#Lovers Reversed

[eric-the-bmo]

Fellas is it gay to be blood-bound to another man

[eric-the-bmo]

[Stares at Leo] oh boy. ohhhh boy.

To put it simply: fellas do you ever hate your ex but also still like him in a way that's more akin to an obsessive fixation than anything else, while also viewing his very existence as a punishment for yourself

which oc currently has a complicated relationship with an ex?

[thalfbloodloser]

some people were very nice on the tags of my stan-twins star drawing, but i'm kinda feeling bad because i only properly finish a drawing once every 10 years...so i brought you some gravity falls colored/polished sketches instead 🐌☝️💞 hope you like 'em!

+ a little scene redraw (committed the mistake of asking my friends to pick, from a poll, what i should draw. jokingly added "(evil answer)" after dipcifica and everyone picked that. because they hate me): the babies 🤏

disclaimer: the twins have almost the same expressions on both drawings because, originally, i was only going to pick one sketch to turn into a nicer, more elaborate piece. turns out i can't pick shit lmao- so i just...half-assedly colored both 🥹 you can definitely see where i completely gave up on the reverse falls one KSJSKSJSKS my bad!

[petruchio]

oh and also. we could leave the christmas lights up until january. i attend christmas parties from outside. and at every table i’ll save you a seat. i look in peoples windows in case you’re at their table. can i go where you go? northbound i got carried away as you boarded your train south. we could let our friends crash in the living room, this is our place, we make the call. i look in peoples windows transfixed by rose golden glows they have their friends over to drink nice wine. can we always be this close forever and ever? does it feel alright not to know me?

[clown1nc]

Nothing particularly interesting today besides some vandermatthews angst!!

[ot3]

to get the most of out ot3s you have to consider that they consist of smaller 2 person subdynamics where the third person is always in a weird and fucked up position of being a permanent voyeur to an interpersonal dynamic they are privy to but never a fully participant in. that whatever u have with them its not the same as what they have with each other, in a way thats equally intimate and alienating. yeah a throuple is fun when its a couple and their third but in an ideal world per 1 threesome you should be getting three somewhat volatile couples with their own dedicated third. and i think yoohankim #gets that.

[phasmophobia-territory]

The Ultimate YANDERE TYPES List | Extensive Graph and List

So I was doing research for my writing and I found a really good Yandere Types chart!

Full sources and links to further reading will be below in the notes!

And before getting into it, remember to read the trigger warnings and content warnings. This is Yandere fiction we’re talking about, so it’s going to get messed up.

Themes + Trigger Warnings + Content Warnings:

Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Unhealthy relationships, Religious themes, themes of sociopathy, themes of mental illness, hallucinations, delusions, hallucinations and delusions due to drugs, mentions of: physical abuse, sexual abuse, brainwashing, murder, suicide, murder-suicide, self-harm, stalking, panic attacks, cannibalism, necrophilia.   

{click to open and zoom in to see the details! I'm so sorry, mobile app users :(}

Broad types. Click them to see more information!

Possessive Type

Shackling Type

"Denpa" Delusional Type

Love and Hate Type

Intoxicated Type

Stalker Type

Sources:

This does not belong to me. I only gave a summary of what I read. ORIGINAL SOURCE LINKED HERE.

It's an English translation of material from an upcoming game called Yandere Town. UNTRANSLATED, ORIGINAL JAPANESE SOURCE LINKED HERE. I do not know when this game is coming out, but darn the details that went into this is crazy! It might help you out if you're writing anything yandere!

(Original translators, I have no problem with taking this down if you don't want me reposting your translation to my blog! ^_^)

♡If you want to see more content like this check out the Writing and Yandere Masterlist and if you want to learn about this blog check out all things sketchprincess02!♡

♡Please consider REBLOGGING and COMMENTING if this helps you!♡

[everwalldigan]

If your Bruce Wayne doesn’t hold such a deep care that’s too big for his heart and that bleeds into every aspect of his life, relationships and interactions and defines his character, that’s not Bruce Wayne. That’s his evil clone Bryce Wine. Bryce Wine has been created by the Evil to destroy Bruce Wayne’s image and reputation😔.

If you ever find yourself in a comic thinking “Batman wouldn’t do that, that goes against his whole point as a character and person! He’s moving like a literal supervillain” do not fret, for you have been deceived by the evil conniving manipulator Bryce Wine and the beloved Bruce Wayne will be taking him down expeditiously🙏🏼

[eric-the-bmo]

[incoherent yelling] /pos

Decided to just doodle as many Malkavians as fast as I could tonight.

Leo and Jeremiah are surprise doodles for @eric-the-bmo and the rest of them are from various games I share with @dapperbasil and @prettycatgirlwinter. Shame I can't tag Kazmer's player though.

[heohl-art]

It's time for Reverse Omens!!🔥✨

• "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven, my dear." •

Demon!Aziraphale and Angel!Crowley in a late night Reverse Omens fanart I couldn't help but do🥹✨

[eric-the-bmo]

Thinking about Sept 16 and its aftermath again

[romanticupid]

21+ reverse-icks

highly HIGHLY requested. Read at your own caution

imagine him pressing his forehead against yours when he finishes

The whimpers/grunts he makes when he's close, almost like he's in pain

When his chest is shiny in the moonlight from sweat

When he stays inside of you after finishing

Imagine making eye contact with him the whole time

Hearing his breathless voice right next to your ear in a dark room

The eagerness and soft gentleness in his hands as he touches you

[ingravinoveritas]

Video of Michael listening to David's eulogy on the WTAWTAW podcast. The way he is blushing and laughing with his whole body is everything...

[iamred-iamyellow]

I remember someone saying “reverse tropes: childhood enemies”

oh so you mean lestappen?

[lavendermin]

the lovers, reversed | stellaron hunter sunday

pairing | sunday x fem!reader

wc | 1.6k

genre | angst, one sided love, unrealized feelings

warnings | mdni, alcohol mention, brief mention of sex, blood, wounds, unhealthy relationship, spoiler I guess if sunday really does end up being a stellaron hunter (have not yet played 2.3)

Fresh wounds, a few gashes. Nothing he couldn't treat. Because you wouldn't have anyone else though Firefly has always offered.

"Hold still," Sunday quietly instructs as steady hands work quickly to disinfect and dress unsightly marred skin.

You wince and clutch the sheets until your knuckles turn white. The pain was never easy, but a consequence of your recklessness nonetheless.

Under deft fingers you're all skin, no shame. Not when it's him.

Another whimper you can't suppress escapes your lips, and maybe it finally breaks something in him because you hear him sigh quietly. With his teeth he swiftly pulls off one of his gloves and holds it to your lips.

"Bite down on this," he instructs, voice calm and level. "There's still debris in one of the gashes. I have to take them out one by one."

You can only nod, not registering much else as the pain has your vision tunneling. It's another twenty minutes as he tries to work as quickly as possible. It takes everything to keep his composure despite your muffled cries of discomfort.

"This should have been done in the medical wing." Sunday's reprimand has little to no bite as he clears the medical supplies from the coffee table he had pulled up from across your room.

Your breath is weak and shaky, but still a gentle thing he's used to. "Too bright in there. Makes me feel like a lab rat within those white walls."

"Smells too clean?" he chuckles. Something he can't help around you more recently. There's an innocent and peculiar way you view things. Much like–

Sunday shuts the cabinet in your bathroom a bit harsher than he intended. He can't think of her... not right now. It would only bring emotions he didn't need to process—couldn't process at the moment.

There's red on his hands, on his clothes, staining his once pristine gloves. The awful metallic smell feels like it’s burned into his nostrils—a nauseating mix of crimson and the strong smell of sterilizers as he cleans the tools. His hands work on their own under the running water of your sink, almost out of body as his mind wanders. There’s a slight tremble he catches. Pathetic, he thinks, unable to keep it together in such a dire time.

The 'script' did not mention anything of a necessary death, but of course it would never detail wounds or misfortunes in detail. Some of those just come with the job. And sometimes he would feel a bubbling anger at the twisted fates that often befell you. But he knows it's a spiral that leaves him down a foggy road, one he shouldn't tread on.

Still, you're alive, and he's here. And for now, that's enough.

Your strained voice pulls him back to his body. Back to the present with a clearer head.

Right. The painkillers.

Sunday is quickly back by your side, pushing the small pill past your lips and lifting your face gently to give you water.

"You forgot," you tease despite your hoarse voice.

And those golden eyes you love dearly can't even bear to look at you as he sits next to you on the bed. There's no response other than a halfhearted hum he gives you. You know he didn't forget, and his lack of correction knowing how matter-of-fact he is only further sinks your heart.

But you don't get to tell your heart who to love.

The now-wrinkled glove he gave you is placed next to his leg. "Sorry I messed up. I'll buy you a new pair."

"Thank you..."

"You're wel-"

"You should say ‘thank you’. For the gesture. But don't apologize for the inevitable from missions. What's done is done," Sunday interrupts, voice firm. A little cold.

"I-" You're cut off as he grabs your wrist, his eyes unfocused as he looks at the ground.

"If you had done as I said– You could have gone missing. A lot of things could have gone wrong. Don't use yourself as bait. If anything happens to me, you escape by any means necessary. Understand?"

The grip is a little less than comfortable and you can only nod. Obedient only if it was his words that commanded. It brought a feeling he didn't want to describe rushing through his chest. The way your eyes looked at him—a mix of fear and blind adoration. It made him nauseous to consider himself worthy of such affection.

The morals of why he kept you by his side—of why he sought you during moments of his own damned weakness... He would dwell on that another time. If his morals were in a slow decline, perhaps he would even turn to burn the words stuck in his throat with the liquid he once detested and swore would never stain his lips. The liquid courage might bring him tumbling into your arms, an eagerness to be held and soothed for the sin he feels tainted with.

That maybe in his drunken stupor with his face buried in your neck and his throbbing frustration filling you up, he would realize even in nothingness, there is you. Always you.

A rebound. A close second. A replacement.

Sunday subconsciously has been latching onto you. It’s something he doesn’t remember starting, something he can’t stop nor explain. You, who are like an injured little dove to him, easily hurt and predictable in seeking comfort with his presence.

At first he firmly tried to keep his distance, remain cordial. But now… You provide him some psychological need to keep his same routine from before or have some semblance of familiarity amidst this new path he's been set on. This relationship was just something platonic, he swears by this. Just an innate need to protect and guide you since you were also a clumsy new recruit.

You couldn't help it—falling for him. Slowly being consumed by an infatuation that morphed into a hopeful yearning that filled your chest with a syrupy thickness of strong emotions you were inexperienced with.

And Sunday was at a loss. That wasn't part of the plan. Well…granted he didn't have much of a plan with you. The platonic acquaintance he had built with you was nothing more than for his own gratification. His desperate attempt at normalcy. Someone to fill the void of not being able to see his dear sister.

Still... you're so willing to just give and give and give to him. Anything, for even the slightest possibility of returned affection. Even if you don't outright confess to him, he sees it. In your actions, your speech, your eyes.

Would it truly be so bad to take that which is offered in earnest?

A heart in his hands with nothing to show for it. Lies to himself that this closeness is his attempt to bring you salvation. To settle your heart.

He knows how your script ends, looming over his consciousness. Testing his heart as if he were a newborn god stumbling over his first creation meeting its written demise. Some part of him is too scared to ask if you know it, too. Maybe there's still some naïveté in him if he believes for a second that you don't. A hope that your heart remains innocent and lovely and–

For now Sunday lets you love. It would be a bitter thing to not take the heart you have handed to him.

The painkillers have started to work, your body finally able to sleep for a bit after he changed your soiled sheets from treating your wounds. Before he leaves, Sunday presses his lips to your knuckles and idles for a few moments to watch your steady breathing. Sweat glistens on your brow from the exertion the wound treatment put on your body. Your endurance was nothing to be laughed at.

Sunday doesn't need to turn to know who's outside your door when he leaves.

"Was there something you needed?" The question lacks any warmth.

Kafka chuckles where she leans against the wall, fiddling with a card in her hands. "Here to drop off your compensation for the mission and look after the little lamb," she replies simply, throwing the card to him. He catches it between two fingers. "She lost her phone this past mission so make sure to give her that card for the time being."

Sunday's eyes narrow. "I'm looking after her."

"Poor thing sent me a message asking that I check in on her so she won't bother you. Unless that's a problem?" Her unreadable smile is something Sunday is growing to detest.

"Not necessary. I'll be handling it." His voice is firm, a warning woven into his tone with careful consideration. A natural habit from his years as the head of the Oak Family.

"Really now? If you don't want me looking after her due to trust issues then Bladie can–"

"No." Sunday can feel his heart pounding in his ears, a frustration deep-set in his veins at the pure thought of someone that isn't him near you when you're at your most vulnerable. He wishes he could wipe that smile off Kafka's face. Victim of her teasing again. Remember your composure, a conditioned mind rings. With a clear of his throat, he continues, "No, that won't be necessary. I've already cleared my schedule to ensure her wounds are looked after so there isn't any scarring. I'll take care of it."

Kafka relents and pats his shoulder as she passes him. "Very well, birdie. Sounds like you have our little lamb's heart in your pocket. Or perhaps it's your own?"

Before Sunday can ask her what she means, she's already vanished from his sight. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket when he feels something rigid and pulls out a card he's sure she placed there.

A tarot card depicting a dove perched on a lamb. The lovers.

[nerdherderette]

The Stars Between Us

"Captain Hale," Stiles says, nodding coolly before gracing the rest of the team with a warmer smile. Hale is a visitor to Stiles' ship; Stiles should be the one making the introductions and not Lydia. "I thought you were supposed to arrive at 1600." "It's 1602," Hale says as the furrow between his brow grows deeper. Given the time it takes for him to re-acclimate after a sim, Stiles is pretty sure he'd exited the module before 1600. He glances at the badge that's clipped to Hale's chest pocket; it's a fancy one with both matrix and biologic scanners, the kind someone has when they are high-ranking enough to require multiple security clearances at important places like the Capitol. "It takes longer than two minutes to clear our security systems and reach our training room. How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know that the use of an incendiary grenade in that environment was foolhardy at best." Stiles' jaw drops. He probably looks like a gaping fish, but really? "Excuse me?" he says, taking a step closer to Hale as Scott groans. 

Rating: Explicit

WC: 42,385

Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski; Chris Argent/Peter Hale; Minor Background Relationships

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Space AU, Science Fiction AU, Werewolves Are Known, Dystopian AU, Pilot!Stiles, BAMF!Stiles, Military!Derek, Enemies to Lovers, Anchors, Explicit Sexual Content, Recreational Drug Use, Mood/Mind Altering Substances, Referenced Mind Control, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Politics, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Embedded Images, NSFW Art

For @sterekreversechallenges 2024. Artwork by @renmackree. Story by @nerdherderette.