markos-hypocrisies

[markos-hypocrisies]

I'm so incredibly sorry for not posting as I should.

I've been having mobility issues with my right hand for a while due to an injury I sustained when helping out in the mechanic shop. I won't go into great detail about what happened, but due to it, I've temporarily lost ( doctor's words) the feeling of my pinky finger and half of the ring finger, and that numbness runs along to half of my forearm.

I don't exactly remember, but the doctor said it would take a while for it to heal, with the numbness taking just a tad bit longer. Although the pain has finally dispersed, I felt pretty useless not being able to do anything that involves manual labor. Which is practically everything. I've been going to physical therapy, which is embarrassing to me on not being able to hold a mug for longer than a minute. I'm currently writing this with my left hand, which thankfully is my dominant hand.

Inevitably, posting will be slow and requests will take longer— BUT I'LL STILL DO THEM! Like, don't get me wrong on that. Anyway, I wanted to give y'all a reason why I've been so absent. I hope y'all will understand and thank you for being patient with me.

[markos-hypocrisies]

I can't be the only one that finds Celine attractive.

[markos-hypocrisies]

• I HAD A DREAM BITCHES!!!

Y'all I just had a dream where Huntrix, more specifically Mira and Zoey, were overbearingly toxic towards Rumi.

They were incredibly controlling over her actions down to what she ate. They had this schedule— like an invincible schedule— where they already planned what they do each week down to the second. So when Jinu and his gang showed up, that schedule was distributed. They weren't happy about it, and Jinu, being someone literally from a realm of distrust and cruelty, noticed this.

He thought it was initially harmless, since they're demon hunters— obviously, they will have some form of hatred towards him. But as he kept observing, he was the one who noticed the possessive touches. The glares. The lies. All glazed over with sugar, which was slowly dusting off. And he was obviously concerned, as he should be, because these were DEMON HUNTERS actively acting on these acts deemed wrong. These were people who were supposed to be the beacon of hope and purity.

And the first time he got to talk to Rumi head-on, no interruptions, no attacks, just a conversation. He came to the realization, she didn't realize what they were doing was wrong.

His mind began to whirl with many possible ways it could've gotten to this point-unless, she grew up with it.

And it worried him. HIM. Someone SELFISH was WORRIED for SOMEONE ELSE. Even after they eventually had to part he was still worried about her, AND GUESS WHAT? HE SPREAD IT TO HIS COMRADES!

The rest of the saja boys were like, what? What are you talking about?

Until they took a good look at them on the game show, but this time, they saw twitches of their actual selves. Their minds marred with obsession. And slowly, that worry swallowed them.

DEMONS WORRIED OVER A DEMON HUNTER?

They wished they were kidding, but they desperately wanted Rumi to get out of that situation, so when Jinu told them she was part demon. There was a chance. Hope that she'll be safe, with them.

NEWS FLASH, turns out THEY WERE ALSO OBSESSED!!

But theirs were platonic, protective. Like a family worried for a member. Look, I know what you might think: do Mira and Zoey know about her patterns? FUCK NO. But do they know Rumi is going out to see Jinu? Hard to break it up to you, they kinda knew.

Okay, so when they were preparing for the diss track, takedown, they noticed how off Rumi was. They knew her by Heart— soul— so when she got like this. They watch her like a hawk. So for Rumi, it was incredibly hard to hide her patterns under such intense supervision. So she actively sought out Celine for a breath of air. AND GUESS WHAT? In that same exact dream, CELINE was in on it!

Cause to Celine, she reminded her of Rumi's mother. The hesitation, the sneaking, lying, covering, averting her eyes when questioned. She was seeing someone. Someone they definitely didn't approve of.

So Jinu, WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!

So Rumi being under constant watch by the rest of the Huntrix, Celine, and even the Saja boys! Where would she go to take a breather from all of them? Exactly. BOBBY MY MAN!!! And Bobby, being the kind manager he is, noticed how everyone— AND I MEAN EVERYONE— was acting towards Rumi.

But he couldn't do much of anything but provide her comfort. Since what can a normal human do against demon hunters and demons alike? HE'S TOAST.

Although he did try to reschedule some of her idol work away from Mira and Zoey, even if it was just for five minutes, he granted that long-needed privacy for her. But when the fan meet happened, it all came to shit.

EVERYONE WAS AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS!!

Except for Jinu, since he was secretly trying to devise a plan for her to sway their way.

Now, at this point, Rumi's like, What the fuck is up with these people? Mira is fighting tooth and nail not to lash out in public and kill them into a bloody pulp. Zoey is trying not to scream bloody murder when she sees Jinu so unbearably close to Rumi. The saja boys are suffering the same thing, trying not to lash out. While Rumi and Bobby are looking at each other with a 'what the fuck' face.

Now, get this, everything that happened in the movie is now under different motives. Jinu no longer wants to erase his memories; no, he wants Rumi with them, so she doesn't have to suffer through that anymore. The rest of the demon hunters, Mira and Zoey, aren't solely fighting demons. They're fighting against someone who would rip away this perfect garden that they uphold for so long with Rumi, and they won't stop for anything to preserve it.

And, guess what?

Rumi, the bird in a golden cage, is starting to notice the bars that keep her in. Starting to notice the jewels they put on her are preventing her from leaving, acting like a collar.

That Rumi is suffering the same fate her Mother did.

—

CAN ANYONE WRITE THIS, PLEASE BRUH!! MY HAND IS STILL FUCKING INJURED SO I CAN'T DO IT MYSELF!!! 😭🙏

[markos-hypocrisies]

— Still Water

"Please, don't look at me with those horrible eyes."

Yandere Diana Prince x GN Reader

Summary: Diana didn't want to comprehend why you chose to be outside her territory. If you weren't swaying her way, she chose to think it's your fault. But in the end, she's the one who caused that fearful reaction in the first place, and no amount of denying would ever fix that.

Might have mentions of obsessive behavior, possessiveness, unhealthy dependency, toxic dynamic, yandere themes, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse, etc.

If you're uncomfortable with anything listed above, then I advise not to read further. If you wish to continue know that you've been warned.

Word Count: 1,111

You remembered how the water felt when you dipped you hand in. It was too still. Like it was afraid of being itself; unpredictable.

There were no waves to crash by the seashore. Its temperature was too cold for the season, and if you look close enough, you can see it tremble with uncertainty. As if it were afraid to upset whatever lurked near.

That day, it was supposed to be calming, but the air was clogging your lungs. Your skin prickling with paranoia. Feeling self-conscious by the way your heart hammered in your chest like a drum being hit with anger.

The trees didn't dare speak, and they hung lower to the ground than they should've. You head aches for exterior movement. Your eyes searched for it but everything was too still.

Your mind began to imagine what the world was afraid of. The way paintings gained consciousness to stare at you with judgment, anger, or even fear. Your hands lunge upwards to block what it can't find.

Why is nature so afraid? Was it really fear? Or was it sad to witness—

"[name]."

Don't turn around.

Please don't turn around I'm begging you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, feeling the way your chest tightened as it suddenly made you aware how stuffy your clothes were. It was practically choking you to prevent your blood from flowing. You wanted your hands to claw their way to let you breath but you couldn't move.

Why couldn't you move?

Your bottom lip quivered, tasting the salt on your tongue. The corner of your eyes felt hot, feeling its burn spread more down your face.

You didn't want to look back and even if you wanted to, not even your eyes would obey it. Your mind didn't want to know but you felt how everything borrowed down. Blurred by stubbornness.

...

Was it stubbornness? Was it really stubbornness or—

" look at me when I'm talking to you! "

The voice boomed, but even with how loud it was, you knew it was gaining more ground to get closer to you.

You stared at the ground, but it started to blur at a rapid pace. You heard your heartbeat in your ears but you still heard how its footsteps became more rapid until it halted behind you.

Your hands shook. You felt the blood rush to your ears in hopes you wouldn't hear their voice again. You didn't notice how much your legs wobbled until it put their hand on your shoulder.

Don't do this to me.

please don't do this to me.

Please, no.

Please, I'm begging you.

Please.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU—

" look at me. "

Yet you couldn't, you didn't want to. You didn't want to see it in the eyes again. Please don't make me look at it in the eyes.

Although, no matter how hard you begged, everyone always ignores the beggars.

Their hand gripped harshly onto your shoulder making you wince in pain. Before you were forcefully turned around to be grabbed by the collar and raised until your feet couldn't touch the ground.

Your hand instinctively reaches to claw their hands away, but they slam you on the wall before you can do so. A groan painfully left your chest, feeling your head buzz with static in your eyes. You felt warm liquid run down your neck but that wasn't your main focus. You just tried not to look at it in the eyes.

" I said look at me damnit!"

Like any person would, you flinched as your body tried to scrunch in to hide away but couldn't with the way they were holding you.

And it didn't like that.

They threw you to the ground face down before being wrapped in that familiar rope that glowed in gold. You tried your hardest to breathe— to calm yourself— yet couldn't with how tightly they wrapped it around your chest.

Please, please I'm begging you! PLEASE—

" LOOK AT ME! "

They yelled while forcibly grabbing your chin to face them, and that's when you saw it. Their nose flared, eyebrows contorted inwards, face screwed in disdain. That angry Amazonian filled to the brim with what you can only place as rage.

Their other hand gripped the lasso with tenacity.

" why don't you look at me when I tell you to."

The lasso harshly glowed before the words ruptured from your lips.

" because I'm scared. "

It felt dry when you said it you didn't expect to say that, and neither did they.

The hand that held your chin switched to grab your whole jaw but it was looser than before. Not that you realized anyways.

" of what."

You didn't want to answer that. How can you tell someone that you were afraid of them without that surge of apprehension? But the lasso around you glowed again and made you do it again.

" you."

...

There was a long beat of silence. Like the very room couldn't believe the truth that left your chest. But you couldn't stop there, not when the lasso tightened and it's grip loosened.

" I'm scared by the way you look at me when something goes wrong. You look at me with resentment that makes me feel like I'm walking on eggshells all the time. And even if you don't I'm still waiting like a wuss for the next one.

Afraid that next time I'm gonna be the cause of it. Yet it's inevitable. Because, somehow— some way I am. I am the cause of all your hatred and I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I do. I'm sorry I'm the one who does everything wrong, yet I can't help that you hate every action that I do. I'm scared of it. I'm scared of you.

Just, please. Please, don't look at me with those horrible eyes. "

After that you expected it to yell again. To harm you in any way it can but nothing. It did nothing. Now you were afraid that you had gone too far. That the monologue that forcibly came out of your lips was wrong.

Were you really wrong for saying that?

Your eyes were screwed shut the whole time, awaiting for an impact it couldn't give. You didn't feel when the rope was lifted off of you nor when it hit the ground. You just heard her voice. No. Her chokes.

When you were finally brave enough to open your eyes, you saw her. Not it, her. With tears streaking down her face that was no longer screwed in anger.

And you couldn't help how your heart sobbed for her.

Author's Note: I forgot this was in my drafts already finished( ish). And since my hand is still pulsing with the pain of a grand clock I'll delay the requests a little longer until it becomes bearable.

[markos-hypocrisies]

— Talk to Me

" God, don't make me go through it again. "

Yandere Huntrix x Reader

Summary: It's daunting to realize that the past tends to reappear in the most unforgiving moments.

Might have mentions of Emotional Neglect, suicidal thoughts, insinuation of a suicide, unhealthy dynamic, belittlement, abandonment, etc.

If you're uncomfortable with anything listed above, then I advise not to read further. If you wish to continue know that you've been warned.

Word Count: 920

It was only supposed to be momentary. The smile that ached, the laugh that felt like watching fireflies dance near the meadows. It shouldn't have latched onto you this severely.

The way her hands clutched onto your jacket as she sobbed on your shoulder; muffled by the scarf you carried.

You still hear her cry every time you pass by the beach, and you couldn't do anything to console her. Not when she's far away now; gone from your side.

Walking barefoot towards the shore's edge, feeling the water crash near your feet. It was almost taunting. Like the specks of water soaking your clothes were the tears you couldn't soothe from her eyes. You knew the ocean was telling you those were the tears she shed long ago, bashing into you on what you did. That you left her— alone— choosing to keep hurting her by coming back.

Why do you choose to come back and hurt her?

You saw the waves through glossed eyes.

Your lips parted, like velcro ripping off a harness. You wish to apologize— to say sorry to her. Yet you knew no matter how much you yelled it by the shores, you knew it was futile.

Cause, how can she forgive someone like you? You left, you didn't even tell her that you were leaving.

You had a choice, yet you didn't take it. Was it too much? You were gonna hurt her either way yet you felt bad to break the news to her? Why were you feeling bad? You were the one "choosing" to leave. She trusted you. She trusted you with her secrets, her hopes, her dreams! How can you be so heartless?!

You heard it. That voice, her voice, ringing in your ear. It was graveling, static that buzzed behind your eyes. It wasn't the same tone that she had. You knew that well enough.

Yet you couldn't differentiate if that's how she truly sounded. It was so long ago to even tell anymore, blending with the multitude of others.

In the corner of your eye, you saw her silhouette marred by shadows and grim. It hunched over your shoulder, glaring with eyes brimmed with hatred and resentment.

It never moved from its position. Acting more as a veil than a quilt. It would rather taunt you and make you see the world laugh at you than keep you enclosed to not feel judgment.

Yet, you never dared look directly at it. Choosing to accept its torment rather than indulge in hysteria. But it wasn't the only reason.

Your gaze shifted down to your garments dusted in sand. Feeling the grimy texture on your skin. You knew it would be difficult to wash off, as if it was making sure you couldn't get rid of it easily like you did to them.

You didn't deserve them. You don't deserve anything.

Its chalked voice cringed in your ear.

Your feet carried you further into the shore, feeling the water hit higher until it reached your abdomen. There were times you wished she were here, so you could try and apologize until your voice went hoarse. To peel away your very soul so she can see how much of a piece of shit you truly were for causing her such pain. To all of them.

You pretended that they were the wave hitting you on the torso; pushing you back harder and harder. That you were only here so people would let their frustrations out on you. And maybe you were.

You shouldn't feel this way, but you couldn't help how the water enveloped you. Breaking the tension of the water to submerge yourself fully. Yet instead of sinking, you were floating just above the water to see her silhouette right next to your face. Almost facing straight at you.

Why can't you look at me!?

It yelled, but it wasn't sharp. It buzzed around you. Like it couldn't decide if you should've heard it in the first place. Even the world hummed around you, like it was waiting for you to do something.

Your eyes bore to the sky, yet you didn't dare look at the stars in fear that you'll see their eyes again.

Do it.

It rang in your ear. It wasn't the first time it said it; it wouldn't be the last either.

You can't do anything, can you? You can't tell people what's wrong with you. You can't even tell yourself.

It continued to taunt you, and you couldn't help but listen in. Over the years, it repeated the same thing, why can't you do anything for yourself? If you were being completely honest, you wouldn't know how to answer that. Because you didn't know how to.

Apart of you said that she was right. It came so easy for other people to be selfish so why can't you? Why can't you do anything that'll benefit you in a positive light?

Pathetic.

It spat in your ear, feeling its hatred, her contempt for you. It scorns into your skin— like the thousands before— a lit cigarette being put out on you. Yet they never let it die out, as its own resentment fuels it further. And maybe you deserve it.

The loathing.

The unadulterated loathing.

She was right, you are pathetic. You couldn't look at her directly. You never blocked her out. You don't even deny what it was saying. You just keep letting its static consume you.

Why?

Were you truly that afraid to be alone?

Author's Note: As I'm working on pending requests I've decided to post this as a treat. It's been a concept I've had in mind for quite some time, so why not let people see it?

Not sure if I should actually create a mini story out of it, but anyway, I'm gonna continue to work on requests.

PS: I actually injured my hand so that's the reason why I'm taking so long to post.

[markos-hypocrisies]

I wanted to see if I could still draw and decided to go with Rumi.

If anyone is interested in making an art request for Huntrix, you can, and I'll try to deliver.

Since, aside from writing, I also need to improve on my art.

[markos-hypocrisies]

Are you okay writing autistics readers

I do want to make my writing more diverse but I don't want to spread false information or make it a stereotype.

—

I'm so sorry if you're disappointed by this, I really wish to write about it, but seeing as I don't know much about the subject it becomes increasingly hard not to offend people due to misinformation.

( Thank you for asking though! )

[markos-hypocrisies]

I'm very bored at the moment, so if anyone wants to make a request about yandere k pop demon hunters ( more specifically the girls ) don't be afraid to send one!

Also, just to let you know, at the moment I won't do NSFW, since, I don't exactly know how to write about it.

[markos-hypocrisies]

— of All The Chances

" I have a father, but I never had a dad. "

Platonic Yandere Bruce Wayne x GN Reader

Summary: When they were saved, they saw a compassionate man tending to them, but the second they reached sanctuary, that man was replaced by another.

Might have mentions of implications of self harm, Vague mentions of Substance Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Parental Neglect, Emotional Neglect, unhealthy dependency, toxic dynamic, yandere themes, Use Of First Person Narrative, etc.

If you're uncomfortable with anything listed above, then I advise not to read further. If you wish to continue know that you've been warned.

Word Count: 377

You saved me from the fires.

Your eyes, back then, held concern that lasted longer than your reaction when I took the pills from the cupboard; pills that weren't even mine.

When you held me— a scared child— with care. The way you actually feared that if you displayed or did one wrong move, I would shatter. You took that same handkerchief your father gifted, the one you wouldn't dare dirty, and cleaned my face with it.

I still remember the tenderness you gave me.

Where is it now?

When you caught me with those pills in my hand, for a split second I thought I saw those eyes from before. That for a moment I let myself fantasize that you would be the father you promised to be when you carried me to the ambulance.

Instead— I was met with a slap to the face. I couldn't even register what happened when you started to yell at me. I was still looking down in shock when your hand roughly took the pills and threw them on the sink.

I watched the pills spill out the container, even when you hit me again, I couldn't part my eyes from it.

The harshness you showed, the yelling, the screaming. Yet I still waited till you showed that same care, that same compassion you showed that night. It never came.

Your eyes weren't the same concern as the one with the fire. You were just thinking about how this— how I would look to the press.

The headlines in bold letters, Bruce Wayne's daughter died due to an overdose!

That's all you care about, right? Even as you see me in my most vulnerable moment, the desperation in my actions, you only care what the public would think.

In your mind, the only thing that haunts you about me is that I was the only one you could save in that fire.

Your mind is plagued by that one question, what if I wasn't the only one you could save? Why me? Why out of all the chances in the swarm of flames, did you have to find me?

Why, of all the chances, do I remind you of the woman whose portrait you have hanging in your office?