#the urge to quit is really strong 😭😭

[depresssant]

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim Drake Wayne…

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

Rich people really are weird, huh?

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

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

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

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

It’s not adding up.

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

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

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

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

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

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

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

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

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

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

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

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

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

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

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

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

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck.

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

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

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

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

TAGLIST :

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

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

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

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

[nmakii]

Ok so another part to your yandere alastor series?! Im like obsessed with them, i love the way you write Alastor!!

So an idea i guess? I love the idea Alastor slowly corrupting his kids and reader trying her best to correct them? Obviously she can’t. Idk, i can see Al wanting his son carry on his legacy while his daughter is becomes a sweet but strong woman who can probably destroy your life in a matter of minutes. I just want his kids to get corrupted to become like him!! 😭

IN A MOURNING WARNING, NO ONE HEARD

[hold up! read the rest of the story first!]

— day by day, alastor ruined your children with his malicious thoughts, while you set them straight. it’s as if evil and good decided to fight their battle in your house.

every day in this house was a headache. sleeping beside the monster called husband every night, him cuddled up to your side as if he hadn’t broken your hopes for years. acting in front of your children as if everything was fine— that they had parents who were madly in love with each other. and, raising your children. of course, raising them in itself is difficult, but alastor seems to just enjoy making your life a hell on earth.

implanting evil thoughts into your babies’ minds, and there was no one else but you to fix his mess. to instill morals in their minds, and to make sure they grow up to be diligent and kind.

sitting down at the dinner table seemed to grow harder and harder each day. resisting the urge to vomit as your son told you and alastor of how he found a rat at school, and how he had cut its’ tail off to see if it’d regrow like a lizard. the image of your little boy being so cruel made you sick to your stomach. and, alastor, he’d done nothing but laugh. “oh, my! quite the experiment, my boy!” he chuckled as he took another bite of his food. “now, dear… that isn’t very nice, don’t you think?” you frowned. “mmh, but dad said that i should feed my curiosity!” noah pouted.

“well, dad is true on that. but, you shouldn’t feed your curiosity if it hurts other people or animals.” you said, lecturing him. “au contraire, my love.” alastor interrupted. “id say that curiosity is one of the most important human emotions! how else do you think mankind discovered to hunt and cook chicken, pork, beef…” he rambled. “they are good for the body, aren’t they? they give the body protein so that they’re strong and so they can protect the people they love! don’t you want our little boy to protect his friends and family?” he raised an eyebrow. “yeah, momma! so that i can protect you and emilia!” noah said.

you felt your heart crack at his words. it seemed as if there was no hope in undoing what alastor had done. as if the little boy you worked hard to raise died. but, maybe there was still hope for your daughter.

“oh, and dad!” noah said excitedly as he looked to alastor. “my friends think its so cool that we go hunting, and they wanna join too! can we bring them, please?” noah begged, bringing alastor’s amusement. “aw, they want to join us? hm, i suppose we could, but only if they’re as well-behaved as you!” he hummed, to noah’s delight. “really?! you’re the best, dad!” noah grinned, running to alastor to loosely hug him by the neck. “yes, yes… now, go finish your meal. your mother worked hard to cook that, and it won’t taste so good when it’s cold.” he said, patting his son on the head.

you zoned out, staring at your daughter in her chair, playing with her food, and scratching the bowl with her little fork. she giggled and talked to herself, before blood started flowing from her nose. “oh, dear…” you muttered under your breath, running to the kitchen to get a tissue paper. “eww! momma, emilia is drinking her own blood! yuck!” noah called out, scrunching his face in disgust. and, when you returned, emilia was, indeed, drinking her own blood— licking her top lip as the blood leaked, and smiling at the metallic taste in her mouth. “oh, emi, sweetie… don’t do that. blood is yucky.” you scolded your daughter as you wiped the blood from her nose.

“yummy!” she shouted, licking her lip for the remains. alastor grinned at her comment, “i couldn’t agree more, baby!” he laughed, swaying the water in his glass. “not right now, alastor. emi is bleeding.” you huffed out in a frustrated manner. “ah, i suppose you’re right, darling. emi, baby, are you okay?” he cooed to your daughter across the table. “i’m okay, daddy!” she grinned, going back to eating as per usual, despite the roll of tissue in her nostril.

“are you okay, my love?” alastor asked, his eyes moving to you. “i’m alright, just exhausted today.” you let out, keeping your emotions and intentions to yourself. “hmm, then why don’t you rest after dinner, dear? noah and i can wash the dishes.” he assured you. “wah?! but, dad, i wanna go play!” noah huffed and pouted. “now, son… protecting also means to help others when they are tired. don’t you wanna help momma?” he asked your son. and as noah thought it over, alastor spoke again, giving him more of an incentive. “now, i hate to do this… but, if you don’t help your mother, i won’t bring your friends to hunt.” noah’s eyes widened at the unfairness. “what?!” he frowned. “guh, fine, ill do the dishes!” he pouted, gathering the cleared dishes and bringing them to the sink. “hmph, good boy.” he grinned. “go rest now, dear.”

and, as you went up the stairs, that moment finally dawned on you. that hunting with his friends and father meant so much to him, he was willing to do household chores. it shattered your heart as tears filled your eyes— why couldn’t you go back to a simpler time? when it was just the two of you. when all you had was each other.

“momma, i missed you!” noah said hugging your legs as you returned from work. “aw, i missed you too, baby!” you smiled at your precious boy. “c’mon! i wanna play with you!” he said, attempting to pull you by your wrist. “in a second, sweetie! momma has to take off her heels!” you laughed.

that memory was 6 years ago.

[heartpascal]

I LITERALLY LOVE FATHER FIGURE JOEL ‼️‼️ (and i also have severe daddy issues) CAN WE GET MORE OF HIM PLEASE 😭😭

the tunnel. . .

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel gets hurt, and in the face of losing the only person you have left, something inside of you breaks.

▹ — a/n: I DONT LIKE IT :( but i promise to provide more (&better) father figure joel content soon I SWEARRR

▹ — warnings: father figure joel, completely made up scenario (spoiler free!), joel gets hurt, it’s pretty bad, blood, stabbing, murder, reader protects joel, JOEL IS SLIGHTLY OOC

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

There is a moment of silence after Joel cried out, a moment where you watch with wide eyes as he crumples, a moment where the man responsible stands over the man laying down on the cold ground, and reaches for his gun.

For you, the only thing loud enough to break the silence is your own heart, pumping blood around your body, echoing in your ears. Your footsteps don’t register, and neither does your scream, as you run towards the person who hurt Joel, and jump on his back, your knife in your hand and all of a sudden you blink, and the man is limp on top of you, his blood quickly dripping on to your clothes.

He’s pushed off of you, and you’re by Joel’s side in a second, your hands hovering as you look down at his screwed up face. The knife is no longer buried in his side, and blood is pumping out of him faster and faster as time passes by.

“Joel? Joel, can you hear me?” You ask frantically, and lean your ear down towards him to hear better as he grunts out a yes, allowing you to place his hands over his wound, and push. He groans, yelling out through his teeth, and you know that it must be bad. It must be really bad.

He’s been by your side for months now, and each time you see him take a hard hit, he holds on to that stoic expression, bites down on his tongue and keeps up the strong front, whether to save you from worrying or to prevent anyone from thinking he’s weak, you’re not sure. But he never shows this much of his pain to you, so you’re sure that he’s fully out of it, that this is when you’re gonna lose somebody, again.

But his squinted eyes relay a sense of urgency to you, and he groans and says your name, gesturing behind you, and you pull the gun that had fallen from his grip when he’d gotten hurt. You whirl around, seeing more men from the group getting closer, eyes set on you and Joel.

Your finger trembles as you lay it on the trigger, and your ears ring when you fire it, hitting the two men who had been approaching with surprising accuracy. You turn back to Joel the next second, noticing his hands going limp on top of his injury, and you press them down again, feeling his blood stain between your fingers.

“C’mon, Joel, you gotta help me out here!” You tell him, something desperate in your voice making him pull away from that sweet black emptiness that he had been beginning to fade into. He nods at you, pressing his palms harder against his stomach underneath your own hands. You breathe a sigh, not quite of relief, but something almost similar, and survey the surroundings. “We gotta get somewhere safer.” You say, and the effort of keeping pressure on his wound is taking all of Joel’s concentration.

Taking a deep breath of the cold air, you think of where you are and where you’ve been. Going backwards isn’t much of an option, given that from behind is how these men had caught you and Joel by surprise, so you have to go forwards.

You click the safety on, and shove the gun in the loose over shoulder bag at your side. You cant help but feel overwhelmed — you haven’t had to escape without Joel’s help in a long time, and especially not whilst lugging around a 50-something year old who can barely even hold his hands steady.

“Come on,” You urge him, hearing shouts in the far distance, and you hook his arm over your shoulder, pulling him to sit up. “I can’t pick you up, Joel, I need you to stand,” You tell him, and he nods, despite his fluttering eyelids. Getting him up takes longer than you expected, and you can tell he’s getting lightheaded just sitting, but you have to push through. “Joel, please.”

By the time he’s finally on his feet, he’s leaning heavily on you, and you can hear the group of men are much closer to you — too close. There’s barely a chance of outrunning them, because not only do you have to practically carry Joel, but they have a car, too.

Your heart is beating in your throat, and you keep trying to think of what to do as you pull Joel further along, looking back and seeing the trail of blood behind the two of you is getting bigger.

You see an alleyway, and pull Joel into it, with him falling back to the floor almost as soon as you stop moving. If it weren’t for the adrenaline pumping through your body, you’re sure that you would’ve either cried or passed out by now, but luckily, the chemical is keeping you going. You pull the backpack from his back, rifling through it and looking for something to help. You find a bottle of old alcohol, and uncap it, lifting Joel’s shirt the tiniest bit to dump what was probably far too much on his wound.

He hisses, and you can hear the way he’s grinding his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as you do your best at cleaning his wound, hoping the quick douse will be enough to prevent it from getting infected, but honestly, you don’t know how any of it works.

The car stops down the road, and you hold your breath as you lean forwards, peeking the smallest bit out of the alley and seeing four men exist the vehicle, one from each door. They walk over to the opposite side of the street, beginning their search for the two of you. “Fuck,” You say under your breath, and turn back to Joel. “Okay, stay here, okay? Stay here.”

His hand grabs on to your wrist before you can leave the alley, and for the first time, you see his fear reflected in his expression. Though whether it’s for you or himself, or possibly both, you’ll never know. “It’s okay. Just stay here. We’re gonna be okay.” You tell him, not sure which of you it’s reassuring, but the words wrap around the two of you, and he nods his head jerkily. You press his hand back against his wound, a frown present on your face as you look at him.

For once, it’s you who has to be brave for him, not the other way around. You hope you have the courage in you.

You duck out of the alleyway, crouching behind a rusted car nearby as the men call out to each other, their voices getting increasingly frustrated. You take down the first one with ease, having watched Joel do this hundred of times. You jump on his back, hand clamped over his mouth and jab the knife as deep as you can into his neck, landing on the ground with an oomph.

It’s the next one that you fuck up, and he manages to throw you off, alerting the other two to your presence. “I’ll give you one chance, motherfuckers, before I—” They cut you off, shooting towards the sound of your voice, and you ducked down lower to the ground, waiting for the sound of them reloading before you popped up, taking aim and shooting one of them. He didn’t get back up.

With a sudden idea, you crept around towards their car as they nervously held their guns, eyes twitching as they looked for you — in the complete wrong direction, you would like to point out. You climbed in through the still open door, and smiled when you saw that these dumbasses left the keys.

Having never driven a car, you grip the steering wheel with an ounce of anxiety, but you’ve seen plenty of people drive, know to turn the key, press the right pedals, but you didn’t expect the speed at which the car lurched. You vaguely heard the shouts of the two men as the car hit them, but you kept driving, managing to stop just after the alleyway you’d left Joel in.

Nobody else bothered you, and you found Joel passed out in the alleyway. “Come on, stay with me, please, stay with me.”

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your eyes snapped towards him as he groaned, and you were by his side before he could even fully open his eyes. “Joel,” you all but sobbed in relief, grabbing on to his hand tightly, and feeling him squeeze your fingers between his as he slowly got to terms with the fact that this was reality. “You dick!”

He sat up, slowly, with your help via a hand on his back, helping pull him into a sitting position even as he winced. His eyebrows raised at your words, and he stammered for a moment, before he rolled his eyes and lifted his shirt to look at the injury he’d sustained.

His eyebrows folded inwards as he looked at the messy black lines zig-zagging across an inflamed line on his abdomen, the stitching sure to leave more scarring than if he’d done it himself, but it held both sides of the skin together, and stopped him from bleeding out. “You did this?” He asked, his voice gruff and sore, and you passed him a flask of water without a word.

“I—I didn’t know what else to do, you weren’t waking up and I couldn’t just leave it.” You said, nervous for his reaction to the way you’d practically vandalised the poor guy. It would surely stand out when it did scarred, in comparison to some of the neater lines that he or Tess had sewn up. “You, um, you lost a lot of blood, you’ve been passed out for nearly three days.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise as he sipped at the water, surprised by how much there was if it had really been that long. He was honestly pretty surprised that the two of you had made it that long.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to wake up, for a second there, Joel.” You said, trying to seem humorous but Joel saw straight through you, right down to the tremor in your voice as you said the words.

“Shit, kid.” He said, his voice flowing out much more easily, and he frowned as he looked at you, looked at the blood that was staining your clothes and face. Joel sighed, “I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, an apology from him being the thing you least expected. Hell, you were half waiting for him to scream at you, to tell you that it was your fault, or that you should’ve done something differently.

“That’s a lot to have on your shoulders,” Joel said, though he usually carried at least the equivalent amount, usually heavier, on his own shoulders. “But… thank you.”

He felt half the need to tell you that you should’ve left him behind, that you risking yourself for him was the last thing he wanted, but the look in your eyes told him that anything other than reassurances would break you.

“C’mere.” He said, so uncharacteristically soft, and he pulled you so you were resting underneath his arm, head laying against his collarbone. You practically sagged in his arms, exhaustion shattering you down to the bones, and he frowned, scanning you for any i juries you may have sustained. A broken finger, he’d have guessed, swollen and bruised where your hand lay on your legs. Sprained ankle, definitely, with how your had it resting so gingerly against the floor.

“I…” You started, nervous to tell him, “I crashed the car.”

His forehead crinkled, and he looked at you in confusion when you glanced at him. Part of him wanted to just… never ask, but he knew he couldn’t rest if he didn’t know how much danger you’d put yourself in.

“What car?”

“The car I stole, from the group of guys that attacked you. I crashed it into a lamppost, not like, really badly, but… don’t think it’s useable now.” At your words, he pulled away slightly, and you frowned, but he was just looking at you, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“You… stole, and drove, a car?” Joel asked slowly, realising he had clearly underestimated how much you’d do to keep him alive. “Jesus, kid.”

“I didn’t know what else to do! And then I dragged you here, did… that, and just got us some water and food and waited for you.” You explained, relaxing back into him when he moved back to his previous spot. Your words were beginning to become a garbled mumble, the three days with about six hours of sleep really messing you up now that you knew Joel was okay. He was safe.

He squeezed your shoulder, wondering to himself if you’d dragged his ass before, or after, you broke that finger, and the thought was almost too much. All this, to keep him safe. And on top of that, you had been stocking up as much as you could, waiting for him, unsure if he’d ever wake up or if you’d sit and wait as he died.

His silence unnerved you, and your eyes were stinging, though whether that was from exhaustion or tears, you weren’t sure. “Please, never scare me like that again. I thought you were going to die.” You told him, turning your head so he couldn’t see your face, though he could feel the way your shoulders trembled.

Joel pulled back, suppressing the groan he wanted to let out as he twisted, pulling the slightest bit at the stitches in his abdomen.

He said your name, and you looked at him with watery eyes, “I’m sorry. For getting hurt, and puttin’ you in danger, and for you havin’ to look after my old ass.”

“Promise me, you’ll never do that again.” You asked of him, and he placed a hand that was streaked with his own dried blood against your cheek, frowning at your expression.

“I promise you,” He said, his voice soft as he pulled you back to him, hugging you closely and holding the back of your head to ensure nothing would take you from him. “I’ve got you now. I’m alright, kid, get some rest.”

“You’re all I’ve got, Joel,” You tell him, voice muffled by his bloodied jacket, “I can’t lose you.”

He doesn’t say anything, only hugging you tighter, and refrains from letting out the words that he wants to say. That you’re the only thing left in this world that he cares for, that he’ll protect you with his life, not just because you’d done that for him, but because he cared about you.

Joel may refuse to outright say his thoughts, but the squeeze of his arm around you told you enough. The protective nature that had come about him from the moment he woke up, checking on you, taking notice of your injuries, was his way of caring.

He’d lost so much, like you had, and if he saw Sarah’s eyes reflected in your own, that was his business. The spark of that long-buried feeling… that paternal warmth, it made it much more obvious that he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

And like Sarah had tried to help him, protect him, even from when she was a kid, he saw that in you. In the way you gripped your knife when you heard something, the way you checked behind his back for him when he forgot to do so, he could see you cared.

“You ain’t losing me anytime soon, kid.” He told you, and it was all he could tell you. “But we’re gonna talk about this driving business, later.”

You let out a laugh filled with exhaustion, and Joel just held you tightly, staying ever so still as you slowly fell asleep against him, your snores comforting him more than his stitched wound.

He supposed, then, that after the past few days, you’d have a few wounds that’d need stitching up, too. He vowed in that moment, that he’d work on it, that he’d ensure your happiness for the rest of his life, in any way that he could. Even if right now, that just involves letting you sleep in his arms.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Underestimate || D. Targaryen x oc

GIF by @thequeenwechoose DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Daemon’s position in his brother’s court needs to be strengthened, and he cares. Elys on the other hand? Not at all. Her marriage to the Rogue Prince was nothing but a political matter. She sometimes underestimate what he’s capable of doing.

a/n: basically in this, Elys and Daemon were forced into marriage and hate each other. warning: this is so bad i gotta admit 😭 i got lazy with it ALSO PLS PLS PLS PUT IN REQUESTS FOR MEE

“Seriously?” Elys rolls her eyes as she lets her eyes wander down Daemon’s figure. His short hair disheveled and his hands doing up his pants as he blows a strand of hair away. “Don’t act as if you weren’t doing the same mere minutes ago” He smirks. He wasn’t wrong.

The two were making their way to the small council who had called for both their presences. “What the fuck does my brother want now” He mutters before the doors were opened.

“Your Grace,” they both say before taking seat next to elach other, opposite Otto Hightower. “Brother, Elys, How are you both?” Viserys smiles. Before the Stark girl could respond, her husband beat her to it “Quit the sweet talk Viserys, what do you want from us?” Daemon speaks in a monotone voice.

She had the urge to slap his face for being such a dick. The King glances to Otto before clearing his throat, “Your position here in my court has been questioned. You being my brother, is not strong of a reason unfortunately” The room was silent. Elys’ eyes move to here husband’s face that stares at the table infront of him.

“Me being your brother should be enough reason, your Grace” Daemon mutters. Viseys sighs, but before he could open his mouth, Otto spoke. “You spend your days around court doing nothing and you spend your nights at the pleasure houses in Silk Street, not with your Lady Wife. You only have the mere title as Prince”

Elys scoffs, “I’d rather him do that then share a bed with me” She shrugs as Otto glares at her. “You can’t just have a legitimate position just because your my brother,” Viserys reasons, “So what are you suggesting then hm? Tell me” The King sighs, “You have no heirs Daemon.”

Your kidding. Elys thought. She blinks a few times to process what the King had just said and what he was implying. “You’re telling me, having a child will strengthen my position here?” Daemon speaks slowly as his brother nods.

“Says who-“ “You and Elys have been married for over a year and yet I still don’t see a child” This time, it was Elys’ turn to glare at the man, “Have a child and your position would be legitimate.”

~

A loud knock erupts from her bedroom door, Elys lets out a frustrated sigh before getting up and putting on a robe to cover herself, “Were you expecting another person?” The man on her bed half chuckled.

Opening the door, she was met with his devilish smile. “Husband, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She sarcastically smiles. Daemon looks her up and down, “I think it’s best we talk about what my brothers asks from us, don’t you?” He leans his hand on the door, his face centimetres away.

“No not really. It’s your problem Daemon, neither you or the King can force me to have a baby” Elys crosses her arms and leans against the door, his face hardens. He then looks past her figure but Elys was quick to notice, she shut the door behind her clearing her throat as a scoffs leaves his lips.

“Just you wait, you will be carrying my fucking child sooner or later. You should stop bringing over men and start sleeping in my chambers.” He says against her ear before she shoves him off.

“Fuck you Daemon,” She spat in annoyance, “That would make everyone happy wouldn’t it?” He grins before walking off.

Daemon didn’t know what came over him. Jealousy maybe? Jealous that someone else gets to be fucking his gorgeous and lawful wife? The Prince did want a child. Otto was right, his days were growing boring, at first, he enjoyed what he always did, fucking his way through the pleasure houses at Silk Street.

But he longed to come back to his bed everyday beside his wife. Of course publicly, the “picture perfect” married couple was something everyone dreamed of having. The two constantly showed affection with one another and look at each other with such love.

It shocked the court to see Daemon in that way but little did they know what happened behind closed doors when no one was around. Always at each other’s throat. They infuriated each other but yet they could never tell why.

~

“Ah there she is! Happy name day Elys” King Viserys smiles warmly as she takes a seat at the breakfast table with her in-laws. There was no sight of Daemon. “Thank you, your Grace” She showcases her pearly smile before digging into the breakfast feast.

“4 and 20 was a great year for me you know, I say it’s a great time to have children” Viserys laughs as the brunette awkwardly chuckles knowing what he was hinting at. Her Grace, Queen Alicent, speaks up, “There is a celebration held in honour of your name day at Godswood at midday” She enthusiastically says. Elys nods with a grin plastered on her face.

Whirling the mead in her goblet, she looked around bored. The celebration was a thoughtful gesture from both the King and Queen but she would rather be spending the day in the comfort of her bed chambers or walking through the gardens. Elys’ darling husband was still not around, not that she was not surprised.

She sat on a chair surrounded by a few ladies, conversed in conversations, “Oh how I love your dress” Lady Strong complimented as the others agree, Elys looks to her with a smile. She was wearing a deep blue off the shoulder dress, highlighting her collarbone and shoulders.

“Thank you, Lady Strong, I could say the same-“ Elys was topped mid sentence by gasps and murmurs. She couldn’t see what everyone was gasping at but spotted a head of silver hair, Daemon. Lady Strong let out a horrified scream when the Targaryen Prince came closer to them.

Elys slowly stood up and felt her insides churning at the sight. Daemon holding the decapitated head of the man she had been seeing a few times in his hand; blood still dripping. “Happy Name Day, darling.”

~

“What were you thinking!” She screamed at him, the whole of the Red Keep probably hearing her, the two stood opposite each other, table in between. “I told you you were going to carry our child, I first had to get that cunt out of the way” Daemon fired back. Elys was shocked to hear that he did that all because he was so adamant on making her carry his child. The couple had been going back and forth for about 10 minutes, the small council wanted to see them again.

“So this is what it is about?” Elys laughs in disbelief as Daemon stares at her, “Since when have you ever listened to what you brother has told you to do, Husband?” She leans against the table staring up at him.

“This is my position in court Elys, better yet, your position as my Lady Wife!” He inches closer to her. “Without my title, you are nothing. You would not live the luxurious life you live right now, and you certainly, would not have other men entertaining you” Elys’ breaths quicken as she pulls back and paces, her hands on her hips.

“Brother, Elys” Viserys opens the door as the two turn their head to his direction. “That was quite the statement you put out there, Daemon” His brother glares at him in disapproval.

The brunette sat down with a huff, her arms crossed as she death glared her husband. “I think it is best we tell my darling wife right now,” Daemon smirks as he glances to his brother then Elys. “Tell me what exactly?” She questioned, fidgeting with her rings. She felt uneasy just at the sight of her husband’s features.

Viserys clears his throat, “There will be a bedding ceremony tomorrow night for the two of you” Elys’ eyes widen in shock. She opened her mouth but nothing came out; she was too baffled at what she was hearing.

“But why? Daemon and I already have had one when we wed, your Grace” To say Elys was confused was an understatement. “Yes, you have but that is tradition. This, however, was recommended to us as we know that you and Daemon do not lay in each other’s bed. The maesters have calculated your cycle and tomorrow is best for you”

“And who might have recommended this to you, your Grace” Elys’ eyes move to Daemon who sits there with a proud smirk on his face. That cunt. “Why me of course. Elys, I thing you underestimate me too much. I could not possibly allow my wife to live in nothing but luxury and royalty.”

~

“ivestragī īlva jiōragon bisa toliot se gaomagon lēda” Elys mutters as she takes off her robe. “aōhoso” Daemon smirks, his eyes trailing down his wife’s body. A sense of deja vu came over Daemon from their wedding night. However this was different. This time, his position in court was on the line. (let us get this over and done with) (as you wish)

“Enjoyed the show, my lords?” Elys called out as she rode out her high. A few mutters were heard from them. Daemon laughed at her remark, Elys could feel his vibrations underneath her as she couldn’t help but crack a smile. She could hear the movement of chairs indicating that the small council were leaving.

Elys leans her head against Daemon’s chest as a tired sigh leaves her mouth. Daemon gently took ahold of her arms and moved her to his side, her body covered by the sheets that he pulled up for her.

Her breathes calmed down as she fell into a slumber. The Targaryen prince stared down at his wife. How he regretted not making an effort to know her when they wedded. He moved a stray piece of hair out of her face to admire her beauty from up close.

~

6 months later….

A gentle kiss was placed on Elys’ neck by Daemon himself. “nyke missed ao” He whispers, his breath on her neck tickling her as she lets out a giggle, “Se lanta hen ao” His hands move down to her swollen belly. (i missed you) (the two of you)

[ashetherando]

Chronic Migraines| Glitch!Turbo x Human! Reader

Context: Turbos body cannot handle the sudden changes to his world to our world, so he will glitch to his regular form (Turbo) to King Candy, and his Cy-Bug form based off of his emotions (sorta like turning red) aggressive emotions (anger, obsession, and jealously) will be his cy-bug form, happy emotions (joy, excitement, and hyper) will be his King Candy, other emotions (fear, disgust, etc) will be in his Turbo form.

😭3rd POV 🧠

—————

  Taking care of a Cybug is not fun, not fun at all. It’s not like taking care of a dog, cat, reptile, etc, he’s a being that is doesn’t really exist in our world, obviously. So along with taking care of him and working on stuff online, it’s like being a single parent and unfortunately, today is one of those days you’re so damn confused about what he wanted. 

  You were working in your room and basically glued to your desk working on an assignment that the studio have given you, while you hear snoring on your bed. The basement is having some MAJOR problems, it keeps flooding, gets really cold for Turbos body and really needed to be fixed and refurbished, so he’s sleeping in your room while you’re getting the basement done. You looked over towards your bed to check on him, he was in his Cybug form so half of his body is off the bed and onto the floor, he seems to be having fun to take his daily 3 hour nap, so you turn your head back to your computer and continued to work on your assignment while bouncing your leg. 

Hours passed and your dealing with a pounding migraine and it was towards the end of Turbos nap, you leaned over to your ibuprofen, it’s not the strong one your use to, but it’s something that is stuck to your budget and it’s something that’ll help it for the time being. You took it with the water bottle that has a rubber tube and the color that isn’t blindly hurtful for your eyes. You set your computer to sleep mode and lean backwards and covering your eyes with your hands while hearing Turbos snores and occasionally move a bit in his sleep. Based on his height and weight from his Cy-bug form, you won’t be surprised that if the bed breaks. 

You hear him stir a bit before waking up, the way you describe him waking up is like a cat waking up after sleeping the day away, you moved your hands away from your face to look over at him. He was looking over at you. “How was your nap?” “Good, again, thank you for letting me sleep in your bed, why didn’t you let me sleep in the Living Room, again?” “Oh, felt nice today” you chuckled to yourself “har har har, very funny, (y/n)!” He says in a sarcastic way “I guess it’s something to kill two birds with one stone. Watching over you and working at the same time” you cleared your throat and take another sip of your water “you doing alright?” “Yeah, yeah. I just have a little headache, nothing more. Im already done with my work, so….” you stood up and walked over to your bed and flopped down face first on your bed, the other amount of unexpected weight on your bed made it shift and made the hard part of the bed on the floor. You groaned. Turbo placed his claw on your head  and rubbed it. 

“Scale of one-ten, how much pain are you in?” Turbo asked as he rubbed his thumb on your head “uuuhhh. I guess 7 or 8. It’s not as severe like the other migraines I get” you muffled from your bed, that lead him to raise a brow “I’m just gonna take a nap here” you muffled and scooted your way towards him as he blushed heavily. The lights was already off for Turbos napping, but I guess that’s what you lead to your migraine problem, but you’ve been having chronic migraines for quite some time ever since you’ve Graduated Highschool and be more exposed towards technology. 

  You’ve been helping and taking care of his problems and ‘urges’ (im not getting into that, sorry!) now, it’s Turbos turn! He moved away from you and managed to fit through the door and went downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed anything that could possibly help as he glitched into his King Candy form and went over to the bathroom, wet up a wash cloth with warm water and went over to your room and placed the things from the kitchen on your bed and went over to you and lightly smacked your cheek to grab your attention “hm?” You look over at him, he motioned you to move on to your back, you did what he wanted you to do and he placed the wash cloth on top of your eyes “what makes you knowledgeable about migraines?   He shrugs “I don’t know, I’m just guessing” he crawls on your bed and lay next to you and watching you “thanks, turbo. You don’t have to” “(y/n) it’s something in return for you dealing with me for years” you chuckled at this comment “I guess so, you’re the best” Turbo smiles at you and held your hand, though it is rather awkward that he has four fingers and you only have five, but hey, it’s nothing to complain about. As time goes on, you fell asleep and it’s now it’s Turbos turn to look after you. 

[retrocesosdestacion]

SNAP OUT OF IT. | ellie carpenter

ellie carpenter x reader

genres: soft angst, comfort.

warnings: english!reader, some swearing words, couple fights, r being stupid again, wc semi-final.

notes: uhhhh i really enjoyed writing this, also writing ellie it's so satisfying because no matter the situation she's always understandable 😭

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Sometimes you need to be injured to understand things and patiently resolve them.

Believing in me is scary, but let me tell you one more secret: Discovering love is loving without fear; the beginning is sweet and the end is sour.

PK.

The last thing you felt was your nose staring at the grass with all the strength in the world, even with your attempt to protect it with your hands.

Perhaps it was quite strong, mainly because the odor of blood emitted more and more into your nostrils every second.

Your ankle, aching and tensing, which at least was an answer that you hadn't been injured enough to leave the pitch.

You're not used to this kind of tackle; normally you are determined enough to dodge.

But Ellie Carpenter didn't make mistakes. No matter who it was, it was always a success; even if you were her girlfriend.

❝ Hey, is everything okay? ❞ A muffled female voice echoed through your ears. You weren't in the best situation to look who it was, but you mentally hoped it was the Australian.

The voice now became a whistle; probably calling the medical team. At this point, the woman whose saying was actually the referee.

Progressively, muffled voices began to appear, and you at least wished one of them was Ellie.

It slowly started to irritate you. The subtle conversations around you were sickening, the blood dripping from the tip of your lips and the shame of getting hurt in front of a worldwide audience didn't help.

You pushed yourself up, pressing both palms to the bloody grass and slowly rising; sitting down.

Reddened cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and drops of blood, your light blue uniform slowly absorbed each of those drops. ❝ Shit. ❞ You groaned.

❝ Is everything ok with you? ❞ They asked that again. But this time, it was Greenwood who was there. ❝ Can you stand up?! ❞ She was attentive.

You just nodded your head in confirmation. Even though it was a strong impact against the ground, it wasn't the worst thing in the world. ❝ I'm fine. ❞ You mumbled.

Took time to breathe deeply as you sat on the stadium lawn waiting for the medical team.

It was the year of the World Cup, the big semi-final against Australia and one step away from the final. Up to this point, you have played perfectly so you could take England all the way.

But now? Things went downhill, in reality, it wasn't like England depended on you; we're talking about the woman on the other side.

The woman who was five meters away, looking at you, the one who didn't dare approach you after the tackle.

Ellie Carpenter was like a sentence in some book that you start to love. The type of phrase you tattoo on your skin to remember, that stays in your mind.

And that was what enchanted you; Carpenter was the woman of your life and you loved it.

But at that moment, that magic disappeared. You at least expected her to come up to you and apologize or whatever two human people would do.

Raso reached Ellie, placed her arm on Ellie's shoulder and the two turned as if they were going to discuss something. No more or less.

And it stung your heart, like a stab so sturdy that it created a lump in your throat. It was no longer the pain of falling to the ground that was bothering you, but the pain of hers idiocy.

An urge to cry grew inside you, immense chagrin bubbled up. The fact that Ellie hadn't come to you until now had destroyed you enough to make yourself angry.

Of course, a while back you two promised to show the minimum amount of affection in public to respect the relationship. But that? That was already an baloney, conceivably even a lack of esteem towards you.

I mean, that's what you thought. The Australian defender turned back and laid eyes on you. The typical regretful and scared look, desperate to see you well.

But you were too blind to see this, perhaps because of the oxygen in your brain, of anger or appertaining to so many people being in front of you.

Within minutes, you had a cotton ball stuck in your left nostril. People had already dispersed and Alex pulled you to your feet.

You were already standing, the referee was explaining the rules for the free kick meters after the center line; such words that entered one side of the ear and came out the other.

It was the last minute of first half stoppage time, you were begging for it to end once and for all. The euphoric feeling of playing was gone, and you just wanted to go to the locker room.

You kicked without thinking, seconds after the whistle. Unsuccessfully, it went outside.

The high-pitched sound rose three times in a row.

Greenwood patted you on the back, indirectly advising you to go straight to the locker room. The captain went ahead and you stayed behind, after all, a tug on your shirt stopped you.

The clear blue eyes, as the ocean, stare at you. Such eyes that you were so used to seeing in your everyday life.

❝ Hey. ❞ She let go muttering, still holding the sleeve of your jersey.

It sounds so scary that you were so wrathful, that Ellie's face was sickening at that moment. You couldn't bear to see her.

❝ I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— ❞ Before the Australian could apologize for her actions, you pushed her hand away.

❝ Forget it. ❞ To be honest, any unusual word in your vocabulary with the defender was terrifying.

❝ [reader], it wasn’t— ❞

❝ Your intention? I know. ❞ You interrupted her.

Ellie knows you very, very well. But when you acted so stupid, it was like all your months together were thrown into the fire and you just became another stranger.

❝ Can you stop being like that for once and listen to me?! ❞

❝ If you wanted to talk to me, you should have come sooner, no? ❞

❝ That's what I'm trying to explain to you, if you would stop being stupid. ❞ Gradually, the defender's patience disappeared.

❝ Am I being the stupid one now? It wasn't me who neglected to stay by your side. ❞ You had a habit of acting as if you were the center of the universe. ❝ Don't waste my time anymore, please. ❞

The feeling that you are worthless to no one is scary. And that's what Ellie felt.

❝ Right. ❞ She murmured, clearly holding back tears. Ellie's voice was a completely broken tightrope, struggling between not crying and not screaming.

You had more words stuck in your throat, you wanted to say how stupid Carpenter was to leave you there, how stupid she was for not even talking to you. But to be honest, that was already too much.

Hearing Ellie's intonation break in half broke his heart. This just showed that sometimes, you weren't prepared at all for such rough falls.

But in this life, who is?

You turned your back on Ellie, before things got worse; before you turn it into a dead end.

Watching Ellie play for the last forty-five minutes while you were on the bench was the worst thing ever seen today.

I mean, anyone could clearly say that the Australian was not doing well in terms of her own performance.

And this created an vast discomfort within you, after all, it was obvious that you were to blame for this.

Carpenter was the type of person who didn't care about other people's comments, paying minimal attention to opinions; good or bad.

But you were an exception. You had the privilege of always being able to comment or advise something in your girlfriend's life.

Yes, exactly. You should have been careful with your words.

Your fingers drummed on own upper thigh, while the same leg shook with anxiety. You just wanted it all to end soon.

Not just because of Ellie, but you guys were winning; you were reaping what you sowed.

You wanted to hear the last whistle and run in front of that field and finally be able to celebrate advancing to the finals.

And said and done, it happened. Three whistles were enough for you to leave the bench and run to the first teammate you saw.

Hugs, celebrations and pure self-resilience. Your mind acted like a switch, going from overwhelming worry and anxiety to the greatest euphoric feeling of your life.

Within moments, the muffled sound of joyful shouts and Earps tirelessly repeating words of victory near you were your joyful moments.

But your life was a faulty switch, the nonsense comes back at you like a rubber band pulled against your own skin, without control.

Obviously, your eyes are like a machine configured only to focus on the one piece of your life.

Even if you had won, you still lost.

You know when people say they hate seeing the love of their life sad? That's exactly what happened.

One of the scariest moments of your life was looking in detail at Ellie's tired and destroyed face.

You were terrible, you were bad. How many times have you made Carpenter's heart a wreck that keeps pounding for you?

You swallowed hard before abandoning your team and stepping firmly onto the greenish ground, heading towards her.

Ellie had taken off her headband before sitting on the grass, near the goal area.

It's kind of funny that you have the courage to go to her after everything.

The Australian was sitting with her back to the crowd, facing your direction, looking at the ground. It's even surprising that she didn't notice you getting close.

❝ Hey. ❞ You said awkwardly, standing in front of Carpenter.

She did not answer. In fact, she didn't even look at you.

And that hurts a lot. You tried again, but now sitting next to her.

You stayed quiet, not even looking at her. The silence at that time remained, the only thing that passed by were the screams of the crowd.

❝ You should be with them. ❞ It was Ellie's first sentence after minutes of crushing silence.

❝ I can celebrate a victory several times. Staying with you is unique. ❞

The defender slowly turned her face towards you, with a beautiful but lying smile. ❝ I'm sorry. ❞

❝ Don't apologize. ❞ You muttered. ❝ I went excessive angry with you. ❞

❝ I should have stayed with you when I did that. ❞ Ellie whispered. ❝ But I was scared. I didn't want to see what I did to you. ❞

You didn't answered back, but kept cutting the few grasses of the stadium with your fingers. Carpenter stared at you, as if you were a child playing in the playground.

❝ You are under no obligation to do anything. ❞ You said.

❝ Yes, I do. You love me, and it's the least I can do for it. ❞

You laughed while holding back your laughter. It wasn't funny, but you weren't expecting it.

❝ To be honest, I was very sad to see you like this. ❞

Ellie smiled a very naive smile, as if she was slowly forgetting the things that had happened. She brought her body closer to you, so she could lay her head on your shoulder.

❝ I thought you said you didn't like being with me like this, in public. ❞ You joked.

❝ Oh, shut up. ❞ She crossed one of her arms around yours. ❝ I hope next time you keep your mouth shut for the entire ninety minutes. ❞

❝ Okay, from now on. ❞ You gestured as if you were closing your lips.

❝ No! ❞ Carpenter laughed as he lightly pushed his body. ❝ Not now! Currently, I just want to hear your voice and be by your side. ❞

Despite everything, it's very funny and incredible how easily you made Ellie forget the defeat a few minutes ago, and how she made you forget all your problems.

She was the type of person that when you meet, you two just fit. You feel as good as if you've known her your whole life, and you don't need to hide anything.

You took a strong, calm breath, as if you had finally overcome the pain.

❝ I was thinking about you the entire second half. ❞ It's actually interesting, for the simple fact that Ellie always told you to be professional and not mix sports and dating.

❝ I know you. ❞ You said before letting out a giggle. ❝ And you could tell, since I didn't take my eyes off you. ❞

❝ Yuck! You seem like a dramatic romantic. ❞ Deep down, the Australian love it.

You slowly wrapped one of your arms around Ellie's body, so you could comfortably place a peck on her temple. ❝ Maybe. ❞

❝ Stop being an idiot. ❞ She joked.

❝ Only if you promise not to be sad with me anymore. ❞ You raised your right pinky.

Ellie smiled a beautiful smile, the kind that warms your soul; She closed his pinky with hers.

❝ I promise. ❞

[fatuismooches]

Whenever i re-read some of ur recent Capitano fic, i keep having these mental images of him having this bad tendency of always following and staring at reader whenever they went somewhere by themself (like shopping, go to salon or park, etc., just having some "Me Time" In general) or just doing something (like gardening, knitting, etc.) 💀. So there's always this strong feeling of being watched and followed 💀. When they turn around to look, its already gone. But when they continue doing their business, that same feeling came back again 😭

(I just love how in the AQ, when Citlali about to interrupt Capitano, Traveler and Ororon secret meeting, Capitano just immediately disappear without a sound 😩 gosh why he is so cool- 😭)

-🥝

PLS!!! It's just really sad thinking about everyone he lost so now he constantly feels the urge to protect you whenever he can, because he's scared of losing you too 😣 I think eventually one day reader goes out with a soldier and they're like... do ya know the Harbinger is following us 😨??? And so reader finally understands why they feel like they're being followed... 💀 So now, instead of him following (unintentionally) creepily behind, reader makes him stand next to them while they go out!! Problem semi solved because now everyone gives you wide eyed looks but thankfully Capitanos' quite well liked in town!!

I also loved that scene too, bc i was like HOW.... but also sad, because i wanted to listen to him talk more 😔

[arias-archive]

hey girl heyy 🎧

could you possibly write a xander x max fic?there such a lack of content for them here ahh 😭

thank you!!!💜

a/n: hey darling! YES OFC. it’s criminal how little fics there are tbh. I hope u like this!

warnings: none :)

description: xander decided he’s had enough of the distance. and with the storm forcing them to stay indoors, what better way to spend time together?

tig masterlist | masterlist

stormy sleepovers (a xandermax fic)

“Come on, Xander. You’re much stronger than this.”

“Really? That’s what we are doing now?” I’m a man so I need to be strong? How sexist.”

That earned him a swift smack to the back of his head. He sighed, blinking back painful tears as he looked down at the decimated onion he was skilfully trying to dice.

He picked up the knife again with a grimace and managed to cut a tiny bit more before collapsing onto the floor, scrubbing his eyes furiously. “This is torture,” he groaned, throwing a hand over his face dramatically.

He heard the soft tread of Max’s bare feet against the floor. She stops right next to him and kneels down. “Dinner won’t cook itself, and I am starving” she stated with an eye roll and her boyfriend’s antics, trying to pry his hand off his face.

“Get up, you dramatic bastion,” Max huffed, glaring at him sprawled across her dorm’s kitchen floor. Xander had promised to make Max dinner after she refused to play another board game with him until she had something edible in her system.

With exam season quickly approaching, Max was stressed. Like very stressed. And Xander had heard enough of Max’s endless voice messages of how stressed she was. He figured long-distance gifts wouldn’t cover it this time so he flew himself over instead, surprising her at her dorm.

Xander wanted to take Max out of her dorm for a bit, go outside and do something but the storm was so awful, they had to rain-check. So now the two were meant to be spending some romantic time cooking together, but turns out the onion got the best of Xander.

The lanky boy still wouldn’t budge, furiously rubbing his watery eyes, so Max knelt a bit closer, rapidly poking at his sides. Hungry Max was not a Max to be messed with.

Xander let out an ear piercing shriek, jumping away from her tickling fingers and hitting his head off a counter. Max retracted her hands and covered her ears, cackling she seen his head connect with the kitchen counter. “Holy ships!” she choked out, barely able to get her words out past her giggles. “Not even my voice can go that high!”

Xander pushed himself up off the dirty floor, onto his knees, scowling when he seen her laughter. “You’re being mean,” he pouts, his scowling lips reluctantly twitching in amusement.

Max was full blown belly laughing, clutching her stomach as giddy peals rung out of her. He didn’t even realise when he started laughing too, only that she looked so carefree with her head thrown back, tears slipping out from the corners.

He resisted the urge to puff out his chest like a douchebag, but that feeling felt pretty great. He caused that.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she snorted, wiping the corners of her eyes and pushing herself back onto her feet and leaning against the countertop. “Hurry up and finish dinner before I’m forced to eat you.” She said the words in a teasing tone, but Xander knew she wasn’t kidding.

He raised a brow, returning to the pitiful excuse of the chopped onions, adding them to the poorer excuse of pasta he was attempting to make.

“I would be quite delicious,” he confirmed, stirring the onions into the pot while looking at his girlfriend. In response to his question, she bit his shoulder. He shrieked again, jumping back, which sent her into another round of laughter.

“You asked for it, dude,” she shrugged, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

~~~~~~~~~~

He burned the pasta. Quite badly, actually.

He got distracted by tackling Max to the ground, tickling her until she apologised. So he forgot all about the pasta that was still cooking on the stove. It wasn’t until he smelt burning that they both jumped up and rushed to turn the stove off, only to be met with a blackened pot.

Max had just about used up every fake expletive in her vocabulary by the time the delivery driver notified her that her order was here. So she sent Xander all the way down the stairs, outside in the pouring rain, to get the food.

Xander Hawthorne had sprinted to get that food, thanking the driver profusely before sprinting back into the building, shaking the droplets off him.

Once he made it up the stairs, he opened the door breathlessly to Max’s face. She snatched the bags of food off him, ripping it open in her haste.

He would’ve laughed and made a teasing comment if he knew she was a hangry monster when left unfed. So he sheepishly sat down next to her, digging into his own food as well.

It only took about eleven bites, and five sips of the soda for happy Max to return.

They kept up steady chatter throughout dinner about all things nerdy. Ranging from Xander’s new inventions with Isaiah to Max’s new bookish obsessions.

Instead of tidying the rubbish and plates away, they just left them on the countertops for later. Max claimed it was a ‘tomorrow problem’ and Xander wholeheartedly agreed.

They shifted themselves into Max’s bedroom now, Xander lying on her bed, a laptop propped open in front of him. Max went to go get changed into her matching Star Wars pyjama set that Xander had bought her when he claimed they needed to be connected through clothes.

She casually strode out the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, but Xander swore his eyes had been blessed.

“Are you ready,” Xander intoned in his most serious announcers voice, “For a super Star Wars movie marathon?”

Max actually squealed, diving onto the bed beside him. Unfortunately, her co-ordination wasn’t stellar and her elbow smushed his poor nose.

“Ouch,” he mumbled from under her, pouting sadly. Max rolled her eyes, sitting up and pressing a small kiss to the tip of his nose. Xander grinned and put his pout away, pressing play on the movie.

The storm was raging outside wildly, pattering wildly against the windowpane, but the two hardly noticed it, engrossed in their movie. About halfway through the second movie, Max could hear a soft snoring sound over the dialogue. She turned her head and snorted at the sight of Xander, open-mouthed, fast asleep.

She paused the movie, placing the laptop on the floor and shifting her position so he could be comfier. Quite impossible with how tiny the bed was and how tall he was but he seemed content in using Max as a pillow.

She pressed a soft kiss onto his lips and stroked his short curls, the rain lulling her to sleep as well. Maybe they would manage a whole movie marathon one day.

[abiiors]

feeling very much not body positive about myself and need a nice strong man (named ross) to comfort me 😭

i'm so sorry you're struggling a lil with your body rn :( i hope your day's a bit better today <3

cw: mentions of body insecurities, suggestive but no actual smut

it first happens when you're supposed to go out for the evening--nothing fancy, just trying out a little food truck that caught his eye last week. it's as casual as it can get, and yet here you are, trying on outfits after outfits, trying to find the perfect combination. trying to nail the line between cute and casual.

except nothing fits!

the top you loved two weeks ago now makes your tits look saggy. the jeans you've always adored fits your butt weird. the skirt makes your thighs look huge. outfit after outfit that you toss away makes the pile of the bed grow bigger and yet nothing. looks. good.

and short of wishing for the giant pile of clothes to swallow you whole, there's not much you can think of right now.

until ross opens the bedroom door.

his eyebrows fly up into his hairline, his mouth parts and his face turns from confused to aghast. "you aren't ready yet?! babe! i'm fucking starving, i thought you'd be down fifteen minutes ago!"

he doesn't mean to sound so sharp, of course he doesn't but the tone of his voice makes matters worse. now on top of feeling ugly, you also feel useless. scolded like a child by your own boyfriend for being late. sudden tears sting your eyes, your throat feels tight and you turn away from him.

it's not that serious for fucks sake! of course he's right to be annoyed, he's probably been waiting for a while. but in the mirror you see his face turn back to confusion and then concern.

"love, you alright?"

"mm-hmm" it's sounds pathetically small coming from you as you try to swallow the tears and find a fucking thing to wear. anything would do at this point.

"hey, look at me," he says again, much gentler this time and that somehow makes it worse. you do the exact opposite though, trying to hide your face so he won't see the tears that are about to fall.

you pick up the white t-shirt from the floor, resisting the urge to sniffle or wipe your cheeks.

it's not that serious.

it's a fucking food truck.

"sorry, was just trying to find this t-shirt!" you try to keep your voice as bright as possible and cringe when it comes out mechanical and fake. it shouldn't be such a surprise really, everything's been wrong today--your clothes, your hair, your smile. fuck. your entire body is wrong.

that should be the only explanation.

there's some movement behind you and you feel his hand on your hip, the same hip you were busy frowning at in the mirror only minutes before--scrutinising the extra flesh, glowering at the not-quite-flat stomach. his touch makes you flinch, not because it's unwelcome. far from that actually. it's so he won't be able to feel your body the way you see it--out of shape and ugly.

ross staggers, utterly baffled. his mouth hangs open, like he's about to say something but can't quite get the words out. it's not what you wanted--to make him feel like he's done something wrong.

"sorry, sorry!" you mumble quickly, trying to navigate around the clothes on the floor. "sorry, i didn't mean-- i didn't--"

"baby," he says calmly, and god his eyes are so fucking kind that it snaps the last tether on your emotions. you can't help the tears welling up anymore, the quiver of your chin or your trembling lips. ross' face falls and your feel worse for it.

ross's expression softens as he takes a step closer, concern etched across his features. he wraps his arms around you gently, pulling you into a warm embrace. the tears you tried so hard to hold back now stream down your face, and you bury your head into his chest.

"hey, hey," he murmurs soothingly, rubbing your back in slow circles. "what's going on, love? you can tell me."

you sniffle, trying to compose yourself. "it's just... nothing fits right, and i feel so... i don't know, out of place, wrong, ugly--"

"stop." his voice is firm but gentle and his mouth is pressed in a thin line. "i wish you could see what i saw...

"i love you so much, sweet girl. i love your body and your face and your personality. i love your hips, i love grabbing them when you're on top of me. i love how you make me feel." you blush at his words remembering the number of times his hands have been on your hips, tightly gripping them, helping you move.

"i love your thighs and how they feel around me, i love kissing them and biting them and i love the sounds you make. and don't even get me started on your tits--"

"ross," you slap him lightly, giggling through the tears. it makes him smile too--his real gorgeous smile that shows his dimples and makes his eyes crinkle. the smile that makes you smile and swoon.

"no no, let me continue," he smiles cheekily, slapping your ass which makes you squeal.

"you're going to make me cry more!" you whisper, voice watery but there's a smile on your face now and that's all that matters to him.

"kiss?" he asks sweetly, leaning down and oh you need it so much more than you'd realised because you crash your lips against him instantly, holding on to him as he kisses you sweetly--long and sweet and languid. his arm is firm around you, holding you flush to his chest and you can practically feel his smile through the kiss. it's all-consuming, like nothing else matters when he's kissing you.

until his stomach growls out of nowhere and you pull away, giggling at him.

"fuck, i'm so sorry, love. we should just go, you're hungry."

ross clicks his tongue, pulling you into a hug. "let's just stay home and order pizza. i feel a bit lazy now anyway."

you consider it--the thought of getting dressed and going out right now feels astronomical anyway but he's been looking forward to this for so long. he's been--

"don't overthink it," he scolds gently. not that it should come as a surprise really that he knows you well enough to know every thought inside your mind.

"fine. let's stay home then," you pull back and smile at him. it's not exactly how you thought the evening would go but hey, it's not like you're complaining about it.

[rengoku-loves-you]

Would you ever perhaps do Kyojuro with a reader S/O that is physically a lot bigger than him? Just a lot taller and wider and physically very strong? I love the idea of their hugs making him feel safe and protected, and also flustered Kyo from being totally scooped up so effortlessly. I feel like not a lot of people in the world could make him feel that way but he deserves it, given how hard he protects everyone else all the time. Thank you if so and if not no worries!

(my first one in awhile, so sorry it took so long dear 😭 i hope this is good enough!! i'm still shaking off the writer's rust, so my apologies if it isn't quite the peak of quality! <3)

rengoku x reader (in which reader is much, much bigger than him)

all his life, ever since his mother died, rengoku has been the bigger person. the protector. the one to hold senjurou when he cried and carry him when he fell, clean up after his father's mess, protect the innocents who knew nothing of the world from the wicked demons. he'd accepted his position with grace and a smile, just like his mother taught him. because he was strong, and he was good, and he could handle it. he was expected to handle it.

now, he's found someone bigger.

and it's strange.

he didn't think much of your physical appearance at first. he knew himejima, and you were around the same height... probably. he never saw you two next to each other long enough to compare. he only knew he had to tilt his head back about the same to look at your face. which hurt his neck, so more often than not he didn't bother and stared straight forward at your chest instead.

he wasn't really sure why you laughed when he did, but you didn't demand that he look at you properly, so he didn't mind. he laughed along before continuing whatever conversation you'd been having, and that was the end of it.

until you started visiting the rengoku estate to train together. and then went on to stay for dinner. and then kept going from there.

shifting from allies to friends to dating seemed so natural that he hadn't even questioned it. he cared for you, and you cared for him, so it made sense! he just... didn't expect dating to be so physically different from friends. and now he's constantly reminded of just how small he is compared to you.

the first true realization is during one of your training sessions together, just after the first time you manage to knock him flat on his back. after the initial surprise, you give a loud bark of laughter as you drop your shinai to the ground, seemingly in disbelief. he laughs as well, delighted by your very first victory over him.

"bravo!" he booms, clapping his hands together and beaming at you. "i knew it was only a matter of time before you bested me! our training together truly is paying off!" you smile proudly back at him.

"thank you! i learned from the best," you say. before he can get up, you take two long strides toward him, bending down to hold out your hand.

and that's when he pauses. standing where you are, your tall frame manages to completely block out the sun, rendering him entirely within your shadow as light surrounds you like a halo. head tilted back to gaze up at you from the ground, something in his brain clicks.

"oh," he says, "you're very tall." you blink. and then you chuckle again, though your expression shows confusion.

"thank you? it ran in the family." you curl your fingers, silently urging him to take your hand, and he does. you pull him to his feet with ease. your shadow still engulfs him, and he takes a step away, back into the sun. "did it take you this long to notice?"

"of course not!" he stares at a button on your uniform as you dust off his shoulders. his face is tinged pink. "i just haven't quite... understood until now, i suppose." you hum, giving his clothes one last brush.

"it's pretty easy to understand. i'm big," you pat your chest, "and you're little." you put your hand on his head, giving his hair a teasing ruffle.

"ah!" he says, ducking away from you and shielding himself with both hands. "no, no, i'm afraid you have it wrong! you're merely..." he takes a hand from his head to wave it in your general direction, and you grin wider when words seem to fail him, "...large."

you tease him for a bit longer before he distracts you with continuing the training session. though the conversation ends, the thought lingers, and he finds himself making comparisons whenever you're near. studying how the training swords seem like baby toys in your hands. how the uniform is that much tighter around your arms and chest and thighs. teacups and utensils almost laughably tiny as you handle them with delicate care.

how he fits perfectly under your arm when he sits beside you. the way his hand disappears when you hold it just as delicately as the teacups despite both of your scars and blisters. the way your arms wrap around him so completely and make him feel very small and safe and whatever the positive version of claustrophobic is.

and then you pick him up.

he doesn't expect it. he's meditating outside, regulating his breathing, when you sneak up on him. but not really, because he can hear your near-silent footsteps stop in front of him. he was going to let you have your fun trying and failing to startle him, but you don't fail.

you succeed so well, in fact, that when he feels hands under his arms lifting him from the ground, his eyes fly open and his leg swings up and nearly nails you in the jaw.

"whoa, kyo, hey! it's just me!" you sound half amused, half alarmed as you hold him at arm's length. he freezes, and then he stares with wide, wide eyes as you give a hesitant laugh. "yeah... probably not a good idea to sneak up on a slayer. sorry." his lips part, preparing to speak, but nothing comes out. he doesn't know what to say.

he can't remember the last time he was held, and with so much ease. like he weighs hardly more than a newborn kitten.

your grin fades, and you lower him back to the ground, clearly taking his silence the wrong way. he grabs your wrists before you can retract your arms, closing his mouth and inhaling deeply through his nose. by the time he exhales, he's managed a smile.

"that's alright!" he says. "you merely startled me, no need to apologize! i was prepared for a shout or a touch on the shoulder, not... not that." his voice fades near the end, unintentionally. you look prepared to apologize again, so he lets go of your wrists to clasp one of your hands in both of his, bowing slightly over it. "please forgive my poor reaction! i haven't been held in such a way for a very long time and let my instincts get the better of me!"

"oh, no, that's okay." when he glances up at your expression, you seem thoughtful. "is it... fine if i hold you? i wanted to, but if you don't like it-"

"of course!" he cuts you off, loud and dare you say, eager? he squeezes your hand tighter, then lets go. "i would only request that you don't surprise me in the future, or i won't be responsible for what i might do!"

"aw," you say. "you mean i have to warn you before i do-" you stoop down, sweep one arm under his knees, catch him around the shoulders before he falls, and straighten up, "-this?"

"hm," he says. you moved slow, giving him more than enough time to dance away or stop you. he did no such thing, and now he lies giddy and awkward against your chest, high above the ground, his cheeks as flame-touched as his hair as his smile grows wide and wild. he wrestles his arm out where it's squished between you, throwing it around the back of your neck. his other hand raises to your cheek.

"i told you. i won't be responsible for what i'll do."

he's still smiling when he leans up from your arms to kiss you.

[misc-obeyme]

So, i want to share a few smaller headcanons that i have about the OB cast!

- When Beel is in a good mood and/or happy, you can hear the faint sound of fly wings going "Buzz Buzz." Beel also rubs his hands together before eating his meals just like how Flies rub their hands together.

- One rare occasions when Belphie can't sleep, he'll count cute Mc sheeps to fall asleep. He also snores similar to cartoon characters like "Honk shoo mimimi." He swats away any biting bugs/flies away with his tail if they annoy him during his naps.

- Raphael has a talent for Swallowing Swords/Knives/Speers.

- Mephistopheles likes "My Little Pony," and his favourite character is Rarity. He and Leviathan talk about MLP all the time. Mephistopheles has a strong kick, similar to how strong horses can kick someone.

- Thirteen likes calavera makeup, and every year, she dresses up as La Calavera Catrina to celebrate the "Day of the Dead" also called "Día de Muertos" ((Day of the Dead is a joyful time that helps people remember the deceased and celebrate their memory.))

- Solomon likes to watch his descendants fondly from afar even if he can't be part of their lives.

- Mc dressed up as a giant pickle once and scared Diavolo half to death (not really, but he was definitely spooked)

- After the brothers were cast out from the Celestial Realm, God created Jesus, making him the 8th brother.

- Every year around Christmas time, Satan accidentally receives "letters to Santa" from young children with dyslexia confusing the words "Santa" and "Satan," so Satan writes back letters to the children pretending to be Santa. (I wonder if Santa Claus exists in the OB universe?!). Satan, after coming to terms with his existence and his place in Devildom alongside his brothers, wanted to share his ideology and wisdom with humans. So he created a new religion that encourages hedonistic urges and desires but emphasizes heavily on keeping to yourself and not bothering or offending anyone else as you act on those desires. He called that religion "Satanism", unfortunately, humans misunderstood and painted him as evil and spreading rumours that is Satanism all about sacrificing Animals/children/virgins for selfish gain which pissed Satan off.

- Barbatos likes to be in control and puts everyone's needs before his own. He's always there for others, but he won't let anyone easily reciprocate. Because of his greed, he's afraid to lose himself in his passions/desires, so he keeps all his feelings bottled up. He fears his selfishness, consuming him whole and losing himself to the darkness. That being said, Barbatos once said, "I don't want to give myself completely to the darkness, and i won't as long as you're with me" to Mc. Basically, Mc is the "light" to his "darkness," and he would do anything in order to protect his light. There's a quote that i really like that fits perfectly. It goes like this; "Love is not blind. It sees you in the dark and chooses to be your light."

Anyway, that's it. This low-key got a little bit loooong, Ooooops.

-Angsty Anon.

That's it, I'm counting cute sheep MCs to help me sleep from now on. Please, that sounds so adorable 😭

Also excuse you with the Solomon one! Like my man isn't lonely enough, now he's watching his descendants from afar?? He would, too. :(

JESUS IS THE 8TH BROTHER aklj;sdfkljdskjlf what would have happened if God had made him at the same time as everybody else!??!?!

Poor misunderstood Satan! I'd be pretty pissed too if a bunch of idiot humans decided to make me evil and sacrifice babies in my name.

Ahh, Barbatos my true love. He's definitely got something about himself that he feels he needs to control to the point where he almost never lets go... one day maybe we'll learn about that mystery of his that he keeps so well hidden...

I quite liked all of these, thank you for sharing!

[gaym0m]

So I FUCKEN hate spiders. Like I’ll set myself in fire before dealing with one. That being said, here’s what I think Ellie, Deadite!Ellie, and Beth would do for their s/o who’s afraid of spiders cause there’s one in the corner of my room and I know it’s waiting for me to sleep which now I can’t. 

Warning: some cuss words. Spiders. Deadite Ellie attempting to eat the spider. Pre established relationships even with Deadite Ellie, to where they definitely kiss here and there. Uhh I dunno what else to be honest, lemme know if you find something I should tag, I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible but I’m too gay so sorry if there’s anything I missed 😭

Ellie:

Personally, I always Yelp/make a loud noise. Not really scream but like a wtf if wtf was a noise not a phrase so let’s say Ellie’s s/o did that.

Quickly she’d probably make her way into the room, not quite worried but definitely curious as to what that noise was.

Locking eyes on her s/o, who (if they are anything like me) would be standing in the opposite corner to the spider. Eyes wide open, non blinking and just staring daggers into the eight legged monster on the corner of the room.

One perfect eyebrow raised, Ellie would probably look up to try to see what’s so glare worthy however she didn’t have her glasses so she couldn’t see it too well.

Slowly she took a step towards the corner with the spider only for her s/o to jump and pull her back(can you tell this is super indulgent and self insert?)

“Nonononono! There’s a monster!” Of course whisper yell because what if the monster can understand them.

Cue the silent and confused staring from Ellie.

“Spider! There’s a fucken spider!” More whisper yelling, more panicked now.

Cue more silent staring, more of a ‘are you— serious?’ Now.

Followed by that tired motherly sigh.

Followed by yet another motherly (heroic if you ask me) act of Ellie (tall ass who can reach the corner of the ceiling) taking a shoe to the monster and killing it.

Immediate relief floods her s/o before she’s jumped on and kissed on every inch of her face s/o could reach.

“All that for a spider? Huh might have to kill them more.” Flustered Ellie, flustered (happy) s/o and thankfully dead spider.

Deadite!Ellie

Honestly, I’m not a pro with Deadite writing but with so many decomposing bodies and other stuff— there’s definitely spiders crawling around.

Granted, at that point s/o probably has bigger issues to deal with (like the possessed Ellie trying so hard to get her hands on them).

However every self help book states that when your life is in disarray or out of control, take into control what you can and ignore the rest.

Of course self help books are bullshit and in no way help with a possessed girlfriend and a spider/animal infested apartment building.

S/o is probably just hiding somewhere, praying Deadite!Ellie would get bored or give up or something literally anything except continue to run her nails down the wood of the door that stood between the two.

Somehow, an eight legged monster standing a few feet from s/o’s feet was more scary than the Deadite standing outside the door.

With a sudden burst of energy, s/o ran out the door as if the devil himself had cussed her out.

Deadite Ellie immediately turned to her, excitement making her dead blue eyes light up like Christmas lights.

However she realized something was wrong, normally her precious s/o would tease her for much longer than this, and as soon as they made it behind a door they would rarely (if ever) come out willingly.

Especially with Ellie still there.

Ellie stared at her s/o, the urge to pounce was so strong yet her curiosity stood stronger.

Her rotten head turned towards the bathroom, not finding a single thing wrong— at least in her head.

Then her precious made a noise, a noise that drover her crazy (as if she wasn’t crazy enough) but it also made her decomposing blood boil.

Because the noise wasn’t for her, but for a. . . a—

Growling, Ellie struggled to remember the name of her current rival.

Instead of dwelling on it, she reached for the creature. Picking it up and waving it around as if to try and tease some of the most lovely noises from her s/o.

Unfortunately her s/o was frozen, unable to move and unable to even whimper.

Growing annoyed quickly, Ellie lifted the monster towards her lips, ready to eat the disgusting creature.

“ELLIE BIXLER I SWEAR IF YOU EAT THAT ILL NEVER COME BACK—“

. . . S/o and Ellie had no idea they could scream so loudly— it actually stung the Deadlites ears.

Almost like a kicked puppy, Ellie pulled the spider from her face and stared at her s/o as if waiting for instructions.

“P-please just crush it and . . . And toss it in the trash or something just don’t eat it and keep it away from me.”

Happily Ellie did as told, probably (definitely) expecting some reward.

She may have gotten some kisses… your choice.

Beth

From the start, Beth had tried to been a total badass in-front of her s/o.

It was like she was trying to make them fall for her, not really realizing how smitten they already were for her.

It had been a random night, they had just finished a show and had returned to their hotel room.

They’re had been playfully giggles, jokes and kisses here and there as they got ready to sleep for the fun day they had planned.

However, all the happiness crashed down on s/o when they noticed a spider in the corner of the bed.

Covering their mouth as too avoid a scream too loud, s/o let out a muffed scream.

Beth immediately made her way out of the bathroom and into the room, her pocket knife in hand (talk about wanna be).

“What’s wrong?”

“Spider!”

Blink blink . . .

“What?”

“SPIDER! KILL IT.”

For a second, Beth felt her face drain of blood.

Ellie always killed the spiders for her— but independence meant killing the spiders yourself

Or in this case for her s/o

So with trembling hands, Beth took a deep breath and grabbed one of her heavy boots and with a quick movement she—

MISSED?!

THE SPIDER IS RUNNING ON THE WALL

CUE BOTH BETH AND S/O SCREAMING

“KILL IT KILL IT.”

“I CANT. IM SCARED.”

Beth has never been able to make a shrilled scream, until that exact moment.

Between all the panic, the spider got away

There wasn’t really a thought process. Both s/o and Beth just grabbed their bags and speed to the other band members room.

In the end they forced the guys to switch rooms with them and slept clinging to each-other and taking turns to check for spiders.

I hope y’all liked this, started it last night and finished it during my work break 😂 lemme know if this is good or if I should do 2nd person instead.

[ceruleanskiesss]

Fuck it, I’m rewriting this to be more canon complainant. I like it though, so I’ll just rewrite the scenes to fit the new storyline. Yall can have this unfinished bit cause I really don’t have the heart to finish it knowing imma rewrite it rn, so be left in suspense.

CW/TW: Copious angst, Bhaalspawn typical violence, hurt with a little bit of comfort but mostly hurt, slight sh ig but it’s not like, a thing, feel like I should still warn yall tho. Fic ends REALLY ABRUPTLY, IM SORRY.😭😭😭

Enjoy lmfao

Today was not a good day. Rhyse had been lightly ignoring Gortash for weeks; it wasn’t his fault, this time. You see, the two had been allied for somewhere around 3 years, quite a significant amount of time for Rhyse. Gortash was the first person that his father, the god Bhaal, had allowed him to be this close too…. well.. allowed was a strong word. Bhaal tolerated the two, or, at least, he did.

Rhyse first noticed it weeks ago, his Urges getting stronger around the tyrant, even after he’s more than satisfied his kill quota, and his nightmares were worse, more… real, almost threatening for Gortash to end up like his long gone adopted family. He suspected his father was punishing him for getting nowhere with the heist, to steal the Crown of Karsus, in weeks. (A plan the two were not so subtly elongating. The truth was, the two quite enjoyed the comfort the added time together had brought them, though, neither would openly admit it.)

He got his confirmation around a week ago, plain as day, from Bhaal himself. ‘Gortash was no longer beneficial to the cult, kill him’. Rhyse, of course, tried to refute, pleaded, their plan for ‘The Absolute’ had only just begun. He spoke of the souls it would bring his father, he hadn’t forgotten about their grand plan, he promised. It would still be him alone in the end, and then none, but until then let him live.

Bhaal would hear none of it, and frankly, Rhyse was terrified. He knew his father would have to see reason eventually, he wanted Orin, his sister, gone too, before Rhyse found a use for her. No, Rhyse was afraid that by the time his father would even hear him out, his tyrant would be long gone.

It was killing Rhyse to ignore Gortash’s letters, delivered to his windowsill by his Crow, Carrion, or even into Rhyse’s head through the sending spell, and Gortash hated using sending spells, he was clearly growing more desperate, the letter’s contents were getting more sporadic.

Rhyse knew he needed to confront the man head on, he wasn’t sure how bad his urges would be affecting him, but from previous experience… well, Rhyse didn’t like dwelling on the past. No, best to meet with Gortash now, while he is still, mostly, in his right mind.

Rhyse takes no weapons with him, but he doubted it would matter, his bare claws would be more than enough to take care of Gortash, he just hoped the tyrant had enough sense to properly defend himself. Rhyse scratches his Direwolf, Marrow, as he leaves, but he would not dare bring the beast with him. A ranger’s companion has a unique bond with the ranger's soul, it can fein death as long as the ranger is alive, but in exchange, it also gets some of the bhaalspawn’s… quirks. He knows from experience the urges affect his precious companion too, and he wasn’t willing to risk Gortash’s life over it.

Rhyse arrived at Gortash’s estate not long before noon, as he misty stepped into Gortash’s office with no sound more than a click. It took the man a moment to even notice Rhyse was there, his deeply sleep deprived eyes scanning some legal scroll, it’s only until Rhyse flicks his tail against a metal candelabra that Gortash’s eyes shoot up.

“Rhyse!” the man's voice fills with equal amounts of relief and anger, and worry. Rhyse waited to get chewed out by the man, already knowing he definitely deserved most of it. “Where in the Hells have you been!? You haven’t given me so much as a note, a ‘hey by the way I’m not fucking dead’ In weeks! The only thing I had to go off of that you were even receiving anything I was sending was your damned pigeon!” He pauses finally to take a sharp inhale, clearly running out of energy to stay upset, “And- And now you just ‘appear in my office’? Like nothing happened? I expect a damn good explanation from you.” He sighs, and laces his fingers through his obsidian black disaster of a haircut.

“Good to see you too” Rhyse basically collapses in a chair, he sees Gortash’s eyes dart across Rhyse’s body, searching for any insight on the situation.

“Where. Were. You.” Gortash snarls, his eyes narrow on the tiefling.

Rhyse pauses, he can’t exactly tell Gortash ‘Oh hey, funny story, dear old dad wants you dead’ but he can’t bring himself to lie to him, not with the two so ragged, emotions raw and strained, even though lying would be so easy, so simple. They could pretend to be normal, if only for a moment. “I- It’s… It’s complicated, okay?” Rhyse pauses, unsure of what to say. “My urges have been… inconvenient as of late. It was easier this way.”

“Easier!? Rhyse I-” Gortash sighed, and forced himself to relax in his chair, “Gods you are a nightmare sometimes. Just… Just tell me all you can, it’s not good for either of us if you’re ignoring me, so just spit it out.”

Rhyse chuckles slightly, it would be better for both of them, actually. At the very least for the tyrant, and as long as he’s safe, well, Rhyse can deal. He thinks about how to broach the subject with the man, the fragile, horrible truth, that could mean losing him forever. “I- You know how my Father is. He’s… not seeing the bigger picture, currently. But I have a- GH!” Rhyse’s blood goes hot, mind clouded with the overwhelming urge to wrap his claws around Gortash’s throat. He forces his talons to meet his forearms instead, in a futile attempt to subside the rush, to drown it out with pain of his own. “Oh hells” he muttered through gritted teeth, and bowed his head down, squeezed his eyes closed. He could wait it out, he wasn’t going to let his urges get the better of him.

He felt Gortash’s hand lightly trace his bloodstained fingertips, felt some part of himself that wasn’t quite his own growl at the touch, he fought every urge to rip his calloused fingers from his hands. “You weren’t exaggerating.” He said, tone laced with concern, and placed his hand firmly on the Bhaalspawn’s, forcing it to loosen slightly. “Who does your father want dead? It’s not- Hells is it me?”

Rhyse shrinks into himself. “Look I- nothing’s going to happen to you. I can control myself.” He bit back through the bloodlust, the worst of it fading from his mind. Rhyse eased slightly, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “I don’t know what I’m going to do” he chuckled grimly. Rhyse met Gortash’s eyes, far too calm for their current situation. It would be so much easier if Gortash hated him, feared him. Gortash was the first person he’d allowed himself to get close to since coming to the Bhaal temple, first person that was his, not his fathers. Part of himself agreed with his father, he had gotten soft, but maybe- maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.

“We.” Gortash reminded, “What are we going to do, because you are not going to ignore me like that again.” the man commanded, Rhyse wished he had that kind of confidence.

“Right, We.” He looked away, he wished so desperately the two could be we, be each other’s, but Rhyse belonged to Bhaal, and Gortash to Bane, they weren’t allowed to be any more. “We should work on that heist. It will be easier to convince him once I have concrete proof it’s possible.”

Gortash nodded. “Of course,” he got up from his chair to bring a stack of books and maps to his desk, Gortash grabbing a hefty tome detailing Mephistopilese’s layer, and Rhyse finished a chart of the journey. Neither could find a map of the archive’s insides, but they did find descriptions of hidden passageways, and traps.

Rhyse paused, and moved the map closer to Gortash “You think we could use a spell to get in through this window? Using an Interdimensional Gateway spell possibly?” He examined the map further, it should be old enough to have limited security, but from there they could find a passageway into the inner archives.

“Hm…” Gortash thought for a moment, “Maybe, but what if there’s spell detection? He is a wizard, it would be protected… wouldn’t it?”

“Hah! But that’s the thing!” Rhyse grinned, and he pulled out a tattered journal from the stack, and flipped to a sequence of stitched in notes detailing security protocols. “See here, there’s only portal detection to get into the archives, because over here-” he grabbed the man’s hand and traced it to a small clearing, nearby, separated physically, yes, but near enough that anti magic systems would be counterproductive. “Is where the Archivists mages train. Which means the radius can’t extend farther than about… here.” He uses Gortash’s finger to draw an arc, and points his free hand to a spot just outside of it, “This is where we get inside. I know, don’t thank me.” Rhyse chuckles, proud of his work.

Gortash stared at him, eyes wide “That’s- That’s what we’re missing. You’re Brilliant!”

“We’re brilliant.” He says, quoting the tyrant’s previous words. Neither could’ve gotten anywhere near this close without the other, but together, together they were unstoppable. The two continued like this, bouncing ideas back and forth, enjoying the others' company until nightfall.

“-Anyways, if we use this hidden passageway, this tome says there may be an exit leading right to- Is your tail wagging?” Gortash’s ramble stopped abruptly at the realization. Wait was it?- Gods it was, Rhyse willed his tail to stop.

“I- What are you talking about?” He lied, Gortash was never going to let him live this down, Rhyse knew it.

The man burst into cackling laughter, “Gods, it was! Are you embarrassed?” Gortash sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, not a word.” Rhyse huffed, feigning being upset, holding back his own laughter. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, no priorities, no responsibilities, no Orin, or Severok, or Bhaal-

A treacherous thought, immediately punished by a surge of bloodlust. He tried everything in his power to keep it down, keep it under control. “Dammitdammitdammitdammit Fuck!” He fell back from his chair to the cold hard stone, and pushed his back with force into the nearest wall. His vision went blurry and red, his hearing clouded by the rush of his own blood. Claws raked through his raven hair, his breathing grew unsteady, his muscles urged to gut the man open, to hold the heart in his hands and crush it, watch the blood and gore drip down. Stopitstopitstopitstopit, keep it under control, he had too.

“-yse, Rhyse! Rhyse gods damn it!” he heard the tyrant rush over to his side, wasn’t in control of himself when he felt his claws sink into the man's shoulder. “Hey, you’re alright, breathe.” But the Bhaalspawn wasn’t in control of himself. He ripped the coat from the tyrant, and immediately Rhyse saw Gortash’s eyes flash genuine fear. The Urge relished in the man's fright, but it only made Rhyse fight back harder. Rhyse heard the man’s voice waiver as he attempted to comment wittily, but couldn’t even manage that. “I-” The Urge growled and sunk Rhyse’s claws into Gortash’s neck.

Right as he was about to finish the man off, he regained control and stumbled back. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck oh Hells.” He tried to calm his own breathing, but all his immediate attention was on Gortash. Rhyse rushed forward slightly, preparing a cure wounds spell for Gortash, but stopped immediately when he saw the man flinch.

After a second, Gortash sat up and chuckled grimly, unable to meet the Bhaalspawn’s eyes. “Gods, for a moment, I thought I was really going to die.” Gortash allowed himself to be healed. Even without his coat, he was an expert at hiding his emotions, but Rhyse heard his voice elevate, the waver in his words.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Rhyse growled, mostly to himself, how could he have been so stupid, thinking he could fight his own father, his very blood. Once Gortash was healed Rhyse immediately got up to leave, but he felt a hand grab his wrist. “Gortash, let go.”

“You don’t plan on returning, do you? Is this really it? Our plan, everything we’ve built towards, is this really where you want it to end” The tyrant nearly pleaded, it’s unbecoming of a Chosen of Bane. His hidden words, his broken eyes, ask a different question, Is this where we end? Like they ever ‘began’ in the first place, but it nearly made Rhyse break. How could he still care about him? Rhyse nearly killed him.

“Let. Go.” Rhyse snarled. Let go of him, his memory, move on, it will hurt less. Rather cut their losses now, than watch the dagger twist through his ribcage, tears pouring down as the tyrant’s heart stops.

“When do you plan on returning? Because you will return.” He grips the Tieflings wrist tighter, Rhyse could rip that pretty hand off his wrist with no more than a well placed yank.

“Let go. I will not warn you again.” He tugs his arm, but makes no real effort to break free.

Oops, there’s the end :/ I have beef with tumblr for fucking up all my formatting but I’m on mobile so I can’t do anything about it.

[bouquetshark]

Maybe some regressor!Dark Choco cookie with caregiver! Coco Cookie (maybe some romantic to if that's okay??? If not you could just make dark coco sick or something idk 😶 im so nervous 😭)

-🐚

Regressor!Dark Choco Headcanons

As a general baseline, Dark Choco Cookie is still a reserved and watchful person - and due to his time at the Cookies Of Darkness, despite his own self redemption, doesn't have the best self esteem. But despite that: Dark Choco is a polite, albeit shy character. He never understood Cocoa's kindness towards him—and he still doesn't. He relates to the desire to help other's very, very much. And even envies her, in a way. Regardless, he loves Cocoa Cookie with all of his heart. In, and out of regression.

_________________________________________

[Dark Choco Cookie is heavily implied to have depression and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) due to his past experiences, and as such I'll be writing him in a context of healing and rediscovery. Dark Choco is also a teen regressor.]

• Regresses/Age Dream's from 13-14, doesn't fluctuate much regardless of mood or health. Overall very rigid. He found out about age regression/dreaming via some close friends and Cocoa Cookie. His regression is mostly a secret, and sometimes he forgets he's regressing due to the overall mystery surrounding it.

• When regressed, Dark Choco is usually a relaxed homebody —but will run errands if there really needed. Despite Cocoa Cookie's cheerful and inviting demeanor, if Dark Choco is home alone, he will not open the door for anyone but Cocoa. This is mainly due to how he was raised, seeing he grew up in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and danger lurked around every corner with the snow forest's unpredictability. He's also just shy.

• Currently, he lives with his girlfriend, Cocoa Cookie and helps around the house; making sure everything stays in order. Including every single one of her matching cup's and dinerware. Dark Choco doesn't really understand the appeal—but he tries anyway. He tries to be a good boyfriend to make up for his past misdeeds.

• Despite Dark Chocos independence, Cocoa Cookie is still his caregiver, which usually just involves her doting on him for no reason whatsoever. (And squeezing his cheek's). She helps him calm down after PTSD episodes and self-care. Particularly with his hair, since he struggles with that due to past trauma and association's with his father. She helps him brush it out since it's emotionally very hard for Dark Choco to do. He's very thankful for her help.

• Likes to bake in his spare time, frequently making sweet treats for Cocoa Cookie! She doesn't know this, but Dark Choco does eat some in secret despite saying that he doesn't like sweet's.

• Cocoa Cookie got him one of those really ugly teddy bears for his birthday on accident, he loves it and sleep's with it every night.

• Primarily just calls Cocoa Cookie by her name, or “dear”.

Caregiver!Cocoa Cookie Headcanons

As a general baseline, Cocoa Cookie is a compassionate and patient caregiver, always giving assistance to other's in need no matter what. Despite her obsession with cocoa, sheh as a kind heart—and this doesn't end for the once feared, hated, dark warrior of The Cookie's of Darkness; Dark Choco Cookie. Though he question's her love on a near daily basis, Cocoa is always showing him just how much she loves him. <3

• Despite how petite Cocoa Cookie is —she's relatively strong, being able to sling Dark Choco over her shoulder! Dark Choco also taught her how to do a roundhouse kick.

• Makes hot cocoa for Dark Choco Cookie—she was the reason he got back into eating sweet's, though he doesn't eat them often; he does have to resist the urge to munch on her marshmallow hat..

• Cocoa Cookie likes to do adult coloring books with Dark Choco, much to his chagrin. That's mainly because he's not very good at staying in the lines—he's better with sword's than artiste subjects.

• Now, Dark Choco is quite the homebody, so much to the point that it border's on self-isolation. Obviously, Cocoa Cookie simply can't have this! So she'll take Dark Choco on outings and date's to places she knows he'll like— such as the museum, Mint Cookie's concert's, small restaurants, or walking to the park and people watching (or...Cookie watching!)

• Believe it or not, Dark Choco is also a very good classical dancer (think ball's, waltzes and serenades for reference); Cocoa was surprised to find that out, given that he's more of a warrior than a dancer.

• Dark Choco doesn't really have a lot of personal belongings due to the beliefs of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, so Cocoa will gift him presents —much to Dark Chocos chagrined enjoyment. Cocoa always knows how to make Dark Choco smile after a long day at work or when it's been hard - he just can't get himself to stay mad at such a joyful Cookie.

• Call's Dark Choco "sweetheart", "baby", "baby boy", and sometimes "princess". Rarely call's him by his name unless it's an urgent affair.

[remcycl333]

how to stop feeling like im not doing enough/im lazy while transitioning from affirming 24/7 to being in the state of its done?

i decided in my head that i have my desires but i have a strong urge to affirm as much as i can cause im used to doing that

i totally get that! i quit affirming cold turkey and it was really hard at first, because i had spent literally a year+ affirming 24/7. it was to the point where my mind would autopilot affirm 😭 like if i had one spare second to think, i'd automatically start looping affs and it bugged me sm when i was trying to stop. what really helped me was to just distract myself. i'd listen to music 24/7 and sing along (either out loud or in my head), read, watch shows and try to really pay attention, etc.

i feel like one of the reasons so many people become obsessed with affirming is because it feels like you're doing something to manifest your desires. people don't believe that they can just manifest things out of thin air with virtually no effort, so they like that affirming all day long takes effort. obviously you can hear 1000 times that you don't need to do anything to manifest, but you prob won't believe it until you see it. whenever you think about how you need to put in effort to get your desire, just say to yourself "what am i talking about? i already have my desire why would i need to work to get something i already have?" and just redirect your attention elsewhere 🫶 the more u do this the less and less the thought will come up!

[doukeshi-kun]

one reason i disabled comment on my writing blog is because—i know what contents i'll post and what fandom i'm gonna appear in. i know the risk already (god i have seen enough for the past two years) so i got rid of the source: comment.

also, back in the day (grandma's voice), i rarely get comments/feedbacks on my old blog during a certain period of time. so i was a bit petty and i'm like "yuh if no one's gonna comment, nobody gets to comment forever😤"

will i ever open comment in the writing blog? no. i won't. although it seems very unlikely that people gonna come at me for things... because i'm mostly in my nikolai corner, i don't wanna risk it.

also, i used to get a lot of "part 2?? next part??" type of comments—which, i totally understand the eagerness. but i no longer take requests, so those comments are categorised as requests for me. and as i said before, all of my fics are planned to be one-shot/standalone. so there's definitely no part 2 in planning unless stated.

speaking of requests, i still get some asks about it. and yes, i have to ignore it because i'm simply not doing it😭 i'm really sorry tho. i'm quite done taking requests lmao it's not like i do a lot back in my old blog. i get burnt out easily so yeh :( this is also why i hesitate a lot to start commission bcs my ass can't handle having a paid job. i am supposed to be a bean in the soil, waiting for myself to grow into a tree and bring down the giants from the sky.

though, i do heavily encourage you people to contribute your ideas or requests to other accepting writers. there are a lot of new writing blogs that write for bsd these days and guess what, a lot of them also accepting requests. just make sure to read and follow their rules before you send an ask. also, if their works aren't your cup of tea, just scroll away and move on alright. let's practice don't like don't read as our basic etiquette.

also why do i feel the strong urge to accept only request for alt gabriel x reader??? istg when i see a man with long hair, i start acting like a damn dog awooooooga