#but you SEE??!! YALL SEE??!!! CHARACTER TRAITS (if I was a character)!!

[eyeballs-in-my-head]

It's been a while since I came up here to bitch about something absolutely unimportant so here I am

People who have good vision don't realise how good they have it, because wdym I can only cosplay specific characters, because my eyes are so bad that without my glasses I'd exist like an amoeba..?

And yea yea, I know, "you can cosplay characters who have no glasses, cosplay should be fun yada yada I'm sure it won't brother anyone"

Brother it bothers ME!

It bothers me!! It bothers me SO much!!!

Just like my eye color. Like I thought mutations survive and remain ONLY if it gives some kind of benefit to the person? There's ZERO benefits to this shit and I hate it.

But that's a whole other topic. Anyway...

I've tried searching for every media I like, hoping at least one of em is gonna have some glassed characters in them, but the mental whiplash I got, holy shit.

Why do characters with glasses have such insignificant quantity? And better question, why am I only noticing now..? Me! I have glasses, and I'm only noticing this now. What. I mean that's kind of funny, but. Man...

There's exactly one (1) character I can cosplay with my glasses (that I actually know and like) isn't that fun?

[majoringinsarcasm]

People hating on a literal child because she doesn’t physically look like a character in a book who we only ever saw in concept art and fanart vs me who was kinda sad when I realized book Percy wasn’t black because the description of a young boy living in New York who’s close with his single mother parent who is constantly seen as stupid troublemaker by both peers and teachers and his moms awful boyfriend and who’s only friend is the only other Outcast (non white) classmate who’s only ally is the literature teacher who then he finds also has doubts about him felt very if not fully black then at least mixed coded.

But then I moved on and enjoyed the story for what it gave me, can some of these people say the same 🤔

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

This might sound a bit odd, but Childe for the character bingo (Not FL)

~ The anon who wanted Kaveh but didn't want Baizhu or Ganyu Why is this just my self name now lmao

i like normal Childe!! almost as much as i like Foul Legacy... not quite tho. the circled ones are the ones i'm unsure/hesitant on because Childe has a lot of layers, he's a complex lad!!! i like him but it's hard to explain why... he's like a stress toy i would squish when nervous or mad but also i love him and want a hug but also the common fan characterization of him is so rancid to me that sometimes i want to stay 100 miles away. none of this makes sense at all, but long story short i like him very much but only certain characterizations of him (like mine), especially ones that give him depth, love those a lot

hehe i like that anon name it makes me smile :)

[arolesbianism]

Everyday I see another youtube video or whatever say smth along the lines of "this character is badly written because they're unlikable/annoying/insert negative description here" and everyday I end up massively disappointed because I came here for analysis on the actual writing of a character not just a description of the feelings they made you experience

[cowboycatss]

so weird how often people become stupid obsessed with a disney parks actor and then are shocked when suddenly they’re not there anymore

[ossiethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[scruus]

★ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? ]

✎ : sub kaveh x dom gn reader notes: handjob(Kaveh receiving), dacryphilia, dirty talk, begging, wholesome at the end so porn with plot, reader being a simp because this is very much a self insert.

author talks: WE ARE SO BACK YALL (gang signs 🤟). It took me so long to get back into my writing space again and am happy am back.

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ favorite - isabel larosa

Kaveh was seated in front of you, dressed in the costume of a veiled dancer of the medieval century. And coincidentally so, the costume was similar to a fanart you had seen a few weeks before of the character Link from the game, Legend of Zelda. Who is currently your new obsession.

He didn’t need much help with the costume because his features and hair were an almost exact copy of that blonde twink but what shocked you was the bare torso with only chains of jewellery hanging and they added a shimmering sheen. It was like his body was a painted canvas and the gold chains coupled with small studded gems were the sheen to the final art form.

That darning pretty face was covered with a thin red veil and his arms had puffed sleeves which were lonely with no other garment around. The flowing skirt beneath his abdomen were like broad drapes spaced evenly, letting you have a peek at his milky white thighs and red thong.

Thong?!, your eyes widened with complete shock. How did I not notice that!

Upon looking at his shy face for answers, you realized it would be futile with the way he was avoiding your gaze, his eyes almost burning a hole into the carpet. However, mischief was a trait that was quite comfortable under your skin and all the more torturing for your lover.

“Kaveh….”, his body jerked at your voice, ears changing color from nude to red while he sat shyly. “Where did you get that thong?”, his jaw clenched while his hands formed into fists holding tightly at his skirt, feeling the warm shame rise in his body as he now switched his seating position to hide the underwear from you.

He grumbled quiet messes of words but you failed to hear it. The idea that whatever force had made him dress up like this was so enticing to you. You obviously knew he liked to cosplay a few characters here and there and you loved seeing him dress up. But never had you ever witnessed him in such a scandalous costume, that too of video game character he is supposed to ‘hate’.

“Kaveh…I asked you some-"

“UGH! I BOUGHT IT FROM A LINGERIE SITE!”, he shouted, rushing to bury his heating face in his hands, praying that the ground just opens up and swallows him whole and let him at mercy.

The urge to laugh was almost hurting your chest but you had to resist the temptation. In defense, you bit your bottom lip but Kaveh knew better. He sighed dejectedly, “you can laugh…”, as he looked at you.

You shook your head in response, “no no am not laughing I am just curious”. Although partly lying, it was true. The question of why he had done this was eating at you since whenever you suggested him an even mildly spicy outfit, he would straight up shut you out. Hot-headed much. So what caused this change?

“About what?”, he groaned with a frustrated pout on his face, hoping this entire ordeal just ends and he stops sitting like some guilty criminal.

“….. why Link?”, Link was one of your favourite characters but very much despised by your boyfriend. He used to complain about him at every chance he could get and you would just laugh at his pettiness. Playing the game? he would grumble about his character design. See his merch somewhere? Talk shit about the price and quality. And all the times you brought him up during lunch or dinner when the fangirling hit too hard, you could see his eyes almost roll into the back of his head.

In conclusion, he HATED that twink.

Kaveh decided to remain silent and aloof. Pupils darting around the room while his fingers fiddled with each other. It was a question he feared you would ask. He could lie or make up something random but would catch on quick. And the fact that you would probably accept his lie and not push him for the real answer hurt him more because your affection for him reaches heights.

“Honey I-“

“You liked him”, he replied softly.

“Huh?”

“….you liked him alot and I hated it”

You wish you could jump on him and grab that puffed, angry face of his which had the most adorable pout ever and kiss him hard. The kind of kiss that makes him forget his name and a little weak in the knees. The one that make him begging for more like a shameless whore.

A glow sparked on your face as you smiled at him. Directing your fingers at him, you patted your lap in an attempt to make him sit on your lap. Kaveh obliged, which was rather shocking because he usually turned a blind eye to your doting acts. It would either be you running after him to make him comply or his neediness for you overpowering his attitude.

Looks like today was the latter.

He straddled your lap, eyes still avoiding your own yet both bodies radiating the heat of need. “Were you jealous?”, your tone was delicate and sincere which led Kaveh to lose his guard. He slowly nodded his head before looking down at you. The sapphire red eyes of his being all so lovely and that gorgeous face of his beaming a dark red.

“Do you think I link Link more than you?”, you asked while your fingers trailed up and down his spine, sparking little goosebumps on his skin. Kaveh already knew the answer but his own insecurities resulted in the surety of his doubt. He refused to answer.

“Well then, would you be happy if I show my love for you?”, the question was straight and simple, even wholesome, one would say. However, Kaveh’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as if noticing something more sinister was hidden between your words .

“How about I bend you over and fuck you in this costume”, your one hand treaded through his messy hair as the whispers made his tummy churn while the other groped his butt.

“Or better….I’ll raw dog you in front of our mirror-“, so sultry and hot, that was how you sounded right now, “and you can see how we both look like when you take my strap deep inside”. Kaveh pursed his lips in, swallowing whatever saliva was remnant on his mouth because the heat was starting to rush down to his dick and it was suddenly difficult to breathe normally.

The visual imagery of what you would look like, the expressions your face would contort to and the suggestion of what a ruined mess he would look under you got him all dizzy and aching.

Your hand suddenly slipped inside his skirt, grabbing his growing boner which was covered with the red thong. His body jerked upwards, stunned by the touch. “What are you-a-ah?”, a moan escaped from his lips and he was appalled at his own reaction. What the fuck are you doing?

“What? Didn’t you dress up all nice and cute for me?”, you leaned in forward with a grin on your face, lips just a few shaky breaths apart from his. Wrapping your hand around his stiff dick, you slowly rubbed it making sure your eyes never lost the sight of his own. His pale body was now adapting a reddish color, like his entire body had decided to reject his morales and act according to your will.

“I-I don’t kn-“, a strangled moan was heard when you squeezed your palm around his dick.

“Didn't you wear this slutty thong for easy access?”, Kaveh’s inner voice was screeching at him with how you sounded right now, “so that I can pull it to the side and slide myself in for a quickie?”. The implication of your words were making it so difficult for any rationale thoughts inside his head and that too with your soft palm working around his shaft, he suddenly felt all weak.

“Ah look at you, getting all excited just from a few words”, you merely chuckled and his dick twitched in your hand. Kaveh started unconsciously bucking in your palms. “F-fuck fuck…”, he bit down on his lip stifling those whorish noises to which he received a harsh smack on his ass. Eyes widening in surprise as a gasp slipped from his throat.

It stings, he thinks. It stings so why is it that his cock is rock hard? Why is the painful stimulation driving all his blood down to his already burning core? And instead of despising it, why does he want more? He blinked rapidly trying to keep the newly bloomed tears at bay. He is whining like a pathetic slut, he can’t start crying too!

“I want to hear your voice Kaveh”, a stern command from you got to his head and he whimpered and squirmed under your gaze. “Do. Not. Be. A. Brat”, eyes scanning his burning face which so evidently revealed the desperation surging inside him. His hips grinding into your hand, chasing after the addictive feeling while heat started pooling between your legs.

“s’ good…feels good”, his moans sputtered easily as his mind slipped into a subspace. Kaveh stared at your face with adoration and he croaked his begs for a kiss. Oh they look so soft, he thinks wanting to press his lips against your own so bad all the while he ruts into your hand like was so beautifully pitiful.

You pulled him in by the back of his head and his arms wrapped around your neck. He nibbled at your lips hastily just so your tongues could intertwine, resembling an earnest puppy. He was losing himself. Needy whines of your lover, that were poorly muffled by your lips, were filling up the room and god was it intoxicating.

You fastened the pace of your hand on his weeping cock and he sobbed curses. It was adorable the way he trembled in your grasp all the while his throbbing dick sent flutters of zaps down his body. Shit he was close.

“uhn~c-close close mmh”, he was blabbering like a kid, like he didn’t know what ‘sentences’ are and that almost made you kiss him into a puddle again. But no. You wanted to hear him. Hear his words out aloud, no matter how shameless and humiliating they are. You wanted to hear him beg.

“Slow dow-ough s-slow please!”, his nerves were burning. That brain of his had already turned to mush and he had thrown away whatever dignity he had left the moment you decided to jerk him off. Mouth wide open, panting, as tears started to trickle down and he clenched your shirt for dear life. He feared the orgasm would make him pass out.

“Should I stop?”, you teased and that just made him whine. He wanted to cum so bad and if you paused even for a mere second, he would start wailing. Looks like he has really being reduced to a crying slut.

“No! No ungh~!”, he cried out, both your sweaty foreheads rested against another as his gaze fixated on the way his dripping cock was moving in and out of your pretty hands. It was so obscene but fuck did it feel good. The way your hands moved at a brutal rhythm and his head sported a swollen reddish-pink color, it was legit a scene from a porno.

“Cum for me then”, you huffed, feeling the heat spread under your skin, fire dancing on your nerves. And as if waiting for your command, Kaveh dug his nails in your shoulders before sputtering all over your top. The white liquid sticking to your trousers as you continued to massage his high off making his dick throb cutely. Kaveh felt his toes curl and there was a loss of voice in his throat for a few seconds. His hips spasming during the release while his entire body arched into you.

Shaking gasps and trembling moans left his mouth as the aftershocks still waved through his body. He swear he could almost see his vision turn dark before collapsing on you, body immediately going limp. His nose took in the scent of your perfume to which his strained muscles responded by relaxing. Time had seemed to halt and the only sounds that could be heard was Kaveh’s slumbering sighs and the soft caress of your fingers on his back.

“I love you, you do know that right?”, you finally spoke up, trying to soothe any dilemma in his mind even the act you two commited just now but what you received from him was a soft boyish laugh. The same one that made you fall head over heels when you first met him in the bar.

“I know….I just….I was jealous”, he traced shapes on your chest, avoiding your gaze once again because he knew he was blushing and the last thing he wanted to see right now was your smirk. Well he was wrong about it. You had never looked so lovesick with that grin on your face, like an absolute fool whose entirety revolves around their blonde, hot headed, bashful lover.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in close and cuddling and it made his eyes feel heavy. Just before they shut down, he mumbled in a hushed tone, “I love you too”.

And there you sat, still and looking like a bright red tomato as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest.

Shit, you thought, I am so cooked.

[sakurapandadreams]

PLACEMENTS THAT EASILY MAKE FRIENDS

Please take all of these predictions with a grain of salt I'm not a professional astrologer.

FOR ASTRO POSTS HERE IS MY MASTERLIST

If you have any questions here are the GUIDELINES

This post consists of placements that if one has in their chart finds it easier to socialize or understand the social dynamics better in a external settings.

One also needs to take the entire chart into consideration.

🎞 Venus in the 1st house

Natives with this placement are very diplomatic, sweet kind and easy to approach. Quite helpful in nature if their close to you, and even if their not they still very amicable. They almost never break friendships from their side. These individuals have the emotional intelligence to understand how to handle people. Hence they may find it easy to form friendships.

🎞 Gemini Moon

Extremely understanding people. Sure they have their own mood swings and their ups and downs but who doesn't ?. Inspite all odds they never give up in their friendships. Most have an idea that it takes time for a friendships to build and they give that time to their close ones. [To all the people who have a Gemini Moon friend please cherish them]

🎞 Libra Moon

One of their most admirable trait is what helps them form so many friendships and even relationships which they eventually benefit from is the fact they give a very highly thoughtful advice and again know how to make people comfortable around them. They have a decent idea when you need to say what. Won't say a thing if they know it will be a waste.

🎞 Venus in the 10th house

These people are so kind like genuinely their really good at their job [provided they love what their doing] yet so humble. Most I know are very popular atleast in their own groups yet they make sure everyone around them also equally feels like the main character of their own lives [which everyone should].

🎞 Mercury At 29⁰

Such natives are quite popular due to their talkative nature. Most love to talk to people very social. If it's in a 🔥/💧sign then it's a bonus these people are easy to talk to or approach. Also these people don't think before talking lol I love it tho. But yes these people are also good at saying understanding things at the right time.

🎞 Mercury Atmakaraka

These individuals have a way with their words and also have wide variety of topics to talk about. These people always keep a smooth flow of conversations. Have a great sense of humor too. Basically their fun people to talk to so who wouldn't wanna be friends with them

🎞 Jupiter Atmakaraka

Individuals with this placement have a very bright personality and extensive knowledge. Each time you talk to them you learn something new. Brilliant at giving advices too. People may like to talk to them because of their optimistic nature, seeing how they never lose hope is admirable.

🎞 Sun Atmakaraka

The Sun shines the Brightest hence these people are quite popular and leadership comes naturally to these natives. Even if their introverted they may have such a personality which draws people to them. [If you say buddy there's no one who's drawn to me] You guys are also quite intimidating hence there are people who want to be friends with you, it's just you guys need to be a bit more open that's all.

🎞 Venus in Aquarius

These natives are the type of people who are very popular and friends with many people. If their not an extrovert their definitely an ambivert. But what's best about them is how open minded they are let's say they like something which you don't these people don't dismiss other people's opinion.

🎞 3rd house ruler in the 7th or 11th house

Again these people are talkative and their laughter is contagious. Their outgoing people who know how to take jokes. These people also love to talk information. Basically at times they can surprise people with the information they hold. [Not me I know yall 😏😌]. Can have or be a part of big groups. Or have connections with important people YES which means your equally important.

ALSO A VERY HAPPY NAVRATRI EVERYONE 🥳🙏

Credits for the images and dividers goes to the rightful owners

Copyright © 2024 sakurapandadreams | All rights reserved.

[dumplinsiims]

Sims Story Board - Notion Template

If you guys are anything like me... your mind is a mess! Full of ideas but in full chaos. I've been working on getting more organized in my thoughts and in planning for my sims stories! I was recommended to use Notion to help. Notion has a tonnn of templates that are free to use but I couldn't find one that fit just right for what I wanted to use it for and also... not be so hard to use. SO ... here we are I created one lol

This template features:

Main Hub: Take a brief overlook of your sims story or save file and create the vibe for it.

Characters Bios: Go into full detail about your sim. Creating a full profile and personality for them including: bucketlist, playlist, pinterest board, and all of their traits. Create full lore with their family members, love interest, and even their enemies.

Memories: A place to capture and write about key moments in this story/save file.

Challenge Tracker: If you are playing a challenge (ex. Legacy challenge, Rags to Riches, etc) You can list out all the goals and milestones here and check them off as you go as a way to track your progress.

(All images, playlist, links, and categories can be changed and swapped out to whatever you would like to fill the space. This is just a simple SUGGESTION/template to get you started! Any categories you do not want to use can be deleted.)

I suggest duplicating this template before editing it so you can use for multiple save files or stories. 🤍 I really hope you guys enjoy and get plenty of use out of this template! I'd loveeeee to see how you use it and fill it out with your sims! Send me picssss or tag me! (yall know I'm nosey lol)

Notion is free to use.

You can find the link to this template here.🤍

[bigheadbrooke-9]

⋆˙⟡ Headlock 𐙚⋆°.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Paring:Stalker/yandere!Eddie x popular!reader ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Summary : Eddie’s innocent crush on you had started in middle school, a fleeting admiration that grew into something far more intense over the years. Now a senior, his feelings had morphed into a quiet obsession—one he kept hidden from everyone, even his closest friends. He watched you from afar, memorizing your habits, your smile, the way you laughed. But when he saw you flirting with another guy in the hallway, something inside him snapped. The thought of losing you, of you choosing someone else, was unbearable. That’s when he decided—if he couldn’t have you, no one could. And he had a plan.

Warnings: This story contains themes of kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, and obsessive behavior. The character of Eddie exhibits typical traits of an obsessed kidnapper. Reader discretion is advised.

A/n : Lowkey running out of ideas so I might take a break.I’m not getting any requests sooo idk yall 😭

Word count : 3.7k

“Eddie, are you even listening?” Grant’s voice barely registered in my mind, his words a distant murmur beneath the roaring in my head. “Our campaign is in two days—it’s going to be our biggest one yet.”

I wasn’t worried about our campaign. I wasn’t worried about anything except her.

Y/N.

The love of my life. The one person who mattered more than anything else in this miserable world.

And she was standing just a few feet away, giggling, smiling—flirting—with someone who wasn’t me.

My grip on the edge of the lunch table tightened until my knuckles turned white. I felt something dark and ugly curl inside my chest, something that burned hotter with every second I watched her entertain him. She was laughing, her voice soft and sweet, and then—he kissed her hand.

My breath caught.

That set it off.

I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. She blushed. She let him touch her. She smiled at him. Did she have any idea what she was doing to me? What she was allowing? Did she know how much I loved her—obsessed over her? How I would do anything to be the only person she ever looked at that way?

I felt detached from my own body as I stood, pushing past Grant without a second glance. He called my name, but I wasn’t listening. My mind was already working, already planning. She couldn’t fall for someone else. I wouldn’t let that happen.

Y/N had no idea what she had just set in motion.

She didn’t know what I was capable of—especially when it came to her.

She was going to be mine.

I didn’t go back to lunch. I couldn’t. Not when the image of her laughing, blushing, letting him touch her, was burned into my mind like a brand. My hands were still shaking when I shoved open the door to the janitor’s closet, locking myself inside, drowning in the dark. I needed to think.

This wasn’t just a crush anymore. It hadn’t been for years.

I needed her.

She was mine before she even knew it.

I pressed my back against the cold metal shelving, dragging my hands down my face, forcing myself to breathe. The ache in my chest wouldn’t stop, the nausea rolling through me like a sickness.

She had no idea how much I watched her. How much I memorized every little thing about her—how she twirled her hair when she was thinking, how she bit her lip when she was nervous, how she smiled when she thought no one was looking.

I knew what made her happy. I knew what made her cry.

And I knew that the guy she was flirting with today? He wasn’t right for her.

But I was.

The problem was, she didn’t know it yet.

My breathing slowed. My mind cleared. I just needed to make her see.

No distractions. No other guys. No obstacles standing in our way.

I licked my lips, tilting my head back against the shelves, my pulse steadying as a slow, dark smile curled at the corners of my mouth.

I had a plan now.

By the time I was finished, she’d know exactly where she belonged.

With me.

Time skip ⊹ ࣪ ˖

The clock struck 11:00 PM when Y/N finally stumbled home from the block party—the one I wasn’t allowed to attend. Not that it stopped me from keeping an eye on her. I had been watching, waiting, making sure she got home safely. But the second I saw him—that worthless scumbag—practically groping her under the guise of helping her inside, my vision blurred with rage.

I was already inside. Perched on her windowsill, I had slipped in an hour ago, unnoticed, as I always did. The moment I saw them at the door, I moved quickly, silently, sliding beneath her bed. I kept my breathing shallow, controlling the rise and fall of my chest as I waited, hidden in the darkness.

The door creaked open, and I could hear it in her voice—she was wasted.

“Josh, y—you can go,” she slurred, hiccuping as she kicked off her heels. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

I clenched my jaw, willing him to listen, to walk away before I had to do something drastic.

“I don’t wanna leave you alone,” he murmured, voice dripping with fake concern. I knew that tone. He wasn’t worried about her—he was hoping to take advantage of her.

Disgusting.

“I—We both know why you’re here,” she sighed, already sobering up. “I’m not in the mood. Please just go.”

She was being polite. Too polite.

But he wasn’t taking the hint.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he coaxed, stepping closer. “We never do it anymore.”

I could hear the exhaustion in her sigh, the way her body sagged as she rubbed her aching ankles, bruised from a night of walking in heels.

“That’s because I don’t like doing things with you,” she snapped, her patience finally cracking. “I’m tired. Lock the door on your way out.”

She didn’t wait for his response, just stripped out of her dress and tugged on an oversized sleep shirt before crawling into bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, and I could hear her rummaging through the nightstand.

For Advil, most likely.

But instead, her fingers closed around the bottle of sleeping pills.

Perfect.

I stayed still, listening. The rustling stopped. Then, soft, even breaths. She was asleep.

But he was still here.

Josh hadn’t moved. I could feel the frustration radiating off of him, the way he lingered, staring at her sleeping form.

I knew what he was planning.

No.

Not tonight. Not ever.

I moved swiftly, soundlessly, emerging from beneath the bed like a shadow. He never even saw me coming.

Before he could touch her, I lunged—one arm wrapping around his throat in a crushing hold. He let out a muffled grunt, struggling against me, his fingers clawing uselessly at my arm. My muscles flexed, tightening like a vice.

He fought. They always fight at first.

I held firm, making sure to keep him quiet. I wasn’t about to let him wake my princess from her peaceful slumber.

His movements slowed. His body sagged.

Still, I held on. Just in case.

Another thirty seconds passed before I finally let him drop, his body crumpling to the floor like a discarded puppet.

I wasted no time. I grabbed him by the collar, dragging his unconscious form across the floor, out of her room, down the hall. There was an empty guest room—one with no windows, no way out.

I shoved him inside and locked the door.

He wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Not for her.

Not ever again.

I turned back, stepping quietly into her room. She was still fast asleep, chest rising and falling with each steady breath. Peaceful. Untouched. Safe.

I sat down beside the bed, watching her.

I let her sleep for a while, giving the sleeping pills time to fully take effect. To be sure, I gently lifted her arm, letting it drop back onto the bed. No response.

Good.

I did it again, watching for any twitch, any sign of consciousness. Nothing. She was out cold.

Perfect.

With my heart hammering against my ribs, I quietly stood and slipped out of her room. My van was parked a few houses down, too far to carry her without risking waking her up. That wouldn’t do. I needed everything to go perfectly.

I hurried down the street, my breath fogging in the crisp night air, and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbled softly as I pulled up in front of her house, killing the headlights to avoid drawing attention. The back doors creaked slightly as I opened them, revealing the space I had meticulously prepared for her.

A thick, cushioned mattress layered with soft blankets. Pillows stacked neatly along the sides. Stuffed animals—her favorites—I had collected over the years, waiting for her. I had made sure it was comfortable. Warm. Safe.

For her.

The only thing left was the duct tape. Just a precaution. I didn’t want her screaming, didn’t want to scare her. This wasn’t kidnapping. This was rescue.

She just didn’t understand that yet.

I crept back inside, moving with careful precision, listening for any sounds of movement. The house was silent. Still.

I made my way upstairs, my pulse quickening with each step. When I reached her room, I paused, staring at the sight before me.

She looked beautiful. The soft glow from her bedside lamp bathed her features in warm light, her eyelashes fluttering slightly in sleep. Peaceful. Completely unaware of how much I loved her. How much I was willing to do for her.

I took a slow breath and stepped closer, grabbing the small throw blanket from her bed and carefully wrapping it around her. Then, as gently as possible, I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her into my embrace.

She stirred.

For one breathless second, I froze.

Then, she shifted slightly, pressing her face into my chest, instinctively seeking warmth. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she relaxed, curling into me.

My heart clenched. God, she was perfect.

I held her closer, cradling her as I made my way downstairs, moving quickly but carefully. I pushed through the front door, stepping into the night, my eyes darting around to make sure no one was watching.

The van was waiting.

I reached the back, lowering her down onto the nest of blankets and pillows. She immediately curled into them, her frame disappearing into the warmth I had prepared.

She was safe now.

She was mine.

I shut the doors softly, locking them before rushing around to the driver’s seat. My hands gripped the wheel, my breath coming in shaky gasps.

This was it.

I was taking her home.

Y/n’s POV ⊹ ࣪ ˖

A dull ache pounded in my skull, a heavy fog clouding my thoughts as I stirred from sleep. My body felt sluggish, my limbs weighed down by exhaustion and the lingering effects of alcohol. Instinctively, I reached out, seeking the familiar comfort of my blankets—

But something was off.

The texture was wrong. The air smelled different. The mattress beneath me was firmer than my own, and an unsettling chill ran down my spine as I felt an unfamiliar presence nearby.

My right hand twitched, an automatic attempt to move—

Clink.

A metallic rattle.

My breath caught in my throat.

I tried again, pulling harder, but my wrist wouldn’t budge. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t just in an unfamiliar bed.

I was restrained.

Panic clawed at my chest as I forced my eyes open, only to be blinded by a harsh flood of light. My head pounded at the intrusion, vision swimming.

“Do you want me to close the curtains, sweetheart?”

The voice was gentle. Familiar. Too familiar.

I froze, struggling to place it through the haze of my hangover. Squinting against the light, I turned my head, trying to make out the figure standing in the room.

A shadow. Broad shoulders. Dark, unruly curls.

And then—

Recognition slammed into me like a freight train.

“Wai—Eddie?” My voice cracked as I tried to sit up, only for the cuffs around my wrist to tug me back. My breathing quickened. “What’s going on—why am I here? Why are you here? Why can’t I move?”

I barely had time to register the fear creeping into my voice before he was beside me, his hand suddenly cradling my face. His thumb brushed softly against my cheek, wiping away the moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes. His touch was warm. Gentle. Almost comforting.

I flinched away.

“You don’t know, do you?” His voice was calm, but there was something lurking beneath it—something dark. “Why did you let him touch you like that? Kiss you? Make you blush?” His grip on my face tightened just slightly, his other hand curling into a fist at his side. “That asshole doesn’t deserve you.” His voice trembled, breath ragged. “I do. I love you. I would do anything for you.”

I shook my head violently, trying to pull away from his hold. My heart pounded in my chest, panic rising like bile in my throat.

“Where am I, Eddie?” My voice wavered. “Did you—”

His hand dropped, expression twisting in something almost pained.

“God, no,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I would never do something like that to you. But he was going to.” His jaw clenched. “Josh was going to hurt you. I saved you, Y/N.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

He reached for my hand. I tried to pull away, but he held it gently, his thumb running over my knuckles. His skin was warm, his scent clinging to the blankets wrapped around me. A mix of faded cologne and something unmistakably him.

As my vision adjusted, I took in my surroundings. The room was cluttered but familiar. A Corroded Coffin banner hung on the wall. Metal posters were tacked up haphazardly. My gaze flickered to the dresser—

My breath hitched.

Sitting on top of it was my plush toy. The one I had lost.

No. No, no, no.

This wasn’t happening.

I yanked at the cuffs again, harder this time, feeling the cold metal bite into my wrist. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up at him, desperation clawing at my throat.

“No. No, Eddie, why am I here? What did you do to me? Why do you have my plushie?” My voice cracked as panic overtook me. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in.

His expression softened, a flicker of something like sadness passing through his dark eyes. “Sweetheart, there’s no reason to stress.” His voice was soothing, careful. “I’m not going to hurt you. Your parents are gone. Out of the country. We’re on winter break—”

I snapped upright, scrambling back as far as the restraints would allow.

“You’re insane,” I spat, chest heaving. My vision blurred with fresh tears. “You kidnapped me? The people were right—you really are a freak! Don’t touch me.”

The words left my lips before I could stop them.

A tense silence filled the room.

Eddie’s face twisted—hurt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it. He looked away for a moment, inhaling deeply through his nose, exhaling slow and controlled.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“You think that of me?”

A heavy silence hung between us, thick with tension. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my pulse hammering so loudly that I could barely hear anything else. Eddie got up and stood at the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, I thought he was going to snap, to lash out—but instead, he let out a slow, shuddering breath and dropped his gaze to the floor.

“That’s what you think of me?” he repeated, softer this time, his voice laced with something dangerously close to heartbreak. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Tears burned the edges of my vision, my mind racing for an escape plan, for anything that would get me out of this nightmare. My wrist ached where the handcuff bit into my skin. My legs trembled beneath the weight of the blanket he’d wrapped me in—like I was something fragile, something precious.

But precious things don’t get kidnapped.

I shook my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “Eddie… please. Just let me go.”

His jaw tightened.

“You don’t get it,” he murmured, running a hand through his curls. His fingers trembled slightly, his shoulders rigid. “I saved you, sweetheart. He was going to hurt you. Josh—he—” Eddie clenched his fists, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I had to do something. I had to get you away from him.”

My stomach twisted. “What did you do to him?”

Eddie lifted his head, his eyes glinting with something dark.

“He’s gone.”

The way he said it—calm, absolute—made my skin crawl.

I swallowed thickly, my breath coming in shallow gasps. “Gone,” I echoed, the word tasting like acid on my tongue. “Gone where, Eddie?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he stepped closer, slowly lowering himself onto the mattress beside me. I shrank back instinctively, my body tensing as he reached for my wrist—the one free from the handcuff. He lifted it gently, his thumb tracing circles against my skin. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, but not in the way it used to when we were just classmates, just acquaintances.

This was different. Wrong.

“I know you’re scared,” Eddie whispered, his voice low and soothing, like he was comforting a frightened animal. “But you don’t have to be. I would never hurt you, Y/N. Everything I’ve done, I did for us.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head. “There is no us, Eddie. This isn’t love—this is insane.”

He flinched like I had struck him.

For a brief moment, pain flickered across his face. And then—just as quickly—it was gone, replaced by something far more unsettling.

A soft smile.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, his tone infuriatingly patient. “You’re just confused. I get it, sweetheart. Waking up like this must be scary. But in time, you’ll understand. You’ll see.”

I wanted to scream, to fight, to rip the damn handcuff off the bedpost and run.

But I knew Eddie.

And I knew that if I pushed too hard, too fast—he wouldn’t let me go.

I forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath. “Eddie…” I started, choosing my words carefully, “if you really care about me, you’ll let me go. Right now. Please.”

His expression softened, but his grip on my wrist remained firm.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. My stomach twisted in revulsion. “I do care about you. That’s why I can’t let you go.”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as if he found the whole situation adorable.

“You just need time,” Eddie said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Time to realize that this is where you belong. With me.”

I swallowed down a sob, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged animal.

This wasn’t a misunderstanding.

This wasn’t some crush gone too far.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, my body frozen in place, my mind screaming at me to do something—to fight, to run, to wake up from this nightmare. But I wasn’t asleep. This was real. The cold bite of the handcuff on my wrist, the weight of the blanket he had wrapped me in, the way Eddie’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along my skin as if trying to soothe me—all of it was real.

And I had no way out.

“I can see your mind racing, sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice was warm, almost amused, as he watched me carefully. He sat at the edge of the bed now, one leg tucked beneath him, his body angled toward me like I was some delicate creature he needed to tend to. “You’re trying to figure out how to escape.”

My breath hitched.

His lips curled into a small smile. “That’s okay. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.” He reached out, his knuckles grazing my cheek. I flinched. His smile faltered for just a second before he recovered, shaking his head. “You don’t have to be afraid, Y/N. You’re safe here. With me.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Eddie, please… just let me go. You don’t have to do this.”

His brows furrowed like the idea of not keeping me here had never even crossed his mind.

“I do, though,” he murmured. “You don’t see it yet, but I do.” He shifted, leaning in closer. I tried to pull back, but the restraints limited my movement. His fingers brushed a stray tear from my cheek. “You were slipping away from me, sweetheart. I couldn’t let that happen.”

I clenched my jaw. “You had no right—”

“I had every right.” His voice sharpened, his grip on my chin tightening just slightly before he took a breath and softened again. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I see you. The real you. Not the person you pretend to be when you’re with those idiots at school. Not the girl who forces smiles for guys who don’t deserve you.” His thumb brushed over my lower lip, his eyes dark with something I didn’t want to name. “With me, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

I turned my head sharply, wrenching away from his touch. “You’re insane.”

He sighed, standing up abruptly. “You keep saying that,” he mused, running a hand through his messy curls. “Like I haven’t proven how much I love you.” His eyes flickered to the dresser, to the plush toy sitting there. “I’ve always been watching out for you, sweetheart. Always.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

How long?

How long had he been doing this? Taking my things? Watching me when I wasn’t looking?

I wanted to throw up.

Eddie turned back to me, his head tilting slightly. “You’re tired,” he said softly. “You’ve had a long night. Why don’t you rest for a bit? I’ll bring you some water and something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I forced out.

His smile didn’t falter. “You will be.”

He moved toward the door, pausing before he stepped out. “Oh, and sweetheart?” He glanced back at me, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Don’t bother trying anything. The window’s locked. And if you hurt yourself trying to get out… well.” His gaze darkened. “I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

And I was alone.

For now.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my body trembling as I yanked at the handcuff again, ignoring the sting as the metal dug into my wrist.

I had to get out of here.

Before he decided to make me his for good.

A/n : I sincerely appreciate your patience and enthusiasm for the next part! I know I left you all on a cliffhanger, and I’m truly sorry for that. I just need a little more time to work on Part Two while also finishing another fanfic I’ve been writing. Thank you for your support—I can’t wait to share what’s next!!!

[froggypunpun]

This is the last thing... i will never post about ship discourse in dunmeshi from this point forward. But i needed to get this off of my chest.

Stop blaming fandom wide issues on ppl who like ships you don't like.

If you see a labru shipper call mithrun a burden and a dog, it's not because they like labru. It's because they're albeist.

If you see a kabumisu shipper push kabru to the backburner in favor of centering a white character, it's not because of kabumisu, it's because they're racist.

If a farcille shipper treats Toshiro like hes a disgusting predatory perv who Falin hates, it's not because they like farcille. It's because they're racist.

"Labru shippers call mithrun a burden and an old racist dog!!" No joke ive literally seen kabumisu shippers do the same thing

"Kabumisu shippers get pissy whenever kabru and laios are shown together in official art!!" Labru shippers do the same thing when kabru and mithrun are together

Ive seen shippers from all groups treat Kabru like he's a "sociopathic horrible person" (real words from dunmeshi fans). Ive seen Labru shippers admit that they only like labru so they treat Kabru like a sex object. Ive seen him be bastardized as "downbad" and horny 24/7 from both labru and kabumisu shippers, completely ignoring the intricacies of why he acts the way he does around Laios and Mithrun and instead dumbing it down to sex.

Ive seen yall all act funny about Shiro. Making him out to be a despicable person bc he said something bad while starving and tired. Calling him shallow for liking Falin as if they weren't literally friends. Acting like a guy in like, the fucking middle ages immediately going to proposal rather than dating is some horrible shocking thing for that time period. Villainizing him for traits that are present in pretty much every character as well.

None of these problems are limited to specific ships. Racism and albeism is a huge problem in this fandom and im gonna need yall to get that in ur heads instead of starting stupid shit. And just bc a shipper does something dumb and petty like getting mad when two characters from the ship they don't like are together, it doesn't mean that entire ship is the issue. Every fandom has stupid ppl who take shit too seriously. Some ppl who like your ship are bound to be like that too. Shut up pls omg

[arolesbianism]

It's day 7 of pride month and like every tag has already become 5 times more unbearable to me. Like idk if ur only aro hc is the robot or the autistic coded character or the villain or god forbid all 3 maybe just stop making aro hcs for a second and talk to a real life aro person

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AN INTRODUCTION TO CREATIVE CAPTIVITY

SUMMARY : dean wants to know more about you and takes matters into his own hands when you don’t show up at his bakery. unreasonably, he doesn’t expect you to come back home early, but his mission was mostly successful.

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, implied panty kink, creepiness escalates, nerdy reader, reader isn’t perfect, (vague) chronic illness, voyeurism, b&e, stealing, slow chapter, and more to come

WORD COUNT : 6.6k

A/N : this chapter will lead up to the square stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. no baking :’(. heheh, Dean’s a lot softer and way more caring than the typical psycho-yandere type maybe some of yall were thinking of. I did research on yandere types and yandere traits, and found that it’s completely acceptable! in fact, a soft yandere is preferred, LOL. xx

Over the years Dean found that the perks of being undead included not having to sleep. That meant there were no nightmares to haunt him.. and now, that he had all the time in the world to watch you, to research you, first.

You were a fluffy cloud of love that became his companion through the sleepless, endless night. He knew seeing you again would feel like an eternity had passed, so he indulged in thoughts of you to keep him company.

He was home now and he had nothing to do as the moon bled through the windows of the place he “lived” in. He laid in his bed, unable to shut his brain off for the pretence of a peaceful sleep that he enjoyed doing routinely ever since he was a… vampire. 

His four hours of nothingness. 

He had too much time on his hands. 

He’d already read over a thousand books, watched over a thousand films and series, scrolled through the endless stream of videos on social media, and attempted to get good at hundreds of hobbies. What was the point of it anymore, after all?

Now, he thought of you. And that was the only point that made any sense to him. The only thing that mattered in his useless life. The only reason why he even wanted the sun to rise and bring another day. 

If it meant that he was able to see you again. To know everything about your existence. Then, it all mattered. The world needed to keep spinning and the world needed to be safe, for you. 

He took his phone from the nightstand and appreciated the wallpaper of his beautiful Impala. He was uncomfortably restless. He wanted to keep thinking of you, but he also wanted to shut his brain off. He couldn’t creep you out, it would ruin everything. He stared at the numbers telling the time, 1:24 AM. 

You were probably asleep by now. 

He wondered about you again. What position did you sleep in? What colour were your sheets? What was the texture of them? Did you use multiple blankets? Were you cold, often? Were your hands and feet always the only thing that was cold? Did you not suffer that way at all? Did you wear socks to sleep? What was the temperature of your home? Did you wear baggy clothes to sleep? Or something sexy? Or something cute? What was the colour of your walls? How did you decorate your home? Was it fun? Minimalistic? Did your house already smell like you again?

He cared so much about every tiny detail of your life and the place you called home. He itched to just get out of bed and find where you lived to see for himself. 

But for now, he lifted himself up slightly to rest against the headboard of his bed and unlocked his phone to find you wherever he could. He felt embarrassed to do so, but he searched your name on every app, including the dating ones he never removed despite being… Well, he hadn’t had sex since he became a vampire. He was terrified of anything bad happening to the women he slept with. 

The thought made him freeze. Would he lose control with you? Would he ever hurt you? His mind overflowed with images of your blood and him standing above you. He would die before he ever hurt you. He shook the thoughts away, remembering Lenore, and the handful of monsters that coexisted peacefully with humans. 

He could be with you. You could be his. 

You were all he could think about. It’s a shock that he hadn’t shoved his hands in his pants and pleasured himself just thinking of you. He would have, but he felt it would be disrespectful to you. 

He did try to relieve himself with those sexy vampire women in the past, but he just didn’t feel any sort of attraction towards them because so few of them even cared about humans. It was unbecoming. They were arrogant, indifferent, and it wasn’t even sexy. He just couldn’t get it “up” with bloodsuckers. So, what? He was still prejudiced and all that. Whatever, he spent most of his time as a vampire still hunting. 

He killed the entire nest and hunted down anyone that managed to slip through his fingers. He tried his hardest to keep being a hunter, with Sam’s brain protected with a wall, he had hope, a reason to keep going. But that was all gone, his family was gone: Sam, Cas. 

When word spread that he was a vampire, and it did—like a nuclear bomb—the fallout was massive. Somehow, the fear of the Winchesters was hundred-fold, even though, in all his time as a vampire, Dean hadn’t slipped up even once. 

He didn’t know how he did it. 

He really just did. 

He remembered the devouring thirst of being around humans when he was in the process of turning, while he looked for the leech that bled into his mouth for the cure Samuel and Sam were waiting to have confirmed. He could smell every human’s blood, taste the delicious quench of it in the air, and he somehow walked straight past every one. And when that one vamp opened the fridge to feed him a pick-me-up, the scent of it was overpowering, but never quite enough for his stubborn ass.

He declined and carried on with the mission, but the world had other plans for him. When he found the guy that turned him, of course he knew that Dean hadn’t fully turned; he was the leader of the nest, after all. He was smart and didn’t let Dean make any move unless he drained one of the women he didn’t find useful for the nest. 

He refused but the leader of the nest didn’t take no for an answer, and once again, forced Dean to feed on one of the women in the cages. Dean remembered that way it felt, the taste of warm blood soothing the aching dryness in his throat. Dean had planned on biting the poor girl for show and collecting the blood in his mouth to spit it out later, but once it touched his tongue, the bloodlust took over.

He didn’t know what possessed him to stop. Maybe the way the girl whimpered, because she was just a girl. Or the way she pleaded for him to stop with her weak, cracked voice. The way her body slowly sank into him and crumbled limply, but he somehow managed to push her away from him.

She thanked him, even though she was still stuck being a blood bag for the nest. Dean felt guilty, even by just remembering how it all started. His soulless brother, his idiot best friend. How was anyone supposed to know how to handle that situation? 

Dean grieved his human life. Having to abandon Lisa and Ben on top of it all. Then, his brother’s life. And finally, his best friend’s life. 

Sure, Cas was the one who made the mess to begin with, but what was the point of friendship if you couldn’t forgive them for the worst of the worst? Obviously, there was a line, but with the type of life they lived, what Cas had done didn’t cross the line. After all, Cas tried to make amends, even if it was too late. 

Dean could stay mad forever at Cas, but he was going to be ancient some day. What purpose would that hatred serve when everyone was dead? Forgiveness was all he had left to remind him he still had some semblance of humanity.

And right now, he needed to feel human. For you. 

He was more relieved than he cared to admit when he didn’t find you on any dating apps. So, he deleted every single one after he got the answers he was hoping to not find there. 

He hated that your Facebook was more dead than he was. You didn’t have your relationship status updated or your birthday published. There was nothing, just an old photo of you at some Korean restaurant. And even your family members’ accounts were as dry as his throat felt after going days without feeding. They revealed nothing, but he did find your friends: Bela Levante and Daphne Jordan.

But there was hardly anything to see about you on their profiles. God, woman, why did you have to hide yourself so hard?

He carefully scrolled through Instagram and groaned at another obstacle. Your account was private. He wished to stare at photos of you. The numbers on your profile teased him, he could see the amount of followers you had, the number of people you were following, and fuck… 43 posts he could be gazing at like a celebrity’s fanboy. 

He wanted to see everything “private” about your life, your hobbies, flashes, glimpses of your life, pets—if you had any, and everything about your family. All the little things that would have slowly painted you on the empty canvas in his mind. 

Dean shut his phone off with a sigh and stared up at the ceiling being illuminated with the moonlight, creating shadows from the tree that creaked outside by the window. 

How was he supposed to feel about you? What was he supposed to do to get closer to you? Would you see him again the next morning? Or anytime after that? Would he see you in days? Weeks?

Would you think of him at all? Or would you be too busy with your life to do so? Did you even want to see him again? Did you feel the pull he felt towards you? Was he being delusional to think that there could possibly be something between you and him?

He’d have to take matters into his own hands if you prolonged appearing in his life. If he got dozens of women to like him before, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t want him in the same way. He just needed to play his cards right. 

5 Days Later

Coming into your life was more difficult than Dean anticipated.

He went out more than he would have wanted, hoping to find you anywhere in town. So, you weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t be available for the first couple of days or weeks in town as you tried to settle in. He hoped it was just something you said to avoid Andy.

At least he knew you weren’t lying about that. 

He only saw you once three days ago at the grocery store. He watched you as subtly as he could, his eyes focused on your every move, his ears sharpened to your voice, every atom in his body was attuned to you, his nexus. 

He wished he was standing there next to you, as your boyfriend, a lover, a partner, whatever. As long as you were only his. So he could watch your cute faces when you touched something that you didn’t like, or be there to laugh with you when you giggled at something you saw, or to be there to remind you of something you forgot and had to pull up the list on your phone. He wanted to know what it was like to have another conversation with you, about anything. Was that asking too much?

He didn’t get everything he’d planned on getting when he got there, but at least he had your plates and the car you drove. He wished he was brave enough to have talked to you, to pretend to bump into you. Although it wouldn’t have been much of an act, he really hadn’t expected to see you there.

But there was something raw and real about watching you while you were alone, and in your head as you walked through the most-likely unfamiliar grocery shop. When was the last time you stepped foot in there? You stared at the signs above each aisle with surprise when you’d walk in and didn’t find what you probably would have years ago. 

He made his way to his car and thought of all the ways he could get you to be his. In any way that he could have you. All his ruminations and all his time was devoted to the goal of being with you. So much so that he felt like his entire life was on hold.

He knew it would start up again as soon as you entered his life. However, he hadn’t seen you—well, he hadn’t spoken to you in five days, and he wanted to respect you by letting you have your own space, but it was getting painful for him to be away from you for so long.

He waited to hear the beat of your heart or the sound of your voice being carried through the air and into his bakery, but he was only met with disappointment. Every time the door opened, he wished it was you walking in, he wished it was you smiling and flirting with him like every woman he regularly saw.

But you never showed up. 

Did he make you up in his imagination? Was he that desperate to feel something? Were you real and simply uninterested in him? That thought hurt more than it should have. He thought he’d left a good impression on you, and after you left that hundred dollar bill, his mind didn’t allow him to believe you hated him. In fact, it was the only proof that you were real after all. 

Why couldn’t you be as infatuated with him as he was with you? Why couldn’t you be as interested in him as the women who carved out time for him in their busy lives? 

You were impossible to get close to. His fingertips barely tapped the surface of your life and like a fish, you swam quickly in the opposite direction to evade being captured by him. But didn’t you see you’d be better off with him? Happier? Freer? More loved than you could fathom? More loved than you could ever be with anyone else? More loved than you have ever been loved?

You were on his mind every moment of every day since he met you. Was he nothing to you? How would you feel knowing that everything new he baked was because you had inspired him in his daydreams. He wished he could ask you how it tasted, what you liked, if he should make more of whatever new invention he had created. If he should add it to the menu. He’d make them all again for you to try them and give him these insights and suggestions. 

Mostly, he needed to know more about you. He just couldn’t bear the thought of you being a mystery. Or the fact that you’d never let him into your life to know the things that you inhibited within the safety of your home. Would the things in your house reveal your psyche? That’s all he wanted, to worm his way into you by knowing these things about you. 

Sure, he could be himself, but he needed an advantage first. He needed time with you where it wasn’t obvious he was imposing himself on your life without reason. Where could he accidentally or coincidentally find himself in order to spend time with you? So that it could all fall together perfectly as he has fantasised every waking moment of his existence since he met you.

He could only acquire that information by infiltrating your home. 

Dean didn’t expect this. 

It was all he could think when he tracked down your scent to where you lived—and he relaxed when he didn’t find your car parked in the driveway in front of your home. 

He blinked. 

He was astonished as he gawked at your home. The light of the stunning peach sunset was reflected on the tinted glass that made up the outer walls of your home. Those glass windows, from floor to ceiling, also reflected the breathtaking forest surrounding the area. How convenient that your house was surrounded by thick green trees. 

He stepped closer to your home to the surrounding area, the giant space that was entirely yours. There were a few plants, and despite being grateful about the lack of surveillance, he clicked his tongue in disapproval at the lack of it. 

You needed to be safe. 

He’d have to check out the glass, make sure it was shatter proof and bulletproof—even though there was no reason why your house should be armed against anything like that. He needed to make sure no creeps had made their way to your home, squatters or even people who may be infatuated with you. 

You hypocrite, part of his brain accused. But he huffed, pouting and narrowing his eyes straight ahead at the reflection of himself, scolding his brain for trying to compare him to those who were more selfish and probably more dangerous than him. He pushed the small voice that reminded him that there was nothing scarier or more dangerous than a bloodsucker being around a human. 

Dean pushed every thought away and had to quickly become familiar with the outside of your home before deciding it was safe to enter, to really get to know you. 

Were you going to clean this whole place by yourself? Did you have someone else do it? Did you cook? Or did someone else do that for you, too? He needed to know. How much freedom did he have to be in your home whenever it suited him?

He made his way to the porch and brushed his fingertips against the lock of your door. He may not have had a heart to race at the thought of being where you always were, where you felt safest, but his body still thrummed and tingled with excitement. 

Dean searched his jacket for the pick-set he carried in the inner pocket over his chest. He thought about how he hadn’t picked locks in a while. He didn’t have any reasons to, just the occasional need for it if he caught a case nearby. And ever since he became a vampire, he found that it was easier than before, easier to listen for the clicks of each pin falling as he slowly turned and prodded with his tools. 

He apologised to you under his breath once the door unlocked. 

He shoved the pick-set back into his jacket pocket while standing at the entrance of your home, and deeply inhaled the scent of you rushing outwards to greet him. Yes.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, surprised by the emptiness and the smell of newness that mingled with your sweet aroma. 

You were still way behind on unpacking. 

He found a shoe rack by the entrance and decided to respect your house rules by kicking off his boots and placing them neatly into an empty spot. So, that’s what it would look like if this were his home, too? His shoes, right next to yours. It looked right.

He curled his toes inside his socks, feeling the cool floor against his already cold skin and smiled. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up at the coat rack, making himself at home. He could pretend for a few hours that this was how it always was.

He stepped deeper into your home, looked around and deflated. 

There wasn’t much to explore. Most rooms he walked into were empty, or they had boxes that had yet to be opened by you. Maybe it would scare you if he tried to help by taking everything out, so he left the boxes as you had them. 

Why hadn’t you made yourself at home? It’s been days and you haven't really done much. Was this just part of your indifference or was this because of the secret illness you had? Were you that busy with work? You were pretty vague about it when you were talking to Andy. 

For now, Dean sighed, he knew nothing. 

There was no indication of what was to be your living room. No furniture, no television, no tables. Unless he opened the boxes to peek inside and find out what each room would be, he would have to wait until you got to it yourself. 

At least your kitchen was easy to explore. Though most of the cabinets were empty. Only three glasses, four plates, two bowls… God, woman. Should he get you some things? He shook his head and quickly pulled open every door and drawer to peek inside the completely uninteresting contents. 

But finally, he got to your pantry. You had lots of snacks. Dean chuckled at the type of organisation that you had put them in. By colour. He smiled and reached out to touch them. He missed being hungry for this type of stuff, not that it stopped him from indulging in it every now and then anyway. 

His brain nagged him: Which ones were your favourite? Well, he had to guess that they were all your favourite to some extent. But maybe it was the Rice Krispies, they were nearly all gone. There were some spicy peanuts, too, and some other spicy, but still sweet, Mexican candies he had tried before—some, he hadn’t tried at all. 

His mouth would have watered if he were still alive. 

He snorted, moved on to read each package and box; he needed to try whatever he hadn’t already tried before, just to see if he could have that in common with you.

He didn't have to, but he wanted to be able to say: I have tried it before. At least. Maybe that would mean something to you, maybe it would matter. On the other hand, he already had a lot in common with you—in terms of preference for snacks. He liked your taste. 

He shut the pantry door and opened your fridge.

He pulled out the freezer and lifted a brow at the lack of contents. No frozen, microwaveable food. Just vanilla ice cream, some shrimp, salmon, halibut, and steak. That’s it? He frowned. Did you rarely eat at home or did you already cook whatever else could’ve filled your refrigerator? Maybe he was overthinking it; you looked healthy when he met you and when he saw you at the grocery. But looks could be deceiving—you were sick after all, and he had yet to find out what you had. 

Is that why you became a geneticist? Was your disease genetic?

He closed the freezer and opened the horizontal middle door. He found two bottles of mineral water, four bottles of water, and one can of Sprite. Was there any point to the giant refrigerator if you hardly used it? He snickered. 

After he finished checking out the kitchen—and after washing a bowl with traces of Greek yoghurt, honey, and oats and the spoon you’d used—he began making his way to the next room, trying to find more information about you.

He made a mental note of the softener and detergent you used for laundry and all the other cleaning materials you kept in the laundry room. He checked out the washing machine and dryer to make sure they worked properly—so you wouldn’t have to struggle. 

He frowned the whole time. He wouldn’t be bumping into you at the laundromat, that was slightly disappointing to think about. 

He made his way upstairs, giddy to find your bedroom once he got to the top of the stairs. He held his breath in anticipation after opening each door down the long hallway, always to an empty room, but he exhaled when finally found your room.

Your scent embraced him when he opened your bedroom door. Now, he’d definitely find out things about you that were much more interesting. Much more intimate. 

He was thorough with his search. 

He checked out every item on your shelves and your desk, your figurines and other collectibles. He took a picture of your bookcase to become familiar with your books the next time he visited the library. He opened each drawer and your dresser to review the contents thoroughly, your clothes and keepsakes and trinkets hidden beneath—and stole a pair of your underwear as he bit his lip; he knew it was wrong. 

He made sure to steal your pink lace underwear that didn’t match with a bra you owned. He easily discovered which bras weren’t part of a set and memorised your cup size. You chose comfort over sexiness—even the sexy lace you owned looked comfortable. You were so cute. 

He turned to your closet and examined every article of clothing—which was organised by colour as well. From sexy to cute dresses, old and new t-shirts, sexy and cute cropped shirts, and so much more he wanted to see you wear for himself. He found a few of your scrubs and imagined the way they’d hug your curves, even if they were hidden below a lab coat. You were so sexy. So fucking hot, he couldn’t believe he was touching the things you’d wear at some point.

He went through your shoes to memorise your foot size, but made a mental note of your favourite type of footwear. 

He closed the door and looked over your vanity desk and the limited amount of makeup. Mostly, you had hair products. Gel to enhance the volume, different brushes for different uses, a multi-use hair dryer or something like that, cute hair ties and hair clips and a small bundle of what he’d label as boring; they were just brown, black, and tan hair ties. 

He slipped a brown hair tie onto his wrist—one that was loose from usage. He pocketed the mini-lotion bottle that was half-empty—a miniature version of the larger bottle you owned. And after peaking through your extensive jewellery collection, he stole a thin silver necklace with a cute little charm. 

He searched your nightstand, glanced at your cute lamp, a small mirror, a water bottle and a pill bottle. At the sight of the orange container containing a month’s worth of medication, he instantly picked it up and snapped a quick picture of the name to do research later. He wanted to look out for you. 

He opened your password-locked laptop and the tablet beneath. He wouldn’t be getting into those anytime soon. He had no idea what your password could be or what set of numbers mattered to you. It was frustrating. 

He opened the single drawer and pursed his lips—amused. God, you were so naughty. But you did live alone, why would you hide it? It's not like you knew he’d be inspecting every object you owned. 

Dean leered at each sex toy with a smirk and imagined—the fact that you probably used them more than once fueled his daydreams—the way you’d pleasure yourself with them. How many times could you come? Which toy was your favourite? Who did you fantasise about when you were in the midst of immense pleasure? He hoped it was someone unattainable or fictional. 

His hand twitched at the metal handle he’d pulled to open up the drawer. He was tempted to touch and kiss each toy that had at some point touched the depths and outer skin of your sweet pussy. But he exhaled shakily and closed the weakly concealed Pandora’s Box to move on with his investigation of your life. 

He checked the bottom space of your nightstand, open to the world. He found an extensive collection of sticker sheets and sticker books, empty A6 notebooks, one that was full, and another that was halfway worked through. He pulled the two of them out, but turned his attention to your bed. 

His mind inquired things he simply couldn’t figure out without you telling him. Did you pleasure yourself here? Do you ever pleasure yourself on the chair of your writing desk? Or the backless seat of your vanity desk? Did you plan on doing it downstairs on a couch you’d set up in the future? 

He slid his hand down the soft cotton sheets of your bed and picked up one of your silk pillows, accidentally knocking off a weighted dinosaur and a tiny shark the size of his palm that rested on its back. The other small stuffed animals remained undisturbed as he lifted your pillow to his face and inhaled slowly, deeply the scent of your shampoo, softener, and detergent. 

He sighed softly, eyes closed. You smelled so good, he could probably bite you if you let him. He’d never want to purposely hurt you. He just needed to feel you. 

He pulled your pillow away from his lips and nose to fix it back in place along with your woolly companions and blindly set down the two books he’d begin reading once he was done with his exploration. 

Was this the same bed and the same sheets you’d slept in when you were a teenager? Were you as horny as he was at that age? Did you sleep with anyone at any point in your life—on these very sheets? Were they new? New as in bought here once you moved in? Were these the ones you used when you left home to go to university?

Maybe he shouldn’t be thinking of that. 

He stomped away to your bathroom and rifled through over-the-counter medication behind the mirror—allergy pills, Benadryl cream, ibuprofen. He found your pink with green toothbrush, your toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. He quickly glanced at the shrinking bar of honey-coloured soap by the sink inside a small bowl.

He rubbed his fingers against the beige hand towel and then your olive-coloured towel by the shower door. He inspected the scent and brand of your shampoo, body wash, face washes, and conditioner.

Why was he so drawn to learn all these things about you? He never cared about any of these things before. Sure, to some extent he tried to learn stuff about Cassie and Lisa, but never like this. Why couldn’t he take it slowly? Couldn’t he be normal about you? You were just a woman. Just a woman who made every withering seed suddenly bloom in his desiccated heart and desolate soul. Of course he’d turn to you, like a sunflower turning toward the Sun. It was his destiny, one he wouldn’t dream of fighting. 

He returned to your bedroom and slowly plopped down on your bed. He smiled instantly, swallowed by your soft mattress, and laid down on your pillows with your notebooks in his lap. He lifted the one that was full and became wrapped up in the story of your life.

He was only partially disappointed that you’d only begun writing a year before. He only knew about that and still nothing of your past. Only through subtext and vague statements could he decipher events of your past life. And every now and then, something would bring up the past and that’s how he discovered small details about you. 

Inside your half-filled journal, he found your work schedule. 

“Residency,” he mumbled and glared at the extensive, ridiculous hours listed for you to work. No wonder he hardly ever saw you. No wonder you were so behind on unpacking. 

Dean’s ears perked up when he heard rocks and dirt crunching beneath tires. His heart would have stopped if it were beating and his blood would’ve run cold if it still ran through his body. He was instantly at the window of your bedroom watching you drive towards the house.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean muttered, watching as your car pulled up into the driveway. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He scurried to shove your books back into place before legging it downstairs to retrieve his jacket and shoes and panicked momentarily. He wasn’t ready to leave yet! 

Did he touch anything else? Did he move something he wasn’t supposed to? He was so enthralled with his expedition around your home that he’d completely blanked out anything he should’ve been mindful of. 

He made his way back upstairs and quickly threw his shoes and jacket into the farthest empty room down the hall. There’s no reason you’d check out every room. Were you paranoid? Wait, he hadn’t accounted for this. Damn it, he was way in over his head.

It was too late. You were already making your way up to your porch. Dean could hear your quiet sigh, the sleepiness of it made him feel warm—at least the illusion of it. 

He quickly rid the bed of the form his body had made atop your sheets by pulling carefully at the edges and smoothing his hand over the wrinkles that remained until your bed looked untouched once more. 

Dean’s ears perked up at the sound of your car keys and your shoes being kicked off carelessly. Dean was suddenly excited to see what you wore. So, we should hide? his mind questioned. We? Dean scowled and looked around before picking the cliché of all hiding places: the closet. 

It felt like an eternity before you began to make your way upstairs. 

Much to Dean’s dismay, you’d discarded your lab coat at the coat rack, so he wouldn’t be fulfilling his fantasy tonight. But he could hear the material of your scrubs brush against itself as you shuffled lazily up the stairs and into the hallway leading up to your bedroom. 

Your door creaked open, you stretched, and then began to push your pants down your legs. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to gently prod the closet door open enough to watch your black scrubs get pushed down your bare legs.

You kicked them off along with your socks and left them on the floor to lift your shirt up. Beneath it, you wore a grey thermal shirt. Dean watched, his mouth parched suddenly as your body stretched upwards, just in your violet coloured underwear.

He bit his lip to stop himself from saying something under his breath about how sexy you were. He couldn’t risk you somehow hearing him. But soon, you were completely naked.

Dean peered lewdly at your bare body. The way your hair came loose over your shoulders to brush against your warm skin, the shape of your breasts, the way you shivered and your nipples tightened as you collected your clothes to throw it into the hamper. Your proportions and the entire beauty of you captivated him. 

He wanted to fuck you, yes, but he also wanted to know what it felt like to hold the elegant dip of your waist. To know what it felt like for your body to curve up and mould itself into his body when you hugged him. To know how your fingers felt when they were weaved through his, as you had sown yourself into his dead heart to give him the illusion of life, of warmth. 

What did it feel like to cup the back of your head when he kissed you? Or to hold your jaw as he tilted your head for the perfect angle to kiss in? What did your fingers feel like when they skimmed over his cold skin and twisted into his hair when you got lost in the kiss?

What did your mouth taste like if his tongue brushed against yours? What did your plush lips feel like against his? Where would your lips trail off to and how would you kiss him?

Dean was dazed at his vivid fantasy and then you disappeared into the bathroom and he finally ripped himself from the perfect twill of his daydream. Disheartened, he leaned into your clothes, sinking deeper into your closet and briefly relaxed as your soft clothes overwhelmed his senses. 

Dean considered leaving now that you were home. He sort of got what he wanted, information about you. The rest of your house may have been mostly empty, but your bedroom wasn’t. And your bedroom revealed more about you to him than the rest of your home would have.

Still, maybe you’d get on your laptop and he could discern your password. Yeah, that would definitely be ideal. He could stay in the closet. There was nowhere else he could hide and the bottom of the bed was pretty useless. Besides, there was no reason you’d check in here, none at all. 

He waited thirty minutes for you, on his phone looking up what he could about your medication. He learned quickly the side effects, what not to take with your medication, when the best time was to take it. Then moved on to the minuscule list of diseases the medication was used to treat.

He was thrown deep into the research, reminding him of the days when he would have to search things through libraries and files for lore on monsters and to brief himself on the case he’d taken. It wasn’t too different: he wanted to get closer, he wanted to solve you. The only difference was you weren’t dangerous and you were beautiful, and he actually felt motivated to willingly delve further into the rabbit hole that was your life. 

The shower turned off and Dean shut off his phone. 

It wasn’t long before you walked out of the bathroom and Dean moved closer to the closet door, peeking between the small crack as you walked into your bedroom. You were patting your hair dry with a smaller towel and had your back to him. 

You threw the small towel successfully into the hamper and sighed exhaustedly. You were so silent. He wondered if it was only because of the fatigue of your job or if you always wordlessly completed tasks. 

He would only know once you completed your residency. Or if he found you on a day where you didn’t have to work. But he didn’t think you’d have the energy to go out, even on a weekend or vacation, after working such laborious hours.

He continued to watch you expectantly as you made your way to your dresser where your underwear was, he watched you sift through the neatly organised garments before you plucked something out and then your towel came undone slightly.

“Stupid fuck,” you muttered angrily and adjusted it. He grinned at your short temperament, but he wished you’d just let it fall completely so he could see you again. You bent over and looked through your sock drawer, picked a comfortable pair and finally pulled the towel from your body and threw it over to the hamper where it only made itself halfway in. 

Dean bit his lip at the sight of your ass; he traced the long divot of your spine down your back and the curve of your waist with his gluttonous eyes. He mouthed a ‘wow’ and licked his lips as you slid your underwear carefully up your legs.

You picked out a tank top and matching pants from the middle drawers and made your way to your bed with your socks in hand. So you did sleep with socks on. Ankle socks, fluffy loose ones with pink and white patterns. 

You lazily lifted your sheets, your expression more somnolent than he expected. Your feet, covered in clean socks, hid beneath your thick warm sheets. Your whole body was covered and your cheek pressed into the same pillow he’d grabbed. 

He waited as your breathing slowed, faster than he expected, you were out. Your mind shut off, tired from long hours of work. He envied you for a moment and then allowed his affection for you to bloom in his chest as he pushed the closet door open and shut behind him. 

He made his way to you carefully, and watched your peaceful expression. You lips were parted slightly and your breathing was so low and deep that your heart slowed down serenely.

He considered kissing you as you slept, but he’d rather have your consent when you’re awake some day; that’d really show him that you wanted him. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to your jaw, then dragged them hungrily to your quiet, gentle pulse and kissed you there. His lips lingered, promising the blood that would travel to your heart, that one day, it would be all his. 

-> life ain't easy when you're a mythical creature

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[rewritingcanon]

nextgen characters and their type of “delulu”:

rose: she believes she deserves everything in life, and naturally she’ll get everything she wants bc shes awesome. like if something doesn’t go her way it’s literally never her fault. she’ll blame it on the most randomest things before she ever thinks to accept responsibility. it’s not her fault dark reunion is out to get her.

james: he’s not delulu he’s just actually delusional. about literally everything. not in the funny haha way. it’s causing him so much strife, somebody please ground this poor man.

albus: i’m sorry but he does have main character syndrome despite going on and onnn about how he doesn’t want attention and he doesn’t want people looking at him. he absolutely does want it he just doesn’t want people thinking about him as only a side character to his dad’s plot. he’s differenttttt guyssssss he’s so much more interestingggg 🙄

scorpius: king of delulu. like every type of delulu. have you ever seen any interaction with him and rose (“she told me to go eat rocks she wants me soooo bad 🤭”). do you remember the nicknames he gave himself. do you remember how his go-to plan was screeching at a newborn infant when he and al got stuck in time. and then he just carries on with his life like that all ain’t nothing. this is all such unreal levels of delusion it’s almost inspiring.

delphi: also unreal levels of delusion but it’s not inspiring it’s just concerning. i think the entire plot of hpcc would go under this.

teddy: so delulu it’s sort of sweet. and it’s for sure completely in the way young teenage girls use ‘delulu’ when talking about their crushes like he will get excited if his crush sends him one 1️⃣ look. he’s convincing himself that the celebrity they thirst over sort of looks like him kinda 🤔. he’s doing the name compatibility and zodiac compatibility and mbti compatibility tests online. he’s getting a palm reading done to see if they end up together. he’s writing “me and x are getting married” 300 times in his diary as a manifestation.

victoire: i feel like delulu is a scale in the shape of a horseshoe, stay with me yall. like on one side you have very delusional and that’s like scorpius level of goofiness. and that’s like comfortable delusion, in the clouds sort of delusion. and then on the other side, you’re so hyperaware of everything happening in life and all of your flaws and problems that i wouldn’t even call it grounded, at this point you’ve sunk through the ground and you’re just dangling there. to the point where this is also being delusional but you think you’re too aware to be it, and on that side you have james. and the people who are the least delusional are in the middle of the horseshoe and walk along the balance. and that’s victoire except she’s holding on for dear life to not get knocked either way. smiling through the pain though.

lorcan: lorcan will say the most mortifying thing imaginable or act super embarrassingly against his will to someone and as a coping mechanism he will actively convince himself that what he did wasnt that bad or he will comfort himself by thinking of scenarios where he did something different, so vividly to the point where he almost believes it.

lily: she’ll see a professional stunt artist or a oil painter with years of experience or a seasoned dragon trick rider and she won’t ever be impressed because she genuinely believes she could do all of that. “my toxic trait is that i think i can” ahhh.

lysander: if you look at him without an overly friendly expression on your face he’s going to believe you’re an opp.

hugo: he thinks he’s a good dancer bless his heart

roxanne: she genuinely thinks she’s a suave jock but she keeps tripping on air

dominique: when caught out in a lie during an argument, she immediately switched to “believe what you want to believe” and exits. she’ll still believe she was right too. #womeninmaledominatedfields

[nicolosercredit]

the new episode is great and all but yall are missing so much from this panel and as a self proclaimed flower simbolism enthusiast I will be breaking it down for you

CALENDULA FITS HIM PERFECTLY

and not just cuz it's a yellow flower, most yellow flowers symbolise positivity, but calendula just FITS THE BEST with it's various symbolism across different cultures

Calendula can bloom in a big range of conditions and are considered fairly hardy so they can also symbolise resilience and strenght which fits Chase really well.

In some cultures, they are also assosiated with grief and rememberance, which again fits Chase, with the loss of his father and him still going to visit his grave and still crying over it.

Not to mention how 'cinderella' and 'calendula' look similar as words.

Now onto hyacinth and how perfectly it describes Buddy and how it might describe him into the future...

We saw plenty of his jealousy in this chapter and the fact that purple hyacinths SPECIFICALLY symbolise seeking forgiveness, we can assume something with Ex Libris going down in the future, based on the many theories connected to the 'dreams by night' chapter and Buddy having to redeem for it

Also how the vampire guy talked about how Chase could never compare to a hyacinth?

I might be reading too much into it, but it might as well symbolise their relationship and how there's still a wall between them or to show off their Sun/Sunshine and Moon/Grumpy dynamic

Now, as for Deacon hyacinth, could also represent him with his jealousy for main characters and seeking forgiveness in this arc for what he did in the book of Deacon.

Tho blue hyacinths represent sincerity, I don't know how much it really fits him since I don't see it as a strong trait of his and think hyacinths are here to represent Buddy, I thought I should still put this out there.

I'll find you a flower Deacon.

Anyway, that is all from me. As soon as I saw this panel I went crazy over the flower symbolism and to think no one seemed to pay attention to it - I had to make a post

Thank you so much Punko for giving me something to hyperfixate on and consume every part of my being with for the next several weeks instead of studying

[marzipanlvr]

i have a toxic trait i literally check every 30 min to see if the writers that i follow on tumblr have updated anything and if they do i eat it up every time.. IT'S GETTING OBSESSIVE YALL DONT EVEN..SECOND TOXIC TRAIT...now this one is ACTUALLY toxic..i spam as anon. IM SO SORRY i spam as different types of people but it's actually me because i have a lot of ideas and they have a lot of potential but im scared to say "hey everything is from me!" so i change my typings and wordings and act as different type of anons... call me phantom but pLEASE DONT HATE ON ME A GIRL IS DESPERATE PLEASE IM SORRY im not weird i swear..

btw here's a list of good writers i recommend bcoz im a team player and i will NOT gatekeep and hopefully if u read these writers u can be inspired to put urself out there hehe becoz the same thing happened to me!! i love people's minds YALL ARE TOO CREATIVE 3EWYDUSDHSB

@taelophone - absolute SWEETHEART, tae was my FIRST LUIGI FANFIC WRITER ON TUMBLR THAT I ACTUALLY LOVED AND THOUGHT ABOUT. OMG SO YES MAYBE I AM BIASED AND IF TAE ACCIDENTALLY ALLEGEDLY SETS A HOSPITAL ON FIRE THEN I WILL STAY BY HER SIDE AT ALL TIMES AND TAKE THE BLAME MYSELF AND GET THE DEATH PENALTY WITHOUT QUALMS !!, but in all seriousness tae's writing and how every word is completely tailored to humanize luigi is amazing. the way that i literally get sucked in a time warp whenever tae tries to put luigi's character into perspective. by the way, there was this one anon that typed a rlly long paragraph about how fanfiction is a great way to show light unto all the morals and lessons that luigi is trying to teach us and tae was so sweet about it. literally produced one of most educated response ive ever seen and even encouraged anon to keep sharing??!! like what. PLEASE. id die for tae ID LIVE FOR TAE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ID GIVE U MY LEFT LUNG RIGHT KIDNEY WTV U NEED

@mrsmangi - MRSMANGI IS THE REASON I STILL BREATHE OKAY. mrsmangi is the deny to my defend to my DEPOSE YALL DONT EVEN GET IT. did yall see the pinned post it's literally a link to signing the petition for luigi btw here's the link u guys should check it out

mrs mangi does a GREAT JOB on again, humanizing luigi!! i repeat the word humanizing so much because good writers don't worry about being agreed or disagreed with, good writers worry for the need to HAUNT. i mean this because a good piece of art or literature must impact you in ALL aspects of your life to the point that you think about it even in the little things and mrs mangi does ALL THATT not to mention the fact that the community in the blog is oh so sacred because of mrs mangi's direct hospitality and open-mindedness !! literally using an already existing platform to raise awareness and shed light. and the most popular fics Past Life and Found are just amazing pieces of art im so glad i clicked on it no bcoz WTF.?? WHAT INSTANCE MADE U THINK OF THESE MASTERPIECES? that's insane. you're insane. you're mind makes me go kaboom. I LOVE YOU

@mangionebabymama yall THIS BLOG is literally HEAVEN SENT. 1) the anons are soooo creative 2) mangionebabymama literally matches the anon's freak and ALWAYS GIVES BACK WHAT IS RECEIVED. now that is a TRUE diva. 3) yall seen the recent post? literally saying THANK YOU for being apart of this community ??? excuse me?? no maam THANK YOU for being apart of this community. mangionebabymama is INCREDIBLE. and PHENOMENAL. i would pay real money and give up a piece of my brain to know what's going on in mangionebabymama's head. STOP IT. IM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS SPECIFIC BLOG. MANGIONEBABYMAMA WAS A COMPLETE GAME CHANGER. there is so much CREATIVITY that bleeds out and so much love!! it's a safe haven for all us heathens and sisterwives to be ourselves, most importantly mangionebabymama really moves and inspires people on the DAILYY the writing is top tier, the headcannons or random thoughts are SERVINGGG YALLLL MANGIONEBABYMAMA PLEASE ADOPT ME. mangionebabymama was a late find of mine but oh so precious oh my goooooooodnesssssss !! im so lucky to even be apart of this community and discover the random thoughts or words that mangionebabymama wants to say. i want to say thank you and give a MASSIVE hug but i know that thank yous and massive hugs will never EVER EVER be able to justify how much freedom i feel when i go through that blog. I CANT. if i die soon then the cause of death will be "died thinking of mangionebabymama's sheer greatness." THANK YOUS CANT SURPASS WHAT I WANT TO SAY SO I HAVE TO SETTLE WITH I LOVE YOU. shshwduyshjbsjdk

that's it. :) anw love luigi breathe luigi free luigi!!