#scum bucket

[hailkingcheeto]

#Gym Jordan #idiot #a-hole #tweet #blame game #loser #Biden #Trump #Jim Jordan #jackass #BS #flight delays #nice try #scum bucket

[stawdog]

#prettypinkcookie #scum bucket

[scummy-writes]

I will not be leaving tumblr because. There is literally no other good site for posting writing that also promises interaction with others. Stuck here until it crashes and burns, I guess.

#scum talks #ffnet and then DA and then xyz website #i wish there was another platform that promis3d the same type of engagement as tumblr but there Isnt. #you cant post fullfics in twitter. thats hit the bucket too. the starter websites are also not good for written word #i post full fanfics onto ao3 because posting anything other than that is greatly discouraged on there #and it gets less interaction than tumblr does because people...just dont comment anymore I guess? #sigh #i am so tired

[whatbigotspost]

My life was a little bit better prior to about 24 hours ago when the name “Andrew Tate” meant nothing to me.

#how do right wing scum buckets keep producing more and more creeps even worse than the last #when does it stop

[bucketsofsaltblog]

i think being a scum-villain hater must be the most tiring past time because despite just how well thought out your critiques may be and how eloquently they're written, people will just reblog your analyses with "i found shen yuan" or "have a nice trip"

#and that's why im a sv main #svsss #scum villain #mxtx #bucket's babbles

[rowavolo]

all my genshin men are in the doghouse with the sole exception of ayato right now actually.

#kazuha doesnt count hes a qpp to me im carrying him by his scruff like hes a baby cat and putting him in a bucket of warm soapy water #capitano is like... hes on thin ice. hes standing by the shore and hes ankle deep in the water #(military scum) /hj #sighs dramatically. me and my penchant for morally dubious men in positions of power. #general barks

[toruandmidori]

Get set for what is hopefully the last summer of living under this shower of shits with our new furiously funny F*CK THE TORIES bucket hat. 

Stay shaded and spread the message at festivals, parties and cost of living riots.

Great gifts for angry British pals. 

Buy online here.

#fuck the tories #tories out #tory scum #rishi sunak #keir starmer #conservatives #labour party #uk pol #uk poliitcs #political memes #funny #bucket hat #festival season #festival fashion #funny quote #uk humour #british memes #british humour #gift ideas #fashion inspo #90s fashion #britpop

[monroevillez]

@herefortea — just fyi royalists aren’t welcome here. meghan markle is cute and hot, and the british royal family are parasites ❤️ hope this helps.

#as a british person who used to be in the royal service until lizzie kicked the bucket #the brf is scum ❤️

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #43 Part 1

Everything had been going well on their trip. Danny was going to tell his parents all about his past, and about being the half dead ghost king. Unfortunately, Danny’s life had a reputation for how terribly unlucky he was. He and his family were caught off guard, and even Danny couldn’t prevent himself from fainting when hit in the back of the head with what he assumed must have been something metal.

When he came too he could tell his arms were bound together behind his back and there were two others adjacent to him. He didn’t shift or open his eyes to avoid letting their abductors know he was awake. He could hear some soft tapping that almost sounded like chalk. There were hushed whispers but they were too muffled to hear. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed but he was starting to get a little bored. He knew his family was probably with him, they were right next to him and would have noticed him getting kidnapped. 

Eventually he heard a rustling sound next to him, they must be waking up too, “Maddie? Danny?” Their soft voice spoke.

There wasn’t a reply but that meant Danny was correct, well at least about his dad. He wasn’t 100% sure if mom and Jazz were here but he needed to figure out a way to get out of this without letting their kidnappers know he had powers. 

Another shift this time in the opposite direction. “Mom? Danny?” 

“Jazzie-Pants!! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you did they?” His words were a bit panicked and almost made Danny reveal his awareness.

“No. I’m fine, Dad? Where are we?” Jazz sounded more annoyed than worried.

A voice interrupted them before their dad could respond, “Quiet hunter scum,” the bags were removed from all of their heads and then ice water was thrown out of a bucket at them. Everyone else groaned as they were shocked awake by how cold it was.

Danny figured there was no use pretending to sleep now so he opened his eyes. They had been captured by cultists and were tied next to each other with a large circle drawn out in chalk. The circle, from some of the runes Danny could make out, looked like a summoning one. Upon further examination they looked more closely to the ones that would summon him, too bad it won’t work since he’s already here… They don’t know that though, and he could use this opportunity to mess with them.

One of the cultists, probably the leader, stepped forward and started speaking toward his followers and started a really long winded speech but a couple things caught Danny’s attention. One they were sacrificing him and his family because his parents hunted ghosts so the Ghost King would of course seek revenge. Two there were five of them there, that meant an extra person was tied up as a sacrifice as well. Who that was Danny didn’t know but he had to save them, he’d get them all out of here.

“That’s all quite fascinating but what does this have to do with me?” A familiar voice said. Danny knew exactly who the voice belonged too and it wasn’t his Mom, Dad, or sister. The fifth person happened to be his twin brother whom he hadn’t spoken to since before he faked his death.

Damian, from the sound of his voice, was behind Danny probably on the other side of his Dad. Danny hadn’t said anything yet so Damian was unaware Danny was there. The dark cavern like room didn’t allow a lot of room for light but there were quite a few candles and torches illuminating the space.

Before anyone could say anything else a loud crash was heard, Danny couldn’t see as the noise was behind him and the room descended into chaos.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #they got kidnapped by cultists #They get rescued in the next one #shenanigans #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #im glad tags that you use often pop up for you to use #I feel like I’m forgetting something though

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Middlemen without enshittification

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Enshittification describes how platforms go bad, which is also how the internet goes bad, because the internet is made of platforms, which is weird, because platforms are intermediaries and we were promised that the internet would disintermediate the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

The internet did disintermediate a hell of a lot of intermediaries – that is, "middlemen" – but then it created a bunch more of these middlemen, who coalesced into a handful of gatekeepers, or as the EU calls them "VLOPs" (Very Large Online Platforms, the most EU acronym ever).

Which raises two questions: first, why did so many of us end up flocking to these intermediaries' sites, and how did those sites end up with so much power?

To answer the first question, I want you to consider one of my favorite authors: Crad Kilodney (RIP):

https://archive.org/details/thecradkilodneypapers

When I was growing up, Crad was a fixture on the streets of Toronto. All through the day and late into the evening, winter or summer, Crad would stand on the street with a sign around his neck ("Very famous Canadian author, buy my books, $2" or sometimes just "Margaret Atwood, buy my books, $2"). He wrote these deeply weird, often very funny short stories, which he edited, typeset, printed, bound and sold himself, one at a time, to people who approached him on the street.

I had a lot of conversations with Crad – as an aspiring writer, I was endlessly fascinated by him and his books. He was funny, acerbic – and sneaky. Crad wore a wire: he kept a hidden tape recorder rolling in his coat and he secretly recorded conversations with people like me, and then released a series of home-duplicated tapes of the weirdest and funniest ones:

https://archive.org/details/on-the-street-crad-kilodney-vol-1

I love Crad. He deserves more recognition. There's an on-again/off-again documentary about his life and work that I hope gets made some day:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#putrid-scum

But – and this is the crucial part – there are writers out there I want to hear from who couldn't do what Crad did. Maybe they can write books, but not edit them. Or edit them, but not typeset them. Or typeset, but not print. Or print, but not spend the rest of their lives standing on a street-corner with a "PUTRID SCUM" sign around their neck.

Which is fine. That's why we have intermediaries. I like booksellers (I was one!). I like publishers. I like distributors. I like their salesforce, who go forth and convince the booksellers of the world to stock books like mine. I have ten million things I want to do before I die, and I'm already 52, and being a sales-rep for a publisher isn't on my bucket list. I am so thankful that someone else wants to do this for me.

That's why we have intermediaries, and why disintermediation always leads to some degree of re-intermediation. There's a lot of explicit and implicit knowledge and specialized skill required to connect buyers and sellers, creators and audiences, and other sides of two-sided markets. Some producers can do some of this stuff for themselves, and a very few – like Crad – can do it all, but most of us need some help, somewhere along the way. In the excellent 2022 book Direct, Kathryn Judge lays out a clear case for all the good that middlemen can do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/12/direct-the-problem-of-middlemen/

So why were we all so anxious for disintermediation back in the late 1990s? Here's a hint: it wasn't because we hated intermediaries – it was because we hated powerful intermediaries.

The point of an intermediary is to serve as a conduit between producers and consumers, buyers and sellers, audiences and creators. When an intermediary gains power over the audience – say, by locking them inside a walled garden – and then uses that lock-in to screw producers and appropriate an ever larger share of the value going between them, that's when intermediaries become a problem.

The problem isn't that someone will handle ticketing for your gig. The problem is that Ticketmaster has locked down all the ticketing, and the venues, and the promotions, and it uses that power to gouge fans and rip off artists:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/20/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-will-eventually-stop/

The problem isn't that there's a well-made website that lets you shop for goods sold by many small merchants and producers. It's that Amazon has cornered this market, takes $0.51 out of every dollar you spend there, and clones and destroys any small merchant who succeeds on the platform:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can stream most of the music ever recorded. It's that Spotify colludes with the Big Three labels to rip off artists and sneaks crap you don't want to hear into your stream in order to collect payola:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

The problem isn't that there's a website where you can buy any audiobook you want. It's that Amazon's Audible locks every book to its platform forever and steals hundreds of millions of dollars from creators:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

The problem, in other words, isn't intermediation – it's power. The thing that distinguishes a useful intermediary from an enshittified bully is power. Intermediaries gain power when our governments stop enforcing competition law. This lets intermediaries buy each other up and corner markets. Once they've formed cozy cartels, they can capture their regulators and commit rampant labor, privacy and consumer violations with impunity. That capture also lets them harness governments to punish smaller players that want to free workers, creators, audiences and customers from walled gardens. It also hands them a whip-hand over their workers, so that any worker who refuses to aid in these nefarious plans can be easily fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

A world with intermediaries is a better world. As much as I love Crad Kilodney's books, I wouldn't want to live in a world where the only books on my shelves came from people prepared to stand on a street-corner wearing a "FOUL PUS FROM DEAD DOGS" sign.

The problem isn't intermediaries – it's powerful intermediaries. That's why the world's surging antitrust movement is so exciting: by reinstating competition law, we can keep intermediaries small and comparatively weak, so that creators and audiences, drivers and riders, sellers and buyers, and other groups seeking to connect will not find themselves made subservient to middlemen.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#intermediation

#pluralistic #intermediation #disintermediation #publishing #creative labor #middlemen #distributors #publishers #publicists #enshittification #monopoly #monopsony #crad kilodney #trustbusting #antitrust

[loveforsatoru]

Loved You Then, Love You Now- Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader (Chapter 1: Zenin Clan/Meeting)

TW: drinking, abuse, blood

3/31/07:

It’s pitch black outside. You’re struggling to make your way back to the Zenin estate. You’re coming back from a mission, one that was too difficult for you to handle as a grade 2 sorcerer yet you were forced to go regardless of that.

Growing up in a place as wretched as the Zenin Clan is already draining on its own, but being the sister of Naoya Zenin makes it even worse on top of the fact that you’re not a typical sorcerer. You specialize in the areas of RCT healing and martial arts. But what sets you aside from other healers is you’re able to regenerate larger parts of the body in a shorter amount of time. So naturally, you’re not qualified enough to be sent on missions meant for grades 1 or higher.

The mission went horribly. It was a semi grade 1 cursed spirit lurking in a nearby hospital. You took multiple blows, almost losing consciousness a few times. The only reason you managed to make it out was because you put every last ounce of strength and willpower into a single hit.

You’re almost crawling back to the estate, nearly falling to the ground from how much blood you’re losing, buckets of red staining the surface beneath you. There are numerous open wounds and multiple fractured bones. You’ve used RCT to heal minor injuries, but you’re losing an impeccable amount of blood with a large gash across your stomach, making it difficult to concentrate on healing yourself.

You’re hoping that nobody’s awake at the moment. You would never be able to live this down. You’re already belittled every day by the horrid men you’ve been forced to be around for the last 17 years. Thankfully, your father, Naobito allowed you to enroll to Jujutsu Tech after months of begging. You leave tomorrow.

Much to your demise, the lights in the large mansion are on and shuffling can be heard from the inside.

Your body can’t handle it anymore, you’re starting to see specks of white. Nothing feels real. You can’t even feel the clothes on your body anymore, only the blood soaking through them. You collapse on the grass, lying in a pool of your own blood.

The door is swung open and a voice you know and dread all too well hits your ears.

“You can’t take one simple fucking cursed spirit? You really are useless. I should’ve killed you the moment mom gave birth to you.” That voice only made you shake in fear. You could recognize it from miles away as none other than your nefarious older brother.

You can’t spout back a response, only coughing up blood. His degradation is humiliating. Your heart gets heavier with every word that leaves his mouth. He never fails to make you question your ability as a sorcerer.

He begins walking down the stairs, closer to where you are.

Each sound of his feet slapping against the concrete makes your blood run cold.

No, no, no ,no.

That’s the only thing running through your mind.

“Look at you. Nearly passed out like the weak bitch you are. You're good for nothing. You won’t make it out there.” His tone is piercing, full of disappointment and mockery. He finds it pathetic how hard you try again and again to prove yourself.

He kneels in front of you and grabs an angry fistful of your hair, yanking your head up. You can feel your brain banging against the side of your skull, causing you to groan out in pain.

He’s looking at you with nothing but hatred. He sees you as lower than scum, worthless with no purpose. To him, you’re just a waste of space.

“How can you call yourself a healer but can’t even save yourself? How will you save others? One day, you’ll watch the most important person in your life die right in front of you and it’ll be all your fault. Nobody told you to be fucking useless.”

He spits in your face and slams your head down on the ground which sends a painful shock throughout your entire body.

“Stop, Naoya! Stop it!” Your vocal cords feel like they’re tearing. It’s the first and last thing you’re able to scream at him before coughing up more blood, nearly throwing up your insides.

He releases his grip on your hair and stands up. For a moment, you begin to think he’s finally done tormenting you, but you couldn’t be more wrong. This wasn’t enough for him. He wants to see your soul crush and wither in front of his eyes.

He stares at your helpless body, about to beg him for help because you’re desperate to make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t care. 

“Don’t open your mouth. Nobody’s going to help you. When will you realize you’re not wanted by anyone here? You’re lucky dad is sending you off to that stupid jujutsu school. He probably just wants to get rid of you. The only thing you can do is cook and fold laundry. Even so, you still don’t know your place in the clan or the world. You’re a woman. That’s all you’ll ever be. You won’t be desired for who you are because you're nobody. If you get lucky, a man might keep you around as a house pet to do his chores.”

Disgust, hatred, disappointment, anger.

They’re the only things he’s ever spoken to you with ever since you were little. The older you grew, the more he resented you. The slaps and pinches turned into kicks and blows to the face, smashing your head against the wall whenever he got the chance.

You can’t do anything but stare right back up at him, barely being able to make out the scowled expression on his face due to your hazy vision. Tears spill from your eyes, mixing with the dirt smeared on your cheeks.

He kicks you once.

Twice.

Three times.

Stepping on your broken ribs, he watches your face contort into one of pure pain and misery, unable to cry or shout because your throat is filled with nothing but blood.

“You’d better have your shit packed. I want you out of the house by noon sharp tomorrow. If you aren’t, I’ll make sure the rest of your life is a living hell.” He walks away, slamming the door of the estate, leaving you to rot outside.

He means his words and you know it. There isn’t an ounce of a lie in there.

Your body feels sore all over. There are stabbing sensations, burning, and aches in every part of you. You almost feel disappointed in yourself. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you are useless. Look at you, dissolving in your blood, sweat, and tears.

You push your feeble body off the ground and crawl towards the stairs. Every limb in your body is screaming at you to stop and lay down, but you refuse.

…

After an agonizing 10 minutes, you get to the door. You reach up towards the doorknob and twist it open with your nimble fingers. Instantly, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol. It makes you nauseous and your nose twitches at the strong scent.

You look to your side to find your dad knocked out. There’s beer bottles everywhere, some of it spilling on the floor. He never changes. You doubt he ever will.

You wonder if Naoya’s right. Is your dad sending you to Jujutsu Tech for the sole purpose of getting rid of you? He never particularly expressed any hatred towards you, but he wasn’t there for you either. Everytime Naoya would torment you, your father would simply watch with empty eyes, like the sight of his young daughter being tossed around by her older brother didn’t bother him. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe he was too drunk out of his mind to care. Maybe he just didn’t love you. Naoya is the one he cares about, not you.

Sometimes you wish you could be loved by others too.

Am I unlovable?

You’ve been asking yourself that for as long as you can remember.

You were getting lost in your thoughts, staring at the sight of your passed out drunk father, silently asking him to love you until a sharp pain was felt in your abdomen. You wince out in pain and have to hold back the scream bubbling in your throat.

You’re still laying on the floor in a crawling position when you look back and see the trail of blood from the front door to where you are in the living room.

The sight makes you dizzy, you had never seen or lost so much blood.

You try as hard as you can to make it to the bathroom and when you do, it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You lean into the bathtub, turning the water on before stripping off your blood soaked clothes. You could wring it out and it’d be enough to fill gallons.

You look in the mirror and examine your body. A gash across your stomach, black eye, bruised lip, cuts and scabs make its way from your head to your toes. You look almost unrecognizable, a whole new person. You’d prefer it if you were. You want to be anyone but yourself right now. It’s pitiful in the worst way possible.

The entire estate is silent, everyone’s asleep. The only sound heard is the water filling up the tub. 

The moonlight directly hits the bathroom window, shining down on your body and highlighting the things you wish you could erase.

The scar Naoya left on your body all those years ago won’t go away no matter how hard you try to remove it from both your body and your memory. It’s imprinted into your skin, a sign of weakness and a constant reminder that your brother never has and never will love you.

*Flashback*

It was the summer of 1995. You were 5 years old, Naoya was 14.

It was hot, too hot to stay inside all day. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the usually dark mansion. Summer was your favorite season, but now you think, no, you’re sure it’s your least.

Being the naive 5 year old you were, you had the idea to ask your “beloved” older brother to spend some time with you. Nobody else gave you attention. Who in the Zenin Clan would pay attention to the little girl who couldn’t do anything besides heal a couple cuts and small animals? You were too young and dumb to realize Naoya thought the same way.

“Naoya! Naoya! Let’s go play outside!” You eagerly opened his door to find him lying in bed, air conditioner set to the max whilst he aimlessly read a book on how to get stronger.

“No, you’re annoying. Go away.” His response was plain and blunt, but being as persistent as ever, you didn’t give up. You were dying to spend time with someone, talk to someone who wasn’t yourself.

“Please, please, please! It’s so hot outside! We can play with water balloons!”

Your whining and feet stopping on the wooden floor almost made a vein pop out of his head. Everything you did irked him.

“No! Stop talking to me! Go find something else to do with your pathetic life instead of bothering me! Make some fake food in the kitchen. It’s all you’re decent at.”

You grumble and walk further into his room, trying to find a way to get him to change his mind.

He glares at you, unwilling to cooperate or put up with this any longer.

Your stupid big eyes, and short h/c hair that barely passed your shoulders, unknowing to all the shit people said about you to your face and behind your back. You were only a kid, but that didn’t stop them. In their book, if you weren’t strong from birth and/or lacked a “real” cursed technique, you were useless. You, unfortunately fit into those categories.

You were clueless, only staring back at those who dehumanized you with a smile on your face, happy that you were receiving some sort of attention even if it was negative.

You had a doll in one hand and a teacup in the other. You were more than likely playing by yourself in your room before barging into his.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but you don’t respond. You were now sitting on his bed, stirring up a way to convince him into going with you. Bribery? Annoyance? Whining? Nothing would work on him. He was dead set on keeping you away from him as far as possible. So far, he wouldn’t be able to sense your presence within a 15 mile radius.

“Who said you could sit on my bed? Get the hell off!” He pushes you with his foot with enough force to knock you off, landing straight on the floor.

You let out a “hmph” and climb back on, arms folded over your chest.

“Why won’t you just play with me? I wouldn’t be sitting on your bed if you did.” You whined, a big pout replacing your previous expression.

“Because I hate you.” He said the words so casually, his eyes boring into your soul.

You blinked at him, unfamiliar with the newfound feeling of dread and sadness. Instead of just smiling back like you normally would, you began to cry. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, landing onto his bed. Hearing those words come from him hurt more than it did from anyone else. You knew what the word “hate” meant, and having it thrown at you by the one you looked up to most hurt your small, fragile heart.

He didn’t console you, nor did he apologize. Instead, He grabbed your arm and pinched you with all his might, the flesh instantly bruising.

You only continued to cry more, dropping your things on the ground, the teacup shattering as water spilled out and onto his bedroom floor. It made him angrier. He pushed you out of his room and into a glass table in the dining room, shoving you into it. The table broke on impact from the amount of sheer force he was handling you with. A piece got stuck in the area where he pinched you. Blood trickled down your arm as your cries turned into wails. You sat on the floor, surrounded by glass as your high pitched voice could be heard throughout the entire estate, but nobody came to check on you. They didn’t care enough to do so.

You were looking up at Naoya, clutching your arm, expecting an apology, but it never came. He landed a harsh slap across your face before going back into his room.

You sat in disbelief. It was the most hurtful thing anyone did to you.

*End Flashback*

And here you stood, 12 years later, examining that same mark that’s forever ingrained into you.

You hate it, you hate this life, you hate it here, you hate Naoya.

You wish you could crawl out of your skin and bury yourself away in a hole.

The more you look at your face in the mirror, the more distorted your reflection becomes. You’ve lost complete sense of yourself. Who even are you? Can you call yourself a sorcerer? When was the last time you saved someone? Will this twisted fate of being unable to help those around you follow you throughout your life?

You have no one to go to, no one to confide in, no one to open up to. It’s been like this your whole existence. You, alone, isolated. You hope this won’t last forever. You’ll get on your knees and beg the Heavens above to give you some sort of mercy if you have to. Take away your suffering, your pain, the thoughts that consume you entirely from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep. You deserve to get what you want. You crave and desire genuine connection. Someone to love and someone to love you back just as much or maybe even more.

Haven’t you been through enough?

…

You hastily step inside the bathtub, watching as the water turns a shade of red due to the blood seeping from your body.

You skin into the warm water, slightly hissing at the feeling, but your muscles immediately loosen. You let the water envelope you, your head being the only thing above it. 

You trace your fingers over the cuts, some deeper than others. Slowly, you gently run the palm of your hand over your injuries, using RCT to heal yourself.

Negative energy, multiply that against itself, resulting in positive energy. Reverse cursed technique, something not many sorcerers can do. It’s a blessing and a curse.

You stare up at the bathroom ceiling, letting your mind wander to what your life will turn out to be like once you finally make it to Jujutsu Tech tomorrow afternoon. Anything would surely be better than the life you’re currently living.

…

You finish taking your bath, making sure to wash away every grime collected on your body. Quietly, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off before making your way to your room, tip-toeing so as to not wake anyone up. Your dad is still slumped over the kitchen counter and everyone else is in their respective rooms. It’s a miracle nobody had gotten up.

Your room is the furthest down the estate, a deliberate decision made by Naoya to continue your suffrage in the most mundane ways possible. 

Water droplets slide down your body, making contact with the floor.

Drip

Drip

Drip

It was as if any miniscule noise would cause the estate to crumble into nothing.

You pull open the creaky door and hurry inside, quickly closing it. You walk over to your bed and toss your body onto it. A breath of relief escapes your lips the second you make contact with the soft mattress.

You get under the covers, not bothering to fully dry yourself off before drifting into a deep sleep, hoping for a better tomorrow.

4/1/07:

It’s currently 4:36am, the sun is barely out yet. You made sure to get up bright and early in order to catch the first train and to avoid bumping into any of the other Zenin’s.

You’re already dressed, wearing the uniform that came in the mail not too long ago. A perfect fit. Your suitcase is packed and ready to go. You’ve never been happier. It’s the first time in a while you’ve found excitement in your days.

You say goodbye to your room, parting ways with the place you spent most of your time in. Playing dolls, watching movies, talking to yourself, consoling yourself as you cried time and time again.

It’s bittersweet.

But you suck up a breath and make your way out, going down the hall.

All the doors are shut, indicating that everyone is still asleep.

Besides your father who’s waiting at the front door. You can’t decipher the expression on his face. He doesn’t look angry, drunk, or annoyed.

You stand across from him, not knowing what to say. For a second, you’re worried he’s going to stop you from leaving.

You open your mouth, ready to argue with all your might, but his next words surprise you.

“Good luck.” They’re simple, but speak volumes. 

Growing up, you didn’t speak much to your dad. He was either busy or drunk. It didn’t leave much opening to communicate with him. It’s not like he wanted to either. Sometimes, it seemed he’d intentionally avoid you like you were some sort of plague that would infect him if he got too close.

So, standing here, face to face with the man who failed you as a father while he tells you good luck with your new life means more than he’ll know.

You nod, a small smile creeping onto your face as your eyes crinkle the tiniest bit.

He takes a step towards you, patting your shoulder and moving aside from the door, giving you the green light to go on and find yourself in the new world, one where you won’t be abused, belittled, or doubted.

And so you do, running out the door and officially leaving everything in the past.

You take one last look behind you, watching as the scenery gets smaller and smaller, fading away into the distance. One you hope you won’t ever have to come back to.

Your smile grows wider as the sounds of the wheels on your luggage rolling against the concrete fills your ears. Another reminder that this is reality and not a dream you’ll have to eventually wake up from.

You navigate the streets of Tokyo, not as busy as they normally would be due to your early rising.

You head towards the train station, waiting for the train to arrive.

To get from Koganei to Jujutsu Tech takes about 2 hours. Despite both locations being in Tokyo, you’ve heard the school is in the far outskirts, surrounded by trees and mountains.

The thought of it all is enough to make your adrenaline rush and heart pump with anticipation.

…

After impatiently waiting for 30 minutes, the train finally arrives and you’re the first to get on, grabbing a seat in the far back of the train.

It’s pretty much empty aside from 2 boys wearing the same uniform who look to be about a year younger than you. One had blonde hair, keeping a stoic demeanor while the other was the complete opposite. Brown hair with the widest smile as he rambles on to the other boy.

You pay no mind, not wanting to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Instead, you put in your headphones and decide to listen to music on the way there. There’s not much else to do.

…

The train is silent for the most part aside from the occasional blabber and laughter coming from the brown haired boy from earlier. You could hear him through your headphones, but you couldn’t be bothered since you were nearly dozing off, eyelids threatening to shut. You didn’t get much sleep last night. Three hours at most.

Right when you fully slumped against the seat, taking in a breath and closing your eyes, you felt something or rather, someone poking you.

You take out an earbud and to no surprise, it’s the same boy. He’s made himself comfortable next to you while the blonde one reads a book, seemingly wanting to be left in peace.

“Hi!” He beams, his cheery voice echoing throughout the train.

“Hello?” You reply, slightly confused at his antics.

“I noticed we’re heading to the same place and was wondering if you wanted to sit with us! My name is Yu Haibara and that one over there is Nanami! But he’s rather grumpy today.” He leaned in closer and whispered the last part, thinking he was being discrete, but even his whispers were loud and full of energy, earning a groan from the blonde who you’ve discovered goes by Nanami.

You let out a chuckle at his excitement to be talking to a stranger on a train.

“My name's y/n.” You smile and hold out your hand which he happily shakes.

“Cool! What year are you going into?”

“Third.” You reply, holding up a 3 with your fingers.

“Aw, that's a bummer. We’re first years.” You watch as his expression quickly falls into a frown, disappointed that he won’t be in the same grade as the pretty girl he met only 5 minutes ago.

“It’s okay, I’m sure we’ll see each other around!” You give him a thumbs up in which he blushes and reciprocates. Nanami pays no attention to either of you, immersed in whatever he’s reading.

The train suddenly comes to a stop and you look out the window, your eyes glimmering at the sight. It’s beautiful. You’ve never seen trees this green or mountains this huge. It’s not like you ever went outside the central city anyway unless it were for a mission. Even then, nothing compared to this.

You hurriedly rush out of the train and Haibara follows fast behind while Nanami takes his time.

“Wow! This is great! But how do we get to the school building?” You ask, confusion laced in your tone. Is there another bus?

“Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe we’re supposed to wait down here until a teacher gets us?”

You both stand there like idiots, hands on your hips as you examine the unfamiliar area, pondering on how you’re possibly going to get to your desired destination.

Nanami sighs and rolls his eyes, in disbelief at how two teenagers could be so senseless.

“We clearly have to walk up it.”

You and Haibara let out dramatic gasps, hands slapped over your foreheads.

“Are you kidding me?!” You’re exasperated. You figured that coming to a fancy, rich, Jujutsu Tech school meant you’d have some sort of transportation to get up there.

“Yeah, that’s way too much!” Haibara pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, but Nanami is already too far ahead to hear either of you complain. He thinks he’s gonna die if he has to listen to you two talk any longer.

You and Haibara both give each other a look, shaking your heads in disappointment before following behind Nanami, running as fast as you can before he gets too far ahead. You’d definitely lose yourself trying to get around this place.

…

You and Haibara are practically panting the more you walk up the bone killing mountains while Nanami barely breaks a sweat.

“How is he able to be so composed?” You ask yourself.

Thankfully, the three of you made it after not much longer. Your jaw drops at how nice the campus is. It’s even better than you could've imagine.

Gawking over the gorgeous architecture, you see three other students out in the distance. Haibara wastes no time running up to them, introducing himself like he did with you.

You quietly follow him, curious to meet the other students.

There’s a girl with short brown hair and a cigarette in between her lips, a beauty mark nicely decorates her cheek. She’s talking to two other boys who seem to be arguing over something.

“I'm saying you need to be more humble and polite. You haven’t even greeted the new students yet.” The quiet voice came from one of the two boys. He has sleek black hair and a liquid smooth tone.

“Huh?! What are you talking about? Let loose a little. It won't kill you.”

The moment you look up to see who was speaking, heat rushes into your cheeks. Fluffy white hair, the most sparkling blue eyes, a jaw sharp enough to cut paper and beautifully striking features. His eyes are so captivating. It’s like you’re standing in the presence of an angel.

“Hello? Helloooo?” The white haired boy is directly in front of your face, leaning down to make direct eye level contact with you.

“Are you there? Cat got your tongue?” He teases before stepping back, giving you some room to breathe.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous.” You breathe out, a shaky chuckle escaping your lips.

“Nervous, yeah? Why?” The same one replies, taking out a piece of chocolate from his pocket and plopping it in his mouth.

The black haired boy chimes in. “Don’t listen to him. There’s no need to be nervous. I’m assuming you’re a first year?"

“No.. I’m a third year.” You stammer over your words, nearly choking on your own saliva. You were never the type to get butterflies around guys, but this is unreal.

You watch as both men quirk their eyebrows, surprised at your answer.

“Third year? That means you’re with us. I’m Suguru, this is Satoru, and she’s Shoko.” What an attractive friend group. It seems like they’ve known each other for a while.

“I’m y/n..”

“Y/n. A pretty name for an even prettier girl. Since it’s your first time here, we’ll give you a tour.” Satoru says, giving you a wink as his lips curl into a charming smirk.

You look around and see that Haibara’s nowhere to be found. You were at least comfortable with him. Now, you’re stuck with people you can hardly speak around, including a freakishly handsome blue eyed boy who, unknowingly to you, has had his sights on you from the moment you made your way up the mountain.

Little does he know, his best friend has the same intentions.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #rambles #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #geto x reader #suguru x reader

[deansapplepie]

The Spitting Image | Part 2

Summary: Years passed since last time you saw your ex-boyfriend and father of your son. Fate decided the perfect moment for you to reconnect was after the end of the world.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! Reader

Warnings: swearing, threatening, a little angsty, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of abandonment, Reader’s Parents. Minors do not interact. (If I forgot anything let me know)

Word Count: 3,715

A/N: again I didn’t finish this part how I wanted to, but next part probably we’ll have father and son moments. Also I guess the flashbacks are over.

Also, this is fiction so any inaccurate thing just take as it can happen in this world.

Part 1 Part 3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Daryl and you never said if you were dating or not, but you guessed it was implied because you were always together, you did couple shit, you kissed… he was your best friend, but you wish you had a girl friend you could share how happy you were. One day you thought about telling your mom, you had always been friends, but as soon as you arrived home an ice bucket was thrown on you.

“Y/N, dear, Mrs. Guttenberg told us something very preoccupying. She said she saw you and the younger Dixon together at the public library.” Your father said and you could be a little naïve, but you knew he was looking for information.

“You mean Daryl, daddy?” He was a Dixon, indeed, but he had a name.

“Yes, whatever his name is.” He answered annoyed.

“We’re in the same year. Sometimes we have projects to do together.” You lied, indeed you were in the same year, but you had no classes together this year.

“Avoid having him as a pair for your school projects.” He said, indeed you read well the situation. Your father had something against the boy you loved.

“Why? We’re friends.”

“There’s no such thing as boys and girls being friends, sweetie.” This time it was your mom, and you thinking about telling her about Daryl… you couldn’t have been more wrong.

After this you didn’t stop seeing Daryl, you could never do that. So instead, you did what every teenager would do, you did it either way, but hide it from your parents and how was it even more delicious to hide everything from them. The feeling of the secrets and the mystery being your everyday fuel.

You didn’t even know how you were able to maintain the secrecy until your high school graduation, until your last summer before going to the uni. It was perfect, you’d sneak around say you’d be with one of your “girl friends” and you’d be enjoying yourself with Daryl. That was until middle of the summer, when they discovered your lie. You were surprised how they cared about you to not know you had no friends for years and buying your lies so easily.

It was a beautiful summer evening, both of you were at a small diner savoring a Milkshake you were sharing when the doorbell couldn’t have sounded more horrifying than in the moment. Your parents entered the diner and marched in your direction you froze, and Daryl saw the shift in your mood, the anxiety creeping out of you… and then He saw them too and everything made sense.

Your father yanked you from your sit hastily as if you stayed any more time close to Daryl you’d be contaminated.

“What did I told you? Avoid the younger Dixon, and you’re here having milkshakes with him.” Your father angrily bursted still grabbing your arm and not afraid at all that everyone was seeing the scene.

“Sir, yer hurting her…” Daryl tried to politely tell him to release you.

“I’m not talking to you your bastard son of a bitch! You seduced my innocent daughter!” His intention was to make some noise, he wanted everyone to know what the boy he considered scum had “done”.

Oh if he just knew how ‘innocent’ you were.

“Dad, it’s not like this.” You tried to reason with him. “I’m with him because I want to, I-I love him.”

“Sir, your daughter is off age. She has the right to make her own decisions.” His hands were closed in fists, trying to consider that man was your father, and he couldn’t just break his nose.

“You shut the hell up Dixon! I decide what is better for her! You open your disgusting mouth one more time and I’ll make sure next time you open it is to cry because your drunk daddy and your junkie of a brother are behind the jails with no time to leave it!” He just used his power as an attorney to threaten Daryl with the people that he had to protect even if they were part of his pain. His brother was indeed a junkie, but he was his brother. And his dad… how many times he wished he was dead when he was past drunk and would beat the hell out of him.

“Dad! No!” You protested, why were he causing all of this.

“Mr. Y/L/N” A terrified small waitress approached all of you. “If you don’t stop this, we’ll need to call the police. You’re scaring the clients.”

He looked at the waitress rage in his eyes, your mom was there and did nothing to help you or stop him. He started to drag you to the exit, you tried to fight back. Your father pulled your arm strongly, making you groan in pain. Your eyes on Daryl trying to say a thousand things just with them. ‘I am going to be ok.’ ‘Don’t worry’ ‘I will come back for you.’ ‘Don’t give up on me.’ ‘I’m not giving up on you.’ ‘I love you.’

While you were dragged from the diner to the parking lot and then to the car, younger Daryl Dixon was frozen, unable to move. In pain. He had been humiliated many times in his life, but it never hurt like this time. He felt useless. He did nothing to stop him, so afraid of what he could do. He had lost you because he chose to protect people he didn’t even know deserved his consideration, but they were his family… he couldn’t just let it happen. That day would continue to haunt him for many years, and he would never forget the heartache it caused.

“And how this whole story changes my opinion?” DJ asked you, trying to stay firm at his point. It didn’t change his father didn’t look afterwards. Daryl was present while you told him all the story with no editing how your parents were despicable.

“Were you listening to me?” You asked your son incredulous; he was an intelligent boy, he shouldn’t be playing dumb. “Imagine, you had someone you really loved, but their parents didn’t like you, had a stupid prejudice against you, because your family wasn’t like the others. Those people tell you to leave or they’re going to kill your mom, me. They are prepared to pull the trigger at any moment. Would you let me die?”

“No.” He answered reluctantly, he didn’t like to lose. A stubborn little shit just like his father.

“It was nobody’s fault.” You said again. “I don’t expect you to immediately call him ‘dad’ or consider him your father, but I expect you to be open to getting to know him and respect him.”

“It’s ok, if he’s not ready…” Daryl tried to say, he didn’t want the kid to do anything forcefully, but you were his mother, you knew better.

“No, it’s not. You’re his father, you did nothing wrong. He shouldn’t be so resistant.” You stated, sometimes you thought you were too strict but in others you always felt that being a solo mom you needed to be.

“Ya can’t force the kid…” Daryl said, and he wasn’t wrong, but you sent him a sharp glance anyways.

“You see, listen to the old man.” DJ was playing with fire and he knew it, but he couldn’t help being like this when everything changed so much in a short time.

“Ok, enough. Both of you, do it like you wish. DJ, just stop blaming him. Ok?” You asked your son and hoped he would comply with it right now. Daryl’s group was new and you didn’t want them having a hard time because your son was unfairly rebellious.

“Ok, evil grandparents fault.” The teenager stated.

“I don’t expect ya to open to me easily DJ, but I’d like to know ya and I’d like ya to know me and see if I’m fit to be your father. Someday.” All of this was as new for him as it was for the kid. He needed to try, it was as if he had passed all those years waiting for this moment, as if he knew somewhere he had a son… it scared him as fuck, but from the moment he landed his eyes on the kid, he couldn’t stop thinking about HIS son. Also, the punch he received wasn’t something easy to forget. “I can teach ya many things and I know I can learn from ya too.”

“We can arrange it, Daryl.” DJ said, trying to sound more mature. It was strange the name Daryl rolling from his mouth and it being not to talk about himself. He kept the straight face, one more thing he got from his father and didn’t know, he didn’t want to show his true emotions, but deep inside he was a mix of excited and fearful.

“Baby, I think for the next part of the talk, you can go to your room. You don’t need to listen to it.” You didn’t want to tell him how it was when you discovered you were pregnant, the options your parents gave you, what you had to do… what you lived. You were pretty sure he felt everything inside your belly.

“Mom, I wanna know everything. Stop protecting me.”

Some weeks after your parents took you to Atlanta, you started getting morning sickness and your period was late, which made you freak out in silence with no one to vent about it. You could leave the house and use a public phone to call Daryl, but he didn’t have a phone at home, so no way of you communicating with him. If you were still with him, you could worry about it together.

You thought about running away and going back to him, but you couldn’t. Your father swore he would make his life a living hell if you did so and you didn’t doubt him, after everything… you knew what he was capable of. So you hid it. You hid your worries the maximum you could, until your mom started to suspect your constant sickness and resistance to eat certain foods.

One day she arrived at home, a bag from the pharmacy in hands and threw it at you. “Go to the bathroom, now!” She ordered, you looked at her wide-eyed, you hadn’t understood. “Don’t give me that look, you know what it is. Pee on all of them and don’t even try to hide it from me.”

In a short period of time, your parents had become strangers to you. You didn’t recognize them anymore. They scared you.

You took the 5 packs of pregnancy test to the bathroom and peed on all of them, once you finished, you opened the door and let your mom in. You sat on your bed and let she have her time with the tests. You already knew the results; you could feel it in your bones. You were pregnant. You were expecting Daryl Dixon’s child, and in the same way it brought joy to you… it scared you so much more, afraid of what could happen.

Positive. All five positive. A big positive.

Later that day your mother talked to your father thanks the gods she left you out of it, but from your room you could listen the choleric screams of your father. Then, they came to talk to you.

“We need to talk about what we are going to do with the thing growing inside of you.” Your father said coldly.

“The thing? It’s my baby. We don’t have anything to discuss.” You answered a protective hand on your belly.

“We’re not keeping a stray dog in this house.” You couldn’t believe that words came from your mother’s mouth.

“You have only two options, one you can give it to adoption and second we end this freak show.” That needed to be a nightmare, a sick joke… no way your parents were really making all of this.

“I-I need some time to think…” That was all you managed to say. There wasn’t anything to think about. You were keeping that baby, his baby, your baby.

“You have 24 hours to think about it. That’s all I’m going to give you.” Your father said before living the room followed by your mother.

You needed a plan, you needed to leave without they suspecting you. Well, there wasn’t many options for you in Atlanta… there was no Daryl, and your father knew you’d not go to him risking him destroying your lover’s life. Maybe they would let you go out a little to “organize” your thoughts.

You went from your room to your parents’ and knocked shyly on the door, soon you heard her voice telling you to get in. After this, you probably deserved an Oscar, you put your stupidest face, faking confusion and a little of worry, the last one wasn’t difficult to fake, you were indeed worried. You asked if you could go to the mall, as if you were a minor needing permission from your parents. They gave you a curfew and asked for you to go on your car, of course because they could track you down.

You changed your clothes and took a simple bag, with all the documents you had. You told them you were leaving with your “best” destroyed face and really left to the mall. You parked your car, but you weren’t staying there.

You took a taxi to the closest agency of your bank, you waited a little time to speak with someone and asked to withdraw all your money, all the money your parents had reserved for your college. The account was in your name, so it was yours. You took a part in cash and another in check, it would be easier to carry. You decided you’d open an account wherever you went and make the deposit of the checks once you thought it was safe, probably some time after your baby was already born. For now, the money you had was enough.

You left the agency, bought different clothes in a cheap store and changed into them. After it, you left to the bus station and there you’d decide your final destination. And that’s how you ended up in a small city in Ohio, pregnant, alone and working in a Café. Also, it was the place where you raised your son before everything happened.

“ ‘m sorry ya hafta go through it alone.” Daryl said once you finished telling the whole story. DJ remained silent. Thinking about how he could not be there if you had chosen your parents way, also he thought how he hated them even more that he knew everything.

“I wasn’t alone.” You had a small smile on your face. “I had DJ and I found some angels along the way.”

“After I left, I thought about looking for ya at your college, but… I thought you were better off without me.” Now his mind wandered back to the past and he could feel the emotions he had at the time all over again.

‘I’d never been better off without you.’, you wanted to say when you saw in his eyes the 19 year old boy he once was, but you couldn’t. “You’d never find me, as I never went to the university, so you would have frustrated yourself once more.”

You took a glance at your son and you could see there was a turmoil of thoughts and feelings on his mind. That’s why you didn’t want him to listen this part of the history, you knew your son… you knew how he’d get. “Dear… are you okay?” You took his hand over the table and gave a small squeeze on it. You knew he wasn’t ok.

“Yeah.” He managed to say, his voice broke. You could see he wanted to cry. You hated to see him like that. “I’m gonna go to bed. Night.” He excused himself fast and in the same speed stood up and hit the stairs. He was going to cry, he didn’t… he couldn’t cry in front of Daryl, his father. God, he punched the man some hours ago, and now he was afraid if he saw him being emotional he’d not want someone this weak as a son. He didn’t ever want a father, so why did he feel like he couldn’t do this? DJ was 17, almost a man, he used to say he would protect his mom, but now he felt under the weather because of the shit that happened before he was born. Maybe… he also felt it was his fault, but he never asked to be born, right? That wasn’t his responsibility, he tried to tell himself.

“I think I should go.” Daryl said feeling a little weird after DJ left. “Ya probably should check the kid. But I think ya know this n’ don’t need me saying…” he got up from the chair, why was he feeling all nervous now?

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna talk to him. I knew it would do no good he listening to this with all the details…” you stood up and even though the hunter had said he should go… you felt he wanted to say something.

“Why did ya give him my name?” He asked. You had sent letters saying you were expecting and he never answered the letters, because he never received them. So why name your precious son after the dumbass of father that technically didn’t want him?

“ ‘cause he’s yours… If your mind still works the same, I know you’re thinking you didn’t deserve this… that at the time you were supposedly a father that abandoned his son, but the thing is… I know you, Daryl Dixon, and I know you’d never do something like that. He was the last piece, the last memory I had of you.”

You said ‘I know’ not ‘I knew’ and that made Daryl feel nervous in a way he didn’t for a long time. There were years that you didn’t see him and you still thought his nature was the same, you still thrusted him even when he didn’t do anything the day before to show he still thrusted you.

You took him to the door and thanked him. Thanked him for what? There wasn’t anything to thank about when he was presenting to his father duties so late. He answered with a ‘ ‘s nothing.’, feeling strange and didn’t know well what to say or how to behave. He walked on the streets of Alexandria kicking every small rock he saw on his way, he wasn’t frustrated, maybe a little bit, his father never said anything and he and Merle had come back to visit him, even though the bastard didn’t deserve it. He could have said… He was thinking, about everything, mainly about his son, but he couldn’t help but think about you too. Before, you were all he knew and now you had a son together; Also, all that you went through all by yourself…

When he arrived the house that was given to his group, they were all gathered around the living room. If he was honest, he didn’t really want to talk, but he knew he’d need to talk with Rick, or Carol, or both of them. They’d ask for sure. And he wasn’t wrong, once he entered, Rick and Carol dragged him to another room. “What’s it?” He said in his hoarse voice, a little more annoyed than he intended to.

Carol rolled her eyes, but Rick was the first to speak. “How was it? Did you talk to the kid?”

“Ugh… yeah…” he replied scratching the back of his head. “I sorta talked more with her… in fact she was the one that talked the most. The kid was maybe almost as lost as I was.”

He gave them a summary of the conversation, because he knew they wouldn’t rest till he said something. It’s not like they liked to be invasive, but at least the little that Daryl was willing to tell they wanted to know.

“Brother, I can’t imagine how it must be for you. But welcome to the club, it’s not easy being father to a teen.” Rick tried to give Daryl his support and to lighten the mood he tried to joke a little. Daryl appreciated it, but there were so many things on his mind at that moment. “What do you think about the place?”

“ ‘m assuming they’re not crazy cannibals, but they’re weak.” It was visible, most of those people never had to put a hand on a knife or a gun to defend themselves. “ Y/N wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t good and safe.”

“Yeah, indeed they’re week. We need to adjust here and keep our eyes open. Are you sure we can trust her?” Carol knew that would be a delicate subject to him, but she needed to confirm.

“I know her, I trust her.” Daryl was resolute, he didn’t want to dictate all the reasons why he trusted you.

“You. Still. Like. Her.” Carol said a knowing smile on her face.

“Of course, she’s the mother of my child.” He said a hue of pink going to his cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Ok, let’s not pick on him today. He had enough for today.” Rick not wanting to pick on him, that was new to Daryl.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

The Spitting Image Taglist: @minaxcarter @carlyi @daryldixmedown @argentinian-witch @xmaeyonaiise @poetryhazel @blackvelveteen1339 @queenmizuki @crashlyrose @the1eyedmonster16 @jasminocano @sm4-rty @duckybird101 If your name is here, but you didn’t receive the notification, it’s because I wasn’t able to tag it. I’m sorry😞

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #the spitting image series #deansapplepie

[notrightnowsblog]

Noted Droid hater Din Djaren: Does that thing follow you everywhere?

Luke: Artoo? He’s like a member of the family. Like literally, he might’ve been present at my conception.

Din (under his breath): I’ve got my eye on you, you rolling trash bucket

Artoo as a series of beeps and whistles: same, you bounty-hunting fundamentalist scum.

Luke: it’s so great you two are getting along.

#the mandalorian #din djaren #luke skywalker #dinluke #artoo detoo

[mikkeneko]

Shen Qingqiu wasn't dead. Luo Binghe reminded himself of that every hour. He wasn't, but the cold horror of those days stuck with him, like a bucket of icy water to the face, seeping slowly down his spine.

He wouldn't let that happen again, he vowed. If chasing Shizun made him run, if catching him made him struggle, if grabbing him made him tear himself apart rather than be held, then Luo Binghe would no longer do those things. He wouldn't chase, he wouldn't force. He would wait for Shizun to come to him.

And he did.

----

Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu reconcile, and Mu Qingfang tends to his patients, which does not include Shen Qingqiu for once.

Well, that's it for this fic! I'm not saying I would never write more in this setting, but I don't have anything else to say about it right now.

I would have liked to get BingQiu a little further along the romance track, at least enough to discuss the fact that SQQ almost kissed him in chapter 5, but I just could not make the case for that -- Luo Binghe doesn't know about it and Shen Qingqiu will not admit to it even under torture.

#svsss #bingqiu #mikke fics #in durance veil

[lostgirlfandom]

Roman Fingers

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x Female!Reader

Warnings: Harassment, maybe a little bit of threatening, afab reader

Words: 775

You were not one to hold back when someone was harassing you. Especially if someone touched you inappropriately.  

Which you were a little pissed because some asshole had decided to touch your ass while you getting something to drink at the table at this small mixer that was for some sorority you didn’t care to know the name of.  

One minute you were pouring some punched mixed alcohol into a solo cup, the next a hand smoothed itself over your ass as a guy you didn’t know pushed against your side.  

Pausing and narrowing your eyes into space in front of you, you processed the situation.

“Hey, baby... Aren’t you in my Physics class?” The sleaze asked you with a smirk. The smell of beer falling heavily from his breath and clothes. He stood at maybe 5’10 with a dark buzzcut. He wore a fraternity shirt that had some wet spots from sweat or beer, you couldn’t figure out.  

Pinching your lips together, you turned your head to him and stared into his glassy eyes with anger. “I’m gonna need you to take your hands off of me, bud.... before we have a problem.” You told him with a fake grin.  

He gave a scoffing laugh and have a drink grin as he swayed on the spot. “Oh, come on... Your body is ssso soft... I just want to run my hands over your body again, again.” He licked his lips.  

You opened your mouth to retort back but a voice chimed in. “The lady said to let go of her... I’m sure your simple mind could process at least that much.”  

The scum and you both turned your heads to the voice and you saw a guy standing there with a simple button up and jeans. A solo cup in one hand and the other shoved into his pocket. But what you took noticed of was his bright blue eyes that was lit with intelligence and smugness as he stared at the scum bucket.  

Blinking out of your thoughts, you grinned at him. “I got it handled.” You turned back to the sleaze and then proceeded to reach down with a hand and then gripped his junk tightly and then twisting slightly. He jumped and his face twisted into discomfort as his eyes cleared for a second of clarity. “Here’s what you’re gonna do... You’re gonna let me go, then you’re going to sit your ass in a corner... or leave all together! And never touch another woman inappropriately ever again... Clear?” The man’s breath had picked up but didn’t say anything as he was focused on the uncomfortable feeling of you twisting his junk.  

Sneering, you twisted harder, causing him to yelp and nod his head rapidly. “Clear... Clear!”  

Smiling, you let go of him causing him to sigh in relief and slouch down. He then hurriedly took off past the other guy that had tried to come to your rescue. Both of you watching him as he basically ran out the door.  

The blue-eyed knight watched him in amusement as he took a sip of his drink before turning back to you. You sighed and then looked back at the guy and took more of his features in. His blonde hair was ruffled like he just woke up, but you kept focusing on his eyes that you noticed was looking you up and down slowly. Taking in your outfit and your shape and then your hair and eyes.  

He gave you smirk as you tilted your head. “Looks like you didn’t need me after all.”  

You chuckled and looked down at the ground, pushing your chin to your chest. Shrugging, “I know how to take care of myself when needed.”  

You looked up from underneath your eyelashes and looked at him as he kept looking you up and down with a small smug smirk on his lips.  

Blinking, you know he looked familiar and then thinking about it, you know why. “You’re in a couple of Physics classes... and Linear Algebra class.” You lifted your head back up and smiled at him.  

His eyes lit up at your smile and words. “Yeah... Yeah you are. I knew you were familiar.” He blinked, licking his lips and shaking his head before putting his hand out for a hand shake. “Lip... Lip Gallagher.” He told you with a grin.  

“Y/N Y/L/N” You shook his hand.  

There was a small comfortable silence after you let his hand go. But you both were too busy observing the other.  

He let a smirk fall on his lips as he asked you, “So, wanna get out of here?”  

#lip gallagher one shot #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher x reader #female reader #reader insert #shameless one shot #shameless imagine #fandom one shot #fandom imagines #fandom imagine

[arpmemething2]

Batman the Animated Series sentence starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"All right, scum bucket, it's you, me, and thirty stories. You're gonna tell me exactly what I want to know."

"That's one way to remove a splinter."

"I have this natural immunity against poisons, toxins, the pain and suffering of others. Go figure."

"I failed you. I wish there were another way for me to say it. I cannot. I can only beg your forgiveness, and pray you hear me somehow, someplace... someplace where a warm hand waits for mine."

"Last time we met, you tried to throw me off a building."

"If you think I've been bad news before..."

"Old and infirm as you are, I'd trade a thousand of my frozen years for your worst day."

"What kind of a saboteur uses a six-thousand dollar Metronex to set a time bomb?"

"I never counted on being happy."

"A strong mind can fuel a frail body."

"I need a new car."

"There's no way you could have escaped from that explosion! How did you get out?"

"I'm gettin' too old for this."

"I suppose what they say is true: society is to blame. High society."

"Succumb to the fear!"

"Gee, it's amazing the things you find in people's glove compartments."

"Children and guns do not mix. Ever."

"I'm having a BAD DAY! I'm sick of people trying to shoot me, run me over or blow me up!"

"They're not stupid, and it's your party."

"Aren't they just the cutest family you've ever seen?"

"It's midnight darling, time to unmask."

"It's gonna be one of those nights."

"When you look too long into the abyss, the abyss looks back through you."

"If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?"

"You've got to admit there's something between us."

"There's always time to heal."

"I didn't realize you'd taken up listening to rock and roll."

"Choosing a weekend date?"

"I don't believe in fate."

"An entire city screaming in fear. I wonder if we'll be able to hear it."

"Some thought I'd gone mad. Others thought I always had been. And so they put me where they thought I belonged."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no tales."

"This city would fall apart without you!"

"I love that trick but I can never make it work."

"Taking up video games, are we?"

"I hate it when he does that."

"You are strong... but not strong enough!"

"They don't make straight jackets like they used to. I should know."

"He's not samurai. He's NINJA. They're spies and assassins. Their only code is to get the job done."

"A pixel is worth a thousand words."

"I am vengeance! I am the night!!"

"And who says opera has to be boring?"

"He always knew how to make an exit."

"Hey! Do I hit your kids? Oh, actually I do..."

"Now boys, didn't your mommies teach you that's not the way to get a lady's attention?"

"Not the robot theory again."

"Freeze, maggots! You're all under arrest!"

"You said you'd never let me go home!"

"What was she before she went bonkers?"

"This used to be a beautiful street. Good people lived here once."

"'Tis better to have loved and lost, and made a small profit, than never to have loved at all!"

"Chance is everything. Whether you're born or not, whether you live or die, whether you're good or bad. It's all arbitrary."

"But you've forgotten the first rule of comedy: if you have to explain the joke... THEN IT ISN'T FUNNY!"

"I told you not to speak!"

"Coming through! Hot stuff!"

"The snow is beautiful, don't you think? Clean, uncompromising..."

"When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping."

"What a pleasant surprise. Though I should warn you - breaking and entering is against the law."

"This could cause a stampede to pork."

"You really know how to put the fun in funeral."

"You ought to put your toys away."

"Would not, could not... would not, could not... oh, could not join the dance."

"Home. I never thought that could sound so good."

"Then I'll see you in your nightmares!"

"As the Bard said, "the fault lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.""

"You know what I'd have given for a death scene like this. Too bad I won't get to read the notices."

"He's a little protective of all this. I think he likes bats better than people."

"All your power and money has bought you an empire of misery."

"Don't try this at home kids!"

"I feel ill."

"Well, that was fun! Now, who's for Chinese?"

"You're about to fall out of orbit."

"Why can't he ever stay dead?"

"They can bury me in the ground, as deep as they like. But I'll grow back. We always grow back. Don't we, baby?"

"All men have something to hide. The brighter the picture, the darker the negative."

"You thought I was just another bubble-headed blond bimbo! Well, the joke's on you, 'cause I'm not even a real blonde."

"When the wage slaves start acting like they own the place, it's time to pull the plug."

"I've been known to be foolish, but ain't nobody calls me a liar and goes to bed happy."

"Since you don't like my side-splitters, how 'bout a skull-splitter?"

"This is kidnapping, mister! Last time I checked, it was highly illegal!"