#theyre worse than useless

[demento-mori]

Love how its less than a week before uni starts and our tutors literally havent told us fucking anything. Like complete radio silence, we dont even know what days we're in

[z0mbiefrank]

notice how everyone who replies to anti-cop stuff with "well who are you gonna call if someone attacks you?!" has never had to ask for help from the police

[2024skin]

Pussy smells weird but the tampon smelled normal so idek

[cavity-collector]

i genuinely need to be put down like a dog i cant do this anymore man holy shit

[seeinglittlestars]

Bruhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Don't you think it's a bit sad how socially if you're bad at something or something doesn't go your way you can talk about it freely and everyone is sympathetic and when something finally goes right everyone cheers

But if things usually go well for you you're supposed to shut up about it lest it sounds like you're bragging or trying to make others feel miserable and when something finally goes wrong everyone calls that "karma", is happy about your misfortune or tells you to suck it up because "everything else goes great for you why do you care"

I don't know I suppose I'm just a privileged whiny child that is upset that something isn't as good as she wanted it to be

[lunarflare64]

Hate when you're reading a new fic and on the latest chapter there's a plot choice you're not fond of, and you love the rest of the fic so if there were more chapters past that unfortunate plot choice you could keep going and get over the bitterness, but there isn't, so now you have to fight back the negative association until the next chapter comes out and pray that it doesn't win and make you hate the fic for no god damn reason

[audiovisualrecall]

Love how I can ruin something so easily

[dreamingofnoreality]

I think the part I hate the most in Mockingjay Part 1 is how after the District 13 bombing, when theyre trying to film the propo, Katniss is like, "He's gonna kill Peeta if I keep being the Mockingjay!" because in the book, she breaks down for literally, and I mean LITERALLY, the exact opposite reason.

“Try the line again,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I take a deep breath, trying to force air down into my diaphragm. “Thirteen’s alive and so —” No, that’s wrong.

I swear I can still smell those roses.

“Katniss, just this one line and you’re done today. I promise,” says Cressida. “ ‘Thirteen’s alive and well and so am I.’ ”

I swing my arms to loosen myself up. Place my fists on my hips. Then drop them to my sides. Saliva’s filling my mouth at a ridiculous rate and I feel vomit at the back of my throat. I swallow hard and open my lips so I can get the stupid line out and go hide in the woods and — that’s when I start crying.

It’s impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no, nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

Up until then, Katniss had been terrified that Snow was going to kill Peeta. It's during the bombing that she finally realizes that Snow would lose his leverage against her if he took Peeta out of the picture.

It’s on the third night, during our game, that I answer the question eating away at me. Crazy Cat becomes a metaphor for my situation. I am Buttercup. Peeta, the thing I want so badly to secure, is the light. As long as Buttercup feels he has the chance of catching the elusive light under his paws, he’s bristling with aggression. (That’s how I’ve been since I left the arena, with Peeta alive.) When the light goes out completely, Buttercup’s temporarily distraught and confused, but he recovers and moves on to other things. (That’s what would happen if Peeta died.) But the one thing that sends Buttercup into a tailspin is when I leave the light on but put it hopelessly out of his reach, high on the wall, beyond even his jumping skills. He paces below the wall, wails, and can’t be comforted or distracted. He’s useless until I shut the light off. (That’s what Snow is trying to do to me now, only I don’t know what form his game takes.)

Maybe this realization on my part is all Snow needs. Thinking that Peeta was in his possession and being tortured for rebel information was bad. But thinking that he’s being tortured specifically to incapacitate me is unendurable. And it’s under the weight of this revelation that I truly begin to break.

Peeta's death would mean she had nothing left to lose. But the idea that her actions as the Mockingjay would result in Peeta being tortured? THAT is what makes her fall apart, which is what the Rebels were afraid of happening and is what motivated them to finally arrange the rescue mission. They were very much aware that Peeta was intentionally being kept alive and tortured to punish Katniss and, aside from Finnick, they were all actively trying to keep Katniss from figuring that out.

“Cut,” I hear Cressida say quietly.

"What’s wrong with her?” Plutarch says under his breath.

“She’s figured out how Snow’s using Peeta,” says Finnick.

There’s something like a collective sigh of regret from the semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a Mockingjay entails, I am broken.

The movie just completely ruined it by having Katniss think Snow was warning her that he was going to kill Peeta. The whole point was that she realized Snow was NEVER going to kill Peeta. Death would have been a mercy, and Snow was not merciful. He was going to keep Peeta alive to torture him in response for everything Katniss did for the rebellion then stick him on TV to show her.

[mysterioushistorian]

KUPRUM: >OBEY.

FOLYKL: what

FOLYKL: dude    you look worse   than usual      and that pastel godtier outfit was         already gay enough     whatever that word   means

FOYLKL: the fuck did you     do to him

)(IC: isnt he beautiful

FOLYKL: i know u want to      be wrapped in     her tentacles and all     but cmon dude      shes right beside you      its your chance

)(IC: he wont listen to u gurl

)(IC: hes all mine now

)(IC: like how he always wanted to b rite?

)(IC: theres nofin u can do u disgustin voidrotten garbage motha fucka

FOLYKL: no wonder youre called      the batterwitch

FOLYKL: this coming from      me     a   witch myself

FOLYKL: also   im not even voidrotten anymore     see my      eyes      theyre back        im godtiered

)(IC: ya still gutterblood carp sides ur psionics weak as fuck

)(IC: ur useless as shit gurl u have no use for ma ass

)(IC: bitch u should be dead

)(IC: i aint cullin yo bulge buddy here cuz hes actually a powerful psionic

)(IC: always wanted to be a battery, whale hed make some fintastic use

)(IC: and hes under ma control now, right buoy?

KUPRUM: >ALL HAIL HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENSION.

KUPRUM: >ALL TRAITORS AND MISTAKES MUST BE ELIMINATED.

KUPRUM: >AND THAT INCLUDES YOU.

FOLYKL: holy shit   dude

FOLYKL: im gonna sound like a       fucking normie  right now     but kuprum dont you       recognize  me?  folykl?

)(IC: already told ya bitch )(E WONT LISTEN TO U

)(IC: a loyal soldier to da empire now, like how he was always destined to b

)(IC: and YOU

)(IC: soon dead, like how u were always destined to b

)(IC: what u already were supposed to b 

)(IC: now buoy

)(IC: get dat stinky ass DEAD

KUPRUM: >yes, your highness

KUPRUM: >folykl darane, i was wrong by helping you. as a loyal soldier to trizza and the condesce, i should have ELIMINATED you the first moment i set my bulbs on you.

KUPRUM: >BUT NOW YOURE DEAD LOL

FOLYKL: oh fuck

doc text, i had the idea for this interaction and i knew i had to write it

[bimbo-baggins17]

KINKTOBER REQUEST!

hear me out:

incest, boot worship, and rape (I forget the numbers oops) with Kurt Matheson.

the idea in my head was that you're his sister or daughter. because of his untreated issues and very sensitive mental state, you visit him often to check on him. you end up staying over one night, nd during that night, it became unsafe to go outside, so you're stuck with him until further notice.

he confides in you about how long it's been since he's had a woman around him, and you get weirded out and ask him to stop, which bums him out.

in the middle of the night, he comes onto you, babbling about how desperate he is and how pretty you are and how much he needs you. ofc, he's a vet and works out, so he's much stronger and can easily overpower you. you wake up out of your sleep screaming and crying, and he ends up raping you.

finally feeling some sort of control, he tells you to worship him - his body, his voice, his very being - and he starts with shoving you down onto your hands and knees, one booted foot heavy on your spine while you're forced to lick at his other boot, cleaning away the dirt and grime.

I KNOW I JUST WROTE THE WHOLE DAMN THING OUT, BUT IF ANYONE CAN WRITE THIS, IT'S YOU!

I’M POSTING THIS ONE EARLY BECAUSE I CANT KEEP IT TO MYSELF ANYMORE

I know I already told you in our messages how much I loved this but OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. YOUR BRAIN IS BEAUTIFUL BNUUY. Hands down my favorite request like EVER. I went with it being his daughter. Definitely more of a fic than a drabble. Oopsies.

TW: DDDNE!!! Rape and incest!!! Don’t like, don’t read.

One of the only times Kurt would make an exception to answering the door is when he knew you were expected. Every other week, like clockwork, you’d come with some groceries and necessities for your mentally unstable father.

“Hurry. Come in, come in.” His voice is gruff as he quickly ushers you in out of the storm before locking the door once you’re barely past the threshold.

You take a moment to look around his dimly lit space, discarded food cans litter the floor. You sigh as you set the bags of groceries down before stooping to try tidy clean some of it up. Kurt turns to come over to you, his eyes drifting to your ass as you do.

“You know, if you kept your space clean, it would probably help you a bit mentally.” You say with your back still to him. Honestly it probably wouldn’t do much to his fragile mental state but you still tried.

“You worry too much.” He says dismissively coming up beside you.

With a sigh, you straighten up and look at him, “Maybe you don’t worry enough.”

He huffs out a laugh, “You sound just like your mother. Trust me. I worry plenty.”

You shake your head but drop it instead, not wanting to argue. It was draining with him and you were always walking on egg shells. You opt for putting away the items you brought. “I’ll get these put away and then I’ll head out. I can’t stay long this time, sorry dad.”

He exhales and rubs a hand over his stubble. “Can’t give your old man a couple more minutes?”

“Sorry, not tonight. But I’ll be back next week with your med refills.”

He waves a hand at that, “Don’t. Theyre useless anyways.”

You stop and look up at him. “Are you implying you aren’t taking them anymore?”

Kurt looks away, shaking his head. “They don’t work anyways.”

“They can’t work if you don’t take them consistently. We’ve been over this.”

“Yeah you really sound like your mother now.”

You give him a look, unamused by him. “I only say that because I care.”

The lights flicker and both of you look over to the window seeing the storm has gotten significantly worse in the short amount time you’ve been here.

Your dad looks back to you again, “I don’t think I’m comfortable with you out in the weather like this.”

And that’s how you get roped into staying the night at your dad’s. You knew he worried. God he worried about everything. What led to your parents’ divorce was that exact reason. His PTSD got worse and worse until he was unable to leave the house for fear of the end of the world.

Both of you sit on the floor with a lantern between the two of you, barely giving off enough light. The sound of the storm outside drowns out the scraping of utensils in the cans you were eating from.

“How’s school been? I feel so out of the loop anymore.” Kurt speaks up, trying to make conversation.

You shrug lazily, “Alright I guess. You’d be in the loop more if you had a cellphone like a normal person.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll ignore that comment,” He mumbles. His eyes move slowly over you again. He’d be lying if he didn’t think you were beautiful, the way your curves filled out more over time, the way your breasts seemed to nearly double in size over the last year. His chewing halts for a second as he feels a familiar twitch in his pants, one he hadn’t felt in so long. “You got a boyfriend?” He questions after a moment.

You stop and look up at him, shaking your head, “No.”

Slowly he nods his head. “You should. You’re beautiful.”

You shift a little where you sit, uncomfortable with the compliment. Sure it was normal for a dad to compliment his daughter but not your dad. “Um. Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re looking more and more like your mom did in her prime.”

You look up at him again, “Uh..yeah I guess so.”

“Filling out like her too. Getting her curves.” He continues on. He probably should stop but it’s been so long and yeah it’s probably wrong but he’s so starved for pussy, he’ll take whatever he can. It’d be a waste of a perfect opportunity if he didn’t try.

“Dad?” You question with your eyebrows furrow together tightly.

He sighs and hangs his head. “Sorry. It’s just,” Kurt sighs once more and shifts a little closer to you placing a calloused hand on your leg. “It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman and I-“

“Oh my god, dad. Gross! Stop it!” You shove his hand off of you and quickly put some distance back between you too.

Kurt’s hand clenches into a fist as he brings it back to his lap. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.” He tries to suppress the disappointment in his voice.

“I’m going to bed, I just..ugh.” You were unnerved to say the least. You get up off the floor, leaving the half eaten can of food on the ground.

“You-uh..you can take my cot.” He calls after you before he’s mentally beating himself up again. This was going to be a long night.

Kurt tosses and turns for what feels like hours on the floor, his cock so painfully hard. He sits up a little to look at you on his cot. You looked so peaceful while sleeping, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with each breath. It was pure torture to have a woman so close but not being able to do anything about it. Any rational part of his brain was gone years ago so his conscience wasn’t telling him to stop as he got up off the floor, slowly making his way over to your sleeping form.

He reaches down and brushes some hair off your face, “So beautiful,” He murmurs, letting his hand move off your face, slowly tracing down your neck over the pulse point, then your collarbone before he’s allowing himself to squeeze your supple breast. He bites down on his lip to keep from making any noise noticing you weren’t wearing a bra to sleep. His cock throbs.

Kurt palms himself to try and cause any kind of relief this way as he continues to knead your breast, feeling the pebbled nipple poking his palm. He lets out a shuddered exhale. His eyes trail down further seeing the hem of your shirt bunched up a little. A peek wouldn’t hurt right? Not like you’d know. Slowly he inches the shirt up until he’s able to see at least one of your breasts. Leaning down slowly, he presses an open mouthed kiss to it.

You stir a little in your sleep but don’t wake up. He freezes for a second to make sure you stay asleep before he envelopes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, releasing it. Making a bolder choice, he lets his hand continue its decent to the waistband of your pants before he’s slipping it in, finding your cunt with his fingers. He draws in a shaky breath feeling how you were wet. “What’re you dreaming about babygirl?” He whispers into the dark.

Against anyone else’s better judgment, he eases your pants and panties down, revealing your core to him. He hesitates for a second looking at it, imagining how tight it would feel wrapped around his shaft.

“I’m so sorry baby. Just been so long..and..and it hurts. You know I love you. You’re my beautiful little girl. I know you’d forgive your dear old dad for this.” He rambles quietly before he’s easing onto the bed between your legs as he bends them. Quickly he fishes his leaking cock out, running it through your folds.

Time isn’t a luxury he has right now. As much as he’d love to savor this, he can’t so he pushes into you, keeping his eyes on your face to make sure you aren’t waking up. Slowly he starts to rock into you, biting back moans that threaten to spill out.

“Oh sweet girl..so good to me.” He pants out, rocking his hips into you faster as he chases his much needed release. The caution he had at first is quickly abandoned as his thrusts grow harsher.

You’re stirred from your slumber feeling something that you most definitely shouldn’t be. Hazily you try to make sense of what’s going on as you come to your senses. Quickly you put together that your father is on top of you fucking into you. “Wha-? S-stop! Stop!”

Kurt’s eyes fly open and land on your face seeing you’re now awake. “Shh..it’s okay baby. I know. I know. Just couldn’t help myself-“

You claw at him to try and get him off, shoving at him but he doesn’t budge. “Dad! Please stop!!” You cry.

“No. No. Just-..nghh..be good for your dad.” He grits out.

You continue to squirm and try to fight which only serves to irritate him. He can’t have that. The years of working out and military training served well and he’s able to easily over power you, pinning you down tightly against the cot. “I said, be good.” He continue to pound into your poor pussy, taking what he wants and not caring about your protests.

“Stop! Please!” You keep repeating the words through far tears that roll down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry baby. You’re helping out your dad.” It’s his attempt to console you. As if reminding you it was your father who was fucking you would somehow make it better.

Your protests soon die off, continuing to cry and sniffle under him.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” He coos before he’s cumming into you. He leans down to press a wet kiss to your chest. “Now tell daddy thank you.”

Quickly you shake your head. The worst was over, so you assumed. You’d leave after he got off of you. “What? No. You’re sick. Sicker than I thought.” You sniffle.

Kurt leans back, a scowl on his face. “Ungrateful brat.” He spits the words out.

Your eyes widen. You’d upset him, that much was clear. You shake your head again, taking back what you said for the sake of not having him rape you again. “No. No wait. I’m sorry..I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh yeah? You’re sorry, hm?”

You nod your head. “Yeah. Yes, yes I’m sorry dad.” It made you sick to call him that now.

“Show me then. Worship me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “W-what?”

“I said, worship me. Make your dad happy.”

You don’t even know where to begin, how to lie that well. Kurt is unhappy with how long you take. Slipping out of you, he quickly yanks you up and shoves you onto your stomach on the floor before you can process what’s happening, his one booted foot shoved directly into the center of your back while the other one rested by your head on the floor.

“Lick it.” He instructs.

“What? Lick what?”

He huffs in frustration, “My boot. Lick it. Show your dad how much you love him.”

You start to protest despite your compromised position, but Kurt presses his boot more firmly into your back. “Lick. It.”

You shakily raise your head and stick your tongue out, giving a little kitten lick to the toe of it.

“More.” He encourages, adding more pressure. “Clean it with your damn tongue.”

You sniffle but oblige him, knowing you weren’t getting out of this without doing so. You run your tongue along the toe of his boot, moving to the front of it, dipping down to the sole of it.

“There we go. Much better.” He praises, “Now tell me you love me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, “I-love you dad.”

He hums happily, “Good. Now my voice.”

“I..love your voice.” You sniffle.

He releases a little of the pressure on your back, “My body.”

You fight the urge to recoil at the words he wants you to speak, “I-…I love your body.” You want to puke.

“Mm. There we go. You made your dad so happy, little girl.” He praises softly, “That wasn’t so bad, yeah?”

You shake your head for the sake of appeasing him, “N-no..it wasn’t.”

“Good,” He takes his boot off of your back but then places it down infront of your face. “Now lick this one.”

[bitchfitch]

a sorta weird thing that's been happening in the background over the last few weeks is that my left eye is dying.

The inflammation around the optic nerve has gotten so significant that signal just isn't getting from it to my brain. It still, I was going to say works, but dear God no it doesn't. It still does as it has been doing, it's just not like. being heard. and eventually, that pinching will cut off the nerves ability to talk to my brain permanently.

The thing is is that. This can be stopped. Steroid injections and some pills taken daily. Nothing I haven't done before but I've made the decision to just let it happen.

Steroids cause cataracts. I don't know enough about this shit to explain How, but they do. Theyre why I have cataracts in both eyes.

The inflammation is caused by the amount of damage that my optic nerve has been dealt over the years of having tumors in that eye causing blood clots. It's not in good shape and there's no chance of it ever healing, just being given more time. The inflammation will keep coming back

So I have the option to take the steroids, and have one eye that barely works, and one eye that works but is eventually made useless by cataracts. or to just Not, and lose the barely functioning ones function, and not have to worry about my cataracts getting worse until I'm much older.

For me the choice felt easy but it's one everyone in my life has pushed back against.

And I guess the point, the weird thing, is that my vision is better today than it has been since I was nine because of my brain no longer trying to make the bad signal from one eye match the other.

[pumpkinsy0]

I’m not sure if America does this much, but from where I am, a grade is able to travel to a different country for around a week or two for educational purposes (e.g Italy, France, Etc.) So,,, any Papercut Hcs for that? (Taken that they were able to make up the money for that, maybe Pony took up extra jobs to earn the money.)

ik what ur talking about!!! i dont think its common for a WHOLE GRADE to do it, but ik wym!!!!

OK SO

•lets say they’re traveling to france (ewwww🙄🙄 but trust me, makes sense later), their language class was french and they were like “man y dont we all travel to france to test out skills n have fun”

•gonna b frank w u, pony, curly, and their families were hesitant on it, MOSTLY bc of money restraints but when it comes to pony, its bc he just never traveled out the country before, let alone all by himself

• curly rlly has no aspirations to travel anywhere but then he realized that if pony left, he would b bored out his mind cayse who else can he annoy as well as he does w pony??? so he was on board!!

•look, getting that money was a hard time for all, tim and curly did more jobs, darry and soda worked their asses off and so did pony, but at the end of the day, they did it (also some of it was covered for everyone bc of some soc’s rich ass dad)🙏🏽🙏🏽

•when the packed, they damn near packed everything they had bc they just dont have much, it was like they were going away forever😭

•look, curly (and angela, shes here too!!! :3) r haitian immigrants, they knowwwww french bc they HAD to learn it in haiti to get through the education system, hell theyre probably one of the few ppl who even know it fluently out this whole grade, everyone else was lowkey bullshittin

•curlys basically ponys translator for everything, and curly WILL use it to his advantage, ponys always smarter than him but HERE??? HEEEE has the upper hand, plus, this means pony being clingy

•but his french was a lil rusty bc he wouldnt rlly speak it a lot, even in class he wouldnt rlly speak

•pony had this “introduction to french” book darry gave him bc darry can actually speak french bc of the class!!!

•curly and angela CANNOOTTT see the eiffel tower as being romantic btw, that shit was built w haitian money they hate france man (YES, im airing out some of my grievances i hate france dude🙄🙄), if pony mentioned the tower near curly he’d roll his eyes, ALSO BC HE FOUND IT TO B CORNY

•curly and pony keep getting lost dude, its like hell on earth, YES, france is walkable, but that probably just makes it worse for them bc theyre walking far in the wrong way😭

•u can def tell theyre american tourist, but i dont think curly would care, ponys trying to keep a low profile tho

•i dont think they rlly, like french food that much, not even that it taste bad or anything just not their cup of tea, honestly

•if i remember right, france has a problem w pick pocketers and i PROMISE u that wouldnt slide w either of em, they WILL fight u over it😭

•angela was excited to try the macarons!!! honestly like top thing she liked there probably, maybe she also flirted w some guys in french, got some perfume, she treated it like a vacation more than like something educational, she knew french already this was USELESS to her

•pony loved the museums, and wouldve liked it MORE if curly didnt RUSH him all the time bc he was bored, curlys the kind of guy to only go to museums for the gift shop and tbh??? so real

•they were able ti get a room together at a hotel thankfully, and half the time in it was NOT spent sleeping, it was spent w curly making stupid jokes and pony laughing so they were tired in the morning

•let them have some souvenirs, they deserve it!!!pony tried to get something each for the gang, curly got something STUPID for tim, angela got a cute gift for herself

•pony promised to take pics while he was there and he did, but some of the pics had curly being a dumbass in it🙄🙄

anyways i went through this whole post without making a kanye west joke, im truly growing to b more mature

[idv-brainrot-go-brr]

what if.. reader that always has a mask on and is really stoic around others so everybody is suspicious of them (naib, orpheus) but it turns out theyre just socially awkward and dont like interacting with people 😭😭

The terrifying prospect of being perceived

A/N: I have no idea if I did this right tbh I am so sorry Pairing: none

Additional Info: Reader is socially awkward

Content: manor games, awkwardly hanging out in the same house as like 40 other people

Chapter 1/1

Word count: 1.6k

"Maybe they're mentally disabled"

An interesting theory. However, unfortunately, it was entirely false. It really was incredible to see how much bullshit your fellow players could come up with to explain something as simple as not wanting to hang out with them. Did the Embalmer ever get these questions? Probably not. Everyone just automatically assumed it was part of his profession. What about the Postman? Was he ever questioned for his silence?

Of course not. Just you.

All the rumours and talks behind somebody's back did nothing to make you like anyone here any more than you did currently. Which was to say you didn't like anyone here. In fact, if they were to stay 60 meters away from you at any given moment, that would truly be paradise.

Some were worse than others. The gardener was fairly friendly towards everyone. Emma was undoubtedly one of the most tolerable people here but still, her friendliness seemed almost unnerving. On top of that, it would probably only be a matter of time until she too decided you were weird for one reason or another. So really, there was no point in investing copious amounts of social energy into a platonic relationship that would fall apart in the end anyway. Really it was... useless. But she was an okay person, you supposed. Then there was the Seer. He was also okay personality-wise but... but he was just creepy as hell. How do you make an animal your eyes? How do you see through an animal? He was worse than that priestess lady even. At least she just talked about occult things, he actually pulled them off! But both of them at least minded their own business.

No, the real nuisances of this place were the overly nosy, overly suspicious ones. Meaning more specifically: Naib and Orpheus.

It was like they were addicted to staring at you for no reason. What had you ever done to warrant this kind of treatment?

If it was only the rumours, the stares or the side glances that they thought you didn't notice, if it was just that it would have been fine. Unpleasant, but not that big of a deal. However, at some point, you realised that it hadn't stopped there. No. You were being followed. What was initially assumed to be just standard levels of paranoia, that you simply develop automatically after being stuck in a life-and-death game for so long, turned out to be a very real circumstance. Certain members of the manor were shadowing you. This realisation was, quite frankly, incredibly disturbing and led to everything getting worse. You became progressively more paranoid and so you spoke less, interacted with people less, and barely showed your face around them. The more you tried to go into seclusion, the more suspicious you looked to the other inhabitants, and the more of an effort would be made to observe you, follow you, and question you. In the end, neither of you tried to hide it anymore. You only showed up to acquire food and participate in games and certain people would openly follow you when ever you went somewhere.

Seriously, did they do this to Aesop too? Unfortunately, you weren't around enough to really pay attention to it, but they probably did, didn't they? So cruel. This was precisely why you didn't want to be around them in the first place. All you could get out of hanging out with other people was judgement, shame and discrimination. There was nothing wrong with you physically, nothing that would justifiably warrant their suspicion. It wasn't like you'd shown up with blood stains on your clothing. Still, you could feel their eyes on you all the time. It made you feel less like a circus animal, and apparently gave them all the more reason to treat you like one.

This uncomfortable stalemate of avoidance of suspicion went on until one day you had a match. You were scheduled with the Psychologist, the Novelist and the Acrobat. However, right before the match was supposed to start, the Patient asked to switch places with you so he could be with Ada. You saw no issue with that and happily skipped out on having to socialize, instead, you went up to your room again. You always kept the door locked, no matter if you were inside or not. Now laying on your bed and peacefully reading a book, the knowledge that no one could disturb you gave you a feeling of safety. That was, of course, until you heard quiet scratching noises coming from the door. Before you actually realised what was going on, the door opened to reveal the Mercenary. You both looked at each other, shocked. He had picked the lock expecting you to be in the middle of a match. Still, despite having the absolute nerve to do that, he was still the one who asked: "What are you doing here?"

"This is my room," you responded, "I have every right to be here. The question is what are you doing here?!" Perhaps after such a long time, the issue was ready to boil over the top. "I want to see what you're hiding," he answered, honestly. You snapped your book shut and sat up. The book was placed on the nightstand and even though you didn't yet stand up, you didn't feel safe laying down anymore.

"I'm not hiding anything, I live here!" you replied. For the first time in so long, your stoic facade of never seeming involved, interested or intrigued began to crack. You were angry. People don't like angry people, and without a doubt would they use this against you to turn you into an overly emotionally crazy person. So you tried to stay calm most of the time, but there was only so much one can take, especially if their room was just broken into.

"If you're not hiding anything then why do you act so suspicious?"

"I'm not acting suspicious! I have done nothing to you people. Nothing!" your voice cracked. Great. Just when you thought the situation couldn't possibly make you look any more pathetic. "I don't like people's eyes on me. I don't like to be looked at. It feels like I'm on display. Like everyone looks at me like an animal. And I always think they see all of my flaws. And if they don't see any then they'll find some," you explained, finally. "And somehow to all of you this is some sort of unforgivable crime. I already try to stay out of your sight as much as possible. What more do you want me to do god damn it?"

Naib remained quiet. He sat on the chair across your room. You don't remember inviting him in, but at least he was no longer blocking the door, which prompted you to walk over to it and close it initially, but you didn't retreat back to the bed. You stood by the door just in case you'd need to make a sudden escape or something.

Naib remained quiet. He sat on that chair, across from you, and looked around your room. It was mostly empty. Safe for a few personal items like clothing or books there was nothing in here. Most certainly nothing suspicious. This went on for what felt like hours but could have really only been a couple of minutes, maybe even just a few seconds. Time dragged on seemingly endlessly.

"We thought," he began finally "that you might be spying on us for the other fraction. "Sure. And I would make it this obvious because then of course no one would know. Brilliant detective work." you responded and aggressively opened the door again, wide enough for a person to fit through. You took a step back and motioned towards it with your arm. He got up again, and the closer he got to the door the more you retreated, keeping a rather large amount of distance between the two of you at all times. He closed the door on his way out. God. That was terrifying.

In order to ensure your own peace and quiet you took the chair he'd sat on earlier that day and used it to keep the door in place. if one was unable to push down the door's handle, then no one would be able to enter even if they did manage to pick the lock. You skipped dinner that night for good measure, even though you tried to sleep early. You ended up not sleeping at all until dawn. Consequently, you didn't go to breakfast either, and it wasn't until the gardener knocked on your door around noon that you interacted with another human being. The patient, the seer, the magician and she had a match today. Since Emil had taken your place yesterday, it only made sense if you'd take his place today. Fair enough.

You didn't come out of your room until the match was supposed to start, and to your confusion, you found that the Mercenary had traded places with the Magician. Overall, the match was... strange. All of your teammates made an actual effort to keep you alive, and so even though you got chaired twice, you ended up managing all four people to escape. When was the last time that happened? Usually, you'd just end up being left for the wolves. They were so friendly with you today? Why? Did they want something? Did they feel guilty?

You accepted their friendliness only very hesitantly, and although most people still gave you cold stares or suspicious looks, you also found that some had magically warmed up to you more. It was odd.

These people were odd. All this time you thought you were the strange one here, but now look at them.

But hey, at least the Mercenary's presence didn't feel as threatening anymore. So that was something, wasn't it?

[fiveeeee]

look at you, could you tell me about scalpel ? : )

HI MAGGIE!!! OKOKOK!!!

scalpel was born katherine anne scranton in a aristocratic type household at the turn of the 20th century in new york. growing up she did many thing typical of a woman and took particular interest in ballet. the strength of the human body, the stress it could endure, the beautiful shapes it could make enamored her. when she got an injury in high school and could no longer participate in ballet she decided to pursue medicine instead, studying it vigorously and campaigning her father to let her study it further in university.

her father, who had no older children and no son, decided to allow it and work with his connections to get her into a school where she could study medicine. in university she did very well, she was very cutt throat, she knew she had to be better than the best of the best of her male classmates to get anywhere and so she did so, enabling her to get into medical school after university, there in medical school, she continued doing as much as she could in order to avoid scrutiny, however, many of her male classmates did not like having a female classmate that did better than them, it humiliated them and they wanted her gone.

one night, a male classmate of hers followed her home, and fearing for her life she killed him with a sharp hat pin she always kept with her. after which she was careful to dispose of the body knowing if she was ever found out it would be her that was presumed guilty no matter what.

after medical school she struggled to find a residency that would except her despite her top scores, leading her to the foundation that was really the only place willing to hire women into a mens role such as hers at the time. although, even then she didn't have any female colleagues.

in the foundation she was very guarded but very driven. she quickly made a lot of advancements. her primary inventions during her tenure being adapting clockworks orthodox standardization to lay the groundwork for all foundation augmentation paratech. and the invention of invasive amnesticization by which ppl are amnesticized through the combination use of amnestics and brain surgery. there are several techniques named after her although nowadays theyre more likely to be automatically associated with her grandson, robert scranton.

in the foundation she also married a younger man, marcus, who was an intern at the time and later her personal assistant. marcus was very loving and doting, regarding katherine as something of a celebrity, as at the time she was of similar fame as the senior staff we know and love today. she was not a very good wife to him, as her experience with men in the past made it impossible to trust him, always fearing somewhere in the back of her head that he could turn on her and that this might be some sort of long con. a lot of the things she does in their relationship is to maintain power over him so that that cannot happen and she is very rarely affectionate towards him except for when shes inebriated and isn't thinking about how if she shows one soft emotion she'll be recognized as vulnerable or decried as a useless emotional woman. (during this time she also has some sort of relationship with her female rival selma of nalkan descent of ambiguous homoeroticness)

her marriage with marcus is often criticized by her coworkers but never for the reasons it is actually bad, just because they think it's emasculating for marcus and weird, although many of them have worse dynamics and age gaps with their own wives.

they have a child together, the child takes the last name scranton bc katherine wouldn't dare not have her last name passed a long, not be remembered, it was only under that condition that she decided to get pregnant in the first place. she is not a good mother, emotionally distant and extremely demanding, she wants a legacy and her son is going to make that happen.

at some point, founder starts requiring round the clock medical care for his illness and starts looking into the use of paratech to extend his life. wanting the best of the best he employs katherine to essentially work under him and be his personal surgeon, allowing her to continue her other research. however, just a couple years later ww2 happens, and in addition so does the 7th occult war, the formation of the chaos insurgency, and the creation of the ethics committee. with the creation of the ethics committee, a majority of katherines projects are scrapped. fearing her defection she undergoes the procedures shed been developing for the purpose of creating perfect blank slate factotum, that preserve her skills while also stripping her of her memory and personality and reforming it to suit the needs of her o5. here she gets the name scalpel, and no longer remembers ever even having the name katherine.

after becoming scalpel not much in her story happens for many decades as she has very little agency. shes made to believe her memory is more faulty than it is to keep her on her toes, fearing being scrapped. she meticulously keeps a daily planner to keep track of her day to day appointments and such, worried even one mistake will have her recycled, killed with all her paratech in her body going to the next o5. she takes care of founder and his many augments, she does work for other o5s, augmenting them and their factotum as requested. she is perfectly quiet and obedient and out of the way. and that's about where she is in the modern day.

there are many ways her story could go from here, and ive come up with several different variations, however, this post is already quite long so i will end it here.

[crimeronan]

re: your empathy posts. As someone who probably has higher than normal empathy (I used to ask people around me how they deal with sympathetic distress in common situations that occur in a job and only got blank stares) you're so valid!! The lionizing of this random subconscious process called empathy is so useless! It says nothing about the person and their values! As your other commenters suggested, people disparaging you may just be trying to boost their own shaky feelings about how their own emotional stability is deeply tied to their people-pleasing tendencies.

If anything, I think learning to function "normally" in society with "empathy" makes you more messed up. I understand this person's distress. I acknowledge it, and know how my actions will make it worse. I make them feel worse anyway, because that's the organizationally approved behavior, causing more pain for both them and myself. All the while I must behave as if I am cheerful and unbothered. Internalizing that hurting others and yourself to achieve your goals is Fine is necessary in order to stay sane. This is counter to everything people say they believe, so lying also has to become a virtue.

Buying kindness from the store seems like a really kind thing to do tbh. I am passing you on the street as I am schlupping over to pick up some callousness.

this last sentence made me giggle a lot. but YEAH!! a lot of this is spot-on to stuff i've been thinking about lately. like, "normal" empathy levels seem to be socially defined as "you care about people and want to help them, but you don't care so much that you'll harm yourself in pursuit of that" and it's all just..... i dunno. so much pathologizing of how we think and feel and whether we're Human (TM) about stuff. it's all so Weird

like..... i keep thinking that my lack of empathy gives me certain advantages in social situations. but in a similar vein to the ppl worried about sounding like tiktok empaths for being hyperempathetic, i worry that this makes me sound like an alpha male influencer writing youtube essays about why emotions make you weak, or whatever.

it's not that emotions make people weak or that having less empathy makes me like, a Cold Logical Calculating Math-Loving Strategist. i'm a writer who focuses solely on character-driven stuff, u probably wouldn't expect that from a stereotypically sociopathic person. part of why i LIKE writing character-driven stuff so much is BECAUSE i've had to actively teach myself how other people think, how they feel, how they struggle, etc

a lack of empathy means i can choose not to get invested in other people's feelings or lives, i don't feel guilty for emotionally disconnecting, i'm not afraid of being disliked. but i still know how to act like a decent human being. there's that one post about how stupid it is not to realize being nice gets people to be nice back, and fuckin. YEAH!! it's astonishing to me to read about cases of """clinical sociopaths""" (who are just people who didn't get the 'pretend you give a shit, moron' memo) manipulating and gaslighting people and whatnot. everyone in the comments will always be like "ooo so scary... they didn't feel bad at ALL... so terrifying that people who don't feel guilt exist..." and i'm like.

IS GUILT THE ONLY THING THAT KEEPS YOU FROM COMMITTING ATROCITIES???

BLOWS MY MIND. IT'S LIKE..... THE LEFTIST EQUIVALENT OF SAYING EVERYONE WOULD BE MURDERERS IF THEY WERENT SCARED OF GOD. LIKE. YOU ONLY AVOID DOING BAD STUFF BC IT MAKES YOU FEEL BAD??????

good LORD. at least having no empathy means i've had to grow my principles organically. oh my GOD.

anyway what brought these thoughts up today was that i was thinking about gansey and luz noceda, since theyre extremely similar characters & on my All Time Faves list. and i've said this before but the things i love about them (the kindness, self-sacrificing shit, anxiety, etc) are things i don't see in myself. but Wish I Did. like i wish i was kinder on the inside than i am.

but i know that i admire ppl with luz and gansey traits both in fiction and in real life. so i simply just..... emulate the luz and gansey actions. not always successfully, esp because i have a temper and very little patience, but like. i try to be kind where i can bc i wish i was someone who tries to be kind when they can. so i'm just going to be. u know??