#cw implied suicide attempts

[askmatthias]

Since Louis remembers everything does that mean he most likely remembers all his deaths too?..

"Yes."

"Everytime."

( cw self-harm, s*icide attempts implied, blood )

"But not the perspective you might be imagining."

"... And, eventually, destroying 'me' wasn't enough."

...

"He's what you might call... Delicate. So you and I will be keeping this between us. Okay?"

[fivewholeminutes]

A Series of Small Offerings

PART ONE -8- The Way That You Were

To tear that knife from what once / Would have been dead fingers

I have. Struggled a lot with this one, but I am glad it is done. I've had this idea rotating in my brain for a month and I have tried starting it at least 3 times both traditionally and digitally before I decided to turn it into a cut out, because I feel the most confortable making cut outs, actually.

HUGE, ENORMOUS shotout to @copper-sands / @ancientbygone for being my hand anatomy expert!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Without it this piece would look way worse <3

[pale-opal]

I Listened to "The Wisdom Saga" and I Have Some Thoughts - Part 2

This is the sequel to this post. I will be picking up right where I left off, starting with:

4. Love in Paradise - I feel as if I've been tricked, been backstabbed, and quite possibly, bamboozled. - I came into this expecting unrequited-love related hijinks. - Do you wanna know what I got instead? - The most emotionally taxing song in the entire freaking saga. - I have listened to this song several times and so far, every time it ends I feel sad. But when the song starts, you have no idea what you're in for. - "Love in Paradise"? More like "Suffering in Paradise" (/j). - We begin with a medley of some of the most iconic songs from past sagas, starting with "Remember Them" from "The Cyclops Saga". After that point, the rest of the songs go by quickly, with Athena speedrunning through a montage of Odysseus' past up until his current point. The remaining songs in the medley are:

Keep Your Friends Close

Ruthlessness (I love how this song was changed for the medley, by the way. The faster tempo puts more emphasis on the drums and I think that's so fun)

Done For

No Longer You

Different Beast

Scylla

Thunder Bringer

- Afterwards, Athena finds out where Odysseus has been for the past seven years: the ✨Isle of Calypso!✨ - He is not okay. - We will get to that shortly. - For now, Calypso has decided to wake Odysseus up:

"[CALYPSO] Morning, sleepyhead You've been resting for a while I swore that you were dead When you washed up on my isle Did you know you talk in your sleep? Tell me, though, who's Penelope?

[ODYSSEUS] She's my wife" - This man just woke up from being knocked out cold, and the first thing he does is talk about his wife. - I know that he was asked who she was, but one would expect him to be like: "She's my wife - where am I?/How'd I get here?/Who are you?" - But, no. He just says "She's my wife" and leaves it at that. He couldn't care less about everything else at this point. - This does not stop Calypso from ignoring this and acting like her and Odysseus are newlyweds, however. - And I just want to take a second to talk about these lyrics:

"[ODYSSEUS] I'm not your man

[CALYPSO] I'm what you want here I'm what you need here Just you and me, my love in paradise Now 'til the end of time From here on out, you're mine, all mine" - "I'm not your man" is sung the same way as "I'm just a man", which means that Odysseus is saying: "Just because I'm a man, that doesn't mean I'm a free piece of meat for you to make out with." - Meanwhile, Calypso is NOT listening. She is thoroughly convinced that she and Odysseus are in-love with each other, and that they're basically already married. - I would like to bring up that in Greek mythology, Apollo and Calypso are husband and wife. And we know that Apollo is part of the "Epic" canon, because he appears in the next song. From this, we can draw two potential conclusions:

Apollo and Calypso are not married in "Epic", either because they haven't met, or because they are divorced.

Apollo and Calypso ARE married, BUT Apollo doesn't visit his wife... for some reason.

- Odyessus decides to try to get Calypso off his back by threatening her with death, but she deflects this by revealing that she can't kill her, because she's a goddess:

"[CALYPSO] You're adorable Bow down now to the immortal Calypso, here to entertain But fear not, I bring no pain ... Under my spell, we're stuck in paradise No one can come nor go, my island stays unknown" - Calypso going from flirting with Odysseus to mockingly calling him "adorable" and telling him to bow to her actually works really well. Sure, she's in "love" with him, but she's still a goddess, and Odysseus is still a mortal man that just threatened to kill her. To her, she has to put him in his place, regardless of whether or not he's the "love of her life". - "I bring no pain" is really ironic, considering how much Odysseus does NOT want to be on this island with this woman. - I also find it interesting how Calypso and Circe both have similar things going on with the whole "secluded secret islands in the middle of the ocean" thing. Not only that, but they both had a thing for Odysseus. - Also, the line about the spell Calypso put on the island works as an explanation for why she instantly "fell in love" with Odysseus: she's lonely! - Now then: is this an excuse for what she's doing here? No. The buck stops at it being an explanation - everyone experiences loneliness, and a lot of people do some weird and not always understandable things because of it. But usually, those things don't involve ignoring other people's boundaries and forcing them to accept your company. Relationships are a two-way street, and if someone doesn't want to meet you in the middle, then that's their choice. You need to know when to back off and let it go. - After Calypso reveals who she is and that it isn't really possible for Odysseus to leave the island, he starts to panic (the way the line "No, no" is sung really sells this). - At this point, I have to provide a content warning for implications of attempted suicide, and discussion of PTSD, due to the subject matter the rest of the song deals with. If you don't want to read my analysis of the lyrics dealing with that material, please skip to the section for "God Games", or click off of this post. Your mental health is much more important than some silly essay about some random people from Greek mythology. - Furthermore, if you feel that you or someone else may need help dealing with suicidal thoughts, please contact the national suicide hotline (United States) at 1-800-273-TALK, or the national crisis hotline at 988. - Lastly, I am not a psychologist, nor am I anyone else qualified to be giving medical assistance or help with mental health. Therefore, treat anything I say in relation to mental health with skepticism, and do not use it as a substitute for real medical advice.

Now let us continue:

"[ATHENA] Seven years, she's kept you trapped, out of your control Time can take a heavy toll...

[ODYSSEUS] All I hear are screams

[CALYPSO, spoken] Ody, get away from the ledge!

[ODYSSEUS] You don't know what I've gone through You don't know what I've sacrificed Every comrade I long knew Every friend, I saw them die And all I hear are screams"

- For some reason, I didn't see Odysseus developing post-traumatic stress disorder coming sooner. I suppose that's because he was in "the thick of it" for so long. - PTSD tends to show itself after a person experiences trauma, and is being reacclimated to a safe environment/the feeling of safety (however, it's not impossible for people to experience PTSD while in the midst of a traumatic experience, specifically if that experience takes place over an extended period of time. One example of this is how some soldiers who served in the Vietnam War showed symptoms of what was once called "shell shock" while they were still serving, with one of the most prominent signs being the "one-hundred yard stare" (which we now recognize as a form of disassociation)). - I also didn't expect Odysseus wanting to kill himself. He's reached the point where he just wants to be done. It's not even about Penelope anymore. He's just... tired. So tired that he's forgotten why he let himself go through all that suffering to begin with. - Calypso telling Odysseus that "life would be so much worse/if you had died" and telling her to stay in her "open arms" absolutely hurts, especially since he wants absolutely nothing to do with her. - Odysseus desperately screaming for Athena at the end just makes the whole thing worse.

5. God Games - This is arguably the song that had the most hype before its release. It had a bunch of animatics on YouTube back when all we really had to work with were a few snippets, and that hype stuck around for almost a full year. - And after listening to the song, it's easy for me to say that the hype was definitely deserved. - Another thing that I would like to say is that this song has a really fast pace. At first, I thought this made the song feel rushed, but then I realized something: that's the point. Mr. Rivera-Herrans has stated on multiple occasions that "Epic" takes inspiration from video games. With that in mind, considering how each of the gods has their own themes, as well as how fast the song is, it makes it clear that this song is meant to be a boss rush. The song goes fast because it HAS to. There's no time to be dragging out each debate, because Athena has to make sure she's ready for the next one. - On that note, "Love in Paradise" feels like a cutscene that takes place when "switching characters" over to Athena from Telemachus. - The first verse starts us off with Athena making it clear as to why she was considered to be Zeus' daughter in the Greek canon: "Father, God King Rarely do I ask for favors Now, I'm knocking on your door With hopes to save a friendship with one who's a prisoner far from home Odysseus"

- I did not expect Athena to be sucking up to anybody, but considering how egotistical Zeus is (ironic, considering how "Thunder Bringer" implies that he doesn't have any patience for hubris), this is most likely the best move she could have made. - I also noticed an interesting change that was made in the final cut of the song in comparison to the snippets: originally, Zeus tells Athena to convince Apollo, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Ares, Hera, and him to set Odysseus free. However, in this version, he tells her to choose between persuading the aforementioned gods or him. Athena picks what is arguably the harder option. Keep this in mind. It will be important later. - The first god Athena has to go up against is Apollo: "You all know I'm a fan of catchy songs So with so many sirens gone, I think Ody's in the wrong" - Right off the bat, I was not expecting Apollo to lowkey sound like a hipster. That's cool, though. It works. - I like how Apollo being troubled by the siren deaths that took place back in "Different Beast" isn't because he doesn't approve of the murders themselves, but because the sirens were good singers. - Fun fact about the sirens: initially in Greek mythology, they were large birds with the heads of women. However, as time passed, they became replaced with mermaid-like creatures. - Luckily, Athena knows exactly how respond to such weird logic: by telling him that this actually helps the remaining sirens to stick around to sing more songs later.

"They were trying to do him worse All he did was reimburse them Now they'll tread with caution first To live another day and sing another verse"

- Now it's time for Hephaestus (and did y'all know that he's voiced by Jorge's dad? Both of his parents have shown up in this musical in important supporting roles. I think that's neat): "Trust is not given, it's forged Why should I give him my support? He sacrificed his own cohorts" - Hephaestus valuing trust and being upset with Odysseus for being willing to sacrifice his own crew members to Scylla works out so well when you consider that Aphrodite is constantly cheating on him with Ares. Why they didn't get a divorce is beyond me. The ancient Greeks divorced each other quite often, and it was easy for men to leave their wives. And there's even a myth were Hephaestus catches Aphrodite with Ares. So... yeah. Leave her, Hephaestus. You can do better. "Did you forget they failed to listen? He was betrayed and then imprisoned But if you make the right decision He can still build a future with those who miss him"

- What Athena is essentially saying here is: "Yeah, he did sacrifice his own men. But then they turned around and betrayed him right back. Nobody was innocent in that situation. But if you let him go, he can redeem himself with the people he has left." - Hephaestus (albeit begrudgingly) agrees with this. And Aphrodite, fittingly enough, is opponent number three (3): "[APHRODITE] Your little high and mighty Odysseus Claims to love his mother But let her die of a broken heart

[ATHENA] He was busy fighting

[APHRODITE] More like busy spiting the cyclops Let him feel the pain that his mother felt and rot" - I think Aphrodite's reasoning is highly flawed. Yes, the latter ten (10) years of Odysseus being missing from Ithaca could have been avoided if he didn't do the equivalent of giving the cyclops his government name, legal address, and social security number. BUT. She's acting as if he strayed off the path on purpose. Not only that, but in "The Underworld", Odysseus' mom's part of the song is all about how she died chilling in her rocking chair, willing to wait for her son for as long as it took. If anything, she died of old age, not of a "broken heart" as Aphrodite claims. - Furthermore, the part of the crew members who died heavily implies that the consciousness' of the dead in the underworld are a mixture of their memories and how they felt when they died. Hence why the crew members are confused as to why Odysseus spared the cyclops and are able to quote "Ruthlessness", and why Polities (😿) is still trying to encourage Odysseus to live with "open arms". In other words? Homegirl was not depressed when she died. Her lyrics about how much she loves her son and how she doesn't mind waiting for him is a representation of how she felt in her last moments. - TL;DR: Aphrodite is either making stuff up, doesn't truly know what happened, or is manipulating the situation to make it hard for Athena to argue with her. Hence why Athena pulls her into quick-thought. However, now Athena has another problem to deal with: "[ARES] Really Athena? These old tricks?

[ATHENA, spoken] Ares!" - Here we have another change from the snippets. In the older draft, Athena sounded more like she was in pain due to Ares interfering with her powers, but now she just sounds angry. Angry that he's interfering. - Ares' argument goes like this:

"What kind of sick coward Holds back his power While his friends get devoured? He didn't even fight Scylla Didn't even try to kill her Hides inside a wooden horse to get the job done Never handles things upfront Pathetic and weak like his son" - Before I lay into Ares' logic, I would like to explain more ancient Greek lore: both Ares and Athena were believed to be gods of warfare (and Aphrodite may have been considered to be one at some point as well). However, they both dealt with different "facets" of warfare. Athena was also considered the goddess of wisdom, and she was more associated with the strategic, "honorable" parts of war. Meanwhile, Ares was in charge of the bloody, tragic parts of war (which meant that not a whole lot of Greeks worshipped him). With this in mind, Ares' stance on Odysseus' methods makes more sense. However. That doesn't mean his reasoning isn't extraordinarily unsound: 1. "...sick coward/Holds back his power/While his friends get devoured": Odysseus willingly gave his friends over to get eaten by Scylla. Ares makes it sound like he was cowering in a corner while his friends were dying. 2. "...didn't even fight Scylla/Didn't even try to kill her": How could he?! Scylla's body has six dog heads, hence the six torches. Each of those heads, along with Scylla herself, are absolutely massive. Not only that, but the heads are attached to tentacles, meaning that they're chilling in the water most of the time. If one wanted to attack the heads, they would have to wait until they came out - and in that case, the heads are getting ready to strike. Fighting Scylla would've been a death wish. If Odysseus tried to fight her, WAY more than six people would've died that day, and it's likely that NOBODY would've been getting out of that alive. What good would a bloody, violent battle be if it was all completely pointless? 3. "Hides inside a wooden horse to get the job done": Oh, yeah. As if the Trojans would've just let the men of Ithaca inside. They had to sneak in because Troy was a walled city. If they wanted to force their way in on foot, they would have to either break down the walls or knock down the door. And while doing something like that wouldn't be impossible, they would've been at risk of giving the Trojans enough time to gather a force to confront them once they got in, making the battle take way longer and have much more casualties on the side of the Ithacans than needed, and/or they would've had to face archers shooting at them from the walls. And it seems like it would be pretty hard to break into a city if you have to hold a shield above your head the whole time to keep yourself from getting killed. 4. "Never handles things up front": Convenient how Ares just ignores the Winion confrontation, the cyclops battle, as well as the confrontation with Circe. Odysseus has no problem directly dealing with people. He's just smart enough to not get himself killed. 5. "Pathetic and weak like his son": Telemachus was never taught how to fight. He and his mother have been trying to keep caring for the suitors from putting them into poverty and from forcing Penelope to marry one of them. They have bigger fish to fry than getting into fights for no good reason. Furthermore, the one time Telemachus did get into a fight, he did so willingly, even though he lacked combat experience and was going up against someone stronger than him. He wanted to keep his mother safe that much. And he didn't even mind losing. How Ares could think he is "pathetic" is beyond me. - And don't get me started on him calling Odysseus pathetic. Please. We would be here all day. - Athena also has some choice words for Ares and Aphrodite: "Hold your tongue now His son's my friend And tell your lover that a broken heart can mend You want more bloodshed? Then set him free To get back to his homestead, he'll make everybody bleed" - GET 'EM ATHENA. TELL 'EM. TELL THEM HOW WHACK THEY ARE. - Let's move on to Hera: "[HERA] So many heroes So many tales Give me one good reason why yours should prevail

[ATHENA] He’s got the mind of a genius

[HERA] Try harder.

[ATHENA] He’s pretty skilled with words

[HERA] You can do better than that!" - One thing that can be noticed right away is that unlike the other gods Athena has faced, Hera isn't concerned about Odysseus' actions - she care more about his character, who he is as a person. - And Athena, like the gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss she is, figures out what will convince Hera after a few tries: "[ATHENA] Never once has he cheated on his wife

[HERA, spoken] ...Release him." - Before "The Circe Saga" came out, I thought Athena was lying here. After all, in the original "Odyssey", Odysseus does cheat on his wife. Twice (that we know of), actually. First with Circe (for an entire YEAR), and again with Calypso (even though being trapped on that island made him depressed, he was not above sleeping with her). - I am so glad that Jay cut both of those plotlines. While the ancient Greeks might have considered Odysseus to still be faithful, modern audiences would have had trouble buying that idea. - Furthermore, telling Hera that Odysseus never cheated on Penelope works for two reasons: 1. Hera was seen as the goddess of marriage. 2. Zeus cheated on Hera with a LOT of women, and has a LOT of illegitimate children. Hera has tried to kill some of them (see: The Labors of Heracles/Hercules) (with that said, I think its sweet how Hera's encouraging Athena instead of antagonizing her, since she's also an illegitimate child of Zeus'). - And would you look at that! Athena did it! She completed the task. Now let's see how Zeus reacts... "[ATHENA, spoken] I've played your game and won! Release him!

[ZEUS] You dare to defy me?! To make me feel shame?! No one beats me, NO ONE WINS MY GAME! THUNDER, BRING HER THROUGH THE WRINGER! SHOW HER I'M THE JUDGEMENT CALL, THE ONE WHO MAKES HER KINGDOM FALL!"

- Zeus responds to being beaten by striking his favorite daughter with lightning. - The question is: why?! She did what she was told, and she didn't cheat. Did he not expect her to win? Did he really think that the alleged goddess of wisdom wouldn't be able to outsmart her fellow Olympians? And if he didn't want her to succeed, why not add Poseidon to the lineup? He'd be enraged about Odysseus being alive at all. - Not only that, but she picked the harder option. Let me say again that Athena was supposed to be Zeus' favorite. She could've easily convinced her father by appealing to his ego and making a deal or two. But instead, she decided to increase her workload. And her reward for going above-and-beyond to prove herself is getting electrocuted? - Yeah, no. Zeus is now on the priority list for defenestration. And even then, getting yeeted out of a window might be too good for this man, once we take into account his treatment of Hera and women in general. - Ares asks if Athena is dead. A piano rendition of "Warrior of the Mind" begins to play. And based on how sad it sounds, I wouldn't be surprised if it was in a minor key. It doesn't look like Athena is getting up. As a matter of fact, it looks like this might be the end. - But this is what I'm going to call a "musical fakeout". Because next thing you know, a small part of "Legendary" starts playing, and then the brass kicks in. We are back in a major key. Athena has remembered Telemachus. She has remembered that Odysseus still needs her. She remembered why she's here. And she's not taking no for an answer: "Let him go, please... Let him go..." - Even after getting struck by lighting and what should've been an easy victory, Athena still finds the strength to get up and continue pleading for Odysseus' freedom. How awesome is that? - Oh, and based on Athena's tone here and the usage of the word "please", we know now why Zeus was so angry: Athena wasn't cowering enough when she told him that she beat him (do you think the Greek gods had windows large enough for a whole person to fit out of on Mount Olympus? Just asking...) - Also, this is the first final song out of all the sagas that doesn't feel like it has an ending moment of catharsis. All the other final songs had reached a place plot-wise that made ending its particular saga there make sense, or they had a brief instrumental at the end that let you know the saga was over. But this song simply ends with Athena asking for Odysseus be set free, and... that's it. We don't know Zeus' response. I was actually shocked (pun not intended... again) by this lack of closure. But I think it was done on purpose. We're not going to be "playing" as Athena anymore. The next saga switches us back to Odysseus, so we need to know how things go on his end (that, and it kills the tension for an answer to Athena's plea to be given explicitly by Zeus, or implied by the music). Final Thoughts - This should've been called "The Angst Saga" with all the emotional damage it has caused (exhibit A: me). - I hope "King" ends with an epic 1v1 fight between Antinous and Odysseus (or Telemachus. Telemachus works too), with Antinous getting knocked out of a window. - On that note, once again, please do not confuse anything negative I may have said about the characters with the actors or crew members of "Epic". I think the cast and crew of "Epic" are all great. Do not think that me talking smack about a character or wanting to see a character face karma is me speaking ill of or wishing harm on the actors, crew, or any other real people, because it is not. Thank you. - Somehow, the "Epic" team keeps making each saga better than the last. I have played this particular one three (3) times so far, and I will do it again.

Correction 11/4/24: Apollo was in a relationship with the muse Calliope, not Calypso. I got their names mixed up while writing this. I'm sorry about that.

[the-oaken-muse]

Misery Loves Company

My Ecto-Implosion fic for @creep-dot-commercial 's art! Thanks for letting me play with your blorbo! I promise I didn't break her too much

Check it out on ao3, if that’s your jam

A line of glowing green carved a rectangle into the dark wall; it shifted, dimming and brightening in turns with no discernible pattern. The light danced across the sturdy wood paneling within its border, highlighting the peaks and valleys of smaller and yet smaller rectangles. It bounced across the glass-smooth stone of the floor until it reached the rippling waterfalls of fabric lining the walls. Its toxic hue overpowered blood red only at the point where it shone most directly on each curve and drape before fading to gray and then, finally, leaving a brilliant crimson untouched on the far side. 

All at once the green line vanished, the light wholly eclipsed by creeping tendrils of shadow. Like a bank of mist or, perhaps, a cloud of smoke, the darkness drifted through the crack around the door and into the hall. The shadows came together, bubbling and churning and climbing as though each desperate billow wished to be atop the heap and did not care how many others it had to trample to get there. 

The smoke took shape, solidifying into a beautiful young woman. She stretched long, sinuous arms above her head until her freshly formed spine let out a series of sickening cracks. 

“Much better,” she sighed. “I really needed that.” 

Nothing picked her up when she was feeling down quite like helping the youth of today find their place in the world. 

Children were such adorable little morsels, so full of wonder and hope . It was admirable, really… but real life was not kind to the innocent. They weren’t invincible , they weren’t special , they weren’t different . No one was. The sooner they learned that the better, and there was something so… fulfilling about being the one to teach them that lesson. 

Not to mention how absolutely delectable their misery was… So maybe she had gotten a bit carried away this time, but a little take out now and then never hurt anybody. 

Well… it had never hurt her ; she couldn’t exactly say the same for the Sylvan High dance team captain. 

Penelope grinned with all the predatory grace of a cat who had just finished tormenting some small creature.

She had been such a sweet girl. Surely her classmates would miss her, unlike–

Abruptly, the smile fell from Penelope’s face. 

She stood frozen in place aside from the slight shake of her fists where they clenched at her sides, the next moment she was on her way down the hall. 

Her heels tapped out a purposeful rhythm, echoing as if in a great cavern despite the close press of the walls. 

She chanced not a peek down at the marble beneath her feet, its black surface polished to perfection. 

Click-clack, click-clack.

She strode on, eyes straight ahead.

Click-clack, click-clack.

The curtains to either side did little to dampen the sound, not of her heels, nor of the whispers behind them. 

She fought the urge to walk faster.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

At the end of the hallway, there stood a single vanity, its elaborately carved wood painted white with trim leafed in gold. It was lit by a ring of bulbs around an attached mirror; each glowed softly on its own, but combined and reflected as they were, the light they cast was harsh and unforgiving. It was the same vanity that had been in her childhood bedroom, exactly as she remembered it. 

She pulled out a matching white and gold chair and sat, but rather than face the vanity’s mirror, she pulled a small compact from her pocket and began examining her reflection in it. 

She was flawless. Of course she was. She had just come back from feasting on the bountiful despair at some underfunded, small-town high school. 

None of the students there would ever amount to anything. Such grand dreams, the way they had all yearned to leave, but would never be able to afford anything more than the local community college. She had… lowered their expectations. No sense getting their hopes up just to go into debt over a degree they would never use. They could get a dead-end career and a job they hated just as easily without some fancy piece of paper.

She was rejuvenated. Her skin was glowing, her complexion even, her pores practically nonexistent. Everywhere she looked was perfection from the tip of her nose to the curve of her jaw… 

But then she saw it, a small, jagged line to mar her otherwise immaculate features: a single, gray hair. 

"Oh, Penny, you had better get a husband soon," her reflection spoke with the voice of her mother. "Why, you're practically an old maid!"

Unbidden, in the small circle of the compact, a wrinkle formed between her furrowed brows.

"You know I don't care about that," she scoffed, plucking the offending hair with a wince. 

“Well, maybe if you cared about anyone but yourself, I would have had grandchildren!” the voice complained. "I don't want- I didn’t have time for a husband or-or–” she stuttered, “I was- I’m focusing on my career right now…"

One of her eyes twitched, the skin beneath them thinning and darkening like so many sleepless nights.

"Are you sure that's why?" said another voice. 

Penelope would know that voice anywhere, though it had been many years since she'd last heard it. It called out from behind a curtain to her left. 

She stood on trembling legs, her knees not what they used to be. Supporting herself with the back of the chair, she reached out a shaky hand.

Vanessa had been the most popular girl at her high school. Beautiful, smart, and beloved by all. Penelope had always looked up to her, wanted to be like her, wanted to be accepted by her, wanted to…

She threw aside the curtain only to be met with her own reflection sneering back at her. It laughed, beautiful and cruel, just like Vanessa.

“Everybody knows why you don’t want a husband , Penny.”

The whispers grew louder, a few of them giggling meanly at the implication.

Something lurched in her chest, an irregular beat pounding in her ears.

“No! No! It’s not true!” she cried. “That’s just a rumor! I’m- I’m not–”

“Not what? Not completely and utterly obsessed with me?” Vanessa’s voice laughed again. “Not that I blame you, everyone who’s anyone adores me. It figures that a nobody like you would be in love with me, too.”

Penelope tried to defend herself, but the words tangled on her tongue and caught in her teeth. 

In the mirror, metal flashed in her mouth and when she clamped her lips closed, the braces cut them from inside.

“Face it, Penny, you’re pathetic . Even if you weren’t a… you know… no boy would ever want to date you. Nobody likes you. You’ll never be pretty enough to hang with the popular girls, never be smart enough for the math nerds, and, unless you spontaneously gain a talent for playing the tuba, I don’t think even the band geeks would take you. You are going to die alone and unwanted .”

The truth in Vanessa’s words hit like a punch to the gut. Penelope’s skin was too tight, her body all wrong. It was too tall, too sweaty, too clumsy, too hairy. Lingering baby chub and curves in new places made her feel like a sack of potatoes stuffed into a sausage casing and she wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow her whole.

Self-loathing rose like bile in the back of her throat.

The mirror before her grew, bloating her reflection, warping her into a funhouse caricature. It towered over her, herself a looming giant within its tarnished gold frame. Her each and every flaw was magnified and distorted in a grotesque display that turned her stomach to behold.

“You look fat,” a different voice interjected.

“What was that?” she croaked, turning to the other wall.

“I said, ‘you look fat,’” the blunt voice of her father repeated. “Maybe instead of trying to earn six figures, you should focus on maintaining the one you already have.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, tearing the curtain from another mirror.

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe if you practiced a little self control, cut back on the sweets…” her own brows twisted in a mockery of concern from behind the glass.

“Your father’s right, dear, you’ve definitely put on a couple pounds since we saw you last,” her mother’s voice chimed in from the vanity. “We’re not trying to be harsh, we’re just concerned about your health . Don’t you care about what you’re doing to yourself?” 

“If you don’t care, how can you expect anybody else to?” her father’s voice said matter-of-factly.

“I do care! I care more than any of you!” Penelope cried.

The mirror began to stretch up, up, up. This time it pulled her with it like saltwater taffy until she was thin and gaunt, a looming skeleton with hollow, hungry eyes.

“And it’s still not enough.” 

Pale, drawn lips spoke with the poison-sweet voice of a dark angel. 

“You will never be enough. You try so hard to be wanted…  but the harder you try, the more embarrassing the failure. You've always reeked of desperation and all it does is drive people away. Perfection doesn’t exist, so you constantly move the goalpost. You’re running yourself ragged to meet an impossible standard. If you’re not good enough for yourself, what makes you think you could ever be good enough for anybody else? You will never be good enough for me .” 

The rejection from Vanessa pressed against her chest like a crushing weight. She couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked at her eyes. It hurt far more than being turned down by any boy. She didn’t need love, she told herself, all she wanted was to be liked.  

“And you couldn’t even manage that ,” her reflection sneered. “You squandered your youth chasing an unattainable goal. You always thought it would be nice to die young and beautiful instead of old and ugly. It would be a tragedy, of course, and everyone you knew and even a few you didn’t would mourn your loss. A bright light gone too soon. You would be so lovely lying there in the casket and there wouldn’t be a dry eye when the preacher gave your eulogy… but you never felt beautiful enough, never worked up the nerve to go through with it…” 

Penelope turned away, arms circling herself defensively.

“You carved away pieces of yourself trying to please others until there was nothing left,” the mirror she now faced continued where the last left off. “You betrayed yourself, punished yourself, deprived yourself. You pushed others away so they wouldn’t see through your facade, wouldn’t see past the beautiful smile you pasted on, wouldn’t get to know how awful of a person you truly were. You were afraid you’d slip, treat them the way you treat yourself, and deep down you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t stop.”

She covered her ears and pinched her eyes shut, but it didn’t help. She couldn’t keep out what was already inside.

“You wasted away, too old to be tragic, too young to be accomplished, to have lived a happy, fulfilled life. You died alone and woefully, painfully middle-aged. ‘These things happen,’ they said at your funeral. The few who came, anyway. All they felt was an apathetic sort of sadness, like what you feel for a dead animal on the side of the road. Pity, perhaps. They knew they should feel sad, on an intellectual level, but they had no real connection to you, nothing to break, nothing to mourn. Oh, they missed you, of course… well , they missed what you did for them, at least… until they found a replacement, that is.”

The doorway she had come through shrank away from her on one side and the vanity receded on the other.

“They never understood!” she spit out, incensed by the injustice of it all. “They never saw how hard I tried, how much I did! They took me for granted! I did everything for them, did everything they asked and more , and got nothing in return! I made it look easy, but it was never easy! And if I ever slipped? If they asked too much and I didn’t have any more to give? It was always my fault, never theirs!”

The hall began to shift and twist, mirrors spinning above and below and all around her, curtains whipping as though in a hurricane.

“They didn’t know because you didn’t tell them,” reasoned a whisper from one of the mirrors, still crystal clear over the roar of the wind. “You fault them for falling for your mask when you were the one who so carefully crafted it.”

“They should have known anyway! They should have known that they were asking too much! No one could have been that perfect! They should have realized how hard I had to work for it! How many obstacles I had to overcome just to get to where they started!”

“People can only see things from their own perspective, and most never even attempt to look from another’s. They only have the experiences they’ve lived themselves. They haven't lived your life, they can’t see into your mind,” replied the quiet voice of reason.

“Everyone else is just so… so… self-centered! It’s like they aren’t even trying!” she accused. “It’s always been easy enough for me to get inside other people’s heads, to know what they really think, how they really feel! It’s child’s play to know their greatest desires and deepest fears, what makes them tick and what it takes to get under their skin!” 

“Only people who are wearing a mask suspect others of doing the same. You’re no better than they are,” the voice of reason pointed out. “You think that everyone around you is hiding who they truly are just because that’s what you do. You’re projecting your own experiences onto others just like they did to you. You think you’re better than them, but that’s just a lie you tell yourself.”

Every mirror, now free of its velvet prison, stared at her from its place along the winding corridor. Each frame boasted a different version of her, some young, some old, some fat, some thin. From every angle her own two eyes reflected hundredfold. 

She had never felt so exposed.

“No! No! I am better than they are!” she laughed, a mirthless thing, bordering on hysterical. “I’ve worked harder than they have! I’ve suffered so much more than they have! I gave them everything I had and they didn’t even appreciate it! They abandoned me as soon as it was convenient! They don’t understand how I feel! How much it hurts to be told that you’ll never be good enough! To spend your whole life desperately trying to prove them wrong. To work, and work, and work until you’re perfect, only to find out that perfection still isn’t enough!”

Penelope fell to her knees under the weight of her despair, clutching her arms tightly around herself in the pale mimicry of a hug. It would have to do, for there was no one else to offer an alternative. 

When she spoke again, it was a hoarse whisper, though it still echoed in the dying breeze. 

“Everyone I’ve ever known… my classmates, my bosses, coworkers, family , the people who claimed to be my friends… They all told me over and over all the things that I was doing wrong, all the ways that I was wrong… They all acted like they were some modern day Columbus ‘discovering’ a new land… but just like him, they were never the first. Every single critique, every ‘helpful suggestion,’ every last cutting remark followed the same, well-worn path over a gash that was never allowed to heal, carving it deeper and deeper until it became a part of me and I became certain that it always had been.”

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. 

Windblown hair hanging limply blocked her view of the hall at large, a makeshift auburn curtain meant to shield her, though it acted only as blinders, forcing all her attention straight ahead. 

She stared at the mirror below her, down into her own haggard face.

“I already knew all of it, every last flaw. I thought about them every waking moment and during every restless dream. They colored every interaction I had. I was constantly adjusting myself, tweaking what I said and how I acted to be the least offensive version of myself, yet always aware of my own shortcomings.”

She sighed, eyes scanning over her appearance, running through the all too familiar catalog. 

The scar on her chin from when she'd picked a pimple in 7th grade. The way her eyes sat a tad too far apart. The one crooked tooth that the orthodontist hadn’t bothered to fix. External markers that were but the tip of the iceberg compared to the mess she was on the inside.

“Death was supposed to be the end of it all, supposed to be a blissful nothing, if not my just reward, but instead here I am, stuck in my own personal hell.”

“You’re the only one to blame for that,” said the voice of reason. It was really starting to get on Penelope’s nerves. “You're the only one here. You torture yourself with your past mistakes, things that you couldn't go back and change even when you were still alive. If you are trapped in a hell, it is one of your own making.”

Anger bubbled up in her chest as she stared herself down, hands pressed, claw-like, against the cool glass. Another thing she was being blamed for, another thing out of her control.

“And what, exactly, do you propose I do about it?” she snarled.

“Let go,” the voice simply said.

It was like a vacuum opened up within her gut, the brief sensation of falling, the panic of a chair tipped too far.

“You're stagnant. You're stuck. Can't you see that if you could only love yourself, everything would be alright? You can become a better person, you can become someone you enjoy being around instead of someone to repress or to fight,” the voice implored. “Let go. Let go of the self hatred, learn to accept yourself, flaws and all.”

Her reflection reached out a hand, an olive branch, a peace offering.

Could she really change? She had always thought it was too late.

She began to reach out, as well, to meet herself in the middle, tears pooling in her eyes.

Could she really start again? Leave her past behind? Forget all the pain that had shaped her? She wondered who she would be if not for her parents’ nagging or the judgment of her peers? All the things that drove her to want to end it all the first time…

A pang of terror jolted her right down to the core.

The mirror below her rippled like a once clear pond disturbed by something lurking invisible beneath its surface. The hand that moments ago extended only peace now brimmed with small, white pills. 

She stared, transfixed. 

They were so beautiful, each so unassuming, so perfect and uniform. Powder pressed until it held its shape, polished until it shone, a sweet coating to mask the acrid taste of the medicine inside.

Her hand, still half reaching, stalled and began to shake.

Some deep-seated sense of self-preservation that even now clung to her meager existence, despite how awful it was, would not allow her to take the plunge.

Bitter memories coated her tongue.

She withdrew her hand, cradling it to her chest, “I- I can't. I just- I can't do it.”

It was the wrong answer, she knew it was, even before her reflection went dark, even before all she could see in the bleak, black pit beneath her was a pair of angry, red eyes.

Twin coals burned bright through a smoky haze and a voice distorted by rage hissed out, “You idiot! What is wrong with you?”

The frame beneath her began to shake. The wind picked up again as the hallway writhed and lashed. A hundred voices echoed all around her, “What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? Wrong, wrong, wrong!”

“Are you really too stupid to do this one, simple thing ? Why can't you take even the first step towards happiness? Do you want to wallow in self-pity for the rest of your afterlife? Are you so afraid of failing that you're willing to give up before you've even started? ” The words boomed and crashed all around her, like thunder in a storm. “You would rather tear others down instead of putting in the work to build yourself up. You surround yourself with people who are even more miserable than you, and ruin the life of anyone who has the gall to be happy in your presence. Is it any wonder you're alone? You–”

Penelope raised her fist, bringing it crashing down against the glass. 

Her reflection splintered into a million jagged pieces, broken beyond repair, just like she was. The mirrors went dark. The voices went silent. All she could hear was the echo of every drip-drip-drip of her blood on the marble floor. 

The side of her hand and her wrist burned where the mirror cut it in a final, desperate attack. She relished the pain; it gave her something to focus on, pulling her from her spiral.

She crawled, broken glass crunching under her hands and knees, toward the exit. Floor became wall became ceiling then wall once again. She fumbled with the knob of the sideways door until it fell open into nothingness, the vast empty abyss of the Ghost Zone before her. She clutched the wood paneling like a lifeline floating in a sea of despair. Her chest heaved in the vacuum, great gulps of nothing in lungs that didn’t exist. 

Unsurprisingly, it brought her little comfort. 

The silence echoed in her ears. The cacophony from before buzzed beneath her beautiful skin, roiling deep in her gut. She swiped the tears from her perfect face and rubbed soft hands over graceful arms, smoothing away any sign of what lies within. Behind her, a shadowy barrier spanned the door frame, cutting her off from her lair. One last dim reflection stared back at her with hollow, red rimmed eyes and all she could see now was the mask. 

Her gaze traced over the arch of her brow, the curve of her nose, the swoop of her hair. Everything was as it should be, not a freckle out of place… then something caught her eye. A small glint, just above her right temple. A rogue hair, wiry and white, stood out proudly, arrogantly, disdainfully against the neat order of her luscious strawberry locks. 

Muffled voices began to stir and if she looked closely she could just see undulating drapes of red velvet behind the tinted glass. 

Her lashes crashed down, shuttering eyes that glistened with fresh tears, sending them careening over the edge. Twin trails traced hollow cheeks, miniature waterfalls that sprang not from a fount of eternal youth, but a well of endless suffering.

She hated it here. She hated it, but it reminded her of who she was. It reminded her of all the reasons she was a monster. She hated it, but it felt familiar, it felt like home. 

She wondered if it really would be better to just forget it all, to start fresh and become a new person, a better person. But she was just a ghost, a shadow of her former self. Who could she be if not who she was?

If she forgot herself, forgot her reason for existing, what would happen to her? If a shark stopped swimming, it would die, so what would happen to a ghost who let go of its reason to cling stubbornly to some semblance of life?

Penelope shuddered and shoved the ugly thought deep into the recesses of her mind, behind yet another beautiful, red velvet curtain. 

Through her tears, the other doors twinkled in the distance like stars against a backdrop of her own personal darkness. This part of the zone responded to her every emotion since she was the most powerful ghost as far as she could see in any direction; the other ghosts kept their lairs just to the edge of her reach. Even in death she was alone, even the others whose horrible lives landed them here in this god forsaken place wanted nothing to do with her. She was an outcast even among outcasts.

In a sudden bout of fury, her perfect nails became perfect claws and left perfectly deep gouges in the wood of her door.

Why should she change anyway? For them? For the people who had mistreated her, abandoned her, forgotten her? It wasn’t her fault she had turned out this way… no, it was everyone else's.

A nerve twinged in her neck and the beginnings of what promised to be a nasty headache bloomed at the base of her skull.

“Oh, I need a drink,” she groaned, swiping a hand across her face. “Or, better yet, someone who’s having a much worse day than me.”

The top half of her body floated up with the other half following much more slowly, as it unspooled into a dark miasma once again.

She flew off in search of a new set of people in need of her… services . Perhaps another school, or maybe a DMV… Places where people were forced into close quarters and bored out of their minds were breeding grounds for frustration and despair.

Penelope grinned wickedly, she was feeling better already.

After all, misery loves company, and who was she to deny her nature? 

[a-j-s-the-only]

I know someone loves me

but it’s still really hard to wake up

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Your sick little head, so brain damaged and lying in that hospital bed.

This art means a lot to me. It isn’t as rendered or polished as my other work, but I want it to look scrappy, messy, and still pretty. If you’d like to just read about the style and story of the art unrelated to myself, feel free to skip this section.

Last week I mentioned being in the hospital and the psych ward, and while I wont give extreme details, it was for an overdose. Recently after getting out I’ve been trying to act like nothing happened and it’s all going to go back to normal, but this is the 3rd time I’ve done it or been on the edge of it. Just last week I had to get rid of two of my cats just after I’d been discharged and that on top of the trauma of the whole situation I’ve just felt strangely empty. Overdoses don’t just come and go like that. The mental effects aside from whatever you took linger and hurt more than anything. “I’m doing better” really just means I’m not about to do it again, but those feelings are still stored somewhere deep inside me. For this specific piece I wanted to describe that feeling and wonder of “How would anyone feel if they found me? What will they do after?”

People don’t talk about Molly nearly as much as I think they should, but it’s understandable given that she has no set substance yet. For that reason I have made my own. The biggest thing I’ve mentioned before—in my Angel Dust headcanon post—is that I believe Molly is the one that found Anthony after he overdosed and called 911. The rest of his family was likely a bit worried, but I don’t think any of them cared as much as she did. Another headcanon of mine is that Anthony and Molly had matching rings with “AN” & “MO” engraved onto them. Molly sold her ring to pay for Anthonys funeral after his passing in the hospital and now wears Anthonys as replacement on her index finger which she eventually takes to heaven with her.

I don’t imagine she was able to visit him very often while he was in a coma but she still did when she could and would talk to him in hopes he could hear her a little bit before he left. It’d take a bit of a tangent but when sinners enter hell, in my mind entering hell takes as long as it did to die. So for Anthony it likely took him a week to a month to die during his coma from complications, and in turn, it took that same amount of time for him to full wake up in hell. Sinners to me are made and formed out of the ground in hell and wake up in a similar location to where they died. Angel Dust would’ve woken up alone in a hospital while his sister was now left alone and Anthony’s body likely already buried by then.

These are reasons why I included forget-me-nots and sweet peas as taped on decals. Their meanings being “Please don’t forget me” and “Goodbye, thank you for a wonderful time.” respectively. I also added the “M” wax seal over one of the sweet peas because I feel that it’s a sentiment that Molly held close to her heart and still does.

Molly’s body is torn from pink paper while Angel’s is blue paper. I intended for these to somewhat be seen as hands, like how the pink paper wraps over the forget-me-not when the blue paper lays beneath it to show Molly’s attempt to hold onto the memory of her brother while Angel is trying to remember his own life yet is unaware of what is happening to his sister now; unaware if she’s alive or not due to his poor keeping of time. Angel is also a scrap of paper glued above Molly’s hands to pretty genuinely symbolise they’re both in different dimensions now and can’t fully be apart of the same without the help of an external force. I also wanted to include more jumping spider elements so I’d like to think the string holding the tears is silk. Jumping spiders leave silk behind incase they fall so they can climb back up and when you put that in the form of a mentality I think Molly would fit into that very well.

I really hope we see more of Molly and I hope she had a good life and can see her brother again. Of course, she is a fictional character, but I can’t imagine the trauma she’s experienced in her life even without my personal headcanons. I love Molly a lot and just from how I personally interpret her she reminds me a lot of my mother.

Hopefully you can enjoy my ramblings and craze about these funny little spiders. 🩷

[edwardallenpoe]

Um. Prepare yourself for the s&co episode. The representation (if you can even call it that) of DID is BAD. Once I realized that the person had DID I was pretty pissed to say the least. I emailed them like 4 paragraphs on how shitty that was. I feel like a Karen but it was honestly deserved. But if you’re upset by portrayals of people with DID I’d skip this one.

i opened my inbox this right after listening to it. Thank you for the heads up tho, but it is far too late.

I honestly feel a little sick. Not gonna lie.

"we now understand more about the human condition" I lost braincells, John. I think we actually DEVOLVED. We LOST knowledge of human existence with this one, chat. And then. Also. John defending Tory's. Ya this was a really fucking bad episode. Wow. It was so avoidable. That entire thing was so avoidable.

You are definitely not a Karen for emailing them, I'm low-key tempted to email them myself but I won't. I need to process that dumpster fire for a little longer. Wow.

It's like. I specifically remember Sherlock listing off DID on his disorder list in the first fucking episode. He has DID. Did Joel and co literally look up the index for the DMS-5 then put them in their notes app or something?????? Like were they just like "yeah anything and everything but PTSD for the plot mate" just for Sheelock to have smt to say?????? It's seems so impossible to me that they have such amazing rep for both PTSD and autism and such but DID was butchered that badly. Woooow. I can't even.

I love this show but that was. So bad. I rlly hope Joel says smt soon about this because woooow . That's all I can rlly say. Just wow.

[kittzuxp]

Twomp oneshot i wrote cuz i was feeling miserable

on Ao3

CW: denial😔, cheating, self-destuctive thoughts and suicide

Mr plant was watching the telly, well not really, he was fidgeting with his hands while he heard the faint laugh tracks playing in the background. He was almost drifting off to sleep when the front door slammed, which shook him wide awake. He titled his head to look, it was his boyfriend, Argos! He looked like he was in a hurry, sweaty and taking big shaky breaths. His eyes filled with anger.

*[what happened?] Mr plant felt a little taken aback, Argos had never acted like this.

“You tell me!” He yelled, throwing photos on his lap. Mr plant fumbled with the photos trying to take a good look at them, and was slightly disgusted by the sight.

It was a depiction of him, holding someone else’s hands and looking at them with the same passion and warmth he looked at his beloved. The person’s face was obscured but some leaves of a tree in the foreground. The setting seemed to be at midnight, a single street lamp illuminating him and the other silhouette. The photo seemed to have been taken at a higher perspective, like a window from the second floor of a house.

The other photos were about the same, but the positions were slightly different. mr plant started feeling uneasy, he had never done this with anyone, nor does he remember this happening.

Mr plant felt uneasy, he knew where this was going, he had seen enough romance shows to know what usually happens.

*[Where did you find the photo?]

“It doesn’t matter! That’s you in the pictures, right?”

*[No! I would never cheat on you.]

“Don’t lie to me! It’s definitely you!” Argos sounded tired, but also hurt. So so so hurt.

*[Where did you find this?! Who gave this to you?] He stood up, towering over Argos by a few inches, and grabbed his forearm. Argos winced and looked at Mr plant in the eyes.

“Why does that matter! It’s none of your business!” He insisted and shook his arm, making Mr plant let go of his powerful grip.

*[It IS my business if I’m the one being photographed!] Mr plant didn’t understand why Argos refused to tell him.

“I- uhm.. UGHH!! When were you planning on telling me this?!” His eyes started tearing up from frustration. Mr plant hurt to see him like this, he reached out his lanky hand to Argos’ cheek to wipe the tears. Argos’ eyes wandered on Mr plant’s face after looking away and slapping Mr plant’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me.” He muttered. Mr plant was hurt by this, but obeyed.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Argos spoke up. Mr plant didn’t have time to think, his mind didn’t have enough time to race.

“We, should break up… this relationship. If you’re going to be dishonest.” He said again, with a firm and slightly louder voice.

“…I think..” he sighed and looked at him, “Look, I think this won’t work.”

Mr plant titled his head. Surely he misheard Argos. He hummed questioningly and brought his ear closer to Argos’ mouth.

*[hmm?] Mr plant sounded again, putting his ear closer to Argos. Surely he wasn’t hearing this.

“Mr plant. I’m Breaking up with you.” He really hadn’t misheard it. His face was turned from Argos’ so neither of them could see each other’s faces. Mr plant’s grin widened, his tears flowing hot down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them, leaving an ugly smudge on his face. He turned his face, a crying Argos was there, trying to look as if his own words weren’t affecting him and holding back.

*[You’d really rather believe some photographs than me..?] Argos was quiet, his two big eyes avoiding Mr plant, his other, smaller ones were looking right at him.

———

As soon as he had come, he had left. and Mr plant was alone.

He was too alone, so alone. He sat on his couch and waited. He waited for Argos to come back from work, like he usually did.

The hours passed, Argos didn’t come. But he waited like he always did. He never moved an inch. Soon, 2 days had passed when Mr Plant realised he wasn’t going to come back, come back home. Not HIS home anyways.

What even was he without Argos? Argos was always a very distinguishable person. But all Mr plant was was a cold monster who tried to feel human emotions and failed. He didn’t have a distinct personality nor a unique trait that made him his own person.

He was just a mutated flower from a foreign void. This wasn’t meant to happen to him. Everything that had happen. He was mad at himself, he was mad at Argos but also wasn’t.

Not even once did he think to comfort himself through this. He only blamed himself, it wasn’t Argos’ fault, he only believed at what he saw.

There were too many thoughts racing in his mind, too many for him. He thought his head might explode with how much thoughts he was having. Too many, So so many...

Your fault

your fault

your fault

His hands gripped tighter against his throat. His breaths were beginning to cut short.

YOUR FAULT

YOUR FAULT

YOUR FAULT

YOUR FAULT

YOUR FAULT

YOURFAULT

YOUR-

He gripped tighter.

His vision began to grow faint and his thoughts started to drown out. His Head started to hurt in a good way, a comfortable way that didn’t hurt at all.

He gripped as tight as possible.

He was not longer breathing, gasping for air that wouldn’t reach his lungs. The only thing in his mind were the gasps and yelps. He tried to shut them up too.

After a bit his feet gave up, he fell down and closed his eyes.

“Goodbye Argos, I love you..” He knew nobody would hear that, and took his final rest.

[uzis-diary]

tw major vent under cut‼️‼️

containing s3lf h3rm, su!cidal thoughts/attempts, self hatred, depressive episodes/depressive thoughts, e3ting disorder, dissociative thoughts/ dissociation, not feeling real? dehumanization? (not sure abt the last 3 sry.

[allcfme]

"You look at yourself and see a monster... I see someone beautiful." ( movie, this sounds like something Sonia would say to him lemme cook )

        ⌦  HER  AFFECTIONATE  MEANING  behind  her  words  flew  over  his  head.  He  didn't  see  anything  beautiful  about  himself.  He'll  always  be  that  alien  freak.  What  he  was  supposed  to  do,  he  failed.  He  failed  to  protect  her.  He  failed  the  doctor.  He  even  failed  to  take  his  own  life  on  multiple  occasions.  Failure.  FAILURE.  Shadow's  chest  heaved  in  as  he  took  a  deep  inhale,  staring  into  his  own  reflection  on  the  surface  of  the  lake  they  stood  beside.  Eyes  peeled  away  to  greet  Sonia's,  a  sheepish  expression  now  greeting  his  face. 

            “It's  what  I'll  always  see,  Sonia.  It's  the  truth.  .  .”

[insteviewetrust]

Ok I don't fucking know what this is but in my head it's a "best friend's brother au", where Eddie doesn't know a thing of the upside down and only knows Steve from his past school days. Let's say his dear friend dustin, his brand new sheepie, is going to help him pass science this year (86's his year, baby). Here he meets Steve, who now lives with the Hendersons for some reason (Eddie doesn't know) and they clearly hate each other. Everything is pretty dull till Steve tries to commit. Then everything is so fucking different. Steve survived but lost the use of his legs, and Eddie just wants to be there for Dustin's sake. This came to me literally them minutes ago, and i wrote it in five. Tell me if there's plenty errors, I didn't check.

He sat on his wheelchair, looking out of the window.

"What are you doing here?" He sounded accusatory, but Eddie wouldn't know of what.

"I came to see you, of course"

"What, like I'm some animal in a zoo?"

"You're putting words in my mouth now, you're Dustin's brother, of course I came here to see how you were- even just to tell you I'm here if you need anything"

"Why on earth would you do that, mh? When did we ever talk, outside of throwing insults at eachother's back? You hate me, you probably cheered when you found out, anyway" he shakes his head as if he was convinced of what he was saying. Eddie gulped down the spit pooling in his mouth. With it, the ever present frustration that filled him whenever Harrington was near, went down his throat, bitter.

"That's not fair." At that, Steve emits one confused sound, sounding more like a wounded animal than human. Eddie supposes Steve kind of was a wounded animal, that he had always been.

"I cried for you"

And he had cried, he had cried so hard that he felt like his eyes were gonna fall out of his skull; so hard that he wanted to throw himself off the trailer roof, just to feel alive again. He wondered if maybe Steve felt like that constantly, and that was why he tried to kill himself. Eddie would've too, probably.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Julian was the last of the main three that I played bc I'm f2p and I wanted to get all the paid endings, and like sure asra had some moments that were pretty suggestive, but n o t h i n g prepared me for Julian's route. he was horny from the very beginning. and like I didn't mind it, I think his route is one of my favorites despite not really caring for more sexual themes in games most of the time (mainly bc in games like this they're usually pretty cringey imo jxbsjs), but it was just shocking. the rating of the game really doesn't help with that lol

Julian's was the first route I played & my favourite, he's probably my favourite LI from all the games I've played, he's so pathetic he makes Mammon look like a functioning adult by leaps and bounds,

at one point I had to leave my phone and walk away out of frustration because he wouldn't stop prosecuting himself over every minor inconvenience, mc could sneeze and julian would try to drown himself in the ocean, never before have I wanted to crawl into a game purely to yell at someone,

him and mc are so instantly horny for each other (starting from the prologue itself before any of the routes have started) that the only explanation is that they were into each other pre the last masquerade/while working together but it never went anywhere because of everything holding them back (the plague, asra/both of them being into asra etc) that once they meet after both of them lost their memories all that latent sexual tension suddenly got released and now they're fucking their way through the realms heedless of whether they're currently in mortal danger,

seriously on multiple occassions while in a fuckton of danger they take a break to test out a new kink - 'oh we're in a possibly hostile realm and on a time crunch? have we tried temperature play yet?' SIR PLEASE THE WORLD IS GOING TO END -,

julian's got the self esteem of a wet paper napkin but is trying his best to hide it behind the dashing rogue pirate act and mc is increasingly baffled by all of it - sir how did you get into your 30s with the sincere belief that you need to perform some sort of circus trick for your partner to kiss you & that it's borderline insanity for them to kiss you purely because they like you,

i want to put him in a glass leech jar and shake him around,

his reverse route!? - I'm in love with tragic characters who doom themselves despite how hard they struggle to break free of the narative before eventually giving up and resigning themselves to their fate to the horror of everyone around them who can see at least 10 ways all this could have been avoided, he makes me froth at the mouth,

for all his issues mammon is like the perfect partner - that's not me being biased, objectively he has everything to be the perfect partner - julian on the other hand needs to be on a leash to stop him from running into oncoming traffic (but he'd probably like that the kinky bastard),

the first thing the apprentice does after Julian's route better be taking him to therapy

[weltato]

Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use/Some Warnings May Apply Category: Gen, F/M

Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Paul Matthews & Bill Woodward, Paul Matthews & Melissa, Emma Perkins & Bill Woodward

Characters: Paul Matthews, Emma Perkins, Bill Woodward

Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Dark, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, PLS PLS STAY SAFE EVERYONE, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood Loss, POV Alternating, Traumatised Paul Matthews, Nightmare Time: Hey Melissa!, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Getting Back Together, (although they never actually broke up in the first place), Paul Matthews Loves Emma Perkins, Emma Perkins Loves Paul Matthews, Paul Matthews Needs a Hug, he needs so many hugs poor boy, Apologies, Hospitalization, melissa really fucked him over, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Psychological Trauma, think i've tagged everything but if not PLEASE TELL ME!!

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 3,047

Series: Part 6 of 'The 12 Fics of The Holidays' and Part 3 of 'Hey Melissa Alt Ending AU'

Summary:

Emma is gone and Paul can't cope. Bill finds out that Paul didn't leave Hatchetfield.

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Hoo boy, we're diving right back into the angst with this one! I'm gonna write some more fluff to keep me sane aha-

But yes! Here it is! Part 3 of my take on Lilac's fix-it (of sorts) for the cut NMT story 'Hey, Melissa!' We're eating good tonight lads.

[edupunkn00b]

Arizona's Journal, Ch. 5: Vand

Prev - Vand - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

He opened his eyes! The Kid opened his eyes! 

I’d been dozing sitting up on the sort of lounger chair in the corner. It was early afternoon and I resisted pulling it out all the way, declaring defeat and taking an actual nap, and instead curled on my side to watch the Kid while I rested.

“Ro?” His voice was rough and quiet. It’s a miracle he spoke at all. Damage to ‘her son’s’ vocal cords had been one of the many things the doctor had warned her about. 

“Kid?” I scrambled closer and probably spoke a little louder than I should. "You're awake!" My voice wasn’t so great either, to tell the truth.

He blinked and squinted against the thin sunlight streaming through the window and finally looked at me. “‘Zona? How—“

Voice cracking, he shook his head. “Here, Kid…” I fumbled for the little pitcher the sweet PA had refilled with fresh water twice each shift. "Vand," she would murmur and mime drinking a cup of water with a little nod in Remus' direction.. She wouldn’t even look at him when she did it, but she never stopped, making sure the water, the vand was there for him when he woke.

The pitcher was sweaty with condensation, but decades of a steady grip on an ink needle helped. I watched the Kid more than the cup and spilled some on my hand. Bright green followed my movements through half-closed lids. Weeks without seeing his eyes made them that much brighter. “Sip, slowly, Kid,” I murmured, and held the cup to his lips.

“Chest hurts,” he groaned, turning his head toward the water.

“Yeah, I broke two ribs with chest compressions,” I nodded and pushed back his hair from his eyes. He had a good inch of auburn roots showing under his neon green dye. And a splash of silver right in front and at his temples.  I used to tease Jamie about that. Blue hair to hide the grey. She lived long enough to go grey all over. The Kid better, too. “I’m not sorry,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. We were both crying now.

“I am,” he said after another sip. “I…” He looked away, out toward the hall and down at his hospital gown, the wires and tubes and straps all over him. I heard the beep of the little heart monitor again, his scratchy, broken voice finally letting the rest of the world inside. “I didn’t want you to find me like that.”

“I’m glad I did, Kid.” My hand shook. I couldn’t help it. The EMT said if it had been even just another hour… “I’m really fucking glad I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His eyes skittered around the room, evidence of what had happened in every corner, on his body. His gaze finally landed on the whiteboard the nurses updated each shift change. “Fandens også!” The Kid squinted at the date at the top of the board. “How long have I been out?”

I set down the cup and took his hand. “It’ll be a month this Sunday, Kid.”

“No wonder I feel like shit,” he laughed, but it turned into a choked gasp and he started to cough. I adjusted his bed just as a passing nurse noticed him and rushed without rushing into the room. It was Ingrid, the nurse we met on the first night. She flashed me a quick smile and her eyes were a little watery, too.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Prince?” she asked once he’d finished coughing, peering first into his eyes before she checked the beeping monstrosity near his head. His eyes followed her movements, blinking at the numbers on the screen.

After a minute, he let his head sink back into the pillows and he closed his eyes. “Probably as good as the machine says I should feel.” Face tilted up toward the ceiling, the soft light accentuated the hollow of his cheeks, the faint purple and green around his eyes and across the left side of his face from the still slowly healing bruises. How the fuck did he look so young and so old at the same time?

Ingrid hummed and made a note on her clipboard before moving to his feet and working through his tonicity tests. She tickled his heel and fuck, it felt good to see him jerk his foot in response. “I’m going to get the doctor to talk through next steps.” Then she just sort of stood there, eyes dancing from me to the hallway.

The Kid didn’t even open his eyes. “If you wanna tell her I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, I already figured that one out.”

“Mr. Prince,” she murmured and moved closer to his side.

“My name's Remus,” he snapped, then softened right away. “I’m sorry. Please,” he opened his eyes and squinted at her ID. “Ingrid, jeg beklager oprigtigt.” Fumbling through the mess of his central line, he reached for her hand and she took it. “Please call me Remus.”

“Remus,” she smiled back at him. “The doctor just wants you to have the right environment to get well,” she finally said. “Your mom does, too.” The Kid’s eyes widened, stiffening slightly, but he didn’t say anything when I patted his shoulder, and relaxed. "We all want you to get well."

“I know,” he sighed, erupting into another coughing fit, each choked rasp hurting my own throat. “I don’t wanna feel like this anymore.” The Kid had a little more water, then lay back against the pillows and panted. "Whatever I need to do. I’ll do it.”

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

Setting Fire to Our Insides for Fun

Rating: T

Archive Warnings: Chose Not to Warn

Pairing: Pharoga

Word Count: 592

Summary: Several weeks after Erik lets Christine go, Nadir gets worried and oes to check on Erik. Written for POTO Queer Week 2023.

Nadir had a very bad feeling.

It had been several days since the opera house had been haunted. Since any of the ballerinas heard a whispering voice coming from just backstage, since the managers had found threatening notes.

Read the rest on AO3

[locked-into-eternity]

«this one is not interactive, sorry yall

also warning for implied suicide attempts»

———

–His dreams make even less sense than usual. The scenes are constantly changing, with headache inducing colors. Each scene only lasts a second at most. Images of cages, chains, shackles, blood, knives, guns, ropes, chairs, corpses, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood-–

———

–Heart rushes over to his body, which must have fallen off the couch when he fell unconscious.–

(Shitshitshit…)

–Mind quickly gets up, abandoning his book, and squats down at their side.–

[Help me check to make sure it didn’t get hurt when it fell.]

(Yeah- ok…)

–They don’t find any injuries, but they do find that he’s somehow even hotter than before.–

[Shit… let’s get him back on the couch, then I’ll go get some icepacks while you stay here and watch him.]

–Heart nods, and they both put their hands under him.–

[We both lift on the count of three. One… two… three.]

–They almost drop it, but they manage to get it back on the couch.–

[Alright, yell for me if anything gets worse.]

–Heart nods, and Mind runs off towards the kitchen.–