#the mind torture got to me

[swugflower]

The difference between Inkheart and Inkdeath are literally insane.

The bad guy in Inkheart is like… a local mafia boss and his handful of cronies. Oh no, he put us in the animal stables and people talk about that he enjoys killing but we don’t ever see it and the worst thing he does is giving Mo a cut on the face and putting people in cages I guess.

The bad guys in Inkdeath, however, are the ruler of the land but also Death herself and we desperately fight against destiny. Every other chapter there’s a fight and people get brutally killed. We are about to scatter Mos fucking kneecaps. Mind torture while experiencing actual torture in the underwater dungeon. Everything is out to kill you but with everything going on death is kinda the least of our worries??

Like boi… that’s full a 180,,,,

[sunnymainecoonx]

How many people witnessed softie food addict horror who needed something in his mouth or he would actively kill and turn to cannibalism 🧍‍♀️ or was that just me.... anyways honestly it was silly.. he'd maybe get along with cook horror... I just like fanon crossovers guys*sadge

Anyways canon horror is also silly(really silly. What an asshole, man)(no seriously he's actually such an asshole.. I might love him for that but-) I don't think he would get along with the others(loser)

[worstloki]

brodinsons AU where they are both acting the entire time the plot occurs. They both know both sides of what is happening at all times.

[padmesbox]

You love to bring up our record. Our record is 4 and 1 after you beat me at WrestleDream, and you beat me, I will give you that.

[skitskatdacat63]

inspired by briony’s amazing regency fic, I would lovee to see your take on regency era lance for the ask game 🥹

I like how these keep unintentionally showing more and more body 😭 its not even like I planned it and its kinda annoying cause it's made me worse at drawing the face LOL, but cmon it's regency, I gotta show off that tight little waist. This era of clothes w the really high-cut waist is probably my favorite, so ty for requesting this!!! I wish I could have given him a frockcoat, but I like the waistcoat look too much ;;;;

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

and if i said suguru’s relationship with weakness (’the preciousness of the weak, the ugliness of the weak’) was born out of his feelings towards his mother …

[chipper-smol]

Capitalism shure will make you feel guilty about wanting to work on a later schedule than 8 to 5

[add1ctedt0you]

jiang cheng, age nine:

madam yu: you shouldn't hang out with wei wuxian! He'll bring troubles! Don't you see how your father favors him over you?!

jiang cheng:I'll thrown his shit out of our room and then I'll search for him! Mom, you don't know him the way I do. He's my shixiong now!

jiang cheng, age eighteen:

cultivators: Look at how that wei wuxian disrespects sect leader jiang! Why doesn't jiang cheng discipline him? Oh, they were childhood sweethearts, lol. What a disillusioned maiden.

jiang cheng: Tks, it's not like that: our fight is fake. He promised. I trust him. Why would he lie to me?

jiang cheng, age thirty-something:

wei wuxian: yeah, everything I did was out of duty. Bye bye. Gonna start a new happy life without you.

jiang cheng:...

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Another little au snippet by me

cw: major character death, extreme body horror, gore, insects / parasites / worms, animal death, fucked up creatures and monsters

When Grian dies, Scar is expected to mourn. He is not exactly the mourning type, and he doesn’t think Grian would want him to be. 

He is, however, the necromancy type. And he’s sure that’s why Grian married him, anyway, so anyone who tries to tell him this isn’t what she would have wanted is completely wrong.

It takes a bit of effort, and a lot of reading, which he hates, but eventually he figures it out. So what if it’s extremely illegal and dangerous? He’s not just going to let his wife rot in the ground like some dead thing. She’s not dead because he said so.

With a book in his hand, the world splits in front of him like thick, yellow belly fat under a curved blade. A dead rabbit bleeds into the earth, red staining his boots, and before him, the gateway to the world of magic shines with bright, delicate energy.

There, inside the magic realm, he meets gods who say they will bring his Grian back. They help him navigate the impossible, and offer a trade of sorts. A sacrifice. It’s easy to agree. All they want is precious metal, and Scar has plenty lying about.

So, without much trouble at all, Grian comes back. She’s… a little shaken up, but overall quite happy to be alive again. It is a shame that she can’t really leave their house - a quaint little cottage in the woods - but Scar makes up for it by giving her all the affection in the world. And she still smiles the same as she always used to. 

He does have to continue the sacrifices, which means more trips to the magic realm. Sometimes this means animals, sometimes food, sometimes gemstones and gold. He steals the beautiful jewelry he once bought Grian, then their wedding silver, and bizarrely, photographs of them together. 

And he doesn’t tell Grian, but he’s certain she knows. Yet, he doesn’t want to talk about it. What he’s been doing. What he’s seen in that place where reality no longer makes sense.

Within the magic realm there are monsters and psychological terrors that mess with your mind and make everything seem like it’s been turned inside out. Like the world has been gutted and is bleeding all over itself. The creatures are horrific and ravenous, the things that look like people are faceless shadows that consume whatever they touch, and still somehow seem to be looking at you. 

A constant feeling of being watched causes paranoia and anxiety. There is no water, only rivers that run with red tar, and rain that falls like thick, glossy blood. There are beings who can render you non-existent in a matter of seconds, crushing all of the atoms from your body into nothing before you can even understand what's happening. There are extreme changes in atmosphere and pressure, threatening to pull your insides outward if you take a step too soon. 

Empty valleys that drop off sharply into a deep, deep abyss crowded with swirling, ghostly serpents. Trees that tower up high into the misty sky, so far and so grand they make you feel impossibly small. And in the distance, through the fog, something even larger moves its shambling, dripping limbs towards you. 

Massive insectoid creatures, bodies twitching, jumbled, wet messes of flesh, thousands of legs outstretched ready to grip onto the nearest surface and bite. Worms writhing in colourful dirt, looking for a patch of exposed skin to burrow under, parasitic eggs ready to be laid. Deer with razor-sharp antlers stained a rusty blue, and empty eye holes covering their backs, walking on six mangled legs each.

Territorial beasts, sneaking demons, the very environment itself is hostile. Hostile to any sane mortal wishing to penetrate its dense wilderness. To reach any godly shrine or mystical water of life. 

Scar is guided, and lucky, because he is there for a deal, but he has to learn how to survive like anyone else. And it's a sharp, severe, learning curve.

There are people here, Scar thinks. He hears them before he sees them, his third or fourth time entering the maze of jungle and bone. There is a sort of screaming, gurgling sound that could have maybe been human, once. 

It disturbs him for weeks, keeping him up at night despite never once seeing the poor soul behind the strange sound. 

Later, much later, while bringing the last of his wedding jewelry to the gods in the forest, he stumbles upon them. Or, some of them. He presumes there are more. Somewhere else deep in the sprawling realm. 

Strung up between the branches of trees and jagged spikes of rock are four, or five, things that might have been humans. Some, what scar would assume are the lucky ones, are held there splayed out by something akin to rope, twisting into and under their skin and wrapping around their splintered bones. The others are held up by their own entrails, their intestines opened up and unravelled like vines to keep them in place. 

They do not look like people anymore, but they are still screaming. Screaming in deranged, wet tones. One, the one closest to Scar as he walked into the scene, is a sort of mangled, degloved, fleshy thing, their body more a slab of meat than anything remotely humanoid. 

Where arms and legs may have once been, there are stubs of rancid, rotting carnage, which exudes a thick yellow fluid onto the ground below the suspended body. In their stomach cavity, worms and parasites writhe grotesquely, so multitudinous they can barely be distinguished from the body's own flesh. They have no face, a sliver that might be a mouth, and blank, empty holes where eyes could have been, all infested with more disgusting creatures. 

The worst part, scar thinks, is that they seem aware, whining and wailing around the maggots. How they remained alive, Scar has no idea. 

The other bodies are not much better off. Some still have limbs and faces, but they are so distorted and jumbled together they aren't distinguishable as individuals. The ones with skin are covered in legions, scratches, and bile, the skin itself rubbery and overstretched. 

Each of the bodies moan and sob torturously, and yet Scar can't bear to look away. Or help. Or move. How would he help them? How could he? 

Then, the thought catches up with him that something must have done this to these people. These things were human once, like him. And perhaps if it comes back, it will catch him and torture him all the same. 

Guilt wells up in his throat when he turns to leave, the weight of the golden necklace in his pocket like lead. He could wish for these people to be made whole again. To be freed and set out back into the natural world. He could help them. He could use this sacrifice for good, rather than greed. 

And as always, his mind wanders back to Grian. Grian, who won't talk about the afterlife. Who refuses to eat most days, despite being fully able to. Who Scar has found vomiting into the toilet, or rocking back and forth with hands in her hair, in the middle of the night. Who simply is not the same as she was, even though she's trying so hard. 

He thinks this might not be a realm of magic at all. He thinks it might be Hell.

It's then that scar's mind is made up, and it's then that he decides to stop thinking about the people in the forest, however many there might be. Because he can't sacrifice Grian, of all things. He can't bring her here. He refuses. 

And so, he continues, out to find god.

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

From my reincarnated sukuna's s/o drabble

Tw pregnancy (reader has sukuna's kid), death of unborn child, mentions of starvation

Seeing all these fics were suku tries to impregnate us made me think....

What if at that time reader was like pregnant when they died? Like even after sukuna's sealment urame tries to save sukuna's s/o and unborn child but the moment he finds them its too late, both them and the baby are already to gone to save. They find their body in a cell outside the villages, already thin and dry(???) from starvation, since that was the only way for the socerers/ villagers get rid of them.

But years later reader's reincarnated and so is the unborn kid, the lil one being reader's younger sibiling now, but after they encounter sukuna the lil one's hair starts to change color by the few weeks...from its original color to a pinkish color

Ya'll see where im going with this?

[outlying-hyppocrate]

i really, truly, terrifyingly am unaware of who i am as a person. obviously, interests don't make up an entire personality. but what am i without them? the labels i use to describe myself no longer fit me. i have these swathes of names in my head that i don't want to belong to me and they do nonetheless. i am rotting. i am dying on the inside. one day i will fit to my own ideals and i will be happy and healthy and see beautiful sunlight stream through my windows again.

[yappacadaver]

if i could have the old man yaoi of my dreams it would probably be travis and raymond

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

the way i rewatch any part of rottmnt and once again come away from canon leo wondering where the actual heck are people getting this “oohhhh he only thinks he’s good for self sacrifice or as a tool, he has absolutely zero self worth whatsoever” instead of the canon version who’s kind of a manipulative lil stinker and KNOWS he has stuff to bring to the table but isn’t sure how to be Seen

it’s not that he thinks he’s worthless or not wanted. i fuckin promise you that about rise leo. he does not seriously think he is unloved or unwanted or ~one mistake away from being dropped by his own family~ or whatever

what he IS is rejection-sensitive in the way that makes any time he fails feel like the end of the world to HIM (setting aside that time he messed up and it did literally trigger the near-apocalypse and near deaths of him and his family lol), so he’d rather not try than risk messing up

[thebookworm0001]

endgame spoilers

never gonna be over this

[rez-urrection]

tired of people saying that evil morty is just a morty who snapped, and he doesn't have some good villian origin story. like !! yes he does !! he's implied to be a product of and is canonly a witness of the morty industry.

tw for human trafficking mentions under the more

which, because people in this fandom kind of sugarcoat that or don't see it for what it is, is human trafficking. evil morty isn't just some morty who got tired of a rick, hes a human trafficking victim who was likely passed between more ricks than he can remember. he's witnessed so many deaths and so much systemic morty torture that he's desensitized. the way he scanned all of those rick's brains mimicked the fucking dead morty disposal line.

so, no, evil morty isn't just "some morty who got sick of a rick," he literally apologizes for being such a high maintenence morty to make his rick shut up. that isn't something a regular grandson says that's something a grandson who has been trafficked and used by vile versions of his grandpa in such amounts that his life is unrecognizable without it.

for the love of fuck, r&m fans, please understand complex characters with complex trauma

[bitchfitch]

I've already decided that if I do do yehawgust one of the characters I make for it is gonna be named Whiskey, they're gonna be frisky, their daddy grows corn, and they love the rain. I know Nothing else about them yet.