#foreigner losers realness

[kyutepups]

Stanley Uris the quadrilingual legend

Richie is a French immigrant, Eddie is a Mexican immigrant, and Bill lost his speech for a while before developing his stutter.

Because of this, Stanley decided to learn French, Spanish, and ASL to communicate with all 3 of them when he first met them, and he taught Eddie and Richie english.

~\\⋆♡’•’♡⋆//~\\⋆♡’•’♡⋆//~\\⋆♡’•’♡⋆//~

He met Bill first because he already lived in Derry. He learned sign language because he really wanted a friend, and no one else wanted to talk to him. Bill was overjoyed that someone learned ASL just to talk to him.

Then, he met Richie. Bill wanted to make him feel welcomed because he knew what it was like to not be able to communicate, but he was still unable to speak during this time. So Stan learned French to help him learn English.

Finally, Eddie came along. Richie had a big old fat crush on him but Eddie couldn’t understand all his attempts. Stan had enough and learned just so he didn’t have to deal with their miscommunications.

Who wants me to write a oneshot with this idea 🙏🙏

#it stephen king #the losers club #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stanley uris #bill denbrough #it headcanons #it hcs #richie tozier headcanon #eddie kaspbrak headcanon #bill denbrough headcanon #stanley uris headcanons #hispanic eddie kaspbrak #french richie tozier #asl bill denbrough #this is soooo canon I swear it #duffer gruncle approved #this is canon i’m the long lost duffer gruncle i worked on this movie myself just ask andy #foreigner losers realness #reddie

[nthflower]

I believe that more badass women in canon should treated like pathetic losers in fanon like how people say how edgy badass man character is so pathetic meow meow actually.

I know also we are currently living in times that general fandom culture making this impossible without being subtly sexist unfortunately but it would be nice.

Majority of people are still giving men they talk like trash lovingly more value than women they praise to the heavens

#i like girlboss and feminism jokes #i am also dont believe in gender actually all of them roles in my eyes #anyways i just hate how every woman treated as queens best ever exist so much #it made me feel terrible when i was a kid i felt like i am extremely inferior to everybody #because girls are below of men naturally in eyes of society #and they can be only superior when they are extremely impossibly perfect and badass and queens #which i am not and never will be #women in fiction women in cartoons were mostly for me always so foreign to me #and i felt like they are the real correct respectable womens who deserve praise and better than boys #and i am the loser worse useless girl and this is justified actually #while we are all equal stupid 5 years old in there #i am doing my 5 year old selfs psychoanalysis in my tags amazing #n. #i want respect not praise but people in real life i know can't understand it #you still see women lesser than men misters and some missuses it doesn't matter you are praising women all the time

[simp4konig]

Self-aware König X Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: ~2800

König slowly comes to the realisation that he was in a game, that he was never real, and that he'll never be with reader.

His sense of self deteriorates as all he wishes for is to escape from the boundaries of his code and be real.

In this instance, ignorance really *was* bliss.

*Slow burn

*König has a mental breakdown at one point lmao

Edit on same day: HOLY SHIT thank u for so many notes!!!!!!!!!!! 🥹🥹💞💞💞💞💞 You guys are so nice 🫣🫣

*Self-aware AU belongs to @puff0o0 !!!🥳🥳 (The girl behind the disguise🥸... Was rthis loser all along!!!!! 😈😈imagine giving permission to 👍THIS 👍idiot to write Ur fic idea lol u made a mistake 💀💀💀ok but idid my best not to ruin their awesome au with this pathetic controbution and jope I honoured it well 😭😭 but fr i had been stalking their profile since the begigning of their self aware! au and ivloved their acc 🥺🥺I love their imagines and how they fulfill the request yet leave enoith for imaginstion !! (which, don't mind if I do🤠all of the König scenarios added tovmy incessant daydreamimg hhhhhhhhh oh no),, and when they followed me I was staring at my phone with the BIGGEST goofy grin on my face 🥹🥹Thank YOU sm!!!!! 🫂MUCH LOVE!!!!!!!!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

*To anyone waiting (I've gotten such lovely messages from people saying they liked my first fic (which made me so happy as it was the first ever fanfiction I published online🥹🥹)), Part TWO of my first fic is on its way !!!,, I didn't want to make u guys all fluffy 🥰🩷💘✨🤗 inside only to tear your hearts 💔🥀🗡️🗡️😭 in two witj this 😿 dw I promise to reward u guys with another fic and cute himbo (and absolute menace while on the battlefield 👹)König <33, with King X König having more wholesome interactions in the near future!!

If you had told König that he wasn't real, he would have looked at you blankly and said nothing, passing off your suggestion as a joke of sorts that he possibly couldn't understand.

Perhaps if he was ever faced with a situation like this he'd question you about it, but nothing more, and drop the subject at hand.

Honestly, the likelihood of him ever thinking over this twice would have been slim, as he would not pay your philosophy much thought shortly afterwards.

In fact, he believed that his life as a Kortac operator was indeed a real one, and he wore his embroided Austrian flag on his shoulder with something next to pride, always praised for his outstanding efforts by his superiors in the same tone of voice. To König, however, it meant nothing, and he'd only nod his head in an attempt at gratitude, turning his back to the commemoration in indifference.

Despite not remembering anything of his childhood, his upbringing — hell, even any of his past prior to becoming a soldier — König didn't ever think over it too deeply. The overwhelming pressure to make sure missions went without a hitch and constant deployments to foreign countries left no time to reminisce, especially not when his work was so demanding, and it only made sense to him that they were the reason for his forgotten memories.

Besides, even if he had time to spare and be inactive, he had to stay focused, as being an operator meant that he couldn't let any nostalgia or softness distract him from his tasks.

On the battlefield, König worked on autopilot, performing finishing kills with efficiency and with machine-like precision. Reacting quickly to enemies ambushing him from behind or an enemy that was laying on the floor behind the corner waiting to shoot him in the head, he'd eliminate the targets with bullets to spare. Really, he was unstoppable, and he was on a killing streak.

Until he was shot in the head one day.

The moment it happened, the shot was like an explosion that almost obliterated his eardrums, outside noise deafened like his head was underwater. All he could hear was the high-pitched ringing, and it held an uncanny resemblance to the beeping of a heart rate monitor machine that he would never lay next to, dying instead on a bed of cold rubble and broken shrapnel.

Somehow conscious enough to look around, his mind was completely empty, eyes attempting to adjust. What he'd assumed would happen in a time like this was his mind flashing with memories like a movie reel in his last moments, his entire life playing out in his final dying seconds.

Yet he remembered nothing. No Mama, no Papa, no childhood or any his life trials, nothing that had changed him and moulded his character, not even his motive for enlisting into the military in the first place.

The part that was most unnerving about all this was his complete apathy to it all.

Did he even care that he was dying? Shouldn't he at least feel regret at having essentially been the one to pull the trigger, cutting his own life short with the lifestyle he had committed himself to? Why wasn't he scared, sad, even bewildered at the very least, shocked that his life would soon end so unceremoniously? Fuck, not even mild disappointment at least at not even had travelled the world, and failing to ever explore any place besides abandoned buildings housing hostages and terrorist bases swarming with foes? Nothing at all?

Unable to process his situation, König just... laid there, unmoving, while his surroundings moved in double speed. Nondescript figures holding rifles wearing camo and balaclavas blurred in his vision, and he couldn't differentiate the enemy from his own.

Slowly losing consciousness, he felt his world darken around him, dulling his senses to the mayhem unfolding in real time. He'd accepted his fate, and could do nothing about it. That was that. And this was it.

It was a shock to his system when a silhouetted hand pulled him up by the arm limp by his side and shouted in his face, "Get up, soldier! This is no place to die!"

König didn't need to be told twice. He nodded his head robotically, his eyes looking ahead of him with a thousand-yard stare, and not even sparing a glance to the anonymous ally that saved him, he picked up the his gun off the floor and loaded another magazine into it with a satisfying click.

In his delirium, he worked on autopilot after that, shooting at anything that shot at him first. Too much in a daze, he was past the point of realising that the gaping bullet wound had suddenly sealed itself, vanishing entirely and leaving no mark that it was ever there.

After that, König didn't realise that he wasn't real when any injuries still didn't affect him. He assumed that his insensitivity to wounds was a result of a high pain tolerance, and his body healing miraculously was his ability to regenerate fast.

Although he would lay on the ground, his arm outstretched while through gritted teeth shouting: "Scheisse! Ich brauche hier Hilfe! I need some help over here!"; truth be told, he'd only do so when he after getting used to seeing so many bodies writhe in pain like so, and something for some reason told him that it was the right thing to do.

Waking up moments after not far from the spot he supposedly died in a daze, all bullet wounds gone, he didn't have time in the moment to think over the specifics of his death. Maybe he was hallucinating, or remembering things incorrectly.

König began to suspect that something was wrong when he'd hear his operators say the same sentence word for word. He rationalised that the constant shooting that never ceased even late into the night and dangerous missions that left him with far too many close calls put pressure on his mind. This mania amongst soldiers in the military was a common phenomenon after all, so it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise for König when he felt waves of déjà vu at hearing statements he could have sworn were related to him before at one point, and going to infiltrate areas that were vaguely familiar.

At some point, he thought something was REALLY wrong when he was storming a military base with... a sniper rifle.

Time stood still as he inspected the weapon in his hands, eyes wide.

That... was impossible. He had never been a sniper. True, he had wanted to be one from the beginning, yet he had adapted to his role as the main means of assault, always on the offensive rather on the defensive. So then... Why?

Adding to that, his appearance would differ. They were subtle changes at first, yet still noticeable: a red helmet instead of his black; an ochre hood instead of his black veil with its signature red streaks; a sniper camoflauge when that disguise had never been in his possession before; and even a gas mask with a hazmat suit when he had been wearing something else altogether on the helicopter heading towards its destination.

Although König hadn't know it yet, his reality was slowly shattering along the cracks, but he stubbornly fought the gnawing feeling that ate him up from the inside. He had to stay focused, he repeated to himself. No time to ponder when a task was at hand.

"All units ready your weapons, and in position immediately." Through his walkie-talkie, a voice began counting down the time left before the mission would begin. "60 seconds."

König checked all of his gear, making sure that everything was in place and he was fully equipped. A rifle, a side-arm, ammo, grenades, a med kit for an emergency and a knife. "40 seconds."

Looking up into the sky and straight into the sun, he didn't need to cover his sight as his eyes weren't affected by it at all. Yet, his eyes squinted in confusion, sensing that he was seeing something that he wasn't meant to see behind the glowing eye. "20 seconds."

He saw more than an eye. An ear, a nose, then a mouth. A face.

He saw you.

You were looking at him through a screen, holding a controller and waiting to start playing your game.

His reality shattered all at once, and he stumbled on his feet, unable to regain his balance, feeling himself go weak in the knees. He tuned out the all-important seconds through the communication device, unable to compose himself as for the first time ever he struggled to breathe.

Suddenly, all of it made sense.

People telling him the same things and never deviating from the topic of the mission, the reawakenings, the pain insensitivity — all of it was because none of it was never real.

People never branched off into other topics of conversation because their sole existence was limited to a few hand-selected voiceliness and idle animations. With each upgrade and level up, König had gotten praise from from him superiors, which explained how emotionless their announcements always sounded and why they were so constant.

The frequent brushes with death weren't a matter of luck, and instead it was just his entity respawning until a certain condition was met, until either Kortac or Specgru came out victorious — otherwise, he could "die" as many times as it took until the time ran out.

He was unfazed by bullets that grazed him and knives that tore though his flesh as he could physically feel no pain, his very existence artificial, his skin composed of pixels with no human matter hidden beneath them.

And, his inability to trace back to before he was transferred to Kortac was all because it was all he was programmed to know. There was no childhood. There was no Mama or Papa. It was just him in this world, and he had been manufactured, his thoughts and behaviours fabricated.

For a moment, he considered you the creator of his word, his God, and felt forsaken. He wanted to curse you, to snap your neck in his hands and watch your head drop lifelessly in his hold.

Yet it became apparent that you weren't the one behind this realm. Seeing the headphones strapped to your head and the controller held in anticipation in your hands, you were simply indulging in a past time, and weren't to blame for his state in any way. It wasn't your fault that you were unknowingly playing as a König trapped in the game.

You let out a groan of frustration, mashing buttons on your controller in an attempt to get König to move.

"What the fuck is going on?!" You hissed, trying in any way you could to start playing. Checking your router and the game's ping, you saw that your connection was secure, and that there was no reason for König to be frozen in place. "Fucking piece of shit console."

König shook his head, still disbelieving and unable to accept his fictional reality, yet hearing the sound of your voice made everything an even tougher pill to swallow. He had to stay in character. For you; it was the least that he could do.

After the initial lag at the beginning of the match, the game went smoothly and you couldn't find any faults. However, you suddenly noticed that your movements over König improved, moving with more fluidity and suddenly taking less damage than what you would normally use to. Headshot after headshot and kills all of the time poured onto on your screen until you'd find yourself being ganged up by bitter players wanting to ruin your streak as revenge.

Still, you topped the leaderboards with a new personal record that night. 97 kills to 0 deaths flashed on your screen, and you jumped up from your gaming chair, ecstatic, almost knocking it over in the process.

König felt butterflies in his stomach seeing you smile and jump around excitedly, and that's when he had found his purpose.

From that moment on, you became his lifeline. You gave the unfeeling König something to live for, a motive to keep fighting that he hadn't been given when being created in the game — for you and your greater good.

Really, you made him feel things: made him feel alive; made him fight with more passion and determination when your happiness was on the line.

He fell... In love.

The feelings and emotions he felt in his chest chest were genuine, and weren't pre-written in a script or manipulated by a third-party. Even the bullets that would pierce through his gear and leave him on the ground withering in agony was worth it, and he'd exchange his invincibility any day to feel what he felt when he saw your face, and the smile that tugged at your lips when you were revived or got a difficult kill.

His love for you was immortal, and it would persist through generations and could last for a lifetime, and König was almost certain that you could feel all of his energy channelling through your TV.

He found himself lovingly staring at you through the screen, admiring you as if you were an ephemeral being, a beautiful angel, even when your hair was greasy, your old tee had armpit stains and your eyes were bloodshot from how long you had been playing. Really, none of that put König off — if anything, all of those made you so distinctly you, so human.

Yet, König was in love with someone that was practically in another dimension and he would never speak to them, never touch them, never share thoughts and pass the time doing everything and nothing with them. None of that, because he wasn't real.

Had his life improved now they he had grown self-awareness? Had his ignorance really been bliss before his revelation? Perhaps if he had been another NPC that only gained manipulated consciousness whenever the player spawned in the map he wouldn't be so stricken with grief and crouched over in agony, the knuckles on his hands turning white from how fervently he was gripping his mask. He'd hyperventilate off-screen, sometimes the torment being too much.

Being so close to you yet being restricted to his three-dimensional world was bittersweet at the least, and internal suffering at most. His insatiable craving to be with you, and you with him only, fuelled his desperation, and he tried to keep you with him for as long as possible through any means necessary.

When you selected an operator that wasn't König, your game glitched heavily and would even crash whenever you made the mistake of even complimenting their design, and God forbid whenever you tried to play as someone other than him, as your console would near explode.

When you'd boot up a different game on your PlayStation, your loading screen would suddenly transport you back to the one of MW2, König greeting you with a voiceline that he reserved and perfected just for you:

"Welcome back, schatz. I have been waiting for you." Because he treasured you, and you were the only person that he could ever have feelings for.

Perhaps a recent update was fucking up your console, or it was just malfunctiong due to age. Either way, playing on an eight year old PS4 meant it could only run for so long and glitches like this were inevitable, yet you persisted in keeping the console running, not in your budget to afford to upgrade.

You'd search frantically on the internet for any information about the new König voicelines and whether there was any resolution for your problem when playing CoD, something telling you that your game was not functioning in the way that it should.

A thought crossed your mind that König had gone rogue, and you tried to laugh it off. Swallowing thickly, that still didn't relieve the deep pit in your stomach. If anything, the mere idea made it worse for you, and you'd get an intense gut feeling that would make you feel dizzy whenever König would make eyes contact with you and stand there, making you question whether he was acting out of character or not.

His attempts to keep you with him were commendable, yet none of it could change the fact that it would never be anything more than one-sided pining, a deep longing for a person whose world kept spinning while his stopped once you logged off the game, his day ending abruptly and being consumed by darkness.

For now, König had to content himself with being stuck behind a screen. He wished so desperately to be able to touch you, to escape this human generated world that trapped him in these bounds, and to find who he really is when with you. Shrouded in this deep black void, all he could do was wait patiently until you'd boot up the game again.

A hand was placed on his side of the screen longingly, resting it gently on the face on the other side.

Note: this wasn't meant to be so sad ,how did an idea of König popping out from the screen turnvto this 😭😭

#aking10592_ ≛彡 #self aware au #self aware au cod #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #könig mwii #konig mwii #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x fem reader #konig x female reader #könig x male reader #konig x male reader #könig x gender neutral reader #konig x gn!reader #könig fanfiction #konig fanfiction

[octuscle]

I like to be a fighter from Albania, Serbia or another country like these: good looking, strong and proud and producing at least 12 sons as little fighters too. Dream or reality? you choose, chronivac

Strange wish for a 45-year-old administrative employee at Swiss Post. This is not exactly the place for fighters…

When you finish work, your body feels exhausted. Not like after a physically strenuous day… More like after hard work. Or after a visit to the gym. Not that you've ever been to a gym… Or ever worked hard physically… It's a strange feeling. And it doesn't go away when you enjoy the end of the day with a beer in front of the TV as usual. Actually, you should have been watching a thriller right now. But you're watching the Serbian soccer league. One hand on the beer bottle. One always on your cock and your balls…

Something is different the next morning… You have a lot more beard than usual. Looks good. Why do you always go to the office clean-shaven? You trim the beard a little. Feels very normal. Where's your deodorant? Never mind, I'll have to go without it today… You grab your briefcase, pack your breakfast sandwich and set off for work on your bike. You sit down at your desk. You start working on files. You have trouble sitting still. Shit, you need to move! During your lunch break, you go to the Balkan grill. And you don't realize that you're talking in Serbian to the other men who are taking their break standing up. After your lunch break, you make your rounds through the building. Your job at the in-house post office is not particularly demanding. But you can't imagine working at a desk. You need to get moving. That's why you can't wait to go to the gym after work. Get your muscles burning first. And then train your skills as a street fighter in the ring.

It's a long streetcar ride to the council housing estate on the outskirts of the city. It's one of the first warm evenings. A few of your neighbors are sitting with a beer at the playground in front of one of the run-down apartment blocks. You join them. You don't feel like going back to the small apartment you share with your siblings.

You share your room with two of your brothers. They both work on the assembly line and are on the late shift this week. You try not to wake anyone when you get up at 4:30 am. The garbage collection job is hard work, but it pays well. You can save a lot of money so that you can soon afford your own little house in Belgrade. Zurich is a good city to earn money. But not to live here.

You are a man's household. You can see that. Your bathroom is pretty filthy. Well, you don't really hit the toilet bowl yourself when you piss. Apart from that, just a bit of washing up. What's the point of more? You'll start sweating faster than you'd like.

Most of the guys who work with you are from the Balkans. Many from Croatia and Bosnia. Their parents often fled from your parents during the civil war. But you don't give a damn. The Balkans are the Balkans. In a foreign country with the snooty Swiss, that welds you together. You are a close-knit community. A community of real men. Not wimps like the locals. You are brothers. You have more brothers than the six men you share the apartment with. And you all meet up at the gym in the evenings. The only place where you spend a few of your hard-earned Swiss francs. The rest is saved for a better future.

There is no better place than the gym. Hard training, hard fights, hard sex. Yes, sometimes you also have to bang a woman. So as not to get out of practice. And Swiss whores are easy to come by. You're all real guys who look and smell like men. The whores don't find anything like that among their fellow countrymen. But it's even better if one of your compatriots or an inferior Christian from the Balkans loses to you in a boxing match. The loser gets fucked. And you fuck a lot!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #tank top #age reduction #ai image #race change

[forthevillains]

Obsession

Albert Wesker X fem! Reader [slight nsfw]

(My mind keeps wandering to the foreign places that probably should’ve stayed foreign :’).)

You were a basic woman, to say the least, nothing unusual about you, your job, your behavior. You were a normal person, a human being of your own who wished nothing more than to stay among the crowd, to stay in line, to be invisible to everyone else so that you could live your own life. It’s not like you cared of your surroundings that much anyway, you had clear goals, you had a dream life you wished to achieve and all you did was work and focus on yourself as you barely had anything or anyone in your life, you’ve lost everything you had the moment you moved abroad, to study, to finally go to the college of your dreams only to be thrown out months later. It was just you, you and no one else, a miserable young woman with nothing in life but goals yet to be achieved.

However what you didn’t know was the man who hid behind every corner of yours, the man who was always with you even though you didn’t even know him, you didn’t even know he was there at all. He always followed you, sly like a fox, his red eyes watching you, observing you at any given time, when you went grocery shopping, when you were at work, even when you were at home - he was always there with you, watching, creeping in the shadows like a demon sent from hell for you and only you. But you had no idea as you had enough problems of your own and even though he was yet to be the biggest one - it was better that you didn’t know.

He saw everything, every state of yours, how you writhed in ecstasy as your sinful fingers slid between your folds, gathering all the slickness as they moved in fast motions, your moans escaping you, sounding like a music to his ears and he wished it was his fingers instead, pleasuring you, bringing you over the edge. He saw you how you cried, your sadness so overwhelming you could barely stay awake, your desperate little body trembling in the sheets of your bed, wishing for nothing more than an escape, someone to hold onto. He saw how you were smiling as you were reading your favorite book, eyes hungrily swallowing each word. He saw all of it and it made his heart ache for an unknown reason. Especially seeing you cry made him crave you more than ever, wanting to wrap his strong arms around your delicate body, to keep you safe from all your worries, all your wrongs, to show you how good he could be just for you.

Wesker was obsessed with you, when or how that happened didn’t matter at all but the amount of love he felt for you couldn’t be overlooked no more. He barely knew you at all and yet there was something pulling him closer, so strong he went out of his way only to gather information about you, to get to know you through papers if he couldn’t do so in real life. He would never go as far as to ask you out on his own, knowing he couldn’t stay away for even a second if you talked to him, if he was to hear that sweet voice of yours saying his name. Only thinking of a moment like that made him close his eyes, hoping to see your face instead of the darkness, letting his imagination go free for a mere second, wanting nothing more than to make it a reality. He wanted you, your mind, your soul and your body. He wished for all of that to belong to him, though he didn’t want to scare you off. He kept reminding himself that if you ever were to exchange a word with him, you’d be terrified. No matter his charm, no matter his calm, soothing voice, he knew he’d scare you off.

He was crazy, he was absolutely insane when it came to you and you alone. Once a man so sure of himself now felt like a little loser, afraid of rejection. No there was more to it… He couldn’t, he just couldn’t do it. He can surely live with just watching you right? He can easily do that. Perhaps his obsession would go away if you finally had a life with someone else, if you found happiness in someone.

At least he thought that, until he saw you accompanied by another man. He didn’t care who that was, his jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his anger, the glass he held in his right hand threatening to crack in his tight hold and he did his best not to storm out of the bar he was in, disguised (even though he hated them and also the alcohol. But what wouldn’t he do for you?). Jealousy filled his veins, his mind. That should be him next to you, touching you so gently, pulling you into a hug, taking you wherever the two of you were headed. He was so confident he’d treat you much better he’s decided to remove that man from your life and simply make a move. Wesker wouldn’t kill him, of course, that would surely devastate you, though he made sure to gather enough information, to find all the dirt he could only to throw it in the poor man’s face. To make him lose everything, including you.

You were his and only his, whether you knew it or not. Whether you wanted or not. He cared not. And believe you’d get a hint after a third guy who tried to talk to you, to get to know you, suddenly left and never came back. Just so you could find roses from Wesker on your doorstep the next day. You’d know he owned you, he knew you would…

#albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #resident evil #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #oneshot #wesker x you #stalker

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of both Worlds (part 1)

Tw: yandere oc guy, but i dont think this chapter shown that yet, but readers a fuckin stalker loser this time, university horrors

Okay guys so this story im literally pitting Yves and Montgomery together, gonna be a little slow burn but we r gonna get 2 da conflict like eventually

Also da settting in university cuase its da most relevant 2 me 💯

Enjouy

PART 2

He's so beautiful and ethereal. The man has been plaguing your mind for the entire week, you're being distracted from your assignments just because of this unbelievably gorgeous man with silky, long hair and dressed to the tens.

You grinded your teeth and scratched your skin, you know where he frequents. The university's library. And you obviously want to get closer to him after he caught you from falling. You slipped on a sheet of paper that you dropped and this mysterious stranger was there to catch you by the waist before your body could make any devastating impact. Unfortunately, your stacks of textbooks and other miscellaneous documents were scattered to the ground.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice was smooth and pleasant with a unique, suave accent to it.

You were reduced to a nervous, stuttery mess. He gently brought you back up to your feet, he helped you gather your things and even arranged it by size and weight, so that it would be less likely for it to topple over. The man took a further step to smoothen the frizzles of your hair, fix your collar and sleeves. He even zipped your backpack up, you were unaware that it was open in the first place, adding to your embarrassment. You couldn't really push him away because your arms are occupied with your belongings.

It was hard to look into those stunning emerald eyes without flustering yourself even further, so you looked away while you stammered a "thanks" to him.

"Be careful." He said as he tilted your head by the chin to make direct eye contact. You know that you're as red as a tomato, but he didn't comment on it. The man lets you go before walking away, he fixed the handles of his luxury bag on his shoulder. Luscious curls bouncing with every step.

You felt like you wanted to explode right there and then, it took you a while to regain composure, other university personnel wondering why you're just standing in the middle of the path like that. Aren't you tired of holding all that stuff? It looked heavy.

You were snapped back into your senses when someone who you assumed had a bad day, told you to get out of the way. You scurried along the traffic, having the incident fresh in your mind.

You wonder who that man is, a student? A professor? A staff member?

You came to know that he's in the library for a few hours every weekday afternoons. He doesn't have a particular spot, the mystique spontaneously appears in random but fairly secluded reading spots in the library.

You felt like a stalker, but that's what you are. Too shy and afraid to talk to him, yet content with watching from afar. His ears are covered by his hair, so you don't know if he had any earbuds in. Fuelling your hesitance to make any contact first.

He could be reading a thick novel, handwriting something down on his notebook, or he could be typing away on his sleek, black laptop. In either instances, you have no idea what he's doing, it's either in a foreign language, full of numbers or completely made up of technical jargon.

You don't know why you're doing this instead of studying for your midterms. You're never like this to any of your crushes, not this obsessive over a real person, so why now? What compelled you to become this... creep? It's like you can't stop. You're scared of rejection but you can't get rid of the butterflies in your stomach.

You had no one to talk to about it because university is a very lonely place. At least, for personality types like you. You didn't want to bother your other friends, they have their own problems to worry about.

It reaches a point that you tried following him out of the library, wondering where he will go next. Before you could step past the automatic sliding doors, you looked at the book in your hand.

'Wait a minute, this is fucked up.' You thought to yourself. This isn't like you, exams are in spitting distance and you're subjecting this poor person to this harassment just because of a singular interaction.

You made a 180⁰ turn and marched back to your all-time favourite seat. Which happened to be occupied by the stranger earlier, maybe that made you a little peeved because you "claimed" it first at the start of the year. But he took it for the day.

To your surprise, there lies his notebook on the ground. He must have accidentally left it. You picked it up and looked around to make sure the coast was clear, then you flipped through it.

You were blasted with numericals, diagrams, words you weren't sure if it was written in English or otherwise and even floorplans of a building of some sort. You couldn't understand anything.

"Excuse me."

You whipped your head to the whisper. It was him! Your blood ran cold as he caught you snooping through his item. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

You struggled to form a coherent sentence as you pointed at it, you're done for, you're going to be confirmed a creep. But he only watched you with the utmost patience.

There came a point where you gave up, placed the closed book on the table and pushed it towards him.

Luckily though, you didn't have to say another word.

"You found my notebook. How careless of me to have dropped it." He pulled a chair opposite of you and sat down. You watch him place his handbag on another chair.

He elegantly picked the journal up and slid it into his bag. You were sweating at this point, the dread is about to make you vomit on him and that's not great. You wished that he would go away now, but seeing that he's locked onto his seat, it's highly unlikely.

You prayed hard for it though, he finished his business for the day. There shouldn't be any reason for him to linger.

"Thank you for keeping it safe. I hope you found whatever it is you were seeking from me." He continued, crossing his legs and resting his hands on the table.

What.

You asked what he meant by that.

A teasing smile made its way to his rouge lips.

"You were watching me." You grew pale and you scrambled to explain yourself, but he raised his index finger to signal you to let him continue.

"Your tact could be improved upon; I could see you trying to hide behind the shelves, I could hear you mumbling to yourself, and you shouldn't think so lowly of yourself." He propped his head up on one elbow.

Your cheeks felt hot. That is true, you were berating yourself for being too wimpy to go ahead and talk to him. You just didn't think you were that loud.

"I would have enjoyed having a chat with you. I wouldn't have thought that you were-- and in your own words, a 'creepy, loser-freak'."

Oh. He heard that too. You wish that you could disappear this instant.

"I'm flattered that you thought highly of me. However, I was disappointed that you thought that I was intimidating." He pouted playfully. "I won't bite." He twirls a lock of his hair around his fingers.

Your nerves are frazzled as he leans in. You didn't know what to say or what to do. He seemingly picks up on that and continues leading the conversation.

"Let's start with names. Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." You felt his shoe brush against your leg.

You almost forgot your own name as you watch the bead of sweat drip down your nose in horror. He must think you're a stinky slob.

But all he does is stare straight into your soul while drumming his fingers against the table.

You told him your name, with a severe stutter. Each passing second felt like a serrated knife slicing through your flesh.

He repeated it, syllables rolling through his tongue wonderfully. He pronounced it correctly on the first try despite your cripplingly anxious enunciation.

"Yves." He replied. Finally, you have his name. You're totally not going to use that to dig for more information on him.

"You have a beautiful name." He complimented.

You nervously returned the compliment and let out an awkward laugh. Trying your best to ignore the growing sweat stain between your pits.

"How charming of you, (name)." He stood up and pushed his chair back under the table. Yves collected his bag and turned his attention back to you.

"I'd love to talk longer, but I must go now. I believe you have an exam to prepare for. Best begin your revision now, I hope our brief conversation has helped to quell your worries."

...and you mumbled that part about yourself too. It's pretty safe to assume he heard all your thoughts.

Yves extended a manicured hand to you. Taking this as a clear request for a handshake, you accepted it.

Only for him to bring it up to his lips, tenderly and fleetingly kissing your knuckles. This entire time, his piercing gaze never left your eyes.

You wanted to claw yourself out of your flesh and die out of embarrassment.

"Study well."

He lets your hand down and presses it momentarily with his larger ones.

You watched him saunter away with his back turned against you.

You brought the back of your palm to your sight.

There is a faint, reddish tint on it. It must have been from his lipstick.

You're not sure if you ever want to wash your hand after this.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc montgomery

[ro55ocorsa]

Hi, I'm the versainz anon. I also like charlos a lot, too. In the sense that they are full of themes, the whole religious symbolism, the black swan/white swan but also the fact that they are both losers.

Charles is the mold of the ferrari driver now, but to get there has made so many choices that changed him, il predestinato, and everything in paper but has yet to give the love back (win a championship with ferrari), he tries every single weekend. He will die on the Ferrari Hill TM and is forever grateful for the opportunity to drive for ferrari, for the academy, and all that, but he has lost more than he has won, they break his spirit so much, its unbelievable how he is out there still trying, he is betrayed in the lack of winning. Charles is the divine intervention, pure of love, archangel Gabriel, the light of ferrari, everything you want to be, and still not enough.

Carlos is privileged, with the name and the status and the sponsors, but foreign to ferrari, an outsider, he had to pick up a knife and butchered himself so he would fit the mold, fit ferrari, and it's still not enough. He is soft; he has an exposed soft belly for ferrari and is comfortable but is betrayed anyway, again and again (in the sense that he has to do his own strategy so many times, giving charles access to his set up in monza 23 and in the race have to fought charles so hard for that podium). So why keep trying to be good? He gets to be lucifer now, gets to be called El matador, El Diablo rosso.

They keep clashing, but in the end they are in the same boat, having yet to bleed enough for ferrari, the agony the love.

They break themselves for ferrari, they bleed for them, but they are the only two to lick each other wounds, Carlos and Charles.

Ps. If I'm bothering you, just let me know and I will stop

Ps2. English is not my first language, but I hope all this made sense

Ps3. This is all rpf and on the real world is very understandable why anyone would want LH on their team... This is not my point when I'm talking about betrayals. This is more for people that stumble on the post, just a clarifying to separate the real from the vision of the enclosure (my mind)

Lovee,

First of all you aren't annoying me at ALL. This is great!

Secondly I agree with everything: Charlos and Versainz have very different vibes overall, and you hit the nail on the head as to why. Charlos is all about them being stuck in the suffering together. I've always seen Charles as the white lamb being sacrificed, but Carlos as a parallel who's tired of being sacrificed and being pulled around, betrayed is new to me but completes the metaphor so well. Like an angel fallen from grace. It's so good. Heavenly good lamb vs fallen evil devil. Just perfect parallels.

Versainz is also about being stuck in the suffering but with their dads expectations and finding solace in each other. It's about healing from the self mutilation but in Charlos they're actively doing it. If that makes any sense.

Feel free to dm me if you want we have such similar opinions your thoughts are so good!

#versainz #charlos

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Loser Round 2: Meiling Li (Cardcaptor Sakura) vs. Damian Wayne (DC)

Propaganda below the cut

Meiling Li (10):

Meiling is a primary school-aged child who moved to a foreign country where she's still learning the dominant language, does not know anyone besides the people she's staying with, and is routinely involved in dangerous magic battles when she has no magical powers herself. And this is in addition to the fact that she's, y'know, still developing theory of mind because she is 10. Despite all this, she manages to stay mostly upbeat, and is always so determined to be helpful in whatever way she can. Over the course of the series she has a really well-written character arc that sees her gradually developing the confidence to open up to people besides Syaoran, and learning to be more considerate of other people's feelings. Naturally, this all means that the internet hates her for being 'clingy', 'annoying' and 'useless'. She's 10.

Damian Wayne (9-14):

Damian is a kid who was raised as an assassin and because of that when he first appears he has some really messed up ideas of how to prove himself to his father by being aggressive with the criminals they capture and attacking his brother. Because of this people act like he is the most evil character ever and refuse to give him any grace. They make him out to be this awful irredeemable monster who just wants to kill his brother and hurt people. If the fandom isn’t making his out to be The Worst(tm) then they are ignoring his existence all-together. He is a really interesting character who has done some not so great things but he’s grown and learned a lot through various character arcs (as much of an arc as a comic book character can have) and he deserves to be acknowledged for himself and not just as a villain so that people can woobify his brother.

——

HES JUST A LITTLE BABY GUY!!!!! Little baby man raised as an assassin and learning how to be a real person <3. But because he was kind of a dick and also a little stabby early-on, especially to the fandom's main "so sad uwu depressed baby" blorbo (and also he's not white), people treat him like he's satan incarnate

#yall hate kids tourney #loser round 2 #cardcaptor sakura #meiling li #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #dc robin #batman comics #batman and robin #damian wayne

[ih8simps]

Im doing a rewatch of The Vampire Diaries and I must say, Klaus is just perfect lol

“Niklaus” the name slips from your tongue in a hesitant whisper.

Your mouth had shaped his name and yet your eyes couldn’t fathom that he was truly here standing before you.

He stops his prowl when he hears your voice. That infamous smirk that always seemed to be stretched across his face was suddenly wiped away. Time seems to slow until he turns on his heel to face you.

His dark blue eyes fell on you with a look of pure amazement. “Y/n”. The taste of your name felt foreign on his tongue. He hadn’t said your name in hundreds of years. He never thought he’d have a chance to ever again.

“Niklaus” you repeated his name again, trying to distract him from the chaos he was enacting. You knew Klaus had gotten worse over the years. You’d heard the stories and even seen some of the scenes he’d left behind. No part of you wanted to believe it was him because the Klaus you knew could never do the things you’d heard. Of course he was cruel when you met him, but the sheer magnitude of the evil you had seen was unfathomable.

The man you had once loved had become a monster of illustrious proportions.

“Y/n” he said your name again, this time louder “what are y- how are you here?”

“That’s not important right now, Niklaus.” His eyes narrowed at this, “right now it’s important that you release your compulsion of all of these people.”

-

Klaus had taken an entire bar hostage. The people were all dancing and twirling while no music played. Some had already begun to drop from pure exhaustion but still their bodies tried to move while splayed on the ground.

You’d been in this bar by pure chance.

One of your brother’s descendants lived in this town and frequented this bar. He almost looked like a pure replica of your brother and you found peace in seeing his face. Having been alive for over 900 years without your family, seeing that face gave you near celestial joy.

While watching your distant relative, your ears caught the sound of an oddly familiar laugh. Your eyes scanned the crowd until you found yourself looking at a scarily familiar face. Niklaus.

Instinctually you lowered yourself in your seat, trying to somehow disappear. How on earth was he here? You knew Klaus was alive and well somewhere on this earth but you never thought you’d ever be in the same place at the same time ever again.

You’d “died” before Klaus nearly 900 years ago. You made sure that your death was not only believable but real. You’d sacrificed yourself so that you’d never be in the palm of his hand ever again. For a short while you were dead but because of a certain original witch, your death didn’t last long. Even in death, the first hybrids mother cared for him far more than he could conceive. She’d brought back his “immortal love”, as she called you, as a final gift to her son.

While you kept your eyes trained on Klaus, you slowly rose from your seat and carefully made your way to the bathrooms. Once there, you listened carefully to every conversation in the bar until you could focus on his voice alone.

Klaus was in some kind of spat with a gentleman. It seems like the guy thought that his girlfriend, the server, was being too friendly with Niklaus. You knew instantly that the girl had to be compelled and if you knew Klaus well enough, which you did, he was probably openly feeding on the girl which would look like he was kissing her neck from the wrong angle.

Klaus seemed amused at first, until the man called him a lonely loser. You didn’t have to be in the room to know the face Klaus made hearing those words.

“Oh yeah?” You could hear the smirk on that pale face. “A lonely loser? Me? Oh no, mate. I’d say everyone in this bar is my friend.”

You could hear some shuffling and some whispered words that were even too low for your supernatural hearing to pick up. The music that was playing came to a sudden halt and then you heard the pounding of feet on the dance floor. For a moment you thought that it was because the music had stopped but the intensity of the sound told you that everyone was dancing.

“Look at that. I told them if they’re a friend of mine they should be dancing and look! Not a single person is sitting in their seats.”

You could imagine how Klaus was devilishly smiling at the man right now. Another perfect victory for the hybrid. You listened for nearly 10 minutes as the people continued to feverishly dance. Every part of you wanted to leave but how could you make a safe escape with him out there. Not only that, you’d be leaving without your brother’s doppelgänger. As if on queue you heard a sudden burst of laughter.

“Would you look at that. You there, I think I know you. Or at least I know someone who looks just like you”. A cold chill ran down your spine. Klaus couldn’t have possibly noticed him.

“Oh yes. You look so much like him. I wonder if you truly are a (L/N) or if the resemblance is simply uncanny.” You could imagine him appraising the mans face. “I think I’ll kill you off first. I never liked that smug bastard.”

Without a second thought you revealed yourself. You forced yourself to face the man whom you’d been hiding from for nearly a century and called out his name.

-

Klaus was still gawking at you. His dark blue eyes travelled from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. His eyes didn’t linger anywhere in particular. It just seemed as though he were trying to see if you were truly here.

“You don’t seem shocked to see me” Klaus finally spoke, “now why is that?”

Your heart, which shouldn’t have been able to beat at all, was thrumming in your chest.

There was no point in lying to him. “I think you know the answer to that, Niklaus”. He pulled in a deep breath. “How long?”

His question was met with silence. How could you confidently tell him that you’d been hiding from him since the moment you came back from the dead?

“How long?” His voice was laced with a tinge of venom. “Answer me immediately! HOW LONG?”

That rage that he could never truly contain was coming to the surface. He bared his teeth as he yelled at you, his breathing coming out in pants.

“For a long long time” you could see this answer angering him more, “I-I was there. Beside you in the shadows when they first opened the Notre Dame. You had such a beautifully astonished look on your face, Niklaus.”

The pure joy and awe you saw in his eyes that day reminded you of the boy you had fallen in love with. “Astonishing is the word you used to describe it to Elijah. You’re actually quite radiant when you’re happy, Niklaus”. An unreadable expression had replaced the anger that marred his features moments ago. An uncomfortable silence settled between you as he continued to stare.

He let out a deep breath. “Come to me and I will release them”.

“I-I can’t-“

“(Y/n)” he growled out your name, once again baring his teeth. “Come over to me immediately so that we may discuss your betrayal and I will let them go.”

You considered his words, knowing that this would be the only way to get him to let these innocent people live. For a moment you considered running, but it seems as though his age old trick of being able to read your mind hadn’t wained.

“Do not run from me, (y/n). If you try, now that I know you still draw breath” his brow crinkled at this, “I will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and take down whatever attempts to stand in my way until I have you back. Now come.”

You slowly made your way over to him, careful not to look away from his cold gaze. Klaus released a deep breath you hadn’t known he was holding when you were finally an arms length away. He reached out his hands towards you. Instinctually you flinched, unable to control your new found fear of him that you’d fostered over the years.

A look of hurt crossed his face. “Really?” He didn’t let you answer. “Do you really think I’d hurt you?”

“I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Niklaus”

He stared at you in an uncomfortable silence for a beat longer.

“No, (y/n). You haven’t seen what I am truly capable of just yet. Now tell me, who has helped you stay hidden from me all these years?” he smirked conspiratorially, “and don’t spare a single name or detail”.

#niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus x reader #tvd x reader #the vampire diaries #x reader #Klaus

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Not Alexia related but I'm so mad. This article if real it's an embarrassment. I know as a "punishment" the usual captaincy roles were revoked but this from Ivana? I also couldn't imagine if Olga lifted it as she was one who has publically stated on multiple occasions her liking to Vilda.

I know it's her wife but the situation? It's like if Paredes' wife didn't publically send indirects to RFEF/RM during the period where her wife was suffering or if Engen didn't support Mapi and her cause: how can you be used to try to avoid being condemned of sexual assault when everyone with a brain condemns it?

(Won't speak of the views on that of the men and madridistas of my lovely country because I'm embarrassed to be called Spanish, luckily I was born in Catalunya)

https://twitter.com/relevo/status/1777293549886661098?t=pX6J3y6MgMamfnLWXD-5yQ&s=19

cada cosa que sale nueva es más asquerosa y peor...it's like every new piece of information that comes out of the rubiales case is worse and worse. 🫣 there are certain things that i will never forgive rfef for and humiliating irene paredes, making her a scapegoat, and stripping her of her captaincy to put in these sycophantic figures that will suck up to them is high on the list!

first, the fact that rubiales is using the opinion of the wife of ivana andrés to defend his case is such loser behaviour. who gives a crap what the wife of ivana even has to say? it's only slight less irrelevant than if jenni hermoso called me to testify on her behalf. lawyers should laugh this type of evidence out of court.

second, look i understand that this woman was going through a harrowing situation involving her baby and in a foreign country. i would be out of my mind. and she's obviously extremely grateful for the help she received. and to give her the benefit of the doubt, sometimes you say things that are over the top in your gratitude.

but...i can't help but compare this with some of the things that ivana, olga carmona, athenea and others said in support of vilda and rfef that basically was like "we are all good here. nothing to see." 😒 like come on. if you're not going to support jenni, then the least you can do is say nothing at all. it's such a bad look.

at the end of the day, like laia codina says, players are inherently selfish, and some will put their own fame and glory above what's right...anyway, more happiness and power to my three captains.

#irene paredes #ivana andres #futfem #woso #espwnt #rfef ruins all the good things

[southsidestory]

Chapter 2: Time to Collect

Mickey has made the Kash and Grab his go-to shoplifting spot. Mr. Lewandowski should send Kash a thank you card; that old polack has been trying to run Mickey out of his corner store for the last five years.

Ian works late shifts on Fridays, so he’s the one at the register when Mickey swings by at quarter to midnight. He picks up a can of barbecue Pringles, puts it back. A box of Twinkies, puts it back. A Kit Kat, puts it back. 

“Where’s the king-size?” Mickey asks.

Ian stares at him flatly. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you steal anything.”

“Sure, you aren’t.” Mickey plants his palms on the counter. “You ever go home, asswipe? Every time I come in here, you’re stocking shelves or brown-nosing customers or doing some other dumb shit.”

“That’s called working. You might’ve heard of it.”

Mickey swipes his wrist over his mouth to erase his smile. “Sounds like a waste of time to me. There’s a lot easier ways to get money.”

“Oh really? Why don’t you educate me.”

Fuck, he’s hot when he smirks like that, all snarky and lopsided.

Mickey makes himself laugh. “What, you a vice cop now? Officer Gallagher gonna get me to incriminate myself?”

“Screw that. Couldn’t pay me a million bucks to be a pig.”

Now it’s easy to laugh for real.

“Guess you’re too good for the police academy, Mr. ROTC.” Mickey picks up a packet of Big Red and turns it between his fingers. “Saving your cherry for the U.S. Army to pop when they fuck you over?”

Ian blushes like gingers always do, pink rushing to fill the pale spaces between his freckles. “That’s different. The Army protects us from foreign threats. Police are supposed to protect civilians inside our borders, but they usually go after the people who need the most help.”

“Look at that, Ian Gallagher’s swallowed the military propaganda whole.” Mickey mimes knocking back a shot. “Washed it down with some Kool-Aid, I bet.”

“Look at that, Mickey Milkovich knows the word ‘propaganda.’ That’s like sixteen points in Scrabble before bonuses.” Ian scrunches up his nose. “Course, you’d have to be able to spell it.”

Smug piece of shit.

“I’d also have to be a fucking loser who plays board games.”

Mickey rips open the Big Red packet, unwraps the foil around a slice, and pops it in his mouth. Cinnamon burns his tongue, but it’s a good heat.

“That’s ninety-five cents,” Ian says.

Mickey chews the gum with his mouth open, as loudly and obnoxiously as he can. “Your math’s off.”

“There’s no math, Mickey. The price is on the label.”

Mickey glances over the torn packet. “Fourteen pieces of gum. Ninety-five cents for all of them. I only ate one, so I owe you seven cents—that’s rounding up, so I’m being real generous here.”

Count those points, asshole.

Mickey pulls all the money out of his coat pocket—a few crumpled twenties and a handful of coins—and picks out a dime to throw on the counter. It bounces right at Ian, who barely catches it before it goes over the edge.

Mickey leaves the rest of the gum behind, says, “Keep the change,” and walks out smiling.

Read all of Chapter 2 on AO3

***

AN: You might recognize this snippet, which I used as a teaser a while back. I made a few changes, but the point stays the same: dumb boys flirting through shoplifting.

Love you @bawlbrayker and @hamspamandjamsandwich who are the best betas a girl could ask for <3

#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless us #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mickey milkovich is his own trigger warning #IYHAP #if you have a problem #my fanfiction

[berylcups]

Yandere Files: Illuso x Shy Reader

CW: Somnophilia, Stalking, murder, impregnation mention, alcohol

Here’s Babbys first yandere post. 🥴 it’s not gruesome but it is very lewd. I guess this more of a ���softer” yandere than I anticipated but this was mostly for my own self indulgence lol. I hope this is good enough for everyone 💜 Minors DNI NSFW

It’s not every day La Squadra is given a new teammate. It’s definitely a first for an AFAB to come into the group of hardened criminals. It’s been about 7 months now, and nobody knows a goddamn thing about you. You stay to yourself , you don’t make small talk, eye contact, or show any sort of an emotion. You speak so softly… that they have to strain their ears just to understand what you are saying. It’s always in short choppy sentences.

How are you doing today Y/N? “Good.”

Did you do anything over the weekend? “I slept.”

Tell the guys what you did to that target! “Killed him.”

No, hooow did you kill him? “ High speed train…heading to Roma Termini.”

Where are you heading off to Y/N? “Out.”

Out where? “To the cafe.”

Getting any information out of you was like pulling teeth. The only thing they knew was that they were a foreigner from _______.

Illuso was tasked with spying on you because you were so quiet and reserved. Can you blame them? After what happened to Sorbet and Gelato you can’t be too sure to make sure you're not part of the bosses secret mission to snitch on them.

Illuso keeps a good eye on you. He seen where you live, what your real personality is like. Who your friends are… who your family are… and knows all about your pets and which one is secretly your favorite.

All the while you slowly warm up just a little to the others more, illuso keeps acting like a complete jerk to keep up with appearances. He doesn’t want you knowing he’s watching your every move. He doesn’t wanna admit it but he’s slowly becoming attached.

He watches you clean… cook… play with your cats and treat them like babies. It makes him start to day dream thinking about you doing those sorts of things for him or just with him. He can feel his cheeks tinting pink.

If you have any interest in any of the other teammates or if they have interest in you, he’ll sabotage anything by telling you something embarrassing about them.

“Hey Y/N! Did you know that Prosciutto is old enough to be your DAD??? Hahaha!”

“Illuso shut the fuck up! Don’t make me get Grateful Dead out on your ass!”

He suddenly feels agitated when your partner calls… why is that? When he hears you arguing loudly over the phone with them and you’re upset/crying, he’s suddenly a lot nicer to you. Weird. Illusos not a nice guy, so what’s his deal???

Despite his hatred of you having a partner he fondles himself watching you two getting intimate. He gets just as sexually frustrated as you do when you can’t climax. Can’t your partner do anything right?! Get rid of the loser so he can do it for you himself!

He will sabotage your relationship with your partner. He’ll throw used condoms in the glove box of your shared car or under the mattress. Put perfume or lipstick stains on their clothes. Anything to get you to argue and break up. And for extra measure he’s gonna send them to the mirror realm and pummel them to death.

Once the partner is out of the way. He starts being a lot nicer. He’ll include you in on teasing others and if that’s not your vibe he’ll tell you all of the juiciest gossip he has as he plays with your hair while watching trash reality tv.

He’s stingy with everyone and won’t let others try his stuff but he’ll wanna you try a new product he bought himself(mostly just for you).

“Y/N, you’re safe with me. I wanna try this new hair mask out on you. I bet it will make your hair feel so silky. “

When you're not home/out on a mission it’s a perfect opportunity to take in your scent. He’s gonna find what fragrances you use so he can use them to jerk off with. He’ll take a pair of panties that been well used out of the hamper to smell and when he’s feeling extra desperate he’ll lick a long stripe up then too to savor your natural taste.

When you two have missions together he’ll be the nicest guy ever. He won’t even treat it like a mission. It will be like a mini vacation. He will insist on getting a 1 bed hotel room so you two have to share. Even if it’s king sized, the man is HUGE. He’s gonna have some amount of contact with your body and he’s gonna love every minute of it.

He’ll make sure your nice and drunk so when you fall asleep you don’t wake up or remember anything as he thigh fucks you from behind panting sweet nothings into your ear as your blissfully off into dreamland thinking your just having a wet dream.

“You’re mine, you got that? Nobody can have this cunt but me… I swear I’m gonna knock you up so nobody can take you away from me. I don’t really want a kid but I’ll do everything I can to keep you from leaving.”

He’s gonna make you his regardless. He’s never been so attached to anyone before and he’s spoiled so he’s gonna get what he wants . So consider yourself “lucky “ this yandere chose you and get cock drunk because he’s isn’t going to stop pounding anytime soon.

“ I hope you can accept my love Y/N. Because I’m not letting you go! You’re mine and nobody else’s! My god, I love you so damn much…”

#jjba #jjba part 5 #la squadra #jjba x reader #jojo illuso #jjba illuso #illuso #illuso x reader #yandere illuso #la squadra esecuzioni #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #minors dni

[thistledropkick]

Desperado:

@ AlexZayneSauce

What's with the shorts!

You idiot!

When a real man forgets his costume, he wears short tights!

Get those thighs out!

Zayne:

I'd rather just ask Red Shoes if I can borrow his shorts.

I don't have to show you my thighs if I don't want to.

Who's the real idiot here? Probably, it's the guy who didn't ask to borrow someone's shorts when he forgot his gear.

Stupid butt face

Despe:

YOU are the idiot!

You should pay the price for your own mistakes yourself!

Zayne:

I'm a foreign wrestler.

You're a member of a unit.

But, for some reason, I have friends who will lend things to me, and you don't.

Go search for a friend, loser.

Dummy.

Despe:

The dummy who calls someone else a dummy is actually the real dummy, you dummy!

It's because you're a foreign wrestler, you idiot!

You understand my words, but you're just not getting it!

A friend isn't something you search for, a friend is something you become when you realize you have one!

Isn't that right, friend!

Zayne:

You just want to look at my beautiful legs

It's fine

Despe:

Hmm

I don't know about that

Zayne:

Sexual deviant

Despe:

Let's have a singles match in GCW ❤️

Zayne:

How do I know you're not just trying to touch my legs?

Despe:

You'll find out when we have the match...

#el desperado #alex zayne #njpw #my translation #despe and zayne have also had this whole thing going on about despe wearing a fundoshi too #It's very cute to me how these two instantly became friends

[transrevolutions]

decided louis capet is the joe biden of the late 18th century. pretends to support the moderate-progressive movement while secretly being a regular ol conservative underneath. clings onto political power even though he's basically dooming the entire system by doing so. loves to make extremely questionable foreign policy decisions with no real explanation. overall just kind of a loser. should've just quit the governmental scene and become the world's averagest guy but instead chooses the dark side.

#french revolution #shitpost #or it started out as one #but now I think I'm kinda on to something #joe biden #louis capet #this is no. 16 btw #it usually is #frev #anyways if it wasn't clear fuck them both

[brodudemanbroski]

i have one more hour until the new year so here are some doodles i did real quick of the foreign kids!! i draw them.. very differently or a decent amount differently.

they are kind of shit but whatever. still love these losers even if i like other things rn :D

[click/tap for better quality]

#rambles #my art #south park #sp #sp pip #sp damien #sp gregory #sp christophe #sp dip #THE GUYS #THE LOSERS #THE FREAKS #RAHHHH #these were so fun to draw honestly #i should draw them more often but.. i got transformers to draw #explodes #dies #HAPPY NEW YEAR

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Trump is a loser. Tell a friend.

January 11, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Readers frequently comment on my newsletters by writing, “You used word X; you should have used word Y.” Sometimes the comments are well-taken, but much of the time, my (silent) reaction is, “We aren’t going to change the course of history through vocabulary.” But Trump's effort to return to power may be the exception.

Trump is a loser. A spectacular one. He is the living embodiment of the punchline to the joke, “How do you make a small fortune in New York real estate?” Answer: “Start out with a large one.” His companies have been through half-a-dozen bankruptcies. The failure of his Taj Mahal Casino helped turn Atlantic City into a “ghost town.” He is such an unreliable credit risk that American banks stopped dealing with him in the 1990s.

Trump is a loser. He is the only president ever to be impeached twice. He is the only major presidential candidate to lose the popular vote twice. He is the only major presidential candidate to be indicted once—let alone four times. He is the first president in nearly a century to lose the House, the Senate, and re-election. He is the only major presidential candidate who has been adjudged (in a civil case) to have raped a woman.

Trump is a loser. When he traveled internationally as president, foreign leaders laughed at him behind his back. When he addressed the UN Assembly, world leaders laughed at him to his face. He has made some of the most ignorant comments ever by a US president, suggesting that Covid victims “inject bleach” and that they “shine a light inside their bodies.” And during an eclipse visible from Washington, D.C., Trump did the one thing that observers of eclipses are NEVER supposed to do—he removed his protective eye gear to look directly at the sun.

Despite the fact that Trump is a historic loser, he has somehow convinced tens of millions of Americans that he is “a stable genius” who would defeat a combined presidential ticket of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. We should not add to Trump's false mythology by unintentionally ascribing stature or influence he does not have.

Two days ago, readers of this newsletter posted a link in the Comment section to an article by Jason Sattler published on the Substack blog, Framelab. The article is entitled, Why Trump wants you to compare him to Hitler | Because then you’re not calling him a loser.

Sattler’s article is brilliant, and I highly recommend it. But in case you don’t get around to reading the article, the gist of Sattler’s argument is that Trump wants us to compare him to Hitler—because that comparison normalizes the notion that Trump will regain power as an autocratic strongman.

Sattler writes:

Ruth Ben-Ghiat, an expert on authoritarianism, seems to think the Hitler stuff is a trial balloon. Trump is seeking to “dehumanize immigrants now so the public will accept your repression of them when you return to office.” [T]hat thought gets us talking about exactly what Trump wants on our minds — him in power. He’s preemptively framing himself — as a strongman, an agent of revenge, and the ultimate enforcer of unsustainable hierarchies.

Sattler goes further, asserting that we are doing a favor for Trump by calling him Hitler:

When you’re calling Trump a dictator, think about what you’re not calling him. You’re not calling him a loser who never has and never will win the popular vote. A fraud. A traitor. Instead, you’re repeating his slander of immigrants and propping up his stature. You’re doing him a huge favor. Basically, we’re getting fooled again.

There is wisdom in Sattler’s analysis—to a point. We should not fall into the trap of assuming that Trump will succeed in becoming a Hitler-like dictator who will impose martial law on “day one” of his second term in office. If we do that, we make it more likely that Trump will succeed in his effort to be re-elected.

In other words, we should not grant Trump superpowers he does not possess. The man is a loser and a miserable human being who is disliked by almost everyone who has the misfortune of dealing directly with him.

But Trump is not only a small, insecure, petulant loser; he also exercises outsized influence over tens of millions of Americans. It would be foolish to stop talking about the existential danger that Trump presents to our democracy. For example, we know that Trump asked his former Secretary of Defense why federal troops couldn’t “shoot protestors” on the National Mall protesting the murder of George Floyd.

Two things are simultaneously true—and they are not in contradiction: Trump is a loser and he is a dangerous threat to our democracy. We can prevent him from becoming Hitler’s protege by reminding voters that he is a loser who has lost more than any other presidential candidate in history—and that he will lose again in 2024.

Don’t build an aura of inevitable victory around Trump. Instead, build an aura of inevitable defeat around Trump. He is a loser. He has always been a loser. And he will always be a loser.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

#TFG #messaging #Robert B. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #loser #authoritarianism