#me and you core
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friemd
freimd
#hugs you like this#a really tight hug and then i loosen up an we just stay like that#hugs u from afar irl HEHE#ask j#ask box#US!!!!#this is us#btw us#us core#me and you core#kittays
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Not a single fuckibg clue what you are talking about :D
my coworker was brushing out a really fat pug and I went "they used to load these things into canons during the civil war" and she went "really?"
#i do make a lot of shit up tho#there have been a lot of “times in english class“ tbf#still dont know what you’re talking about lmfao#me and you core#rereblog#friendship 💥💥#cadking ramblings
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#fool me once shame on you#fool me twice shame on me#fool me six times i think there's rot at the core of the industry#dead boy detectives#the acolyte#ofmd#1899
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something something “heaven” by mitski etc etc
details below the cut but they’re not hq bc i made this before i figured out canvas sizes on procreate lmfaooo
#can you believe it took me a year to finally finish this#that’s why the resolution is low i’m sorry#i knew not what i was doing when i started it 💔#hey sharpshooter part 2 core btw#wolfstar
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divorce era for today's warm up :)c
#arcane#jayce talis#viktor#jayvik#ever makes art#jayce ignoring viktor's express wish to destroy the core to save his life was the second i knew it was gonna be so real for me personally#when the devotee's act of veneration deifies and destroys the object of worship#when u help create a god and your god in turn bestows on you his cursed blessing#a recursive impulse an endless loop selfish acts from selfless love. deity and devotee locked together in annihilation and salvation. YEEEE
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when you're part of a group with structural power over another goup, you really do gotta just learn to say "i am not exempt from 'fuck 'em' when relevant" whenever someone expresses frustration with you or people like you.
#juney.txt#like sure to protect your ego you could try to make up some axis of oppression that concievably means you're not accountable for anything#and how dare people from colonized nations tell you that you have it easier than them just because you live in the imperial core#or how dare trans women say you have it easier than them because no matter what it'll always be your word against a tranny's#or you could just learn to be a little uncomfortable for a moment#and look at the situation for a second and say#''you know what? they're right to be frustrated!''#''and it's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things if they're frustrated at me''#''especially if i'm being a prime example of the things they're getting frustrated about''#''i am not exempt from 'fuck 'em' when relevant''
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yandere! husband who’s so fucking in love with you that even dreaming about kissing another person makes him wake up in cold sweat, rushing to the bathroom to wash his lips raw.
funny how even as he proceeded to surround himself with water, only the guilt drowned him.
#i read that one gojo fic called infidelity#immediately stopped when he kissed another woman#i wanna know how it ends but it’s too painful for me to read#fuck man#i need comfort#hns.txt💬#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagine#yandere fic#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere core#yandere husband#male husband
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ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)
directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four
read until the end for an author's note.
*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.
i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.
why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.
is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.
i don't want to pray anymore.
so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—
i hate you."
"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."
you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.
"alfr-"
a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.
salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.
you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.
"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."
"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"
his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.
you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.
alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.
it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.
you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.
and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.
it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.
it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.
the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.
you pose secrets that speak of the underground.
he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.
you stared at nothing.
not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.
it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.
what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.
you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.
(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.
he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.
yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.
you were more like batman than you were bruce.
alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.
when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.
the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.
alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.
yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.
the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.
"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.
the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.
yet you do not display pain.
a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.
you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.
the world does not deserve someone like you.
alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.
through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.
even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.
you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.
another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.
"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.
a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.
the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.
alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.
you could only hear yourself.
"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"
you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.
"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."
it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.
he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.
despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.
you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.
everything hurts, it truly does.
you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.
you at least try to stifle your sobs—
"happy birthday, master (name)."
— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.
you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.
it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.
though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.
"alfred?"
it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.
"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.
"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"
... (name) wayne was full of surpises.
even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.
you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.
but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.
except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.
when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.
it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.
he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.
alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.
"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"
alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.
"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...
— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."
alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.
you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.
but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.
it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.
it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.
but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.
and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.
alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.
he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.
"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.
"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."
alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.
he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.
and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.
he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.
in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.
alfred misses you.
does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.
but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.
(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.
and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.
but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.
your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.
you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.
it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.
the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.
after all, your freedom is your doom.
the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.
it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.
yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.
for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.
even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.
it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.
before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.
bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.
in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.
his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.
that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.
he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.
he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.
"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.
"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.
but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.
bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.
it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.
if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.
he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.
"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.
"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."
huh?
"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"
"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."
... (name)?
ah, his... other child.
alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.
it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.
"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"
alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.
"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.
"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"
to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.
"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."
at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—
but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?
shit, what grade are you in?
why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—
"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"
"roughly six or seven months ago, master."
"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."
"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."
eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.
it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.
his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?
alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.
bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened
the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.
he denies himself of any relief.
"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.
so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.
"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."
if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.
but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.
and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.
bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.
also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!
taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)
#🌷... yael's works#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere batfam#soft yandere#yandere batman#yandere bruce wayne#yandere alfred pennyworth#yandere batboys#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#platonic yandere#yandere angst#i appreciate all ur comments and reblogs and asks and i heavily encourage it for faster updates !!#imagine crying at you own writing lmao#im so poetic core u totally did not see me rhyme like one paragraph
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The self-awareness on this guy 😞 someone pls send him an "are you bi?" quiz STAT
#dead plate#rody lamoree#rody x vincent#vincent charbonneau#rodince#rodincent#my art#i saw someone tag one of my drawings with a version of their ship name using their last names and it was nice but i forgot what it was#aksjdhf#also NOO i forgot Rody's lil moles 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#thankfully at least tumblr allows edits#anyways#rody looks so wonky to me but I just wanted to stop fidgeting with it and post it since i wasnt getting anywhere anyways aksjdfh#also little story time lol#when i was in 10th grade there was this girl in my chemisty class that i was kinda frienemies with#we just always got into arguments with each other but the vibe ultimately stayed light and friendly between us#kinda like a <<fuck you but anyways what did you get for no. 5>> kind of situation#one day she slammed one of her hands against the door right next to my head 😳😳#i think she was trying to intimidate me but instead it just gave me a core memory LMAOOO#thankfully by then i already knew i wasnt straight lol but it definitely unlocked something in me hahahah
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the way he dragged his finger up that man’s face
THE WAY VIKTOR WAS MERE INCHES AWAY FROM JAYCE’S FACE AS HE TRIED TO GET HIM TO BECOME HIS PARTNER AGAIN.
THE WAY HE WRAPPED HIS LEGS AROUND JAYCE AND LIFTED UP HIS HEAD TO MAKE HIM LOOK AT HIM?????
freaky as hell….
#you cannot tell me these guys arent freaks#hexcore? more like freaky to the core because good god#jayvik#arcane#arcane viktor#viktor league of legends#arcane season 2#arcane season two#viktor#viktor arcane#jayce talis#arcane season two spoilers
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I think, the most devastating fact about Jason Todd is the fact that he is not hunted by the ghost of the Joker, or by Bruce, or even by Tim's existence - he is hunted by his own ghost, by the ghost of a little boy, who jumps around impatiently as he searches magic in the simplest things that bring him joy
#can't catch me now by olivia rodrigo starts to play#'they are mad at you why everyone look at you this way' ahh core#dcu comics#dc comics#dcu#jason todd#red hood
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Who is this sassy lost child?
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#lan wangji#a-yuan#A-Yuan knows how to to utilise his big wet eyes to get treats. What a little legend.#The crowd comments about LWJ being 'daddy' and WWX being 'the mother' are a little too 'fan-service bait' for me.#So I am personally reimagining it as another layer of 'misinterpretation of a more complex situation' commentary.#I like how the different styles of interacting with children WWX an LWJ exhibit say so much about their own childhoods.#We - human beings in the real world - take two lessons from how we were parented: What we valued and what we wish we had.#LWJ leaning into indulgence is him pushing back against his own childhood of asceticism. It's something he didn't have - so he gives it.#WWX on the other hand has been *so* defined by his drive to indulge. And here he is the restrictor!#It takes a bit more to see what's going on here. The factors are not singular.#but to keep it in theme with LWJ; I'd propose it is partly his way of establishing structure when he did not have it as a child.#Both approches are a way of saying 'I didn't have this and I wish I did.'#With LWJ it's pretty obvious why...but WWX? What is at your core? What is your regret towards a lack of restriction?#Or...What benefit do you think it gives this child to learn the harsh lessons of going without?#Did it make you strong when you were a child? Do you think it is just the nature of the world and we all must learn it?#How we interact with children is such a fascinating topic to delve into our psychology and neuroses.#In a more light hearted turn of topic:#WWX confirmed to be 'person taking the car to the drive through to order one black coffee for himself' on the triangle spectrum.#LWJ is saying 'we have food at home' as he is opening his wallet ready to order for everyone.#(Technically this is comic 213 but yippee! We are in the 200's now! Thank you all so much for reading and cheering me on!)
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happy solvermas
#cause t. no actually if christ is the son of god and the solver is god then it'd be like uzimas#quick sketch i pulled out of my ass yesterday to see if i could get myself out of art block/burnout/whatever ive got going on#v was added after cause i had no idea how to work her into the scene#implied nuziv or something look man im just desperate about this ship#and i dont know how to draw fluff or whatever#im so bad at romance i dont know how to express it#but i've been desperately trying to draw nuziv for the past months#i think this is actually like some of my best linework yet im really satisfied with everything right now#been a long time since i've felt that#turns out the “stop overthinking every pixel of the expressions and just draw the approximation the audience will get the jist” approach wo#ks#something something n is the star of their life. tree light chrismtas#it is taking. All of my restraint right now#to not be So Mean to all of you#You Don't Even Know#I Could Do Something. I Might Still.#art#murder drones#murder drones uzi#uzi doorman#murder drones n#serial designation n#murder drones v#serial designation v#murder drones cyn#i need liam to explain whether cyn and the solver are the same person already so i can tag them appropriately its driving me nuts#oh yeah cyn got a plush core to chew on by the way#the idea of giving her a chew toy was rolling around in my head and i think its a very funny visual so here we are
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Gojo Satoru sees you for the first time at a mutual friend's party—and immediately his eyes get stuck on you. the entire time he's watching you drink leisurely at the end of the couch, and roll your eyes at the dude bros attempting to flirt with you, while you ignored them.
after 40 mins of staring, he comes up to you and shoves the guy —pathetically trying to get you to sleep with him— off the armrest of the couch you're sitting on. Satoru just ignores the guy shouting at him and and throwing a fit on the floor. he takes a seat on the armrest instead and looks you dead in the eyes, and goes;
"you look like someone who thinks men ain't shit and would probably make a face that alone would make me cry."
you raise one of your eyebrows at him just a bit amused. confused whether he was trying to pick a fight or what else was he trying at. he goes on and continues what he was saying;
"so please fuck me."
.
.
a/n: divider by @/enchanthings-a. to access more of my works-click here.
#inspired by IRL encounter I had with this guy last year who was younger than me bro was literally 18 and I was 20#gojo Satoru#jujutsu kaisen#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#—^^#—gojoberry<3#satoru gojo x reader#gojo headcanons#satoru gojo#jjk#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru headcanon#loser!gojo#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader#I did laugh at him and said no TT o TT I'm sorry idk? I did kiss him before I left just to fuck with him. he was right I am mean like that#red flag reader#satoru headcanons#gojo satoru fluff#gojo fluff#not really meet cute sorry lmaooo#just talking about this with my friend and ykw ye it's gojocore#gojo core#gojo-drabbles#gojo imagine#gojo drabbles
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Thinking about. Stanley Pines. Once summer, not long after Weirdmaggedon. Sitting in his seat, staring at the tv but realising slowly he's not really watching TV, he's listening.
Listening to Soos, taking a tour group around the Shack, his voice confident and happy, eagerly telling tourists all kinds of tall tales. Soos, with his young son strapped to his chest, held close and dear to his heart, always knowing he is loved and wanted by his father.
Listening to Wendy and Melody, laughter turning to deeper conversations in the gift shop as Wendy pours out her latest dating drama and Melody listens sympathetically--not quite a mother, but an older sister figure is all Wendy wants at the moment.
Listening to a distant boom coming from the basement, a cause for some concern that fades quickly as three peals of laughter follow soon after. One deep and familiar, as comforting and close as the sound of a ship's motor and the open sea. One young and high, cracking with adolescent awkwardness. One loud and cackling, a hint of madness never quite leaving it but more settled than it used to be. And Stan figures it's probably time to send someone down to drag Ford, Dipper and McGucket upstairs before they forget what light is and get too nerdy.
Besides it's nearly dinner time, and he's listening to Mabel's steady, unrelenting chatter in the kitchen, punctuated by a few grunts of acknowledgment from Abuelita as they prepare a meal.
And Stan feels a strange, unusual sensation wash over him, something he hasn't felt for over half a lifetime, by a boat on a beach. A sensation of contentment, of security, of peace. And he realises that if he stood up and walked into any one of the rooms in the Shack he would be greeted with smiles and faces lighting up to see him and cheerful cries of his name.
And he looks down at the darned pig sleeping beside his chair and things, with oddly misty eyes, that he spent thirty years trying to find his brother again. And he succeeded--but somehow, he got more than that. He had formed around him, without even realising it, a family.
#wren rambles#gravity falls#grunkle stan#stanley pines#everything he ever did was for family#stanley pines they could never make me hate you#thinking about how he pulled people too him accidentally#and the people orbiting around him began to orbit around each other#and they form close bonds and friebdships#but Stanley pines is the epicenter#without him no one would have met#even soos and melody--they wouldnt have met without the twins' involvement trying to push soos out of his comfort zone#and the twins are only in gravity falls bc of stan#its all stan.#hes the center. the core. the heart.#and all he ever wanted was family#it took him a lifetime but he got there eventually
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bangor, maine
#mist#fog#landscape#vista#mountain#mountains#forest#beauty#original photographers#photography#cottage core#maine#do you believe in me
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