#because no one did nothing i just have depression

[shoujoboy-restart]

Oh thought I was rebbloging from them, eh potato potato.

Also why would I be "scared" of them lol, you yourself said THEIR comparison isn't good, I'm not the one saying abortion for women is equal or comparable to the draft for men, they did.

> I've seen no love for Tate from MRAs

Neither have i because the MRA movement is dead and rotting when it comes to relevance in politics and social discourse at all, you had to bring it up unrelated, no, literally I also had to check if I even said "MRA", I only used "men's right" generically and obviously about the concept not the movement, that's how irrelevant it is to discussions now days.

Which makes this weird strawmans and skeleton digging you are doing really embarrassing

Idk who this warren dude is, good for him, bad for for him whatever, seems like a guy who the topic of a generic buzzfeed feminist article in the 2010s that would make some good and bad point about his beliefs i guess.

Roosh v, don't know don't care, I can remember the name only and he seems to call himself a pick up artist from I've seen, so the anti-sjw slop tubers from 2014 would probably go to great lengths to make him seem more relevant than he is just like mainstream media and probably use him for click bait, but whatever he's doing is for money and grifting by default from what I can see in the surface and that's just common sense I don't make rules lol.

Marc Lepine...

So a random anti-feminist shooter from the 80s? There's like a handful of them, again idk how he's relevant to this discussion specifically, like if you are using this to relive a debunk post you made against We Hunt The Mammoth in the 2010s and you felt it deserved more notes I will need you to pay before and after you finish and i ain't no cheap hoe. But I can definetely see a 2010s video by a random slop tuber that would use the fact he killed men too as proof "he's not a Real™ anti-feminist", make a bunch of edgy commentary about how actually someone should have pitty fucked him for the benefit of society, women shouldn't have been so picky about his demonic depressed aura and they should have thought of him when fighting for women rights completely unrelated to whatever internal issue he was having, issues which the slop tuber and his audience would probably call "socialism welfare" if separated from the topics of men's rights (again, generically, no one is referring to a movement that failed upwards, please move on 2010s it is better for a everyone if we do that)

Honey Badger Brigade, oof that's a deep cut, remember when they tried to go on Metakour's stream to beg for money for that pointless lawsuit going back where they said "actually we are now going to represent ourselves because all lawyers are dumb and don't know anything" which looking back as a adult really just came off as begging and trying to extend their 15 minutes of fame and that any lawyer worth their salt was telling them the contract they signed probably said they could lose their spot whenever and for whatever reason, I also remember when the butch one started using every slur know to man trying to be one of the Cool YouTubers™ 😎 when responding back to Metakour's not giving a shit about men rights because he didn't care about politics of any kind and told them to stop begging his viewers for money, even at like 14 i cringed and noticed how desperate they were to be pandering to anybody that gave them relevance, like nothing shows you REALLY care about men's right than using slurs like the hard-r n-word that dehumanized men based on their skin color and ethnicity, honestly they were the definition of pick me if you ask me, just saying whatever men wanted to hear with no care of concistency or true higher beliefs because it gave them some sort of relevance they could get if involving themselves with real world activism.

Yeah I genuinely don't get why you just brought up some random Mc Nobody author, one of the handful of grifters before Andrew Tate perfected the formula and prepared the soil for him to land, a random anti-feminist shooter form the 80s that would probably get some Devil's Advocacy for YouTube clicks from grifting slop tubers which would be consumed uncritically and then would make y'all look bad obviously and two pick me that had no real beliefs, begged for money every other week for like the political equivalent of pizza parties and would had no real opinion besides whatever mediocre men would like to hear women say.

Again, I said "red pill movement" which is a incredibly generic catch all term for men and people claiming to seek male improvement, which Tate is, he uses that term, most people that also call themselves "red pilled" accept and love him and I have yet to even see a "association fallacy" even begin to being used to claim he doesn't represent "red pill values", mostly because there's none since it just a "floating symbol".

But hey you are the same dude who believes in that weird narrative of "the term incel was actually made derogatorily by a random zoophililic radfem" made by incel appropriators themselves in a beyond weird attempt to make it seem like they didn't steal the term from a disabled woman who made a support forum for disabled and socially unpalatable men and women and actually everyone everywhere wronged them and that's why they advocate for pedophilia now (this is just as irrelevant to topic like your weird creature of the nights checklist you did so lol and lmao even).

Genuine advice, move on, the MRA movement is the definition of reactionary, the only accomplishment it has to show is a Apollo curse PR documentary, a bunch of pizza parties about how great it is to have xy chromosomes in a average way and a bunch of rent seekers shadow boxing at already retires feminist internet figure heads or waiting for the next ai generated article about why eating avocados and doing yoga is the ultimate feminism activism to drop to dibonky it epic style, I'm afraid if this discussion goes any further you are doing to talk about Anita Sarkesian as if she relevant still, and that's scary, move on genuinely, almost a decade doing this and y'all having nothing but YouTube views to show. Genuinely the only people who bring up MRAs unironically these days are TERFs and radfems claiming they have evolved into trans rights activists, and like they are twice more chronically online than MRAs yet they have more real world accomplishmenta than y'all did at the top of y'all's relevance back then...that's sad babe, real sad.

Not feminist as in "women should be included in the draft" but feminist as in "being drafted is a violation of bodily autonomy for any gender".

The draft should not exist. Drafting people into the military is a violation of human rights. You should not be able to force someone to risk their life. If you can't find enough people who care about a conflict to keep it going then it simply shouldn't keep going. You can't even force someone to donate a kidney using government power, why the fuck can you force them to donate their whole body and life to a cause they don't agree with or don't care about?

[thevanillerose]

SQUID GAME 2 | YANDERE SCENARIOS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

CONTENT WARNING: SPOILERS / Yandere / Violence / Death A/N: Probably the most popular request I've ever gotten on this blog, was to write a sequel to Squid Game | Yandere Scenarios. Now it did take me a minute to binge Season 2, with a bestie. Mainly because I felt like it was a little too depressing to watch over the holiday season...(unless it's a 'Silent Night Deadly Night' sorta Christmas??). But now that I have, hoo boy.

Strap in.

THE SALESMAN

Your teeth ached.

You should have predicted the kind of man he was. You should have seen it coming long before this investigation started. His little subway game should have been a dead giveaway.

Was it any surprise you ended up gagged and bound in the most fucked up game of Russian Roulette you could imagine? 

Watching him slide that metal barrel up taut between his teeth was enough to make your breath catch. It was strikingly perverse, but then again, so were many of the things he had turned out to be into. And you’d ended up in too deep before you could realize that. 

For a moment though, just a moment, you wondered if maybe Heaven was smiling on you. You wondered, ever so hopefully, if that chamber may be full. If a bullet may rip right up through his skull and splatter the cheap smoke-stained motel wallpaper behind him.

It didn’t. 

You flinched at the click, and that was all.

Smiling smugly, he withdrew the gun from his mouth and slid it across the table to you again. 

“Your turn, [Y/N].”

Right now you didn’t even know what your odds were. You quit calculating your chances once more than two bullets had come into play. Hopelessness swelled in you, and you couldn’t even will yourself to pick up the gun. You sank in the seat, skin pressing to the ropes, lowering your head in pitiful defeat.

“Mm? You don’t want to play anymore?”

When he received no response from you, save for a sad shake of your head, he sighed and picked up the gun, twirling it aptly, gesturing it towards you as if it were only a toy.

“That’s no fun. I thought you were feeling lucky? Isn’t that why you came after me in the first place?”

You looked aside, ashamed. Mission failed, huh?

Now, all you expected was a pull of that trigger on his part. A gamble on your behalf, one he’d probably take a few times if that was what it took to put you down. Yet instead, it was the gun he put down instead. 

“Can I be honest with you, [Y/N]?” he asked, steepling his fingers and leaning forward to look you dead in your tearful eyes.

“...I think it’s quite fortunate. That you stopped being so stubborn. That you gave up. Do you know why?”

Somehow, this already confusing man had baffled you further. And only moreso, terrifyingly moreso, when his fingers reached out to drift slowly up your cheek, coming to tug playfully on the gag and make you whimper.

“Because, alive? Like this? I can do whatever I want with you.”

That charming, disarming smile.

“Can’t I?”

THANOS

“I wanna keep playing with you. So push O, okay baby?”

His painted nails dug deep under your collarbones, like the worst kind of shoulder massage, his tall body leaning over yours and pressing against your back. His purple hair brushed your cheek, as did his breath when he spoke.

Thanos had singled you out and ‘chosen’ you from the get-go. He was arrogant enough to think he could get anyone he wanted, and you were a cute-looking challenge for him. Your initial resistance, your discomfort around him, he figured, had been nerves. 

“But it’s all good babe, stick with me and I’ll keep you safe. That’s a promise, yeah?”

Surely it didn’t have nearly nothing to do with your actual wellbeing, and more to do with keeping you in his clutches. Surely it wasn’t because he cared less about whether one of those pink limp-dicks blasted your brains out and more about making sure nothing else with a dick got near you.

Surely it wasn’t anything like that.

You were just someone who’d make a good fuck if he could bribe the guards to let you two in the bathroom alone. Just a toy for him to play around with, as he drugged himself all the way to victory.

…He tried to keep that lie strong and real in his head. But with you standing right there, back to his chest, he knew he was trying to convince himself of some serious bullshit.

There was nobody else like you. He didn’t know why, there just wasn’t.

Whatever it was, the drugs, the impending doom, the smell of money, whatever it was…one thing he simply knew for sure, was that he couldn’t let you go.

Which meant, you had to keep playing.

You had to push O.

His grip finally loosened, as your number was called. He pushed you toward the voting stand. He bit down on his chipped, painted thumb, and hoped you’d make the right choice.

Because if you didn’t? Well.

He wasn’t letting you go anyway.

HYUN-JU

It wasn’t fair.

You were so sweet. You were so innocent. You were so understanding.

Someone like you had no place in a game like this. Whatever mess it was you’d gotten yourself in, out in the real world, Hyun-ju couldn’t imagine it was bad enough to be worth staying here. Living this nightmare. She couldn’t fathom why you had voted to keep going.

There was no way you’d last. This sweet little person who called her ‘unnie’, and had told her without a shred of sarcasm that she was beautiful…you surely had too good a soul to survive in this place. You were going to die, and you were going to die horribly, she just knew it, and she couldn’t bear it.

“Unnie…would you come to the bathroom with me?”

During the night, you’d nudged and asked her almost like a child, apologetic for waking her, but clearly trusting nobody else as much. Hyun-ju obliged of course, she felt like she could do anything for you. Escorting you to the bathroom, even if it meant dealing with some difficult guards, was such a small ask.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone was resting, or trying to, at least. Trying to steel themselves with energy, a hopeful advantage in the upcoming games. So here, it was just the two of you. Alone.

“I won’t be long!” you assured her, and hurried into one of the cubicles, while Hyun-ju turned towards the sinks, leaning against one and gripping it. She gazed up at her face, brushing her cheek, remembering how you’d called her ‘beautiful’. 

You probably didn’t even realize how much that meant to her. You probably couldn’t fathom the effect you had on her.

Hyun-ju’s teeth grit and she doubled over, arms quivering as her grip on the sink’s edge steadily tightened. More and more, until her knuckles flushed in white.

I could do it.

Her head immediately shot up, staring at herself in sheer horror. How could she even consider that? 

But…what was the alternative? Let you suffer in one of these awful ‘games’? See your perfect face riddled with bullets, bloodied, ruined? Let any of those other lecherous creeps in here even have a chance of getting closer to you?

…It would be a mercy, no?

“I’m done!”

Blissfully unaware of what she was truly contemplating, you emerged again and quickly washed your hands, looking up at her with your usual, warm smile.

“Do you need to go too?” you shook your hands off, “I can wait for you, unnie.”

Hyun-ju forced a shaky smile, and shook her head.

“No…I’m fine.”

“Okay!” you gestured for her to go ahead, back to bed, back to the impossible task of trying to get any rest at all in this fucked up place.

Instead, Hyun-ju reached out and gently guided you back against the sink, standing over you. Her hand lingered near the crook of your neck, her thumb gently curling against your skin.

“...Unnie?” you looked up at her, now wide-eyed, and confused.

“...You wouldn’t blame me…right?” she whispered, softly, worriedly, like her words were pure sin. Her other hand cupped your cheek gently, and you instinctively leaned into it, confused, but happy to be held by her like this.

“...I just…I don’t want you to suffer…”

The pad of her thumb pressed harder. Her other fingers slipped lower, resting on the other side of your neck.

All she had to do was bring them together. Bring them together…and squeeze.

Squeeze until you felt nothing else. Until you could go blissfully to a happier place, with no debts, and no killing, and freedom again. Your delicate body would sink against hers, and then, somehow, she’d take herself out of here too. It could be as simple as provoking one of the guards on lavatory duty. It wouldn’t be the prettiest, but at least then, you’d be together.

Out of this place. Away from it all.

Forever-

“U-unnie?”

It was how small and suddenly so frightened your voice sounded, that startled her out of it. Her hands jerked back, hovering stiffly either side of you, as you gazed up at her with so much hurt and concern and…fear.

Fear.

You were afraid of her. The last thing she would have ever wanted.

“...W…we should get back, right? They’re going to get mad if we don’t…”

She could see the way you still tried your best to smile, and be nice, be the way you’d always been with her, but it was too late.

It was ruined. She blew it. You’d never see her the same way again.

Whether you truly knew what her intent had been or not, she could feel the awkward shift between the two of you, as she stiffly followed you out. She felt sick. Was that it? The end of this beautiful thing you had?

…Beautiful.

No. She couldn’t let it be. And as she left that bathroom, and looked at those guards, and looked at every other twisted person in that room, and looked at…you. She knew.

She was filled with a dark, delusional resolve.

Maybe killing you wasn’t the answer.

Maybe killing everyone else was.

THE FRONT MAN

Young-il had seemed like a good man.

A good man, simply in a bad place. Like the rest of you. You liked to think anyway.

It was only during this game, Mingle, that you got to see the full extent of people’s desperation. What they were willing to do, to survive, to line their pockets, or both.

It wasn’t in your nature…

“You understand, right [Y/N]!?”

It wasn’t ever…

“We’re sorry!!”

…in your nature.

You’d made a small group of companions here, but as you were the weakest link, they cut you in an instant as soon as the number needed in one of those rooms required it. Their apologies were like water, they meant nothing, as you were left standing there, lost, alone, scared.

This game…was also the first time he took action.

Messing with Gi-hun was one thing, but the Front Man wanted more than that. As soon as The Salesman had shown you to him; your red, flustered face as you had been slapped around the subway station, captured on handycam video…he had been sure of something.

It wasn’t just Gi-hun. It was you too.

Perhaps, he’d even say, you were the priority.

He liked the idea of keeping you after this was all over. Which meant, for now, assuring you stayed alive through these games.

So when he saw you abandoned, it was his time to act. He practically ripped the breath out of you with how fast he grabbed and tugged you along, throwing you into a lime green room and slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

You hit the wall with a yelp, and slumped against it. But as you shakily looked to your right, and as he turned from the door and cast his sharp eyes around the room, you both saw.

You’d wanted 2. You’d gotten 3.

“H-hey, we can work this out, r–”

The man didn’t get to finish. The tears that had welled in his eyes now poured down his face as he gagged and choked and writhed against the solid arm around his neck. You gasped with horror, staggering back as tightly into the corner as you could, covering your mouth with both hands.

You watched him kill that man. Clenched jaw, staring ahead coldly, even as a living being drifted into death in his very own arms.

And only once he was sure you were in the clear…did that kindness return. That goodness, you had been so sure about.

Young-il stood, and approached you, arm outstretched so he could brush your arm gently with his palm.

“You’re alright?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Pallid and wide-eyed, feeling like you had a cord around your throat, you looked into those worried eyes and only saw softness. But you couldn’t shake seeing that hard look from earlier. Witnessing it firsthand.

His cold will. How easily he had killed.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded, but quickly moved away, muttering something about how the game must be over now. As you stepped out, he remained for a moment, glancing up at the cameras before smirking, and curling the hand that had touched you close to the mint green jacket on his chest.

Did that shock you? Really?

Then perhaps it was better if you braced yourself.

Because if it meant keeping you as his own sort of prize……he was willing to do a lot worse than that.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[kaymarie-bell]

TWST Main Story spoilers

translation done by me, expect some mistakes

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.

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*Cater tells him to play along, and Leona changes into his Dorm uniform*

Leona:...I haven't held drumsticks in a while, but my body should still remember the rhythm

Leona: I'll play for you. If you can keep up with the beat

Riddle: Wow! That's such a hard¹ and cool outfit! It's such a waste to hide it behind the drum set! (¹yeah he does actually use the word "hard" / ハード)

Idia: Hehehe~ Someone please stop me from laughing...!

Idia: Mr. Riddle and Mr. Leona are forming a band, it's too funny...HAHAHA!

Ortho encourages everyone to keep going

Ace: Alright, it's time to make my case!

Ace: I'm a member of the unit produced by Vil Schoenheit himself, we participated in the VDC and ended up in second place!

Ace: Dance and chorus, I can do it!

Deuce: M-me too! I was in that unit too! I have the guts/willpower! Yessir!

Grim: Me too! Rook, the judge, told me "that's a dance only Grim can do! Beauté! 100 points!"

(they're all so proud of themselves 💖)

Ortho: I can do the synthesizer and manipulator². I can also do the live lighting and video production! (²a pitch shifter, used to transform vocals)

Sebek: I've tried a bit of violin because I admire the Young Master

Silver: I can play the ocarina. Father taught me when I was young

Riddle: A-amazing...!

Riddle: If everyone joins the band, it will be the most mad and chaotic band ever!

Che'nya: Unlike Trey, who would never join the band no matter how many times we asked him to, all these friends seem really into it right meow³~ (sorry I had to add the nya~ somehow)

Trey:...even the holiday plays we did in preschool would make me depressed

Trey: Art and music are required credits at mage school to strengthen the imagination...If it weren't for that, I would have never chosen those subjects. I could never be in a band.

Che'nya: Hehehe~

Che'nya: That's what you say, but you played the trumpet quite well in those plays, and your acting and singing weren't so bad either

Trey: Please stop talking about that! Ahem! So...what are we going to do now?

Riddle: Alright! Let's rally! We're going to my house!

Trey: Riddle's house?!

Riddle: It's right around the corner. And it's also almost tea time

Trey: W-wait Riddle, isn't it a bad idea to go there with so many people all of a sudden?

Cater: R-right. Why don't we just go to a café or something?

Riddle: That would just be a waste of the tea we had prepared. Don't worry about the number of people.

Riddle: I have tea parties with friends quite often. That's why I have a large table in the living room (BABY 😭)

Trey: That's not it

Trey:...Che'nya and I are not allowed into your house, right?

Riddle: Trey and Che'nya are banned from...?

Riddle/Che'nya: haHAHAHAH!

Riddle: What are you talking about out of nowhere? How could that be possible?

Trey: But, your mother⁴...!

Riddle: What about my mom⁵? I bet Mom would be happy to see Trey for the first time in a while

(⁴ Trey uses 母 / haha, the formal word to refer to one's Mother while ⁵Riddle is using ママ /mama, which is a more familiar word like mom/mommy unlike usual)

Che'nya: Yeah. She's definitely going to dote on you. I guarantee it.

Riddle: Nothing to worry about. Come on everyone, follow me!

......

likes and reblogs ✅️❗️do not repost❗️

[hypertranced]

i could make a millions posts abt arcane and how impressive and meaningful season 1 was and how season 2 just butchers the interesting elements of the story entirely

i loved the previous interpretation of vander and silco not knowing the children they were taking in at all, it added so much weight. vander took vi and powder in because he felt responsible for what happened and silco took in powder because he related to her. implying that they adopted them because they were the kids of a friend cheapens the whole thing.

on the topic of vander, I really found it so cheesy how often they referred to him as their dad this season, especially when they never did in s1. and having jinxs relationship with him suddenly be so much closer just didn't make sense to me. in s1 powder seemed to respect him as an authority figure but she seemed to valued vi more as a guardian. maybe this can be chalked up to the fact that vander only had one scene with powder, but even then powder doesn't open to him like she does with vi. so having jinx suddenly be all affectionate with warwick seemed off but idk maybe that's just me. I also think warwick was handled badly tbh but w/e

moving on to vi and jinx. oh my god the way their arcs and relationship were shoved aside this season makes me want to cry. in s1 they had so much agency. the things vi and jinx did would ripple through the rest of the plot. I came into s2 expecting them to be doing the absolute most but they were so passive. it felt vi kinda just goes with whatever the plot wanted instead of how in s1 it felt like her actions shaped the plot, if that makes sense. and the way jinxs hallucinations are like barely they anymore?? in ep 9 of s1 it's heavily implied that the shimmer surgery made her paranoia and hallucinations worse but in s2 she's kind of just depressed and cold, nothing like the slightly erratic and manic girl she was in s1. dropping a kid on her and making her mellow put so much was kinda corny and I mourn s1 jinx everyday.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Whumpee that craves praise like a drug because anything less meant they were going to get hurt or worse. Caretaker forgetting even a little compliment sends them into a spiraling depression or internalized doubt/fear.

Finally got around to this one, hope you don’t mind it a villain/ hero’s former sidekick kinda dynamic >:)

Cw: alcohol mention, severe conditioning, panic attack, implied past torture, character suffering from blood loss, one character has a panic attack while the other is actively bleeding out, praise as a drug

Sidekick whumpee x villain caretaker

Sidekick waited excitedly for Villain to come home, the laundry folded in neat squares on the coffee table. The basket had been overflowing and they had done it all--perfectly. It was the least they could do after he had rescued them from Hero.

But when Villain walked in, he merely gave a distracted nod before heading to his bedroom. He peeled off his mask and let it drop to the floor. He kept a careful hand pressed into his side. "Looks like you were busy, kid."

Then just like that, he left.

Sidekick winced, the tightness in their chest suddenly rubbery, pulling sharp inside them.

The five o'clock light was cool on their face but they hardly noticed it, already replaying Villain's expression over and over again.

Had they done something wrong?

Was he angry?

What had they done?

Not enough.

The thought hit hard and fast, a physical blow. A sucker punch that left them panicking all over the antiquated green threaded couch.

Their body moved on autopilot. Stand. Move. Clean.

They reached for the first thing in sight—the already-folded blanket draped over the couch. It wasn’t folded tight enough. Their hands smoothed, tucked, straightened.

Though their pulse stuttered, not a word passed their lips. Not a sound. Their breathing picked up in sharp little gasps.

They started smoothing down the quilted couch, hands flitting over the soft, worn-down fabric.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," they whispered to themself, each word a death knoll.

Villain was going to kick them out, Villain probably regretted taking them in--

Sidekick's grip on the couch spasmed, digging into a pillow. They grabbed it with a sudden intensity and sobbed into it. Pulling it over their head, they slipped down onto the floor (careful, don't knock over the laundry) and buried themself into it, trying to make themself as small as possible.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They never could do anything right.

"Hey, kid, do we have any of that gauze stuff left-- oh, shit--"

Sidekick looked up from the wet, tear-stained pillow.

Villain stood in the doorway, just as startled as Sidekick. Something red was seeping from his tank top, and the smell of copper was suddenly strong, the acidic scent overpowering.

Sidekick scuttled back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," they ran out of breath but still stammered out, "Please, I didn't know how to fold right, I'll do it better--" they wanted to say next time but choked.

“I—I’m sorry,” they whispered again, voice raw. Their fingers curled into their palms. “Please, just tell me what I did wrong. I’ll fix it.”

Villain’s brows furrowed, his exhausted expression flickering with something unreadable. Then he winced, swaying slightly, catching himself against the doorway.

Sidekick’s panic doubled. Oh god. He was mad. He was so angry he could barely stand.

Villain lifted up his free hand in an attempt to calm the 20 year old. “Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Sidekick was in their own world, trapped in a cycle of conditioned responses and sheer terror. The lessons beaten into them by Hero were hard to unteach. They were crying properly now, and getting it all over the pillow.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“Kid”—he refused to call them by the name Hero had given them— “Read the room. You did nothing wrong.” He tried to take a step forward but shooting pain went up his abdomen and spine. He collapsed on the couch. Shit, he needed that gauze. And a stiff drink.

He cursed softly, noticing the piles of laundry neatly folded on the plastic table that served as half as a coffee table and half as a place to put clean dishes.

“The clothes were folded great,” he said.

Sidekick went quiet. Very, very still.

Villain patted the spot next to him on the couch. “You did a really—�� he pressed down on his side, sticky blood slipping through his hands. He gasped sharply, “—a really good job.”

Sidekick crawled onto the couch, sitting on the opposite end. Their dark eyes were bright with tears, their shoulders hunched.

Villain exhaled, keeping his voice low. “Yeah, it’ll be nice to wear matching socks.” He leaned over and patted Sidekicks shoulder.

They relaxed, ever so slightly.

Villain smiled. “But,” he said with labored breathing, “I’m really banking on you knowing where our first aid kit is.”

Sidekick scrambled to their feet. “It’s in the kitchen, sir!”

“Why is it in the kitchen? Never mind. Doesn’t matter.” He waved them in that direction. “Could you snag it for me? And not call me sir?”

Sidekicks eyes widened as they took in the blood. They darted away, but there was a glimmer of sarcasm in their shaky “yes sir!”

[namgyu-nurture]

request!!!

ok so i get if your not comfortable with writing about this but can you write a fic about where the female reader is at a bridge ready to fall and somebody sees and calls the police and jun ho is the officer to respond, that’s all i really thought of but you got to off make them fall in love because the reader is stunning 🤩

Last minute love - Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of suicidal thoughts!! Self harm, depression, mentions of bullying, fluff

A/N: im sorry if this is short or didnt get the exact thing you were looking for, but I was really happy to get a junho request actually hes so fine I love that guy 💪💪 tysm for this this was so fun to write

Life was hard. You were always bullied in school. Teased, harassed, humiliated, kids thought it was funny to make you cry. You were nothing but nice. Eating lunch alone in the school bathrooms, standing alone at break. You were pushed, shoved, kicked when going anywhere, you had tried to consult a councillor but they seemed to like your bullies more, ignoring your claims since you didn’t have proof.

You never understood why kids hated you so much. You weren’t exactly ugly, you had a glimmer of self confidence, looks wise at least. Maybe the way you acted? But you barely spoke. This is what riled you up. People despised you.. and for what reason?

Even as an adult, you were unlucky. No man ever looked your way, you always seemed to come second in hiring. Being broke and lonely you hated life, you always tried in school but your grades weren’t enough, you were a failure.

So here you are. Sat on the edge of the bridge, the busy highway flooded with cars moving by, the motion was a blur. You sat contemplating. ‘I should just jump. Get it over with’ you thought to yourself. You were so drained, afraid of dying but life wasn’t much better than dying anyway.

You sat for a while, just dangling your legs, hyping yourself up enough to jump. ‘Fucking wimp.’ You thought, looking at your hands that were cowering at the thought of jumping, your heart was pounding.

Unbeknownst to you, a man who had driven by noticed this situation, not fully sure if it was going to escalate but to be safe he rang the police. Alerting them.

You sat looking down. ‘Would the fall even kill you?’ You thought. It looked like it would, but the thought of it not killing you on impact made you hesitate, what if you didn’t die, but survived, the pain from the impact making your stomach churn.

Through the midsts of white/yellowy lights from headlights on the bridge and the musky orange light from the lampposts, you saw a flicker of red and blue lights approaching.

Panicking, when the car pulled over and a police officer came out, you gained composure and stood up. Shaking slightly as the heights of the situation increased.

“Excuse me miss.” A calm voice rang out, over the noise of the passing by cars. You turned to look at him, still stood on the edge of the bridge.

He was youngish, maybe in his 30s realistically but he looked younger. He was handsome, his dark hair parted neatly, his uniform was tidy and his eyes looked into yours from the distance he was stood.

“Can you step down from there?” He called out again, his tone was calm, well spoken and polite.

“..no.” You replied quietly. “No, I won’t.. leave..go away” your voice spiking in panic.

“Miss, please step down, you’re not in trouble. I just want to have a word with you.” He said kindly. Stepping forward and offering you a hand to step down.

He felt a twinge of anger that someone like you would be here, on the edge of the bridge, an urge of protection for you, he wasn’t sure why, he thought you were gorgeous. He didn’t know you, but he’d hate to see you go.

“W-why should I? Huh?” You responded angrily, “s’ not like life’s gonna be worth living anytime soon. I should just get it over with right? No one likes me anyway. I don’t know what the fuck I did but they all hate me.” Your voice cracked in upset as you ranted. You had a smile, a clearly forced one, as if amused by what you must’ve done to be here now.

Your eyes told a different story, the man noticed the hurt, the held back anguish. “You should step down because nothings going to resolve your problems if you die. Your mother would be heartbroken. If you want things to get better you need to resolve them.. be strong. Come on.” He spoke clearly, with a soft tone, he insisted his hand. And she looked at him. “Please.” He insisted once again.

She thought about his words and hesitantly took his hand. She stepped down, her sleeve riding up when she held his hand. Years of scars and burns littered her wrist, it shattered his heart to look at. Someone so beautiful being so.. hurt.

She noticed him looking and yanked her hand away, pulling her sleeve down. “Got a good look yeah?” She said spitefully.

“Im sorry.” He spoke, aware he was wrong for looking so long. “Would you like to talk? speak about whats on your mind?” He offered to which she shook her head.

A moment of silence passed.

“Could.. could I have a hug..?” She asked quietly, and he opened his arms. She wrapped her arms loosely around his midsection. One of his hands rested on her head, the other on her back.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said soothingly.

“Will it?” Your voice broke softly as you looked up at him.

“I’ll make sure of it.” He said softly to her making eye contact

“Promise?” She asked quietly.

“I promise.” He responded promisingly.

[papers-pamphlet]

NEW AMREV OC !!!!!!!!!!

Guys meet Nathan

Okay so to begin with, Nathan Taylor was a 25 year old private in the Continental Army at the time of his death.

He was born to a small family in Massachusetts and lived, what could be said as, a normal life. Anyone who knew him in life would tell you that he was, by all means, an ideal young man. He worked hard as an apprentice at his father's printing press, which gave him some impressive physical strength, he studied to become a lawyer even though he thought he would be better fit with medicine, he even courted a girl and a marriage was arranged between them.

However, one thing that was "wrong", he was never really able to feel any strong emotion, or have any meaningful relationships. He found this out when his mother died from an illness when he was a lad and he felt nothing from it. That realization never troubled him or made him hate himself, he'd simply sort of "put on a mask" of a normal person and it ended up becoming second nature. This can be seen in the way he presents himself, overly and almost eerily polite, and how his smile never reaches his eyes.

When the war began, he didn't exactly have a reason for joining. He just felt strangely drawn to the thought of being in battle. Whether that was the boredom of the insincere life he lived catching up to him, he didn't know. During the war, his politeness got him a lot of people who either really liked him, or found him really weird.

(Upon killing his first redcoat, he simply thought; "oh, I killed someone.")

Anyways, one day in battle, he saw Giles for the first time. The man was massacring his fellow patriots with a smile on his face. He knew immediately that that was the "Nameless Colonel" he would hear rumors about. So, at that moment, why couldn't he move? He knew that being in vicinity of that man, and in the battlefield in general was dangerous --- but it's not like he was frozen out of fear. After a fellow bluecoat saw him standing there like an idiot, he was tackled down so he wouldn't get shot. And in that moment on the ground, he came to a conclusion; he was attracted to that colonel---for the first time, he found someone interesting.

God knows why, but he made the assumption that they were similar, and in a way, they were... but at the same time, they were completely different. He'd thought that Giles was a "better version of himself" that didn't restrain himself, and he admired him for that.

Unlike Joseph, who loved Giles for more than his sadism, Nathan's attraction was solely because of it. And since the two would never interact outside battle (although sometimes he would willingly get himself into close-calls with Giles), Nathan would only just continue to make delusions/assumptions/headcanons about him that would only fuel his interest more.

in @/hamalicious-soup's words --- a "delusional fanboy with a parasocial relationship"

He'd also tell his mates about his interest and they'd all think "whatt= the fuck ??"

Anyways, sometime in 1777, Nathan would willingly volunteer to go on a spy mission at the redcoat camp, if just to get closer to the colonel than actually gathering info. He gets caught near-immediately.

At getting captured, he of course didn't feel frustrated or depressed, he simply accepted that he'd failed, and was going to be hanged.

Well the upside was that Giles was the one that questioned him in his own tent !!!!

And Giles found him "amusing" and that was just about it. He decided to keep him alive for a few more days. He came to know about the rebel's interest in him, and it amused him even more. However he did not return those feelings, he still believed he was incapable of loving anyone, this was of course before Giles met Joseph.

Eventually Giles did kill Nathan. He was a spy, so he should have been publicly hung, but Giles opted for privately strangling him where he was. Nathan didn't complain, he found it intimate.

When Giles put his hands on his throat, their final interaction went something like this:

"I love you."

That caused Giles to pause for a moment. "If that is your way to convince me to stop, it's quite strange."

"No, I am telling the truth."

"Then your affections are misguided." He then began to put in some pressure. "I don't love anyone."

...

"You are --- beautiful." And those were Nathan Taylor's last words.

After that it doesn't take long for Giles to forget about him lol

[maxdibert]

Hi Max (is that your name? Idk what to call you 😅), did you ever think about Severus’s daily routine—being a miserable, depressing teacher, surrounded by loud kids every day? How did he cope? Did he have any hobbies to pass the time? What did he even do all day when he wasn’t grading essays, teaching, or brewing potions? Or was that all he did? Probably read books… or perhaps he socialized with the portraits and ghosts.. I always imagined the idea of him doing nothing but the same routine every day to be really sad and depressing. But I suppose he was so numb to that lifestyle that he just got used to it.

But like.. what made him happy? I can’t imagine living a life doing a job I hate, with no friends to share my small joys with. Was he just a shell of a man? Maybe he really was depressed. How did he not kill himself? Did he only keep going out of sheer spite and his promise to protect Harry and fight against Voldemort?

Or maybe he did have some kind of social life..in pubs, in the Muggle world… idk, I have a hard time understanding how he stayed alive for so many years. I would’ve ended it, tbh. My life is my family and my hobbies, but mostly my family. I can’t imagine what life does to a person who doesn’t even have one person they can laugh with. How did that affect him?

Maybe he was at least friendly with Minerva and Poppy? And Dumbledore, sometimes and perhaps he corresponded with Lucius. But who else? 😅 He didn’t seem super close with any of them in the books, so I guess we can only argue they were on friendly terms at best. I'd love to know your thoughts. 😊

Heyyy! Actually, my name isn't Max, but you can call me that since it's the nickname I have here, so it's all good hahaha.

Well, let's see, this is something I've thought a lot about lately in terms of character development, and I think I would divide it into two parts: Severus before Harry entered Hogwarts, before Voldemort returned, and everything that followed, and Severus after he’s already caught up in a spiral of anxiety and work overload, plus being a double agent.

I think during his first years at Hogwarts, he was probably in a crazy depression, and not only because of feeling guilty for Lily’s death, but also because he was just a 21-year-old kid when he started teaching, because he was teaching at the same place where he’d been bullied, because half the people he usually interacted with were dead and the other half were in Azkaban, and because I think it must’ve been pretty hard for him to adapt to a life he really didn’t want and one he had to get used to. So, in his early twenties, I picture him as kind of a zombie, after that terrible shock, the end of the war, all the emotional damage, just a few years where he was simply going through the motions, getting used to teaching, everything was new, so that’s what his daily life was based on. I've always imagined him having a pretty good relationship with the Malfoys, I think especially when he was younger, he’d visit them now and then, maybe on weekends... But he’d spend the holidays at Spinner’s End, and in the summer, he’d lock himself in his childhood home and not leave, because being stuck there was always a kind of self-imposed punishment: Hogwarts was a prison, his childhood home another, and if he hadn’t earned his way out of one, he didn’t deserve to leave the other.

I think his reputation as a nasty teacher was forged over the years, as he gained more confidence in front of the classes, he became stricter, more demanding, and didn’t tolerate nonsense. This was probably around 25 or so. I see that phase as one of accepting grief and loss, gaining more self-assurance at work, also starting to gain more trust from Dumbledore, and beginning a rivalry with Minerva, whom I always see him resenting a bit for letting certain things happen, but at the same time, respecting her as a colleague. I picture him very focused on his work, even obsessively so, to avoid thinking about other things. He would assign as much homework as possible so he could keep his mind busy correcting it, or simply practicing potions when his sessions were over. I imagine him sleeping terribly, deciding to do extra rounds at night not because he was interested in catching students in the act, but because he couldn’t sleep well, also because it gave him an excuse to leave the castle and smoke a cigarette since everything was just so damn anxiety-inducing. I never saw him as someone extremely sociable with other teachers because most of them were already teaching when he was a student at Hogwarts and didn’t lift a finger to make his life any less miserable, but I do see him being quite polite with most of them, though never opening up personally or anything like that, always with a shield up. I think he preferred staying reading, working, or studying potions rather than going to social gatherings with them or anything like that. I don’t see him being comfortable hanging out with them or having a drink. But I do picture him being comfortable going to Muggle pubs when he spent his summers at Spinner’s End. Shitty pubs with shitty people who were already drunk from early morning, where no one knew him, and he didn’t have to explain anything to anyone, in a world where there hadn’t been a war, no one had died, and he hadn’t been part of any shady organization. I imagine him going to those kinds of grim places when he wasn’t at Hogwarts and his house felt too suffocating, having a couple of beers. I picture him having occasional, short-lived encounters with Muggles, nothing serious, just a one-night thing to let off steam because he was in his twenties and felt alone, surrounded only by kids and old people, and that was just a damn depression. I imagine him visiting the Malfoys from time to time, as Draco was getting older, and I imagine Narcissa insisting that he needed to find a good pureblood girl, as she had always done since he was barely a teenager. I picture Lucius telling him that he didn’t understand what the hell he was doing under Dumbledore’s leadership in the first years, but seeing it as a good opportunity as Draco was approaching 11. I don’t imagine him having much of a social life. I think he talked a lot with Dumbledore, had many conversations with him, and saw him as the father figure he never had. I also think he had a genuine friendship with the Malfoys, and that created a very strong conflict and cognitive dissonance for him, but he couldn’t avoid it because they had always treated him well. But I think, within what was possible, he had free time, could do his own things, have his moments, his casual encounters, read his books, peaceful stuff.

And then came Harry.

Honestly, I think life after Harry at Hogwarts became pure anxiety for Severus. Because it wasn’t just managing Potions classes for seven damn years, being Head of House, doing night patrols, but also having to follow the kid around every corner to make sure he didn’t end up headless. Because Harry wasn’t just a responsibility, and he wasn’t an easy kid, but a kid who loved getting into trouble, so Severus had to babysit him both inside and outside of his work hours. And the fact that Harry came to Hogwarts only indicated that Voldemort’s return was getting closer, and when he returned, Severus completely lost his life. I mean, once he became a double agent, his life revolved around pretending on both sides, having cover stories on both sides, risking his neck, being constantly between Voldemort and Dumbledore, having to follow the plan, protect Harry, teach, work for the Order, put up with the Death Eaters, Lucius in Azkaban, Draco being doomed to kill Dumbledore, and a lot of other things. So, I basically picture him abandoning any hobbies he had, losing around 15 kilos, and just going on because, in the end, he was a kid from the streets who’d been raised to survive, and he had survival mode on 24/7, with anxiety through the roof, and that was basically it.

And then, after Dumbledore’s death, I picture him super depressed, super alone, with everything collapsing around him because the people he fought for hated him, and the people who didn’t hate him were the ones he had to betray, and I can’t imagine what that must have been like emotionally, but it probably involved a lot of wine and going back to smoking after having quit for years, because who the hell doesn’t start smoking again in a situation like that? And more anxiety, more depression, and the desire to do absolutely nothing but having to keep going, no matter what.

[keshetchai]

You are putting a lot of words in my mouth I didn't say on the vague monolith of [other] "American Jews."

It's insufferable.

11 dead Jews last time trump was in office is directly related to antisemitism

I didn't just "suddenly" become concerned, you're projecting a narrative you have created out of straw-jews.

To be even MORE clear: i am currently considering what to do if the worst happens because my dad died last year, and I received life insurance money. so now I have the financial ability to leave the country, whereas I did not before. This has nothing to do with "I wasn't worried before" because I didn't say I had "zero concerns before."

YOU made this about Zionism and 10/7. YOU made this about Biden. YOU implied that I thought everything was totally fine before now. YOU are the one overlooking that I have multiple identities to be concerned about and YOU are the one questioning what a mass shooting at a synagogue under Trump's last admin has to do with antisemitism.

Yes, 10/7 was the largest deadly attack against Jews since the end of WWII. But the most deadly attack against American Jews on AMERICAN SOIL happened during Trump's LAST ADMINISTRATION. You seem to not understand this. You seem to have, perhaps, forgotten that eleven Jews were murdered and 6 were injured and this was the biggest attack against American Jews in the history of the United States. And it happened under Donald Trump and his aggressively right wing nationalist rhetoric and now he's back in office and his buddy is throwing up a heil Hitler on inauguration day MULTIPLE TIMES. 10/7 was a deadly attack on Jews IN ISRAEL. I happen to live in America.

I really don't know how to explain to you that levels of increased worry regarding immediate violence is actually different from the stress of rhetorical disgust or hatred. Neither of these things are positive but I do rank "possibility someone will murder me," as a bigger problem than "people say mean shit about zionists or stupidly verbalize approval for things/groups they don't understand and don't actually materially support."

I don't know how to explain to you that you actually have to read what I said in full: "this is my Jewish blog about being Jewish, so I wrote about antisemitism." So....

"now Jews are worried" no one said anything about having NO concerns before EXCEPT YOU.

I think it's really fucking depressing that you're comparing post 10/7 reactions and occasional violence and asserting it's more dangerous than the time someone murdered 11 Jews at synagogue in the US when Donald Trump was president.

Actually fuck it: as a Jew in Delaware, I'm really truly annoyed you seem to think you might have a better idea or insight about how Biden treats the American Jewish community. When I play Jewish geography I am literally one degree away from Biden because I've met and taken classes with the Rabbi that he has had the closest local relationship to, as "his" rabbi to tap for these things. I know way more about Biden's long time relationship with the local Jewish community who were his constituents for decades than you do. Do not try to tell me that Biden didn't condemn antisemitism during protests because he fucking did. Do not tell me he said nothing, when it was ALSO part of his speech last year During the days of Remembrance. Don't tell me his presidency was worse for American Jews when Biden told us he ran for office partly because of the Charlottesville protests under trump, where trump called the proud boys chanting "Jews will not replace us," a "very nice" group. Because Biden saw the rising antisemitism and was concerned enough to have that help push him to run for office.

Stick to Europe if you are going to say completely wrong shit about the United States.

so. american jews. ...is this "My Go bags are refreshed and packed," or is it "start making serious plans to leave the country"?

[ahollowgrave]

My queue is nearly full again (almost 1k posts!) so I've up'd the post rate and I also might step back for a few days as well!

[poisonousquinzel]

they deserved better idc 😐

[dykedvonte]

I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

[widowshill]

— But it's almost midnight. — Oh, that's the point! At the stroke of twelve, he turns into Dracula. C'mon, Vicki – he won't bite.

pose ref.

[johnny-depplyloveyou]

I know there are many bad takes about Gale on this site, but the worst takes I’ve seen on another social media site in another language are much more abhorrent than anything here tbh, the recent one I’ve seen even gets some popularity among his “fans”... They were basically saying it’s Mystra who made him the humble man he is now, without her influence on him he would be as egotistical as in his god ending, and more than a hundred of reblogs are all thanking Mystra for “training her lapdog so well” for them🤢

Did we even play the same game? Isn’t his god ending a direct result of Mystra making him think he will never be enough as he is, and he can only find his self-worth through gaining more power? Didn’t Tara say he’s not himself anymore and she would no longer be his companion in his god ending, she knew him long before Mystra made him her chosen, he was powerful enough before his relationship with Mystra, if he’s anything like god!Gale at the time wouldn’t Tara just leave him? I’d imagine he would have been more confident and had a more stable self-image if Mystra had never contacted him, therefore he didn’t even need the Gale of Waterdeep persona. He would always have been Gale Dekarios in that timeline. And people glorifying Mystra’s grooming and abuse towards him and unironically calling him “her lapdog” is just... I have no words. But what do you expect from an online space that’s infested with terfs and radfems? They just won’t recognize or acknowledge any abuse from women towards men...

[applesandbannas747]

I really need WaT to make me love this series again because I’m on chapter 1, four sentences into Kaladin’s POV and I’m crying out of frustration for his arc. I know it’s an insanely unpopular opinion, but Kaladin’s battle with his mental health and current outcome makes me feel absolutely despondent. He overcomes his depression by deferring outward issues or giving up pieces of himself.

You can make the argument that he never wanted to be a soldier; in the end, he decided to be a surgeon and only ended up in the war anyway for his brother. And thus it’s liberating for him to leave the soldier behind him and be at peace with not being part of the battle against Odium. You can say that being the soldier was never who Kaladin was and that letting go of that isn’t a loss. I understand that. But building him up as this amazing character overcoming his depression to keep moving forward doing the best he can as captain of Bridge Four for two books only to start unraveling that aspect of him is devastating.

Ultimately, Kaladin’s story so far tells me this: no matter what you do or who you become or what you achieve, you will never outlive the depression. You can only live with it. And you live with it by letting go of all your responsibilities and achievements to focus on managing it. Day in and day out. Because it is the only thing inside your hollow shell.

And I really, really, really need this book to prove me wrong

[seaofreverie]

Anyway how is everyone doing