#i just wanted reassurance

[maybe-one-day-itll-make-sense]

Why is it that every god damned time I start to feel okay, I get Spartan kicked back down into my pit of depression?

Leave me alone…

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF 4 nightmares haunted all the Afton kids..

[egophiliac]

redesigning my headcanon for Sebek's parents, based on important new information (SCALES)

(you can't see it but they're both wearing crocs)

[caelanglang]

The O(ccasionally)samu D(runk)azai

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[jeeaark]

Let the latest patches add whatever new dialogue they write in, but Patch 0 gave me free range to ✨interpret✨ and this will forever be Greygold's canon, HA

For all intents, I did the hell heist as the last-last quest before the finale (So as to be fully prepared and supportive "finishing" babe's personal quest) AND BECAUSE OF THIS, I was tired. Greygold was tired. I was ready to beat the game. I was rushing. STEALING FROM RAPHAEL WAS STRESSING ME OUT. and I dared not go back. So even though Greygold did not want to go through with Haarlep's "game", I couldn't have picked a worse time to forget about their "always another way" philosophy Poor Half-orc was so determined not to fail Lae'zel's personal quest that, for once, ignored companion disapproval. And apparently, with Lae'zel not disapproving nakey Greygy, it looked like Babe was willing to retrieve that hammer no matter the cost either! Until Haarlep said they wanted nakey Greygy to play a "game" with them.

Babe disapproved that time. Babe, who's been cranky all this time, thought not even this way was worth getting the hammer for. Babe still cared about what happened to Greygold.

So by the gods, I happily reloaded and thankfully found a different way, HUAH. Thank you, Babe. Found out later that apparently going the Haarlep way would've suuuuucked. Saved by the babe. Thus I concluded why Babe was so cranky and can't kiss to save her life (I'm looking at you patch 6). And why Greygold's never had another hrm- pleasant conversation with Emps since the last time.

Poor sleep-deprived Lae'zel was bugged as hell killer coconut not because she was mad at Greyg, but because she'd been burning through all of her energy and affection by trying to protect Greygold from any further illithidry influence.

[peacockrulz]

An Well Made Excuse To Post My Specific Headcanons I've Had Since The Show Came Out

[dykedvonte]

Curly not immediately punishing Jimmy for assaulting Anya is something I don’t think a lot of people are viewing in the complex context for Curly as the superior to both of them and closest confidante they had.

Like I am in no way saying he didn’t under react or fail Anya by not being harsh or direct with Jimmy but it really is the case that he really couldn’t. Imagine being stuck in such a confined space with very little areas to genuinely hold someone if they commit a crime. It’s not like this was an event that occurred before they departed or that they have easy communication with The Pony Express to ask for how to proceed when something like this arises. Not to mention, Jimmy’s relative power in relation to Anya as the co-pilot and second in command, he has the knowledge and access to do something to her had Curly directly punished him in this setting.

They were also Curly’s friends. It’s not just the case of him mediating something between his subordinates but people he is personally invested in don’t want to see spiral further in Anya’s case while also not wanting believe his friend go that bad in Jimmy’s actions. They were both suicidal and Curly putting Jimmy’s stability first is both out of bias but also the fact he’s aware at some level Jimmy is a danger to himself and others if not constantly placated. Combined with the fact he was in denial or just not piecing together what Anya said it’s hard to say what he buying time for and what he had treat as urgent. This isn’t even saying he doesn’t care about Anya but he’s not going jump to the worst conclusions about his friends even if part of him acknowledges the evidence saying so. It’s a complicated thing but he’s still human and needed to process it on top of trying to keep a ship that already took on a lot of water from further sinking, metaphorically.

I just personally think that while Curly failed Anya, it was a scenario where there wasn’t much he could do to the best thing by her safely and like Jimmy, we are underestimating what a good leader would do in a very fragile and tense situation like he was in. By the time he may have been ready and had a plan, things were much too late.

[iminmywritersdungeon]

A little random but

Does she not look scared as hell here??

Like Silco looks so reassuring

But jinx just looks freaked the FUCK out

[waverlyyhaught]

Favorite Marta and Fina Moments - Part 71 Sueños de Libertad

[cacaocheri]

we both deserve to be happy

in case anyone is wondering, it gets easier. it gets so so much easier and i hope you find the love you're looking for

[glitterghost]

Vessel and his "all I have ever given anyone was a small window into the emotional waiting room of my mind."

Actually, if I could crawl through said window and curl up against the door to your mind, eyes closed, hand and ear pressed gently to it like if I'm not careful, everything would dissolve under my fingertips, I would.

[sumwan]

It's still kind of sad how c!Dream acts pragmatic about his torture but secretly does want people to acknowledge how messed up it was and that he didn't deserve it. With c!Sapnap, c!Tommy and c!Foolish, he brings it up to achieve certain goals and then drops it quickly once that doesn't work or the goal has been achieved. But then with c!Sam, he insists that he didn't deserve to get tortured and that it is evil and wrong to torture others or to allow it to happen. And then there's c!Punz who talks quite emotionally to c!Purpled about how the torture was not okay (so you can imagine what he said when Dream told him). As much as Dream tries to leverage his torture, I do think he desperately wants to hear others say that it shouldn't have happened, that not even he deserved to go through that.

[ratatatastic]

Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[zeb-z]

I'm actually unbelievably unwell about Etoiles character you don't understand. He's always been a sword, protecting by attacking first, by fighting back, offense as the best defense. He jokes a lot about dying for the island, dramatic and half sarcastic, but there's truth in his jests. He would kill, and he would die, for his daughter, for the rest of the eggs, for the safety of everyone on the island. He does not hesitate, for what good would that do him?

Then he gets the shield, and it changes the entire game. And while he can still kill to protect the island, he can no longer truly die for them.

His role is functionally the same - he draws attention to himself, he's just as ready for a fight as he's always been, he fights the codes to protect the island - but its the difference between a sword and a shield, because of his literal shield.

He's the only solid defense between the codes and the island, and all the eggs. The only one who can tank the hits and negate the effects of their crazy powerful swords.

A sword cannot hesitate, but a shield must consider it - he cannot take risks when he’s fighting in the Colosseum, because if he dies he’d lose the shield. He cannot risk attacking the fake Pomme without hesitation, not until he’s sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s not his real daughter.

A shield must be sturdy. It must hold up under pressure. It must stay strong and reliable, no matter the circumstance - as the eggs go missing and everyone else crumbles, Etoiles cannot follow suit. He will play his part and defend the island, shouldering what the others cannot, because who else will do what he does?

To lose the shield would not only mean to lose himself, but to lose his family. He cannot fall without failing the entire island, his loss would mean disaster, for who is he if he’s not standing between the ones he loves and the monsters that threaten them?

He's as much a shield as the one he carries.

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro