#a quiet kind of anger

[youareinlove]

i feel like peter is most accurate to how she feels about joe now

[thedreadvampy]

unfortunately the world is too fucking messed up so I am currently unable to give a shit about how messed up everything is because it's all too big and if I get upset about any of it my entire ability to be a person will come crashing in

normal service will resume as soon as possible

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I think my biggest issue with the live action atla is how all the issues the characters had were so... individualistic? They were issues primarily connected to their own self or disagreements with family members, and mainly conquered through finding their own power and learning badass bending and being a prodigy who learns things all by themselves.

I'm not sure how to phrase this properly but in the original, each character was influenced by the world they grew up in. Aang's denial, rage and occasional selfishness stems from him being an outsider to this world - he's a kid from 100 years ago with fresh grief from an event long past, no understanding of what living through war is like, and the weight of everything on his shoulders. Katara's anger and mothering comes from being cut off from her culture, having to step up and be her mother, and being treated as inferior to the men for being a woman. Sokka's sexism is a young boy's limited understanding of the role that men and women play in his tribe, and his consistent feelings of failure to live up to expectations or contribute to the group is a result of, again, having to grow up to take the position of leader far too quickly; trying to be his father. Everything about Toph is a pushback against the way she was smothered and restricted - the way the world makes assumptions about her because of her blindness. And for all that Zuko has daddy issues and whatnot, the core of his character is actually him wrestling with his upbringing, what it means to lead and serve a people, and questioning the nationalistic propaganda that was a fact of life for not just him, but everyone in the Fire Nation.

Atla is essentially one big road trip story. The detours are important, because it's on these that the cast find the limitations of their worldviews both broadened and challenged - and it's through others that their development occurs for the most part. Sure, they become stronger power-wise too - but that's not what actually resolves their internal issues. Their flaws are a product of their natures meeting their environments, so it's only by being in new environments and learning from the new people they meet that they grow, change, and adapt - all things that are absolutely pivotal for the cast to impact the world in turn in the way they all eventually wind up doing.

And I don't know, I just felt that wasn't there in the live action. Shades of it, sure, but, like I said, it was very self-contained, and didn't feel like a product of the world they grew up in. And the solution was usually just. Talk a few things over. Learn a cool new skill - without a master? You... you need a master, because bending is a martial art, not a superpower. No one in Avatar is supposed to learn everything alone... that's the whole point, and why one nation cannot rule all of them - they are all necessary, and all have something of worth to teach to others. Anyways, it was weird idk idk...

Feel like I could've explained this a lot better but this is the gist. Hope it somewhat came across?

[gutsfics]

the dinner scene in Ace's house is SO much yummier with Simon having been the one to win the internship

bc like. Ace's parents were already putting Ace down in comparison to Simon. add on that Simon won over Ace instead of Character That Doesnt Exist Outside Of The Scene Where They Win & it would just get so much worse i think

and Simon is clearly uncomfortable with being put on the spot like this, especially bc of how they're shitty theyre talking about their own son, but he's trying to stay polite and nice. but he can't really. he came over to have a pretty emotionally heavy conversation with Ace, just to be thrown into a different, even more stressful experience? plus hes lowkey been getting more and more frustrated as the year goes on? he is Not able to keep it from boiling over

its the first time Ace sees Simon truly pissed off.

[antichristpilled]

[beeapocalypse]

henryk gives levi a bowl of soup at the train that he ends up throwing up bc of withdrawals + it being more rich than the food hes used to and karin IMMEDIATELY goes to thinking he just poisoned levi and comes very close to shooting him

[roseville]

thought dump

[jaarijani]

im good im fine im good im fine im good im fine im good im fine im gonna fucking kill someone im fine im good im fine im good im fi-

[twig---verginix]

Something terrible has happened to both of us, and there's a deep level of understanding and dependency born of this that no other person has been able to breach

and

2. This terrible thing has happened to both of us, and you don't remember it

and

3. You keep indirectly asking me if I remember a terrible thing happening to us but you will not tell me what it might have been. Every time, I tell you exactly how little I remember, and you don't tell me anything more, but that answer must not make you feel any better, because you keep asking me, every so often, just to check. You never tell me what I'm supposed to be remembering. You certainly never apologize. I can't remember, but you seem like you have something you want to apologize for

[fishparasite]

hi im talking about my ocs again. it's been easier to find songs for david and particularly david's perception of nate than vice versa. but one day ill find the perfect nate song i know

[echidnana]

we also like surface level liked how yuki's delusions and hallucinations were treated in school live. like she's cared for by the other girls and they all treat her with respect and compassion, and as long as she's not actively putting herself in danger they don't challenge her even though it has to be painful for them sometimes

[evilminji]

....Damian picked a REALLY good way to bond, ngl. I bet Danny is incredibly touched? Like everyone's always "oh you can't do that D:< " etc but here is his new brother looking him calmly in the eyes saying "he has hurt you? Torn your family apart and made your childhood hell? Then I will help you make him pay. I believe you when you say he deserves this." Like?? 🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭 b-bro *is extremely touched* *new favorite brother achieved*

They aren't gonna WIN, mind you. Santa has canonical fought and delivered to both Satan AND Darseid, ANNUALLY. WHILE they knew he was coming. Plus he has the devastating surprise final attack that WILL absolutely win the day against Danny..... he's a genuinely, incredibly, unrestrainedidly Good & Kind old man who just wants to help people and make people happy. He WOULD let Danny destroy him, after giving it "his all" (for the children!), if that meant Danny could be happy again. Could be healed.

But it WON'T. And Danny's gonna know that, standing over the "defeated" Santa. It was his parents. THEY ruined Christmas. THEY chose to fight. THEY decided being right... was more important... then... he was... oh. Oh.

All he wanted was his family together. Santa can't bring that though can he?

But he CAN, and he points to the Bats, fighting along side him or to stop him from making a terrible mistake because they CARE. And Santa is sorry it took him so long to get him his present, families don't fit in boxes you see, and it took a while for him to make his case to Fate. He wore them down though~! *cheerful old man twinkle*

And GDI now Danny can't be MAD at him? Stop that! Cease and desist! I still hate your holiday! *trying to be upset and failing noises, mostly just old sorrows healing and general grumbles noises* And Santa's like, that's COMPLETELY OKAY, young man! Bouncing up like "lol, suprise, I actually LET you wail on me but I'm in reality completely fine! I did it to make you feel better AND IT WORKED TOO" to much outraged squawking and "You played me!" "Like a Cheap Kazoo! :D " (sassy santa?! Noooo now Danny REALLY has to like him!!! You bastard!)

Cause like? Santa doesn't care ONE BIT if you buy the tree or do the decorations or any of the commercialism bits of holiday. He cares if you are TOGETHER with those you love and are happy. Split a cupcake and call it a night for all he cares, as long as you do it together and tried to be/do good during the year leading up to it. Which Danny can't argue with. Stop being so Nice and Wholesome, Santa! He wanted to PUNCH SOMEBODY to get some catharsis damn it! He can't punch nice old men!

"Tell ya what," *gentle hand on the shoulder, cheerful eye twinkle ✨* "when it comes time to deliver? You want to come help me deliver a very special piece of coal to Darkseid? You can be my honorary elf for the day."

Danny learns the true meaning of Christmas.... Violence against parademons. Close enough? It's a work in progress.

Fade to credits on the Dc×Dp Christmas special!

Damian doesn't know who Santa Claus is and Danny tries to gaslight him into believing in Santa

Okay but, like, wouldn't even be gaslighting! Santa canonically does exist in the DC universe, I think I remember reading something about him fighting through an army in hell to give Darkseid a single piece of coal once?

So like, Danny doesn't have to gaslight Damian into believing Santa's real, he just has to pull out the proof (Danny has a binder of everything he knows about the Spirit of Christmas for the purpose of when he eventually goes to war with him, Danny hates Christmas so fucking much haha) and show him evidence that Santa is real.

Probably ranting the entire time about how much he hates the guy & Christmas and it's obvious that this is Danny's arch nemesis. His one true villain above all others. Pariah Dark? A nuisance. Dark Dan? Just a tuesday. Santa? That motherfucker is the bane of Danny's existence and he will pay for what he's done (spread Christmas cheer).

And Danny's the newest member to the family. Damian's been encouraged to get to know his new brother and try and bond with him a bit, make him feel like part of the family. So, obviously, the best way to do that is to help Danny in his quest for vengeance.

And of course Tim & Jason end of getting roped in on this. Damian's grown since he's first came to live with his father. He still is a little brat to his older brothers - he's the baby of the family it's his right - but he doesn't actively hate them anymore and can admit when their particular skills would be useful. Tim is the best at strategizing, and Jason is a combat master with access to all sorts of weapons. With all of them working together Santa has no chance, they will destroy him.

Which all just makes me think of something like this happening lol:

“What���uh, what are they doing?” Duke glanced between the chaos unfolding in the family room to where Dick was calmly seated in his favorite chair, sipping idly at a cup of coffee.

“Sibling bonding.” Dick said. There was that specific aura of calm around him that said that he’d already gone through several crisis and all the stages of grief at least twice. Considering the calamity and chaos the eldest batkid had seen over the years - and especially the last few months since Bruce officially adopted Danny and brought him into the fold - it was a bad sign that he’d reached this particular state of Done (TM) before noon. The earliest Dick even woke up was two in the afternoon.

Duke contemplated turning around right then and there - the particular combination of people all excitedly feeding off each other’s feral energy on the other side of the room was a catastrophe in the making he didn’t want to be anywhere near when it finally breached containment and spilled out into the wider world - but unfortunately he was cursed with the curiosity that afflicted all members of the bat clan.

“It looks like they’re plotting to try and kill Santa Claus.”

Dick turned to look at Duke fully for the first time since he’d entered the room. He had the eyes of one that was deeply haunted by the horrors they had witnessed. On the other side of the room Tim was ranting about anti-magic tech while Danny, Damian and Jason argued over what weapons would be most effective against a demi god. There were schematics of what looked worryingly like a rocket launcher looking device that - if the scribbles on the whiteboard someone had drug into the room where to be believed - was going to be rigged to shoot ecto-grenades.

“Danny hates Christmas.” Dick said, and Duke noticed for the first time that his hands around the coffee cup were faintly trembling. “He’s declared Santa is his arch nemesis.”

Duke blinked, glancing over to the others long enough to see Danny start frantically scribbling the words Christmas Nuke on the whiteboard. No one else was trying to erase it. Tim looked worriedly contemplative. Damian and Jason where both nodding in agreement.

He was going to regret this. “But Santa isn’t real?”

Dick’s eyes gained a faintly manic glean, and Duke could faintly hear the sound of porcelain creaking warningly beneath the desperate hold he had on his coffee cup. “That’s what I thought!” Dick said, with enough cheer to make Duke flinch back instinctively. “But apparently he is.” A distinct crack appeared in the cup, coffee dripping down into Dick’s lap. “And apparently they’re going to war with him!”

Well, Duke considered, at least that explained why he caught the four of them burning down the giant Christmas tree in the city center last night.

[yappacadaver]

i need a way to get rid of this rage because it will kill me but like how. when the world is Like That. how.

[void-tiger]

…why am I even doing this. And am I feeling a distortion or reality.

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

Masterlist

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to someone flirting with their s/o + jealousness

I'll be honest, I had like four headcanons on jealousy (and five on pregnancy, curse on you and your baby fever), so making this headcanon became a priority. Plus, I tried to make it a bit longer. As usual, under the "read more" line, you'll find both my other project for Arcane (a series of vintage-style posters) and my other socials in case you want to follow me because you love me too much.

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky |

poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster 1| | Silco poster 2| |Silco poster 3| | Steb poster |

Jayce:

- He’s not the type to cause a scene, nor is he the aggressive kind.  

- When someone flirts with you in front of him for the first time, he’s confused for a few seconds.  

- The problem begins when the thought starts settling, stagnating, thickening like sediment at the bottom of a bottle. Was the person really hitting on you, or is he just being paranoid?  

- Did they not realize you were together? Or did they do it on purpose?  

- It doesn’t take long for him to start ignoring you, not even on purpose—he suddenly forgets he’s a scientist, a successful adult man, and spirals into a crisis.  

- What if he’s not enough? What if that person realized before him that he wasn’t suited for you?  

- You notice something’s off, but he doesn’t say a word. If it happens again, his fists clench, he feels like the world is collapsing on him, and if it persists, he leaves without even thinking.  

- He doesn’t want to witness that scene; he’s terrified that you might accept the flirtation, that you’ll realize he’s not good enough for you.  

- And if you’re going to leave him, he doesn’t want to see it with his own eyes.  

- Eventually, he’ll be the one to bring up the subject, just to tell you that if you’re tired of him, he won’t hold it against you and that he understands.  

- It’s not true, but he wants to seem mature. He wants to be a good partner until the end and almost breaks down when you reassure him that you don’t want to leave him, that he is enough.

 Viktor:

- Pre-"Arcane s1-tamed" Viktor would snap at the person flirting with you or insult them under his breath.  

- In the wrong moment, with enough alcohol in his system, his reaction could even turn violent.  

- Viktor gets jealous with anger—a mix of fear of being mocked, the lack of control over the situation, and his sense of replaceability set him off.  

- But he’s also an adult. He’ll try to make peace with himself before talking to you about it.  

- Post-"Arcane-tamed" Viktor observes you, tries to read your signals. He’s irritated but keeps calm and even interrupts the situation, pointing out that the two of you have things to do.  

- He doesn’t wait long to bring it up and is straightforward: “Do you like him?”  

- His jealousy is laced with sadness. The thought of losing your warmth, intimacy, and everything he has with you makes him feel empty.  

- He knows he’s often absent because of his research, that it’s hard to be with someone with “special needs” because it can be limiting at times. He’s aware of his unique personality and his background. His anger quickly shifts to resignation, becoming a quiet sorrow.  

- When you try to reassure him, his response is even sadder: “I know I’m hard to love. I don’t blame you.”  

- When someone hits on you, as soon as you’re alone, he holds you closer. During cuddles, he breathes in your scent deeply, as if trying to memorize you in case he will ever have to remember you.

 Ekko:

- At the Tree, it’s pretty normal. They share everything, and everyone is just very friendly. If someone flirts with you at the Firelight hideout, he laughs, jokes, and stays calm.  

- The problem arises outside of that safe space.  

- When someone from outside flirts with you, he’s stunned for a moment, but if it continues, he leaves before you can even respond.  

- He knows that if he stayed, things might escalate.  

- “I didn’t like how that guy was talking to you,” he blurts out when you try to talk to him, but it’s obvious the issue cuts deeper than that. His tone and downcast eyes reveal that it’s more significant than it seems.  

- Living at the Tree has taken your relationship to a deeper level. You take care of the kids together, share everything, and live as part of a big interconnected family.  

- The idea of someone threatening the peace of his home, his family, makes him feel like those things he takes for granted could suddenly change. 

- That tomorrow, you might no longer be his “married” partner but two strangers.

 Vander:

- Vander is too old to be jealous, and has been in enough strange and ambiguous situations not to overreact.  

- If someone flirts with you, maybe at the bar in front of him, he chuckles to himself, commenting only after the person leaves that you’re so attractive no one can resist you.  

- He doesn’t like it, but it often makes him smile to see others recognize what he sees in you.  

- On the night when someone is particularly persistent or you seem to laugh more than usual, he taps his finger on the bar, contemplating what to do. When he catches your eye, he simply mouths, “If you want to go, don’t worry—I’ll close the bar.”  

- It’s not about being open to a polyamorous relationship, don’t misunderstand. He believes that a relationship should be based on the fact that you actively choose to be with him, not on obligation. That’s why he gives you the freedom to back out if you want.  

- When you shake your head, refuse the other person, and stay with him—maybe touching his hand at the bar when he has a moment of peace—he looks at you with an indescribable tenderness.  

- “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he whispers when you’re finally alone, holding you tightly in his arms.  

Silco:

- On one hand, he’s too old to make a scene, but when he sees someone flirting with you right in front of him, something inside him falters.  

- Being able, after so many years, to form such a deep bond with someone put him in a state of comfort he hadn’t realized might one day be taken away.  

- Suddenly, that possibility becomes real, vivid. Outwardly, he shows no emotion and doesn’t lose his composure for even a moment—because if he did, he might lose control. But inside, he feels like he’s dying.  

- If you laugh a little too much or don’t explicitly reject the person, the turmoil inside him intensifies rapidly.  

- He’s been through too much, and his mind is wired to “strike before being struck,” which is why he immediately becomes colder, seeking emotional distance to avoid being vulnerable.  

- He’s not the king of good communication. If you try to ask him what’s wrong, he’ll dodge the question. It’ll take a lot of effort on your part to understand what triggered his behavior, to talk to him and reassure him gently, never too directly.  

- You’ll need to show him, through actions, that you haven’t left and don’t plan to before he starts acting normal again—becoming more physically affectionate when you’re alone.  

 Jinx:

- Jinx is possessive and jealous, living in constant fear of being both not enough and too much at the same time—of losing everything she has and being abandoned by anyone who can still leave her.  

- It’s in those rare moments when the buzzing behind her eyes quiets, when she’s at rest, that for a single second, just one fleeting instant, she allows herself to forget that fear.  

- And then, when you’re together, and someone pays you a compliment that makes you laugh, something snaps in her head.  

- Do you know them? Why are they so friendly? Why don’t you say something? Why did you stop walking? Walk, dammit, walk. Why are they touching your shoulder? Why don’t you stop them? Why don’t you stop them? WHY DON’T YOU STOP THEM.  

- The likelihood that the person who flirted with you ends up found the next day with a broken limb in a dumpster is extremely high.  

- But even that doesn’t calm her. When you get home, she isolates herself, spiraling into thoughts that maybe, if you could, you’d have gone with that person or followed them.  

- She’ll need lots of affirmation and both verbal and physical reassurance before she calms down.  

Vi:

- Her jealousy exists, it’s there, but she expresses it in a very straightforward way.  

- Having been forced to grow up too quickly and unable to throw tantrums because she was responsible for her siblings, her emotions have always been carefully bottled up and dealt with through questionable coping mechanisms.  

- Sure, having someone by her side now means she can’t go brawling in the streets, especially when the reason feels so trivial.  

- Usually, she doesn’t even pay much attention to it, but this time, exhaustion, stress, or a moment of vulnerability probably made the situation unbearable.  

- And as always, if you have questions no one can answer, the solution is probably at the bottom of a glass.  

- She doesn’t want to burden you with how she feels; it’s not even your fault, and she knows it’s stupid to feel this way. But when she’s forced to confront the idea that you may not a constant in her life, that maybe you want something better, something more—at that moment, she needs to get out, to scream, to punch something, with enough alcohol in her system to pass out in an alleyway.  

- She struggles to talk about it, hates making you responsible for her emotions, and hates that she has to make you worry when it’s not your fault.  

- When you bring it up and try to approach her with an attitude that makes her feel reassured, she has moments of being emotionally fragile, more vulnerable than usual.  

 Caitlyn:

- This woman is a lady killer—it’s sadly very normal for people to get jealous of her.  

- At work, during conferences, or noble meetings, she’s used to people flirting with her. That’s why, when she sees someone flirting with you, her first thought is that they might be making you uncomfortable.  

- If she sees you’re actually uncomfortable, she’ll personally step in to ensure the other person leaves.  

- If she doesn’t see you uncomfortable, she’ll observe you for a few minutes, becoming distracted and absent from her own conversations, lost in analyzing what she’s seeing. -However, she dislikes waiting to address issues, so expect her to ask if something is wrong between the two of you as soon as you’re home.  

- Caitlyn’s issue is that her thoughts ferment. If she doesn’t address the matter immediately, each day will make her mood worse, leading to unnecessary tension.  

- She might not shake off that strange feeling immediately and could remain distant until the next day, but it’s not punitive. Her emotions catch her off guard and make her colder unintentionally.  

- She’ll make up for it completely the following day.  

- She’ll also ensure she gets matching rings for both of you, so they can serve as a signal to others.  

 Mel:

- For Mel, jealousy is just bitterness.  

- She doesn’t show it. Her training in always appearing reliable and cordial means she’s adept at masking her feelings. So, when she sees someone flirting with you at a gala, her gaze lingers for just a few moments before she returns to smiling at her conversation partner.  

- A little passive-aggressive, with comments like “I saw you had fun” or “So, tell me about…”—but not meant to provoke you.  

- She’s the first to acknowledge that at meetings and galas, one must be adaptable, charming, smiley, and captivating. She knows that flirting is often part of the façade or just a small piece of a larger strategy, so what may sound like provocation is usually her way of asking what was on your mind.  

- Her bitter jealousy becomes stronger and more genuine when there’s no strategy, no deeper game, but the person continues attending events and spends all their time trying to flirt with you. In these cases, she won’t hesitate to interrupt with a firm, “Excuse us,” and lead you to the balcony.  

- No scene, no lecture—just a curt and slightly sad, “I only ask that you don’t make a fool of me.”  

- When reassured that there was never even the intention of doing so, she becomes almost an accomplice. Have fun (within limits), gather amusing or trivial information, and tell her all about it later when you’re alone under the sheets.  

 Sevika:

- Sorry to disappoint, but she’s the least jealous character here.  

- Her most stable relationships have all been at the brothel. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wait until the person leaves to comment on how slimy they were or how you seem to attract everyone without exception.  

- Zaun is precarious; her job is precarious; even staying alive is extremely precarious. She doesn’t have time for jealousy. To her, it wouldn’t make sense to get angry or even cause a scene just because someone flirts with you when she can’t be around much or offer you stability herself.  

- She knows perfectly well that her mechanical arm, her boss, her boss’s daughter, the drug use, and the dangerous work she does make her someone it’s hard to stay close to. But this doesn’t make her insecure—rather, it makes her grateful.  

- It’s your choice to stay by her side, and if you ever want to leave, she believes you should feel free to do so without fearing any outburst from her.  

- When you reassure her that you’d never betray, replace, or leave her, she pulls you close with one arm, kisses your forehead, and gives the faintest smile.  

- That said, if someone flirts too much and you complain about their persistence, Sevika will handle it diplomatically—by picking them up and slamming them against the wall in front of you, making sure the point sinks in effectively.