#cw: mental instability

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Soldier Of Death (9)- Training Session

Natasha Romanoff X Super Soldier Reader 18+

Summary: Soldat Smerti. The Soldier of Death. You were the perfect weapon: loyal, obedient, and merciless, or so Hydra thought. What happens when these traits are put to the test? Your captivity in the Avenger's tower and the presence of a redhead makes you realise you didn't have to be a monster. The question was though; Did Hydra make you the monster or were you always one?

This fic will contains dark themes. Please read these warnings before starting any of these chapters: graphic descriptions of murder, violence, gore and torture, heavy angst, mental issues.

Please consider these warnings before reading

Word Count: 3.8k

General Masterlist | The Soldier Of Death Masterlist

Chapter Warning: Dark thoughts, flashbacks, graphic depictions of murder/gore/violence

—

Hiding a subtle smile from the redhead, you continued to walk alongside her towards the training room, your eyes widening in shock at how luxurious and open the space was. Various equipment was scattered around the room, designated areas for different training tasks, the group from earlier in the common room waiting for you and Natasha, chatting amongst themselves until they caught sight of you. You could feel the anxiety creeping up on you at their stares, mind instantly going to the negative thoughts and dwelling on them, assuming that they already viewed you as a monster, especially Steve.

Whilst trying to ignore their inquisitive stares, your eyes flickered over to the large mirror that stretched across one of the walls, your reflection sending you a sinister smile as they haunted you, gaze instantly switching to the floor.

Don't hide from me Soldat, we're going to have some fun here.

They chuckled out menacingly, Wanda's head tilting in confusion across the room as you approached the group, Natasha turning her head to the side to see your gaze still locked on the floor, the small smile from earlier nowhere to be seen as your jaw was tightly clenched.

"Look who finally showed up," Tony says, voice containing hints of sarcasm as he flashes you both a charming smile, your eyes eventually rising to look over the equipment they were standing in front of . The team were just standing in front of standard gym equipment, albeit the expensive and fancy version, your brows furrowing at what they wanted you to do as they just stared at you expectantly.

"We need to test your physical attributes to try and get a picture of your enhanced abilities," Clint said, taking over from Natasha as she left to quietly converse with Wanda, the young witch keeping her curious gaze on you as Clint instructed you on all the equipment.

To say you shocked some of the team would have been an understatement, Sam and Tony both amazed by your lack of effort at lifting some of the weights, Steve trying to dismiss them by saying they weren't that heavy, until you just about managed to lift his personal best, struggling a little more than him but still able to complete a couple reps. With the size difference between the two of you and your inadequate diet at Hydra, Clint predicted that with the right training you would be even stronger than Steve, his brows raising in an impressed manner.

"Extreme enhanced strength," Clint muttered, taking note of how much you were able to lift and how many reps you could do, chuckling to himself as he saw Natasha and Wanda both look a little in awe at how your arms flexed with each weight, a mischievous glance being sent Natasha's way as she snapped out of it.

You were then asked to run on a treadmill, your mind zoning out as you ran at whatever the pace the machine was set on, adapting to the increased speed and gradient when Clint would alter it, Tony messing about with it at one point to see how you would react, furrowing his brows as you didn't seem to notice, too busy in your own mind.

You didn't think of much, simply remembering the view from earlier, imaging what it would be like to properly explore the forests nearby, hoping that soon they would trust you enough to let you go there.

You broke a little sweat when Clint left the machine on the highest it could go speed and gradient wise, everyone watching how you continued to sprint, the sound of your running eventually reaching your ears as you came back to grips with reality, looking over to your side to see Natasha close, inspecting a screen of your vitals nearby projected by the machine. Her brows were furrowed a little in confusion, her curious gaze meeting yours before she smiled at you, a small one inevitably sneaking onto your face.

"Enhance endurance and speed," Clint said, noting how far you had managed to run and how long you were able to keep up a consistent speed that rivalled Steve's pace, the other super soldier looking at you in annoyance as you were proving to be an improved version of him.

After a few more physical tests, you were moved onto a shooting range, your body tensing up as a memory from your fractured mind resurfaced.

Your hand trembled as you held the gun between your fingers, your index hovering reluctantly over the trigger as the body tied to the chair struggled against their restraints, muffled sobs escaping them as they shook their head that was hidden by a secure black bag tied around it.

"Practise your shot Soldat," the man ordered, looking down at your younger self that conveyed weakness and hesitation, body still recovering from your last session of serum. When the body continued to struggle, the man moved closer, causing a shiver to run down your spine in terror. "Don't make me ask again, Soldat. Take the shot."

Lining up the gun in your hand with their head, you had no choice but to do as he said, too fearful of experiencing another punishment. Pulling the trigger, the sobs immediately were silenced as the bullet glided through their skull, killing them instantly.

"I want you to kill one more," he ordered repeatedly, his tone sinister as another body was dragged into the chair, the other discarded carelessly as the failed experiment was of no further use. The cries swiftly turned silent, over and over again as you shot bullet after bullet, your accuracy becoming as precise as possible, listening to the order of where you were supposed to shoot.

Soon, you watched as another body was dragged in, the usual black bag around their head gone as fearful eyes pleaded you to spare their life, to do anything but pull the trigger. The soft brown that met your gaze had hope and desperation swirling in them but that was soon drained out of them along with their life, a trail of blood oozing down the front of their face as the bullet hole left a gaping wound at the centre of their head.

"She does know how to use a gun, right?" Tony said in confusion as you just stared ahead at the wooden board that was the target, a few others looking at each other curiously as they waited for you to do something. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, watching you with furrowed brows as he had a feeling something was going to go wrong, his eyes flickering over to Wanda's who were faintly glowing red, a pained look taking over her face when another memory resurfaced.

The barrel of the gun was pointed to the underside of the guard's jaw, a cruel and dangerous smile on your face as you had lost control to the darkness within you, a sinister chuckle escaping them as they pressed the gun harder against the guard that was trapped in your grip, their strength no match to yours.

"Let him go Soldat," another guard commanded but you didn't obey, laughing at the pounding heart of the guard in your arms, drunk on his fear. "You know the consequences of disobeying the General," he states but they didn't care, the darkness would leave you to suffer the punishment.

The other guard's eyes widened in surprise when your finger pulled the trigger, blood splattering all over the wall behind you as well as your face, his own hand trembling in terror at your psychotic state, the smile still present of your face as the body slumped to the ground, a pool of crimson forming around it as flesh dangled disgustingly.

"Y/n?" Natasha softly asked, knocking you out of the memory you had just rediscovered, your fragile mind slowly remembering events, needing a trigger to cause the memory. "Hey, focus on me," she whispers, noticing your frantic eyes, fingers trembling by your side, eyes settling on the gun placed in front of you.

Press it to her temple, you know you want to.

They taunted, a low sigh escaping you as they knew how confused and scared you were, adding to the torment that was your broken mind.

You closed your eyes, listening to her words and slowing your breathing, trying to match it to hers and her steady heart rate, the others unable to hear what was being said between the two of you as Natasha stood closer to you and further from them.

"It's just a wooden board, remember that," she whispers, encouraging you to complete the task but reassuring you that no one was going to get hurt.

"Thank you," you murmur back, rolling your shoulders back, trying to get rid of the tenseness that had built inside you, blinking a few times and watching as the wooden board merged into the helpless victims, the blood already oozing down their skin, before it merged back.

"You got this," she says softly, offering you a calm smile as she watches you line up your shot, a deep breath escaping you.

Pulling the trigger, the first bullet glides through the centre of the wooden target's head, exactly in the middle causing a few impressed glances between the team. After that, you emptied the magazine in a quick succession, everyone but Clint's and Nat's eyes furrowing in confusion, theirs in disbelief.

"Did she miss the rest?" Sam quietly asked, Tony shrugging his shoulders while Wanda tilted her head in confusion, Steve remaining silent as Clint shook his head.

"She fired all the other bullets through the same bullet hole," his brows raised in surprise as it was near impossible to get every other bullet to fit in the exact same hole that you first created, yet you seemed to do it effortlessly. You dismantled the weapon before placing it down on the table, waiting for your next task, refusing to look at the target as the vision of the body slumped in the chair wouldn't disappear, blood dripping onto the floor beneath their corpse, the sound subtly echoing in your ears.

"It could have been luck," Steve dismissed, Natasha already a step ahead of him and offering you another round of bullets, her impressed and confident expression calming you, the body blurring back into the wood. You repeated the activity, this time aiming for the wooden target's heart, Steve's argument disproved as you did it once again, Clint becoming a little jealous that there was someone with better accuracy than him.

"What a way to steal my thunder," Clint says while patting your back, your hand grabbing his before he could touch you, your grip tight before you realised he was harmless, letting him go with a shy look, eyes averting as Steve had definitely caught the interaction, his suspicion of you losing control still valid. "What else are you trained in?" he asked, his face apologetic as he should have realised you would still be cautious of others.

"Most firearms, snipers being a speciality, and knife throwing," you say, Clint noting it down and smiling a little as you hadn't mentioned something.

"Archery?" he asks, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Trained but not my strongest skill," you say, the archer taking that as a win, confident that he would still be able to beat you in an archery competition.

They didn't bother with anymore accuracy tests as it was evident you had impeccable aim, Clint leading you over to some training mats for a sparring session.

"Ok, so the rules are simple," he says while getting into a stance opposite you, the rest of the team standing back as to not get in the way, Steve muttering something under his breath while Tony left, seemingly bored of nothing eventful happening and retreating to his lab, a suit idea for you entering his mind. "Don't fight to hurt the other, play to pin them down. You win by pinning the other for five seconds and don't play dirty because we don't want any injuries," you nod in agreement with his words but hesitate on asking a question, him noticing and motioning for you to speak.

"Should I pull my punches?" you ask a little nervously, another memory resurfacing.

"Stop pulling your punches Soldat," grits out a guard as you dodge an attack from your opponent effortlessly, "You're fighting to the death."

"With your strength, yes please, I want to make it out alive," he jokes but it strikes a nerve within you, shoulders tensed as you get into a fighting stance.

You predominantly take on the role of defence, blocking his attacks as he throws his leg at you, yours knocking it down, body lowering to duck the punch he threw at you. You manoeuvred around him, not throwing any attacks and sticking mainly to defence as you were afraid of hurting him, plus it was beneficial to figure out his fighting pattern. His arm swung once more at you as he tried to kick you again, your forearm taking the brunt of his hit as you side stepped to avoid his boot, your free arm only pushing him in the stomach to stop him from getting another quick shot at him.

"Come on, you're going to have to attack at some point," he says, voice playful as he motions for you to come at him with his hands, smiling at you as you focus. You let him come to you again, the archer trying to up his attacks to force you into attacking, his plan working but not in the way he was thinking. He presumed that the more he attacked, you would eventually feel as though you needed to attack back to stop his onslaught of fists and boots but you didn't react to that, merely blocking them all just at a faster pace. You were waiting purposely, watching how as he attacked more, he left more open spaces for you to hit, patiently waiting for your opportunity to present itself.

Swiping your leg at the opportune moment, his body swiftly fell to the ground at the contact, your body moving on top of his back and pinning him to the ground, his strength incomparable to yours and the awkward position making it impossible for him to escape.

"Five," Natasha says after time, your body easily moving off of his and moving to stand, offering your hand for the archer to take to get back up. You sent him a shy smile as he panted for breath, gratefully taking your hand as you had winded him, eventually making it up onto his feet.

What you didn't expect was for Steve to approach you, his body language and stance indicating he was going to throw a punch, your face just about dodging the unexpected hit.

"Steve," Natasha berated, her gaze cold at the super soldier as he swiped his legs at you with force, using his full abilities as you knew you could handle them. You had to jump over his leg to avoid his boot, your body rolling on the floor as you landed, avoiding his next attack before pushing yourself back up to your feet, blocking his next hit with your forearm, kicking his leg down, not holding back with your own strength as he clearly wasn't.

"You have to be ready for the unexpected," he pants out in reason to Natasha but she just rolls her eyes at him, watching how the two of you fought as you were clearly able to handle him.

He focussed on strength to try and tackle you, his rough hands trying their best to knock you off balance or tire you out but it was to no avail as you slid to the side to dodge or parried the attack, throwing in a few punches when he was left open.

His foot collided with your ribs at one point, knocking you to the ground where you tried your best to move out of the way before he kicked out his other boot, his speed beating yours as his boot collided with your face, knocking you straight back to the ground.

Kill him.

"Steve, what are you doing!" Clint grits out, moving to intercept the fight.

The super soldier didn't reply, simply hoping his plan was working. He wanted you to snap so he could prove that you weren't safe to have on the team as they didn't know if Hydra were still in your head or not, so he needed proof to show they could be and you needed to be clean of them before being allowed anywhere near this team.

Before anyone could intercept the fight, you were tackling Steve to the ground, a pained noise escaping him at how roughly you forced him to the ground, your leg wrapping around his as you moved your body to slot behind his, arm wrapping around his neck and pulling it tighter towards you, his neck strained in your grasp while his leg was bent at a weird angel. If you applied any more pressure to either point, you would easily snap his neck or leg, the man's arms desperately hitting against your side and arm, attempting to ease up your grip.

"That's time, let him go Y/n," Natasha repeated, your eyes blinking back into focus as the man in your arms was turning red, the lack of oxygen causing his arms to stop their feeble attacks.

A loud gasp echoed around the room as you let him go, shrugging his body to the floor and climbing back to your feet, your hand rubbing your jaw where his boot had hit before trying to click it back into place. You turn back to Steve who just looks angry, his body pushing himself back up for another round when you place your boot on his chest, forcing him down.

"What happened to not playing dirty?" your tone cold as you stared down at him, a pair of hands softly meeting your shoulders, causing your body to relax a little at her touch.

"Leave him be," Natasha whispered, your head turning to her in disbelief before she continued, "I'll deal with him later, don't do something you'll regret."

Letting out a deep sigh, you lift your boot off of Steve, ignoring how Natasha sends him out, Clint coming over to you to check your cheek, your hand waving him away as you had experienced worse.

Sam left to follow his friend, offering you an apologetic smile while leaving, trying to ensure Steve would calm down and realise his mistake, Clint deciding that it would be a good time to end the tests, everyone but you and Natasha leaving the training room.

"Fancy one more round?" her tone playful as she moved onto the mats, her smile tugging at her lips as you turned to face her, the cold look in your eyes softening at her.

"I don't know," you mumble, glancing to the mirror cautiously to see your reflection grinning, a low chuckle escaping them which unnerves you. "I don't want to hurt you," you say and that just merely makes Natasha laugh, the sound causing a warmth to take over your chest, easing your nerves.

"I can take a punch," she teases, your body already moving towards the mat, unable to deny her request. Her hand softly pushes your shoulder when you're within distance, you acting as though the push actually affected you, staggering back a little, her smile widening at your calmer demeanour.

"Come on then, show me what you've got," you say jokingly in a shy tone, not quite used to using humour with others yet, the redhead smiling to herself at how comfortable you seemed to be with her, joking freely with her while you were more timid with the rest.

Sparing with Natasha was more fun than you thought, her swiftness and agility, along with her surprising strength, made her more of a challenge than Clint or Steve, the woman somehow always one step ahead. It was more of a dance with her, her moves planned and almost choreographed as she slipped away from your advances, getting in a few hits before you blocked them, faking to swipe with your leg before hooking it around her instead, taking both of you tumbling to the floor.

Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist as her back arched off the training mat, her arm moving to grip yours that was pressed against the top of her chest, pinning her body down to the mat to finally win the point, the fight lasting a lot longer than you thought. Her legs brought you in closer, her lips tugging into a smirk as you both had the other in a trap. She could effortlessly flip the two of you over and pin you to win, but all you had to do was pin her wrists and then you would be fine against the strength in her thighs, the redhead then unable to flip you. She didn't try and flip you as your eyes seemed to flicker between that distant stare and your focused gaze, her brows furrowing as the smile on your lips slowly faded, the pressure you were applying against her slacking.

The darkness's voice painfully rang around in your head, demanding you to do inhumane acts to her while she was in a vulnerable position, gruesome images flickering through your mind at what you could do. You felt a shiver run down your spine as they clawed away at your sanity, trying to take control over you but you fought against it, doing everything in your power to not hurt her.

"Y/n?" Natasha asked softly, your eyes widening in fear a little as your body leaned back, her legs untangling from your body as you staggered back to your feet, away from her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you lie and you know she can see straight through you, your eyes refusing to meet hers, accidentally landing on the mirror. Your breath hitched at the sight within the reflection, her lifeless eyes staring at you as her body was limp on the mat, blood pooling around her as your gaze moved to your hands, the warm, red liquid coating them and staining your clothes. "I'm going to go to my room, if that's alright?" your voice small causing worry to rise within the redhead, her wanting to make sure you were ok but sensing that you needed some alone time.

"Yeah...sure," she hesitantly said, watching how you didn't even look at her before leaving the room abruptly, a strange feeling pulling at her heart. 

[wreckrinho]

Boysssszzzzz i swear im havin hallucinations again...old moots will remember. Ugh...im seeing things close...like cats running, people walking, smelling things that >perhaps< doesn't exist... oh dear god not again lmaooo

[melestasflight]

27. there was now no returning, Mithrim Lake

for @polutrope. 600ish words of Maglor, Maedhros, and Fingolfin at Mithrim Lake. Warnings for physical disfigurement, mental instability, and deliberation on murder.

there was now no returning

Maglor stared at the torpid form of the stranger Fingon had delivered on eagle’s back. It was the resting, recovering body of his brother, he knew that in some small corner of his mind, but the entirety of the rest of himself struggled to reconcile Maitimo with this. He bit his cheek to a bleed to prevent himself from acknowledging the words that his barely restrained repulsion was coining.

It was not easy to consider him like this, in a deep stupor that left him defenseless. The ugliness of his figure blindingly displayed, a grotesque exposition of Morgoth’s dark art. Still, Maglor much preferred it to the waking hours that inevitably brought the burning gaze of those yellowed eyes. The yellow that was firmly winning the battle against the clean silver grey that Maglor’s own eyes contained also. Its hue was not the one of joyful summer, of sweet ripe fruit. It was sickly rather, the sooty yellow of active decay.

Worse than that was the sharp-toothed grin that appeared at the most inappropriate moments. This thing, which was once Maglor’s brother whose smile could win over even the most tactful lords, now laughed at his own warped ideas of how the creatures of the enemy could be annihilated most effectively and thoroughly.

Not for the first time, Maglor wondered if Fingon would have done a kinder act by releasing his arrow when he had the chance. But there was now no returning the miracle Thorondor had granted. The only thing left to decide was what should be done now. First and foremost, the crown demanded a resolution. Maglor himself had never worn it, never wanted it, though he had ruled all these years with the iron fist these lands demanded.

He recalled his father with that crown, its gold too clean, too brilliant against the filth of blood and ash upon Fëanáro’s brow. Míriel’s madness awoken fully in her son, growing until it had consumed him whole. Maglor shuttered at the thought of that crown resting now upon the head of one whose lungs were still filled with the foul air of Thangorodrim.

It had to be prevented, at all costs. Now was an opportunity better than any.

There was a small bottle of deadly nightshade tincture by the bedside table. A drop was given for a dreamless rest. Four drops could put down a grown horse. Maglor quieted his internal song to a whisper and took a careful step forward, nerves taut as a bowstring.

When suddenly the heavy flap of the tent was opened behind him, he held back a scream through sheer willpower. But it was too late. Fingolfin stood by the entrance as one stricken and he had already caught Maglor’s intention. He had made himself too vulnerable, his thoughts too raw about him.

Unmovable, they gaped at each other for a long moment. A confession and an understanding. None would know it but the two of them. It could be a shared secret that would keep their mouths bound. And a burden carried by two would be easier to live with.

Neither had dared move even a finger when the slumbering body stirred by Maglor’s side.

‘Laurë… Laurë… Where is Makalaurë?’ He was calling for Maglor in his waking haze. 

Overwhelming pity rattled Maglor to the bones, and all at once, his resolve snapped as easily as a dry twig beneath a heavy boot. ‘I am here, I am right by you.’ He choked back a sob and grasped the bony hand reaching for him.

When their gazes met again, Maglor found an echo of his own pity in Fingolfin. They both knew it then, with the crystal clarity of Mithrim's waters in the morning light. The crown would find its place upon Fingolfin’s brow. It was for Fingolfin to rule in the West, and for Maglor to hold the East together.

‘Here, Nelyo, sit up.’ A new resolve formed itself in Maglor’s heart as he brought a glass of sweet water to his brother’s lips.

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to drop me a note/kudo on AO3. It makes my day!

[nozomi-kaizoku]

I hate whenever my parents act like they care about my mental health then get all pissy at me when I tell them that I don't want to do school anymore even if I explain why, and I'm genuinely fucking tired of it.

I don't know about you motherfuckers, but when you are mistreated by the people around you CONSTANTLY for your entire life, without any breaks, and when that's done you're then blamed for it all, it really does take a toll on your mental health, and trust me when I say that it royally screwed my entire life over, I MEAN IT.

I had to face constant stigma and ableism for over 13 years, and the harder I tried to fix myself, the more people had pushed me away.

So, I'm gonna be BRUTALLY honest when I say this:

I've given up on wanting to go to college because it's way to expensive, I gave up on wanting a career because there's nothing out there worth doing, I gave up on even trying to find a job in the first place because nobody wants to hire a mentally unstable retard with no work experience, and overall I've just abandoned all of my passions and ambitions. All because people have kicked me when times got rough, and when I tried my best to make things right, it was never enough, they still kept pushing me down, and I just can't do it anymore.

And it doesn't help that my basic human rights are slowly being stripped away from me because I happen to be a disabled queer trans AFAB kid with a mental illness, basically meaning that by the time I make it to my 20's (if I don't kill myself before I make it to 18), I'll be living in a constant hellhole where I'll die in the worst ways possible to humankind.

All I'm ever going to be in life is this sad, mentally unstable, egotistical virgin who makes other people's life worse, and there is nothing I can do to change that, let alone anyone else.

I was doomed to be like this since the day I was born. And that's probably one of the hardest things I had to accept as a borderline auDHD person.

And that's the entire reason why I want to drop out of school, it's making my mental health worse anyway, and what's the point of being in school if I'm not gonna have a good life regardless??

And instead of actually listening to me, my bitch ass parents told me to suck it up and that my feelings were invalid and that I deserve to suffer, and honestly, fuck them.

"I was like you two when i was your age, and I regretted it, so you should stay in school" good for you i guess, but that won't change shit.

Stop pretending like I have a future, you're only making it worse.

good thing I'm suspended for 3 days so that I won't have to put up with school for the rest of the week...

Anyway I'm supposed to be working on homework rn, but I'm not going to because there is no reason to.

[sadsickandstoned]

🎀✨Coworker I crush on invited me to the restaurant tomorrow so I took 10 laxs to be skinny n pretty✨🎀

[shioricain]

Horror concept: Will having a mental breakdown and feeling the need to draw, paint, anything, just to lessen these overwhelming, painful feelings clawing inside him, to get them out of him in some way. The walls feel like they're threatening to close in on him and he feels both too big and too small for his body. His senses feel like they're collapsing. Before he even knows what he's doing, his fingers are tracing the walls, staining them with red patterns and designs. He doesn't know how long it's been since he started but he keeps going, adrenaline making him utterly numb to the irregular beating of his heart and the excruciating pain in his hands, the exhaustion that threatens him to collapse. Dizziness skirting in the edges of his mind, kept at bay by his obsessive will to paint away his feelings, to desecrate something else other than himself with them. His nails crack and splinter and he might have forgotten how to breath, he's not sure really of anything except the movement of his fingers and the bright red splatterings on the wall. He's not even sure where they came from.

[sloppypears-ash-sg]

Unpleasant Memories (CW!)

CW: implied dissociation(?), mental instability, spoilers (kinda)

So III 18 is coming out in about 5 days...

MePhone4 isn't too pleased.

The III Final 3 (Balloon, Cabby, and Silver) are nervous, but also excited.

The II Season [REDACTED] final 4 are upset. Mainly upset with MePhone4 hesitating.

Speaker Love and Pleasant Robot (Announcer and Bot) are hoping that MePhone4 will face the music; they feel resolute.

The island isn't at ease.

[vent-blog-ignore-me]

me: i don't know why everyone is so worried about me. i mean I'm not doing great but I'm fine

also me: *literally bashing my head against the table*

[clunelover]

Okay I think my covid symptoms are finally clearing up. Less coughing and hoarseness today.

I’m also noticing a definite improvement in my mental health. It’s fascinating cause other than my week adding in Latuda and taking it back off, nothing has changed - except Jeremy getting a job. So I think that really was a significant mental illness magnifier (duh). I was reflecting on when I was kind of post breakdown but still feeling weird, I told some friends that I thought it was too hard to regain full sanity while under pressures of life and work, and instead of trying for that, I should try to push myself fully into a complete psychotic break so I could go to the hospital, get some rest, and start from scratch. They were like “uh, is this a joke??” And it WAS a joke! I was making myself laugh with my dark sense of humor, and definitely did not plan to induce psychosis! But at the same time, it doesn’t strike me as quite so funny now, and is not a joke I would make today. So, that’s an interesting observation, I’d say!

[underfiends]

Death Loop

A lovely little short story based off of a D&D campaign run by me and played by @hannrenn and @peppermintpinklemonade. This features the repeated death of a prominent side character and a player character's reaction to that. Enjoy and be safe!

His hands are shaking. They don’t usually shake. He’s poised, in control, because he has to be. Being the crown prince has its perks and its inhibitors. He may be well known for goofing off and rejecting authority, but he knows when he must act his status.

His hands never shake. He wields his rapier with a practiced precision, and his pickpocketing skills require his fingers to be still. Since he was a child, he’s been trained in the art of being steady and elegant; carrying trays filled to the brim with nearly overflowing glasses, balancing bowls of fruit upon his head, sewing the most intricate details into fine cloth.

And yet, there they are. His hands, his, his very own; they are shaking and he cannot stop them. In fact, his whole body is shaking. He isn’t cold. Or maybe he is and he simply cannot feel it. He can’t feel a lot of things right now.

Air, he needs air. Normally his lungs work just fine, pulling in the air that he requires without him having to think about it. But now, he couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to. He sucks in small lungfuls that he immediately expels as if it were the most distasteful stew he had ever tasted.

Perhaps it is the same stew Veris cooked when he was younger. Adalia was still a child, barely twenty, when most of the castle had fallen ill. Nearly every cook was bedridden, most of the servants confined to their quarters. Even his parents had been unable to get up. This left Veris to take care of the two young drow. The captain of the guard had barely touched a stove before this, and the stew had been lukewarm with chunks of fat instead of meat and all the wrong vegetables. After that, Veris practiced cooking nearly every day. It proved how much the older drow cared for them.

Why had he thought of that? Oh yes, he can’t breathe. That really is a problem, because now his chest hurts and there are spots in his vision. Maybe he should breathe. He sucks in another sharp breath, releasing it with a wheeze.

His fingers are starting to tingle, like when he and Adalia used to tie their hair ties around their wrists until their hands went numb just so they could pretend they had electric fingers and chase each other around. There are no hair ties around his wrist though, so why are his fingers going zappy? Maybe he’s dying. It sure feels like it.

He isn’t dying though. He knows he’s not, because his heart is still beating. It’s still beating, but hers isn’t.

….Oh.

Her heart isn’t beating. So that means she’s dead. She can’t be dead though, she was just walking around and laughing. The weight of the crown may have made her colder, more formal, but she was still the spitfire sister he’d watched grow up. She simply couldn’t have died from something as mundane as poisoned fruit. Especially not after Mandus had warned them of the possibility.

His fingers are still pressed to her wrist. Are hers electric too, just like his? Perhaps after this is over they can chase each other around like they used to. They could be children again.

But no, they can’t do that. Because she’s dead. His little sister is dead, gone, never to wake up. She won’t ever laugh again, or smile at him, or yell at him for yet another prank. He won’t get to hear her scolding him, she won’t drag him to their next lesson, or crawl into his bed when he has a nightmare because she always knows. Never, ever again.

Someone is screaming. There’s something wet on his cheeks, and his eyes sting. He can feel a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He just wants whoever it is to go away. He wants everything to go away, everything except Adalia. Except this isn’t Adalia, this deathly still woman who had to grow up far too quickly in far too cruel of a world. His throat hurts now, and he wants that to go away too.

He gets his wish in the form of a sudden blackness. He feels like he’s falling. Then the world bursts into white. Colours fly past him in streaks of stark vibrancy against an ever-changing backdrop. White, then black, then white and black again. He’s falling, falling, falling forever with nothing to stop him. Down, then up, then sideways. He hopes when he lands, all of this will end. He’s been falling long enough that he should get his wish.

His back hits something hard. He’s very much alive, staring up at a blue sky with fluffy white clouds. He can hear a breeze and birds chirping. He knows what this is, and he doesn’t want to do it again. Can’t keep watching his little sister die.

The sound of his companion getting up spurs him into movement. He struggles to his feet, listening as Mandus rants and raves about the fruit, how they’d said it would be poisoned. He just wants to lie back down and not get up. But he can’t, because then Adalia would die for sure. So instead he trudges over the dirt path towards a castle whose walls he’s begun to despise. A home he no longer wishes to return to.

His hands are still shaking.

[theghostofaname]

"I can't find a way to lose weight without literaly starving" - I'm not pretty, by Jessica

[bingeblogging]

Why does everyone else get to live their best sitcom life with their close knit of best friends that they do everything with, and I don't even have one solid friend ????

I'm only 25 but I have a feeling ill be able to boil my 20s down to crying, vaping, binging, being lonely and never finding a career I'll love, a loving partner, solid friends, never being able to move out away from my mom

I'm tired of sticking around and waiting for things to get better. That's literally SETTLING 🤢 but at the same time nobody can say I haven't tried to change situations in my life. Multiple times, more times than I should, before I fail or the door gets closed or I get knocked down. Nothing is working, it's all in vain. What's all this for, to get stronger? To prepare me for better things?

I've been in this cycle for years

HELL, there's documentation of me breaking down over these same feelings, 2+ years ago when I started using this blog again

My faith is shaken

I still pray but it just feels like talking to myself, I don't feel comfort or a presence or anything

I'm alone as always, feeling like the years I thought would be the best, are wasting away like my mental and overall health

[asungsimp]

FLAWLESS

She pretends

Pretends she doesn’t see it

Pretends she doesn’t care

But it’s always there;

You will always see her with a smile

But when nobody’s around, she looks up to the sky and whisper the most heartbreaking words you’ll ever hear

While tears are falling down her cheeks, creating a waterfall that only makes her drown and lose her breath but no one bats an eye;

It’s sad that her only wish is to be seen and heard but there’s a wall made of insecurities and failure in front of her desire to be perfect.

[anyspiridcomics]

Chapter 7, 1/3

Please be mindful of the tws!!!! This chapter deals with relapse and should not be taken lightly

[nozomi-kaizoku]

Hi!!!

Welcome to my Offical Tumblr!

This is where I will be posting all of my vent content (Mainly stuff regarding BPD and my thoughts on online drama), it's kind of like making a public diary lmao

I also reblog other people's vents that I relate to, so if you see me reblog your vent post, that's why :3 (if you need me to take it down, please let me know, and I will)

My spam account: @nozomi-spam

My posts on this account will contain or mention the following:

Suicide and suicidal ideation

Self harm

Any relevant drama that goes viral (ex: the YandereDev situation)

Negative perceptions of my relationships and myself

Sex, sexual topics and self sexualization

Ableism (including internalized ableism and stigma against my disorder)

Psych wards

Invalidation

Hopelessness for the future

The hardships that come with BPD (such as mood swings and dissociation)

Anxiety

Mentions of some problematic behavior I did back in 2021 (do not ask me about it btw, I'm not comfortable with going into detail and I might not remember everything)

Wanting to be in a relationship with older men (mainly with men in their 30's)

Attention-seeking behavior

Incel/Femcel stuff (I DO NOT ASSOCIATE WITH GENUINELY BAD PEOPLE)

Other things that might be potential triggering

If you are not comfortable with any of the above in any way, please DNI and do not come onto my page (see boundaries for other DNI criteria). I do not want my content to cause harm in any way.

Thank you.

Name: Nozomi Kaizoku, but I'm cool with Nozomi, Zomie/Zomi (doesn't matter the spelling), or just Luca(s) or Pheonix

I'm 17 (My birthday is 01/14)

Pronouns: He/she/they

Disabilities and mental conditions: autism (professionally diagnosed), ADHD (professionally diagnosed),BPD (professionally diagnosed, provisional)

Sexuality and Gender Identity: Pansexual, Aromantic, and Non-Binary (Masculine and androgynous terms for me are cool with me)

Always Welcome!! (unless you end up on the DNI list somehow)

Neurodivergent people of all kinds (especially autistic and ADHD folk)

Anyone of any mental illness

FNAF fans, canon and AU (especially Tony crynight fans)

Any race, gender, sexuality, religion, disability, etc. (this is a safe space)

Any fandom (outside of what is on the DNI)

Weird/cringe people of all kinds (furries, therians, alt fashion, etc.)

Problematic in recovery people (basically any content creators who are problematic and in the process of stopping their problematic behavior) (this s a pro-recovery page)

Just cool people in general!

Anyone 14 and over

Unless I made you an exception, DO NOT INTERACT (DNI) (you will be blocked)

anyone under 14 (I'd rather not expose anyone that's really young to any sort of content that's gonna mess them up for life. Trust me, I saw some shit I wasn't supposed to at a young age and it messed me up big time.)

Anyone who openly shares their political ideology (No hate against any of you, but I've seen way too many people get into fights over one's political viewpoint, and I'd rather not have that negativity on here. I'm considered a "leftist/democrat/liberal" incase anyone is curious, but I'm not gonna talk about it much on here)

Springtrap x Ballora shippers (most of y'all are toxic as fuck and I don't like it)

DNI (no exceptions) (you will be blocked)

Anyone who fits into these categories: Ableism (especially against neurodivergent people and anyone with "evil" mental illnesses, such as NPD or BPD), Racism, Sexism/misogyny, Homophobia/ transphobia, Antisemitism, Pro-genocide of any kind, Nazis and Neo-Nazis, pro-"life", or any sort of discrimination that I haven't listed here.

People who justify literal bullying as "criticism" (seriously, it never helps, there's a difference between actual criticism that can help someone and bullying)

Tony Crynight Anti's (this is a Tony Crynight fanpage, and as such, any hate against him will be deleted and blocked)

Personality disorder Abuse believers (eg: Narcissist abuse believers)

People who make mental illness look like a quirky trend (Eg: saying "bpd = beautiful princess disorder", "I'm so OCD" etc.) (mental illness isn't fun at all, coming from experience) (ONLY APPLIES TO NEUROTYPICALS, SOME PEOPLE WITH THE DISORDER USE THESE JOKES AS A COPING MECHANISM)

Fashion Jirais (due to harassment and spreading harmful misconceptions about mental health and the Jirai community)

Anti-recovery (especially when it comes down to mental illness)

Cancel culture participants (most of yall are anti-recovery and pro-bullying.)

---

Feel free to reblog my posts if you find it relatable, but please be respectful about any criticism you have, otherwise you will be blocked.

---

That's all folks! /ref

[artificialcaretaker]

“Surprisingly, not all of it was due to circumstances. A part of his madness was entirely hereditary. In fact, Vaas wasn’t the only one with the curse.”

[Note that I start rambling like a madman under the cut so maybe skip that if you don’t wanna read about my elaborate headcanons idk.

[Little known fact about me, I love sopping wet pathetic women. Or, at the very least, incredibly unwell women. This particular taste of mine is in no way implying that I am apologizing for any horrible actions a character might have committed, rather it just reveals one side as to how they actually got to those actions.

So, I know that it’s semi-canonical that Vaas was pretty well off for himself before The Incident, but like. I harbor the headcanon that he was definitely still mentally ill earlier in life, but at that particular point if actually action was taken to help him then he legitimately could have grown into a decent human being. I also harbor the headcanon that part of his ambiguous condition was entirely genetic. I feel like there was always something “off” about him. Violent outbursts continuing onto an age where it could no longer be considered a childish temper, a refusal to listen to rules, biting nails to the point of bleeding etc. etc. that kid was WEIRD.

But Citra, I feel, was also severely ill, but she never used such an expressive sort of outlet as a cry for help. While I am in no way saying that undiagnosed mental illness leads to predatory behavior I feel like some of the ways she treated Vaas throughout their life was, in part, a way for her to feel in control of at least one thing in life. I feel like after The Incident, things got worse for her. I think she rationalized that Vaas’ spiral into madness was some divine punishment for betraying her, but also that logic was slightly flawed in the fact that she also felt like she was spiraling. And then it hit her, this was her punishment too. It was hers because she messed up. She let him get away. She didn’t prepare him enough she didn’t raise him right she didn’t keep him calm she didn’t keep him isolated she didn’t kill him she couldn’t kill him. So, now, things have to go as smoothly as possible. There can be absolutely no mistakes this time. If she gets this right, if everything goes exactly according to plan, this will all be over and she can be normal. She is absolutely positive on this idea.

But yea no I don’t have any specific headcanon for anything she has, however part of me wants to say OCD among other things but to be frank I don’t know too much about things that I don’t have so I don’t wanna Rose Lalonde this too much. All in all, if the MonteLugmais got therapy early on in childhood a good half of the game would not have happened.