ascrewupromantic - depress me daddy
depress me daddy

e - 22 - bg3, love and deep space, and various other loser interests :)there are dark themes present on this blog, please browse with care and caution ☆彡

285 posts

Latest Posts by ascrewupromantic - Page 5

2 years ago

I find it fascinating that people who choose not to have children are generally assumed to feel really strongly about not having children (or even to feel really strongly against children, anyone’s children, in general). I am probably not going to have children, not because I REALLY REALLY HATE the idea of having children, but because I don’t really really love it. Out of all the major decisions I will make in my life, this one is the only irreversible one. I can sell a house, quit a job, divorce a spouse, whatever. I cannot unhave a child. I cannot opt out of being a parent once I become a parent. I can’t even take a step back for the sake of self-care or whatever, or else my child will suffer.

So for me, having children is fuck yes or not at all. The default will be to remain childfree. Having children should be an opt-in decision, not an opt-out one. Until/unless I develop really strong feelings about wanting to have children, I won’t have them, even if that means I never end up having them at all.

2 years ago

i love u unconventional ways of showing affection

2 years ago

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

2 years ago
Hand Doodles In Different Flavors Of Intimacy~ Hehe

Hand doodles in different flavors of intimacy~ hehe


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2 years ago

unironically people need to learn to say “they haven’t done anything wrong i just find them annoying”

2 years ago

not just ‘he would not fucking say that’ but ‘he would not, under torture, admit that’

2 years ago

Nightbringer lesson 7 fanart I’m still laughing, Solomon is so hecking chaotic I love him.

Keep reading


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2 years ago

Fucking hell

Mammon in nightbringer actually made me cry

They made mammon properly talk about his feelings for the first time ever and i'm actively crying about it fuucck

Jesus

Can mc like give him a hug??? Or therapy?

And he feels all this while the brothers have just newly fallen, they're still treating mammon well rn, they still respect him and for the most part show it

imagine how bad it's going to get for him once mc leaves and he forgets about the person who stuck with him through everything and he now has to live the next thousands of years hearing how scummy and useless he is, how he has to hear this:

Fucking Hell

when this is how Mammon feels:

Fucking Hell
Fucking Hell

And we know that Mammon knows how much Lucifer truly loves them, how everything Lucifer does is for them even if it doesn't seem like that at first, but God that still must have hurt to hear

Mammon's really breaking my heart here

Anyway yes I'm still crying fuck's sake


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2 years ago

I read your yandere dilf post just before going to sleep and had a very interesting dream as a result: yandere Wild West Outlaw!

He takes you hostage to keep the rangers from going after him after a robbery. You’re tied up in front of him on his horse and after riding away from town for a long time he doesn’t set you down somewhere like you expected but takes you with him into his hideout.

Bonus: he‘s (basically) masked > bandana covering half his face and the rim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes

Yandere Wild West Outlaw! Headcanons

I Read Your Yandere Dilf Post Just Before Going To Sleep And Had A Very Interesting Dream As A Result:

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Stockholm Syndrome, Masked Outlaw ;), Petnames, Killing, Mentions of Robbery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism/Surveillance, Description of Injury & Blood, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

A/N: Anon, I am in love with this concept !

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose body encompasses yours, his chest to your back and his arms caging you as he grips the horse’s reigns, his breathing steady as if he hadn’t just committed a multitude of crimes. Then again, considering how proficient he was at wiping the inn clean of all its savings and tying you up on his horse before the rangers could even arrive, you suspected this was not the first time he’d done this. Nor would it be the last.

♡ Yandere Outlaw says very little after he abducted you, his last words being sharp commands, laden with a calmness you would never have expected from a man holding an entire building hostage.

♡ And, in your terror, you said nothing to him, your back to his front as he rode to nowhere discernible, the civilised, populated terrain of your home town having melted away hours ago.

♡ No, the Outlaw gave nothing away. Even after days of being forced to travel with him to what you could only pray would be a town – somewhere for him to dispose of you before taking to the canyons again – he said nothing.

♡ He’d offer you food, and, after the first 24 hours of starving yourself out of sheer distrust – or principle, as you wanted to see it – you succumbed to your famine.

♡ Yandere Outlaw would feed it to you before disappearing behind whatever cover lay nearby – oftentimes his horse – and eat.

♡ Whatever lay beneath his bandana was a mystery to you. And it only took you trying to see what he looked like once to see that your endeavour was a hopeless one.

♡ You’d strained and leaned past the point of no return, falling onto your side.

♡ And Outlaw came back into view, adjusting his bandana back over his nose, the shadow cast over his eyes by his hat much like that descending over the valley you now inhabited.

♡ Your heart stammered as he grew closer, the spurs of his boots the land equivalent to the fin of a shark as Outlaw came to a stop before you.

♡ He got to one knee, so quietly that you could see why nobody ever saw him coming, and, brushing a lock of hair from your face with a gloved hand, chuckled.

♡ Low and rumbling, like an earthquake. Or one of God’s many natural disasters. A gruff, brief thing as ephemeral as life itself. 

♡ “Don’t get yourself all scuffed up now, Darlin’,” he says. His hand trails from just behind your ear, tracing your jaw, the tendons in your neck, stopping just short of where your shirt hangs above your collar bones.

♡ You think that you hear him hiss. So sibilant and soft you’re unsure whether you perhaps imagined it and rather heard the conversation of pit vipers laying just below the hard sand beneath your ear.

♡ Outlaw’s head tilts, his face no clearer to you now as it was days ago, especially now with the setting sun casting a misplaced halo about his hat-clad head, his front shadowed. Two sides, one a light facade, the other his true nature.

♡ “You’re no good to me broken.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw whose only elaboration of that cryptic sentiment comes in the form of another day’s travel, during which you remained firmly bound – and gagged at one juncture when you made the mistake of crying for help when you spotted a lone merchant out on the open road.

♡ Yandere Outlaw neutralised that channel of freedom for you very quickly with a crack of a bullet, leaving you glassy-eyed and breathless as he ransacked the merchant’s travel cabin, taking all manner of valuables.

♡ “Why, thank you, Darlin’,” he says, his gloved hand coming to rest on your knee, clapping down on you and making you jump – shriek. And he squeezes with all the familiarity of someone who’s done this before.

♡ “Wouldn’t’a found this here haul if you hadn’t tried to scream your pretty little head off.”

♡ Yandere outlaw knows that’s isn’t quite true; he’s an excellent tracker, and an even better marksman. He’d have found this travelling man on his own eventually; the outcome would have been identical. But you didn’t need to know that.

♡ The gag was practically useless after that, for your desire to keep others from the same fate as the travelling salesman had you quiet as a mouse.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can sense how rigid you are – less so than you were when he’d first taken you, but you still felt…different. You were loose in the way that submission often made people slaves to fatigue, to their fate. And he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d succumbed to yours so soon, especially when, as you finally drifted off to sleep after a day and a half without it, you leaned into his chest, head to his shoulder.

♡ Unwillingly, of course. Your exhaustion weighed you down, lead. You had no control over your unconscious body, regardless of how repulsive you found the pillow you were leaning on.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t help but let his gaze drift from the open canyon ahead, gradually giving way to caves and rocky rivers, to your face. You were tranquil in sleep, brew no longer knotted in worry, or fear. Just…sleep.

♡ Yandere Outlaw could feel his hands twitching, the urge to touch you creeping up behind him the longer he stared at your vulnerable form.

♡ Yandere outlaw who, for a second, and a second only, let his hand slip from the reigns and slither, slowly, to your knee, up the expanse of your clothed thigh.

♡ Yandere Outlaw’s heart who, for the first time in a long time, beats at a humming bird’s pace when you shift in your slumber, making him withdraw.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, watching, waiting for you to settle back into sleep, kept his hands from you the rest of the night. Though temptation beckons him to do otherwise.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shifted behind you, waking you. Only when you were torn from a dream of being anywhere but here did you realise the horse had come to a stop, an unfamiliar breeze settling over you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, unsaddling you from the horse, carries you like a bride in his arms, kicking open the door to an abode you didn’t even know was there.

♡ Yandere Outlaw sets you down beside a pole, tying you to it. Tightly.

♡ “Welcome home, Dollface,” he says, hands settling on his belt as he watches your eyes jump from one corner to another, taking in these new surroundings, these new circumstances.

♡ Of course, you don’t accept the conditions Outlaw has roped you into. Not without a fight.

♡ Yandere Outlaw, as a result, had to keep his eye on you when you initially began your residence with him. 

♡ For the first couple of weeks, he’d take you to the waterfall to bathe every other day; would watch you as you did so. At first, bashful and uncomfortable, you’d asked him to turn around as you stood exposed. To which the Outlaw just laughed. “Ain’t much worth lookin’ at,” he’d reassured you.

♡ Yandere outlaw who tells you exactly how the day’s going to go.

♡ “You’re gonna cook whatever I bring back. Y’understand ?”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who initially only lets you chop up vegetables and bread, withholding the excuse to use a sharp knife from you by intentionally not collecting any meat.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, before taking even a bite of the meal you prepare, makes you taste it first. “I know you little crafty types; poison enough in your veins to kill a horse.”

♡ Translation: “You’re having this first to make sure it’s not going to kill me.”

♡  Yandere Outlaw who, after that initial hurdle, though he won’t admit it, feels his tongue practically bursting with flavour when he tastes your soup for the first time. Though, he keeps it under wraps, his form hidden behind a wall, his bandana pulled down.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, with little alternative to offer you, makes you sleep in his bed.

♡ “Either that, or you’re sleepin’ outside.”

♡ He still wears the bandana btw, and wears a sleep mask over his eyes.

♡ He doesn’t touch you. Not in intentional ways, it would seem.

♡ Not at first.

♡ A light brush of the hand here and there. 

♡ Sure, the urge to bask in the aura of the most beautiful person he’s ever seen is pretty overwhelming for the Outlaw. Especially since he doesn’t understand why he feels this way, never having felt it for anyone else before.

♡ Sure, he’s taken others, some much more enthusiastic than others (you don’t get to his level of notoriety without attracting a few hundred fans).

♡ So, when you’re asleep, an arm and a leg bound to the bedpost, he watches you.

♡ He tells himself it’s for his own safety, to make sure you’re not going to reach for a weapon and gut him like a pig.

♡ But when he sees your gentle face, he knows you’re incapable of that

♡ He likes to think that you’re incapable of anything without him around. Makes him feel bigger, stronger.

♡ So why exactly was he still looking upon you into the late hours of the night ?

♡ Over time, his resolve begins to crack.

♡ Especially with every aspect of your partnership accounted for.

♡ The baths, the bed sharing, the homemade cooking – it’s just all so…

♡ Domestic.

♡ But, that doesn’t make Outlaw trust you any more than the day he first took you. Not yet, at least.

♡ Despite his confidence in his own ability to keep you here, he knows the indomitable human spirit is strong enough to break through every precaution. And, just in case you do manage to escape, he’s making sure you can’t pick him out of a lineup if you make it to law enforcement – if the vultures don’t pick you off first.

♡ Yandere Outlaw makes you cook every night, under the guise of you “Needin’ your strength to straighten this place out.”

♡ Yandere Outlaw who appoints you as his head housekeeper, making it your sole responsibility to be the “homemaker” of the two of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who feels strange when he sees you with one of his shirts tied about your waist – a makeshift apron – who doesn’t even recognise this feeling as domesticity. Warmth. That feeling of security having been deprived of him all his life.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who wonders what you’d look like wearing one of his shirts.

♡ And something in his brain chemistry changes.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, during your river baths, knocks your clothes into the stream when you’re not looking, offering you his shirt when you’re ready to come out.

♡ “Y’really should be careful,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as the neckline of his shirt dips below your collarbones, drowning you. He looks away, not trusting that the feeling coiling in his lower half won’t spring out at any moment. “Men might take advantage of a pretty lil’ thing like you. Especially when you’re so…” A shiver shoots up his spine. “Vulnerable.”

♡ Your clothes seem to disappear not long after that, leaving you only with whatever consisted of the Outlaw’s wardrobe.

♡ You notice that he seems to disappear at odd hours of the day, leaving you to your chores while he does something.

♡ Little do you know that the something he is doing is a secret he’ll take to his grave.

♡ The sight of you in his shirts, of you in the river, is too much for him.

♡ He takes to hiding out in a densely vegetated patch of land behind the cabin to…relieve himself of his thoughts of you. Thoughts he’s used to sustaining for perhaps a second or two when it came to his prior conquests. Thoughts that, now, a month into your capture, extend long into his nights and speckle his logic when he’s on a mission.

♡ It’s dangerous, he knows; to have his mind elsewhere while he risks his life for the loot he so desires. But he can’t deny that they make him feel human. Normal.

♡ Despite how un-normal this entire situation is.

♡ It takes every ounce of his restraint not to just tie you down and take you while you sleep beside him, make you scream and cry for him as he empties his frustration and, dare he say, lust, into you.

♡ But, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

♡ Doesn’t want to see your eyes light up in fear whenever he enters the room.

♡ He wants something else.

♡ Something that he doesn’t have a word for.

♡ It’s only when he happens across a conversation with you, asking you if you had “A lover boy back home,” that he found the word he was looking for.

♡ You wince at the question, the memory of your life away from this situation salt in an unhealed wound.

♡ “No,” you tell him, your honesty a virtue. “Haven’t been in a relationship yet.”

♡ Relationship.

♡ It felt right to the Outlaw when he heard it; especially coming from you.

♡ It sticks with him the rest of the day, and while you’re cooking dinner, washing the Outlaw’s clothes, dusting the sparse furniture, he’s got one thing on his mind.

♡ How to get you into a relationship with him.

♡ He’s completely unequipped to deal with someone on such an intimate level, so he uses all his knowledge he’s gathered while seducing and bedding others to piece together a game plan.

♡ First, he needs to know what you like. He remembers from that one time a woman hit him with her shoe when he forgot her name ten minutes after meeting her.

♡ So, he starts hanging around you (much) more often, making you sit down and tell him about yourself.

♡ As he makes you spend time in his company, he comes to learn of the fanciful little things you enjoy.

♡ At first, the details are dry and few and far between, with you giving very little about yourself away.

♡ But, as his persistence drags into days, you eventually just start telling him whatever he asks, so long as it’s not too personal.

♡ Or painful.

♡ Whenever the outlaw can see you're starting to become upset, being reminded of your circumstances, he eases up on the personal questions and just asks superficial ones.

♡ “How’re ya feeling today ?” “D’ya eat well this mornin’ ?” “D’ya need me to dust a shelf down or something’ ?”

♡ His miniscule acts of selflessness are extensions of his effort to make you at least not hate him. Though you didn’t know this. His thought process was still an enigma to you.

♡ He also stalks you in his own home.

♡ Listens to you sing while you complete your tasks, your voice the softest thing he’s heard since…well, ever.

♡ Yandere Outlaw who, when he embarks on a hunt, never tells you where or when, and never even the how.

♡ The only clue you’ll ever be given as to his nigh-weekly excursions are trinkets he brings with him. Ones which you thought he’d pawn elsewhere in the county at a later date, or bury in the canyon somewhere.

♡ Until he offers them to you.

♡ At first, you’re not sure what to make of these…gifts ?

The first time he gave you one, he said nothing, only watching you.

♡ You swore you could see his shoulders heaving beneath his jacket, something almost feral in his demeanour. Pressurising.

♡ And, with the possibility of what could happen to you should you decline these acts of…generosity…You just take them, uttering a quiet “Thank you,” before putting them in a kitchen cabinet, unsure of the intent behind them.

♡ The first few times this happened, you were befuddled.

♡ Yet, with how gently the Outlaw placed them in your hands, with how intense his gaze was, even though you couldn’t see it beneath the permanent shadow across his brow, you could feel it.

♡ It was only one evening when the Outlaw returned with yet more loot that the meaning behind the trinkets became apparent.

♡ His hand disappears into the inside pocket of his jacket, and he withdraws a small box; rounded and bejewelled like an idol. He comes to stand before you, and, shoulders pinned abc and rigid, you swallow. Thickly.

♡ He looks down at the box, and,his finger dragging along the edge, slowly, he relinquishes it to you.

♡ And, by pure force of habit, you accept.

♡ You turn the box gingerly between your fingers, the dim candlelight from within the cabin just barely warding off the black of the night, setting the precious stones welded within the metal alight.

♡ “Well,” the Outlaw says, making you jump. You look up at him, eyes wide.

♡ “Open it.”

♡ He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

♡ Swallowing again, your gaze skitters back to the box.

♡ And, with bated breath, you lift the lid.

♡ A delicate, silver melody slithers from the portal you’ve opened, a serpentine tune wrapping around your mind, vivid, beloved memories riding on its feathered wings.

♡ Your favourite song.

♡ For a moment, one sweet, fragile moment, you’re not here.

♡ You’re back at home, in a warm bed that is yours and yours alone, surrounded by the people who matter most to you, any celebration mankind can conjure not even a whisper of the joy you feel in this scene.

♡ And then, as the wind blows autumn leaves from the human mind, the memory is gone, taken away by reality realising it has neglected you.

♡ You’re looking into nothing now, the apparition of your past slipping from you, your eyes wavered and muffled with…

♡ Tears.

♡ In your periphery, just outside the realm of reality you’re returning to, the Outlaw’s drilling gaze drops from you to the floor ina  rare show of anticipation. A hand comes to the back of his neck, where he squeezes the skin. A stress ball.

♡ “Do you…” he begins, “Do ya like it ?”

♡ Your stare inches from the void up to the outlaw’s hidden face.

♡ Perhaps if he had a discernible human feature, you could sense anticipation there. But as it stood, this was no man, but a phantom.

♡ One which must have heard and remembered that tune you often sang while completing chores.

♡ You couldn’t take it.

♡ To have him acknowledge the memory – to make it more real – nailed your coffin shut.

♡ And you broke down.

♡ When you crumpled into a pile, the Outlaw took a step back, one hand reaching for his holster; a knee-jerk reaction.

♡ And what little solace he could offer came in a most inconspicuous display.

♡ The Outlaw got to one knee, now at your level.

♡ And, with a careful hand, he placed a gloved finger upon your shoulder. Then another. Then another.

♡ Spidery and unfamiliar, foreign, the Outlaw’s actions were jerky, janky, an unoiled machine. But he was trying.

♡ When his hand lay against the curve of your shoulder, you did not move. Did not shunt him off or scream at him to let go.

♡ You remained where you were, weeping into your shirt apron.

♡ And the Outlaw, with a fiery grip encircling his heart, feeling brewing in his centre, stronger than all those implicatures and desires. This was solid, unlike the quicksand foundations upon which the Outlaw’s every emotion was built upon.

♡ Was this…

♡ Empathy ?

♡ His grip on your shoulder tightened, the revelation swarming through him like locusts.

♡ He swallowed. Tried thinking through the orchestra in his mind.

♡ “S’okay,” he said. To you, and to himself. His fingers moved gently, your skin and muscle warm through the leather of his gloves. “You’re okay.”

♡ Things changed after that.

♡ He no longer forced you to sleep in the same bed as him, instead bringing back with him a fine silk cover from one of his trips, gifting it to you.

♡ Yet, you still chose to sleep in the same bed as him.

♡ “It’ll be getting cold soon,” you said. “WIth winter coming, and all.”

♡ And, while this new feeling, raw and fresh, was…nice compared to the emptiness that often lingered in his chest, the Outlaw couldn’t help but feel weakened by this influx of emotion.

♡ When he tried to have his alone time with his thoughts of you, he felt…wrong.

♡ Ashamed.

♡ You were used to him disappearing for days at a time. Hell, you'd come to expect it at this point in your captivity.

♡ But something about tonight felt...off.

♡ Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but with the amount of time you'd spent together these last few months, you no longer hated being in his company.

♡ In fact, on the days he would be gone from the early hours of the morn to the late hours of the evening, you could even say you...missed it.

♡ And, unfortunately, despite your every instinct swaying you otherwise, you find that to be the case now.

♡ But, more than that, you're concerned. Something you'd never thought you'd feel for a murderer, a thief. Your kidnapper.

♡ And your pacing, your lip-chewing, your nail-biting are all proven justified when the Outlaw slams against the front door, stumbling through.

♡ At first, you just watch, ready to yell, to ask where he's been the last few days, until you see it.

♡ A bloodied handprint on the door.

♡ He staggers in, swaying on uneven footing, his breathing stifled,as if through a thin straw. He wheezes, collapsing into the doorframe beside him.

♡ And you rush to him. As if he wasn't the one who put you here to begin with. As if whatever's bringing him to his knees now wasn't justified, provoked.

♡ But you don't think of any of that, your mind filled only with the fact that nobody knows you're out here. Without guidance, you'd be dead before you reached the edge of the canyon encompassing your hiding place.

♡ You needed him alive.

♡ After wrestling him onto his bed, almost buckling beneath his weight, you found the source of his downfall.

♡ A wound; bullet-bitten and bleeding, a rouge flower burgeoning with the promise of extinction.

♡ You tried getting him to talk, to tell you what to do. But his voice was barely a whisper, instead using what little seeping strength that remained to point to a cabinet.

♡ Inside, you found what you knew would be needed to heal him. Whether it – you – could save him, though, was another story.

♡ You tried taking his bandana off to see if he was hurt elsewhere, but to no avail. Despite the life draining from his body, he somehow found it in himself to stop you, to place a gloved, trembling hand atop yours, an imploring aura to the gesture.

♡ Don't.

♡ And, for the first time, beneath the dim light of the cabin, you could see something human on him.

♡ It existed only in the form of a shimmer beneath the shadow of his hat, his face still very much obscured, yet the emotions on it were not.

♡ You recognised this emotion, for you'd worn it yourself, both inwardly and out, for the last three months.

♡ Fear.

♡ In its purest and most carnal form.

♡ And a voice, strained with either agony or disuse.

♡ “Help me.”

♡ Throughout the night, you tended to Outlaw's wound. A maw-like, gaping thing it was, spouting blood as one would bucket water out of a sinking boat.

♡ Luckily, you didn't have to worry about shrapnel; the bullet went clean through outlaw's side, leeaving only the aftermath and not the instigator. You managed to stop the bleeding, use the stitching on Outlaw's shirt (which was basically yours now) to sew the wound closed.

♡ For the first time, Outlaw was uncharacteristically human.

♡ Sure, you'd seen the scars on his back when he bathed, the many brushes with death he'd encountered, some advancing into a dance, much like this night's escapade had been.

♡ But you knew, somewhere, somehow, that without another pair of hands here, Outlaw likely wouldn't have pulled through.

♡ Not this time.

♡ And now, here you sat, at Outlaw's beck and call, his bedside your new home.

♡ You watched over him, the cabin silent, the night just as quiet. Even the crickets seemed to chirp quieter, either out of fear or respect for the almost dearly departed.

♡ And, looking up from the massacre on the bed, your gaze swept the room. And you realise something.

♡ The front door, which neither you, nor Outlaw locked, is unguarded.

♡ Yandere outlaw is riddled with sleep, his agony having stripped him of his energy and his strength.

♡ So...why hadn't you tried to escape yet ?

♡ Looking over at Outlaw, sound asleep, you realised just how easy it would be to walk out that door.

♡ Sure, you might get lost. Might die of hypothermia during the freezing hours of a dessert night, but with enough layers, food and water, you saw no reason as to why you couldn't just leave right now.

♡ After all, it wasn't like you'd be killing Outlaw if you left. Sure he might die of infection, or blood loss if his stitches come undone. But you'd at least tried to help him. So your conscience wasn't going to be the issue.

♡ So what was stopping you ?

♡ Looking back at the Outlaw, you felt strange.

♡ The urge to protect him, to care for him, outweighed even your greatest notion of escape, which explained why the thought to do so hadn't hit you until just now.

♡ You bit your lip, looking between Outlaw and the door.

♡ Both options were tantilisingly easy to pursue, and yet only one would be available to you, the other perishing if you ignored it.

♡ Maybe hours passed. Maybe it was mere minutes.

♡ But watching the Outlaw sleep, at his most vulnerable, with his pleading “Help me,” rattling around in your mind, the choice already seemed to be made for you. You just didn't want to tell yourself exactly why. 

♡ So...you stayed.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere Masterpost Masterpost


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2 years ago

— stars & space dividers

— Stars & Space Dividers
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2 years ago

peepaw

⚠️ CH 7 SPOILERS ⚠️

⚠️ CH 7 SPOILERS ⚠️

doodle bc i caught up with the plot


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2 years ago

LMFAOOOO i love this duo. they are definitely comedy genius together

Sweet Revenge 🍨

Sweet revenge 🍨


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2 years ago

bitches hate me for my earnest whimsy and my pathological degree of avoidant behavior


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2 years ago

alright see. i have absolutely zero ability to form romantic connections in real life so this is a question that boggles my brain

every variation of this has been asked but tell me. which of your favs do you think you could realistically pull and/or what’s a reason you think you couldn’t bag one


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2 years ago

Some of the responses to my last post have made me realize that maybe Bakugo's trauma isn't as well understood as some of the other characters', and, because I have free time today, I figured I might as well break it down in chronological order and work from there (warning you now: this will be long).

To begin with, there's a lot of obvious things about the Sludge villain incident that would be traumatizing for basically anyone. And as much as Bakugo tried to shove off the after-effects, we know he was scared:

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

But there are a lot of Bakugo-specific reasons why the Sludge villain really fucked with his confidence and sense of self-worth. For one thing, while we see Midoriya getting attacked, he's rescued by All Might almost instantly. He barely has time to realize he's suffocating before he's free. Bakugo? Not so much. It's unclear how long, exactly, the Sludge villain holds him hostage, but it's at least a few minutes. Which doesn't sound very long until you remember that Bakugo was fourteen, couldn't breathe, and, because he isn't stupid, was completely aware that multiple pro heroes were basically standing around watching him be brutalized and doing absolutely nothing to help.

The only person who did help was Deku. The only person. The only person who gave enough of a shit about Bakugo to try and save him was the person he has the most complicated relationship with: his rival, his victim, his childhood friend, the person he feels both the safest and most exposed with. The person he measures himself against constantly, and internally finds himself lacking. So not only is all of this happening, but Deku—who just hours earlier Bakugo was mocking for being weak—is the one person strong enough to try and do something, and gets front row seats to Bakugo's own weakness.

Then All Might shows up and saves Bakugo from what is, at that point, the most humiliating, terrifying thing that has ever happened to him. But of course Bakugo isn't happy about it; he never wanted to be saved by All Might, and meeting his hero for the first time the way he did? What Bakugo wanted, desperately, was to prove himself to All Might, and instead he's just another dumb kid that got saved from a villain attack by the greatest pro hero who ever lived.

Not only that, but this was in public. It was televized. Bakugo was made so famous for it, people recognized him years later on the street based solely on his face. And while theoretically that's great exposure for him, imagine if the worst, most degrading moment of your entire life was broadcast on live, national television, and constantly brought up like some funny anecdote by people who don't even know you. He was fourteen years old being physically assaulted and strangled in front of the entire country and unable to do anything about it. Not only did that damage his pride, but it really fucked with him mentally. Look at what Midoriya even says about him:

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

That's not even to begin talking about how much pressure he puts himself under to be the best, no exceptions. He has a full-on panic attack when he loses in Deku vs. Kacchan 1 because he ties his self-worth so completely to winning he thinks of himself and worthless without it. Look how deeply it affects him:

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood
Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

That's not just bruised pride, that's Bakugo dealing with every single one of his insecurities being laid bare in public again. It's gonna just keep happening, too. And sure, like with this fight, sometimes he brings it on himself, but. Holy shit, this poor kid.

Then, of course, we have the kidnapping.

Despite their misapplication of their information, the LoV actually understands Bakugo pretty well. By that I mean, they figured out what affects Bakugo the most and capitalize on it to try and win him over to their side. They attack his image as a hero. Which seems kind of lame and generic, except it really hits home. Why?

Because that's his biggest insecurity, his deep, dark shame: Bakugo doesn't think of himself as heroic.

He's an excellent fighter and strategist, he's fearless, able to work well under pressure, adaptable, quick-thinking, and extremely powerful. All incredible traits for a hero. What he doesn't have is an instinct to save others. Deku does; he'll reach his hand out to anyone, without thought, no matter the cost to his safety/happiness. But Bakugo consistently struggles with this aspect of being a true hero. He's very aware of how important it is—every time he talks about Deku looking down on him, the thing he was laughing at Bakugo for? Yeah, this is it—and how very much he lacks it. And the LoV rubs his face in the fact that not only do a bunch of villains see him as being villainous, but the public he's supposed to be well on his way to protecting do, too. Yeah Aizawa defends him, but of course that whole experience negatively affects Bakugo. Especially because of what comes after.

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

Deku vs. Kacchan 2 is probably the closest Horikoshi comes to stabbing the audience through the brain with a knife labeled "Bakugo's trauma".

The whole fight is just Bakugo baring his soul in the most raw, heart-wrenching way possible. Look at what he asks Deku:

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

None of these lines should be ignored. This is Bakugo admitting that he is terrified that every bit of praise he's ever received is meaningless in the face of reality, which has proven that he is not worthy. All Might didn't think so, otherwise why wouldn't he have picked Bakugo to be his successor? Every ounce of skill, all the effort Bakugo has poured into his dream, it all means nothing. Why? Because Deku is inherently heroic, and Bakugo is not. Bakugo knows it, Midoriya knows it (why else would he be laughing in Bakugo's face if he wasn't intimately aware of his failures?), All Might knows it—hell, the whole world knows it. And because Bakugo is his own worst critic, he's gutted that someone like him, someone unworthy, destroyed the Symbol of Peace. His hero.

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood
Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

Does this not look like trauma? Does this not look like a kid poorly dealing with PTSD who's lashing out and trying to punish himself? And trying to purge his emotions the only way he knows how, through fighting? Who is desperately seeking some kind of compassion and connection in Deku, because he is losing his mind and can't keep going? He's a kid who's been given basically zero support, who's been expected to deal with not only being kidnapped and psychologically tortured, but also being the direct cause of Japan's sudden criminal uprising. That is so much pressure to put on a child. Any single bit of Bakugo's experience would be traumatizing by itself, but put together? It's like a personalized hell for him.

And then we have the Moment. The my body just moved on its own moment. Bakugo is so afraid for Deku leading up to this:

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

And afterward? It really affects him.

Some Of The Responses To My Last Post Have Made Me Realize That Maybe Bakugo's Trauma Isn't As Well Understood

He's scared for Deku. He's beating himself up for not supporting him better, for not getting over himself and taking Deku's hand. He thought his closest person was going to die in front of his eyes, and then that person ran away. Of course that traumatized Bakugo.

Now, the reason Bakugo's trauma often gets overlooked (both in canon and in the fandom space) is, in my opinion, because he doesn't express his trauma in a way that's easy to romanticize. It often comes out as anger and violence, loud and obnoxious and toxic. His trauma responses hurt other people, specifically Deku. And in a character that isn't going for poor little meow meow bloodthirsty vengeance-based criminal or abused child with terrible social skills but a heart of gold, it's hard for people to wrap their heads around the fact that Bakugo isn't really a bad kid so much as he's a kid who has had a lot of crap dumped on him and hasn't been given any tools to heal. He doesn't know how to express his feelings easily or clearly when he isn't in the middle of a fight, and he has very few coping skills to help him deal with his crippling self-loathing and inferiority complex. So when he reaches his mental limit, he—pun intended—explodes.

That isn't to say that Bakugo isn't responsible for his trauma responses, the same way every other character is. He absolutely deserves to be taken to task over them, and the narrative has done a good job of giving him one consequence after the other. But at the same time, he really is just a child who is doing his best in a fucked up situation. And while his actions definitely have hurt other people, the amount of mental torment Bakugo finds himself in on a regular basis deserves more sympathy than I think he sometimes gets.

I understand why characters like Shoto get more of the poor baby treatment, because he's the perfect victim: faultless, and his anger is almost 100% directed at the perpetrator, his father. Comparatively, Bakugo's trauma is messy and overflowing and directed at all the wrong people. But that's neither unrealistic nor even all that surprising, given what we know about him. And part of that is because his trauma isn't nearly as straight-forward, since it's so wrapped up in his own self-esteem issues that he blames himself, and then tries to refocus his hurt and anger on Deku to mitigate his own pain.

It's a big part of why I like Bakugo so much; he represents the unappealing side of trauma responses that are so common, but so often get overlooked because they're unappealing. He's a victim who doesn't act the way we want a victim to act, but rather the way they usually do, and for that I applaud Horikoshi on his realism.


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2 years ago

if they spoke like this i think i would play the game so much more

ascrewupromantic - depress me daddy

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2 years ago

heard porn bots might be following you guys again. sorry about that. but in some good news i have been gaining many new followers who are real stunningly beautiful women. welcome ladies :)

2 years ago

i have to complete a discussion-based final in class tn for three and a half hours SOS

HEARTBREAKING: Poor girl has to get out of the soft warm bed even though she is so so so so comfy


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