#tw: bad grammar

[hazbin-hotel-aesthetics-quotes]

I've read someone saying that Husk is just telling Angel to suck it up and victim blaming him.

Yes he's saying Angel to suck it up, but he isn't saying anything about him having fault into his situations, but he can understand regretting bad choises. He's saying he isn't alone, and he can in some way, understand him.

Husk is the first one who Angel reveals that he had sold his soul to Valentino, and the same goes for Husk that reveals that once he was a overlord and he had made a deal with Al.

Now, the situations are obviously not the same. Valentino is abusive, manipulatine and a r*pist. Al is yes, a sadistic overlord and he is not a good person, but he is evil for his own entertainment and in the pilot he calls Husk to fulfill his favor, making him work at the bar, probably just because he enjoy making Husk do it just for the sake of ordering him around.

What Husk is saying to Angel Dust is You are not alone. You may be a loser, you may feel you're at the bottom and screwd up, but that's okay. Cut yourself some slacks, forgive yourself and start to accept your flaws. You are not alone and together we can help each other.

[crappycamille]

a/n: i’m not really sure if this makes sense. i hope what i was tryna do is conveyed. i sleepily wrote this. sorry for the bad grammar, like i said i was sleepy. <3

katsuki’s guilty pleasure is listening to mac demarco. it does something fuzzy to his chest.

the first time you put it on was on a long car ride. he can’t even remember where exactly the two of you were going, he just remembers the peaceful quietness of the day.

neither of you had really said anything to each other the whole day, just silently basked in each other’s presence. the day was filled with nothing but tender, tranquil, love.

it’s days like that where katsuki remembers why he’s alive. why people are so crazy about love. why he fights to protect his love, your love, and love in general.

the car ride was nothing short of peaceful. the car itself was warm just the way he liked it. not hot enough for him to sweat, but cozy and comfortable. it was beautifully sunny outside, but it wasn’t so bright that it hurt his eyes to look at the road. the roads were clear and chill allowing him to relax while driving. he didn’t have to be on such high alert for reckless drivers nor did he have to worry about getting irritated with traffic.

but most of all, he had you with him. you were barefaced, dressed in a homey-cozy little outfit. your hair the same as your clothes. and you were nothing short of beautiful.

he likes seeing you like this the most.

no one else got to experience you like this. you were your raw self. katsuki’s heart swells when he thinks about how he’s earned your vulnerability. how could he have gotten so lucky to have you not only love him but wholeheartedly trust him?

the beginning of the car ride matched the day in its cozy silence. but then katsuki heard you peep a quiet “oh!” as you reached over to grab his phone. as he glanced over at you, he noticed you excitedly biting your lip.

that’s when you played mac demarco. you then sat back satisfied as you reveled in the enhanced calming ambiance you’d created. clearly feeling accomplished having found music to perfectly match the atmosphere of the day.

at first, katsuki couldn’t understand why you liked it so much other than it being “vibey.” especially because he related so hard to all of those songs. he felt them deep within his soul.

he understood the kind of guttural love mac demarco was writing songs about. the kind of person mac demarco felt devastatingly connected to. because… that’s how katsuki feels about you.

he was almost mad that you introduced him to this music. he feels so shaken everytime he listens to mac demarco. it makes his chest buzz with the overwhelming emotions he has for you. he can’t even control it. the feeling is overwhelming. it’s addicting.

he just loves you.

so now he finds himself listening to mac demarco all the time. when he’s cooking, when he’s cleaning, when he’s at the office, when he’s working out, when he’s driving. whenever he feels the need to musically materialize his love for you.

it’s especially hard when he’s away on missions. he’s sitting in his hotel room at night, earbuds pushed deeply into his ears. he sits back and presses play as he’s laying down for bed. he’s already had a video chat with you, but the aftermath of that always stings the worst at the realization that you aren’t with him. the quietness after the end of the call is loud enough to send him spiraling sometimes. he tries to ignore how cold and empty the bed feels and he fills the silence with that musically materialized love.

it’s calms him. creates a feeling that ripples from deep within his chest throughout his entire body, like ripples on a still pond. he misses you dearly. enough to make him cry. enough to make him leave his hotel and get back to you. but he won’t.

he’s a hero through and through. he sacrifices so he can fight. and he fights day in and day out to protect love. his love, your love, and love in general.

[theangelcatalogue]

SUCH A BACKSTABBER || ★!

Gender Neutral!★

Romantic/Platonic!★

★ - Starting notes/before we start; I made this with the objetive to see if you guys like my writing, like a test or something! You can see it as Tmnt 2012 or Rottmnt!

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, DELUSIONAL BEHAVIOR, OBSSESIVE BEHAVIOR, SWEARING, KILLING MENTIONS, (MENTIOS OF) STALKING, BLOOD, Y/N IS A BACKSTABBER, BAD ENGLISH, BAD GRAMMAR AND MADE BY A MINOR! YOU DON'T NEED TO READ IF YOU DON'T WANT! IF I MISSED SOMETHING TELL ME!

☆ ︶︶︶ ౿ ָ Turtles 𞥊 ︶︶︶ ☆

Hurt, Sadness, Anger, How should they feel?

How should they feel about you now? About your betrayal? You such a backstabber

It makes months they met you and you are were so....perfect, kind, gentle, strong, you are were

Everything

And they did everything for you, they did everything to protect, they stalked you, they killed take care of anyone who hurt you

That feeling was so wrong, and yet so right and amazing, that feeling of being crazy for you, you were like a drug, one of the best ones

Just to what? Just to discover that what?

That you worked for the bad guys all the time!? That everything was a lie!? A FUCKING LIE!?

Oh they felt so dumb, Why? For what?

Do you atleast feel any Guilty?

Something is wrong, really wrong? You were a good person? So....why?

Maybe you dind't wanted

They forced you

These stupid villains, they did that, they forced you? That's the answer!

Because their Y/n would never do that! Never! NEVER! Oh god.

They have to free you, they have to do that

A blood patch can be made, no matter how much people they have to take care of, they will bring you back, they don't care if you want or no

And when they bring you back to their side, you will never escape

Don't worry, you will be okay! They promise you

Of course you will surfer consequences, but it's for your good

Welcome to your fate.

☆ ︶︶︶ ౿ ָ 🗡 𞥊 ︶︶︶ ☆

Songs -> 💔 || 🩸|| 🔪

NOTES:

✮ Damn this is REALLY short ✮

✮ Just a test tbh ✮

✮ Idk just take care of yourself! Drink some water my dear! I want you all to be okay alright? You guys are really important! ✮

(Sdra 2 without context)

[u-friend-or-ufo]

My Story

Disclaimer

I do not want any witch hunt or harassment towards his family and friends when/if I reveal their username or their real name. I haven’t got a lot of screenshots of our messages. I do have some during the end of me talking to him and others. I may also delete the post to work on it more, with more screenshots if I can find them. Or, if I find this too overwhelming for me.

Also, if you have any suspicions on who this person is. Please don’t reblog this post with their username and/or their real name as I’m not ready to reveal it.

Throughout my teenage years to an young adult (14/15-19/20) I was in contact with someone who was in their 60s on Deviantart. As of yet, I’m not ready to reveal their username or their real name.

I started my own Deviantart account when I was 12/13, which is now deleted. For the first year I posted my cringe drawings and photos. During when I was 14/15, I started to Like The Beatles and the cartoon that they had back in the 60s and would favourite art and fanfictions of the band. That’s when I came across one of their drawings and posted a comment on it. I can’t remember who sent a note first. If you are not familiar with Deviantart, notes are like privet messages before the Chat function that Deviantart has now.       

At first it was fine, talking about The Beatles and different bands. Normal stuff for around a year like hello and how was your day.

During 2015 when I was 15/16, we got into an argument that got pretty bad. He asked me what year at school I was in and I said I was in year 11. He then replied with “Does that mean your 18?” I replied with No, I’m 16.”

He replied later with something along the line “We can’t talk anymore. Goodbye.” Again I don’t have any screenshots of our earlier notes. I was confused, why couldn’t we talk. Nothing was going in in a bad way. We argue about it. He blocked me, I blocked him. After a while we unblocked each other, apologized and continued on talking. This would happen a lot. We argue about something, he will bock me, sometimes deactivated his account only to reactivated, unblocked me and then apologise to me.

One time they told me that they had a dream about my trying on cute short dresses. I should have cut contact after he told me that. But I was an idiot and still talked to him.           

We talked on Messenger as well. He asked for pitchers of me. Not in the nude, nothing like that, just of my face. He said one time that he would get a tattoo of my face because I was so beautiful One time he asked for a picture of me and for a joke, I took and sent him a picture of one of my stuffed toys. He got mad at me for doing it and I apologies for the joke. I don’t have any screenshots of these messages, I’ve looked for them but can’t due to them deleting their Facebook.

We also did roplays together. Just silly Beatles roplays that involves some ocs of mine. However, some of the rolpays did involve some fetishes and kinks that I didn’t find sexual. So did some of the art work that they draw for me. Now, I don’t kink shame. If you got a kink or a fetish, then that’s fine. As long as you don’t push it on to other people who find it uncomfortable. Especially onto minors, even if they do have it.

Just after my 17 birthday, somehow one of the staff at the collage that I was attending at the time found out that I was talking to him. I do believe that one or two of my collage friends told them about us. I do remember one of them looking at my computer screen time.  They brought me into a room and asked me some questions. “When did you first start talking?” “Has he ever asked for sexual images of you?” One thing that they said did baffle me a bit. “Well, you are over the age of 13. This person isn’t a paedophile. Do you know what grooming is?”

They phoned my parents and I was allowed to leave early. My parents told me not to talk to them privately but I still can post comments on their art work. But I went behind their backs and still talked to them privately on Deviantart and Messenger.

I was pissed at them for telling the collage staff. I didn’t know who actually told them but I had my suppositions. One of these friends was 24 at the time, we meet in collage when I was 16. The friend group that they were in took me under their wing and we became friends. However, as time went by they wanted to be in a relationship with me. But that story is for another time when I’m ready to talk about it.          

When my parents found out that I was still talking to him after some months passed, they were so mad at me. Screaming at me, reducing me to tears. But after all of that, I still continued to talk with him behind my parents back. Being more secret about it and deleting our privet notes together. And, using other platforms like Tumblr and Twitter. That’s one thing I deeply regret, deleting all of our notes beside some last ones that they sent me before I cut him off.

One of his conversations with me was how I saved him from suicide by being there for him, talking to him. I was there for him when we would rant about politics and other Deviantart users. The fact that we lived in different countries, me living in the UK and him living in America. I would have late nights talking to him and roplaying as well. I would end the night by saying.” I’m going to sleep now, talk to you tomorrow.” And if I didn’t say goodnight to him, he would get mad. 

Another time he asked me to marry him, I was 17 at that time… Again, I wish I kept the notes…I was an absolute idiot for deleting them. When he asked me, I was out with my family and the phone I was using had terrible internet connection with the place that I was in. I didn’t reply straight away, I was shocked… I didn’t know what to say. I moved somewhere else away from my parents when he massage again. I do slightly remember what the message said.

“I’m waiting for the answerJ”

And like the fool I was… I said yes…That I will marry him… I didn’t want another augment to happen or them hurting/committing suicide . He was so happy… This was a man in his 60s, he was married, had children and even had grandchildren… 

In 2019 when I was 19/20, we had one last argument then I block him permanently after that because I have had enough of his threats and the way he was treating me. I then deleted my main account later on. I can’t remember if I deleted it in 2019 or 2020.

The argument was about me having an interest into Wicca and them finding out that I was in a relationship with my third ex-boyfriend.

Below are some screen shots of the notes that I kept from 2019. His username and mine are blocked out, as well as other personal information.

After some time he also deleted his main account but then crated a new one, uploading some if his old drawings.

Other screenshots

This one is from an email that they sent me during 2017. They had some suspicions that I was in a relationship and we had another augment about it. I lied to him and said that I wasn’t in one so that the argument wouldn’t continue.

These messengers are from Tumblr. I must have forgotten to block him on their. I sent him this message to him to him in 2020. I don't have a screenshot of the messages but here is it typed out.

What you have done could be consider as grooming. However, I do not think that was your intention or that you are a podophile. I believe that I appeared in your life when you was in a bad mind state and somehow have helped you. You did tell me that I saved you from suicide once. The reason why I left was the way you was talking and behaving towards me. You did not like the fact that I had a boyfriend at the time who you called a "fag" You didn't like me not talking to you for a day.

I don't know if your lgbtq+ views have change or not. I am Asexual, witch I have told you before. I am also questioning Bi-curious. You have your own opinions witch is fine but they have hurt me.

You called me a devil worshiper for having an interested in Wicca. For some clarification, Wicca is an Religion witch has nothing to do with the Christian devil. I did explain that to you but you didn't listen.

You threatened to hurt yourself and kill yourself if I left or didn't agree with you. How did you think I felt when you said theses things to me? What was your intentions?

I am sorry that you suffered from a stroke and I wish that you will have a full recovery. I don't know if you will see this message as well if you will reply to it. All I want is us the move on.

In 2022 he replied to the message.

Last year in 2023 I found out that this person passed away. I don't think I will ever forget his name so out of curiosity, I Googled his real name and found his Obituary. I couldn't believe it at first. I just stared blankly at the computer screen, my mind racing with thoughts. I couldn’t believe it at first that he was gone.

And that’s my history with this person. Again, I’m not ready to reveal their username or their real name. Not even my parents, my ex-boyfriend at the time when we was together fully knows what happened. Only my closest friends know and I’m so thankful for them taking the time for listening to me.

What I’m still conflicted on is dose this count as grooming? I do believe that used me as their own personal therapist but there is non-sexual grooming. I feel like an idiot for not cutting contact when red flags started showing up. That I blamed myself for getting in this situation. But another part of me says that this isn’t grooming. Other people have had it way much worse than you. You’re blowing this way out proportion.

I’m also worried about the outcome of telling my story. That people will say “Why didn’t you listen to your parents?” “Why didn’t you get the police involved?” “Why tell your story now?” Those are all valid criticisms. I just wanted to get this out of my chest. Again, I may also delete the post to work on it more, with more screenshots if I can find them. Or, if I find this too overwhelming for me.    

[cakemadeofbacon]

Im literally never getting over the revolutionary girl Utena finale btw (none of this is properly written):

Anthy trying to kill herself because she betrayed Utena, and then Utena crying and apologizing for betraying her and then Utena choosing to fight for Anthy, despite finding her prince, the thing shes dedicated her life for, and Utena winning but Anyby doesn’t believe in a life where she is happy. She doesn’t remember anything but suffering even with her times with Utena she has the pain of betraying the only person whos truly cared for her so she does the only thing she has ever known and betrays Utena. Because she is a girl. And girls are only princesses or witches. Girls are not princes. You cannot be my prince, Utena, because you are a girl. And despite sustaining a stab wound Utena stands up and walks over to the coffin. She opens it, without winning any stupid duel, without the power of Dios, without a sword. She opens it with her bare hands, with her own blood and sweat and tears. There lay Anthy - all of her. Without the school uniform or the bridal dress or Akio she is there wholly herself. And Utena smiles Himemiya… at last… we meet. And Anthy is scared for her Utena leave! except despite everything Utena reaches out her hand Himemiya and Anthy takes it… despite everything… she takes it.

However, it wasn’t meant to be. Anthy was right about one thing. Utena is not a prince. She isn’t a princess or a witch either. She never was.

And Anthy isn’t a witch or a princess or a bride. She never was.

Anthy never needed saving. She never needed a prince. She is just a girl. She is a human being who needed another human being to see her to love her.

And that was enough.

Reaching out was enough

Utena couldn’t do anything more for her.

Akio doesn’t understand this. So Anthy, finally realizing that she deserves love and that her pain was never eternal, only the thought of it was explains to Akio by all means if you wish to stay in your fake castle playing prince, i won’t stop you, Goodbye.

Anthy leaves. The power was in her all along. She never needed anyone to save her.

The school bells chime signifying the end of a duel and Anthy makes a vow im coming for you, no matter where you are. Wait for me, Utena

She looks straight ahead and walks away from Ohtori. The credits roll. And i cry.

I probably got all those quotes wrong please forgive me 😭

[theunkn0wn-0]

The Gift of Immortality DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER ✕ DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS

╰➤ ⌈ [ 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… ⌋ ╰┈┈➤ This is a FIRST PERSON POV story for the reader, Y/N, M/C. ╰┈┈➤ Instead of (Y/N), I use [First Name] for your name ╰┈┈➤ Enjoy the story, have fun.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 007 | 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

TRIGGER | CONTENT WARNINGS: COMPREHENSIVE & GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION WRITING OF VIOLENCE, GORE, BLOOD, and SCARIFICATION!!! Mentions of DEATH & PROFANITY!!!

008 | Catharsis

❝I endured for the flames within me burn brighter. In the crucible of adversity. I emerged unscathed. For the blaze of my inner strength, outshone the inferno that sought to consume me.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

Every sound and shift in the air around me became crucial, as my eyesight returned. The debris and lingering smoke obscured my view, forcing me to rely on my heightened senses. I rose from the ground, the bruises on my body already healing, though the pain remained. The stench of burning energy and scorched earth mixed with the coppery scent of blood and sweat made the air thick and heavy in my lungs.

The smoke dissipated the area, revealing the aftermath of the chaos as my breath hitched, the reality became clearer. I could finally make out the figure of Piccolo, battered but still standing, his hulking frame staggered slightly. Blood ran from his wounds, but the damage I had inflicted was already mending, his regeneration kicking in to mend the fresh slashes and punctures. His outstretched hand glowed with that all-too-familiar green light.

My heart skipped a beat and my eyes widened.

That light—that sickening green glow—I recognized it immediately. The Evil Containment Wave.

The realization hit me like a freight train, as the dust cleared, revealing the extent of the carnage. Time seemed to slow as I grasped the implications. Piccolo, standing there, battered and bruised, but smiling, as he prepared to use one of the most dangerous techniques in existence. 

The same technique that had been used to imprison his father. My breath caught in my throat as if gripped by an invisible hand, my chest felt tight and the rapid pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, drowning out all other sounds.

No... not again. Not me.

My lips curled into a snarl behind my facemask, a feeble attempt to hide the sheer panic across my features. The memories flooded in, unbidden and relentless. Being trapped, bound in a prison that defied time, tortured for what felt like eternity, and the maddening silence. My hands began to tremble, and I felt the old familiar panic clawing my body.

My breathing quickened, shallow gasps as if the air around me had thickened, refusing to fill my lungs. I took a step back, instinctively retreating, my vision narrowed, focusing entirely on the orb in Piccolo's hand. He noticed the dread in my eyes, his lips curling into a wide, vicious grin. He reveled in my reaction, savoring every moment of distress when I realized the tables had turned, and I was the one at his mercy.

Bastard...

The cold sweat that drenched my skin made my movements sluggish, my limbs heavy. I couldn't go back to that—I wouldn't. I wanted to scream, but no sound escaped my lips. My throat was tight, my body frozen between fight and flight, and I couldn't decide which to choose. My gaze flickered between Piccolo and the rapidly growing sphere of energy in his hand. It grew larger, and the air crackled with its ominous power.

If I didn't move, if I didn't act—

An explosion rang out, and the world snapped back into focus.

"I won't allow it, Piccolo!" A blast of ki struck Piccolo from behind, sending him staggering forward, his concentration shattered and a hiss escaped from his lips. The green orb fizzled out, the threat momentarily diffused.

Who?

My eyes darted toward the source of the attack who had so boldly interfered in our bloodshed while my heart was still racing in my chest. A figure—a blur of speed—rushed toward Piccolo and engaged him in a fierce clash. I blinked, my mind struggling to process the sudden shift in the battlefield. The intruder moved with breathtaking speed, slowly I examined the stranger, and my heart sank to my core.

Despite the aged and frail form, I could see the undeniable resemblance to King Piccolo. The two warriors grappled, their hands locked in a deadly struggle for power. The intruder—a green-skinned, elderly demon—had halted Piccolo's attack, saving me from the brink of entrapment. His grip on Piccolo's wrist was unyielding, he pulled downward with all his might, preventing him from launching the Evil Containment Wave. The technique, which had seemed so imminent, was now thwarted.

For now.

Piccolo snarled in frustration, his eyes blazing with fury at the old individual interference. He struggled against the stranger's grip, his muscles straining with the effort. "You dare interfere, old man?" Piccolo spat, his voice laced with venom.

The old demon's expression was grim, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I cannot allow you to continue down this path of destruction, Piccolo," he said, his voice steady despite the exertion. "Your father's evil ends here."

My knees felt weak, the weight of what almost happened still pressing on my ribcage. The relief that washed over me was brief, quickly replaced by dread. My heart still throbbed painfully in my chest, but my mind was starting to catch up.

Two King Piccolos.

Whether they were incarnated or born, whatever history these two shared, it was irrelevant now. But my goal remained unchanged—to eliminate the dangers before me. My chance to slaughter them stood before me, and I couldn't waste it. My hands flexed, the ki crackling around my fingers as I summoned power to my palms. The orbs formed quickly, pulsating with raw energy, their heat radiating against my skin.

"I don't know what's going on," I muttered, my voice hoarse from the lingering panic. The adrenaline coursing through my veins burned away the shock, replacing it with a feral, unhinged desperation. Both Piccolo and his elder counterpart turned toward me, their eyes locking onto mine.

"But I do know one thing..." I felt the weight of the energy in my hands, the growing power ready to be unleashed as they absorbed the vast reserves of potency within me, growing in size. My lips twisted into an erratic smirk, a callous expression devoid of hesitation behind my mask.

"You're both meant to die."

With a savage cry, I hurled the two orbs of energy at the clashing demons. The spheres screamed through the air, hurtling toward their targets with a force that shook the crumbling foundations beneath my feet. As they barreled toward their marks, the power was overwhelming, the heat intense enough to sear the air around them.

I stood there, heart thumping, I watched the two demons react to the incoming attack, their movements quick yet frantic. Piccolo, slowed by the earlier onslaught, tried to evade, but it struck him squarely in the chest, sending him hurtling back, his roar of pain swallowed by the explosion's deafening echo.

The elder demon fared no better.

The sound of his body slamming into the cracked ground reverberated through the arena, a sickening crunch followed by an eerie stillness. Dust swirled in the wake of the impact, the tremors still rippling through the fractured earth. I could see Piccolo now, sprawled in the rubble, his face twisted in discomfort as he struggled to push himself up, battered and bloodied.

His breath came in ragged bursts, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, the sharp and iron scent of blood barely noticeable in the smoke-filled air. His gaze shifted to the elder demon crumpled in the rubble, struggling to rise. The impact cratered the floor where he landed.

Piccolo glared at me, eyes burning with a fury so intense it sent a shiver down my spine. His snarl cut through the haze of smoke and noise like a blade. "You'll pay for that, cockroach!"

"Don't tell me you care for him?" The words escaped before I could stop them, driven by a wild, reckless impulse. There was no logic left, only instinct, only survival.

His response came as a thunderous yell, "You know nothing of what I feel!" The earth quaked violently, cracks forming beneath our feet, snaking outwards as his energy swelled. I could feel my ki rising in response, surging like fire, burning away the last vestiges of sanity.

Piccolo's hands crackled with fierce, golden ki, an aura surrounding his frame as if his wrath had taken physical form. He leveled a piercing glare in my direction. "I will make you pay for everything you've done!" His voice was guttural and raw with anger.

I flexed my hands at my sides, feeling the energy pulse and ignite, barely restrained beneath my fingertips. A sharp, shaky breath escaped me as I forced every ounce of power into my hand, a blazing sphere of ki forming, coiling around my fingers with electric intensity. It grew, fiery tendrils snapping through the air, casting jagged light across the broken landscape.

"Then come at me brute!" I spat, my voice shaky with desperation.

Instantly, I propelled myself forward, hovering above the cracked ground, closing the gap between us. I swung hard, my ki-infused fist aimed with deadly precision at his face. But as my ki-infused punch was about to connect, his form shimmered, flickered, and vanished—an afterimage.

My eyes widened as I swung through empty air, my momentum sending me off balance, my body turning to face behind me. My mind barely registered what was happening before pain exploded across my face. His clasped hands smashed into me, sending my body plummeting to the floor with bone-jarring force.

The impact rattled my skull, a crunch filling my ears as agony radiated from my nose down through my spine. I tasted copper and felt my blood warmth dribble down my lips. Piccolo's assault didn't stop there. As I lay defenseless on the ground, he brought his clasped hands down upon me again with devastating force, pulverizing my body and burying me in the broken ground.

A choked, gurgling scream tore from my throat as the ground crumbled, and shockwaves of pain coursed through my battered face. The ki orb around my hand sputtered out, its energy fading, slipping through my fingers like water. I lay there, broken, my vision dimming, the edges of my sight darkening as consciousness began to slip away.

No, no.. keep... goi.....

My mind screamed, but the darkness was closing in, pulling me down. I could feel the warmth draining from my limb; the last sensory details faded into black. I don't know how long I was out. Seconds? Minutes? The moment I gasped in air, the ache crashed back into my awareness, every throb sharp and immediate yet gradually fading away.

I blinked, forcing my eyes to focus. Through a hazy fog, I saw him: the elder demon, looming over me, bruised but resolute, his breaths uneven. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, though his words sounded like echoes in a tunnel.

"Good, you're—"

I didn't let him finish.

Instinct overtook me, a surge of power rushed through me, primal and unrestrained. I hurled myself upward, my fingers igniting with ki as I launched a frantic volley of blasts toward him, an attempt to tear him apart before he could finish me. His eyes widened as he stumbled back, caught off guard by the fury of my assault. One of the blasts clipped his shoulder, leaving a shallow wound. But the way his eyes narrowed, I could tell he wasn't only taken aback by my attack—he saw something more.

"[First Name], I'm trying to help you!" he shouted, discomfort evident in his voice. "I'm on your side!"

But reason had evaporated. His words became meaningless, drowned in a torrent of rage and desperation that blurred all else. My pulse thundered, every instinct urging me to rip, tear, destroy. I fired another blast, a cruel grin creeping onto my lips as he deflected it with a grunt of exertion.

In my mind, everything around me was an enemy, a threat. They all wanted me subdued, silenced. My gaze settled on his injured arm, a chink in his defenses. With a swift kick, I sprang to my feet and closed the gap, unleashing another flurry of strikes.

His body battered and bruised, could only defend himself as best he could. His defensive movements grew frantic, his body moving with the practiced agility of a seasoned warrior but strained under the onslaught. My savage smirk only widened, savoring his struggle.

"Please!" he called, his voice cracking under the strain. "You must listen to me! I'm not your enemy!"

His words fell upon deaf ears. I watched as his movements slowed, as weariness began to weigh down his steps. My pulse quickened, and the exhilaration of watching him falter felt intoxicating. I lunged, drawing back my arm to deliver a brutal blow to his injured shoulder. My fist connected, sending shockwaves through him.

He cried out, collapsing onto his knees, his arm hanging uselessly at his side, the bones shattered, and flesh torn. For a moment, he looked up at me, his eyes hollow with a haunting mix of fear and resignation. I read his gaze—he had accepted whatever fate I had for him.

My foot swung back, positioned to deliver a devastating blow to his face when a furious shout shattered through the air, causing me to halt my actions mid-swing. I turned, and my gaze locked onto Piccolo, his form was blazing with renewed energy and a crescent-shaped ki attack, charging between his fingers, pulsing with deadly intent. His sharp-like nails glistened in the blood-red hue of the setting sun.

Acting on reflex, I flicked my wrist, summoning a barrier just in time. His ki blast collided with the wall, detonating in a shockwave that rattled the floor, forcing me back. I raised my arms in a futile attempt to protect myself from the blast wave. Dust and debris filled the air, and I stumbled, feeling my hood fall back, my hair tangling as I fought to keep my footing.

The light from his attack dissipated; it was a brief moment of respite as the barrier disappeared, and I stood there, lowering my hands, my body tensed for the next attack. Piccolo stumbled back, his eyes wide with surprise at my sudden defense. His gaze shifted between the elder demon and me, his jaw clenched, and his expression hardening with steely resolve. His eyes burned with outrage and determination, likely his pride wounded.

"You're just like him," Piccolo remarked, his voice hostile. His hands trembled, fingers clenched so tightly that his green skin split, letting droplets of blood seep through. "Stubborn, defiant, incapable of submitting to anyone's will but your own."

He took a step forward, his towering frame shuddering with the rage that vibrated through every muscle, every inch of his being. His words felt like a spiteful reminder of the cycle of retaliation and hatred that bound us. "You should have been the one stuck in that containment! You should have suffered like my father did, rotting away for centuries!"

Without thinking, the words escaped my lips, seething with bitterness. "Oh, yeah?" I spat back, my voice barely a hiss, yet laced with raw hatred. "I should've killed your father instead of trapping him." My words, thrown like a weapon, struck him. I took a step forward, my muscles tensed, my vision sharp and tunneled onto Piccolo's twisted expression.

"Maybe I should've taken his life so you wouldn't have been born!"

Piccolo's eyes widened at the words, shocked before his gaze hardened into something darker. I could see the war raging inside him, a flicker of disbelief, a hint of uncertainty, but mostly a blazing unbridled rage, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.

"You..." His voice dropped into a feral snarl, unable to form anything more articulate. Without warning, he lunged at me, faster than my eyes could track. His fist struck forward, aimed with lethal intent, the sheer momentum rending through the still air.

However, I was ready, and as his fist cut through, I moved my own, channeling energy from my hands as I parried the strike. The impact was a thunderous collision of power, a shockwave rippling outward from our clash, and the force of it drove us both back, our balance challenged, our bodies straining against the recoil.

"You want to take responsibility for my existence?" he taunted. "Then you should be prepared to face the consequences of your actions."

Before his words could sink in, I surged forward, harnessing my speed to disappear from his line of sight. I appeared behind him in a flash. He spun around, his movements fueled by reflex, his elbow hurled and aimed directly at me. But his blow passed harmlessly through the space where I should have been—just an afterimage I left behind and reappeared behind him once more.

Taking the opening, I drove my elbow into his back with all the force I could muster, feeling it connect solidly against his spine. For a frozen moment, time seemed to halt as the repulsive crunch of bone breaking filled my ears of my brutal strike. His scream echoed through the barren landscape as he was flung forward, his body wracked by the impact.

He hit the ground with a vibrant thud, breath heaving, hands clawing at his back, fingers slick with blood and sweat as he assessed the jagged shards of his broken bones beneath his flesh and tissue. Though his regenerative power began to mend his wounds, he was weakening. Every second his body knitted itself back together, his reserves of energy diminished, sapping the vitality that fueled his stubborn ferocity.

Struggling, Piccolo pushed himself to his feet, his movements slow, his back crooked as he forced himself upright. The pain was etched on his face, his eyes watering and each gasping for a struggle. Even in misery, his gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering and defiant.

I mirrored his stare, neither of us breaking eye contact as he stepped forward, his movements awkward and unsteady. A tense silence settled, interrupted only by the raw sound of our breaths. The acrid scent of sweat and smoke, mingling with the distinct tang of burnt flesh, seeped into the air, as the horizon burned crimson and gold with the setting sun, casting a fierce, bloodied light over our battered forms.

I steadily walked towards him, my shoes crunching against the ground. My clothes are clad in dried blood and scarcely tattered by the force of our attacks. We advanced, closing the distance until, with an unspoken signal, we pounced at each other. Our bodies clashed and every movement was a blur of power and agility.

His fist streaked toward me, and I ducked, my hand connecting with his ribs in a shock of energy. Piccolo staggered back, grunting in pain, but countered with a swing of his own, his knuckles splitting the skin above my left eye. The sting was sharp, though it only fueled my determination. The fight stretched, our blows shaking the earth, sending cracks, spidering across the rocky ground.

Sweat poured down my face, his swings and charging ki was sluggish, his steps heavier as he pushed his body to its limits. Unlike him, my own body healed, a blessing, and a curse, allowing me to push past the broken bones and torn flesh without faltering. My endurance had become my prison—an eternity of fighting, of healing, of watching everyone else grow weary while I remained, bound to this cycle and this damn planet.

Every time Piccolo attacks, I meet his moves with precision, slipping past his guard, striking, retreating, and wearing him down. His determination was fierce, while desperation had crept into his gaze. Piccolo lashed out, his leg blurring through the air with a vicious kick, and I anticipated the move, ducking beneath the strike. Moving instinctively, I threw myself forward, grabbing him with every ounce of strength.

My arms enveloped his leg and waist, and together we crashed against the rocky floor, fracturing profoundly. Dust swirled up around us in a storm of grit, I had him for a moment—until he retaliated with a punch to my face, a brutal blow that sent a spike of pain shooting through my skull. I gritted my teeth against the searing ache, refusing to let go. I tightened my grip, reckless with my actions mixing with the thrill of the struggle.

We rolled across the busted ground and thrashed to gain control. Piccolo wrenched free, flipping me beneath him, his clawed nails digging into my shoulders, attempting to pin me down; I felt the agonizing prick of skin breaking from his grip.

"Get off!"

I brought my knees to my chest and energy surged within my legs. I shot them forward in a powerful double kick, launching Piccolo through the air. His claws raking across my shoulders tore pieces of flesh as he was flung away. My body cried in anguish, the wounds burning, but I could feel them already beginning to heal, the pain receding.

I forced myself to my feet and looked up into the night, the stars were twinkling brightly like diamonds in the vast darkness. The air carried the faintest hint of smoke mingling with the oppressive quiet that followed. There was no calm, no peace; only the electric tension thrumming between us.

Hovering above, Piccolo raised his hands, gathering the last reserves of his power into a ball of scorching ki that expanded, its heat washing over me like a furnace. My heartbeat thundered in my chest, sensing its intensity even from where I stood. The pale glow bathed the landscape, illuminating every detail.

My lips pressed together firmly and I extended my hand, concentrating as the energy pool within my palm sparkled and crackled once it took form. I dropped low, muscles coiling, then surged forward, launching toward him with everything I had. The wind tore against my skin, shrieking past, yet all I could see was Piccolo's face—unhinged, resolute, a mirror of my grim perseverance.

He roared, his ki blazing in his hands, and with a thrust, he unleashed the massive ball of energy toward me, a searing wave of heat that threatened to swallow me whole. Whereas I met it head-on, my own orb of energy blazing with an intensity that matched his. It streaked through the air, a comet of raw power aimed directly at his ki blast.

For a heartbeat, the world fell silent, each fraction of a second stretching into eternity as the two attacks barreled toward one another, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The lights grew brighter, two orbs that pulsed with the heat of a dying star.

Then they collided.

The explosion was cataclysmic, with a deafening boom that shook the heavens. The sky split by a flash that swallowed the world whole. Debris scattered like shrapnel and jagged stones pelting me as I tumbled backward. The world spun around me, colors blending together, my senses dulled by the sheer violence of the collision.

The energy ripped at my body, the scorching heat burning my skin, the sheer velocity knocking the air from my lungs as I plummeted back to earth. Pain bloomed in every nerve, sharp and brutal, as my body crashed into the ground with bone-breaking force.

I couldn't let out a cry.

●

●

●

My body convulses as I gasp for air sharply, every breath labored, choking on the dust and grit that coated my mouth and lungs. I coughed violently, spitting out clumps of dirt as my vision spun, the world around me was a haze. Then my body screamed in excruciation, every jolt of pain tearing through my nerves, as though they were being set on fire one by one. I wailed out in misery that echoed in the silence of the night.

The unnatural pulse of my regenerative abilities fighting against my own mangled flesh. The torment grew as my bones knit back together, tissue fusing back into place with a fiery sting that was both a curse and my only salvation. I could hear the sticky flesh shifting and the sound of bones crunching.

The dried blood on my clothes mixes with the sweat and grime that coats my burned skin. I writhed on the jagged rocks, grating against my exposed wounds, I didn't even want to move, yet my body involuntarily shifted to lay on my stomach. Through the suffering, one thought crystallized in my mind...

Where is Piccolo?

I focused, straining every sense to detect even the faintest of energy. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my battered form onward, muscles trembling as my legs dragged behind me, barely functional as they struggled to heal. I pulled myself forward, inch by gurgling inch.

My path was marked by a trail of blood, smeared against the ground. Finally, I caught it—a faint pulse of ki emanating from the rubble nearby. My eyes narrowed, and I staggered to my feet, unsteady and weak but driven by locating Piccolo as I stumbled forward, my eyes locked on a familiar figure.

In the distance, Piccolo's prone form lay half-buried in debris, his chest barely rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. I pressed onward, my vision tunneling on him, the fallen monster, who, despite everything, clung to life. The silence was defending like the calm before a storm.

Each step sends shockwaves of discomfort through my mending bones and burned flesh, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins helps to dull the edge. I loom over him, my gaze fixed on his unconscious body. "Just die already," I hissed, the words escaping my lips like a prayer for his demise.

My hand rose, the remnants of my power surging within me, forming a crackling orb of energy around my fingers. With focused concentration, I shape the energy into a razor-sharp blade, enveloping my hand. I raised it, ki flaring, and felt the weight of this moment settle over me — I was his executioner, and he was powerless to stop me.

But then, out of nowhere, a force blindsided me, tackling me with enough strength to send me hurtling through the air and crashing onto the unforgiving ground. The impact jarred me so completely that I could feel my bones splinter beneath the strain.

A scream tore through me as white-hot pain blossomed in one of my arms, the stranger twisted and bent my arm in unnatural angles. I could feel the sickening pop as my bone tore free from the muscle and tissue, protruding grotesquely from my skin. My vision blurred, the agony swelling until it was the only thing I knew.

"Stop this now!" a voice commanded, the authority in his tone cutting through the fog of misery that clouded my mind. The stranger's weight pressed down on me forcing my spine to arch painfully, and then the sickening crack reverberated through my body as my vertebrae snapped.

My thoughts scrambled, snapping me out of my unhinged state and forcing me to confront the reality of my situation. My breaths came in short, desperate gasps, reduced to little more than broken whimpers. Summoning what little strong will remained to push back my anguish, I craned my neck to look up, my eyes focusing through the searing ache.

It was Goku.

•◉◒☆◒◉•

Finished: November 2, 2024 Published: November 2, 2024

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 007 | 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 NEXT CHAPTER: 009 | 𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

LINK TO THE BOOK [WATTPAD]: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 — 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 If you're interested in stories like these, here is my 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[otter-chaos-violence]

im so feverish i thought i saw my dad in two towels and a jacket anyways this hasdefinietly been done before but feverish whumpee sees whumper in some hanging towels and has a big panic attack like i just did

[halfbakedlicorice]

uhm I dunno wut to put here…heds up this is gunna b a long post (I think…I’m jus gunna write as I go along like word vomit ig) So I wus messagin a few ppl n…2 of them blocked me for bein a boy, another wus sayin that the way i explane my grammar n chronic sexual atententon need so here we go ig…I was raped by my daddy (yes, I will use that word cus he is still in my life n I canot physicaly use the term “father” or I start 2 cry) ever since I was 10…or 6…I can’t rember I know I wus young and looked like my mother…she never beleved me, he used 2 make me sit on his lap, wen I cride it felt like no one wus there…he stopped ever since I wus fifteen but, now it feels like no one wants me I relied on my body for pleasure for so long n now no one wants it…not even my daddy anymor…so I’m srry if I reply slow or if I’m into crazy things like rape or incest or if I’m too clingy, needy, a nympho or fag or sex addict but I need attention plz…can someone help me feel loved? I need a new daddy…

[mymistakewriting]

Diaz Family Dynamics

This comes with the standard warnings of 'hey if you think I'm bashing this character, I'm not' and 'if you don't like my content, you don't have to interact with it because I ain't fighting with people over opinions'. With a single exception. I am absolutely bashing Helena and Ramon Diaz. They're terrible parents and even worse people. my asks are open for questions or conversations!

I also have other thoughts about Eddie, including things involving him and Shannon, and more things about him and his sisters, his traumas, etc. However, I think this post is a little too heavy to share all of those. If you're interested in any of them, let me know. I'll do a separate post for them later regardless, but I'd love to see what people are interested in hearing about.

Trigger warnings: PTSD, talk of child neglect & abuse. It's Eddie Diaz and his family, that's it's own warning.

Let's get the hard stuff out of the way first, shall we? As someone who's been in shoes similar to Eddie and Maddie as oldest sibling who's had to step up and be a parent to their younger siblings, there is no situation where a child is raising another child and it's not because the actual parents are neglectful at best and abusive at worst. The Diaz parents are both. And it's exactly the way you'd think. Helena is shown to be verbally and emotionally abusive to Eddie in the flashbacks we're given during Eddie Begins. She sits back and watches her son, who's a newly single father and still healing from injuries he gained in a war that he ran to in part because of his parents struggle with multiple jobs at once, doctors appointments for himself AND his son, and did nothing to help. Instead, she used the fact that he was struggling as an excuse to ask for custody of Christopher. And considering Eddie grew up with that same style of abuse, that he shielded his sisters from receiving it, too? Yeah, I hope she burns in Hell for it.

And Ramon. Oh, Ramon. He's equally shitty to Eddie when it comes to verbal abuse. He abandoned the family (for work, yes, but what decent father looks at their 10 year old son and tells them it's time to 'man up'?). And no one has a fight style scrappy enough for genuine street fighting, the way Eddie's got, unless it was learned originally in self defense and then refined later on with actual lessons. I'd put money on Ramon having laid hands on Eddie a time or two before he got big enough to fight back. I've seen it, I grew up with kids who have that exact fighting style and that's what it was from. And the way he never turns his back on his father when they do interact? It's a survivor's skill that you learn the hard way.

Also? All of Eddie's doubts about him being a good dad? His worries that he's fucking Christopher up when he's given everything he's got for his son? Those come from his parents, too. He's always tried to make sure he wasn't like either of his parents, but those doubts don't leave very easily when you've spent your whole life not knowing anything else. Helena definitely drilled it in the entire time after Eddie came home from overseas that what he was doing for Christopher's sake wasn't enough. That he wasn't a good enough parent.

I'm also entirely sure that Eddie's lack of skill in cooking stems in part from his childhood. He was the oldest sibling of three, and he was helping raise his sisters. He probably tried to learn to cook by the time he was 12 for their sake but was told no by his mother. They're a Southern family, do you know how much time some boys are allowed to spend in the kitchen when there's daughters around to learn to cook instead? Sure isn't enough to learn anything. And I 100% believe Helena just refused to teach him. He learned how to cook eggs when he was 12, but no one ever taught him anything else until after he moved to LA, where Pepa and Isabel stepped in and tried to teach him. But it's harder to learn to cook in your late 20s when you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders already than it would be when you're a kid. It's just an unfortunate fact that some aspects of toxic masculinity like that are furthered by the mothers here in the American South. Sometimes.

Additionally, Eddie's never considered that he could be anything other than straight (I think he's bisexual but demiromantic, but that's just a headcanon). Again. Welcome to the South. He grew up Catholic. No way in Hell that Ramon didn't threaten to 'beat the gay out of him' the first time he was overheard jokingly flirting with a friend in high school. More families are like that down here than I want to admit. My own included. Just look how quickly Eddie's communication style changes when he realizes something sounds flirty. All those times he's jokingly said something to Buck and then went too serious directly after for no discernible reason? Bet you anything it's that.

He didn't leave despite hating staying with his parents after Shannon left not because he couldn't (Pepa or Isabel would've let them stay until he got a place, I'm sure that's what happened anyway because he packed them up and left on a dime anyway) because he had to make sure his sisters were out of his parents' home first. He'd rather suffer than leave them unprotected from it all.

All three Diaz siblings went no contact eventually. Then Eddie switched to limited contact because he thought Christopher deserved to know his living grandparents after Shannon's death. The only time they all show up is when it's required (like at Ramon's retirement party).

And final comment involving the Diaz parents: Eddie never wanted to marry Shannon. Another unfortunate tradition here in the South that still happens (less frequently, but happens): sometimes the parents force a marriage in the case of an unplanned pregnancy. We've had several in my family. Eddie loved Shannon, yes. But he never would have married her on his own. His parents forced it as soon as they found out Shannon was pregnant. It's part of why their marriage was so toxic, I think.

[hazbin-hotel-aesthetics-quotes]

SAD THOUGHT:

The whole dance scene of Poison is just in Angel's head, to deal and cope with the abuse on the night.

It start right in the studio, then Angel start to perform, dancing and singing. Valentino dances with Angel, while keeping him cuffed with a chain, literally pulling his strings like a puppet. Angel dances with him, even as Valentino drags him to the groung. After that we see flash back of his daily life and the way he copes (the drugs and the abuses).

I can only blame myself.

I made my choice and every night I'm living like there's no tomorrow.

Then another dance where Angel perfome alone, like he would do on a stage, just to be dragged and grabbed again by Valentino, while on the screen behind him his image remain happy.

Then we are back in the studio, in one of the changing room, that Valentino close from the outside, literally trapping in Angel. That when where back in the reality and the tome of the song became desperate. Angel is left alone, watching from afar Valentino and Vox holding hand and talking. That's maybe imply that in the past Angel had a relationship (or what the thought was a relationship with Val, leading him so sign the contract.)

The whole scene was brutal and my jaw was on the floor from start to the end. Ngl I had to skip few seconds while Val was beating Angel because that when very fast, very soon.

[crappycamille]

katsuki is always so careful when he fucks you.

it’s more about the fear of himself than is about you being fragile. he knows you’re strong, but it’s just, he becomes so… unhinged when it comes to you.

it’s the way you milk him, he thinks. it’s the way your creamy walls suck him in—aching to be filled by him— before he even has the chance to fully submerge his tip. he swears he gets high off your pussy.

it’s why he has to be careful.

he’s not fully conscious. he gets easily lost in that blissful yet oh-so desperate state… dangerously so. he doesn’t want to hurt his precious baby. so he’s careful. he tries his very best to control himself. for katsuki is a strong man and he knows how easily his baby bruises.

but you’re never one to make things easy on him, are you? he admires that about you most of the time, but you just don’t realize how dangerous you can be, do you?

you’re simply ignorant to it. yes, that’s it! you have to be. it’s the only explanation.

why else would you be taking katsuki’s hand in your own as he’s fucking you (carefully, of course). you’re desperately grasping to take control of his arm as he now has to shift his weight to keep his pace and position. he curiously obliges you. how could he not, especially when you’re this fucked out already.

you drag his hand up along your body until his hand is at the base of your throat. it’s when he feels your hands squeeze around his and a satisfied moan escapes your lips that he truly grasps what you’re doing. you want to be choked.

the realization has a guttural moan leaving his lips as he feels his balls tighten at your debaunched behavior. he picks up the pace, sloppily thrusting into your greedy cunt as the hand choking you grips you like no other.

he can’t control it. he’s squeezing so hard you’re sure there will be bruises to have to explain later. but you don’t care. you’re seeing stars right now. you both are.

warbly moans leave the both of you in harmonious bliss. katsuki swears you’ll be the death of him as he struggles to breathe by the sheer magnitude of his climax. but what does such a trivial matter like breathing mean to him? to either of you?

you’re both far too gone in the highly intoxicating drug that is love.

[silly-zai]

Guys I have a rly stupid pet peave I need to share

When people say things like 'self harming themselves'

I fucking hate it bc the 'self' in self harming already implies they're doing it to themselves YOU DONT NEED ANOTHER

Saying like 'more bigger' works the same but I can excuse that bc kids say that stuff a lot and it js doesn't annoy me as much

[idoweirdcrap]

im not in a good place rn

The following are confessions i left in my friends and i's server, poem edition:

tw: suicide, numbness, depression

I think ive become numb

nothing hurts me anymore

im immune to your words

to your insults

but it hurts more than you could imagine

the numbness

because im never sad,

but im never happy

just floating

always,

always

f l o a t i n g .

Im having a shit night

nothing is worse than this feeling

because its barely a feeling at all

i cant process the thought of people rn

of sound

of being alive, really

and to make matters worse

the one thing preventing me from killing myself

isnt here rn

im not in a good place rn

and i dont know what to do

[torpidcanid]

One day my mother will look into the mirror and she will see me, one day I will look into the mirror and I will see her. And that day i will cry. I will cry and mutilate my skin. I will pull out my insides, inspecting them and cleaning, to remove all traces of her, i will make a cut and put my fingers under my skin, fingers touching muscle, touching bone, searching for the person i was.

I hope i will be able to find it

[scoptophobia-live]

awhile ago I made a little poem thing and personally i’m rather proud of it so I figured Tumblr could be a good place to post it! :))

Tw: Heavy body horror, vivid language, heavy gore, violence, torture, um consensual cannibalism, toxicity. Pls be warned and safe. Several people have given visceral reactions to some of the language and showed that it disturbed or disgusted them and while that was intentional to help push the message, I want to make a clear warning of it.

Anyway here it is :DD pls give me thoughts, constructive critiques, or interpretations!

You carve away layers of my soft skin.

A strangled cry escapes my lips as your gentle hand strokes my hair and tenderly wipes the tears that cascade down my hollow cheeks like a stone rolling down its mountain side.

You whisper honey coated praises, telling me how you love me as that gentle hand rubs reassuring circles into my shoulder as a reminder that it will all be ok.

Droplets of my blood; droplets of my very life force pour out onto the polyester of your white sweatshirt sleeves, staining them a deep red as my strained heart desperately pumps blood into my veins.

New puddles stain the sleeves, meeting dozens more rusty pink splotches that litter your clothes.

Your deft hand works quickly, dipping the silver blade into my flesh as it rips through layers of meat and fat while the strips of my supposed protection fall to the ground.

You lift a bloodied graft of my meat off the floor and place it to your soft lips, allowing your tongue to rub across my leaking plasma and savoring the taste of my agony. The strip slips past your teeth as you work your incisors into the chewy flesh, grinding it to a pulp and swallowing it, allowing me to enter your being as you feed off my life.

A mass of meat,veins and blood form below us; my ivory bones beginning to show as you carve me like a thanksgiving dish.

Your darkened eyes stare down at me, a mix of undying love and unending hunger fill them as you stare at me as if I was nothing more than a piece of meat.

I cry out sobs of agony, begging you through my muffled mouth to please end this torturous pain that you have put me through.

As you carve up the last peice of my body, you whisper how you love me, raising the steely blade above your head, and at last plunging it into my heart.

My eyes cloud over and the room fills with a deafening silence; my bones glisten softly with a pink bloody glaze.

Your eyes look away from my face, frozen forever in agonizing fear, and glance at the mound of my mangled corpse lying on the ground.

You lick your lips and begin to dig in.

[nevaehdavis5675]

Pov: Somebody Hurts Thatchers daughter

Meg:( Neveah)

Peter: ( Thatcher)

Michael??? ( Some random person possibly An Altranet ( yes I spelled it wrong sorry)