara, was a child soldier. His father rased him to hate the Uchiha, fight and die. This panel shows that the clans clashed a lot.

Now let's look at what Tobirama said when he was questionned about it.

When Orochimaru criticizes you for your faults, it means you really fucked up. Hashirama immediately scolds him. He advised him to not slight the Uchiha. But Tobirama did and has some excuses. He also was watching them because of the possibility of a new Madara. To him, the Uchiha are possessed by evil. They're destined to end like that. And when Orochimaru claims Madara was the cause of his fear of this clan, he doesn't deny it. I'd say he even defends himself by saying "you didn't know him". You have the reason why Tobirama discriminated a whole clan... because of one man !

We're told after Madara left the village, he attacked many times before he used Kuybi in the hope to win against Hashirama. I can understand the distraught of him in particular. But what did the rest of the clan ? They wanted peace with the Senju, they started to disagree with Madara even before they created the village and didn't follow him when he went away. The Uchiha clan as the whole, since the foundation, didn't show any sign of betrayal.

Madara left after hearing this discussion. Tobirama doesn't want Madara (& probably any Uchiha) as the hokage. He's afraid of their power. And he goes further in his theory about this clan.

He's like "look, you're genitically destined to be evil and bad and I discriminated you for that"... it's a weird argument. Especially since we don't have any other example than Madara. Obito ended doing what he did because precisely Madara manipulated and used him. He awakened the sharingan to protect his teammates in the first place. We don't know how Shisui got the sharingan (in canon, I mean), but he didn't lost control of himself. Same with Itachi. He was angry at his clan (+ they were suspecting him for Shisui's death) but ended killing the members of his clan because Danzo manipulated him. Sasuke lost it after learning the truth about Itachi. But he was able to consider the four hokage's words even when Tobirama was talking shit about his clan.

I'd like to add a point. Tobirama doesn't seem to care about the humans. He only cares about their usefulness to the village. He's basically saying in the last cases that if an Uchiha loses himself in darkness and hate, it's okay as long he protects the village.

So it's okay for him to use a 13 teenager (Itachi) and order him to massacre his clan if it's to protect the village. He doesn't seem shocked or horrified about the massacre. It's implied he would have done something similar if he was in Danzo's shoes.

And after everything, Sasuke he's sure Tobirama hates the Uchiha clan. And honesty, does anyone have any doubt ?

His defense is "I was doing my duty" and "I don't hate all of them". He claims that he was watching every clan, but the Uchiha is the only clan he presents as an example. And it's the only clan who got discriminated.

As long you don't go against the village, you can be evil as much as you want. Look at the Hyuga, they're allowed to enslave their kin, brand the cadet branch with a curse mark that can mentally torture them and kill them... Idk, it does sound evil to me.

Danzo kidnaps children, brainwashes them and uses them as his army, but that's okay as long he's doing it for the village. Etc.

But only the Uchiha are discriminated because Tobirama couldn't overcome his fear and his hate.

[dangermousie]

Such total deliciousness, her fainting into his waiting buff arms.

Also, I think this was supposed to be touching, SML not catching her, but I giggled.

PS Poor sexy saint is feeling distraught and it's THE TASTIEST

Side note - while acknowledging taste is quite subjective, I find ZBB the handsomest* cdrama leading man out there (which is different from sexiest btw - I find ZYW or LYN sexier tho they are not as classically handsome) - so I love that for once the drama acknowledges its leading man is mega hot as opposed to pretending he's your average Joe.

Objectively, YY is probably handsomer but I don't like his vibe so...

[smallsinger5901]

for the character asks: light!

i got all the way to the last question and then tumblr crashed 😁 so lets try this one again:

Favourite thing about him: i could just say i love to hate him… but im gonna go with how dramatic he is. He’s such a drama queen over the littlest things its hilarious honestly

least favourite thing about him: oh where do i start. If i had to pick one, i’d probably say his double standards. Like, he’s allowed to sacrifice people for the greater good and kill law enforcement, but the moment Misa does or he forces Takada/mikami to, theyre evil?

favourite line: ‘what’re you gonna do? Kill me? Is that really the right thing to do?’ He’s such a BITCH

brOTP: unironically Ryuk. I think his only true friend he can relate to being an otherworldly god of death, literally a monster that is essentially everything Light is on the inside just expressed outwardly, is really fascinating

OTP: god it’s hard to pick with him but if i had to choose… Matsulight. Both because the dynamic is super interesting but also because I love picturing how distraught the psychic damage would leave him if he realised he was falling for Matsuda of all people

nOTP: get yagamane 20 kilometres away from me and from each other at all times. It is NOT the kind of making each other worse thats fun to watch imo

random headcanon: actually left-handed, but trained himself to be ambidextrous so he would fit in more (not that anyone ever made any remarks on it, he was just insecure)

unpopular opinion: idk how popular of an opinion this actually is but ive seen it a lot so ill say it: i dont think Light’s parents forced him to quit tennis to focus on his studies or whatever. The year its said he quits tennis is just the year he leaves junior high, so i think he just decided not to rejoin tennis when he started High school, or maybe they didn’t offer it. I don’t think its that deep

song i associate with him: it’s always been Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons, but recently (aka yesterday) Ive been listening to Poor George by James Supercave and that also strikes me as suuuuuper Light yagami in the lyrics

favourite picture of him:

Idk why, i just think its neat :))

Thank you so much for the ask!! :D

[dramaticallytotal]

London Calling

Is that? Yeah, it's a time loop fic idea. I've seen a couple and read one, but I have another in my to read list, and I wanted to make one!

It's not a new idea for Noah to die in the eel lake incident because, I mean, there is no way he survived that.

Noah just knew he died. He felt it in the way his body felt no pain anymore. He felt it in his soul. He couldn't really explain it, but he just knew. Maybe he wasn't fully dead since he seemed to be having an out of body experience, which didn't shock him too much considering he's known of the concept of Atman since he was young.

He watched on as his body was dragged out of the lake by a frantic cameraman, Jack, the man was really dedicated to the job, which made him seem standoffish, but he was pretty nice the times Noah spoke to him when he was working for Chris. He felt bad that it was Jack, though considering the guy had kids, and this was probably a nightmare for him. He watched as Jack tried to give him CPR, he watches as an ambulance was called, and he was rushed to the nearest hospital.

Poor Jack didn't know what to do and kept trying to call Chris, but Noah knew Chris didn't save the crewmembers' numbers, and the man hated answering random numbers. Thankfully, Jack left messages as Chris did check messages. Though it would be a couple of days before he did. It made Noah feel even worse as Jack didn't want Noah to be alone, and since he didn't know Noah's emergency contacts, the man decided he'd stay with him.

It was interesting to hear the man think put loud. Apparently, where Noah was let out wasn't the original spot, he was supposed to be let out. Chris had even been thrown off by the change of the rushing he did on Noah's elimination was anything to go off of.

Jack eventually got a hold of someone else on the crew who made sure to tell Chris. It was weird, though, because as soon as Chris called Jack, Noah felt a weird sensation, and the next thing he knew, he was in Chris's bedroom. He was shocked to see Chris look so worried. It was obvious he had been preparing to leave his room. He looked all ready for the day. He heard and saw Chris panic about him being in the hospital unresponsive. He knew Chris cared about him a little in his own way, but it was different to see it.

From there, Chris called his mom, who was so distraught that Noah's heart broke. He sent a silent apology to his mother for leaving her so early. Chris explained that Noah got a weird mixed up parachute, but he was absolutely supposed to get a real one considering the distance he had jumped off the plane from. He swore he'd find the intern responsible and fire them. All Noah could hear was his mother frantically shouting to the sisters he lived with at home to pack. It did nothing for his heart to hear his family so worried for him.

Chris always took calls in privacy on speaker. He said it was easier on him whatever that meant. Noah wished he was a normal person and just held the phone to his ear so he wouldn't have to hear his mom holding back tears.

Time was weird in his astral form as one minute he was with Chris, next he was standing amongst the remaining contestants as Chris explained their next challenge which was in Greece. Chris threw an intern out because of research, but from the tightness of his smile and the twitch of his eye, Noah guessed this was the intern who accidentally gave him the faulty parachute.

He watched the competition in a somewhat detached manner. He more so watched Chris and Chef, who looked like they were having a hard time pretending everything was fine. Another jump and he was back in the hospital, but with Jack was his mom and five out of his eight sisters. They all looked so solemn, and they had obviously been crying and Noah wished he could hug them all.

Another jump. Owen got eliminated, and Chris and Chef were arguing afterward about Chris not telling the big guy about Noah. Chris shouted that he couldn't. It was against their contract to discuss things happening outside of the show and Aftermath. He could get in a lot of trouble if it was found out he had given a contestant info. It had ended up with Chris crying, which shocked Noah.

He jumped again but way further than he had before. He could tell a good chunk of time had passed at the hospital his mother's appearance was so unkempt it was so unlike her. He watched as she ran a hand through his hair and read to him an old book he used to love for her to read to him when he was younger. He sat there and listened to the story along with his body and felt the need to cry, but he couldn't in this form.

Then, his heart monitor flatlined. Hell broke loose with his mother shouting and pleading for a doctor. He couldn't watch. He couldn't. He knew he was already dead but she didn't and he didn't want to be here when she did. But he had to. There was no jump to get him away. He'll remember his mother's scream when the doctors came out of the surgery room he had been moved too and gave his mom the bad news for forever.

A jump again. He felt off kilter. One minute, he was with his mom trying to get her to stop crying and telling her it'd be okay to being in Hawaii surrounded by his former castmates. It seems it was the finale. He watched in a daze as Heather won the money, and as they took a break to set up for some kind of volcano stunt. It was then that Chris got a call and knew...just knew it was about him.

Once Chris heard whoever called, Noah saw the man's face blank. Chef asked what was wrong, but all Chris said was, "He's dead....how? He can't be."

That seemed to get the casts attention, and they all seemed genuinely worried for the host. Owen had the worst timing as he didn't seem to catch on to the tense atmosphere and had asked Chris, "Oh yeah, Chris! Do you know where my little buddy is? I didn't see him in the aftermath, and Izzy said that maybe he came back as your behind the scenes assistant or something, but since the scenes are done can we see him?"

Chris completely broke down. It was awful. He doesn't really recall who told the cast, but the reactions were so hard to watch. Izzy...Izzy became completely despondent. She just sank to the sand. Eva looked like she didn't want to believe it before she started crying and punched the closest thing to her, which ended up being sign and not someone thank goodness. But Owen, poor Owen, looked so angry and yelled not to joke about that. It took some time for it to sink in, but then his chubby buddy broke down completely.

The rest of the cast looked so sad it was strange to Noah, considering he's wasn't really close with most of them. The biggest surprise to him was that Alejandro also seemed affected by the news. The boy had sunk into the sand in shock before denying the truth much like Owen. Apparently, the guy actually cared about him...it was surprising and sad to realize it only after he died. The guy was mumbling to himself about how he didn't get to apologize. Apologize for what Noah didn't know, but the heartbreak on his face had Noah feeling off center. There was no way to fake that look.

Everything was wrong. He shouldn't be dead. He should be in Hawaii with everyone else watching this train wreck of a show end.

Then Noah noticed an intern on the outside, and his expression was much different than everybody else's. He was smiling. Wide. Like this was some kind of great news. It threw Noah off. Who was this guy, and why did he look so smug? And why did his face look so blurred compared to everyone else?

He thought his jumps would end, and he would just move on, but all of a sudden, he felt another jump happen, but it felt different than normal.

So when he woke up in economy class cuddled up to Alejandro, he knew something was wrong. It was wrong because it had already happened. It happened the morning before their London challenge before they even knew they had a challenge. Now, people might have thought he'd brush off what just happened as a very bad and detailed nightmare, but he couldn't.

That dream had felt too real. Way too real for him to possibly ignore. Noah didn't exactly broadcast his culture and beliefs, but he does come from a Hindu and Christian household, and while he's not the biggest believer in much, he knows his culture like the back of his hand. His grandma on his mother's side had always spoken of an ancestor who had a prophetic dream about a tragedy that was supposed to befall the family, but because of the dream they were able to avoid the tragedy.

So maybe it was silly of him to think his dream was a sign, but there was just something in him that believed it was a warning. Though he wouldn't be him if he didn't try to at least get some kind of proof.

"Comfortable amigo?"

It was that what he could only describe as a purr that broke him from his thoughts. That was what Dream Alejandro said to him when he woke up because Dream Noah didn't realize he had fallen asleep on Alejandro. And now he had been shocked at waking up on him again but was more shocked by the dream to actually move.

Evidence 1: Same beginning. Same speech.

He knows his reaction wasn't what everyone thought it would be since he simply slid off Alejandro and muttered a small thoughtless sorry before he walked away, but he just didn't have the energy to give a big reaction. Dream him had, but if his dream was foreshadowing, then the big reaction would bring nothing but more embarrassment to him. Alejandro following him to check on him was not something he anticipated, but maybe he should have since he had already made a correction to his dream.

He lied about not feeling too great, which seemed to somewhat sate his sneaky teammate. Then, the rest of the day played out much the same as it had the first time with small differences like Alejandro checking on him to see how he was doing.

When Owen started eating his peppers, Noah decided to make a big change. Last time Alejandro left and was taken, this time he'd make sure he was taken so he could skip the challenge. It should be a big enough change to save him from dream him's fate. That's what he thought all the way up to elimination where instead of him, Owen got eliminated. He was mad, but when he went to give his chubby buddy a hug goodbye, he felt himself being pushed out of the plane. Without. A. Parachute.

He could hear screaming and shouting, and somehow, he managed to spin so he could look up at the plane and saw that same intern from his dream smiling maniacally as Owen held the guy down and Alejandro was strapping a parachute to himself. He watched in a daze as Alejandro jumped after him, but Noah knew it was too late.

The pain he felt as he hit the ground was intense, and he just knew he died on impact but tell him why he woke up cuddled up to Alejandro again?

_______

Little drabble, but yeah, so the idea will center around Noah dying and him trying to figure out why. As you may have noticed, there is an "intern" involved, and he has to figure out who it is if he wants to live.

He does convince some people he's in a time loop, and while he doesn't carry any injuries he got from the loops, he carries some side effects. Like muscle spasms from the electric eels or whole body soreness from the fall. They don't last forever but long enough to be noticed. Also, some people start getting weird senses of deja vu.

Some people even start to feel very protective of Noah.

Sad themes but with some fluff thrown in!

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:2 C:6]

[Small text = Essentially unchanged dialog from normal ISAT]

“Two rows of tears. . . BUT ONLY ONE CREST!!!”

(You used the paper key to get past a door, and now you were at an intersection with, as Bonnie said, two ways to go. Both were blocked by tears, and you only had one crest. After a second, Isabeau walks confidently to one of the walls of tears.)

“I vote this way!”

“Why this way?”

“Manly man's intuition.”

“That's stupid. You're stupid. I vote this way!”

“. . . Why this way?”

“Smart kid's intuition.  And also it's the way Za didn't choose, so.”

“I'm with the kid. It's been a while since we teamed up, hasn't it?”

“Yeah, yeah! We're the, um... Opposite Sides Of The Age Specter Allies!”

“It was "Opposite Sides of the Age Spectrum Alliance", but I understand there's big words in there.”

“Opposite Sides of the Age Specterm Alliance!!!”

“Um…”

“Mira...!!! Mirabelle, my friend, my sister from another mother!!! Please!!!”

“No, Belle's with us!!!”

“Um, um!!! I- I'm with Isabeau!!!”

“Yes... Belle and Beau! Beauty Alliance!!!”

“Beauty Alliance!!!”

“Ha, what kind of name is that?! Do you guys spend the day looking pretty?”

“Yes??? Just look at us.”

(Odile looks at you. Uhoh.)

“Siffrin. You're the tie-breaker.”

(You look away.) “Can’t we all get along for this?���

“No. They insulted the Beauty Alliance. All that's left is war.”

“Unless you bring peace to the Alliances by choosing a side. . .”

(You look between the two duos, stars you hate being the tie-breaker. Uhm, up or down, you think, and smell, and listen. Any hint to. . . . No, you couldn’t really, tell if there was one option better than the other. So. . . .)

(You fiddle with the coin in your pocket. 50/50.) “. . . Age alliance!”

“CRAB YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Sif, no. . . How could you. . .”

“I thought we were friends, Siffrin. . .”

“Betrayer!!! Traitor!!!”

(You hide your face under the brim of your hat.)

“. . .Okay we have to stop, Siffrin looks very distraught.”

“Hehehe, you're so cute, Siffrin! We didn't mean it, promise!”

“Heh. Let's use this Crest then, shall we?”

(You throw the crest to the tears and they disappear into nothing. You take the lead. A little ways down the hall, you all came across a poor little dog frozen in time. What a monster the king is!! Freezing a poor innocent doggy!! For shame!!)

(Entering the room; it’s an infirmary. For some reason, you get uneasy shudders just by being in here. You don't feel like there's a key here. . . But you could be wrong?)

(You hear a chime.)

[You're not! You picked the wrong way, stardust!]

(Aww. Well, might as well look around. Closet first. There’s not much inside, but there is a porcelain doll. It's cracked, with half of its face missing. Someone probably threw it away.)

(Bonnie looks over.) “Scary.” 

“Looks kinda sad, doesn't it?” (Isabeau comments.)

(You think it’s cute! Someone probably threw it away, why would they do that? Why would someone throw away something they love? Don’t worry, little doll, you’ll be safe now, you won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.)

(You got the BROKEN DOLL.)

>>>

“It’s pretty, Tree-mendous!”

“HAHA!! HAHA!!! YES!!!!”

(It’s the. . . Fourth? Fifth? Stars you’re already losing track, fifth time you’ve told the tree pun. You liked doing it. It made Isabeau laugh.)

(He raises his arm up, and lowers it down. Slowly. Slowly. . . Then pulls away.)

(. . . You still don’t know what that is.)

(You say goodbye to Isabeau, and walk to the Favor Tree.)

“Heya, stardust! How can I help you on this wonderful new loop?”

(Questions, questions. . .) “Well-”

“My turn, actually, my turn!!” (Loop claps their hands together, well, it’s only fair.) “Of course it’s fair! So! I've seen you don't like to be touched, huh? Why do you think that is?”

(You flinch.) “I’m just too delicate to touch.”

“Haha!” (They tilt their head.) “No, but really. Ever thought of NOT flinching when someone touches you, though?”

(As if it was that easy. . . You just, just couldn't. You couldn’t help but flinch when people touched you, their touch always seemed cold and dead. You don’t know why you know what that felt like, you don’t like that you know what that felt like.)

(You look away, it's not like you wanted to be like this. . .)

“. . . Maybe you could do some exposure therapy. Try to touch your allies. Like in that gardening room in the House, you could do that, couldn’t you?”

(Right. . . You shudder.)

“. . . Stardust?”

“. . .” (You nod.) “Yeah?”

“. . .” (Loop looks right at you for a moment, then sighs, closing their eyes.) “. . . I’m here for you, Stardust.”

(You look back at them, a little surprised, then hide in your cloak.) “. . . T-thanks, Loop. . .”

“Anytime~”

>>>

(You went DOWN this time.)

(You enter a workshop, with a few large boulders against one wall, and someone frozen in the center. Weird! You start looking around, and it doesn’t take long for you to find the key. You got the SCISSORS KEY! Rock paper scissors, simple as that.)

“Oh. Him.” (You glance over, Mira was next to the frozen person.)

“Oh?”

“Oh???”

“Please, tell us more.”

“ N-No, that's, uh, sorry, I mean--!!!” (Mirabelle instantly jumped back to her nervous self.) “ This man is another housemaiden, he's a scholar. . . He's working really hard on a project! It--

“Boooriiiing!! Why don’t you like him?”

“Did he do something mean to you?!??”

“Should we. . . Do something to him?”

“P-PLEASE DON’T!!!” (You walk over with the others as Mira talks.) “He is, a human man, who exists.”

(You all silently look at her, you could smell the hesitation.)

“. . . . . . Okay. I think he stole one of my priceless issues of "The Cursing of Château Castle".” (She finally admits.) 

“THIEF!!!”

“ N-No!!! Forget I said that! I have no concrete proof! B-but. . . (She shuffled on the spot.) “But my issue disappeared shortly after he came to my dorm room to ask me something, that's all.”

“Thief. . .”

(Huh!!! In an instant you’re looking through his pockets. . . There’s a book inside! "The Cursing of Château Castle", issue #3. You stand up proud and hand it to Mirabelle.)

“SO I WAS RIGHT!!! THIS. . . THIS!!!” (Mirabelle huffed and took the book, angrily.) “THIS HORRIBLE THIEF!!!!!!!”

“VICTORY!!!”

“IT’S BACK!!!”

(You all chuckled a bit at the antics, then turned to leave. Pausing for a moment to look at the person frozen in time. . . Why? Why were you- oh nevermind! You continue on.)

>>>

“Two strong sadnesses. . . Get ready, everyone!”

(You dash in, slicing at the long-haired sadness with your dagger, Mirabelle hollowing up a second later with her rapier. You’re wasting no time, you both back up as Isabeau shouts encouragement, you can feel your body get stronger!)

(You dance back, to the side, one of the sadness swiping at you. You dodged that easily, then duck just in time to see sharp geometric shapes coming from Odile. It cut through that sadness like butter, making you grin.)

(A slash from the short-haired sadness grazes you, but that doesn’t stop you. You just keep up the momentum, using your scissors sign, thin needles of craft energy flying out and piercing both sadness. Mirabelle followed up with her disks of light!)

(JACKPOT!!!)

(You rushed in with Mirabelle, striking at the long-haired sadness in one quick motion. Odile followed with a blast, and Isabeau slammed in with a strong fist!)

“W-wait, the long-haired one is doing something?!?” (Mirabelle jumped back.)

(In a swift moment, you saw the short-haired sadness plunge a hand into the long-haired sadness body, tearing it apart, and--------)

(. . . . . . . . You, smell, blood-)<<<(-Tearing it apart, and restoring health to itself. You shudder, what just happened? Snap out of it, Siffrin! You hold your dagger close and continue the fight.)

(It took a while, Odile got K.Oed, you rushed in, slicing the remaining sadness into pieces. You wait for it to get back up, wait, wait, wait. . . It doesn’t. You stab it one last time, just in case.)

“It’s beat, stupidfrin.” (Bonnie was helping Odile to her feet.) “Stop being stupid.”

(You look at the knife, still stained with whatever sadness considers blood. You want to lick it off. . . You shake your head, and breathe in. . . And out. You clean your dagger on the ground and put it away.) “Let’s get going.”

(You continue, eventually making it to a spacious room.) 

“This room feels safe too, doesn't it?”

“Break time?”

“Maybe not. We might still have a lot to--”

(There’s a loud rumbling noise.)

“Wh-WHAT WAS THAT?!?”

“It was my tummy, sorry!”

“That was so loud. . .”

“How hungry are you for it to be this loud. . ?”

“I don't get this swole by skipping meals!!!”

“Urgh. Anyway, let's take a break for now. . .”

(You all sat down while Bonnie prepared the snacks.)

“. . . BONBOOON!!! HOW LONG UNTIL SNACKS ARE DONE!!!” (Isabeau yells to Bonnie.)

“Five minuuuuuutes!!!” (They reply)

“Okay take your tiiiiiiime!” (Isabeau replies, then lowers his head, pausing a second before talking again.) “. . . H-hey, hey everyone, uh. . .”

“Hm?” (Odile glances at him.)

“We haven't brought it up yet, so um. . . I have a question?”

“Do you not want Boniface to hear?”

“Yeah. . . If we're sure they won't hear, then yeah. . .”

(You say at a normal volume:) “Bonnie forgot to tie their shoes!” (You waited for Bonnie's reaction. . . Nothing. You give a thumbs up.)

“Oh gems, they actually did forget. Someone better tell them later. . .”

“Okay good, so. . .” (Isabeau awkwardly rubs his shoulder.) “If, one of us bites the dust uh, what should we do with your body?”

“UM???”

“Haha, what?”

“Yikes?”

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry to ask!!! I know it's not the best moment!!! B-but most of us have different beliefs, don't we? So, well. . . In case, Change forbid, one of us dies today, and the others are able to honor your body. . . How should we do it? . . .Like, m'dame Odile, is there a Ka Buan way, or. . .”

“. . .No, it's. . . It's a valid concern. Well. . . In Ka Bue, you'd burn the body and take the ashes to a Gemmaker to transform them into a diamond, but that won't be easily feasible, will it. . .”

“You'd change into a diamond?!”

“Hardcore. . .”

“But if that's not doable, you can donate my body to any House in Vaugarde. If Vaugarde is saved, I'm sure they'd have a use for the body of a savior. . .”

“. . .W-well, the House of Change recommends burying your body under a tree, so our body can nurture the nature around it. . . Be part of Change and all that.”

“Is it the same for you, Isabeau?”

“I mean, I'd be dead, right? So I don't really. . . care that much about later. And for, well, Bonnie, what should--”

“We won't allow Bonnie to die.”

“Over our dead bodies. Even if we're about to die, there are ways to use Craft to make sure Bonnie will survive.”

“So, no matter what. . .”

(No. Matter. What.)

(That’s something you all could agree on. No matter what, Bonnie lives. No matter what happens, who dies, anything, Bonnie lives. Even if you turn back time so nothing happens, you won’t let Bonnie get hurt. No matter what.)

“. . . What about you, Siffrin?”

(Huh! Will, will there ever be a time where that applies to you? It’s not like you’ll die anytime soon. But. . . What if you die? What would you want to happen to your body?)

“. . . Carry my ashes with you.” (You finally respond.)

“Huh!”

“Carry your ashes. . . Like, we all get a bit of you?” (Isabeau asks.) 

“Each of us would have a bit of Siffrin to keep with us.” (Mirabelle seems to like the idea.)

“Kinda morbid. . . But. . .”

“That way we can still have fun.” (That way we can still be together. You smile.)

“A ghost Siffrin to play pranks on me at all times? I'm not so sure about that.” (Odile jokes.)

“I’ll leave you alone for two hours a day.” (You stick out your tongue.) 

“Ha! How generous of you. I may have to take you up on that offer then.” (Odile grins.)

“A personal ghost Sif, huh. . ?” (Isabeau rubs his shoulder. Mirabelle just giggles at the thought.)

“HEY!” (Bonnie jumps over.) “Are you guys done talking? Because it’s SNACK TIME BABY!!!”

>>>

(FISH!!!! HEAD!!!!!!)

(You tried so, so, so hard to try and savor it, but you were halfway through the juicy, salty, scaly fish head before you slowed down even a little! It was delicious, it was meaty, it was, so, so, gooooooood. The snapping and crunching of the little fishy bones were the best. The salt, the, the. . .)

(. . . ?)

(What were you thinking about again?)

“Hey Sif, is it good?” (Asks Isabeau.)

“Huh?” (You snap back to attention.) “O-oh! Yeah it’s really good! It’s delicious!!!”

“Well hopefully that will sate your appetite for another floor.” (Odile teases) 

“Hey!” (You pout, then take another big bite out of your fish head. Instantly forgetting about the teasing.)

“. . . And there he goes again.” (Odile chuckles.) “Lost to the world.”

(You just liked your head! It’s tasty! Is that such a crime?)

(. . . You’ll eat something else next time then.)

[cheemers-writing-archive]

I'll Always Come Back to You (Phoenix Wright x reader)

in which Phoenix is overworking himself yet again and you won't stand for it anymore

Dating a lawyer wasn’t always the best. The abrupt phone calls interrupted much-needed alone time, the confidentiality of his work made small talk hard sometimes, and to your dismay, it seemed your boyfriend in particular took on every burden he came across.

You were reminded of these things as your phone rang during another dinner alone.

“Hello? Phoenix?”

“Hey, hon,” Phoenix’s clearly distraught voice said from the other end. “I’m probably going to pull an all-nighter tonight. Something really bad happened for my case, and I’m going to need to figure it out before court tomorrow.”

That work ethic is going to kill you one day, you think to yourself. “Do you need to talk about… wait, you can’t tell me anything.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Phoenix attempted a laugh. “I really need to get things sorted out on my end, for Maya’s sake.”

Maya. To say you were acquainted would be a severe understatement. That girl followed Phoenix around everywhere, and although you didn’t know the details, it was clear that she was in danger because of the case that Phoenix had taken. He was probably trying to carry the burden all by himself again, even though you told him you’d be happy to take some weight off his shoulders.

Finally, you sighed. “Phoenix, come home.”

“What?”

“You’re working yourself to the bone again,” you continued. “Come home and let me take care of you before you collapse in court from exhaustion.”

“But, Maya-”

“Would Maya want to see you like this?”

“You don’t even know what I look like right now.”

“I can make a pretty good guess.”

Silence.

You let out an exasperated huff. “Phoenix Wright, come eat a home-cooked meal and sleep in your own bed. If you can’t take care of yourself, how can you expect to take care of a client?”

“As if I want to take care of that prick.”

You held back a laugh. It was nice knowing that Phoenix could take off his filter when he was around you. “Then think of it as taking care of Maya,” you said.

More silence, and then a sigh. “Okay.”

“I’ll have dinner ready for you when you get back,” you finish, and then hang up. He’d better actually come home.

It was as soon as you were done cooking that you heard the front door unlocking. As it opened up, you were met with a worn-down Phoenix. His eyes had heavy bags, his hair was mussed and tangled, and his posture was so bad he looked about three inches shorter. You didn’t want to worry him even more, so you put on a smile and came up to him, placing a kiss on his scarily-low cheek.

“Good to see you, baby,” you said. “Get dinner while it’s hot.”

Despite his appearance, he still offered a warm smile to you before dragging himself to the kitchen.

Phoenix ate like a high school boy who just finished a sports game. His food was gone in mere minutes, his seconds and thirds following close behind. He barely gave you any time to brush his tangles out of his hair.

“So, Engarde’s a prick, huh?” you ask.

Phoenix scoffed. “You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve always been wary of celebrity personalities, but his is rotten to the core.” You tried not to pay attention to how Phoenix’s expression darkened when he talked about Engarde. Perhaps his client wasn’t the best choice for conversation.

“Man, your hair is a bird’s nest,” you say. “You need to take better care of it. I like those spikes, you know.”

You got a snort out of Phoenix from that comment, but his solemn expression didn’t go away. Poor guy, you thought.

It was almost like Phoenix read your thoughts, because he turned to you with a fake smile, saying, “I’m fine, love. This case is just a bit tough, that’s all.”

Nobody who looks like you do is “fine”, you said to yourself. Still, that wasn’t worth arguing over. You gave him a smile back, and patted his shoulders. “How about we head to bed? It’s almost midnight, and you have a big day tomorrow.”

Phoenix grunted as he got up from his chair. “I’ll get some sleep in a little bit,” he said. “I just need to work out some of the details in this case. You can go on to bed without me.”

Bullshit. He was trying to stay up all night anyway. Simply arguing with him wouldn’t work, and it wouldn’t be good for your relationship, either. There was only one way to get him to take care of himself.

“That’s okay. You stay up as long as you need to, but I’m going to stay up with you.”

You felt a little bit bad, guilt tripping him like this. Still, it was the only way to get him to go to bed. He could jeopardize his own health just fine, but you knew he wouldn’t want to jeopardize yours.

Phoenix continued to his desk. He really meant it, it seemed. Well, you meant it, too. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your boyfriend as he gritted his teeth, clutching his hair that you so lovingly untangled for him. He flipped through page after page, and when he was done, he went to the beginning and flipped through them again.

The task of staying up was grueling for you, too. Your eyes begged for you to close them, your head nodding up and down. Your eyesight began to blur, and it took more effort than usual to focus your gaze. Your limbs felt heavier, and your yawns became more frequent. Eventually, Phoenix looked over to you, his expression softening.

“I can see you starting to doze off,” he said. “I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t have to stay up with me.”

“I’m not doing this as a gesture,” you said. “I’m making sure you take care of yourself. If you want me to get good sleep, you’re going to have to get good sleep yourself.”

Phoenix clicked his tongue. He looked down at his papers, then back at you. You stifled a yawn.

“You won’t last long.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Phoenix went back to his work, and you forced yourself to stay awake. A few more minutes of rustling papers, and Phoenix hung his head low. “Fine. You win.”

You gave him a smile. “That’s good. I’m sure you’re more tired than I am.”

You watched as Phoenix turned off his desk lamp, climbing into bed with you. You positioned him so his face was buried in your neck as you combed through his hair with your fingers. There were already tangles in it again. You kept yourself awake until you could feel Phoenix’s body relax and truly drift off to sleep, then let your own eyes close as you went off to dreamland with him.

The next morning, you awoke with empty arms. You grunted, then stretched your arms out, slowly rising from your pillow. A familiar noise rung through your ears: the rustling of papers.

“You’re already working on the case again, huh?” you asked. You turned to look at Phoenix, who nodded in reply.

“I have to consider things from every angle. My mind feels refreshed now, so I can’t spare any of my brain power until this case is over. I’ll repay your kindness some other time, I promise.”

You gave a small smile. “You’ve done more than enough to deserve that kindness in the first place.” You got up from your bed, walking to the kitchen. “I’ll make you a quick breakfast.”

And so, your morning felt very similar to your night. You stood behind Phoenix, brushing his hair, as he ate breakfast with one hand and flipped through court records with the other. Eventually, he got up, and planted a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve gotta go now,” he said, stuffing papers into his briefcase. “I love you.”

Right before he rushed out the door, you yelled, “Phoenix!”

He stopped, turning to look at you. His face was littered with crumbs and his tie was far too loose. You slowly approached him, grabbing his tie first.

“I love you, Phoenix,” you said. You pulled the tie up to his neckline. “Whatever happens in that trial today, I will still love you.” You grabbed a napkin nearby and wiped his face. “So you have to promise that you’ll let me take care of you if you need it, okay?”

For the first time since last night, Phoenix gave a genuine smile. “I promise. I promise I’ll come back to you.” He leaned in to give you a soft peck on the lips. “Always. Now, I’ve really got to go. I’ll be late if I wait around any longer.”

Your smile finally wasn’t forced. “Okay, okay. Good luck!”

And with that, Phoenix left, closing the door behind him.