#tw voice lost

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

Relaxing against the door jam, you allowed your eyes to survey your family. Finnick had taken the kids out to the ocean today, the weather finally warm enough to allow for a dip in the water. Apparently to your District Four husband, that meant it was a day meant for learning how to swim. You had shot him a look when he asked you to join them — neither of your games had been kind to you and water had been the best way they had hindered you, your district not having the area that would have allowed you to learn to swim young.

Finnick knew you could swim, having taught you himself during the awful days while you were both in the Capital working under Snow, but he also knew that you had no love for it. Not like he did. Evidently, your children had inherited his love of the deep blue and had taken to the water like fish did. Since they had come back from their adventure, you had heard nothing else from them as they stormed the house and settled into the tub to wash the salt water from themselves amidst faint protests.

Despite your distaste for the ocean, you were glad you suggested moving to Four after the war. Finnick’s nightmares had settled drastically when he could hear and smell his home as he slept and it brought to him a peace you hadn’t seen in him before.

It wasn’t exactly shocking, stumbling into a new facet of your husband — your entire relationship had been written, scripted, and directed for pleasure of the Capital — but it was something you thought you should have known. Of course your fishy four Finnick would feel safest on the ocean.

When you had finally figured out what was reducing his nightmares, you had been tempted to smack yourself, so obvious in hindsight was the answer. When Finnick had questioned the look on your face, he had laughed at your answer, muffling it into your shoulder as he caught you in his arms to swing around your kitchen.

The two of you had settled nicely into domestic life, little things like dancing around the kitchen in the early morning sun or washing your kids off after teaching them to swim something neither of you thought you’d ever be able to do. Now it was part of your routine.

Finally pushing off the door jam to stand straight, you knocked on the door to get everyone’s attention. When they all were looking at you, you signed to them “Dinner time.”

Your movements were slow and careful but they were common ones in your household and your family knew Sign enough to know what you said. They had been learning it as they grew up and Finnick had joined in on your lessons as much as he could, so the family was at about the same level of fluency with your language. Acknowledging you, the kids gave you a couple of very enthusiastic thumbs up and Finnick was swift to pick them up to dry them off.

Seeing that your words were being followed, you let them be and started to make your way to the kitchen again to set the table. You could have waited for them to help but you didn’t mind.

It was the little things like cooking dinner and setting the table that calms you down nowadays. Things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to do.

But the war was over and you were doing ok.

@febuwhump

A/N — any blank blogs that follow me are going to be reported then blocked. Pick a different profile pic and get a witty header or something.

[blueskittlesart]

Now that you're gone

[ruporas]

all I wanted was to save them... (ID in alt)

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade just... being normal(?) For a day. Doing house hold chores, watching shitty live tv, goes out to walk Puppins, showering with no smart remarks.

Yes, he still hums and taps on stuff, but it's much.. calmer.. now. In the sense that he doesn't want to cause a scene and would rather just be left alone right now.

But then... when he gets out. Surely he's going to be his silly self and say something, right?? Right???? Wrong.

He just... sits there. Boredly looking at those free magazines that you find sometimes at doctors' offices. The ones that are like "Home improvment for your loved one with dementia" or "50 dinner ideas for someone with diabetes"

Logan just blinks after watching him all day and goes "...Are you okay?"

Without a beat, he awnsers pretty monotoned. "I can't be manic all the time. That's just stupid to think." Before realizing he said it outloud. He perks up and starts laughing. "I mean- Yeah I'm great! What about you, Tiger?"

Again Logan just stares, blinking some as he tries to process.

"....How long have you kept up that act..?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, pumpkin!" It was like watching someone trying to impersonate themsleves.

"....Wade.."

"What is it cupcake?"

"...You don't have to do that."

"Do what? Gosh your so silly. My silly little sunflower."

Logan just stares at him for a bit more and quickly he panics, swallowing and starting to say anything he can to make him believe it was a joke but he dosn't believe a single word of it.

"...its not an act.. is it?"

It eventually ends with wade running out of excuses or things to lie about. He sits there, tears starting to run down his face as he thinks of words to say. You can see just how desperate he is to say something but he can't seem to get it out.

"..I....I-i."

"I know."

Wade just looks at him with this big scared eyes as if he was about to accuse him of faking or telling him he liked this wade better or something terrible like asking how to keep him this way but Logan pulls him into a side hug.

"...are you okay?"

His throat tightens, shaking his head. "..no."

"That's okay." Turning to give him an actual hug, Wade cries. Not because he's sad though. But because to Logan, it doesn't matter how high or low he was on the chart, who he was or how he acted. He loves him. He understands that acting like a crazy childish phycopath isn't a mask but rather who he was sometimes. And sometimes he prefered to silently lay his head on his shoulder.

Eventually Logan asks him if he has a personality disorder and Wade just shrugs. "Probably.... is that an issue..?"

"No.... do you want diagnosed?"

Wade pauses, remembers the last time he asked for medical help and shakes his head. "Nah... I'm good.. besides. I've come to like him."

"How long has he been in there?" Logan playfully knocks on his head and wade giggles a bit. A genuine true laugh. "I don't know. Probably forever.... are you sure it's not a problem?" He bites his tounge, waiting for the "because I like him better" but it never came.

"Why would that be a problem? Sure, you're a pain the ass but you're my pain in the ass." He says, mindlessly sitting for a second before quickly saying "DON'T-"

As wade is on the brink of explosion from laughter and some smirky comments.

[synonymroll648]

headcanon that the reason sophie still has eyelashes to pull on the regular is that grady and edaline worked something out with the dizznees to get a tasteless formula to help eyelash growth specifically to put drops of in her bottles of youth. because there’s no way her ptsd-induced trichotillomania (oversimplified definition for those who aren’t familiar: hair pulling disorder) is gonna die down during the war, so they’re trying to make sure she doesn’t move from eyelashes to eyebrows or her Hair hair by giving her More Eyelashes

[serickswrites]

Voiceless

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, conditioning, brainwashing, creepy/intimate whumper

"Isn't this nice, Whumpee?" Whumper said as they stroked along Whumpee's chest. They kissed Whumpee's cheek as their hands trailed lower.

"Fuck you," Whumpee rasped. They had screamed themself hoarse over the last several days.

No matter how much Whumper tortured them, tried to train them to accept touch, Whumpee didn't. They would fight Whumper every step of the way.

"We're working up to that, Whumpee. But I want you to be unbound for that and I can't trust that you won't try to escape right now."

"I will never accept you." Whumpee glared at Whumper.

Whumper grabbed them by the throat, slamming their head hard against the head board. Whumpee's vision sparked with stars. "Never say never, Whumpee," Whumper's voice was dangerously low. "I want you to enjoy this. But I don't have to. I can enjoy you whether or not you do. The choice is yours."

"Fuck. You." Whumpee rasped around Whumper's fingers.

With a growl, Whumper slammed Whumpee's head against the headboard again. "Wrong answer." They pressed their body down the length of Whumpee's. "I am going to do this over and over until you say 'yes, Whumper. I love you, too, Whumper' any time I prompt you."

Whumpee glared up at Whumper. They would never submit. They would never do what Whumper wanted. No matter how much Whumper tried to brainwash them. They would never comply.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[leechlovely]

Prideful creature

[vulgrados-best]

The champion of paldea, geeta, sent children into area zero, including a few from another region. At least in my world it was made public. She’s good at what she does, politically as the champion, league chairwoman, and head of the academy, but people worry about her putting children at risk. Apparently they were champion ranked so “they could handle it” buuuut. If they hadn’t been able to I shudder to think of the international drama sending two kids from a unovan school into the hole that everyone in paldea grows up knowing not to mess with may cause.

See this would normally be disturbing but I'm realizing it's quite common for children to solve the supernatural on this website.

I've wondered how long til we are thrown headlong into it? What story will we experience? I am no fool. There is signs of the inevitable narrative that will swallow us whole. Psychics and Family Legacies. Missing Persons found at last. Strange whispers.

There is no if. There is only when.

But will I be swept aside by the tide of fate? Doomed to bash my head against the rocks to progress our journey? Or will I go with its current?

It leaves me antsy.

Do I wait for a destined fall or do I jump headlong myself?

Do I take it into my own hands in hopes of making myself relevant enough to the narrative to be allowed a part to play or do I go with what is planned for my life and pray that it is to survive?

Death or action.

And I suppose... At the end of it all... I ask:

Do I listen to what my mother told me?

Or

Do I let doubt consume me?

[pierregaslays]

:(

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

A song came up on my shuffle that reminded me of Subject 16 and now I'm thinking about Clay Kaczmarek again.

I have played a LOT of Assassin's Creed and to this day, Clay is one of my all time favorite characters. I actually might like him even more than Desmond (don't kill me please). Everything about him is just so utterly tragic and I don't think the AC fandom (however tiny it is) appreciates him enough.

Like just think about this for a second and put yourself into his situation:

(TW for self harm and suicide. Honestly Clay should just be a TW in general)

Now for the sake of time, let's just breeze past the whole desperately searching for parental approval from someone who won't give it to you to the point that you give up on your dreams. Clay's childhood is lesser known since all of that is in The Lost Archive DLC, but regardless it's still pretty depressing.

So you're in college for something you don't want to do to appease a man that just makes you feel horrible. Then out of nowhere this guy comes up to you and says you can do something greater with your life, serve a good cause with bigger purpose. You join the Assassin Brotherhood and things are going good, great even! For once you're finally happy with your life.

But now you have to do the biggest, most important mission you've ever been sent on. You have to infiltrate the enemy in deep cover for an extended period of time. It will be fine. You've done infiltration missions before. There's already a mole planted. She will get you out. It will be fine. Lucy will get you out.

You allow yourself to be captured. Your kidnappers strap you into a machine that forces you to relive your ancestors memories for hours at a time. There will be long term effects. Your captors don't care. You aren't a person to them, just a number. Just 16. They put you back into the machine.

One day after being removed from the machine something feels off. Like you're not where you're supposed to be. You're supposed to be taller aren't you? Or are you supposed to be shorter? The buildings outside the window look wrong. It doesn't matter. You're out of the machine. You can finally be you instead of someone else, if not for just a little while.

But it gets worse.

Even outside of the machine you still aren't you. You experience memories that aren't yours even when you aren't strapped in. You can't remember the year. You catch yourself thinking its 1480 instead of 2012. You swear a horse almost ran you over but you're in a skyscraper forty stories up.

You're scared.

But it's okay. You have what you came for. Lucy will get you out.

Except she won't. She defected to the enemy side. No one knows to come for you. You're trapped, doomed to be forced into a machine that destroys your mind. You're alone with dead people who feel like they're you. But there is someone... something? A being calling herself Juno.

She might not be real.

She says the end of the world is coming.

She says you are going to die.

You believe her, when you're lucid enough to listen.

You are trapped. If not in the memories of someone else then in this infernal room. There's no point in fighting any more. You won't escape. You can't warn the brotherhood. But you could give whoever comes next a fighting chance. Lucy won't help Subject 17, but you can make sure they aren't alone like you. You can do it. You can stave off the bleeding effect and cling to your remaining sanity long enough to do this one thing. Juno says the world depends on it.

You code an AI of yourself into the machine, split it into encrypted glyphs for 17 to find. You aren't sure how coherent your messages are. Especially not the last ones. You barely remember your own name. It will be okay, though. All 17 has to do is unite the glyphs. You won't be here to help 17, exactly, but your digital memory will. Now you just need to make sure they know to look for them.

There isn't a quick way to do it. They want to keep you alive, even if they don't care about your wellbeing beyond that. You managed to steal a pen. The pen will have to do. Cutting your wrists with the ballpoint hurts, but it's a necessary sacrifice. You'll write your message on the walls and floors. Even after they clean it up 17 will be able to see it. 17 will have the eyes.

"She sees me... raise the knife..."

[codecicle]

heres the torture scene I've been looping. it's so viv n vex experimenting on emizel and i was encouraged not only to say that but phrase it that way by several people. take my hand and join my Perfect World (severe content warning ahead for graphic descriptions + realistic screaming + Literal Torture lmao proceed with caution)

[lyselkatzfandomluvs]

Tán JiànCì 檀健次

TJC Studio Wb update 2023.10.16

Shiny DuoDuo 多多! ⭐🌟

[sophiethewitch1]

no i will NOT acknowledge the early warning signs for schizophrenia warning list what do i look like I'm someone who deals with their problems?? absolutely not

[transingthoseformers]

Artist ask game from yesterday: 3. your favorite piece(s)?

God there's so many to choose from, not to mention the ones I lost, but here's the ones I could find:

These four didn't translate so well because my phone camera is shit, but for a time period I was making these real grotesque pieces (which most of them I kept) that, while I'm not in the same headspace anymore, I still love dearly. Popping these under a readmore just in case, and I hope Tumblr doesn't murder the quality too much.

[unheavenly]

꒰ა ໒꒱

[zukkaoru]

let it out, the guy who didn't like musicals // bungou stray dogs, chapters 62 & 77

[id in alt text]