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gildeddlily · 1 year

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yk what I really hate? people defining soukoku's relationship as toxic and headcanon chuuya as a violent person who physically assaults and abuses Dazai cause he "makes him mad", or Dazai as the one who constantly manipulates him into doing what he needs.

like who ever told you this? first of all, no. second of all, no. They have the strangest relationship I've ever seen, but it's something beautiful built with trust from both parts so how can you call that toxic to this point?

we've never saw Chuuya physically hurting Dazai in both manga and light novels, at least not seriously (the basement scene doesn't mean anything, they didn't see each other for like four years and chuuya's a fricking mafia executive no shit he's gonna beat up the mafia traitor. but seriously, after seeing him fight for real you think that was violence?). Do I think that at least once Dazai got beat up? yes, cause Dazai is constantly getting on Chuuya's nerves. the nerves of a dysfunctional teenager, that works for the mafia, that has a partner who tries to kill himself every two days, that is emotionally constipated and never learned how to love and be loved (the sheep betrayed him, the Flags died, Dazai is Dazai) so yeah, I don't think he knows how to express his feelings (he was all "I'm gonna act like I don't love you but in reality I love you a lot" with the flags at sixteen, what do you pretend from him if he's interacting with Dazai?) but not to the point of beating up Dazai every time they fight.

Dazai is ever worse: he's traumatized as fuck too, and is always going with the "I'm not human" bullshit (shut up sometimes he's so human he makes me cry) that most times prevents him from enjoying practically anything. Chuuya is not someone he know how to act with, but he spends three years with him so he fricking learned how, alr? They know eachother better than everyone, to the point that Chuu is able to understand Dazai's "misterious as fuck no one can understand me why people call akutagawa emo when im here" plans and attitude. They trust each other to the point of constantly putting each other lives in the other's hands.

Dazai manipulates everyone, yeah, but not like Fyodor does. Stop treating his efforts to respect Oda's last wish like nothing and only seeing him as the man he was in the mafia. Bungou Stray Dogs is so beautiful because it's realistic in portraying human's life and emotions, so stop trying to make Dazai act and seen as the mean demon who hates everyone except odasaku. his "chess pieces" are used and directed in a gentle way, just see Atsushi and the relationship he has with him, or the ADA. (the drowning thing. there was world's peace at steak, you think he should have chose saving Chuuya instead of everyone else? And that he really didn't think ab Chuuya saving Fyodor with his ability? I'm sure he knew, purely for the "what a shallow bond" thing. Asagiri spent the last years making us understand the deep bond they share, only to make it really shallow after one hundred chapters?)

Chuuya knows Dazai, he knows the way he choose to act, how his mind works and how he plans the future, Asagiri said that himself, so it actually is canon. He truly knows him (best and worst part of him, and we're talking ab mafia!dazai) and still trusts him with his life, knows Dazai always hides something up his sleeve and's always "i trusted you with this *random insults*" after almost dying for Dazai.

They just voluntarily ignore their connection, but they're both aware of it, just see how Chuuya in Dead Apple is sure that Dazai has something in mind that involves him using Corruption (risking his life) and punching him in the face, or how Dazai is sure that Chuuya will use Corruption risking his life and punch him. (the soft way he punched him while using Corruption really is... strange. he was throwing buildings around and then punch Dazai like he wasn't even using his ability? there wasn't any real strength behind it, at least not the corrupted one. so yeah we also have corrupted!Chuuya loving Dazai like the normal one) (I'm chewing a gum (my throat is hurting sthu) and I feel like the woman from that asmr meme that types on a pc) so yeah the point is. people can write or create media ab everything they want, but going around talking ab how they'd be a toxic couple cause they're abusive and bad for eachother is bullshit, especially if they're talking ab 22!Soukoku that has the potential to be endgame. teen!Soukoku could be toxic, yes, cause it's always disfuncional teenagers we're talking ab, they wouldn't even know ab how to be a good couple, but they'd manage, and still do more good for each other than bad. (this is all to say that I cry when while searching for good skk ff I find that type of ff that antagonize one of them by portraying them as abusive (like taking out of the context Chuuya calling sixteen Dazai inhuman after he said that the death of a man that Chuuya respected was a luck for them- no shit he was angry(still could have not said that)) and the other as an innocent kid that doesn't know better)

we stan the "the other was the only really good thing in their life for a long time" trope

#random skk thoughts #bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #soukoku #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bsd analysis #kinda #dead apple #was a rollercoaster #gay thoughts #port mafia

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murderlacrosse · 11 months

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this is something i talked about on twitter but. thoughts on chuuya's happiness or lack of in the mafia after the stageplay madness ?

i don't think chuuya is unhappy in the pm but do i think he is happy ? no. he's probably not even considering his own happiness tbh.

he shackled himself to the organisation bc of the dead bodies he carries on his back and bc he's desperately searching for a meaning/purpose.

he has not changed since he was 15, in contrast to dazai who's evolved and is somewhat seeking a healthier way of life. chuuya hasn't. he's someone who was very similar to dazai and who stayed that way as a 22 y old. he has a ton of issues he hasn't solved bc he doesn't face them.

and this is literally what this scene means - chuuya was opposed to dazai in that scene and only one of them changed. he literally stayed stuck as the teenager in search of a place to feel useful, clinging onto anything that'll give him a purpose.

and another very interesting thing we have is chuuya's character emo song Darkness My Sorrow :

"The world is a bird cage, faded in colour

Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison

Even if I get tired of the night and tear off my shackles

That eye who sees eye to eye with Kierkegaard is also here"

the whole theme of it is chuuya saying he's trapped in a cage, but fuck everyone and the world bc you know what ? he'll persevere out of spite.

but in contrast to this way of thinking, he mentions Kierkegaard, who's a philosopher known for his theory on how choice gives humans profound anguish. which i think can be related to chuuya bc choosing probably gives him that anxiety - all the choices he has to make in regards to the sheep or the pm certainly are not easy ones and they take a toll on him. one that he'll never acknowledge bc it isn't the time to hesitate or talk about feelings, it's time to act, as he says in DA or below in his song :

"Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments

I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black"

and there's also this bit :

"I'd rather just fall than go back to being alone

Staring at the destroyed cage of this self, (GRAVITY)

Slowly, I sing, "Not bad at all.""

so while yes, he did choose to be part of the pm (and won't let anyone take this act of choosing away from him), imo we have enough material to consider that chuuya is a very self-sacrificial character, with suicidal tendencies to boot. i just don't see him as a happy person ? despite doing what he wants most (protecting the city and the ppl he cares about) and living life with his very chuuya-ish moral compass, i think that he's mostly on survival and work mode.

tldr; chuuya needs to leave the mafia and do his own thing after he gets his character development

#this is just my opinion though ndkfjf #based on how i interpretated chuuya's character through sb da and other stuff #i wish one day i could have the level of eloquency in theories such as tumblr user videogamelover but alas i do not #n e ways #chuuya out of the mafia 2k23 #skk #bsd #bungo stray dogs #soukoku #nakahara chuuya

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frogboy0 · 1 month

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HAZBIN HOTEL REDESIGNS!!!!

I recently watched Hazbin Hotel for the first time! I've never been into it before, and I vaguely remember it when the pilot first came out years ago but I never even watched THAT!!

It's not............. the best show ever BUT I HAD FUN WATCHING IT!!!!!! I mainly like it bc I love Catholicism and the bible SOOOOO I'm rewriting it and I'll be posting ALL MY IDEAS!!!!!! (Ppl are gonna hate it LOL)

Close-ups + notes are under the cut :)

CHARLIE: OK SO I basically got rid of all the goat stuff that she (didn't) have going on ASIDE from the hooves hahaha, I didn't draw them here but she still has those bc I think they're COOL

So taking inspo from the fact that Charlie's design was based off porcelain dolls and marionettes, Charlie is LITERALLY a doll come to life!!! Lucifer and Lilith, bc they couldn't naturally conceive a child (bc Lilith is dead + is known to be responsible for the death of newborns), basically just made a child-doll and gave it life with their demonic magic!!!

I ALSO WANT CHARLIE TO CONSTANTLY BE TEETERING THE LINE OF LOOKING CREEPY AND FUCKED UP!!!! She's literally a living doll, I need ppl to look at her sometimes and be unsettled (sheep in wolf's clothing)

VAGGIE: Like Charlie, I'm completely throwing the animal (moth) motif that Vaggie (supposably) had. I'm mainly leaning more into Hotel Manager/body guard. WELCOME TO THE GUN SHOW!!!!!!

Honestly, I've changed Vaggie's design over 4 times and it's subject to change STILL. I gave her a cloak bc I think it's epic and I think she's epic and you'll be seeing her in future posts with what her outfit looks like without the cloak, it's a sleeveless collared shirt and she's got long fingerless gloves on :) AND THE CLOAK IS ALSO THERE BC I THINK SHE'S EDGY!!!! She's edgy and emo and amazing

I WAS gonna make her with awesome battle scars but then I remembered that angels can only be harmed with angelic weapons so :(((( no hot scars

ANGEL: MY ANGEL DESIGN IS NEVER CHANGING!!!!!! I have no notes, I think I'm in love with my Angel.

I heard somewhere that Angel in cannon has one black sclera and one white one bc he died with a black eye sooo..... He died with 2 black eyes LOL!!!

I didn't wanna give him prominent wrists and ankles bc I thought it looks cute :3

HUSK: He's a tuxedo cat, I think they're adorable and I think Husk is a 70 year old man who should be adorable. And NO BOW TIE!!!! I'M TIRED OF EVERY CHARACTER HAVING ONE!!!!

He's a frazzled drunk who's still Alastor's pet LOL

ALASTOR: I took a lot of inspiration for Alastor's design from Dr. Daddy-o, a radio DJ/host from New Orleans in the 1940's!!! I LOVE his voice and I wanted to base Alastor off of a BLACK RADIO HOST bc he's you know, BLACK!!!!!!!! Idk who that white boy is in cannon

He and Charlie are tied for the tallest in the cast, they're the same height (not counting his antlers)

I wanted to make Alastor look pretty human looking, aside from his antlers and deer ears ofc bc I don't think he needs to look scary all the time, he usually uses his words to provoke ppl anyway (and if that doesn't work THEN he'll use force) (Wolf in sheep's clothing)

NIFFTY: Niffty's design is based off Rosie the Riveter (WE CAN DO IT!!!!) especially with her her top, her hair and her headband/bandana.

I also made her taller than she is in cannon bc she's not the kind of character that the audience or even the other characters take seriously so in my head adding a couple inches to her will make me take her more seriously LOL

#hazbin hotel #tw hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #niffty hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesigns #my art #I wouldn't call these notes #its more just me talking abt NOTHING hahaha

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unmotivated-writer · 2 months

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Coach Brunt: Oh we’re like a big happy family! And I’m the dad and Shadowsans the mom!

Shadowsan: Why am I the mom, what gender roles are we pushing here?

Dr. Bellum: I know they’re probably thinking I’m like the daughter but I’m not. I’ll be the gay emo cousin.

Black Sheep: I will be the daughter, the hotshot who’s only dream…is to be a star.

Professor Maelstrom: I feel like I’d be a fresh out of jail uncle.

Countess Cleo: And I’m the sassy aunt, who talks shit about everyone.

#carmen sandeigo 2019 #professor maelstrom #countess cleo #coach brunt #dr bellum #black sheep #carmen sandiego

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too-much-otome · 1 month

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Belphegor Playlist

Link

I hope you guys like this. Belphie was the second character I made a playlist for so I've had his ready for a long time before I refined it. I hope it's good!

Explanations (Excluding Character Songs):

Killer In The Mirror - Set It Off

I've always connected this song with Belphie! For years! It just sounds like his whole arc! From being locked in the attic and meeting MC to breaking out and killing MC. Feeling betrayed by his brothers and being backstbbed by Lucifer! I will never let this go! "There's nobody but me here" "now I know there's no one I can trust. I used to think there was"

Happy Pills - Weathers

Kinda gives off that slightly unhinged and crazed side of Belphie we all know and love while also keeping a slightly mellow mood for most of the song.

Oblivion - Grimes

Another song that gives off slightly crazed vibes but also kinda a revenge song which is a big thing for Belphie and how he feels towards Lucifer or how he felt towards humans before MC.

Young And Menace - Fall Out Boy

Okay, I wasn't sure about it at first but I think it fits well. It's also just a really good song, don't @ me. It talks about madness and going crazy a lot and it sounds like something that fits Belphie's personality, even if it's a bit hard hitting.

Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

I know this is more for.... something else but I still think it fits. You can think of the chorus and how it's about someone on the prowl. I cannot stop my serial killer Belphie agenda, I'm sorry, I love him I promise!

I'm Not Okay - My Chemical Romance

He's really not and neither are we but that's okay. (You know damn well he love emo music)

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing - Set It Off

He's definitely a wolf in sheep's Clothing. Also, I've always connected him with sheep. I know that's MCs thing but I can't help it! It's also a song filled with rage like our beloved Avatar of Sloth.

Jenny Was A Friend - The Killers

Literally a song about accidentally killing a lover. Also based off a crime from the 80's but anyways.

don't fall asleep yet - Powfu

I know Belphie would definitely prefer to fall asleep than stay awake but I can't help connecting him with this song and the soft, slow, smooth vibe is very much him.

Monster - Skillet

As much as we've talked about Belphie and his murderous intent, he very clearly has guilt from it. I'm a firm believer of the opinion that he even has immense trauma from it. I think for a long long time after the incident that he hated himself and what he did. Not only because of MC, but because it fractured his relationships with his brothers.

i'll die anyway - girl in red

a song about the past being good but losing touch with themself over the years and becoming emotionally numb but also still feeling lonely. I think this speaks to Belphie, especially since we saw a lot how much he changed after both losing Lilith and being locked in the attic.

Can't Go to Hell - Sin Shake Sin

I just think it fits well and while it's not exactly connected lyrically, I think the sound of it is very much Belphie's vibe and something he'd listen to.

REVIVED - Derivakat

Revenge and return. very much reminds me of the entire scene of Belphie breaking out of the attic. From revealing he played MC to taunting and mocking his brothers over their shock and horror after he kills MC. The lyrics all just remind me of Belphie. It even mentions being locked away.

8 Legged Dreams - Unlike Pluto

Talk of nightmares but the lyrics also read like the singer is trying to help someone sleep or ease them into it which is obviously one of Belphie's powers as the Avatar of Sloth.

Backstabber - Kesha

Self explanatory

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

It's so him. Very soft and mellow. You also can't convince me Belphie isn't a sweater boy. He even wears one in both his casual clothes and his demon form. It's very much him.

#dating sim #otome #otome boys #obey me #obey me solmare #shall we date obey me #obey me swd #obey me belphie #om! belphegor #shall we date belphegor #obey me belphegor #om! belphie

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gabessquishytum · 2 years

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I was thinking of turning this into something longer but I actually think it works nicely a little vignette. So I’m posting it here instead of ao3 bc you all deserve it for blowing up that emo worm dream textpost xox

——————

Word count: 1364

Warnings: Angst, references to death of family members including children, references to pregnancy

Ship: Dream/Hob

Because Dreaming Costs Money

There’s nothing like a good old fashioned cry to sort you out and leave you feeling refreshed. Hob has been a firm believer in the power of tears for a good few centuries now. Crying might not fix your problems, but it certainly doesn’t do any harm.

He feels sick with the weight of it, the need to weep. It’s in his stomach, squeezing at him so hard that his abdominals are clenching and he wonders if he’s about to dry heave. He covers his mouth with his hand just in case, feeling his lips tremble. He breathes through his nose, like you’re supposed to. He’s doing everything right. But he can’t be too loud, because his office door isn’t all that thick really, and he doesn’t want anyone to hear him.

He’s sitting on the floor, behind the desk — almost under the desk, actually. If he makes himself very small and very quiet, no one will know that he’s there. He’s breathing through his nose, but every other moment he sobs with his whole chest, and it comes out in an ugly sound through his dry lips.

He’s forgotten her name.

He can remember a few things. The scent of fresh rushes on the floor. Woodsmoke, too. Her hair, the same chestnut brown as his own. Her strong arms laden with bundles of sheep’s wool.

Not her face. That’s long gone, and he’s accepted it as another curve in the passage of time. But her name. He can’t remember his own mother’s name!

He’s never even bothered to write it down, because he could never have imagined needing to. He curses himself, gripping a handful of his own hair, consumed by the urge to scream. What kind of son must he be to lose the memory of his own mother? When was the last time he even thought of her?

The tears are streaming down his face now, and he’s forgotten his intention to be quiet. He wants his Ma, he realises through the haze of grief. He wants her now more than he has in 600 years. Only now, when she is so far gone from him. His fist collides with the wood of the desk and he barely feels the sting, so he does it again and this time his knuckle splits open.

“Stop.” Someone says. There’s only one person, or person shaped thing, who could possibly get through the locked door of Hob’s office. Hob looks up through his blurry eyes and finds Dream just stepping into his line of sight, framed by the sun from the window. Hob makes a strange little whimpering noise and drags the sleeve of his jacket over his face. He doesn’t want Dream to see him like this, so messy and far away from the well-adjusted person he’s cultivated himself into over the last few centuries.

Dream kneels down on the carpet and crawls under the desk beside him. It’s the last thing Hob could have expected, and it tips him into a fresh wave of tears. Dream seizes his hand gently, the one with the bloody knuckles. He cradles it like an injured bird and kisses the cracked and broken skin with the barest brush of lips. He doesn’t tell Hob not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, until Hob is hauling breaths into his lungs and his tears have run out, at least for a little while.

“Sorry.” Hob says thickly. His lips feel numb, in fact his entire body feels as though it doesn’t really belong to him anymore. His back should ache from crouching under the desk, but physical sensations feel very far away just then. The only thing he can really feel is Dream grasping onto his hand.

“Don’t apologise.” Dream says. He shuffles on his bum a couple of inches across the crusty old carpet and puts his hands on Hob’s shoulders. It’s a grounding touch — Dream’s hands always have such a weight and an intention to them. He never does anything by accident.

Hob sniffles. “Just had a really bad day.” He says. “Everything’s sort of overwhelming. Kind of just wish the whole world would go away for a minute, y’know?”

Dream nods. “I understand. There have been many days in which I have wished similarly.” He moves his hand from Hob’s shoulder to the side of his face, thumbing away a spot of wetness and resting his palm on his cheek. Hob hears his own breath shudder through his lungs.

“I really miss her.” He says, almost angrily. “I do.” He isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. Himself, probably. “Forgetting someone… doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. It makes you old. Human. That’s all. You are an extraordinary person, and anyone who has ever loved you would certainly be proud of you.” Dream says, somehow knowing exactly what Hob needs to hear in that particular moment.

Hob sniffs and wipes his face again on his sleeve. He really, really misses the days when everyone carried a handkerchief. He'd do anything for even a kleenex right now. Dream gives him an encouraging little nod.

"I was talking to one of my students today, I knew she'd been having a rough couple of weeks. She came in during my office hours and she told me that she found out last month that she's pregnant. Didn't know what to do or who to tell. Obviously I was a bit useless. Gave her a hug and told her to see a doctor, the usual stuff. I told her she should tell someone other than me. She said she was scared to tell her mum. She didn't want to disappoint anyone. I tried to remind her that no matter how bad we are at showing it, good parents always want their kids to be safe."

"You're right." Dream says softly. He hugs his bony knees up to his chest. "I know that you did the very best for your son."

"So did you. In your own way, in the way you thought best." Hob sniffles, nudging his leg up against Dream’s. "The whole conversation, I was thinking about Robyn. And then… I started thinking about my mother." A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill over and he has to haul up a lungful of breath.

“She was just a really… a really lovely person. Somehow she handled 7 kids, and all of them fucking died when they were babies, apart from me. And she worked every day of her life until the stupid fucking plague took her away.” The urge to punch something is there again, mitigated only by the fact that his hand hurts now, and he's pretty sure Dream would disapprove. He sighs and rubs at his still streaming eyes. "Like I said. I do miss her. She's a part of me, isn't she? It's not that I didn't expect her to die, it's just that I didn't expect to forget her."

"You have not forgotten her. Not her essence." Dream says. "She lives on in you. You remember the things that matter to you."

"But not her name." Hob whispers. "If I'm here, surely part of the point is to remember stuff?"

"The point is whatever you want it to be." Dream says. Coming from anyone else, such words would be meaningless and trite, but Hob really knows that Dream means it. He’d make a good therapist if he could only get past his crippling inability to express himself.

“Sometimes.” Hob says, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. “Sometimes, I think everyone just needs their Ma, even if it’s just for a moment. And there’s few things more painful than knowing that she’s gone.”

“You’re right.” Dream pulls at Hob’s arms, pulls him forward until he’s sprawled on top of Dream in a mess of awkward limbs. “Listen. I remember her name, Hob. And I’ll keep on remembering it for you, long into the future. As long as there are dreams and nightmares and stories.”

Hob hugs him tight, grabbing at the fabric of the familiar and well-loved coat. “Keep her safe for me.” He says, pressing his forehead to Dream’s.

#dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman #the sandman netflix #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #long post

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aquarium-ina-bag · 1 year

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Where Danger Finds Me, it Follows with Tides - 6

Never stay the whole night ch6

Words: 2k

Parings: Wednesday x Reader

Warnings: blood, bullets, small violence.

A/N: A longer one since I need to take a break so I can be productive rq, but give me ideas of what u wanna see, like how Ty will be revealed, or lil hc's, anyways enjoy.

This sheep is still here, mocking Wednesday with its existence. From the moment she woke up, it was in her face, chewing at the comforter. She wondered if you’d notice it was gone; surely if she buried it well, you wouldn’t know. Right, the task at hand is to figure out why you’re in this school in the first place, plus get rid of this Hyde.

You were at the table when she came out for the morning; you leaned against it, refusing to sit down. Your groggy eyes glued on Enid made Wednesday a little angry; all your attention was stuck on the blonde, while everyone else’s eyes at the table were stuck on you, Bianca almost was able to mirror Wednesday’s death stare. What were you talking about that was so important to the point you didn’t even look at Wednesday?

She finally started to approach the group, avoiding your eyes almost as a punishment for avoiding hers.

Yoko laughed after finishing her sip of donated blood, saying, "Speak of the devil."

Enid turned around with enough energy that it almost looked as if she had broken her neck in the process. She slammed her hands on the table, "Wednesday, please, can we keep Skate?" Those damn puppy eyes, "Y/n said it was up to you; I promise he won’t eat your stuff; I’ll keep him clean; he won’t even go on your side."

"No." Wednesday deadpanned.

Ajax was trying to understand the situation. "Who the hell is Skate? And why does he eat things?"

"It’s my new sheep!" Enid started to pull up a picture of her and the sheep; he was full of hair clips and nail paint.

"You have a sheep?! Weems is so gonna kill you if she finds out." Kent budded in, trying to get a closer look at the picture.

"That’s why we aren’t keeping it, I don’t care what Enid or Y/n says we are putting it back." Wednesday scolded.

"If you don’t want him so badly, get up so we can show Mr. Kovacs." You whispered. Wednesday shuddered; your breath tickled the shell of her ear when you spoke. When she turned around to possibly beat the brains back into you, you weren’t there, you were still leaning against the table, looking at everyone else, before taking a small glance at her.

She had to be going crazy because nobody made a comment about how close you were to her, but it had to be real because you gestured for her to get up. Like she was in some trance, she did. Everyone seemed to ignore the fact that you two were leaving until both of you were out of sight.

"What was that?" Wednesday, still appalled. She scanned you for any differences in body language.

"It’s called walking; I learned it when I was a baby." You joked and continued to walk to her dorm.

"Not that, how you said something behind my ear but you didn’t even move."

"I know your therapists labeled you as crazy, Wends, but jeez. I didn’t think It was that bad."

"You looked at my files?" She was more offended that you looked at her student files than her nickname.

"Spoiler alert: when I was still working, Weems told me you'd be under my watch if things went south. Keep you out of trouble, you know?" You paused and laughed, saying, "Well, things did go south, but she wanted to spare you, plus I was busy fixing your Xavier mess up, how you falsely accused him, and I was trying to keep you out of jail from behind the scenes."

Wednesday noticed how slowly the two of you were walking. "I don’t believe that."

"Well, it’s the truth, hun." You shrugged.

"Don’t call me that; Weems said you’re mandatorily stuck in this school. Why?"

"Because it’s a place for outcasts?" Duh."

"I understand that, but what makes you an outcast?" Wednesday was about avoiding the long game.

But you made her play anyway, "because I’m an emo loner." You laughed and quickened your pace to get to the room.

You opened the door to find Skate relaxed on Wednesday's bed, chewing on the pillowcases. You turned to Wednesday’s irked face and laughed. She mumbled something about killing it before dragging him off the bed, the pillow still in his mouth. She let out a muffled groan.

"Carry him to the class," Wednesday ordered.

You faked a yawn, "Don’t know, Ms. Addams, I kinda don’t feel like it, I did carry him yesterday." You stretched your torso, she watched you tuck your shirt back in, stuff your hands in your pockets, and sway, waiting for Wednesday to move the sheep.

"He’s at least 200 pounds, you can’t imagine me carrying that."

"I did it, so get to lifting or find some other way."

Wednesday turned around to pull out a drawer from the black desk, she white-knuckled a raveled-up rope in anger. The angry girl started to make a lead for Skate; he was getting jittery once she attempted to put it around him. Wednesday looked up to stare into your eyes. You nodded and helped her keep him still without hurting him. Though she used this opportunity to make you walk him to the class,

────────────

"You stole a whole damn sheep." Mr. Kovacs gaped, staring at you, Wednesday, then back to the sheep.

You slowly nodded, "Now give us our grade," in a demanding tone.

"Fine fine, just please put it back before I have to report you to Weems; its nails are painted. What the hell?"

You both nodded and turned to leave the class with Skate. Wednesday didn’t refuse this time when you took him back to her dorm.

"I’ll be back later tonight to drop him off back at the farm." You leaned against the doorway, watching the raven remove the lead from Skate, and ushered him outside on the balcony.

"Do it now, I want him gone."

"Aw, lighten up, you don’t mean that." That damn whispering again in her ear, she fanned the area around her ear, hoping to hit you.

"You just did it again, the whispering." Wednesday sounded agitated.

"I said loud and clear, ‘I need to do it at night so it’s darker.' Get your head and ears checked out."

"I’m not dissimulating; I know what I heard and felt; you were right behind me and whispered something."

You chuckled, "You take something today?"

"I refuse to participate in narcotics, but I won’t sanction your gaslighting."

"Still don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, see you tonight, Addams." You pushed off the doorframe and walked away. Of course, who other than Enid replaced your presence.

"Another date again?" She giggled

"It wasn’t a date." The raven bit, "Don’t you have a class to go to?"

"Don’t you? But I’m here to check on my little Skater. I brought him food." Enid walked toward the spider web window and went out of it. Feeding the animal outside. Wednesday rolled her eyes, getting ready to leave for her next class.

────────────

A knock at the door startled the girls in the room who were watching the scary movie. Wednesday’s cello playing wasn’t helping the eerie feeling either.

"Yoko, you get it!" Enid pushed the vampire out of the huddle of people, blankets, and pillows.

"I'm not getting it! You have claws; you get it." Another knock, and the girls scream again.

"Divina, come with me, so you can siren song them, and then I’ll claw their eyes out." Enid proposed.

"Claw my eyes out, we’re going to have a problem, Sinclair." Your voice wasn’t recognizable to them.

Enid got up in fear "IT KNOWS MY NAME!" Wednesday playing sharpened, they all ran outside on the balcony with Skate and Thing. Wednesday paused and looked at the group as they scrambled to explain all at the same time.

"PERSON AT DOOR!" "THEY KNOW MY NAME! "THEY’RE GOING TO KILL US!" "HELP WEDNESDAY, PLEASE!" "Bah," she pieced what she could, excluding the bah. To get out of this hellscape, she went to the door and opened it. You looked down to stare at her.

"Hi." Flashing those gorgeous teeth of yours, she thought.

"Good evening."

"What are they watching?" You craned your neck to view the Macbook on the ground.

"Scream franchise."

You giggled, "Ironic, but where’s my sheep?" Wednesday moved to guide you outside. The other posse calmed down.

"Oh, it’s you." Divina spoke. Removing herself from the group, she went back inside.

"Hi Y/n, want to join us for the movie?" Enid invited.

"No, but I must take Rollerblade here." You picked him up and headed for the window door, but were stopped by Yoko and Enid, who protested.

"DON'T TAKE HIM AWAY PLEASE!" "IT'SDON'T NOT HIS TIME!" "MY BABY!"

Enid was so eager to get her sheep back that she accidentally dug her claws into your side. You hissed and pulled yourself out, and blood oozed on your white T-shirt.

Enid immediately apologized and let you go. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sor-" moving her hand back and forth, contemplating if she should touch you again.

"-It’s fine, it’s nothing. "I just wasn’t prepared." You laughed.

Wednesday watched you in vexation and reached her hand out to help, but you shook your head.

"I’m good, I promise." You smiled again. How could you be okay? Enid’s nails are long, that has to be deep.

They watched you head back into the room, and they followed. Enid sat back down, drowning in guilt. Wednesday and you left the dorm and shut the door.

"Let me at least clean it." Her eyes were softened, way more than she would be with Enid.

"Here, I’ll go head to my room to fix it before I drop him off." A tight-lipped smile to calm down the girl in front of you.

She sighed out her nose before nodding. You walked in the wrong direction, away from your room. Wednesday almost said something, but let you go. When you were out of sight, she cursed herself for not forcing you to get help.

You were on your way behind the school, deeper in the woods, making sure nobody could see. The bleeding stopped; the blood was even gone—not even a drop on the white tee. But more should be shed now.

Your back started to welt, almost as if something was trying to escape, and it did. Clawing its way out from your back, cracking, crushing, and popping, ripping the back of said tee and your flesh, large bones equal to bird wings clawed out, the blood coated against them forming feathers, blood red feathers fading to something darker at the base. It was silky, cognate to blood when you stretched out in the moonlight. There was not a wince, whine, or cry from you when these extra appendages scratched out of you. You just sighed and lifted yourself and the sheep off the ground, heading back for his home.

As you dropped him down, a bang echoed, and all you felt was something hot stuffed inside your wing. You groaned and flew with the speed of the fastest hawk back to your balcony. The landing was a little wobbly, but you still made it. The feathers dropped elegantly on the cold concrete, where they puddled into blood. The flesh hugging the bird bones was midnight, coextensive to bat wings; they poured down as syrupy blood, and the bullet fell into the puddles. Those long, blood coated bones crawled back into your back with the same cracking, wet crushing, and popping. The pool of blood crawled up your article of clothing and back into the large open wounds on your back; it shut and healed like nothing ever happened tonight, and your tattoo is still perfectly scarred on you—not a scar, nothing.

"I’m not on my game today, am I?" You laughed before going inside, to do your nightly routine.

#jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x y/n #Where Danger Finds me it Follows with Tides #WDFMIFWT

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hushed-chorus · 9 months

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Hi everyone, and thank you @wellbelesbian, @youarenevertooold and @ileadacharmedlife for the tags! I’m so used to being too bright and early and British to be tagged before I post, so it was a nice treat!

Work on For All Intents and Purposes and by shipwreck COTTA fic (which may have a title? I’m not sure) is happening, piece by piece. Had a quiet few days the end of last week but managed to get more works down on Monday and this morning. Here’s a bit from each project.

First, some FAIAP chaos.

“Hell yeah!” Simon pumps a fist as the song changes. “Wait a moment. Is this Uptown Funk again?” “Yeah!” Just my luck. In Santa Monica, Simon put this song on every time we were getting ready to go out. And before we even left England. He says it's ‘road trip music’. “The fuck is wrong with Spotify?” I ask. “This was on five minutes ago!” “More like fifteen. The shuffle reset when you skipped to that Sausalito song. By that emo guy.” “Conor Oberst is not emo.” “He’s 100% pure, full fat, all-natural ingredients emo. Even in his happy songs he sounds like he’s about to cry.” I nudge him, and he pushes me back, laughing, then sits up to tap along on the dashboard. I don’t mind this song, really. It's an improvement on A Horse With No Name. And I like seeing Simon like this. Smile on his lips, wind tossing his hair and plucking at his shirt. I’m glad we get to do this again. Just drive America. I’m glad we can paint over those old bad memories with good ones. Still, there's only so many times I can tolerate 'Uptown Funking me up’. What if I don't want to be Funked up? Has Uptown considered that possibility?

And my shipwreck COTTA. For some context, Simon is unwell in this snippet.

I laugh. “You are a vampire.” He turns back to the fire, his shoulders drawing into a hunch. “Baz.” I’m snickering. “Oh fuck.” He begins rising. Maybe he needs a piss. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say. He freezes “I’m glad I’m not alone.” Suddenly I’m crying, voice stuttering. Baz sits back down. I gaze at his hair, his shoulders, his toes, until I fall back to sleep.

Hello tags under the cut, and if you want to join in but haven't been tagged, please do!

@artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @yeonjunenby @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @whogaveyoupermission @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @palimpsessed @valeffelees @j-nipper-95 @rimeswithpurple @imagineacoolusername @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @alexalexinii @bookish-bogwitch

#wip wednesday #For all intents and purposes #COTTA2023 #FAIAP

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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n3cr0p0l1s · 1 year

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i have been right all along

i've got a secret, you won't believe it

well i got this feeling, that i was put here for you

dabi x reader

summary: another night you can’t sleep. you get out of bed, frustrated, deciding to at least be a productive insomniac, but destiny has other plans.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: gn reader, dabi threatens reader once, mentions of blood/injury, drug use (weed), typical dabi/reader scenario, very heavy theme of destiny/fate, soulmates implied (kinda) but this is NOT a soulmate au, title is i have been right all along by armor for sleep (author is here to push the emo touya agenda), see end of work for a very ramble-y author’s note

you glare at the ceiling. you’ve tried all the typical techniques, yet sleep evades you for another night. no matter the number of sheep you count (hundreds, thousands) sleep does not greet you. the popcorn of your ceiling seems to glare back. frustrated, you rise from bed and slip on your sweater, figuring you may as well be productive at—you tap your phone screen—1:56am. ugh.

it’s as you shuffle down the hallway that you hear it—a quiet, repetitive thud.

the building you live in is old, and you’re more than familiar with its strange creaks and groans, but this is not the thump or hum of an old building. you still instantly—the sound is too close to be from somewhere deep within the building. you refuse to let that thought, the chill it shoots up your spine, to take hold of you. taking a deep breathe to steel your nerves, you move to the end of the hallway.

from what you can make out in the darkness everything is as you left it only a few hours ago—fuzzy blanket still crumpled in a pile on the couch, dirty coffee mug still on the table. light from the nearly full moon pours in through the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony—it’s small, quaint, but it and the view were the reason you chose this apartment—the peacefulness of moonlight something you would bask in if what was on your balcony didn’t force a sharp gasp past your lips.

the glass of the door, usually covered in nothing more than dust, is smudged and smeared with blood. a trail crimson leading down to the heap of what, you assume, to be a man, with his head leaned back against the glass. had he been hitting his head against the glass? the bloodied stranger does not give you the opportunity to continue that train of thought—his head turns, fixing a piercing blue eye you, his glare sharp. you freeze, mouth agape—if it hailed razor blades, you think, this is what it’d feel like.

your gasp must have been louder than you thought. the man turns his head forward again, staring through the gaps in the balcony’s banister. the man’s voice is low, threatening, as he speaks, “run or scream and i'll torch the entire building.” his hand raises, blue flame coming to life in his palm to underscore his threat.

you don’t actively keep up with current events for the sake of your mental wellbeing. you catch enough of the news to not be ignorant of the world around you, but that flame—you’ve glanced it on the news more than once.

a man, beaten and bloodied, on your balcony at near two in the morning could only ever be trouble, but this man—dabi, you remember the newscaster calling him, the cremation villain—is more than trouble. he’s dangerous, deadly. your anxiety spikes. you can’t leave him there …right? you can’t run or call for help, his threat and reputation make that clear, and trying to defend yourself would only cause you to embarrass yourself in the last moments before he kills you. but—you think—even if he hadn’t threatened you, you wouldn’t want to alert anyone to his presence anyway, to be the catalyst that gets him in tartarus.

you’ve heard enough about the league of villains to learn their purpose, their mission, and can’t say you disagree with them. their choice of actions certainly cross more lines than you can count, but the hypocrisy and deceit inherent to the current hero industry is something you are intimately familiar with—it makes your blood boil.

silence has settled over your home once again, the lack of sound becoming a roaring buzz in your ears. the man—dabi, you remind yourself again—still stares ahead, paying you no mind. with a quiet determination, and the little courage you can muster, you insert yourself into the course of his night. “are you… do you…” dabi’s head turns lazily to you, turned enough this time that both his eye are on you—they rove up and down your figure, taking you in.

dabi can sense your fear, it rolls off you in droves, your anxious heartbeat palpable (or—is that his?). he can’t gauge the extent of his blood loss, hasn’t been able to with how woozy it’s made him. the darkness beginning to creep in at the edges of his vision is enough to tell him it’s far from good.

it’s obvious you’re putting significant effort into hiding your fear, all but shaking in your pajamas and house slippers, dabi wants to laugh, mock you for trying to hard, but a steadfastness in your eyes stops him. his gaze lingers there—something within him tumbling into place the longer he stays fixed on you—he hopes you’re too frightened to notice. s’just the blood loss, he thinks, doesn’t matter.

you clear your throat to break dabi out of the trance he’d slipped into. the eye contact is stifling, too much for your nerves to handle right now and it feels like you can’t fucking breathe. “if you–i can… help you, if you want…”, the air still in your lungs rushes out as your stint of bravery wanes. for a moment you think the skin around his eyes crinkles in amusement at your terror, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared—a trick of the moonlight.

“ya sure that’s a good idea, sweetheart?” he sneers, “i get the feeling you know who i am.” his head thuds against the glass again as a shock of pain seems to run through him. your body jerks towards the door to help him, moving before your brain catches up, only just stopping within arm’s reach of the door. “no-yes, kind of? but i really would rather you not bleed out on my balcony?” your tone raises up in question, unsure. dabi seems to find the uncertainty at your own words amusing—he barks a laugh before taking a sharp inhale and clutching both arms around his torso, curling in on himself in pain. you move again, hand making contact with the door handle. slowly you unlock the door, waiting to see if dabi registers the click of the lock.

he’d give you another warning before he made good on his threat, right? your intuition is telling you he won’t hurt you—there’s zero fucking logic to it, this gut feeling, but it has hold of you and it won’t let you go.

the sound of the door sliding open pulls dabi’s attention back to you. with the glass no longer separating you, you can hear how ragged his breathing is, see the pallor to his unburned skin—not good. he looks seconds from keeling over and you really don’t want him, or anyone, dropping dead on your balcony. under even these circumstances you’re dumbstruck by his features—he’s gorgeous.

you crouch down and offer out a hand to help him up. if dabi notices how badly that hand shakes, he does not mention it.

---

getting dabi inside is nothing short of a feat—for someone so lithe he’s heavy (you’re not weak per se—at least, that’s what you’ve always said—however lifting a grown man, nearly dead weight as he leans on you, has you reconsidering your self-assessment). he drops unceremoniously into the dingy, chartreuse eye-sore of an armchair you keep banished to the corner of the living room. (you can already see his blood seeping into it, muddying the old fabric. it’s going to be ruined, already is, and you’re glad, you fucking hate its mocking shade of yellow-green.) under the light you see the extent of his injuries. it that gut feeling showing up again, causing something to twist in your chest that you refuse to name. (you know it—the feeling of not being able to protect friends, loved ones—rage.)

dabi can sense your unease, has sensed it this whole time, and feels the need to break the tension—whether for you or himself, he refuses to think any deeper on it. his head rests on the back of the chair, face towards the ceiling. “comfy chair”, only a mumble, still his voice makes you jump. you stop for only a moment in your assessment of his wounds, seem to relax some. you huff a small laugh, “i fucking hate the thing.”

---

dabi is compliant in your helping him. you remove his coat and shirt, his torso having the worst injuries, with only a slight shake to your hands. you’re confused by the large gashes that trail into fresh burns—a moment later you realize he must have cauterized them to slow the bleeding (another something you will not name sinks in your gut—sorrow). periodically you ask if what you’re doing hurts. he only huffs, “nah, sweetheart. ‘s fine.” you glance up and see the his lips pulled up in an almost smile (the crinkle around his eyes is back—it wasn’t a trick of the moonlight).

having dealt with the worst of dabi’s injuries you sit back to asses your work—definitely not the best, you think, but his breathing is no longer ragged and a bit of color has returned to him. his head rests on the back of the chair again, eyes closed. you take the opportunity to really look at him—the contrast of healthy and burned skin mesmerizes you. (you don’t understand the suddenly craving to touch that comes over you—to graze your fingertips along his staples, to acquaint yourself with the patchwork of his body).

dabi peeks his eyes open, watching as your gaze travels down the expanse of his exposed skin. so lost to your thoughts you do not see him move until he’s invaded your personal space. you startle, sucking in a harsh breath and jerking away from him. “didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart”, his voice is quiet, sheepish. then, with a gentleness you’d think a villain incapable of, his hand grips your forearm and strokes his thumb back and forth along the skin—an apology you realize. your brain sluggish as the earlier adrenaline wears off, you look at his hand, blinking dumbly as the last few seconds process. you mutter a “’s okay” and place an unsure hand on top of his. (he’s so warm—how did you not notice earlier?)

dabi pulls his hand away and looks away, missing the way your face falls at the loss of his touch. you clear your throat to grab his attention, “you can, uh, shower if you want.” you refuse to make eye contact before continuing, “your clothes too, i can wash them, if you’re okay with it.” there’s no response, you look up expecting him to be mean, to laugh at you—a silly girl being fooled into safety by a villain, but dabi’s expression is confused rather than smug, “ya sure?” you nod and there is a long pauses as he stares at you, his expression unsure (dabi should spit in your face—burn down your building like he’d threatened hours ago, show you how foolish it is to offer hospitality, kindness, to a man like him. a criminal, a murderer. but dabi is a selfish man above all else, so instead he shoves down down down the feelings you cause to flare within him).

you wait for him to continue, worried you’ve crossed a line. then—the smugness you’d expected before is there, “was expectin’ ya to tell me to get the fuck out”, he laughs, dry and harsh. “surprised you haven’t.” he gestures vaguely to the room, “’specially after bleeding all over the place.” your response matches his in tone, digging your usual personality out from underneath the night’s layers of fear and anxiety, “not the worst it’s seen actually, ‘m kind of a klutz”, you shrug and laugh, the sound twinkling in dabi’s ears (he shoves it down down down). “you ruined that god-awful chair so, thanks, for bleeding all over the place.” you feel woozy when you stand, your body’s weariness making itself known, “um, g-gimme a sec to grab you a towel and stuff… first door on the left is the bathroom”, you point towards the hallway and excuse yourself to grab a towel and clothes for him—an old pair of your sweatpants, a t-shirt you stole from an ex.

---

while dabi showers you pick up the bloody heap of his clothes and throw them in the wash. the remnants of your first aid kit lay scattered around the living room—you’ll pick up the disarray tomorrow, you’re too tired to care right now. moving to the kitchen, you grab the window cleaner from under the sink and glance the time on your stove—3:26am. ugh. you head to the sliding door wanting to at least attempt removing as much blood from the glass as you can. in the dark you’re sure you miss some, but it’s clean enough that a random passerby won’t call to report a blood spattered balcony. you roll your eyes at the thought.

the shower is still running when you walk back inside and beeline to the bookshelf to grab the old cigar box off the bottom shelf. it’s been a fucking long night (christ—still is a long night), you think you deserve a little substance abuse, as a treat. you slip back onto the balcony, placing the box down onto the small patio table and sit in its matching chair. you pull your supplies out of the box and pack a bowl.

it’s been a while and the first hit burns but—god—it’s exactly what you need right now. you close your eyes and listen to the ambient sounds of the at night city. the past few hours replay over and over in your head, unable to move make sense of the gut feeling that has now dug its claws into you—you don’t know how much time passes like that.

the scrape of the door sliding open dredges you from the depths of your thoughts. lazily you look over and see dabi leaning against the wall opposite you, his arms crossed over his bare chest—he’s only wearing your sweatpants. he’s beautiful—ethereal in the moonlight.

you hold out the bowl and lighter to him, his eyes unfocused and staring off into the night, you hum to grab his attention. dabi quirks an eyebrow at you, not moving otherwise. you give a small shrug of your shoulders and he deems that enough of an answer to his unspoken question. he takes the bowl only, not the lighter, from you. and raises it to his lips. he takes a hit by bringing a small flame to life on his fingertip—its the most radiant shade blue you’ve ever seen, more brilliant than the ocean glittering in the sun. you wonder if it’s possible to drown in flames, if they’re as blue as dabi’s.

your mind feels far away from your body and you don’t realize you’re staring until dabi breaks the silence for the second time tonight. you can hear, almost feel, his smirk, “ya good over there, sweetheart?” your eyes flutter as you come back to yourself, “yeah. sorry, ‘m tired.” you look down, bashful at being caught staring. unsure what to say you start fidgeting with your fingers.

dabi hesitates—he wants to apologize for ending up on your balcony out of all the others, for ruining you night and chair (even if you said you fucking hated it). the words are too heavy on the tip of his tongue so instead he sighs and looks out into the night once more, “wasn’t plannin’ to bleed out on your balcony” he pauses and turns to face you again. “but thanks for”, he gestures vaguely to the wounds on his torso “this, ‘s not gonna happen again. but i won’t bleed all over your place if it does, pick some asshole’s balcony to fuck up, promise.”

he’s going to leave, you realize, the villain that bled all over your home is going to walk out of your life just as suddenly as he appeared. you don’t want him to leave—it’s ridiculous, you know—but you choose to trust that damned gut feeling. “your clothes are mid-wash, gotta wait for that unless you plan on wearing my sweatpants to wherever you’re going” you fix him with a pointed glare, “and those are my favorite, i'm not letting them outta my sight.” you force a laugh, hoping it hides the dejection in your voice. dabi rolls his eye at you, the slightest smile gracing his features, “whatever you say, sweetheart.”

(you want to ask how he ended up there on your balcony, with you—why you. something about the night weighs heavy in your chest, the yet unknowable significance and consequences of tonight. whatever cosmic fucking bullshit the universe decided to make manifest on your balcony, you can’t help but feel a little rueful. there’s no logic to these thoughts, you know that, but down to the marrow of your bones you feel it. and you know, cosmic bullshit or awful happenstance, you are fucked.)

note: hello! thank you for taking the time to read, it’s very appreciated ♡ this started as a short thing i couldn’t get out of my head and then turned into a very self-indulgent beast LMAO. after not writing for so long it’s been really enjoyable getting back into it (all it took was a little bit of dabi induced brainrot). i’ve actually become really attached to this, and have bits and pieces i (still) can’t stop thinking about. so there’s a small chance i write more to this? but i’m just going to let it all swirl around in my brain for now. again, thank you so so much for reading!!

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x you #iadfakdjsnadfkj very nervous to post this #fic: mine

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danielfuckingricciardo · 1 year

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All I Want For Christmas Is You - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Pairing - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (University AU)

Word Count - probably around 3k ish?

Content Warnings - swearing, smutty references, but just fluff

Synopsis - You and Daniel had been dancing around one another all year, and so at the Christmas party hosted by your lecturers, he finally decides to make a move via your favourite obscure Christmas song.

Author’s Note - I don’t write a lot of AU fics, except for the massive one that will be coming your way in the new year!! Keep your eyes peeled for that!! But this goes out to all my fellow former emo kids. Congrats, you made it, though like me you probably still have some MCR in your Spotify playlists. Anyways, enjoy this one, and I’m sorry it wasn’t actually posted on the day I said I would post it! I am battling against the seasonal plague (I have a sore throat) and so I got an early night last night instead of staying awake to write till 2am lol 😂

Inspired by the My Chemical Romance cover of Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas is You

You had only begrudgingly agreed to attend the Christmas party your lecturers had arranged to celebrate the festive season. All of your favourite outfits were stashed away in your laundry bag ready to take home, allowing you to take advantage of your parents’ washing and drying facilities. After all, the laundry room was always full, and it never really left your clothes smelling right, and you had to pay £7.50 for the privilege.

But your friend Yasmine had dragged you out shopping as she searched for an outfit for the party, and so when you spotted that one outfit in the window, you thought ‘fuck it’ and drained your bank account to almost empty. It wouldn’t be until January when your next student loan dropped, but you wouldn’t exactly be spending much while stuck back at home.

Besides, the party would be your last chance to see Daniel before you all left, travelling across the country, and in his case, across the world to spend Christmas with your families.

It was your second year of university, and the small group of students who hadn’t dropped out during first year were all eager to celebrate and say goodbye, especially to your lecturers who were all pretty chill and had become like friends themselves throughout the past semester.

The group chat had been filled with people sharing their eager anticipation for tonight, letting you know who would be bringing what drinks, who would be hosting pre’s and afters at their flat, and all manner of other things.

George had been the one to organise most things, after all, he was the most eager to say goodbye, having to return home to his stuffy home in the country where the only company would be cows and the odd sheep for the Christmas season. He wanted the first half of the year to go out with a bang, and so, you found yourself pressing the buzzer to the gate to be allowed into the boys’ flat to get a little drunk, before going out to get even more drunk, and then returning again to get progressively drunker and to inevitably end up passing out on the sofa again.

“Who goes there?” The voice on the intercom says, and you roll your eyes.

“George, for fucks sake, do we have to answer three riddles before you’ll let us in? It’s fucking freezing out here.” Yasmine says, and you chuckle, pulling your jacket tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold winter air.

“Not this time, I’ve had too many to think of a riddle, never mind three. I’ll buzz you in, Daniel’ll be down to let you in.” George says, and the gate beeps, slowly swinging open.

You walk over to block B, your heels clicking on the ground as you walk past a group of students sharing a spliff.

“Alright?” Daniel says, his head peeking around the door.

“I’m fucking freezing and these shoes are hurting already.” Yasmine says, pushing past Daniel into the warm corridor of their building.

“I’d lend you mine, but I think they’d be too big for you. But hey, you know what they say about men with big feet?” Daniel says, a cocky smile on his lips as you enter the building.

“Big socks?” You respond quickly, as he guides you down the corridor towards their flat.

“You betcha.” He says, and he opens the door, which was already leaking sounds of voices and some pop song you didn’t recognise.

The boys all cheer as you enter the kitchen, setting down the bottle of vodka you had been carrying onto the counter.

“Ah, you legend!” George exclaims, “you want a drink?”

“Sure!” You respond, and George pours a large measure of cheap vodka into a plastic cup, topping it off with some coke.

“I’m taking my shoes off, they hurt like a bitch, no one look at my feet!” Yasmine yells, steadying herself on your shoulder as she pops off both shoes.

“Be careful, Lando has a foot fetish.” Daniel says, and the boys erupt into laughter.

“I do not! Besides, I’ve seen your feet enough to put me off them even if I did.” Lando says, poking Daniel in the chest.

“So you admit, you did have a foot fetish.” Daniel says, his head tilted slightly as Lando turns a dark shade of red.

“No matter what I say, I’m not gonna look good after this, am I?” Lando says, turning to you with a chuckle.

“No, he’s backed you into a corner there, Lan.” You say, rolling your eyes at Daniel as you pat Lando on the shoulder to put him at ease.

You throw yourself down on the sofa next to Charles, whose head was buried in some textbook you vaguely recognise.

“The grind never stops, eh Charles?” You ask him, and he looks over at you.

“It’s interesting! I was just getting to the end of this chapter before I joined in with whatever those idiots are doing.” Charles says, his eyes returning to the page and scanning quickly downwards.

“I’ll go and pour you a drink, you’re going to need it if the music playing in here gets any worse.” You say, standing up and wandering over to the counter.

The rest of the guys were already several drinks in, and George was trying to convince Alex to try the local IPA he was drinking by describing the taste in excessive detail. Alex was smiling and nodding along, but clearly checked out of the conversation. George had simply had too many drinks already to notice.

The boys flat consisted of George, Daniel, Lando, Alex, Charles and Max. The six of them had decided to live together following the first year after all hating their original housemates. They had asked you and Yasmine to join too, but you decided against it, instead opting for a small two bedroom flat a few streets away, ‘the boring flat’ the boys had dubbed it. You were sure they would have driven you crazy, just spending time with them during lectures was enough, and you didn’t fancy having to put up with their antics 24/7.

You had however ended up sleeping on their sofa more than once as the club you often frequented was right next door, and the boys were always far too drunk to walk you home. But you found that Daniel was always sober enough to pass you a blanket each and every time. The blanket that smelled just like him, and your drunk self would often wrap up within it and pretend he was right beside you.

It was so embarrassing, but you had a big crush on Daniel. You had from the first day you met him, when he showed up in his ripped black skinny jeans and Bring Me The Horizon t-shirt, with chipped black polish on his habitually-chewed fingernails. He liked all the same bands as you, he played guitar, and he had a wicked sense of humour. To you, he ticked all the boxes, he was perfect. You just wished that he felt the same way about you.

Daniel wasn’t one to shy away from flirtation, and received a lot of attention from the other people on your course, and he always managed to pull someone whenever you went out. You minded, of course you did, but what could you say? You’d only make a fool of yourself. So you would just glance at him every so often, his tongue lodged down some other person’s throat in the club, and wish he’d see you that way. You wished he wanted to kiss you like that too.

What you didn’t see, was that whenever you turned away, he would look at you too. Knowing that whoever he may or may not go home with that night wouldn’t be you. But you weren’t interested in him, right? You were just a friend, a friend with their life together who was so much better than he was in every respect. You’d never waste your time with someone like him.

“Lando’s playlists are shit, aren’t they?” Daniel says as he slides in next to you at the counter.

“You know I prefer something a little heavier, but you know how it was when we dragged everyone to emo night… They did nothing but complain and then went for a kebab at 2am.” You say as you empty the remainder of the cheap vodka into Charles’ cup.

“True, I started playing Slipknot earlier and they threatened to go on cleaning strike unless I turned it off. And no song is worth being forced to clean Max’s jizz off the shower screen without moral support.” Daniel says, and you burst into laughter.

“And you wonder why I didn’t want to live with you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes as you top up Charles’ cup with sprite.

“Did someone say my name?” Max says as he enters the kitchen, a vodka red bull in hand.

“No, no, must have been the song.” Daniel says, firing a quick wink in your direction before taking a sip of his own drink.

“Yo, Charles, time to get drinking, you’re lagging behind!” You say, leaning over the back of the sofa to pass Charles the cup.

Charles sets his book down beside him and takes a sip, his mouth twisting as the drink which was mostly vodka hits his palette.

“Did you actually put any mixer in there? Fuck.” Charles says, his face still slightly twisted.

“It’s the (y/n) special, 3 parts vodka to one part sprite. You need to catch up with the rest of us.” You say, and Daniel laughs beside you.

“We are going to a Christmas party with our lecturers in ten minutes, you know? I don’t think we want to be pissed before we get there, might not be the best impression, eh?” Charles says.

“I think it might be too late for that.” Daniel says, gesturing over and Alex and George who were already considerably drunk.

“Well, we’d better get going anyway. Yasmine, get your shoes back on. Alex, Lando, scrape up what’s left of George from the sofa. Charles, down that drink. Max and Daniel, let’s go!” You say, grabbing your bag from the counter and holding the kitchen door open.

“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel says, saluting you mockingly as he squeezes by, his hand brushing yours for a split second as he does.

You managed to herd the boys into the university building and to the large room your lecturers had booked to host the Christmas party.

You were all offered a glass of Prosecco on arrival, which you took graciously and nursed as you talked to your lecturers about the previous semester.

“Next semester we’ll be doing the pairs presentation. We wanted to make it interesting, so we’re assigning the pairings.” Sebastian, the leader of the course says, and you nod your head.

“Any hints on who I’m partnered with? I’m not all that keen on surprises.” You say, tilting your head inquisitively.

“I’m not allowed to say names at this point, but if you list off some names I may nod if you say the correct one.” He says, and you rack your brain to try and guess who you might be paired with.

“Yasmine?” You say, and Sebastian remains still.

“Charles?” He doesn’t move.

“Max?” Sebastian takes a sip from his glass of red wine.

“Alex?” Yet again, no movement.

“Daniel?” You finally say, and Sebastian tilts his head up and down ever so slightly.

“Really? Why him?” You say, and Sebastian places his finger to his lips, shaking his head at you slightly.

“I thought you’d be stoked to be paired with someone of my level of genius.” Daniel says, appearing from behind you with two glasses in his hands.

“Eavesdropping, are we?” You say, waggling your finger at Daniel as you would a naughty child.

“Nope. I just have keen ears.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll leave you two be. You’ll have a lot of work to be doing together after Christmas.” Sebastian says, before walking away to talk to some of the other students.

“Okay, so, you, me, a weed brownie, a PowerPoint presentation, and a perfectly curated playlist made by yours truly. Doesn’t that sound like the all-night library session from heaven?” Daniel says, and you roll your eyes at him.

“You see, this is why I’d rather be paired with Yasmine or Charles. They’d take the assignment seriously!” You say, downing the rest of the sparkling wine in your glass.

“Hey, doing things the Daniel way hasn’t failed me yet.” He says, gesturing openly with his hands.

“Yet being the operative word.” You fire back.

“Oh, you know you love me really, you big nerd.” He says, and how desperately you want to exclaim ‘yes! Yes I do love you! I want to kiss you and do lots of kinky sex things with you!’ But instead you roll your eyes again.

“Here, I have a spare, you want?” Daniel says, gesturing to you with the full glass of Prosecco in his left hand.

“Sure. God knows next semester I’m gonna need it.” You say as you take the glass and swallow half of the alcoholic beverage.

“Look, DJ Lando has taken control of the playlists here too. I think he’s actually playing his own stuff now.” Daniel says, pointing to where Lando and George are stood beside the speaker in the corner of the room.

“If he keeps up with this DJ shit then Yasmine might actually jump his bones later.” You say in Daniel’s ear and he looks at you with a shocked expression.

“Lando? Really?” He says rather too loudly, and you shush him.

“She loves a DJ. Now, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but apparently she had a lot of fun with a DJ when she was out in Thailand on her gap year. He still replies to every one of her Instagram stories.” You say, and Daniel laughs.

“Really? I didn’t have her down as the gap-year-romance type.”

“Well, she wasn’t, she just loves a guy with a big deck.” You say, lifting your glass to cover your laughter at your own stupid joke.

“What about you? I’m sure Charles would be down if you just asked him, y’know?” Daniel says, and you look at him, perplexed.

“Me and Charles? Please! What the fuck gave you that idea?” You say, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t know, I suppose the way you always gravitate towards him whenever you visit.” Daniel says, suddenly seeming rather awkward.

“Usually it’s to ask him about what I missed when I snooze my alarm too many times before a 9am lecture.” You laugh, “no, but Charles is nice, he’s just not my type.”

“Oh really? So what is your type?” Daniel asks, and you tilt your head to appear deep in thought.

“Hmm.. I like a guy with a good sense of humour. Aesthetically, I like the tall, dark and handsome types, y’know? Also goth guys, goth guys are really hot. And they’re extra hot if they play guitar.” You say, and Daniel raises his eyebrow.

You feel your cheeks begin to heat up as Daniel leans in to say something in your ear, but he’s interrupted as Lando begins to play a Christmas song, and Alex and George steal him away to dance.

You take a seat on the edge of a table and watch on as everyone dances on the makeshift dance floor, swaying and singing along to the lyrics of that Ariana Grande Christmas song you couldn’t remember the title of.

Daniel pushes his way through the crowd as the song comes to the end and stands in front of you, blocking your view to the rest of the room.

“I put in a request with DJ Lando, this one’s for you. Dance with me?” Daniel says, offering you his hand for you to take.

“You know I don’t really do Christmas songs.” You say, shaking your head at him.

“Oh, I know you like this one.” He says, and you hear that familiar voice begin to play over the speaker system, and gasp. He remembered? But how would he remember such a trivial thing as that from last year?

“Okay, I’ll dance with you.” You say, taking his hand and walking to the dance floor, where many of your friends were confused at the song that was playing. It was familiar, sure, but they hadn’t heard this version before.

You hear the drum beat kick in and immediately start to jump as the guitar plays. Daniel takes your hands in his and spins you around, and the confused people that surrounded you give in to the beat. Eventually, the two of you had formed a mosh pit on the dance floor, and even Lando was pumping his fist aggressively beside the speaker as he stared at his phone.

“How did you remember I liked this version?” You shout over the music at Daniel.

“You told me you liked it, last year, when I asked what song you were listening to.” Daniel says.

“Yeah, I remember, but how do you?” You say.

“I guess I wanted to. I remember everything about you, (y/n).” He says, and you feel yourself blushing as he takes a step closer to you.

“That’s really sweet Daniel.” You say.

“I can be sweet, sometimes, when I want to be, especially for someone I-“ Daniel stops talking as the song transitions into a slow 80s song. You recognise the melody as True by Spandau Ballet, a song more commonly played at a wedding disco than a college party.

Lando looks over at Daniel, giving him a thumbs up with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh I’m going to kill him.” Daniel says, shaking his head.

“Go on, finish your sentence.” You say, looking up at Daniel as you sway your body to the music.

“I can be sweet, for someone I love.” Daniel says, and without thinking, you pull him in closer, crashing your lips to his.

“And that, ladies and gentleman, is why I am the greatest DJ who ever lived.” Lando says, and both you and Daniel stick out your middle fingers at him almost simultaneously.

By midnight, you were all kicked out of your university building, with plans to return to the boys’ flat to continue the party with a few more drinks and more of Lando’s DJing talents.

“What even was that version of the song? I’ve literally never heard it before.” Alex says.

“It’s a cover, from a while back now. All I Want For Christmas is You by My Chemical Romance. It’s more to my taste than the original.” You say as you walk briskly beside him, trying to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Oh, it’s very you. But how did Daniel know to play it?” Charles interjects.

“Because he’s embarrassingly in love with her, and remembered she liked it after she told him last year. Get with it, Charles.” George yells, his verbal filter completely gone as a result of his drunken state, and Daniel blushes.

“He’s not the only one embarrassingly in love, (y/n) has wanted to lick whipped cream off of his surprisingly toned body since day one.” A very drunk Yasmine chuckles as she wobbles into Lando on the pavement.

“It was a dream I had one night, don’t read too much into that.” You say, and Daniel looks at you with his eyebrow raised.

“We don’t have any cream, but you’re welcome to the caramel sauce and sprinkles in my cupboard.” Max says, and you jab him in the back.

“I feel like I’m being ganged up on here. Just wait till you guys hear about Yasmine’s thing she has about DJs.” You say, and it’s Yasmine’s turn to blush.

“(Y/n)!” She exclaims, running up to you in her heels to slap you on the shoulder playfully.

“Hey, you might be in there Lando, unless she only likes good DJs.” Alex says, and you chuckle as Lando shouts an ‘oi!’ from the back of your walking party.

You reach the gate of the boys’ building and stop as Daniel pulls out his keycard.

“Oh, we’re going to go to the club next door, do you wanna join? Or are you two going to be occupied with Max’s caramel sauce?” George asks, and you scoff.

“Do you wanna go out? I don’t feel much like clubbing right now, my ears are ringing after George’s rendition of Sweet Caroline.” Daniel asks.

“I’ll stay here with Daniel, you guys have fun though!” You shout as they begin to walk away, sending a herd of whoops, cheers and wolf whistles in your direction.

You shake your head at them as your enter the courtyard and Daniel opens the door to his flat for you to step into.

It was surprisingly quiet without the other guys in it, and the situation you found yourself in suddenly felt all too real.

“Would you like to join me in my room?” Daniel asks, and your eyes go wide, “I’m not trying to sleep with you, I’m not that sleazy, it’s just, the radiator in the lounge is broken so it’s warmer in my room.”

“Sounds good. I don’t think I’ve seen your room before, and I like being nosy.” You chuckle as you follow him to the door marked with a number 3.

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside, noticing the guitar resting against the desk, a half-dead succulent beside his laptop, and an arrangement of photos stuck on the wall.

“Did you take all these?” You ask, studying the photos one by one.

“Yeah, it’s a little hobby of mine. I’m not very good, but I like to capture important moments so I can look back on ‘em later.” He says, standing beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“It looks nice. Australia, I mean. I’d love to visit some day.” You say, turning to him.

“You could come and visit me in the summer, I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind making up the spare room, or you could share mine?” He says, letting out an awkward chuckle.

“You know, for someone who I regularly see making out with strangers in the club, you’re quite shy.”

“You’re not just a stranger in a club, (y/n).” Daniel says, reaching out to caress your cheek gently with his fingers.

“All this time I thought you’d never give me a second glance, and yet, here we are.” You say, stepping back to take a seat on the edge of Daniel’s bed.

“Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous, (y/n), you’re kind, you make me laugh, and you have a killer taste in music. And, as it turns out, excellent taste in guys too.” Daniel says, sitting down beside you.

“So you really do like me? You’re not just having a laugh?” You ask, and Daniel offers you a small smile.

“Why would I be joking? I really like you (y/n), and I’d like it if you stayed with me tonight.” Daniel says, and you place your hand gently on his thigh.

“I’d love to, Daniel.” You say, and he presses a small kiss on your temple.

“This is going to make that presentation much easier to organise next semester.” Daniel says, and you laugh.

The truth is, all you really wanted for Christmas was Daniel, and this year, your Christmas wish had been very much fulfilled.

#Daniel Ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo x you #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x You

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cherry-girl444 · 2 months

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🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆SONGS THAT REMIND ME OF THE PASTAS🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Music i think the pastas listen to or what reminds me of them<3

-`♡´-ENJOY!-`♡´-

╔══════════════════╗

JEFF THE KILLERִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `

(I mean i totally head canon him as emo and a metal head so here are some ones that i took from my "For jeff the killer" playlist <3)

.Partners in crime-set it off, ash costello (ARE YOU KIDDING THIS SONG IS SOOOO GOOD AND ITS SO HIM)

.Wolf in sheeps clothing-set it off (DUDE THIS SONG WAS MY FAVORITE SONG OF ALL TIMEEE LIKE 2 YEARS AGO...BUT YEAH I TOTTALY SEE HIM SINGING THIS AND HIM JUST LIKING THIS SONNG IN GENERAL)

.Monster-Skillet (THIS IS DEFINETLY ON HIS PLAYLIST, ARGUE WITH THE WALL.)

.I hate everything about you-Three days grace (DUDE WHAT THIS IS SO HIM. IT LITERALLY SCREAMS ANGSTY CHAOTIC JEFF. ALSO THIS SONG IS STILL SUCH A BANGER OML)

.Sarcasm-get scared (IK I HATE ON JEFF FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES BUT IM OBLIGATED TO LOVE HIM IN A SENSE BC HIS MUSIC TASTE IS JUST SOO AAAAAH LIKE WHY DID HE STEAL MY WHOLE PLAYLIST....BUT SO MANY OF "GET SCARED"S SONGS ARE SO HIM"

.Good girls bag guys-falling in reverse (SAME THING WITH FALLING IN REVERSE, SO MANY OF THEIR SONGS JUST SCREAM JEFF, ESSPICALLY THIS ONE LIKE WHAT)

.Sexy drug-falling in reverse (SEE WHAT DID I SAY)

-Criminal-Brittany spears (ITS LITERALLY HIM)

╔══════════════════╗

TICCI TOBY ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

.My axe-ICP (LITERALLY TOBY)

.Saint Brenard-Lincoln (IDK THERES SMTH ABOUT THIS SONG

.Father-The front bottoms (I DEFINETLY SEE THIS IN HIS PLAYLIST)

. Chop suey! -System of a down (HE DEF LISTENS TO THIS RELIGEOUSLY)

.Tears over beers-Modern baseball (I SO SEE HIM BEING MIDWEST EMO)

.Tear you apart- she wants revenge (I ALSO SEE THIS AS A JEFF SONG AS WELL BUT ALSO TOBY)

╔══════════════════╗

NINA THE KILLER⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

.Pretty little psycho (THIS SONG IS SO HER IDC)

. Pretty scene girl!-Clover! (IK THIS PRETTY SCENE GIRL I WISH YOU COULD HAVE SEEN HER IK SHE GOT SOME PROBLEMS BUT I DONT WANNA LEAVE HER)

.Kiss me again-kets4eki (KISS ME KISS ME KISS ME AGAINNN)

.All i want is you-Rebzyyx (A LOT OF REBZYYX MUSIC JUST SCREAMS NINA)

.Im so crazy for youuu </3-Rebzyyx (UR SO UPSET WITH ME BUT IM SO OBSESSED WITH YOU<3)

.Yandere-Jazmin Bean (YAYAYAYAAAYAY JAZMIN REFERENCE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

.Love taste-Moe shop (SHE DEFINETLY LISTENS TO THIS)

.Crazy girls-TOOPOOR (SHES LITERALLY THE DEFINITION OF THE SONG)

.Freak show-punkinlovee (NINA CORE)

╔══════════════════╗

BEN DROWNED ₊ ⊹

.Welcome to the internet-Bo burnham (IDK ITS JUST SO BEN)

.#Brooklynbloodpop!-SyKo

.Spy?-WHOKILLEDXIX (THIS IS DEF THE TYPE OF MUSIC HE LISTENS TO)

.Discord-The living tombstone (I JUST KNOW HE WOULD BE A LIVING TOMBSTONES FAN)

.Never-Mag.lo

.Sugarcrash!-EllyOtto (IDK WHY I SEE HIM AS AN EDM/HYPERPOP PERSON AS WELL)

.Nowhere to run-Stegosaurus rex

╔══════════════════╗

❣LAUGHING JACK❣

-Rainbows and stuff-ICP (THIS SONG IS UNBELIEVABLY LJ CODED)

-Carousel-Melanie martinez (THIS SONG IS SO SO SO SO LJ)

-Insane in the brain-cypress hill

-HAHA-lil darkie

-Mad hatter-Melanie martinez

-In my room-ICP

-Vending machine of love-The stupendium (I SERIOUSLY DK WHY WHENEVER I LISTEN TO THIS SONG I PICTURE LJ)

-Pink elephants on parade-Disney studio chorus (U BEST BET THIS IS PLAYING AT HIS CARNIVALS

-The masochism tango-Tom lehrer (AAAAH)

-An unhealthy obsession-the blake robinson synthetic orchestra

╔══════════════════╗

EYELESS JACKﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

-The zombie song-Stephanie Mabey (IF I WERE A ZOMBIE ID NEVER EAT YOUR BRAIN </3)

-Saccharine -Jazmin bean (THIS IS SONG IS DEFINETLY EJ WHENEVER HE FALLS IN LOVE)

-Misery meat-Sodikken

-Monster-Lady gaga

-Cannibal-Kesha

-Blow my brains out-Tikkle me

-Animal i have become-Three days grace

-People eater-Sodikken

╔══════════════════╗

JANE THE KILLER 𓆇🕸️𓆸

-Brutus-The buttress(JANE CODED FR)

-Killer queen-Queen

-Bring me to life-Evanescence (SHE KIND OF LOOKS LIKE AMY LEE IN ONE OF HER PHOTOS TOO)

-Living dead girl-Rob zombie

-Shes my collar-Gorillaz, kali uchis

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

#CREEPYPASTA #MUSIC #creepypastaheadcanons #headcanons #jeffthekiller #ticcitoby #bendrowned #ninathekiller #laughingjack #eyelessjack

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