#blind wife

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

[she found out about his job—part 1]

"why do you have a gun?"

Part 2 here

Part:1_____________________________________________________________________________

Married life with him had been wonderful—comforting in ways she never thought possible. Every morning, he kissed her before leaving, his touch lingering just long enough to make her wish he’d stay. Every evening, he returned with the same warmth, wrapping his arms around her, whispering some teasing remark in her ear. She had memorized him in ways beyond sight—the way his presence filled a room, the subtle way his breathing changed when he was tired, the way his heartbeat steadied whenever she curled against him.

But there was something she didn’t know.

His job.

The vague answers, the late nights, the way he avoided talking about work. The secrecy didn’t bother her—he was her husband, and that was enough. He made her feel safe in a world she couldn’t see, so why would she doubt him?— she didn't care.

Until today.

It started with something small.

She was tidying up after he left for the day, running her hands over the couch cushions when she felt something tucked between them. Smooth. Rectangular. She frowned, tracing the embossed edges with her fingers. A business card?

Curious, she brought it closer, running her fingertips over the raised print. It wasn’t in Braille, but she recognized the shape of numbers. A phone number, maybe? There was a circle, something that felt like an emblem—she couldn’t be sure.

Her stomach twisted.

Something felt wrong.

She knew every detail of their home by touch, and this didn’t belong here.

Her fingers tightened around the card.

It was probably nothing. Just some client’s card, or maybe something he had forgotten to throw away.

But then—her hand brushed against another object wedged between the cushions.

A metal case.

Cold. Heavy.

Her heart pounded as she pried it open with trembling hands. Her fingers brushed against something smooth. Familiar, She reached inside, expecting something insignificant—maybe his phone, maybe a set of keys.

Instead, her fingers met something cold. Hard.

Metal.

Her stomach clenched. She swallowed, running her fingers along the shape. It was smooth, heavy, too familiar.

Her breath hitched. Her hands trembled.

A gun.

Why would he have a damn gun?

Her mind raced, a strange unease creeping into her chest.

And then she felt it.

A crisp stack of paper, bound together with a rubber band. Money. A lot of it.

The realization crashed into her like a tidal wave. This wasn’t normal.

She knew the weight of cash. She knew when there was too much of it.

Her breathing grew uneven, her hands shaking as she backed away from the couch.

No. No.

This was just her overthinking, right? There had to be a logical explanation.

But deep down, something in her whispered—you already know.

She stumbled backward, knocking into the coffee table. Her cane was out of reach, and suddenly, the walls of their home felt unfamiliar, dangerous.

The door opened.

She jumped violently.

His footsteps were light, controlled—too controlled.

"Sweetheart?" His voice was casual, but she could hear the subtle tension beneath it. He had seen the mess she made.

Her throat tightened.

"What… what do you do for work?"

A pause.

"Why are you asking that?"

She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. "Because I just found a lot of money hidden in our couch. And a metal case. And something that feels like a business card. I can’t read it, but it doesn’t belong here—and a damn gun"

Silence.

Her pulse roared in her ears. "Tell me the truth."

His voice was eerily calm. "I recruit people."

"For what?" she demanded.

He sighed. "For an opportunity."

"What kind of opportunity comes with hidden money and a gun?"

He didn’t answer.

Her breath hitched. "No. No, you tell me right now. What the hell are you involved in?"

Still, he said nothing.

And that silence—that terrifying silence—told her everything.

Her knees buckled. She felt dizzy, like the world was tilting. She reached out blindly, her hands grasping for the wall, for something real to hold onto.

"You—" Her voice came out in a whisper. "You're the one who—"

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

He stepped closer, but she flinched back so violently that she stumbled, nearly falling.

He caught her before she hit the floor, but she struggled in his grip, pushing at his chest. "Let me go!"

"Calm down," he murmured.

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" She was shaking now, panic clawing up her throat. "You trick people into… into what? A game? A death game?"

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled. "I don’t kill anyone."

"But you send them there."

He didn’t deny it.

Tears burned behind her useless eyes. Her breathing was too fast, too shallow—she couldn’t breathe.

How long had she been sleeping next to a monster?

Her husband—the man who held her, who kissed her, who whispered that she was the best thing in his life—he was the reason people never came back.

A choked sob escaped her lips.

She turned and ran.

She didn’t know where she was going—she just needed to get away.

But his arms caught her before she could take three steps.

"Stop—!" she gasped, struggling.

He held her tighter. "I’m not letting you run."

"You—" Her voice broke. "You lied to me. You lied."

He didn’t answer.

He just held her, steady and unyielding, while she fell apart in his arms.

_________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova 🎀

[badasserywomen]

Its only right you prove yourself in combat if you want a monster wife

Ever keen to support for some sweet art? Find me here: Link

[potato-lord-but-not]

more no sweeter innocence propaganda btw because they make me ILL @lighthouseshepard IM KNOCKING AT YOUR DOOR

[mydirtyvalentine]

i am in AGONY

episode 49 of malevolent the cruel, cruel mistress that you are

[tagzpite]

Here is Fishdysseus trapped in a pond for those who didn’t see

[rise-my-angel]

"Daemon would never do x, y, or z."

We literally watched this toddler temper tantrum having manchild paralyze his independent adult wife after confronting her alone in a field, and proceed to beat her to death with a rock when she did literally nothing wrong, just so he could try and pursue his 16 year old niece.

Try paying attention to what is literally right in front of your eyes on screen, for once.

[thedangoratio]

Saw that cheerleader wukong was resurfacing, so I thought I’d have a little bit of silly fun with that 🤭

[0bsequi0us]

Feeling kinda spicy so here's some (potentially) unpopular Trials opinions/HCs

(silly as usual)

I'm a Franco Barbi comic body type truther 😔 I think it's cute ok

Mother Gooseberry sucks at making food. I know we think 1950s housewife and immediately think of homebaked pies and shit but I think she's more of an aspic with human fingers in it type gal

Coyle is like... primarily gay. Bi with heavy leanings towards men. Mostly only exhibits attraction/sexual aggression towards women out of social obligation. Sorry Coyle goils

Franco Barbi would NEVER want a baby even if he COULD get someone pregnant. He's supposed to be the baby! He would be so murderously jealous of a baby that thang would never see the light of day

Franco is a tits man, Coyle is an ass man, Gooseberry is an ass man. I feel like this is obvious but idk usually people seem to not know what to do with Gooseberry. There is so much ass brutality in her trials yall. She has a thing for absolutely destroying man ass

I like Franco's impotence. It's cute

We can all agree that Franco smells vile but Coyle and Gooseberry do too. They probably smell like different types of bad but I can't think of one expop who would smell decent

Maybe Pitcher. Pitcher might just smell like burnt hair and gasoline. That's how low the bar is. That burnt hair would be comparatively pleasant

Coyle smells like stale cigarettes and straight up unwashed ass

Gooseberry smells like rotting flesh + it smells worse depending on how fresh her current mask happens to be. She might try to conceal it but she just ends up smelling like a corpse drowned in perfume

Franco smells like an anime convention + INTENSE spoiled milk. Probably also alcohol sweat. May also try to use cologne but to even worse effect than Gooseberry

Gooseberry is the best Prime Asset. Yall are just blinded by lust

I admit of all the PA ships I get Gooseberry/Coyle the least. Gooseberry doesn't even seem to like Coyle that much, in most of her voice lines she seems to feel uncomfortable around him

That said I think every possible combination of PAs fuck so I still ship them lol

How is there not more Franco/Easterman content. Easterman had Franco's Lupara in his mouth he basically fellated him (It's because Easterman girlies don't like Franco and Franco girlies don't like Easterman isn't it lol)

I don't know how any future Prime Assets could work with the current theming and idk if I even want more Prime Assets. They're gonna ruin my perfect nuclear family 😤

[ambrosykim]

[playdat]

the Salesman × Blind wife

[she found out about his job—part 2]

"why do you have gun?"

Part:2____________________________________________________________________________

She fought him.

Not physically—she knew she couldn’t win against his strength—but in every other way. Her body was rigid, trembling violently in his arms, her breath coming in shallow gasps as panic clawed at her chest.

“Let me go,” she choked out, voice raw with betrayal.

He didn’t.

His arms stayed firm around her, as if holding her together while she shattered. “I won’t let you hurt yourself.”

She let out a sharp, breathless laugh—more of a sob. “I don’t need you to protect me! Not when you're the one I need protecting from.”

That made him flinch.

She felt it—the slight shift in his body, the hesitation in his grip.

Good.

He should feel guilty.

He should feel everything she was feeling.

Heart pounding, she yanked herself out of his grasp, stumbling backward until her calves hit the coffee table. She grabbed onto the edge, gripping it so hard her fingers ached.

She was blind, but for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel like a condition.

It felt like a trap.

Like she was at the mercy of a world she couldn’t see—one he had crafted around her with gentle words and careful hands, only for her to discover it was built on lies.

“You…” She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “You go to work every day and find people for that—that thing?”

A long, heavy silence.

Then—“Yes.”

Her stomach turned.

She shook her head, refusing to believe it. “And what? You tell them it’s some miracle opportunity, let them believe they’ll have a chance? That they’ll be okay?”

Another pause.

Then, softer—“Yes.”

Her hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the scream clawing at her throat. “And they die, don’t they?”

He exhaled. “Some of them.”

Her breath hitched.

Some of them.

Not all.

But enough.

Her mind reeled. How many men and women had been lured into that hell because of him? How many families had waited for a loved one who would never come home?

She hated him.

She loved him.

And she hated that she still loved him.

“Why?” Her voice cracked. “Why would you do this? Why would you—”

“I needed to survive,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost resigned.

She recoiled. “So you sold your soul?”

He didn’t answer.

She took a shaky breath, trying to hold herself together. “Did you ever—” She swallowed, her throat tight. “Did you ever try to stop?”

A beat of silence. Then—“No.”

Something inside her broke.

She turned blindly, her hands reaching for anything—her cane, the door, a way out. But her fingers found nothing but empty space, a reminder of just how helpless she was in this moment.

She couldn’t even run from him.

She could hear him moving closer, his footsteps careful. “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “Don’t come near me.”

He stopped.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

“I thought you were a good man.” Her voice trembled. “I thought you were my safe place.”

“I was.” He exhaled, slow and heavy. “I still am.”

She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “No, you’re not. You never were.”

Another beat of silence.

Then, softly—“You’re right.”

That hurt worse.

Because it meant he had always known.

And he had let her love him anyway.

She took another step back, pressing a hand against her chest as if she could physically hold the ache there. “I need to leave.”

His voice was firm. “No.”

Her breath caught.

No?

“No?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You don’t get to tell me no. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be with you—”

“Then where will you go?”

She froze.

He wasn’t taunting her. He wasn’t mocking her or daring her to answer.

He was asking.

And that was worse.

Because she didn’t know.

Where did a blind woman go when the person she trusted most had betrayed her?

When she had nowhere else to turn?

He knew.

And so he said nothing.

Because he knew that even after everything—even after the horror, the deception, the suffocating fear—she was still trapped here with him.

Not because he was forcing her.

But because she had nowhere else to run.

And that realization shattered her more than any truth ever could.

__________________________________________________________________________________

@dyingswanpavlova @gnohomotho @muchwita

[vinno-saurus]

hihi htis is my first and probably last post solely because i had a dream while i was sleeping in math class & these images flashed in my brain right before the bell woke me up,,i wanted to draw it soso badly but i hav to go on a magical adventure so no drawing for me,,, that being said heres this if any malevolent artists needed new material !! ignore how john is just some guy pretend he isnt actually

[i dunno how i actually feel about john & noel yet but i think theyre funny haha together yes yes],, i promise i can draw im just rushing graa. sorry if i got something wrong i dunno tumblr,,..,..💔💔

[interestingturnofthetables]

Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket founded a true ass cult and I really don’t think we remember that fact enough.

[knockknockitsnickels]

Day 7, the Razor! She was the last route I got on my first playthrough, which was one hell of a way to end the game

[commander0fmyheart]

Nene basically telling Pam that the entire Chitrarak family is terrible

And yet these are the Chitrarak kids…

Seems like they care to me.

[spotforme]

listen listen why does the wire man have such a good finity for acting out unrequited yet obvious and desperate love, first it was Derek and now it's Susanne-Clarissa's friend (what's her name??)

can not believe she literally put a ring on her with her mouth and Clarissa just, nothing!?

[mydirtyvalentine]

okay so i’m gonna yap about oscar, and blind faith by proxy, for a bit cause once again i am deep in my feels about him.

i wanted to start my rambles by saying that i absolutely love fix-it content in regards to oscar. fics or au’s where he isn’t left behind after the events that took place at the allan farm. post canon scenarios where arthur returns back to new york and oscar and him make amends. hell, i’m writing my own fic rn where oscar and arthur get the chance to share tender moments together and will get their happy ending.

its why i love fics like lighthouse shepard’s no sweeter innocence, or potato lord’s holy ghost au. tea from the microwave’s boykissers au, any and all ourthur content, and don’t even get me started on golden crosses / au’s and fics that explore oscar and john bonding.

i adore oscar as a character and want him to be happy and to share that happiness with others.

that being said,

i am truly obsessed with au’s or fics where oscar gets significantly worse after arthur leaves.

oscar aligned himself to arthur, he idolized arthur when he assigned his purpose to be arthur and a drive to help him as far as he possibly could.

that type of dedication, that vein of faith in another, is an incredibly beautiful thing. but can turn sour so rapidly if broken.

i really enjoy seeing content where oscar is miserable after arthur leaves. not because i think he doesn’t deserve happiness and i revel in his suffering, but i also feel that oscar, outside of a happy ending, deserves to be angry, deserves to grieve the loss of arthur, and messily too.

arthur’s parting from oscar was not a gentle thing and i typically don’t see oscar’s life afterwards being a gentle thing. that type of grief turns people bitter.

canonically oscar has never been one to rationally and healthily deal with feelings of anger, guilt, betrayal, and fear. i don’t see oscar easily accepting the fact that his purpose left him. i do believe that, especially given his religious occupation, oscar has great potential for forgiveness. that being said, i do not see oscar easily or quickly arriving to a point, if he even arrives to that point at all, where he forgives arthur.

one of the most devastating posts i saw after part 49 came out said something about how sad it would be, if in oscar’s letter, he was angry. that idea really stuck with me cause out of all the takes i saw about oscar’s letter, it made the most sense. it makes sense for oscar to be angry and for that to bleed into his letter to arthur. angry at being abandoned, angry and grieving at the loss of his arm.

i love when i get to see post-arthur oscar painted as angry, as hesitant to forgive, as working past his (potential) feelings for arthur and no longer idolizing or tying himself to him.

the point that i’m getting at, is that i adore all portrayals of oscar and interpretations and representations of his character and his relationship with others. portrayals where oscar is bitter after arthur leaves hold a special place in my heart, as it means a lot to me to see oscar deal with his feelings and face life after arthur and that process not looking pretty. he deserves to be angry and to grieve, and as much as he deserves that bitterness, he also deserves a happy ending.

an ending where he isn’t aimless, an ending where he is fulfilled and pursuing a purpose. (regardless if that purpose remains arthur or not)