#✨h rambles ✨

[dyke-dyke-goose]

In grade 9 math class we played Kahoot! and the class was split into two teams. I (very shy) was one of the team captains and had to pick my teammates. There was a popular guy named “Issac” and I called him “I-ZAC” mistakenly. It’s been 12 years.

Has anyone else recovered from that embarrassing thing they said when they were twelve? No me either

[rated-rko]

i’m not going to lie… i have every intention of shamelessly and egregiously exaggerating speculative use of drugs in my fanned fiction because actually yeah you know what it’s my fanned fiction 😌

[stormbreaker-290]

I . Tguink I'm ver y normala bout @malwaresilly

[galaxythedragonshifter]

Moon is so shark coded it's unbelievable

[seasonal-depression-of-punk]

[forbiddensasuke]

Whenever i see blazed posts from so called goths who have Those AI Generated Goth Anime Girls as their avatars or among reblogged images on their blog (often accompanying AI generated interiors/outfits/fucking people) Im turning into a 14 years old gatekeeper again.

[paradoxical-catastrophe]

WHAT IS FUCKIN HAPPENING

[dyke-dyke-goose]

bitches with contradicting labels are sexy

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Post: You switch bodies with your f/o for a day, how are you feeling?

Me: Euphoric. Absolutely euphoric and elated. Hell, even before I realized I was trans, I made a personal fanfic where he and I swap bodies and I wrote myself enjoying being a man while he has a rough time being me

My friendo of Dio Brando, if I looked like any iteration of Vanilla, the amount of gender euphoria I would feel would be off the charts

Which is funny because I actually don't even really want to look like him, just a more masculine version of myself pretty much. But the height, the handsomeness, the prettiness, the muscles and all that... I'd probably look at myself in the mirror for hours 😭

Better yet, if I woke up and was a foot taller, a little more muscular, my jawline was more masculine, my voice was deeper, and all that... I'd probably look at myself in the mirror for hours, take a bunch of selfies, go outside and walk around in my favorite outfits, and just genuinely be a happier person. (There's nothing I can do about the height thing, plus it gives me more excuses to wear big goth platform boots heheheh!)

I would definitely be a servant of Dio if he gave me testosterone pffff-

(also another thing... I haven't been able to work out because I'm so low energy x_x so I'm stuck being a twig until I can get back into building muscle... Which sucks because I hate lifting weights... I want pecs and a little bit of abbage though. Instead of pecs and abs, all I got is ribs and chicken legs 😭 /light hearted joke at my expense)

[just-fear-the-simp]

@zucchiyeni

***VINE BOOM***🤨🤨

[stormbreaker-290]

H,,,,,, I need,,,,,,,,,,, t o color my bouy,,,,,,..,...,,,

[starbymoss]

I just finished reading Girl In Pieces and im having. feelings. ow.

[cressidagrey]

Love in Bubblewrap

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary:   Felicity Piastri fixes things. Regardless of what they are. Even if they are her sister-in-law’s stolen K-Pop albums. 

Warnings and Notes: I came up with while taking a shower which means the idea is either genius or horrible. Inspired by Hattie Piastri's TikTok's about her stolen TxT albums. I have never once listened to K-Pop but I did my research (aka I googled names and song titles.)

Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Hattie: WHOEVER BROKE INTO MY CAR I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM AND YOUR TOAST FALLS BUTTER-SIDE DOWN

Oscar: Hi to you too?

Edie: Wait. What.

Hattie: They SMASHED the driver window IN BROAD DAYLIGHT TO STEAL MY TXT ALBUMS MY ALBUMS, OSCAR. DO YOU UNDERSTAND.

Mae: Wait wait wait. They didn’t take your wallet? Just your K-pop?

Hattie: My wallet was in the glovebox. My laptop was in the boot. They took the bag with my photocard binders and albums. I HOPE THEY GET A PAPER CUT FROM YEONJUN’S EYELASHES

Chris: what is a txt album

Nicole: Chris. Not now.

Oscar: …How many albums are we talking?

Hattie: ALL OF THEM

Edie: OH MY GOD.

Mae: That’s criminal. That’s actually criminal.

Oscar: Yes. Because it is a crime.

Chris: did you call the police

Hattie: YES, DAD. They asked if there was anything of “significant personal value” missing and I almost cried telling the constable about my Soobin photocard collection.

Nicole: Oh, sweetheart 😢

Mae: Do you have any photos for insurance? Maybe we can file under collectibles?

Hattie: I had a spreadsheet. An ACTUAL spreadsheet.

Oscar: …you had a spreadsheet of your photocards?

Hattie: Yes. Because I’m an ORGANIZED YOUNG WOMAN WITH GOALS.

Edie:She learned it from Felicity.

Nicole: I’ll call the insurance tomorrow, Hattie. We’ll sort this out.

Chris: still don’t understand why they didn’t take your laptop

Mae: It was probably targeted. There’s a resale market for rare photocards.

Oscar: How do you know that.

Mae: I dabble.

Hattie: I’m going to manifest their downfall using a cursed Taehyun photocard.

Edie: You’re like a witch but with glitter and Spotify Premium.

Oscar: I’m begging someone to explain what a cursed photocard is.

Mae: It’s when someone once traded for it and got food poisoning the same day. It’s ✨infused✨.

Oscar: Okay. That’s enough internet for me today.

Chris: do you need me to fix the window

Hattie: Already booked a repair. I’m not mad about the glass. I’m mad about the betrayal.

Oscar: You make it sound like that Yeonjun guy broke into your car himself.

Hattie: He would never. Unlike SOME PEOPLE who’ve never even listened to “Blue Hour.”

Oscar: I’m not sure I even know what that is.

Edie: Uncultured.

Mae: Honestly embarrassed to share a last name with you.

Hattie: Just so everyone knows, the Spotify speaker I keep in my car still works. So if anyone wants to Venmo me emotional damages via new albums, I’ll accept.

Nicole: We’ll replace the ones we can, darling. One step at a time.

Chris: and next time don’t leave them in plain view

Hattie: They were in a tote bag under my raincoat WHAT DID THEY HAVE, X-RAY VISION AND A PERSONAL VENDETTA

Oscar: This chat is more intense than any strategy debrief I’ve had all season

Nicole: Let’s not joke. She’s upset.

Edie: We’re coping through humour, Mum.

***

Hattie wasn’t expecting a package.

She definitely wasn’t expecting that package.

It arrived two days after the break-in — dropped off by a courier who looked faintly intimidated, like whatever he was carrying had weight beyond the cardboard. Nicole opened the door, accepted the package and set it carefully on the kitchen bench like a letter bomb, then called up the stairs with the tone that meant your life is about to change, and not necessarily in a normal way.

“Hattie? Something came for you.”

Hattie padded downstairs in slippers and mild emotional ruin. Her window was still shattered. Her albums were still gone. Her Spotify had become a graveyard of songs she couldn’t listen to without hearing glass shatter.

So she wasn’t in the mood for mystery.

“It’s from Felicity,” Nicole said gently, handing it over.

That made Hattie pause.

The box was medium-sized. Not huge. Not heavy. But taped shut with a kind of efficiency that said I own a label maker and I’m not afraid to use it.

There was no note — just her name, written in neat, all-caps handwriting across the front like a letter. 

Hattie opened it.

And immediately had to sit down.

Inside were her albums. All of them. The exact editions. The pre-order bonuses. Even the Target exclusive one that took Hattie six weeks to hunt down the first time.

Each was sealed in a Ziploc bag, labeled with release year and version code.

She found her photocards next. Not her originals — those were gone — but a full curated set of the most likely pulls, alongside protective sleeves and one unmistakably fake (and glittery) Yeonjun card clearly drawn by Bee in crayon. It had a tiny heart in the corner.

There was also a pack of Tim Tams, two bubble tea vouchers, and a post-it note that read:

Didn’t have time to hex the thief properly. Settled for passive-aggressive online bulk ordering instead. Let me know if there is anything specific I missed. Love, F.

Hattie stared at it for a long moment.

Then sat down, quiet and stunned, and just breathed.

Because this was the thing about Felicity — she didn’t do things halfway. Didn’t stop at oh no, that’s awful. She solved the problem. Replaced what was lost. Quietly handed you love wrapped in bubble wrap and called it nothing at all.

And Hattie thought — not for the first time — how lucky they were.

How lucky Oscar was.

Because somehow her annoying, infuriating, brilliant brother had found a woman who was all quiet fire and sharp edges and spreadsheets and garden-grown tomatoes — and who loved him so fiercely, so completely, that she extended that love to all of his family without question.

And every so often, like this — like now — Hattie remembered that Oscar didn’t just fall in love with someone wonderful.

He chose someone who made everything better just by being in it.

She blinked down at the photocards again. Ran a thumb over Bee’s glittery artwork.

Grinned.

Then she looked at her phone and typed:

Hattie: I hope you know we all know we hit the absolute jackpot when Oscar found you. I don’t know how you did this. But thank you. Tell Bee her art is perfect.

Felicity responded a minute later.

Felicity: Tell her yourself — she wants to FaceTime you. Also I expect snacks next time you go to Korea.

***

Group Chat: Piastri Fam ❤️

Hattie: oscar. your wife just avenged the txt robbery with military precision. she replaced the ENTIRE collection. INCLUDING photocards.

Oscar: …she what wait what?

Nicole: It arrived this morning. I handed Hattie the package myself.

Hattie: AND SHE SENT TIM TAMS. AND A NOTE. AND SPARKLY ART FROM BEE. who, by the way, is now my favorite niece.

Oscar:She’s your only niece. 

Fliss didn’t tell me she did that i thought she was just quietly rage-baking sourdough

Mae: nah your wife was rage-sourcing Soobin photocards on eBay

Edie: this is so Felicity-coded subtle vengeance and laminated instructions

Hattie: you’re so lucky, Oscar. like genuinely. i hope you wake up every day and remember you bagged a genius wife who can fix a gearbox AND a broken heart.

Oscar: i do every single day

Chris: She really did all that? ...Remind me again why she married you?

Nicole: Christopher.

Oscar: no that’s fair actually

Mae: this is giving “he found her crying in the garden and offered her a leaf” romance energy

Edie: it’s giving “she’s the protagonist and he’s the golden retriever love interest”

Hattie: it’s giving “we are NEVER letting you mess this up”Oscar: i have no intention of ever messing this up but thank you for the terrifying support

[galaxythedragonshifter]

DONBOT

donbot is the air i breathe the blood in my veins the tears dropping down my face and the stars in space (to me at least.)

[dyke-dyke-goose]

does everyone have a teacher that they still have beef with/ hold a grudge against today??

[dark-l-angel]

Could you do yandere damian wayne who is now running wayne enterprises, y/n was his personal assistant but he started drugging her morning coffee to make her ill so that he can take care of her

A/N: guys something inside my chest is reacting weird to this version of damian, I think i need help or you'll probably start hearing more ramblings about him on 4am 🫠✨

Yandere CEO!Damian Wayne x Reader

You were his assistant. Now? You're something else entirely.

Your morning routine is clockwork. Open the blinds. Feed the cat. Get to Wayne Tower before 8:00. And of course, your usual: a large caramel latte waiting at your desk, piping hot, the post-it note always signed in Damian’s precise handwriting..

For you. Don’t be late.

D.W.

But lately… something’s wrong.

Your stomach’s been turning. Dizzy spells. Nausea. Cold sweats in board meetings. And every time it happens.. he’s there.

Damian Wayne, young, cold-blooded CEO of Wayne Enterprises, sharp as a knife and just as dangerous. He's infuriatingly composed, but when you're sick?

He becomes... softer. Attentive. Gentle in a way no one else ever sees.

"You’re pale again" he says, voice like silk laced with iron. "Come. I’ll drive you home."

"Damian, you don’t have t-"

"I want to."

And there’s no arguing with Damian Wayne.

You think you're overworking yourself. He insists on you taking time off. Brings you soup. Replaces your pillows with imported silk. Keeps the room cool because your skin’s been so hot lately. He even combs your hair once, fingers brushing your temple like it’s intimate.

"You don’t need to go back to work yet" he murmurs, crouched by your bedside. "The company’s running fine without you."

That should’ve been your first red flag.

You never realized he was watching your medicine cabinet. That the pills you’ve been taking were swapped. That your "illness" has been carefully curated.. a slow drip of toxins hidden in your morning latte, regulated just enough to keep you weak... and dependent.

And when you finally catch on.. when you piece together the pattern.. he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t panic.

He sits on the edge of your bed in that black-on-black tailored suit, gaze steady, voice calm:

"You kept trying to leave. You were burning yourself out. But you rest when you’re sick."

"So I made sure you'd stay."

You try to get up, but your knees fail.

And Damian catches you, as always.

"Hush, habibti. I’ll take care of everything. Just let me."

You shake your head, tears threatening.

"You poisoned me…"

"No. I saved you."

His hand curls behind your neck. Not rough. Not forceful. Just possessive.

"You’re mine. I won’t let this world eat you alive. So rest. Obey. Stay in my arms where you belong."

And as your vision dims again.. warm arms wrapping around you, breath on your temple.. you realize something chilling..

You never had a choice. Especially after everything went blank and dark..

You wake up in a silk-draped bed, hazy and weak, your head pounding like you’ve been run over by your entire to-do list. You try to sit up, but your limbs betray you.. you were in a bad position all soft and trembling.

Damian’s sitting beside the bed, dressed in his earlier tailored black suit that fits him like sin.. collar slightly undone, sleeves rolled up like he’s been busy doing something more hands-on than paperwork. His eyes, that unsettling green, scan your face with surgical precision. Your eyes scanned the room you're in... It's not your bedroom.. but his.. did you pass out that long? What he might have done with your body? How did you end up in here-...

"You’re awake" he murmurs, brushing a cool hand across your forehead. "I was starting to worry. Not that you'd ever admit you were running on fumes." He broke your thoughts.

He smiles, the kind of smile that should send chills down your spine. The kind that says he thinks he knows better than you do.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, your voice barely a rasp. He catch on and he sat on the edge of the bed, held your body against his chest then helped you to hydrate your weak body.

He put down the bottle on the nightstand, you asked why... Why would he do such thing?

"I love you." His voice is like velvet over a knife. "You work yourself to death, darling. And I can’t stand watching you collapse. So I made sure you couldn't."

He leans in closer, brushing his lips over your temple. "You’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine."

Around you, the room is quiet. Fragrant with sandal wood and something like a manly cologne. There's no phone, no laptop. No escape. Just Damian, the billionaire obsessed with your every breath, now playing nurse and jailor in equal parts.

He spoons warm soup into your mouth later that evening, his expression soft, affectionate.. even proud. "You’ll feel better soon. Then we’ll talk about reducing your workload permanently. Maybe even working from home... here. With me."

Damian watches you, perched at the edge of the bed like a king admiring his most prized possession. His green eyes gleam under the dim golden lights of the room, every inch of him reeking of power and patience.. dangerously blended.

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, a devil’s whisper meant only for you.

"You know..." he says, his voice low and silk-smooth, "I realized something while you were sleeping..."

"You probably would’ve never come back to work if you left again.." he murmurs, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You would have run yourself into the ground, chasing deadlines, drowning in obligations... forgetting that you were supposed to be worshipped."

He trails his fingertips down your arm, featherlight, making goosebumps rise in the wake.

"So here’s the new plan, beloved.." he purrs, like he’s offering you the keys to heaven when really he’s locking every door behind you. "You’re going to live here now. In my mansion. You're going to spend my money on your everything. Clothes, jewelry, lazy afternoons... whatever your heart desires."

He smiles, but it’s not sweet. It’s possessive. Obsessive. Dangerous.

"You'll never lift a finger again unless it's to reach for me."

You try to protest, but he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to meet his gaze.. commanding, magnetic, inescapable.

"You belong here.." he says, each word branded into your soul, slow and deliberate. "With me. Under my care. Under my control."

His hand slides to your throat, not squeezing... just resting there, a reminder. A promise.

"You just have to let me take care of you... and I’ll make sure you never have to think again."

The way he says it... it’s not a request. It’s a sentence.

And deep down, some part of you, broken and starved for tenderness, for obsession, almost wants to surrender.

Almost.. just almost.

Yet he notices the way you tense under his touch, the way your gaze flickers between fear and disbelief. In the past, the old Damian.. the boy forged in blood and sharpened in shadows... might’ve snapped at you, demanded obedience, forced your submission with the cold blade of authority.

He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, so softly it nearly undoes you. His voice lowers, warm like melted chocolate.

But THIS Damian? The man he grew into? He learned somethings far more dangerous than violence.

Patience. Tenderness. Affection.

"I know you're scared, habibti..." he says, and God, hearing him call you that in that low, reverent tone almost breaks you in half. "But you don't have to fight anymore. Not with me."

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there, breathing you in like you’re the first and last thing that ever mattered.

"You’re not a soldier.. " he murmurs against your skin. "You’re not a machine. You're mine. My woman. My heart."

The kisses start piling up.. your temple, your eyelids, your nose.. each one gentler than the last, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter under the weight of his devotion.

"You don’t have to earn anything with me" he whispers. "You just have to be."

He tucks you closer into his chest, wrapping you in his arms like a fortress of silk and steel. His heart beats steady and slow against your ear, grounding you. Safe. Impossibly loved.

And then.. his words, a velvet knife:

"I want you to live a soft life, beloved. I want your biggest worry to be whether you want pearls or diamonds that day."

A kiss to your hairline.

"I want to be the one you come home to, not the life you run away from."

He learned, over the years, that real power wasn’t in forcing loyalty. It was winning it. Making someone choose you, over and over, without a blade pressed to their throat.

And that, miss wayne, is how Damian Wayne truly became unstoppable.

Not by breaking people.. no..

But by acting so sweetly, so devastatingly, he not only win their trust And souls, but their attention as well... Just like that Arabian moral says :

"ما لم يسقط بالسيف، يسقط بالهمسة."

(What the sword could not bring down, a whisper did).

Another one so you take your Arabic dose for damian 🙂

"كلمة حلوة تفتح باباً يغلقه ألف مفتاح."

(One sweet word opens a door a thousand keys cannot).

I’d rather die than leave him. Would you?

A/N: took a little long but it was worth it but in conclusion we learned that I love damian 💕.