#I'M SO DEAD I CRIED FOR HOURS

[lotus-pear]

do you finally see me?

[arthursfuckinghat]

There needs to be a scientific study done on how Rockstar Games' Arthur Morgan is able to provoke the most earth shattering emotions I didn't even know I had in me

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I am exhausted, good heavens.

[helenofblackthorns]

today was the last day of classes (ever) at my university, the eclipse, and my grandfather died 🙂👍

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU) Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Omega Tim Drake (DCU), Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Porn With Plot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Grooming, Bad Parent Bruce Wayne, Rough Sex, Breathplay, Consent Issues, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Protectiveness, Protective Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Painful Sex, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Bittersweet Ending, Spanking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Barebacking Summary:

Dick had accepted his relationship with Bruce was fucked up and probably unhealthy. He was okay with that. He even had enough self-preservation to refuse to be Bruce's mate for that reason. But when Bruce turns his attention to Tim, Dick's instincts for Tim show him exactly how little self-preservation he has, if it means protecting someone else from Bruce.

-

Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 4: Protective Instincts

[crimeronan]

entering the kind of depression era wherein posts encouraging people to think of nice things in their lives make me start crying because i can't think of anything except for things that also just make me hate myself (ie: my family is very nice to me about how i'm too fucking useless to do my job or chores or errands or anything other than lay in bed). probably i will end up logging outta this blog if this continues for much longer because i don't really like who i am currently nor do i have the capacity to pretend to be anything else anymore and i'd prefer to post on this blog when i can actually, like, perform personhood adequately. if i do vanish in the coming days you can assume i'm taking a normal sabbatical unless papika or faewaren post that i'm dead/hospitalized/whatever. peace and love genuinely thanks for all the support ✌️💕👍

[moe-broey]

Therapy notes

[vwritesaus]

dear summer,

i would like to wish you

a very FUCK YOU.

[jamiemaybeme]

i've realised why i'm so scared of losing my friends: an essay of sorts

(this is long btw. there's a tl;dr at the bottom if you really care lmao. also people's names have been changed to their initials, and they're in pink so you don't read them as actual words accidentally)

i think at the end of year six, sh and il moving away left a sort of gap. and i think i tried to ignore it. i kept in contact with them. i texted sh for a year. her forgetting who i was felt like the biggest betrayal ever tbh. i know she just moved on, but i develop such deep platonic connections to people. at the time, i didn't realise this. i mean, i was 12/13 years old, struggling with lockdown and my mental health, i didn't have time to figure out WHY it hurt. i just knew it did.

as the world came out of covid, i started to form relationships like this again. with js and dr, mostly.

come year nine, and i'm in a class with lf. we start to hang out more. shit happens. we don't hang out anymore. but we're still friends. my friendship with dr was brief. i liked her, but i think her ability to shit talk people just immediately threw me off. more shit happens. i don't hang out with dr anymore. lf eventually starts to hang out with us again.

year ten, and i'm in the same class as just lf. and we spend so much time together. i also am in the same dt class as aj, who starts to hang out with us as a group around january i believe?

fast forward to now (end of year eleven). it's coming up to five years since year six ended. it's been about three years since sh stopped texting me back. it's been around two and a half years since i last saw il. it's been two? maybe?? years since things started to return to 'normality'. i've accepted the loss of my primary school friends. it took nearly half a decade. but i did it.

but i don't want to do that again. i don't want to go through the pain of not seeing these people i care about and love so deeply everyday. i struggle to make new friends. i didn't used to. but ever since covid i've changed. that sounds so dramatic and kinda corny, but it's true. i don't want to lose contact with lf. i don't want to never infodump to aj again. i don't want to stop speaking to js. i've found my people, the ones i'm comfortable with. the ones who are my home. it's taken so long, and i CANNOT lose that. i don't know what to do.

i'm bad at staying in contact with people. i forget to text them back. i get scared they don't want to talk to me. i never have any time. i'm always busy. i over commit. to people. to hobbies. i'm very much an all or nothing person. and that's why losing friends hurts. but i don't WANT the moral of this to be "oh i'll get over it in time." i want the moral to be "i will make the biggest effort possible to keep in touch with these three people."

i see bears in trees and i know callum and iain met in primary school. i know callum, iain and nick have been friends since secondary school. and i want that so badly. i want to go to the same uni as my friends. i want to buy a house we can all live in together. i want SO MUCH and i can't have it all. i'm jealous of what they have. i'm jealous they managed to stay together. i don't cope well alone. and i have such a deep love for and bond with my friends that if that breaks i don't know where i'll be. i don't know what i'll do. i don't know who i am without them, to be completely honest. maybe that's a bad thing, but i don't really care. they are everything to me. just like sh was. just like il was. like dr could have been. like [my sister] is, but also not quite like that.

it's why i've asked if we can make music together. i want something that keep us connected. because if and probably when i leave [my school], what do we have? what do we have? we have nothing. nothing except a bond that i hope will hold strong against the test of time. i so badly hope it does. i don't want we don't speak anymore to be relatable. i want it to stay nothing but a fear. i need my friends.

tl;dr: i'm a little bit emotional and i'm scared of losing people i've dedicated my life to

(i exceeded (well reached) the tag limit lmao)

[hyuuukais]

literally WHYYY do i do this to myself.

[psilactis]

how many doctors can a person go to, reasonably, and not become insane from it

[hbghq]

if someone's willing to pay for my twitchcon ticket i will physically drive to vegas and give you a kiss on the mouth

[fingertipsmp3]

The class went better and worse than I expected

[peachesofteal]

pls let Simon hold that baby 🥺

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild suggestive content, mention of spanking - could be considered mildly dark and twisty

"Oh, you came!"

What? Yes, he came. You invited him, didn't you? Wasn't that... did he get this wrong? "Er, yeah... I thought you said-"

"I did, I did. Come in." You step to the side, allowing him entry into the hallway where the smell of something incredible lingers, pulling at the pockets of his cheeks. You can cook. Judging by the scent of roast chicken and herbs that fill the room, he knows immediately that you're better than the 'subpar' dinner you mentioned yesterday. "You just ah, seemed unsure. I didn't want to assume." His hand pats his pocket instinctively, seeking the mask, trying to fight the urge to pull it over his face, pleasantly surprised you don't seem off put by his face, or the fact that it's the first time you've seen him without it.

"I had some things going on today, wasn't sure about my schedule until a few hours ago." Lie. It's a lie, a bold faced one. He knew he'd be here from the moment you had rushed out the invite, offering to cook him dinner as he dwarfed you inside your cozy apartment, dead smoke detector batteries in his hand.

"Well, thank you for coming. And thanks for all your help yesterday. I couldn't figure that stupid thing out to save my life." You laugh, teeth exposed, easy and carefree. A shiver ricochets down his spine. Why you let him inside your flat the first time, he'll never understand. Maybe one day, he'll reprimand you for it. Chide you for letting a stranger inside your home, remind you to be more cautious. He would explain why you need to more careful, more observant of your surroundings, as his thumb rubbed away the fat tears falling over your cheeks, the result of him taking his palm to your ass a dozen times for the slip up. Can't be makin' mistakes like that, love. Not with it just being you and the baby when I'm not here- he'd tell you, make you promise not to do it again, soothing your tears with cool cream against your skin and gentle, but firm, reassurance.

You just need someone to take care of you, that's all. Teach you.

Emmaline makes a noise, a half babble, half cry, and it breaks him from his reckless daydream, bringing him back to reality in a matter of seconds. What is he thinking? You're his neighbor. He doesn't even know you.

"Thanks for inviting me." You're bent at the waist, hands pulling a roasting rack from the oven, perfectly cooked bird sitting on a bed of potatoes and carrots, and his stomach rumbles almost loud enough for you to hear.

"I owe you. That beeping would've kept little miss here up for hours." You jerk your head in Emmaline's direction, where she's fixated on you, mouth hanging half open. "Needs a few more minutes." You mumble to yourself, and then turn around again. "Do you want a drink? I've got some lagers, and a bottle of wine somewhere." Your fingers knot together, words on the tip of your tongue hopeful, almost... nervous, and you give him another smile, albeit this one is less confident.

"A lager would be good." He tries to settle you by being agreeable, and you produce two from the fridge, your fingers brushing against his when you hand one to him, skin warm and so, so soft, the kind of soft he's rarely felt, the kind that feels like silk against sandpaper. Yours against his.

"So, you said you travel for-" Your question is interrupted by a shriek, a demanding cry from Emmaline, her little fists waving in the air at you, like she's indignant about the redirection of your attention. You pick her up, yellow jumper bright against your red apron, and you shoot him an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, I was hoping she'd be down by now but, she's just been so fussy lately." You bounce her back and forth, cries quieting until she's just blinking at you with wet eyes, and the timer on the oven goes off. "Shit. Ah..." You look at her, and then look at the oven. "Can you, would you mind?" You extend your arms, Emma inside them, and he puts every piece of his training to use trying to control his reaction.

His heart soars.

His brain panics.

"Yeah, okay." He says, and you dip forward, pushing her into his arms. He knows how to hold a baby, held Joseph plenty, and she seems to agree, settling in against his chest, hands grabbing at his sweatshirt, tugging and trying to eat the fabric. She's light, lighter than he expected, but still sturdy, and when her lips shift into a gummy smile as she makes eye contact with him, he feels everything logical inside him shutting down.

Beautiful baby girl, and her perfect, sweet, angel of a mum.

He'll be keeping you.

He'll be keeping you both.

[theotherbuckley]

Tommy’s dad dies on a Monday.

He checks his emails on a Wednesday. There’s an email from his aunt. It’s only a few sentences. She was always very succinct and to the point.

His dad is dead.

It was a heart attack.

Bastard didn’t even suffer. 

He stares at his laptop screen until the words start to blur together. For an hour, he just sits there, looking at his computer but not really seeing anything at all. His coffee is long since cold. He never even took a sip. 

His mind feels empty, like there’s this fog that’s settled inside, clouding over his thoughts. He’s stuck. His brain doesn’t know how to process this, and neither does his body.

So he stays frozen. Just staring.

He doesn’t notice the time until he feels large arms wrap around him from behind.

“Tommy?” Evan asks. It doesn’t sound like the first time he’s spoken.

“I—“ The words are stuck in his throat. 

Tommy turns around from his chair, blinking a few times, until he manages to say, “My dad died.”

“Are you okay?”

That’s all it takes for Tommy to break.

He opens his mouth, closes. Shakes his head. 

And he just—

Cries.

Full body-wracking sobs overcome his body as he slumps into Evan’s open arms. He shakes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he burrows his face into his boyfriend’s neck. He’s getting snot and tears all over Evan’s shirt but his boyfriend doesn’t complain, just squeezes him tighter as he continues to be overwhelmed by his emotions.

He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He just can’t seem to stop. 

He cries and trembles in Evan’s arms until he’s run out of tears left to shed. Evan murmurs sweet nothings into his ear, holding him tight and never letting go. 

“I’ve got you. I'm here,” Evan whispers in his ear. 

He feels like he’s run a marathon by the time he’s calmed down enough to pull back from Evan. His hands shake as he wipes the tears from his eyes, Evan’s own warm hands coming to hold his. 

“I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m cry—crying,” Tommy hiccups. He’s sure he must look a mess, red-faced and covered in tears.

Evan gives me a soft look, a small comforting smile on his face as he presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead.

“You lost your dad. You’re allowed to cry,” Evan says kindly.

Tommy just shakes his head. “But he wasn’t— he wasn’t good.” He has an awful, vile human who never gave two shits about him. Only cared about him being a man, enlisting, stepping up. He doesn't understand why his chest still aches like his loss matters. It doesn't. It doesn't.

Evan wraps his arms around Tommy. He’s practically sitting on him, but Tommy doesn’t mind. Not when it’s Evan.

“He— He was a big part of your life, Tommy,” Evan says, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “And now he’s not. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Tommy just nods, collapsing back into Evan, who rubs gentle circles on his back in comfort, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lets his boyfriend soothe his pain with his touch. He wishes it didn't hurt in the first place. Still doesn't understand why it does. He hated that piece of shit.

He's glad he's dead.

He hiccups as another tear makes it's way down his cheek. Evan squeezes tighter.

“Is there a funeral?” Evan asks softly.

Tommy almost laughs. “There’s no one who cares enough to give him one. He doesn’t even deserve one.”

“But you do,” Evan says sincerely.

That gets Tommy to look up, eyebrows raised in question.

“You deserve to have the closure,” Evan continues. “It’s a lot better than trying to pretend you’re alright when you're not. Trust me.”

“You lost someone?” Tommy asks. Evan’s never talked about it, but maybe—

“No, no. I just know what it feels like to— to bottle your emotions up when it comes to the people who are supposed to love you.”

“I’ll speak to my aunt about a funeral,” Tommy says. Evan gives him a soft smile and a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him close again, Tommy wasting no time to burrow into the corner of Buck’s neck, soaking up the comfort of his boyfriend.

“I love you,” he murmurs into his shoulder.

“I love you,” Evan repeats back. 

[entitled-fangirl]

In the midst of death and destruction. (P2)

Summary: Cregan comforts the reader after the attack.

Warnings: panic attacks, talks of blood, talks of sex, heavy kissing, PTSD from attempted sa

Part 1

Masterlist

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Cregan sighed as he looked over to her in the bed. 

After the incident, Cregan was unable to sleep, his body on constant alert. 

Y/n would be the same if she were not so exhausted from it all. 

He knew she would have night terrors for days after. And it filled his heart with dread. 

If he had been quicker. If he had seen it coming. 

If he had acted sooner.

Yes, Bolton was dead, but his memory was still very much alive. 

So there Cregan sat, illuminated only by the flames in the fireplace. Though he had washed his hands, he still swore he could feel the blood that had stained them only hours ago.

A small sniffle came from Y/n, and he was quick to turn to her. 

She laid fast asleep, yet tears fell from her eyes. 

A night terror, he figured. He pulled the covers to the side and laid himself down in the bed next to her, his touch careful to not startle her and worsen her condition. 

Once he pulled her back to his chest, his deep northern voice whispered sweet nothings into her ear. His hand brushed hair from her cheeks, "Nothing will touch you. I promise you, little wife."

She shifted, her back moving from his chest. He was quick to reach out and grab her, but it was too quick.

The touch woke her up. She gasped and quickly pried his hand from her. She sat up in bed, her breathing ragged as she turned to him. 

Cregan quickly held his hands out, "Easy, my girl. It's just me."

When she recognized him, she relaxed a bit, taking a deep breath and finally looking around the room.

Cregan sat up completely now, watching her carefully, "You alright?'

She pulled her arms around herself, "Not sure."

He nodded, understanding the seriousness of her terror. He reached to her and brushed the sweat stained strands of hair from her face once more, "How about a bath?"

"Cregan, I bathed only hours ago."

"Aye, I know that. But that is not what I asked."

She leaned into his hand just barely, contemplating his question. "I… I suppose that sounds nice."

He smiled, "I'll get one drawn for you. Wait here."

The second his warmth had left the bed, Y/n panicked. The sight of his pillow vacated left her colder than the snow outside. 

"Cregan, wait!"

He turned quickly to her, noticing her wide eyes. "Hm?"

"Please," her meek voice spoke, "Don't leave."

His head tilted in guilt. He hadn't thought of that. "I'll only be out for a moment."

"Don't leave at all. Forget the bath."

"Only a moment," he sighed.

Her head shook insistently, "Please."

"My love. A moment."

He moved, disappearing from her sight. 

A hiccup rose from her throat, hot tears moving into her eyes. When the shaky breath left her lips, the tears fell and the panic came to the surface. 

She reached up quickly to her face, trying to wipe them away before Cregan could return. But when they refused to stop, her incessant wiping became irritated. 

Cregan returned, her brows furrowing at the sound of her cries.

His eyes widened at her and he crossed the room, taking her into his arms quickly. 

She practically melted against him. 

"I've got you, pretty. I'm not letting go. I promise."

"I want it to go away."

He leaned back just enough to see her face, "For what to go away?"

"His… HIs hands… on me."

One of his hands reached up, brushing the tears from her face. His voice was a soft coo, "How can I help this?"

She shrugged lightly, "Hold me?"

He smiled lightly and pulled her back to him, "That, I can do, my girl."

…

Soon, the bath was drawn and Cregan cautiously helped her undress. 

The warm water drew a soft sigh from her as she sat in it. She could hardly care enough to tie her hair up, the strands getting wet as her eyes closed. 

"Have room for another?"

Her eyes opened as she looked up at him, "Hmm? You know there is."

"No. I'm asking for your permission."

Her head tilted as she looked up to him, "Oh."

He smiled lightly, "You can decline."

"No," she mused. "I… I'd like that actually."

"Yeah? You sure?"

She nodded, "Please."

"Very well."

He made quick work of undressing himself, his clothes thrown half-hazardly across the floor. He tied up some of his hair messily as he stepped into the tub on the other side of her. 

Before he fully settled, she moved herself into his lap and straddled him. Her lips caught his like it gave her oxygen and she was suffocating.

He was thrown off. It took a while, but he finally recovered from shock.

"My love," he whispered between kisses. "W… What has gotten into… into you?"

"We're making it go away."

He gently grabbed her by her biceps, pulling her away. "Hey. Hey. Stop that." He spoke again when he caught her attention, "That's not how I want to do this."

"Hmm? H… How-"

"-Let me." He pulled her chin up, "May I?"

She nodded.

He pulled her back to him, his lips gently running down her jaw to her neck, kissing as he went.

A small whimper came from her throat. 

"Tell me to stop and I will," he whispered. 

"Don't ever fucking stop."

He chuckled, "The water will lose its warmth if I continue forever."

"You'll keep me warm."

He moved back to her lips, kissing her softly, "You're right. I will."

Cregan stayed true to his words, their time together going long into the night in comfort and love.

A vast contrast to the death and destruction that had occurred only hours before.

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Cregan taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, 8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest,

I'm trying to figure out why they won't tag everyone. I'll figure it out eventually 🫠