#tw toxic study motivation

[justiceforplutoo]

04.11.2023 (venting)

I let my grades slip.

I know I should've done my homework on time but I was so fucking tired. So fucking tired of people, tired of working my ass off just to hit the average mark, tired of my life, even. I'm just tired.

It's such a small thing to cry about. But I've been pushing down my feelings for so long that this was the straw that broke the camel's back. And now I'm going to get a new camel.

I'm tired of procrastinating, I'm tired of pushing my assignments until after the due date, I'm tired of being tired, I guess.

I was trying to be better.

But getting better is so fucking hard.

So I'm going to build myself back up, I'm gonna try to start over again. I was worried about the wrong sorts of things and now that I've seen what this has led to, I'm turning around.

I was trying to be better.

And now I'm going to try even fucking harder.

[webgirl27]

my mania is so lame bro i don't even get laid i just study harder and sabotage my well-being

[minimallycreative]

gentle parenting myself while i still live at home takes so much energy because it would be so easy to regress and act petty or to lash out or to be passive aggressive the way my parents taught me to be.

it takes so much conscious mental effort to stop my self to not undo all of the un-learning when im around my family. and i just need someone to be proud of me

[coffeeandstudys]

[hiraeth-sonder]

Delusive Masks - Nasu

Yan! Tamamo no Mae x Reader

Old foxes aren't the best servants, they're wily and complex, and most of all, possessive

TW: Mentions of violence in the form of burning, general toxic manipulative behaviour, not really proof read

//The brainrot hit so bad that I wrote a bad fever dream. A whole bunch of liberties taken with the way being an onmyoji works and with characters as per usual. Poem is from 陽成院歌合, topic of 夏虫の恋 and is number 06 of the whole collection

あふことを, いつともしらぬ

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To be a good person is not difficult, to be a good onmyoji perhaps less so. For many people, merely getting the skill and natural ability to qualify as one is already a kind of privilege, it taints the way they view themselves, creating grandiose splendours that they can transcend beyond the mortal principles. Yet when one becomes powerful enough to summon shikigami beyond weak spirits imbued into paper dolls, it gets to their head. They suddenly, foolishly believe themselves capable of nothing short of miracles. How fast they fall, turning themselves into cruel masters, bidding their servants to acts no better than the very yokai they seek to exorcise, kicking upon their shikigami to which they had entered that sacred contract. 

You are grateful for many things in life, the first that you had good parents that supported your wishes, the second that you could become a practising onmyoji, and the third being your master’s consistent and persistent hammering of humility and altruism. No lesser or greater than any being that walks upon this world, whether human or spirit, your duty was to protect the innocent and excise the guilty. Of course, he had worded it much more eloquently than such, but the motive was still present in his orotund words. 

Your shikigami are as equally deserving of respect as you are, unconditional kindness could very often make the difference between an evil spirit and a good one. You have stuck by such truths for as long as you have started, even when the only spirits under your command were Ubume and Zashiki Warashi. It became a promise of kinds, that you would always do right by them so long as they showed the same sentiment in return. Eventually, you ended up with quite a few of them, a good entourage of them you knew you could trust. Yet, it was rather difficult for people to take you seriously without certifiably powerful spirits, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that there was a certain gap between the perceived disciple of the great Abe no Seimei, and the reality that you were. 

There was some part of you that did resent that expectation, partly that others should have no right to comment on your ability solely on your patronage, and partly because it felt too close to home. Of course you knew it was shameful to be so powerless when you study under one of the best practitioners, it is only natural you did. 

The smell of incense fills your nose as your eyes adjust to the dim room, a talisman before you laying on the wooden floor. With a brush in hand, dipped in ink and poised for use, you calm your pounding heart. You have already summoned a few shikigami before, yet at this very moment, you could feel nothing but inexplicable foreboding. It made no sense, with your current living quarters more than protected by both your and your shikigamis’ efforts, yet you could not merely shake off the tenseness in your joints and the roiling in your stomach. 

It hurts, everything still hurts. Your hands from all the preparation, your knees from kneeling on such hard floors, your head from everything that has been and shall be. It is as though your body only knows to bear suffering, pain from which is borne from being mortal, pain borne of the pure action of breathing. 

Still, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Picking up your brush in a ramrod perfect posture, the incantation so familiar to your lips spill out as ink stains the talisman. Your voice starts soft, barely a whisper in the wind and as your hand scrawls and scrawls with a fervour not quite known to human consciousness, it rises until the only sound in your ear is your very own words. 

The moment your brush lifts off the paper and the ink settles within, placed within the circle, it resonates and glows, bursting with light and into flame as it burns into a brilliant blaze. It threatens to engulf the summoning room, grazing at the ceiling as even the fire from your candles are absorbed into such a violent inferno. You can feel the heat, practically licking your skin and singeing the ends of your coat, sweat beading at your brow as you shield your eyes from the bright display. 

Even when the flames dim, what is before your eyes is merely the shaping of the firestorm into nine distinct tails, a vulpine silhouette that eventually reveals a tall figure, draped in silks and brocades. With an elaborate fox-like mask hiding the top half of his face, this spirit which presented himself as both court official and decadent noble snapped open his fan to further hide his jade white visage. Among the cool night, all you could feel was the radiating heat from his form, even if he retracted his flames, it was as if there was nothing beyond him and his fire. 

The high wooden geta clacks against the wooden floorboards, elegant footfalls approaching you ever closer as he steps out of the circle. He makes no effort to lower himself to your level, fervid eyes burning behind the mask as he tips his fan beneath your chin and lifts it. The spirit takes a gander at your appearance, scrutinising your every feature with an intensity far beyond mild interest. 

“This place has experienced great change since I’ve last been here,” The old fox’s lips curl into a smile, the peek of sharp canines peeking from behind. His voice is sultry, a minacious bite to his words,  “Onmyoji, we finally finally meet.”

No matter this first introduction, dealing with this great spirit will be much more complicated than any you have ever met. A venerable kitsune in which vagary destruction lay right at the snap of his fingers, no matter what kind of fate he deems worthy for your mortal self, it is exactly because you are mortal that you should meet this trial. 

Bowing, you raise your clasped hands in front of you and dip until you feel your back screech for mercy, “Tamamo no mae-sama, it is an honour to meet you.”

“Do take care of me, little lady,” He croons and a shiver runs through your bones, no matter how gentle his words were.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なつむしの, おもひはかぎり

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Master, I did not think you would arrive so quickly.”

Your hands are steady as you tip the lacquered teapot, fragrant tea pouring in a steady stream from its slender spout. The dark liquid a blend you rarely take out other than to entertain your master, there is a certain trepidation that comes with such an act, one you are not sure when will finally leave you. The joints of your fingers ache, throbbing even as you lay at rest. 

“It is so wrong for me to worry for you?” He raises a brow, azure eyes regarding you with some placid gleam.

Despite your admittedly out of place nerves, your master has done nothing to warrant such, that in spite of his graceful and aloof poise, Seimei may likely be one of the kindest people you have ever met. You understand that a person can in no way be entirely benevolent nor evil, for that is what makes a sentient being sentient, but there is merely something about him that brings forward ease within a person. 

You only shake your head, an abashed quirk tugging at your lips. Watching him take a sip from his cup, your mind drifts back to the message you had sent. A letter that was hastily scrawled and messy beyond reason, the paper carried the distinct stench of smoke and ash, it was a moment of panic now that you could look upon the incident with a much clearer head. The minute you had situated the old yokai in conditions appeasable to his own tastes, you remember sprinting back to your room, sweat clinging to your skin and staining the paper as you wrote, informing your master what had just occurred and asking for his guidance. 

“Of course not, I just thought you would have taken more time to get here,” You hum, your voice lowered and sheepish. “Were you not at the capital when my letter arrived?”

Your master only nods, “Your words were so fearful, I thought you had come across a great trouble.”

He takes a moment to partake from his drink once more, a silence falling upon the sun-lit room as birds chirp in the nearby trees and the sound of your shikigami going about their lives ring from the distance. You rest your eyes upon his form, noting the seeming flawlessness of his presence. Sharper features that hinted at some otherworldly grace, just the most minute sign found in the form of the slight furrow of his brow revealed the distress that plagued him. Then, his long lashes flutter open, and your master merely seems to smile, relief all but seeping from his eyes. 

“I am glad you are well.”

Averting your gaze, you thank him under your breath as heat flushes at the tips of your ears, not quite certain whether such bashfulness stems from troubling him or emotions else explained. 

You can only move the conversation of topic away from that moment, putting on a facade of ease, “I thought you would have more insight about him.”

The expression on his face shifts ever so slightly, a sudden hardness in his eyes as he grips the teacup just the little tighter. 

“He…has experienced a great number of losses due to both divine and human action,” He manages to breathe out, the sound almost all but serene if not for the lengthy pause between his words. Your master inhales, as though to continue his words, yet he only sighs, “I am afraid that is as much as I can disclose for now, it is not my place to tell what he does not wish to be revealed.”

Just as you think to pry just a little further, Hana’s voice echoes from beyond the closed doors, asking for your presence. There is a concern tinging her words, and judging by the pattering of rushed footsteps, this was a matter that required your immediate and utmost earnest attention. 

“Master, I must apologise but…” Your eyes glance between him and the door, chest tightening ever so slightly as blood rushes through your veins. 

Seimei merely shakes his head, an assuaging expression on his face as he waves you off, “Do not worry about me, go ahead.”

Nodding, you rise as quickly as possible, rushing off as you are swiftly carted off to the issue. The white haired man remains in his seated position, taking in the scent of his tea as he closes his eyes. He hears the silence of the wind, with neither bird song nor liveliness of existence. Seimei finishes the rest of his tea, herbal and heady fragrance greeting his senses for the last time before he places it down alongside your abandoned cup. 

He takes a breath, not bothering to open his eyes as he speaks, “Uncle, I know you are there.”

From beyond the door and announcing his entrance through soft clicks, a masked man deigns to show his face as he lowers his fan. With his lips almost permanently lifted in mirth, the scarlet markings that painted his mask aided with the unease that your master suddenly feels creeping onto his spine. He is unfamiliar with this sensation, especially from the man before him. 

“Seimei, its been a long time,” The old fox croons, insouciant tinge to his voice. 

Without missing a beat, your master finds a new urgency within him, “What are your intentions with my disciple?”

“We have yet to see each other after so long and this is your first question for me?” Tamamo hums, an unexplainable expression on his jade white face. His fan taps against his jaw in a rhythmic manner, voice much more playful and recondite than Seimei would have liked, “She called out and I responded, nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you have any malintention upon her, I fear I may have to take action.”

Not quite a threat, for even he is unable to deny their relationship, but more so a warning. This tension between the two of them has an unspoken depth, one that had existed long before this clandestine reunion, and with Seimei’s admittedly almost obvious concern for your wellbeing, it only seems to sour so. 

The old fox smiles, and the younger finds that he does not enjoy the way those golden eyes seem to shine with burning regard from beyond the mask. Tamamo only muses, yet despite the airy nature of his voice, behind his lilt was a zealous avariciousness, “I promise you, no harm shall befall her so long as I am by her side.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なくやあるらん

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

For all that the froglets incident was worth, a situation that had been more so confusing and hysterical for the regional townspeople than any life-threatening catastrophe as you had been led to believe, it was only a mild inconvenience. A few dozen little frogs dressed to appear as great yokais were merely wandering around and acting as if they were the spirits themselves, of course they had also been imbued with some kind of ability that allowed them to recreate such acts, but it was still not some matter that would raze the whole of Heian-Kyo. 

Still, that had not meant you expected to return to your abode with said froglets nipping at your heels ready to make themselves useful. 

“Master…” At a loss for words, Momo could only cock her head at the image before her. 

Rather than being seated at your desk pouring over documents, you were instead making yourself quite busy with some leisurely reading while the froglets dedicate themselves to stacking your books in an order only they seemed to know. 

“It’s okay, they are not causing any issue,” You smile, an amused huff escaping your nose when your eyes drift to Susabi Frog balancing on top of Ichimokuren Frog as it just barely pushes a star chart into place, “I am just keeping them busy.”

Turning your attention back to Momo, you place down your book as you roll your shoulders back, the vertebrae in your spine not quite as sore. “Did you have something for me to look at?”

“Ubume asked whether you wanted to join us for lunch or have us eat with you.” Her voice is slightly hesitant, just one step away from wavering. 

It feels like instinct at this point, you rest your head upon your palm and squeeze your eyes in delight. If you had to be honest, you did quite miss being able to have meals with your shikigamis, always some lively affair and certainly occuring far too sparsely for your liking.

“It has been some time since we all sat down together and ate, has it not?”

She nods her head, a hopeful expression on her face as her eyes widen in mock innocence, “Mhm! So will you?”

You laugh, shaking your head as you get up and dust your clothes. An excitement fills her as the little blooms in her hair burst open, grabbing your arm and all but dragging you out. Turning a glance to the froglets, you wave them over and they come scampering to your side at the first notice, almost all too excited to follow along. They clamour in the occasional croak or ribbit, asking about this and that. More akin to children, you wonder when that sentiment started. 

By the time you arrive in your courtyard, it is all but a wonderfully teeming gathering, noise filling your ears in a manner that only served to coax your heart from its tight cage. Seeing them like this, you are happy that you get to have such a sight, living free from suffering and safe, that was the most important point, that they were safe. 

“I see you all are in good spirits,” You hum, an announcement that is swiftly followed by a symphony of ‘Master’s’. 

Some of the younger shikigami immediately leap from their seats to your side, to which you only greet them with on overfond smile and a pat on the head. Those busy with serving food or handing out cutlery likewise greet you, not quite able to pull themselves away from their tasks but still sending a smile or a wave. Momo is quick to join everyone else, flitting between chatting and aiding. Ootengu had busied himself with scooping soup while Hana had been floating around ensuring everyone had some kind of meal, leaving one person notably uninvolved. 

“Little lady,” The old yokai calls for you, resting his head on his palm as a smile plays on his lips. Sitting beneath the plum blossom tree, he almost looks like the subject of a great painting under falling petals and soft sunlight. Just the view of such makes you almost afraid to approach him, yet still you do so. You are unable to tell exactly whether his levity is real, but you can only assume so by his leisurely tone, “Have the froglets been helping you?”

Glancing at the frogs now being babied by the rest of your shikigami, a notion you did not think they would take up so fast, you only laugh, “They are very earnest, thank you.”

Silence falls upon the two of you and for a moment, it truly does feel that all is right in the world. There is little discomfort in your body, joints no longer cracking at every minute action nor head pounding at every little stimulus that dared to exist. The smell of sweet flowers and delightful aroma of proper food fills the air, and you yearn for nothing more than these days to continue on. 

Those froglets, troublesome at first though they may, had ended up being a kind of blessing. For ever since their attempted marauding, you have had little, if any issues that required your action. You spend your days reading and writing, responding to correspondence and finally able to focus on your studies. 

It is while reminiscing that Tamamo’s silvery words reach your ears, pleasant and coaxing. 

“These few weeks have been rather peaceful, don’t you think?” He tilts his head to the side, meeting your gaze in a single move. 

You squeeze your eyes again, a soft sigh escaping you as a smile tugs at your lips, “It has, I can finally get to some marriage proposals I had apparently recieved.”

For a moment, just the slightest second late, you thought the old fox’s expression darkened. Yet just as quickly as it came, it left, and he simply continues on. His eagerness almost resembles that of those older ladies, that crooning voice asking for more and more, ready to give advice you never thought you would need, older yokais surely were no different than mortals. 

“Oh? And who is the lucky fellow?” His nails, scarlet and far longer than you remember, clasp around his fan. 

“Just another onmyoji, he isn’t from the big name clans that sent their pathetic excuse they call letters,” You sigh, then hold your hands up in clarification, as though to correct yourself from your perceived distate, “Which is good, less likely to be some bigoted oaf.”

Tamamo merely hums, snapping open his fan to hide the bottom of his face, yet there was an odd wry tinge to his words, “How intriguing, our little lady seems to be quite popular to attract even onmyojis from the big clans.”

“Don’t flatter me, they just want to find someone they can continue their bloodlines with.”

Rolling your eyes, an acerbic grin appears on your face as you take a drink from the teacup one of the froglets brought over. Just like those old ladies, he places a hand on your shoulder and with an assuaging tone, a sense of warm reassurance is poured into your being. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry. I’m certain you will have no trouble.”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

またまたも, みをぞすてつる

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Kiyohara Genjirou, a practicing onmyoji that had sought you out not only for his pursuit of the craft but admiration as well. So he cited in his first correspondence, and so you would like to believe. 

As he wrote to you, you found him an eloquent and diligent man. Genjirou, though not hailing from a noble family nor considered talented enough to join a major clan, wandered through the country aiding when he could. All he had were paper dolls and simple talisman, yet that was all he needed. He had heard tales from those whose qualms you have solved, and had grown curious of your being. It was natural, yet this natural curiosity had grown to longing when he caught a glimpse of you in the city. 

The image he described of you had seem otherworldly when you first read it, donned in simple robes and merely another face among the crowd, his eyes had no choice but to follow along your form, entirely unable to pull away from you. As if sent down from the high heavens, even the slightest whisper of your voice had made him understand why men should turn to religion. 

You thought of him less fondly, perhaps not an infatuation such as his but an interest nonetheless. He had only sent two letters, the first that had been introductory and more similar to polite courtesy, the second much more personal and akin to courting. Still, you had been touched by his words, further still when you read the last portion. He would make the journey to your estate, to meet you and to perhaps, if you would allow him the chance to, to court you. 

It was by no means a demand, but rather a suggestion. Genjirou had gone so far as to write that should you not find him appealing in any manner, that should you deem him overstepping, you were in every right to have him kicked out and his hair cut short. 

You remember showing Tamamo the letter, surrounded by the froglets as he read from behind your shoulder. You told him that you would like to meet such a staunch person, and perhaps at the time, you had laughed alongside him when he said that should Genjirou truly act as he feared, then it would not be humiliation that he would bear. There was nothing to worry for, all you had to do was await his arrival. 

Yet, despite his staid words and his solemn promises, he never came. 

Under the moonlight and through the cold night wind, you can only let out a soft sigh. Your shoulders slump beneath your robes as all of a sudden, your body feels too heavy for your feet. Leaning against the wooden pillars of the front gate, that familiar tightness in your chest returns once more. Yet rather than what feels like your ribs enclosing onto your rapidly beating heart, what occurs to you now is more akin to that sentimental organ squeezing against its cage, yearning to pry straight through to leap out and wither away. Your lungs long for air, forcing in and out and yet it is not enough, never enough. 

It is cold, so, so cold. Why were you cold?

Closing your eyes, you feel a presence approach from behind you, then a hand pulls you away from your resting spot. You lay against a warm body, that even through layers and layers of silk and brocade, you do not even have to open your eyes to know who it is. 

“Tamamo,” Your murmur disappears into the night, yet it is a call that he hears and responds to. 

With your limp limbs that which hang uselessly, the old fox gathers you into his embrace, allowing you to bury your face into his chest. “I thought he was different…”

Methodical and rhythmic, his chest rises and lowers, coaxing your breath to follow suite. Within his hold, there is a warmth that penetrates the skin, enveloping your tendons in loving flame. Tightly held and tightly received, Tamamo lets you dig your nails into him, until your fingertips ache and your wrists cramp up. He merely returns the sentiment, as though it was entirely natural to do so. 

“Will you be honest with me?” 

As though ashamed to even consider such a thought an option, you can barely muster your voice to above a whisper, “Do you think I’m a disappointment to my master?”

“Of course not, my little lady is very accomplished,” He croons, his voice soft and soothing. “Do you think I would have answered your call otherwise?”

Still enveloped in his presence, you inhale the familiar smell that clings to him. When he speaks to you as such, it truly does feel like all will be right in this world. Desiring nothing more than to keep you safe, this old fox you had once shrinked from has now become your only succour. How fast you had let him in your heart, that he should treat you with the same regard and care you do the rest of your shikigami, and you would become so easily reliant on what he may give you. Ironic, yet undeniably a notion you had grown aware of since his arrival. 

“Besides, he is rather foolish to give up on you,” He sighs, an undertone distantly related to triumph hidden beneath assuage and fondness. 

That graceful hand cups your face, reverent as though bearing a great treasure. Your eyes flutter open, and it is then you notice that he is no longer wearing his mask, presenting that exquisite face once hidden to you. Narrow eyes of beguiling gold with long lashes, lips that more appeared as delicate petals. No matter the scarlet markings painted upon his skin, it is no wonder that men should turn to fanaticism in the face of such sublimity. You can only stare in awe, how warm your ears flush and how heat roils in your stomach upon the sonorous hum of his voice. 

“You deserve much, much better than a human who only knows to lie to you.”

Lying on the beaten dirt path, Kiyohara Genjirou will be buried in an unmarked grave, neither name nor profession known to those who will find him. For all that remains of this unwitting suitor is the stench of smoke and shrivelled corpse, caught too soon in a fox’s tempestuous favour and left to burn in the same blazing rancour that once threatened to engulf the tranquil capital. 

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

なつむしの, なほあきたらぬ

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Being a good onmyoji is not difficult, it is not some arduous task to respect and love your shikigami, to treat them as one would dear friends and family. Yet, a shikigami that has only lost and lost, when given a second chance to make it all right, what then happens to that good onmyoji is very often known only to those hidden away.

Your master, when he had learned of the events that transpired had taken it with nothing more than a furrowed brow and a sharp exhale. Before he left, he had gifted you a talisman and instructed you to hang it in your room, to which you did. Yet, that very day, it had gone missing from your door. You had no unease at it, after all, he had given you hundreds of protection talismans, what difference was one going missing?

You on the other hand, had come to realise many things about your emotions with the arrival of both dismay and prolonged peace. That old fox who has done nothing but inexplicably care for you, with no explanation nor clarification. It had come out of nowhere, that quiet wistfulness and longing glances, you nearly thought yourself mad yet it was true. Torturing yourself with what could only possibly be, one could only imagine the joy that filled you when you had to do nothing but wait just a little longer, and even that foolish wish should come to be. 

Cicadas sing in the distant night, your lover has long retired for the night and lays atop the bed, what you may see now is but his most true form, masks and disguises left at the door. Vulpine ears atop his head along with nine full tails, he once again scoops you into his embrace as even his tails move to cover you. 

“Cold…” You only whine, squirming closer as though you could crawl into his skin. 

Tamamo only huffs in amusement, no sign of actual vexation, and pulls you in closer. The increased contact brings burning touch falling upon your skin, the old fox noses along some invisible line at your neck, his lips pressing a kiss upon your pulse. He coaxes a sigh from your throat, soft and airy and almost all too practiced. Wholeheartedly embracing the fervid greed within him, you think you feel the prick of sharp canines against tender skin, yet you could care less. 

In nothing more than your sleeping robes, luxurious clothes stripped off, legs entangled and limbs intertwined. To an unwitting observer, it would be difficult to discern whose form was whose, so thoroughly ensnared fox and human may as well be one body.

With neither onmyoji nor spirit to separate the two of you, and in this little delusion, not even the heavens will seize you from his side. He has ensured it, he shall see to it that the one he loves will never bear such suffering ever again. 

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こひをたのみて

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Riddle's Backstory - Monster AU

Monster: Vampire Word Count: ~1.4K Relationships mentioned: Mother (Dr. Carlotta Rosehearts), Evelyn (Dr. Rosehearts "friend"/veteranarian), Che'nya TW: toxic helicopter mom, "experimental dieting" on a child/malnourishment, She deserves to loose her medical license, dead animal/blood, animal abuse

"How long have you had him on a restricted diet? He's not all that old Carlotta, are you sure it's safe to try something like that on someone so young? Even if you do, it's not a very good testing pool to only have one subject, a proper study would enta-" "It doesn't matter Evelyn. The point is, I cannot keep wasting my time on synthetically making blood for Riddle. He's gotten to the point where I'm finally going have to take the risk of letting him consume animals blood, but I need you to curate the diet for the pigs I plan to use. I've already located a great farmer who said he'll raise and take care of them for me so all I have to do is come by to pick it up. The pigs can't be too fatty, and they cannot have a high glucose diet. In addition-" "Carlotta-" "Do NOT interrupt me Evelyn, that is very unbecoming and rude. Since you had something so important to say, why don't you go on and spit it out."

The younger woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "The diet you've suggested so far for the pigs will result in a terrible quality of life for them, and will likely shorten their life spans by quite a bit....they...if the farmer listens to you they might even....cannibalize each other." She stared down at her clasped hands. Dr. Rosehearts had always been an intense woman, but she had been the woman she needed in order to get the motivation to go to vet school. However, she also somehow felt that Evelyn was eternally indebted to her, and demanded her input and participation on every new idea that struck her, morals be damned. It wasn't even so much her opinion she seeked- Carlotta just wanted someone to tell her she was doing something right. She wasn't even related to Evelyn, but she felt terrified of defying her. She couldn't help but feel bad for the boy who shared a roof with her. She'd only seen him once or twice- he was always in his room sleeping or studying- despite being only about six years old in human years. Dr. Rosehearts just scoffed at the young woman. "I couldn't care less about their quality of life, so long as they don't anything they're not meant to- like each other- and stick to the plan I have for them, then my son should be perfect and set for life so long as he only eats from them for the rest of his life." Evelyn took a steadying breath. "....yes, but if the pigs are ill, chances are your son will fall ill as well." "Well that's where you come in. You'll be nursing them and ensuring they remain as healthy as possible so I don't have to waste my time synthesizing blood." By the time Carlotta had finished her sentence, Evelyn's eyes were on the tiny redhead boy clinging to a blanket and small stuffed animal as he rubbed his eyes. "Synthesizing blood?

Carlotta seemed to freeze up in her seat, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gripped her armrest until her knuckles turned white. Evelyn glanced between her and the boy, unsure really what to do. "Mama, you said I had real blood starting when I was three cen-taur-ies old....right?" Riddle seemed to wake up a bit more, his hair still sticking up a little as he rubbed his eye. "Cuz you promi-" "BACK to your room. You're not supposed to be awake yet Riddle." Her tone made both Evelyn and Riddle flinch, but Riddle started to tear up. "B-but you promised I was big enough when I w-was th-" Carlotta gave Evelyn a fake smile as she stood up. "I'll be a moment." She felt like she was meant to step in, but couldn't bring herself to do anything even as she winced as Dr. Rosehearts grabbed her sons wrist hard, causing him to sob as he was dragged back to his room.

As promised, she was back a few moments later, her sons cries no longer heard unless she really listened for it. She sighed and sat down, shaking her head. "Honestly, children are just too nosy sometimes." Evelyn looked away from Carlotta, uncomfortable. ".....is it true?....you told him he got real blood when he was that age?....you know that's....well I know you know, but...that's when kids are supposed to switch over gradually to start building their immune systems and give them access to the real thing so they can start hunting and getting the nutrients they need without...lab precision." She looked down at the floor, but she could feel Carlotta's eyes burning a hole in the top of her head. Before she could let her intimidate her out of saying it, she finished her thought. "The way you feed him now, and the way you want me to help you feed him in the future, is going to keep him malnourished." Carlotta had never evicted someone from her home faster, before making her way to her own blood supply and indulging herself in her guilty pleasure. --------------------------------------------------------

Riddle sobbed quietly into his pillow, not wanting his mother to hear, but he could smell the blood she was drinking from where he was. It was so unfair. He had been so excited all those birthdays ago, because he was finally moving up in the world. He knew, from his reading, that he was meant to have the synthesized blood to make sure he didn't have exposure to anything his body couldn't handle. Around three centuries, he was supposed to have had rodent blood mixed with the synthesized blood, until he was drinking strictly rodent blood. And at five centuries- well the list went on, and he knew it well. Of course he did. His mother made him read all about that, and maths, and science and world history and alchemy and hexes and curses and all manner of things instead of letting him do...anything else. But apparently not even the one thing he thought she had given him was true. "Whyyyyy you cryin?" Riddle startled and suppressed a small scream into his pillow, clinging it close to his chest, panting and terrified at the head and hands poking out from under his blackout curtains. The purple haired boy frowned, and turned his head upside down, further startling Riddle by accident. "What's wrong? 'm just curious. Meowybe I can he-" Riddle threw the pillow too gently to really do anything to the boy, but didn't want to call his mother into his room unless he really had to. When the boy just smiled at him after the pillow, he relaxed a little, not feeling like he was angry. "Y-you have got to go.....you g-got to go before my mama hears you!" He whimpered and curled up as his stomach grumbled. Che'nya tilted his head to the side, his ear flicking a bit in response. "I'll be back little vampy, don't nya worry 'bout good ole Che'nya!" The boy seemed to disappear, leaving Riddle to wonder if that interaction had really just happened or not. A few minutes passed, and he decided to try to sleep again, whimpering softly as he laid back down. However as soon as he got comfortable he heard a bit of a scuffle outside his window and the purple head of hair popped under his curtain again, something in his mouth. Riddle watched, bewildered, horrified and fascinated as the rest of the boys body assembled slowly in his room, before the boy spit out the rat he had in his mouth unceremoniously, it still twitching on the ground, "You know how to eat it, right?" Riddle looked down in disgust at the animal for a moment, before instincts took over. He was just so hungry. In seconds, all that was left of the rat was the pelt and dehydrated husk of what it used to be, and little Riddle panting as he realized just how good and filling the rats blood was compared to whatever his mom gave him. Shakily, unsure, he handed back the remains of the rat, looking up at Che'nya pleadingly with a few tears in his eyes. "I'll getchya some more little vampy. Don't worry. You're not gonna go hungry anymore." ----------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending lmao sjdfhlkjsdf if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!

[beetlezoi]

sorry for not posting. i just dont have much of an audience here so it is difficult to stay motivated here is a dump lawl

TW: G0RE, ANIMAL D3ATH, TOXIC RELIGION, AND R@PE (ART AND WRITING, NO NSFW) LAST THREE PHOTOS

1: merman cyrus, my cowboy oc. experimenting with scrapbook look. writing is a quote that resonated with me! i live by it

2. page of cyrus drawings

3. an entry from my journal, i was in the car with my family. photo study.

4. vent. my first prayer since i was seven years old.

5. self portrait

6. some practice

7. for fun. wanted to make something a little scary

8. lore art for cyrus, the writing is from the perspective of madeline, his sister, who was r@ped and killed, left under the pictured tree

9. bit of cyrus lore

10. also cyrus lore, the character is goose, the deuteragonist. he is some sort of vampire-esque dude. he ate one of cyrus's horses and i have no idea why. at first it was a joke between me and my friend but it became real i guess

[yandere-daydreams]

Twelve Days of Christmas - Day One

Prompt: Stockings

Pairing: Yandere!Asmodeus/Reader (Obey Me)

TW: Blood, Minor Acts of Violence, Jealousy, Implied Marking, and Toxic Mindset.

More than anything, Asmodeus liked it when you wore his clothes.

Or, when you wore clothes he got for you, at least. Sometimes it was his jacket, draped over your shoulders while the two of you studied for an upcoming quiz, or that god-awful scarf, slung playfully around your neck as he slotted himself against your back despite all the many, many times you’d asked him to let you know when he planned on getting so close. He left skirts on your bed, accompanied by notes with scrawling cursive and looping hearts, and your closet was full of coats and combat boots, handbags and hoodies in his colors, with his symbols and all the little, familiar things that’d remind you of him, above all else. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful for it, you were, but it could be excessive, at times. It could be smothering, even if you knew he didn’t mean to be.

Or, you didn’t think he meant to be, at least. You hoped he didn’t.

If he did, that’d make his most recent gift much more disturbing than it had to be.

The stockings were innocent on their own. Pitch black, thin enough to border on transparent, reaching the tops of your thighs before they tapered off, ending in pink cuffs of faux fur that you might’ve been tempted to run your fingers along, in any other circumstance. Along the sides, red and grey hearts ran vertically, small and purposefully childish, obviously choosing fashion over maturity. They were well-crafted, more so than they had any right to be, and if they’d been given to you with all the distant benevolence of any of his other gifts, you might’ve liked them, enough to try them on and spare an impressed laugh for your reflection, anyway. But, they hadn’t been left on your bed, or handed to you absent-mindedly, or given as a gift that was meant for your enjoyment, rather than Asmodeus’. He hadn’t tried to pretend he didn’t have ulterior motives, this time.

If he had, you wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of his bed, right now, keeping your eyes cautiously fixed on his carpeting while he admired his latest present.

“I afraid they wouldn’t fit,” He chuckled, lulling his head to the side, letting his cheek rest on your thigh as he brought up a hand, toying idly with the outer hem. You wouldn’t have minded trying them on in front of him, hell, you wouldn’t have minded letting him ‘help’, but he’d insisted on taking up the burden himself. Now, as he kneeled in front of you, your legs parted stiffly around him, you couldn’t help but wish he’d just be a little less involved. Just a little less comfortable when it came to touching you, even if that only meant he hesitated before slipping his thumb beneath the sheer fabric. “I didn’t want to guess your size, but i couldn’t have asked. That would’ve spoiled the surprise, and then…” He let himself trail off, the words fading into a breath of a laugh. “Well, it’d ruin our fun, right?”

“I wouldn’t care,” You assured, trying to keep your tone as indifferent as his. It was a futile effort, really, your voice shaking and taking on a pitch that was anything but confident, but Asmodeus didn’t seem to notice, his eyes only closing as he leaned against you. You tried to swallow down your nerves before you went on, but your success was debatable, at best. “You know I’m  always going to like whatever you get me, but if I’m being honest, I don’t—”

“You’re probably right,” He sighed, his hand falling to your ankle, tracing over a stray wrinkle thoughtfully. “You really don’t look your best in black. White might be an overcorrection, though, how do you feel about—”

“I really don’t know if I’m comfortable with this,” You cut in, before he could push the topic any further. Asmodeus was nice, he was sweet, but he could be a little too much, when he wasn’t paying attention. Not enough to be overbearing, but enough to overshadow you. Enough to make your concerns seem unfounded, in the face of his willingness to skirt around them. “It’s not that I don’t like it, and I really, really appreciate how thoughtful you are,” You explained, trying to find the right words before he could get the wrong impression. “I just don’t know how many more… how many more gifts I can accept before I start to feel a little overwhelmed.”

You didn’t really care about the clothes. You wanted him to stop touching you. You wanted him to take a step back, or take his hands off of you, or do anything but get closer.

Asmodeus didn’t seem to want the same thing, though.

You could feel his smile press into your skin, his grip tightening around your ankle. He didn’t pull away. “I get it,” He started, his tone suddenly so much more serious than it should’ve been. “You’d rather have one of my brothers treat you like this, right? Lucifer? Satan, maybe? I guess anyone would be better than me.”

You felt your heart drop. There was a peck to the side of your knee, light enough to be playful, but lingering just long enough to make something in your chest tighten. “That’s not what I said, Asmo.”

“It’s what you meant.” It wasn’t, but he didn’t seem to care about that. He kept his eyes closed as he straightened his back, pressing another kiss into your skin. “It’s fine, I promise. I guess I just thought you’d be a little more grateful. I mean, I’m not sure why. I’ve never been your favorite, and it’s not like I’m willing to get on my knees and beg for your attention. Then again, I guess you have plenty of other demons willing to do that, don’t you?”

In your defense, you tried to respond. You tried to, but as soon as you opened your mouth, something sharp pierced the flesh of your thigh, though the material of your stocking and straight into delicate, vulnerable skin. There was a moment of numb acknowledgement, of a wet tongue running over ruined fabric and bleeding wounds, and a second later, there was pain, an undeniable burning that left you shoving at his shoulders and screaming. Or, you tried to scream, at least. Before the sound could make it past your lips, Asmodeus was already shooting upward, pushing his mouth against yours in a forceful, violent mockery of a kiss.

He didn’t pull away, not until you were panting, not until you were breathless and trembling and shaking. Even then, he didn’t go far, only falling to your neck, only driving pointed fangs into your neck and clamping down, waiting for your resolve to break before he drew back. Waiting for the shock to take over, waiting for the panic to make it impossible for you to breath, let alone fight back. You almost fell, almost buckled under your own weight, but Asmodeus didn’t hesitate to catch you. He must’ve been waiting for it, ready for you to collapse.

He must’ve been so, so tired of sitting back and waiting for you submit, on your own.

“Just hold still for a while. Can you do that for me?” He asked, the question accompanied by a stifled chuckle and a half-hearted attempt to lick over your wound. By a grin, sharp and careless and so selfish, you almost felt guilty for assuming he was ever anything else.

“I’m just going to help you remember why you’re supposed to appreciate all my hard work.”

[mianavs]

Festered Wounds

The insecurities that brought you together now tore you apart

Bakugo x f!reader

a/n: been thinking about toxic relationships lately and realized i needed to write more mha hehe

tw: dubcon, smut, implied abuse

wc: 1.4k+

The belief that you could climb the ladder of success through hard work and dedication had been your lifeline growing up. It was what your father engraved in your mind as he worked ungodly hours just to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. So you did what you had to do in order to avoid working a measly job with your mediocre quirk. You divided your time studying and improving your quirk until your eyelids grew heavy and your muscles ached.

But in the end, hard work wasn’t enough and your growth plateaued after graduating UA. You did all you could to improve your quirk but, at the ripe age of twenty-two, you were found yourself at a dead-end with the promotion from sidekick to pro-hero nowhere in sight.

They say misery loves company and you suppose that was what kept you tethered to Katsuki Bakugo after the initial attraction subsided. Like you, Bakugo had his own insecurities that ate at him the longer Izuku Midoriya remained the Number One Hero and the larger the gap between them grew.

Where the two of you once found solace in your relationship and licked each other’s wounds, it proved to have been only temporary. Your wounds eventually festered and turned your relationship into an unreliable crutch that sometimes supported you and other times let you fall.

The buzzing noise stirred you awake and you reached over to your nightstand to pick up your vibrating phone. You noticed the mail icon on your lock screen after disabling your alarm and your hands trembled as you rubbed the leftover sleep off your eyes. Impatient fingers opened the email but upon reading the first few words any hope you had dissipated.

[Thank you for your interest but, after further consideration, we have decided to pursue other…]

It was your seventh rejection letter that month and you were starting to lose all motivation to keep applying for a pro-hero position at a hero agency.

As you brushed your teeth, you remembered Bakugo’s words after the first few rejection letters you’d shared with him.

“Tch you’re obviously not looking hard enough. There’s gotta be some agency that’ll take you.”

Resentment reared its ugly head as you rinsed out your mouth. Of course he would never know what it was like to get rejected by an agency. As one of the top three heroes, Bakugo had agency’s lining up to recruit him yet his pathetic girlfriend couldn’t even get one. You’d eventually stopped showing him the rejection letters knowing his reprimands would hurt more than help you.

Taking in your reflection that showcased your swollen eyes, you cancelled your plans with your old classmate knowing the only reason she and all the others sought you out was to either brag about their successful careers or to suck up to Katsuki Bakugo’s girlfriend in an attempt to meet him.

You caught yourself before any more ugly emotions towards your boyfriend surfaced. It’d been a recurring action recently and the guilt that proceeded always goaded you to do things for Bakugo. Most of the time, he didn’t notice the extra-mile you went when you cooked, cleaned, or surprised him at work for a quickie during lunch but it was better that way—your shameful feelings were your own to deal with.

After spending the day cleaning, doing laundry, and buying groceries, you were plating Bakugo’s favorite spicy noodles when the sound of the front door slamming shut hampered your good mood. Used to dealing with his episodes, you waited for him to enter the kitchen and remained silent, hoping the sight of food was enough to lessen his anger.

Bakugo was perfectly disheveled when he rounded the corner and appeared before you. His hair was wilder than usual and you knew it was the result of running his fingers through it too many times. The suit jacket he usually wore for meetings was nowhere in sight and you assumed he discarded it somewhere in the living room. His red tie was loose around his neck and the sleeves of his black button-down shirt were pushed up to his elbows.

Under different circumstances, you would have jumped his bones without a second thought but the hostility in his scarlet eyes had you trembling for different reasons.

The plate in your hands was thrown aside, crashing against the wall and painting it an ugly red as the noodles slid down to the tile floor. Your legs moved on their own and you backed away from your boyfriend whose jaw was set, brows were furrowed, and his mouth contorted into a frown that only deepened as you retreated.

“You can’t look at me like they do, Y/N. Not you.” His strained voice was quiet but you recognized the hurt and comforting words spilled out your mouth instantaneously.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, but how about you tell me what happened. Please, let’s just talk—”

Hard hands gripped your shoulders and harsh lips swallowed your plea. He was rougher than usual and his teeth clashed against yours while your lips swelled from his bruising kiss. Pain eventually gave way to pleasure and the longer Bakugo’s warm tongue glided against your tongue the easier it was to surrender yourself to your carnal desires.

With your hands around his neck, Bakugo wasted no time in discarding your apron, bunching your skirt up, and backing you up against the kitchen counter. The press of his hard-on against you was enough for your arousal to leak out and coat your panties. You whimpered when his mouth abandoned yours and the only thing connecting the two of you was a strand of saliva that eventually broke and dribbled down your chin. Through lidded eyes you made out the frustration that replaced anger on his face and supposed it was better than nothing.

Bakugo rocked his hips against your wet panties and he placed open-mouthed kisses on your neck that further incited your need for release. You tugged your boyfriend’s hair and started moving your hips on your own accord which was all it took for him to release his cock, pick you up, and press you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

There was always a painful stretch when he sheathed himself into your cunt but normally Bakugo did a good job prepping you whether it was with his fingers, tongue, or cock. This, unfortunately, wasn’t one of those times and you were gasping in pain and digging your nails onto his clothed back as he hammered into you.

When the pain only increased with each erratic snap of his hips, tears streamed down your face but he merely kissed them away and continued to pound into you while your cunt tightened in discomfort. Your safe word almost left your lips but guilt and concern prevented it from being voiced. Left with no other alternative, you closed your eyes and held onto your boyfriend until his labored pants turned into groans and ropes of hot semen painted your walls in their color. Bakugo set you down after pressing a chaste kiss on your temple and you used whatever strength you had left to leave the kitchen and lock yourself in the bathroom without sparing him a glance.

The turmoil of emotions erupted in the shower and you cried not caring if he heard you. After crawling into bed with a headache, the belief that you’d discarded your hurt and anger in the bathroom was proven wrong when Bakugo entered your shared bedroom. The remorse is evident on his face but instead of making you feel better it incites your resentment.

“I’m sorr—”

“You’re pathetic, you know, taking it out on me. Why do I have to be your punching bag whenever Midoriya one-ups you? Maybe if you fixed your shitty personality you might be able to surpass him. But that’ll never happen will it, Katsuki?”

The cruel words spilled out like vomit; once you started there was no stopping it and in the end you felt empty. You waited for him to counter your insults with attacks about your quirk or your position but he only nodded once before turning around and leaving the room.

You were half asleep when Bakugo came back after showering and crawled into bed. You pretended to be asleep when he eventually pulled you into his warm chest and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

There were countless moments when you were tempted to break it off with him, especially after one of his episodes. The longer your relationship lasted the bigger the arguments, the harsher the insults, and the shorter the moments in between became. But when Bakugo held you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into your ear, thoughts of leaving him went out the window and all you felt was love and affection for the man whose insecurities mirrored yours.

[nonfayth]

a deep dive into the home life of bern’s royal family, and why zephiel became the man he does when he grows up. whilst some headcanons are made here, it’s mostly just me extrapolating what we already know in canon.

tw: emotional abuse and toxic parenting under the cut.

king desmond and queen hellene were wed out of an entirely political marriage, and although hellene was excited at the prospect of having the opportunity to be a good wife and mother, she would never have the chance to truly be seen as the former due to the fact that desmond harbored affections for his actual paramour, a bernese woman of common birth. he would never be able to marry the love of his life due to both status reasons as well as how bern sought out the advantages of linking themselves with one of etruria’s most noble families, thus giving them a link to another major power in the continent. it would be foolish, in the bernese court’s eyes, to refuse the marriage offer from hellene’s family then.

though he could not officially be with his paramour, king desmond was allowed to host her within the bernese royal palace, and so he did, making quite public displays of affection with her while electing to not spend more time with his wife than necessary. it was quite obvious who he favored of the two, and desmond was never really a subtle man who kept his emotions close to his chest. servants could describe his behavior towards his lover as amorous to the point of being sickeningly sweet and his behavior towards his wife were dismissive at best, outright hateful at its worst.

desmond’s nasty nature against his wife is what leads hellene’s own dreams to turn away from that of love to one of power. when she bears desmond’s heir in the form of zephiel, she immediately expresses hope for the day that zephiel will take the throne away from desmond. being the mother of the future king, she assumes she will be given more respect around the palace and have a more secure future. zephiel is seen less as her beloved son and more as her winning piece to get back at desmond; zephiel is the constant reminder that desmond’s days in power are limited, and that one day it will be hellene’s own blood taking over.

desmond, upon first seeing zephiel, hates him for the mere fact he is hellene’s son. zephiel is living proof of their a marriage forced onto him, and he cannot stand the living reminder of it, especially if people were going to come and congratulate him on the birth of a healthy heir and then speak about the son frequently now. to avoid the nuisance of being forced to see his newborn child, he banishes both zephiel and hellene to an off-site manse under the guise of claiming that hellene needs more time to be able to relax with the baby. this further enrages hellene, motivating her to make zephiel into a project to spite desmond.

she will make it so desmond must acknowledge their son.

hellene from a young age is both strict and neglectful with her son. zephiel is afforded every tutor he can be given with her own personal funds ( funds that desmond is obligated to give her every month but no more ) and is sent to lessons as soon as he can walk and talk. he is drilled in military arts, history, etiquette, the arts, and all manner of topics to groom him into the perfect heir. luckily for her, zephiel proves to be a prodigy and excels in everything quickly. she spreads this like wildfire, telling every and anyone of how perfect her son is so as to make the general populace enamored with him.

the lessons zephiel devotes himself to is scheduled in such a way as to not afford him much free time if any at all, and when he is given the chance to breathe, he is encouraged to spend it on pursuits that will make him look either handsome or intelligent such as learning to play an instrument or falconry. when he gets the chance to speak with his mother, usually only at meal times, she is quick to ask him of his studies and nothing else before excusing herself. if things are going well, she praises him and finds new topics and limits to push onto him. if things are going poorly, she goes to discuss things with his tutors.

zephiel does not know love, but if he does not know it, then he cannot be sad to be missing it.

these days of aiming to become the perfect heir continue, and when he is old enough, hellene tries to show him off to desmond. hellene waits until she is positive that zephiel is in top form, and she stresses upon zephiel to make sure he impresses his father.

he performs spectacularly. he is polite, he is well-learned, and he endears the knights with both his charisma as well as his talent in martial arts despite his young age.

the sight of everyone surrounding desmond, people devoted to him, being taken by the prince enrages him. hellene’s smug smirk in the corner does no favors either. desmond realizes that the people love the person he has resolved to hate, and he looks bad for not welcoming zephiel into the palace as a result.

stubborn to a fault and envious over how his son is better than him in every degree, especially given how desmond himself is a mediocre man, desmond takes to publicly shaming zephiel. desmond is unable to quell his own ire in order to remain civil, and so he sharpens his words in order to try and chase the boy away. the less time zephiel spends in the palace, the less he can charm the people around him.

desmond also goes on the offensive, calling out zephiel’s behaviors as manipulative. he tries to warp the narrative, claiming zephiel’s attempts to get in his father’s good graces are in actuality calculated moves to make him look bad in contrast, and that zephiel is merely a power-hungry prince who needs to learn respect. desmond is convinced this seemingly perfect son of his is just like the woman who conceived him, and he cannot see zephiel as anything other than someone who plots against him and wishes to see his downfall.

zephiel, confused and distraught by this callousness, struggles to cope with it. his mother and the tutors ensure he is wonderful, but his father openly bashes his character and disapproves of him so vehemently. though hellene is upset by this turn of events, she insists that zephiel continue his studies and attempts to make desmond recognize him as his rightful son.

being treated to verbal abuse every time he visits the palace but encouraged to desire approval from his father, zephiel’s brain attempts to make the reality easier to stomach by twisting his perception of his father’s words as right. if he is to keep trying to curry favor with his father, then it would be difficult to do so while believing he is being unreasonable.

every time desmond scolds him and tells him that he is not worthy of his love nor his position as crown prince, zephiel begins to believe it more and more. the problem lies with him, and he must earn his father’s love. the burden lies on him. he begins to pray to st. elimine every day for this, but his prayers go unanswered as the abuse remains the same.

if even st. elimine won’t help him, then this is proof that zephiel is simply not working hard enough and is not deserving of such a gift as familial love. st. elimine isn’t wrong to not grant his wishes. st. elimine is a beloved religious icon.

the desire for love grows as does the mistreatment when zephiel meets desmond’s second child. she is a little girl named guinivere, born from desmond’s mistress. though desmond attempted to keep guinivere and zephiel from ever properly meeting, guinivere is a bit of a rebellious girl in her youth and desmond is helpless to stop her, too doting and weak to her as the product of his healthier romance.

guinivere instantly loves zephiel, and she begins asking every day to see him again and play with him. she is open with her adoration, and this is the first time zephiel experiences actual love from anyone. he, in turn, loves her too in the purest way a half-brother can, starved for genuine affection all his life, and the two prove difficult to separate.

desmond grows paranoid that zephiel aims to kill guinivere to try and get him where his greatest weakness lies, still convinced that zephiel is as conniving and out to get him as hellene is. desmond grows physically violent now, destroying and killing any gifts that zephiel brings with him as he is unable to physically harm zephiel himself without being criticized even more by the royal court of bern. he shuts zephiel down even more each conversation they have, and his vitriol is even worse than before.

desmond hates his son for not only being the perfect heir but also for being the person guinivere loves the most in the world, even moreso than her own father.

zephiel is given even less leave to be able to visit the royal palace now, giving him more time to reflect upon his perceived mistakes in conduct and more time to prepare for the next time he shall meet his father only to not even be given a chance to impress the man. the more effort he puts in, the more he despairs at the inevitable failures. the more love he receives from guinivere, the more he wishes he could be with her always, and the more he longs for similar affection from his father and mother.

he yearns for a loving, happy family. he tells himself he has not earned the right to have it.

this self loathing and lack of confidence in himself rises to such a point that zephiel refuses to believe other people when they compliment him. he sees praise as ultimately unhelpful to his quest to get his father to approve of him, and he convinces himself that his father’s insults and critiques of his character are his father’s way of trying to groom into someone worthy of his attention. the only correct person, the only person worth listening to, is desmond.

his belief in his father is unshakeable. even when his father hires assassins to get rid of him on the eve of his coming-of-age ceremony, zephiel does not suspect for even a second that it was him who had sent the hitmen in the first place. zephiel merely sees the incident as the universe testing him, seeing whether or not he can weather through what might come for him one day as a royal. it is merely expected of him to be able to fend off such attempts, and anyone could be out to get him.

when his mother goes through an unexpected shift in demeanor after the incident, even telling him that she will try and support his wishes to move back into the palace and live as a family, he believes he has taken a step forward towards his goals.

this would not be true, for desmond would merely wait for another opportunity to strike.

when zephiel grows to be of an age similar to when desmond himself became king, desmond invites zephiel to have a drink with him. zephiel is excited at the prospect; after over two decades of working for this outcome, it looks as if he has finally become a man worthy of love.

it turns out “love” tastes like poison.

for the next ten days, zephiel hangs on the cusp of life and death. he is unable to run away from the truth this time: his father wished to kill him. it was his father who knowingly served him poison, and it was his father who smiled as he was writhing in pain after taking a sip from the goblet. it was no ordinary poison either, but rather a poison meant to incur agony upon its victim as they remained aware of it for more than a week.

desmond wanted him to not only die, but to be suffering a slow death too.

zephiel is only able to survive the incident due to his vassal murdock’s dutiful attempts to filter the poison out of his system, but when zephiel is able to regain his strength, he is completely changed by the experience.

his previous unshakeable faith in his father being the type of man who is secretly looking out for zephiel and trying to make him the best man he could be is unable to cope with the damage and betrayal of trust displayed. the only way for zephiel to stay sane after the experience is to believe that it is human’s nature to be bad people. as zephiel ruminates during his recovery period, he looks back on all the years he had wasted trying to win the favor of a man who would never give it to him, and he evaluates the kind of man king desmond really is.

he looks at the envy, the open love for another other than his wife, and the paranoia. zephiel realizes desmond’s attempts to kill zephiel were all founded on ugly emotions, and in order to accept that the man he looked up to the most secretly had a dark heart, zephiel must then believe everyone can and will succumb to such emotions as well. after all, if desmond was supposed to be the best of them, then what could be said for people zephiel held in less regard?

he turns his personal tragedy into something he believes must be a universal one, and when he kills his own father a few days later, that marks the death of the zephiel who believed in the absolute good of people’s intentions.

it also marks the birth of a zephiel who believes the world would be better off without humans, for if they are all fated to become horrible people, then why bother with them at all?

[breadthecat]

All of MY kindergarten AUs

Here is a thorough list of all of my kindergarten aus. I tried to order them in a mix of most popular and most detailed. As gamer is sorta popular, however it’s not as fleshed out as some of my other aus. Many of the aus on the top have a lot more to them. Also, please don’t copy them, I put a lot of time into these (It’s chill if it’s a similar concept but don’t just rip entire specific details straight from my aus).

Watch, I probably still forgot some. There’s 17 in all.

—

Teen Punk - an au where Felix and Lily go through a punk phase in high school, at the surface level. The au spans much further then that, however, even post college years. Lily remembers the resets, which really fucks up her life and perspective of everything, the root of her hatred of Nugget and Protag. Ted and Felix actually get along because they grow out of that phase in late elementary school/early middle school. It’s the token Lily x Felix au, and it’s co-created by @randomguygoesviral . That being said, it’s a lot angstier then it first seems :)

Teen Punk Spin-off - an alternate universe where the high school functions similarly to the Kindergarten game. Meaning the protag has a route where he kills Lily and Felix. He kills Lily by tricking her into a room with toxic gas. After lily dies, Felix rushes in an refuses to leave her, eventually succumbing to the gas as well. Despite that brief description, it’s a really hard route to complete and doesn’t feel very rewarding when you do.

Void Lily - Lily remembers the resets, which wasn’t supposed to happen in her universe. This causes her world to collapse and traps her into a white abyss, the void. She slowly grows distant from her other lily counterparts, seeing herself as a separate entity. She uses a wide verity of names, eventually adopting the name Vivi. She discovers how to communicate and eventually hop worlds(aus). Due to her time in the void, she appears around 12 years old but is closer to 20. She was the first and original void based/“omnipresent” au in the fandom.

(Putting the rest under a read more)

Gamer - Billy, Monty, and Cindy are gamers and are dating. Billy is a fairly popular YouTube gamer known for being soft, a good singing voice, and having bright pink hair. Monty and Cindy eventually get roped in. Lily and Billy are on very bad terms. As implied, it takes place during high school years. Outside of crackships, the plot involves games leaking into reality and getting fun abilities from it. I’ve managed to only barely work on the plot

Affinity - if you have a near death experience but aren’t afraid, there is a chance you can develop a super power. This is what happens to Felix, Ted, Lily, and Billy (and maybe some others). Felix and Ted manage to keep these newfound powers hidden for years before their parents find out and disown them, trying to turn them in for study. They get taken in by Danner (Dadner). Unfortunately they don’t escape forever :)

Worst Heir - (TW SUICIDE) Felix grows up feeling like he’s truly a monster and never has done anything good in his life, and decides to “amend” that. Felix doesn’t pass on as expected, having to watch how devastated Ted is. Also some ghost shenanigans.

Soulless - Everyone is supposed to have a soul, a driving force that keeps them going. Without it, you lack empathy, motivation, and warmth, and can eventually result in death. Around the events of Kindergarten 2, the small flicker of a soul Felix had goes out. This is the cause of his cold nature, and leads to him slowly become ill and almost dying. Ted catches on that something is genuinely wrong but is only able to convince his parents when Felix is on the brink of death.

Chosen Ones - each of the kg characters are drawn to a different magic stone that gives them a special power. The pull of the stone is unbreakable, even to the extent that Carla and Monty inadvertently rob a museum for theirs.

Evil Clone - during Billy’s capture, the principle makes a clone of Billy in order to thwart the protagonist. There’s also made clones of the slime trio, however they are imperfect.

Pkm Blessing - a Pokémon au where legendary Pokémon have the ability to gift a trainer with the ability to understand Pokémon, but they can only choose one. Felix is chosen by Mew. Ted also sorta kinda joins the evil group, whoops

Linked - Agnes gives Ted and Felix a telepathic link to eachother to force them to get along. It works, but also brings a lot of pain.

The Remembrance - everyone suddenly remembers all the past routes and takes it very very poorly. Ted repeatedly pummels Felix to death, Cindy and Monty harassed and kill the Janitor, lily and Billy do not take kindly to the monstermon ending. The slime trio and the hall monitors hide away from the chaos

Split - Felix gets separated from his family at a train station and gets horribly lost. Jerome and his mom take him in. Felix developed pretty severe abandonment issues. kindergarten 2 doesn’t happen. Felix really likes the story of the ugly duckling

Fairytale - all the characters are mythical creatures or based in a fairytale setting. All of them know eachother in some way. Lily, due to her “unladylike” attitude, is cursed by a witch and put into a sleeping beauty esc sleep. Due to a magical link with her twin, Billy also risks falling into a permanent sleep too any time he rests. This au actually has an ask blog that never finished its story, but I posted the entire story line there.

Angel of Death - The monstermon ending backfires and gives lily demonic powers to use for evil.

Spoiled - Felix gives lily lots of gifts and spoils her. Rich kid stuff, but wholesome

Deity - lily and Billy are nature deities. Felix accidentally gets Lily’s attention, and if he’s not careful, she would straight up murder someone for him.

[mysticalmessimagines]

could you write the RFA helping MC who is a bit of a control freak and currently trying to cope with a situation in which she is powerless? for instance maybe she’s planned a yearly trip for a long time and always found ways to make it work but this years quarantine prevents it. she legitimately has no power and is not coping well.

RFA helping MC who's feeling powerless

Hey! This one is little special, I wrote 3 different situations with two characters for each one. (Zen/Yoosung, Jumin/Saeyoung and Jaehee/Jihyun). Those are not spoiler free!

TW : Loss of a family member

Zen

Like every year you planned a road trip across Europe. This was something you did for years, as you want to travel one day all around the world.

You had a few problems the past years, such as delayed flights or too expensive tickets, but you always found a solution.

But today you are powerless. Because of the pandemic, and of course the quarantine, you have to stay at home. 

And you aren’t too happy with this situation. You are having an hard time coping with it. 

But luckily you have Zen by your side. One of the sweetest guy ever, I swear. 

He buys you flowers every time he’s allowed to leave home. Because he is an actor, he teleworks.

Obviously it pains him to stay at home, but at least it allows him to be by your side. 

A lot of cuddle. He takes a lot of time to comfort you. Zen loves taking care of you, so be prepared for a SPA at home.

Masks, massages, body care… Okay he can be like your grandma sometimes. Kinda.

Yoosung 

Quarantine is like a dream to him ! Staying at home, skipping classes and playing video games !

So at first our boy doesn’t really understand why you feel so bad. Yeah he gets that you are annoyed because of your road trip.

You have to explain him that you’re having an hard time when you aren’t in control.

Poor boy will probably quickly apologize if he made you feel bad.

Yoosung will 100% cook for you ! And if you want to, he would be so glad if you choose to help him. Cooking is undoubtedly his quarantine hobby.

Of course you can expect a lot of LOLOL. I mean he’s still a game addict student. 

By the way you will probably have to help him study. He has an hard time getting in gear so you’re going to be his motivation.

Yoosung will try to do as much as he can to distract you. He doesn’t want you to feel bad because you couldn’t leave. 

(He will secretly ask V for help. Borrowing him pictures of his travels, just for you.)

Jumin

Today was to be an ordinary day. Well, that was what you thought. You visited your parent’s home earlier.

And they told you they were getting divorced. You didn’t say anything and just left. You hurried to be at Jumin’s side as soon as possible.

When you arrive, you start to cry. Jumin is puzzled and concerned about you, so he hold you tight. 

You love both of your parents, and you aren’t ready to see them apart. Of course you thought of trying to get them back together, but you can’t do anything about their choice.

Jumin can’t really relate to you, since he saw his dad getting divorced already a few times.

However he will reassure you the best he can. You can expect a lot of discussions. He will gently caress your hair and explain everything you may need to know.

He might also recommend you a good psychologist if he thinks you are feeling too down. He cares about you a lot, and he will do anything to make you feel better. 

Jumin will pick for you the best psychologist of the whole country. He only wants the best for you.

Saeyoung 

Saeyoung can’t really relate either, since he wasn’t “in good terms” with his parents.

(And it was for the better since the two of them were toxic as fuck).

However, he knows what it feels like to care for a family member. He parted ways with Saeran when he was a child, so he understands that you are scared.

Saeyoung never had proper control over his own life since his birth. He gets better than anyone else how much it is terrifying to be left powerless. 

He tries to convince you to talk to your parents. He wants you to explain them how helpless you feel. 

He sort of lost his brother because of their absence of communication, and he doesn’t want you to go through the same thing.Saeyoung knows how painful it is, and he wishes to protect you from sorrow the best he can.

He proposes to come with you if you are scared. (he will hold you hand tightly)

Saeyoung will help you coping with this lack of control as much as he can (expect a lot of sweet attentions-).

Jaehee

Your mother was recently hospitalized because of health problems. 

You knew it was serious, but you never expected to learn she would die soon because of a malignant tumor of the pancreas.

Needless to say, this news broke your heart. You found Jaehee as soon as you learned it. 

She knows what it felt like to lose your parents. She hug you without a word first. 

Jaehee let you cry in her arms as much as you want to. She is aware that you are inconsolable at first, when you learn such news. You can’t do anything about it, since doctors discovered the tumor too late.

She will be right besides you as you get through her death. She will be there as you grieve. 

Jaehee doesn't try to give you advice since she knows there are as many ways to grieve as there are people.

She just want you to know that you aren’t alone. You can’t do anything about her death, so Jaehee wants to make sure you don’t feel guilty or anything.

Jihyun 

Our boy also lost his mother. Even if it wasn't because of a disease, he instantly knew how destroy you could have been feeling. 

One of the first things he tells you is to spend as much time with her as possible. Jihyun doesn’t want you to feel regrets like he did. 

He reads books about the different stages of grief. He wishes to know how to help you ; and like Jumin he’s gonna suggest you to see a psychologist. He knows how much those are helpful.

Jihyun being some kind of hippie, he will convince you to do meditation. He doesn’t want you to blame yourself as you are as powerless as possible. 

Jihyun will help you finding peace as soon as you are ready. He might suggest you pour your emotions into art; he would leave you a blank canvas and paint to free you from a burden.

He is always there if you need to talk, like literally anytime. Also available for cuddling.

If you are okay with it, he will offer you to paint your mother. He wishes to create beautiful memories of her for you.

Hey! I hope you liked it and you are okay with what I wrote. I had a lot of ideas so I try to make it as diversified as possible :)

[phuvioqhile]

tw vent, don’t read it tbh its super long and annoying you don’t wanna waste your time

ffs i can really feel my mental health falling down a bottomless pit and i don’t know how to ask for help (how to afford it even). maybe i’m being overdramatic???? most of the times i keep telling myself that i’m faking this, that there are people in worse situations and my problems aren’t important so i should just suck it up. fuck, i really feel like a burden, even to myself. i hate going to sleep because every fucking day is the same. i feel stuck inside my head and sometimes it really hard to pull myself out of negative thoughts which cloud my mind almost all the time. i’m bad with communication, talking to people about what really going on in my head is kinda scary. i don’t like the relationship i have with my mother because i feel like she can be toxic and things she says really upset me sometimes but i don’t have the guts to confront here about it. i feel guilty for feeling this way. alskdhuhjk i feel guilty for existing because my mind tries to convince me everyday that i’m the reason for everything wrong happening on this fucking planet. lmao maybe i’m just toxic. god i hate myself lol why am i like this i think i need to scream into a pillow.

i’ve seriously considered running away cause i don’t think things are gonna change for me here. i’m not happy here. and i’m not even sure if happy is what i want to feel. i just want to be sure about what i want ugh. istg i’m the most confusing person ever. i don’t think i wanna study anything but if i don’t then i really have nothing else to do. the thought of moving away from home to somewhere new is the last string of motivation i have left tbh. trust me i’ve tried to sit down and study but i get tired. i’m doing nothing everyday but i still feel stressed all the time. funny thing, campus is opening soon and i’m terrified to go meet new people. i feel like everyone hates me ugh. also my eyesight is getting worse its scary.

i feel embarrassed admitting this, when i was in middle school sometimes i used to fake being sad because lol, i was lonely and i thought i could get attention that way. now that i’m actually going through shit i wanna slap the 13 year old me because i would never wish for anyone to feel this way. but hey, i’m trying to get better, i want to feel better i’ve started going for a walk everyday so i’m trying. not sure if its helping much but its a good distraction for sometime. 

this is annoying what the fuck 

[archiefm]

         ... claws my way up from hell once more and vomits onto the dash.... hello. its nora. i used to write rory bergstrom, but if u were here before that u might remember me as greta or alma putnam or..... som1 else.... an endless carousel of trash children..... this is finn, who i actually wrote for an early version of this rp abt 5yrs back now...... grits teeth..... so forgive me if im rusty i havent written him in a long time but seein honey boy gave me a lotta finn muse n im keen to get Back On The Horse yeehaww...

DYLAN O’BRIEN / CIS-MALE — don’t look now, but is that finn o’callaghan i see? the 25 year old criminology and forensic studies student is in their graduate year of study year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be judicious, adroit, morose and cynical, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he will make a name for themselves living off-campus. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her )

shakes my tin can a humble pinterest, ma’am....

finn has a bio pasted at the bottom (n written in like.... 2015.... gross) but it’s long  so if u don’t wanna read it here’s the sparknotes summary..... anyway this was written years ago n a lot of it seems really cliche and lame now but..... we accept the trash we think we deserve

grumpy, ugly sweater wearing, tech-savvy grandpa

very dry sense of humour and embraces nihilism. 

if ron swanson and april ludgate had a baby it would be finn

he was raised in derry, just south of dublin.

from a big family. elder sister called sinead. he also has a younger sister (aoife), a younger brother (colm), and a collie named lassie because his father lovs cliches (finn hates cliches but loves his dog). 

his father was a pub landlord and his mother worked at the market sellin fruit n veg when they met but got a job as a medical receptionist when she had kids cos it meant she cld be there with them in the day and work nights.

his parents met when they were p young and fiesty and rushed into marriage cos they were catholic n just wanted to have sex. his family were literally dirt-poor, but they had a lot of love i guess

hmmmmm his relationship w his father wasn’t the best cos i can’t write character who have healthy relationships w their parents throws up a peace sign. yh, had a pretty emotionally distant, alcoholic violent father n so gets a lot of his bad habits i.e. drinking as a coping mechanism and poor anger management from him BUT anyway

as a kid he was never very motivated in class, he always had a nervous itch to be off somewhere doing something else. struggled under government austerity bcso there just wasn’t the resources to support low income families where the kids had learning difficulties n needed support. fuck the tories am i right 

his mum suggested he try sports to help w his restless energy but he was never any good at football so he took up boxing and tap dance instead. he took to tap dancing like a fish to fuckin water. as adhd n found this as a really good way to use his excess energy in a creative way

had a few run ins with the police in his early teens for spray painting and graffiti, but he straightened himself out n now actually considering becoming a detective inspector??? cops are pigs.

he had a youtube channel where he posted videos of him tapdancing and breakdancing as a kid, basically would be a tiktok boy nowadays, n had like... a small fanbase in his early teens. attended several open auditions unsuccessfully, until he was finally cast in billy eliot when he was fifteen.

during billy eliot he began dating an italian dancer called nina. they became dance partners soon after and toured across the republic with various different shows (inc riverdance lol the classic irish stereotype). their relationship was p toxic tbh, they were both very hot tempered people and just used to argue and fight all the time.

he went semi-pro at tap dancing, and nina couldn’t stand being second best so she moved back to italy with her family. ignored his texts, phone calls, etc, eventually he was driven to the point where he used his savings to buy a plane ticket, showed up at her house and she was like wtf?? freaked out and filed a restraining order accusing him of stalking.

he was fined for harassment and then returned home to derry, but after the incident with nina he quit dancing for good and finished his leaving cert before heading to university in the US to get as far away from nina and his past life as poss. and basically since he quit dancing to study forensics (death kink. finn cant get enough of that morgue. just walks around sayin beat u) he’s become a massive grump and jsut doesn’t see the good in people any more.

u’ll find finn in an old man bar drinking whiskey bc he is in fact an old man at heart or sat on his roof smoking a joint, drawing wolves and lions and skeletons and shit, playing call of duty or getting blazed or at the corner of the room in a house party ignoring everyone and scrolling through twitter. is a massive e-boy. always up-to-date on memes and internet slang. has reddit as an app on his phone

not very good at communication. rather than solve his issues by talking, he’d prefer to just solve them through fighting or running away from his problems hence why he has come halfway across the world to get away from an issue which probs cld have been solved w a few apology emails.

takes a lot to phase him, but when his beserk button gets pressed he can become a bit pugnacious like an angry lil rottweiler. in his undergrad he was in a few fist fights but doesn’t really do tht any more as he doesn’t condone violence.

 in the previous version of this rp he was hospitalised like 5 times. pls, give my son a break. stop tryin to kill him. he literaly got a bottle smashed over his head and bled out all over his favourite angora rug that was the only light of his life

works at the campus coffee shop n always whines about how he’s a slave to capitalism. always smells of coffee

lives off campus with an elderly woman named Marianne, and basically gets reduced rent bcos he makes her dinner / keeps her company. they have a great bond

fan of karl marx. v big on socialism

insomniac with chronic nosebleeds

cynical about everything. too much of a fight club character 4 his own good n has his head up tyler durden’s sphincter

always confused or annoyed

statistics

basic information

full name: finnegan seamus o'callaghan nickname(s): finn age: 25 astrological sign: aries hometown: derry, ireland occupation: phd student / former street entertainer fatal flaw: cynicism positives: self-reliant, street smart, relaxed, intelligent, spontaneous, brave, independent, reliable, trustworthy, loyal. negatives: hostile, impulsive, stubborn, brooding, pugnacious, untrusting, cynical, enigmatic, reserved.

physical

colouring: medium hair colour: dark brown, almost black eye colour: brown height: 5’9” weight: 69kg build: tall, athletic voice: subtle irish accent, low, smooth. dominant hand: left scar(s): one on the left side of his ribs from a knife wound that he doesn’t remember getting cos he was drunk distinguishing marks: freckles, tattoo of a wolf howling at a moon allergies: pollen and the full spectrum of human emotion alcohol tolerance: high drunken behaviour: he becomes friendlier, far more conversational than when sober, flirtier, and generally more self-confident.

psychological

dreams/goals: self-fulfilment, travel the globe, experience life in its most alive and technicoloured version, make documentary films, help the vulnerable in society, grow as a human being.

skills: jack-of-all-trades, very fast runner, good at thieving things, talented tap dancer, good in crisis situations, dab-hand at mechanics, musically-intelligent, can throw a mean right hook and very capable of defending himself, can roll a cigarette, memorises quotes and passages of literature with ease, can light a match with his teeth.

likes: the smell of the earth after rain, poetry, cigarettes, shakespeare, whiskey, tattoos, travelling, ac/dc, deep conversations, leather jackets, open spaces, the smell of petrol, early noughties ‘emo phase’ anthems.

dislikes:  the government, parties, rules, donald trump, children, apple products, weddings, people in general, small talk, dependency, loneliness, pop music, public transport, justin timberlake, uncertainty.fears: fear itself, drowning alignment: true neutral mbti: istp – “while their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, istps are actually quite enigmatic. friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, istp personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. istps can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.” (via 16personalities.com)

full bio (lame as fuck written years ago..... pleathe...)

tw homophobia

born in quigley’s pub on the backstreets of sunny dublin, young finnegan o'callaghan was thrown kicking and screaming into the rowdy suburbs of irish drinking culture. the son of a landlord and a fishwife, he never had much in the way of earnings, but there was never a dull moment in his lively estate, where asbo’s thrived, but community spirit conquered. at school, finn was pegged as lazy and unmotivated, though truly his dyslexia made it hard for the boy to learn in the same environment of his peers and only made him more closed-off in class. struggling with anger management, finn moved from school to school, unable to fit the cookie-cutter mould that school enforced on him, though whilst academic studies were of little interest to the boy, he soon found his true passions lay in recreational activities. immersed into the joys of sport from as young as four, finn was an ardent munster fan and anticipated nothing more than the day he could finally fit into his brother’s old pair of rugby boots.

his calling finally came unexpectedly, not in the form of rugger, but through dance. to learn to express himself in a non-academic way, he began tap dancing, finding therapy in the beat of his soles against the cracked kitchen tiles (much to his mother’s disgrace). it wasn’t a conscious choice, finn just realised one day that dance was something that made him feel. a king of the streets, finn made his fortune on those cobbled pavements – dancing and drawing to earn his keep. by default, finn became a street artist, each penny he earned from his chalk drawings saved in a jam jar towards buying his first pair of tap shoes. though many of his less-than-amiable neighbours called him a nancy and a gaybo, finn refused to quit at his somewhat ‘unconventional’ hobby, for the young scrapper found energy, life, and released anger through the rhythm of tap. soon he branched out into street dance, hip hop, break dancing, lyrical, his days spent smacking his scuffed feet against the broken patio into the night.

when he was thirteen he took up boxing, and as expected, his newfound ‘macho’ pastime conflicted with his dancing. the boxers called him ‘soft’; the dancers called him ‘inelegant’. he felt like two different people; having to choose between interests was like being handed a knife and asked to which half of himself he wished to cut away. he couldn’t afford professional training in dance, with most schools based in england and limited scholarships available. instead, he made the street his studio, racking up a small fanbase on youtube. when he was fifteen he made his debut in billy eliot at the olympia theatre in dublin. enter nina de souza, talented, beautiful and italian; ballet dancer, operatic singer, genius whiz kid, and spoiled brat. she was selfish, conceited, hell bent on getting her own way, and every director’s nightmare. finn fell for her like a house of cards. he’d always had a soft spot for girls who meant trouble. and so their hellish courtship began.

by the time they were seventeen, the two young swans had danced in every playhouse across the republic. they were known in theatres across the country for their tempestuous personalities, their raging arguments with one another, their tendency to drop out of shows altogether without any notice, yet the money kept rolling in and the audiences continued to grow. for three years, their families continued to put up with their hysterical fights followed by passionate reconciliations. he was too possessive, and she was too wild. their carcrash of a relationship finally came to a catastrophic halt when nina broke off the whole affair and returned to italy with her family. for months finn tried to contact her, yet his phone calls, texts, facebook messages were always ignored, until finally he was driven to drastic measures and used his savings to get a plane to her home town. when finn turned up uninvited at nina’s house she freaked out – and rightly so – she contacted her agent, accused him of stalking her, and had a restraining order placed against him. finn was arrested, held in a station overnight, and charged with harassment before he was allowed to return to dublin.

after the incident with nina, finn lost the fight in his eyes. he became far more hostile, far less likely to retaliate with his own fists, and picked fights not for the thrill of feeling his own fists pummel another into a wall, but for the sensation of his own brittle bones cracking. he dropped his tap shoes in a dumpster, stopped talking to his friends, followed his father’s advice and went back to school to complete his leaving certificate. a few short months later, and finn was packing his bags, saying his bittersweet goodbyes, and travelling half-way across the globe to be as far away as possible from his past self, his mess of a life, and most of all nina. it seemed somehow ironic that the boy who had been cautioned by the garda so much during his youth for spray painting, busking without a liscence, and raucous parties would become the grumpy, aloof overseas student studying a degree in criminology; that his once reckless spirit could be crushed so easily. 

of all things that finn could be called, straightforward would never be one of them. ever since his first days in atticus, the boy was pegged as hostile, hot-headed, cynical, rude. he seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than engaging in conversation. like a ticking time-bomb, finn’s anger was of the calm kind, liable to explode without a moment’s noticed. his unpredictable personality make him something of an enigma to those who aren’t amiable with the lad, though hostile as he may appear, he harvests a good heart. loyalty lies at the centre of his affections, and whilst his friends are few in number, he makes a lifelong partner. somewhere within finn, there’s still some fight left, but mostly he has recognised that his hedonistic lifestyle did little to leave him fulfilled – mostly, it just emptied him out – and over his three years at university has resigned himself to a nihilistic predicament.

        if u wanna plot with me pls pls pls im me or like this post!! i am always game for plots i love em so excited to write with you all here r some ideas

study buddies. finn is now a phd student so has to start takin shit seriously. he gon be in the library every day doing that independent study. if he had ppl who were also regular library goers n they get each other coffees to save time.... tht wld be sweet

ppl who love techno dj sets and going super hard on the weekends!!! fuck yea

friends with benefits. exes on bad terms. ppl he tried to date but couldnt because he’s always emotionally hung up on someone else. spicy hook up plots

ppl he met touring?? maybe ppl who were also in the entertainment industry..... anyone got a character who is ex circus hit me up

does anyone else study criminology / forensics / criminal psych / law? phd students sometimes lecture so he cld be an assistant lecturer / tutor if ur character is in a younger year

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

finn goes to the skatepark and all the young boys there think he’s a gradnpa which he is! 

[imgeorgeirl]

Sorry for another rant, I’m just not doing too good at the moment. tw/ suicide and tw/ depression I guess

I just feel like I’m never going to have my life together. For a moment there I thought that I was finally in a good place mentally but lately I’ve just spiralled down back into a hole. I’m not happy, I’m nowhere near happy. I dont enjoy the things I know I used to enjoy and I go to do them thinking that if i just try, then I might start to feel better but I just feel nothing.

I feel like I’m about to cry at any given second and I hate it. It’s affecting my studies as well. I cant seem to motivate myself to get out of bed enough even to reach for my laptop and to start my assignment. I’ve been skipping classes because i just dont have the energy or motivation to go to them, or to stay longer than an hour. I want to just curl up into a ball and die.

I’m scared as well. There a bridge that crosses the highway behind my house and i keep getting lost in thought and thinking about just walking up to the bridge and jumping off. There’s another part of me that keeps drifiting off and thinking about when I get my meds for my surgery on Friday, and just taking them all at once. It fucking scares me, and I dont know how to get out of it.

I cant talk to my family because they are all very judgemental and would make fun of me for it (trust me they‘re like that), which I know is very toxic but I have to deal with it, and I only have a few friends and none of them really want to hear about it. So I’m stuck alone and sad.

Sorry if this was long and depressing, i just wanted to get it off my chest i guess.

[hcrris]

can ….. i come in ????? have been watching unbreakable kimmy schmidt for 3 hours pretending time isnt passing , life isnt real and in fact.. i am dreaming (-: lajdfksl hey <3 im jay im 21 and i love those instagram profiles of hamsters in little clothes ( when they got little purses? ???? dont talk to me im cryin. ) below u will find info about jane harris aka literally the vine of the little kid scribbling hard like his life depended on it. shes a mess ?? but a semi enjoyable mess. a mess with good intentions. if u want to establish some connections, LIKE THIS and i will come annoy u <3 alternatively u can ease my social anxiety and msg me here or through my discord sencha tea#4035 (و ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و♡

( lily collins, cis female, she/her. ) — jane harris has been a medina complex resident for three years, now. they’re twenty-three years old, and they tend to avoid making eye contact. sometimes when i walk by B06, i hear cherry-coloured funk by cocteau twins playing. lately, i’d say they’re pretty effervescent, but sometimes that’s overwhelmed by the fact that they’re neurotic. i mean, they usually pay their rent on time, though, and that’s most important fact here.

repeatedly fixing the apartment number on the door when it swings down to a nine, a split moment of shadow after the radiance of laughter, carl sagan’s pale blue dot, a life of frequent minor accidents, constant hunger for balance overshadowed by emotional turbulence.

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TW ALCOHOLISM EMOTIONAL ABUSE DEPRESSION & ANXIETY !!!!! ok moving on

her parents met in art school in paris.. her mom is french and studied art history while her dad was an exchange student from california with a skewed artist mentality. it was that saccharine, toxic sort of love. her mom always felt like she needed to be the guardian angel in the relationship who would always hold him up when he was feeling down and he was feeling down….. a lot. because she was putting all that energy to save her relationship, she was drowning too but never enough to walk away. there was a lot of love there but it was twisted and uncomfortable at times

when they found out jane was on the way, it felt like they needed to suddenly grow up. her mom was ready to make changes, adapt to the new lifestyle. her dad, on the other hand, urged they rethink if this is what they want but he didn’t push for abortion.. he understood it was jane’s mothers choice to make and reassured that he would be there for the both of them no. matter. what. 

but ??? the reality was he felt trapped by the idea of a child and he struggled to acknowledge and accept how quickly his life was flipping upside down and how he lost all control of it. he wanted to travel around europe ???? soak in nature, daydream and make art . but jane’s mom wanted to settle. instead of embarking on adventures after graduating, they decided to move to california. 

things just seemed to fall apart like domino from then on. janes mom was lead astray.. thinking that what california would bring them was stability but instead, it was all chaos. they rushed to get married .. turned out janes father wasnt on good terms with his parents. he was irresponsible financially, put both his parents in huge debt, was blinded by his ego to ever realise his mistakes. lied constantly .. convincing janes mom that there’s light going forward. that once he finds a sponsor for his art .... once he sells his first piece ... once they see in him what he always saw in himself , he was going to make it right. and he reassured he would make it right for jane.

janes mom was so pathetically in love that she pushed through .. living in a sort of imagined world, believing that things were better than they actually were. and her dad was good at persuading that narrative. he would come home with a pocketful of cash and the bills paid. oftentimes, it was all an act. his art wasn’t selling and a lot of what he bragged about was borrowed or stolen. behind the curtain, he was absent and unmotivated. he would come home in the evening claiming that the whisky breath was celebratory but in reality, he was complaining to the barman two blocks away about how his life feels monotone .. like a french black and white movie.  

the day of jane’s birth was a whole mess. her father decided to drive her mother to the hospital, knowing he had one too many. they were caught for speeding and while janes dad spent the night at a nearby station for driving under influence, her mom was at the back of a cop car, crying for one too many reasons .. jane decided to hang on for a little while longer and was born at 3am the following night. cradled in her mothers arms and her dads voice humming on the line

jane would only ever hear the romanticised version of this story from her mother. this ??? fucked up sense of security that no matter what, love conquers all. that love means supporting each other, loving each other extra when everything else falls apart. but truth is.. her mother was forced to give up her own dreams, lost all connections to her past, worked days and nights at a nursing home to support her family and pitch in to her husbands alcoholism while she’s at it. making excuses that jane was too young to contradict. all while the only source of happiness for her father was the haziness of his evenings, when he felt like floating and he could barely hold onto to his paintbrush. he was a stranger living in their basement .. more than he was ever a father 

growing up, jane watched her mother mask her depression. carry empty bottles out from the basement, trying to hide it from jane .. it brought her shame. she was doing the same thing to jane that he was doing to her for all these years .. consistently expressing a certain attitude, this unwavering satisfaction for the life they are living and so ... it hardens. you start to believe it. except unlike her mother, jane was observant.. she had other lives around her to compare to her own, voices of reason that pierced through the skewed perception her mother drilled into her skull. when jane grew into her skin, she felt so ... disgusted and angry. she tried to pull her mother out of her fantasy but nothing worked. 

through her high school years, she felt helpless .. her home life was a nightmare and she made every possible attempt to stay out of it for as long as possible. she took on jobs and extracurriculars .. stayed at her friends’ house until she couldn’t. and she would think.. think so hard, she would start crying. pushing her own problems away .. in her head, she would imagine herself in a different skin, a different place. it was the only way she could calm her breathing. only to have to battle the same thoughts the following morning

after graduating high school, jane went to community college for product management got a job offering after her placement at a big company and moved out shortly after ( and MOVED IN to medina... can i get a yee yee ) .. she got insurance for the first time in her life and eats too many of free pizza slices at work to save up on groceries every week <3

she doesn’t visit her parents bc she no longer feels like her mother is on her team. she’s lived a maddening and terribly draining life and living alone has brought her deserving peace.. although she’d rather keep contact with her mother to a minimum, its obvious that jane is her mothers anchor. if she feels as though her daughter is not fighting for her, she breaks down.. as much as jane wants to run away from her past, it always seems to catch up 

if ur still reading literally who are u lafjdkl. ill be done schoon ..... oof 

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if they are friends ... jane. will. talk. ur. ear. off. but probably not for the right reasons lol .. she has never been assessed by a professional, isn’t taking any treatment but she definitely needs it :( shes a chronic overthinker.. the voice in her head keeps chattering away most of the time which gets a little nauseating. she hates silence and feels like she needs to fill it with words. she often says the wrong things .. to the wrong people ... at the WRONG time and she is very aware of it. its the culprit for her self doubt and struggle to open up emotionally to the people shes close to. shes very critical towards herself, she micro analyses everything from the way she acts, the way she looks and what she says. shes also not a fan of confrontation !!!!!!!BUT!!!!!!!!!!!

 she is a FIREBALL when she stands up for others. i dont know how she hasnt gotten into a physical fight yet. she would literally rip ur side mirror off ur car if u didnt wait for an old lady to cross the street. is intense in every possible way. if shes angry, shes angry and impulsive and out of control, when she is in love, she feels it in her bones and simultaneously wants to rip her hair out, when she’s passionate about something, she is persistent until she isn’t and when she loses motivation, everything feels bleak .. theres never any emotional balance, even though she fights so hard for it every day 

likes sci fi movies .. literally when they are Floating in space ???? SIGN! JANE! THE! FUCK! UP! letterboxd is probably her favorite app. sometimes she will post a review, read it over and over, find something wrong with what she said and then delete it. shes very neurotic. she either has good days where she can comfortably be herself or bad days, when it feels like everyone is judging her every move when in reality. ... it is always .. all in her head. 

and she is mostly in her head. she creates fantasies of her life, relationships platonic and romantic and as a result, nothing ever seems to measure up. she feels secure in her fantasies but oftentimes when it hits her that they are just that, fantasies, she ... feels really alone. 

will trip over her own feet . has like 5 bruises from washing the dishes </3

she works as a part of a product design team in a big company.. probably has the knowledge to move up the tier but does not have the courage to stand up for herself . she doesnt believe in herself and is kind of a pessimist .......  

got high one night and decided she wants to start an uber ....... only for women. but doesnt think its a good ide a (its a good idea. id like to think in 10 years time ... bitch made it) 

really weird. likes eating broad beans and frozen strawberries .. will literally eat a lemon. 

she will have different interests every week but never seems to be any good at anything ???????????? makes her sad. 

claims tidying up with marie kondo changed her life LAKJDSKLDJ

*draws curtains* anybody else tired?