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fiapartridge · 3 months

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gabe perreault imagine please 🙏🙏

long time coming | gabe perreault 💌🌊⭐️

gabe perreault x fem!reader

summary: you're sick and the only person who can cure you is your best friend, gabe!

warning(s): fluff, fluff, fluff

author's note: eee this is my first gabe fic! thank u anon for suggesting him, i was in a huge writers slump so ty ty ty! enjoy!

You had heard stories of people falling in love with their best friend; it happened to your parents, your older sister and her boyfriend, all of your cousins, but to you, love just felt unattainable, like maybe you were the exception. The love bug skipped a generation and was already preparing for the next—but now? Now you felt it. You felt it crawl underneath your skin and bubble in your stomach. You felt your chest tighten and the heat rise to your cheeks.

You were in love, true love.

“Gabe,” you groaned over the phone, his breathing sounding staticy over the line. You had been sick for a few days, only a slight cough and an itchy throat, but today felt 10 times worse. Your stomach was aching, your head felt like it was getting hit by a basketball every couple of seconds, and you sniffled so frequently you were sure that something was going to go up the wrong pipe and straight up to your brain.

And you felt bad, not only because of your illness, but because it was nearly 2 AM and you could hear Gabe shuffle underneath his dark blue sheets in the dorm he shared with his best friend, Will Smith. You knew it was late and this was wrong. I mean, the boy had a game against Boston University in the morning, now was not the time to wake him, but you just didn’t know what to do. You felt like you were dying and all you needed was one of Gabe’s famous hugs and maybe a back rub (he was really good at those).

“Hey,” he said quietly, trying not to wake the snoring Will on the other side of the room. His eyes were fighting to stay open, determined not to lean onto his fluffy white pillow and fall back to sleep. “You okay?”

You sniffled, grabbing another tissue from the box that laid beside your bed. “I feel like I’m dying,” you responded, your voice sounding congested and nasally—not in the slightest like your normal tone.

You could hear shuffling on the other side of the phone. Then, you could hear keys jangling and his closet door opening, a hoodie getting thrown over his body, and then the door to his dorm being pulled open. You wanted to protest because you knew what he was doing, where he was going, but you had no energy to speak. Instead, your stubborn voice turned to loud coughs that made Gabe want to pull you in his arms and hold you until they faded into oblivion.

But he couldn’t. It was too much for you. It would be weird. You wouldn’t feel the same. It was the exact same thing he’s been telling himself for months (really what he’s been telling himself since the moment he met you). It would ruin your guys’ friendship and you will never want to speak to him again. If only he could hear your thoughts because then, maybe he’d be thinking differently, and it wouldn’t be so hard.

Three soft knocks on the door of your dorm signaled exactly what you suspected would happen. Gabe was your best friend and if he caught the flu, you would be there holding his hand and making him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. If you were crying about a failed test, he would buy you ice cream and agree to watch countless episodes of The Bachelor until you were feeling okay again. One time you were sick with Covid and Gabe didn’t even care. He stayed with you during quarantine, snuggled under mountains of blankets, watching movies until you were sick of them, and gossiping about anyone and anything. It wasn’t a surprise that he caught the sickness a couple days later. Your moms laughed about the memory, finding it endearing that you two loved each other so much that you were willing to be sick together.

Gabe settled some medicine on your bedside table before lifting your light pink covers and crawling into bed with you. You fit perfectly into his arms, like this spot was made just for you. Despite your sweaty forehead and aching body, he held you tightly, placing small kisses on the crown of your head. Your parents had always joked about you two getting married someday, but sometimes you wished that it was real; that you would grow old with him and live in a big white house with a white picket fence and a large rose garden in the backyard. You truly couldn’t see your life with anyone else.

But that was silly. Gabe was your best friend. That would just be weird—right?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He walked all the way from his building to yours in the middle of the night despite having a ginormous game tomorrow. He felt unreal, like how could a person be so perfect and somehow be yours?

“Don’t be,” his words were just as soft. His chin resting on the top of your head as yours fit in the space between his neck and shoulder, leaving delicate kisses on his adams apple. This isn’t what best friends do, you told yourself. Best friends don’t kiss each other. Best friends don’t cuddle underneath sheets and hold hands to “warm each other up.” It was confusing and you hated it. You hated not knowing how he was feeling when you knew exactly how you felt about Gabe.

“You didn’t have to come here.”

“You called.”

You laughed. “That doesn’t mean anything. You could’ve stayed in bed and slept longer and had good dreams and—”

“Hey,” he smiled down softly at you, lifting your chin to look up at him. His hand lingered there for a while, not wanting to move away from you. There was something about you that made Gabe want to be closer and closer. There was something that made him want to parade you around campus, telling everyone that you were his. He wanted to see you in his jersey and kiss you after games and hold you tight at parties. He wanted to take you with him to New York when he plays for the Rangers after college and introduce you to his family as his girlfriend instead of just his best friend. Gabe was ready for more, but he hated thinking that you might not be. “I wasn’t just going to let you die, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, like that one time you pushed me down that water slide at Hurricane Harbor.”

“Pft, you wanted to go down that.”

You chuckled incredulously. “There is no way you just said that.”

“‘Oh, Gabe, please take me on this waterslide. I’ve been dying to go with you.’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, you sound like this,” he said, pinching his nose with his fingers, his voice sounding blocked and nasally.

You pushed his hands away, hiding your face in his clothed chest. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, you love it.”

“I will fight you.”

He ran his hand up and down your arm, your eyes fluttering closed and your breathing steadying. He held you tighter, wrapping both arms around you and snuggling deeper into the bed. His last words before you fell into hypnosis lingered in your mind as you couldn’t even escape your lovestruck dreams of the perfect boy. “Keep telling yourself that, sicko.”

By the time the sun rose, you were sure that he would be gone; that his hoodie would be collected from the carpet, that his legs would no longer be intertwined with yours, and that his belongings would be gone, but he was still there and you were still in his arms and everything was still perfect. His breathing was soft and slow, his little curls were a bit tussled, his cheeks were pale, and you wondered what he was dreaming about that left a ghost of a smile on his face.

You wanted to wake up like this everyday and everyday after that. So yeah, maybe you were in love. Maybe you were in deep. And maybe you were ready to tell him.

He rustled around before lifting his eyes open, his smile growing wider when he saw your pink face, knowing he caught you staring at him as you glanced around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the boy.

“Feeling better?” he asked, turning to his side and facing you.

A strand slipped through your loose ponytail and settled on the front of your face, covering your eyes as he allowed his hands to work faster than his mind. He slowly brought his hand up, carefully moving the strand behind your ear. And you would expect the moment to be over but when his hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb lightly running over the smooth skin of your face, you knew that maybe just maybe there could be something more.

You nodded slowly. “I’m okay.”

“I’m glad. I hate seeing my girl sick,” he spoke softly as if speaking any louder would shatter the calming atmosphere.

My girl. You wanted to allow your mind to toss and turn, investigate the meaning behind those two words, search for his thought-process, his feelings, anything, but for the first time in forever, you felt serene and calm with him. You didn’t feel the need to wonder what this meant for the two of you. You were perfectly content where you were now, where you were going, and what you were going to do next.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast yet gentle. His eyes wandered down to your place of connection and when they met yours again, you could’ve sworn you saw something: a spark, hope, clarity, confirmation.

And when he leaned in, holding your face close with the hand still resting on your cheek, his lips hovering over yours, desperate to connect, you knew nothing would be the same. He would never be just your best friend anymore. And you were perfectly okay with that.

As Gabe leaned in, his lips met yours in a tender, yet passionate kiss. It was a moment that felt suspended in time, where every sensation was heightened—the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the racing of your heart. In that instant, all doubts melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of certainty and bliss.

The kiss deepened, as if both of you were pouring all the unspoken feelings and desires into this one act. Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel every part of him against you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as if he never wanted to let go.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance. When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. But there was no fear, no uncertainty, only a profound sense of connection and joy.

“I’m sick,” you said, making Gabe chuckle softly. Of course your first words after a long-anticipated kiss would be that. But that’s what Gabe loved about you. You were you in every sense of the word. You are the reason his stomach hurts from laughing every time he comes back to his dorm, staring into space as he thinks about your giggle and your smile and your stupid humor. You are everything. You’re the world.

I just kissed the world, Gabe thought. My girl.

With a smile that spoke volumes, Gabe whispered, "I don’t care."

“You will when you get sick.”

“And will you be here? When I get sick?” he asked, his thumb running back and forth on the exposed space of skin on your pelvis.

You nodded. You would be there for him through anything no matter what. “Always.”

“Then I’m okay with it.”

And in that moment, as you nestled into his embrace once more, you knew that the stories were real and true; that love is real and true, because you just fell in it and you couldn’t be happier.

#gabe perreault #boston college #boston college hockey #gabe perreault x reader #gabe perreault imagines #gabe perreault imagine #gabe perreault fluff

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shallowrambles · 8 months

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It's fascinating to me how much I've changed my mind about Dean in The Trap. I'm waaaaay more sympathetic to the whole Cas-being-forgiven aspect of it, because yes, Cas apologized initially, but the root of the issue was Cas's painful withdrawal of his partnership and his withholding of critical information. Full stop. He and Dean are NOT equally culpable in this one.

It's not just about Mary and Jack, and yet Cas keeps pivoting to "Dean blaming him for Mary." Which oversimplifies the whole thing in a terrible way. Yes, they're all culpable, and yes they all saw that things were wrong with Jack, but next to Donatello, Cas is THE authority on souls and physically the strongest of TFW. To make matters worse, he all but demanded Dean to parent Jack and take care of Jack's emotions, even though Dean expressed discomfort over his memories of soulless Sam. Dean has repeatedly expressed how he wants Cas to be open and honest with him, especially now that they're co-parenting, and although Cas demanded Dean parent Jack, he then turned around and hid Big Parenting Stuff from him and went off to meet Anael.

Barring Cas's one feeble and poorly-timed, "I tried to fix it on my own because I was afraid of losing this family," he doesn't really spell out his part in the communication failures or apologize very well for withdrawing from Dean, specifically. He sorts of sulls up and say, "I already apologized and I'm not doing it again." Yet, Cas has a continued, longstanding pattern of withdrawal from the partnership. I'm floored that my Cas goggles kept me from seeing it before, and maybe I'm a little embarrassed, too. I mean, honestly, it's amazing that Dean takes him back at all. :/ Once you look past, "Oh no! Dean said mean things!" anyway.

I think by The Trap, Dean has given up trying to get Cas to change or hold him accountable for his lack of communication. Cas sort of gave Dean ultimatums over it, if you squint, and Dean rolled over. And Dean wants to get back together. He needs Cas's support and Cas need his. He looks at everything Cas is and decides that Cas's avoidance and want to protect the family is just woven into the fabric of him, and Dean decides to accept that. It's something he loves about him as much as he resents it. Cas's chivalry is a feature and a bug. Dean loves him for it. It makes his life a Hell sometimes.

Occasionally, I still see people harping on how horrible Dean was for "forgiving" Cas, like Cas doesn't need to be forgiven. And with some distance and clarity, I find that pretty baffling now, but I also remember feeling that way when I wasn't looking at their partnership equally and giving Cas too much leeway on his continued absence from the partnership. I almost...respected Cas more. That thought makes me wince. But his bad decisions I was way more likely to stamp as protective or tactically genius, at least compared to some of Dean's similar decisions. Dean's things I tended to group as "too angry/emotional/irrational." :(

I guess I've come a long way when it comes to holding Sam and Cas accountable for their actions, too. Much of the time, my issues with Dean devolved to unfortunate tone policing or not liking him to express his anger and be angry at his boundaries being breached over and over, even when he was taking his anger out on inanimate objects. I balked just because it made a loud sound that made Sam wince (oh noes, not the wincing).

///

On the other hand, I'm quite impressed that Dean and Cas were finding their way back to each other after the Death of a Child. That's about the hardest thing a marriage can go through, and they were getting back together and trying to heal even before Jack reappeared. Clearly, it's a stress-tested relationship. WAY more stress-tested than your everyday marriages; they've been through multiple apocalypses. On the whole, they often have good communication, even when they disagree, they knew where they stood (like with Donatello). It's just these huge, incredibly unusual horrible earth-shatteringly terrible things that throw them. Chuck's grooming is such a bitch.

#cas + communication issues #spn #spn 15x09 #spn the trap #spn episodes #spn season 15 #dean stuff #cas stuff #dean/cas + trial separation

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lakesbian · 5 months

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and now for our Checking In With The Dallon Sisters poasting

Panacea shook her head, “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

victoria is demonstrably having a bad time with the previously noted psychological pain of being forcibly reminded that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be the spotless, invincible, perfect hero she wants to be. the bug bites suck obviously but the "sulking" After being healed is an indicator of where it really hurt--not just physically.

(amy's power reminds me of. do you guys know that one tumblr post about the concept of exploring the horror potential inherent to D&D-esque fantasy healers? like, the horror inherent to being perfectly, magically healed from horrifying injury a hundred times over, and being expected to just get up and keep fighting afterwards, without any regards to how your mental health is doing. that's exactly how amy's power functions: you're made physically better than ever, and expected to get back up and keep being a hero, but you still have the memory of the pain and the lingering psychological aftereffects. but, like, you're fine now, so you just need to get over it and go back to throwing yourself in the line of fire, okay?)

amy is also right off the bat clearly not doing so hot--she's acting very shy and withdrawn and unsure compared to both of her prior appearances. obviously that is due to the horror of some random villain going "btw, remember that you're ontologically an invader into the family you are trying to belong in!" but i think it's probably compounded by the fact that amy is so used to being treated either 1. like she's intrinsically awful/unwanted or 2. like she's only valuable/desirable as a resource by Everyone But Victoria that walking into a room of heroes w/o victoria by her side is always liable to make her insecure and withdrawn.

oh, and the burnout. obviously the severe fucking burnout.

“No, I hated that he would have a normal life, because I’d given up mine. I was scared that I might intentionally make a mistake. That I might let myself fuck up the procedure with this kid. I could have killed him or ruined his life, but it would have eased the pressure. Lowered expectations, you know? Maybe it would have even lowered my own expectations for myself. I… I was just so tired. So exhausted. I actually considered, for the briefest moment, abandoning a child to suffer or die.” “That sounds like more than just exhaustion,” Gallant replied, quietly. “Is this how it starts? Is this the point I start becoming like my father, whoever he was?”

the "every second i rest, someone dies" conundrum would be nightmarish for her even if she had the healthiest social support net on the planet, but her circumstances make it infinitely worse. she's treated by everyone in her "family" but victoria like an invader, and even victoria has unintentionally stressed the importance of using her healing power in the way that the family wants (i.e. to cover up victoria's police brutality) in order to Be A Good Family Member. amy has internalized that being a good dallon is the same as being a good hero, and failing at being a dallon is the same as being overcome by her ontologically criminal roots. so she works herself to the bone, and when she inevitably starts to falter, she views it as an indicator of something intrinsically wrong with her rather than as a sign that her family + society's expectations for her are harmful and unfair.

and dean's advice for her only reinforces this further:

Gallant let out a slow breath, “I could say no, that you’re never going to be like your father. But I’d be lying. Any of us, all of us, we run the risk of finding our own way down that path. I can see the strain you’re experiencing, the stress. I’ve seen people snap because of less. So yeah. It’s possible.”

he suggests that she try to take a break, but only in the service of "so you can heal more people in the long run." he validates the idea that she could go "down that path," as if becoming a villain--becoming A Bad Person--is a risk all heroes have to fight against on an individual level, as opposed to criminality being a result of circumstance and not even inherently immoral. and of course dean thinks that way--he's a millionaire child soldier, his entire life is predicated on individualist thought with ignorance to the ways in which systematic factors impact people. acknowledging that amy is being horrifically mistreated would mean not only acknowledging the flaws in the PRT system, but acknowledging what might lead people to stray from it, and he simply can't do that. it goes counter to every idea that his life is built on.

he never even tells anyone that amy thought about letting a child die, or if he did, it didn't go anywhere. she was desperate for help all along, increasingly ready to explode, and everyone just ignored it. because as she says:

"My sister’s all I’ve got. The only person with no expectations, who knows me as a person. Carol never really wanted me. Mark is clinically depressed, so as nice as he is, he’s too focused on himself to really be a dad. My aunt and uncle are sweet, but they’ve got their own problems. So it’s just me and Victoria. Has been almost from the beginning."

this is also where we see another more blatant sign of her crush on victoria--it's very ambiguous as to whether dean is interpreting amy's feelings towards him as meaning "wants to date me" or "jealous of me for dating victoria" but i think it's probably the former because there's no way he would keep his mouth shut if it was the latter, lmao. really what this scene is doing is introducing all of the stressors amy is experiencing that, because they're going unaddressed, because everyone else is refusing to address them and she has internalized that's how it should be, are going to boil over horrifically later on. that burnout and fear of accidentally-on-purpose making a mistake will lead to truly being unable to heal victoria later on. that sense of obligation, that if she can't keep healing she's turning into her father, will contribute to her being unable to just walk away from victoria instead of trying to heal her. her crush on victoria--the ultimate example of how her should-be family has ostracized her--will boil over in the impulsive brain alteration & the sexual nature of the wretch's design.

and all of this would've been avoidable if not for, as mentioned in the prior post abt this interlude, the dallons' and the PRT's enforcement of wallpapering over the kid heroes' pain to Keep Up The Show.

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 3 #wormblr #parahumans

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nobody-nexus · 4 months

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DND AU: A New Look! (+New Characters)

I decided to revamp the look of the DND AU crew! Underneath the art will be a snippet about the character in the AU as to give you some insight on the plans I have for it

With her memories stolen by the false king, she wandered for the longest time, her destruction of property being seen as a threat. She was imprisoned for a few short months before she was being transferred to another dungeon... Until Jax accidentally stole her cell alongside many other goods. She now hides in plain sight as a jester for the fantastical airship circus under the name 'Pomni'- one that she doesn't know if it's her real name or not

Once just a simple seamstress in a town, her simple life was ruined for the worse when a mouth faced demon had appeared and set the village into chaos, leaving some burnt and others cursed- Ragatha being one of the poor cursed souls. Her body was eating away at her when she was running from the town as she fell down, the god Tyr finding her and helping her. She turned to help the god, becoming a cleric under Tyr's name. She joined the circus later on, becoming a sort of magician for the airship

Adopted son of Luna, Jax has never known anything outside of the airship. He's lived his whole life there, seeing the world pass him by as he just let it happen. He learned quickly how to pickpocket, lockpick, steal, bargain, basically anything to help give more money for him and his family. He even kept it up when he knew they had more then enough money to spare

Once a well renowned bard and, Gangle couldn't be any happier. However, that would change when the false king wanted to test a new artifact known as 'The Tragedy Mask', a mask that latched onto Gangle's face and couldn't be removed. The false king sent a bounty for the mask, leaving Gangle to leave her bard life behind, even becoming a ranger in the process. However, her acrobatic work in the airship circus makes her feel better

The past of this man isn't known well. Kinger seems to be obsessed with the idea of being being a king, even to the point where he won't respond to ANYTHING else but 'Kinger'. He loves bugs, and it seems to be the only reason for him to be a druid. Although timid and flighty, his bugs seem to entertain the crowd at the circus enough

Not many knows about Zooble's creator, a seemingly mad man who wished to make a war forged with no budget. Powered by a multitude of magic infused crystals, the instability of it all made the accidental death of their own creator not much of a shock. Almost like a freakshow performance, Zooble just wanders around the airship to 'perform' and let others react to them or even convince people to give them money for 'tricks' (they're just war forge functions)

Once the king's head bard, but now a deadbeat who lost their original job (and may have been cursed with lycanthrope by the false king), Kaufmo is the head clown, storyteller, AND announcer for the airship circus. Quite the handful of jobs, hmm? Despite him being tired all the time, he's not actually that bad to be around

The two heads of the Fantastical Airship Circus, these two sisters of Summer and Luna are the ringleaders of the place, doing their best to keep the crowd entertained. Luna is more kind and understanding while Summer is stricter and to the books, however they seem to get along nonetheless

The False King himself, Caine is a demon in disguise- taking the place of the true king to give himself more power then any other demon. His ringleader get up is both a mockery as it is a love for the art of a circus- especially since everyone around him seem to be in one

DND AU stuff will be coming out slowly and surely! I love this AU and I hope you do as well

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kedreeva · 8 months

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How would you rate peafowl in terms of intelligence, in general or socially? Any of your animals outstanding in that regard and where does Bug fall on the scale?

Honestly they have a huge range of intelligence and personality. They're GENERALLY smarter than chickens, not as smart as crows. They do have complex social hierarchies and rules, though, and violating the rules has consequences for social standing. Rude boys, for example, do not get the girls.

They also have long memories for some things- for example if you frighten or anger or hurt them, they remember that and they will likely not trust you again, if they don't outright try to chase you off. My dad once made a swipe at a nosy hen and she never forgot. She threatened to fight him every time she saw him after that. LOTS of people report that their birds can be caught 1 time by a bird net pole, and forever after they will bolt if they see it (and we have the same experience here, and I don't even have to have caught them personally if they even SEE me catch 1 bird with it, that's it. This is why I move them into a coop and turn off the lights to pick them up). I know people who have tried to solve berserker males problems by hitting their birds with brooms or sticks or spraying them with a hose, and what they find is that this makes it a thousand times worse because the male's understanding of the situation is only confirmed- you ARE a rival and you DO want to fight him. And since you (the intelligent human being who understands birds and money and probably a) like this bird and/or b) spent a lot of money on this bird) are unwilling to purposely cause severe injury or death to him, he will always hold a grudge and always think he has a chance to beat you.

They do have some amount of social learning, at least from my observations. When I taught Eris to use word buttons to ask for specific treats, Artemis learned without actually ever being taught. With 12 buttons on the board at the time, she removed the "treat" button and guarded it so she could tap it instead of Eris. More commonly, if one bird thinks a treat or other potential food item is yucky, they will start shaking their head no and clacking their beak the way they do when they taste something they hate, as if they took a bite and it tasted bad- but WITHOUT having actually touched the item. This triggers all the nearby birds to have a look, and they all start shaking their heads and clacking their beaks. Once one of them figures out how to do something - like get up onto the pigeon perch in the rafters they're not supposed to be on - the others will watch and learn how to do it, and start doing it, too. I just recently had to put an extra lock on the barn pen door, because I caught Wendy pulling our emergency latch release for dumbasses that lock themselves into the pen on accident, and the others were Watching to learn. Eris had to be moved out of that pen because she also learned how to let herself out of the pen that way.

Then you have birds like Callisto. Who will come over when you call for treats, and despite that the treat gets held right in front of her or dropped close by her, panics and can't find it to save her life, and you find yourself standing between her and the others to give Callisto enough time to look at the ground for the treat.

Or stan who, every morning, gets let out of the coop and walks calmly over to the fenced door between pens to be let out into the pen. Except the door is open.

So. It's a scale. it's a scale that slides between "mocking me with word buttons I taught her" and "repeatedly waits at an open door to be let out"

#peafowl #my pets #asks #I forgot to say but bug is middle of the road #she has learned some stuff #but there are times I can see her sitting there #head empty heart full #and that's ok #Honestly I think they are capable of learning and being very smart #and that early interaction with humans and toys and Situations makes them generally smarter later #which as evidenced by eris is not always a good thing

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sehtoast · 3 months

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The Blanket (Homelander x OC)

800 words | depowered homelander, memories of trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmare mentions, crying bed snuggles | Fic Directory

“What the fuck is that?”

He stands there, stock still and shocked, staring at the bagged bundle of fabric being held out to him. Homelander knows exactly what it is. But he can't… he can't believe it.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” He grits. Why would Ben do this? Why? Why remind him?

“It was in the prop archives. I thought you might want it…” Benjamin's excited demeanor fades and he pulls the bag a little closer to himself. This isn't the first time he's smuggled pieces of Homelander-y memorabilia home, but he's never gotten a reaction like this before. “I can put it ba–”

Homelander all but swipes it out of his hands. “D'you have any idea– do you even know where this came from?” He hisses. Touching it barehanded was so much worse.

It made it real. It always makes it real.

He doesn't bother looking up at Benjamin shaking his head. Of course he wouldn't know. John grips the blue blanket in his hands as hard as he can. So familiar and so fucking painful…

“Was mine in the lab,” he mumbles unwillingly. Didn't even want to say it, but he knew he should.. He can practically hear Ben's regret settle in.

“Shit, Johnny, I–” Ben begins, but Homelander cuts him off.

“It was supposed to have been thrown out years ago… Those fuckwits kept it!” He shakes it in his hand with a fury. He drags the other through his shaggy dark hair to self-soothe, but it does nothing for him. Homelander chucks the blanket onto the couch bitterly and storms back to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him to leave Benjamin, regretful and saddened, to think about what he did.

The bug gives him time before daring to follow. The door creaks a bit, but the lump under the mountain of blankets barely moves.

This is how he runs away these days. Once upon a time, he'd simply propel himself into the sky and fly anywhere else. He can't do that anymore, though, so he hides. Goes to the place he feels safest.

The muffled sniffle doesn't escape Ben's notice as he crawls in beside him, slipping under the blankets and pulling them over his own head, too.

He slings an arm under John's and rests his hand on the opposite shoulder, pulling him flush against his chest. Homelander clings to his arm, anchoring himself as he suppresses his cries.

“I'm so, so sorry, pumpkin…” Ben coos. He plants a kiss to the nape of Homelander's neck.

“All that bullshit– all that fucking bullshit, and what was it even for?” John whispers tightly. “Least when I was me, it was worth something…”

Ben doesn't know what to say. Maybe, though, that was best. Maybe the only thing Benjamin needed to do was hold him close and be there.

He hugs him tight. Lets him sniffle and cry and let it all out. So many times now, John has told him that he’s reconciled with his childhood. So many times, Homelander has sworn up and down that he's accepted it and it doesn't bother him anymore. The cruel reality, though, was that there would always be times when it bites him anyway. Flashes of memories, itches on his skin that remind him of shattered scalpels and diamond-tipped syringes. Tight spaces that reawakened the little boy locked in a box.

That trauma would always be part of him. He's grown around it, but it catches up every so often.

Eventually, he turns and hides his face against Ben's chest. He pushes the blankets down from over their faces and breathes a deep breath of cool air. He feels tired.

He always feels tired after times like these. His body exhausts so easily now. Ben's fingers dance through his hair and his eyelids feel so heavy.

He's afraid to fall asleep. Scared he'll dream of the bad room again. He touched a part of it today; he's bound to end up back in there. If not now, then later. If not later, then tomorrow.

“I've got you.” Ben promises.

Was it that obvious? Would it always be?

He threads a leg between Ben's and pulls one closer to squeeze. Another point of contact. Another anchor.

“Stay..?” He asks softly. He knows the answer– he knows Ben– but he's been denied so many times in his life that he still feels the need to ask anyway.

“Of course, pumpkin.” Ben murmurs sweetly. “I'll wake you up if you get fussy, okay?”

Relief.

Even if he ends up in there, even if it gets bad, Ben will be there.

His little spider will be there.

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x oc #the boys #antony starr #depowered homelander #the boys fanfiction

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year

Text

Years, many years ago, you may have looked forward to software updates. New features, bugs fixed, an evolution of an already pretty good instant messenger or paint program or Usenet pornography downloader. Nowadays, a software update is dreaded. There are many reasons: it may contain a grotesque new turn towards adware or algorithmic timeline bullshit, an eye-searingly-bad redesign, or the developers may have “accidentally” broken your favourite feature and want you to buy the Pro version to get it back.

Yes, software is very bad today, and getting worse. It’s ruining everything that our society used to love: self-driving cars, video game systems, laptop computers, and the sentient synthetic intelligence that spontaneously developed in your washing machine, which you can no longer connect to the internet in order to receive text messages of when your clothes are done being washed for fear of extinguishing this new and fragile form of sapient life with an update that makes the front-panel lights slightly less flickery. And I don’t think you need me to tell you that this fucking sucks.

Is there a solution, beyond fleeing into the woods and carrying half a 1980s Radio Shack worth of 8-bit microprocessors and firearms with you? Although that does sound pretty good, now that we’re talking about it, I think there is a way we can keep all of our modern conveniences (like roads, and freshly-squeezed high-octane gasoline) while turning back the tide of anti-progress. All we have to do is outlaw pie charts.

That’s right. Pie charts. We thought they were innocent when they first appeared, a way to use our trigonometry classes to make a cool-looking chart. Pretty colours. Hell, maybe they come in 3D, which makes them totally useless as a way to tell how big the slices are, but boy does it look cool. The problem is, some people took the pie charts way too seriously. Upper management began to obsess over them, their eyes seeing special secrets – margin, even – hiding at the border of each ridiculous pixelated slice. And they chased those secrets, drunk-driving the world into a technological hell.

Once we throw pie charts in the collective shredder of humanity’s memory, we can move on to things that make more sense. Bar charts, for example, can still lie, but they don’t exist purely as a function of lies. I’m not so naive to believe that humanity won’t re-invent the pie chart at some future date, of course, but I’m pretty convinced the extra productivity means that we’ll be able to build really reliable hunter-killer robots to wipe those folks out, and leave them behind for future generations. Even if those robots don’t have a “dark mode” or special new typeface every couple of months to boost engagement.

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a-tale-of-legends · 5 months

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The Striaton Triplets a don't have much depth, as with many of the league members.

Sure they get more in the anime, but that can be said about literally any character.

Woooooh boy the straiton triplets are obscure alright. I haven't really thought of them much tbh, and when I have, I haven't been able to get many headcanons of my own. But hey, that's what these asks are for, eh? Let's see....

Starting with Cilan, let's get the obvious out of the way. The anime made him a submas twins fanboy, so I'm making him a submas twins fanboy lmao. Moreso due to his interest in trains. Speaking of interests I also feel like he has an interest in botany. I know I know, grass type leader, good with plants, it's cliche yes. But it's more so he can grow his own herbs for meals! It's a group effort between him and his brothers, but off the three, Cilan definitely has the green thumb. I imagine he's also a really good singer, and he likes singing when he's attending the plants. That being said he is painfully shy about it, despite his brothers encouragement. I think Cilan, just from his memory link with his brothers, is the more....non combatant of the three? Both in his shy nature compared to his brothers, but also like. He's more accepting of a certain rhythm or expectation,and doesn't really try to change that? At least to me. Post BW has certainly changed that for him, but it's still a flaw I think. He accepts things how they are even when they aren't great. And it's not entirely his fault, I just think he doesn't always see The Problem, you know?

Chili, ngl, give me younger brother energy. Or maybe middle child energy? No clue lmao. I think, of the three, he's the most interested in battling. He likes the energy of it! Of the three, Chili is arguably the best cook, and has a pretty diverse palette. Sweet, savory, spicy, you name it, he got it! Unlike Cilan, can't sing for shit. Got amazing dance moves though ( a great tap dancer). He....is very bad at ignoring rumors. It doesn't help that Cress is a sucker for them. He's even worse at not taking them to heart sometimes. Sometimes it's justified ( look at the memory link) but sometimes he gets ticked off if someone says anything bad about him or his brothers. He's not good at letting things go ( though, at the same time, he would often forget what he was upset about unless what's being said was really bugging him). Chili is the one that wants to be seen as his own individual with his own strength the most. Cilan is too complacent in his eyes, and Cress....well Cress understands but also thinks Chili's overthinking it ( which, to an extent, he is).

Cress! The trio's main gossiper! I don't know where I got this idea from but it's funny thinking how easily Chili falls for whatever shit Cress talks about. 99% of the time it's fake, but he's not telling Chili that. Cilan can sing, Chili can dance, and Cress can play a mean piano. He also can make a stellar latte. Not in combatant like Cilan, but not as eager for a fight like Chili. He likes battling, naturally, but it's like. " Okay, well I like this enough, sure". I think he's also, somehow, the one who's the most organized of the three? He's the one that makes sure the other two are on track with work in my eyes ( again, that memory link changed how I see these three). It's usually him and Chili butting heads but when there's a moue serious conversation in which Chili and Cilan aren't exactly seeing eye to eye, he's usually the one listening to both sides, and making sure everyone remains level headed ( mostly Chili, but you get it).

Now. These three, in my eyes, are teens. Who are they're parents? Where are they? Never said. It's not unusual for kids in the pokemon world to be doing this type of stuff, but you still gotta wonder about it. So I propose this: The restaurant that is their gym was just a restaurant before. It became a gym after the three became gym leaders ( why three gym leaders? Because alder thought it would be funny. Plus he didn't have the heart to pit the boys against each other). Said restaurant was and still is owned by their parents, they've just taken a back seat due to the gym leader thing. Once the boys retire, the restaurant comes in full swing! And....yeah that's all I got.

Hopefully this was an interesting read! I wasn't expecting to have Thoughts about these three but here we are. I have Thoughts about the three monkeys at what they mean for the triplets but that's for another time. And yeah! Thank you for the ask!

#r answers #r rambles #legendverse #striaton trio #pokemon cilan #gym leader cilan #pokemon chili #gym leader chili #pokemon cress #gym leader cress

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months

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Hello there dear . I hope you are taking a rest after your amazing updates 😘 I got a question that has been bugging me a lot ever since we got Lestat's & Armand's TVL possibility on the show . Sorry if you have already answered this if you did just link it to me thank you ❤️

My question main is : Why is Armand giving information about his & Lestat's past ? Is S2 also Lestat's & Armand's tale ? Is Armand trying to make Lestat look worse for Louis & Daniel ? Because Armand's narration of Lestat can't be all bad we will get to know Lestat's resilience & hotness more than Louis's pov & I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing if Armand says it .

Hey!!

Ha, who needs sleep when we got "them" :)))

Armand... is now in the lead in Dubai, right? I mean, that is pretty clear from all the teasers we got, he has taken off the demure "Rashid mask" and is himself again, and he is a coven master.

I said it before, I think Armand tried to help Louis - in his very own way, and by using his own judgement, which does not always align with the morals or judgements of others.

He... "protects Louis from himself". I think that is key, and Jacob saying that Louis is trying to regain his memories through the interview fits very well there.

Now, with that in mind...

Yes, I do believe Armand's POV on his and Lestat's ... "origins" will be part of season 2. Because those are very important for him and Louis! Because Armand initially wanted Louis because he was Lestat's.

Armand had "imprinted" on Lestat when he met him. He tried to "get" Lestat by force (which backfired), and that shapes their relationship.

Armand does think Lestat is the hottest shit out there, to put it simply, and a bit flippantly^^. He also carries quite the grudge, for reasons we will still get to see. WILL actually get to see in season 2 (unbelievable, I am so giddy!!)

For me it makes perfect sense that Armand would narrate Lestat as "beautiful, arrogant, strong, violent, resilient". Theirs is a difficult past. And in turn it makes perfect sense to me that Armand would use that personal view when altering/tinkering with Louis' memories.

I don't think the narration of Lestat will be "all bad" as you put it. But it won't be all that favorable at certain points either.

That is why @virginiaisforvampires and I (and others, likely) have theorized that the well-put Lestat at the trial is version one of said trial. And that the truth was likely a bit different still.

Now... Daniel is there to pull the truth out.

He will be the reason why Armand starts to offer insights at all, imho, because Daniel is in the unique position to have leverage. Even if he does not know it (yet).

Daniel has already started to challenge the narrative, and that will continue now, in parallel to his own memories resurfacing - and providing not always so convenient and comfortable insights, I bet.

There is a LOT of history between these four!

Daniel himself is tied to Lestat's story, too, though I am not sure if they will address that (already) in the show. We'll see.

But yes, Lestat and Armand will very much shape season 2. Of that I'm 100% certain.

#loustat-0 #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lesmand #armand #lestat de lioncourt

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galaxycunt · 6 months

Text

You Turned Me Inside Out Part 2

Tagging @gothy-froggy as you requested a part 2!

Hope you all enjoy it!

3k ish fluff and angst hehehe

Buggy wasn’t a person who left his soul bare. A romantic deep down, if only in his dreams. Meeting you seemed like fate, he always fell in love too easily. You didn’t mind his nose, looking at him like he was the most beautiful man in the world. Like a spotlight following him around that bar of yours.

Buggy always left a piece of his heart with anyone he shared a bed with. He pushed his luck with you a second time, then a third, until he was counting the days until he could see you again. Each time expecting you to laugh in his face with another man balls deep inside you.

But you didn’t, you were waiting for him too.

He remembered the day vividly, he was staying the night, he found your little drawer of things about him. He lit up, thinking you were a fan. He always wanted a fan like that, and you insisted you weren’t.

“I’ve heard this joke before,” he said.

”It’s not a joke, I really care about you,” you said.

Buggy the clown, in love? Someone else in love with him? Biggest joke of the century. You kissed those thoughts away, the raging sea of his mind settled into calm waters.

Of course he married you, he had to. He could live with a lot, but not that kind of regret if he didn’t.

So why did he leave?

He had a million reasons and none at all. Buggy knew a man like him wasn’t meant to have something good for long. You’d figure him out, the fraud that he was. He wasn’t that powerful or clever or cunning, he wasn’t some warlord or even someone with that high of a bounty.

Buggy missed you both, you and your daughter. He had to leave, sometimes the sea just calls out and a man needs to answer. Beside, he always figured you’d run off on him anyway. He wasn’t made for love, as much as he wanted to be.

You sent papers to file for divorce, and yet he couldn’t let you go. He had sent letters until a marine ship chased him around, hoping you’d forgive him. Something inside his brain told him to drop it entirely, that he was doing you a favor by letting you go. He loved before you, and would again. You would do the same.

Buggy still read the letter you sent letting him know you were pregnant.

It’s yours, Bug. If you’re even reading this, I’m keeping it. I’ll always think of you, I’ll always love you.

God, that was all the salvation he needed. His heart was cursed, going back and forth on his decisions. What if you’re lying, what if you were wrong? Even worse, what if the baby looked like him?

So he ignored you, it was so much easier before he married you. Easier to just jerk off to a fond memory on a lonely night. Now his heart yearned to return, to grow old with you.

How did the great Captain Buggy become so undone?

He had to see you, had to see his daughter. Maybe he wasn’t a bad man after all, if he was able to make a whole ass human with an angel like you.

”Crew! We’re making a pit stop. Head east!”

He couldn’t sleep the entire four day trip, spending the long nights on the deck watching the dark waves. He wished he could’ve sailed with you, his heart breaking every time he left you on that dock.

Was a woman ever worth giving up his dream? Even if it was the same tired dream every other chucklefuck with a boat had?

What was wrong with him?

He had a beautiful woman locked down with a baby, that was the dream wasn’t it? Too bad she was trapped with a man like him. He was a sailor his entire life, a man with a large bounty. What good could he do for his family?

He was too nervous to go to you himself, mind running with scenarios:

You, in the arms of some handsome sailor.

You, in the arms of some handsome marine waiting to collect his head.

You, broken and alone. Baby scared to look at him, broken hearts scattered in the wind.

It was all too much, Cabaji had to do it.

He found out about the baby too late, though he understood why. He left you alone after you broke his heart, refusing to join his crew. Lonely nights spent holding a pillow with your scent fading as the nights grew. You sent him a lock of hair, he sewn it onto his jacket. It was all he had, until he discovered the gift he left you.

He wished he could’ve stayed the whole pregnancy, a selfish wish for a second child to do it all again with. Marcie was cursed with his face, and you let him name her. A name from a song he heard after meeting you the first time.

He had to leave, you both were doing fine without him. The marines could storm the place any moment, shooting her daddy in front of her. A scene he wouldn’t want to wish on anyone.

Yet again finding himself lucky, staying with you for weeks. That selfish feeling popping up, he wanted to do it over again. The right time, the right way.

You don’t see each other for nearly three years.

He made a stupid mistake, landing him in jail. He could feel the heartbreak in your letters, Marcela looks older each photo he receives.

This is why he left quietly the first time, he was going to break your heart no matter what. You offer to put up the bar as collateral to get him out, he wouldn’t let you.

He breaks out, appearing at your door in the middle of the night.

“Buggy, how much heat am I gonna be in?”

”I won’t let them get us.”

He kisses you to convince the both of you, worried you’d turn him away. But you don’t.

Marcela doesn’t really know him, calling him mommy. Buggy’s afraid she calls someone else daddy. As much as you say different, it still gets in his head. How could a woman like you even stand a guy like him? You get your reason every time he cares for your daughter, every time he says something thoughtful to you.

”Buggy?” you say one morning, “what’s going to happen to us now?”

“Nothings gonna happen to us.”

His feet are stomping around the living room, Marcela giggling as she holds on tight to his boots. You feel a bit of unease, he can sense it. You admitted to him once that when he separates his body it feels like there’s an entirely different person in the room. Buggy was the one drinking coffee at the table, Marcela’s dad was the one playing with her.

”You ever think about having another one?”

”It was hard doing it the first time.”

He frowns, “I’d stay from the beginning if I knew. I’d do the same now.”

You sigh, shaking your head.

”What?”

”Nothing.”

”What?”

”Nothing!”

He doesn’t like that, and you know he’s going to keep asking about it.

”It’s just, well. Do you ever feel like you’re not meant to be loved fully? That this is just…something that happens to you? Something that passes.”

Buggy slams the table, his heart shattering. What was the longest stretch you’d been together? A month? Three? Less than a year, that’s for sure.

He loved you for years, the total time together must be half that. But what can he do? As time passes, fewer ways for him to stay present themselves.

”Baby, I love you.”

You don’t answer, crying instead. He trembles holding the tears in, fists glued to his thighs.

Why did you have to love him at all? He’d be happy to keep you as a memory, imagining you much happier than you are now. He’ll love you until the day he dies, and he’s a hard man to kill.

”Baby,” he repeats desperately, “ I love you.”

”I love you too, god damn it,” you hiccup.

It’s fragile, but it’s what he needs.

He’s laying low, allowing you to keep him for six months, the longest stint yet. Then it happens, you’re feeling ill and he takes you to a doctor. You’re pregnant again, and Buggy can’t keep that smile off his face.

He takes off for a week for a raid, his ship being kept around by Alvida. He keeps the arrangement as is, he’s a family man now.

Every night he holds your belly, straining to hear the heartbeat he knows is there. He doesn’t think he could love you anymore than he does now. You still don’t believe him when he promises he’s staying.

He gets that, it doesn’t hurt any less.

There’s an accusation hanging between you two, that he’s playing favorites with the kids now. It’s not true, but he wonders if maybe he is. Buggy worries about it, stuffing Marcie’s small room with toys. He grew up playing second fiddle, he didn’t want her to feel that way even once. She’s probably too young to, but he worries anyway.

In his nightmares, the baby arrives with red hair. He tells you nervously, like a joke, and you don’t laugh, just frown.

“I don’t want to be the reason her life sucks,” he says quietly.

You kiss him, “her daddy’s the hero of her world. You know she thinks that.”

It’s true, Marcela jumps on the bed each morning, begging Buggy to use his powers to do the silliest things. He thinks of himself of a shitty father, you make sure he knows the truth. It matters to him more than you could ever know.

Late at night you pace around, the kicking keeping you up.

”Hey sweetheart,” you hear behind you.

”Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head, “can I get you anything?”

”I need a drink.”

”Follow me then, I live to serve.”

He loves making you laugh. Leading you to sit on the bar counter, his hands shake a drink together above his head as he beams at you.

”Come here often?”

”Oh, sorry sir. I’m married.”

”No kidding, me too.”

”My husband’s a pirate. Maybe you heard of him? Captain Buggy.”

”Eh, sounds like chump. Can he do this?”

”Oh yeah, he’s so talented with his hands.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “lemme show you true showmanship, baby.”

God, does he love your laugh.

“What’s these fruity drinks doing in a dive like this anyway?”

”Hey! I like them, and It’s not a dive, it’s just stinky.”

You smile as you hit him, and pouts.

”Kiss it better.”

You do.

He leaves you for a moment, playing a song softly. You sway to the music, the melody hauntingly beautiful. He rests his chin on your shoulder, kissing your earlobe lightly.

“Are you planning to leave?”

You say it so quietly he barely hears it. He doesn’t respond, pulling you tighter. It’s been on his mind a lot, he only knows one way to make money. The circus isn’t that great, he can’t seem to make people want to come. He could rob a bank or two, only sail for a day or two at a time.

If he wasn’t such a fuck up, he’d do things right. Buy an island for you and the kids, haul all that treasure in, build a fucking mansion. He was an idiot, owing money to the people he owed, getting fucking arrested, eating the fucking fruit and letting that treasure go, telling that fucking asshole-

“-Buggy,” you shake him out of his thoughts.

”Hey, baby.”

”I know you gotta do what you gotta do, but just wait, yeah?”

This didn’t sound like you, “I’m not going anywhere.”

”Bug-“

”-I mean it. Okay? Don’t talk about this anymore.”

”Fine, sorry.”

He frowns, kissing your face, “I’m sorry.”

He counts the days until the due date, wondering what to do with his oldest. His only memories are of the Oro, his fingers calloused from decades of work at a tender young age. Is that the life you really want for her? Is that the life he even wanted?

He teaches her knots, watches you teaching her to swim from the shore. Something that punches his gut more than he expected.

Maybe he should leave, let you marry a man who could swim.

The baby arrives, a little boy. You name him after your father, Buggy jokes that he hopes the baby likes him more than his namesake. He looks more like his mama.

Funny how genetics work like that, he again feels sorry for Marcela. She asks why his nose is different, and Buggy flinches.

”Just how it is, kiddo.”

Things are hard again, Buggy itches for the sea.

You sense it, and he hates himself so much for it. Buggy the Clown is too infamous, no other way to work. The upstairs apartment is too crowded, the patrons downstairs too loud.

He dreams of that island, that mansion. He loves how you love him, so understanding, never asking much. It’s unfair, being so good.

So what good can a pirate do you now? He doesn’t know, and he itches more. The days blur together, and he thinks thoughts he didn’t before.

It’s not like he doesn’t love you, yet he feels he’s meant for more than this. But then again, he sees your smile, he sees the kids. Buggy is getting older, so much of his life path was set on one thing, and only that thing.

What does he do now?

He sends a letter to Alvida, asking to be picked up. The kids are young, you won’t sell the bar. This is a journey he needs to do alone.

You cry at the news.

”Baby,” he kneels down to face you, “this is good for us. I have to. My lovely little North Star, I need to take care of you.”

”Promise me something, Buggy.”

He’s ready to promise you the world.

”Don’t go after the One Piece.”

”What?”

”We’ll never see each other if you do. I can’t love you anymore if you go.”

The fragile life you made together shatters, “why the fuck would you say that?”

”You need to come back to us.”

”Who said I wasn’t?”

”You just did. With that look.”

He shakes, “listen to me. I-I promise. I’m not meant for that anyway, the world can’t love me.”

”We love you, god fucking damn it!”

He grabs your hands, “I know that! Okay! I know that! I’m not fucking running off! I’m staying in the East.”

You search his face, looking for something he can’t figure out. Your lips collide, teeth clacking. He wishes loving you could be so simple, that he could be that man.

You spend the next few days dancing around each other, Buggy hates it. He sends flowers to be delivered every day, cooks for you, learns how to bartend. He hate it, does it anyway. You don’t convince him to change his mind.

He pulls you close every night like he always does, Buggy hopes to prove his love is true. The truth was, he was afraid to see you all get hurt. He’s even more afraid to let his kids see how bad of a man he really is.

Marcela thinks the world of him, telling kids he’s a pirate. That both her parents are. She doesn’t know what it means, not in a town that never gets raided. He doesn’t ever want her to find out.

You’re fidgety, it’s not like you. Buggy wishes he could just say the one thing to make it better, unsure if he can or even what it was.

“I never wanted the One Piece, freedom was enough,” you say suddenly at dinner.

”How come?”

You shrug, “not everyone is made for the spotlight.”

He narrows his eyes, “what’re you trying to say?”

You both glance at the kids, watching what you say.

”I’m saying, I shifted priorities.”

He slams a fork down, “I wanted this-this is my fucking life, don’t you get it?”

Buggy thinks about Loguetown.

”I just want…my life to mean something.”

Buggy looks at your face, he looks at his children. It was a stupid thing to say, he knows it.

”I just want you proud, not just some stupid fucking clown that knocked you up.”

You wipe tears away, “I am proud of you. I really am.”

You go to bed in silence, Buggy breaks first, crying into your chest. You forgive him, and you make love that night. It’s almost like how it used to be, back when you were both learning how to love each other. Buggy still looks at like he’s falling in love for the first time.

He sets sail, coming back the quickest he ever had before. Marcela loves the treasure, you love the jewelry. Buggy keeps this pace going, keeping his word to his family. He does this until the baby’s 1st birthday, you think he changed.

Grander treasure stays on his mind, as much as he tries not to. He decides to come clean, only traveling to the North Blue this time. He promises.

“I have to think about it,” you say.

”Think about what? Are…are you coming with?”

You frown, “no. I’m thinking if I should let you.”

Buggy nods in understanding. He waits 12 days, and you watch him from the docks. Marcela cries, and so does he.

He shouts a promise that gets carried with the wind.

#buggy the clown #one piece #buggy x reader #buggy x you

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dailyoriginalcharacter · 10 months

Text

Hibiki Himura is a mute robot boy with kinda-sorta psychic powers who woke up on New Year’s Day 2000 in a dumpster with his memory completely wiped. Ever since, he has taken it upon himself to protect the humans of Acid City, NJ from violent rogue robots affected by the Y2K bug, and by doing so prove he is useful enough to live. He is way in over his head.

wikidot article [slightly outdated]

his tag on my artblog

his series' tag on my main

his artfight page

Hibiki is the main protgonist of Cyber Mind Year 2000 [CMY2K]. He is one of many [many many many] androids produced by the Halosoft Electronics Corporation, but seeing as Halosoft doesn’t mass-produce child robots, it can be easily deduced he’s a one-of-a-kind custom-order model; his original primary function, before he decided to take the fate of humanity into his own hands, is housekeeping and cleaning.He has a bad habit of thinking in black and white binaries, especially when it comes to morality (ESPECIALLY regarding the Three Laws of Robotics) and an even worse habit of tying his own life’s worth to how good of a robot he is and wracking himself with extremely disproportionate guilt over his own perceived moral goodness, hence the responsibility of protecting an entire city (and, in his mind, all of humanity) being taken on by a small child. He WANTS to be a pacifist (especially under the First Law; a robot must not harm a human nor through inaction allow a human to come to harm) and to him, all acts of violence towards humans are equal in severity, but unfortunately for him, real life isn’t that simple and sometimes someone has to get hurt to protect others. Reluctantly, he fights for the sake of defending mankind–even if he really would prefer to just talk things out.

Unluckily for him, talking things out literally is not an option; Hibiki is mute, so his options for communication are limited. Luckily, his kinda-sorta psychic powers are a big help as an alternative method of talking: Interfacing is a standard feature for Halosoft androids–by default, it functions as a sort of touch-based telepathy between technology and allows androids to transfer messages or even control other less-intelligent electronics simply by making and maintaining physical contact. Hibiki generally uses this to talk to others, either by touching another android to project what he wants to say into their head, or by touching a computer so he can display his dialogue on its screen to whoever is looking, but he often takes it a few steps further; Hibiki doesn’t have to touch an electronic directly in order to interface with it, he just has to make contact with something on the same network or connection. Not only that, but Hibiki can also deep-interface with other androids, diving into their minds without admin access and basically pulling a Psychonauts on them. This enables him to free other robots from mind control, see their memories, and, if necessary, beat their asses on a psychological scale. Besides this, he also has minor influence over nearby electronic signals when particularly emotionally affected and has been known to blow out lightbulbs with a panic attack.

Besides the kinda-sorta psychic computer powers, Hibiki also has built-in Astro Boy type jet boots, and the big oversized extra-long sleeves of his jacket can transform into arm cannons. He can overclock himself for extra power at the VERY BIG RISK of causing damage to himself, but he tends to do this pretty often because he both does not think highly enough of himself to prioritize his own wellbeing (especially where the Third Law of Robotics is concerned; a robot must only protect its own existence when doing so wouldn’t violate the First or Second Laws, so he prioritizes the safety and orders of others over taking care of himself), and he’s very small, weak, and fragile, so he kinda needs the extra power in most fights. When he does this, he’s DAMN OVERPOWERED but in a cool fun way that rules for him. Otherwise, when he’s just relying on his own natural abilities, his fighting style mostly consists of running and dodging very fast and being a very hard to hit target. His charging cable is retractable and kinda resembles a tail.

Personality-wise, Hibiki is damn earnest. He’s nothing if not compassionate, albeit stubborn and often blunt without meaning to. He’s gullible and tends to trust others too easily if they display even a shred of kindness to him, but if they give even an inkling of evidence they are even slightly “evil” in his eyes, he’ll feel betrayed and it’ll be very goddamn difficult to regain his trust after that. He doesn’t really emote all that much, but he’s very easily emotionally affected by things, and he is especially a huge crybaby; crying is often his default response to any particularly strong emotion, especially since his coolant tanks are busted so it tends to just leak out of his tear ducts. He’s easy to manipulate, especially through reverse psychology or by making him think he’s being underestimated or patronized, in which case he’ll stubbornly try to prove himself. People tend to underestimate and dismiss him all the damn time for a variety of reasons and he is so sick of it. Most of the time though, he’s a skittish, frantic, jumpy bundle of nerves.Hibiki is super autistic about insects, especially beetles, especially rhinoceros beetles. They are his favorite thing in the world and when presented with an opportunity to do so, he will absolutely infodump about them–and then worry he’s being annoying or wasting your time or boring you and shut himself up, but he really just wants to talk about how much he loves bugs. On the flip side, he is for no good goddamn reason absolutely terrified of repairs and maintenance; it’s the same type of thing as a kid being scared to go to the doctor. He’s extremely squeamish about tech gore (he’d think a modern smartphone with a cracked screen is gory) and would rather just duct tape himself up than let anybody come at him with a screwdriver.

That said, the only thing that bothers him about human blood and gore is the thought of a human getting hurt, and in that case he’s far more likely to scold them for being reckless and letting themself get hurt than freak out over how disturbing it is. He has been called “scary good” at first aid despite not being a medical robot; he always keeps a suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit in his backpack [as well as juice and snacks for humans who might be hungry or close to fainting] and is always enthusiastic to get to play field medic when someone is hurt. He thinks doctors and nurses for humans are some of the most admirable people on the planet, but mechanics and engineers and basically anyone who works with computers or machines is scary and not to be trusted. Another thing he hates is sleep, mostly due to constant nightmares; he absolutely refuses to go into sleep mode to recharge and will either stay online the whole time he’s plugged in or just use energy drinks and recharging candy designed specifically for androids.

Currently, following the events of the [as of yet non-existent] pilot episode, Hibiki lives in an abandoned warehouse with its two squatters; Tex Tulsa, a stern yet fatherly construction android who doesn’t seem to have a lot of work to do lately, and Cain Cohen, a standoffish and rude human runaway from the sticks who came to the city with nothing but a baseball bat, skateboard, and intention to live a life he can be happy with. They’re the closest thing to a family Hibiki has.

his spotify playlist

#OC #dwn024 #Hibiki Himura

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lance-space-mommy · 11 months

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Best Friends Make the Best Lovers

Relationships were hard. Midoriya knew that the moment he was born. His father was absent before Midoriya was old enough to form a memory he could recollect of the man. Midoriya had a bad start, to say the least. He never gave up hope when it came to his father's return, but when he had someone as kind as Masaru Bakugo in his life, Father's Day didn’t feel as empty.

When things get good, Midoriya had to be prepared to lose it all. He lost everyone as soon as things were good. It was a recurring theme. When Midoriya turned four years old and no quirk arrived when he was nearing five years old, he was diagnosed quirkless. All of his friends, the remaining family he knew, all adults who were in his life, and the Bakugo family were gone faster than his father.

Things were less than good. Despite those that bully him and treated him like the scum of the earth, he had the unconditional love of his mother. Quirklessness was seen as this contagious disease, at least that is how people spoke about quirkless people. Midoriya got used to the feeling of being avoided and he became accustomed to humiliation.

As if the world was giving him a solid, Midoriya fell in love at the prime age of thirteen. He had been on those “talk with strangers” websites where you video-called random people. After many failed attempts, someone finally came along and appeared to be the missing piece he was desperately searching for.

This mystery person's name was Hayabusa Teru. He had beautiful electric pink eyes and his hair was a cotton candy blue. He seemed so amazed by meeting a quirkless person that he didn’t think twice about exchanging numbers. After all, quirkless people were rare.

After they took their conversation elsewhere, they got to know one another more. Teru was fourteen, about 13 months older than Midoriya. Neither minded, it kept things interesting and it was expected. There was something so exciting about meeting someone near your age that seemed like a genuine person.

Teru lived about thirty minutes away from Midoriya. Midoriya figured that was the case as he put on the setting “people near me”. The two clicked instantly. They’d continue to video call, text, and occasionally hang out.

Their friendship was strong and seemed unbreakable. That lasted for half a year before they started dating. A year later while Midoriya was sitting in class, he felt his phone buzz. Opening his phone he saw no notification so he let it rest.

What Midoriya didn’t know was that Teru had blocked him on all forms of social media. Midoriya was defeated. He gave up. Not even a week later, Bakugo told him to kill himself and he got turned down by his idol. Midoriya believed things couldn’t get worse, and surprisingly things didn’t.

Midoriya grabbed the attention of All Might and earned the quirk of ultimate power. It seemed that one person was enough to turn his entire world upside down.

Midoriya was now training and eating healthier. His mother was finally getting into the groove of things as Midoriya was finally pushing forward again and working on himself. As if things couldn’t have gotten better, Midoriya passed the entrance exam and got into UA. Midoriya was achieving his dream and focusing on himself for once.

Being a UA student, of course, was no cakewalk and it didn’t go without flaw, but Midoriya made it. Almost instantly, Midoriya fit right into the new setting. Midoriya made friends, was socializing, and had adults in his life that actually cared. Even better, he finally had father figures in his life that were a million times better than the one he gave up on.

Despite everyone seeming to go perfectly, there was something that had been bugging Midoriya. That was love. Midoriya found himself surrounded by amazing people that made him feel amazing. Part of him tried to shut out the idea of romance. He didn’t think he had the right to entertain the idea of a relationship when he needed to put all his focus into becoming the best hero.

No matter how hard he tried to focus solely on hero work and friendships, his heart was too big. He couldn’t help but be with his close group of friends and feel flustered half of the time their attention was on him. Hell, a large portion of his classmates managed to find a way to fluster him.

Iida was well-built, tall, respectful, and really fun to be around. He was protective, realistic, and probably Midoriya’s closest friend. Iida was very animated and was a whole show to Midoriya. Midoriya wanted to melt at the very thought of dating him.

Uraraka was beautiful. She moved with grace and radiated so much power with her determination that it left Midoriya breathless. She was determined to be a powerful her and support her family. She was smart, kind, extremely considerate, and inspiring. She got him all sorts of disheveled when she had him going.

Todoroki was perfection. He doesn’t understand social cues, making him awkward and intimidating. That meant Todoroki was always fluctuating between cute and hot. The two had been through a lot together, mentally and physically. Midoriya admired Todoroki and his development. Todoroki was a very caring person. Midoriya longed to be held in the warm yet cold touch of his best friend.

Then there was Kirishima, Kaminari, Bakugo, Sero, Momo, and Aoyama, and don’t even get him started on those outside of his class. They all had their own unique traits and were very entertaining. They all trusted his intuition and were fun to be around.

For a bit, he thought Monoma was fair game. It would take some work, but Midoriya was willing to put in the effort. The Monoma open his mouth during their joint training and Midoriya didn’t think he’d ever forgive Monoma for saying something so cruel about Bakugo.

Little did Midoriya know, that everyone he was interested in was absolutely head over heels for him. Bakugo would never admit to it, ever, but it was true. They all craved to see Midoriya blush. They all watched him carry on through the day with a relaxed smile. It brought them joy.

Aizawa seemed to have gotten a private message from Nezu as he checked his phone from his sleeping bag. Irritated about his nap being disturbed, he glared at his phone.

“Problem Child. You have a visitor,” announced Aizawa tiredly.

Midoriya raised a brow, confused as to who could be visiting. “Where do I go? Who is it?”

“I don’t know kid. I guess just go to Nezu’s office,” guessed Aizawa, immediately going back to slumber.

Midoriya checked the time and decided to leave his stuff in class. There were still about twenty minutes left and the visit shouldn’t be anything too major. Before he could even get out of his seat there was a knock on the door.

Iida jumped up, claiming his role as class representative. “I shall see who it is as Mister Aizawa is asleep!”

Midoriya smiled, getting up himself. “Well, I have to go anyways, Iida. You should’ve let me do it.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize that. Well, I’m already up so let me hold the door open for you!” offered Iida proudly as he reached for the handle.

Pulling open the door, Midoriya happily stood next to Iida. Looking directly at the person who had knocked, Midoriya felt like the air was knocked out of him.

Vibrant pink eyes. Cotton candy blue hair.

Midoriya felt his eyes widen, staring at the person who had ghosted him well over a year ago.

“Teru?”

The entire class felt their eyes widen that Midoriya knew the handsome teen. The boy looked down at Midoriya with an excited face.

“Izuku?”

The class found themselves fully invested the moment Midoriya’s first name was used.

Midoriya looked at the boy for a second longer before his shoulders sank a bit. “Glad to know you’re alive. Anyways I have a visitor to meet.”

“Izuku, I’m the visitor!” cheered Teru happily, looking at Midoriya for a response.

Midoriya seemed to close himself off. Taking a step back and crossing his arms, Midoriya grew suspicious. “How’d you find me?”

“I went to surprise you at your home but when I got there your mom said you stayed at the dorms in UA. So here I am,” explained Teru quickly.

Midoriya was not satisfied. Honestly, Midoriya was pissed, beyond pissed. What right did Teru have to come back a year after ghosting him only to act like they never stopped talking in the first place? Teru wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Midoriya was not going to give him what he wanted.

“You better have a good explanation as to why you suddenly want to surprise me,” demanded Midoriya, giving Teru a warning with irritation laced in his voice.

The rest of the group grew uneasy. Midoriya was almost never angry when it came to people. Majority of the time he’s angry when fighting a villain or when someone is messing with the people he cares about. This was different. This was very, very different.

Teru seemed surprised by the reaction, nervous himself. “What are you talking about Izuku? Can’t your boyfriend surprise you?”

Iida felt his glasses slip down his nose a bit as his jaw dropped. Tsuyu and Uraraka exchanged a glance, mortified at the reality of Midoriya having had a boyfriend this entire time. Bakugo was blowing up a fuse while Todoroki was still trying to process the fact that Midoriya was in a relationship.

Momo was disappointed but more fearful of the fact she had flirted with someone already in a relationship. Kirishima ignored the pain of missing his chance while Kaminari wasn’t subtle with his exaggerated crying. Sero slammed his face on the desk defeatedly, angry that someone like Teru had got to Midoriya first. Aoyama frowned, a little hurt as he had gotten his hopes up.

Midoriya's scoffing snapped them all out of their self-pity. “I haven’t seen, let alone heard from you in a year. What about that makes you think we are still dating?”

The group all felt themselves perk up. Midoriya was single and the douchebag before them was making an idiot of himself.

“Izuku! I— I had to-,” stammered Teru, unsure of what lies to spit out.

Cutting Teru off, Midoriya coldly snapped, “Midoriya. You call me Midoriya now.”

Teru felt his eyes widen, looking at the group of students watching with wide eyes. Midoriya felt the group's stares and headed out the door.

“Hall. Now.”

Teru didn’t hesitate, preferring some privacy. Midoriya turned to face Teru, visibly upset.

“Where were you? What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t contact me for over a year?” shouted Midoriya, hissing at the bastard.

Teru, not having an excuse, lied, “I broke my phone and I couldn’t get a new one and my mom was-.”

Midoriya cut off Teru again by smacking him hard across the face. Teru snapped his gaze right back to Midoriya, genuinely shocked by the hit that landed on him.

“Don’t you dare utter another lie to me? Who do you think I am?” yelled Midoriya in disbelief. The anger diminished and hurt refiled the void, his eyes searching Teru’s face, trying to find anything that signaled Teru actually cared.

Teru hesitated to reach out, slightly scared of being smacked again. “Okay, I’m sorry, but. Look... I just... I needed a break from everything, including you.”

Midoriya laughed at that, disgusted with the insensitivity of Teru. “You never once said any of this was a problem. Not once had you even tried to explain that something was wrong or you wanted a break. You didn’t have to fucking ghost me!”

“I know and I’m sorry. I really miss you and I’m back. I’m here to stay. Let’s do this,” pleaded Teru, taking Midoriya's hand as he whispered, “I really like you.”

Midoriya looked at Teru with a disturbed expression. He couldn’t understand why Teru was going out of his way to do this. His withdrawn body language should have said enough. Besides, Midoriya had clearly proved he is not one to be messed with and is skeptical of believing anything Teru was saying.

Midoriya was filled with many emotions from the out-of-blue confession. He was embarrassed, appalled, and a bit sympathetic. It was clear to say Midoriya was nauseated as he shook his head in a pleading manner. “Please don’t do this. I can’t.”

“Can’t what? I said I like you,” backtracked Teru, slightly panicking as the upcoming rejection was settling in.

“I don’t trust you. Let me go Teru,” confessed Midoriya, his eyes locking with Teru’s.

The two stood, looking at each other with faces of distaste. Teru let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “You really became stuck up,” spat Teru.

Midoriya smiled with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he laughed at the insult. “And you became a delusional asshole.”

The taller boy stepped off, backing away. Teru had to remind himself that he was in U.A. High and he was pushing his limits with a student there. His best odds were with him biting his tongue. Midoriya looked at Teru for a moment more before opening the door to the classroom.

“Leave before I report you,” threatened Midoriya before stepping inside. He didn’t bother to turn around and spare Teru a glance. There were no pleasantries for Midoriya to send Teru off with.

The rest of the class had been in a circle, all of them mumbling about something. With Midoriya’s voice distracting them from their conversation, they all turned their heads to face Midoriya. It was clear the group was happy to see him return. The sight made Midoriya’s heart warm.

Midoriya grinned at the class, waving. “Sorry about him! I really don’t know why he suddenly showed up!”

Todoroki walked over, standing before his friend. “So that guy isn’t your boyfriend?”

“No, things ended between us over a year ago. Honestly, I hate that he pulled a stunt like that,” whined Midoriya, complaining.

Iida nodded, understanding the anger Midoriya must have felt upon seeing his ex. “So, why’d he come back?”

Midoriya had to think about it for a second, frowning. “Actually... I don’t know. He acted like we never broke up. Technically we never did, but he was the one who had ghosted me. I guess he got lonely, saw I was doing amazing, and expected me to be waiting for him to come back.”

Wishing she had beaten up the guy when she had a chance, Uraraka gasped, “He ghosted you? What a jerk!”

“How long were you even together?” questioned Tsuyu, irritated by the information as well.

“About a year,” answered Midoriya casually, looking up at the group that was shooting him questions.

“Wow! Talk about cowardly!” shouted Kaminari, looking at Midoriya in disbelief.

Momo nodded, resting a worried hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “That must’ve been really rough for you Midoriya. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are glad you handled things the way you did.”

Bakugo raised a crackling hand and scoffed, “I would’ve handled it better damn nerd.”

Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone was so protective and concerned that it turned him into a beautiful shade of pink. He was honored to be surrounded by people that had his back. They validated the part of him that he was trying to heal. He was grateful for his classmates.

Everyone melted at the sight of Midoriya glowing before them. Midoriya was a gift. He had an energy about him that just filled everyone up. There was something amazing about the way Midoriya brought the best out of people.

Aizawa woke up to everyone just surrounding Midoriya, using all the time they could to be around him. Aizawa grinned and sunk deeper into his sleeping bag. He’d ask about the situation and fill Nezu in about banning the visitor. For now, he’d rest easy knowing his students had everything covered.

Midoriya ends up getting a pile of Valentine's Day cards from people in the school. Each card came with a special batch of chocolate, all having their own special flavor to them. Midoriya realized he didn’t have to worry about choosing someone to love. It would happen naturally.

Midoriya happily handed everyone he had a silly crush on a bag of chocolates. Each bag was unique to the receiver. Todoroki got peppermint chocolates. Bakugo got spicey chocolate. Uraraka got chocolate mochi. Kirishima got strawberry chocolate. Momo got matcha chocolate. It was safe to say the entire class was impressed with the tasty treat.

It would be a while till Midoriya got into a relationship. No matter when it happens or who it is he ends up being with, he knew that his friends would treat him no different and still cherish their time with him. They were truly amazing.

Guess I managed to get everything back I lost and more.

#bnha fanfiction #dekubowl #mha fanfiction #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha #mha deku #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #iida tenya #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #class 1a

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victoriadallonfan · 1 year

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One of the weirdest takes of Victoria I’ve seen is people say that she’s too violent in Ward.

Now, I can understand why some people argue Victoria is not violent enough in Ward (I remember those old days of people really being upset that she wasn’t killing ALL THE villains, which was… odd to say the least), because some of the bad guys are really fucking evil and readers get emotionally invested.

But the idea of someone thinking she was too violent is so weird. She holds back so much throughout the story that it becomes a joke in the fandom that she couldn’t swat at a fly without having a moral dilemma.

And some of the examples are even worse. Like, multiple people try to say that Victoria was too violent during the Fallen Raid and I’m trying to think of a single situation where she wasn’t actively fighting in self-defense or defense of others.

Like, there’s a point where Victoria is desperately trying to negotiate people to surrender hostages, and the Fallen response is to shove the hostages at her in an open field and then shoot at them.

It’s not like how Taylor tried to choke Clockblocker on bugs in her second day as a cape or shoving bugs up Triumph’s dickhole (literally).

It’s Victoria fighting terrorist sex trafficking racists who are actively shooting her OR shooting hostages/their own civilians who want to surrender.

(Actually come to think of it, Victoria only really deals with non-Parahuman crime once; when a bunch of looters ransack a store and she happens upon them, and they surrounded without her needing to throw a single punch)

The only time I can think of her being too violent in Ward is with Lionwing, maybe, because Lionwing was in debilitating pain before Vic smashed her face against the floor. But even then, Vic only does that because Lionwing gloated about all the people she helped Cradle chop up and was worried Lionwing could fly up and fight still.

It’s not the weirdest take on Victoria I’ve seen, but it’s definitely up there for being pretty darn weird.

Maybe I’m biased because I know the context for 90% of the conflict of the story, while some people are going off vague memory or what people have told them

#parahumans #wildbow #ward #victoria dallon #antares #ward web serial #it is weird how much leeway people give Taylor #not even in comparison to Vic but in general

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radiant-reid · 2 years

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Beyond Breaking // Chapter Nine

Damage Control

Summary: Spencer is finally ready to get it together... with the help of a friend, a gift, and some honesty.

Content Warnings: divorce, swearing, mention of vomiting/stomach bug, mention of drinking

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist/ Navigation Taglist

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After Spencer was left in his office alone again, the dread sunk in.

He couldn’t believe how twisted things had gotten in a few days. One minute he was in hospital after a hallucination about fixing things, and he blinked, and now things were in a worse state than they’d ever been before.

This was not meant to happen, but somehow, his worst nightmares were playing out. The life they’d built was all slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass, and it didn’t feel like there was enough time to flip it.

Looking at the divorce paper, he felt nauseous. His stomach had dropped so far down it felt humanly impossible, and his heart was twisted.

His eidetic memory was killing him, repeating the words she’d said so flatly, ‘sign it uncontested.’ What type of parent would that make him? How terrible had he sounded being more concerned about getting in legal trouble over an event 15 years ago than getting to see his own kids more than a few days a month?

Granted, he wasn’t doing much better right now, but he would be if he could get it together.

The thoughts plagued his mind, repeating over and over.

But he wasn’t solely in the wrong. He knew that. And he couldn’t figure out why Y/n would group together all his years of trauma and used it to defend why she should have the kids.

It was out of line, and while he was predominantly upset, he was furious about that.

He couldn’t dwell on it for much longer without having a complete emotional breakdown, and when his amygdala took a break and let his cerebrum work, he grabbed his car keys and ditched the tedious faculty meeting.

Emily was who he first ran to, so it made sense to go to her place to find her. But the BAU worked late hours, and she wasn’t home, so he called and drove to a bar.

It wasn’t a good idea. Spencer knew that walking in. He’s not in the mood to drink. He rarely is, but today it’s a bad idea. It doesn’t stop him from ordering a drink... and a shot to accompany it.

His misery apparently isn’t evident on his face because the BAU team greets him warmly, exchanging hugs and pleasantries. The longer he sits there, the longer he realizes they’re no longer his favorite group of people like they used to be before meeting Y/n, and Spencer knows he wants to be somewhere else.

It takes him far too many drinks to finally get Emily alone. “Something happened.” He admitted, biting his lip and trying to distract himself by collecting the condensation on his scotch glass.

“I can tell.” She said lightheartedly, but it wasn’t funny. “Spill it.”

So he told her. Everything he’d done and said and what was written on the divorce partition. By the end of the story, he was close to tears but hiccuping instead.

What he left out was everything he felt. That would take too long, and even though alcohol made him more honest than usual, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Emily has always been a woman of action, so her next question shouldn’t have surprised Spencer as much as it did. “Okay, what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” He asked in reply. “Can I not just wallow here in grief?”

With a laugh, she shook her head. “No, and no offense, but you’ve wallowed enough.”

Spencer scoffed and muttered, “Harsh.”

“But fair.” She reminded him, unwilling to let up until it got through his skull. “You have to stop fucking with her.”

“I’m not. I wasn’t.” He defended. The influx of emotions that came with being drunk made him more argumentative. “When we were at the hospital, I told her I wanted to be with her. She was the one who said we have to be done, but it was so calm, and now I get served with this shit, and I might only get to see my kids a few weeks of the year-”

Emily cut him off before he could keep going. “Take a breath.”

He did so overdramatically, drawing air in and out, but it helped him control his thoughts. “I don’t want to leave them.” He stated sadly. “Or her.”

“You need to be clearer about that,” Emily told him. There was a reason she was Unit Chief. “When it all blew up, you told me you didn’t believe in being married to her. Then in the hospital, you wanted to get back together, and I get it, near-death experiences are good at supplying us with revelations, but you cannot flip-flop with this.”

He threw his head back, resting it against the booth seat. “I don’t think I can fix this.”

“What do you want to do?” She asked, taking the remaining scotch from in front of him.

The answer was simple. It was maybe the only thing that wasn’t foggy in Spencer’s brain. “Be with her.” He answered quickly. “I just had everything I ever wanted since I met her.”

“Shush, don’t focus on that,” Emily instructed, sick of his self-pity. “Think of it like a case, Spence. What was her trigger?”

Spencer’s brain worked slower than usual, thanks to the liquor, but Emily could help him build on his theories. “I don’t know. Seeing me in hospital? I didn’t see her after that.”

“Well, something else must have happened.” Emily kept him on track. She was going to help him, but she didn’t know enough.

“She mentioned that night, actually.” He recalled. “That day... oh. Oh, fuck!” He exclaimed loudly, drawing attention he wasn’t paying attention to.

It was terrible. So much more detrimental than Spencer first thought. The pieces began to click together like a puzzle. A puzzle he should have gotten quicker. If Y/n knew that, there was an easy conclusion to come to. A deduction that would make her furious and prompt that course of action.

His brain ran with the idea, calculating the probabilities and outcomes of the situation now that he knew all the variables. Knowing what Y/n thought made him feel horrible, worse than anything he’d done so far. Although he didn’t blame her, he hated the fact she believed it because that meant she could fathom him cheating on her.

Spencer worried for her the most, and he could only speculate how much that would have destroyed her faith and ruined her trust. He had been in many stressful situations in his life, more than a usual person, but nothing made him panic like unlocking that piece of knowledge.

“What? What?” Emily asked, grabbing his arm and trying to ground him. She’d seen the switch flick in his brain.

“She thinks I’m cheating on her with one of my students.” He blurted out with a deep sigh.

Emily had heard a lot of surprising facts, but her eyes were comically wide. “Why would she think that?” She asked, her tone coming off sharply. There’s not usually an explanation for something like that, as much as people claim there is.

Damn, sometimes he hated being honest. “Because I made another mistake.” He said truthfully. “The day before that night, I had Wren. We were at work, and I had a class, so I let this student, Lily, stay with Wren because she is doing her dissertation on language in early childhood.” He explained it all without taking a breath. “How am I going to explain that?” He stood up abruptly, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. “I have to go see her.”

“No.” Emily stopped him. “I mean, yes, you need to, but also no, you can’t. Not when you’re drunk.”

He conceded, sitting back down and sighing loudly. He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “What am I going to do?” He asked again, tears prickling in his eyes.

“We’re going to go home, and you’re going to sleep it off. In the morning, you’ll tell Y/n that you need to talk. The good news is, you have 21 days.” Emily formulated the idea, and Spencer had never been more thankful for her and the high alcohol tolerance that allowed her to think logically.

“Yeah, okay.” He agreed, more than ready to get out of the bar.

And he had learned just how easy it was to fall asleep after crying for a couple of hours, so it wasn’t hard to fall asleep quickly that night. The next day came with a hangover, mentally and physically. He didn’t even want to move.

Since she had become his big sister, Emily dragged him out of bed, and they went to the BAU.

Of all the things he thought might happen that day, a call from Bennett’s kindergarten was pretty far down the list. He had his satchel packed up within a couple of minutes, and he was in Emily’s office within three minutes.

“I need to go.” He said, satchel over his shoulder as he held onto the door frame and leaned in. She raised her eyebrows and waited for an explanation, hoping he hadn’t made a spur-of-the-moment decision to confess his love to his wife. “Bennett is sick at kindergarten, and they can’t get ahold of Y/n.”

She nodded in understanding. “Of course, go.”

He left the office without a second thought about the paperwork he had to do, driving to his son’s kindergarten. Bennett looked pale with red cheeks from crying, and there was nothing Spencer hated more than seeing the people he loved hurting.

“Hi, bud,” Spencer said softly, leaning down to scoop the little boy up. “Not feeling too good, huh?” He asked, only getting a reply in the form of Bennett’s head shaking against his shoulder.

Spencer signed him out quickly, carrying him to the car and strapping him into his car seat. He knew there was one other thing he needed to do before sort of kidnapping his child, so he texted Y/n a quick, informal update.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” He asked, looking at the little boy who was frowning.

“My tummy hurts,” Bennett mumbled.

One thing Spencer thought he’d hate about having children was their sickness, but he had never cared about the spit-ups and diaper blowouts. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Mommy made oatmeal, but I was too sick to eat my cookies at snack.” He complained.

It occurred to Spencer then that he had no idea what food was at their house. “Why don’t we go to the store and get some bananas, pretzels, and ginger ale?” He offered.

“Some jello?” Bennett asked hopefully.

There wasn’t much in the world Spencer wouldn’t do to see him smile and the tiny ghost of a smile flickering across his son’s face made him feel a little better. “Of course.” He agreed, reaching behind his chair to grab Bennett’s foot and make him smile slightly.

“There is something else I have to tell you, daddy...”

The trip to the mall was quick because Spencer didn’t want Bennett throwing up all over everything, and they were back at home. It felt, to Spencer, like stepping back into a time machine. Eight years of love were built into the walls, and all the photo frames prompted little memories back into his head. It was hard to feel out of place when everything looked like it did when he left the first time and after they had sex. Even the drawings on the fridge were the same.

He carried Bennett through the house, leaving both their shoes at the door, and lay him down on the couch facing the TV where he could be seen from the kitchen. “Wanna pick a movie, bubba?”

Bennett frowned at the nickname but nodded anyway. “Cars, please.”

“Sure.” Spencer agreed, grabbing the remote and rubbing the little boy’s back to comfort him while he tried to figure out how to work it.

“It’s the middle one,” Bennett spoke up when he realized Spencer wasn’t getting it.

He finally got it, and the movie began playing. “My smart boy.” With a kiss on his forehead, Spencer got up from the couch, finding a bucket in case Bennett was sick before unpacking the food he’d gotten in the kitchen. Then he made a special platter of bananas, pretzels, toast and jello, and ginger ale, Gatorade, and water to drink.

Like it was the normal thing to do, Spencer started tidying the house, putting the coloring pens Wren must have left on the table away and doing the breakfast dishes.

He loved how domestic it felt, looking after his sick child while cleaning their house, and he liked having nothing more to do than be there. Maybe, more than any other feelings, being home was his favorite. And it wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time.

Bennett fell asleep halfway through the movie, brown curls splayed out against the pillow. He stretched out longer than Spencer thought he used to. All three of them seemed to be growing faster and faster each day, and he couldn’t do anything but wish he would be there to see it. Bennett’s nose was the only one of the three that mirrored Y/n’s, and Spencer traced his finger lightly over it while he slept peacefully.

The front door slammed a little while after he started the second movie just so he’d have something to keep his mind off how weird it was to be there. “Fuck!” Y/n cursed, ungracefully tripping over Maddie’s ballet flats.

She couldn’t go a day without something dramatic happening in her life, and apparently, she couldn’t go a day without seeing Spencer. When her meeting ended, she was on edge as soon as her PA told her that there were voicemails left from Bennett’s kindergarten. Then she found out he was sick, which always upset her because it meant he was in pain. The nail in the coffin came as a text message from Spencer, who was looking after Bennett. Usually, it would be nothing but relief that she felt, but it made her uneasy now. But being with her sick child would always outweigh having to see Spencer, or anyone for that matter, so she went home almost as soon as she got out of her meeting.

“Is he okay?” She asked frantically, walking into the living room. She crouched in front of the couch, holding the back of her palm to his forehead. Her ignoring Spencer went further than concern for her child.

“Yeah,” Spencer answered, still stunned to see her, and to be so close to her. This was not how he thought it would go, and it was not going well. He cleared his throat, continuing to fill the awkward silence. “H-he, uh, said he had a stomach ache, but he’s eaten and slept.”

When she finally looked up at him, he couldn’t do anything but stare back blankly and admire her like it would be the last time he saw her. It might be, he figured, without lawyers at least.

She knew she had to say it, even if she didn’t want to. “Thank you.” It wasn’t just for looking after his own child. It was for the living room and kitchen and their remarkable cleanliness.

“It’s okay.” He replied, not mentioning how much he loved and would do anything for them. He also omitted how much he enjoyed being home and how he’d do anything to come home.

“I, uh, need to go get the girls.” She told him, hoping he’d had enough people training to read between the lines.

It took him far too long to snap out of the trance he was in each time she looked at him. He knew what she meant, though, and it would be much easier for all of them, for varying reasons, if Spencer wasn’t there when Maddie and Wren got back. He wasn’t about to push his luck by arguing with her.

“Y-yeah, sure, I’ll carry him out.” He said, standing up as she did and reaching down to pick the little boy up.

Bennett missed the awkward silence and tension-filled atmosphere until they got out to the car, and he woke up. “No, daddy!” He cried when Spencer moved to put him in his car seat.

“Hey, hey, mom’s here.” He soothed him. “You feeling okay?”

“Don’t leave!” He screamed harder, cheeks already wet as he tightened his legs around Spencer’s waist.

Spencer rubbed his back. “You gotta go with mom and pick up your sisters.” He told him.

“Daddy, please,” Bennett begged. Spencer tried to make himself believe that the little boy was just overtired and feeling sick, not that he hated him. His heart was broken for the umpteenth time.

Spencer managed to wrestle him into his car seat, but it took everything in him not to turn around and beg Y/n to let him stay.

“Promise I’ll come back,” Spencer assured him, trying to wipe up his tears and kiss him goodbye.

“No!” Bennett kicked his feet against the chair. “You never come home. You don’t love me.”

That would be hard not to think about at night, and Spencer was unsure about how he managed not to break down hearing that. He knew that past-him wouldn’t have felt so numb to it.

Behind them and witnessing everything, Y/n was tearful also. She immediately knew she’d made a mistake hearing Spencer’s hoarse voice. Spencer was hurting her, but she was hurting them. Bennett begging him not to leave was proof of that.

“I promise I do, so much. I’ll come to see you as soon as I get back from work.” Spencer assured him, but nothing was helping calm the child.

The guilt sunk even deeper at Spencer taking the fall for his being away. Bennett might not remember this moment when he was older, but eventually, all three of them would start being able to recall the lies of times Spencer told them he needed to work and he would be the bad guy.

“I love you, okay?” Spencer repeated to the crying little boy. “Please be good for your mom.” He couldn’t take anymore. It was why he shut the door, took a deep breath, and turned around to look at her. “Sorry, I didn’t think he’d cry.”

“I can do this alone, you know?” Y/n asked, her upset and guilt coming out as bitterness.

He knew her well enough to know what she needed, and this time, oddly, it was comfort. And he could do that, even if he was feeling bad and could really do with some reassurance. “You have been since Maddie was born.”

For the slightest time, Spencer swore she shook her head, but he knew he could be a little delusional. Y/n stood in front of him, trying to find something to say, and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

Mutually and silently, they agreed that it was easier to walk away without saying anything.

But Spencer couldn’t let her go again. “Hey, uh, when you-” He stopped, clearing his throat. “If you want to talk, I can explain it.” Those were the exact words he was trying to avoid. Words that really did make him seem like a cheater.

She looked at him dead on because of all the things she didn’t know, she knew she could read his eyes and... he was telling the truth. And fucking complicating everything.

The hope in his increased exponentially when she nodded slightly, and it filled him with something lighter than air. Maybe he really could fix things.

The phone call from Bennett’s school was far more expected than a call from Y/n that night, but his phone really was ringing, and he was so shocked he had to confirm it with Emily.

Emily left him with wise words of advice, “If you fuck her, I’ll cut your dick off.”

It was past 9 when he got there when the kids would be asleep, and he took a deep breath before unlocking the door and walking in. Was it the right thing to do? He wasn’t sure, but he proceeded through the house to find his wife- technically- on the couch.

Children were the best conversation starters, he’d learned. Even better than dogs. Although he never thought he would be using the tactic that he used on strangers at Wren’s friend’s birthday parties on his wife, yet here he was.

“How is he?” He asked, trying to relieve the strain they were both feeling by sitting on the couch.

“Good, ate like two servings of spaghetti.” She reported back to him. He nodded slightly, and any words he had got stuck in his throat. She seemed to be having the same problem, so she threw a Hail Mary. “Tell me something, Spence.”

Maybe it was the nickname or just sitting in the living room like they used to, but he blurted it out before he could help himself. “You’re so beautiful.” He wanted to bang his head against a brick wall at the obvious overstep. “Fuck, sorry.”

Y/n was blushing, and he could see it, but it might have been out of secondhand embarrassment for his misstep. She didn’t say anything to the comment, but she was happy. She couldn’t help it.

“Did you have something to do with this?” She wondered, holding up her wrist so he could see the brand-new, diamond tennis bracelet. It was too nice for a nearly 6-year-old to have mysteriously gotten.

“Sorry.” He apologized again. Where was that brick wall that he needed? “Bennett said you lost a bracelet, and he was really upset about it. I just hate seeing him sad...” and thinking about you being sad, he didn’t add.

She chuckled humorlessly, crossing her arms defensively. “Just wanted to make sure Bennett didn’t steal it from your girlfriend.”

Oh so she did want to address the massive elephant in the room.

“I promise I can explain that.” He assured her. Instead of making a comment, she sat there waiting for his explanation. “She’s writing a dissertation on language development in children. I had a class, so I left her with Lily. I promise Wren was safe. The campus has, like, a million cameras, and she’s a good kid. I would never cheat on you, Y/n, I swear.” He talked too much, and it made him look guilty. He knew that, and he wished he’d been more succinct. She just sat there stunned. “Jesus, you really thought I did.”

“Do you blame me?” She wondered blankly, blocking out the tears.

“There’s no one that could ever make me disloyal to you.” He told her more firmly than he wanted to.

Yes, he was telling the truth, and yes, she had jumped to some bad conclusion that had even worse effects. She was only feeling more and more guilty about it, overwhelming, all-consuming guilt.

When he looked up again, she was crying. It was too sweet for her not to be in tears. “Please don’t cry.” He begged. “I hate it when you cry.”

She tried to wipe the tears up with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. He’d only feel like that if he still had feelings for her. “I hate it when Bennett cries.” She added.

"Me too.” He agreed.

She knew it must have, and she couldn’t imagine any one of them saying she didn’t love him. “He knows, though.”

Spencer just wished she knew. “I’m sorry you had to find that out from Wren.”

“We should talk about that, though.” She redirected the conversation, still holding eye contact. He didn’t anticipate what was about to happen to sting so much. “What we’re going to do when we get a boyfriend or girlfriend.”

It took him a moment to figure out what she was saying, and then he was the one with thick tears rolling down his cheeks.

He couldn’t stand the fact she might one day be with someone else. It wasn’t a fair objection, so he didn’t voice it, but he knew they were meant to be together with everything in him.

They were meant to be together in every universe. They were soulmates, something he didn’t believe in until he met her.

What he didn’t believe in was having more than one soulmate. Y/n was it for him. He would never be able to love anyone the way he loved her. He didn’t even want to think about trying to.

“We’re not getting back together?” He whimpered out, like a puppy dog that had been left outside.

She paused before speaking. “I need time.”

Time.

Spencer could do that.

Time meant to could win her over and they wouldn’t be divorced within the next month.

He wasn’t going to push his luck too much, so he just reached out to touch her hand. “Not tonight.” He told her. “Take your time, Y/n, but I’m willing to do whatever I need to get this family back.”

Then he was gone, standing up before either of them could say anything further and make a mess of it all. “Good night, Spence.” She waved softly.

“Can I?” He asked, pointing his finger up and motioning to the floor where their kids were sleeping. “Kiss them goodnight.”

“Of course.” She agreed, although her heart was urging her to ask him to kiss her.

Spencer made his way upstairs, pushing open Wren’s door first and arranging her teddy bears differently so she’d still believe in magic for another day, then Bennett’s where he left an ‘I love you’ note for the little boy, and finally Laine’s.

The torch flashed off quickly, and he knew exactly what that meant from his years of staying up late and reading. “Hi, Laine.” He whispered, trying not to trip in the room only illuminated by the hallway light.

“Sorry.” She apologized quickly, shutting the book and smiling up at him. She knew it always worked with him.

“It’s okay.” He assured her. “You do need to rest your brain, though, sweetheart. I just wanted to come to give you a goodnight kiss.” He leaned down to do so, pushing her hair out of the way so he could kiss her forehead.

“Is mommy better now?” She wondered innocently.

Spencer frowned, concerned about what she meant, and sat down on her bed next to her. “What do you mean, sweet baby?”

“She just cries a lot,” Laine said nonchalantly. Of course, she knew it was wrong for her mom to be crying a lot, but figured it was adult business. “But she hasn’t cried since she got her bracelet.”

That thought made Spencer smile. Wider than he’d smiled in a long time. “I think it’s a magic bracelet.”

“Good.” Laine agreed although she insisted she was too old to believe in magic. Spencer was set to prove her wrong, even if she’d never know it, he was about to perform a miracle. “I want her to be happy.”

He nodded at that. “Me too.” Even on their worst days, he wanted her to be happy, and he’d sacrifice it over his happiness any day.

“Are you coming to Bennie’s party?” She asked, changing the conversation as kids tend to do.

“Hmm, when is that?” He wondered jokingly. She laughed a little at him, shaking her head because of his silliness. He couldn’t exactly forget his son’s birthday was in a few days. “Of course, and we’re going to eat lots of cake.”

“And there’s going to be a bounce house.” She promised, excitement lighting up in her eyes.

Spencer nodded before kissing her forehead again. “You need to dream of it though, Lainey, because otherwise, you’ll be tired for school tomorrow.” He warned, standing up and walking away with a little wave before he shut her bedroom door.

He didn’t say goodbye when he left, knowing Y/n would be so deep in thought she wouldn’t hear it. Plus, maybe it was easier to leave quietly. He just hoped it would be the last time he would leave at all.

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