#who would do such a stupid pointless thing??

[tismeandmylife]

why are fathers so awful??

[disposal-blueeee]

from this thing on twt

[unforth]

Y'all (general) really really need to exercise the block buttons more.

An opinion you don't agree with? Someone makes you uncomfortable? Something you don't like? Even just a person whose way of presenting information makes you uncomfortable (even if you agree with them)?

Block.

BLOCK.

B.L.O.C.K.

Look, I get it. I used to think seeing opinions I didn't agree with was important, that exposing myself was a way of staying informed. But finally, I hit a breaking point - I already knew the viewpoints I disagreed with, and seeing them every day was making me miserable.

I've blocked liberally since then.

And the most remarkable thing happened: I routinely see posts where lots of people are disagreeing with the same person...and I already have that person blocked.

Because the most insidious thing about letting myself see the negativity and things that made me unhappy all the time is that leaving it all there gave me the impression that there were a LOT of vocally awful people saying things that hurt me.

But there aren't.

There's actually a surprisingly small number of people who get off on trolling or are so marinated in hate that they have to spew it all around them, and when you block those people, the world gets much more peaceful.

You're not growing as a person by exposing yourself to rhetoric that hurts you. You're just hurting, which is exactly how those people want you to feel: they want you to be in as much agony as they are.

Don't give them the satisfaction.

BLOCK THEM.

(tbh I've hit the point that I think people who willfully, deliberately, loudly, intentionally don't block are engaging in a form of self-harm. seriously, you're not taking a noble stand, no one cares if you don't block except the people hurting you.)

[chaserofstarsandtheabyss]

Oh? You’re worried about being accused of being a bigot? Did you complete the anti-discrimination training that was 30 minutes long? No? You thought it was stupid and too much work? Interesting, interesting…

[fingertipsmp3]

Playing a game called ‘how long can I put off talking about my various mental problems with a medical professional’. It’s going badly. I recommend no one play this game, 0/5 stars

[toastsnaffler]

maaan i was having breakfast w my flatmate this morning and she'd already done all her jobhunting stuff for the day extra early so she can play videogames and im rly glad shes able to motivate herself like that but also seeing the steam popup notifying me shes playing smth makes me feel like the kid who didnt finish the work and has to stay in the classroom during break watching their friends play outside

[poisonlove]

Absolutely ignore/get rid of this is you don't wanna do it buttt

Can I request a Wednesday x Fem!reader where Wednesday has a general disregard for everyone and their feelings EXCEPT for her little situationship (reader) and it's just little instances where she's softer with her?

YOU | w.a

pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

A/N : I tried to satisfy your request as much as possible but Wednesday and reader don't have a situationship, they will develop... something ;)

"The most precious things in life are usually the most helpless." Penn Badgley

Wednesday Addams walked along the corridors of Nevermore Academy with a brisk yet graceful step, the sound of her shoes against the cold marble determining her hurry to get to the library. The other students stepped aside as she passed, probably intimidated by her dark and menacing gaze that seemed carved into her features.

"Addams, one word"

Wednesday reluctantly stops, turning slightly and raising an eyebrow. Yoko Tanaka strides toward her, sunglasses perched on her head revealing a pleading look. Wednesday had no intention of wasting her time with her roommate’s best friend, but seeing the vampire in such a state of despair piqued her curiosity.

"What do you want Yoko?" Wednesday asked, her tone of voice deliberately rude. But the brunette didn't care at all.

"I need your help," Yoko began, trying to keep calm, but her voice betrayed a certain frustration. "Could you help me with Thornill's homework? I can't find the damn Moon Flower anywhere."

Wednesday could hardly believe her ears: how dare she interrupt her plans for something so stupid? With her classic impassive gaze, the brunette stared at Yoko in a prolonged silence that made her feel more and more uncomfortable.

"I don't care," Wednesday finally replied with venom and disinterest, surprising the vampire. "If you can't do such a stupid task, maybe you deserve to fail," the brunette added in a cutting tone.

"but it doesn't cost you anything!" Yoko exclaimed in despair.

Wednesday's behavior annoyed her deeply, but Yoko had hoped that following Enid's advice to be kind and tolerant would at least provide some relief. Apparently she was wrong.

"I said no, Yoko," Wednesday replied, her tone even more icy. Her gaze was steady and impenetrable, and her patience, already thin, was completely exhausted.

Yoko sighed deeply, realizing that pushing further would get her nowhere. She put her sunglasses back on in a quick, controlled motion, hiding her annoyance behind a forced smile. Her grin revealed her pointed canines, a gesture that might have seemed threatening in other circumstances, but here it only served to hide her irritation.

"ok, Addams"

with one last look, Yoko walked away, keeping that forced smile until she turned the corner. Wednesday didn't follow her with her gaze, already tired of that brief and, in her eyes, pointless interaction.

As she set off again, determined to finally reach the library, she was interrupted again. This time it was her two friends Ajax and Xavier who stopped her. The two approached quickly with an air of urgency that seemed to want to drag her into some other stupid discussion.

"Wednesday, can we talk to you for a moment?" Xavier asked hesitantly.

the brunette stopped again, clearly irritated now. her gaze narrowed to a slit of annoyance as she waited for them to speak.

"I have a problem with my new work... and I think you can help me," Xavier said, trying to be persuasive.

Wednesday looked at both of them coldly, her patience crumbling with every passing second. All of Nevermore ignored her and labeled her as the school freak, psychopathic and creepy... and now, by some strange twist of fate, everyone needed her today? She simply wanted to go to the library to further her research on poisons and their uses , see you , continue writing her story, or go to the cemetery later.

“I don't care,” she replied coldly, hoping Xavier would understand that she felt some urgency in leaving.

"Addams," Ajax intervenes, "I wanted to ask you for advice... you know that I'm interested in Enid and since you're her roommate..." the gorgon continues, purposely leaving the sentence hanging.

Wednesday stared at them in silence for a few moments, her impassive gaze betraying her impatience. "I don't care in the slightest about your problems and if you don't get out of my way immediately, I won't hesitate to make you regret this conversation" the brunette threatens in a low and cold tone.

Ajax and Xavier look at each other in confusion and fear, pondering Addams's words. They both knew Wedsnesday's reputation and the very real danger of being killed by the shorter girl terrified them.

they decided to step aside.

Wednesday continued on her way, completely ignoring them, while the two boys exchanged glances of resignation. The massive wooden doors finally loomed in the distance and the swarm of students' voices faded as she entered the less frequented part of Nevermore.

"WED!" an all-too-familiar voice shouts enthusiastically.

For the third time that day, Wednesday had to stop. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the killer instinct that threatened to surface and put an end to her blonde roommate's irritating exuberance. She was seriously starting to believe that it was a curse cast by her mother, some sort of psychological torture designed to test her patience. Unfortunately, it was far from her favorite torture, and she focused on something she knew would calm her down: you.

"Wednesday," Enid exclaimed, catching up with her with a beaming smile, "I was just looking for you... The Poe Cup is coming up again and we have to defend the title! You'll be there, right? We can't do it without you!"

Wednesday stared at the blonde, impassive. Entering the Poe Cup again was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew Enid wouldn't give up so easily.

"I'll think about it," she replied, keeping her tone detached. She didn't want to seem too involved, but she didn't want to completely dampen Enid's enthusiasm either.

"Awesome!" Enid clapped her hands, thrilled by the response. Then she walked away, skipping happily down the hallway.

Wednesday watched her go, mentally wondering how Enid managed to maintain all that vitality. With a barely audible sigh, she finally resumed her walk towards the library. The brunette lifts the corners of her lips as she enters her haven of peace, looking at the shelves covered in books and dust.

the sound of footsteps echoes throughout the library, her figure getting lost among the endless avenues of shelves and books of Nevermore. Her diligently runs her fingers through the tomes, grazing their rough and fragile covers, the wisdom that hides within them. The few students who were there were busy reading or studying among the various desks scattered around that place, the silence broken only by the sound of the pages being turned.

but it is among those shelves that she finally sees: you

she knew basically the essential things about you: your name is Y/N; you are a year older than her, you are Italian, you love blue and your power is to control fire. You were very good friends with Yoko, for some strange reason, and you were a person who despite the aura of mystery and darkness that surrounded you, smiled and was kind to everyone.

she noticed you a few days ago and still hasn't figured out who you are. Were you really that nice? what's really bothering you Y/N?

Wednesday watched you intently, savoring your every move. She noticed the way you brushed your hair back from your face, the smile that lit up your face when you read something that excited you, and even the grimaces you made in response to bizarre or banal passages you encountered.

Some might call it stalking, but she's really just trying to understand you better.

her black eyes never left your figure: you were tall, you had a sharp jaw that accentuated your strong face and you had full lips that were somehow always ready to whisper something provocative or sarcastic. at that moment you had chosen to gather your hair in a messy bun, a practical choice but one that added a touch of carefree elegance to your appearance.

you were struggling with a pile of books that seemed to have a life of its own. Some had already fallen, scattering across the floor. You quickly bent down to pick them up, but each attempt only seemed to make things worse.

Were you disorganized or did your hunger for books make you so careless?

Wednesday realized it was the perfect time to come out of hiding. She approached you cautiously, then crouched down and picked up a couple of books. Her cold fingers landed on Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart, and a thin smile threatened to appear on her lips. She was almost certain that she was the only one, aside from maybe Thornill, who had read that book in the entire school. Finding out that you shared the same literary tastes hit her in a surprisingly pleasant way.

“Here.” Wednesday’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she were intimidated by the idea of an interaction.

your eyes lift from the floor to meet hers.

Wednesday held her breath. They were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. You looked at her with curiosity, maybe surprise, but there was something in your eyes that made her feel strangely vulnerable.

“Thank you,” you croak embarrassedly, your cheeks pink knowing someone had witnessed your disaster.

“Maybe you should stop devouring more books than you can handle,” Wednesday said venomously. Her words were a wall behind which she hid the slight agitation she was trying to ignore.

you smile. Shouldn't you be annoyed by my answer?

"What's your name?" she asks curiously

Wednesday stared at you for a moment, cold as ever. “Wednesday,” she replied dryly, not giving anything away. But when you smiled again, the brunette felt a shiver run through her mind, one she tried desperately to ignore.

“Happy reading,” Wednesday adds quickly, turning around as she notices the slight look of confusion crossing your face. It was clear that you wanted to continue the conversation, maybe tell her your name, but Wednesday couldn’t stand there beside you without feeling her body boil.

she needed to leave the library and distract her mind

would have continued after the search, with the necessary calm

but there was an unexpected relief in knowing that she now knew her name

just like she knew yours.

A/N: yes I know, very inspired by the YOU series

[ashburntcat]

things im Big Mad about: why can't there just be a universal currency. money conversion is bullshit and i Hate it why isn't everything just the same goddamn amount literally Everything would be so much easier

[obscurevideogames]

Tumblr’s Core Prodct Stratgy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on trying to keep our sinking ship afloat for as long as possible. This means desperately trying to copy every new fly-by-night social media app that some multi-billionaire sh*t out during their daily Peloton routine. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. If you find the things we say here worrisome, please understand that is our exact intention. You've outgrown our target demographic. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

The Diagnosis

It's lookin' pretty bad y'all!

After somehow losing hundreds of thousands of users during the great pr0n purge of 2018, we started to wonder if anything could be done to get back to where we were. We even brought in a management consultant who charged us a ridiculous amount of money. It would make you sick if you knew how much, but we got a few nice meals out of it at least. Anyhow, we handed this guy the app, and HE HAD NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT! It was f*cking hilarious! But suddenly it all clicked -- our users are a bunch of stupid idiots who can't even do basic arithmetic. I mean, they spend all day looking at their phones, so what do you expect?

Tumblr’s best feature is its unique content and vibrant communities. But who cares, right? We're just as happy getting traffic from people sh*t-posting memes, vague-booking, giving out-of-context hot takes to news events, and spewing whatever random thought is in their head at the moment. Plus that stuff doesn't p*ss off Apple.

To keep this thing going we need new people. And by "people" we mean teenagers, like we used to have back in the good ol' days. Unfortunately we're all in our 40s now, so we have no idea what they want. But teenagers are so cool! Imagine if they talked to us like we're one of them? We're getting hard just thinking about it.

Our Guidng Principls

To make Tumblr cool again, we must address these huge glaring issues.

People can look at a blog without logging in. How is that fair to all the poor schlubs who had to fill out forms to get an account? Also we haven't figured out a way to force ads onto the personalized pages yet. But we swear that's not the main reason.

People can see content they are looking for or linked to. People can keep up with blogs they follow. But the problem with this is, people don't know what they want. We know what they want! We're smart. We wrote this damn site, remember?

Promote posts that incite pointless conversations. Posts that are guaranteed to bait every troll into responding. Isn't that why all your Magat relatives love Facebook so much? We can do that!

P*ss off your content creators in every way possible (see #2).

Create algorithms that throw an unending barrage of irrelevant content in your face. Have you seen Instagram lately? We could do that so easy!!!

The app is slow. The website is slow. Obviously this is because of GIFs. Facebook and Instagram don't allow them, so why should we?

Conclusion

Our mission changes on a day-to-day basis. Right now we're super jealous of all the attention that new Threads thing is getting. We're still not sure what it is, but we're gonna download it after work.

[aft3rhrs]

— game over ღ

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: exes to lovers

warnings: yandere, mentions of blood and murder, kidnapping, restraints, corruption, manipulation, obsession, angst, implied imprisonment, dub con, praise, degradation, dirty talk, hints of fear kink, spanking (like once), rough sex, creampie, implied multiple orgasms

The floor creaked quietly under a pair of heavy boots. You kept your eyes on them as he moved towards you, too stubborn to look up, and too frightened not to tremble.

"Oh, sweetheart," Yoongi cooed, crouching down in front of the bed. "I'm so sorry it took so long. Can't have the cops tracing my steps, can I?"

His fingers felt cool as he grasped your chin, and yet they did nothing to soothe the heat blooming through you. He smelled like snow, his cheeks rosy from the unforgiving bite of winter air.

Tilting your head, he kissed your taped mouth with utmost tenderness, like he wanted to leave a love note on the silver.

"Cold?" He murmured, noting the chills that erupted down your arms, his fingertip tracing their journey to your elbow.

In the golden glow of candlelight, with nothing but the pearly tape adorning your body, somehow, you weren't cold. Only uncomfortable, left sitting in the same position for what seemed like hours — knees bound to your chest, wrists tied together — though that was certainly the least of your problems.

"I'll untape your mouth now. Don't scream."

You shut your eyes as he reached upwards. A quick rip followed, the sting making you wince.

"Sorry," Yoongi soothed, stroking your hair, "Sorry, baby."

You didn't scream. It was pointless. He drove a long time to get here, civilization outside the tinted windows dwindling mile after mile. You had no doubt there was nowhere you could go, no one to hear your pleads for help. You'd sooner freeze to death trudging your way through the snow.

The arrogant smile playing on Yoongi's lips was infuriating. He looked like he could devour you, a cat that has finally caught its mouse.

"Good girl," he praised lowly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

Your stomach flipped.

"Let me go."

It came out as a whisper.

His eyebrows raised, head cocking to the side. Probably not the smartest thing to come out of your mouth, but what else were you supposed to do? Accept your fate as his little pet?

Yoongi released the soft strand, as if he got burned.

"I've been locked up for half a year... And this is how my girl greets me?"

His girl.

Why was he doing this to you? You barely dated for a few months before he chopped up two men who have been bold enough to bother you. Parts of their bodies were still in the process of being found all over the south of Seoul.

Were you going to end up the same?

You swallowed the knot in your throat, willing your heart to stop pounding. No words came, your thoughts too frantic to make sense of.

Yoongi clicked his tongue.

"The usual bratty attitude I can handle. But silent treatment? I can't fucking stand it. Your stupid little friends had enough time to convince you I wasn't good for you, huh?"

"You did that yourself!" you suddenly shouted, eyes brimming with tears. They spilled over, dripping down your collarbone. "You killed people, kidnapped me like some fucking lunatic!"

Yoongi stared at you as you sniffled. Once the dam broke, the fear broke loose too, pouring all over your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Panic started setting in. You had no idea if your outburst was going to be punished, even though in the short time that you knew Yoongi, he had never caused you any harm.

If you ever knew him at all.

He narrowed his eyes. You hated the vulnerable position he forced you into, hated how his gaze felt like a phantom touch.

"I didn't kill any people. I got rid of trash, and I did it all for you. To protect you."

He buried his face in his hands, hiding the shine of his own tears.

"Fuck. Are you actually scared of me right now? I would never hurt you."

What did it matter? Nothing about this love was healthy, and you longed to rip your heart out of your lungs to numb the feeling. You couldn't do this; couldn't let him taint your morals, or at least, couldn't let him see that he started.

All you had to do was convince him, and then yourself.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.

"I hate you," you whispered.

Yoongi froze for a moment, then looked back up at you slowly. You stared right back into his eyes through your wet lashes, no longer disturbed by their dark depths. A flash of uncertainty passed through his expression, promptly replaced by a cryptic calmness.

He hummed, shrugging his jacket off.

"Let's play a game, then."

Your stomach jumped when he placed his palm on your shoulder, slowly turning you away from him.

His lips inched towards your ear, hot breath brushing over its shell.

"I don't believe you, not for a fucking second. But I'll entertain you."

You stared at the shelf in front of you, the melted candle wax and golden jewelry laid out beside red roses. The bouquet looked small and miserable after you threw it at him.

You felt just about the same; small. Helpless as he hovered behind you, his intentions unclear, your fate even more so. Your pulse quickened as seconds ticked by.

A loud gasp escaped you as he pushed you forward. Your head spun from the suddenness of the action, cheeks instantly burning and knees trembling.

You fell face first into the silk sheets, ass up, like a little doll for him to use. He had to hold on to your hip so you didn't tumble. You've never felt so powerless before, so stripped of your dignity, or so hot when you heard him unbuckle his belt.

The adrenaline rush intensified your emotions, made your throat close up. Only a whimper passed through your panicked breathing.

"Look at that," Yoongi murmured. "You're dripping already."

You flinched as you felt his finger run down your folds, clenching needily. Everything was happening too fast—

"I missed you too."

No preparation, no warning; one moment you were empty, and the next you were full.

He groaned, leaning over you, dropping his forehead onto your back, and his hand in between your thighs.

The stretch hurt. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, hard and thick as you pulsed around it.

No mercy, no patience; he started fucking into you, choked groans and wet smacks filling up the room. His fingers quickly parted your slick folds, rubbing into the little nub between them to ease the pain.

It worked — it bloomed into a searing pleasure that made your tummy and your vocal cords quiver, soft, helpless whines fleeing your lips.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice broken, "fuck, you were made for me."

You shivered, finding yourself unable to fight against the restraints he put on you. Nevermind the tape; it was your soul that was truly imprisoned, and that made everything ten times worse.

His lips touched your ear again.

"If you don't come," he whispered, panting softly, "I'll let you go. But if you do, you will stay with me forever, do you get that, baby?"

Was this the game?

Fear clutched your heart in its iron fist, mingled with your most private, forbidden desires and desperate needs, made your eyes and your pussy wetter.

He reveled in it all.

"Go on," he taunted, "show me how much you hate me."

You did hate him.

Because nothing else made you feel like this, no matter what your friends said, no matter what seemed right or wrong. The blood on his hands dripped like an offering, all for you, a threat and a promise that predators loved, too, that they'd kill to protect their own. There was no life for him without you.

You urged yourself to hold on, to not give into your weaknesses. But it was hard when you were already tightening around him, on the brink of delirium and craving more.

"Yeah, there she is," Yoongi breathed. "My dirty little slut. My good fucking girl."

You cried out, your entire body tensing up. His cock throbbed inside you, rutting into you faster.

"Almost there? Are you gonna gonna let me keep you, baby? Chain you the fuck up like a good bitch?"

He was so close, playing dirty just to tip you over the edge, just to prove that you belonged to him. Hands curling into fists, you made an effort to focus, whining out a "no" that sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

"Yeah," Yoongi moaned. "Filthy fucking liar."

His fingers dug deeper into your hips, the hard grip marking your skin, planting the memory of this moment beneath it. Bruises would blossom tomorrow, and he wished he could see them all over you, a violet garden that grew from his love. Yet all he could do was slam into you faster, abuse that little spot inside you that his cock reached with way too much ease.

"Stop fighting it," he grunted, landing a sudden slap on your ass. "You're mine."

The harsh sting, the cursed words, the heat — it was all too much. The tension stirred and coiled in your abdomen, making black dots dance around your vision. Your cunt squeezed his cock desperately, barely allowing him to continue fucking you.

As if you were under water, everything became blurred, and soaked, with tears, with sweat and the orgasm rushing through you, encouraged by his filthy groans. So wet you didn't even realize he was coming too, until he stilled entirely, spilling inside you as you limped.

You listened to his breathing slow, your body thrumming, head pulsing with blissful nothingness. Too high and too weak to do anything but breathe with him.

A kiss was pressed into your spine.

"Mm... Should I give you one more chance?"

At that, you seemed to come back to your senses, breath hitching and eyes open wide.

Yoongi smirked, running his fingers along the tape softly.

"Let me grab a knife, pretty. I'll get you nice and comfy."

You almost flinched when he leaned over you again, his cock jerking and hardening in your sensitive hole.

"You did so well," he whispered into your ear. "Such a good, little bitch. I'm so in love with you."

A weak shudder went through you, ending with an ache right in between your legs.

Yoongi nuzzled your neck.

"Yeah, there you go. Don't you worry. We have all night to play."

Was it fair to play games one was destined to lose? Probably not, but unfortunately for you, that made it all more exciting to Yoongi. He wanted you to see yourself fail over and over, realize there was no running from your love.

It seemed you were about to.

He slipped out of you gently, biting his lip and watching his cum dribble out of you. His hand slid down to your ass, giving it a few, tender pats.

"Sit tight, sweetheart."

With that, he left you on his bed, again, ruined and aching and beyond lost. You heard him rummage through his drawers somewhere in the cabin, heard your heart beating in your own skull.

For some reason, you had a feeling this was just the beginning of a whole eternity. Hit play. Lose. Repeat. Try another level. Until your bones turned to dust and you were wrapped up in each other six feet under the ground. There was a sadistic side to Yoongi that seemed to enjoy the process, the struggle, the conquering of your mind.

Not surprising in the slightest; all dangerous creatures liked to play with their prey. Even more so when they loved it... And Yoongi would never stop loving you.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @shyygrl

[tencrushesperday]

Blood runs thicker than water

pairing : matt rempe x hughes!reader

warnings : angst, and some description of bruises, sort of forbidden lovers, 1k

a/n : instead of studying for my exams next week i do this, i was listening to The water is fine by Chloe Ament and felt inspired

You wanted to stay until the end of the match. You wanted to congratulate your brothers on the win. You wanted to party with the team after such a huge win against their rivals.

But the blood was pounding in your ears and you didn’t know what to do with your hands. The crowd was so loud. Jack’s last conquest and Bratt’s girlfriend were chatting next to you. Yet you were feigning interest in the game to ignore them. Even though you could barely focus your sight.

Luke had gotten into an unnecessary fight during second period and Jack was right there to back him up. Both were okay. But the other guy wasn’t.

As soon as the second intermission started you excused yourself to the restroom then texted Nicole on your way to your car saying that suddenly you weren’t feeling good.

Fortunately, you’ve driven down this road so many times you didn’t have to focus to get home because suddenly you were in your apartment. You were on autopilot the whole time doing your night routine and then you were in your bed trying to fall asleep.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes you would see him taking hit after hit. Him struggling to get up. His bloody face.

Then you heard keys turning in the lock and the front door shutting. You got up from your bed and marched out of your room, ready to send one of your bothers home.

“Matt”, you stopped dead in your tracks right outside your bedroom door.

There he stood, in front of the entrance, cheeks bruised, lip cracked.

“I’m sorry”, he only managed to whisper it.

He wanted to say a thousand other things but everything was pointless and painful. Looking at you was painful. Nothing was more appropriate than “sorry”.

He was the one who hit first. Even though Luke asked for it. He chirped Matt’s girlfriend without even knowing it was his own sister and Matt couldn’t let it slide. He also couldn’t tell Luke the truth.

The truth being you weren’t even his girlfriend.

You were just hooking up, keeping it casual, secret.

He would have loved it, have it been any other girl.

But he was so desperately in love with you. He wanted to hold your hand and take you on dates and have you cheering on him at his game. He loved waking up next to you and the casual evenings you spent at each other’s apartments, watching a movie, cooking together and telling each other about your days. He loved when you talked about hockey and he would promise you to take you play again, like when you used to do when you were younger. He even loved the stupid reels and tiktok’s you would send him in the morning on your commute to work because then he knew that you thought about him.

However, it has never gotten out of your apartments. His promise to take you to the rink to play hockey together was never fulfilled.

That he hated.

You kept looking at him. You couldn’t sleep because you kept seeing him getting hurt. But now that he was actually in front of you and even in the dim light coming in from the street you could see the bruises.

Not breaking eye contact you get closer to him as he silently takes off his shoes. He knows the rules in your home. He has a spare key. He knows you inside and out and he still can’t call you his and that’s worse than any hit from your brother, he thinks to himself.

“You left before third period.” He wants to wrap his arms around you and feel the warmth of your body to forget the cold of the ice.

You look at him before taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen. “So did you.”

You drop his hand and reach for two glasses in your cupboard.

He watches your every movement and anticipates your every word. You’re too calm but he knows there’s a storm brewing inside of you. You always go quiet when you’re upset and feeling too much. He knows that growing up with three brothers toughened you up and that, even if you’re working on it, subconsciously you still think that showing emotion is a weakness. Still he awaits your next words and actions. You have him wrapped around your finger so tight he almost wants to laugh at his poor situation.

You turn on the tap and let the water running until it’s at the right temperature before filling up your glass.

Matt can’t wait anymore. His patience thins with every drop of water. It’s pouring out of the faucet and going down the drain.

He’s right behind you when you turn around. You wanted to ask him if he wants water but your words die in your throat. He looks even worse up close. If you weren’t holding in your breath you would have sobbed at the sight.

Despair fills his eyes when you look up at him. He crashes his lips on yours and you can taste it right there.

You’re not mad he fought Luke. You know how it is on the ice, you know how Luke can be a little shit when chirping, you know how Matt can fly off the handle in such a situation.

You taste a metallic taste in your mouth as the slit on his lip cracks open at the fierceness with which he kissed you.

It doesn’t matter who he fought, he’s hurt and that’s what upsets you.

The metallic taste mixes with the saltiness of the tear that slid down your cheek. He catches the next one with the thumb that is caressing your skin, as he cradles your face.

Your fingers run through his hair. You can’t let him go. You tug him closer. You can’t tell your bothers. Not now. Every thought in your head contradicts the previous one. His other arm is wrapped around your whole body and pulls you impossible closer. You’re caught up in such a mess, one you made yourself.

But for tonight you’ll kiss Matt even harder. You’ll take care of his bruised lip. You’ll kiss the pain away.

Leaving the mess for tomorrow morning.

[roguelov]

Had a random brainwave

Imagine Morpheus and his human love have a petty argument and she threatens him with a DREAMCATCHER

basically uses it like a cross to a vampire as a joke to stop the argument

Thoughts 👀

And prayers because he might be pissed 😂

“I told you -“

“No, I don’t care -“

“You are being unreasonable -“

“You know what?” You pulled out a small dream catcher from your pocket - a cute charm you found a few days prior. You lifted it up towards him, jokingly and partially curious if anything would happen. “Goodbye, Dream. We are done with this pointless conversation.”

Morpheus’s eyes flickered down to the dream catcher. You couldn’t be serious, could you? He raised an eyebrow, now more so unamused. “And what is this?”

“It’s a -“

“I know what it is, I am inquiring as to why you believed such a thing would work.”

You stuttered out a bit, “Ah, well, it wards off nightmares and such, so wouldn’t it affect you?“

Morpheus’s lips thinned slightly. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Not even a little bit?”

Morpheus calmly walked towards you and your raised hand. He walked until your hand bumped agaisnt his chest, and the dream catcher pressed into his shirt. He cocked his head as if saying ‘see? Nothing’.

You puckered your lips, a little frustrated it had no effect whatsoever. It was a joke of an idea truly, but it had no effect at all? You huffed and dropped your hand from him. “Well that’s stupid,” you grumbled.

“Did you truly think a petty woven net would stop me?” Morpheus asked.

“… I mean … not really but the thought of it was funny enough to try.”

Morpheus stepped in closer. “Perhaps on one of my nightmares, yes it may ward them off. But to me, The King of Nightmares? You will need something far more powerful.”

“… not even a little bit of irritation?” You mumbled curiously.

“Do you believe me to be a vampire of sorts?”

You winced, “Um, no, but -“

Morpheus surprised you, he laughed once through his nose. He shook his head and whispered under his breath, “You and your strange thoughts.”

You huffed. “It was a perfectly logical idea given who you are.”

“Your way of thinking is very limited to the stories around you, there is far much more to the universe.”

“… whatever.”

Morpheus smiled to himself. “It is a trait I adore in you, do not mistake it for anything else.”

You stared into his eyes for a moment, finding the love pouring out of them. You then smiled at him.

“But,” Morpheus added, “if you try such a thing about it may not end well for you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Morpheus’s eyes then twinkled with delight. He leaned down to your ear. “You may find yourself caught in intricate ropes and woven within my grasp if you try again.”

[theoutcastrogue]

That said, the D&D 3.5 Paladin was bad. It was badly designed, it had bad rules, and in conjunction with the other notoriously bad rule, alignment, it could cause havoc.

Now personally, I never had ANY problems with it in my tabletop games. I played paladins and loved it, and I loved it when other people played paladins, and it was great. But that's because, collectively as a group, we took ONE look at that terrible rule where the paladin's code of conduct prevents them from associating with Evil characters or "someone who consistently offends her moral code", and immediately went, "that's stupid, we ain't doing that, it would ruin the game".

We also didn't love the concept of alignment as a cosmic force, and didn't care for Usually Evil Goblins and Always Evil anything. And when a class's signature ability fully depends on whether creatures are capital E Evil, well that affects storytelling, doesn't it? But we all saw it the same way, and we were happily able to change it without any disagreements. In the end we had a Paladin… similar to 5e now that I think of it: completely ignore the Code's association clause, tailor the Code to personal stance or a specific Order, Detect only fiends and undead and the like, Smite anything you want, Fall only if you really fuck up, and never presume that just because you haven't Fallen yet everything you've ever done is justified and correct and anyone who disagrees with you is objectively wrong.

Basically, there were 2 options in 3.5. You either houseruled and/or handwaved things, and in matters of alignment interpretations erred on the side of "what makes the game go",

OR, you played with Rules As Written, and filled the forums with questions like "should the paladin fall?" (one such thread per week, conservatively), "we got into a fight over the Paladin, what to do?", "is it Evil to pick pockets? because we have a Paladin in the party", "the Assassin uses poison, shouldn't that offend my moral code?", and shit like that. Just... pointless strife, all the time. Again, never happened to me, but I was appalled to read about it, over and over and over.

People got intense with 3.5 Paladins (both pro and against) because it was BADLY DESIGNED and had BAD RULES. Its mechanics forced narrative choices on the entire table, and the only way to make it frictionless was having a party where no one wishes to explore a character's bad side ever, no one does things that aren't bad but WotC branded Evil™ in this or that splatbook, and everyone magically agrees all the time on "what is right and what is wrong" and "what is Lawful and what is Chaotic", which is simply impossible. The most subjective thing in the world (ethics!) was presented as an objective cosmic force, and how you interpreted it would determine how much damage the Paladin deals in combat, and whether the Paladin could keep associating with the party, and if the Paladin is still a Paladin. And all that in a game, let's not forget, whose basic, fundamental premise is "kill things and take their stuff". I'm sorry, this is tremendously stupid. It's the WORST design.

I know that for some people it worked as written, and good for them, but for the many many people it didn't work, well it's obvious why.

[asuyaka]

This one is for you, baby!

★ - hellooo!!! original idea comes from sanjisboyfie <33 (user s so real but m more of a Zoro guy ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ )

☆ - Basketball Player Gojo Satoru x Male Reader!

♡ - CW: homophobia but you and Satoru deal with it!

If there's anything to know about Gojo Satoru, the top scorer of the 'Jujutsu' basketball team, is that he has a boyfriend.

And God does he love [Name] to the ends of infinity and back.

It was a scandal when the press first saw you two technically three since Satoru's best friend Suguru was there too together, doing the unthinkable.

Holding hands.

Articles and Magazines came out with headlines like "Player for the Kaisen Basketball team, Gojo Satoru is gay?!" or "Should kids be allowed to watch Gojo Satoru play?" came out. Every time during a game, there would always be someone who, without a doubt, asked if the rumors were true.

Their coach, Yaga Masamichi, advised Satoru to stay neutral on the situation until it blew over. But if there's one thing Gojo Satoru is not good at doing, it's following orders.

So, he brought you to a game one day. Bout you a court-side seat (even though it was expensive as hell), and made sure you were wearing his jersey.

He was playing against an almost equally talented team, the 'Cursed' with their star player, Itadori Sukuna (older brother to the friend of Satoru's son).

Thirty seconds before the last quarter ended, the score was tied, 104 to 104. Satoru had the ball, dribbling it down the court as time seemed to move faster.

He passed to Suguru, running down to the three-point line to make the last shot of the game.

Your heart was thumping violently against your chest, hands gripping the hem of Satoru's jersey as you watched the ball swish through the net as the end-game buzzer went off.

Cheers immediately erupted from the crowd as the ball bounced on the floor two final times, securing the Championship for Satoru's team.

What he does next surprises you. Satoru and Suguru don't do their usual handshake after winning a game—no— he makes a beeline towards you, using his wide arms to pick you up by your waist, and then he kisses you.

On National TV, in front of several people, with absolutely no shame.

Satoru smiles at you, it's full of teeth and nevertheless beautiful before putting you down.

That was when the public knew about how kind Gojo Satoru could be when he was not on the court and the only person who managed to pull that personality out of him.

Back to the present, you're sitting court-side again, way after the game was over, relaxing on your phone while Satoru and Suguru were looking to see who could make the most free-throws to decide who was paying for their victory food.

It was pointless, really, because they're both rich as shit so the competition was stupid, and Suguru was most likely going to win since free-throws were how he scored points 96.99% of the time.

Your throat feels a bit parched from all the cheering you were doing, so you get up with a yawn, stretching your body and rubbing your eyes slightly. "I'm gonna go get something to drink, maybe use the bathroom too."

Satoru turns to look at you with a smile. "Use my card and be back quick! Watch me dunk on Suguru's head!"

A ball slams against the back of his hair, a loud laugh erupting from behind him. "You can't score on me, your defense is ass."

Satoru grabs the ball with new-found malice in his eyes. "One-on-one, right now. Loser has to post whatever the other says on their Twitter account."

Suguru smirks. "Bet."

You roll your eyes at their antics as you put on Satoru's jacket. Satoru is tall, much bigger than you so the sleeves fall right past your arms. It looks like a dress on you, but that's how most of Satoru's clothes look, you've gotten used to it.

You use the bathroom, rolling Satoru's sleeves up as you start to wash your hands. The door opens, and a man walks in.

It's a bathroom, people are obviously going to enter inside so you pay it no mind. It starts to raise a few flags in your head when the man stays there, too close for comfort as his shoulder brushes against yours.

"You're dating that gay dude, right?"

The question takes you by surprise. You slowly go back to drying your hands, looking at the man through the mirror with a blank look on your face. "Excuse me?"

The man scoffs. "Don't play stupid. Gojo? You're the gaybo that's dating him, right?"

Now, you aren't a rude person. You don't believe in violence and while you'll stand up for yourself when needed, you aren't one to sit down and let yourself get disrespected. "Yes, I'm dating Satoru. Is that a problem?"

The man's face contorts in obvious disgust before turning into something malicious. "Fuckin' thought so. Now that your little boyfriend isn't here, me and you can talk, right?"

You unroll Satoru's sleeves and pull up the zipper. "I'm not interested, thank you though." You respond in a passive-aggressive tone, moving towards the door before a hand pushes you back.

"I said, we're going to talk, right?"

Your face hardens and you cross your arms. "And I said, I'm not interested. Now if you excuse me, I have a boyfriend that's waiting for me on the court."

The man stands before the door, using his frame to block the exit. Instantly dropping the 'nice guy' act, he stares at you like you're dirt underneath his shoe. "I never understood why people are gay. You seriously like taking it up the ass?"

That's where this was going.

You rub your temples as a long sigh leaves your lips. "Okay, great, can I leave now?"

"Can't you understand what I'm saying?!" The man raises his voice. "You're supposed to like—"

"Listen man," You interrupt with a bored expression. "I really don't care what you think of my relationship. I love Satoru, Satoru loves me, we're happy. Now, if you don't have anything else you want to tell me, I'll be leaving now."

As soon as you reach for the door knob, it slams open, colliding the man (and your hand) with the wall.

You wince harshly as you wave it around, profusely blowing on it as if it'd relieve the pain. Satoru's expression turns from confused to concerned very easily.

"Baby? Oh shit, I'm sorry..." He shushes you softly, bringing your hand to the sink to run some cold water over it.

"I won, by the way, Suguru sucks at basketball." Satoru mutters softly, like he's trying to distract you from the throbbing pain in your hand.

You nod gently as the pain slowly subsides. It isn't all the way gone, but it's bearable enough for you not to feel it as much. Satoru notices easily, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on it. "Feelin' better?"

"Yeah... thanks Satoru."

He smiles—it's the smile he only uses with you, it makes your heart giddy— placing a kiss on your forehead as he takes your other (unbruised) hand, leading you outside the bathroom.

Suguru is waiting, plainly dressed in a black turtleneck and black cargo pants, tearing his eyes away from his phone when he notices the two of you.

Satoru takes his bags and your bag, briefly leaving his hand from yours as he slings them over his shoulder. He's quick to reconnect them, putting his signature glasses on his face. "Ready, Suguru?"

Suguru flips him off, stuffing his phone in his pocket and fishing out his car keys. "You two make me homophobic."

"T'aww," Satoru teases, using his elbow to nudge it into Suguru's bicep. "Suguru jealous that he's single? That he won't have the privilege of dating the beautiful, handsome, pretty, attractive, alluring, eye-catching—"

"Oh my God, shut up!"

You laugh softly, thanking Satoru as he opens the door for you, closing it when you're secured inside and quickly going to the seat beside you.

The pain is your hand becomes an after thought as Suguru and Satoru keep bickering over the tiniest things, like the car mist Suguru uses, to how cold it is, and Suguru's lack of a significant other.

You sigh. Why would you pay attention to the pain in your hand when you have your boyfriend to look at?

He's a beautiful man after all, a man that you love from infinity and beyond.

Stars in the sky ☆

@sanjisboyfie

[mulletmitsuya]

Tokyo revengers groupchat

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, mommy issues, mentions of deceased mothers, brother issues (akashi's), mentions of physical abuse, mentions of suicide, depending on what kind of person you are, this might be kinda dark

Side note: i think i may be projecting too many of my headcanons on these people so i apologize for mischaracterizations😔🙏

Desc: it's Shinichiro's birthday!! (sneaking in the fact that it's also mine and i'm 19 today😋)

Izana: happy birthday Shinichiro

Izana: everyone's gonna say the same thing so i don't think there's a need for an influx of happy birthday messages

Izana: just dm, to prevent a pointless conversation

Shinichiro: aw thanks Izana😁❤

Mikey: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Mikey: ANOTHER YEAR OF BEING A VIRGIN🙏🔥

Baji: you're such a loser man

Baji: with all due respect and no offense of course

Baji: happy birthday tho

Mitsuya: aren't you a virgin, Mikey?

Mistuya: a bit hypocritical

Mitsuya: happy birthday Shinichiro-san

Mikey: i had sex once, and meh

Mikey: 5/10

Mikey: being confronted with someone's dick and balls was crazy

Mikey: and i have mommy issues so i don't think it's a good idea for me to sleep with a woman

Mikey: but i would like to lay on one's chest as they sing me to sleep

Baji: what does that have to do with anything

Draken: no one asked you for any of that information, just so you know

Mikey: your mom asked me

Mikey: oh, sorry😔

Mikey: they wasn't even part of the joke. i'm genuinely apologizing😔

Emma: Mikey!

Emma: you know that's a sensitive subject 😠

Draken: not really, to be honest

Senju: why's it a sensitive subject

Emma: his mother left him

Senju: ...

Senju: Emma why would you tell me that

Mitsuya: i think we should word this differently or not talk about it, maybe

Mikey: Mitsuya's right, as always (boring 🙄)

Mikey: but Emma☠️?

Senju: yours left too girl

Emma: well i know that, so i'd be sad if someone made a joke about it

Emma: and so did yours🤨?

Senju: death is different. your mom CHOSE to leave you

Senju: skill issue

Senju: was that too far? maybe

Draken: guys

Chifuyu: ok guys let's calm down

Emma: of course a person with a mother would say that 🙄

Chifuyu: ...sorry

Emma: just jokes Fuyu😚

Baji: don't apologize Chifuyu, not our fault we have mom's

Baji: suck it, losers

Mikey: i really didn't mean to start all this, my bad

Draken: it's not a big deal😐

Draken: and Shinichiro-san, happy birthday, but you're still a virgin?

Draken: i'm not judging or anything. i just find it impressive

Draken: all the other stuff is overrated

Emma: 🤨

Emma: we'll talk about that later

Emma: are you actively practising abstinence?

Emma: i couldn't

Emma: not with Ken-chan around, at least😋

Draken: dude

Draken: your entire family is here

Emma: don't call me dude☹️

Draken: okay

Draken: babe

Draken: your entire family is here

Emma: so?? they know we have sex

Emma: how else would we try to have a kid?

Draken: bro...

Mikey: KEN-CHIN KILL YOURSELF☹️👎

Izana: Emma was underage when you got together

Izana: something to think about, Draken

Draken: i was too???

Takeomi: who the hell are you

Draken: me?

Takeomi: obviously not you

Takeomi: "Izana"

Takeomi: who is that

Shinichiro: this is Izana, Omi

Takeomi: i fucking know that Shinichiro

Takeomi: why are you all so stupid

Baji: why are you brining your sour mood here

Baji: go die

Baji: no offense

Mitsuya: you can't keep saying bad things then saying no offense

Mitsuya: it literally doesn't mean anything

Shinichiro: i said i had another little brother remember?

Shinichiro: before Emma was a Sano, she was a Kurokawa. this is Izana Kurokawa

Takeomi: your dad was a man whore. respect

Shinichiro: dude, ew?

Izana: technically i'm no ones sibling because my mom lied to your guys' dad about being my father so i'm actually not related to any of you. not really supposed to be here

Mikey: dude give that up. we don't care 🙏

Izana: i was just clarifying

Emma: Izana-nii you know it makes Shin sad when you say that☹️

Izana: i was stating facts, but alright

Haruchiyo: happy birthday Shinichiro

Baji: you never speak on this group but oh, let the topic be about Mikey

Baji: all of the sudden it's a yappathon

Baji: "i wish Mikey would stick it in!"

Haruchiyo: I'VE NEVER SAID THAT

Haruchiyo: and i'm speaking now, aren't i😐

Mikey: Baji leave Haruchiyo alone

Mikey: you're the one always scaring him away😔👎

Mikey: hi Haru😋

Haruchiyo: hi Mikey 🙂

Kazutora: happy birthday Shinichiro-san

Kazutora: um, sorry about... the incident

Mikey: (i told you not to talk about that in front of people, Tora💀)

Draken: PUTTING A SENTENCE IN BRACKETS DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE WHISPERING

Draken: STOP DOING THIS

Senju: what incident

Kazutora: uh

Kazutora: almost killing him

Shinichiro: buddy, i know you didn't mean to do that. it's all good

Kazutora: no, i fully intended to kill a person

Kazutora: it just wasn't meant to be you

Kazutora: and for that i apologize

Shinichiro: oh...

Shinichiro: well at least you don't have those murderous thoughts anymore, right? let's dwell on the positive 😁

Kazutora: i do have those thoughts

Baji: you don't always have to tell the truth man

Mikey: dude☠️

Kazutora: but they're about my father, mostly

Kazutora: i look exactly like him, so looking in the mirror is hard sometimes

Kazutora: i'm not allowed to kill myself, but killing him would be close enough

Kazutora: but i can't. because of the law

Draken: dude, are you okay? do we need to talk again

Draken: this is concerning

Kazutora: words cannot help me, Draken

Kazutora: anyway, have a good birthday, Shinichiro-san

Kazutora: i'm glad you didn't die by my hands

Shinichiro: ...

Shinichiro: i'm not really sure what to say

Senju: i love his thought process

Senju: (what the hell is wrong with this guy)

Draken: we can see the text inside the brackets 😐

Senju: fine

Senju: what the hell is wrong with this guy😭

Senju: you were the one who put Shin in a coma??

Senju: the power or friendship really carries this group's dynamic because if it were me, Kazutora would never see the light of day😭🙏

Senju: it helps that you're handsome

Kazutora: thank you. i'm sorry

Senju: you're welcome. you are forgiven

Baji: maybe let's change the topic

Senju: what's wrong with him?

Senju: no offense

Emma: his father used to beat him

Senju: Emma!

Senju: you can't be telling people this 😭

Emma: STOP ASKING ME THEN

Emma: there's no malice!! i'm just telling you what happened!!

Inupi: happy birthday Shinichiro

Inupi: my sister has agreed to go on a date with you

Inupi: i see you as a really good guy so if you fuck this up, i'd have to kill you

Shinichiro: AKANE-SAN?

Shinichiro: she's too pretty for me

Shinichiro: ok um, please give me her number, Seishu

Shinichiro: thank you

Shinichiro: let's speak privately yeah?

Mikey: Inupi, this is the first time in your life you've ever been useful

Mikey: i'm impressed

Inupi: kill yourself

Mikey: Koko doesn't love you back👎🔥💔

Inupi: Takemitchy is married to a woman

Draken: break it up

Draken: and Koko does love him back, he's just fighting heteronormativity and internalized homophobia

Emma: ?

Draken: i'll tell you about it later

Emma: 🤗

Inupi: you will not

Koko: i am in this group, you know?

Koko: happy birthday Shinichiro

Koko: also Inupi, aren't we dating?

Inupi: huh

Koko: are we not dating?

Inupi: i mean, i wasn't aware of it

Inupi: but okay

Inupi: you didn't ask me

Koko: well, we act like we're dating so i thought we were

Inupi: okay

Draken: Koko you can do better than that

Draken: this is a terrible confession

Draken: i did not sit through hours of Inupi's yearning for this

Draken: do better

Koko: okay...

Koko: meet me at my place?

Inupi: ...

Inupi: okay

Draken: 👍

Izana: can't anyone solve their private matters, PRIVATELY?

Mikey: dammit

Draken: what?

Mikey: i don't like when he's happy

Mikey: i need to ruin this for him somehow

Izana: Inupi fucking sucks

Mikey: he's the worst

Mikey: i regret changing the timeline for his sake

Mikey: should've left him to burn

Baji: what?

Mikey: nothing

Baji: this was about everything, except Shinichiro's birthday ☠️

Shinichiro: to be honest? i couldn't ask for more

Shinichiro: my family being happy is the best present i could ask for

Shinichiro: i really love you guys

Izana: thanks

Mikey: BOOOOOOOOO

Mikey: too sappy, i'm out

Baji: that was so corny😂

Baji: (we love you too)

Emma: Shini-nii😭❤

Senju: Takeomi, take notes

Senju: i still don't get how you guys are friends considering the personality difference

Senju: Shin is so kind and lovable and amazing and sweet (and hot lwky)

Emma: ew😐

Senju: you um, you smoke, and you um

Senju: yeah i got nothing

Senju: still love you though!

Haruchiyo: he's ugly and abusive

Takeomi: says the dick sucker

Takeomi: i'm abusive because of the way you are by the way

Takeomi: besides, i've regrettably, never lay a hand on you

Baji: here we go again

Haruchiyo: in another life, i've killed you with my bare hands

Takeomi: do you seriously think you could beat me in a fight

Haruchiyo: i'll die trying

Shinichiro: okay guys um let's please not

Shinichiro: Omi stop being a dick 😅

Shinichiro: Haru, sorry for Omi being a dick

Senju: ☹️

Senju: we love you too, Shin

Draken: uhm i don't know if it's appropriate for me to say? but i love you too Shinichiro, i guess

Draken: this is a little awkward now

Kazutora: should i say it?

Baji: no, Tora

Kazutora: ok

[chuunai]

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

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Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s