#avvelena

[chocolatestrawberrysuitemonella2]

Io sono quella linfa che ti scorre nelle vene...

Sono il lato più oscuro di ogni tua perversione...sono colei che ti avvelena l'anima prima lentamente.. E poi ti travolgerà come un uragano a tal punto che non potrai più fare a meno di me... ❣️

[falcemartello]

Il principe che sposa Biancaneve è l'archetipo del patriarcato. La strega invidiosa che avvelena Biancaneve è l'archetipo del femminismo.

nonexpedit

[ilfascinodelvago]

... un tempo tutto mi faceva ridere, oggi tutto mi annoia, o mi fa rabbia. E la rabbia ti avvelena i pensieri. Non si può metabolizzare la rabbia. Il dolore sì. La paura anche. La rabbia ti si aggruma intorno al cuore come un catarro che ti impedisce il respiro, a lungo andare.

Viola Ardone, Grande Meraviglia

[angelap3]

Niente ferisce, avvelena, ammala, quanto la delusione. Perché la delusione è un dolore che deriva sempre da una speranza svanita, una sconfitta che nasce sempre da una fiducia tradita cioè dal voltafaccia di qualcuno o qualcosa in cui credevamo. E a subirla ti senti ingannato, beffato, umiliato.

(Oriana Fallaci)

[principessa-6]

Ogni Impulso Che Soffochiamo Ci Avvelena l'Esistenza...꧂

[ilpianistasultetto]

Ma guarda un po'. Un carabiniere. E' un carabiniere ad aver fatto il video dove si vede la Magistrata Apostolico presente ad una manifestazione contro l'allora Ministro Salvini. "Il video l'ho fatto io durante quella manifestazione del 2018. Fatto e mai allegato agli atti". Il giorno prima la questura aveva giurato che quel video non veniva dai suoi uffici. Poi la denuncia del Parlamentare Bonelli alla procura di Catania per sapere chi poteva essere il media-pusher che aveva "passato" il video al leghista . Panico nel governo. "Oddio, adesso che si fa? Bisogna inquinare le acque." Ed ecco spuntare il povero carabiniere ignorantello dal fare leggero. E' lui..e' lui.. anzi, no. Lui aveva questo video girato col suo cellulare dal 2018 e dopo 5anni ha una bella idea: "ma sai che ti dico? Adesso lo condivido con qualche amico". Cosa che avvelena ancora di piu' i pozzi perche' ora sono piu' di uno che potrebbero aver passato il video al vicepremier leghista. Ora dico: "ma voi conoscete qualcuno al mondo che si tiene un video nel cell per 5 anni?". Un video di una manifestazione con 50 presenze? La mia ipotesi e' questa: " il video e' arrivato a Salvini dalla questura, quella che aveva negato di averlo. Una volta aperta l'indagine dalla procura di Catania a seguito di denuncia, sarebbe venuta fuori questa verita', cosi hanno bruciato i tempi addossando la colpa a un disgraziato di carabiniere (che poi verra' ricompensato a dovere?). Fantasticherie, le mie? Forse. Nel frattempo meglio tapparsi il naso che "certa politica" tanfa piu' della merda.

@ilpianistasultetto

[ragazzoarcano]

“Niente ferisce, avvelena, ammala, quanto la delusione. Perché la delusione è un dolore che deriva sempre da una speranza svanita, una sconfitta che nasce sempre da una fiducia tradita cioè dal voltafaccia di qualcuno o qualcosa in cui credevamo.”

— Oriana Fallaci

[tempest-tales]

Ogni impulso che soffochiamo

ci avvelena l’esistenza

[primroseevans03]

Yandere Paul Atreides x Reader

Opera Dune

Warnings Yandere behavior, Fem!reader, toxic relationship, forced marriage (mentioned), attempted murder, poisoning, abortion, extramarital affairs, betrayal, use of voice, psychological manipulation, emotional instability

Parole 3170

I just translated this with Google translation so please don't judge me🥹

And the original post is this

And the Author @raggaza-whintigale

The corridors at this time of night were almost completely empty, except for the soldiers on guard and the graceful figure of the beautiful woman called (name) Alithea and in the future Atreides -if the marriage ever went through of course-. The beauty of her figure certainly deserved the nickname she had been given when she was still a child. The princess of Alithea. As the only daughter until she was 12 she had been loved and adored almost as much as the countess who had once been her mother.

Her beauty and purity had not yet fallen out of favor according to the public.

Her beauty, her education and her gentle character had allowed this nickname. Little would one imagine that behind that beautiful facade a woman no longer different could be hidden.

A cold and cruel woman, who has grown to recognize her only usefulness as an exchange between families. The name and importance of the Atreides to a fertile and educated woman who would keep the bloodline high.

She was almost tired of hearing such voices coming from the outside, by now almost all the servants in the service of the Duke and his family were familiar with the woman's bad temper.

My lady, what are you doing awake at this hour? The woman stopped staggering in her tracks. You should be in your rooms resting." (name) has a sickly look to her soft features. The color of her skin has faded just enough to make her appear between life and death. The disheveled hair (color) is freed from the usual complicated braiding, thus allowing soft waves to accompany her face. The pleasant movement of the locks followed his face once he decided he could honor this person with his attentions.

Duncan Idaho stood in the middle of the hallway looking solemn. The upright and impeccable posture is just something one could expect from the Atreides house and one of its trusted ones.

The man's gaze looks suspiciously at the frail and barely supported the body of his lady. There is no hint of hostility towards anyone, just his usual spoiled self. Or at least that's what it's been for the last 7 years. When suddenly the sweetness of the little girl was replaced with the characteristic coldness of the Alithea house.

Duncan never mistrusted her. Not that she could in any way, she is such a fragile and small woman that one doubted she could hurt any member of the Atreides family. Solo couldn't help but notice the change in character as he grew up alongside the Atreides heir. Before his eyes he saw how someone could sink into darkness little by little.

The woman's sharp gaze fell on the soldier, trusted by the Atreides and close to the one who would become her husband. "Nothing important Sir, I'm just trying to reach my future husband in his rooms. He asked me to speak in private."

Duncan doubted that Paul could be so damn rude as to bother his girlfriend who until a few days ago was on her deathbed. Then no one - not even Paul - had told him about this meeting and although it could have been a meeting between lovers, which he highly doubted, the boy would still have informed someone about it.

Generally the lady (name) wasn't even a person for romantic encounters in the moonlight, nor for an adventure in the bedroom. So it was very presumable that he was planning something to do with Paul. Duncan hoped very much that this wouldn't get them into trouble.

In that case let me accompany you." His honor prevented him from leaving his lady wandering the halls of Castle Caladan in search of her future husband, when she couldn't even walk properly.

He was also trembling at times under his llama.

The woman's gaze narrowed, letting the silver specks drown in the (color) of her irises shine. (Name) was smart enough not to attempt an argument over such a trifle. No matter how disrespectful it was, it would only make it more suspicious. If that's what you want." Duncan walked until he passed (name) and guided her to her destination.

Paul's room wasn't very far away, so the journey was short. The princess knocked elegantly on the door and Paul answered by opening the door. The surprise was clear in her green eyes, but she recovered the moment she noticed Duncan too. He greeted the man with a nod and then turned to Alithea's woman "To what do I owe my lady's visit?" (Name) reduced her expression to pure disgust and entered the room leaving behind Duncan and his expression desperate from the woman's tantrums and lies. Paul offered nothing more than an apologetic expression to his trusted companion closing the door telling him to continue with his duties.

“I hope there is a valid reason to disturb your and Duncan's rest.” “I didn't ask him to disturb himself.” The lady (name) overlooked her precarious condition as she stood in the middle of the room crossing her arms over her chest. The stole and soft robe annihilated every curve the woman might possess. A sigh left Paul's lips as he moved closer to wrap his arms around the woman's form, Your cruelty never fades my lady, not even when you are ill. And to think that when you were little you had such kindness. The warmth of their skin touching was something (name) hated, and he knew that in the future he wouldn't get enough of this from her.

She secretly basked in the warmth of their embrace, perhaps she should have gotten a heavier stole but she couldn't find it on her own. I would start to blame him for this behavior if I were you, Paul." ||

his name had a dismissive lilt but The Atreides, in some twisted way, seemed to appreciate it. Paul presses a kiss to her neck, oblivious to the layer of hair that overlapped (name)'s skin. You shudder disgusted.

In any case you didn't answer my question. He pulled away from her and went to sit on the other side of the room. He poured himself something to drink and did the same for her. Lady (Name) knew better than to give in to such gallantries. She was considered a beauty to such an extent that many sought her attention with petty tricks.

In reality Paul knew why he was there and what caused his confusion. There was a crack in his usual armor, revealing glimpses of anger and nervousness. He had read his movements and words carefully. How he lingered on something too long, how he kept his belly covered with his stole and how he scratched his wrists. You have to let it go. He's not to blame." "Hmm? "He took a sip of his drink while keeping his eyes on her. He knew what he was talking about, there was no need for confirmation, yet he continued to pretend not to understand. If the lady (name) didn't know him, he could have said he was enjoying seeing her like this.

Paul knew her well enough to know that: nothing could upset the woman if not the awareness of having condemned someone for her mistake. She wasn't as cruel as everyone had made her out to be, and Paul knew that better than anyone. He knew that the black circles under his eyes were probably just the cause of the sleepless nights of guilt.

Guilt.

Perhaps no one but him knew that Lady Alithea was capable of feeling such emotions. She was really good at hiding her intentions behind her coldness, not always but almost, Paul would have granted her that. Perhaps if it weren't for his Bene Gesserit abilities he wouldn't have noticed either. "I don't see why I should, (name), after what he did to you. IT'S ALL MY FAULT! HE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT- The scream revealed all the resentment he had towards her. It had come out so spontaneously from his lips that she managed to stop him only after having partially vented. She certainly stopped at a certain point and part of the blame went to the look that the Atreides heir gave her still troubled her, even after years and despite their age difference. the opportunity to your advantage." and you used Not even the poison detectors could detect it. She had been careful. So attentive that when blood began to drip down her nose and mouth general confusion filled the room. Some soldiers rushed there, others called doctor Yueh and later Hawat also arrived. It was one of the few times that the Duke was also present, perhaps all that confusion was also due to this.

No one had managed to find out who he had done it or how he had done it. But Paul had an idea. An idea that had turned out to be more than right. He had seen it clearly. -

The woman's arms slid straight across her body as she gripped the fabric of her robe in her fists. It wasn't clear whether she regretted having shouted it or whether she was just afraid of Paul's gaze. But the rest of the sentence was still reduced to a quiet whisper.

Maybe he felt guilty. He had never touched her before without her permission. He had never hurt her. Yet she had acted against him. She first tried to kill Paul while he slept with a makeshift knife, but was too cowardly to carry out the feat and collapsed in Paul's arms. He hadn't said in one word he had shown fear of it. Then he tried to poison him... but he changed his aim. Perhaps she hoped someone would question her union with Paul, perhaps not deeming her worthy of becoming a Duchess and an Atreides. But it doesn't happen. All Paul needed to do was store the information, analyze it and evaluate how to best resolve the situation. His attempt on the young Duke was never discovered, and his poisoned self was only diverted to the simplest solution. The boy so close to Lady (name) that he poisoned her out of jealousy.

This made her regret having chosen him and brought him with her to Caladan in the first place, that she had compromised herself with him and that she had been forced to have an abortion to preserve the honor of both of them. Maybe you should have thought about involving someone external first. It was stupid but he already knew. She didn't even love him like he deserved.

And it's quite clear that Paul was playing with these feelings of guilt.

He wouldn't offer her a trade, he didn't need one to make her do whatever he wanted. There was no way they had talked about trading the boy's life for something that would benefit Paul and Lady (name) him. was to Paul's advantage and Lady (name) knew it well enough.

"Anyway, now you won't have to worry about covering up that unwanted pregnancy and I won't have to keep a bastard." A bastard heir. It was something ironic now, in young Paul's eyes. I don't remind him in the slightest of his mother, who gave Duke Leto the heir he so desired.

The woman was full of resentment, guilt and embarrassment, which is why she didn't say another word. She didn't try to save herself or justify the obvious facts, he was the only one besides her who knew and could only deduce it was thanks to her predictions. Not even poor Elias was aware that he had impregnated Paul's future bride. Maybe it was for the best.

"You should be grateful." Paul's voice lost its affection and reproach. It only became cold as if he had lost the ability to feel. He moved closer to his lady's form, cupping her soft-featured face in his hands. The princess felt disgusted. ""For not condemning you with him."

In a flash of anger (name) pushed his hands away on the boy's chest, moving away just enough.

First she thought he would give it to her, in his current state, he was stronger than her. Therefore the distance was what he had granted him regardless. "I would have rather died from my own poison than stay here with you." The princess gritted her teeth at each cruel statement as she headed for the door with the sole intent of leaving.

"Don't leave the room." (name) stopped in her tracks, hand on the doorknob and one foot ready to take the first step out. He knew Paul could use his voice, he had heard his mother talk about it many times when they practiced. There was a tacit agreement about this. He shouldn't have used it on her.

Although no terms and conditions had ever been put in place, he had only done it once, excluding this one. Maybe it was that time that convinced him not to use it. She had literally gone crazy, screaming and trying to attack him directly.

No one was able to give an answer to this behavior and the situation remained silent to a few days, leaving an aura of mystery over the matter.

The woman's gaze was filled with anger and a bloody desire to harm him. Paul looked back at her with a sort of challenge in his eyes. Would she be overwhelmed by the voice or would she be locked up for making an attempt on Paul's life?

She was almost sure that in the second one he would suffer more than her, which is why when she took her first steps towards her boyfriend he parted his lips. Ready to recall any order would bring her back to her place. But she stopped even before she could take another step.

Paul's gaze was still on her. Her wavy hair falling to her drooping shoulders. His silver robe and the stole that had fallen from his shoulders and was now held only by the girl's arms. A damned and pathetic sight just like his lady was when no one could see her but him. Pride and vanity had disappeared in favor of sweet desperation and guilt. But ultimately the Atreides could not have wanted anything more than to be the only spectator of such a sight. No one could have admired the dim and simple light of a woman, who had learned to maintain the appearance of coldness and nobility, falling apart in the face of something that was shattering her little by little.

Paul was that thing and they both knew it.

His first steps were intercepted by the woman who stepped back to maintain the initial distance. A sigh of exasperation and amusement left Paul as he spoke again.

"You have to stop these scenes. They won't do you much good especially if I'm the only one watching. Their eyes were fixed on each other. Nothing would change in the woman's behavior, he knew it. Yet her eyes were still beware of whatever he wanted to do with her. He would keep his words and yet she was still unwilling to come closer."

Explain to me how I can make myself heard, without necessarily giving you an order. That power was not a simple order! If it had just been an order she would have ignored it and then moved on with what she thought was best. But in those moments her body stopped being her property and did what that chorus of voices told her to do. Cast out and deprived of her own will. That's how it could be described.

"You can't. Simple, right? All it takes is for me to leave it alone, and clear him of those accusations, and for a while I will continue this act, for a while. For a while... It didn't mean forever. She wouldn't calm down and this would only be something temporary. It was like a stone hitting the void. It didn't make any noise. Neither of them had a speech connected to that of the other and yet they continued to speak along the same lines. She was there for a reason and then she wanted to get away as far away as possible. Even the bottom of the Caladan Sea seemed more welcoming and inviting than that room suffused with light. While he wanted to try to convince her to stay, in his room and in his life. Not that she had that much choice involved but he still wanted her to want him at least a little.

He took another step and then another and another, towards her, in silence. But she walked away again and again and again. The steps were shaky and the possibility that he might fall could not be ruled out. You can really be cruel my lady... especially to me. "Paul seemed to like to point out how his cutting words lost their sharpness in her presence, lacing his words with terrible sarcasm. She tripped over something and fell sitting on the boy's bed. She couldn't know what, but he figured it was Paul's fault. It was always his fault even when it wasn't, in his eyes.

She didn't know exactly how she ended up there, at one end of the room, opposite from where she was. How many steps had he taken without looking around? When she had lost herself too deeply in Paul's eyes and the hatred she felt for him.

"I hate you. He laughed at the confirmation of her words. This was hate. A pathetic hate that suits him beautifully. "I know. He moved closer to her face, leaving little space between them, so much so that each breath brushed the skin of their faces. The woman's (color) eyes were wide open looking for a solution, a clue or some glimmer, in the eyes of her future husband. Any spark but nothing. He was as impassive and unreadable as he always had been, and it terrified her. As in their first meetings, as in their first meeting. "What do you want in exchange? After a long silence lady (name) decided to speak. Usually during their exchanges of words there was never talk of exchanges or mediations. Neither of them would have given up something to have another. Especially (name ).

"Stay. It was decidedly generic in response and the girl found herself impatient with such indulgence. If it had only been one night it might even be a good deal. If it was moving her rooms into Paul's for his last stint here in Caladan before returning home to make wedding preparations, it was excessive but she could still give it to him. She had asked for a very high price after all, as much as she herself didn't want to admit it. But if you mean for his whole life it was too much. However cruel and cold she may have been, she had always kept her word and for this reason she rarely made promises, especially when she didn't want to or couldn't keep them.

"Everything but this.

“Take it or leave it, (name).”

[clo-rofilla]

Mi sto sgretolando in mille pezzi che riflettono una persona che odio e che non sono io. Non mi riconosco più.

Quando sono diventata così esigente, così insoddisfatta, così spietata?

Quando ho iniziato a covare questo rancore che mi avvelena?

Vorrei disintossicarmi da questo veleno bollente che ho in circolo, far sgorgare via ogni bruttura, ogni stortura, ricominciare da capo.

Ricominciare tutto da capo. Dall'amore. Dai sogni. Dalla leggerezza.

Ho perso la capacità di sognare, mi impegno mi sforzo invano: ultimamente non ci riesco più. Prima era facile come respirare.

Mi sento schiacciata dall'ombra di una montagna insormontabile.

Quando tornerò a sentire il calore del sole sulle guance?

[quartafuga]

A me queste cose fanno "fare il sangue amaro", volendo citare mia nonna. Ma quanto suona bene? Rende proprio l'idea di qualcosa che ti entra dentro e ti avvelena il sangue fino a cambiarne il sapore, rendendolo irriconoscibilmente amaro appunto

[lunamagicablu]

“Nessun’altra forma di vita sul Pianeta conosce la negatività, solo gli esseri umani, così come nessun’altra forma di vita viola e avvelena la Terra che la sostiene. Hai mai visto un fiore infelice o una quercia stressata? Hai mai incontrato un delfino depresso, una rana con problemi di autostima, un gatto che non riesce a rilassarsi o un uccello che porta rancore e risentimento? Gli unici animali che possono sperimentare occasionalmente qualcosa di simile alla negatività o mostrare segni di comportamento nevrotico sono quelli che vivono a stretto contatto con gli esseri umani, e che pertanto sono collegati alla mente umana e alla sua follia.” ECKHART TOLLE ********************* “No other life form on the Planet knows negativity, only humans, just as no other life form violates and poisons the Earth that supports it. Have you ever seen an unhappy flower or a stressed oak tree? Have you ever met a depressed dolphin, a frog with self-esteem issues, a cat that can't relax, or a bird that holds a grudge and resentment? The only animals that can occasionally experience something like negativity or show signs of neurotic behavior are those that live in close contact with humans, and are therefore connected to the human mind and its madness.” ECKHART TOLLE 

[emptyinside0]

Esiste una passione più forte di quella che nasce dall’odio?

L’amore si può fingere, gli orgasmi pure.

Ma l’odio…Non c’è niente di più sincero e trascinante di un disprezzo che ti avvelena.

[animadiicristallo]

sto provando quel genere di rabbia che ti avvelena il cuore.

[chez-mimich]

THE OLD OAK

Per il suo ultimo film (almeno secondo le stesse recenti dichiarazioni del grande regista britannico), Ken Loach ha scelto di girare un film “in purezza”, come si direbbe per il vitigno di un un vino. “The Old Oak” infatti contiene tutti i temi cari a Loach, più uno: il proletariato e il sottoproletariato urbani post-industriali, la disoccupazione, la miniera, l’alcolismo, la povertà materiale e spirituale, ai quali qui aggiunge il tema capitale dei nostri tribolati giorni, l’immigrazione. The Old Oak è il vecchio e malandato pub di Durham, paesino del nord-est dell’Inghilterra, dove la chiusura delle miniere, oltre ad essere stata una tragedia epocale per l’economia del villaggio, era altresì stato un formidabile collante per la solidarietà e le lotte sindacali dei lavoratori. La “colliery”, ovvero la miniera di carbone, è stata per anni una costante nel panorama delle lotte sindacali dei lavoratori di quella parte del paese e, attorno ad esse, sono nate forme del tutto particolari di mutuo soccorso per il sostegno tra lavoratori, insieme anche iniziative ricreative e sociali che spesso ruotavano attorno al pub del luogo. TJ Ballanthyne è il proprietario di “The Old Oak” (la vecchia quercia), luogo che tiene insieme vecchi compagni di lavoro in miniera, ormai quasi derelitti e impoveriti dalle miserabili pensioni, che si ritrovano alla sera e nei giorni di festa per una pinta di birra come s’usa da quelle parti. A rompere quel delicato equilibrio è l’arrivo di poveri ancora più poveri di loro, in questo caso un nutrito gruppo di famiglie di migranti che fuggono dalla guerra in Siria. Tj Ballanthyne e un piccolo gruppo di frequentatori del pub decidono di mettere in piedi una sorta di mensa dei poveri per i nuovi arrivati, suscitando la protesta degli storici frequentatori che, benché anch’essi figli di un proletariato misero, sembrano ostili alle nuove povertà oltre ad essere, perché no, anche un po’ razzisti.

Il film di Loach, nella sua essenziale semplicità, è tutto qui e non è una pellicola per tutti,e non lo è, non solo per i motivi che si potrebbero pensare. Non lo è perché vedere un suo film è sempre un po’ come partecipare ad un rito purificatorio: ci si sottopone ad esso per ricordare a noi stessi che la Storia che stiamo vivendo è questa, o meglio che ancora oggi molti vivono in prima persona questa Storia, fatta di sussistenza, di squallide periferie e di miseria. Loach, nella sua sempre scarna narrazione filmica, supportata dalle eccellenti sceneggiature di Paul Laverty, punta questa volta il suo sguardo sull’assurdo conflitto tra due povertà, quella degli ex-minatori e quella dei migranti. Se c’è stata una strategia vincente nella destra in Europa e nel mondo occidentale, e quindi anche in Italia, è proprio stata quella di far pensare alle classi meno abbienti che il nemico sociale fosse quello più povero di loro. Gli ex minatori inglesi, come i proletari italiani, guardano ai migranti con diffidenza, se non proprio con odio. Quello è il loro “nemico”, non certo il grande capitalista, il facoltoso commerciante, il professionista affermato o l’evasore fiscale (figure che spesso coincidono). Se in un certo senso è normale che ciò accada, poiché fasce deboli della popolazione indigena e migranti si trovano nelle città a convivere negli stessi quartieri, la cosiddetta “coscienza di classe”, grande invenzione marxiana, attende solo di essere recuperata alla sua funzione, per far, finalmente, deflagrare un sano conflitto sociale, unica barriera possibile allo strapotere del liberismo delle destre. Un manifesto politico più che un film? Sì, bisogna ammettere che Ken Loach è un regista fieramente politico, forse l’ultimo rimasto, che parrebbe aver girato sempre lo stesso film, come monito della perenne ingiustizia sociale che avvelena (e ha sempre avvelenato) la nostra Storia. Forse sarà il suo ultimo film e quindi ne rimpiangeremo per sempre la dirittura morale e la sua sete di giustizia, ma anche la sua ineguagliabile poesia cinematografica. E come il “macchinista ferroviere” di Francesco Guccini sulla locomotiva, ci piace pensarlo ancora dietro la sua macchina da presa “lanciata bomba contro l’ingiustizia”.

[myborderland]

«Se non avete una casa, non c’è da aver paura che prenda fuoco, e la moglie non vi lascia per un altro, se non avete mogli. Se non avete un cane, il vicino non lo avvelena, e non litigherete coi vostri amici, se non avete amici».

Aleksandr Aronov (via Paolo Nori)