#not the healthiest solution

[adultish-momma]

Ink Dandelions

Ruggie agrees to what he thinks is just a fun outing with Yuu before everyone comes back from break and vies for their attention, but as he should expect when it comes to them, things end up more complicated than he bargained for.

TW: Tattoos and getting tattoos, mention of past trauma, mention of past violence, mention of scars, mention of nightmares, mention of asphyxiation/snakebites, mention of intentional violence, possessive thoughts.

A/N: MONTHS. THIS TOOK MONTHS TO WRITE. I really really really wanted to write this concept, I really really really wanted Ruggie to have his time to shine, to show it's not just the OB boys and Housewardens who are affected by this Yuu, but COHESIVENESS man gets me everytime :'(

"Where are we going exactly? Because I remember something about donuts, and this is not the way to the donut stall."

"I know, and I will get you those donuts, but after my appointment. This place doesn't allow any food or drink, besides water, for the clients."

"So explain to me why exactly I had to be the one to come with you then? Don't you have your pet cat and that card duo to drag along on your errands? I already gotta play errand boy for Leona, what's in it for me?"

There's a way Yuu will look at people, this intense look in their eye that he's never been able to quite pin down before. They're not looking through you, it's different than the way somebody like Floyd or Riddle might look at you, like you're not even there. And Yuu's stare isn't invasive either, not intentionally at least, no Ruggie is well aware of what that looks and feels like. There are too many guys at NRC that have perfected that calculating, dissecting gaze of looking into you, of being able to find your every flaw with just a heavy look. (He sees it enough on his own Dormleader's face.)

Yuu levels him with their unique, flustering, soul-searching look right there on the street corner. They're quiet as they wait for the signal that it's safe for them to cross, seemingly giving his sarcastic question some serious thought. It makes him squirm, makes his skin itch in an unfamiliar way, makes his ears flick and his tail twitch and it's not unpleasant, particularly, but it's different and he's about to say something taunting and probably rude just to get the Prefect to stop looking at him like that and -

Suddenly they're wrapping their hand around his own, gentle but firm as they finally turn away and tug him across the intersection. He thinks they're just going to ignore his earlier jabs, and that's fine, there was nothing serious behind them in the first place. Leona hasn't come back from break yet, and Ruggie had just returned yesterday, so as long as they held true to their promise of sugary delights, the hyena really didn't have any other plans today.

"I think you're the only one in all of NRC who will actually understand why I have this appointment. And if you decide you want it too, then I'm more than happy to pay for yours." They aren't looking at him, eyeing a nondescript storefront that they are determinedly dragging him towards. But their voice is somber, serious in a way he's really only heard inside the confines of the school infirmary. It makes him reach for his elbow, fingers tracing the scar he tried very hard to hide from his family over the break.

They catch the movement, he knows they do. But instead of commenting, they push inside the shop, letting him go once he's passed the threshold so they can approach the person at the reception desk. And Ruggie is left standing there, thinking to himself that this must be what whiplash feels like, because the stark difference between slipping into a slow spiral of complicated memories and baffled bewilderment is absolutely wild.

This is not where he thought the Ramshackle Prefect would be taking him today.

The tattoo shop is warm and cozy, surprisingly enough. Almost every inch of the waiting area up front is covered in tattoo designs. There's art in every different style known to man. From small, modern, simple designs to some massive traditional pieces he'd see back in the slums of the Sunset Savanah to everything in between from every corner of Twisted Wonderland. Ruggie is pulled back from his admiration for the art by the conversation brewing between the Prefect and the tattoo artist leading them to the back, Yuu waving at him to follow along.

"This is gonna be the last one right? I shouldn't have to see you in here again after we finish up this piece, correct?"

"Wow, okay, I see how it is, already sick of me huh?"

"Nah, of course not, you're one of my favorite customers. Some of my favorite art to walk out that door too. But considering exactly why you've enlisted my services, yeah, I want this to be the last one."

Ruggie feels like he's having an out-of-body experience. Sure, he can still feel the shop around him, too many predator instincts ingrained in his DNA to truly lose all his faculties. But as the artist and Yuu keep talking in that weirdly professionally intimate way, he feels his mouth go dry and his limbs lock up. And as Yuu takes off their overly thick turtleneck, revealing the tank underneath, it feels as if the world slows down to a syrupy crawl, like his head is dipped underwater and the only thing solid and real in this new world of his is the expanse of the Prefect's skin that he's now faced with.

Ruggie was there for Azul's Overblot. True he passed out before the fight had ended, but he dimly remembers seeing the cephalopod's tentacles wrap around Yuu's neck and squeeze. (He wakes up in cold sweats some mornings, trying to gulp down as much oxygen as possible when his nightmares decide to play around with that particularly traumatizing experience.) So there's a part of him that flinches, hard, when he sees the tentacles that are inked into the Prefect's skin. They wrap around their neck the same way the Octavinille's housewarden did, although these ones are more stylized than the real thing, purples and lilacs and oil-slick blacks creating a haunting effect on their skin. The suckers look a little more raised than the rest of the artwork, but otherwise, it's a gorgeous piece of work. Makes him less nauseous to see that than the old, awful bruising that used to decorate Yuu's collarbone.

It's the piece of artwork on their right shoulder that cause a ball of anxiety to develop in Ruggie's chest. Sure, the stark reminder of that day in Octavinille isn't exactly pleasant, and seeing the pottery-crack scar on their left shoulder always fills Ruggie with a complicated concoction of emotions, but he knows about those events, he was there for them. He'd seen the damage firsthand for both, helped them with their bandages for both occasions, shared one of those scars with them. But if they are getting tattoos as reminders of the events that left them scarred so far this year, which Ruggie is inclined to believe is the case as he watches the artist prep the area surrounding Leona's mark, then what happened to them over the winter break?

Slithering up the Prefect's right shoulderblade is the tail of a snake, burnt oranges and blood reds and coopery bronze scales climb the snake in an almost hypnotic pattern. They turn, and he can see that the head of the snake rests on the front of their shoulder, fangs poised over two holes just to the right of where their collarbone meets the shoulder. Its hood is flared, and the cobra's garnet-red eyes seem to follow you, daring people to come close lest its fangs end up embedded in them. It's an incredibly detailed and realistic piece, the snake leaving shadows along Yuu's skin and the fangs actually looking like they've... pierced... skin...

"Did you get bitten by a snake??!!"

"Yes, and?"

"What do you mean 'and?'?? When? Why? How?"

And as the Prefect settles down in the chair, they tell him.

-------

Ruggie has spent the past hour in silence, processing everything Yuu told him, watching their newest tattoo bloom to life on their skin, trying to force the nausea to leave his system. At first, he thought Yuu's near-death experience was his main cause of discomfort, and don't get him wrong, it did bother him. Incredibly so.

But the longer they sat there under the tattoo gun, the pissier he became.

It's not like this new tattoo was ugly or anything. In fact, it was gorgeous, something that would make him salivate in any other situation. It was done in the traditional Sunset Savanna style, harsh lines and bold swirls, matte black lines creating an intricate design across their left shoulder. He spent the past hour watching the cracked, jagged lines of Leona's scar disappear beneath a complicated geometric pattern. When he realizes they've replaced the mark of a lion with a massive inked lion head, something in him snarls.

"It's a reminder, not a claim."

"... I don't know why you think you need to explain. 'Aint got nothin' to do with me."

"It's a reminder. It's a reminder I choose, something I have control over. There's no magic in existence that can heal the scars left behind from an Overblot, these are scars I'm stuck with for the rest of my life and I had no choice in it. These are my choice. And I chose to swap the scar tissue for a lion so nobody, especially the person who hurt me could forget it."

Well, now Ruggie feels bad. A little. He gets it, probably the only person on campus who can get it, but that doesn't quell the possessive urge inside of him that's furious with the Prefect for doing... something. He's not quite sure what exactly about this whole situation that's got him so upset.

He grabs his elbow, as the artist paints glimmering gold for the lion's facial features, stuck in his own messy, complicated feelings from that messy, complicated day. Leona is one of his closest relationships, a weird mess of a balance between friend and servant, equal and lesser. Their relationship has always been about mutual benefits, symbiotic always, platonic sometimes. And Ruggie can’t even look at his arm because it reminds him that there was a moment, before Leona Overblotted, before you can write it all off as something done under magical insanity, a moment where Leona actively tried to hurt him, actively and intentionally tried to maim him. And Ruggie is still bitter about it, still brings it up occasionally to inflict some of the complicated hurt on Leona that he still feels, but Ruggie is also exhausted and tired and wants to move on.

He looks up and Yuu has him pinned with that pleasantly infuriating look again, like they can read every thought he's currently having and every thought he's ever had and every thought he could have in the future. And it makes him feel so incredibly seen, but right now while he's drowning in such an emotional internal shit show, he wants nothing more than for them to stop looking at him. He's too vulnerable like this, too on the edge, too irrationally mad.

"I think you should get a coverup tattoo."

"I think you're projecting your emotional bullshit."

....

"What would I even get, huh? No way in hell I'm getting a matching tat."

"I think you should get a Dandelion."

....

"I don’t know, I just don’t feel like you should let Leona have such a physical claim over you. Like, turn this thing that he did to you, this mark he gave you, and make it into something that’s yours. Your flower, your mark, your body, you know?"

And it's not a bad idea, not at all, but it does nothing to satisfy the feral thing that's been pacing in his chest, snarling and chomping at the bit during this whole stupid endeavor.

"Besides, we can say we've got matching flower tattoos!"

If anyone ever doubted Ruggie's predatory status, they should've seen the way he fucking locked onto the Prefect's newly revealed thigh. He was so intently taking in the vine of roses circling their left leg, a constricting band of blood red and bone white roses, vivid green leaves and night black thorns, so intent was he that he almost missed how his disquiet had quieted, calmed and placated.

Oh. Oh, that's what was bothering him.

Because he’d been watching the tattoo come to life and a part of him had died a little inside with every stroke of ink but he couldn’t figure out why. But it turns out he’d always thought of the scar as a sorta good thing, a little bit, in the very back of his head. Because Yuu had the same scar, and it tied them together. And when Yuu erased their scar (for very valid reasons he knows this) they erased the connection they shared with him. Erased their connection and replaced it with something connecting them to Leona of all people.

But instead, he can now have this with them, something they both choose to happen to them. In this cozy, tucked-away store on the far side of town, they can have this tie, and Ruggie really, really likes that idea.

[crimeronan]

In titan P!Luz AU, in the scenario that Amity, Hunter, and Lilith do manage to escape to the Owl House (pRolOng ThEiR GriEf yyeeeSS >:)), how would Eda even deal with this? She’d understand how serious the situation is, but let’s say Luz does come back RIGHT in the middle of the Owl House, now looks like a humanoid version of King, and Hunter won’t let go of her while she’s like I need to go kill Belos RIGHT NOW.

i just showered and spent the entire time still thinking about this timeline because i love SO MUCH that it's like. a hunter extended grief spiral to match luz's over in the worst timeline. WHEEEE BE MISERABLE ABOUT EACH OTHER !! YAYYY

so.

antics in the owl house.

lilith is transparently coming apart at the seams, given that she's just lost her status AND any chance to heal eda's curse. amity is responding to this by scrabbling even harder for any bit of control she can get, which typically involves yelling at hunter and/or lashing out at hooty with her abomination magic.

and hunter is.... well. hunter.

so. eda is like well. we're all gonna kill each other eventually!! ah well. the world's gone to hell. this might as well happen . I Fucking Guess

at first hunter responds very similarly to the way he does in ftf -- after amity refuses to let him go martyr himself, he THROWS himself into making plans to attack belos. however even with all his castle knowledge and belos knowledge and wild magic knowledge, it's Pretty Fucking Difficult to assassinate the emperor. particularly when you are Public Enemy Number One.

after frustrating himself about a dozen times in a row, hunter starts digging through all of eda's books on wild magic and deeply illegal dark magic and other bullshit. eda assumes it's for more emperor-killing business, until hunter comes to her all like

hunter: owl lady.

eda: ....yes??

hunter: you know things about curses, don't you??

eda: well. some. obviously. you want to curse the emperor?

hunter: no, not that. it probably wouldn't take. i want you to curse me.

lilith, who was previously pacing around the kitchen, zipping into the room: hello. What.

hunter: there are Apparently curses that can take away a person's emotions. that'll make it easier to work without distractions. let's be practical about this

eda: ....those curses aren't a painkiller, kid. you wouldn't be able to feel anything positive, either. that's not the kind of life you want to give yourself

hunter: i don't Need positive feelings to get this done. i'll be able to remember my pre-curse priorities without any feelings getting in the way. as far as i'm concerned there's nothing but upsides!

lilith: cursing someone isn't something to undertake lightly-

hunter: wow! there is literally no one else on this island whose opinion i care about less than yours. anyway. eda, are you going to help me or not.

eda: ....not when you just lost someone, i'm not.

hunter, voice breaking: no, wait, please. Please. listen to me. i need to stop thinking about her. i'll do anything. i'm open to other solutions, i just - please.

eda: well, i'm not using a cursed solution to your emotional problems. that's a non-starter. i CAN get you really drunk, though. do you want to get Really, Really Drunk??

lilith: EDALYN-

eda: WHAT. it's not like drinking can make him feel WORSE.

hunter: actually. yeah. yeah that sounds great. probably the most useful thing short of a coma right now, so.

amity, muddy and covered in goop, coming in from where she's been outside wrestling hooty for like the tenth time today: if hunter is getting drunk, i would Also like to be drunk. just so everyone knows.

lilith: .....titan help me. fine. Fine. pour me a glass too. it's not as though anything matters anymore!!!! haHA!!!!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

55-75 dollars an hour for being a therapist? And all this time I’ve been giving services to adults for free since I was 10.

[lovely-v]

In order to do therapy you must locate a fictional man. Then, you must imagine that he has all of your problems. Now, solve all of his problems though the power of gay love and thesaurus dot com. You may have to repeat the process. I will let you guys know when I find the number of times you have to do this so that it will work 👍

[torsamors]

being less anxious overall lately has been nice but i kind of need it to kick in just for the next week. so i can overcome this mental block

[trealamh]

I'm sorry if you've got these question before but I have to ask: what made Alisdair speak to Arthur in Glasgow Scale? Did Arthur and Dai have any other family? What life did Arthur leave behind in Kent, and was Alisdsir's life much changed afterwards?

I love how your short stories pack so much life into them, they can be unfolded ten times over and I still would want to know more

always ask anything you'd like! i love your questions. And aaaa thankyouthanyouthankyou for your kind words <3

hehe I have been wondering whether it would be too indulgent to write TGS from Alasdair's point of view, actually. It would be a longer piece and much more dialogue heavy, covering from the night they met to Arthur moving in.

(Here is where I confess that TGS was going to be a multi-chapter fic/ one of those 15k single-chapter fics until i got worried I would disappoint people by taking too long to update or missing scoteng week entirely orz sorry everyone)

But to answer your questions!

Alasdair, as i mentioned here had just been released from custody and made his way straight to the hospital (no time to rush home and hop in the shower when you're naw even sure your brother is still alive). He is still running high on adrenaline a when he goes to find a seat in the waiting room, having been dismissed by the nurses that won't let him into Sean's room. It may not show much on him, but emotionally he is all over the place; angry, furious, even, and worried. Exhausted and fed up with the proceedings of loss; the bureaucracy of pain. Having someone in hospital is one of the hardest things to go through; a lot of the time it is worse to be the one waiting outside than it is to be the one hooked onto an IV. Alasdair is burning for a smoke and out of filters but the truth is that the reason why he sits next to Arthur is that something in him recognises him as a younger brother-- Dai was older. Call it instinct. I don't believe he would rationalise it and I do think that at some point Arthur would ask him outright "Why did you choose to sit next to me that night? Why me?" Alasdair probably would not have the words o explain it beyond some vague sense that Arthur was the only person in that room that made sense to him in that moment.

Arthur and Dai only had each other, really. Maybe a distant relative here and there but no one close. I won't go into detail to spare anyone who might come across this without a cw but it is partly why Dai is almost meticulous with the instructions he leaves behind; he knows that Arthur won't have any support going forward so as much as he can he tries to make it easy.

(It is patently not. It could never be. Nothing about loss could ever be but losing someone under those circumstances especially is unmanageable.)

When Arthur calls Dai's workplace to try and let them know he is not coming in to work they seem a little baffled and tell him that Dai had put in his two weeks already. It makes Arthur nauseous; it almost brings him to his knees. It makes him realise how long Dai had been planning this for and that as much as the loss of him itself is worse than any nightmare.

Moving onto lighter things, what Arthur leaves behind in Kent is a slightly bemused flatmate and a few odd pieces of furniture. He only moves in with Alasdair after he finishes his degree! Dai and him grew up nestled deep in the Welsh borders (I needed them both to have a piece of their namesake countries with them! so the borders it was) lost their mother in their late teens, shortly after Arthur gets approved for his student loan. Some more deep lore for TGS: that the reason why Dai is studying in Edinburgh are the student fees. He is older than Arthur, as I mentioned, so went off to uni a year before he did with his mother's support. She was already sick when Arthur was finishing up school and gone before he got his A-levels back. That summer, Dai comes down from Scotland to help him back and move into his first-year accommodation in Kent and that is the last time they spend more than a couple of weeks together at a time. Everything they own between them and whatever their mum left is split even; they get a few boxes each and a couple of furnishings, and that's all they really need. Eventually, Arthur might start feeling that loss as well and he might feel nostalgic about his home town, the flat they shared with their mother, and he might return to seek out familiar sights. Dai never grows old enough for her loss to lose its sting. They have different fathers (both still living) but neither keep in touch; their wee family of three (and then two) was plenty enough for them.

(Alasdair, contrastingly, comes from a Big Family. They fold Arthur right in, don't ye worry.)

And last of all, Alasdair's life does change pretty significantly after the events in The Glasgow Scale. He stops smoking, for one, but he also starts drinking less. By the time we meet him in this AU he has already done a lot of the work to get a hold on his temper and it's partly why he is not one of the brawlers in the fight that puts Sean in a coma. But he still has a ways to go and Arthur helps with that, more than he knows. He learns to think about someone else's needs in a deeper way than he ever has before and starts to see his own actions through someone else's eyes. Alasdair post-TGS is guilt-ridden to a fault and being good to Arthur helps him get a grip of himself.

This is a bit of a spoiler but a few months after Dai's death, Arthur gets a call from one of his classmates. Dai left behind a few things (he was an artist, Dai was you see) and he offers to hold onto them until Arthur can travel back up to pick them up. Arthur mentions this to Alasdair, who he's kept in touch with (a little awkwardly at first ksks do not be fooled they are deeply emotionally constipated in this AU despite the way they latch onto each other in the midst of their respective trauma) and Alasdair offers to bring them down for him instead. He kinda just blurts it out actually haha and is afraid that it was too forward of him when Arthur takes too long to answer that aye, that would be good actually, if Alasdair is sure (he cannae afford a ticket up to Scotland is the truth).

This is a whole wee story in its own right but essentially they get to meet each other again, under better circumstances, and that lays a stronger foundation for their eventual relationship. It is also an incredibly awkward visit at first adgfjdhgj which oddly enough helps them get over a lot of personal hang-ups.

One thing about this fic though is that for as much as their lives are changed irrevocably by what they lose and earn that night, they are still very ordinary people hhh and that's what I love about them both.

[songweaver]

I have concerns

[the-one-and-only-aroace]

hiii! I have a chronic illness that left me w a LOT of food sensitivities, and it can be rlly hard to eat sometimes. However it’s still rlly important to keep eating!! The most common triggers for stomach pain and issues are like gluten (bread pasta etc) dairy, and sugar. Some foods that are rlly easy on the stomach tend to be things like chicken broth or low-sugar fruits like berries. Maybe this helps?? And if you need any help ever I’m right here :))

Not eating was a joke, dw. I already know I have a dairy sensitivity, and since my stomach decides to be a bitch after literally every meal, I simply do not think it’s productive to find the cause, since if it’s another food sensitivity, I am not losing another core part of my diet. I will simply suffer. As I did all last summer because I like dairy too much.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

girl, i wanna see you undo it

i wanna see you but you’re not mine.

how the other batboys react to a breakup

18+, mdni !!!!!!

readers can expect: a fem reader, lotttta angst, cursing, mentions of violence, sexually explicit scenes including mentions of penetration, oral, and masturbation. also tim drake being a creep via e-stalking but reader is aware of it and more or less okay with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your ex boyfriend, bruce wayne, was avoiding alfred.

his butler was insisting on signing him up for therapy, and bruce was dodging him, hard. he didn’t have it in him. he wouldn’t go pay a professional to hear how pathetic he was over the lack of you in his life. couldn’t. he’s found a much more effective way to get out his emotions.

one that involves his fists and a goon’s face.

it was probably cruel, these poor goons were just trying to feed their families, or something, but batman was indifferent.

he was now always nearing dangerously close to breaking his no-kill rule. almost always teetering over that edge. even with his own life. he’d head out in the batsuit, prowling the seediest streets of gotham, hoping, practically praying, for someone to do something illegal. he would put himself in the most deadly situations just to feel alive. wasn’t the healthiest solution, but.

did he care? no.

bruce was numb, unfeeling to those around him. he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, not at the stupid fuck who’d lost the love of his life. he’d lagged behind in his case solving, gordon was growing increasingly more concerned. he was rude to the paparazzi asking after you, almost able to hear your voice in his ear, telling him to be nicer to them, whacking him on the bicep. he’d throw his usual charity galas, sure, but would send dick or jason in his place to showboat. he didn’t have the patience to talk to reporters. didn’t want to show face if you weren’t there on his arm. you always made the social aspect much more bearable. would always help him relieve the stress of it all after the event had ended.

but did he still care about you? yes.

just like when you were dating, bruce taking care of you was second nature.

he wouldn’t dare cancel the flower deliveries he’d set up when the two of you were together. they appeared at your apartment door every week and a half, always something different, but always in your favorite colors. you couldn’t stay mad at them either, the flowers brightened up your kitchen so nicely. when you and bruce were dating, he’d merged your calendars, just so scheduling was easier. you’d since deleted the connection, but he somehow still knows when you have appointments, as you’ll come out of your building’s lobby to a sleek black wayne enterprises car. the chauffeur opening the car door for you silently. you’d take it over the subway every time, even if it was a little awkward.

the dating app you’d downloaded after the breakup kept glitching, never letting you text any of your matches back. if you cared more, you’d contact support, but it was so odd. everything else on your phone works perfectly fine! but you had a gut feeling it had something to do with your ex boyfriend.

bruce might’ve slipped oracle a few bills for her silence over that favor.

he tried not to think about the fact you were already willing to start dating again. he couldn’t fathom being with anyone else. could not possibly wrap his head around it. why would he want anyone when he could have you? when he had already had you? everyone else seemed..lackluster.

it’s the same reason he’d been celibate since the breakup. after you, he was tainted. he didn’t think he’d ever be able to have sex again without thinking of you. especially in his own house. the two of you had fucked on every surface possible, seriously. tried every position.

it’d been difficult just sleeping in his own bed when he used to share it with you. used to make your legs shake as you gripped at the sheets. would never make you beg for anything, eating you out until you couldn’t take it anymore. that’s when bruce would press you up against him, holding you up with his huge arms as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your clit as you whined, barely able to form words.

he’d never been with anyone the way he had with you. so obviously he wasn’t even able to finish with his own hand. it was nothing, nothing compared to the way you felt. his imagination would never have him moaning the way you could. could never make him melt the way you oh so easily were able to, with just a look.

so he was numb. and bruce just figured that’s how he’d stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your ex boyfriend, jason todd, throws his book across the room, flinching when it thuds against the wall opposite.

annoyed at the surprise romantic subplot, he huffs out a breath from behind his hands. he has to get over his sudden aversion to romance, but it feels impossible after losing you. he can’t watch any of his favorite movies, can only read a select few of his favorite books.

he barely even goes out anymore, mostly to avoid seeing couples on dates. the two of you loved going out together, loved going out to community events like concerts in the park, fairs in the summer. he missed accompanying you to your nephew’s t-ball games, watching you cheer and beam up at him in one of his old baseball hats.

so he barely goes out. he doesn’t have you with him!

he saw an elderly couple strolling in the park the other day. jason had promptly turned in the opposite direction, to avoid crumpling into a ball and sobbing or throwing up into the nearest trash can.

he’d gotten back onto his bike and rode home, going way over the speed limit. he didn’t care about being safe on it anymore, not when you weren’t there to ask him to or be his backpack. he missed the way you’d hold on to him, your thighs bracketing his torso as the bike roared. how at stoplights you’d rub your palms over his chest, grabbing his pecs with your gloved hands. your resulting giggle was muffled through your motorcycle helmet, but it was still the sweetest sound in the world to him.

but jason stopped bothering trying to function out in public after that, only ever really leaving his place for missions and to train at wayne manor.

and boy, had he been training. ever since the two of you had broken up, he’d been working out to the point of exhaustion.

barely peeling himself off of the floor after each workout, always heading straight to the shower to rinse the sweat off while he zoned out into the steam. after his workouts was the only time he would relieve himself. he’d hunch over with one hand propping him up opposite the tiled wall, the other fisted around his cock as he thought of your pretty smile, your gorgeous eyes, the meat of your thighs, the curve of your ass. how you’d clench around his cock with yet another orgasm, moaning his name into the mattress.

he’d finish, hard, his body shuddering, leaving him to be ashamed with himself.

he wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to think of you like you were still his. all this and yet the pain in his muscles still didn’t ease the pain in his heart, the pain seeping into his bones whenever he thought about you.

jason was still hesitant to be around his siblings.

you had left your perfume in his bathroom, and while he knows it sounds crazy, he's been spraying it on his clothes. he misses the way they would smell like you after you’d borrow them. he still hadn’t touched one of his flannels, the one you loved to steal and loved to see him in. he didn’t see the point in wearing it if you weren’t there to see it.

the last time he’d seen damian, his little brother had loudly asked him why he “smelled girly.”

jason had turned bright red and mumbled something probably unintelligible before briskly walking away, bumping into the doorframe on his way out.

he’s been spraying your perfume on the pillow you’d always use too, snuggling it close to his chest like he used to with you while he fell asleep.

it’s definitely not the same, but it’s the closest jason has to the real thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tim drake, your ex boyfriend, swiveled in his desk chair, spinning back and forth. the monitors covering the wall above his desk were alive with various video feeds and social media websites.

@user892548276 was viewing your instagram story, a gorgeous selfie of you that tim had already screenshotted. he had plans for that later. @gothamite69 was liking your latest tweet, while @ilovedoggiess couldn’t get enough of your latest tiktok.

he knew he had to switch up the users so you’d think it was bots. you’d figure it out otherwise. too bad he had a thing for smart people.

he nodded, satisfied at the cctv feed of the street your apartment building was on, before throwing a hoodie on over his bare chest. tim strolled into the kitchen, his sweats slung low on his hips. he ran a hand through his hair, using the other to grab the coffee pot to refill his mug.

“hey, tim. whatcha up to?” jason leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

tim jumped, turning around.

“just some surveillance, nothing much.” he replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

“ohh, that case for bats?”

“mmhm.” tim cracked his knuckles, something of a nervous habit he’d developed after the breakup. and his serious lack of sleep.

“well, i won’t keep you. tell y/n i said hi!”

tim flinched at the mention of you as jason left in the direction of the garage. it’s not his brother’s fault. jay had been really busy with the outlaws lately, never home long enough to realize tim hadn’t brought you over in weeks. tim scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. maybe it was the exhaustion muddling things, but tim can’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep. it was already difficult falling asleep. it only made it worse that every time he did fall asleep he dreamed about you.

but dick had noticed. he had slowly transitioned tim’s assignments to mainly desk work. his older brother was probably worried about him being too tired on the field and getting hurt. but he hadn’t told bruce. tim preferred it that way. he didn’t need a big fuss about if he was okay or his performance level as a hero.

tim grabbed his mug, making his way back to his bedroom. he caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the window, spooking himself. he was on edge so much worse than usual. his reflection stared back at him, his face skinny and his eyebags dark against the pale skin of his cheeks.

tim shook his head, heading into his bedroom. he swayed a little, locking the door behind him. he set his mug on his desk, sitting down in his chair just in time to see you heading down the street.

he stood up so fast his chair rocketed back, hitting the wall. you usually don’t go out on thursday nights. is everything okay??

he types frantically, finding different angles to effectively follow you down the street, physically recoiling to see you stop at a restaurant. just another date.

you stopped, looking around, waving when you spot a blond guy walking towards you. tim enhances the best he can, zooming in on this asshole who thinks he’s good enough for you. tim scoffs out loud at the wrinkled shirt your date has on, looking ridiculous in comparison to your beauty.

the sundress you’re in is one of his favorites, red and white and flowery. he gulps down a sip of coffee at his screen when you turn around, the fabric hugging your body. he blinks, snapping out of it as your date ushers you into the restaurant. tim cracks his knuckles. he reaches for his phone, pulling up your contact. he itches to call you, to pull you out of the date you’re on, to make you think about him instead of that tool you’re with.

but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

he pulls up the screenshot of your story instead, staring at the selfie of you in his favorite sundress. his cock twitches against the fabric of his sweats. he can’t even count how many times he’s had you rutting against him with that dress hiked up to your waist.

he tosses his phone onto his bed, sitting back in his desk chair as he palms his cock, his brain full of thoughts of you.

you pressed up against him in a slinky dress as you slow dance at a wayne gala. waking up in your bed how the two of you fell asleep, naked, limbs intertwined. dancing in a gotham nightclub together, your hair in your face as you throw your arms up and swivel your hips in his direction in your shortest dress. the texts and pictures you’d been sending back and forth after the breakup, unable to let each other go.

tim throws his head back as he finishes, your name on his lips. his body rigid, the warm liquid all over his hands. he cleans himself off, staring into nothing until his computer dings at the motion detected on your street. you’re strutting down the sidewalk, the street empty. before you head inside your building, you stare into the cctv camera across the street. you wave, smiling coyly. tim sits up straighter, holding his breath. you hold up your thumb, and tim groans. that guy??

but you flip your thumb down at the camera, shaking your head. bad date.

tim whoops, beaming.

he shuts down his computer before flopping onto his bed, burrowing under the covers. five minutes later, he’s fast asleep as his coffee grows cold where it sits on his desk.

[laduenadelswing]

Lavender marriage

summary : soaps wife feels a little unsatisfied, when Soap has an unusual idea…..

The front door burst open, a gust of wind carrying the scent of gunpowder and sweat. Soap, dishevelled and exhausted, stumbled in. It was a long time since you last encountered your lavender husband. You loved Soap more than any friend, but your marriage was only on paper. Everything in your marriage was perfect, Soap was funny, talkative, a great listener and eager to make you happy, everything was perfect except for one thing, your non-existent bedroom life. Soap confessed when you got to know each other years ago, that he was not interested in woman. Still, your friendship blossomed into the healthiest relationship you ever had. Your marriage was out of convenience but it was smoother than any other marriage you knew, there was no drama, nor cheating. Maybe, your marriage went so well because there was no sexual component, which could have ruined your friendship. Still, Soap often noticed how you missed that masculine part in your life, someone who could satisfy all your needs. It´s not that he never imagined you without close, it just didn´t turn him on, he was just like you attracted to strong arms, brought shoulders and a trim waist.

Where was his wife? He wanted to surprise you with his great solution to your marital problems. You were in a deep sleep, not knowing when Soap return from deployment, unaware of what he brought home just for you. Ghost and Soap decided to call it a night.

The next morning, you woke up just to see your husband next to you. “ Johnny, your finally back. Why didn´t you wake me up? I will make you a coffee.” You mumbled and gave him a quick hug, you were relieved that your husband / best friend was safe after the mission. Slowly you rolled out of your bed, stretched and went downstairs. The sun was shining into your face, it seemed like a normal sunny, uneventfull day with your lavender husband.

Unaware, you went into the kitchen, to make a coffee. A simple drink, which never failed to wake you up, lighten your mood and start a day.

“Morning, Babe.” A deep, raspy voice echoed through the kitchen. You turned around and saw a mountain of a man towering before you. Deep brown eyes pierced into your soul, he was starring at you as a cold shiver ran down your spine. His face was covered by a skull mask, you wanted to run, scream or fight. Instead you froze on the spot, almost peed your panties, your body feared for it´s life. Slowly you begged off, the cup of coffe fell to the ground and shattered. He looked at you almost amused with a smirk under his mask. She was so scared of him, he couldn´t deny that she was just as cute as he had imagened soaps wifey to be, a perfect smile, beautiful eyes and perfect hair even though she wasn´t even ready for the day. Soap is a lucky man, he tought. Finally you got yourself together and did the only logical thing which came to your mind. “Johnny.” You screamed, before you graped the longest kitchen knife within your reach. Ready to go one on one with the masked man infront of you, in nothing but your lingerie.

With a sift movement, the man unarmed you. “Thats so cute.” He mumbled, while looking into your soul.

"This is Lieutenant Simon Riley, or Ghost, as we call him," Johnny shouted as he sprinted into the kitchen, he forgot to warn you about his surprise. When Johnny heard his name, the realisation hit him like a wall of bricks. "He's a great guy, war hero and he's here to... uh, help us out." Johnny explained as his hands wildy gesticulated in the air, a nervous smile spread across his face.

Ghost's gaze lingered on you, a silent challenge. "Help us out with what, exactly?" Your voice was tense, the anger was clearly audible. You thought that this could have been your last breath, but it was just a college of your husband Johnny.

Soap shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you see, Ghost here is a bit of an expert on... well, on relationships."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Relationships? What does a soldier know about relationships?" Ghost smirked. "More than you might think." that bastard was actually turned on by your fear, you thought.

What was going on? Why was Soap bringing this mysterious stranger into our home? And why did he seem so nervous around him?

Ghost's eyes flickered with amusement. "So that's the pretty wifey you told me of."

Your face flushed with a mixure of anger and embarrassment. "Soap, you can't just bring someone here to... to fuck me? Do I look that desperate?"

Soap winced, his cheeks turning red. "Hey, it's not like that! I just thought... well, maybe you two could, you know, talk." Ghost chuckled. "Talk, huh? I think we can do better than that." Your eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

Before she could react, Ghost stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. "I mean, I think we could have a lot of fun together."

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Ghost smirked. "I'm giving you what you want."

With that, he leaned in and attempted to kiss you. “ Are you guys out of your minds?” You yelled, as you pushed Ghost back. “ Absolutely not.” With that you left the kitchen, disregarding the mess you made and locked yourself in the bathroom.

[str4wberri-mochi]

Drowning yourself in alcohol is not the healthiest way to deal with shit, it does not solve one’s problem at all but rather serves as a distraction with a price.

As a man who had seen the world change and grow right in front of his eyes, he knew emotions were a fleeting aspect of life and took quite pride at the fact of how well he managed his emotions.

But he felt a small void in his heart as he read your text 'Will stay at HOL 2night'.

It was humorous really, how the both of you managed to go three thousand years back in time, lived under the same roof and somehow- just somehow, the brothers still occupy the most of your time.

That just shows your bond with the brothers, doesn't it? And that's nice, he tries to convince himself.

Well since you're not coming tonight, might as well hit a bar right?

And now he's down under six shots, unable to walk straight, and probably red (though he can't tell). He feels a bit guilty, for coming to alcohol as a solution. But not because it crosses his morals- hah, as if he has those- it's because you scold him like a child whenever he drinks too much.

but it's alright, he'd take your scoldings as long as you're looking at him. How cute you look with that sternness in your eyes. He walked out of the bar, unsure why, but he did.

hm?

that's you.

cue a frown.

with satan.

"Hey MC!"

He exclaimed to his full ability while ignoring the demon you held hands with. It's fine he's not jealous.

Solomon isn't a jealous man.

~

[mya-valentine]

Can I request how the genshin guys Wriothesley, Alhaitham Kaveh, and Diluc help and s/o with mental issues? 👉👈 it could be on the extreme ends too and that is very difficult to deal with.

I've been lurking your blog so far and really enjoy the way you write. It feels analytical and true to the character themselves

Headcannon: Wriothesley, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Diluc Helping Their S/O With Mental Issues

A/N: Awww, thank you so much. I'm glad you like my work ☺️ I try very hard to make sure it's in character, which can take some time, so sorry if it took longer than you hoped. But, I hope you enjoy this

Wriothesley

Wriothesley, as the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, has dealt with countless tough situations and hardened individuals, but when it comes to his S/O, his tough exterior would soften. He may not be the most emotionally expressive, but he would offer his unwavering presence. His approach would be calm and steady, understanding that extreme mental health issues require time and patience.

Wriothesley would be a rock for his S/O, always available to listen, hold them when they feel broken, and remind them that they aren’t facing their struggles alone.

If his S/O were engaging in self-destructive behaviors, Wriothesley would address it firmly, ensuring they seek help. He’d make sure they know he’s serious about their well-being while also ensuring they don’t feel judged.

Understanding the mind-body connection, he might encourage them to engage in physical activities, like training or boxing, to help release some of their emotional pain. He would emphasize physical strength as a tool to channel inner turmoil and feel more in control.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is highly intellectual, preferring logic over emotion, but that doesn't mean he would be cold or detached. His intelligence would shine through in how he approaches his S/O’s mental health struggles.

Alhaitham would study mental health thoroughly to better understand what his S/O is going through. He’d offer them resources, not in a pushy way, but so they have tools available when they feel ready.

He wouldn’t smother his S/O with affection or pressure them to talk before they’re ready. Alhaitham values autonomy and would give his S/O the space to process their feelings while subtly reminding them that he’s always available.

When his S/O feels overwhelmed by their emotions, Alhaitham would gently steer them towards rationality, helping them break down their thoughts. He would help them find clarity amidst their mental chaos by calmly discussing what’s troubling them and offering practical solutions.

Kaveh

Kaveh, with his emotionally sensitive nature, would be deeply empathetic towards his S/O’s mental health struggles. He’s someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and wouldn’t hesitate to openly express his concern and love.

Kaveh would be incredibly understanding and affirming, constantly reminding his S/O that their feelings are valid, no matter how extreme. He’d be the type to hold them and offer comforting words, reassuring them that it’s okay to not be okay.

Being an artist, Kaveh might encourage his S/O to express their emotions through art, writing, or other creative outlets. He would guide them to channel their mental struggles into something beautiful, helping them process emotions in a therapeutic way.

Although this may not be the healthiest response for Kaveh himself, he would have a tendency to put his S/O’s needs before his own. He would be the type to stay up all night talking them through their feelings, even if it drained him emotionally. Kaveh would feel a deep responsibility to be there for his S/O, no matter what.

Diluc

Diluc, though quiet and reserved, has a deeply caring heart, especially for those he loves. He understands hardship and loss on a personal level, so he would approach his S/O’s mental health struggles with a mix of seriousness and tenderness.

Diluc would want to protect his S/O from their own struggles, even if he can’t fix everything. He’d be highly attentive, observing their emotional state, and would always offer gentle support when he notices them struggling.

Knowing that sometimes words aren’t enough, Diluc might silently offer comfort by being near, inviting his S/O to spend time with him in the quiet of Dawn Winery. He’d ensure they have a peaceful environment where they can heal at their own pace.

Diluc would likely be the one to gently suggest seeking professional help if the mental health struggles became too overwhelming. He wouldn’t push them, but he’d make it clear that their well-being is his top priority and that it’s okay to seek outside support. Diluc would even help arrange therapy or counseling if his S/O needed it, wanting them to have the best care possible.

In all cases, each of these characters would handle extreme mental health difficulties in their own way, but the common thread is their unwavering support, patience, and dedication to helping their S/O through their struggles, no matter how hard things get.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 3: Journey to the Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 1: Mandibles!

Part 2: We Get It, The Billboard Was A Metaphor

I want to take a step back for a moment. Look at the bigger picture of Gravity Falls as a whole, and at the relationship between narrative foils that are the protagonists and antagonists of a story.

But first, just a recap: For anyone new, the Arsonist Theory proposes that Bill was not the sole person responsible for the destruction of his home dimension-- there was a third party, an accomplice that used him like he uses others now.

Once again:

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL, INCLUDING SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS

On we go!

Gravity Falls is, at its core, a story about cycles.

More specifically, it's a story about the vicious cycles that enable bad behavior- both personal spirals, and cyclical patterns of behavior in families.

We see this most obviously with the Stan twins, with both personal and familial cycles. In the personal side of things, Stan broke Ford's perpetual motion machine, resulting in his parents disowning him and Stan vowing that they were wrong and they'd see that one day, only for every attempt to prove them wrong about him to backfire and get him into even worse trouble, each failure further cementing his reputation more and more as a lying, dishonest criminal-- hey, where have I heard this one before?

On Ford's side, he erroneously trusted Bill and was consumed by both the portal and, once he realized he'd made it, his mistake itself. Even after Bill's death, he's terrified of him-- the mistake consumes him, eats him up inside. However, every time he attempts to subdue Bill on his own without confiding in his family the full story for fear of their judgement, it all ends up making everything worse. The incident with the portal and Stan? It was because he refused to tell Stan what exactly was going on, deciding to keep it all to himself out of guilt and lash out instead of admitting that he'd trusted the wrong person and that he was in grave danger-- hey, I might have heard this one before, too!

On the familial side of things, the Pines twins' parents don't exactly have the best relationship, as revealed in the Book Of Bill.

That fight must have been pretty bad to give Dipper, a kid who's survived the APOCALYPSE, nightmares. The Pines family has been shaped by familial dysfunction, and now it's been passed on-- the Stan twins' parents weren't exactly the healthiest parents, especially Filbrick. It's plain to see that that dysfunction was passed down from generation to generation, until it hit the Pines twins' parents as well.

And hell, Dipper and Mabel almost being broken apart as well-- not only because of Ford offering Dipper an apprenticeship without considering Mabel, mirroring how he sees Stan as dead weight, but also because of their parents fighting. Mabel didn't want to go home to that environment alone, and Dipper wanted to be far, far away from it. The Stan twins were broken apart by their father, and now the Pines twins will be broken apart by the Stans.

Except... that's not what happened, was it?

The Pines twins didn't let this break them apart. Dipper ended up prioritizing his sister and caring about her and her feelings, without just writing her off as deadweight the way Ford did to Stan. And eventually, the Stan twins also reconciled. They broke the cycle, as protagonists in a story with a happy ending tend to do.

Bill, as their antagonistic foil, would therefore be perpetuating cycles like this, instead of breaking them.

Then it stands to reason that, from a Doylist perspective, wouldn't it make sense for Bill to have been a victim of the same kind of manipulation and deceit that he now inflicts onto others?

In fact, we already have an example of Bill being hurt by someone, then going on to pass that same pain onto someone else:

Even though this is a silly example, we've been given canonical evidence that the way Bill deals with trauma is to take it out on someone else. And let's be real, Gravity Falls is rife with examples of something seemingly silly at first but ending up to hold emotional weight for the characters involved. Take in point Stan's attachment to Wax Stan.

So, we've established the cycles present in Gravity Falls and Bill's thematic role as the antagonist leading to him perpetuating instead of breaking cycles. So, what does that mean for this theory?

Bill and Ford are already presented as foils to each other- they're both outcast individuals with both a strange personality and a mutation that make them unpalatable to others, with a sordid home life, who eventually make a huge supernatural mistake with apocalyptic consequences. So, it's natural to wonder: what if their parallels extend even beyond this?

Ford initially blamed himself for being foolish enough to fall for Bill's tricks, placing the blame largely on himself. However, his family was there for him to pull him out of that way of thinking and help him move past it. Bill, in contrast, didn't have a family, ergo he had no one to pull him out of a similar rut. And we see multiple times throughout the Book of Bill and the Axolotl's poem that he does regret what happened to Euclidia, and his role in causing the massacre, so it's not out of the question to think that maybe, his thinking followed a line similar to Ford's. That there was someone that took advantage of Bill's desire to make everyone understand, and Bill blamed himself both for falling for it and for being ineffectual in stopping it.

Ford was at a standstill and approached by Bill, who was a genuine friend in a lifetime of loneliness and who presented himself as a friend, only to be used by him to create a portal that Bill was going to use for destruction-- perhaps Bill went through the same sequence, as victim instead of perpetrator?

Did you know that most perpetrators of abuse are themselves victims of abuse? They grow up without healing from their past traumas, and end up inflicting it onto others, thus continuing the cycle.

(Here's a fun fact- that's actually what my first theory ever was about, before this blog!)

Anyway, to me it's becoming clearer and clearer-- there's a glaringly obvious thematic parallel here that very neatly supports the idea of someone having used Bill in this manner in the past.

Oh, and by the way- on Time Baby's report on Bill, a translated cipher refers to him as the "Lone survivor of the Euclidian Massacre"

Lone survivor? If he'd acted alone, wouldn't it say "perpetrator?" If Time Baby knew enough to know what dimension he was a survivor of despite Bill himself never even speaking its name, then he should know enough to know the story of what happened. There's always the possibility that he didn't, but I saw fit to mention it.

In part four, everything is gonna be tied together as neatly as I can, with some present-day clues from Bill's actions that point to certain parts of his trauma being linked together that, on their own, seem a bit... reach-y, but with three posts of evidence backing them, they hold more water than that.

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

[peacheeeliz]

029. am i stupid (wc: 640)

The library was eerily quiet, with the distant commotion of the Valentine's Day Dance keeping the place a bit more lively. Mark sat in his seat at the study room table, head buried in his palms as he took in his last conversation with his now ex-girlfriend. He should feel sad. He should look back on those texts with sorrow; but he can't. No matter how hard he tries, he can't. He doesn't know what he feels. Happy? Shame? Content?

The study room door creaks open, and Mark's eyes rise from his hands to look behind him. They're met with your figure standing in the doorway, a concerned look washing over your face as you stared back at him. Despite that, a smile plays at your lips as you walk to join him at the table.

“I'm pretty sure you're missing out on a pretty sick party back there,” you tease, taking your seat beside him. “Ok, maybe not that sick. But you know what I mean.”

Mark lets out a soft laugh, “yeah, definitely not that sick.”

You laugh with him for a moment, but then you remember why you were out looking for the man. “Everything alright? You left in a bit of a hurry,” you start, eyes avoiding his. “I was a little worried, is all.”

His eyes soften, and the smile on his face falls, watching you look anywhere but him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you or anything,” he tells you, reaching out to take your hand in his. He gently rubs his thumb across your skin, “I just needed some air is all.”

He pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Karina broke up with me, and I guess I just needed to take a break from the dance,” he explains, nodding slowly. “She, uh, started talking to another guy and ended up losing feelings for me. So, she broke it off.”

“Mark, I'm so sorry,” you say as you finally turn to look at him. Your heart races at the soft touch of his fingers grazing against your skin, and despite your words, your stomach flutters at the information he shares.

“I should feel heartbroken, right?” He questions, staring at you with soft eyes. “But, I don't. I guess you kinda know why, but I guess I'm more… glad? Than anything else. It saves for a messier break-up.”

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his gaze, so you turn away again. You take a deep breath, “maybe… you should just stay single for a bit.” Your suggestion takes him by surprise. “I mean, it's probably the healthiest solution.”

After a moment, he draws back away from you and pulls his hand into his lap, clearing his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you're right,” he sighs, but sends you a reassuring smile. “I should just stay single.”

A silence falls between the two of you, and the party just a few buildings away comes back into earshot. Mark wanted nothing more than to bring you back to that party – to bring you back as his date. But his head reels with your words, “you should just stay single for a bit.” He can't think of anything else but you. He was just so content with his break-up. Why now is he feeling heartbroken?

“We should probably return to the party. They're probably worried about us, ” you start suddenly, standing up quickly. “Uhm, I'll meet you back there, ok?”

Mark can only nod as you make your way out of the study room, slouching back in his chair as you disappear from his view. His heart is pounding right out of his chest, his mind replaying your words over and over again, and his head falls into his palms again.

Why must he be haunted by his inability to get over you?

synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

a/n: double update since i ended up posting so late 😮‍💨 when i said slowburn, i meant SLOWBURN

prev / masterlist / next

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist is closed!

@teenyfinds @kittydollzz @dudekiss3r @413ktz @aek1ra @nneteyamss @mmjhh1998 @onlyhyunjin @malaysianctfan @txpxwxk @urlocalbeaner5 @injunnie-lemon @stareaa @rikisluv @nessaassen02 @nicholasluvbot @slayhaechan @hyuck-me @chenlesfavorite @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @dalsosapple @catpjimin @docilismo @grassbutneo @deptheuphoria @potatos-on-clouds @xiaojunsdino @ryuvrsie @neodreamzenie @markeroolee @addyanm @antifrggile @jaytheatiny @polarisjisung @kodasity @yewshi @livingdoll-hara @fakeuwus @1lovejinki @nosungluv

[beomiracles]

fighting and making up prompt with beomgyu!

500 BASH SPECIAL

cw swearing, angry making out, maybe a little suggestive ? #serene adds ✎... angry sex with beomgyu would solve 100 of my 99 problems.

“Fuck, you’re so annoying.” The palm of Beomgyu’s hand slams against the wall, mere inches from your face. He groans in frustration as his head lulls forward, shielding his infuriated expression from you. 

The frown on your face deepens, “well then leave. There’s nothing stopping you.” You could feel the lump in your throat grow with each passing second, afraid that he would for once listen to the words coming out of your mouth. If anything, you wanted him to stay. 

Beomgyu’s head snaps back up and his gaze meets yours, he lets out a small scoff as he studies you with a small scowl. “That’s your solution to everything, huh?” – “Always fuckin’ running off when things don’t go your way.” 

His words hurt, not because they weren’t true but because you never thought you would have to hear them come out of his mouth. “And you think you’re so much better?” Your voice grows in intensity and is almost on the verge of breaking. “All you do is yell and expect to get your point across. Don’t you realize how childish you sound?” 

You watch as he runs his other hand through his hair, your words having an immediate effect as his jaw visibly clenches. Whatever he wanted to say, he bit back. Instead, his gaze dropped to your lips. The hand on the wall next to you curls into a fist and he groans before slamming his mouth against yours. 

Taken by surprise, your eyes widen as your hands instinctively push at his chest in an attempt to break the two of you apart. “Don’t.” Beomgyu sighs against your lips and for some reason, you listen. – Your hands quickly reposition themselves in his hair, twisting his soft locks between your fingers as he deepens the kiss. 

You and Beomgyu had never been good at resolving fights; both of you were far too stubborn to ever admit one's wrongdoings. Thus what started as a small banter could sometimes go on for days before the two of you could no longer take it. And perhaps it wasn’t the healthiest way to go about it – but the sex after was always amazing. 

With his hands on your waist, Beomgyu pushes you flush against the wall as he grinds his hips against your clothed core, drawing a moan from you as you tug at his hair. “How’s this for getting my point across?” he mutters against your lips before pulling your bottom one into his mouth. 

You scoff as he lets go of your lip again, “just shut up and get me to the bedroom.”

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[ddarker-dreams]

re-reading bits and pieces of SR have helped me quite a bit with post-election depression; it turns out an impending sense of doom can be evaded quite well with The Sillies! that being said, how would the bucci gang help SR Reader if she was going through a depressive episode?

i'm grateful to know that SR is able to bring some solace in what's been an awful state of affairs, as i've always considered it a comfort series myself.

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno senses something is off before you do. He's deeply in tune with your emotional state, taking mental note of everything you do down to the tiniest details. His initial instinct would be to identify any underlying issues that might have brought the depressive episode about. He's a man driven by action, willing to fight against unfavorable odds if it means enacting his vision. This leads to some internal struggle on his part, as there's no clear-cut solution to these bouts. He views you as his significant other in the purest sense — relying on you and wanting you to do the same with him. He'd eventually recognize his own hubris in his quest to 'fix things', opting for a more supportive role instead. Giorno matches his approach based on his perception of what he feels you need.

Bruno is surprisingly susceptible to your first few attempts to explain away your shift in mood. In the back of his mind, he knows something is wrong, but it's such a frightening prospect. He observed the signs in his father after his mother abandoned them. He'd get uncharacteristically stern with you, imploring that you confide in him if you keep dodging the issue. Essentially freezes your work and puts you on an indefinite sabbatical. He worries over you to the point of self-neglect. Not the healthiest approach, but there's no doubting his commitment to restoring your wellbeing. Bruno would take a break from his obligations and bring you to his hometown, where he hopes the change of pace will have a positive influence.

The ever-pragmatic Fugo would struggle with this greatly, he's not exactly a shining example of mental stability himself. He recognizes what's happening and feels utterly powerless to stop it. A bit hypocritical in the sense he'll pitch therapy or some other pharmaceutical treatment that he'd never undergo himself. He suffers from acting as an armchair psychologist, critiquing any habits that might contribute to your depression and getting frustrated if you don't actively work to resolve them. It comes from a good place; he's devastated over what's happening. You're supposed to be cheerful, making terrible jokes and pop culture references that drive him insane. He'll work himself to the bone for you to feel an iota better.

Narancia is at a loss at first. When your change in mood extends past a few 'bad' days, he can tell it's something serious, even if he can't put it into words. Ultimately, he decides it doesn't matter if it takes a week, year, or a decade; he will stick by you through everything. Narancia isn't one for subtlety, it's obvious that he's checking up on you multiple times throughout the day. He's tripping over himself to make you smile, even if it's for a fleeting second. Additionally, he's a better listener than most would give him credit for. There's absolutely nothing you could do or say that'd make him think less of you, so you never feel judged.

There is no one better at helping you feel 'normal' than Mista. He won't demand an explanation like Bruno, get frustrated over a perceived lack in progress like Fugo, or coddle you as Narancia's inclined to do. He's consistently himself. He'll take you on dates, make awful jokes, and go on unprompted spiels about his latest musings. It's not that he doesn't care — far from it — his view is just that knowing you, you'd feel bad if you realized how worried he is. If you open up to him, that's fine. If you don't, that's also okay. He moves at your pace and you never feel pressured to act a certain way around him.

Abbacchio's like well, that makes two of us. It's a complicated development. Having gone through a major depression, Abbacchio can technically empathize with you the most, but seeing himself in you is initially disconcerting. He's similar to Fugo in that your weird, peppy ways have become a lifeline. It's soul-crushing for him to recognize those first few signs. Unlike Fugo, however, he doesn't linger in this limbo for long. He takes a 'tell it like it is' approach. He won't shower you with platitudes or sugarcoat reality, but there's an undeniable thoughtfulness behind his every action. He'll give you space when necessary, sit in silence if you want company yet lack the words, ensure sure your pantry is stocked and laundry done. Abbacchio can be what he wishes someone had been for him.