#like borderline suicidal stuff

[elfpylon]

somehow I forget I probably have severe PMDD every month.

[frances-kafka]

A big aspect of the American 20th in particular is that especially for Americans, and to some extent the Anglosphere, the 20th was The Prole Century.

Much of the youth culture and entertainment industry of the 20th centered around the working class. Much published work was by ex working class. Much music marketed to Atomic Twentians was for middle class kids, but made by ex-proles.

The Twentian tastemakers did not start life rich.

[toothlespoggers]

U don’t understand. He’s a Nindroid. He has a soul. He has ice powers. He’s TRAUMATISED. He does not value his own life. He is borderline suicidal. He is SOFT. And he loves people too much. But OUgh he’s actually a little fucked up even tho he’s calm and calculated Caus he toucheda forbidden stick and it made voices in his head and then he was like a genocidal murderer for like 60 years and he had no memory of anything and then he was dragged out of that situation and nobody even asked if he was ok and he never questioned that because he’s lived his whole life with the expectation that he’s fine and he’s got everything under control and he doesn’t even know what mental health awareness is because no one ever talked to him about it because no one ever asked if he was okay, not physically but mentally. Because even if people cared no one ever thought he was not okay, and so Zane never thought he was not okay so he’s lived his life for probably a hundred years or so by now, always moving forward and never addressing his problems or traumas or demons, which is DESTROYING HIM, from the inside out. He has absolutely NO SELF WORTH. His entire existence is based around his role as a ninja, he has been trained from when he was a “teenager” that his worth is based around his ability to preform, that the most important thing is to save lives and the world and stuff. Which it is but like he’s never been allowed to do anything else and on the rare occasions he and his friends relax they immediately get scolded and told to keep fighting. He’s never had a sick day. He literally sacrificed himself to save the world. He rebuilt himself, and immediately the next opportunity he gets, he sacrifices himself again, and he tries to do that over and over and over again because that’s his job he states that he is expendable! He says that multiple times. He always volunteers to take the hits because his view on his humanity his person hood is so WARPED, that he believes he has less value than a human. That he is a TOOL. To be used by those around him because people sure, they’ve treated him with kindness on many levels but it’s kind of shallow when they never care enough to prevent him from getting hurt, they use him, he almost dies, they fix him and then put him back into the line of fire. His entire worldview is based on fighting.

The only person. Who has ever asked if he is okay and treated him like a human being. Is a STUPID GOSH I LOVE HIM BUT JES SO DUMB. FROG MAN and Zane is SO NOT USED TO IT that he has to repeatedly inform. This man. That he is in fact. A robot. Because he expects that to change the way people interact with him. He’s a machine, he doesn’t need a break, he’s built to serve a purpose. But frog man, does not listen.

Frog man is kind, frog man is good.

FROHICKY TRIES TO PLEASE ZANE SO MUCH THAT HE GIVES ZANE A FROHICKY PLUSHIE. SO THAT ZANE CAN VENT HIS FRUSTRATIONS AT THE PLUSHIE. SO THAT HE WILL FEEL BETTER. AND ZANE SAYS “I do not experience heightened emotions.” see see this this proves one of my points urghhhguugh FROFFS BARKS GROWLS HE DOES. WE ALL KNOW HE DOES, ANY NINJAGO FAN WITH EYES CAN SEE THAT ZANE EXPERIENCES HEIGHTENED EMOTIONS. HE JUST KEEPS FUCKING LYING TO HIMSELF AND OTHERS BECAUSE HES GOT THIS ROBOT MINDSET EVER SINCE SEASON 3 HES JUST BEEN ENTIRELY CONSUMED BY THE IDEA THAT HE ISNT HUMAN AND SO HE HAS TO BE DEFINED BY THAT IDEA. He has so many inconsistencies all relating to this weird brain he has this weird weird robot brain it’s SO INTERESTING. I WILL BE GATHERING INFORMATION AND I WILL BE MAKING A FULLY RESEARCHED FULLY COHERENT RANT ABOUT ZANE IN THE FUTURE. BUT RIGHT NOW I HAVE OTHER STUFF TODO BUT URGHH THIS CHARACTER MY BRAIN IS TINGLING SO MUCH URGHH

[meanbossart]

DU DROW LORE ASK COMPILATION: COMPANIONS, ASTARION'S READING HABITS, AND HIS LONG-INQUIRED OPINIONS ABOUT BODILY WASTE REVEALED.

I don't think "discussed" is the right word, more so mocked her for her blind faith and got into brief spats. It was precisely Shadowheart's water-off-a-duck's-back attitude towards his remarks that kind ingratiated her to him - DU drow spoke his mind, she took it in stride and remained firm in her beliefs without arguing or trying to push it on him. That, alongside the fact that they are surprisingly similar people is what brought them together as friends.

Even long after the events of the game he's still opposed to her hopping from Shar to Selune, also. Shadowheart's attachment to religion is simply something they agree to disagree about.

Can I answer your question with one of my own?

Am I the only idiot that killed her in their first run LOL

BUT YES, he killed Lae'zel when she tried to murder suicide the camp and I went through the whole game without her. I didn't go to the creche either!

I have since had other runs and she's actually one of my favorite characters, I just haven't had the chance to draw her yet.

ACTUALLY - scratch that. I've drawn her once-

Somewhat! But not really. He genuinely just likes jewelry, and rings are the only kind that suit his life-style (necklaces and earrings are a hazard during fighting) this is a reference to his bhaalist days when he used to be completely covered in the stuff day and night.

Hence why he finds them comforting to have on in some way or another. They change around because he gets bored of/misplaces runs out of fingers to wear the new rings that he loots constantly.

The great link in question

I don't know if it's been made clear enough, but DU drow's love for Astarion is borderline pathological, LOL. He's got a good humor about things and Astarion is definitely no stranger to having little quips and jokes made at his expense (a few references to him being Pointy And Long here and there, for sure), but the guy overwhelmingly adores him and thinks he's always the prettiest girl at the ball, even when he gets in his face and his nose looks huge.

I'll be honest, Astarion strikes me as the kind of guy that has like, 3 really weird books he really enjoys and reads them again and again very slowly over the course of years. Otherwise, not really a reader, but I digress -

DU drow was probably never a big reader himself, I would say he got started on a couple of books back in the day but likely never finished any. He's fairly intelligent, but most of his downtime was spent managing the cult and parsing through relevant documentation.

I definitely don't think he'd have the attention-span for fiction (which I picture as being said books that Astarion enjoys) but he does like to snuggle up with his beau to watch him read - every once in a while he catches a particularly scandalous line or description and they bicker about it. He makes a remark, Astarion feels obligated to explain the context, it devolves into some playful kind of argument that ends with Astarion telling him to go dig a hole and die in it while playing with his hair - The usual LOL.

Oh man I have a few more in-dept descriptions of how that went, both lore-wise and just for me as the player - but in summary, DU drow was pretty mean to everyone earlier on in the game and he did catch onto Astarion's very obvious and obnoxious seduction attempts very clearly. He doesn't like being so desperately pursued and they actually got off on the extremely wrong foot because of it, LOL.

After being unpromptedly rejected at the tiefling party he was a little more enticed by him, basically the "no" was his "go". I like to think of it like Astarion catching onto the fact that his initial strategy wasn't working and that this man in particular needed him to play hard to get - from that point on, DU drow started playing along. DU knew this was still a game, but now they were playing it on even ground so he was fine with it.

First of all - he inexplicably got butt-ass naked for the event.

All in all he liked it a whole lot and it was his re-introduction to the concept of pain being dished out as a form of love and his deep enjoyment of it.

Thank you so much, glad to hear you get some joy out of my work!

Dang it I had a pretty good write-up about his thoughts on Wyll from a long time ago, but I can't find it 😭

In summary, Wyll was a frustrating person for him to be around because of what he viewed to be a deeply ingrained naivete about the world. He shockingly didn't hate him (Wyll is kind of difficult to hate) but he never really saw him as an equal either, and definitely not as a friend. Du drow just desperately wanted him to express something that he would perceive as a genuine emotion; some kind of outburst or show of anger or frustration, but all he ever saw was someone trying to put on an act of performative heroism that he didn't buy at all.

At the same time, Wyll was far too young for him to be too mad. He might have held his father more accountable for making the guy into what he was than Wyll himself, really.

Can a man be scared of being scared? Because if so, it's that.

He also doesn't like shit a normal amount. (piss is fine depending on whose it is.)

[abimee]

lets all sit and think for a moment

if theres something that aggravates me beyond words is how often siinamota's works get turned into a resting ground for people turning his entire life and memory into his suicide and thus the comments for his stuff become a festering ground of people extrapolating things from his songs about him personally that they could never know because they didnt know him. i think its evil to paint siinamotas memory entirely by his death and try to read every song of his as a suicide note when he was a real person who had ideas and art he wanted to make just like the rest of us. and whether his art was entirely defined by a mental unwellness or something else is not for us to dictate and wax into comments about his pain and suffering in the comments of youtube. like do you know what im saying

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 4 - Immediate Murder Professionals

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn't exactly considered classy, Stolas)

Blitzø just might be stupid.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word Count: 2,340

Warnings: eh, mentions of sex only i think. also stolas is newly separated so he's trying this new thing called flirting. yes i'm a firm believer that stolas is naturally so weirdly flirty he could make a succubus flustered no questions asked.

“...and then I yelled ‘sorry I fucked your husband’ and just kinda… left.” 

Everyone was gathered around the big table in the meeting room at I.M.P., per Blitzø’s request. Well, he didn’t request it, per se- it was something more along the lines of yelling “Anyone who’s not a whiny bitch follow me, I got something to show you” and everyone just sort of complying. 

He had been on and on in excruciating detail about how he’d up and stolen whatever it was he wanted to show you. He had yet to show you a thing.

“Oh wow. You are an idiot,” you state.

“And why is that, witch bitch?”

“You stole from a Goetia prince?”

“Yeah I did. And I looked sexy doing it.”

“What did you even wanna steal so bad?” Millie asks.

“Oh-ho-ho. You’re not even fuckin’ ready. None of you are even fucking ready.” He slams a big, heavy book on the desk. You inspect it, trying to figure out why he would go out of his way, in a borderline suicidal quest, to steal a book. Your eyes widen when you realize you know exactly what it is. 

“You stole from STOLAS?” He had to be fucking- wait. “Wait, you fucked Stolas?” 

“What how’d you know it was him?”

“It’s- it’s his Grimoire. That’s what this is isn’t it?”

“Yup. And with this,” he explains to the others, since apparently you already knew of it, “we’ll be able to go up to the living world and kill any human we’re paid to kill.”

“That- that’s- Blitzø this is insane. And I don’t mean good insane. I mean batshit crazy insane.”

“How do you even know what this is?”

“I- I used to see him a lot. You know. Ozzie stuff. They’re always in meetings. I didn’t- I’m really having trouble believing he acted like that-”

“What, like a needy bitch in heat?” Blitzø cuts you off.

You feel yourself get flustered at the implication, not managing to finish whatever you had been about to say. 

“Oh my fucking Satan, Blitz,” Loona lets out a groan, frustrated at what she was hearing, which is fair. It’s enough to prompt her to leave the room entirely, assumingly to her seat at the front desk. 

“Sir, you need to give this back.” Moxxie pushes the book across the table back to him.

“What? After everything I had to go through to get it? No way!”

“No, Mox is right. Stolas is nice, but he’s still, like, one of the most powerful demons down here, dude. And this is- this is next level doing him wrong. You didn’t just steal from him, you played with his feelings too. That’s so much worse.”

“Feelings? Come on! So we’re all ganging up on Blitzo now, are we?” You all cringed a bit whenever he used his own given name. It felt weird and just totally… wrong, considering how adamant he always was about correcting everyone else when it came to it, but, to be fair, he didn’t really seem to notice when he did it. He just happened to absentmindedly call himself that sometimes when he was feeling criticized, which… well, you weren’t sure if you wanted to unpack whatever that meant. He keeps on. “I’m sorry I worry about us having jobs and money to pay rent and food to feed ourselves!”

“Blitz that’s not-” Millie starts, but gets cut off by Loona, who walks back into the room. “Guys, there’s an… owl… guy… thing… looking for Blitz out there.”

Oh, shit.

“We’re gonna die,” Moxxie mutters under his breath, starting to chant it over and over again, eyes almost popping out of his head. Millie puts her arms around his shoulders and brings his head to her lap to try and calm him down, sending a death glare- much like yourself- towards Blitzø, who now looked like a deer in headlights, caught red-handed, apparently not expecting to be found that soon. 

“Uuuhhh, tell him I’m not here!”

“Already did, he said some weird shit about being able to smell you or whatever the fuck that was about. That guy’s a fucking freak.” Huh. Maybe Blitzø wasn’t lying.

“Uhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck, gotta think, gotta think,” Blitzø begins pacing in circles around the room.

“Well? What the fuck did you expect?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead, alright? Sue me.”

“Oh really? I could have sworn you had everything figured out!” 

His head shoots up and he points at you, completely ignoring your sarcasm. “You go talk to him!” 

“Me? This is your problem!”

“Our problem! You work here don’t you?”

“Blitz I swear to Satan.”

“Pleeeaaaase?” He tries making puppy eyes at you. It’s kind of bizarre, but not entirely useless. “You said you know him, he’ll probably be nicer to you. Maybe you can soften the blow. Ha. Blow.”

“If it doesn’t work I’m ratting you out and I’m not gonna feel bad about it.”

“Thank you thank you thank you, I’ll owe you one, now go!”

You let out a groan, making sure he hears it. You could not believe you were about to do this. Sure, let’s confront pissed-off demon royalty about something of theirs that you definitely have in your possession just in the next room. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that. “Can you tell him to go to your dad’s office, Loons?”

“Yeah whatever.”

You make your way out of the meeting room and into Blitzø’s office, which is… a sight to behold. There were horse drawings scattered everywhere around the room, figurines of Millie, Moxxie, and yourself on top of his desk (you didn’t even want to know), guns you knew definitely didn’t have their safety locks on just laying on various different surfaces. Yeah, it was all very on-brand. 

You sit down on his chair, getting barely a few seconds to prepare yourself for your talk with Stolas before he walks into the room.

Well, no, he doesn’t exactly walk in. He leans against the door frame, pulling a leg up and running a hand up it as he starts speaking, yet to take a look into the room. “For someone so remarkably sexy you are so hard to find, Bli- oh my!” He’s visibly startled when he finally makew eye contact with you, evidently having expected Blitzø to be the one in your place. Almost tripping over himself, he tries to pull himself together, fixing his posture and wiping non-existent dust off of his clothes as if to pretend he hadn’t just made a fool of himself. Stolas had always kept his composure around you whenever he went over to meet with Ozzie, so this behavior… it was definitely new. 

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you were-”

You decide to save him the embarrassment. Or, well,  further embarrassment. “Your Highness! Hi.”

“Y/n.” He remembers your name. What, of course he remembers your name, dumbass! That’s completely normal. “You… Do you not work for Asmodeus anymore?”

“Not really. I’d been working there a long time. Wanted to try something new.”

“So you chose to work… here?” He motions around, and you couldn’t blame him. It didn’t look like the best place in Hell. And you supposed it did seem like an odd change in occupation. 

“We’re a work in progress.”

“Well, do you and Asmodeus still keep in touch? I recall you were quite good friends.”

“Yes! We still are. We still are. How have you been, uh, doing, your highness?” You ask, carefully. 

“Please, there is still no need to call me that.” Your interactions always went like this- you called him by his title, he insisted you call him by his name, and you always refused to. Strangely enough, you called him by his name when referring to him in conversation with Ozzie. 

But you don’t feel the need for all of that now. “Right, I’m sorry. Stolas.” 

“Well, I haven’t been doing quite so great, actually. I’m sure you’re aware why.”

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them up again and forcing yourself to make eye contact with him, trying to stay collected. Play it cool. “I… might have an idea, yes.”

“You see, you have worked with Asmodeus for a long time. You’ve been around myself plenty, haven’t you, darling?”

Had he ever called you darling before? You’re positive he’s never, ever done that. 

Chill, dumbass! It’s just a fancy people thing. No big deal. “Yes.”

“Yes, so you know how crucial my Grimoire is for my purpose in the Ars Goetia, don’t you?” He speaks to you in an almost condescending manner. You almost feel insulted. Did his voice always sound like that?

“Yes.”

“Perfect. So I suppose you understand why I would be very upset when I came to find out your friend, Blitzy, stole such a sacred artifact from me.”

“I understand.”

“My Grimoire contains spells that are meant for mine and, in the future, my daughter’s use only, and it would simply be a scandal if it fell into the hands of itty bitty imps such as yourselves.” Okay, he was definitely being condescending now. Why was it kind of hot? It was definitely hot. 

What the fuck.

“Uhhhhh-”

“It makes things so much worse that he simply hurt my feelings! After a night of such passionate fornication, you could only imagine my surprise when I came to find out the book had been missing! Had I not known better I would have sworn it had been deceiving work of someone like yourself.”

“Like myself?”

“You are a succubus, aren’t you, dear?” He tilts his head to the side as if what he meant had been obvious. And it probably had- you’d just read too much into it. Was what Blitzø had told you about what happened getting to your head or something?

“Ooookay. Uh. I’m really- I’m really sorry about… all of that. Uh. Wow. Uh that really is a lot huh? I’m just gonna… I’m just gonna go call Blitz now and you guys can talk it out maybe. That fine for you? Fantastic. Good talk, Stolas!”

You slip past him and out of the office, catching your breath before going back into the meeting room to call Blitzø and let him handle the situation. What the actual fuck was that?

[. . .]

“So?” Millie questions Blitzø as he enters the meeting room again after a good half hour. Everyone follows, looking at him expectantly. 

He pauses, for dramatic effect. “Guess who just founded the first human-killing business in Hell?”

“What?” You ask, incredulous.

“I’m sorry sir are you saying the Prince is letting us use his spell book?”

“You heard it, Mox.”

“H-how?”

“Well I’m gonna have to dick him down every full moon but I guess that’s a good trade.”

The room goes silent. 

Moxie breaks the silence first. “Uhh, what?”

“What?”

“What’s that about the full moon?”

“Oh well. Well, apparently I’m a fantastic fucking lay, just unforgettable. So all I gotta do to have the book is give it back to him every full moon and then fuck him into oblivion and we’re good to go.”

“And you’re sure you’re fine with that?” You ask him, carefully. 

“Well yeah? It’s fucking great! We get the book AND I get to fuck a Prince into submission every once in a while? Couldn’t be better.”

You’re not that sure about it, but what was the point in arguing with him? You shrug. “If you say so.”

“And he’s just… fine with that?” Moxxie questions, not buying it.

“What, you think I’d lie?”

“Yeah,” everyone replies, without hesitation.

“Well I’m not!”

“Well shit. Your dick must be good.” Well, that wasn’t supposed to come out.

He grins. “Ya wanna find out?”

You stare at him, unamused, for a second, locking eyes with Moxxie soon after. 

“You deserved that,” Moxxie points out.

“Yeah I regretted it as soon I said it.”

“You really should have seen it coming,” Blitzø himself adds.He grabs the Grimoire, bringing everyone’s attention to it. “So. Aren’t y’all curious? I know I wanna know what the human realm is like.”

“It’s really not that different from here,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah, I forget you’ve been there before. What do you guys even do there?”

“Uuuhhh.”

“They fuck people to death, Mills, ain’t that cool?”

“Oh shut up you know that hardly ever happens anymore.”

“But’cha could.”

You sigh, knowing he just wanted to hear that he was right. You give him a little smile. “But I could.” 

“Hell yeah!” It was always weirdly nice that he thought that part of what you were was cool rather than being disgusted by it.  “Should we go take a look?”

“How’d ya even work this thing?” Millie asks, examining the book in Blitzø’s hands.

“Fuck if I know.”

“You didn’t ask him?” Loona asks.

“Not really.”

“I’m not even-” she rolls her eyes. “Gimme that” Snatching the book from him and going through the pages for a bit, she stops in a particular one, attempting a few times to read some words from it. Fair enough, a portal leading… somewhere… appears. You’d have to put a pin on that for later and ask her how she knew what to do, but right now everyone was too excited.

“Let’s go fuck some humans to death!” Blitzø exclaims.

“No.” You say sternly.

“Let’s go fuck some humans?” He tries again.

“Sir! No!” Moxxie yells, disgusted.

“Let’s go kill some humans!”

“Hell yeah!” Millie finally agrees,

“Yeah! Wait why am I even listening to you guys, I’m the boss here!” 

“Sure thing Blitz.” You assure him, getting your foot through the portal. “You coming?”

Blitzø turns around. “Looney? You’re not killing anyone there. Got it? It’s too dangerous.”

“But that’s no fun!”

“Looney.”

“Fine.”

“Let’s go kill some humans then!” He shoves you into the portal, jumping through right after you. Jackass.

A/N: i did a lot of things different than i said id do lmao and i toned down the flirting from stolas to leave it for a different chapter hope this is fun it aint gonna be fun for v long luv yall

[cherri-tomato]

Venomous.

Chapter 1: The Laboratory

Pairing: SpiderMan x fem!venom!reader

Chapter Summary: y/n visits an abandoned lab to find some good photos for a class assignment but finds herself in over her head when she comes face-to-face with a creature calling itself venom.

Chapter content: Near death experience, descriptions of injuries, angst, potential body horror (its venom soo), brief mention of animal death, brief mention of vomiting (non-graphic), mention of assault (not to reader)

Series masterlist

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The old Oscorp laboratory that sits on the outskirts of New York wasn't exactly the place most college students expected to spend their Friday night. Even y/n, who usually spent her time alone or developing old photos in her university's old darkroom instead of hanging out with nonexistent friends, didn't make a habit of visiting dilapidated buildings alone with only a camera and a flashlight. 

The lab was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by a rusting chain link fence—a ‘CAUTION! ELECTRIC FENCE!’ The sign was on the ground beside said fence, having long since fallen off. Normally this would have made y/n turn around and try to find a less dangerous place to take pictures for her photography class, but it just so happened that a large, y/n sized hole had at somepoint been cut into the fence, leaving the perfect entrance for curious (and borderline suicidal) university students to slip through with relative ease. 

The laboratories walls were covered in vines, the plants wrapping themselves around anything their tendrils came into contact with. The door to the lab was gone, leaving just a gaping hole as an entrance, and y/n entered easily, snapping a few pictures of the outside as she did. The inside was, much like the outside, a complete mess. The walls, once a pristine and clinical white, now a dirty, greenish-gray, with splatters of what y/n could only hope was just some random chemical and not blood. Blue double doors lined the hall, a small rectangular window on each one. After opening a few doors and taking some photos of the old science equipment, she finally found herself standing in front of the last door at the end of the hallway. Through the small windows she could see it was a stairwell, and pushed the door open, entering the well and taking some pictures of the eerie stairs leading into the complete darkness of the second floor. 

Pointing her flashlight up the stairs, she began to climb. She stopped at the second level door which was marked with a large ‘2’, and gave the handle a rough shove to push the door open. The hallway itself was much the same as on the first floor, though it was certainly worse for ware. The walls were covered in an oozing black, ink-like substance, and a couple doors were completely gone. y/n took a step back, only managing to snap one or two pictures of the bizarre scene before she felt something under her begin to shift. The floor below her made an awful cracking sound and some debris crumbled from the ceiling above her. She took a shuttered breath and was about to turn and run when the ceiling suddenly gave out, and everything went dark.

A heavy pressure was the first thing she felt. Then, an excruciating pain shot through her entire body. She tried to scream, but the ruble covering—or rather, crushing—her made any noise impossible. All but her head was trapped. Above her, she could see the hole she had fallen through just barely in the dim light and dust filled air. She coughed, and felt the pressure compress her chest. She wondered, in a hazy and distinctly concussed way, if she was going to die here. Alone, crushed by the heavy cement ceiling of an abandoned building she was never meant to be in. Tears welled in her eyes, and she let them close for a moment before she felt something drip onto her face. ‘Blood?’ she wondered. Her eyes fell on the hole she'd fallen through to see that the inky black stuff was dripping down from the floor above and landing directly on her face.

If she could move, or even feel, her arms, she would have immediately tried to wipe the strange goo off her cheek, but she was immobilized and could only watch in disgust as the black sludge dripped onto her. Then, she felt the inky stuff move. And she froze. The slime wriggled against her skin and she could only hope it wasn't some sort of poison as she felt the thing be absorbed into her skin. 

Something changed at that moment. Y/n couldn’t tell what, but something did. She felt her arms twitch, and then her legs—which she was certain were completely broken—seemed to snap back together. She cried out in pain as her body's bones corrected themselves, her scraped skin gluing itself back together before she felt the same black sludge engulf her entire body.

Something was definitely wrong with her. That's the first thought that passed through y/n's mind when she felt herself standing, the rubble that was crushing her now light, and her body, which had previously been torn apart by the fall and subsequent cruising of all her bones, now felt strong, mended and somehow improved. She moved, though she felt as though it was both not her own movements and completely of her own volition. She lifted her hand and- oh. Yes, something was in fact very, very wrong with y/n. Her own hand was gone—or rather, covered by a longer and, well, sharper one. Her skin was instead a black inky mass of sorts—the inky sludge that had covered her no doubt—and her fingers were longer and clawed. She looked down at herself and was met with the same sight. An inky black mass was now replacing her once distinctly human form.

She must’ve passed out then, because when she finally came to, she was once again in the forest, laying on her back and staring up at the stars. She lifted her hand, which was shaky and scratched, but no longer broken or made of slime, so she supposed that was an improvement. 

“It's about time you woke up.” 

A voice said, and she sat up, looking around frantically for whatever had spoken, but found only forest. She tugged at her sleeve nervously. “Jesus, I must be losing it..” she muttered, trying to steady her rapid heart beat. 

“Think again, kid,” the voice spoke again, this time accompanied by a…head? It seemed to be emerging from her back. She turned, but there was no one behind her. That was, apart from the head, now grinning. Its mouth, which was put on full display thanks to that damned smile, was large and full of sharp teeth. its eyes were white and angular, staring into her very soul. 

“

“W-what…” She could feel herself break out in a cold sweat, goosebumps covering her skin. “What the fuck are you…?” She asked, because what else could she even say? 

“We are Venom.” it said, and her brow furrowed. 

“We?”

“You and I, kid. We are Venom. And we are hungry.”

She shook her head, forcing herself onto her feet. “For what? People!?” She stared at the head. 

“You learn quickly.” it—Venom—replied, and y/n’s heart dropped to her feet. 

“No. Absolutely not.” She took a step back, but Venom, of course, wasn’t exactly going anywhere. “I'm not doing any of this little shop of horrors bullshit!” She was practically screaming at this point. ‘this whole thing is crazy!’

“You owe me, kid. I saved your skin; now it's your turn.” Venom said, its grin growing impossibly larger. 

“I-i never asked for your help! I didn't even know you were…alive.” She shuddered at the memory of the inky slime covering her.

“Come on, y/n. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” 

she froze, her blood running cold. “H-how do you know my name…?” She asked, and Venom made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh.

“Oh, I know everything about you, y/n l/n. I'm inside your head.” She flinched as venom leaned closer, its black tendrils brushing against her skin. “I know you want power. You want to be seen. I can give that to you.” 

she shook her head. “No, no! You’re… you‘re not real…” 

She turned and began to walk, ignoring the voice that continued to speak.

“Come on, kid. I know you want to.” 

“Shut up! You don't know anything about me!” She forced herself to walk faster, stepping over logs and roots as she finally made her way out of the forest and onto a street. “This is fucking insane. I’m losing my god damn mind…” She muttered to herself, walking down the sidewalk. She didn’t recognize the part of town she was in, but that was the last thing on her mind. She must've been walking aimlessly for quite a while, because when she stopped, she realized she was in the middle of the sidewalk in an area of town where a young woman definitely wouldn't want to be alone at such an hour. 

“Don't be scared kid, you have us now.” 

She startles, glancing around to try and spot the head of Venom, but not seeing any sign of it. “God, don't do that shit!” She hissed, rubbing the nape of her neck as though to remove Venom from her all together. 

She moved to start walking again when a noise stopped her dead in her tracks. It definitely sounded like a cry of some kind. She looked around, and wrapped her arms around herself nervously. Y/n slowly walked forward, not making it very far before she heard the noise again, and turned to stare into an alley. 

She narrowed her eyes; somewhere in the darkness she can see the form of two people, one cowering on the ground and the other standing menacingly over them. She bristled. ‘A mugging?’ That was probably the best case scenario all things considered.

“We could help.” venom said, its tendrils curling around her arm. “You want to. Just give me control.” 

She took a sharp breath. She could save them, but would the cost be worth it?

She didn’t get to finish thinking, because the looming figure pounced causing the person on the ground to shriek, and then something inside her snapped and she became Venom.

The fight, if you could even call it that, didn't last long. Venom wasn't lying when it said it was hungry, and the assailant was no match for its jaws. The person huddled on the ground—a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties—had run the second the person attacking her was distracted. Good. 

Y/n tried not to think about what just happened, even as venom retreated back into her and she ran from the alley, not stopping until she was standing in front of her dorm building. She unlocked  the door, stepping inside and letting out a sigh of relief as she collapsed onto her creaky bed, burying her face in her pillow, and then promptly getting back up to go vomit in her toilet.

Venom was quiet for a while, and she hoped it was because it knew she needed time, but maybe it was just digesting. She didn't sleep much that night.

────────────

Spider Man landed on a roof near the alley he had heard the screams from. It was quiet now, but he knew that wasn't necessarily a good sign. He dropped into the alley, looking around for any signs of someone in danger, and froze. A puddle of blood, some black, inky looking substance, and a woman's purse were the only things in the alley. He picked up the bag and cracked it open, retrieving a wallet and then an ID. He looked around—whoever left the blood was gone, but they obviously weren't looking to rob anyone, considering the wad of cash still in the woman's purse. He was about to investigate further when he heard sirens and carefully placed the purse down; they would have an easier time returning this to its owner after all. He swung out of the alleyway, still unsure what exactly went down in the small amount of time it had taken him to get to the scene.

────────────

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[magpod-confessions]

I feel like the way some of the fandom treats Jon is unfair and tbh borderline ableist. It's not his fault that he got hooked on statements by Elias/Jonah, it's very clear that he was being manipulated into it from the beginning. And even once he starts having to take live statements, he doesn't want to have to! He canonically hates that he has to do that to people for sustenance, but that compulsion isn't within his control.

Like c'mon. It's very heavily implied that he becomes genuinely suicidal because of his self-loathing around this, and how the other people around him are treating him like a monster and demanding he "just control" something that he isn't actually able to. Which isn't to say that Basira/Melanie/Georgie/s5!Martin etc. don't have the right to feel that way/that their responses aren't understandable, but they still aren't fair to Jon.

Jon's existence such as it is might not be fair, because his presence does harm others unintentionally. But sometimes that's how things are, and it's equally if not more unfair for the others to act like he's just a monster who should be put down and is selfish for continuing to want to live and be healthy.

Honestly, it sort of feels like some of the fandom has ignored/forgotten that the situation Jon is in isn't unique to a horror story, and in fact has many parallels in real life (whether that be addiction, mental disorder/disability, trauma, etc.) and that to take the view of "well he should've just Not Done That Stuff, skill issue, anyways you can't blame the others for how they treated him" is not exactly going to make actual people who are/have been in situations like that feel welcome in fandom spaces.

🗣️ (but no pressure)

I yea. Agree! I feel you can definitely have a discussion abt how much control Jon has over his actions, but at the end of the day, Jon has been manipulated to hell and back. But I also feel that a lot of it comes from a place of 'If I was in his situation I wouldnt do that' which has some victim blaming undertones, but also hes a fictional character in a fictional setting, which definitely influences how ppl talk abt him. If someone irl talked abt being abused and manipulated, along with having their addiction/disability taken advantage of, even if that same person would go on and on abt how 'The persons actually fine and its my fault' ppl likely would be very kind and take the situation very srsly, which isnt the same kind of reaction ppl have towards Jon, due to him being a fictional character - rosette

yeah i. heavily agree with this too anon. im way too tired to put any true thought into this like rosette did but yeah. people really dont take jons situation serious, and this extends to other characters in the series as well. the fandom doesn't often think further about avatars past 'haha they have to serve a dread power and they cant do anything about it' . - deceit

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Leads Sister-in-Law! 

1  2  3  4  5  6  7 9 10

Chapter 8

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader 

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: panic attack, vomit, self-harm (biting thumb hard enough until it bleeds), slight blood, mention/allusions to murder, very slight suicide  ideation, one (1) suggestive line, implied child abuse, Maria being lowkey creepy (again), uncertainty about loving future kids, please tell me if I missed any.

NOTE: while I am happy that people enjoy this story, please stop blowing up my inbox about when the next chapter(s) will come out. Or telling me I should hurry up.  Thank you.

NOTE #2: there isn't going to be any romance involving Roxana or any of the other characters and the reader.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/ BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACTION WITH NOR REBLOG FANDOM STUFF DNI (MAYBE ANIMAL BLOGS ARE OKAY BECAUSE THEY’RE CUTE). PLEASE DO NO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

= = = 

Roxana’s heels clack against the tiled hallway as she glides through, making way to her room. Blond waves gently bouncing with each step, the girl can’t hold back the scowl that tears at her lips. Brows furrowed, her thoughts were full of the recent events - the dinner. 

She didn’t mean to intrude. As a matter of fact, while curious, she had no intention of doing more than taking a quick glance - to see if what Jeremy said was true, that Dion Agriche was indeed having dinner with his poor, pitiful bride. 

Jeremy got there before her.

Hiding within the shadows, the boy was glaring daggers into the second eldest son. So engrossed with the scene presented to him, Jeremy didn’t notice Roxana as she got closer and closer. No, the brash boy had announced himself before she could even pat his shoulder. Like a wild boar, he interrupted your dinner, uncaring for how it made him look. Not that he ever did.

And perhaps out of pity on your behalf, or sick curiosity to see how everything pans out, she showed herself as well. 

An hour prior to the incident Roxana and Jeremy talked about you, the newest family member. She wasn’t the one who brought you up, but rather Jeremy. Her younger half-brother had asked her what she thought about the situation. It was the first time he asked. 

‘Well… It is strange. I thought that father would have waited longer before finding Dion a wife, much less holding the wedding.’

‘Yeah,’ Jeremy agrees, a borderline sneer on his face, ‘but it’s stupid. She won’t last long.’ 

‘Shorter than a month?’

‘No, longer. But I’m not sure how much longer. Still, to be married to that bastard… She's fucked. Pretty sure she’s begging God to kill her already, or to keep him away and indifferent.’ 

The blond beauty stared at her brother in question. ‘This isn’t like you, Jeremy. Did you meet her before or is it because Dion is the one involved?’ 

He doesn’t answer immediately, grumbling out words she didn’t catch. ‘Watch, she’s going to puke in disgust soon.’ Blue eyes narrowing in annoyance, Roxana only becomes more confused. What’s with this sudden interest with a sacrificial bride? 

‘Jeremy,’ she says, gingerly patting his head, ‘This is the first time you’ve shown interest in anyone. Why is that?’ Asking him directly, she hopes that she’ll easily draw answers from him. But, for once, he doesn’t budge. It’s concerning. 

‘Xana, I heard they’re going to have dinner together later today. Do you think that guy will show up?’ Ignoring her question, he asks his own. A frown tugs at her coral lips. But seeing how aggravated he is, she decides to humor him. Just this once. 

‘I’m not sure. If it was on father’s orders, then yes, of course. His word is law.’ 

‘What makes you so sure he’ll listen to all?’

She blinks at him, taken aback. It wasn’t often she gets rendered speechless, especially by her own younger brother. But his response also amuses her - hearing his resentment towards the twenty-year-old was always amusing.. 

‘Xana, he’s crazy. It’s only going to get worse.’

Before Roxana could respond, she got called away to Lant’s office, the butler bowing nervously after he brought the news. 

Returning to the present, the blond lets out a deep sigh, a headache forming the longer she thinks about it. This wasn’t how the story went. There wasn’t a grand wedding for any of the Agriche family members - the closest thing was when Jeremy kidnapped Sylvia, and even then, that couldn’t be considered romantic.  

Nothing in the story was romantic. 

…not like her brother’s marriage to you was either. 

Nothing made sense and it’s bothersome. Concerning even, for the moment you entered this play, she became unsure of when or if Cassis will show up - what if nothing follows the storyline at all, no matter how small? She knows he exists, she saw him at the wedding. Shining silver hair that reminds her of the moon and golden eyes that were filled to the brim with caution towards her family and the wedding, the male lead of this story exists. 

But you didn’t. 

Maybe in the original work, you did, as a nameless background character. Faith unknown and unimportant, you somehow stumbled across the stage, entangled in strings that now control your every move. It worries her - you worry her. Roxana can’t tell if you’re friend or foe, if you’ll survive and stay sane, if you’ll die soon, if she should consider taking you under her wing, seeing how you were nothing more than a victim. 

But she doesn’t have that luxury. Ensuring her own survival was hard enough - how could she take care of a second person? Why should she bother herself with you? 

You don’t serve any other purpose than being arm candy, a woman seen as nothing more than an incubator by your father-in-law. She doubts Dion cares for you; during the planning period he didn’t act out of character. He acted the same around her, still the annoying son of a bitch he’s always been. 

…but, a few days before the wedding he kept his distance. Unconcerned with her presence, he made a few last minute purchases. Away from the prying eyes of Lant, Dion also added a secret guest - the doctor known as Ash Katopodis. 

She heard a rumor that he also sent the redhead to you instead of the doctor Lant had appointed. The fifteen-year-old had found it strange once word reached her ears, brushing it to the side after concluding it was gossip for gossip sake. While it was bold of the servants to say such things, Roxana saw no point in punishing them for their senseless rumors - it had nothing to do with her. If they wanted to play with their lives with risky talk, then that was on them.

Upon reaching her room, she stops short of opening the door, manicured nails tapping against the door handle. She didn’t mean to intrude on your alone time with the brute. Yet she did and the sight of Dion in such a domestic setting made her sick. 

Disgust threatening to tip over the scale, it’s hard for her not to sneer at the mere memory of it. Domesticity does not suit Dion. He does not deserve it. Playing house with an unwilling girl, dressed in pure white as the veil hid her anxiety and fright laid within her eyes and painted on her lips. Scared and left hopeless as her family watched as she kissed the monster, powerless.

The holy church in which the wedding was held became corrupted when the second Lant Agriche picked it out, Maria fussing over the details. Who sits where, ‘gently’ probing your mother into agreeing with the dress the third wife had picked, your makeup and hairstyle, the fucking lingerie until Sierra pointed out how weird it was for the mother-in-law to pick out such an erotic and intimate thing for the girl who was to be her daughter-in-law. 

During the ceremony, Jeremy had kept mumbling to himself, clearly done with the whole ordeal. Obviously, Roxana was as well, but kept a pretty smile on, greeting you after the vows were said and said her goodbyes as you were dragged away to the bridal chamber. Only to find the morning after by Hana that you didn’t go there, instead led into the lion’s den that is Dion’s room.

How… odd. 

No… what was odder was that you didn’t have separate rooms. Emily had told her as such out of the blue, preparing her breakfast. She questioned it then, and it’s only weirder, more worrisome the longer she thinks about it.

She shakes the memories away. It wasn’t her life. She had enough trouble on her plate already - she couldn’t possibly add you to the list of her neverending responsibilities she’s forced to juggle. She could pity you, but never love you. Touch you but never hold you. Talk to you but never make a genuine connection as sisters should. 

She should stop with this foolish nonsense. 

Turning the handle, she glides right in, letting the door shut behind her. Emily had retired for the night, and the blond also ordered Hana to do the same. After all, Lant had given Dion another mission, and the favorite son had to prepare to leave in the morning, too busy to bother you. 

… why am I so focused on her…?

The moonlight lights up her room through the glass doors that lead to the terrace. With a huff, she sits in her vanity, and starts to remove her makeup with removal cream. It’s greasy as her dainty fingers spread it across her face, each action copied by the mirror. It’s quiet.

Her thoughts refuse to shut up, however. 

‘What’s going on with Lant…? Choosing a daughter-in-law from a nearly unheard of family? Do they have something he wants and only used this marriage  as a means to get closer? Most likely, but why?’

A frown tugs at her lips, face completely bare after she pats it down with a face towel. Ruby eyes stare into the reflection before her, and Roxana only sees frustration and confusion. She can’t rely on her memories of the story anymore. 

She won’t be sure until the faithful day when her father kidnaps Cassis Pedelian, the Blue Heir. And even then, how could she be sure that it would be the same Cassis Pedelain that was mentioned in the novel? The same goes for his sister, Sylvia. 

“...things are getting complicated.” Standing, her feet take her to the bed and she lays on it, back pressed against the mattress. The crystal chandelier sparkles in the moonlight. Ruby optics disappear behind her eyelids, blond lashes casting shadows on skin. The night is still young. 

A small smile of amusement forms on her lips when she remembers your earlier conversation. You had called her an interesting person - far from what others say. They called her lovely, a Goddess of beauty - and you? 

You called her interesting.

Still, you couldn’t hide the admiration for her in your eyes. You weren’t a stumbling fool and understood what her look meant when Jeremy went too far. But the most fascinating thing?

You listened to mental caution and drew a line, uncomfortable with her, with them, the gears turning in your head on what to do next. You even separated yourself from her without hesitation once the moment presented itself.

Regardless, you admired her in spite of your clear discomfort. 

“...I must be tired.” 

You called her an interesting person. In return, she’ll call you a fool. 

- - -

His side of the bed was cold, patting it as your bleary eyes and murky mind clear up. Still dressed in the half undone dress and corset, you ignore how uncomfortable it is. No, right now, what you are focused on is the way your beating heart is thrashing against your rib cage, how cold your body has become, beads of sweat building and rolling down your temples, on the verge of gasping for air. Did you just fuck yourself over? 

You don’t know what time it was - sun high in the bright, blue sky, birds singing their lovely tunes. The occasional footsteps passing by, the far off voices as the servants go about their business. None of them knock on the door. None come to ‘wake’ you up.

Or, if they had, it must have been a good while ago. Were you so deep asleep that they gave up?

“...He’s going to kill me, isn’t he… hah…” a humorless laugh passes through your chest, shoulders slumping as nothing but regret fills your head and chest. Are you going to be killed today? Or maybe tortured? Thrown out like disgusting leftovers? 

You don’t want to die. Ah, but what could you possibly do? Get on your hands and knees like a dog and beg for forgiveness? …no. You’re already pathetic enough, you don’t want to lower yourself even more. Fuck. 

“...Ah, fuck, what should I do?” Putting your thumb sideways in your mouth, your teeth clamp down on the poor digit. The taste of iron explodes in your mouth, teeth marks left behind on the now wounded and bleeding flesh. 

A throbbing headache decides to join, adding physical pain to the list of your suffering. You bite down on your thumb harder. It feels like it might just snap in two but your mind is too fried to realize this. The only thing you can think about is last night. 

Your husband was gone. Where did he go? Maybe he decided to leave you, seeing you as a broken toy he doesn’t want anymore. Does that mean he’ll give the least back to Lant? Is that why he isn’t here? To discuss how to dispose of you? 

The thought makes your stomach churn, saliva glands overfilling as bile starts to raise. You were given to them as a pet - as some twisted sacrifice, and for what? Did this family want nothing else but a new ‘toy,’ to see how long a normal person would last within these walls? What then?

If they decide to kill you, or if you kill yourself out of desperation, what would they tell your parents? No, they wouldn’t tell them anything to begin with. 

And your family wouldn’t be able to ask.

“Urk…” dry heaving, slapping your hand over your mouth, panicked tears forming. Your entire body shakes, blood staining the bed as your injured hand grasps at the sheets. “URK!” Without a thought you rush out of bed, slamming yourself down on your knees as you reach the trash can. All of your stomach continents come up, the foul taste of vomit coming forth. 

Hot tears run down your cheeks as you heave over the trash, blurring your vision. You’re breathing too heavily. You look at the door a few feet away from you. If anyone was right outside it, they would have heard you. 

“...” you wait for a knock or for someone to burst through the doors with bated breath, your eyes shaking in their sockets, knees throbbing after the harsh impact. No-one comes. It is only you - alone in this room, a sinner who is paying the price. Must you go through this for a sin you’ve forgotten until now? 

The answer is yes. 

The answer is yes as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. The answer is yes as you force yourself to stand, knees painfully throbbing as the flesh bruises. The answer is yes as your thumb still bleeds, teeth marks engraved into the skin. The answer is yes as your heart refuses to calm down, chest hurting. 

The answer is yes as you walk over to the vanity, the reflection of a face that doesn’t look like your own. 

You are a mess. 

The tears don’t stop flowing as the urge to vomit returns. Crystalline droplets catch on your lashes, ugly sobs and hiccups breaking out, your shoulders shaking as you collapse onto the leather stool seat. A sinner always pays the price. 

You bury your face into your hands, entire body jerking with each sob, each hiccup as anxiety for the future and present overtakes everything. This isn’t like you. But you were never strong enough to survive in an environment like this. You were pathetic. 

Seconds turn into minutes and maybe even into hours. Time is a concept that you don’t bother yourself with by the time you finally calm down, red puffy eyes staring into the mirror as the tear streaks dry on your cheeks. Some snot peeks out from your nostril, hair a mess, clothes crumbled and sliding down, showing more of your cleavage. Such an unsightly sight. 

Grabbing a face towel on the vanity desk, you wipe off the tears and snot.

“...Okay. Let’s… get cleaned up.” Your limbs feel heavy, dragging your feet towards the closet before finally, finally striping out of your clothes from yesterday. The articles of clothing pools at your feet. 

How much longer can I last here? 

Will there ever be a peaceful divorce? Can I divorce him? Would I be able to?

If the story events do take place and Roxana takes over the Agriche family… by then… would I have children…?

BAM!

Your poor knees-! At the thought of having children - his children - your body just gives up again, as always. That’s the only thing you’re capable of, as experience has shown. 

“...children… right, children… I have to give that man kids… kids that will go through the same thing he went through…” Will you be able to love them, if they come into existence? You have to, they would be yours.

Or would you end up just like Jeremy’s mother? Horrified at the sight of her own child, refusing to spend time with them. Seeing them as an irredeemable monster that you would do anything and everything to avoid?

Chomp. 

Your thumb once again becomes a victim to your teeth, the imprint becoming deeper and drawing more blood.  It hurts, it hurts, it hurts- but as the thought of starting a family with Dion Agriche deepens, the more you need to find something sturdy. Your thumb is enough to keep you grounded, yes, it is, and no, you’re not planning an early funeral, visualizing the area you want to hold it, or the dress your cold corpse would wear, or your family’s crying faces -

No, stop it. This isn’t - this isn’t… this isn’t what I want to be.

 Licking the flesh wound, accepting the taste and smell of iron, you are not met with clarity nor bravery; just, temporary acceptance. This is your life. This was what the Gods had planned for you. This is what you have become - a wife to the future Black Agriche Heir. 

His first wife.

Despite the blood and saliva, your mouth feels dry. Nausea builds back up, gagging and breath becoming short. It’s becoming hard to breathe. 

Your lungs are being squeezed, throat constricted with an invisible ball gag - vision blurred with what? What’s this hot liquid running down your cheeks? Are you crying ? Again?

Something is choking you. Your head is starting to feel fuzzy, a pounding in your chest you can’t get. Everything is warped, shapes turning into mush, black merging with white, a hammer bashing against your head. Only the sound of rushing blood and a running heart is heard. Only the thought of death remains. 

“No…no, I - I - this-!” you curl into yourself, kneeling as your forehead touches the floor, hands interlocked around your head as your lower arms and elbows rest on the tiles. Sobbing violently, your mind crashes again. You were never strong. 

Not then, not now. 

- - -

“Young Master Dion has been sent off on an errand; the dinner with Master Lant has been postponed until tomorrow, at six o’clock.” Hana informs you as she sets out your breakfast: oatmeal and water. Just what your now very sensitive stomach and nerves need. Did she overhear your little mental breakdown not even an hour ago? Or was this the usual breakfast for the residents of the Agriche compound? 

“I see.” You hoarsely reply, voice still recovering. This is a good thing - you don’t have to see the devil’s face for yet another day. Her news also answers your question; Dion is out on an errand and they weren’t planning to axe you. Yet. Hopefully never. 

Still, the curiosity of your husband’s duties lingers. You shouldn’t involve yourself anymore than what you currently are. Curiosity always kills the cat. So, you bite your tongue, deciding against asking her what your oh so lovely husband’s chore is… but, if you are to play the role as a wife, his wife, should you ask him once he returns? Like how one would greet their spouse once they return from work. 

Hello dear… ick, no. Hey, how was your day… no, next. Are you tired? Do you want a bath…?

Or maybe you should just ignore the subject all together. His business isn’t yours, so why bother?

Besides, what if he doesn’t like you ‘snooping’ in his business? But at the same time, he’s been acting so weird and unlike how he was portrayed in the story. So while that Dion would find your questions annoying or useless, this Dion may want you to ask about his day. Fuck, it’s all so confusing and irritating 

 “Hm. Hana, is there anything on today’s schedule?” 

“No, not yet my Lady.” 

Not yet. What does she mean by not yet? Does that mean she’s aware that someone will interrupt your tiny bit of peace at some point today? Her short dark brown hair slightly bounces as she shuffles her weight onto one leg. “However, my Lady, I could… tell them that you’re recovering from ‘last night.’”

Her suggestion makes your grip on the cup loose, dropping the glass onto your lap as water soaks it. 

“My Lady! Are you alright?” In a panic, Hana grabs some of the napkins on the table and pats your lap to soak up some of the water after removing the now empty glass. “My apologies - I shouldn’t have brought up such a vulgar suggestion…” Her once collected face and behavior shatters at the drop of a hat, ‘concerned’ about your safety. 

Or was it for hers? 

“I-it’s fine… no worries,” a tight lipped smile that only makes her brows furrow more and treats you gentler. Like you were made of glass. Well, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth… 

“No, really. I just need to change clothes…” Once she’s done with soaking most of the water up you stand and walk to the closet. Opening the doors you skim over the options. Hana’s footsteps stop right behind you. Why is it so hard to have personal space in this place…

Your gaze travels upwards and for the first time, do you notice the Agriche family's crest engraved into the wood. Bitterness explodes in your mouth. It seems that no matter where you are in this place, there will always be a physical reminder of where you are - of who you belong to. No matter, you tell yourself. Besides, this isn’t even your room - 

It was your husband’s. And maybe after a month, if not less, into your marriage, you’ll be assigned your own. …why were you sharing a room with him to begin with? Probably to increase the chances of conceiving a child sooner rather than later. 

“... does that even make sense?” you murmur in amusement. Lant wasn’t even dead yet. But, you think, maybe he wanted his son to have a child so he could start to shape them into this tainted and sadistic mold ahead of time before he kicks the bucket. To ensure that the child - your child - would follow in their father’s footsteps. 

To see if they would carry the same air and expectations as your husband does. 

How cruel. 

“Hana, I’ll let you choose it; they’re all so… beautiful that I can’t choose.” In reality you’re getting a headache from looking at the family crest. Which just became yours. 

“...yes, my Lady,” she follows your order without question, going through the options. 

Not even a few minutes later she pulls one out. 

It matches your husband’s eyes. A brilliant shade of scarlet, it practically glows. A sheer black neck piece that forms as a choker and covers your cleavage but leaves your shoulders bare. Black lace is on the hem, flowers engraved into the pattern. The body of the dress is a solid scarlet. 

“It’s beautiful.” You compliment her choice of style hiding how the beautiful piece of clothing makes your fingers twitch and brings the urge to vomit forward. Oh, how horrible it is, to not even be able to enjoy such a sight. 

How horrible it is, to be born into this world after a helpless first life only to repeat the cycle, but worse. 

[tombfreak]

We need more positivity posts and awareness on Bipolar Disorder. Really sucks to go onto the tags and see stuff about Borderline PD instead cuz people tend to mix the disorders up

I want to see more people talking about manic episodes and how terrible they are. Talk about how you have a complete lack of judgement, absolutely no social filter, because your thoughts are racing at 1000mph and pouring out of your mouth faster than you can process. Talk about the snappy irritability and the rage because everything is overwhelming, and you can't catch yourself. Talk about how you say really uncomfortable and unpleasant things, or get into arguments, or rant/ramble/overshare for hours. Talk about all the relationships it ruins. Talk about how you start projects, spend all your money on them, stay up all night planning for them, just to drop them the next day. Talk about how you never really know when you're manic until you crash, and how awful the clean up is. Talk about the dangers, the recklessness, the risks. Talk about the poosible psychosis. Talk about how nobody understands what your condition is like. Nobody understands how intense it is, how everyone waters it down, how you can't control it even if you wanted to. Talk about how theres not much of a cure for it at all.

And talk about the depression. How it's more severe than typical depressive episodes (not in a trauma Olympics way, but for perspective). Talk about the suicide rates, and the substance abuse. Talk about how isolating and suffocating it feels. Talk about how intense it is, like there's 500lb weights on your feet dragging you down. Talk about the strength it takes to get out of bed regardless. Talk about the rejection sensitivity, the hopelessness, the disappointment. How everything feels like confirmation that nothing is worth it. Talk about how your mind is always against you. Talk about how this feeling can last months with seemingly no end in sight.

Most importantly, talk about treatment, and how recovery and managing bipolar are completely possible. Talk about having hope, and being compassionate and understanding to the ugly sides of this disorder. Talk about ways to healthily cope. Talk about how we see each others efforts, and how amazing those efforts are. Talk about the ways you can live a full, happy life regardless, and that you deserve it regardless of any issues you might have faced/caused in the midst of your episodes. Talk about forgiving yourself.

Talk more about bipolar disorder

[sprinkleonthatcriticism]

I really don't like people's double standards sometimes and I'm not just talking about how stans treat Stolas and Stella, this ain't relating to that, I'm talking about the situation with Jack/Damagedcoda6669 Warning for Suicide mention, ableism, COCSA, SA and Child grooming

A while ago, Jack made a come-back video and he mentions that Kittydog had groomed him as well as commited COCSA (Child On Child Sexual Assault) towards him and barely there were any people calling Zola out and Kittydog makes a youtube vid and twitter post apologizing for what they had done to it, and seemingly everyone WELCOMES Kittydog back with open arms and acts like nothing had ever happened.

But when it was revealed that Jack committed cocsa when he was 16 and the minor was 13, suddenly Jack/Damagedcoda6669 (aka Birdie/Sansbirdie in case ya'll ain't in the loop) is a irredeemable monster all because he had that "He was birdie" label on him and all because Jack rightfully stolen his cat back from Synni.

And before you all accuse me of downplaying the criticism that Jack is rightfully receiving (which, I'm not downplaying it, you can criticize Jack if you want as long as you ain't being clowns or bringing up stuff that Jack had already apologize for just as the borderline 13? thing) or say "But, Jack was talking to a minor under "sexual" art!!1!!!".

Lemme say that the minor in question (who is in fact a grooming victim like myself) made a post literally explaining that Jack NEVER pm'd xem as well as spoken weird to him either.

You guys claim to care for victims of grooming but you go around and talk over the minor or mock Jack instead of waiting for him to recover due to the stress that it had receive so he could hopefully make a post or vid talking about the situation.

Heck, you guys even claim Jack "suicide baited" (not using the term right btw you guys, suicide baiting means to maliciously try to get someone to off their-selves NOT faking suicide) instead of simply checking in on him when he made that post showing that you don't care for mental health either and just want to repeat history again because to your eyes "Birdie is still bad no matter what happened to it in the past".

And again, you guys are allow to criticize Jack, I also had criticized Jack in the past and even sent him an ask, explaining to him calmly and politely that "he should address the allegations but not now, he needs a break from online due to the backlash that it was receiving on twitter" and I even suggest him to stay on Bluesky since there is none of the "Let's compare a sexual assault victim (Jack) to his sexual assaulter (Synnibear03)." bs on that site, which quite frank is absolutely disgusting.... Again, nothing WRONG with criticizing Jack, and again, I do agree that Jack shouldn't of accused a (former) 13 yr old of having a grooming fetish but don't be gross and pretend that Jack isn't a victim of sexual assault, grooming, abuse and such or better yet, don't try to paint Synnibear03 as a victim of Jack, SHE is not a victim of Jack.

Just because he stolen Skqrp from Synni doesn't mean shit because Synnibear no matter how much she swears up and down that she didn't brought the cat as a gift for Jack, she still brought the cat for JACK and the only reason her name was in the papers is because Jack rightfully didn't want to write down his dead name and who can blame him?

[kimetsu-chan]

hi, so it says that all requests are closed, and I’m assuming that means emergency requests too..? Because it’s ‘ALL’

But when they open could you write a Muichiro comfort fic for me…? So basically what’s happening is that I’ve been feeling extremely suicidal, and depressed. I came out as a therian to my mom, she’s been very unsupportive and called me mentally unstable and not developed, a Therian/otherkin is a person who identifies as a non-human animal on a psychological or spiritual level based on animilastic urges and/or behaviours…. And I’ve just been having really bad dreams and thinking a lot about my past how my father abused and almost killed my mom, got her into a coma, and I would think of running away and thought it was my fault. My father sexually harassed me. I have anxiety, think I’m annoying, hate myself stuff like that.

so why I’m in need of a Muichiro comfort fic is bc every night I draw marks on my wrist ok, and so every night I try cutting it, each night trying to go deeper or hold down the knife longer…

so that’s why maybe when requests open I was wondering if you could write one for me…

Thankyou for reading this all… have a nice day☺️ and feel free to ignore me I’m used to it! <3

~Not Tonight~

A/N: first of all, I am incredibly sorry for the miscommunication, emergency requests are open, I should’ve conveyed that better. Secondly, I am extremely saddened to hear of what has happened to you :( it’s not something you should deal with. I hope that this could be the comfort you need, and I apologize if it is not on par with what you require right now. Please take care of yourself <3

TWs ⚠️: sh will be heavily implied in this fic, along with thoughts of suicide being mildly implied, please do not read if such topics are uncomfortable or triggering.

This takes place after he regains his memories

It was extremely odd, the way you wore the longest sleeves even in the hottest weather, it perplexed Muichiro.

He didn’t understand why, but then again, he had trouble understanding the purpose of most things.

At first, he didn’t pay much mind to it, maybe it was a sense of comfort? But he saw the way you were always on the edge of passing out from the heat, and how… unsettlingly empty your eyes were.

He watched as you trained, standing idly in the shade. He had been taking a water break and decided to watch you tiredly swing your training sword.

His chest tightened painfully, and he looked down at it with confusion. He immediately associated the uncomfortable feeling with looking at you in your exhausted state. Was he concerned? Surely no, you were a subordinate. But you were his subordinate, and he used that to justify why he was worried.

Muichiro kept a steady eye on you for the next week or so, the borderline painful feeling of concern popping up at least twice a day.

You looked exceptionally worse today, more so than normal. You had collapsed due to your body not being able to withstand the unbearable heat any longer. Of course, in a fit of worry, he rushed to your side, quickly checking for a concussion or any other injuries.

The boy frowned down at you as he held your head up, and that was the most expressive you’d seen him in a while.

“[Name], I told you this would happen, you need to dress appropriately for training..!”

He reached to roll your skin-tight sleeves up but was halted by a sharp “no” from you.

Needless to say, he did not listen, proclaiming your safety was far more important, so of course he saw. He found out, and you were worried if he’d be disgusted with you.

But when he looked in your eyes once more, his gaze was devoid of disgust or disappointment. His eyes stared at you with worry and guilt and confusion.

You could see it in his eyes, the silent ask of “why” of why you felt the need to do such things to yourself.

Without thinking, you provided a short explanation, you told him when you did it, why you did it, and how bad the thoughts were getting.

It only aided in the shattering of his heart.

How could he have been so oblivious…? Could he have provided help if he had noticed sooner?

No, there was no use in beating himself up for what he didn’t do, he needed to make sure that you stopped. He vowed to you that day, that he’d pay better attention, stay with you when you needed it, help you whenever you relapsed, and anything more you could possibly need.

As he spoke, his eyes began to tear up against his will. He held you closer, trying to appear strong for you because you needed the comfort.

He didn’t want to lose you, especially not to yourself, he needed you…. So with a shaky voice, he uttered a few words as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Not-… not tonight, please…”

A/N: I urge and encourage you to seek advise and help from a therapist if you have the comfort and means to do so, once again, I am so sorry for everything that has happened to you. I sincerely hope this can bring you even the slightest sliver of comfort, and I hope you recover from any and all thoughts quickly :( <3

No taglist for this fic

[voparwave69]

I will admit lately I have been smoking weed and microdosing shrooms but I am still one month clean of pills, I know complete sobriety is the more ideal thing to do, but I haven't been sober hardly at all in years and having nothing at all made the urge to get pills stronger. I feel healthier. I don't spend a part of every day vomiting, I have an appetite again, I don't wake up in a dopamine crash feeling borderline suicidal, and I actually have money instead of every dime going towards pills. I never bought anything for myself but pills for a long time, and lately I have bought a dress, a cook book, earrings, groceries, stuff for when I get my car (which is actually a possibility now!), even art. I don't wake up in a panic thinking about how and where to get pills, I don't feel like my day is in limbo until I have them, I don't feel like an emotionless zombie without them. I'm not the picturesque view of sobriety for sure considering I've been blitzed for several days straight now, but it's a step, and I havent touched pills since I said i was done.

[kolyubov]

MR KRAAAAAABS I HAVE AN IDEAAA 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️😇😇😇 plspls may i request a part 2 of reader faking her emotions, that reader x nikolai one shot yk 🦍🦍 bit unfortunately we get the bad ending ☹️☹️ she just snaps one day, grabs a rope and 😭 (i have a cinematic trauma since most of my favorite characters hanged themselves) (ily sayori<3)

Feel completely free to ignore this 🙏 and if ur accepting it take your time 😇🙏

tw suicide attempt. please, do not keep reading if this kind of content triggers you.

Nikolai with a reader who archives his goals. (p2? bad ending lmao)

✧ pairing: Nikolai Gogol x Fem!Reader

✧ word count: 1.3k

✧ contents: sfw, angst?, obsessive and controlling Nikolai, slight manipulation, reader is referred to as "princess" once. (if I missed anything, please tell me)

✧ author's note: idk if this is as good as the first one :(( spoiler: I didn't write the reader dying, close, but no,,, hope u still enjoy it either way<3 btw, you mean sayori from dokidoki, right? I never played dokidoki, but I like Monika…….🧎‍♀️ sayori seems nice though! she's cute 🫶

Nikolai has been very clingy after what happened— He was always near you, touching you; holding your hand, having an arm around your waist, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and rubbing circles on your skin, or hugging you from behind.

His hands needed to be on you, afraid that the second he's not watching, you'll disappear from his life.

When he's not physically there, your phone vibrates almost every five minutes with a message from him asking how are you doing, what class are in you right now, if you have eaten— Stuff like that.

There wasn't any second you could be alone, and it was becoming more and more overwhelming.

Of course, you understand that he's worried and that he doesn't want to lose you; but this is borderline obsessive, and as much as a part of you likes being taken care of, another part of you is afraid that this might get even worse.

He was trying to tie you with him; sinking you deeper into the darkness of the cage that was holding you back. The cage of your emotions.

You didn't know it, but he even has a location tracker that shows him on his phone exactly where you are— It eases his mind because what if, after knowing that there wasn’t a way out, you try to be free by other methods?

Nikolai knows you won't dare to kill him like he is was planning to do with Fyodor; There was no possible scenario in which you would stab him to death or poison his food. Plus, he could easily see through your intentions and it won't be easy to kill someone like him.

But you could hurt yourself.

If it wasn't him, then the only way to be free was by shutting down your whole system. By ending your life.

Of course, he was not going to let it happen. He's going to be watching your every move until he's sure you won't do something risky like that.

For now, he is taking good care of you.

“Whatcha doing? I'm about to go home. I want to make a quick stop to buy you snacks.”

You giggle on the other side of the phone and that's enough to make Nikolai excited. He wanted to be in your arms, smooching your face, feeling your warmth, hearing you laugh. God, his heart is beating too fast right now.

“I'm just… doing nothing.” You walk around the apartment as you speak with him, trying to sound excited.

“I miss you, baby. Can't wait to cuddle with you today…”

Ah, you hated how inevitably you felt warm and fuzzy inside.

“You love me, right, dove?”

Yes, you do. You love him so much that it's suffocating you. Nikolai is suffocating you. But you can't help but need more of him, his attention, his love, his touch. All of that awakens a bunch of emotions that you wish to get rid of so badly.

“Mhm… I do.” You whisper, and you can hear him giggle through the speaker.

“Wait for me, love.” He smooches the screen of his phone before ending the call, then, you throw your phone to the couch.

It seems like Nikolai didn't notice.

Suddenly, Tears rolled down your cheeks. You place your hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs as the crying intensifies to the point where your chest hurts and your knees buckle, making you fall to the floor. You curse under your breath for being so fragile.

God. Why this fucking feelings don't stop even before your last breath? Why do they only get worse? Love, anger, sadness, disgust. It's all so overwhelming that you're starting to feel dizzy and nauseous.

Slowly, you stand up, still trembling and with small steps you walk to your room, finding the rope you placed on the bed a few minutes ago before Nikolai called. A small breathy chuckle leaves your lips, but it sounds more like a broken whimper.

You stand before the bed, grabbing the rope with trembling hands, caressing the material— The image of Nikolai's face after he comes home, opening the door of the room to meet with your lifeless body, is stuck in your mind.

How his eyes would widen, how he would desperately pull you out of the rope and hold you in his arms, close to his chest as he cries and curses himself for not being able to do something to stop you. His knuckles would caress your cheeks while his tears fell to your face.

The thought of it hurts your heart.

A part of you wants to stay, to keep enjoying your time with him, however, the pit in your stomach was becoming unbearable.

You felt pity for Nikolai.

But you'll finally enjoy that freedom you wished so much, you'll finally get rid of these emotions that consume your very soul, you—

“Think you can escape me, huh?”

A deep voice tickles your ear, and the second you turn around you find Nikolai smiling, as if the sight in front of him was amusing. You instinctively take a step back, letting out a yelp as you fall to the bed.

“Darling, you know that is not the way to cope with your temporary problems.”

How did he get here so quickly when a few minutes ago you were on a call with him?

Right. Nikolai has his coat. Probably he ended up noticing your fake excitement and decided to go home to check on you first instead of going to a supermarket and buying you snacks.

He crawls to the bed, taking the rope from your hands and throwing it away.

“I told you, didn't I? You won't leave me.”

Nikolai's voice gets deeper as he speaks. He seizes your jaw a bit too harshly. Glaring down at you with a serious expression only to lean down and kiss your lips, then the tip of your nose, and finally your forehead.

“It hurts me… that you want to leave me so badly…” He snorts, looking away from you and biting his lower lip, holding back from something that you weren't exactly sure.

You look away as well, feeling ashamed, among many other emotions that curse your body right now.

What if Nikolai hates you now?

That was even worse— If the only human being that cares about you hates you, you wouldn't bear the pain that'll come along with that.

As your brain keeps creating possible scenarios that might happen after this incident, tears spill from your eyes down your cheeks and you hide your face with your hands; palms muffling the small sobs that escape your lips like before.

Suddenly, you feel a weight on top of you.

You peek through the gap of your fingers and meet with Nikolai’s face nuzzling against your chest; his nose tickling your collarbone. Large and strong arms that had carried you like a princess before, are now wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Don't leave me… I love you so much, please…” He whines against your skin, almost as if he wants to sink inside you and be enveloped in your embrace. “Please, dove, pleasepleaseplease…”

Another sob leaves your mouth— Nikolai's fingers clutch around your ribs, nails almost digging desperately into you.

Slowly, you slide your hands to his back, rubbing it in small circles as you keep crying against the top of his head, his white locks feel soft against your cheek.

Instead of comforting you, he was the one being comforted.

“You're not going anywhere, are you?” He looks up at you. It didn’t sound like a threat, but you knew it actually was.

You shook your head; it's not like you have an alternative.

Nikolai sighs, nuzzling back against you and closing his eyes. After noticing you stopped caressing his back, he nudges your side as an indication to keep doing it.

“…Dove, you’re mine… If anything, I should be the one to take your life away from you…” He mumbles, giggling as your breath hitches at his words.

You can't escape him anymore.

© 2024 pinklacydovey

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

(If you don't mind adding something from yourself)

*In atlas*

Ruby: Jaune, all i wanted to say is that, i'm proud of you.

Jaune: ...wow.... thanks Rubes it means a lot to me but what is the occasion for you yo say that?

Ruby: Occasion is that i saw how much you improved. Long gone are bags under your eyes from sleepleess nights, training into exhaustion and borderline suicidal tendencies like at haven. You move on, you grew and i'm proud of you

Jaune: ......i don't know that to say, truly, just like i don't know how to react to knowledge that you look over me all this time. Is there is anything i can do for you to repay you?

Ruby: *sheeplish* Well, you could always tell me how you managed to do it? You got hit pretty hard, yet you sill managed to bounce back better than most.

Jaune: OOOHHH, that's simple Rubes. During my time at haven Ren told be “suppressing all these negative emotions is bad for your health” and "i need to find my way to counter them" SOOOO i started to suppress positive emotions as well and they usually cancel each other out.

Ruby: You built who you are and your demeanor around a desire to not lose rather than a desire to win. Like it's not all good down there. Is it?

Jaune: I mean...

Ruby: Who you are as a man, a hunter, a member of society- you're brutal towards yourself. You've had a harder life than anyone and you're still here struggling.

Jaune: Because of you. You're the one who put me back together in Anima. Ask me to kill for you. Ask me to die for you. I would hound your enemies to the ends of this world.

Ruby: Stay with me. Hold me.

Jaune: *Embraces her.*

Ruby: It's hard what you've done for me. You changed so much and you did it with me in your heart. You know it bothered me how much like Pyrrha I was.

Jaune: I thought...

Ruby: I mean there are differences for sure but in ways that really matter we're alike. Things are different now Jaune.

Jaune: Yeah. They are.

Ruby: And maybe if I pulled you by the right thread you'd come undone. It's like Jenga. Where's the wobbly piece all this is built on? You know it's there even if you can't see it. I think that's just people in general though.

Jaune: *cups her cheek and makes her look at him* Ruby I... I don't know how to get better. I've done stuff I'm not proud of. You've been my moral compass in a lot of ways. I rely on you. I don't really have dreams of my own. I'm too... Too small in a lot of ways. So I'll borrow yours if you'll let me.

Ruby: Kiss me.

Jaune: What?

Ruby: Kiss me please.

[entity56]

i dont think its often discussed how traumatic that delusional experiences can be

just the delusion itself. if its overwhelming and long enough it's enough to be chronically traumatic. like. i spent a full year or so believing my soul had left and i was rotting internally. i became obsessed with eating clean to 'heal myself' and ended up becoming borderline orthorexic. i was TERRIFIED of the idea of dying (without a soul there's nowhere to go) but at the same time I wanted to just to get it over with and 'finish the process'. i could feel my organs 'rotting' and 'molding' and 'squirming'. i could feel the bugs and maggots in my body and brain. and I was young, like maybe 13-14 years old during this... I felt this stress EVERY DAY. now outside of a purely fictional context anything to do with the human body, skin or diseases terrifies the shit out of me. im a hypochondriac now. like majorly.

sometimes, somedays, i got hopeful that i did still have a soul, or at least a piece of it, and that if i could JUST get out of my body, I'd be free.

those were really bad days. what i called 'escape attempts' were just paranoia induced self harm.

was anything happening to me? no, but it felt EXTREMELY real. i get flashbacks and delusional 'relapses' and nightmares. that year left a permanent mark on my psyche.

and that's not even to say the stuff that CAN happen during a delusional episode. suicide attempts, being mistaken as aggressive and attacked (SHOCKINGLY common), being alienated by the ones you're supposed to trust, the list goes on and on and on. and you're not allowed to talk about it because thats disturbing. thats weird and gross and bad and schizophrenic/schizospectrum people are crazy and less than human. and trauma means something ! that happened irl ! and those were just delusions it was all in your mind you basketcase.

idk. im rambling. i just know i got an untagged post on my dash saying 'There's mold growing inside of me' and am now nauseous and fighting the idea that that nausea is Actually My Organs Rotting.

praying for a future where neurotypicals treat us with more respect