chrrybbye

[chrrybbye]

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3

[chrrybbye]

᪤ VALENTINE DIVIDERS ᯤ :

# ——— ICING 1

# ——— CENTER OF MY HEART

# ——— HEARTBREAKING REDS

# ——— ICING 2

# ——— BLAND CANDY-CANE

# ——— GIFT RIBBON

☆ VARIATIONS

# ——— LOVE LACE

# ——— FOUR CORNERED WALLS

© 𝐓𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 2025 : all designs made are original, the names are also original. they can only be used under rightful credits given to owner. for both light and dark mode use. they can used in anything as long as it’s on tumblr. all rights reserved

[chrrybbye]

Yandere Batfam x Twin!Reader

CW: children fighting, vulgar language, manipulative tendencies/behaviors, mentioned child abuse, favoritism amongst children by adults, AFAB reader, kinda short due to me overestimating my time management abilities🥲 (Im SORRY), faked injuries

00|🌹prologue.

“Oh my!” You cry, patching your little sister up. “That girl certainly did a number on you…there are even more scratches than I thought!”

“Yeah,” Diana smirks, vicious and self-satisfied. “But I did well. I tore a patch right out of that bitch’s head and pummeled her to the ground.”

You smile. You don’t say it⸺would never say “I’m proud of you for beating a classmate up”⸺but you delicately wipe the blood off her knuckles. You’re glad, even if Diana caused a public scene and hurt the reputation you worked so hard to build. It’s better than when she was a silent shell that just took her beatings.

“Really…in the future, I can stand up for myself. You don’t need to make trouble.”

“Of course you can,” Diana agrees quickly. “But someone needed to teach the brat to watch who she talks about.”

You shake your head, snapping the medkit shut. Sometimes, your twin was too protective. Even you forgot which one of you was older every now and then. “Ms. Nurse! I’m all done in here.”

The nurse, tending to the other girl⸺the one with red hair and a completely ordinary face, well, a pummeled ordinary face and a wagging tongue⸺peeked around the curtain. There was some clicking of her medical supplies before she walked to the other side of the curtain. “That was really kind of you, Miss Wayne. Taking care of your sister like that.”

You shake your head. “No, it was very kind of you to let me tend to my sister. Thank you very much, Miss!” You are basically positive it violated at least five county-wide rules. It’s a miracle you managed to convince her.

“Oh it’s nothing much, Miss Wayne! You know what they say⸺you can’t keep twins apart! I know you must’ve been worried, when you heard your sister was in a fight… it was the least I could do.”

You smile. You don’t say that her preconceived notion of twins being some kind of telepathic creatures was total bullshit. And you don’t mention that you were there from the very start of the fight.

“What a kind nurse you are! You have my sister and I‘s gratitude, Miss Nurse!”

“Oh, do I? What an angel you are, Miss Wayne. You can call me Ms. Gerald.”

“You may call me [Name] as well.” Your smile, hidden behind your flowery words, is just as sharp and cruel as Diana’s own, seeping satisfaction like a smug cat.

You’ve ensared your prey once again.

The next time, when the same girl comes to the nurse, crying, her face cut⸺the nurse asks her, “Was it Diana again? I didn’t know she was such a violent girl,” she frets.

When the girl hysterically repeats, crying, that it was you and not your twin, the nurse rubs the girl’s shoulders and shakes her head. “Did you fall off your bike, hon?”

“What? No! I told you it was⸺”

“I just don’t believe it was [Name]. That sweet, bright girl? The one who brings me art from her little club and comic strips she drew? Who tells me all about her kitten named Mr. Cuddles? Young [Name] is an angel. She wouldn’t do that.”

When the nurse tells you all about the debacle, later, you nod with pursed lips.

“I don’t know why she hates me so much,” you whisper, a handkerchief to your nose. “She always says bad things about me. Diana is a good girl, but because of her, Diana got angry and ended up staining her perfect record…she only got in so much trouble because she was defending me. It’s my fault I should’ve⸺”

You stumble, forgetting the girl’s name. Maria? Regardless, you play it up, taking a second to blow your completely dry nose. “I should’ve talked to Miss Maria before things got out of hand. If only I had resolved things peacefully back then. Maybe we could’ve gotten along.”

It’s a lie. You’re not interested in self-centered snobbish eleven year old brats who think they’re better because of popularity⸺soon they’ll see that popularity, especially among students, doesn’t matter if they don’t have popularity in the right places. What more do teachers love than a cute girl who appears mature beyond her years? Not a red-haired brat who indulges in trouble and gossip, that’s for sure.

Still, the nurse looks at you with pity. “Oh [Name], don’t blame yourself. Your family raised you too well! You have such good manners. Please, don’t worry about Miss Maria. Her family will take good care of her.”

Coincidentally, this incident just so happens to fall on the week of your promotion to middle school. Ms. Gerald doesn’t even stop to consider that It’s awfully convenient that something like this happens right before you leave the school for good…because a girl as sweet as you would never plan that. It’s all a happy coincidence.

“I just feel so bad for [Name],” you hear the nurse say over the phone. Nurses aren’t meant to make personal phone calls outside of their break time, but you’re already aware that this nurse isn’t above bending the rules for her benefit. “Do you know the kind of things Maria says about her? Yeah… daddy’s girl, daughter of a whore…those kinds of cruel rumors. Honestly, she must be a saint to still feel bad for Maria.”

Behind the curtain, feigning a broken arm, you smile. It seems your training hasn’t slipped from you at all.

taglist (open!): @pretechvenus @d4rkf10w3r

A/N: I REALLYYY wanted to put a mizi header here🥲 but it didn’t fit with the aesthetic! (Not that I know anything about that) but I would like to say that I didn’t waste my day doing completely nothing. I put together a Playlist for this series! But as it’s only one chapter long, I have decided to share it next chapter. I will put it in other chapters, too, in case of those who forget or newcomers.

That being said (for those who aren’t character analyst nerds or, more importantly, ALNST fans you can dip now unless ur open to reading me yap) who else finds mizi more interesting and or more of a likeable character after the new comics? I certainly do.

To be completely honest, Mizi wasn’t much of a memorable character to me. She was cute, yeah, and her relationship with Sua was cute, but simple and kind of boring when compared to other toxic and complex relationships in ALNST. But when I saw it was all a facade that had fooled everyone in ANAKT as well as the viewers? That Mizi was cunning, clever, and nowhere as near as naive as we mistook her for? That even the viewers fell for the persona Mizi displayed? I was floored. And to see how beautifully complex she felt about it all, how guilty, how conniving? To see how Sua manifested as a form of her own self-deprecating thoughts? I began to love Mizi, as well as Sua, seeing how complex their relationship was beyond the stereotype of two cute teen girls falling in love. Seeing their {person who has been treated as a doll all their life and been absolutely adored like some kind of pet and therefore thinks it must be a form of love} x {person who has also been treated as a doll but in the dehumanizing way where nothing they say matters and has therefore begun to hate being treated like a doll} dynamic was fascinating.

The white lotus was always my favorite genre of characters, even before Mizi, but I do like to think this Y/N was inspired by her. Which is funny, because if the reader-insert here is like anyone in ALNST, it’s Luka. Which is furthermore humorous, because if I were to give the reader-insert an appearance, she’d most likely resemble Hyuna.

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Isn’t two better than one?

by chrrybbye

SERIES PAGE

Summary: Being shoved aside in the Wayne household is nothing new. But how well does that work when there’s two of you?

DIANA WAYNE

Practical. Cold. A genius with machines. A jaded general who leads the offense.

[NAME] WAYNE

Put together. Elegant. As poisonous as a flower. The strategist who attacks from the shadows.

TOGETHER

Mysterious. Balanced. You don’t need anyone else. You’re cut from the same cloth, born from the same rib. You’re twins.

future parts to be posted here⬇️

Part 1: up!

Part 2: pending!

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[chrrybbye]

Normal People: "Why did u start writing Yandere content?"

Most Yandere Authors: "I wanted to express my dark desire for a forbidden romance through a creative medium. Forgoing social norms to create a love that is most cruel yet utterly true. To appease the lethal love that lays dormant within my bones, rattling me with its yearning for freedom. To show the world a love that is hideous, dangerous, yet wholly profuse. The sort of love only found under a moonless sky. A romance that can kill and heal with the same hand. To fashion ballads of broken hearts and damaged minds trapped in a waltz of shimmering hearts."

Me: I want to get kidnapped so I won't have any responsibilities.

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RAINBOW LACE DIVIDERS

Requested by @liliacwiine 🌈

Feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

IMPORTANT : If you use these dividers please tag @uzmacchiato for credit in the post you use it.

➡️ Masterlist ✨

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Please support by Reblogging, Liking or Subscribing.

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Please don't use without providing credit to the account mentioned above.

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　 𝜗୧⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀⠀dividers by me ۪ㅤ🐏◞ ྀ

　　 　 　 ⠀˖　⠀˙⠀　｡　⠀rb to use/save

credit to @abyslita for using one of his dividers:3!! vv sorry, forgot to credit so mb <3

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Yandere Batfam x Meta! Neglected! Reader

CW: mentions of a house fire, VERY lightly implied child abuse, mild trust issues, nothing else unless you’re triggered by cookies, lemonade, and kindness.

01 | 🌸 no, I ain't got nothing to smile about.

The sculpted mug holders you made for your mother. The worn and slightly beat-up collection of ribbons your mother kept to put in your hair. Your mother’s hair jewelry from when she was a young girl⸺your favorite, the golden and blue mockingbird pin, that she always put on the end of your thick, tight braid.

Even your least favorite one, the one with the hard rocks and ugly, grayish hawk. The shelfs of sewn, threadbare plushies. The little magnets that you used to put up your doodles of trivial, everyday things. All the small potted plants that your mother sang to in the morning. The chipped vases that each carried a few, artfully placed wild flowers.

You had lost everything in the fire.

Not that you didn’t have anything now. No, quite the opposite. From the moment you’d stepped in your new room, you immediately saw how the closet was bursting with dresses, cardigans, and blouses. There was a kid-sized bed with clean sheets and blankets. And there was a rabbit⸺a stitched, furry one⸺sitting on top of the blue and grey blankets.

“Is it alright for you, Young Master [Name]?” Alfred asked, still gently smiling. It wasn’t a hard question. What else would you say? But you waited as if you were thinking. “It’s nice, Mr. Pennyworth."

You hated the rabbit. The rabbit was similar to one of the sewn plushies⸺your favorite one, a patchy brown rabbit. Though it didn’t have any fur, and its low quality fabric would give you rashes more often than not.

You hated this new rabbit. You hated its soft fur that soaked up your tears and warmed you. The beady eyes that stared at you with pity. The innocent little thing that sat there and watched you with its ugly red eyes. The way it consoled you without a word and brought you comfort. The way you clutched onto it like a toddler would their favorite chewing toy. The way you held it close to soothe yourself, rubbing the rabbit’s fur nervously, as Alfred introduced you to Ms. Thompkin. You hated the rabbit. How you’d found yourself asking “can I take the rabbit with me?” when Alfred said you would be getting a check-up, and the way you had crumpled with relief when Alfred had said the doctor would happen in your room.

“Ms. Thompkin is a close friend of Master Bruce,” Alfred was explaining. “You can trust her with whatever pains or inquiries you might have.”

Ms. Thompkin nodded in approval. She was an attractive woman, despite her age, though she had the barest hint of a stern attitude that just barely shone through her indifferent expression. But the way her heart was beating, its melody…it was mature and kind. “Like Pennyworth said, you can tell me about any pains, no matter how minor.” Dr. Thompkin said.

You wondered how much force it would take to rip out a clump of the rabbit’s hair. Nothing casual, probably, considering how tough the rabbit seemed.

“Young Master [Name], I shall return once the clock strikes a quarter ‘till 5,” said Alfred, excusing himself with a bow. Silence fell once he left the room.

The check up was nothing terrible. It wasn’t rainbows and sunshine, but Ms. Thompkin was kinder than expected. And she didn’t ask you to remove any of your clothes, like you had a gut feeling she would. She even explained some of the tools she was using to you, like the stethoscope. You did have to roll up your sleeves and shorts, and there was an awkward episode when she accidentally pressed on one of your bruises, but there was nothing you could point out and say “I didn’t like this.”

So, you guessed you liked Ms. Thompkin, too.

You waited patiently for Alfred to come back.

You hadn’t thought to tell him you couldn’t read clocks. It wasn’t his fault: how was he meant to know that? But a part of you was annoyed that he would assume a thirteen year girl who probably couldn’t afford a clock if she sold her kidneys would be able to read a clock.

Sitting on the bed, you rubbed your toes together for warmth. You were just about to crack your door open⸺maybe Alfred had forgotten where your room was?⸺but then you heard his light, measured footsteps, and then Alfred himself appeared, with a tray of cookies and a glass of lemonade.

“Children are fond of sweet things, no?” He was smiling, almost proudly. “Is it not the same for you?”

Cookie…when was the last time you’d even seen one? Let alone multiple? You were practically salivating.

You looked at Alfred. He wasn’t trying to trick you, was he? What was the point?

“Shall I leave these here?” He asked, setting them down on your table. You heard the nothing but honest thumps of his heart.

You didn’t say anything as Alfred wished you a good afternoon before departing. In the end, you did take a cookie. And you hardly regretted it, as you nibbled on the cookie, you tasted again for what felt like the first time in years.

It was a tasty cookie.

prev. {☆||☆} next.

[chrrybbye]

Hear me out how would yandere batfamily with a reader that says stuff like “I would give head to get (blank) right now” or “I would fuck someone to have (blank) right about now” like without even realizing it its a bad habit of mine and i cant help it 😔 like would they get the thing she’s talking about or how would they react to it

If your relationship is platonic? They want you to stop, stop saying that, never say that again!! You're way too innocent to even know what those words mean!! Stop it!! No giving head or sucking and fucking is going to happen in this house, stop joking about it!! Ask again in a normal way and they'll think about giving you what you want >:(

But if it's not platonic...? They're all falling over each other (and beating each other up if needs be) to be the first one to give you whatever you want. Oh, you were joking? Haha. Yeah. Um. They totally knew that. Won't stop them from reacting the same way next time though, just in case.

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I revert to my old ways😅 wattpad, u are NOT missed, tyvm.

Saw this on Reddit: ORIGINAL POST

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Yandere Batfam x Meta! Neglected! Reader

CW: non-descriptive death by fire/asphyxiation, daddy issues, reader insert, will be yandere !platonic! batfam series btw.

00 | 🌸 you had that same look in your eyes.

Your mother was a beautiful woman.

She always was, even with her tired eyes and cracking skin. When she'd sit down at the table, a chipped mug in her hand as she read the newspaper, you always thought: mama is so pretty.

Her beauty was something different. Her skin, although dry, glowed in the dim lighting of your shabby apartment. Her hair reflected the warm streaks of dawn. Her beauty wasn’t something regular people could compete with.

She had said the same thing about you, too. My pretty girl, she cooed. So pretty. You look just like me, you know? It’s lucky…you know… and then her hands, tangled within your hair, would begin to shake. It’s lucky, you know…you don’t look anything like that man. Nothing like him. her voice would grow firm, like she was assuring herself.

You wondered if she lied. Maybe she had forgotten, the lines of the man’s face blurred by the 12 cold years they spent apart. But you’re grateful. If she had looked at you, and said “you look just like him”...you don’t know what you would’ve done, both then and now.

His face is so cold. You think, maybe even colder than you are yourself, shivering in your warm towel.

Alfred looks at you with pity before handing you a plate of noodles and shrimp. “You should eat, Young Master [Name].”

Your father, the apparent multimillionaire, the famed and revered Bruce Wayne, nods.

You stare at him. If he’s so rich, why did you and your mother suffer? You don’t understand it. You want to ask: why did you leave my mother⸺and me, after she gave birth⸺to rot?

You guessed the size of just one room in his mansion was bigger than your apartment. You didn’t know how accurate it was: it was just your personal estimate.

“Young Master [Name]?”

You shake your head and snap out of it. “Sorry, Mr. Pennyworth.” You trail your hand through your hair, the braid⸺and your mockingbird pin, by consequence⸺gone.

“Let’s depart from this place. The fumes aren’t good for developing children lIke you.”

Your hand twitches for Alfred, as if to hold his hand, but you don’t make it in time before he begins to walk towards the sleek, black automobile waiting in the parking lot.

It’s fine. You were going to retract your hand, anyway, because he isn’t mama: he won’t warm your cold hands or braid your hair away from your neck. He won’t wipe your face once you finish eating or pull up your stockings for you.

As you walk, the sounds of your mother’s gasps for air⸺despite her burned, beautiful face that probably already inhaled too much smoke⸺finally begin to fade.

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