#i do have to sleep but this is about my last post. and also about gortae a little bit

[inside-ptolemaea]

CHAPTER 1: WITH LOVE COMES LOSS

❝ No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. ❞ – C. S. Lewis

Warnings: Allusions to PTSD, mention of gun violence, death, & drug overdose.

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

A/N: I had to make the title the instrumental from the last HTTYD movie (it doesn’t exist to me). Also big big shoutout to @clownprincesshq and all their amazing rants on Mark Grayson’s character— not only has it helped on getting a handle of how I’m going to write him in this fic, but it’s also made me actually want to post my writing on a platform.. which I have never done, so!! Their writing is top-tier & if you haven’t checked them out you definitely should.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

The soft ticking of the clock against the warm yellow walls vibrates in your teeth, jolting through your bones and reminding you to stay in the present moment. Across from you was a middle-aged woman with brown hair pulled neatly back into a slick ponytail; her eyes were kind and her posture welcoming. She said her name was Dr. Morgan.

“Uhm— overall or just today?” you ask unsteadily, trying — and failing — to cease the bouncing of your leg. It was only your first session with your therapist. Your aunt had said it was paramount that you seek help, as it’d only been a month since Spencer’s death.

You still couldn’t close your eyes without that moment replaying in your head.

Dr. Morgan smiles softly — the kind of smile that’s pitiful by nature but expertly disguised as sympathy. “Just whatever you’re wanting to discuss. This session is only to get a basic understanding of what it is we need to work on,” she says, but as though she senses your hesitance, she adds, “but don’t feel pressured to lay everything out today. We can work our way up to it.”

You let out a breath, fisting your grey sweatpants in your hands and focusing on the soft fabric.

In. Out. In. Out.

This wasn’t working.

Your head dips downward into your hands where you shield your face from what you suspect is an expectant stare from Dr. Morgan. She only wants to help you— you know this, but every time you tried talking about Spencer’s death, it was like your throat started strangling itself.

“I’m...” the words pause on the tip of your tongue, testing the limits of how much you’re willing to share. “I’m still having nightmares.. about that day, and I think they're getting worse,” you confess, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t alleviate.

You hear a faint scratching of pen against paper, but you keep your face hidden in your hands.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t eat.. I feel like I’m never going to be happy again.” your lip trembles and you’re forced to bite down on it to choke back the sobs. “My whole life has just fallen apart and everyone expects me to.. I dunno, get over it? Like I just need to accept that Spencer’s gone and I can't do anything about it.”

You hadn’t realized how much your voice was shaking until the room had grown uncomfortably silent.

Just as quietly, Dr. Morgan asks, “who's made you feel you can’t mourn? Has someone said this to you or is it something you expect people to say?”

“You don’t see the way they look at me,” you snap, your words harsher than intended. But Dr. Morgan doesn’t flinch— her expression is as gentle as ever. “Like I’m–.. just gonna break and fall apart. But I’m not.. I won’t. I just... can’t keep playing this game of pretend where my life is even remotely back on track.”

Dr. Morgan sets down the notebook in her lap onto the table in front of her. “You don’t have to act like your life is back on track. We don’t bear our souls to the world to get validation for our grief. Mourning is intimate — it’s subjective, and no one but you can tell yourself how to do it.”

You blink your eyes, unaware of the tear that’s now falling down your cheek.

“Fall apart,” Dr. Morgan says. “Fall apart as many times as you need, and tell yourself that it isn’t what defines you. Being here — acknowledging that you need help — does, and you should be proud of that first step.”

A slow nod of your head is the only indication you’re listening to her words.

“There is only one cure for grief: to let yourself grieve.”

─── ·𖥸· ───

It had started with strange occurrences.

After being transferred to the hospital on the night of the bridge collapse, the young girl in the room next to you had died. You didn’t know who she was or what she died from, but the unmistakable sound of a flatlining EKG monitor crushed any possibility of life.

You had listened to the defeated whispers of the medical staff as they walked by your room, either unaware or uncaring for your door that had been wide open.

So you had sat there. Listened to the surrounding sounds of distant footsteps and beeping. It was impossible to have let your mind drift in that moment— even more so when you started hearing the whispers.

And when you heard the voices in the hall, you wished you hadn’t.

A rejected kidney transplant. She was only eleven-years-old.

Death had been surrounding you that day.

You had dragged yourself out of that hospital into the night, numb and unaware to anything but the pain flooding every crevice of your being. You had thought that it was over, that the worst of your night had concluded.

But strange things continued to happen.

A wreck on the street leading to your apartment; a gun fight on the floor above yours, which felt like it had escalated with little warning; an overdose in the apartment below you.

Over a month of unexplained occurrences followed you like a storm cloud, engulfing your existence and plaguing your mind.

Confusion became your solace and uncertainty your charm in the perfectly imbalanced tide of your life. Nothing became something— something became suffering. And suffering was starting to become your normal.

Now, as you sit in the quiet of your living room, propped against the front of your sofa, you reach for the tv remote in the hopes that something of merit would be on. You needed something — anything — to alleviate the distress you had been feeling every day for the past month.

A small flicker of the television spurs it to life, and you’re met with coverage of a recent bank robbery that had been thwarted by Invincible. Your eyes are transfixed on the screen, glued to the every word of the reporter on the scene.

You don’t even realize your phone is ringing on the floor next to you, the name ‘Aunt June’ sprawled across the front.

“Authorities have apprehended the suspect, Michael Morris, after Invincible cleared the scene.”

Red and blue lights flash across the screen, painting your dark apartment walls in the bright hue. Your eyes hurt. Your skin itches. You aren’t aware of when it happens, but your arms are wrapped tightly around your knees, which you’ve pulled against your chest.

There’s a tension in your muscles that bubbles throughout your entire body. You don’t hear the reporter over the news anymore— all you can see, witness, feel is the bright red and blue lights of the police sirens.

Your phone rings again and for a moment, just a moment, you think it’s actual police sirens. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you reach down to grasp your phone; and when you realize your hand is trembling, you bite your lip.

“Hello?” your voice is breathless, but you ignore it.

The voice from the other side is one you’ve heard many times before. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your first appointment?”

“My– uh.. my what?” you ask, rubbing a hand against your forehead to disregard the dull ache behind your eyes.

“Your appointment with Dr. Morgan,” Aunt June says, a small pause in her words before she asks, “you did go, right?”

You want to slap yourself in the head for forgetting about your visit with your therapist only hours after it happened. But that was becoming typical for you— the forgetting.

“Oh, yeah.. yeah, I went. Nice person. Really, uh— really good listener.” you chew on your bottom lip to keep any more words from spilling out.

You can hear Aunt June sigh from the other side of the phone. Out of relief or irritation, you aren’t entirely sure. Part of you almost feels bad for her; that she has to put up with your shortcomings and the grievances that surely came along with tending to you.

“Good. I’m glad,” she finally says after a long stretch of silence. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

There it was.

The real reason Aunt June was calling you. Ever since the night Spencer died, she had been keeping tabs on your sleep schedule. You never asked her to do that— never asked her to care. Why she was so insistent upon it was beyond you.

The anger that surges inside of you is quick and instantaneous, something you know you'll feel guilty about later. “Yup. I’m all good on that front, Aunt June,” you bite with more force than necessary. “Speaking of which, I think I’m gonna go do that right now. Goodnight.”

You hang up the phone before she can respond and drop it on the ground next to you.

When she doesn’t call back, you pull your legs harder against your chest. You tighten your arms around them until you almost can’t breathe. Maybe you don’t want to.

The television in the background has drowned out by now, and you aren't paying any attention to it. Mostly because you don’t want to risk seeing any more flashing lights— too many things remind you of the night your life tipped over the edge. You don’t want to add television to the list of things you needed to avoid.

For all of Aunt June’s good natured worrying, she was right about one thing: you did need more sleep. Your eyes feel heavy and your bones ache. You don’t even know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you feel your stomach flip as the world shifts around you. The only thing that keeps you from plummeting back onto the floor is your grip on your sofa’s armrest.

When was the last time you ate?

Then again, even thinking about food was making you sick.

Dragging yourself to your bedroom, you walk past the dirty clothes that had been begging to be cleaned for a month— but you never could bring yourself to do it. Every time you humor the thought of being productive, your body shuts down.

When you climb into your bed and pull the covers up to your chin, you stare out the window facing the city. Twinkling lights and boisterous gatherings mock you from below— they demand to know why you’re hiding in your apartment on a Saturday night.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone out to the city and had fun. It was probably with Spencer.

No. You can’t think about him.

Rolling away from the window so that it’s facing your back, you stare at the opposite wall, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that was suffocating you. You don’t know what to mourn: Spencer, your life, your lack of enjoyment for anything, or the memories of all of it you've tucked away inside a box at the back of your mind.

You lay there contemplating these losses until the nightlife below fizzles out and your clock reads 4:45 a.m.

Giving up on your attempts to find sleep, you sprawl out on your back and drag your hands down your face. You can practically feel the dark circles beneath your eyes growing bigger.

“This is so stupid,” you whisper in the isolation of your apartment bedroom. The only thing that responds is a faint whirring sound from the window.

Panic shoots through your bones and your head jerks in that direction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting when your wild eyes stare out the clear glass— did you just imagine the sound?

No, there was something there.

Slowly, as though whatever it is out there would flee if you move too fast, you close the distance between your bed and the window. Dark gray skies stare back at you, inquiring what it is you’re seeking.

You aren’t hearing things.

Something is out there.

Discomfort churns in your stomach as you remain at the window for a minute longer. You haven’t given in to the notion that your mind is playing tricks on you.

Because as you climb back into your bed and burrow yourself underneath the covers, one thing is abundantly clear.

Someone is watching you.

[miks-delusional-blog]

HI HI HI if you take emoji anons I’d like to be 💚!!!!

can i request something with arkham knight jason x male or gender neutral reader?? it would be so so sick if you could do something where reader is arkham knight’s medic or something, something something “you have to learn to be more careful”

sorry if this is disrespectful and you dont have to do it, but thanks for listening and best of luck with your writing !!!

Personal Medic- AK!Jason Todd x GN! Reader

A/n

Hi! You may be 💚 anon! You’re actually my first anon request :)

Also it’s okay to request what you requested, it’s not offensive at all. I’ve never written male reader before so for this request I made it GN! Every x reader that I write is GN! Unless specified as fem! Though I do wonder if I’ve accidentally coded them as fem…

I hope you enjoy this one shot, I struggled quite a bit with the ending, and I did try out another type of storyline in my drafts but this felt like the best one? Lmao if you wanted to know what the other draft was about feel free to message 🫶

Enjoy! 💞

Disclaimer! I’m not a medic/know nothing about medicine so do not take any medical advice from this post please.

Tags: fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, there’s a smooch, w.c 1623

You have to learn to be more careful.” You grumble, sewing up another bullet wound chipping his shoulder.

This has become a nightly routine.

You’d come home after a 12 Hour shift, and maybe he’d already be waiting for you in your living room with a giant slash or a gaping wound. It’s a good thing you don’t have a white couch. Just a brown, very worn down, probably older than you, couch.

“What’s the point in all this armour if you still end up like this every night?” And like every night you complain while he sits quietly watching you at work, his hand kneading the armrest.

He doesn’t usually talk too much. You’re not sure if it’s because he doesn’t like you, but he must tolerate you to always come back.

“Are you almost done?” He asks in a low voice, strained but almost soft. Not how he used to talk to you.

When he first fell on your fire escape he was covered in blood and pushed a gun at your chest, threatening to kill you if you even touched him. Now he was in your living room quiet as a mouse, no longer too shy to keep his helmet on as he let you work.

Of course you knew who he was. At this point, who in Gotham hadn’t heard of the Arkham Knight? You don’t know why you hadn’t called the police on him. You suppose it’s because he wasn’t so scary like this.

And the fact that you happened to keep finding hundred dollar bills on the coffee table after he’d left didn’t push you to really want to. Student debt and the cost of living crisis is a real bitch, some of us have to eat.

It’s probably a bad idea to have a man like this in your apartment.

You finish closing the wound, “almost good as new. Don’t tear this one. Let me see the one from last week.” you take off your gloves and set your tools down in a tray as he stripped off his chest plate.

You crouch in front of him analysing the wound. Gently pushing at his chest, “Sit up… relax a little.” Your finger brushes over the stitches. “Might have to keep them for a few more days, especially considering you tore them before. Would it kill you to have a few days rest? The more injuries you get, the harder it is for old wounds to heal.”

“I can barely take the time to sleep.” he finally looks into your eyes. Blue, almost gray. And you realise how close the two of you are, as if you weren’t just sticking a needle and suture in him.

“Are you sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“... Few hours.”

“Few hours? Should be at least six.” You roll your eyes with a slight playfulness. “Though with your injuries, maybe eight…You need to look after yourself better.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Well excuse me, you’re the one who keeps me up. Why do you keep coming back here? Hospitals are 24/7.” You move to sit more comfortably on the couch. Your knee bumps his for a moment as your head lulls to the side, pressing your cheek against the couch cushion. A small wave of tiredness hits.

“I think you know why I can’t just go to a hospital.” He huffs. “ And you get the job done.” He sits back, his breath hitching a little from soreness.

“With a lot of complaints.”

The corner of his lip twitches up, “Certainly with a lot of complaints.”

“This isn’t exactly the most sterile environment. And I know you could easily find someone to do this more efficiently, and not in their pajamas.”

“Suppose that’s true.”

“So why do you keep coming back?”

“Why do you keep treating me?” He turns to you.

“I can’t exactly say no when you’re bleeding out on my floor.”

“But you’ve never called the police on me.”

“...yeah…so?” You get a little embarrassed.

He smiles, it’s almost wicked.

“You’re good at bribing me.” you huff softly, “I’m in debt, I was living paycheck to paycheck. Now I can buy triple-ply toilet paper and buy a sweet treat once a week without breaking the bank.”

“What’s your ‘sweet treat’ this week?”

“... It’s stupid.”

He raises a brow. “Just tell me.”

You cross your arms, and shy away. “...Lego.”

“Lego? How old are you five?” he teases.

“Well five year olds shouldn’t play with Lego cause it’s a choking hazard. And I told you it was dumb.” You feel the heat rise to your face.

“So…That’s it?” he raises a brow.

“What do you mean ‘so that’s it?’”

“I don’t know… thought you’d get yourself something nicer.”

“Those things are nice. It improves my quality of life.”

“Lego and Triple-ply is improving your life?“

“My ass appreciates it. The tripe-ply, not the Lego.”

He chuckles. A real laugh. It’s the first time you’ve heard it and it almost makes you freeze.

It’s deeper than you thought it might sound. Though you’ve never really thought about what his laugh might sound like. But seeing him smile, a genuine amused smile… your chest feels warm.

After a beat, you sit up. “You never said why you keep coming back here. Like why you really come here.”

He take a moment to think of an answer. “I don’t really know… maybe because I know I shouldn’t… and I know you’ll never turn me away.” He almost sounds ashamed, no, guilty.

It catches you off guard. To think a man like the Arkham Knight can feel guilty. Especially after watching the news recently. But, the more you think about it, he was quite considerate of you.

He’d always try to help clean up after you’d treat him, which you’d have to push him back to the couch if he had a particularly gnarly wound. He’s never forgotten to give you money after seeing you. Always enough to replace the medical supplies used plus at least a hundred dollars.

“So… what I’m hearing is that you like my company?”

“Yeah.” He can’t seem to look at you.

“You know… I’d rather see you without so many injuries.” You say quietly.

“But then I wouldn’t-“ he pauses before looking up at you. Those eyes. You see he tenses a little before trying to relax. “I wouldn’t be able to see you… if I wasn’t injured.”

His admission makes you soften. The Arkham Knight wasn’t one to be vulnerable with you, or anyone you figure. Even though you’ve seen him without the helmet a hundred times, he’s always worn an emotional mask, and he’s never told you his name. A sarcastic nonchalant barrier, which you weren’t sure was to protect you or him.

You take a breath. “You can come here when you’re not injured too.”

“…Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“I mean, why would you want me here? I’m not exactly good company.”

“You’re alright.”

“Just ‘alright’?” He feigns offense, but the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“I like your company.”

“Not just the Lego and the triple-ply?” He’s teasing you.

“I like those things, but… I think I’d be okay without them…” Your gaze wanders to the window. “Though, if you were to just never come back again… maybe I wouldn’t be okay with that.” You sigh, reflecting. “You’ve been coming around here for a while now… a year in a month. I think I’d be… quite sad if you decided to never come back. But I’d understand. I’m not the best medic out there. Sometimes I struggle with treating you… and I worry that what if there’s an injury too bad that I can’t treat here in my apartment? I really wish you’d be more careful, that I didn’t have to treat a wound every time you came by.”

You take a breath you’d hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “I’d hate it if… you died here… or if you died at all. I find myself watching the news more, so I know you’re okay. You probably think it’s stupid… some rando-person you barely know always so worried about you…”

Sometimes you say things you don’t mean to admit. But he’s always been a good listener.

It’s quiet, other than the hum of your fridge and cars passing by your apartment. Now you’ve done it, haven’t you? Said too much. Weirded him out. Annoyed him. Been too—

“You’re not some random person to me.” He places a hand on your knee.

You look back at him. Even he seems a little surprised by his gesture, but he decides to commit, scooting closer to you.

“I like your company too… I like a lot about you.” His eyes almost avert before he catches himself, staring deeply into your eyes.

Maybe his eyes are a little more blue than grey.

“I’d… never come here with something you couldn’t fix…I wouldn’t do that to you. And I don’t plan on dying here or anywhere else so you don’t gotta worry about that.”

You nod, falling silent.

He’s so close.

Your eyes lower to his lips before averting away. There’s no way you just thought about kissing him. That would be insane, right? But before you can even be embarrassed, he cups your jaw, turning your face to him and kisses you.

You freeze, not fully processing what’s happening. When you stiffen, it scares him and he pulls away.

He lets go of you in a panic, “Sorry- I thought-“

You stop him, taking his wrist, “Don’t- don’t stop…please.” You lean in close again.

Jason cups your jaw again before pressing his lips against yours. And it makes you think, maybe being his personal medic wasn’t so bad.

[maghendearey]

Post it Love

In which Y/N is nervous and Oscar is nervous with a little surprise

Hi guys, I hope you like it. Today it's very short again. If you have any wishes or suggestions, just write to me. I hope you like it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Masterlist

It would be a very, very easy formulation to say that the last few days have been stressful. The truth would probably be that I haven't been able to sleep properly for days, every two seconds my brain was asking me whether it was such a smart idea to have listened to Oscar. I shouldn't have quit my job just to concentrate more on art. Sure, I wasn't earning much at the moment anyway. That still didn't mean that it was such a good idea to try to make ends meet with art alone. But now I couldn't change it. I had already handed in my resignation and I was already wearing the clothes for my last day of work. It certainly would have been easier if Oscar had been there. But he was on the other side of the world for a race. And because of the stupid time difference, I couldn't even call him.

I tried to concentrate. Doing my makeup normally. Doing my hair normally. Drinking my coffee normally and also opening the fridge door normally to see if there was anything at least a little bit edible. Because Oscar had only flown in last night at 11 p.m. and I wanted to accompany him to see him. As I opened the door, a smile formed on my lips. I reached for what I had seen and pulled it out. A lunchbox that Oscar must have baked for me. I opened it to see what was inside. A croissant with cheese and ham, a bowl of raspberries and something that must have been about half a bell pepper. Next to it was a small bag of gummy bears and a piece of paper. I pulled out what Oscar had written. He was one of the few boys I knew who had writing that was actually decipherable.

Baby, I know you're overthinking things. Forget it, okay. You can do anything, and I know it's worth following your dream. Besides, I know you and I know that if I hadn't made you food, you probably would have just eaten an apple. Forget it! As long as I'm here, you'll eat right. Love you, Osc

I quickly packed my lunch box in my bag before running downstairs, unlocking my car, and quickly getting in. The streets were empty, and it probably would have taken me a lot less time if every other traffic light hadn't been red. When I arrived, I wanted to fix my hair one last time, so I folded down the mirror. As I did, however, I saw another note in Oscar's handwriting.

You can do this

Damn Oscar. I loved him so much. He was there for me, whether on the other side of the world or now. I had found my security. We were good for each other, and if I could, I would never let him go.

I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment or like.💋

[livewithyura]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and wanted to request headcanons with Lee Chaolan (The lack of content on him should be a crime- HE'S JUST SO- ✨💘💞💗)

Basically- how would married life be like with him 👀 The wedding day itself?! The honeymoon?! HIS DEVOTED ASS JUST BEING HIMSELF AS HE FLEXES AND SPOILS HIS WIFE?! CHILDREN?! DOMESTIC STUFF?!

Sorry if this is too many things to ask for in 1 post 😭 but feel free to add or remove anything 💕

Lee Headcanon!

Answer : Yeaaaa of course!! Omg I love this sassy man , The lack of content of this man? JAIL TIME . I know . Btw Omg your idea is very cute , I also can imagine he spoil his family and bragging how he love his wife to lars lmfaooo . And also I’m very happy to see a long request , thinking about how you spend your free time to wrote this much . Don’t worry anon! , I will make sure to fulfill your request .

Extra Notes : Uh I’m sorry for being inactive again , just having a writer block for one month . ( Just kill me )

Content : Husband Lee Headcanon .

The Wedding

☁️ 𐙚 . First of all, the venue is not “a” venue. It’s his venue. A custom-built estate on a cliff overlooking the sea. Cherry blossoms were flown in. The koi pond was designed to reflect the exact color of your eyes. No, he won’t say how much it cost. Yes, it was probably illegal ( Don’t do him wrong )

☁️ 𐙚 . His suit? Tailored within an inch of its life. White silk, silver trim, and cufflinks engraved with the date he met you , not the wedding. The day you became real to him.

☁️ 𐙚 . He wrote his vows in the middle of the night and sealed them in an envelope scented with your perfume. His handwriting is so clean it looks printed. His voice shakes only once during the speech , “You are the only thing I’ve never wanted to replace.”

☁️ 𐙚 . Walked down the aisle like he was in a cologne ad. Smirking and winking at guests. But the second he saw you? Full-body freeze. His smile become falters , His Eyes soften . It’s the only time all day he didn’t have a snarky comeback.

☁️ 𐙚 . He kisses your hand right before the “I do.” Trust me , It’s not scripted. He Just couldn't help himself when he saw you . ( Swears he blacked out for the whole ceremony , Don’t worry Lars and Alisa come to the rescue )

☁️ 𐙚 The kiss? Gosh just like taylor swift said ‘Messy top lip-kiss’ , ( He never ever let your waist free from his touch )

☁️ 𐙚 The reception is like a celebrity gala. Champagne towers. A live string quartet remixing your favorite pop songs. Lee makes a toast, obviously: “She said yes, and frankly, I’d have bought the moon if it meant she said it again.”

☁️ 𐙚 First dance? Hmmm of course it choreographed, dramatic, flawless. Did you rehearse it? No. But he makes you feel like you’re the star of a movie. Somewhere during the spin, he whispers, “We’re the best-looking couple in the room. Just facts.”

☁️ 𐙚 The wedding favors are custom perfume bottles ! His scent for the men, yours for the women. The label says “Chaolan & [Your Last Name] — Est. Today.”

☁️ 𐙚 When the night winds down and you’re both tipsy on champagne and adrenaline, he sneaks you away from the crowd. Just you and him. Quiet, under a thousand fairy lights. He presses his forehead to yours and says softly: “You’re mine now. Not just in love….in everything. Forever.”

The Honeymoon

☁️ 𐙚 Lee doesn’t take you on a honeymoon BUT he takes you into exile from the world. A private island. “My love , I don’t like to share”

☁️ 𐙚 Staff disappears after dinner. No cameras. No interruptions. Just you, him, and ocean views that cost more than some countries.

☁️ 𐙚 The villa has 6 bedrooms. You only use one. And the pool. And the balcony. And the hallway once, but he won’t shut up about it.

☁️ 𐙚 Every morning starts the same . He’s shirtless, lounging in bed, sipping espresso and watching you sleep like he’s in a Renaissance painting. “Wake up, Mrs. Chaolan. I require attention.”

☁️ 𐙚 Breakfast is served by staff at first… but by day three he’s feeding you by hand in a silk robe. The food is good. He’s better. “You’re not eating that alone,” he says, taking a bite of your croissant and then kissing the crumbs off your mouth.

☁️ 𐙚 Beach walks? Yes. But only if you’re wearing the matching outfits he packed for both of you. Yes, in my mind he’s a color-coordinated ! The entire suitcase. And Nope , you’re not allowed to ruin his aesthetic.

☁️ 𐙚 His honeymoond activity includes : Private massages that somehow turn into makeout sessions. Teaching you how to drive a luxury car on an empty runway. Taking slow-motion videos of you in the pool like he’s filming a fragrance ad. and said “Don’t act like you’re not hot, babe.”

☁️ 𐙚 He keeps showing off . Carrying you like it’s nothing, popping champagne with one hand, lifting you onto the kitchen counter mid-kiss like it’s just Tuesday . “I married the most beautiful woman on Earth. What else am I supposed to do? Act humble? Please.”

☁️ 𐙚 The soft moments are rare . But when they happen, they wreck you. Like when he holds you against his chest after you both laugh too hard and just whispers, “I’ve never felt this safe with anyone.”

☁️ 𐙚 You fall asleep every night to the sound of ocean waves and Lee murmuring nonsense into your hair. “Can we never leave?” he mumbles one night. “Like ever?”

☁️ 𐙚 In the end of honeymoon , he’s having this big dramatic urge to NOT go back to his daily life . Working . You: “You have work. Lee : And? I have you . Work can wait~”

Domestic / Marriage Life?

☁️ 𐙚 We all know Lee’s that rich uncle 💵 Lee spoils you ruthlessly. Call designer bags “just because,” custom dresses with his initials stitched inside, and breakfast delivered to bed by staff you didn’t even know he hired.

☁️ 𐙚 But he also folds your laundry. Makes your tea the way you like it. Runs your bath after a hard day and sits on the edge, still in his blazer, waiting for you to vent.

☁️ 𐙚 When he’s in meetings, he texts you updates like: “Boring. I miss your voice.” “How dare you look this good in my shirt this morning.” “I accidentally told Kazuya to f*** off because I was daydreaming about you. Worth it.”

☁️ 𐙚 Lee wakes up in Egyptian cotton sheets, silk pillowcases, and a wife. He never imagine he will have a family of his own , being H****** M****’s ADOPTIVE SON sure slapped him with a Trauma . Now He’s living the dream! but that doesn’t stop him from slipping out of bed early just to make breakfast himself. “As much as I'd like to stay in bed... or go to work and make more millions... I have breakfast to make for the two of you.” Yea , he says it out loud. To himself. Shirtless, in an apron.

☁️ 𐙚 You change his whole life! Lee’s house originally looked like a bachelor robot's and it’s so dull and full of messy things . Now when he’s with you , His house turned something warm and lived in. Throw pillows. Fridge magnets. Plants. He fights it at first. Then he starts buying the pillows himself.

☁️ 𐙚 “My love…What was the name of the scented candles that smell exactly like you?” “Lee Are you dead fucking serious?” “AWWWW COME ONN , I LOVE ITTTT”

☁️ 𐙚 Forehead kisses as he rushes off to work. Never forgets. Even if he’s running late . Suit half-buttoned, phone ringing in his ear , he always stops, tilts your face up, presses his lips to your skin like a promise.

☁️ 𐙚 Whenever he have an Expensive events , He always always going to drag you to be there . Dances with you in public. Fundraisers. Boardroom halls. No music? He hums it himself. “We’re making these stockholders jealous, babe.” “Lee ! They came here for business.” “They stayed for the performance.”

☁️ 𐙚 Paints your nails with terrifying precision. Will literally cancel meetings if you text him “broke a nail 🥺” — suddenly it’s Nail Emergency Protocol. “If I’m not doing it, who will? Lars? Lars’s a disaster.”

☁️ 𐙚 You once offhandedly mentioned liking a certain clothing brand. Next week, you find out Lee bought it. Entirely. “Lee…” “Yea?” “I told you to buy a jacket from them.” “I know. I bought the company. Easier that way.” “YOU BOUGHT THE WHOLE COMPANY?” “They were having a slow quarter~ I helped!”

☁️ 𐙚 FaceTimes you during the workday and doesn’t even say anything. Just looks at you while typing. You try to ask what he needs. He shakes his head . “Nothingggg . I Just missed your face my wife ~” and he wink at you .

☁️ 𐙚 When he’s had a hard day, he doesn’t complain . He lies in your lap while you read. Rubs his thumb over your ring like it grounds him. You stroke his hair, and he breathes like it’s the only peace he knows. “Do you need something My love?” “No need wifey~ I just want you . You only . Please?”

☁️ 𐙚 When you had a hard day , to make you feel better is on his ‘To-do-list’ . Never ever he let your sour , tired face slide in the house . “My love! I have one solution! How about I go out buy your favorite ice cream or snacks , take a nice bath together ~ anddd watch our your favourite show” and he done all of it , in just one day .

Kids?

☁️ 𐙚 You weren’t sure if Lee would want children. You’d never seen him around kids. But when your daughter was born, he shattered.

☁️ 𐙚 He cried. Not dramatic sobs — just soft, shaking breaths, lips pressed to her forehead like he was afraid to break her. She has his eyes. His attitude too, unfortunately.

☁️ 𐙚 “Who taught her to sass me like that?” you ask one day. Lee, from the kitchen, sipping espresso: “Clearly inherited. I’m innocent.”

☁️ 𐙚 He teaches her how to tie a perfect bow in her hair. Buys her her first custom blazer at age five. Cries again when she calls him “Daddy” in her sleep.

☁️ 𐙚 Probably would said “EXCELLENT I AM A BETTER DAD THAN KAZUYA” “Yeepp , Your first win against kazuya” - Lars “Watch your mouth , can you? 😊😊”

🪄Reblogs are appreciated ! Writtenbylivewithyura .

[somegrumpynerd]

Sssshhhh the stars are eepy

[coconut530]

WEIGHT IN GOLD

[jessicas-pi]

welp the last 24 hours have been more or less a picture perfect demonstration of How Many Times Can I Make The Worst Decision Possible In Any Given Situation

[stabknives]

Sometimes the fish is in a sexual relationship with the hook.

[saetiate]

gooooood morning !!! ^.^ ooooooh it feels like a bit of a lazy day today for me zzz but i will do my best to get things done!!! i hope you have the strength and capability to get through whatever it is you wanna do today!!!

[amanedachi]

iron / heart

Part of LoL Esports Elemental Series.

[st4rstudent]

stubborn

no text ver

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

ok sardines headcanons & character thoughts let's go

(aka cos i've been writing a carl x stu fic i've ofc been thinking about them constantly so i have thoughts and i'm making them in a post lol)

carl:

so in the ep they mention he has 2 sisters, rebecca the youngest, and caroline who isn't there but i headcanon as being the middle child, which ofc makes carl the oldest which SO fits with his whole vibe imo!

& i also think because rebecca is younger it maybe explains why she's less affected by the whole thing w/ their father (and why she still calls him daddy, like look, i'm a youngest child, i know we have the reputation of being the spoilt favourites lol) & also why caroline wasn't there! (also the subtle hint as to why, when the nanny mentions how it's been a while since she saw 'the boys'... as in caroline literally moved to another country with her sons to stop her father's abuse Yikes...)

(also i LOVED the sibling moment where pip calls rebecca a bitch and they both turn and glare at him lol... )

also r&s always have amazing costumes in their stuff that speak SO much to the characters and carl's is no different!! that he's wearing a 3 piece suit to a party, keeping as much of himself covered up as possible!

even the way he shoves himself further into the corner of the wardrobe as more people come in... it all speaks to his struggles with intimacy brought on by that childhood trauma...

stu:

i love that on the surface stu doesn't feel overly complex: he's camp he's gay he makes jokes he drinks, that's about it BUT the closer you look at him and esp his relationship to carl it reveals there's so much more to his character than just that!

for me he totally has youngest sibling energy tbh! (not just saying this cos i love oldest sibling/youngest sibling relationship dynamics lol) he maybe didn't get said no to often as a kid, but at the same time is aware of how often he plays mediator between his parents and his older siblings (no i'm not projecting shut UP), so when he lashes out at carl and makes the intimacy issue remark it felt just like that: that he was lashing out trying to get a reaction (cos stu is crass but i don't see him as cruel, and 100% he would have understood why carl has those issues even if carl hadn't properly told him everything about it yet...)

+ all the times he made his innuendos and jokes and carl shut him down, he's fully aware of what he's doing and obviously enjoys pushing his buttons lol (see the 'you're pretty when you're angry' remark he makes about rebecca and carl lol) and i love that we get a glimpse of carl doing the same when he makes the roommate remark lol

there is obviously still turbulence there (mostly brought on by the fact carl is back in the place he was abused so it's like... understandable he would be on edge and snapping at stu), and with every rewatch i am constantly desperate for them to make actual amends before the final reveal, but what gets me is how much love you can still feel between them despite all the animosity :')

oh also stu is a hairdresser i decided lol it just fits perfectly lol (how beautifully styled his hair is in the episode, him loving to gossip and chat and make jokes, i can literally HEAR him say 'you doing anything nice on your holidays?' lol)

[ganondoodle]

while i am procrastinating drawing in favor of staring blankly at the wall listening to my own tinnitus and heartbeat for some ungodly reason, i have decided to have the reworked sonau not include the barbarian set in any way (which has been freezing my progress of rewriting them to completion) bc it just doesnt fit them at all and explain it by implying that its a fake armor set with made up lore as essentially a piece of surviving propaganda made by the shiekah to make it seem more justified what they did to them-

(in my rewrite the sonau were an underground dwelling monkey-frog like creature feeding on nectar the nature of which made them turn into crystals of luminous stone upon death- which is also the energy source for the shiekah tech, additionally the sonau here were protecting ancient pieces of lost history of the past they were sure would lead to disaster if anyone of the surface would find them, and with believing the cycle of hyrules destructions is man made and self perpetuated at the center of their belief system it posed a danger to hyrules reputation- thus making them a target that ends in a double win for hyrule if eliminated)

-which would neatly also lead to perhaps a bit of tension with the existing shiekah, most of which of course dont know anything about any of it, but perhaps with impa being the only one to safeguard the only information left about it as a means of both preservation and to have it never be revealed :)

[wackywatchdotcom]

man, i have to go do something in a minute here, but i am CONSTANTLY think about like... how long DOES the average circus member last before they abstract?

we dont have a lot of information about the passage of time in general in the show (which is infinitely painful to me, who likes to know about technical details very in-depth. but i understand writing wise why its like this) other than that the first 4 episodes take place over the span of 4(? or 5, depending on how you interpret the ending scene of episode 4) (which this also intrigues me that 8-9 days will pass over the course of the show... and also makes me curious about just how eventful the average day truly is in the circus!) days and that everyone in the circus has likely been here for at MINIMUM 2 years

(i say that because jax says "weve been stuck here for years" which implies that all of the people there at the time have been there for more than one year and because of the plural years, a minimum of 2. maybe. he also could just be oversimplifying things but unless given reason to think otherwise im interpretting the line this way)

we know of a at least ~18 people whove been in the circus total, but i frankly think its more than that. we know ribbit abstracted before kaufmo, but we dont know when ribbit joined the circus, or how much time was between these

it also depends on how long you think the circus members have been trapped for. i personally think this has been going on for at minimum 10 years (i have my own hcs abt it being ~16 years, but thats just hc and based on a bunch of my interpretations of random details) but we dont really know this, and how long this has been happening, and how long kingers been here, and whether or not kinger has or hasnt been here the longest of anyone whos ever been in the circus

like if its been like 5 years thatd mean like... 3-4 people join the circus each year (on average). if its 10 years thatd mean 1-2 people join the circus each year (on average). and we dont even know how many people the circus has in it at one time on avg!! like theres the theory it floats around 6, but thats just a theory and not smth we know for sure. point being, we dont even know how often people join the circus and that effects a LOT of things

idk..... i guess the question really is 'how often can a person last in the circus before they literally cannot take it anymore' which is a much sadder question. we dont even know how long ago queenie abstracted, or ribbit abstracted. did zooble know ribbit? did ribbit get here before or after zooble did??

it just haunts me a little

[its-all-papaya]

wrote 800 words of dad lando in 45 minutes ! first meaningful progress on her in forever ! amazing what you can do when you set aside purposeful writing time at the end of your night instead of staring half-assedly at the document all evening while also feeling guilty for not accomplishing the tasks you're meant to be completing. wow ! my brain !

[tinyfantasminha]

👍