— 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓

So damn cheesy but this quote is seriously Malleus coded:

“I’ll never stop being greedy when it comes to her. She will always be the exception to any rule and the one person I’m willing to screw the world over for. Because if she’s not happy, I’ll ruin whatever stole her smile, myself included.”

The Fine Print by Lauren Asher

What you can say to describe the Sun

Magnificently radiant

Soft unfailing

Overpoweringly bright

Bright and gorgeous

Flashingly bright

Universal and resplendent

 Marvelous clear 

Motionless 

Fierce western

Immense newborn

Glorious

Incredibly strange and wonderful 

Graciously warm

Fiery and pitiless 

Hot and powerful

Imperial and royal

Huge inflamed 

Fiery and eternal

Uncommonly red

Scintillating 

Warm autumnal 

Dim and ancient

High and unforgiving 

Cancerous orange

Strange and mystical

Filipino parents pressuring their children to work hard, be rich and finish school with high grades, be perfect, and successful, and then vote for a president with no degree:

—  𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 { 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒. }

below is a list of GEMSTONE names that are more commonly seen as MASCULINE. they are in alphabetical order for easier access. they are of various origins, so try and be mindful of this. please LIKE/REBLOG if you find this list useful!

Alabaster

Alexandrite

Aputsiak

Argyros

Bende/Bendegúz

Berilo

Carnelian

Emzar

Flint

Granite

Heliodor

Jasper

Jet/Jett

Jing

Kailash

Kito

Kohaku

Kyanite

Malachite

Mercury

Mica/Micah

Obsidian

Onyx

Oro

Quartz

Serpentine

Silver

Slate

Stone

Zahavi

Zircon

Ehem. Let's do this again.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows."

"Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine."

"With this candle, I will light your way in darkness."

"With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Sometimes, when I want to feel those deep angst moments. I come back to this fic just to feel something.

tell your baby, that i'm your baby. (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere damian wayne x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere superfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist !

this is written in regards to one of my drabbles, i can't help but sigh at just how good the angst is for damian in this series.

because in loving family, unpalatable desire, you pretty much exclusively nickname him "dami, baby," from day one right after meeting him. you say it not in a way that you wish to overstep your boundaries at simply being his stepparent - you're aware, despite the ache in your chest admitting it, that you'll never come quite close to talia's standing in his heart, it's simply impossible with how she raised him her entire life before being dropped off in bruce's care - but because you find the boy adorable if you look past his intent at trying to murder you at every passing glance.

or maybe it's just you trying to cope with the pain of your situation, that you consider them all your beloved children, yet never being once called their parent throughout your entire marriage that breaks apart the illusion of a happy home life, that this wasn't the marriage you wanted at all; that you'll never bear a time in your life stuck in the manor seeing their genuine smiles directed at you even if you attempt to approach as patiently as possible in hopes your presence might be accepted— even if it results in awkward laughs at your cringy jokes at the dinner table, or one of damian's weapons nearly plunging the side of your head.

maybe, it's such a struggle to keep the flicker of light alive in your body whenever all your hardships fail, and all throughout you find your husband with lipstick stains all over his white collar every time he comes home that your mind forces itself to believe that with enough trial and error, maybe one of them could eventually tolerate, rather than pity you.

unfortunately, you chose damian, the one who you're convinced arguably despises you the most, of all people living or visiting the manor to run the test.

so in all the instances you chirp out his nickname, so fondly, so eminently heard across the walls of the manor, even in the spacious expanse of the gardens could your voice be heard from miles away, all because you wish to bond with him, praising his artworks with your grating voice, to give him intricate gifts you know will be discarded in the trash in front of you; you'll be met with a stubborn glare and mean comments about how he'll never consider you his parent, to relinquish your delusions at thinking he'll even let you past his walls, and how he'll never follow through the orders of a scum like you.

which is what you're forced to deal with every single day, coupled with harsh reminders of their happiness without the need for your presence beside them.

sometimes, his reactions could be his typical harsh comments, you've grown accustomed enough to differentiate what is harmless and what borders on violence; it's enough to know when to stop bothering him despite your best efforts. other times, it would be as intense as running a sword through the strands of your hair until he chops it at the end with a threat to cut off your tongue right after if you dare call him that putrid nickname again that cuts deeper than any wound.

with every trial of becoming closer to him, results in an even widening crack in your relationship with the young boy. and eventually, with enough sighs under your breath and harsh glares from him, you'll come into terms that you'll never form a cordial bond with the young boy. it's just impossible with how he views you, sheltered and undeserving because of your family's reputation of being money laundering scum.

at that period of time, you instead chose to strengthen your relationship with the reporter who saved you one day from the paparazzi's cruel interviews, the cute man from the daily planet whose name is clark kent with an even more adorable son, jon, who welcomed you with open arms and a tight hug on your stomach, muttering about how he's so excited to meet his new parent, just when you first stepped on the doors of your affair partner's home; that was enough to relinquish any anguish you felt at the manor replaced with absolute joy at what seems to be the first time you're considered the parent, part of a family, in a completely different household.

it helps erase the shadow of doubt that you may be cursed to never be accepted into an established family with just how bright, how comparable jon was to an overexcitable golden retriever, bonding with you since day one unlike all the other insufferable moments crammed into a jam-packed dinner table— only for your voice to be discarded and overpowered by others.

you start to call him your baby instead, completely in awe at the cute freckles littering his sun-kissed skin and the country boy accent he adopted from his dad. you couldn't help but hold his cheeks in your palms and kiss all over his face whilst you kneel to his level, laughing along with the giggles erupting from his throat that creates this harmonious melody in clark's ears, who watches you scoop the boy into your arms just to swing him back and forth in cuteness aggression, just how it always should've been with you.

clark pictures the moment together, capturing jon's smooshed face shadowed by your hair whilst you look at his, no, your son with inexplicable joy, eyes crinkled and shining brightly under the halo of the sunset.

and clark doesn't even have to see just much jon loves and cherishes you at first glance.

he wouldn't even dare compare you to his late mother, never once calling you a replacement or a homewrecker, placing you upon a pedestal you deserve to be instead; because let's face it, you simply live in the manor, but your true home is where clark and jon, and ma and pa kent are at. pictures of your little family are framed in your shared bedroom for you to graze your finger upon whenever you wish to reminisce the blessings bestowed upon meeting your affair partner at just by chance.

but you shouldn't have forgotten about damian that quickly, not when jon all-too suddenly shoves that photo of you in his wallet in front of his face, it made damian's mind go off in a tangent, in both curiosity and frustated yet unstated interrogations at your sudden disappearance (your grating voice don't call out to him anymore, and suddenly, the manor is quieter; he despises that feeling of emptiness more than he does of your nickname for him) then reappearance as jon's, funny, hah—!

jon's parent.

and in moments of careful investigation does he realize—

when you're with jon, his best friend, when he spies in on you at the little farm you now live in, currently alone with someone whom you call your true son, that he comes to realize just how much that nickname means so much to him, as your voice, with that soft tone, scold his friend with that familiar warmth you always used to direct at him with the softest of gaze, an angel unlike the sea of rich bastards he meets at the galas who only communicate with him to form connections, advantages by being associated with a family of the wayne's.

it's only when you're stripped away from him that he realizes how much he relishes your sweet occupancy into his heart, how there's always been an unbidden, forbidden chamber in his heart that beats for the love you offer him that was unlike the harsh environment he was born in.

he's never been adorned with such a delicate title that portrays him the opposite of what he's raised to be; damian has always been the blood son, son of the bat and heir to the demon king's throne, but never something as fond, as unforeseen as someone's baby.

it just thwarts the spark of hope in his heart and extends the lump in his throat at the scene that plays before him, the loving nickname you oh-so carefully address him now relinquished and graced to another boy, his friend no less— who you considered yours, who he's aware is way more deserving of being called your baby rather than him, who had always denied you from the very start.

"jon, baby, you help me clean the windows tomorrow, alright, young man? it's stained with all your fingerprints!" you scold him as assertively as you can, kneeling down to his level and pinching his cheeks all while grinning at the boy. jon retorts with a tongue out his lips and a scrunch of his nose. it garners a laugh from you, one damian swore he's never heard sounded so desirable until now.

why are you calling jon your baby?

"not my fault, mom/dad! i get so excited to see you come home every time you have to return there!" damian seethes at the scene of jon's pouting and puppy-eyes looking up at you, that should've been him.

"can't you just stay here? forever?"

damian despises how he engraves the melody of your laughter in reply to jon's words, right into his eardrums, but omits the disgustingly sweet chirp in your voice calling jon, not him, your baby. his mind nips away at the memories at all the moments you addressed him too, and how he always rejected and corrected you to call him by his name like a proper person rather than a maniac pushing themself into his life.

he doesn't want to ever hear you address him, if it means it's not by his nickname that you now call jon.

damian couldn't even deny how the huge grin that stretches across your face at the sight of his best friend scalds him with bitterness, he wasn't even aware you're capable of such enjoyment, not when back at the manor your hesitant with even displaying a tinge of happiness— as if you're capable of doing so, not when he knows he's one of the main contributors for being the reason of your current affair.

and yet he wishes he could lie and say he didn't miss it, miss your expectant stare at him, the contrast of talia's comfort compared to yours, when the hugs you offer him, the gifts carefully curated to his preferences, the palpable love that never once wavered for your family that you could never call yours, they all seem like a distant dream now that you're away from them; from him.

it hurts watching you two communicate even further, for once it's him in the background watching like an outsider instead of you. for once, he understands what isolation feels like, what foreboding desires fester deep into his scarred soul that could only be cured with one of the softest cuddly hugs, the sweetest, flutter of your lashes as you stare oh-so fondly at jon like he meant the world to you, like it was only the two of you in the world embracing the light filtering through the windows, side by side, inseparable.

if there was one wish he could conjure, a desire he was trained to forfeit himself to feel that creeps its way into the depths of his guarded heart— it's that once you put jon into bed - even if it takes hours, even his heart feels like it's being squeezed out of blood watching your nightly, affectionate routine with jon; reading him bedtime stories, eating together, laughing lightly at the dinner table while you feed him your share of the plate, moments he never thought he felt compelled to spend with you - once he strikes at the perfect opportunity to talk to you, to confront your blunder of choosing them over him, of his woes towards your relationship—

he wishes, with unceasing faith, that you still love him enough to call him your baby once more.

a/n: let this blow up and i might just actually fix my schedule to give more updates. anyways, more damian wayne and jon kent content! one of my fave runs is with supersons and i love fluff paired with angst too so this is a win-win. pls leave in some comments about this series, since ngl i didn't give it as much love as i did for a&a 😭 so yes! mitski inspired chapter with more conflicting feelings. i'm still working around writer's block but everyone's undying support helps motivate me a lot!!!

taglist:

@starrydollita, @vellichorandhiraeth, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy.

I'M SCREAMING MY HEAD OFF

Fresh college graduate | After getting that job

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!

TITS, ASS, THIGHS, or FACE

(Note; tits can also refer to pecs, aight? Cool. I’m doing this out of boredom because my brain won’t let me write properly. So just, have this trash-)

Slashers

Michael Myers(OG): Thighs

Michael Myers(RZ): Thighs & Ass

Jason Voorhees: Face

Bubba Sawyer: Ass

Thomas Hewitt: Boobs & Face

Brahms Heelshire: Boobs

Bo Sinclair: Tits & Ass

Vincent Sinclair: Tits & Face

Lester Sinclair: Tits & Thighs

Billy Lenz: Yes.

Pyramid Head: Face

Dead By Daylight

Danny Johnson: Face & Tits

Evan MacMillan: Ass

Max Thompson Jr.: Thighs

Philip Ojomo: Face

Anna: Thighs

Frank Moorison: Tits

Joey: Tits & Thighs

Julie: Ass

Caleb Quinn: Tits

Kazan Yamaoka: Face & Ass

Herman Carter: Face

Amanda Young: Ass & Tits

Carmina Mora: None of the above.

Our Life; Beginnings & Always

Cove Holden: Out of the four, face & thighs

Derek Suarez: Ass & Face (this is canon)

Baxter Ward: Ass

[ 𝟑:𝟐𝟕 𝐀𝐌 ] 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔.

geto supposes this is a bit odd—he doesn’t usually race to apartments and knock on doors incessantly at three am, he doesn’t usually show up in a wrinkled t-shirt and mismatched socks, and he doesn’t usually have his hair in a low bun that’s threatening to fall out any second.

but then again, he’s not usually staying up late at night and thinking about how the dude you called cute in your philosophy class is planning to ask you out tomorrow.

“suguru, what are you—”

“i love you,” he interrupts, a rushed and panted out statement, making your eyes widen. you stare at him, blinking as the light from the hallway stings your sleep hazed eyes.

“what are you—”

“i really fucking love you, and i think you should date me.”

and he does. geto suguru has been in love with you since the day you move next door to his childhood home. he’s been in love with you since the day you step foot on his lawn and tell him he needs a haircut. he’s been in love with you since the moment you worm your way into his life and bring your unwarranted opinions and know-it-all attitude, and he thinks that he’s the only one who deserves to love you at all.

the guy from philosophy (whatever his name is) doesn’t deserve your playful banter and witty remarks. he doesn’t deserve your random fun facts and ceaseless rambles. he doesn’t deserve your late night texts and whispered facetimes, and he doesn’t deserve you. not like geto does, at least, and geto suguru is not letting a mere schoolgirl crush come in the way of his carefully nurtured love.

“suguru, it’s three am,” you say in disbelief, rubbing the sleep from out of your eyes as you decide to acknowledge his (rather bold) statement after your brain starts functioning.

“that’s okay. i still love you at three am,” he shrugs, pouting to himself. he eyes your appearance, tries not to stare too hard at the way your shirt is a little low at the neckline, tries to avoid glancing at the plumpness of your lips for too long as you process his words with a soft frown.

“oh, really? you should know i’m rather grouchy when i’m sleepy,” you warn him, and then he cracks a smile—because that’s all he needs to hear to know you feel the same.

and he supposes it’s not hard to figure out that you do. it’s not hard to see that there’s love in the way you flick his forehead and tell him to piss off, or the way you curse him out as he steals your food with a scowl, or even the way you promptly leave him on read after every petty argument you have over text.

because there’s fondness in the way you fight back a smile as you roll your eyes, and there’s fondness in the way you slightly push your plate closer begrudgingly, and there’s fondness in the way you text him first the next day and ask if he’s ready to admit he’s wrong because you miss him.

and it’s an odd mix, the two of you, but your sun soaked fingertips against his moonlit skin feels as right as the sound of his name dancing off your lips, and he thinks you were made for him in every regard. so if he has to stand before you at three am and risk your wrath for waking you up, then he’ll gladly do that—so long as no asshole from philosophy is scoring a date with you tomorrow after class.

“yeah, i know,” he snorts, “you’re kind of grouchy all the time,” he adds, hand outstretched and carefully pressing against the curve of your cheek. you lean into his palm, let the roughness of his skin soothe over the longing in your heart.

“and you still want to date me?” you raise a brow.

“of course,” he says instantly, “so say you want to date me too. or i’ll resort to plan b.”

“what’s plan b?”

“killing the dude from philosophy that wants to ask you out,” he hums, “and everyone else that follows until i’m the only choice left.”

“i guess i have to say yes to avoid a lot of bloodshed then, don’t i?” you ask playfully.

but then your fingers smooth back loose strands of dark hair behind his ear, and your hand rests behind his head and pulls him closer—and he thinks maybe you’d have been inclined to say yes either way.

“oh definitely,” he grins, youth brimming over his features as your lips brush over his and seal the deal. and geto suguru has been in love with you since the day you move in next to his home, and he thinks he’ll love you just as much the day you move in next to his spot in bed too, arms circling around his waist and lips mapping his skin.

“in that case, lucky for them, i love you too.”

this is painfully cheesy but i want a soft childhood friends to lovers / boy next door trope with suguru so bad SOBS