#sibling boding

[1ris5starlight]

Siblings boding! Siblings boding!! Siblings boding!!!

(1:08) Oh! So you're watching Monk?

(1:48) Yeah!

(1:52) Well, why not than? It would be really nice!

(2:20) I watch Law in order too!

(5:42) *laugh softly*

(6:04) mhm...

(6:21) 🤭 (I really love Earth try to cheer up Sun!🤭💞)

(8:24) God, I love them so much!❤❤❤

(9:51) ...Sun? You sure you don't wanna talk about it..?

(9:52-10:51) 😭❤

(11:17-14:39) the cat is out of the box.. (they made some good points there and I agree with them!)

(13:28) 😭❤😭❤😭❤❤💞😭

(15:48) Yeah..!

(18:34) AWWWWWW!!!!!! MY HEART IS MELTING DOWN!!!!❤💞❤💞❤💞❤💞

This was a wonderful siblings boding time!!!

But yeah, Solar and Earth are right about the stuff they said...

I hope they both talk to Moon and Lunar about this..

[markantonys]

perrin: there was a battle in the two rivers

mat: oh my god! are my sisters okay?

perrin: yeah they were out there throwing fireballs at whitecloaks

mat:

[variouspolltournaments]

Anti-Propaganda is not allowed. Please only give reasons to vote for something and not give reasons to vote against something.

[necrotic-nephilim]

It's sladin week, what are your thoughts on Maps and Slade? Or Carrie or Stephanie?

hi! i have GREAT news for you in that not only am i doing SladeRobin week BUT: i'm doing a day for both Steph and Carrie!! today's fic (which'll be posted in a couple hours) is a SladeSteph fic and in a couple days, I'll post a SladeCarrie. i love both of these ships a lot, i absolutely adore how Slade could be into either of them for different reasons, and how they could contrast him. Steph is someone who's argumentative and fights back against authority and i think Slade would respect that. i love the idea of Slade wanting to take in Steph because he feels like her potential is being wasted by Bruce ignoring and dismissing her.

and for Carrie, i just love Carrie. something about Carrie's sass, but her still following Bruce like a good soldier slots so well against Slade and how she'd react to him depending on how they met. since Slade isn't in the Dark Knight Returns universe, it's a free sandbox to work him in and see how he'd react. i think their banter could be delightful, and i think they fit well into the whole grumpy x sunshine trope, except the sunshine is a little shit who just decided she was Robin and somehow, that worked out for her. i think it'd give Slade a fun "someone really needs to put this kid in her place" complex about her.

as for Maps, i have to be honest that Maps is too new of a character for me to know much about! the only comics i've read where she appeared significantly are Robin War and Batgirls (2022). so i don't know if i could say much about her and Slade as a ship, just bc she's so outside of my wheelhouse, but i do *definitely* see the vision. she has that sort of "untouched by the Horrors yet" vibe to her and to ship her with someone like Slade, who honestly *is* the Horrors atp, makes for a *very* fun contrast. i could totally see them fitting together and like, corruption kink vibes, i absolutely see your vision anon.

[oncearebelalwaysarebelsblog]

**Lothal’s Twilight**

The dusk on Lothal was something to behold—soft hues of lavender and amber spilling over the endless plains. The Force hummed here, like a quiet heartbeat under the surface of the land. I could feel it in every breeze, every whisper of the grass swaying against the dying light. It was alive. And it welcomed me, as it always did.

Ezra Bridger stood just ahead, his silhouette framed by the glow of the setting sun. His energy shifted like waves in an ocean—restless yet resolute. It reminded me of someone I used to know. Someone I once stood beside during sunsets like this. My heart pulled at the memory, but I released it into the Force as I'd learned to do.

Ezra turned, catching me watching him. “You always get that look,” he said, his voice breaking the stillness. A grin teased the edge of his words, but there was curiosity behind it. “Like you’re somewhere else.”

I smiled softly. He wasn’t wrong. “The Force connects us to everything, Ezra. To what is, what was, and what could be. Sometimes… sometimes it feels like everything is speaking all at once.”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. I could see the gears turning in his mind. Ezra, ever the questioner, ever seeking answers.

“You mean like… it shows you memories? Of people? Places?” he asked, stepping closer. His steps were deliberate, but hesitant, as if he was approaching something fragile.

“Not memories, exactly,” I explained, meeting his gaze. “It’s more like impressions. Echoes that ripple through time. The Force is infinite, but it’s patient—it whispers rather than shouts.”

Ezra chuckled at that. “Yeah, well, mine likes to shout sometimes.”

I laughed—a real laugh—and it surprised me. It felt lighter than it had in years. “That’s because you haven’t learned to listen properly yet,” I teased gently. “When you quiet your mind, Ezra, the Force speaks more clearly.”

He frowned, not in disagreement but in thought. That was Ezra—a mind never fully still, a heart always questioning. I envied his fire, but I also wanted to guide it, to ensure it burned without consuming him.

“So,” he began, hesitating, “do you think… the Force has a plan for me? For all of us?”

Ah, the age-old question. The one I had asked myself countless times over the years, through battles and losses, through hope and heartbreak.

“The Force doesn’t impose a plan,” I said carefully. “It offers paths, choices. It’s up to us to decide how we walk them.”

Ezra looked away, toward the horizon. The sun dipped lower, its light brushing against his face. “Sometimes… it feels like I’ve messed up so many times that the Force wouldn’t even want me to walk any path.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The Force isn’t about perfection, Ezra. It’s about growth. Every stumble, every mistake—that’s a lesson. And every lesson makes you stronger.”

He turned back to me, and I saw it—the spark I knew he had within him. The spark that reminded me of someone else. Someone I loved, someone I lost.

“Thanks, Ahsoka,” he said quietly. “I think… I needed to hear that.”

I smiled, though my heart ached. “We all do, Ezra. Sometimes we just need a reminder that the Force walks with us. Always.”

The wind danced between us, carrying my words away to the far edges of Lothal. And for a moment, everything felt still. The Force whispered, but it did not shout. And it told me: this was enough.

[aturnoftheearth]

one thing about my family is we’re gonna have a blow out knock down drag out fight before we go on the best vacation of our lives

[neo-shitty]

my bf bought us a copy of keep talking and nobody explodes and this could either end in divorce or the best date night ever.

[thevoidstaredback]

Okay, so maybe giving his calling card to a kid was a bad idea. He sees that now. Unfortunately, it's too late to take it back. On the bright side, the kid wasn't going to be able to figure out who he is yet based solely on a summoning circle. In the pitch black void of things, Danny can sense the card and the person who's holding it.

Maybe if he leaves Fawcett fast enough he can keep plausible deniability because there's no way that the tiny homeless kid he just met is Captain Marvel. Nope, no way. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He's leaving now.

"What happened to you?" Deadman had an insufferable grin on his face. Did he have the House drop him in Gotham? Danny wouldn't put it past him.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Where ya going?"

"To the basement."

"Why?"

Was the other ghost always this annoying? "Because leaving was a terrible idea. I'm going to go hide in the basement until the day I fully die."

"Aw," Deadman tried to pout, but he failed and started to cackle. "Don't be like that. Did you not enjoy your trip to Gotham?"

Danny was a lot of things. Violent usually didn't make it onto that list. However, he was willing to make an assumption. "So it was your fault."

Another cackle. "Don't be like that! You've never been to Gotham before. You can't tell me you at least didn't have fun."

They were at the basement stairs now. "For your information, I have been to Gotham. I didn't get to do much exploring this time because Batman and his gaggle of sidekicks surrounded me!"

"You've been to Gotham?"

"Not important."

"Oh?" The glee on the full ghost's face made Danny uneasy. "I sense a story behind that."

Oh, no. "No. I'm not telling you." He marched past and down the stairs, not bothering to unlock or open the door.

"Please!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said 'no'."

"Party pooper." he huffed. "You know I'm just going to keep asking, right?"

A sigh. "I'm not gonna cave. No."

"Ah, but you will!" That was the confidence of a ghost who knew he was right. Danny did not like how that bodes for him. "You, my friend, are a younger sibling. I am also a younger sibling."

Shit. "That....That means nothing. My answer will stay 'no'."

Deadman had the gall to chuckle darkly. "We'll see." Then, he disappeared.

Danny didn't sigh because he doesn't need to breathe. He was not going to tell what happened because what happens in Gotham stays in Gotham. It's a rule of thumb that people don't cross. Besides, Deadman doesn't know that Danny's actually the middle sibling. Dani, introduced to his parents soon after he'd told them he was a Halfa, was the embodiment of younger sibling because he had once been the embodiment of younger sibling.

***

"Please get Deadman to stop!" Danny begged Zatanna three weeks later. Maybe he'd overestimated himself a little bit.

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow as she looked up from the book she'd been reading. Something on runes? "What's he doing this time?"

"He won't stop asking me to tell him about my first trip to Gotham."

"You've been to Gotham?"

Danny groaned into the throw pillow he was clutching. "Yes. Please make him stop!"

"Sorry, hun," she focused back on her book, "But I can't see him."

"Oh. I forgot about that."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

Danny shot up, appalled by the very idea. "It's a matter of principle!" he exclaimed, "I am both the older and younger sibling: The middle child. If I give in, I'll have failed! I can't do that. Do you want me to fail?!"

"Okay, okay, geez!" she surrendered, "Don't gotta be so overdramatic about it."

"I'm not being overdramatic! I'm being just dramatic enough!"

"Sure, sure. Whatever you say, kid."

"I'm not a kid!"

"You look like one."

"Yeah, but I'm not! I'm-"

"King of the Infinite Realms," Constantine interrupted, "We know."

"Then don't call me a kid."

"Yeah, yeah, kid,"

"I'm not-!"

"Look, we can have this argument all day and we'll still end in a tie. I've got a case in San Francisco near Titan's Tower. Raven's coming along. Do you want to come with?"

"Don't you normally work solo?" Danny asked. Zatanna still hadn't looked back up from her book and he was pretty sure she'd tuned them out.

"Is that a 'no'?"

"No! No, I'll come with." Maybe having Constantine with him will deter the JL from hounding him. What do they even want with him? If they're upset that he died at fourteen, he's gonna scream.

The Brit smirked. "You sound almost desperate to get out."

"Shut up and let's go."

"Alright, alright."

Part 3 Part 5

Tag List: @zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders

[1ris5starlight]

No. NO. GUYS. THIS- I CAN'T- I'M CRYING- THIS WAS SO EMOTIONAL, CUTE, SAD AND WHOLESOME!!!! 😭❤😭❤❤❤🎄🎅

Especially Jack's letter and gift to Solar (that made me cry so much-) and Moon's gift to Sun!!!

(Moon gave Sun adoption paper for Dazzle!!! That was soooo sweet of them!!! ❤💞

I can't wait to see the moment where Sun adopts Dazzle!)

Anyways, have a happy holiday!!❤🎄🎁🎊⭐

[greatestexpectationss]

Cherry Lip Gloss- Luke Castellan

Luke Castellan x Fem!Aphrodite Reader

You don’t feel like a daughter of Aphrodite today. Your hair won’t cooperate with you, it feels like none of your clothes fit right, and you’d somehow lost your favorite cherry lip gloss and had to borrow your sisters which tasted distinctly nonfruity, some vanilla something that left way too much of a taste in your mouth.

You just don’t feel like you. There's some sort of despair deep in your bones, you ignore the cause of it and trudge through the day in a haze, by them time you make it to lunch all you want to do is go back to bed and pray to the gods tomorrow is better.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Silena, your sister, asks you from her seat at lunch beside you. The rest of your siblings, true children of Aphrodite, turn their eyes and ears to listen in. Across from you and Silena is Drew, whose perfectly plucked brows furrow, “You haven’t touched your cherries,”

“You love cherries,” Jake, your brother, chimes in.

“I’m fine,” you tell them, forcing a smile. You pop a cherry in your mouth, “See?”

“No you’re not, you’ve been off all day,” Drew retorts, arms crossing as she turns to look at you. “Is this about that fight you had with Luke?”

Under the table Silena kicks her, and above it Jake elbows her.

“Drew,” he hisses, gesturing toward the rest of your siblings who all promptly turn back to their meals. 

“Sorry, but are we not gonna talk about it, seriously?”

You, in fact, weren’t gonna talk about it. Luke had been your best friend for most of your time at Camp Half-Blood, you’d met him in the Hermes Cabin before your mother had claimed you. You’d only stayed there for 3 days, but by the time you were headed to Cabin 10 and away from him, Luke was already ready to help you carry your stuff and remind you if you needed anything he was still right next door. 

You hadn’t really needed anything,. It was no shock to anyone you were Aphrodite's daughter, with your pretty smile and long shiny (y/h/c) hair. You had always had this way about you, something that lay between perfection and humanity. Confidence radiated off of you in waves, and you always smelt of fruit and cherry lipgloss.

You were fine on your own, perfectly capable of making your own life and friends for yourself in camp.

But Luke was charming, and maybe a little persistent. When you struggled to find a weapon you could actually wield, he knew your siblings would be no help, he’d approached you with two daggers in hand and told you to follow him. You were good with daggers but with Luke’s help, you were a damn force to be reckoned with. From there your friendship had blossomed and as you’d both grown up something more bubbled beneath the surface. A sort of "Will they?Might they?"

You never did, but you desperately wanted to. 

At least you did, before your fight

A few days ago, Luke had been pretty worked up about Capture the Flag. Normally, you liked him like this, all argumentative and technical, jaw and fists clenched. Mainly because you're never on the receiving end and also because a small part of you prides yourself on the ability to calm him down afterward. He's always soft with you, but when he confides in you, truly, you think he’s the best person you’ve ever met.

But this time he’s just pissing you off.

Luke, Annabeth, and a few other children of Athena worked tirelessly on a strategy for your team to beat Ares. Ares was on a winning streak and it was putting damage in all of your egos. Annabeth’s idea to put you in front of the flag had bode well with the rest of the group, everyone always underestimates you as a daughter of Aphrodite. You'd told Luke how much this irks you, in quiet moments alone, there's this stereotype, a mold Aphrodite kids are "supposed" to fit into, and you don't fit it, you just wish other people would realize it too.

Maybe that's why when Luke didn’t like the idea, when he openly protested it, it stung so much. When he Annabeth that putting you, a child of Aphrodite (he didn’t say it in so many words but still) as the last line of defense for the flag was "fatal strategic error" you'd blinked at him. Luke had talked Annabeth out of it or at least talked her into him and Chris waiting behind the tree line out of site “just in case”. 

After the meeting when it was just you and Luke, you’d fought, or more so Luke had tried to explain while you yelled at him.

“C’mon Y/N, this isn’t personal,” he’d told you after you’d ignored him the 3 minutes it took to get back to your respective cabins, he halted you in front of the Aphrodite cabin, coming to stand in front of you and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “leaving you there by yourself wasn’t a good idea, what if you needed back up?”

You’d slapped his hand away from your face. 

“No but if Annabeth had wanted to leave you there, or herself there it wouldn’t have been a doubt in your mind you’d both be fine right?” He says nothing but you know what he’s thinking, and you scoff in disbelief. 

“Don’t be like that,” Luke begged, eyes sad and soft, you almost wanted to cave when he lowered his voice and stepped closer to you, “Will you just let me explain?”

You take a step back, “What? You wanna explain that because I’m in Aphrodite I’m somehow less than you and Annabeth? Like I can’t look like this,” you gesture to your black mini skirt, camp half-blood tee, altered to be shorter and tighter, and your dainty jewelry, “and kick your ass at the same time?”

“I’m not saying–”

“Just forget it, Luke,” you’d said bitterly, “you know for the record I’m used to everyone treating me like some dizzy Aphrodite kid without a clue, I just never thought you’d be the one doing it.”

And then in the greatest storm off in Camp Half-Blood history you’d bumped his shoulder, stomped up the steps of your cabin, and slammed the door right in his cute puppy dog face. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you told your siblings. Silena scoffs while Drew and Jake roll their eyes. “Y/N, you haven’t talked to him in almost a week.”

You pop another cherry in your mouth, “Look its fine, I’m fine, everything is fine, I’m just tired and this morning was rough”

They share an unconvinced look. “You know he keeps asking about you,” Jake tells you after a moment of silence, “I think he’s worried about losing you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you say bitterly, you take your fork and stab it into your salad.

“Hmm, I don’t know because he’s totally in love with you??” Drew deadpans, she’s kicked and nudged again. She throws her hands up in the air and sighs loudly before she grabs her trey and stands up. “Look Y/N I love you, and if you want us to totally ignore your problems we will, again because we love you. But we just want you to be happy, and I think for the most part Castellan makes you happy.”

She smiles and then leaves. Jake stands too, “Plus he’s super hot, you are not gonna find better arm candy in this camp. Trust me I’ve looked.”

That draws a laugh out of you, “I’ll keep that in mind Jake, thanks.”

Silena goes to stand up too, “Are you gonna come to archery practice today? I heard Lee and the Apollo kids are gonna show off, might be kind of cool.”

“You go ahead I think maybe I just don’t feel well,” she looks unsure, and double-checks again. You just wave her off, tell her to have fun before retreating to your cabin.

You don’t feel well, you repeated, you must be coming down with a cold, your feeling of despair and lessthanness has nothing to do with Luke, with missing him, with wanting him.

You curl up in your empty cabin, in your bunk. Your siblings call it your nook, a bunk in the corner of the cabin, the top unclaimed, but the bottom bunk is yours. It's covered in pretty floral sheets, a fuzzy blanket, and a fluffy pillow. You had hung up (or had Luke hang them up for you) a long curtain rod across the bed frame with light pink curtains, the inside of your bunk lined with pretty fairy lights. Usually, your nook is comforting, today it just makes you miss your best friend. 

The door to the Aphrodite Cabin opens and closes, you close your eyes, hoping desperately to fall asleep, and that whichever sibling walked in doesn’t realize you’re hiding in here. 

A shadow appears outside your curtains, you internally groan and bury your face deeper in your pillow,

“Y/N?” the voice asks, you recognize it right away. You think you’d know him anywhere. It’s Luke, you let him peek into your curtain, and he gives you a small smile.

“Hey,” he says. His curly hair looks stupidly good, in a way that makes you wanna run your fingers through it. It's unfair really.

“Hi.”

“You okay?”

“M’fine,” you try to say voice muffle by the pillow, his smile grows. 

“Mind if I come in?” You hesitate, you’re still reeling from his rejection of the idea that you could be of value as the last line of defense for the flag like you're some damsel that needs him to rescue her. Your ego isn’t the only thing that's wounded though. Luke hurt your feelings, all this time you thought he was the only person who saw you, all of you, and loved you for it and despite it. Never in a million years would you have imagined that your one episode of self-loathing would be triggered by his words. But, still, you miss him, and you're sad, so against your better judgment, you mutter a quiet sure and scoot over. 

He crawls in with you and lays down on his back beside you, side by side the two of you stare up at your twinkle lights. 

“You’ve kind of got it made in here don’t you?” he asks in order to break the terribly awkward silence. You mumble a quite yeah, and then you’re both silent again. It’s incredibly painful. You turn your head to look at him, and find he’s already staring at you. 

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” he replies. He reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, you savor the feeling of his touch, leaning into his hand. He smiles at you something sweet and sad all at once.

“I miss you,” Luke tells you, “and I’m sorry.”

“Luke–” he turns all the way to face you on his side, you follow suit even when he cuts you off.

“Just listen okay?” he pleads. 

You nod once. 

“I was worried about you,” he starts running a tired hand through his hair, your brows furrow in confusion, you open your mouth to protest, but he puts a finger to your lips, “You promised you’d listen remember?” 

You glare at him but relent as he pulls his finger away from your lips and down your arm. “Peter from Ares, all week had been talking about how he’s leading the charge for our flag, and how he couldn’t wait to get his hand on the pretty Aphrodite girl who always takes all the cherries,” it doesn’t take a genius to realize that Peter had been talking about you. He’d flirted up a wild storm with you a few weeks prior and you’d turned him down, Peter, a true Ares kid at heart, didn’t take it well. “I didn’t want you out there all alone if he came looking for you and actually found you.”

Luke’s always had a hero complex, the desire to prove himself worthy of being called a hero, no matter the cost, the pink scar on his face is a testament to that. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so fucking sweet. “I can take care of myself, Luke.”

“I know that,” he says earnestly, and you think he means it. Luke reaches for your hands and holds both of them close to his chest, he brings one to his lips and kisses your wrist. “The thing is you don’t have to. And I guess I just wanted to protect you and I went about it all wrong, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him and before you know it Luke is pulling you to his chest hugging you and kissing the top of your head. “I know you can take care of yourself, and I know you could kick anyones ass and look gorgeous doing it, you always do.” Another kiss to your head, before you’re looking up at him grinning. 

“You think I’m gorgeous?” you can’t help teasing him. Your self consciousness is melting away under his gaze, how can it not when he’s looking at you like you hung the damn moon?

This is that something else that bubbles under the surface of your friendship.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs, moving his arm from your waist to place a hand on your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, “Look at you, of course I do.”

“Even when I’m mad at you?” You tilt your face upwards and closer to his

Luke grins, “I don’t know are you still mad at me?” You smile right back, bringing one of your hands between your faces, and pinch your index finger and thumb together only a tiny sliver of space between them. Luke knows you’re kidding by the glint in your eyes.

“Well then especially when you’re mad at me.”

You laugh and it does something funny to Luke’s chest. He looks at your lips, and the air changes. 

“Luke?”

“Yeah?” 

“Would you really have protected me if I needed it? From Paul?” you ask quietly, eyes darting to his lips drawn between his teeth. 

“From anything,” Luke swears, thumb still caressing your cheek, you want him closer, you need him closer. You could just reach up and kiss him but first you have to know, you have to make sure.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

And then he’s kissing you, like you’ve never been kissed before. You let out a squeak of surprise by the sudden pull at the back of your neck, toward him, then he’s shifting you on your back and hovering over you all the while never breaking your lips apart. 

You’re glad for that, when he slips his tongue in your mouth, you think you’d die if he stopped kissing you. You reach one perfectly manicured hand at the base of his neck and thread your fingers through the shorter strands, Luke lets out a little groan, and you grin into your kiss. Your grin is cut short by his hand on the skin of your waist where your shirt had ridden up, he caresses it there and you absolutely melt. 

This is it, you think, no one else will ever be able to kiss me again, you know you’re completely and totally screwed before you even pull away to catch your breath. 

“You taste like vanilla,” Luke says, grinning at you with the sheen of borrowed lip gloss on his lips, he brings his thumb up to wipe the reminisce of the lip gloss off of yours, “I thought you use cherry.”

“I do,” you pout, reaching up to wipe his lips the way he did yours, he kisses the inside of your lips, “I lost mine.”

Luke reaches into his shorts, and appears with not one but two new, not yet opened, cherry lipglosses, her grins as you sit up and greedily grab them from him, “I brought them as a peace offering, you know in case you didn’t want to make out.”

You laugh before pulling the little handheld mirror off the window ledge next to your bed, you apply it and already you feel more like yourself. 

You fling yourself back on top of Luke and cling to him like a Koala.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. He laughs, and you can feel it in your cheek.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

You kiss him again, and this time when you pull away, it's your lips gloss that smeared on his mouth. You think you like him best like this, shiny swollen lips, tousled hair, and grinning.

[lilsciencequeen]

Peak Sibling behaviour:

Bode and Eldrin making fun of their big brother the moment they find out he blew the horn

[o0sleepingdead0o]

The King and the Assassin

Damian blearily blinked at the stone that tilted and shifted beneath his body, spattered with his blood and leaking out towards the edges of the summoning circle. He had been hit in the head. It throbbed. He was dizzy, even laying on his side on the floor and not moving. His limbs had been bound and he couldn’t raise his hands to hold his head until it stopped spinning. Or, and probably more practically, staunch the bleeding in his stomach. His grandfather chanted some language Damian didn’t know, which was impressive. Damian knew many languages.

Ra’s volume grew and the circle burst into a wall of green flames and glinted eerily on Damian’s blood in the cave's dim lighting. 

Damian’s heart should be faster. He was frightened. Frightened what his grandfather would do with whatever came through the summoning circle, frightened of death, though he’d never admit it, and he was bleeding out. He’d lost so much blood. It was probably better that his heart wasn’t beating faster. 

He was going to die. Would his father refrain from killing Damian’s killer, like he’d refused to kill Todd’s? Damian had known it was a sore spot between the two, and it was quite enraging from this new perspective. Depressing. 

Maybe one of Damian’s siblings would avenge him. Perhaps Grayson.

The flames surged higher and the temperature plummeted. Damian shivered, though that could be the blood loss. His grandfather stopped chanting as deafening cracks like two glaciers ramming into each other boomed and echoed across the cave. Static was slipped into the cacophony between the screeching crashing and just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

The noise was gone, the flames sputtered out, and Ra’s stared in awe at something Damian couldn’t see. Stone pressed into the side of his face and the world was lilted sideways. But he could feel it. The presence of overwhelming power radiating somewhere above him that covered him in goosebumps and took his breath away. The strength was formidable. It was suffocating.

“Really? Another one?” The being’s displeased grumble resonated in the air and layered as if many spoke at once. Damian breathed deeply.

He was going to die soon. There was no point in being scared of whatever this thing was. 

“Your Majesty,” Ra’s started. “I am Ra’s Al Gh—“

“I don’t care.”

His grandfather’s face twitched and his jaw clamped shut with irritation written along the tension in his muscles. 

If Damian were in a better state he might have snorted. No, perhaps he would have just stared as he was doing now. No one interrupted Ra’s, Demon Head of the League of Assassins, and if they did, they wouldn’t live much longer. But his grandfather remained silent in the face of this being.

That did not bode well.

“Who is this?”

Damian’s heart stuttered as feet armoured in sharp, glassy ice, came into his vision. They landed delicately in front of him as if gravity was an option.

Okay, now he was scared again. If Grandfather was wary of this being, Damian didn’t want it’s attention.

Damian was a vigilante, he was an ex-assassin, he’d faced many terrible things, he didn’t get scared. This was ridiculous.

“My grandson. Damian Al Ghul.”

The being crouched down and Damian was met with glowing, green eyes that swept him up and down.

Damian didn't like this at all. He’d feel much better facing this creature’s evaluating gaze, standing, unbound, and uninjured. This sensation was quite unsettling. Damian’s eyes grew hazier by the second and he tried his best to study the being in turn.

It had snow-white hair and pointed ears. It’s tanned face was dashed with freckles and wore black ice for chest armour. White ice, similar to it's boots, protected it's hands. It looked young. No older than Damian himself. Perhaps a year or two younger.

The being hummed and it buzzed not unpleasantly in Damian’s ears. 

“Your Majesty, I have summon—“

“Shut up.” It said absent-mindedly, never straying it’s gaze from Damian. Ra’s begrudgingly did as he was told. Damian caught glimpses of his seething disposition behind the being blocking most of Damian’s view.

Then, the being smiled at him. Rows of sharp teeth were visible behind abnormally long canines and Damian withheld a shudder. He didn’t show fear. The being’s smile was disturbingly sharp, unnaturally wide, Damian’s heartbeat ticked up, but he didn’t show fear. 

“My, my, you’re a pretty one, aren’t you?” It said and Damian blinked. He didn’t. . .he didn’t know how to process that. The being’s hand reached out to brush his hair out of his face, frigid digits brushing lightly against Damian’s skin. “Tell you what.” The being said, his smile a little less wide, but no less haunting and filled with anticipatory intent that Damian didn’t find reassuring at all. “I’ll heal you.” The being’s head tilted. “And in exchange, you give me your hand in marriage.”

Damian short-circuited. His heart paused. His mouth parted. He may have stopped breathing for a moment.

He blinked several times. 

Surely he misheard that.

“. . .What?” He croaked. It took a concerning amount of energy to speak that one word.

“Times a-ticking.” It sang lowly, a knowing smile on it’s face. “You don’t have much longer. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re a ghost or living, but. . .” The being leaned slightly towards where his head tipped to get a better look at Damian’s soon-to-be death wound. “I assume you’d prefer the latter?”

Damian stared up at the being, dumbfounded. Knots of indecipherable emotions sat heavy in his chest as he nodded, mutely. He didn’t know what else to do. His family had no idea where he was or what had happened to him. By the time they figured it out, Damian would be dead. He could feel a darkness creeping into his head and tiring at his eyes. His body felt heavier the longer he laid here and the call to sleep grew stronger and stronger.

He would never wake up.

Or maybe he would become a ghost. That’s what the being said. Was it a ghost? His grandfather had said something about a ghost king, now that he thought about it. Damian had been a little too concussed to pay attention properly.

“Wonderful.” The being drawled with a widening smile that made Damian doubt that this was really a good idea.

From nothing, a rolled up piece of green, slightly glowing paper, manifested in the being’s hand. The ghost let it fall open with a flourish. The being read it aloud.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne,” 

How did this ghost know he was a Wayne?

“In exchange for being fully healed, agrees to wed me, High King Phantom,” He flashed him another toothy smile “And reside in the Infinite Realms in the Royal Keep. Sound good to you?” It—Phantom—said.

Not really, but what else was Damian supposed to do? He had a thought. “Family.” He managed to say with some effort. “Visits.”

The ghost hummed and nodded amicably much to Damian’s relief. If he can see his family and tell them what happened, maybe they can help get him out of this.

Phantom waved his hand and new words appeared on the contract. He cleared his throat. Damian was starting to think he’d die before they got through all this.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, In exchange for being fully healed, agrees to wed High King Phantom and reside in the Royal Keep, with the exception of familial visits to the mortal realm.”

Damian kept his surprise from his face. He’d expected his family would be brought to the Infinite Realms, not the other way around. 

“How ‘bout that?” Phantom smiled down at him.

Damian nodded. Or tried to.

Phantom’s smile got wider. That bad feeling swirled again in Damian’s stomach. 

A feathery pen appeared in Phantom’s free hand and he scrawled his name in flowy letters along the bottom without hesitation. The pen disappeared into thin air. Phantom reached over Damian to slice through his chains easily with a claw.

Damian’s vision was blurring and his movements were sluggish as he pulled his freed hands in front of him. Phantom held out the same pen to him before Damian could even look at his raw wrists, and his shaking hands could hardly grasp it.

“Here. Let me.” Phantom placed the pen between the dying one’s fingers and held his freezing hand over Damian’s. He guided it toward the contract that floated near Damian’s head and touched the pen to paper.

Damian breathed uneasily as green, glowing ink followed the path of the pen, drawing out his name in increasingly alarming reality.

What was Damian doing? This was insane. Was this actually happening?

His heart beat faster, his blood flowed quicker, as the last letter was finished off with a flourish.

The contract glowed brighter and brighter until it disappeared ,conclusively, along with the pen.

Phantom turned to him and held a hand out. The effect was immediate. Damian’s blood ran backwards, dredging back from where it had leaked all over the floor to return to the veins it had been pumped out of. The black threatening to take over Damian’s consciousness slowly dissipated, and his wrists and ankles were healed of the chafing from the shackles. Breathing became easier. His vision grew clearer. His pain was gone. All of it.

Phantom’s hand dropped and Damian pushed himself to sitting, wondrously clenching and unclenching his perfectly functioning hands.

“Better?” Phantom said, standing up. He held a hand out to Damian. The latter eyed it cautiously before flicking his gaze up to the ghost’s face. 

“Yes. . .thank you. . .”

“Don’t mention it.” The being hauled Damian to his feet with a casual strength that seemed to surpass his lean muscle. As if Damian weighed nothing at all. The ghost king was a bit shorter than Damian’s six feet and floated to his eye level. He smiled once again. Was it automatic, or did he realize how off-setting it could be and used it? “It wasn’t a favour, after all.”

Damian’s jaw clenched and he hummed, disgruntledly.

“Awww.” The being laughed disappointedly. “That bad, is it?” He raised a hand to Damian’s face and he jerked back, catching the wrist before he could think better of it, and immediately cursing himself for acting so recklessly. Phantom’s hand went intangible and Damian’s eyes widened imperceptibly as it was pulled through his grasp. “Alright, alright.” Phantom placated, holding up his hands.

“Tt.” Damian clicked his tongue, hiding his relief and how erratically his heart fluttered in his chest.

“Your Majesty, might I have your attention?” Ra’s voice was strained with displeasure and he stood stiffly, restrained retaliation to the blatant slights on his person.

“Oh. Right. The fruitloop. Forgot about you.” The smile fell from Phantom’s face as if it had never been there. His tone dropped all previous easiness—because that is what it had been, seeing the undeniable change—and regarded the Demon Head rather coldly. “The one who decided sacrificing his own grandchild was a good idea.”

Damian glanced to the high king, something easing just a little that the king seemed to have some sort of moral compass. 

His grandfather paused, realizing he had made a terrible mistake and calculating a way out of this. “He was the only one wort—“

“I don’t really care for your excuses.” Phantom spat, his voice gaining more layers and glitching with harsh static that wasn’t there before. The room grew colder and frost leached across the ground from where Phantom floated. It didn’t touch Damian. “I have heard about you, a man pretending at being immortal and killing whoever you pleased. I can smell it on you.” Phantom snarled lowly as he neared the man, making his grandfather pale; a feat Damian has never seen accomplished. “Ectoplasm—the realm’s ectoplasm. You’ve tainted it.”

“I perfected it.” Ra’s said quietly. Stupidly.

Phantom hovered over Damian’s grandfather, a wicked, small smile curving up one side of his face.

“And now they’re gone. Have fun picking out a casket.” Phantom chuckled darkly.

Ra’s had gone deathly still, not daring to attack a being so powerful that could apparently wipe out the Lazarus Pits without even being present to do it. 

The vehemence was utterly gone when Phantom turned and floated over to Damian. “Ready to go?” He held out a hand.

Damian’s muddled, dumbfounded attention was on Phantom’s opposite hand casually trailing downwards and ripping open a green, swirling portal. The colour was similar to the pits. But. . .purer. Like Phantom’s eyes.

Damian looked into them and the king seemed to take that as answer enough. He gave a toothy grin and pulled Damian through.

[i-lavabean]

I just think Bode interacts with BD-1 the same way somebody tries to get their sibling’s pet to like them more

[sillysoliloquyshits]

Things we don't really talk about much on Ne Zha 2 (and the first movie:

1. Ne Zha may seem very impulsive once his temper is on fire, but he can be very focused and clear minded on his responsibilities and loyalties no matter what, as shown when he could've just let Ao Bing die out of vengeance for his dad, but he still rushed to beat Lady Shi up so he can get Ao Bing's problem done for and so he can focus on enacting revenge on Ao Guang

2. In that similar vein it could be interpreted that Ne Zha was taking a gamble in destroying his body to free himself from the curse in the cauldron (instead of following his mom in death), since he may have taken Ao Guang's words that the Samadhi fire in the cauldron is compatible with his own seriously, so even despite the raging grief and agony he still tried his hardest to free himself so he can free his dad and Ao Bing and everyone later

3. Ao Bing learns as quickly as Ne Zha (who literally mastered shapeshifting without his master's help very quickly) and while it's not shown when exactly Ao Bing too learnt shapeshifting, it's clear that with their special spiritual power status they just learn new and difficult skills fast

4. Lady Yin and Li Jing really share a powerful bond where even if Lady Yin spent her last moments with Ne Zha, it's very understandable that she still loves her husband too even without having a chance to say goodbye, and if you're a couple who already gave birth to three outstanding godly children, pretty sure you already knew what your wife was thinking and Li Jing let his wife spend her last moments with her son as he knows all along Ne Zha is her top priority and that's okay, it's called selfless love in unspoken communication

5. Also it must be said that Li Jing does subconsciously listen to his wife, as in the first movie he was persuaded to let Tai Yi Zhen Ren try to kill Ne Zha at birth until his wife came to protect him, and Li Jing was persuaded that no matter what Ne Zha is still his son, and when at the end of the first movie Ne Zha said his only regret with his dad is never having a chance to play Jianzi with him, which broke him as he realised he should've listened to Lady Yin in spending more time to make Ne Zha happy before his death, instead of strictly training him, so yeah Li Jing totally knows what listen to your wife means

7. That being said what's more heartbreaking is that the reason why Lady Yin was the one that threw the oblivion pill away from Ne Zha instead of Li Jing was because he himself couldn't make the choice in choosing his wife or his son and his wife chose for him, which just makes his grief even worse, like when I rewatched the movie I just felt so freaking awful for Li Jing haiz-

8. Ao Guang has ended up being a lonelier figure, with his siblings all betraying him and now having to let his son go with his crush best buddy forever has made his journey as a king more alone than ever, but it's not without logic as he may have figured that with Ne Zha already willing to do so much for Ao Bing, they might as well stick together to ensure Ao Bing's safety, since the Loong/dragon clan being somewhat refugees and hunted down by the heavenly court would bode ill for Ao Bing so yeah

9. I might be delulu but I saw one of the calligraphy ink posters of Lady Yin and someone saw a purple pill floating below her face and at her hair which could foreshadow her fate, but when I watched a second time I saw that bead again at her hair tie when there was a closeup of her face in sending Ne Zha away so if the creative team really hid her foreshadowed fate in her literal hair tie I'm gonna-

10. While Tai Yi is kinda nerfed for continuity reasons (where hundreds of his cultivation years are gone just to protect Ne Zha and Ao Bing's souls), we can't deny that he still has the most integrity out of all the immortals, along with Ne Zha's parents, so yeah hopefully that will be continued for Tai Yi as he's ironically the model of what a cultivator should be like despite his lower levels of power compared to other immortals, as he still has a conscience (and is forced to be a babysitter for both Ne Zha and Ao Bing as usual lol)

11. It's also ironic that while the actual humans and humans-turned-immortals are the truly righteous ones with a conscience and not as discriminatory, it's those immortals who were once spirits who project their prejudices and hatred for their own spirit status on themselves and deepen the divide between spirits/demons and humans and the hypocrisy that comes with it, which really gives a dark reflection on how harmful internalised racism can be

12. One instance I realised was that when Shen Zheng Dao was training his disciples by the waterfall he blamed his students on how their cultivation paths are harder was solely because of their spirit birth, which when internalised sounds harsh as one doesn't really choose their birth and it also hints to the planting of seeds of internalised hatred for their own true nature and thinking that things will change for the better when you're more capable of 'not looking like a spirit/looking human' and cultivation, which really worsens the suppressing of the self in cultivation

13. Shen Gong Bao is a very ambitious character who does misdeeds to get to the top, but at least it's shown that he does work a lot harder than most for his own success, just that he snapped and decided to try and cheat his way through with stealing the Heavenly Pearl then, but at least he doesn't cheat all the way since he didn't really take the heavenly pills to help either, so it's a nuanced take on how as an antagonistic figure Shen Gong Bao doesn't always rely on his trickery

14. With all that what exactly is the purpose of cultivating? And with Li Jing and Lady Yin naively thinking cultivating is all about helping more people and accumulating merits, does that mean with their human nature that so many wished to be born as, does that mean the humans are the ones that are more sheltered from brutal realities spirits have to face in cultivating? When did such a divide start back then?

15. Some people have guessed that it's unfair that He Tong with her powers is only working to serve Wu Liang around instead of doing hunter duties like Lu Tong, and this is either a nudge to gender roles in work, where females no matter how skilled are forced to do more subservient roles, or simply because with He Tong's powers she works better as a defence while Lu Tong's archer skills is much more suitable for attacking

16. Iirc, Ao Run sort of looked like she was holding back when she was fighting Ne Zha and Ao Bing even though she's very swift in her own way, and according to BTS art and sketches of the second movie, the team had thought of how Ao Run favoured Ao Bing as her nephew, so even if she has sided with the villain, she still secretly can't beat to hurt her beloved nephew either even if Ao Bing would regard her as his enemy from now on

17. Ao Run and her other two brothers serve as a dark mirror of what happens when rebellious idealism at youth withers to cruel compliance to reality, and the director has said that Ao Run was once like Ne Zha and Ao Bing, but thousands of years of imprisonment has caused them to side the bad guys they once vowed to fight against out of self preservation, which is understandable, whereas Shen Gong Bao shows us a figure who probably once did that and still tried to fight against the bad guys after having snapped, so it goes to show that with youth and less experience, the young ones will inevitably feel invincible against anything life throws at them, the real question is whether they (Ne Zha and Ao Bing) could still persist on their core ideals and morals

18. Sometimes it's also got to do with one's nature and status as well, since Ne Zha and Ao Bing may be able to do their rebellions against heaven differently with their greater innate power compared to most characters, which pits them in a better position to survive anything the antagonists throw at them, so yeah sometimes when it comes to rebelling against the system, it's not just your morals your own innate abilities are a huge factor in determining whether you prefer to die trying or to prioritise your own self preservation

Some of these ideas are my own thoughts and some of them I heard from other people either on Tumblr or on Rednote but yeah! Super long sorry again-

[bones4thecats]

May I request Poseidon, Thor and Hades with a sweet, female s/o who's a god of destruction, hunting, and nihilism?

If Their S/O Was The Deity of 'Evil'

Type of Writing: Request Name: If Their S/O Was The Deity of 'Evil' Characters: Poseidon, Thor, and Hades Requester: Anonymous

A/N: I've been reading so much on Norse Mythology it's insane... to sum it up I'm a nerd, and it's fun, ngl🤣

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

���� Poseidon never leaves his kingdom unless it was necessary

🔱 That did bode well with who you were. As the Greek Deity of Destruction, Hunting, and Nihilism, you had helped raise multiple Gods into their roles, such as Ares, the Greek God of War, and Heracles, the Human-turned-God of Fortitude

🔱 Because of how violent Ares grew to be and how impulsive Artemis had been instead of regal, as many viewed a woman to act like that, many viewed you as a mixture of them

🔱 But, you were quite the opposite. At least to Poseidon and his main allies, that is

🔱 You, to your husband, was the complete opposite as what you were rumored to act like. Instead of a cold-hearted and blood-thirsty deity who lived off of the pain and harm against other living beings, you were a sweet and adoring S/O

🔱 And whenever your husband would get pissed off about something, you could just rest your hand on his shoulder and calm him down like nothing... much like what he can do for you

🔱 Poseidon, despite what he says, enjoys it when you take his nephews, Heracles and Ares, out of the main meeting room and would take them to do some things so that they wouldn't get caught in the middle of a sibling-driven argument (mainly Adamas and Poseidon)

🔱 It makes him feel at least some kind of connection to his family, even if he isn't fond of many members (unless you consider his relationship with Hades to be somewhat healthy)

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🌩️ Thor always liked you, but since your father, Þjazi (Thiazi), had obviously caused a massive incident when it came to the Gods and your older sister, Skadi, he had pushed it all behind

🌩️ You on the other hand, had evolved your relationships with the Norse Pantheon, specifically you had welded a bond with Thor and his father, Odin

🌩️ Odin was very weary about you being alone with his son at first, but when Thor had come up to discuss his emotions towards you, the head God had just sighed and told him about how he had felt about the God of Thunder's mother when they first met centuries ago

🌩️ Thor was obviously shocked to hear that he was in love with you, a mixture of Goddess and Jötunn, but he did accept it and admit his feelings to you, shocking your sister, Skadi, and brother-in-law, Njord

🌩️ When you guys married and became each other's other half, many began rumors about you, since you began to represent Destruction, Hunting, and Nihilism in the Norse Pantheon

🌩️ Thor was not amused when those rumors had reached his ears, in fact, he was extremely pissed when someone had compared your actions to your father's. You were far from your father in his eyes

🌩️ While your father was hailed for his threatening and domineering nature with certain beings, while you were either quiet and polite or sweeter than a cup-full of sugar

🌩️ The God of Thunder, despite his wishes, doesn't go after those who speak bad of you, as he knows you'd be upset, along with your sister, who has been working hard on keeping your bonds in the family perfect

🌩️ He doesn't want his precious S/O mad, now does he?

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 Hades himself doesn't have the best rumors being thrown around about him, so he understands how you feel when a new one arises

💀 Many think of the God of the Undead to be a very cold and manipulative being, but to you and his family and closest allies, Hades is a very caring and loyal brother/friend/husband

💀 Your husband was one of the first people to accept you inside of the old group of Deities, and he was by-far the most welcoming Gods, alongside Heracles and Aphrodite

💀 He adored how you represented such 'horrible' things, that being; Destruction, Hunting, and Nihilism, yet you were one of the nicest divine beings that he had ever both laid eyes on and given his heart too

💀 Hades and you had one of the best marriages hailed throughout the Heavens, from the Norse to the Shinto, everybody would agree on how amazing you guys held each other's hands through every single endeavor that threatened your relationship

💀 Despite what many believe, you are very kind to your husband's family. Many other Gods and Humans believe that you and his brothers hold a deep resentment for one another

💀 When in reality, you bond with them all very well. For Adamas you would help him train and keep himself in gear. Poseidon and you sit in silence and read whenever you don't want to speak, to him you're a decent divine being. And for Zeus, you're an ideal older sibling, you have had to hold him back from doing something that would either cause a war or Hera's anger... so basically just another kind of war...

💀 Your husband loves to see you bond with his family, especially Poseidon, since the God of the Seas isn't very fond of many. To Hades, he seems like he only tolerates him. So, seeing you guys actually bond in a way is nice

[spxllcxstxr]

Shitshow at the Soulmate Factory (I) • R.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Please I'm begging on hands and knees, I'll take any Roman or Tom fic. Anything. I would do desperate things for it. Kisses xxx! I honestly love the countdown soulmate au, just running into each other unexpectedly is a really adorable thing for me. Maybe they are late from somewhere and they run into reader, could be whatever. You can also ignore it. If I may I would like she/her reader, but I'm fine with gender neutral reader also. — anon

Summary: In less than twenty-four hours you’ll meet your soulmate. Your friend drags you to some weird underground private party

Warnings: soulmate AU, logan roy mention (also quick mention of abuse), mention of drugs and alcohol and all that shit, not a lot of dialogue I’m sorry lmao, 9/11 mention? (iykyk)

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: first Roman fic!!! This was actually going to be a blurb and then I kept fucking writing. I hope his characterization is ok, if you have any tips don’t be afraid to let me know!! Hope you all enjoy!

Next Part: (WIP)

•

Roman had never cared for the timer on the inside of his elbow. The black bold numbers inked permanently into his flesh. It was always hidden away underneath expensive suit shirts and well-tailored business jackets. It was a ticking time bomb; never to be acknowledged until it finally blew him to bits.

Or, in this case, meet his soulmate (though to him, that was one and the same).

It's not like he wasn't curious about who some higher power judged to be his soulmate--because he was. It was, however, more of a morbid curiosity. He was Roman Roy for fuck's sake, no one should be tied to him.

His father never talked about his own timer, the one time he ever asked about it he got backhanded so hard he face planted onto the tiled floor beneath his feet. That was that. He laughed it off afterwards, when Ken was placing ice against his bruised cheek. He really should've known.

Kendall had spent months convincing Rome and his other siblings that his timer went off when he first met Rava in college, though they got divorced so he highly doubted that was the case. And if it was? Well shit. That didn't bode well for the rest of them.

Shiv's situation confirmed that he was doomed. Despite Roman being in charge of her soon-to-be husband's bachelor party, his sister once drunkenly confided in him that her timer had went off years before she even heard the name Tom Wambsgans. The next morning, when she called him with a splitting headache, she said she couldn't remember anything she told him the night before. She was fucked too.

Connor was Connor and Roman was sure he had ranted about his at one point, but whatever goes in one ear goes out the other with him.

So when Roman glances at his timer in the mirror it feels like a cooler full of ice water just got dumped on him. His body is frozen but his skin crawls with anxiety. Today was the day. In less than twenty-four hours he was to meet the person he was destined to be with.

What a sick cosmic joke.

He bites his nails and paces the length of his kitchen as he waits for his driver to get to his apartment. By the time he's seated in the back of the car with the smell of worn leather overwhelming his senses the thought is pushed so far back in his mind that he barely remembers why his fingers are absentmindedly stroking the inside of his elbow.

You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

The timer on your wrist was frequently the topic of discussion both with your friends and in your personal journal. It had always been exciting, the guaranteed notion that you were going to meet the love of your life.

Your friends had married their soulmates which had made you believe even more in the timer. The people around you were happy with what the universe had promised and you just wanted that to be you already. You were content waiting but that never stopped you from watching the numbers tick down whenever you could spare a glance.

The childish romanticism of the timer never faded throughout your life.

It kept you going--you woke up in the morning because you needed to know what, or, rather who, the universe had in store for you.

You were jittery in the morning. Not just because your friend was forcing you to join her and a couple others at some underground private club, but also because your timer had indicated that today, of all days, you were going to meet your soulmate. Every inch of you buzzed with excitement.

Toying with your bottom lip you wait for your friend to pick you up. This party would be it, you determined.

It was going to be a dream come true.

The club sucks.

They had taken your phone at the door, the music is way too loud, and your drink tastes sour when it should be sweet. Not to mention the amount of people having sex in every corner of almost every room.

Your friends ditched you about an hour ago and your timer still has an hour left.

Taking a sip of your drink your face scrunches in disgust. Your eyes focus on the drinks behind the bar, the colorful glasses occupying your vision so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the drugged up people around you. The pungent smell of weed surrounds you.

You sit and watch the bartenders dart across the space behind the bar, mixing and pouring drinks expertly. Men and women approach you occasionally, but you’re not interested in conversation if your timer doesn’t go off.

You wish you had Twitter to at least occupy your mind.

“Hey, I’m Connor.”

You turn to face the man to your right, his grey hair and piercing blue eyes are nice, but your timer doesn’t go off so what’s the point?

“Not interested.” Taking a quick sip of your drink you turn away from the man.

“Oh come on, I just want to chat,” He sits next to you, nursing his own drink. He smells of alcohol and expensive cologne. “Say, where were you on 9/11?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock, eyeing the man trying to find any hint of a joke. He looks completely serious.

“Where was I on 9/11?”

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta make sure…y’know what I mean?” He shrugs at you, still waiting for your answer.

Subtly you glance down at your wrist, the numbers now under a minute. Slowly you smile, nerves washing over your entire being.

You get up from the bar stool, drink in hand. “Try that on another girl, I’m sure it’ll work next time.”

Passing by people you attempt to get out of the stuffy room when someone knocks into your shoulder. It’s not hard, but it certainly warranted some kind of apology.

You turn around only to see the other person doing the same.

Your breath hitches when you hear the noise—it’s crystal clear and high pitched, like a bell. Eyes widening you stare at the stranger in shock.

“Oh fuck.” His brown eyes widen at the noise, the realization washing over him. “Shit so you’re—you’re my…?” With one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair he looks you up and down.

“You’re my soulmate…” You say, just above the music. The air feels as if it’s been punched out of your lungs.

The man’s eyes can’t seem to stay still.

Your own eyes run over his handsome figure. His clothes imply at least a decent amount of money—his white dress shirt crisp and recently pressed. The sleeves, however, are rolled up to his elbow exposing his forearms. Your face heats up at this; the casual gesture being a lot more attractive than it should be.

Swallowing down the thoughts and the bubbling nerves you extend your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You smile, hoping to ease the tension.

“Oh uh, yeah—yes.” He stutters, hand taking your own. His palms are a bit sweaty but he has a nice firm grip. “Roman Roy.”

Roy—well that explains a lot. So far the universe has got good taste.

Your hand tingles as you pull it back to your side. Biting your lip you take him in again, how he flexes his jaw and drums his fingers against his hip bone. The music pumping throughout the room becomes muffled as you focus solely on Roman Roy.

It seems he has a difficult time tearing his eyes away from your own, but eventually he’s successful at examining the expensive watch on his wrist.

“Oh shit fucking damnit…” He mutters, brows furrowing momentarily before softening when his gaze lands back on you. “I gotta go, I have this stupid fucking meeting…” Apologetically he steps closer to you. You deflate a bit at this. “It’s just big company stuff, I’m sorry. Can I uh…can I get your number though?”

Smirking at the question, you nod. Excitement courses through your veins again. “Do you have a pen?”

“A pen? What is it 1999?”

“They took my phone at the door, dumbass, I assume they took yours too.” You snort teasingly.

“Shit.” He pats his body, searching for anything in his pocket. He’s quite quick about it and eventually he finds a shitty black pen with barely any ink in it.

Giggling you write your number down on his forearm before handing the pen back to him.

“You better call me, Roman Roy. I know where you work.” You wink, toying with your bottom lip again.

He flushes at that, cheeks turning pink as his eyes settle on your lips.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna call you.” Clumsily he winks back before turning around and getting caught in the crowd, heading to whatever meeting he had.

Setting down your drink on the nearest table you head the opposite direction, towards the exit, cheeks aching from the satisfied smile on your face.

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