#I might be able to do them on the stream~

[inhogf]

Gong Yoo nsfw headcanons ♡

· contains: purely nsfw, gun-play, he has a thing for your period UMM · note: its like 5 am but i HAD to post this

·⠀The Salesman/Gong Yoo's not the type to call you ‘baby, princess, honey’ during sex. no; his dignity is higher than that. he'd be more of a name user or would call you his ‘slut, whore, bitch’.

·⠀barely has personal preference for positions, as long as he’s in full control. just as eager to have you ride him as he is to flip you over. just as long as he's inside you. big fan of face fucking though! holds your hair as you're doing it :3

·⠀has a libido bigger than his dick. practically using you almost every night as his sex doll; his stress relieve toy. makes sure to use you till the last drop when he finally gets his hands on you, due to the disappointingly lack of free time to sate his urges w/ you. has a shocking amount of stamina too :3. he definitely initiates things more than you do. he's suuuchhh a horny little boy for you OMDSSSS.

·⠀not a surprise but he's totally into gun play— fucks u w/ his glock, adoring the expression you make as he thrusts every single length of the gun into your pussy. holds his gun against your temple as he makes you bounce on his dick, getting off ⠀to your increasing fear. may even shoot a single bullet across the room to show you that the one against your skull is still functional and still a threat to your well-being.

·⠀i feel like he'd have a fetish for periods. doesn't like eating you out but as soon as he finds out you're menstruating, he'd BEG you to let him give you head and always find a way into your pants strategically. keeps a tight grip on your waist to hold you against his mouth ♡ & the mere smell of your blood is enough to get his dick sprung up.

·⠀this MIGHT be controversial but he'd be the type to beg you to send him nudes of your bare body. especially when he's out at work. his gallery is all pictures of your body and he's always shamelessly scrolling through them— palming away vigorously at his dick, wishing it was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.

·⠀he's 100% a moaner. not high and squeaky moans, low ones; groans low enough only for you to hear. very vocal and mouthy, he's not scared to let you know how much of a good job you're doing, how pretty and fuckable you look doing it.

·⠀he's sooo harsh with you, spanking you on your plump ass until there's a visible red handprint, manhandling your hips off the bed to get a good angle to fuck, slapping your face every chance he gets. he's so mean.

·⠀he's big on degrading, is talking shit any chance he gets. “you can't even take me properly, useless little thing.“ and he's soo mean and criticizes every move you make. by the end of it all you’ll be nodding with tears streaming down your face (he gets off to it), lost to the pleasure he’s giving you and only able to apologise for being such a pathetic and stupid little baby!

·⠀owns multiple toys— gags (dog bone gags to be specific), ropes, blindfolds, vibrators, beads, dildos, you name it. he's a spender. ties you up with his ropes to feel the control that he craves so much.

cr @inhogf dont steal

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Unbeknownst to them, the rumor of them looking for Tim and speculation on why exactly they're doing so after so much time has passed spreads quickly through the league and the younger heroes. While each of those teams are known to work with the Bats and they usually have one as a team mate, they're not blind and they have seen the way things went down after Batman came back from the time stream. Some (Superman, Wally, Jon, maybe?) want to believe they finally realized how important Tim is to their family and want to reconnect.

Most of the others are skeptic and have (correctly) assumed they need Tim for something and are intending to pull him back into their parasitic (?) dynamic where Tim gives and gives and they take without giving anything back. Tim is finally moving on. Happy. They're not about to compromise that for the sake of the bats. Not after he put them before his own life and well being for years and years without them truly realizing.

It takes a week for them to hear back from Tim. However, when they finally get the call from a blocked number it isn't Tim on the other side.

"Tim? We were worried about you? Where have you been?" Dick answers but puts the phone on speaker, Bruce, Damian and Alfred present in the room.

"and why exactly are you trying to contact Tim right now?" Ma Kent's voice is colder than they've ever heard before. "Tim changed his number months ago. What exactly are you worried about?"

"Um... We..." Dick starts, sheepish and not sure how to continue without looking like a jerk.

"Where is Tim? Why isn't he calling us?" Bruce interrupts with his usual tact. Ma isn't having it.

"That's not how this works. Either answer my question or I'll hang up and make sure no one else gives you Tim's information. You might be detectives but even you won't be able to pass through all the layers of security that boy and his friends have put up as a precaution."

"He... Gave Bruce some advice that helped get the family back together we were hoping that he could..." Dick started.

"Go back to fixing your messes without ever getting anything in return? Talk Bruce out of his bullshit like he's the child instead of a full grown adult?" They stay silent, knowing Ma has a point. "That's what I thought. You know, anyone else in your situation would look for a therapist instead of relying on an emotional support child to get you through life. You didn't even notice when he left, did you?"

"I..." Dick is not sure how to finish his sentence. Damian looks bored and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Alfred has a deep frown on his face but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular. Bruce... Bruce has completely shut down. His face is pale, stuck in a neutral expression while his eyes are glassy and focused on a random point in the wall.

"Like I said. You're not getting close to that boy if you're just going to keep using him. He got out. Respect that. If you don't, I'll make sure someone keeps you in check. He has a lot of people at his back and even more who owe him favors. You don't want to try me." With that, Martha Kent hangs up the phone.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[covid-safer-hotties]

hi, i have a question about safely eating without transmitting COVID and other airborne (if that's even possible).

so i currently have to eat at least one meal in public twice a week due long hours and not having a car. my current system for eating/drinking with a mask is to hold my breath, uncover just my mouth, take a bite/sip, and cover my mouth again. i'm worried this isn't effective, so i try to limit anything indoors, but it's currently the coldest time of the year in my area and there's a chance i could get frostbite if it's windy enough.

do you have any advice on what i can do?

Anytime you remove your mask, unless you do a full fit check, you are getting a worse seal. That's my number one concern with this technique, especially in the presence of others: Not only is it not protecting you well in the moment, it's reducing your protection for the rest of the day.

To mitigate risk you can

Get there first. If no one else is around, you have the best chance of not being exposed. This doesn't work for being *after* people, because their aerosols can hang around for upwards of four hours in some indoor spaces. If you have a choice between getting there early and getting there at any other time, choose early.

Air filtration: Bigger is better, but you might not be able to bring your own plug-in HEPA. Those would keep you most safe from pathogens, but even products such as the AirFanta 4Lite can provide you a better level of protection than nothing. A product like this can keep the air you breathe 2 or 3 times cleaner, but they kick up the rest of the air and deliver unfiltered air in the same stream. The closer you are, the more protection you'll get. (for reference, a well-fitted N95 keeps the air you breathe more than 200x cleaner than the air on the other side of the filter. It really is a "better than nothing solution.)

Switch to a liquid diet in public. With the help of a sip valve from sipmask, you can remain just as safe while having lunch as you are the rest of the day. Smoothies, drinkable yogurts, and other drinkable dishes get an easy-to-access portal that allows you to keep your mask on. When properly installed, sip valves have a statistically negligible effect on mask efficacy, but it does take a little practice to get comfortable/skilled with them.

Maybe other people have suggestions.

[kittysarchive]

Hii! :3

I don't know if this is accepted but I recently lost my cat to cancer which I've had for 10 years. Would you be able to write about how ot7 would comfort y/n who lost their beloved pet?

hiiii, of course you can ask for this! sorry for your loss :(

assuming this is for enhypen

Heeseung

Heeseung found you sitting on the balcony, the chill in the air matching the cold ache in your heart. You hugged your knees to your chest, lost in thought. He walked over quietly, sitting beside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern.You didn’t respond immediately, but that didn’t deter him.

“I know it hurts right now,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “When I lost my pet, it felt like the whole world stopped. Like nothing could ever fill that void.”

His words surprised you, drawing your attention. “You lost a pet, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Yeah. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. But you know what helped? Remembering the good times.”

“Thank you, Heeseung,” you said, your voice trembling but sincere. He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “Anytime. I’m here for you.”

Jay

Jay found you sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cup of tea. He could see the grief weighing on you, and without a word, he sat across from you.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his voice steady and comforting. You didn’t respond right away, but when you finally looked up, tears filled your eyes.

“I feel like a part of me is missing,” you admitted. Jay nodded, his expression serious but kind.

“That’s because they were such a big part of your life. It’s okay to feel this way. It just shows how much you cared about them.”

Jay encouraged you to talk, asking about your favorite memories with your cat. As you shared stories, his thoughtful questions helped you remember the joy your pet had brought into your life.

Later, Jay excused himself and returned with a small box. Inside was a plush toy resembling your cat.

“I thought you might like this,” he said, his cheeks slightly red. “It’s not the same, but maybe it’ll bring you some comfort.”

Tears streamed down your face as you held the plush close. “Thank you, Jay. This means so much.”

He spent the rest of the evening with you, cooking your favourite meal and sitting by your side. “You’re not alone in this,” he said before leaving. “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Jake

Jake found you in the living room, staring at your cat’s collar in your hands. The sadness etched on your face broke his heart. Being an animal lover himself, Jake understood the depth of your pain. He walked over and sat next to you, his presence warm and reassuring.

“I know how much they meant to you,” he said softly, “They were family, and it’s okay to feel this way. It just shows how much you loved them.”

His sincerity made your eyes well up with tears, and you whispered, “I feel so empty without them.” Jake nodded, his expression gentle. “It’s hard. Pets are special—they’re there for you when no one else is, and they love you unconditionally. Your cat knew how much you loved them.”

Jake stood up and gestured for you to follow him. He led you outside to the garden. “I thought we could do something to honour them,” he said, handing you a small packet of flower seeds.

“Let’s plant these together. Every time they bloom, you can remember the happy moments you shared.”

As you knelt together, planting the seeds, Jake shared stories of his own pets, making you smile through your tears. By the time you finished, the garden felt a little brighter, and so did your heart. “They’ll always be with you,” Jake said, squeezing your hand.

Sunghoon

You sat on the couch, clutching your cat’s favorite toy, tears streaming silently down your face. Sunghoon entered the room, his usual composed expression softened with concern. Without saying a word, he sat down beside you, his presence calming. After a few moments, he gently asked, “Can you tell me about them?”

His question opened the floodgates, and you found yourself reminiscing about your cat’s quirks—the way they’d always nuzzle your cheek or chase shadows on the walls. Sunghoon listened intently, nodding and occasionally smiling at the stories.

“It’s clear they loved you just as much as you loved them,” he said softly.

Later, he disappeared into his room, returning with a small wooden frame. Inside was a picture of your cat he had printed from your social media.

“I thought you’d like to have this,” he said, placing it gently in your hands. Tears welled up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

Sunghoon stayed with you the rest of the evening, his quiet presence a source of comfort. When you finally drifted off to sleep, the framed picture sat on the nightstand beside you, a reminder of the love that would always remain.

Sunoo

Sunoo didn’t say anything at first when he saw you crying in your room. Instead, he sat down beside you, tears already brimming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with emotion. “I know how much you loved them. They were such a big part of your life.”

Hearing his empathetic words made you cry even harder, and he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“It’s okay to let it all out,” he whispered, his own tears slipping down his cheeks. “They were family, and it’s hard to say goodbye.” Once your sobs subsided, Sunoo grabbed his phone.

“Let’s look at some cute pictures and videos of them,” he suggested, a small smile breaking through his sadness. Together, you scrolled through your photo gallery, reminiscing about your cat’s playful moments and their loveable quirks.

“That one!” Sunoo exclaimed, laughing through his tears at a video of your cat chasing a laser pointer.

“They were so full of energy!” His laughter was contagious, and for the first time that day, you found yourself smiling.

Jungwon

The house was quiet, but the air felt heavy. You sat curled up on the floor, staring blankly at an empty corner where your cat’s bed used to be. Jungwon found you there, his heart sinking at the sight of your slumped shoulders. Without hesitation, he sat beside you, close but not too close, respecting your space.

He didn’t speak right away, giving you time to process. When you finally whispered, “I miss them so much,” his eyes softened, and he nodded.

“I know. Losing someone you love, even a pet, feels like losing a part of yourself.” His words were simple but comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold day. He encouraged you to share memories of your cat, asking,

“What did they do that made you laugh the most?” Slowly, a faint smile broke through your grief as you recounted your cat’s antics—like the time they jumped into a box too small for them. Jungwon laughed along, his genuine reaction lifting your spirits.

A few hours later, Jungwon handed you a folded piece of paper. “I wrote this for you,” he said shyly. Inside was a heartfelt note: “Even though they’re not here anymore, the love you shared will always stay with you. They’ll always be a part of your heart

You hugged him tightly, tears streaming again, but this time, they felt lighter. He stayed by your side, determined to help you heal, one small step at a time.”

NIKI

Ni-ki didn’t know what to say when he saw you sitting silently on the edge of your bed, holding a photo of your cat. He hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting next to you. “I... I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly but sincerely. “I wish I could make it better.”

You looked at him, your lips trembling. “It just hurts so much,” you murmured. Ni-ki nodded, his usual energetic demeanour replaced with quiet thoughtfulness.

“I know it’s not the same, but when I moved away from my family, I felt really empty, too. It’s hard to lose someone—or something—you love.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plush keychain. “I know it’s not much, but I thought this might help,” he said, handing it to you. It was a tiny cat plush, its soft fur similar to your pet’s. “I saw it earlier and thought of you.”

The gesture brought fresh tears to your eyes, but you smiled. “Thank you, Ni-ki. This means a lot.”

Ni-ki spent the rest of the day with you, distracting you with video games and jokes. Whenever he saw your sadness creeping back, he’d nudge you and say, “They wouldn’t want you to be sad, you know. They’d want you to remember all the fun you had together.”

[gotchibam]

I've been doing some test streams this past few weeks and I think I want to try it for real this time! Nothing fancy, just a simple art stream & some lo-fi music 🎶

I might be able to host one later (maybe a couple hrs from now?) so just look out for the post if you want to join! Also made a twitch & youtube channel for hosting & archiving future art streams so you can also follow me there if you'd like to get updated 😌

[ourtalechara]

Stupes please wear sunglasses more often you look so ho- I mean normally and regularly aesthetically attractive in an entirely platonic way

[forcebookish]

idk how gmeme's contract with viki works, if they get paid for every stream, but i am never going to buy a subscription so they've definitely lost thousands of dollars worth of ad revenue from me alone lmao

[kyouka-supremacy]

Uhm..................

[mad-hunts]

✧

send me a ✧ and i’ll bold all that apply to your muse! (with italics as a 'sometimes' option because i'm a rule-breaker and things may depend on the situation).

i would kill you. ✧ i would physically hurt you. ✧ i would attack you unprovoked. ✧ i would manipulate you. ✧ i dislike you. ✧ you annoy me. ✧ you scare me. ✧ you intimidate me. ✧ i hope i intimidate you. ✧ i pity you. ✧ you disgust me. ✧ i hate you. ✧ i’m indifferent toward you. ✧ i’d like to get to know you better. ✧   i’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ i’d like to be friends with you. ✧  i’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ i’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ you are my friend. ✧ you are my best friend. ✧ you are my mentor. ✧ i look up to you. ✧ i respect you. ✧ you are my hero. ✧ you inspire me. ✧ you are my enemy. ✧ you make me happy. ✧ i want to protect you. ✧ i would fight by your side. ✧ i consider you an equal. ✧ i think you are beneath me. ✧ i think you are above me. ✧ i would lie for you. ✧ i would lie to you. ✧ i would sleep with you. ✧ i would sleep by your side. ✧ i would hug you. ✧ i would kiss you. ✧ you are family to me. ✧ i would die for you. ✧ i would kill for you. ✧ i would trust you with my life. ✧ i would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ i would trust you with a secret. ✧ i would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧ i love you (platonically). ✧ i love you (romantically).

[shakespearean-dream]

okay i’m allowing myself one more pointless ramble post into the void before i get off my ass and finish my IHNMAIMS designs

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"[...]and... your family."

miklan is still alive in this route and is referenced immediately after this scene, he's literally telling sylvain to take care of miklan too

[todayisafridaynight]

poppo oc that i made as a joke accidentally breaching containment. maybe.

[flockrest]

Since time immemorial, the Rito have been deeply connected to the winds and all they have to offer — in a way that surpasses bare, profound appreciation. For them, it goes beyond physical attachment ( of which is still greatly significant! ) and is indelibly tied to their spiritual and cultural identities.

Seen more as a relationship — where the winds are the source of all nourishments and fulfilments, and they are simply partakers of those boons — this concept is rooted and condensed in a word that doesn't have a concrete, established meaning so much as a contextual one that defines many things all at once: Windlines.

When speaking of the Windlines, one could be referring to the material winds and their boundless touch; or the nebulous "voice" of the winds as perceived by those especially responsive to their movements and paths; or the closely related but separate consciousness of the winds that carries, blesses, curses, or otherwise meaningfully interacts with all beings; and so on. Not quite an entity, almost bordering on a kind of philosophy with how hugely it shapes their way of thought — but believed in all the same!

Knowledge of the Windlines, and hence, this layered relationship with the winds, has been reliably passed down through generations with little to no external nor internal distortion. How an individual develops that knowledge — as well as with it — may differ ( e.g. very few may take it to unprecedented heights, bending the Windlines to their will and becoming masters among patrons, whilst others may be content with simple, competent flight ), but the core foundation is pretty much universal.

Being estranged from the Windlines in any capacity can be unbearable for any Rito. Peaks Among the Ripples saw the worst of this impact during the upheaval detailed in their Songs of the Stormwind Ark: with the Windlines so absent, population health and wellbeing waned, even if nothing was bodily amiss. Essentially, Windlines and what they embody are incredibly important! An integral part of a Rito individual and whole collective!

[pythonscrypt]

i will be honest. do not know what i'm doing on this blog anymore i'm just here to reblog silly posts and share my silly songs and games and thoughts sorry

[nomaishuttle]

gn everybody. smiles widely