#won at what you may ask

[mermaidsirennikita]

I'm gonna need people to stop blaming BookTok for the election because of one dumbass outlier's frankly insane comparison of Donald Trump to "morally gray" dark romance heroes (because I'm gonna be honest, anyone seriously comparing any presidential candidate to a romance novel character is just... operating on a very specific level)

and start looking at the rightward swing of Gen Z, the same generation that has a puritanical fascination with censorship and fear of the depiction of sex

(and let's be honest, probably a fear of sex in general)

[souenkun]

Been thinking for sometime after spending my days mostly resting in bed and reading fics, but... the swsh fandom really does have one of the best ao3 writers for me :o

[greenstudies]

The day I realised I talk to bugs I meet in the same way I talk to puppies was the day I won

[mitamicah]

Meow there :3😸

How you doing? :3

Hey hi hello ^V^

I am alright ^V^ Haven't been as active this weekend since I've been out socialising (there were a karaoke event on friday and if there's something to note about me is that I can be sort of addicted to open mic and karaoke events x'D; yesterday there were an up-and coming drag contest with queer party afterwards and I got curious xD)

For this reason I've been very much a cat this weekend meaning I've been going to bed late (2 AM and 4 AM) then slept in (sorta; I woke up at 7.30 to put on my hrt then when it dried went to bed again till 11.30 one day and 12.30 the other).

In short I am good but a bit tried xD

How are you :3?

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I think if kokichi’s talent was entomology (and the story of v3 was different due to swapped talents) my opinion on him would’ve skyrocketed

[van-goghs-smoking-skull]

its not about kink you fucking moron

So you honestly believe someone is going to give his slave [someone made to work against their will and considered to be the slave-owner's personal property, which is a horrible thing and should ALWAYS be illegal as a violation of basic human rights] an engraved golden collar worth more than any other Roman citizen, even the richest ones, could hope to add to their own wealth in a year? And that they would never possibly give such a valuable piece of jewelry, essentially, to their Slave [willing participant in certain adult activities, which is the business of consenting adults in their own private places and sometimes parties or shows for that sort of thing and should not ever be illegal, as the government should not be in the business of dictating anyone's consent in those activities]?

Let me guess, kink hadn't been invented yet back then, which I'm sure somehow explains some of the rather kinky historical art from that time. Have you considered that there may be cultural differences between, say, plantation owners using slaves to pick cotton in the US/POC arrested and imprisoned under some absolutely clown-ass laws and worked for free under the US prison system vs. the system in ancient Rome in which entertainment in the arena were frequently done by slaves, in fact MOSTLY by slaves, who had signed up for that work? See, it simply meant someone who wasn't getting paid directly in coin, however, training and fame were payment options. Back under that system, if you wanted to gain fame and other perks in the arena, you could sign up as a slave to one of the richer citizens of Rome in exchange for training under other famous Gladiators. And it was even common enough for the highest earning Gladiators who had won enough fights to be presented with a wooden sword by their master, symbolizing freedom, and they could choose to retire or keep fighting as a free man, either as a trainer for their former master, for another slave-owner, or on their own if they could afford the villa, equipment, food, services and entry as an owner of Gladiators. Generally, you wouldn't call gym membership, training, and a chance to become a world-famous wrestler slavery today, but it's much the same thing now, minus the guaranteed food, shelter, medical care, and other perks they used to get as slaves.

The Greeks were popular slaves back then, too, as they were considered to be very highly educated and quite good at accounting, speech writing, and excellent at political science. As slaves, they were given rooms in the family home, food, fine clothing, and other perks, including the ability to discuss politics with their master, if perhaps their master happened to be in the Senate, similar to unpaid interns and activists in Washington, DC, only now they don't live with politicians or get gifts for their work (instead the politicians get gifts, usually referred to as bribes by people outside of politics). Imagine the looks you'd get if you claimed Obama started off as a slave on his path to becoming President, and yet he was an activist at one time, and as an activist, worked for others, sometime voluntarily (unpaid).

Sex work was also done by slaves, and if a rich guy who could afford it found a woman or man particularly interesting and they were willing, he could very well buy their contract out and add them to the household. Slavery meant different things in different cultures and has changed in meaning over time.

Maybe go study World History using credible sources and stop getting all your information from booktok.

[cookinguptales]

my job may be very stressful in some ways, but it does allow me to sit at home in my jammies and watch the price is right while I eat lunch

so. you know, there's that.

[pezpenser205]

lucky for me, an attention addicted trans person in the south who also hates commitment, the only thing people in texas enjoy more than picking on and wishing death upon trans people is sexualizing and fucking them before pretending they never met them.

for a normal person this would be nightmarish, however, because i see humans as worthless and vain creatures with no psychological ability to engage with me beyond surface level sex stuff and socialization and parallel play i only benefit from this situation.

if you never expect loyalty or genuine, deep rooted connection then you can get what you want from people and dip whenever you want to. if you dont like anything anyone does you can just leave them and theres always someone else near instantly because everyone is replaceable when you take away the expectation of meaning.

i literally cannot be taken advantage of anymore because im doing it back. i see why people always did this to me now. this is awesome. i think younger me was just stupid and sensitive with too high of expectations for human beings, bc lets be real humans are absolutely not capable of longterm loyalty or devotion like i expected them to be a few years ago tbh. they want to believe they are but they arent like my species. realizing im not a human at all has made this so much simpler. they just dont get me because they cant.

movies and stories are like. what if the world were made of pudding type scenarios. they arent real and have little to no resemblance to real humans. theyre what humans wish they could be. theyre like if people were actually capable of higher thought and emotional reasoning but most of if not all humans are dumb as bricks in every regard and bring nothing of value but temporary fun before they get annoying or decide to be assholes.

id rather just take what i want and leave if theyre going to continue to prove themselves unworthy of my attention this way. like i said before, lucky for me they were already aiming to do that to me first, so i dont have to worry about hurting their feelings. its mutual and for sure not personal in any way.

[batshit-auspol]

As is tradition we held our annual "Batshit Aussie Moment of The Year" poll on twitter this month, and as is also tradition it was a complete dumpster fire and we ended up having to delete our account again. Such is life, as the French don't say.

Nevertheless we had a lot of great nominations from what was truly a year full of the utmost topshelf batshittery which we shan't be letting go to waste. So we preset:

Batshit Aussie Moments of The Year, The Now Undemocratic Countdown

Leading the nominations there was of course Raygun, the little Aussie PHD breakdancer that couldn't. Recently she has trademarked her name and there was a whole lawsuit around using it so no further comment on that.

Dr Ray was followed close in second place by Australia's former Deputy Prime Minister being filmed drunkenly making phonecalls while sprawled across a sidewalk.

This glorious video saw the good people of Australia rise to the occasion with all the pisstaking the moment deserved, complete with chalk crime scene markings, a plaque being installed, and a candlelight vigil held by locals.

Also making a strong showing in the polls was Australia's richest woman Gina Rinehart pulling a Barb Streisand by demanding her unflattering portrait be removed from Australia's National Art Gallery, which of course made it immediately go viral.

Lol. Also noteworthy in the nominations was the horse that escaped its enclosure and tried to flee by catching a train, making national news headlines in the process.

But for all those big names/horses who we're sure would love the limelight, the crown title of this year's Batshit Aussie Moment of The Year is being awarded to a regular everyday Aussie (and tumblr user) who fought the system and (almost) won:

After 23 year old Aussie racecar driver Oscar Piastri won the Hungarian Grand Prix, our very own @the-prophesied-mouse "jokingly submitted an e‒petition" to Australia's parliament asking that the day become a public holiday, "assuming it would get thrown out".

Instead their request for a yearly national "Oscar Piastri Day" crossed the threshold of signatures required for a response, being then escalated all the way to the Prime Minister's desk after the responding minister decided it was of utmost importance.

After being sternly considered by no less than three government ministers, sadly in November it was declared that the petition would not be ratified, due to the small issue of the federal government not having the power to create holidays (it's apparently a state thing).

The government did however point out that many national days are celebrated without official proclamation from the Australian government, and so it is, with the powers vested in us by all you loveable weirdos, that we do solemnly declare from this day forth that the 21st July shall be forever known as Oscar Piastri Day, and may all non-believers fear our wrath.

Anyway, happy new year to you all from us here in Aus. Farewell to a truly Batshit year, and here's to no doubt more of the same in 2025. We will leave you with this heartfelt reminder of a true national treasure we lost this year, the progenor of perhaps the most iconic Aussie batshit moment of all time, The Right Hon. Mr Democracy Manifest:

Happy new years to youze all!

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

Now for the final round!

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

What's more happy holiday cheer than cheering on the destruction of a giant straw goat?

The birds may have won 2023, but I believe in humanity's capability for arson for 2024 <3

a vote for me is a vote for arson! This message was approved by hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavle is SUCH a public service and holiday feature

what's more tumblr than comical destruction and holidays?

sometimes you just gotta vote with your matchsticks

Bringing a cultural staple to tumblr since 2021

Arson is so much more fun

It would be really funny and ironic if it survives the tournament

you have no idea how much joy watching the chronicling of the gavlebocken brings me every year

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet provides an essential public service

always love seeing a bit of Swedish history on my dash 'Swedish bamboo season'

the goat account is peak gimmick blog

If I don't get to beat the goat then nobody does. -pointless-achievements

Never ask Tumblr to choose between lies and arson! The winner threatens by nature to rip apart the very fabric of our DNA!

goat statues made out of straw are exciting and interesting

I wanna see things burn

the goat is an essential part of tumblr culture and the goat blog is a sacred keeper of the tumblr high holidays

watching to see if the big straw goat has burned down each year is a true delight, something I never knew existed until tumblr and the blog dedicated to it

the incredibly focused nature of @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is what makes their gimmick superior.

Please guys bite gavlebocken

Look, I'm Danish. I was put on this earth to annoy the Swedes and vice versa, but even I voted for @/hasgavlebockenburneddownyet

gavlebocken is also such a fun name and this blog informed be about its existence, so for that I am grateful

hasgavlebockenburneddownyet is providing a vital service! Every year, people rely on their updates regarding the fate of our most beloved Yule Goat! How could they NOT deserve the win!?

sacred anti-corporate arson

a vote for gävlebocken is a vote for anarchy!

pls vote for them they're the funniest gimmick keeping track on the funniest phenomena in recent human history, like when i look at their acc i think to myself this is what tumblr was created for

the goat is the GOAT

HASGAVLEBOCKENBURNEDDOWNYET DESERVES TO WIN, I have them on post alert for a REASON

the holiday season wouldn't be the same without them

they do important reporting. Do you look at the news and be like 'the reporters aren't doing work they're just telling you whats happening.' Have some respect for the goat news

let the weird burnt sacrificial ritual of it all appeal to you

nothing makes my December more interesting, arson should win

doesn't barge in on other peoples posts which is always a good thing in my books. not a fan when obnoxious gimmick blogs turn a decent post into a garbled mess

[catz4ever]

Me next! Me next!! 😭

[dandelionsresilience]

Just in case Trump wins:

right after Trump was elected in 2016, suicidality skyrocketed. If you’re considering suicide in the wake of the election this year, at least wait until after it’s absolutely certain that he’s won - after every vote has been counted, every state certified, and maybe even after he’s been sworn in (IF he wins), just to make sure he doesn’t go to prison instead. Watch the results come in live here, but don’t obsess or let them sway your vote. (To be clear, I don’t want a single person to commit suicide over the election results, no matter what. But I know from experience that “don’t do it” is thoroughly unhelpful, so instead I’m saying at least wait.)

if you’re considering suicide because you fear worsening material conditions, you might think a hotline can’t help with that. and it’s true that they can’t change legislation or promise you’ll be safe. but it’s worth double checking whether what you’re actually hurting from is in fact unfixable. right now, just getting through the emotions can help you regain a more objective view of the situation, and then you can work on surviving it. plus, when something bad happens, we tend to vastly overestimate how bad it will seem in the future, no matter how bad it actually is.

In my experience, it might take a few tries before you find a hotline that picks up, either because they’re so busy, or they’re closed at that time, or they simply don’t serve your location or demographic, so under the thingy I’ve listed more than just the same handful that tend to show up on other websites. Even if you’re not actively suicidal, you can talk to them about your hard feelings, ask for material resources, or just vent to a compassionate listener.

FIND HELP

HopeLine - call/text: 877-235-4525

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline - call/text: 988 | chat

Crisis Text Line - text HOME to 741741 | chat

help getting out of the military

for underrepresented adults:

Thrive Lifeline - text THRIVE to 313-662-8209

for pre-teens, teens, and young adults:

Your Life Your Voice - call: 800-488-3000 | text VOICE to 20121 | email

for teens (limited hours):

Teen Line - call: 800-852-8336 | text TEEN to 839863 | email

for trans and questioning people:

Trans Lifeline - call: 1-877-565-8860

for people with substance dependency:

Never Use Alone Overdose Prevention Hotline - call: 877-696-1996

for BIPOC (“with an LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens”):

BlackLine - call: 1-800-604-5841

for college students of colour:

The Steve Fund Crisis Text Line - text STEVE to 741741

for LGBTQ+ young people:

The Trevor Project - call: 1-866-488-7386 | text START to 678678 | chat

for homeless or runaway youth:

National Runaway Safeline - call/text: 1-800-786-2929 | (has chat and email, but I think the link includes tracking)

for Muslim youth (limited hours):

Naseeha Youth Hotline - call: 1-866-627-3342

Amala Hopeline - call: 1-855-952-6252

for Jewish queer youth (warmline, may take up to 24 hours to reply):

JQY Warmline - call/text: 551-579-4673

for veterans:

Veterans Crisis Line - call: 988, option 1 | text: 838255 | chat

for veterans and their families:

Lifeline for Vets - call: 888-777-4443

for pregnant people:

Crisis Pregnancy Hotline - call: 888-628-3353 | text: 714-448-8323

for parents unsure of their ability to care for a newborn:

National Safe Haven Alliance - call: 888-510-2229 | text SAFEHAVEN to 313131

International Council for Helplines Member Organisations

Warmlines - for emotional support, if you just need to talk; a lower level of support than crisis hotlines

NAMI Helpline directory

Key warmline directory (unclear if 317-550-0060 might also be a warmline, I haven’t tried it)

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line (limited hours) - call: 888-407-4515

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

[milfbro]

I'm listening to a podcast about Pedro Collor (brother of former impeached president of Brasil Fernando Collor) who was the one responsible for you know the interview that led to Collor leaving office

(it's great is called Collor Vs Collor)

and my favorite part so far is that after catching wind of the interview the president sent a guy to the magazine to ask abt the contents so he could prepare and the guy asked 'is there corruption?' 'yes' 'drugs?' 'yes' 'hole?' 'what' 'homosexualism.' 'oh... no' because I'm like. What was that about Fernando Collor and hole? hello?

[okwonyo]

SUGAR TALKING ꒪ ✿⠀ making doe eyes at them.

TESTI ────── 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 !

❪ 日语 ❫ & fem!rea 1OOO fluff established relationship non-idol au ❜ skinship kissing ◜‿◝ REBLOGS&CLICK

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ since it won the poll :O

HEESEUNG

usually, he isn’t the the type to talk too much during movie nights. his hand always in yours as he watches the movie enthusiastically, never missing one bit of it.

but today it seems different— you don’t really know if it’s either because he is very passionate about this specific actor or if it’s because you called the said actor ‘hot’. but he won’t stop talking.

“seriously!” he huffs after a few seconds of calm. he smiles and shakes his head in fake nonchalance, “i don’t understand what he has that i don’t. do you prefe—”

the rest of his sentence dies in his throat when his eyes meet yours. you look at him wide eyed, with a little pout that makes his heart skip.

“shut up please,” you ask with a honey coat voice— his eyes grow wide. he is soon giggling, leaning on you, as if what you just said wasn’t almost an insult.

at least he stops talking.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

it is not a secret that you can get anything you want out of him. whether it’s his money or the entire world— you ask and you shall receive.

therefore, you don’t need to do anything else but ask for something that you want. because you know you got him wrapped around your finger. and that, if you wanted the moon, then you will have the moon.

sometimes, however, there is things that can’t be bought or that are hard to ask for. today, you want his attention.

you decided to not go bother him as you usually do. no, you choose to stare at him from across the room with the most bambi looking eyes you could manage. he should have noticed by now.

the long silence is what alarms him. he looks over you quickly, “are you—” then he looks again and his mouth falls agape. he sighs fondly, “c’mere, baby,”

JAKE

it’s not your fault. it really isn’t. he shouldn’t have been so easy to tease in the first place. getting a blush out of him is too easy and he is way too lovely for you to control yourself.

and ever since he confessed that he loved when you looked at him with those yes— you cannot stop looking at him with those eyes.

for a while, he is too occupied on his phone to even notice. but when his eyes shoots up to meet yours, he immediately smiles.

instinctively biting his lower lip, he stays silent for a while before throwing his head back and whining, “stop doing that!”

your eyes keep watching his growing blush as you laugh, “like what?” and he groans.

SUNGHON

he swears you do it all the time, but the truth is that you don’t even know what he is talking about. he mays affirm that you play dumb in purpose— you don’t, you really don’t.

the thing is that, he would say that you are trying to seduce him whenever you try to do anything. you run a hand through you hair? you want to make out. you grin? you want him to kiss you.

you just assumed he was that down bad.

“you are playing with me,” he smirks, looking down at you. your bodies moves along with the train you are standing in. you were already looking at him, but now there is confusion in your eyes. “don’t look at me like that.”

“what?” you giggle. honestly, you didn’t even know you were looking at him. admiring him is natural as breathing to you, “are you crazy?”

“when you look at me like that,” he whispers as he leans in. your arms are hugging his waist, your head is all the way titled up and he is so handsome, “my heart beats with need.”

SUNOO

you know he doesn’t get mad often— even if he does act like he is. he is too much of a softie to even think of being annoyed with you.

more times than not, he gets sulky. lips puckered as he gives you the silent treatment. it is always for silly things, however, just because he loves when you ask him to talk to you.

“i love you,” you tell him, holding onto his arm. he doesn’t do anything, obviously hiding his smile—and failing. “look at me.”

he takes a deep breath before bringing his focus on your instead of the dishes in front of him. his eyes fall into yours, “stop,” he says. turning red.

he tries to keep his annoyed attitude as hard as possible. he starts to take care of the dishes in the sink again— as if, trying to distract himself.

he keeps peeking at you. unable to control himself, he ends up crumbling. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

JUNWGON

“my love, i’ll have to go eventually,” his tone is soft, his chuckles makes it harder for you to even consider letting him leave the bed and let him leave you.

he is not even gone. he is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. you hold his hand with both of yours— chasing after his warmth that you already miss.

you don’t really care where he is going, you want him here. you make the most adorable eyes you can put up, in a tiny voice you say, “can’t you stay a little longer?”

he seems a tad taken aback. on of his eyebrows shots up ever so slightly. pretty red lips forms a ‘o’ and his dimples smiles when he smiles.

gets back under the cover, close to you. he kisses you gently, “work can wait.”

RIKI

“leave me alone!” your boyfriend whines, faking annoyance. he is laying on your bed, next to your plushies, with his hands on your hips as you sit on

him. he acts like he wants to push you away but his grip is way too strong.

he gets up, rather abruptly, making you settle on his laps. he makes sure you are as comfortable as possible but holds your wrists when you try to reach his hair.

“just a few!” giggles makes your voice tremble. you try to get out of his handle but you can’t— he is much stronger that you, “please!”

he looks at the hello kitty hairpins in your hands with narrowed eyes. he doesn’t look against the idea at all, you know he just fights because of principle, “no!”

you tilt your head to the side slightly, the prettiest pout appearing on your lips. you look at him with a specific look— the one who made him choked on his drink the first time. “please, for me,”

you are already wearing a victorious grin as soon as he groans. he ends up with more than just a few hairpins in his hair.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

The cut that always bleed✧.* - what was i made for?

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammatical errors that this story may have.

Y/n L/n was a far cry from Y/n Wayne. Despite both last names, each carrying the weight of a turbulent history, "L/n" felt surprisingly lighter. Both names reminded you of the haunting shadows cast by your mother and father, yet they bore different emotional tolls. As you stood before the mirror, a somber reflection gazing back, you pondered on the 13 years—a whole decade and three more—that seemed squandered on people who couldn't hold your gaze for more than fleeting moments.

Of course, the toll it took on your emotional health was immense, but there was nothing you could do about it. You knew that no matter what you did, you could never capture their attention, not even for a moment. By the age of six, you took up martial arts, hoping your family would be proud of you for sharing their passion. But all you received was a pat on the shoulder from Dick when you won a gold medal.

At ten, you delved into video games, hoping to bond with Tim. You spent four days learning all the rules and knowledge about the game, and two whole weeks mastering it. But when you finally mustered the courage to ask Tim to play with you, he stared at you with bored eyes, barely registering your presence. After twelve minutes of rambling about the game, he sighed, pinched his eyes, and said, "I can't. I'm busy, okay?" before leaving your small room. The video game stayed in a box, forgotten and dirty, for thirteen years, a testament to the same treatment you received over and over.

You took every opportunity, every chance to learn something they were talented in, hoping to catch a glimpse of love in their eyes. But all you got were bored, empty stares. Every hobby you had was dedicated to them, except for one: ballet. The art of dancing, with its sharp and strict moves, dancing on your tiptoes, chin up, and a graceful smile on your face. Nothing could take this away from you, not even Cassandra, who was the apple of her family's eyes as she danced on stage. You loved dancing; it filled your heart with joy and bliss. You believed this was the one thing they could never take from you. That's what you thought.

Ballet demanded strict poise and discipline, watching every bite you took and every drink you swallowed. Your mother was a beautiful woman, enchanting enough to enthrall your father. Her eyes could charm thousands of men and bend their morals to her desire. She was like a siren, captivating men with her ethereal beauty. Your father was no different, dazzling people with his money, perfect white teeth, and undeniable allure. He made heads turn and people giggle at his mere presence. So why did you feel as if you were nothing like them? Created by a goddess and a god, yet you turned out to be so unsightly that your mother sneered and threw you out of her arms, forcing you into the embrace of an unknown man.

You panted lightly, staring at your features in the mirror. Why? Why? Why? Why are you like this? Why can't you feel beautiful? Why can't you be beautiful? Why can't you be a sight for sore eyes like the men and women around you? Their features blended so well with their faces, but you? You felt like a pig with makeup on. You saw beauty in everyone but never in yourself.

Your performance is in about a few more days and you haven't eaten anything healthy for the past 3 days, you're starved, you're pressured, and your family hasn't even answered your text in which you, inviting them to please come watch your performance. Dragging your body to walk home, Alfred unfortunately can't drive you home as he is too busy with work (helping your family with their nightly activities) you hiss as the cold wind blew against your fresh scars-the result of you scratching your face with your nails due to resentment for yourself because of the question in the back of your mind: “why can't you just be good enough?”

The harsh glare of your ballet dance teacher only added more pressure, intensifying the burden on your weak shoulders. You carried the lingering thought that your family didn't care about you and the nagging feeling that you would never be good enough for them. The performance was just a few days away, and you hadn't eaten anything healthy for the past three days. You were starved, pressured, and desperately longing for your family's support. Yet, your texts inviting them to watch your performance went unanswered.

Dragging your exhausted body home, you felt a deep sense of despair. Alfred, who usually drove you home, was too busy with work, assisting your family with their nightly activities. As you walked, the cold wind bit into your fresh scars, the result of scratching your face with your nails out of self-loathing. The question haunted you: "Why can't you just be good enough?"

Your footsteps echoed in the empty streets, each step a reminder of your solitude. The streetlights cast long shadows, mirroring the darkness that seemed to envelop your soul. You could hear the distant laughter of families and friends enjoying their evenings, a stark contrast to the silence that filled your life.

But even though you're killing me

Arriving home, you unlocked the door with trembling hands. The house was quiet, as it always was when you were alone. The once warm and inviting living room now felt cold and unwelcoming. You dropped your bag and collapsed onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks, a release of the pent-up frustration and sadness. Gasping for breath as you dragged your shivering legs to your cold, small bed room as you dropped your exhausted form to your squeaking bed, staining your pillows with your tears.

I need you like the air I breathe

In your heart, you still held onto a sliver of hope that your family would show up to your performance. You envisioned them in the audience, watching with pride as you executed every move with precision and grace. But reality was harsh, and you knew deep down that their absence would cut deeper than any physical wound. But you needed them. They were the salt to your wounds yet you still crave for their attention. It's not too late right?

Please.

You spent the next few days in a haze, practicing relentlessly for the upcoming performance. Every pirouette, every leap, and every graceful move was tainted by the thought of your family's indifference. You pushed your body to the limit, hoping that the pain would numb the emotional agony. Again, again, again– again y/n! You need to perfect this! This could be the chance for you to prove to them that you're worthy of their attention! That you belong in this family just as much as they do! You can't give up. Stop trembling. Stop acting so weak. If you don't stop acting like a child then maybe they'll eventually throw you out of the house too.

Please

The day of the performance arrived, and you stood backstage, nervously adjusting your costume. Your heart pounded in your chest as you peeked through the curtains, scanning the audience for familiar faces. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear that your family was not coming. Your lips trembling, your brain can't fathom the idea of them not coming to this performance—of course you'd expect y/n to be unsurprised by this behavior but it's not fair! You worked so hard for this only for them to answer you with nothing but silence.

I need you more than me

You destroyed yourself for this; for them! You worked every bone in your body and stretched every limb of yours, starved yourself for days, just for them to dismiss your one request to just be there. You just wanted that family where they were all so supportive of you, they all loved and adored you. The worst part is they are just not to you. And you had to learn that the hard way.

I need you more than anything

Summoning every ounce of strength, you stepped onto the stage. The spotlight shone brightly, and for a moment, you felt a surge of confidence. The music began, and you moved with the grace and elegance you had practiced so hard to perfect. Each step was a testament to your dedication, a silent plea for recognition and love. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as a feeling of pain and happiness surged through your chest.

As you danced, the audience watched in awe. To them, you were a vision of beauty and talent. But inside, you felt empty. Every jump, every turn, and every sway of your limb was dedicated to them. With trembling lips you swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the pain in your chest as you play your part of the performance. The applause at the end of your performance was hollow, a reminder that the ones you longed to impress were not there to see it. Backstage, you received praise from your fellow dancers and instructors, but it did little to lift your spirits. You longed for a simple word of encouragement, a sign that your family cared. Instead, you were met with silence. You smiled faintly at them thanking them and exchanging a few compliments here and there. At this moment you couldn't feel anything. You were numb from all the pain you have suffered from this family.

Please, please

That night, as you lay in bed, the weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of inadequacy. The question echoed once more: "Why can't you just be good enough?"

"Those days are over," you say to yourself as you pack your bags and place your belongings into boxes. You've grown, and after 13 years in the manor begging for scraps of their attention, you've realized that what you want will never become reality. It took you a whole decade and three more years to come to this realization. You shake your head softly and smile sadly. What were you thinking? Of course, they wouldn't care about you. Your normalcy and mediocrity never appealed to them, and you’ve decided those days are finally over. It was time to move out and discover what you were truly meant for.

"What was I made for?"

you ask yourself. This question feels so much better than constantly wondering, "Will they finally look at me?" You take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of your new home. You breathe in and out, closing your eyes for a moment. This was it. You had made it. Slowly, you open your eyes and look at the people surrounding you, those who truly cared for you and saw you through your scars of insecurity, your perfect little hobbies, and your flawed personality. To them, you weren't Y/n Wayne, child of a billionaire, nor Y/n L/n, child of a prostitute. You were just Y/n, who tried so hard, failed, but ultimately succeeded.

The manor has been noticeably quiet for the past few days. The silence weighting discomfort as if something was wrong–as if something was missing. It was surprisingly first noticed by none other than Richard Grayson himself. The first Robin of Batman, the irreplaceable side kick, the first son of Bruce Wayne, and the darling of the crowd whom everyone loves and adore. As he walked through the large halls of the home he grew up in, he felt something was out of place. Like something wasn't in place or rather something was missing. It took him some time to figure it out as the clock ticks

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Aha! He's got it! It was because there wasn't any classic orchestral music playing through the thick walls of the manor. The soft music of pyotr tchaikovsky wasn't heard anywhere around the corners of the walls. That's strange. The sweet melody of violins and cellos wasn't found in any room at all. He didn't know why but it bugged him. He sighs as he disregards it, nevermind he said, must be Alfred playing his favorite old songs. He walks around the manor to look for his siblings and father and somehow stumbled upon this.. Unknown and empty small room. “wow this is.. Something” he muttered under his breath. He inspected the room and saw multiple trophies decorating the room. It was impressive how someone can achieve this many gold medals and such. His gaze traveled across the room and saw a box full of webs and dust, and got interested as he opened it to see an old video game and thought that it must have been Tim's before he decided to throw it away out of boredom. With no more much to do he slid through the doors and whistled his way out of the room, unaware of how many memories a person created in that very same room withering away.

Tim and Damian recognized the absence of humming and the pattern of footsteps that used to echo around the house from an unknown room. The silence made them uncomfortable. They had grown so accustomed to the faint noise that it had somehow brought them comfort. The melodic lullaby of humming painted a serene picture of paradise, lulling them easily to sleep—a struggle they had faced all their lives as vigilantes, or in Damian's case, as an assassin. Their heartbeats aligned with the rhythm of the faint noise.

For Tim, it was a sweet form of salvation from the demons that haunted his nights and kept him from a good night's sleep. For Damian, it was the comfort he never knew, a stark contrast to the heavy stare of his grandfather and the weight of expectations placed on his shoulders by his mother's watchful gaze.

Jason couldn't care less about what happens around that manor. He hated that place. It made him rethink all the moments he wished he could take back. Jason Todd is a hateful man but a good soldier. He destroys in order to protect. He kills in order to let another live. A morally gray person. In his eyes he was what Bruce wayne–Batman couldn't be. But even a man who goes out at night to protect needs a break. So when he came to the manor and went straight to the library and saw that the usual piled up classic books weren't to be seen at their usual spot he found it.. Unsettling per say. The books written by Jane Austen that were filled with marked pages, sticky notes, and annotations not found in the main table of the room were strange to him. He didn't even know who did it but it made him feel like he was home. The silly doodles and random words written on the sticky notes, careful not to dirty the book, made him chuckle every time he saw it; so where was it now?

Cassandra was into ballet. She grew up silenced, observing others, forever cautious. as to why she expresses herself through dancing: ballet. A moment where she can breathe and let go. Where she can freely pour her heart into dancing. Every point, every movement, she releases her unsaid emotions. She was raised that way. Except then she was thought to swallow her words and release her pent up emotions into bad things instead of gracefully dancing. She was completely in love with dancing. Whenever she went to collect her ballet shoes there's always an extra bandage, extra shoes played on the floor. She never knew why and she never questioned it. Just ignored it. But now she somehow froze at her spot to see nothing but her shoes and not next to the light pink ones that had a small bow to compliment its design. Ever so stunning; the person who wears it must have been the same kind of persona-wait.. Person? There's another one.. Oh.

Bruce Wayne was a busy man. By day, he handled his company, Wayne Enterprises. His days were filled with paperwork, meetings, and managing marketing strategies. But by night, he never slept. No, he donned the mantle of Batman, the prince of Gotham City, the guardian of Lady Gotham. He didn't have time for anything he deemed unworthy of his attention. He noticed every tiny mistake, be it at work or on the streets of Gotham. At work, he spotted grammatical errors and unstraightened lines of decorative mugs. As Batman, he detected the slightest hint of lies in a criminal's eyes. So, yes, he noticed that something—or rather, someone—from the manor was missing.

As dick whistled his way out of the room unable to find his family members, he decided to go to the batcave and have a little fun while being alone. He did all things he could think of. Look for more cases to solve, dig some stuff out criminal records, blah blah blah.. Then he decided to check the manor's CCTV.

As dick was checking the cctv's of the manor out of boredom, he managed to catch a glimpse of footage-about 2 weeks ago of a person..? Packing their bags and putting things from the manor into a box and leaving. It must be a thief! But that's impossible.. The manor has many securities that even a skilled assassin could not pass through the gates, it's impossible. Unless..

Dick took another glance at the footage and zoomed the screen and squinted his eyes. And for a second, his breath hitched and his heart pumped fast, his hand trembled and his eyes dilated..

It can't be.

You.. Y-..y/n? What were you doing? Where are you going? He bit his lips harshly as he watched the footage like a hawk. His hands came to fidget with his hair. Was that really you? You look so grown.. Several thoughts ran through his mind as he pondered on what you were doing. After a matter of time he somehow remembers. Oh yeah! Your contact number. His hands trembling, in a hurry he pressed your name in his phone and.. Shoot. His eyes widened at the several missed calls and texts from you. Not even a single response from him. Come to think of it, when was the last time he talked to you? Like, really talked to you? He quickly text you “heyy baby birdddd I miss you! Let's hang out right now!” while biting his thumb as he bounced his thighs up and down from anticipation. And then suddenly.. He remembers! The room! It was yours! Before he even knew it, he was quick on his feet and ran like a mad man towards your room. He panted slightly at the face of your door and harshly opened your room unaware of his strength. He went through every corner of your room. He explored every side of your room to find something-anything that can give him even a spoil of information about you. And that was when he found a tiny pink notebook. He chuckled softly, out of breath, hair messed up like a mad man but dick didn't care, no because he finally found your one and only diary! Filled with bows and pink glitters.. Hah..you were so cute. He went through your diary, invading your privacy and saw all of the things you've said. The way you praised him, the way you adored your family, your little adventures, your previous ballet performances (you did ballet? Wow, you're just so talented.. Oh his little bird.) he suddenly heard a high pitched ping! And scrambled to his phone as he expected a response from you but instead all he was met with was “y/n has blocked you”.

What..? Why? Didn't you want to spend time with your precious big brother? His blood shot eyes twitched and sweat ran down from his face. The suddenly a deep voice said:

“dick? What's going on here?”

Note: as promised! Here is the chapter yall asked forrr tell me what you guys think!