#you do

[blukart]

Are you obsessed with Labyrinth or David Bowie?

Yes.

Expect more David Bowie fanart from now on 🫪

[lockedtombmemes]

[flwersfbffnery]

I feel like so many ppl on the internet have internalised therapy speak too much to the point of lacking accountability especially in cluster b spaces…

Just bc u have bpd it does not mean you can randomly do horrible shit to push ppl away/make ppl stay and experience no consequences.

It’s a disorder, it’s hard, but nobody is obligated to put up with you suibaiting in their DMs to make them stay and you as someone who knows you lack impulse control or empathy etc. have a responsibility to learn to manage your own symptoms and learn coping strategies so that you reduce the harm you cause yourself and those around you.

You cannot just say “Well ofcourse I do *unhealthy thing*! I have *cluster b disorder*!” You need to actually get better or stop expecting ppl to be sympathetic and understanding when u do crazy shit

[threadbare-sweater]

Robby as a stress fuck buddy. You only hear from him when things get really bad, and you always indulge him because- well- you need the stress relief too. And it's always desperate and violent, lots of grabbing and messy kisses where you're all breath and teeth and open mouth panting against each other. He's so desperate to sink himself inside you that he ruts hard against you a few times before sinking in before you can be stretched enough. It fucking hurts, but the relief that comes after the first few thrusts is enough to make up for any pain either of you may have endured.

There's no commitment. No strings. No emotion. It's a means to an end for both of you, and it's some of the best sex you've had in your life.

[beeishappy12]

paradox space jinx champion

[nwqnao]

My funeral

[absolutewriter]

Shiptember Day 8: Teaching them your favorite hobby

Edward Nygma/The Riddler x reader

Shiptober Masterlist

Edward was a man above cooking, he tells you, that a mind like his doesn't belong in the kitchen when it could be used in his laboratory. The truth is that he doesn't have a clue what to do and hides his embarrassment with arrogance.

When you invite him over to your place, he doesn't reply but shows up an hour later anyways. He almost always does this, saying that you should just know when he is and isn't going to accept your offer. He complains when you open the door surprised to see him, like it's common sense to show up unannounced- well, in his case it is.

"Baking? Really?" He side-eyes the ingredients sprawled on your kitchen counter, poking at a bag of apples. "At least these are good." You brush off his comment and pick up the bag of flour.

"I was going to make a pie, care to join?" You ask, ridiculously batting your eyes at him with fake begging. He looks at you as if you told him to never tell a riddle ever again. "Oh please, Eddie? Just this one time, you won't even have to do much." You set the bag of flour down and walk over to him, grabbing his hand to hold. You can see the conflict going on in his mind, slowly he relents and gives out the most dramatic sigh of the month. "Fine, I will help you bake a pie..."

With a hug, which he reciprocates lightly by patting your arm, you get to work. He's put in charge of cutting the apples, which he doesn't complain about since it's better than making the dough- though he takes pauses in between apples to watch as you skillfully make the dough yourself. Yes, he mocks you for not using measuring tools, but to himself he thinks it's slightly cool you can measure just by eyes alone. He'd never say that out loud, especially not to your face.

When you two are done and put it in the oven, he sits himself down on one of your bar stools, laying down on the counter like he just made a house. "I don't know how you do it." He mutters, resting his head on his arms as he watches you rinse the dishes. "It's easy!" You reply, embarrassing him for having you heard what he said, "First I get all the ingredients..." He scoffs at your teasing, pushing off the counter and sitting up.

"I hate you." He groans, twirling the stool around to look over to your living room instead. It's a bit messy, but he doesn't mind, taking the time to memorize things he's seen and new stuff- like the pile of books on your coffee table, that's new, perhaps his habit of reading is rubbing off on you. He chuckles to himself at the thought.

His vision is obscured when you stand right in front of him, arms crossed. "What are you giggling about?" He looks up at you and smiles, "Wouldn't you like to know?" sass dripped from his tone. You hum and lean in, resting your arms around his shoulders and resting your forehead against his. "Keeping secrets, are we? I guess you don't want to try the pie we made together." He gasps and grabs onto your biceps, "You wouldn't." He accuses, narrowing his eyes at you. "I so would." You challenge, pressing a kiss to his lips before standing up once more.