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cheshirebitch · 1 month

Note

Alastor with a 1950’s housewife styled reader. When he sees her he doesn’t even understand why she’s in hell in the first place.

!!Mentions of domestic violence!!

She killed her husband for laying a hand on their child. She was slow and methodical with her kill, and when Alastor finds out he becomes enraptured by her. In awe of how proper and kind she is but how devastatingly cruel she can be if the circumstance calls for it.

He finds her duality alluring in a sense, and he’s so curious to see what fresh hell she’d let loose in hell if she decided to unleash herself upon some poor sinners.

This is my first request in a long time and I’m super tired so I hope this makes sense 😅

Oh boy, oh boy, did I love this idea and I hope I did you justice on it :)!

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤

Alastor x Reader

“Alastor, dear, can you do me a favor?” I asked while smoothing my dress out nervously.

“Of course darling! What can I do for you my Angel?” Alastor started calling me that the day he met me. He was adamant that heaven messed up or I was a fallen angel for being too good. Every time he would go on one of his long stipples, I would have to keep my lips tight and calm my beating heart for two reasons. He really was too sweet to me and because I never want anyone to know my ugly truth. Not that I’m ashamed but because I don’t need everyone hunting down the man, especially considering he was alive and well in hell with me. I think he suffered considerably for his actions and I didn’t need the whole hotel, that was supposed to be a walking advertisement about redemption, trying to murder this man. Especially Alastor, he would be completely unforgiving.

He was always so polite when it concerned me and always had a compliment to throw my way.

“Mon Cher, looking elegant as always.”

“Darling, do smile more often. Hell would be much better with your sparkling smile.”

“What’s a looker like you doing at the bar by yourself? Care for company Angel?”

“Mon Cher,

“Would you be so kind to help me make dinner today? I truly didn’t expect the King of Hell to be visiting or I could’ve handled it on my own.” Exasperated that Charlie failed to mention, again, about her fathers visit. I rather not have him thinking an old housewife, such as myself, failed to uphold the standards I was raised with. This place will be spotless and perfect in two hours by my own hand, if Alastor agrees to assist me. I always batted his hands away when he’s tried before, being conditioned that all this work is only my job. My ex husband made sure I learned that too.

“Absolutely! Anything for my sweet Angel! Are you certain there is nothing else I can assist you with? Perhaps some cleaning, laundry, anything?” Alastor was leaning in towards my personal space as I pushed a finger over his massive smile. He truly is a pure gentleman despite his horrific sins he’s committed. Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to him?

“Oh, no. Just some help in the kitchen will be fine. I just need someone to watch over the meal as it cooks so it doesn’t burn while I clean the rest of this hotel.” I smiled at him as polite as I could while trying not to tremble over the simple act of asking for help. It’s always involuntary when I flinch at a man, so much so that I’ve overheard conversations about it from the group. Charlie and Angel express their concerns to me but the rest just watch with pity in their eyes.

“Angel, certainly there is more I can do?” He gave me his smile still, slightly strained, but concern and a small hint of frustration were in those burgundy eyes. I pretended to think on it before shaking my head.

“That simply won’t do. I will handle all kitchen duties and you can clean. Don’t try to stop me.” Alastor morphed through the shadows as I raced to beat him to the kitchen, only to be met with a locked door. I huffed before giving in, but only because I was on a tight schedule. Fighting with Alastor’s stubbornness was at the bottom of my list and making sure this place was spiffy was at the top. So, I raced around on the lobby floor, cleaning everything and everything. I couldn’t help but notice how Alastor was trying to slyly send his shadow and Niffty to help. Ignoring them on purpose, faking ignorance for his sake, and kept cleaning at my full speed.

By the time I noticed there was nothing left to do, I was out of breath and was done one hour earlier than I thought I would be. That was also considering how I had two extra sets of helping hands plus the fact I didn’t have to check the kitchen at all. I smiled as I panted out, wiping the sweat from my brow. I sauntered into the kitchen, now with unlocked doors, and had my hands on my hips as I watched Alastor finish cooking everything I had laid out. I had a bandana on to keep my hair pulled up and stop the sweat from running down my neck. It was the pretty maroon and black one Alastor gave me the first year I knew him.

“Lovely to see you using the things I get you.” Without even turning around, he knew what I was wearing and didn’t degrade me for not completing these tasks completely on my own or faster. The smile spread on my face as I began to tease back.

“Always lovely to see you cooking. Don’t think I don’t see that tail wagging happily, deer.” I emphasized on his nickname being used more so as what animal he was. His ears twitched as he turned around with a playful grin. My tail whipped around behind me, showing I was teasing him playfully. He leaned closer, invading my personal space again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Angel. I’m just helping a deer friend out.” He chuckled at his own pun, making me smile and nudge him. This is what normally happens when one of us tells a joke, it turns into a pun war. Right now though, I guess it was deer themed with a hint of good tension between us. He had us switching places, where I was the one with the counter behind me and he with nothing. Walking closer and closer, getting more into eachothers spaces with no complaints. Which of itself, others would find quite odd how Alastor wasn’t upset by myself being this close to him.

“That pun wasn’t one of your best. Dare I say, I wasn’t too fawn of that one.” His smile widened with genuine happiness without anything evil being the cause of it. It really was beautiful. I couldn’t help but morph my smile from a playful one to a genuine smile as well, full of admiration. I could even feel my eyes basically forming heart shapes for him.

“Angel?” His eyes looked relaxed along with his smile, he was still leaning so close to me I could feel his coat tickling my skin.

“Yes, deer?” He smiled more before continuing.

“How are you in Hell? Really?” My smile froze as I panicked slightly. He was someone I could see hunting my ex husband down and brutally killing for what he’s done, especially towards me and my family. My hands moved before I could stop them, gripping his with mine. His eyes looked confused at our hands before looking at me, waiting for what it was.

“Promise me, Al, that you’ll let it go after I tell you.” His eyes searched mine before he sighed out.

“You know I can’t promise that, my Angel.” One of his claws carefully brushed my cheek slowly. He started moving slower with his movements when they were towards me after noticing how I flinched. The bright red claws remained on my face as I looked away, defeated.

“It wasn’t always horrible with him, my late husband and father of my two beautiful girls.” I smiled as I mentioned my children, who have long lived their lives after my death, and both in heaven.

“But after a couple years when my youngest turned four, Paul wasn’t the same. He was laid off from his fancy office job and started drinking when he couldn’t find work. We had to sell our home and move. I started working at a couple diners and cleaning for a couple homes, anything to make the bills.” My smile turned sad as Alastor’s turned strained the second I spoke of alcohol. His grip tightened slightly but never enough to hurt me.

“He would get angry when I came home late, how the house was a mess, when the children got fussy, and just anything that involved work for him. That’s when I got tired and mouthed off.” Alastor’s upper lip curled in disgust at what was about to be spoken next.

“He didn’t like that, slapped me back in place.” Alastor’s eyes squinted.

“I think you’re downplaying it, Angel.” I sheepishly grin, knowing he’s right.

“A little.”

“Tell the truth now, darling.”

“He beat me till I couldn’t stand anymore. I tried fighting back but…” I shook my head and felt my eyes burning.

“I was just a silly housewife.” He took his claw and gently swiped away a fallen tear. It was the only tear I will let fall.

“I only said enough when he went to hit the oldest for trying to pull him off of me.” Tension was rising up my spine and locking my jaw tight. Alastor’s radio static picked up even more the second I spoke that sentence. I could feel his anger radiating from him.

“I hated him for it, so much so I killed him.” I looked up at Alastor right when his eyes dilated, recognizing the shock and admiration that was swirling in his eyes. His smile spread out across his face more as the radio static cut silent, then he spoke without any static in his voice.

“My, my, what have we got here? Dare I say my Angel is really a demon after all?” I could tell he said it with slight humor, still thinking I’m too pure to be in hell.

“I poisoned him for months with rat poisoning in his alcohol. He chose his own death, I just sped it up. Everyone thought he died of alcohol poisoning but it was me. I’d do it again if it meant my kids never had to see that ever again. He could’ve lived if he just chose his family over the alcohol.” I shrugged with no remorse for my actions.

“While he was getting more and more ill, I would watch from the doorway of our bedroom, where he slept. Just holding a kitchen knife and sharpening it, watching him sleep horribly.” Alastor smiled wider, wider than I thought possible really, and dipped me down gracefully. His arm behind my back holding me completely as his other hand delicately glided his ruby claw down my cheek.

“Mon Cher, penser que je ne pourrais pas t'aimer davantage.” **

Alastor was immediately thinking about how he’d worship her forever and was intrigued to see what fresh hell she would unleash by his side with this daunting loyalty and protective spirit. He also took note to pay a visit to dear ol’ Paul, the current bartender that replaced Husk at the casino in town.

** translation - “My dear, to think that I couldn’t love you more.”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day! <3)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #radio demon #xreader #hazbin hotel alastor

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gilfkitty · 3 months

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hi! I was wondering if you can maybe do stepdad vendetta Leon? When it’s late at night and he comes home after a long day at work and he’s drinking like usual, but reader can’t sleep cause of the thunderstorm and she just wants his comfort. Could you make it fluffy at first then smutty? -Lana <3

Seeking Shelter (18+)

ft. stepdad! (vendetta) Leon x fem! reader

WARNINGS !! - some angst (?), mentions of alcohol and marital problems, Leon is slightly intoxicated, stepcest, little bit of biting/marking, pet names, overstimulation, thigh fucking 𓃹

note. ty for being my first normal ask ! im not very confident when it comes to writing fluff but i hope this turned out to your liking :3

wc. 1.5k

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Leon absolutely hated his work, most of all he hated being away from home. He just wanted a break, at least more than weekends off.

Waking up early every day and staying out, busting his ass til nighttime was not how he wanted to live his life. He felt like he was older than he actually was, already getting severe back and body aches, always tired and struggling with migraines that only alcohol could simmer down. He didn’t want to feel like an old man at the age of fourty. But someone had to provide for you and your mother. That’s what motivated him to keep at it. Even if it was breaking him mentally.

He couldn’t deny it felt good to be needed and he knew that you needed him most.

Unlike your mother, you were appreciative of his efforts to furnish the household. You understood he had to be gone a lot and you didn’t ask for a million things. Sometimes he wondered if he married the wrong woman. It seemed your mother was only interested in his good looks and money. They argued more often than they talked. She complained he wasn’t making her happy, didn’t take care of her needs.

He tried his hardest to, but maybe he just couldn’t. Maybe he just didn’t love her like he did when they first met. Rushing into marriage after only dating a couple months prior often turned out that way. And the more he got to know her, the more he got to know you.

You were the exact opposite of your mother despite having been raised solely by her. You were a total sweetheart to him. Made him feel like he wasn’t doing all this for nothing.

——————

Just like any other night, tonight he’s returning home late, bottle being downed to get the negativity out of his head. The bitter burning of the liquid flooding his stomach was a pleasant, comforting in contrast to the flickering lightning outside.

He finishes up another glass. Just enough to calm his nerves but not enough to make him lose his thoughts completely.

He removes his leather jacket, slightly damp from the rain as he makes his way up the stairs ready to head to bed. He considered taking a shower, but he wasn’t caught up in it that long. He was too tired to stay standing anyway.

He pivots to go to your mother but comes to a halt at the sight of your bedroom light still on. You were usually always asleep by the time he got home so he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Hey, hon.” he stands in your doorway, hesitant to enter further. “What are you still doing up? Thought you had a busy day planned for tomorrow.”

You were too embarrassed to tell him the reason. Your heart was pounding heavily in your chest just from some simple rain and thunder. It was something you figured you’d eventually grow out of as you got older, but you didn’t.

“Rain botherin’ you?” he asks, as always reading you like an open book.

“Yeah, i’ll be fine though.”

“I can lay with you for a bit if that helps. If you can make some room for me.”

His offer made you feel all the more ashamed. You weren’t a child, didn’t need to be cradled to sleep. But you didn’t want to say no. His comfort was what you wanted. His presence in general made you feel safe.

So, you organize the cluster that’s taking up your bed space, scooting aside for him.

He lays on the inside, getting snug under your comforter and wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. He buries his face in the back of your hair, exhaling a contented sigh.

His breath was hot on your neck, alcohol mixed with that dollar store cologne was pungent, clouding your senses. That smell was just Leon. Homely somehow.

“It’s alright, baby,” he croons, “Storms bother me sometimes too. I’ll stay til’ you’re able to fall asleep.”

His voice was husky, directed straight through your ears. As much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you were starting to feel something you shouldn’t.

“You don’t have to stay,” you counter even though you really wanted him to. “I know you have work tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind. Wouldn’t be able to sleep knowin’ you’re upset anyway.”

He presses his body further against yours. His hand rubs circles over your stomach to coax you to sleep.

It was having the opposite effect. For both of you.

This close proximity, the heat of your body, the scent of your hair, it was all making him dizzy. Dizzy in a way any hard liquor or whiskey couldn’t achieve for him.

His hands make their way underneath your shirt, testing your reaction to the advance. He trails up slowly feeling your soft skin under his rough palm, stopping at the edge of your bra before slipping back down.

You shudder when he thumbs at the waistband of your pajama pants. He was asking for permission without words. He didn’t have a way to ask that didn’t make him sound like a creep or a pervert. He didn’t want you to see him that way. But he needed you. Hoped you needed him in that way too.

His breath sped up, he was practically heaving. Blame it on the alcohol.

“I should go,” he decided, releasing you. But you stop his hand midway out.

“You can’t just tease me like that and then leave. You said you’d stay until I fell asleep.”

His dick hardens in his pants at your reciprocated touch, making him realize just how long it had been since he’d felt someone else this way. Your mom never put out, and when she did, there was no connection.

This was different. Just holding you in his arms makes him feel something he’s never felt with anyone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. I said i’d stay.”

He wasn’t expecting those words to influence you. He was trying to push the sexual thoughts to the back of his mind. But then you move his hand where you both wanted it to be, and his brain is fried.

You don’t have to tell him twice. He gets the memo.

Your pants, along with his own, are discarded to your floor. He holds his position behind you, slipping his length between the plush of your inner thighs, right between your needy folds.

As bad as he wanted to fuck you, he couldn’t. No way in hell he was going to ruin your life and knock you up. He was your stepfather. Your mother would surely kill you if she found out.

He settles for this, slowly pumping his hips to slide his cock between your legs.

You line them up, tightening them together for his pleasure. He grinds against your clit, rubbing back and forth and making you moan. You were dripping on his cock, begging for him to take you. He wanted to so badly.

“Shhh, baby,” he hushes with a hand over your mouth. “Be quiet for me.

He wasn’t exactly playing fair. He was groaning in your ear more and more as it went on. You were a mouse in comparison.

He holds onto you bruisingly tight, wanting to be closer. It was so hard to have you right in front of him, soaked and whiny just for him. Yet he couldn’t go further.

It almost pissed him off.

His teeth sink into the flesh of your shoulder as he tries to restrain himself, marking you in the process. He speeds his movements, his pelvis meeting your ass again and again. You could feel him throbbing, hear that desperate rasp in his voice as he moaned into you.

“I need you so bad sweetheart.” He kisses over the bite mark he left, panting through his nose. “Need to be inside your sweet pussy.”

You plead for him. But it’s muffled by the cup of his hand. You felt so good just from this. You couldn’t even imagine how the real deal would be.

Your body practically spasms from cumming. He rubbed you in just the right way, just the right pace.

He loses his mind feeling the way you squirm against him. He couldn’t stop, even if you were overly sensitive. He needed your body.

He has to hold your thighs together as they moved too far apart, making you endure the friction.

Cum spurts out of him too far, and far too fast for him to catch it. It just keeps spilling out, and he just keeps thrusting into you until it starts to hurt. He’s gripping you tighter than intended as his muscles stiffen uncontrollably.

He uncovers your mouth after he falls limp against you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“Sorry about the mess.” he says to break the silence. “Think you’ll be able to sleep now? Feelin’ a little sleepy myself.”

“Can you stay with me all night?” you ask. You didn’t want him to leave your side. It’d be cold without him.

He hesitates to answer, thinking over your request and considering if it would be too risky.

“Sure, sweetheart. Your mom probably won’t even notice I’m gone tonight anyway.”

#leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #tw.stepcest #leon smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil vendetta #vendetta leon

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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I’ve been thinking about “mean” (okay no they’re mean) characters.

Specifically, I’m thinking about Rook “Duke” Alistair being best friends with Actual Assassin and meanest bastard around, Velikan.

They’ve known each other since her early days back in the Air Force. Maybe Duke, freshly nicknamed and bright-eyed, got caught up in some sort of ambush with a shiny new unit.

And maybe Velikan was going to kill her as collateral, but for reasons not even he knows, he didn’t.

And now he’s got this duckling (she’s even blond and fluffy like one) that’s practically imprinted on him. Every time they cross paths (and they keep crossing paths for some fucking reason) she lights up and waves, babbling updates about her life. She doesn’t mind his gruff tone or his short temper, or the absolute mauling she receives when he finally acquiesces to spar her.

It’s not that she doesn’t know he’s an assassin. Oblivious as she can be, she’s not stupid. Just the opposite, in fact. She recognizes that approaching him at any point is like sticking a hand in a tiger cage. And yet she still does it, even when they’re out in the field.

How she’s not dead yet, for pure annoyance alone, he’s not sure. But he figures that she’s spent so much time being an inconvenience to him specifically that he’s earned the right to put an end to her.

And then he’s not sure how she isn’t dead from natural selection.

“I thought you were military,” he hisses, brushing dirt off her shirt and pants. Why is he doing so? Because he’s annoyed that she slipped on pile of wet leaves.

“I am!”

“You have no discipline, no coordination, and no sense of self preservation.”

She beams. “I think that last thing is something they encourage, actually.”

He stuffs her into a good hideout and tells her to stay while he takes care of their his tail.

It’s not just the slipping, tripping, and falling. If anything would make him believe in luck, it’s Duke having the worst of it. Falling objects and loose floorboards, changes in a guard rotation or a light coming on at the worst moment. She’s smart and quick enough to watch out for herself, but only just.

Maybe he lets her live out of pure bafflement. Morbid fascination with someone so smart and yet so—

“Stupid,” he growls, dunking her head in the rain barrel.

She comes up sputtering, but giggling. “This isn’t how you’re supposed to treat acid exposure.”

He dunks her under again for good measure. She shakes off on him like a dog afterwards and he genuinely tries to strangle her. But then she gets her sharp little teeth in his arm and bites, proceeds to inform him that he’s going to need antibiotics with a bloody smile.

Is he going to personally bring about her violent, gory end? Yes.

Is she also his best friend? Somehow.

“Do you think cinnamon floss or mint floss is better for improvised stitches?”

“I think you should just bleed out.”

“It’s not for me, dummy…. Yet.”

He’s not relieved when she gets the position with the CIA, but something close to it.

They hire him for their dirty work often enough that he sees her regularly. Her ridiculous, cluttered desk and her grotesque stash of snacks and her constant rotation of injuries because they still let her near machinery.

“You stink,” he scoffs, lifting her right out of her chair as she squeals. “You are taking a shower.”

And because she has the attention span of a fly, he goes in with her. She fusses when he gets soap in her mouth or eyes, but he just tuts that it wouldn’t happen if she were capable of doing it herself. And dignity? Long forgotten as he scrubs her down from head to toe, pinching when she complains about being babied.

“Do not act like a child, then,” he gruffs, throwing a towel in her face.

Honestly, Laswell should be ashamed.

“When was the last time you ate?” He demands, squishing her cheeks with a little shake. “Eh? When was the last time you had something other than blue candy?”

“‘S raspberry.”

“Are raspberries blue? No. They teach this in school. All that sugar has rotted out your little brain.”

It turns out the answer to his food question was “too long.” He trades her potatoes for carrots, but only after holding her nose closed until he could force peas in her stubborn mouth.

Ridiculous, really.

#I don’t… know #I just needed to write something and post it to get out of this block I’ve been having #it’s not necessarily good but…#ta-da #velikan #cod Velikan #rook ‘Duke’ Alistair #cod oc #my oc #cod #thoughts™️#my writing #weird friends #dom friends

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ellielatinagf · 15 days

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“Your hairs getting long”

Summary: Let’s pretend Dina, Ellie, and JJ are living happily ever after in Jackson:) Ellie and Dina exchanging conversations and a nice haircut for Ellie

An: believe me I’m working on Lacrosse ellie part 5 and I think part five will be the last chapter I just wanna figure out how I wanna end it LOL. This is a little bit of both Dina and Ellie’s pov. Enjoy:)

Warnings: angst????

*knock knock knock*

Dina slowly opened the door and peeped her head in the small room. Ellie whipped her head around to meet Dina’s gaze. Her expression softened when she saw those brown eyes. The same ones that light up her world, the ones that shine light in the darkness. Dina walked over to her now wife. Yup, wife. After Ellie got back from California of course Dina had to smack some sense into Ellie.

Flashback

“Are you hurt?” Dina squeeked softly. She held JJ in her arms. JJ was was already getting bigger. His hair was longer too. Thankfully Mr. Robinson, the Jackson Barber, had been patient in giving the little boy a haircut. Bless the poor man his eyesight has gotten a bit worse.

Ellie shook her head. She was too ashamed to look up at Dina. Much less look at JJ. She couldn’t bear the sight of seeing him more grown up. It would remind her of how much she had missed. The pain she would feel knowing he probably doesn’t remember her is unbearable.

Dina placed JJ don’t in front of her feet. She didn’t know why. She was so over flooded with emotions. Anger, sadness, relief. They all took stabs at her heart at the same time. JJ looked up at Dina confused but the looked at the sunburnt, green eyed, auburn woman.

Now Ellie was forced to look at the child. Her eyes weld up. His hair was longer. And choppily cut too. It wasn’t Dina who’d cut his hair, Dina does a better job. He resembled Jesse. Her heart ache. Her mind flooded with pictures of her last moment with the child’s father. She took a deep breath. Ellie opened her hand to reveal a small toy elephant. Ollie. She’d won it at the Jackson festival so long ago and had kept it. She remembered how JJ used to sleep with it at night.

JJ looked at what was in this mysterious woman’s hand. He smiled and waddled towards her. The blue dusty color caught his attention and likeness. He touched Ellie’s hand and look at Dina for approval of the toy. Dina hesitated but nodded slightly. JJ let out a happy chuckle and took the blue elephant. Ellie couldn’t help but smile.

Dina slowly walked forward. Maybe this was a dream. The same dream she’d had for the last year. Ellie in front of her. Ellie’s dead. This isn’t real. Her mind is playing tricks on her again. It often does this. When she is putting JJ to sleep she’ll think she caught a glimpse of Ellie’s figure in the shadow. This is the same thing.

*Smack*

Not exactly how she planned to prove the realness of the situation. Ellie winced. She knew she’d deserved it. To be honest she deserved worse. She would have preferred Dina slap her 100 times than to remind her of how much she had screwed up.

Dina looked at the hand print mark on Ellie’s cheek. The damage was worse due to her horrible sunburn. Dina looked around for JJ. Now she wonders if she had made a mistake to smack Ellie in front of Jj. She catches the boys rowdy hair and looks in his area. He was playing with a random street dog. Clutching Ollie in his little chubby fingers. Dina sighed and looked back at Ellie.

Ellie looked at Dina with teary eyes. Dina noticed something different in them thought. They weren’t the same dead eyes she used to have. They weren’t dull. They were bright and glossy. And not just because Ellie was crying a tsunami.

“I know” Ellie whispers “I know nothing will ever make you love me again”. She sniffs her nose so she can make out more words. “I know than no amount of apologies will ever be forgiven from me”.

Dina felt sadness hit her.

“But I love you”

That was it for her. Dina cried. Hard. She threw her arms around Ellie. She finally felt it again. She felt that same bubbly feeling in her heart. She doesn’t want to admit it’s love at the moment. But she feels it. Ellie took the girl in her arms and held her. She held Dina and wouldn’t let go. She secretly promised to never let her go.

After that day Ellie agreed to stay in Joel’s house. She wanted to give Dina and JJ time to create that bond with her. She didn’t want to force herself in their lives. She slowly started seeing Dina more and more. And JJ loved playing with Ellie. Ellie always said ‘I love you’ to Dina. Even if Dina never said it she knew that with time, she would.

JJ loved Ellie of course. And if wasn’t because of the fact that she always brought him something after patrols. One day ellie found something that caught her eye. A shiny diamond. It had already been 2 years since she saw Dina again. Dina always invites ellie over and Dina had been saying ‘I love you’. It’s time.

That night after JJ got his presents Ellie bent down on one knee in front of Dina. Part of her was thinking it’s too soon and was about to fake tie her shoes. But she asked Dina and showed the ring. Dina was over joyed and cried if happiness. She couldn’t have said yes any faster.

Flashback end

“JJ sleep okay?” Ellie asked.

“For a six year old, he was okay” Dina replied. She bent her head down to kiss Ellie’s forehead.

“Are you gonna head to bed?” Ellie asked. She looked at the canvas in front of her. She wanted to do a still life drawing of bowl of fruit. Was it cliché? Maybe, but she wanted to improve her art.

“Once you do” Dina said. She looked at the auburn hair. It was long. Probably an inch or two below Ellie’s mid neck. “Your hairs getting long” Dina thought out loud.

“Wanted to ask if you’d cut it for me” Ellie hummed softly and looked at Dina.

“Not Mr. Robinson?” Dina asked resting her head on Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie groaned quietly and Dina chuckled. Dina got up and grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb. Ellie put down her art supplies. She could finish tomorrow. Dina started to part Ellie’s hair and began cutting.

“Can I take JJ hunting?” Ellie asked.

“Don’t you think he’s a little too young?” Dina answered nervously.

“I only wanted to take him to the chicken field” Ellie asked. She didn’t want to throw the boy in the forest with clickers and wild boars. She probably would be hesitant for him to go out there even if he was 30 years old.

“The one in Jackson right? By Tommy’s house?”

“Mhm” ellie confirmed.

“….okay” Dina approved “but if either of you get so much as a paper cut, we’re getting food from the market for a year”. Ellie chuckled.

“You have my word babe” Ellie smiled.

“Are You scheduled for patrol this weekend?” Dina asked.

“Yeah, you need something?” Ellie asked.

“Do you think you can find some more shoes? His old ones will grow out soon” Dina said.

“That’s what happened when you feed him so much” Ellie chuckled.

“He’s a growing boy” Dina rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault he liked my cooking”.

“Can’t blame him for that. Unless it’s pasta.” Ellie chuckled. She smiled after she took a jab Dina by mentioning at the time Dina had burnt pasta sauce and let the water boil so much it overflowed. It wasn’t entirely her fault. In a way. Dina just took a nap.

“Don’t piss off the one with the scissors” Dina replied playfully tugging Ellie’s hair. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to prove her point.

“Still ate it” Ellie laughed.

“That’s what she said” Dina replied. Hanging around Ellie so much was severely effecting Dina’s humor.

After Dina finished with Ellie’s haircut they both had taken a shower together. Ellie laid in bed next to Dina and faced her. The two shared a kiss and locked eyes.

“I love you” Ellie said. Dina felt happy. Ellie had never been one to say I love you first. Not in a serious way that is. After she came back however, it’s like her motivation had changed. And Dina was glad that Ellie’s family is her priory.

“I love you too” Dina replied. Ellie sighed. The feelings of immense love was reciprocated. Everything was okay. Finally, she was at peace. She could breath again. Ellie could sit and stay in her mind and not feel herself be destroyed. She could stay like this forever.

Ahhhh thank you so much reading!!! Let me know if you enjoyed it! I loveeeee writing one shots and as much as I love writing Ellie x reader! I just Love writing Ellie x Dina! Uhhh not proofread.Have a great day and remember your all amazing! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

Taglists: @bready101 @vqxen @gato-chino @vampyangel @a-little-bit-of-everybody @abbysbraids @Lillylynne11 @Lively-blues @Yurixxiii

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #tlou #tlou2 #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #ellie x dina #dina tlou #dina woodward #dina the last of us #dina x ellie

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crownmemes · 7 months

Text

Sad Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sad sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"How come you don't believe me?"

"Will you be away a very long time?"

"To one extent or another, I've always been alone."

"Why won't you tell me anything anymore?"

"I often wonder if I should have been born in another time."

"I'm not cut out for this, am I?"

"You're the only one I trust."

"Leave me alone. You can't help me now."

"I just think it's sad that you can't be honest with the man that, as far as I can tell, is the closest thing you have to a friend."

"It hurts. All this. Everything I see, everything I hear, touch, smell. The conclusions that I'm able to draw, the things that are revealed to me."

"It's always sad when a work of art has to be destroyed."

"She's family and I have to love her, of course, but how can I? She's never let me."

"You have to believe me. Nobody else on this whole damn planet does or ever will."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have meaningful connections."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"I want to tell you something that is not at all pleasant."

"I haven't heard you laugh in a month!"

"I wish your word meant something more to me."

"What is it about you and I that causes us to do so much harm to the ones we are alleged to care about?"

"What is wrong with me? I'm not feeling anything I'm supposed to be feeling..."

"Ever since I was a child, I've never allowed to let myself get too close to people. "

"I fear that I am becoming obsolete."

"You are, in your own way, a lonelier man than me."

"That fact is, I'm a bit of a bore, I suppose."

"One is quite alone when the last one who remembers is gone."

"I don't know what to do with myself half the time, and the other half I'm pissed."

"Why couldn't you trust me?"

"For a long while now, I've suspected that connection with another person - real connection - simply isn't possible for me."

"I have a vision of myself without this job, disappearing down emotional dark tunnels. I need something to hold me to the world."

"I expect you think I'm awful."

"You're ashamed of me."

"I need to know I'm not a monster."

"So, what makes you think I'm lonely?"

"I wish we'd never started this."

"We both made the same mistake. Falling in love. We were both stupid."

"What a mess we've made of our lives."

"Men like us, we're not meant to make connections such as love."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#sad;

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soracities · 11 months

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Your account is absolutely wonderful.. I am assuming that it takes a lot of time and dedication to absorb so much art... I find myself drifting away, always exhausted from my job... So I guess my question is what do you do for work and how do you stay inspired?

most of my time is spent child-minding and while that has left me with very little time to read and watch the things i want--and can be quite exhausting in and of itself--i think there is a little trade-off in that children keep you attentive to the world around you in a way you would not otherwise be, if only because you have to be that attentive to answer all their countless questions. so in a sense there is some inspiration i glean from that.

otherwise, i think this blog sometimes does give off the impression that i'm more well-read than i actually am; in reality, i dance on the surface of a lot of artworks but am passionate about maybe a tiny handful of works, and maybe, like, two painters. i have a "to watch" list that far exceeds my lifespan given that i actually watch, maybe, 3 movies a year. i have finished one (short) book since 2023 started and it took me six months to read that. the books that i've managed to read over the years, i've read chiefly in bursts and almost always in time periods where i was lucky enough in that i didn't have much to occupy me; even then, i'm aware i didn't read as much as i could have done with the time i had, but i'm also the kind of person who cannot devour book after book endlessly, either--i have a very clear saturation point, after which i need to do something different.

i think this blog, more than anything else, is a kind of repository of all the little fragments of thoughts or books or the world that interest and catch me and that i want to keep, but what i actually spend time with and dive into makes up an absolutely miniscule fraction of that. there have been long months (and years) where i did not have it in me to maintain any kind of sustained attention to reading or poetry, but i think the ability to do so is a huge, often unacknowledged, priviliege that requires not just time and economic security, but also mental clarity. i'm saying this to stress that what you feel, especially with whatever demands your job makes on you, is entirely normal and not anything to be ashamed of: the toll bills take, that laundry takes, that cooking and cleaning and countless other errands take are not to be underestimated when you go into them already sapped of most of your reserves in the first place.

it's something i've felt quite often (and still do); carving out the time to read as much or as often as i would like to does require dedication which i do not always have the energy for. but i think for me, to answer your question regarding inspiration, especially during the times when i'm not reading anything, inspiration is in paying as much attention as i can to the world around me, no matter how tiny the details are. there's a quote by william stafford where he talks about the ability to have "one vivid morning" and then "chain myself to it for fifty years". i don't have any set "philosophy" on life, but that is one thing i have always lived by: i still remember a single razor of light i saw on the railway tracks one morning a year ago which caught me by surprise, or the time on the bus when the setting sun filled the top deck and i knew then by the colour of it that summer was coming, or when i got up close to a patch of damp moss to see all its tiny little hairs more clearly, or one afternoon five years or so ago when i bought some loose pears from a corner shop and they were the sweetest, most-melt-in-the-mouth-juiciest pears i'd ever had....i can obsess over the light through a window over and over and over again no matter how often i see it. my mother put some lilies in a vase in the living room a few weeks ago and the entire time i was enraptured with how the scent hit me everytime i'd come into that room. even after more than a week they still enraptured me; each time was like i discovered them all over again and that brightened my mood so immeasurably.

for me inspiration is chiefly about recognizing the things that bring me joy and then holding them as closely as i can. there's a game i've started playing if i'm on a long bus trip where i take the number of a random bus stop i pass and if it's lower than 2020 i google what events happened in that year and pick the one that interests me most: if i'm going to be on my phone anyway, i will be on it in a way that aligns with what i already enjoy (FACTS!) and won't drain me (social media). when i don't have the energy to finish or even pick up a book, i'm subscribed to sites like Aeon, Ordinary Plots, Diaries of Note, or grieftolight on instagram (shoutout to forever beloved @firstfullmoon doing the lord's work with that account, truly), or podcasts i like, which allow me to read or experience little bits and pieces here and there without the pressure or anxiety-inducing commitment. if there is a poem i love i try to spend as much time with it as i can, which often just takes the form of me writing it down (by hand, usually-- that part is important) into a ledger of poems i keep which i can return to whenever i want, underlining my favourite parts or just rereading what spoke to me (i also love going to exhibits or museums (which, luckily, are mostly free where i live) or taking note of all the random bits of street art i see)

a year or so ago i also started, and this has changed my life, to copy down some of my favourite quotes i've reblogged onto little cue cards and stick them on the wall by my bed. some are poems, some are bits of novels or scraps of philosophy, some are motivational tidbits, but all of them are things i want to be reminded of. it helps me remember the lines i most want to keep and also grounds me in an odd way, but more than that, it just makes me happy. if i'm doom-scrolling, or having a rough evening, i can turn to that wall and read the things that mean most to me.

i don't know if any of this helps, and i'm conscious of not putting these out there as a cure-all because i'm very aware of how quickly, and how easily, this society and its set-up can drain you. i am, though, a staunch proponent of approaching art (any kind) and your engagement with it from a place and a pace that is true to you, before anything else, and that includes taking into account your own circumstances and what would bring you the most enjoyment within the means you have available to you: sometimes that's a 20 minute radio interview about blackholes, sometimes it's counting how many birds you pass as you walk through the park, sometimes it's 150 page novella it takes you half a year to finish. whatever it may look like, center your own pleasure first. i hope this can give you something, anon ♡

#also cannot understate the impact of the people in my life #the LUMINOUS brains of my friends and the people i love give me an education on the world no university can compete with #ask #anonymous #notes from elsewhere

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notcapableofbeingtheguy · 2 years

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your post about walter jr supporting his parents and always showing so much kindness and maturity to them is literally the ONLY post that matters. that child deserved so so so much better and i love to see him acknowledged

Thank you friendo while I have you here can we also talk about how Walt destroys his life because of a shitty intersection of toxic masculinity + ableism (because what he’s trying to avoid, deep down, is that image of his dying father— sick. weak. feminized to Walt in his frailness) and this attitude also affects how he treats Flynn???

Look how Flynn is introduced in the pilot script:

His parents “treat him as if he were able-bodied, which is how he wants it.” It’s true— and at first glance, this is a good thing. Flynn doesn’t want to be babied, he doesn’t want to be offered help at every turn in situations where he knows he can be independent. His parents provide him with a feeling of normalcy, by not over-emphasizing or dramatizing his cerebral palsy. Sometimes he will need help or accommodation, and they provide it for him, but often he won’t, and they won’t mention it. This is the rhythm they have all found, and Flynn likes it that way.

But this approach is deeply flawed. Rather than normalizing Flynn’s disability (which I think is the surface level intention), it erases it, ignores it, attempts to hide it from view and discussion. Which is unsurprisingly pretty similar to how Walt relates to his cancer + treatment. He wants to do everything alone— he banishes Skyler from his chemo sessions, and he hides himself away when he’s having chemo side effects, often locking himself in the bathroom. Walt shapes his life around his cancer in some ways (that whole cooking meth thing), but at the same time, he works hard to hide his illness, ashamed of that feminizing weakness he thinks it gives him.

And what effect does this attitude have on Flynn? Walt’s shame around illness, weakness, and disability— his idea that it’s okay to be sick or disabled, as long as you don’t talk about it? Of course, it makes Flynn feel his father is ashamed of him. And it instills that same reflexive draw towards toxic masculinity in him (think about how he idolizes Hank!).

Consider the scene where Walt is teaching Flynn how to drive (which I recently saw on my rewatch). Where Flynn wants to drive with two feet, and Walt insists he use just one, because he has to get it “right.” He has to be able to drive the same as everyone else, no matter how unintuitive that may be to his body. This conversation obviously makes Flynn feel embarrassed and ashamed. And when Flynn tries to drive the “right” way? He crashes.

This scene hits so hard for me because it’s a very clear case where the method of driving that would work best for Flynn is so clearly viable— there’s really no reason not to let him drive in the way that’s most intuitive and comfortable for him. If Walt were truly normalizing Flynn’s disability, he would let him drive that way with no comment. But that was never Walt’s real attitude towards Flynn’s cerebral palsy. Walt is treating him like he’s able bodied— he’s trying to erase Flynn’s disability. And when that attitude hits the road, it literally crashes. With the added bonus of making Flynn feel like it’s his fault for not having a body that works the “right” way.

Idk exactly where I’m going with this. Mostly wanted to say Justice For Flynn!!! And remark on what an interesting character he is. I think he’s super neglected in fandom discourse— I’m thinking a lot rn (if you couldn’t tell haha) about how he serves as a foil for Walt in terms of Walt’s attitudes about gender and bodies and power and all that jazz. As a (mostly) able-bodied person myself I would love to hear more on this topic from any disabled folks who wanted to speak on it!

#breaking bad #brba rewatch #Flynn white #I’ve decided to start calling him Flynn if you didn’t notice haha #gotta respect chosen names ya know?#i want to think more about what Flynn says in Gray Matter about this #he says something like you’re afraid of a little cancer?? after all I’ve been through??#something something Walt’s attitudes about his cancer reveal how to Flynn his true attitudes about his son’s disability #anyways everybody keep up the Flynn discourse!#asks #brba meta #flynn rights rewatch

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compacflt · 9 months

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Watched Marriage Story today, for the very first time, and had a lotta thoughts about EDTS Ice and Mav, especially their divorce-era. Wondered whether they would’ve genuinely gotten a divorce, if they’d somehow been married at that point. Charlie kinda reminded me of Ice: the benign belief in his own intellectual superiority, the self-pity, the willful blindness towards the reality of his relationship, the selfishness—not in the sense that Ice wasn’t kind or warm or loving, but in the sense that he really needed things to go his way (for them to not talk about anything). Of course Mav was no Nicole, he definitely shared his half of the blame, but I could totally imagine the two of ‘em having a huge fight that devolved into: “I can’t believe I have to know you … forever!” ‘Cause they kinda did: being in the Navy, moving around in the same circles, sharing an estranged kid they were both hoping to make-up with…

ok so part one of this ask not having seen marriage story: yeah i am 100% sure if they’d codified their relationship in words they would’ve broken up. like forever. letting all that anger simmer instead of boiling over is sometimes a blessing in disguise—if you say you’re together, you’re together. if you say you’re over, you’re over. no take-backsies on something like that. whereas if you don’t talk about any of it, the boundaries are a lot less definite. a blessing in disguise. i did (for mental torture purposes, and also for a prompt fill i [sorry to whomever sent it in] didnt hate myself enough to write) brainstorm that Bad Ending—if, say, Mav HAD been reckless and decisive and told ice “get the fuck out of my house obviously this isn’t gonna work you betrayed my trust & bailed on me at the second lowest moment of my life & conspired with a dying woman who is in love with you to ruin our son’s life in the exact same way MY life was once ruined and you blame me for turning you gay but you were already gay to begin with and You Fucking Killed My Best Friend And We Never Talk About It so fuck you we’re done” and went no-contact and threw ices shit out into the street and never went back to the hangar and changed all the locks and his phone number etc. and… say ice is like decimated for a few years straight, like numbingly and crushingly depressed, & then he meets not-his-sister-sarah and tells her the truth (that now he can realize with the benefit of hindsight & grief & loss—funny how loss always makes everything real clear all of a sudden): that he was in a long term relationship with a man with whom he was raising a child & with whom he was probably in love, and she marries him anyway, and obviously she’s not maverick and she doesn’t make him as happy as he did and she knows that but at least she stops him from being actively su*cidal and at least they can be open about their relationship in public and maybe they have a kid or two, and maybe he completely shifts his strategy and relocates to Virginia and moves his AOR to the atlantic instead of the pacific so he can get as far away from San Diego and maverick and home as possible, and maybe it works, and maybe there are some days he doesn’t even think about maverick or Bradley or goose, and when people mention the 1990s he grimaces and tries to forget, and he’s not ashamed of it so much as he is hurt by the memory of his own carelessness, and maybe he cries often and very very quietly, and maybe he gets his life back on track and before he knows it he has four stars on the opposite coast from the one he’d originally planned, and of course he’s not happy, but he’s never happy, so whatever.

Until. some event he can’t get out of. A mutual friend’s change of command ceremony or retirement ceremony or funeral. first thing he sees (like always) is captain Mitchell shining in his dress blues (like always). they avoid each other all evening, why bother trying? until someone forces them together, “weren’t you two at TOPGUN together? didn’t you guys kill all those soviets together?” and on and on, yes, we were, this is very very uncomfortable, until eventually they’re alone, and maverick asks, “can i buy you a drink sir?” but he’s staring at ice’s left hand and staring and staring, and it’s been over a decade but still ice doesn’t know how to say no to him, so they leave this joint and get a drink somewhere else, and maverick says, “how long have you been married,” and ice says, “eight years next march,” and you can see maverick doing the math in his head 2016-8=2008 okay, “what’s her name,” “sarah,” maverick laughs but feels bad for laughing, ice says, “we have a couple kids,” maverick stops laughing. “shit,” maverick says. ice says, “it was very difficult for me for a very long time;” maverick says, “what did you tell her;” ice says, “the truth;” maverick waits a second to respond and then says, “and what was the truth?” ice tells him the truth which is “well that i was in a long-term relationship with another man and we were raising a kid together and most likely we were in love with each other but it didn’t work out.” maverick takes a long time to respond to that and is blinking a lot and if you put your ear to his chest you’d hear that he is struggling to breathe. he says “and she married you anyway.” “she did.” he says “and You married Her anyway.” “i did.” Ice pauses then says “it was very difficult for me for a very long time.” he pauses some more and drinks and watches disinterestedly as maverick blinks and blinks. then ice says “so uh are you…?” maverick says “ive had a couple… a couple flings… nothing. nothing like.” and ice understands. maverick says, “why didn’t you tell me?” “tell you what?” “that you. that you and i were. that you felt that way about me.” ice says, “i did. i tried. i left you voicemails & sent you postcards & tried for half a decade to get in touch with the kid. did you not get my—did you not get my voicemails or my letters?” maverick blinks and blinks and says “i did get them but i didn’t open them;” ice says “well that’s that then.” and drinks. maverick says “how long after me did you meet her;” ice says “a couple years, i was deployed for O.I.F.” maverick says, “yeah, me too.” and he almost starts crying. he says “ice I’m sorry but you’re telling me ive completely wasted the last decade of my life and i don’t know what to do. do you love her? does she make you happy?” ice says “yes” and “yes.” maverick says “does she make you as happy as you were with me?” ice doesn’t care enough anymore to be dishonest and says “no. Of course not. but she made life easier when it was very difficult for me for a very long time.” maverick says, “run away with me. fuck it. let’s try again. let’s start over. no one else understands. come on. you and me. we always come back to each other. let’s try again.” and it is very very tempting. One of those watershed moments when life goes crystal clear and you can see through it. but only for a moment. ice is so tired and too old for that kind of adventure anymore. he says, i have kids, and i have a wife, and i have the navy and my four stars to think of, and i— he can be honest about this: “i want to. you know i do.” he pauses. doesn’t think he wants maverick to touch him. that can’t possibly end well and historically has not ended well. flinches away when maverick reaches out. he says “but i can’t.” maverick says, “i miss you more than anything. i want—even still!—i—please…I can’t…” another pause. ice says, “Let me get the bill, Mav.” so ice pays mavericks tab and they go their separate ways.

and maverick goes out to the desert to fly the sr-72 darkstar and pushes it beyond its limits on purpose and he doesn’t intend to survive but it’s his stupid too-good instincts that have him popping the cockpit escape pod ejection handle, and he lives by accident, like always, and destroys several billion taxpayer dollars in an instant, and without admiral Kazansky on his six backing him up admiral Cain has everything he needs to dishonorably discharge captain mitchell from the navy, so after 33 years of service to his country and 3 air to air kills maverick is unceremoniously dishonorably discharged and they kick him out without a second thought, and the Dagger special mission command goes to someone else and Bradley gets team leader and probably fails and probably dies, and atlantic fleet commander Tom Kazansky is offered the promotion to chief of naval operations and takes it, and doesn’t live long enough to meet his grandchildren, and that’s about all i have to say about that.

Now im going to go watch marriage story to answer this ask educatedly so hold on.

ok coming back the next day post marriage story and yeah you’re right i think it would look like that

#poasting for the sake of poasting #it’s wednesday #Wednesday is my poasting day #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #icemav #asks #angst #idk #yes i AM currently reading Cormac mccarthys all the pretty horses could you tell?#this movie was on my list for years so thx for making me watch it #as a californian new york transplant who hates living in a shoebox this movie is my worst nightmare fr #every film/drama guy i know is like charlie #my roommate is a film director; her boyfriend is her favorite actor; i dread the day she hates everything she worked on in college because #of the fact that he’s the star of every single one

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

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🖋️ want another blanket?— you know Im picking Billy and fluff of course! 😊

slumber party shenanigans

billy hargrove x gn!reader

a/n: hi!!! i thought of this pretty quickly and figured it could be sweet. i hope you like it!! thanks for sending one in <333

————

🖋️ want another blanket?—i will write you a little ficlet (under 1000 words) for the character of your choice. i would appreciate if you’d specify whether you want comfort/fluff/angst/whatever and i will try and come up with something for you!

“I don’t understand why we can’t go buy ice cream at the store and eat it here. Shit, baby, I’ll take you to that place in town if you want it that bad.”

“Because, Billy. They’re my friends! I’m being supportive of their endeavors.” Billy rolls his eyes at you. “How many times have I come to the pool while you’re working? Or how often do you come to the store and pretend like you’re in dire need of a book?”

“That’s different,” he says.

“No it’s not,” you argue, and then pause, thinking.

“They have strawberry cheesecake,” you add.

Billy stares at you, trying his best not to show any emotion. He disappears for a moment and comes back with shoes on and his keys.

“Let’s go then.”

You knew that would work.

When you get to Starcourt, Billy holds onto your hand for dear life. Not only has he avoided the mall as often as possible, but there are way too many shithead kids running around in here.

You turn a corner, and the crowd thins out, less children and more young adults meandering through the record store or walking towards the Gap. Billy spots the boat booth sticking out of Scoops Ahoy! and sighs.

There’s a long line, and it’s no wonder, because it’s fucking scorching out today. Robin looks up from where she’s been scooping ice cream into a cup and hands it to a sticky-fingered child. She catches your eye and perks up, her bored look turning into a much more pleased one.

Steve is at the register, poorly flirting with some girl you’re pretty sure you went to high school with. She awkwardly takes her change and walks away.

Robin slides over when you and Billy are at the counter. Steve’s rubbing his forehead, ashamed at himself. He’s really losing his charm. She elbows him.

“Ow, Robin! What the hell?”

“We have special guests!” She proclaims, smiling at you and Billy.

Steve finally looks up, focusing on the both of you. “Oh. Hi.”

Billy’s practically hiding behind you, his fingers tucked into the belt loops of your shorts. He really doesn’t like this.

“Hi, Robin. Steven,” you say. You’re the only one he’d let get away with that. Perks of spending time in the Upside Down one might say.

“What can I get the both of you on this fine Tuesday—it is Tuesday isn’t it?”

“Yes, Rob,” Steve reassures her.

“This fine Tuesday afternoon?” She finishes. You order for yourself and Billy does the same. You pretend not to see the glimmer in his eye at the prospect of his favorite ice cream. It’s hard to find these days.

You stand there while Robin takes her sweet time, possibly adding a little more than you asked for, just because she can.

Billy opens his wallet, handing Steve cash. “Harrington,” he says in greeting.

Steve nods, smiling as politely as he can. “Hargrove.” He takes the cash and counts out the change. “Everything going swell?”

Billy chuckles. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Robin hands you both cones, and you give Billy his.

The four of you stand there for a moment. “Well,” you finally say, “I hope work goes okay today. You guys wanna see a movie for something this weekend?”

“Sure!” Robin says. She’d decidedly in charge of her and Steve’s outings.

“I’ll call you,” you tell her. She shoots you a wink and a thumbs up.

You walk away from the counter and turn to Billy. “I assume you don’t want to sit here and eat?”

He kisses your forehead in gratitude. “Please don’t do this to me. I’ll sit anywhere else.”

You laugh, watching him lick the ice cream that’s already begun to drip from the cone and then from his hand.

He raises his eyebrows. “See something you like?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You pat him gently on the ass and move away from Scoops, off to find somewhere else to sit. You hope to revel in the air conditioning for a bit longer.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #bookshelf-dust’s 500 follower celebration #bookshelf-dust’s slumber party

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loveandmurders · 1 year

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Helloooo, I was wondering if I could request Sinclair sister who struggles with SH?

Hello love, thank you for this request <3

I really hope you’re doing well and if you need to talk about anything, you can send me a message. Never stay alone if you feel like you’re struggling <3

This request is the most personnal thing I ever wrote on this blog because I did hurt myself for quite a while, and still do sometimes. This is also my darkest post over here.

Not too sure if I love or hate this work (it had been very hard to write and readproof it before posting), but I still hope you’ll enjoy this in a way that’ll bring you some comfort. <3

And if you needed a sign to stop hurting yourself or not commit suicide today/tonight, this is it.

LET ALL THE ANGER AND HATRED OUT

Warnings: self harming (pulling you hair, bad position, scratching and cuting yourself), self hatred, insecurities, shame, suicidal thoughts, mentions of mental illness, mention of torturing and killing people (the twins’ solution to your SH isn’t a good one but you can’t except more from slashers)

You started to hurt yourself when you were a child.

At first, it was pulling at your hair or taking deliberately positions that would quickly be uncomfortable or hurtful. Thankfully Vincent was always there to stop you pulling at your hair, and Bo was finding way too much comfort in your presence so you always ended up on his lap or close by, that way he was unknowingly preventing you from hurting yourself. And when Lester was noticing how silent you were - which often meant you were going to hurt yourself - he would cheer you up and sleep with you, at night, to look after you.

When you became a teenage girl, you started to understand that you were actually hurting yourself. As a child, it was a subconscious defence mechanism, but as you grew up you realised what you were doing. And if you stopped pulling at your hair and taking bad positions - mostly because you started to enjoy your hair and because you wanted to have a healthy body (so your dad wouldn’t give you some made up painkillers you didn’t know the side effects of), you started to hurt yourself in other ways.

At first, you started to scratch your skin with your nails until you bled. As you continued to grow up in this very toxic family, you started to use a knife or a razor blade on your inner thighs and arms. You always did your best to tend your wounds afterwards, mostly because you didn’t want your brothers to find out. You knew they already had a lot to handle, and you loved to be able to bring them comfort, and not even more burden.

Plus, you felt awful, weak and pathetic afterwards. The more you hurt yourself and the more you hated yourself. It was a vicious circle but you just couldn’t help. It was like a drug. You felt so much better when you were punishing yourself, it felt like you were alive too. But once you were done, you would look at what you did; and you would feel empty sometimes, or you would start crying. Either way, you would mechanically go have a shower and try to patch everything up and burn anything with blood on so no one could know.

You were always putting on long enough sleeves too, because you were ashamed.

More than once you thought about killing yourself too, but you never did for your brothers. You knew how much they loved you, adored you, cherished you. You knew how Bo was always freaking out when you were out of his line of vision, how Vincent always kept an eye on you, how Lester was always looking at you when he made a joke to be sure you were laughing at it.

So you didn’t commit suicide - to not break your brothers even more than they already were - but you continued to hurt yourself, even in your adulthood. There were better days, better weeks, better months than others. But there were also very dark times. Your lows were awfully low. If you brothers knew you could sometimes feel depressed and unhappy, no matter how much you would always try to hide it behind a smile, they never thought you were using blades against yourself. They always thought they would notice - but they probably were blind by their own insanity and mental illness. They couldn’t imagine that their joyful beloved baby sister could hate herself. How could she when she was the ray of sunshine in their life? When she was the only thing worth living for, even in this bloody and unhappy mess?

It was so easy for you to hurt yourself when you lived in your own flat, you didn’t even have to hide the bloody bandages anymore. But when you agreed to live with your brothers again, a sane part of yourself hoped this would help, hope you would feel better, or hope that the boys would notice something. The bigger part of yourself thought that if you had been able to hide it your whole childhood, you could continue doing it.

But the boys grew up too, they weren’t just angry, vulnerable, violent, desperate, broken teenagers. They were adults who used their own suffering and insanity to find prey, to kill them, to turn them into the main attraction of the town. They also spent several years without seeing you every day, so their eyes on you were more lucid. And if their love for you never wavered, it turned more protective and possessive with time.

That was how Vincent started to notice that some days you seemed to be hiding your arms, or that you were trying to not flinch when Bo would innocently grab you to show you something or have you sit down for a family dinner. He also noticed how long you could stay in the bathroom for a simple shower. Vincent learnt to observe and to stalk people as he grew up, and even though he hated to do anything that could make you feel uncomfortable, he couldn’t let anything happen to you.

He knew something was wrong.

That day, after lunch, Bo went back to his garage, Lester left for an errand, and you went upstairs for a shower. Vincent stayed in the kitchen, and looked at the clock.

It was over an hour your were in the bathroom now.

Deadly silent in there too.

His instinct was screaming at him to open the door separating the two of you, but he couldn’t do that, so he waited for you right behind it.

You gasped when you opened the door and found him there, quite surprised and deep inside, a little bit panicked. You still smiled at him “You scared me” you chuckled even though you didn’t understand what he was doing there. You kept the towel you used to stop the bleeding closer to your chest so Vincent wouldn’t see it. You tried to move past him but he blocked you and you frowned.

“What, Vinny?” you asked

Why so long? He signed and your heart dropped. No one ever asked you this, and you didn’t think anyone would notice because the boys were always so busy with everything. When you were a teen, your parents would kick your arse if they heard the water running for too long, but they wouldn’t care otherwise. When you were a teen, Bo was too busy screaming, Vinny being in his own world and Lester trying to get his mother’s attention.

You shrugged “Just did a hair mask, took me longer… Why? Are you checking how long I stay in the bathroom now? It’s kinda creepy, Vince” you replied with a smile, trying to embarrass him so he would leave you alone, but he could see past your lies and noticed how your smile wasn’t reaching your eyes.

You good? What’s going on? He insisted and you bit on your bottom lip.

“Look I don’t know what you’re imagining…” you said as your brother reached for you and you accidentally let the towel fall. You didn’t even look at it, because you knew Vincent would see the blood on it. You looked away actually, feeling so ashamed. Vincent picked the towel up and for an instant he was simply speechless.

He hadn’t known what you were doing in the bathroom, but hurting yourself to the point of making yourself bleed was clearly not what he had imagined. He had thought that maybe you were staring at yourself and hating yourself and insulting yourself, like he often did. But hurting yourself... like that?

He let the towel go and very carefully and gently he grabbed your arm and he lifted the sleeve up. The sight of the bandages turned his stomach up and down. He had no idea what to do. His heart was breaking. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before either. He should have been smarter for your own sake.

He brought you against his chest and hugged you. You had to resist the urge to cry as you hugged him back.

“I’m fine, Vinny, I’m fine, I swear. I’m sorry about the towel, I’ll go buy a new one” you babbled, as if Vincent was caring about anything else but you. He remembered the hair pulling when you were a kid and he hated how he never thought it could have turned into something worse. “Vinny, please don’t tell Bo” you pleaded. “Or Lester. Please. I’ll stop, I promise” you begged him.

I’m sorry we haven’t noticed before. I’m sorry you never talked to us about it. Vincent replied as he cupped your face. You know we love you more than anything. Tell me what we can do to make this stop. He continued and you started to cry as you shook your head.

“I’m fine. You all have enough to handle with, I don’t want to be a burden. My skin regenerates well, if I put some cream on every morning and night, it’ll be all good soon.” you replied. You didn’t add that you had become quite good at hiding any marks with jewels or clothes.

In your state you hadn’t heard Bo coming inside the house. Vincent did, and even if he understood you wanted to keep this a secret, he needed Bo to watch over you too. Bo heard the two of you talking upstairs so he joined in. He saw the tears dripping down your face and in two big steps he was there, hugging you. He didn’t know what was going on, but he never was able to stand the sight of you crying.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked and you felt like you were going to cry even more. You didn’t answer, and as he was about to ask Vincent, he saw the bloody towel on the ground.

“Are ya hurt?” he instantly asked and he started to check on you with worried gestures and eyes. You gently pushed him away because you felt like you couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t let you do, he brought you closer before freezing when he saw the bandages. With what happened to his wrists, he understood right away. And it felt like a punch in his stomach. His baby sister had been hurting herself all those years and he hadn’t noticed? Like Vincent, guilt instantly creeped inside of him. As your big brothers, their job was to protect you and to make sure you were happy. How could they have failed so badly without realising it? Like Vincent, he hugged you, completely speechless, and you cried even more before pushing the two of them from you.

“This needs to stop” Bo sternly said because he had no idea how to handle the situation, and emotions weren’t his strong suit. You let out a dry laugh that broke their hearts even more.

“Ya think I don’t know that, ya think I’m feelin’ good? It’s been weeks I haven’t needed to, but today I just couldn’t stop. I should’ve been better at work and I haven’t been super nice with Lester yesterday, so I needed to do this. That’s all. I mean we’re all fucked up, so yes I’m hurtin’ myself since I’m a kid, but it’s fine, I survived so far.”

“Love…”

“Ya want to know how bad I can feel? Sometimes I fuckin’ dream I could hurt myself bad enough it would kill me.” The twins’ eyes widened and they both reached for you with pure fear and concern written all over their faces. They couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, and hearing those words coming from your mouth was ripping their hearts from their chests. “But if I never did, it’s because I knew I’d kill ya too. Honestly ya saved me more than once, but I need to hurt myself to feel somethin’, or when I’m angry at myself, or when I feel guilty or stupid or pathetic, or when I’m tired or when I’m feelin’ too lonely.” you explained, and it felt good to be able to say it out loud for the first time in your life.

Your brothers hugged you, lost for words. They both were thinking fast because they couldn’t let you continue hurting yourself like that. After a few instant, something very natural came to them. They just exchanged a look before guiding you to your room, so you could sit on your bed. Vincent sat next to you, stroking your back, as Bo knelt in front of you and he cupped your face in his hands.

“Listen to me, love.” he started and you looked down at him as he stroked your cheeks. “Ya need to let all your anger, your hatred and sufferin’ out, but ya can’t do it on yourself no more. Ya’re important, ya’re loved, and ya’re safe with us. We should’ve seen what ya were doin’ to yourself a long time ago, but now this will change, do ya hear me?”

“How?” you asked as you softly sniffed

“By hurtin’, torturin’ and killin’ people who aren’t ya. I promise ya’ll feel better and we’ll make sure that nothing can happen to ya. Ya know the special room I have in my garage that I never let ya see? There is a chair there, and I’ll tie up anyone ya’d like so ya’d let out everythin’ bad you have inside of ya unto them. How does that sound?”

“I don’t know, Bo…” you weren’t sure you were able to hurt someone else other than yourself. You had never been a bully, and you weren’t a killer.

“Let’s try, love, even just once, okay?” Bo insisted so you looked up at Vincent who nodded. You thought about it for a few moments before nodding and both the twins relaxed. They really hoped it would help like it “helped” them. They also promised themselves to keep a very close eye on you, because you were far too important for them.

And everyday they reminded you that:

You are loved.

You are not alone.

You are important.

You are safe.

You deserve better.

Taglist:

@feathery-ass

@g0thl3zz

@erasable-mustache

@cavern-creature

@peachycupotea

#tw: self half #tw: sucidal thoughts #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x sister #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x sister #lester sinclair x reader #Lester Sinclair x you #lester sinclair x sister #sinclair brothers x reader #sinclair brothers x sister #sinclair brothers x you #slasher x sister #slasher x you #slasher x reader

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vonnez · 2 years

Note

If you deem this too spoily for yotur readers, please just delete this. <3

The brothers are mortal, you learn this later on in the story but it has little to do with the plot. My thoughts on immortal MC: If I wanted to extend my life, I would bond our lifespan, so when your partner dies, you die. You age at the same rate as they do. What are your or the characters thoughts on it?

MC BONDS LIFESPANS

now that i know this, a lot of ideas have flooded my brain !! thank you for that, lol. BUT, here's my take on how i think the brothers + dateables ( minus luke ) would react. <3

( also, sorry if i had gotten this wrong, LOL )

demon brothers + dateables. gender neutral mc.

link page.

LUCIFER:

after you'd set him down in his study, explaining your thoughts, he's speechless.

"you want to spend forever with me?.."

in short, he'll agree. he'll even take a break from work to celebrate with a night alone, in each other's arms, as a cursed record plays in the background.

MAMMON:

he's also shocked, but stuttering out incoherent things. you broke him.

to the point: yes. he'd agree as soon as you spat the words.

he just wants to love you, kiss you, and give all of his dedication to you. so if that is an option, you better not be surprised when he actually agrees.

LEVIATHAN:

"huh?... you what..- YOU WANT TO WHAT?"

it takes him a moment, so don't worry - he's just processing your words.

immediately after, he's got his head in his hands crying. he's not ashamed, just overly happy that someone would do that for him, just to be by his side.

levi may not be the best at affection, but he'll kiss you with a hug - sputtering out a barely coherent yes.

SATAN:

many ideas for this man, but i think he'd be the less shocked of the group. instead, he's gone soft and gently hugs you - face buried into your neck.

"i love you.. from he celestial realm, around the human realm, and all the way back to devildom.. i'd stand against a hundred men if it meant we could be together.. of course, MC. i'd love to."

he's a romantic by heart, so just be prepared to hear all of the lovely poetry he wrote for you.

ASMODEUS:

now, he'd heard you tell him that you were immortal - which he was excited for. but now that you've suggested to bind your life with his? he's skyrocketing with joy.

he loves you from the bottom of his heart and all the way up. he wouldn't want anything else but you by his side.

"MC.. you're making me cry!! i'd be honored!"

just wait for the endless night of him crying into your shoulder, truly appreciative of your kind actions.

BEELZEBUB:

now, he's not overly soft often, but now? you got him blushing and dropping every burger he had in his hands.

he'll agree, but won't make a big deal out of it.

although, in the inside, he's thinking of all the ways he can show you his thanks.

BELPHEGOR:

he's not shocked, but surprised.

why with him? didn't he kill you?

yeah, well, guess what belphie - they want to love you as long as they can.

he'll pull you in by your waist, next to his laid form, and hug you tightly while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

he's very quick to say yes, he loved you so much.

DIAVOLO:

when you'd told him, he was doing paperwork as he drank a cup of barbatos's tea.

then, he drops the cup as he chokes on his tea, due to shock.

he recovers quickly, apologizes for his actions, and smiles ear to ear. he's kissing you everywhere, spinning you around like a happy child.

"of course, MC! you wouldn't have to think twice about me dedicating myself to you! i love you, i wouldn't dare miss out on an opportunity like this."

BARBATOS:

he saw this coming and asked before you did.

"MC, would you like to bind our lifespans together? it would be beneficial on both of our parts, wouldn't you think?"

he's sly, he knows it. but he just wanted to see you shocked and flustered, claiming you wanted to ask first.

SIMEON:

no questions asked, just an immediate yes and many kisses.

he's so happy you asked, because if you didn't, he would've. either way, it's happening and you're both now binded together.

immediately getting a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some celestial wine. he's going to cuddle the night away in your arms, and he doesn't want to any other way.

SOLOMON:

so now, not only do you want to be by his side as long as you can, but you want to bind your lifespans?

he's definitely agreeing, but wants to know if you're actually serious. he thinks your joking, so please tell him you mean it.

absolutely ecstatic and plans on getting married with you in the human realm. he's got the rings picked out and everything. </3

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saltynsassy31 · 3 months

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Weeeeee-

brace yourself, this is LONG

My main OCs are Skia and Damian, twins that were born in Celestic Town of Sinnoh region. Their maid is Lottie (who Skia likes to pester) then turned guardian when their father went to a business trip and never came back. After becoming their proper guardian, they moved to Unova at the age of six and pretty much lived most of their lives there before becoming a Pokemon trainer and embark on their own journey.

Skia is the PRANKSTER of the house and surprisingly cool-headed, mischievous and carefree demeanor. She tends to overlook consequences, particularly when engaging in her playful pranks. Despite her carelessness and the negative impressions it leaves, some people find her mischievous nature amusing. When it comes to battles, she shows little to no effort to those she sees as "new opponents" (she just doesn't like going all out at the start of battle), but when she does get serious... Oh boy her battling escalates from 0 to 100 so quick it baffles her opponents. Surprisingly, she's a huge crybaby, but she's a master at hiding her emotions, masking it with her off-the-wall nature. An anemic child, so she tends to be "lazier" as to not get her nody too worked up or else she'll be found collapsed on the bed.

Damian is the one that would burst with emotions. He might be quick to react emotionally in certain situations but generally maintains a relaxed and easygoing attitude. He’s a hothead that can be reserved and chill with people, laid-back and is not ashamed to pull some pranks either. Damian is not shy about pulling pranks, but his "goody-two-shoes" appearance often misleads others. Despite his laid-back demeanor, he can be just as mischievous as his twin. Where Skia is the sneaky, he's the impulsive. Damian is passionate and emotionally transparent, when he experiences intense feelings, whether positive or negative, he readily puts his emotions on display. Damian doesn't shy away from sharing his feelings, especially when it comes to significant moments or challenges, unlike his sister who deals with intense emotions in a more silent and internalized manner.

Here are Purrloin and Pawniard, Skia and Damian's starter respectively. Caught in Unova:

(Purr and Pawni's dynamic in a nutshell)

Ngl, your twins reminds me of me snd my twin fjsjsja

Which I love, cuz often times people making twin ocs tend to make them a copy paste of each other or the "Good and evil" trope which I hate, I like it when people make twins their own individual characters XD they'll share similarities and have a different life experiences as twins, but they're still their own people

That side tangent aside

They seem pretty neat! :o and omg their starters are so CUTE! They seem to have a pretty interesting dynamic, I love to see that!

I'm eating this all up like a 5 course meal

I wonder how them and Salty would get along XD but that would mean me actually, properly developing her story and I'm waiting till I get my first game so I can have more insight lol

#salty rants #salty answers #pokemon #ask box

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 4 months

Text

Mourning Turned to Joy

1 "At that time," says the LORD, "will I be the God of all the families of Israel, and they shall be my people." 2 Thus says the LORD, "The people who were left of the sword found favor in the wilderness; even Israel, when I went to cause him to rest.

3 The LORD appeared to him from afar. I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore with loving kindness have I drawn you.

4 Again will I build you, and you shall be built, O virgin of Israel: again you shall be adorned with your tambourines, and shall go forth in the dances of those who make merry.

5 Again you shall plant vineyards on the mountains of Samaria; the planters shall plant, and shall enjoy its fruit.

6 For there shall be a day, that the watchmen on the hills of Ephraim shall cry, "Arise, and let us go up to Zion to the LORD our God."'"

7 For thus says the LORD, "Sing with gladness for Jacob, and shout for the chief of the nations: publish, praise, and say, 'For the LORD has saved your people, the remnant of Israel.'

8 'Look, I will bring them from the north country, and gather them from the uttermost parts of the earth, along with the blind and the lame, the woman with child and her who travails with child together: a great company shall they return here.

9 They shall come with weeping; and with petitions will I lead them: I will cause them to walk by rivers of waters, in a straight way in which they shall not stumble; for I am a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn.'"

10 Hear the word of the LORD, you nations, and declare it in the islands afar off; and say, "He who scattered Israel will gather him, and keep him, as shepherd does his flock."

11 For the LORD has ransomed Jacob, and redeemed him from the hand of him who was stronger than he.

12 They shall come and sing in the height of Zion, and they shall be radient over the goodness of the LORD, to the grain, and to the new wine, and to the oil, and to the young of the flock and of the herd: and their soul shall be as a watered garden; and they shall not sorrow any more at all.

13 "Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old together; for I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them, and make them rejoice from their sorrow.

14 I will satiate the soul of the priests with fatness, and my people shall be satisfied with my goodness," says the LORD.

15 Thus says the LORD: "A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and weeping and great bitterness, Rachel weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more."

16 Thus says the LORD: "Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for your work shall be rewarded," says the LORD; "and they shall come again from the land of the enemy.

17 There is hope for your latter end," says the LORD; "and your children shall come again to their own border.

18 I have surely heard Ephraim bemoaning himself thus, 'You have chastised me, and I was chastised, as an untrained calf: turn me, and I shall be turned; for you are the LORD my God.

19 Surely after that I was turned, I repented; and after that I was instructed, I struck on my thigh: I was ashamed, yes, even confounded, because I bore the reproach of my youth.'

20 Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he a darling child? For as often as I speak against him, I do earnestly remember him still: therefore my heart yearns for him; I will surely have mercy on him," says the LORD.

21 "Set up road signs, make guideposts; set your heart toward the highway, even the way by which you went: turn again, virgin of Israel, turn again to these your cities.

22 How long will you go here and there, you backsliding daughter? For the LORD has created a new thing in the earth: a woman shall encompass a man."

23 Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel, "Yet again shall they use this speech in the land of Judah and in its cities, when I shall bring again their captivity: 'The LORD bless you, habitation of righteousness, mountain of holiness.'

24 Judah and all its cities shall dwell in it together, the farmers, and those who go about with flocks. 25 For I have satisfied the weary soul, and I have filled every sorrowful soul." 26 On this I awakened, and saw; and my sleep was sweet to me.

27 "Look, the days come," says the LORD, "that I will sow the house of Israel and the house of Judah with the seed of man, and with the seed of animal. 28 It shall happen that, like as I have watched over them to pluck up and to break down and to overthrow and to destroy and to afflict, so will I watch over them to build and to plant," says the LORD.

29 "In those days they shall say no more, 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge.'

30 But everyone shall die for his own iniquity: every man who eats the sour grapes, his teeth shall be set on edge.

31 Look, the days come," says the LORD, "when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Judah: 32 not according to the covenant that I made with their fathers in the day that I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt; which my covenant they broke, and I disregarded them," says the LORD. 33 "But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days," says the LORD: "I will put my law in their minds, and write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people: 34 and they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying, 'Know the LORD'; for they shall all know me, from their least to their greatest, for I will forgive their iniquity, and their sins I will remember no more."

35 Thus says the LORD, who gives the sun for a light by day, and the ordinances of the moon and of the stars for a light by night, who stirs up the sea, so that its waves roar; the LORD of hosts is his name:

36 "If this fixed order departs from before me," says the LORD, "then the descendants of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before me forever."

37 Thus says the LORD: "If heaven above can be measured, and the foundations of the earth searched out beneath, then will I also cast off all the descendants of Israel for all that they have done," says the LORD.

38 "Look, the days come," says the LORD, "that the city shall be built to the LORD from the Tower of Hananel to the Corner Gate. 39 The measuring line shall go out further straight onward to the hill Gareb, and shall turn about to Goah. 40 The whole valley of the dead bodies and of the ashes, and all the fields to the brook Kidron, to the corner of the Horse Gate toward the east, shall be holy to the LORD; it shall not be plucked up, nor thrown down any more forever." — Jeremiah 31 | New Heart English Bible (NHEB) The New Heart English Bible is in the public domain Cross References: Genesis 1:14; Genesis 28:16; Genesis 43:30; Exodus 4:22; Exodus 15:16; Exodus 15:20; Exodus 33:14; Leviticus 26:33; Deuteronomy 24:16; Deuteronomy 28:13; Deuteronomy 30:4; Deuteronomy 30:9; Judges 21:21; 2 Kings 14:6; 2 Kings 14:13; Job 29:2; Job 38:33; Psalm 48:1; Psalm 84:5; Psalm 89:36-37; Psalm 90:14; Psalm 107:37; Isaiah 48:20; Jeremiah 2:23; Jeremiah 29:11; Jeremiah 31:12; Lamentations 3:29; Zechariah 1:16; Matthew 2:18; Matthew 5:6; Mark 14:24; Luke 1:77; Luke 18:13; John 6:44; John 16:22; John 18:1; Acts 3:26; Romans 11:1-2; Romans 11:26-27; Hebrews 6:10; Hebrews 8:9

#God #transformation #sinful hearts #obedience #God's law #exiles #mourning #joy #Jeremiah 31 #Book of Jeremiah #Old Testament #NHEB #New Heart English Bible

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thisusernameiswack · 2 years

Text

We’ll be ok

❖ A/N: alright this’ll probably be my last post for a while. Usually I post once a week, but I keep making new oneshots. These were made in one day too. I suppose you could say I had Shiggy brain rot. Hope you enjoy <3

❖ Warnings: depressing topics, abandonment, insecurities, self doubt, vomiting, ptsd?, codependency, lmk is there’s more

As you awoke from your sleep, you heard sniffles behind your shoulder. “Shig?” You tried to turn around to face him. Caress him, comfort him but his strong arms disallowed you. Keeping you in place, your back tightly held against his chest. His heart was beating fast too fast.

Oh no. Not again.

It must’ve been another one of those night frights. The nightmares which contained his most traumatic experiences. Sometimes, if you were lucky he would indulge in telling you the things that he saw in those dreams. Other times he just shut you out. It was easier that way. The nightmares were rare occurrences. But they seemed to get worse by the months. At first he tried to shake it off. It wasn’t until the dreams got more and more disturbing. One time he actually felt sick to his stomach and puked in the tin can next you guys’ bed. You made sure to rub his back, and ran a bath for him to feel somewhat better.

You stayed by his side when he needed you, he appreciated it even if he didn’t say so all the time. But at times he didn’t even have to. A simple look told you how he felt and that would be enough. Tonight however he thanked you differently. He held you close, smothering your neck in light kisses and saying quick thank you’s.

It hurt his pride sometimes. Just seeing how weak and pathetic he was after a nightmare. It didn’t matter to you though. Your feelings for him haven’t changed in the slightest. You told him it was ‘natural’ there was no need to feel ‘ashamed’. You understood and were grateful he showed you so much vulnerability in the first place. You knew how hard it was getting him to open up in the beginning. You guys came a long way, so you appreciated the transparency. The way he was needy at times and even the way he was whiny sometimes.

“Do you love me?”

Of course, I’ll never stop loving you. “I love you Shig.”

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”

I could- no, would never. “I’ll never leave you.”

“And you’ll never get tired of me right?”

“Shig that’s impossible you get on my nerves quite often.” He laughed but the sound was empty it was broken, tired, and half hearted. It was an attempt to cheer him up. It didn’t quite work so you settled your hand right where his arm was holding you by your stomach. You squeezed it once, twice. “I’ll always stay by your side no matter what.”

He was silent for a moment. You thought it was because he was registering the words but no.

“You don’t think I’m a monster?”

Now you were silent. Out of all the things you didn’t expect him to ask that. I mean…you felt like he thought he wasn’t enough at times…but a monster? Objectively he wasn’t one. Some of the things he did definitely would define him as one. Especially with his quirk. People already deemed him a danger to society, a bomb needing to be eradicated. He was just a child back then though. A kid that was feared, neglected and abandoned..all alone left to grow up and become something feared 10x more and hated just as much. Sometimes you wondered if you didn’t know Shiggy would you even like him at all. Would you judge him like the rest? Or would you lend that hand that he so desperately needed in those dire times.

You felt his grip loosen on you when he didn’t receive your answer but you grabbed his arms and held them close. You’re not going anywhere. “I don’t think of you as a monster. Just troubled and misunderstood.” It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, then again he was glad you didn’t see him like that in the first place; evil, unkind, a cold blooded killer, a crazy lunatic..the list could go on.

“Is that a good enough answer for you?” You asked simply because he doubted your words at times. Thought you were just saying that to ‘make him feel better’. Some days it was worse than others. Where he would ask deeper questions or would leave one day and come back the next. All because he didn’t feel loved enough. But you tried. Expressed your love and care for him as much as you could. Used different tactics, love languages and even other obscure methods. Now don’t get me wrong it’s not always like this. But when the time appears you know what to do. Others would leave, say it’s too much and not worth the hassle. Once upon a time you would think like that. As the months passed by you actually didn’t find it quite bad. It didn’t stress you out and it didn’t put any emotional strain on you so you assumed you were fine.

He finally answered back. “You’re too good for me.”

You turned around in his embrace and attempted to stare at those vermillion eyes in the dark. “I’m just in love Tomu. I want the best for you.”

He cried some more and squeezed you into a tight hug. “I’ll be better I promise.”

You hesitantly patted his back. “I know you will. You’re getting better everyday baby.”

He kissed your cheek and held you close till the tears ran out and he drifted off to sleep. Just like that night you rubbed his back to soothe all the pain, the hurt, the neglect. He was capable of love and being loved. He just had a hard time accepting it. It was a hard adjustment. But it’s fine, he’ll be ok. We’ll be ok.

Quick lil reminder. You aren’t obligated to be your lover’s therapist. You could help them get better but do not stress yourself out to better their mental health. Their troubles can release a heavy burden on you. Remember it is not your job to fix them. Bc next thing you’ll know you’ll be putting your every focus on them. You are a person too with your own troubles. Make sure you care ab yourself just as much as you care ab that person. You guys are both important. Remember that please. Be safe and love healthily💕

#reader insert #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #y/n

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 5 months

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So, I grew up reading the Horrible Histories books, which are one of the culprits for my ongoing obsession with ancient Rome. Those books depict decapitation, fratricide, abuse, xenophobia, and pretty much every crime imaginable except for rape. They're also targeted at 8 to 12-year-olds.

I think what made those books so fascinating to me then is also what makes Rome fascinating to me now. As a child, I often felt angry, sad, patronized, and helpless. My life was ruled by adults who seemed to prefer my obedience to my happiness. A "good" child was one who was convenient, who didn't "talk back" (stand up for herself) when the adults wanted her to "build character" (endure mistreatment quietly) and "be a team player" (pretend to have fun when told to). And a good child definitely didn't grow up to be an agnostic them instead of a Catholic her.

Horrible Histories was my outlet.

It validated and expressed my gut feeling that there was something deeply unfair in the world. I couldn't murder my English teacher, but I could read about Brutus and Cassius stabbing Caesar 23 times. I couldn't openly protest the pressure to get married and have kids, but I could read about Saturn devouring his children. And then, catharsis released, I could go back to school and not punch my classmates in the face.

In those stories, I could acknowledge and work through the spiteful, envious, morbid emotions the priests told me I wasn't supposed to feel. And the author tells the reader, many times, that these thoughts are normal. So, despite Catholic school's best efforts, I did not grow up to be ashamed of my private urges, or afraid to sit alone with my own thoughts. Those feelings are just part of human nature, and Horrible Histories embraces them.

Now I'm in my 30s. I'm a lot happier now. (Having an income and queer friends helps.) So my interest in Rome has acquired a more empathetic side: How could so many ordinary people like me do such awful things? Can we see their humanity without glossing over their faults? In another timeline, could they have somehow evaded tragedy and been better people, if only the world had been a little kinder?

My fascination with the awfulness is still there, too. So is the part of me that wanted to hit people, but read about other people hitting people, instead. I'll still make tasteless jokes about the funniest way to kill Caesar. Not because I actually want to kill someone, but because history and fiction are a safe way to feel things. To work through those feelings. To feel human, because you see other humans going through the same problems, instead of feeling like a freak.

(I do have some limits, like not making jokes based on prejudices. Bigotry would hurt living people who might read this blog, not just long-dead Roman politicians.)

That's also why I sometimes post "Weird is good" and "Be kind to yourself" messages on here. I'm not just talking about socially-acceptable quirkiness. I mean the thoughts, feelings and desires that other people might judge you for. Even your antisocial and gross urges. If you can acknowledge these feelings, and find harmless ways to process them (like reading history books!), you won't end up hating yourself for having them. And then you can consciously choose whether to act on those feelings, instead of them leaking into your behavior and tainting how you treat other people.

For me, history isn't just facts to memorize. It's about seeing ourselves in other people, with both the best and worst parts of human nature. And I think, in trying to understand other people, we can also learn something about ourselves.

#the fancy freudian word for this is sublimation #i disagree with 90% of freud's ideas but that was a pretty good one #horrible histories #about jlrrt #jlrrt speaks #abuse mention #rape mention #child death mention #jlrrt essays

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