My neighbour runs a scam company where he's basically a landlord for landlords (he works from home and takes all his calls in the garden so I get to hear his sale pitch on repeat and it's either a) nonsense or b) just lies) and they've been mildly annoying but like liveable as neighbours. (I mean they haven't fired bb pellets into our garden or thrown constant teen ragers so we can forgive the occasional 1am karaoke party.)
But now the prick has gotten himself a metallic purple lamborghini that he now every single fucking morning revs outside the fucking house at 10am bc he doesn't actually have a real job and then he drives it round the streets for like an hour or so and you can hear it coming back for like a full five minutes bc it's a VERY loud car and we live in a quiet suburb.
Every. Single. Morning.
If they didn't have cameras on their property like the arseholes they are I would very seriously consider pouring sugar in his petrol tank. 🙃🙃🙃
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Stephanie Lauter is initially defined by her archetype as the popular girl in high school, but she must have been so lonely before Pete. Her mother is dead. Her father hates her and makes no attempt to hide it except to protect his reputation, constantly insulting, belittling and exerting authority over her when he isn’t busy with politics. She talks back to him, but doesn’t deny his descriptions of her. Miss Tessburger is the same. Her apparent friendships with the other cool kids, the kind of people who openly state the belief that looks are everything (not so different a paradigm to the one her father lives by), seem to be shallow and distant. Max rules the main popular clique with an iron fist to the point that they all stop bullying immediately and the school’s rigid social hierarchy crumbles once his influence is gone; and yet despite him having enough respect for her to try to protect her from what he believed were the undead during the prank, she was unaware of how big a problem his bullying was until she saw what he did to Pete, so she can’t have ever been that enmeshed in his circle. She dismisses her kindness to the losers as “the bare minimum” rather than lean into the potential for real friendships with them or leverage it to have power in this new group. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to mislead them into thinking that she’s worth their time.
She’s cool because she acts like she doesn’t care about anything, and why would she? Life has never given her anything to care about. In fact, it’s punished her for caring. No matter what she does, her dad tells her that she’s worthless and stupid, so she stops trying to do well in school and starts sneaking out to parties full of alcohol and following through on flirting with the football players. She might as well make her body feel alive, as she can’t fix the fuck-up in her skull. Her phone is legitimately what she cherishes most in life. It can’t love her back or hug her or make the real world better, but at least it gives her an escape. It’s her space to control. Her pictures that she likes to look at, her music that drives her dad’s words out of her head. Her private conversations with people she chooses. At least it’s hers. (It isn’t. Her dad has been bugging it since she was twelve.)
Then Pete is nice to her, and in two weeks he becomes what she cherishes most.
Then she has to kill him. And shouldn’t she have seen this coming? Shouldn’t she have learned her lesson by now? Caring just means you have something to lose. That’s why she never wanted to love him like she does.
She pulls the trigger.
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Edwin’s journey as a character from his living self to now is so fucking insane when you think about it. because imagine you’re just some guy in the 1900’s, then flash forward just over 100 years and you’ve survived 70 years in hell and figured out how to escape on your own while being brutally tortured. and now your friend group consists of another dead kid who decided to give up a potentially tranquil eternity to stay with you after knowing you for like a couple hours, a bitchy psychic girl who just got out of a relationship with a demon, and a 16-year old fujoshi who offers to let you read her yaoi to get over your edwardian repression. because oh btw you’re actually gay and in love with your best friend and probably have been for like 30 years. and you realized this because a cat who’s kinda a guy is down horrendously bad for you and crow who is also kinda a guy was your first kiss and also wants you bad
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cw yandere themes, stalking
thinking about a superhero au that's similar to the setup in "the boys" where superheroes are celebrities, backed by a company/management team + you are promoted to be character's handler. you're the one who finalizes his schedule, tells him where to go, accesses all the classified files that detail the missions he goes on (+ sometimes even accompany him to said missions). you know the ins + outs of his life (career-wise, he's doing fantastic; does well in polls, the public loves him, and his reddit snark page is itching for him to do anything they can complain about. his private life... well, he doesn't really have a life outside his job — or so it seems). he's a very black noir inspired superhero; no one knows what he looks like underneath his mask; no one knows anything about him since he stays consistently covered in his nearly indestructible suit that only emphasizes the flex of his muscles and the tightness of his abs. he never talks, which took some getting used to. you thought that was just his bit for the public, the whole "silent killer" persona, but he only nods or shakes his head when you're going over his itinerary for the day. you eventually get used to his silence & you two sort of come up with your own secret language. you can't see through his mask, but sometimes the two of you will look at each other when something happens and it's like you just know what he's trying to communicate + vice versa.
being a superhero's handler means your own private life — or lack thereof — is pretty boring. you don't have a lot of time for anything, but you finally get a chance to go out on a date. but it's just your luck that your date turns out to be a small-time villain on the side. when you think things are going to take a turn for the worst, who shows up to your rescue?
your superhero, of course.
you don't question how he knows where you're at; you're too busy being grateful for his help. you can't see the gleeful expression he's wearing under the mask when you're cooing words of praise at him. you look so cute, he thinks. you're always cute — when you're kicking off your heels after you get home from a long day of work, when you're slipping off your blouse so you can hop in the shower, when you're rushing to get to work on time in the morning, when you're hiding away in one of the many break rooms inside the company's building.
that night proves to be a series of surprises for you; first, you literally went on a date with an actual criminal. and second, you actually hear character speak for the first time ever. he has a nice voice, deep and a bit gravelly — probably due to the fact that he chooses not to speak most of the time. but it's what he says that almost wipes your grateful smile off your face.
"don't go out with anyone. you're supposed to be mine, remember?"
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