#he’s very mentally well and not at all in danger

[sirxlla]

In Times Of Need

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: My distaste for Tommy slips through quite a bit. Other than that? Fluff.

Prompt: After Tommy breaks up with Buck. Buck calls you to get comfort

Notes: Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

The last thing you thought you would hear when you picked up the phone to him with him crying, you never heard him sob to this degree before and he sounded very upset.

"Ev, Hey. What's wrong?" Your mind immediately filled with the worst because of the fact of the matter was that his job was extremely dangerous and if not that you knew that there were days that were extremely hard as a first responder.

"I just- We were planning on going on a date tonight and he just dumped me." He's sniffled trying to keep this snot from running down his face.

"What? Tommy, broke up with you?" You tried to swallow the irritation that you felt rising in your throat. You really didn't like Tommy in the first place but breaking up with Evan seemed very out of the blue.

"Would you like me to come over or anything?" You asked with concern the both of you had keys for each other's places because the way the both of you saw it was that you had a home in each other, whenever you guys needed each other the answer was never no.

"Yeah...please?" He asked as his voice shook. Buck was so brave and he was so excited about this relationship because he never been with a guy not longer than a one night stand anyways and Tommy was supposed to be different.

As much as you understood that Evan cared about Tommy you could not stand him, not only because he seems like a self-absorbed asshole every single time you came around even though Buck tried to destroy you he wasn't....but it was also because somehow he almost inspired Eddie to be an asshole as well which was so out of character for him but it was almost like he was peer pressured into it... don't even get me started on Halloween because we be here all day.

The only reason that you were nice to Tommy is because of Evan if buck wasn't there it would be an entirely different story or if Buck wasn't dating him it would be an entirely different story because it was so hard to keep your mouth shut. It was even harder when Tommy was being an asshole especially to Buck... it also wasn't that he was overly an asshole, it was these passive aggressive and snide comments that he made twords Evan that taken out of context could slightly sound like it wasn't being rude but put in the context sounded extremely rude...

You tried to push all that aside because right now the only person that needed you was your best friend. You arrived to his place fairly quickly and gave him a hug as soon as you saw him... Buck was still understanably a complete mess and you can barely make out what he was saying but you started to piece things together after a few minutes.

"He said that 'he was your first but he's not going to be your last?'" You asked him as you tried to keep the clear irritation out of your voice. Evan nodded, his eyes were red and he was just completely distraught over this.

"With that mentality why would you ever get in a relationship? That sort of ideology completely negates the entire purpose of one." You asked him as a bit of anger slipped into your voice.

"I don't know." His voice cracked as he sat on the couch and pulled you into his lap like a kid holding a teddy bear. You rubbed his back and tried to soothe him, pushing that anger away to focus on the most important aspect of it all right now, Evan.

"You know this isn't your fault, right?" You asked quietly as you tried to reassure the sweet man infront of you.

"I don't think it's anyones fault."

'No, it is. It's Tommy's for being so insecure he didn't think your relationship with him would ever last. An asshole like the rest of your exes' You thought to yourself, you'd never say that to him, especially not right now when he already felt really shitty...

A bit if time past and Buck's crying had made him tired and he just picked you up and took you to his bedroom like a kid holding onto their stuffie for dear life. You wrapped your legs around him, this wasnt the first time he'd carried you to bed like this.

He placed you down on the bed and turned out the light before crawling into the bed next to you, he wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back and just wished to take all of his sadness. His hand found yours and your thumbs brushed against his knuckles as the pair of you laid in the dark bedroom under warm sheets. Slowly he started to calm and slipped off into a peaceful sleep followed by you. You'd always have Evan and he always had you, always...

(Send me prompts if you want)

Masterlist

[warblogs17282]

A look at Stolas' 'happy pills' withdrawal symptoms in Sinsmas.

So, I've been looking at withdrawal effects of antidepressants following Sinsmas, more specifically, SSRIs. More specifically, I found this section:

Symptoms that may feel like your original problem:

anxiety

crying spells

depersonalisation (feeling detached from your surroundings)

depression

disturbed sleep

fatigue (feeling very weary)

mania

mood swings

poor concentration and memory

suicidal thoughts.

Source for this can be found here:

Anxiety: Pretty clear to me that Stolas has always had at least some undercurrent of anxiety flowing within him throughout the episode, starting from his first attempt to call Octavia at the start of the episode. Plus it's also pretty clear during this scene that Stolas is definitely feeling quite a lot of anxiety, I would include the Moxxie and Millie fighting moments but you could explain that one away with Stolas not exactly being accustomed to Sinsmas traditions, even if his anxiety is heightened due to withdrawal symptoms.

Crying Spells: 100%, we see Stolas break into two crying spells upon the realization that he is now poor, and another when the client sinner is recapping the story that led up to this point that hit almost exactly to home for Stolas.

Depersonalisation: Yep, Stolas may have taken another dose of his happy pills by this point, although we weren't shown that on screen, but following the conflict with Octavia, in these two scenes you can just see how detached from the world Stolas is at those moments.

Depression: It's been made pretty obvious that Stolas has depression, so I'm counting this one as a yes.

Disturbed Sleep: Don't think this one applies to Stolas.

Fatigue: Considering that a definition of the term 'weary' is 'very tired or lacking energy and enthusiasm', while this doesn't apply to Stolas all that much during the episode, there's definitely some spells of it throughout the episode, like this one for example.

Mania: Looking at the same website here, there's a few things under the 'how you might feel and behave' sections for mania that I do believe applies to Stolas here, which is pretty much all contained within two scenes.

'Irritable and agitated': We have this entire scene where Stolas loses his shit over a spam call, mainly because he thought it was Octavia calling him back but still.

'Very confident or adventurous': Would say adventurous applies to Stolas here, as most definitions of the word adventurous involve risk and/or danger, and well, in the line before this, Stolas very clearly identifies the potential risks he might be putting himself into by attempting to see Octavia, but goes ahead and does it anyways.

'Like you can perform physical and mental tasks better than normal': Probably applies here due to the absolute beatdown Stolas did on Andrealphus during this scene.

'Talking a lot, speaking very quickly, or not making sense to other people': Yep, see this scene again where Stolas proceeds to talk extremely quickly, which 100% does not make any sense to the other sinner within the room. This entire scene also probably counts for the point 'Saying or doing things that are inappropriate and out of character', plus 'Losing social inhibitions'.

'Being rude or aggressive': yet again, see the scene I just mentioned, and the whole 'you could shut the fuck up' line. (Although she did deserve being told that ngl.)

'Taking serious risks with your safety': I cover this in the 'Very confident or adventurous' section just a few paragraphs above.

With all of this being what I think applies to Stolas during this scene in regards to mania.

Mood Swings: You see Stolas have quite a few mood swings throughout the episode, some of which I have already quite clearly shown throughout this post, 100% applies to Stolas.

Poor concentration and memory: Potentially, although I'm struggling to think of any specific examples and I'm not entirely sure if this scene would fall under this category.

Finally, we have Suicidal Thoughts: Pretty heavy subject but I've said this before and I'll say it again, I'm pretty confident in saying that Stolas has quite high levels of suicidal ideation and/or is passively suicidal.

I love badass Stolas like the rest of you all do, but there's just something about Stolas facing death with absolutely zero fear that just screams to me that Stolas is passively suicidal, especially if we consider what Stolas did during Mastermind as well, however, I cannot fully confirm this at this time.

So while I cannot confirm that Stolas has suicidal thoughts going through him, I suspect that he might have because of my belief that Stolas has high levels of suicidal ideation and/or is passively suicidal.

I gotta give this show credit for depicting mental health realistically, because they really knocked it out of the park with Stolas' withdrawal symptoms as well.

[sanakimohara]

[ DANGEROUS DEVOTION ] - S. C.

master lists <> + CHRISTMAS EVENT: day one < > day three (n/a)

pairing: Changbin x fem! reader

summary: Changbin is hired to protect you from a dangerous enemy, but his overprotective nature becomes suffocating. Is he protecting you from harm, or is he the danger you must save from?

date: December 23rd, 2024

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3JprLj2NsxJRdY8zsLGoqs?si=wXUixpC2ReC6q5rkKMru4g&pi=u-ljo4I4p8RPOb

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + SLIGHT ANGST + MENTIONS OF DEATH + MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE + MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL + ANAL + SHOWER SEX + TOXIC RELATIONSHIP

Being the youngest daughter of a high-ranking diplomat came with its perks and expectations. From private jets and designer wardrobes to exclusive events and world-class education, your life was a whirlwind of privilege that seemed extravagant to outsiders but was simply part of the norm for high-profile families. Beneath the polished surface of gala dinners and international travel, though, lay the weight of unspoken rules, constant scrutiny, and a life lived under the shadow of diplomacy. For better or worse, your world was one of luxury, security, and the quiet understanding that everything came at a price.

Sometimes, that price puts your life at risk, so your father insisted you accept his proposal of a personal bodyguard capable of protecting you and you alone. After many rounds of debriefs, debates, and deliberations, a decision was made, and a candidate of your father's choosing was hand-picked to fill the role.

He addressed him as First Captain Seo.

You’d grown to know him as Changbin-Binnie when you felt exceptionally comfortable with him.

He was loyal from the start. Trained to handle most, if not all, situations that involve a risk to your safety. There wasn’t a time in the last two years you could remember ever feeling unsafe or unsecured in his presence. His job was your life, and Changbin did not take his responsibility for you lightly.

Although that very virtue of his could be rather tenuous to engage or shift.

Especially at the height of your family’s public appearances and the holiday traveling frenzy. Press tours, interviews, shopping trips, long flights, and tedious schedules were enough. But now came the pending and deliberate threat of opposition to your family's legitimate rule.

A faction of society had deemed royalty or any other form of monarchy within government as useless and disposable. The first to perish at their will was your closest cousin. Passing away in a terrible car crash, only a country away during a diplomatic venture. Their sudden and proclaimed death at the hands of flightless revolutionaries put your father on edge in every aspect, which meant Changbin had a much harder job than usual.

December 23rd, White House Gilded Gala. 10:25 PM

Changbin was counting. He always counted.

How many doors and exits were there?

How many heads were within an 800-foot radius of himself and those in his charge?

How many seconds had passed until the next minute?

How many openings were there for possible intruders or aggravators?

He was always counting.

But as of now, he was tallying the number of champagne flutes you were tossing back.

You’d started early in the night, promising your father that you wouldn’t get as tipsy as last time, but Changbin was well aware you couldn’t keep your word while grieving over your lost cousin.

One drink turned into three, and those three spiraled into…

Changbin minced his train of thought, watching you take the last sip of rose from the clear glass before adding it to his mental scoreboard of your alcohol intake.

That was number eight for you now, and it looked as if you wanted a ninth to follow it from the way he saw your gaze trail after a waiter walking by with a full silver tray of new drinks.

He couldn’t let you keep doing this.

Not tonight, and not for the entirety of it.

Partly due to your father’s wishes but caused mainly by his partiality to you in general….

A particular emotion that hung over his head constantly when you were in his presence that he wished for a while would disappear and never return but had recently come to terms with upon the news of your relatives passing. No bodyguard, well-intentioned and capable or not, should feel the attachment Changbin accepted the moment he saw you crumble to tears in your father’s arms hearing the news.

He knew falling in love with you wasn’t a part of his job description, but it drove his obsession with keeping you safe from harm to new heights. He wouldn’t fail your father and wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers as quickly as your cousin had slipped through her protector's reach.

So, just as you moved to follow the waiter and ask for a ninth glass of champagne, Changbin stepped into your path and caught your dazed gaze with a tilt of his head. “I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, Miss Y/n.”

His voice was firm yet gentle, starkly contrasting the chaos around the room. You blinked owlishly, trying to focus on his words. “But I’m just getting started,” you responded, slurring slightly, playfully trying to step past him. Changbin's expression softened as he placed a firm yet gentle hand on your left hip. "I'm afraid you'll have to pace yourself," he murmured, steering you away from the waiter's direction.

Your lips part to protest his guidance, but they quickly snap shut as Changbin eyes you with a pointed stare.

The one that made you stop and think.

The one that made your heart race and your cunt throb without warning.

The only stare that told you exactly what was on his mind and why you shouldn’t even attempt to question his actions.

You gulped down a bratty statement, woozy from the alcohol and now aware of the few stares settling on the both of you. A single breath left your lips before you eased into Changbin’s lead, following his heavy and assured steps with your heeled and barely steadied ones, but the security of his hand on your lower back kept you upright and formal to anyone who looked away.

You were tempted to trip yourself up. Make his hand slip a bit lower to graze the curve of your backside hidden underneath the dress you wore to fit the Gala’s modestly endeavored theme of excellence during the season of cheer.

You felt anything but cheerful, sound of mind, or happy. The gleaming lights looked dull. The chatter you suffered through with grace felt like more of a burden. Not even the prettiest of lies and gossip could occupy your mind.

You felt miserable. A doll trapped in a glass box and puppeteered to be perfect when you felt anything but.

Changbin could see it written across your face, looking right past the small smiles you flashed by-passers and keen to the lack of energy you emitted on the trek back to your designated rooms within the government household. Seeing your spirits torn to shreds pained him, and he considered how to cheer you up. He did security checks throughout your private room while you shuffled into a warm shower.

He could read poems…that seemed to work on you often.

He could let you vent if you had the energy to do so again…

He could…

Changbin paused his train of thought, braced by a sudden idea that morphed into a dangerous confidence as he listened for the shower head to turn on.

You stood beneath the water in solace. Upset, that waterproof makeup never smeared with tears that hadn’t seemed to stop coming from your eyes for a week straight now. Nothing helped. Not shopping. Not talking and not hiding.

And god, did you hide…

Forced to live a stricter life and reminded every day that no matter how secure you may feel, the real enemy, family, never rested and grew restless at the simple thought of your existence.

But that was the cost of it all, and you wished occasionally to share the burden with someone who understood you.

Your fears.

Your hopes.

Your life.

And the one person you had begun to let in was now buried six feet under with a branding of rebellion ragged on their mauled body.

You cried at the very thought, whimpering sobs into the running water as if to go unheard, but knowing Changbin could hear every single sound. In a start of shame and embarrassment, you turned to face the wet shower wall, arms raised to hug yourself for a send of comfort as hot droplets of water pattered your bare skin and steam rose from the marbled shower floor to your pouring eyes.

You sniffled, staring at your feet and hoping your heart would cease to ache for a mere second so you could breathe without wanting to fall to pieces; your hopeful thoughts were halted as a much more significant presence came between you and the rushing water.

You knew who it was without a singular glance back, able to feel the ever-present tension in his body a mile away even when he never strayed a foot from you, and you thanked god he never did. Changbin was careful with his approach, hearing you cry softly under running water while undressing from his monochromatic black suit and tie before slipping into the shower with you.

The grey and silver watch on his writs ticked softly, counting the thirty seconds it took you to register his looming presence and measuring the minute and a half of comfortable silence that hung in the steamed room when you did.

This was rare.

This was special to you.

This was indefinitely crossing a line for him.

But he’d done it before on your behalf many times. More often than not, it was as innocent as lingering stares when he should be casing your surroundings, and you should be paying attention to your current task. Sometimes, it was a smooth touch of his hand across parts of your body he had no reason to touch when escorting you from one spot to the next. Other times, it was your quick and chaste kisses on his cheek when you thought something he said was particularly funny or sarcastic -but this only occurred within the utmost private of moments.

And then there were times like this.

Where you both knew so much better.

Where a secret was just that.

A secret between the both of you.

Just like the rest you kept.

Adding to the growing pile of things you’d seen Changbin do and say in the name of your protection.

Killing men with his bare hands -once in front of you for no other reason than him overstaying his welcome in your hotel room during a private trip to Milan.

Threatening reporters who dared to scrutinize you with a charming smile and a promise of eminent destruction if they didn’t retract their statements about you.

Openly unimpressed with your choice of public relationships with various champions, he stalked in the shadows until they eventually felt too unsettled by his constant presence in your life and broke their line of acquaintance with you as a natural result.

First, Captain Seo Changbin was, by all accounts, obsessed with you.

It was painful, to say the least, and intoxicating at most.

You’d thought of saying something. Doing something to alter his fixation on you, but your resolve crumbled to dust at the thought of never having his eyes on you so intensely again.

He paid attention to you.

He sought you out.

He would pay for it, and so would you, but you could care less feeling his warmth, breath fan across the damp skin of your right shoulder all the way up to the crook of your craning neck.

You relaxed, breathing in the musk of his evaporating cologne as his toned front melted into your soaked back. Your hands found a wet wall at the familiar contact, manicured nails digging into the smooth surface as his warm skin electrified yours, and your lips falling apart at the hardened length he pressed into the curve of your ass and lower back.

“Binnie…” you whined quietly, too shy to look him in the eye, and hardly assured of yourself when he snapped you out of your crying fit so abruptly. He hummed deep within his chest, strong hands lowering to knead the fat of your hips and the dip of your stomach, “I hate hearing you cry so much…tell me you know that, Princess..”

Your heart jumped at his sincerity, and before a logical barrier rose in your mind, your mouth was open to shaking him: “I know. I'm sorry…I can’t help it.”

Changbin sighed, planting a kiss behind your left ear as he swept your hair to the right and rested his head against your own, coaxing you to keen and meet his eyes. You obeyed, lovingly seeing his steady gaze look through you like crystal-clear glass. “You need my help..” he uttered, and you knew the statement was far from a question, simply nodding in response to him and blushing as he smiled softly at your wordless confession. “Tell me you need it, sweetheart…” his voice dipped lower in volume, a low rumble as he gently kissed your trembling lips before speaking again. “Tell me you need it to stop…all that pain and…suffering…” Changbin kept you waiting for one kiss after the next as he spoke, barely grazing his tongue into your mouth with each pass and his hips unmoving against yours that began to slowly circle in an attempt to ease the throbbing between your shaken legs.

He caught your jaw with his right hand, fingertips melding into your dampened skin as he angled your head back on his shoulder to force your smaller weight closer to the wall with his impactful stature. You didn’t refuse the new position, blinking slowly as your brain finally began to shut off and delve into a mindless desire for him. “Tell me you need me to fix you again…” He stifled a groan, hips urging forward into yours on his own accord, and his gaze lowering to watch his cock press into your lower back.

You shuddered, finally finding your voice and recapturing his attention with a dazed answer. “I ….need you …t’fix me…please.” Hot tears pooled at your bottom lashes, but you couldn’t care enough to wipe them away as the admission slipped off your tongue and into the steam filling the air. “O-one last time,” you rush out in a whisper, knowing it wouldn’t be but still drawing the imaginary line.

He’d cross every time, and you’d let him.

It was too easy and so much better than pretending he wasn’t the only one capable of doing it.

As if he weren’t the only man to place you in a steady headlock, bicep trapping your throat, and his head tucked into your neck to place lingering wet kisses on your skin as he slid his cock along your plush ass in slowed thrusts.

As if he weren’t the only man to press a hand over your mouth, muting the whines and shouts you gave while his girth slid up and down your most sensitive area, gripping your gaping jaw tight to quiet the inevitable half scream and half moan of his name as he pushed the head of his length past your trained rim.

As if he weren’t the only man to whisper little praises in your ear while nearly splitting you in half with his cock, easing thick inch after thick inch into the tight space as he’d done so many times before, and in a near mess to rival your own when he’d successfully stuffed your ass with what it could take of him.

As if he weren’t the one to wrap a hand through your hair in a tight fist, pulling at the wet strands in practiced strength, manhandling whatever part of your more petite body he could as his length plunged in and out of your fluttering hole.

As if he weren’t the one grunt and groaning profanities and discreet assurances in your ear, tempted to mark up your skin but aware that doing so would ruin all the forbidden fun in your shared future.

As if he weren’t the one, panting into your neck, thankful for the running water dousing you both and keeping your entrance slick and undeniably ready for him.

You had no will to confront him. In love with the pain and elation of it all and tempted to shout it out loud the moment he slipped a hand to settle on your dripping cunt. Changbin knew his way around you just the same way he did any obstacle. Disarming you with slow and tight circles of two fingers on your clit, using them to spread your folds before diving them deep into your entrance and curling them forward to hit a spot that brought stars to your eyes.

He switched between thrusting his cock into your ass and pumping his fingers into your drenched cunt. You reeled at the sensations, wanting to go limp as they overlapped, and urged the coil in your core to tighten minute by minute.

Changbin stopped counting.

Abandoning his vigilance entirely as his high inched closer and entirely too caught up in the tension of your perky rim around his length and the steady flutter of your cunt’s warm walls to keep track of anything else.

This was fixing you.

This was his way of protecting you.

This was your way of thanking him for it.

Even with cum dripping down your thighs for the rest of the night.

A/N: I’m sick so this is late but whatever

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[pall0r-mortis]

James was being stubborn on purpose and not saying something, which of course made Sid want to know more because he was just the type of person that hated not knowing things, he wasn't going to weasel the information out of James just yet apparently. He made a mental note to return to the topic later.

"Yeah, something like that," Sid trailed off, because James wasn't wrong and the fact that magic seems so stifled even there in that town was one of his biggest problems. It was a problem he had expected, but having never experienced it before it had thrown him off quite a bit.

"We have acid rain that you just have to learn to dodge or keep your cloak with you all the time unless you want scars," a fact that Sid had been taught early in life but sometimes he'd still chanced it and did indeed have a few scars to show for that, "It's probably about as tame as you would consider anywhere when you're living on top of a giant corpse."

Was it honestly that odd? Sid's brow furrowed; it wasn't, but it was likely going to be one of the reasons that he would never really fit in around that town. "Or, well, technically I lived in Bonesborough, which is one of the tamer areas; you get farther out into the forests and the limbs and it's more dangerous I guess. Less people and more animals, sentiment plants, that kind of thing." Ultimately that didn't really seem strange to Sid; the mainland seemed bizarre to him.

"It's not like I don't know what a lot of things around here are, I wasn't born there, my father has always talked about things off the Isles, but I had to get used to those things being real instead of just ideas." It had been something of a culture shock, it still was at times.

"Like your holidays; Halloween is the only one that seems even remotely familiar, and the limitations on magic here, or even the fact that everyone in this neighborhood looks like my house like it's something strange when it's probably the most exhaustingly mundane version of the idea we've ever lived in." And while he didn't want to say it outloud, and he wasn't going to, the conversation was just making him homesick. He lost most of the edge to his tone during the course of the conversation because the topic had his guard down a little.

"How about this; you ever decide to visit the Boiling Isles and I'm still on this side of living and I'll go show you around and let you make up your own mind how different it is or isn't." Sid trailed off; sure, why not, it wasn't very likely he was ever going to see home again anyway at the rate things were going, it was just as unlikely that James would ever go there.

@captainjamesjoneshook

@pall0r-mortis

The Boiling Isles, eh? Ingarian! That was interesting. It made James look at him again with this new lens framing his person and he frowned a little because...well he didn't really seem like the others who had come from there. At least, the ones that James knew of. Like The Great Sorcerer Howl Pendragon, who was all flourish and whimsy! Sid was more doom and gloom.

...maybe the Boiling Isles bred a different sort. It was supposed to be a flying island of a dead creature, wasn't it? Probably did make for the more Emo brand.

"Ah, no I did not! That was on purpose, but good catch," James said with a smile but offered no further explanation.

What? Like he wanted this guy to know he was being threatened and attacked by monsters of his dads' past? He wasn't here to compare their differing experiences of horrors, thanks.

"Anyway– think of it likes this. You're coming from a place where magic is free to wander as it pleases, right? People practice it, sell it, whatever. Here, Swynlake is the only place people can do that and even then, we've got red tape over the whole thing. So I imagine it all builds up somewhere, waiting to tip out eventually. It's bound to make things weird every now and then," he said. "Other than that, are we pretty tame in comparison to where you're from?"

[berylshores]

Put that guy in a situation with the fishies, micorwave him

aw fuck it’s a situation !!!!!

[turtleblogatlast]

I kinda love how the moment Leo got his dual wield katana back, he adapted so much more naturally to his teleportation abilities.

Not to say he didn’t come around with the odachi, but it was pretty clear that he struggled hard with the mystic properties of it, and I think that it’s partially because while the odachi itself is a portaling tool that seemingly most anyone can use, Leo’s innate mystic abilities call for something to work with him, not for him.

So it makes perfect sense why his katana, made from himself and more in line with how he naturally fights, finally allow him to seamlessly grasp his space warping abilities to the extent he can.

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[ntj2pj]

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[lloydfrontera]

'live up to your name' au where og knight of blood and iron javier gets "killed" in the middle of the plot but instead of dying he's transported to modern south korea, waking up in a random alleyway with no injuries whatsoever. and because he's a protagonist no matter what universe he is in, despite being deeply disoriented and confused when he sees a group of thugs harassing a guy he steps in and chases them off with no problem and barely any mention of cutting off limbs. and then after making sure the guy is okay he very sheepishly asks him if he could please help him because he was lost and had no idea of where he was or how he got there

and kim suho who just saw a gorgeous but obviously foreign stranger in awesome cosplay chase off his would be muggers with what looked like a real ass sword and is currently high and smitten in "oh thank god i didn't get my week's work salary stolen" endorphins and is about to have the weirdest week of his life innocently says "yes of course"

[sysig]

Bad time of it, all things considered (Patreon)

[good-beanswrites]

Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?

Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!

The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.

“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind. 

He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.” 

He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.

“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”

It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.

“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”

Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”

“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.” 

She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”

“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.

“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.” 

“They do a lot of other things, too.”

“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s the surest way to help someone!”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her. 

Tears poured from her eyes. 

“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”

She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort. 

She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”

He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”

She snapped her head up to look at him. 

Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you understand me.” 

He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”

“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”

“But --”

“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”

She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.

Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”

His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop. 

With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”

“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.” 

“A-alright.” 

His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch. 

And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.

The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”

He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing. 

But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[gibbearish]

also the thing of trying to boil it down to like "he was a hero whos mental state was made of titanium" or "he was an unstable mentally ill weirdo who killed himself and pretended it was for a reason" seems. counterproductive at the very least

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[solarplanet2]

Which one is in Danger?

Part 2

DCxDP Prompt/Drabbles

Part 1

"We have your son."

Bruce was expecting a very normal day. If you consider having to deal with the chaos of his children and being a vigilante at night as normal.

But nonetheless, a very simple day of his normal routine and once a week dinner with his family.

Only to be broken by a phone call by someone stating that his son has been kidnapped.

Bruce didn't answer right away, he was mentally counting his sons who, are all counted for, are on the dinner table.

"Which one?" Bruce eyed each of his sons and counted them again just to be sure.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne."

Bruce immediately eyed Tim who was sitting in between Jason and Cass.

Tim's here.

Then who's the one being kidnapped?

"Bruce?" Dick spoke up, thinking that something was wrong the way Bruce was looking at all of them.

Bruce slightly waved at Dick, telling him to calm down first. "What do you want?"

Dick's question seemed to catch everyone's attention since they were all looking at Bruce now.

"Two Million. Or he gets it."

A standard threat. The kind he was expecting.

"Can I speak to my son?" This earned confused looks of his children and Bruce waved them off gesturing that it was not what they were thinking about.

"Alright kid," The kidnapper from the other said grunted, almost sounding smug. "Say hello to Daddy."

Bruce could hear heavy breathing, almost sounding like a grunt. It made Bruce slightly worried. "...Tim?" Bruce decided to speak first. "Tim, Are you okay?" And Bruce hopes that he is.

A soft grunt responded. "Hi." A croaked voice managed to respond. It sounded young. And was punched in the stomach. He should know, almost all of his children had experienced that way.

"Don't worry, chum. I'm getting you out of there." Bruce tried reassuring the kid, worried about what they might do to him. Because this isn't Tim. Tim is right across from him and these kidnappers basically had kidnapped the wrong person.

He gestured to his children, a familiar gesture, for them to head to the cave and suit up. They quickly followed, not without worried glances and confused glances at Bruce's way.

"No.." The kid had said, choked out which made Bruce paused on his step in confusion. It caught his children's attention, stopping as well.

"Uhm...Dad? I'll be fine."

Bruce believed that, for some reason, but it didn't stop his worry. But the next words from the boy made him blink

"Please give me your permission."

"....To what?" Bruce asked confusingly. Permission to what?

"To hurt."

Bruce has raised enough children to know enough about silent words in some part of the sentences without right out saying it.

To hurt them.

The kid is asking permission to hurt his kidnappers.

Bruce should say no and wait for help. Should be saying that help is on the way.

Bruce should say that he'll come and save him.

Now, Bruce doesn't normally follow his gut. It causes too much mystery and had no explanation to either it would be a good thing or a bad thing.

But right now, for once, Bruce would agree with his gut.

"....Alright."

Static came in the phone, like it was losing signal but he could clearly hear the boy voice coming out like an echo.

"Good."

"What the-- AAAHHH!!!"

Beeeepppp

Bruce blinked as he looked down at his phone after the call ended.

.....Should he have not give him permission?

"B? What's wrong? Did something happen?" Dick asked, increasingly worried now as he saw Bruce staring at his phone.

"....Suit up." Bruce concluded. They should find the boy as quickly as possible. "And call an ambulance."

Bruce could see the confused look at everyone's faces as he walked passed them.

"Wait, B!" Duke had spoke up running after Bruce with his siblings. "Was someone hurt? Is it another gang fight?"

"No. The ambulance is for the kidnappers."

".....What??"

: )

Parts: Part 1