#(if only because he can't really do anything about it)

[depresssant]

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second. 

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care. 

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air. 

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things. 

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup. 

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

[alex51324]

Useful article from CNN on election-night misinformation.

Key takeaway is that pretty much whatever happens, Trump will claim it's evidence that the election is being rigged against him.

Some additional things to keep in mind--particularly if you haven't been through many of these before:

The winner may or may not be projected on election night. How long it takes depends on a bunch of factors, having to do with the logistics of ballot-counting and how the statistical analysis comes along. Getting a projected winner by midnight and the count taking several days are both well within the range of normal, and neither one suggests that anything nefarious is happening.

Counting of votes always continues for several days after the election, until every vote has been counted. This happens regardless of whether or not the media have "called" a winner, or a candidate has conceded.

Media outlets project election winners based on the data that has come in and their statistical models--they do not "declare" or "decide" who won. The major outlets are very motivated to avoid an incorrect projection*, so if they make a call, it's because they're really sure they have enough information to accurately predict the outcome of the final count.

Usually, when this happens, all of the major media outlets are making the same projection around the same time--within the same hour, at least, and often in the same 10 minutes or so. If there's an outlier, there's a good chance they're either guessing or propagandizing.

Candidates do not get to call the race in their own favor. There's a decent chance Trump will try, but also it's also normal and expected for both campaigns to talk like they're expecting to win; e.g. introducing their candidate as "the next President of the United States" when appearing before supporters at events. (My guess is that if he does try, the mainstream media outlets will simply sanewash it as typical election-night bravado, which is actually fine.)

The only thing that means anything, coming from a candidate/campaign, is a concession. This will often happen after the media has called the race for the other candidate; it usually isn't a surprise. A normal campaign will often go quiet--stop sending people to talk on TV, etc.--when they're getting ready to concede. (Trump arguably** still hasn't conceded 2020, so no one is particularly expecting him to concede any time this coming week.)

It's normal for the numbers to change a lot. There are always some surprises, but there are also standard patterns: results from the southeast usually come in a clump, and put a lot of electoral votes into the Republican column, early in the night. Democrats usually pick up the west coast states, which of course are the last to close their polls and start reporting results***. For the swing states, where we'll probably see a lot of reporting on very incomplete vote totals, results will start coming in first from the rural areas, which lean red; cities take longer to count their votes--because there are more of them--and lean blue.

The more uncertainty there is about the outcome, the more you'll hear about the evolving numbers--news networks have airtime to fill, and there's only so many ways you can say, "Still too close to call." Try not to obsess over these numbers; the news networks have people specially trained to analyze this exact kind of data, and if they can't say how it's going to turn out, you're not going to know, either.

If it ends up being too close to call for several days, there will probably be reporting on small, county-by-county vote dumps. It's important to realize that this is all still the original count of the votes, not a recount or "finding new votes." We only hear about it when the election is so close that these relatively small numbers of ballots are likely to affect the outcome, but it happens every single election. In 2020, Trump repeatedly claimed that ongoing counts were some how irregular, and sometimes demanded that counts be stopped when the current total showed him in the lead. This is, to be clear, nuts; the full & complete count of the votes always takes more than just the one day, and it's a bedrock principle of democracy that every valid ballot is counted.

(* Back in 2000, the Bush-Gore election with the whole Florida debacle, several major news outlets did project winners too soon, and then had to walk back their projections.

This definitely contributed to the chaos that night, and may have also contributed to the widespread perception that Bush was the "real" winner and Gore was dragging the country through multiple recounts, in those first few days when the initial count of wasn't even complete in some states.

As a result, responsible media outlets are much more cautious these days about election-night projections.)

(**On January 7, 2021 he made a statement that was taken as indicating his understanding that Biden had won, or at least that he knew he wouldn't be staying in office, but he never stopped saying he won.)

(***This often looks like the Republican being miles ahead, and then suddenly California reports in and they aren't anymore. Expect Trump to pretend that this is somehow shocking, even though the last time a Republican won California was 1988.

Similarly, he will also pretend to be surprised when, for instance, Philadelphia turns in their first big batch of results, and Harris's numbers jump up.)

[waffle-runian]

Not to diverge much, or to hijack the conversation, but I'm gonna write about "translating art" a bit. I hope that it makes sense.

So, this feels like when I first started reading fantasy. Writing is a form of art that I love very much, so I remember a lot about my first impressions and all. I specifically remember reading a book about magic, the first book I bought because I wanted to read and nothing else. It was in a world where magic would be a focal point, get described with care and detail. Then idk, a popular book series about a demigod teenager that could control water, and what do you know? The water was described in full, the friendship, different dialogues, puns, the color of the eyes.

Then I read another series, this one about a boy with a dream and with a reality that made it difficult for him to pursue it, of course, the description of his sadness was longer too, his physical attributes were important, and they got a lot of attention, but not all the time either, and not really that in depth. What got the most attention were the comparisons, where he came short, and where coming short of something was being ahead on other things.

I remember reading a book following the story of a bard. It was art about art itself, in my opinion. Everything was described vividly. Stunning visuals, I could almost hear a song that doesn't even have a melody, I could grasp the process of creation without creating. It was something I was very bad at, after all. The author could make anything look beautiful and magical, even when it was the most ordinary of things.

Then came the magic. Well, part of it. It was logic, almost physics-like, followed hard rules, and you guessed it, the process of creation through it was also interesting. But then came the magic. Again. The magic that was hinted at, the soft kind, the magical kind, the one you have been preparing for up until now. The one that would require you to appreciate the art in order to understand, to appreciate everything as an artist. To see beyond what it is, what it is made of, what it looks like. To see inside, to see what it can be, what it represents and what it wants. In a way, to see it for what it _is_ (a different "is").

From top to bottom

Mage - Raymond E. Feist.

Percy Jackson - Rick Riordan

Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan

The name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss.

Rothfuss' writing isn't for everyone in a different way than the others. I don't know if I could explain it if I tried, but honestly? I feel great that it's something fewer people appreciate. This is, obviously, my take on those books. The actual intent behind it may differ strongly, but I don't think it matters, since art is something normally made to provoke thought and feelings. We hope the audience can get close to what we meant to say, but when they don't, we are happy that they got to experience something positive from our words/drawings/songs, etc.

I see his as the most complex out of these, the one that resonated the most with me, I guess? Probably because of the main character being the most relatable. And if just the eyes that tell the story can change so much about it, shouldn't we put much more thought into what our art could look like for people that can't "see" it the same as us? Like I already said, most of the time, your meaning will be lost, so, if you're "translating" art, how can you get close to this new audience's heart?

I mean, translating is all about that too. You can't just use the best words you think of and be done. Brazilian dubbing is famous for making jokes almost never fall flat.

If you localize the joke, you get a better reaction than when you explain the joke that only works in the original language (even though I am the kind of person that learns a language to appreciate the original material instead, and that's the reason I speak english.)

Anyway, if I got something wrong, just correct me, and if I don't get it, I'll ask.

"In recent years, there has been a rush on the internet to supply image descriptions and to call out those who don’t. This may be an example of community accountability at work, but it’s striking to observe that those doing the most fierce calling out or correcting are sighted people. Such efforts are largely self-defeating. I cannot count the times I’ve stopped reading a video transcript because it started with a dense word picture. Even if a description is short and well done, I often wish there were no description at all. Get to the point, already! How ironic that striving after access can actually create a barrier. When I pointed this out during one of my seminars, a participant made us all laugh by doing a parody: “Mary is wearing a green, blue, and red striped shirt; every fourth stripe also has a purple dot the size of a pea in it, and there are forty-seven stripes—”

“You’re killing me,” I said. “I can’t take any more of that!”

Now serious, she said it was clear to her that none of that stuff about Mary’s clothes mattered, at least if her clothes weren’t the point. What mattered most about the image was that Mary was holding her diploma and smiling. “But,” she wondered, “do I say, Mary has a huge smile on her face as she shows her diploma or Mary has an exuberant smile or showing her teeth in a smile and her eyes are crinkled at the edges?”

It’s simple. Mary has a huge smile on her face is the best one. It’s the don’t-second-guess-yourself option."

--Against Access, by John Lee Clark, a DeafBlind educator

[tomahachi12]

Meet the Doormans!

see I'm working on AU stuff lol

still no name for it though, but I'll figure that out eventually

Info about them down belooooow

Cyn "Cynthia" Swapped with - Uzi Age - 18 She was 6 years old when her mom died and the trauma from the event caused her to shut down and stop talking. She learned sign language from Noah so she could communicate. For anyone else that doesn't understand her, she'll either use text on her visor or a projected text box. She doesn't interact with anyone and prefers to keep to herself, the only one she really opens up to is her brother. He's the only one who can call her by her actual name, she'll ignore everyone else. Inherited her solver from her mom, which activated after her mom's passing. She's scared of Khan.

Noah Swapped with - No one! Rewritten for story Age 25 7 years older than Cyn. He was 13 when his mom died. No one knows why he's so tall. He took care of Cyn after their mother died. He learned sign language and taught it to Cyn. He's a member of the Worker Defense Force. Loves doing anything! boi stop hiding your pain and get help He wants his dad's approval, not only for himself, but for his sister as well. Does not have the Solver at least not yet

Khan Swapped with - No one! Rewritten for story. Leader of the Worker Defense Force and Outpost 3. Very stoic and closed off, especially after Alice died. After his wife died, he completely threw himself into his work, neglecting nearly everything else (including his kids ): ) Because of Cyn's strong resemblance to Alice, he can't bear to even look at her. He killed his wife.

Alice Swapped with - Nori Huge fukin nerd. Western movies were her favorite. Her pet-name for Khan was "Sheriff" She loved to play "dress up" especially with her kids. She was still part of the Solver Experiments, but did not cause the implosion, that was still Nori's doing. She had pretty bad Solver Moment when it took her over and she slaughtered an entire apartment block. She couldn't stop herself and begged Khan to kill her. She was 33 when she died.

[suiana]

"i'm sorry-"

"sorry is not enough."

he spits at you, pinning you on the ground as his hands tightenin around your wrists. you could only let out a sharp hiss in response, your conscious not allowing you to shed a tear at the pain. you couldn't cry, you wouldn't cry.

"how does it feel, huh? do you like it?"

"n-no-"

your guilt constantly eats you alive.

every day, every night, you can only pray that the consequences of your actions never come back for you. for you are too much of a coward to face the person you once were.

the cold leather of his gloves burn into your skin, and you swear he grips with so much force you swear you hear your fragile bones cracking under the pressure.

you wonder if this even mirrors a fraction of the hurt you did to him.

"stupid loser, you think you can run away after ruining me? don't make me laugh."

you never thought that. because no matter how much you repent or make up, it doesn't erase what you did. it doesn't erase the scars you gave him, or the fact that you made his life hell.

it doesn't change the fact that you were once a horrible person to him.

you could write a whole essay on being sorry, on how much you want to make it up to him. but it's too late for anything. you can't get rid of the sins that your hands committed.

"do you know how much you've ruined me? huh? i am constantly kept awake by what you did to me. the pain you gave me. i hope you regret everything."

you stare at him, glossy eyes meeting cold ones as you let out a soft whimper.

"baby-"

"don't call me that."

the man huffs, immediately shifting his weight on you so that he was sitting on your thighs. his mood shifts in an instant, his scowl replaced with a petulant pout as he crosses his arms under his chest. you feel your eyes soften adn you attempt to reason with him once more. maybe he'd finally forgive you?

"i'm really sorry-"

"well- well! if you really loved me you wouldn't have cuddled with your stuffy! you should've cuddled with me!"

sighing, you could only remain silent as your boyfriend goes on yet another one of his rants about how much you supposedly "hate" him and how you "don't love him anymore". damn, is he a baby or what?

"i'm throwing your stuffies away! only cuddle with me!"

"what?!"

"i'm your stuffy now!"

[yanderefarm]

I need us pretending/threatening Emil with a divorce even after saying we wouldn’t 🙏🙏

this is a part 2 to this story

in your villain arc fr. i know if emil knew how you were manipulating him and playing him like a puppet he wouldn't even be mad he'd be like "thats hot wtf"

cw;; drugging, cheating, non-con (implied), abuse, manipulation

oh your poor husband, he's so pathetic and easy to break.

after your brutal breaking of his body with the cheating scandal you had been oh so generous to help him rebuild his all his lost favour. his ever loving husband who loved him past his worst flaws gave him a better reputation just by staying by his side. all he had to do was give into you, take you places, stop holding you at arms length like he was afraid of you running away and getting close to him at the same time. really all you wanted was more of his love and if that meant you had to break him down to nothing then you guess that's what you would do.

you walked into his office to find him surrounded by people, a familiar sight since his last scandal. you pushed past them to his desk, watching emil flinch away from your presence. you didn't need to yell and get angry this time, you knew exactly how to break him.

"i want a divorce."

you placed the newspaper on the desk to punctuate your sentence, the headline was a young noble woman's testimony of how the king had cornered her at the last royal banquet. another lie you had paid a pretty penny to get out there. you knew emil's head had been fuzzy since the last scandal, all it took was hiring a woman from a family desperate for money to force herself on him and then lie about it. he didn't even remember the night, he couldn't argue with you about it.

you heard his pathetic sob. that sound he would never usually make in front of anyone else. you turned back to see him still surrounded by his advisors and other noblemen but among their shocked faces you could see your husband had tears in his eyes.

"out." you ordered and they very quickly filed out leaving you two in a familiar position.

you walked back to the desk and stared down at him. your husband, already a broken and confused mess, hung his head like a kicked puppy dog so you couldn't see his eyes you could only hear him crying. you let out a heavy sigh.

"what am I supposed to do, emil? you clearly don't love me."

"that's not-"

"how many more women do i have to find out about before you admit it?"

"i don't remember that night... i don't think- i-"

a silence formed between you both only interrupted by his crying.

"i remember that night. i remember you left the party early to get some fresh air and you didn't come back."

he was shaking.

"..... if you had just talked to me we could have come to an agreement about concubines. if you didn't want to be with a man all you had to do was tell me. you don't have to keep humiliating me publicly and then lying about it."

"im not ly-"

you slammed your hands on the table making him flinch.

"you are. you're lying to me. you slept with the maid and then you lied about it and i forgave you. i forgave you because i thought you would learn your lesson."

"please... please punish me again please anything else... kill me, torture me, hate me, anything but leaving me..." he finally looked at you and you could see his pink eyes were cloudy and confused as tears dripped down his face.

".... that's pathetic emil. you want me to beat you but..." you forced your own tears along with your voice cracking. "you can't even say you love me."

emil tried to stand up, stumbling against the desk as his legs wobbled underneath him.

"don't leave me. please." his hand weakly grabbed your wrist

"do you love me?"

"yes."

"how am i supposed to trust that? how am i supposed to trust you? can you even say it? can you tell me you love me?"

"i...i...."

you ripped your hand away from him making him stumble again.

"I'm going to get the divorce papers ready. you're going to sign them."

you turned on your heel and left your husband sobbing in his office.

your plan to make the great emil landorr your mindbroken bitch was going along perfectly. it was going to be harder to drug him when you moved into the queen's palace but you were confident that the separation would drive him just as crazy.

[internerdionality]

Oooh! Okay, so. Funny story.

It's April 2020. I'm getting more and more concerned about public and semi-private pools being shut down long term. This is a huge problem because my brother has severe physical disabilities and aqua aerobics are literally his ONLY option for significant cardio activity, so. The closures for the pandemic, while protecting everyone ELSE, could mean a huge health problem for him. I've been calling and lobbying the city to open up the pools on a severely limited capacity basis, and am getting nowhere. All the semi-private pools I call have shut down for the duration.

In desperation, I turn to Facebook and start looking for anyone with a connection to a private pool. I don't have a lot of hope, because I'm in Colorado, and most people with a private pool have an outdoors/unheated pool, which means they won't open up for another two months or so.

One of my wife's cousins down in Austin suggests that I look into swimply, which is apparently a new startup doing air bnb but for pools. I download the app and enter in my zipcode, and there's one pool within 100 miles. It's about 20 miles away, in fact, which is certainly not ideal, but I'll definitely take it over no pool at all. I contact that owner, and they're very willing to rent it out to me three times a week, for like $15/hour but with a three-hour minimum, which is, again, not optimal, but look. My bro can't just go months without any exercise, either.

So, in May 2020, we start renting this private pool out three times a week. It's out in the guy's backyard, no wheelchair lift obviously but it's doable for me and my brother's aide to get him in and out manually. This is still deep social distancing/masking time, so of course the owner doesn't come out to meet us or anything, but we have a few shouted conversations with him on his porch and us in the pool. We leave cash under a rock on the porch. He lets us use his pool noodles and patio chairs/umbrellas. It's all workable.

And then about two months into this endeavor, some rando (not wearing a mask) comes up to my van as I'm getting ready to drive away, having just loaded my brother up. He motions for me to roll down my window. Hesitant (he's not wearing a mask), but thinking that he's gonna tell me that like, my headlight is out or I just dropped my wallet in the street or something, I adjust my mask pointedly and do so. (Keep in mind that I have audio processing issues for the following)

Him: Hey, I'm (unintelligible), a (unintelligible) from Fox 31 News, and I'm (unintelligible), were you just renting a pool from Bob (unintelligible)?

Me (having no idea what's going on. Did he say he was a reporter?): Uh. Yeah?

Him: Okay, how did you find him? Does he charge a lot?"

Me (okay, maybe I misheard and he just wants to rent the pool?): Oh. It's up on swimply. We pay $45 for the three hours?

Reporter: And do you think it's okay that he's allowed to do that while under house arrest for the murder of his wife?

What.

WhAt.

WHAT?!?!

I managed to get something out and then drove away. Later we looked it up, and sure enough, the guy murdered his wife (thankfully, not in the pool) but managed to get out on bond while awaiting trial because of COVID. So, you know. That was fun. We didn't really have another option, so we kept renting out his pool for another few months, until some of the public pools finally reopened in October.

Here's the article the guy ended up writing, if anyone's curious.

for a literature essay im writing im inexplicably looking up a lot of articles abt private pools and american culture and now im curious.

i'm dutch, and to me a private pool seems like the height of ostentatious luxury. i don't know anyone in my country who has a private pool, i grew up swimming in public pools or whatever random body of water was nearby, lakes or rivers or canals or whatever. american media has so many private pools though, are they really that common?

[yoyomomiko]

MORE DAISUKE HEADCANONS PLS!!! I LOVE HIM SMMM

Pairing: Daisuke x F!reader

HC: pet names/nicknames, 'texting'!! (passing notes)

Warnings: small mention of dirty talk, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): Omg y'all there's like 7 requests for Daisuke idk how I'm gonna manage to do most of them😣 This is so short I'm so sorry it's also pretty rushed😢 -> m.list

╰┈➤ This is the second part from these other headcanons - part 1

★PET NAMES/NICKNAMES

First off, he's definitely gonna find a nickname for you. Whether it's a shortening of your name, or just based off of something you've done. He wouldn't necessarily make fun of you, yk??

But I still feel like he'd try to find a funny nickname for you no matter what.

His go to pet name is "babe" because uh that's just how he is😁

He laughs when he tries those "cheesy" pet names, he simply can't do it with a straight face!!

Don't ever expect him to call you darling, I mean it's Daisuke we're talking about so let's be honest😀

I feel like he would also call you babygirl but like in a joking way because there's NO WAY he'll be serious while having that word come out of his mouth.

The brain rot got to him I hope y'all know this already😔

He doesn't care what you call him, he loves every word that you spit out no matter your voice or tone

★'TEXTING'

Wonder why there's apostrophes?

Because I feel like around the Tuplar, he'd send you notes just because he's extra

Like, you recognize one another's writing style

He also leaves little doodles for you, on every note he gives. Whether it's a heart or a dinosaur playing basketball, you're gonna have it.

He might have some words misspelled, but it really just kind of depends if he's tired or not (when is he ever not energetic??)

I headcanon that he leaves little doodles EVERYWHERE he writes. Like, if Swansea told him to take notes, there will be some drawing on there.

I feel like at some point he doodled you and him together kissing while Swansea was trying to talk to him, and then Swansea noticed it and gave him a scolding for not paying attention😔

Daisuke sometimes leaves little notes in your room. I mean, he kind of just somehow sneaks in there and leaves you a quick "you're so pretty <3" note. Or it can be anything, really, not only compliments

Imagine dirty talking with him through notes like that would lowkey be crazy

HE CANNOT HANDLE DIRTY TALK AND YOU CAN'T PROVE ME WRONG

I mean like, he just can't keep a straight face. He bursts out laughing if he ever tries, he simply can't.

Daisuke is just so silly😮‍💨

If you two are both working with Swansea, then he would 100% just pass you notes every single minute.

UGH I WANT HIM SO BAD IT'S NOT EVEN A JOKE ANYMORE😟

★yoyomiko ★miko

[heartfullofleeches]

Ride or Die

Yan 🌽star + Stoner Reader

Summary: After a deal gone wrong, you text your roommate for help.

[Mentions of Weed]

-

Thursdays are pizza night.

It isn't much in the grander scheme of things, but to Brie it is the domesticity of the relationship blossoming between you. Not exactly just friends, yet still barely pushing the limits of the platonic bond you already shared before moving in. You've kissed him before, allowed him to sleep in your bed- Then again, the "kiss" was a conducting force for a mouthful of smoke you gave fair warning for him to prepare himself for; the night in your room being the outcome of him spitting up a lung moments later.

Brie didn't know what to do anymore.. Continue this little game of cat and mouse, praying somewhere deep down you feel the same way about him. Or move onto someone else, never able to give them the entirety of his heart because he knows a part of it will always belong to you.

"Why can't I cry anywhere else but the produce isle!" Brie bitterly whispers to himself as he swabs the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Your sweater to be more precise. He'd rather not have a repeat of last week- That sweet lady was only trying to console him, but his face gets red as the tomatoes he used for his sauce crying over what may never be.

Whatever.

As far as Brie was aware, you didn't have a partner nor anyone you were really interested in, and you practically told each other everything. Maybe somewhere along the line, he could find happiness in this in-between stage in your relationship. Even if you weren't his partner, he still had you as a shoulder to cry on and the best roommate he could ask for.

"Get over yourself, Brie- You're going to make them the greasts pizza they've ever had, and if they haven't already fallen in love with you - they'll met someone who's a shitty cook and realize what they're missing!"

Isn't that the dream? These days, it feels like you're the only thought on his mind. He can hear your voice now.

"Brie? Brieeeee~ Pick up or I'll use your full government. Heh, you know I'm messing with you. But, seriously, pick up."

Oh. That's... your ringtone. The message was one of the first voicemails you left him when he purchased a new phone. He's missed plenty of calls from you hearing it out to completion.

"You rang, babe?"

That got a good chuckle out of you the first time. It was a total blunder on Brie's end, but you insisted he keep the nickname if he wanted to. There's no jovial air coming from your end of the line. Not even a snicker as your voice picks up over the silence.

"I need your help."

Never in your years long friendship had he heard you sound so serious before. There were glimpses - swiftly desected by your infections laughter or the change of topic, but never like this.

"I'm, I'm on my way." Brie switches his phone over to his left ear, propping it up with his shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you sick? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I think I killed a guy."

The line goes dead.

Brie gazes upwards at the tiled ceiling, phone slipping from his grasp as his thumb hoovers where the end call button once was. He regains his grip on the device as a text message comes in.

Its a picture of the body. Sprawled out with their arms and legs angled in different directions.

He can't catch his breath. Brie has always tried to drill it into your thick skull he'd do anything for you no matter what - and he meant it. Taking someone's life... It's unforgivable in most people's eyes. Especially the law's. If you got caught. If he lost you- What would that mean for him? The future you had together?

Racing through the aisles like a chicken without its head, Brie makes several stops on his way to the cash register. Cleaning, household goods, cutlery. He grabs items as soon as they're checked out and stuffs them into his backpack as he pays, evading his ritual of fishing through his wallet for the exact cash and change.

Brie isn't crazy enough to run red lights. He does, however, forget his seatbeat as he floors his car home; flying just beneath the legal speed limit for the area. He speeds up the tiny flight of stares leading to your apartment - bursting through the already unlocked front door.

"Babe! Baby, in here- I brought bleach, and trash bags, and- and.... These knives should be sharp enough to cut up their limbs- We can even move closer to my parents if we have to!"

Tripping over his own words and feet, Brie dumps the the contents of his backpack on the living room floor. It's then he notices how clean the floor actually is. No blood stains, no evidence of a fight. His eyes search the room, falling upon you in an unbothered state - seated on the couch next to a shivering man nervously sipping from a glass of water.

"Brie!" Standing, you make short work of the distance between you as you swarm Brie with a firm hug. "Missed you, pretty boy. You're back a little sooner than I expected not gonna lie."

Adrenaline depleting, Brie points over your shoulder at the stranger. "I thought he was..."

"He? Oh, right!- Brie, this is Nicky. Nicky, this is Brie. He came to buy some of my stash since his med card just expired and he doesn't like buying full price. Normally I would've done it elsewhere since I don't want to bring strangers into your space, but he's heading out of town once he leaves.... If he still can."

Nicky offers a timid wave to Brie, placing his cup down seconds before collapsing on the couch.

"Don't worry, he should be fine after a little nap."

Air flows freely through Brie's lungs as he clings onto you. You aren't a murderer. There isn't anything jeopardizing things between you- besides himself.

"You're such a jerk."

Pulling away from your embrace, Brie was torn between slapping or kissing you as you grin back at him. "What? Didn't actually think I killed the guy, did you?"

"Yes?! Because of your little prank I wasn't able to get everything I needed for dinner! I was ready to throw my entire life away for you! And it's all just a big joke to you!"

"Thanks, Brie."

Tension building behind his eyes, a soft kiss to his forehead keeps the tears at bay just a little longer.

"It's nice to have someone I can depend on for anything. That's rare to come by these days. If you're ever in the same situation, but for real- you know who to call."

Sniffling, Brie rests his head on your arm.

"You're damn right I do."

[jesse-cosay]

This might be obvious, but I feel like it's often misunderstood about Jesse's character.

When confronting the Apex and running away with Lake, his number does not change. They don't get his exit right away, it doesn't appear after this dramatic moment of him standing up for himself and his friend.

"But Yellow! It's about the pacing! It's about the drama of them running away!"

Wrong!

For one, Jesse's problem isn't that he can't stand up for himself. Because he can! And he shows us this!

"It looks like your punching wasn't doing much good either."

"I was yelling! It's still my turn to yell!"

He talks back after Lake mocks his approach. He puts his foot down and defends himself.

"Pft. You would."

He antagonizes Lake after the flecs outted them as a criminal. He doesn't bend to Lake's whims like someone who's spineless.

"You better not tell mom!"

He doesn't grovel for Nate not to tell their parents. Doesn't promise to make it up to him later, doesn't try to lighten this blow at all. The way someone would if they always played both sides.

Defending himself is not his problem, not really. It's not even just people-pleasing.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"I'm not gonna be a part of anything like this. On or off the train!"

If it was? This would have been the scene Jesse got his exit. There's enough build up for it, we don't need the chase scene before it, we could still have the flex show up after Jesse's exit closed with Lake on the other side.

But it isn't.

"I've got you. We're getting out of here."

It's only after he reassures Lake that his number changes. After he promises to stay with them, to side with them.

Jesse's issues were about standing up for others. For defending other people, even when it wasn't convenient. Not about him.

(Shout out to @elibethqueen for this post, love you bb)

[the-fallen-blue]

Pretty sure she's an addict, actually.

Looking at the way she reacts to absorbing power, both in this show and in Wandavision, it obviously feels really good. I think she's being honest when she says she doesn't control it, but it's not because she physically can't, it's because she's so euphoric in the moment that she can't think clearly enough to make the decision.

And the greatest possible risk for addiction is to be in a situation where nothing else feels good. Where the world is unstable, untrustworthy, unreliable, where you are unable to plan or hope for a future or believe there is a source of good for you other than your drug of choice.

And Agatha, the covenless witch, has been in that situation her entire life. The only good things she's ever had are Rio and Nicky. Rio, despite being a shockingly caring and respectful partner, is also literally Death and cannot provide for Agatha any sense of protection, community, or future; Nicky is doomed before he's even out of the womb, and any joy she has with him is tempered by the fear of his loss, the knowledge of the ticking clock of Rio's return. And with or without the two of them, her deep-seated belief is that she is unable to be part of her community, that she has only the single binary choice of being hunted and alone and despised, or to attempt to belong and be instantly killed. Which is a stressful, painful way to stagger through the centuries.

I do think she told herself a lot of things about why she was killing other witches, of course. One thing is what she told Nicky; that it's to keep him safe. It "distracts" Rio (deep down she knows perfectly well that Death doesn't work that way, but he's still alive so far). It gives her enough power to protect him (she tells him herself that no amount of power can protect him or heal him or even guide her in his care, because her power doesn't work that way, but it's not like she can go get a coven to fill in the gaps, she has to try to make do with what she is). It protects her (if she has enough power, if she kills witches before they can kill her, she won't be hurt again). And I think one of the things that she told herself after Nicky died is that if she got enough power, enough juice, she could bring Nicky back; in Wandavision in particular she is very interested in the power of the Scarlet Witch to create life wholesale, to defy the balance Rio maintains.

But Agatha is a liar. Maybe all of those reasons have their influence, but at the end of the day, she drains witches because it's the only thing that feels good enough to make her forget for a second that she's lost every person she's ever loved and everything that ever made her feel safe. Because she's desperately trying to fill a hole in herself with power because she doesn't understand how to see or ask for or believe in anything else. Because the way her power works means that if she is feeling that feeling, she is being attacked, having it proven to her that of course there is nothing else for her, no welcome and no care and no joy outside of this moment of killing.

Which is why the first time she's able to stop herself is the first time she has seen and felt enough of a support structure outside of that addiction to actually start believing there's an alternative.

(Though, to be clear, none of that makes her not an awful person. If sorting people into moral categories is important to you that is absolutely the one where she gets put, and she is barely at the beginning of a potential redemption when the season wraps. She's just not there for shits and giggles, she's there for ~trauma~.)

I'm still thinking about the advice lilia gave to agatha right before her death because it is so fucking significant. like alice tried to protect agatha and agatha accidentally killed her. and STILL lilia decided to try again, in her own way. while existing throughout all of time at once, lilia believes that helping agatha is worth a try.

each time agatha tries to act like she doesn't care about sisterhood and pushes her coven away, they STILL show up for her the way the salemites should have but never did. the road is actively giving agatha what she's been missing since childhood: being shown care and compassion.

[docdudo]

Aye, aye, you know how some people make their beds basically nests if they have enough sheets and plushies? What if- and hear me out- what if user does that, but like, they do it for the first time ever in the 141's house becase user had never had the chance to do it before bcs of stuff, so it's new to them and they feel a bit childish, maybe try to hide it, but the 141 is like "Aww, they're nesting >w<" Tini tiny idea, just saying

So, the thing is... even tho humans could technically "nest", we don't really have instincts to do that. So, to other races that actually nest, it might seem like we are doing a "pretend nest".

For example: Dragons, Harpies and Werewolves all nest. It's a different kind of nesting for all of them, but they all nest none the less. Wraiths like Ghost don't nest, but he's mated to races that nest, so he's used to the practice.

A nest for humans may feel more like a pillow fort. Like you're just playing with the bedding. For races that actually nest, they take nesting pretty serious, like a confort and safety kind of thing. It's something that can actually affect their health, because it will mess with their instincts if, for example, a Harpy can't nest. They could loose their feathers, sleep poorly, or even get depression.

So, as a human, you could technically nest. But you lack the instincts.

Of course, at some point, you would get curious and start to mess with your bedding a little. Move a few things here and there, maybe even start to use the nest in the middle of your room a bit more. And of course, you don't tell them anything about it, but they would notice.

They would probably think it's the cutest thing they have ever seen, when they first lay eyes on the modified nest in your room. One of them sees it first, and suddently, the four of them are standing around what you made. It's so... human. It lacks all and everything that makes a nest a home for other species.

For Harpies, and for Dragons, and for Werewolves... hell, even for a Wraith like Ghost who has decades of his life mated with these species, this little nest you tried to make was... pitiful, really.

But you made one. And humans don't make nests. But you made one. You made one because you were living with them, because you saw them nest. Because of them, you, a human, tried to nest.

And if they ended up with many, many pictures of your little nest in their cellphones, saved and well kept to show to the rest of their pack later, it's no one bussiness but theirs.

And if in the next time Kyle and Johnny talked to you they were gently and subtly trying to hint how to build a proper nest, you could only pretend you didn't understand what they were talking about as your cheeks burned a cute red color.

[munsonsmixtapes]

i dont know if this is already written but could you write reader is chrissy’s bestfriend who likes eddie and chrissy knows about the readers crush and then gets with eddie and the readers is so heart broken but at the end she finally gets eddie thank uu 🤭😇

Eddie Munson x cheerleader!reader

cw: hurt/comfort

You find yourself at yet another sleepover at Chrissy’s. It seems like you’ve spent every weekend there, especially during the school year when she can drive the both of you there. Her house has easily become a second home to you and you really enjoy going over there.

Especially considering that she’s your best friend and has been since you could remember. In fact, you don’t really have any memories where Chrissy wasn’t present. Your earliest memory was your third birthday and the two of you were side by side as you both blew out the candles on your cake. You look back on that moment often and even have a photo of it on your desk in your room.

You’re both on Chrissy’s bed giggling at a movie that plays on the TV, both ogling the male lead who just so happens to look like your crush. If you’re being honest, though, that’s the only reason why you’re watching.

You’ve been crushing on Eddie since the moment you saw him. Unlike everyone else, you seem to see him for who exactly he is, even stand up for him when your friends make fun of him. You don’t know why everyone seems to hate him when he’s morning but a sweetheart, at least, from what you’ve seen.

You’ve only been to a few Hellfire sessions but from what you’ve gathered, he’s super sweet and just all around a goofball. So why people keep calling him a freak and think that he’s the devil incarnate you’ll never understand.

He goes out of his way to help you when you’re lost and it warms your heart every time, making you fall for him even harder. You know it seems silly, but you can't help it. You see the real him, the dside he's aafraid to show to just anyone and that makes you feel special, like you're actually apart of his group.

But the thing that hurts the most is that you know how badly he's crushing on Chrissy, because of course he is. Because she's popular, pretty, and sweet. Because it just makes sense that he would crush on one of the most popular girls in school. Because your life is so unfair that that just makes sense.

"He looks kind of like..." she pauses, turning to you. Chrissy knows all about your crush on Eddie and is quick to tease you about it any chance she gets. She doesn't understand why you would like someone like him where there are plenty of fish in the sea. If she's being honest, though, she only does it because that's the only thing she has on you. Because she's envious of you and that's the only was she knows she can get under your skin. She knows it's wrong, especially when you're friends, but she's jealous of you, , she sees you as a threat, so she'll do anything to get you out of her way.

"Does he?" You play dumb but she's not buying it as she gives you a shove while throwing some popcorn that's sitting in the bowl between you two at you.

"That's the whole reason why you wanted to watch this, isnt it?" She asks with a laugh and you feel your cheeks heat as your secret has finally been revealed.

"Maybe," you draw out the word as you throw some popcorn back and she manages to catch it in her mouth.

"Do you really think it's good idea getting close to him? I mean, isn't he a devil worshipper or whatever?" He's not and she knows that. She's just trying to push your buttons, trying to make you see how wrong you are. Because as your friend, she feels like she needs to guide you in the right direction. Because how bad would it look if her best friend was hanging out with the Hellfire club, let alone their leader?

"No," you shake your head furiously. "He's not at all. And you'd know that if you went to any of the sessions with me."

"I'm busy, y/n, and you know that. And it's not like I'd spend my one free night a week with a bunch of losers. Present company included."

Your mouth falls open at the last sentence and you have to turn away so she won’t see the tears forming in your eyes. Anyone else calling you that would be one thing, but your best friend? Well, she might have stabbed you in the back with how betrayed you felt.

You stand from the bed and turn your back to her, wiping your tears from your cheeks before collecting your duffel bag from the floor and putting the strap over your shoulder.

“Oh, c’mon, y/n,” Chrissy rolls her eyes as you turn face her. “You’re not really leaving because of this, are you?”

“I am,” you nod. “You don’t want to hang out with a loser like me anyway,” you mumble, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you move towards the door, but Chrissy stops you when she puts her hand on her shoulder.

"Look," she sighs, turning you around to face her. "I'm just tell it like it is. Ever since you started hanging out with those weirdos, you've changed. You've been dressing differently," she refers to your outfit which consits of your Hellfire shirt you had worn for the session that night. "And you didn't even come to the game tonight. We were one man down for what? So you could go worship the devil? We really needed you, y/n. You're our best flyer."

"I'm sorry, I just-" You're afraid to tell her that it's because you don't like what you've become by hanging out with the popular crowd. You want to surround yourself with good people and you're sure that the hellfire club is filled with just that. You don't care about their reputations nor understand why Chrissy does.

"You're just what y/n?" Chrissy asks, her words sounding like venom and you step back, suddently afraid of her. "You hanging out with them makes me weird by association and do you know what that does for the head cheerleader? It means that those freaks think they can talk to me and that's all your fault. So if you want to continue to be friends with me, you're going to have to cut them off."

You let her words sink in, and tghe more you look at her, the more you don't recognizer her. The person standing in front of you may look like Chrissy, but she's definitely not behaving like her. And suddenly, you're feeling sick as you realize what you have to do. You don't want to, but what other choice do you have?

"You've actually made this so easy for me. Goodbye, Chrissy," you turn on your heel to head towards the door, but she stands in front of it, preventing you from leaving.

"You're not serious," she shakes her head, a humorless passing through her lips. "You're ending fifteen years of friendships for some guy? What the fuck, y/n?"

"Not, not for some guy, Chrissy. I'm doing it for myself because I deserve better. Now if you'll excuse me," you motion for her to move out of the way. You can paractically see the smoke coming out of her ears as you step aside, but that't not your problem anymore.

You open the door and hurry down the stairs as you feel more tears trailing down your cheeks as Chrissy calls after you.

"And don't think you can ever step foot in here again!"

Oh, you won't. You have no reason to.

You get out the front door and slam it closed as you step out onto the porch, realizing that she drove you home, but thankfully, you live just up the street. And because you seem to have really shitty luck, it begins to pour rain. You don't care anymore, though. You just need to get home. So you sprint that way, not sto[[ing undtipping until you get to your front door, -hurrying up to your room, hoping that your parents dont hear you.

As soon as your up the stairs, you hurry to the bathroom and strip your soaked clothes before turning on the shower. Once it’s hot enough, you step in, and as you’re doing all the tasks, you suddenly feel so much lighter even though you’re sobbing.

You’ve been wanting to end your friendship with Chrissy for a while, you just never thought it’d be like this. Because she’s more worried about her own image than she is about you. That’s the part that hurts the most, you think. She knows how happy being a part of hellfire makes you, it’s the first time you’ve actually felt like you belonged. And here she is, asking you to give it up like it’s nothing because it makes her look bad.

She knows that you’ve never liked being a cheerleader. It was just something that the two of you could do together so she forced you to try out with her freshman year. And yeah, maybe you should have told her you weren’t going to be at the game tonight, but you didn’t want to hear it.

After your shower, you cry yourself to sleep, mourning the loss of your friendship, the memories you had made together over the years, the person you thought you knew but clearly didn’t.

You spend the entire weekend in your room ignoring Chrissy’s calls, trying to work on your homework. She thinks it’s just a little fight, that you were being dramatic, but you’re not giving in this time. All ties have been cut and you’re not going to let her suck you back in. This is for the better, you know it.

-

Monday rolls around pretty quickly and all you’re looking forward to is seeing Eddie. You wanted to go over to his trailer after you let Chrissy’s on Friday night, but you didn’t want to bother him. After hellfire, he has talked about going him and planning the next session so you didn’t want to be a distraction.

He spots you by your locker and makes a beeline for you, hurrying to pull his gift for you out of his backpack. You spot him down the hallway and feel your heartbeat quicken as you realize that he's approaching you. He's got on that big grin and you can't help but match it.

"Hey," he greets. "How great was that session the other night?" He's filled with pride and normally, you would have haearts in your eyes, but not today. You haven't even thought about him the entire weekend, Chrissy taking up every square of your brain.

"Really great," you agree with a nod as you take the book you need for first period out of your locker and put it in your backpack. You can tell that he thinks something's off and you want to tell him about Chrissy and what happened over the weekend. You think it'll make you feel better and Eddie's always a great listener.

"You know, you never answered my call last night, is everything-" Eddie's question is cut off by Chrissy resting her hand on his shoulder and right before you can ask what's going on, she turns him to face her and presses a kiss to his lips. You feel bile rising in you throat as you watch them, that pit that's been in your stomach the entire weekend growing larger and larger.

"Hey, baby," she says as she runs her fingers through his hair. And that's when it all clicks for you. They're together. So, what, first she calls him edvery name in the book and now she's kissing him and calling him baby? How much had you missed since Friday?

She then turns to you and puts on a devilish grin, still running her hands through the hair you had fantasized about touching, almost as if she's trying to taunt you. You can tell by the look on her face that she's up to something and you hate that she's using Eddie just to prove a point.

"What's going on?" You ask even though you don't want actually want to hear it and are pretty sure that you already know the answer.

"Oh," she lets out a laugh that sounds condescending, as if she's making fun of you, and she definitely is. Because, after all, you're more often than not the butt of all of Chrissy's jokes. "Didn't Eddie tell you?" She asks, tilting her head to the side as her eyebrows furrow. "He's my boyfriend now."

In that moment, your vision blurs and you're sure that you're either going to pass out or throw up or both. This is all so sick and twisted, even for Chrissy. None of this was making any sense to you and you desperately needed to find out what had happened over the weekend.

Without a word, you grab her by the arm and pull her into one of the emtpy classrooms. You don't know what she's playing at, but you really want to get to the bottom of it. You knew that Eddie had been crushing on her, but Chrissy wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. And that was a direct quote.

You shut the door and left it cracked, giving Eddie the perfet opportunity to eavesdrop. He ws normally a nosy person, but he just had to know what was going on between the two of you.

“This is low, even for you,” you told her and she just rolls her eyes again then leans against one of the tables.

“You’re just mad that I got to him first,” she replies almost as if she’s bored. She’s examining her nails almost as if she thinks this conversation isn’t important to her.

“No,” you glare at her. “I’m mad that you’re using him just to get back at me.”

“You know, not everything is about you, y/n. Maybe I really like Eddie.” You both know the truth and she hates that you’ve clocked it.

“But you don’t. This is just your sick form of revenge for me ending our friendship. I wonder what Eddie would say if he found out the real reason why you’re dating him.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at the revelation. He knew something was up with the whole thing, but he just didn’t know what. Now he had proof of what Chrissy had done. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He actually thought that she had liked him but apparently he had been wrong.

Before he could stop himself, he was bursting through the door. Anger was bubbling up inside him and he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do, but he had to say something.

“What?” He spits and the girls turn towards him, their eyes widening as they step away from each other.

“Eddie-“ Chrissy tries to say, but Eddie holds his hands up, cutting her off.

“I can’t believe-“ he lets out a deep breath. “I can’t believe I actually fell for that bullshit.”

“What bullshit? Eddie, I love you.”

“No you don’t. Because when you love someone, you don’t use their feelings for you as a way to get back at someone. Whatever we had is over now.” You can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears and he turns to you, his face softening.

He can see tears welling in your eyes when you look at him and his heart breaks for you. He doesn’t care about how he feels anymore. Being used is one thing, but being used to hurt the girl he likes is another.

He had liked Chrissy from the beginning, but then you came along. And you were sweet and smart and kind and you treated him like he was a normal person, not some freak. He really liked you, but Chrissy had convinced him that you liked someone else. But why would you have cared so much if you had? You like him too, don’t you?

He watches you flee the room in a blur and without another thought, he follows behind you, ignoring Chrissy calling behind him. He chases after you, hurrying down the school hallway as you make your way to the parking lot.

“Y/n!” He calls after you. He’s not going to let you get away until he tells you exactly how he feels. “Y/n!”

You ignore him and head to your car, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. He comes up behind you as you use your key to unlock the driver’s seat door and you can’t get yourself to turn around.

“Can you please look at me?” He asks, the words sounding so pathetic, so desperate, and you feel your heart clench as you hear them.

Without a word, you turn around and Eddie’s quick to wipe the tears away with the pad of his thumb. And then by your surprise, he presses his lips to yours as his hands move up to cup your cheeks.

You’re quick to respond, your lips moving with his as your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer to you.

“It’s you,” he mumbles against your lips. “It’s always been you.”

“It’s always been you too.”

You stay like that for a while, everything else completely irrelevant except for each other. You just want to be wrapped up in him forever, totally unaware that he had felt the same way until now. And there was absolutely no way you were letting him go.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing The Kings to Your Plushies

me and my bestie have a joke about my faves showing up to my place for sex and i would not realize and just start talking about my plushies based on this dumb post we saw once, thought it'd be funny to turn into an actual scenario lol might do this for the other devils, angels, minhyeok if the ppl are interested lol notes: mildly sexual - not really anything deeply insane, gender neutral reader !!!

Satan

On one hand, he thinks you're really cute. On the other hand, he's here to fuck so.

He's going back and forth so much in his head for a moment he's not even paying attention to you talking oops.

Gets so frustrated and angered from trying to decide what to do it ultimately ends with him just jumping on you.

Cut you off mid word with an incredibly heat filled kiss from rage.

Honestly you might not even 100% be certain what happened but you're not complaining!! You can always talk about the rest of your plushies later!!!

Well. If Satan doesn't fuck you until the point you're resting for the next couple days.

Once he actually pays attention to you talking about them he'll remember some names here and there, but he will get them wrong on purpose to try and see you angry lol.

Mammon

The reality is he probably got you most of these plushies.

He adores seeing how you cherish them and the lore you've decided for them!!

Will remember every single detail you tell him about them!!

He thinks it's super cute and will humor you for the moment.

However, Mammon will get what he wants eventually. But for right now you're so adorable how could he tell you no?

He is DEFINITELY teasing you later once he does get to sleep with you about how cute you are.

This man lives to see you embarrassed and shy from his compliments.

Is probably buying you even MORE plushies now, hope you're prepared for that!

Leviathan

I think it depends at the point in your relationship, if it's early on he might just toss the plushies aside and get to the point of what he wants.

Later on I do think he genuinely listens, even if he's impatient and pretends like he doesn't care. If it's important to you he does care, just doesn't always show it.

Especially if you use the plushies as a form of comfort due to trauma or any other issues.

You won't even realize how much he paid attention until he refers to your plushies by their names if you accidentally leave them laying around.

However he does still get jealous so so easily so maybe try not to spend too much time at once focusing on them rather than him.

He tries so hard but eventually the jealousy will overtake him and he will just get straight to the sex.

For what it's worth, he still found you cute! He just can't help himself.

Beelzebub

I'm not gonna lie, you might be able to successfully distract him for a good bit.

Dude's invested in the names and lore and anything you have created for them!!! He likes hearing about it !!!!

He isn't gonna be able to remember every single bit of these details but he might remember some of it here and there. Either way he likes listening to how you talk about them!

That being said he can only sit still for so long so maybe introduce him a little at a time lmao.

Especially because once he DOES start to get distracted he's gonna remember the original reason he was here.

And well. Yeah just like that it's time to fuck!

Because you successfully distracted him for a bit you might be in store for an extra long session this time so! Good luck!

Lucifer

He listens fully. Wants to hear everything you have to say about them.

He finds the plushies super cute, so he enjoys listening to your ramblings, even if he had certain intentions when he arrived.

But most importantly, he's so endeared, you're so absolutely adorable to him. The way your face lights up when you talk about them, he can't get enough!!!!

So he lets you have your moment.

And when you're finally done is when he's actually gonna fuck you lol. Yeah, that was still happening he had a goal.

And if he's teasing you extra specially tonight, don't even worry about it (whether it be from compliments or degradation who's to say!! just know you're gonna be crying extra hard this time he's so worked up from how cute you are!).

Of course, he remembers every single detail you tell him, he has that shit committed to memory. Asks you questions sometimes to see that adorable look on your face again!

Belphegor

Goodnight.

He tries to pay attention but he's ready to fall asleep apologies.

He showed up for sex and when it wasn't happening his brain turned off.

That being said the second you realize he's asleep and start trying to wake him up he's on you!!

Like okay conversation done we're fucking now right?

It's just easier to give what he wants and lecture him in the process.

It's fine he tries to listen later. That being said if he invites Beleth to listen too don't worry about it. He totally didn't tell him to memorize details for him because he's probably gonna fall asleep again.

Asmodeus

Sorry there's just no way to distract this man from sex.

If he's showing up for sex he's here to for sex !!!!

And he WILL get it!!!

If anything he just starts fucking you while holding up the plushies to you and asking you details about them.

Unfortunately you're kinda too fucked out by that point to truly answer them.

He's a fucking menace apologies.

And he cannot be stopped I fear.

That being said any information he does manage to get out of you he does fully remember!!

It's his own weird way of showing affection, ya know?

[dufferpuffer]

Azkaban is fantastic with Sirius and only Sirius. With Sirius it is a wonderful metaphor for deep depression.

He went there because he lost everything. Anything there was to live for didn't feel worth it. Was barely worth thinking about - because thinking about them would just get them sucked right out. He had to simplify his thoughts as a dog (disassociate) while his happy thoughts were being sucked out as quickly as they came into his head through the door to his room, so he just lay there in the cold alone for over a decade. He couldn't take basic care of himself.

What busted him out...? It wasn't happiness. It was anger. Self-sacrificing almost delirious drive. He wasn't himself anymore.

What brought him back was connection and purpose. He still wasn't happy, he still wasn't well - being trapped in his house didn't feel that much better than Azkaban, other than when he had visitors. He was still trapped in a world of his worst memories.

I'm not saying it very well... but I actually think thats really nice. That horrible torture prison is as bad as abusive home, that leaving didn't fix him but gave him room to improve, that he didn't need to 'get happy' he needed 'get reason to live - happy or not'.

But Azkaban exists outside of Sirius. It exists A LOT. It isn't just a 'place' Sirius went because he was 'the worst person ever in the world for getting his friends killed, its all his fault, he has gone to the worst ever place for the worst ever people who will NEVER feel joy again... but he fights his way out for Harry.'

Fucking Hagrid went there. Hagrid had to suffer Azkaban. It sort of ruins it, yknow...? Well, I mean... I could excuse it if Hagrid was the only one. If he came back propperly rattled from his shorter stay, and so when Sirius is introduced it's like 'wow he spent YEARS like that...'

But like every Death Eater has been there. Of course if ANYONE deserves Azkaban its loyal Death Eaters, muggle killers, torturers... but even un-loyal ones end up there. Suspected but unproven. Ones that were falsely accused. Ones that are proven followers of Voldemort but have not been proved of any action. Also people go to Azkaban for far lesser shit. There are short-term Azkaban sentences.

So the entire 'Depression' thing falls apart. It's impact is squashed. All 'Does X deserve Azkaban?' discussions die, because it is the ONLY prison. Where else can anyone go...? I think the only alternative we see is how Albus keeps Gellert as a pet under House-Arrest, because he can't stand the thought of sending the man he loves to the place where his father died. Albus is Azkaban's no. 1 hater

And that sucks. I think it would all be fixed if there was just another Wizarding Prison. Azkaban is the ultimate sentence - where people disappear, fade from memory.... not where you go for a few months because you were keeping some Sphinx's in your back yard. Some Death Eaters go to Azkaban. Of course they do. And some go to other prison. It can even be just as comically extreme: Azkaban is the worst place imaginable, while other prison is more like a soft daycare for the naughty. That way you have your continued narrative of 'Wizards really aren't very good at managing themselves huh'++

cant believe jkr created a prison that forces you to relive all of your worst memories, put a fairly major character in that prison for twelve years without a trial, and then just... didnt make it a commentary on the justice system OR the prison system. just like "lol thats a quirky thing that happened just for plot reasons, no bearing on reality tho"

[goodolddumbbanana]

Moon when everyone expects Sum getting hurt or traumatized: Mr. Therapist of the year.

Moon when Sun gets hurt or traumatized: What is that? I don't know what the emotions spell like? He will probably be fine on his own, I deal with that before, it's not that hard.

I swear it really hit me on the nail the reason why I originally hated this Old Moon so much. It is not only partially because he is the asshole to Sun a lot, but also, he always treats people not Sun better than Sun, his own brother.

Like he comforted Lunar when he disowned Eclipse, he sacrificed his own life for KC for all people, he really understood and all with Earth, he even had empathy with Dazzle and Jack about Neptor. Heck, he comforted Funtime Foxy, Roxanne, even Freddy from all people like a pro, and he empathy with Bloodmoon!!!

But when it came to Sun, SUN, his brother, he just...

His emotional intelligence just dropped from 300 to 0.

And this is not new. It all happened again and again, that Moon worked himself to the bone and snapped at Sun's face whenever Moon feels stress or Sun doesn't happy like he always does, making everything about him, invalidate Sun's feelings, and told Sun to shut his own emotions to somewhere that Moon can't see.

With Sun, he always likes: Boo ho, I have been worse and you don't see me complaining.

Bitch, you complaining about it every time you have chances! I am not comparing the trauma between their two but Moon always screaming how miserable his life is to Sun and when Sun shares think back he just told Sun to shut up and move one.

It's always me, me,me, it always I'm the monster and I hate myself and I'm a murderer. And Blood on my hand and Sun you should comfort me but also hate me.

Yeah, buddy, we all know. IT'S NOT LIKE YOU SHOVE IT ON OUR FACE EVERY TIME YOU ON SCREEN!!

If Moon is actually an asshole mentally incapable of caring and feeling, I can have a little bit of empathy towards him. But the fact that he is always a pretty decent emotional empathetic guy when comes to the other and not towards Sun makes me mad.

It's unfair. Like he doesn't even think of Sun as a person. He put Sun on a higher pedestal, that Sun needs to be good, to be better than him. He always hurts Sun the most when he is the one most caring about Sun.

Though, to cut him some slack, I understand how awkward of him to talk to Sun now, but it is not justified his actions. I am actually not surprised, I'm just disappointed.

I thought he would be better, but he is only better than his worst self, which is stop trying to murder or hit or yell at Sun.

The bar is so low I have to say holy hell with him. No wonder he and Satan are besties.

And also, I understand what kind of reactions Monty and Lunar came from and it honestly is in character for them to react that way.

Lunar is always the jerk, and with the fact he has to control his emotions, no surprise if he distracted himself to do other things.

Same with Monty.

They are both logical people who have the emotional intelligence level of a baby, so it is understandable to see them just quickly changing the topic.

They are not actually close to Nexus, and it honestly is no point for them to grief for someone hurting their family. Though, I bet they also feel sad about him, they can't do anything about it so they are not.