#violence ideation mention

[t-s-n]

tw: vent, mental health discussion, bad parents, written in second person for some reason

hi.

let me set the scene for you. you, a 14 year old boy, have always struggled with people. they’re so complex and confusing and you hate most of them. you have two sisters, an older sister, the scapegoat and a younger sister, the naive one. and you. the golden child.

two mentally ill parents in the process of getting a divorce. you find yourself on your mother’s ‘side’. your father…is bad? he wasn’t involved in your life much, or so your mother tells you. you don’t remember your young childhood very well, honestly.

your mother….hm. your mother is a terribly insecure person, and was subject to some form of emotional abuser from your father, as she very frequently reminds you. she relies on you heavily. **heavily**. not just for helping with your siblings, but for…emotional support, often in the form of venting to you about your father. you have a tumultuous relationship, somewhat, at least. often very close, but it can turn harsh very quickly. your mother has few friends, and rarely leaves the house, making you one of her main forms of interaction and connection.

your father. your..father. you don’t know where to start with him, really. not like it’s a dramatic thing, you just….dont have much to say about him. apparently, he is an abusive person and a narcissist (to be clear, i am not a person who thinks ‘narc abuse’ should be a term that’s used). that’s what your mother says. and maybe he is. he probably is. but, as previously mentioned, not much of your childhood can be recalled, so you can’t be sure for yourself. he clearly favors your younger sister, and makes your mother and older sister out to be terrible people. where does that leave you? it’s subject to change. everyone always stays in those positions, but you. you fluctuate in his mind. sometimes he tries to keep you ‘on his side’ and sometimes he sees you as siding with your mother. you haven’t figured out why you were singled out. you may never.

so what is there to do? you are a mentally unhealthy teen who daydreams about violence and spends far too much of his life online and withdrawn. you want to change this, but you can’t. you just have to wait until you can leave your family, or at least distance yourself.

[swollenbabyfat]

Quiet now children

[frothingatthemaw]

god hopes you burn with it.

[daniclaytcn]

but i always knew, that in the end, no one was coming to save me so i just prayed, and i keep praying, and praying and praying

maddie buckley + ‘sun-bleached flies’ by ethel cain

@lgbtqcreators creator challenge — typography

[ravenzeppeli]

Stained Red |Yandere DIO x Reader Dark Lemon|

Warning: strong/violent language, threats, extreme physical violence/abuse, noncon (forced, violent), dark themes, emotional abuse, verbal abuse. MA - read with caution.

As soon as your fiancé Dio Brando entered your room, you were met with a harsh slap, causing you to fall back on your bed. You could only assume that he was upset at you, his golden eyes holding pure anger as he stared down at you with disgust and rage.

"When I give you an order you fucking listen. I told you to not go outside and you snuck out when I was asleep and you disobeyed me completely," he spoke to you harshly. His undead bare chest heaved up and down, hands balling into fists as his blond locks stood wild and untamed. "How dare you. How fucking dare you!"

You tried to push yourself off of the bed, but you were greeted by his fist crashing into your left cheek, blood spraying out of your mouth as you fell to your right hand side on the mattress. "Y-you.." Tears of pain filled your eyes as blood leaked from your mouth. A deep purple bruise formed on your cheek, his punch almost breaking your jaw.

"Don't you dare fucking move! Stay on this bed and bleed out a little.. I promise you that you'll be in a lot more pain soon." He stood close to the bed now, knees pressing against the mattress as he watched you bleed onto the white sheets, staining them red.

You lifted a shaky hand, ripping the diamond engagement ring off of your finger. You threw it at his face, the ring bouncing off of his forehead before hitting the floor. "I.. I will not marry you!" You screamed at him, taking advantage of the shock on his face as you scooted away from him, making your way down the king-sized bed.

        For the first time in your ten months of knowing Dio, this was the first time that you ever saw him shocked, frozen as he stared at you in utter disbelief. You felt his fingers wrap around your ankle, yanking you down the bed. "I'm going to hurt you.. I'm going to make you regret doing something so foolish! That was the worst thing that you've ever done."

You tried to kick him, but his reflexes were too powerful. He caught your other leg with ease, letting go of your other leg as you felt your dress rip off of your body. "No! No.. I don't want this! Get the fuck away from me!" You yelled at him, making him even angrier.

He flipped you over, forcing your back to arch as your underwear was ripped off and thrown to that side. "You're going to get punished like a whore.. you are not going to get any joy from this." Without warning you felt his hands spread apart your ass, his hard erection forcing its way into your tight asshole. "I wasn't going to punish you like this but you will not throw things at I, DIO!" He yelled at you, pushing fully inside of you as his hands smacked across your ass, leaving red handprints.

"A-ah!" You screamed out, hot tears spilling from your ass as he stretched your tight hole out forcefully. "P-please!" You screamed louder, sobbing weakly as he began to move in and out of you, a sharp pain behind every single thrust. Why was he doing this to you? Hurting you.. it wasn't love.

"Begging isn't going to make me stop or go easier on you.. that ring was expensive, and you throw it in my face?" He questioned, disbelief thick in his tone as he wrapped his hands around your waist, fingernails digging into your side as he moved at a rapid pace, ignoring your cries of pain. "I dare you to try and fight back.. you can even use your stand. I fucking dare you to try you bitch."

He was taunting you.. he knew damn well that you nor your stand could fight him off. Slap sounds filled the air as he slammed himself in and out of your tight hole - you didn't feel an ounce of pleasure. All you felt was pain and a deep heartbreak.. you thought that he was going to change.

Instead of fighting back like he dared you, you pressed your face into fur soft mattress, muffling your screams as you felt blood running down your legs as his nails cut into your flesh. His nails were as sharp as knives, drawing blood from you easily.

"Come on.. fight me you little bitch. I bet this is so painful and embarrassing but you're big and bad, right? Stop me," he taunted you even further, rolling his hips as he pressed your body fully onto the bed, removing his fingernails from your sides. "See? You'll never be able to fight me. From the moment I laid eyes on you.. I claimed you. You are my property."

"I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry," you cried out, voice muffled. Pain shot through your body as he moved faster, each stroke more painful than the last. "I'm sorry.. I promise.. just please," you didn't even know what you were saying. You just wanted the pain to go away.. that's all you wanted.

"I promise that the next time you cross me, this will seem like child's play. Let this happen again and I'll beat you to a pulp and then fuck all three of your holes for hours. I'll tie you to the bed and torture you," his voice was low, warning as he gave you three more painful thrusts before cuming deep inside of your anus.

You felt something press into your anus, plugging up the tight hole and assuring that his cum wouldn't leak out of you. Your cheeks and ass held sore.. blood still pouring from your hips and staining your legs with deep red. You felt so disgusting and you were so embarrassed.. you were never going to forget this day. You fucking hated him.

"That was your last warning.. keep my cum inside of your ass for the rest of the night as a reminder. I'm going to go run you a bath because you're filthy but don't expect special treatment tonight. You don't deserve to be kissed or cuddled." He walked away, heading to the bathroom and leaving you a sobbing mess.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

You sat in the bathtub, red staining the water as tears filled your eyes, rolling down your bruised cheeks. You disobeyed him again.. you upset him, and he attacked you. So easily did he hurt you, and you couldn't stand it anymore. So badly, did you now want to escape his evil grasp, knowing that despite how much you love him, he'll never change.

You felt his cold golden eyes peering at you as he sat across from you on the toilet seat. He didn't take his eyes off of you, and you wished that he did.. you wished that he would just leave you alone. Why you? Out of everyone that DIO has encountered, why did he pick you to be his? You now feel like the unluckiness woman in the entire universe.

"Why must you always upset me? Why do you always force me to hurt you?" His voice called out, tone filled with thick anger. "You have no choice in the matter of staying with me. You are my property, and you will marry me and spend eternity with me."

You brought your knees up to your chest, burying your face in your knees as sobs escaped your lips. These sobs weren't low. They were loud and pained as your body shook in the warm water. You couldn't contain yourself in this moment.. your tears couldn't be silent because you were truly hurt - you finally cracked. He finally broke you.. and it hurt so fucking bad because you thought that he changed.

You felt his cool hand appear on your back, and you flinched away, "Please don't.. please don't hurt me anymore! Please," you cried out, voice cracking at the end as you held yourself tighter. "Just.. kill me. Please k-kill me," you said in a shaky voice. Death was terrifying, but it would end the pain.. you wouldn't have to spend an eternity in fear.

His hand stayed frozen, an unsettling silence filling the air as you felt his eyes peering down at you. "Despite what you may think of me, I would never kill you, so don't you ever ask me to again," his voice dropped to a whisper, warning you. "If you act obedient that I wouldn't have to hurt you. You did this to yourself."

"You.. you beat me, and you force me.. you.. you," you shook your head, tears filling your cloud of vision. You couldn't do this.. arguing with him will make things worse, and having to say these painful truths aloud was breaking you into even more pieces.

"When you disobey me and disrespect me, then you will suffer the consequences. As your man, it is my right to be in control of you. The sooner you fully accept that, the less that I have to hurt you." Oddly enough, his voice was now soft and soothing. He was like a switch, switching from one emotion to the next when it came to you. It was terrifying. "If you want to go outside, then I will go with you when the sun sets."

The hot water was now turning warm. All of the blood was now clean off of your sore body, but you couldn't get up. You were in so much pain that you didn't want to move, knowing that moving would make things worse. "Okay," you whispered, just accepting your defeat. You had no more fight left in you.

You blinked, shock filling your eyes as you felt the bed beneath your nude body, water still dripping off of your body as you sat on the edge of the bed, soaking freshly changed sheets. You don't understand Dio's stand a single bit, but you knew that he could move you without you knowing.

     He stood in front of you, soft white towel drying your body gently. He patted the towel on every inch of your body, ignoring the embarrassed blush that appeared on your lips as he dried your breast. "Don't make me hurt you as badly as I hurt you today ever again.. just listen to me to the best of your ability and communicate with me."

"I'm scared to talk to you," you said in a low tone, hanging your head in shame as he dry patted your back. Your fear of Dio was so strong sometimes that you're afraid that you'll die of fright. Do people die of fright?

"I'm not going to hit you if you ask me for something. As your future husband, I am your provider, and it is my job to provide for you," he said softly, towel dropping to your womanhood as he spread your legs, patting the area gently. He was being extra careful, not wanting to cause you anymore pain.

Did he not realize that you were never going to forgive him deep down? You felt deep resentment at even his soft touch, fighting the urge to flinch away from him. "Okay," you repeated, feeling as if that was now going to be your go-to word for now on. You didn't know what else to say, but you knew that you were ashamed that you couldn't just leave him and escape his abusive grasps.

"I love you. I truly do love you, and I want you by my side for eternity." He finished drying you, tossing the towel casually to the side as he slipped a silk red nightgown over your head. "Tell me that you love me back."

"I love you too," you said softly, gently pulling away from him as you crawled weakly into bed. You rested your head on the fluffy pillow, feeling much too weak to pull the covers over your body. Your eyes met his soft one.. the life in your eyes was gone, and you could tell that he could notice.

The silk sheets were pulled over your body. "I'll be back before the sun rises. Vanilla Ice is currently on high alert, so don't do anything foolish." His eyes lingered over yours, tall form towering over the best and casting his dark shadow over you. "See you soon.. I will miss you."

You blinked once, and he was gone.. his dark shadow that towered over you, vanishing with you. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you slowly turned to your more comfortable side, a pained groan escaping your lips as pain shot through your entire body. You let your eyes close, welcoming sleep as swiftly as you could in hopes or waking up in less pain tomorrow. You hoped tomorrow would be a better day, but the hope that Dio Brando would turn into a good man completely left your mind.. you were never going to see him the same again.

[sys-confessions]

Wording this like an AITA post because it’s how we process written content that has traumatised us.

Tw: abelism, talks of extreme violence, thoughts of unaliving, talk of hospitalisation and blood

Am I the asshole for wanting to beat up a “friend”?

I, W (personal protector) have recently been watching a situation play out with a “friend” D (singlet). D has spent the past three months demonising us as a system, she has fakeclaimed us *behind our back* and has tried to get our other friend (T, system) to stop being friends with us by saying horrible things (we will not be sharing as we are still processing).

Recently D has started to exhibit some very abelist behaviours and beliefs towards us and T. We have Tourette’s syndrome (we being us and T) and some of our tics happen to be quite loud. We (as in our system) also have some punching tics. And D has started to glare at us and roll her eyes whenever we tic.

Now we suspect that she is doing this due to another friend of hers (J, singlet) as his boyfriend (Z, system) and his friend (S, singlet) has tics and tourettes respectively. J does not believe we are a system, that we have tourettes or that we are autistic.

The more I have watched this happen the more I have realised that these things have been making the system as a whole very suicidal. And because of this I am also seeing lots of us very angry.

In the past few weeks I have had thoughts of fucking decking her, punching her so hard her nose breaks and she bleeds. Or that she has to be hospitalised so she cannot hurt us or T.

So I approach you. Am I the asshole?

(This post is rhetorical. I do not want to know if I am the asshole)

.

[homocidalpotat]

im all for some comedic violence but like

i hate violence as a general term. even with posts saying "rb to punch a terf". id love to punch a terf but there is a really loud voice in my head telling me to never cause anyone harm

whenever im being harassed online or irl, i always try and stay as calm as possible. i have had people telling me to kill myself, and if i didnt do that, they would kill me for me. but i didnt give them any threats back

idk if im weird for that??

[skygent]

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss Hug It Out Prompts

Today at work I got to thinking about expanding my Hug It Out fics to other fandoms aside from Amphibia and Owl House and decided to start drafting up some ideas! These are all rough concepts right now and could change as they are refined. In case you don’t know, Hug It Out is a series of fics I have meant to be hurt/comfort fics for you! No matter what you may be going through. Some of them are interconnected in their own continuities but they are all meant to stand on their own.

Spoilers for all released Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss content as of 8/11/2024. Emily: Fallen One day while out and about, you discover that the seraphim Emily has fallen into Hell in the aftermath of The Show Must Go On. Acting quickly, you take Emily back to the Hazbin Hotel and try to help her adjust to her new surroundings and come to terms with being cast out of Heaven. Vaggie: Phantom Pain CW: Blood, Panic/Anxiety Attack, PTSD, Death and intense scenes of violence and peril One night at the Hazbin Hotel, you have a PTSD induced panic attack when memories of the night of your death come flooding back. Thankfully, your friend Vaggie is close by and dealing with these kind of episodes is an all too familiar experience for her Beelzebub: Slow Down While planning her next big party, Bee struggles with her self image as the fun party girl who is always in a good mood as the pressure of being helping her friend's escape from their day to day stressors starts to get to her. Verosika: Every Note A reader x Verosika continuity. You are upstart musician who has managed to enter a relationship with Hell's most famous pop star: Verosika Mayday. One quiet night after Apology Tour, you two have a talk about your shared passion for music and the healing power of creating art not just for yourselves, but others. Charlie and Vaggie: Better Off CW: Self-Harm, Blood, Suicide Attempt/Ideation One night, you decide that your parents; Charlie and Vaggie would be better off without you. Thankfully, before your attempt succeeds your parents find out what's going on and stop you, comfort you and start making plans to get you the help that you need. I am open to requests regarding characters and subjects you’d like to see, just let me know! My inbox is open! (I have a lot more time to actually answer now too!)

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 22/day 22-immortality

i keep putting marius through the horrors and i probably won't stop. i swear i love him he's just so easy to make angst of.

@mechtober-2024

Uncertainty and Immortality - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; temporary character death, character death, mentioned/implied violence, Out angst, some minor suicidal ideation, implied/mentioned gun violence, blood, gore, a bit of eldritch horror, probably more than that, please let me know what i need to add!

----

Marius didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Mechanisms were probably immortal–they died-revived-died all the time. They killed-revived-killed each other all the time. They had forgotten Brian in a star for a century, and he was mostly fine—after a while. Marius had died so many times, had died to become Marius. How could he not believe in immortality? It’d been thousands of years since he’d gotten his arm. Probably more, probably much longer.

But he didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Music explained to him in sweet symphonies and gentle decrescendos and brassy tunes, over and over again– he was here forever. Always to be its voice box, always to play along. And if he leaves? He would only join the cacophonous chorus, his violin joining all those before him that had been cursed. But the Music didn’t want him to join just yet, as much as it could want anything, and so he was here forever.

But the Music lies.

It always had, and always would.

Marius thinks that’s where he got it from, where every other sentence a falsehood came so naturally from. Marius is the Music’s most recent Voice, and the Music lies, and so Marius lies. Just like the rest of the Crew, he spoke in songs and lyrics and stories, concocted and written out to be nothing but that– a story. True or false, who’s to say at this point. The Music lies, and so Marius lies.

And Marius was pretty sure the Music lied about the Mechanisms living forever.

Whenever one of the Crew died, there was always a spark of anxiety, a spark of fear as that oh-so familiar Song played quietly in his mind, that feeling of, Oh, they’re not going to wake up this time, are they? But they always do. They always wake up, and the Song fades, and everyone goes about their business, and Marius forgets the feeling until the next time.

It’s always different when he’s the one who dies, even though the Song doesn’t change. It’s more of a feeling of, They won��t have to deal with me anymore. Maybe I can rest. And yet he always wakes up. It’s less of a fear, more of a quiet hope. Sometimes he does remember to be afraid, he remembers to worry–will his friends miss him? His friends still needed him, he still needed his friends–

And then he wakes up, and everything goes back to normal. The keening Song fades once again.

That’s just how they worked, they died-killed-died-revived all the time as if it was second nature. Perhaps it was, at this point. They shot just as quickly as they gave kind smiles. Jonny shot more than he gave any sign of kindness, really.

The killed-died-revived so frequently, that eventually the fear and Song just became background noise. He still tried to avoid it, still pushed it down and ignored it when he could, but it kind of just became a fact of his seemingly never-ending life. Every time he or one of the other Mechanisms died, there’d be a little seed of doubt in his mind about whether or not they’d wake up. They always did. It wore on them, Marius could see it so clearly, in their aimless destruction and heavy shoulders and tired eyes. But Marius was always grateful when they woke up. I’m not ready yet, he’d think, for them to disappear. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, constantly dreading the day their mechanisms finally gave out and they’d die for real. Always afraid, always hesitant to harm because what if it didn’t heal.

He was still much quicker to harm than any average mortal, he still did his fair share of killing and maiming of the Crew–especially when they stole his kneecaps. A little revenge never hurt anyone for too long. Much better than getting Lost in the Music on purpose and wandering the ship with his mournful violin, as that often only led to his kneecaps being stolen again. And getting Lost was never a pleasant feeling.

He still hovered, though, especially when it was their mechanisms that had taken damage. None of the others liked him poking at their mechanisms, despite the fact that he was probably more qualified to work on them than he was on the fleshy bits. To be fair, they didn’t exactly like Raphaella messing with their mechanisms either– Jonny was the most common culprit, but many times the others liked to avoid maintenance as much as possible. Marius never pushed though, it’s not like he didn’t understand. He only let Raph work on his arm every once in a while, preferring to do maintenance himself. (The Music lies like it is the most natural thing to do, every note misread and every string misplaced, but Marius did not want to risk its warnings of what could happen should Raph or one of the others be faced with Marius’s mechanism maintenance. The Music did not like to be Seen, after all. Only heard.)

But whenever their mechanisms were damaged, he hovered off to the side until it was fixed–manually or by their healing factors. Just so that he could be sure that they were alright, that they’d get up again soon. He tried his best not to be clingy, usually, tried his best to avoid taking up too much space around them or invading their personal space when it wasn’t welcome, but his anxiety was never quelled until he saw that they were okay, and that they were going to be alright.

Marius, admittedly, was not a person who enjoyed uncertainty. He was almost sure the doubt of ‘true’ immortality was what made him scared more than anything, the possibility of losing one of the others suddenly and without reason.

And of course, that is what happened, when Nastya went Out.

He and Nastya weren’t especially close, Nastya spending more of her time hiding away in the depths of the Aurora and doing whatever-it-was she did as an engineer and as Aurora’s girlfriend. She only ever showed up for meal times or for Crew Night and concerts, or during the occasional crew-wide tea party hosted by The Toy Soldier. She tended to disappear whenever they were planetside, her own wanted posters popping up without fanfare or loud explosions like Tim or Jonny or Ashes. And besides, half the time planetside, Nastya rarely left the Aurora.

But that changed one day, out in deep space.

And she left, disappearing.

Possibly forever.

Something changed among the Mechanisms, there was a loss that felt… Well, it felt final and it was strange.

Marius found himself hovering more, clinging even though he tried not to. Worrying, heart racing, every time someone died. That fear that had become background noise was almost always present and in the forefront.

One day, while staying in the cockpit with Brian, the brass pilot said quietly, “She’s probably cold out there. It was so cold…”

His voice was tinny and distant, and Aurora creaked sadly in response.

“I hope she’s not cold… I hope we find her soon…”

Marius didn’t say anything, remaining silent. Just climbed into Brian’s lap and purred till the both of them fell asleep.

Marius did not like being uncertain.

Perhaps that was why he latched onto Lyf so strongly.

They were temporary, and it was a guarantee that they were temporary. The system was doomed, crushing Songs and endless Noise and it was fragile and temporary, so very temporary. Obviously, going into something and knowing it won’t last for-probably-forever made it easy to not get attached…

One would think.

But Marius fell fast, and when he fell he fell hard. Always had, probably always would. What started as teasing and making fun of the inspector in charge of the three of them eventually turned into something a bit softer, something a bit–perhaps not kinder, but gentler. Something a bit more akin to care, as close to care as one could get with the Mechanisms.

And then the train arrived, and he and Ivy and Raph left, and Lyf was gone.

And it hurt.

It was awful and Marius could barely think past the pain in his heart and the Songs screaming from the remains of Yggdrasil, but it was expected. He could bury his grief and fear with more, different grief.

And then they returned, Lyfrassir managed to escape somehow and they were back. And they somehow managed to return to Marius’s life, even though they hated him. He didn’t mind, hating him was fine. He couldn’t force Lyf to feel anything. He was content to just appreciate that they were there.

Of course, though, they were still temporary. They were still definitely going to die one day, and maybe it was odd that he found a sense of comfort in that. Maybe it was wrong. But it was true, and that was comforting to Marius. Because it was expected that he’d lose them, that they’d disappear. He didn’t have to deal with that aching fear as much, that feeling of They won’t get up, this is it our luck’s run out, because when they died there’d be no reason for them to get up and start walking.

That didn’t stop the pain when they did die, though. That aching, familiar fear creeping in.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, after all. This wasn’t how they were supposed to die. They weren’t supposed to die by a bullet to the head, a bullet probably meant for Jonny as he was only a few meters behind them and had done significantly more to anger the people on this planet– they were supposed to die old and withered when Marius was ready. When he could actually look death and eternity head on and say ‘I’m not afraid’. They weren’t supposed to die only a few short years after joining them, after starting to travel with them.

And then… Well, perhaps, the most unexpected thing happened.

Lyf’s dark blue blood that was starting to stain Aurora’s silver floor started glimmering and glowing, turning into a prismatic array of rainbow hues.

Lyfrassir’s glassy eyes widened, and their voice was pulled from their throat without them having to speak.

Y’ai ‘ng’ngah Yog Sothoth hee-l’gleb f’ai throdog

Uaah ogthrod ai’f geb’lee-ee’h Yog Sothoth ‘ngah’ng ai’y zhro

The rainbow blood rose off the floor, the staticky colors making it hard to look at without gaining a headache but Marius couldn’t force himself to turn away as the blood stitched, slowly, painfully, stitched the wound in Lyf’s head closed, the reality warping as the wound disappeared, as if it never existed.

The iridescent blood seemed to stain Lyf’s pretty silver hair, colors seeping into their locks from their roots, most prominent and most vibrant where their hair was already stained with blood. But the blood was disappearing into nothingness but heat auras and steam around Lyf’s forehead quickly, a light returning to Lyfrassir’s eyes.

The wound seemed to stop existing as it was restitched by Lyf’s blood.

What was Marius so concerned about again? Why was Lyf on the floor?

Lyfrassir blinked, sitting up. Their white pupils had taken on a slightly iridescent hue, their hair seemed to move on its own, like there was wind on Aurora that there shouldn’t be. Splotches of their braids and their roots were stained with that same slightly iridescent hue. They looked around at the Mechanisms, who were staring at them with various looks of horror or concern.

“Wh… What happened?” Their voice was hoarse, like they hadn’t spoken for a while.

“I-” Brian was the one who spoke up, voice cracking as he did so, “I think you died.”

“I…” Lyfrassir’s eyes widened almost comically. “I died?”

“And then you came back,” Raphaella agreed. There was likely more said, Marius could see Lyfrassir’s mouth move as they talked, could see Jonny waving his arms as his tail swished and flicked angrily while he paced, could see Tim fiddle with xyr gun and Ivy snapping and Raph’s wings fluttering and Lyf grabbing their hair and Brian wringing his hands– there was likely more said.

All Marius could hear was the symphony screaming and shouting over itself, a Song oh-so familiar to Odin’s Void and the Bifrost’s whippoorwill call.

Lyfrassir disappeared into their room for a few months, and no one did anything to try and coerce them out.

Marius could barely be around them, the screaming Void and Whippoorwills and yelling symphony overwhelming him, only serving to get him Lost.

Marius didn’t know if he believed in immortality, the Music lies and Marius was sure one day their mechanisms would give out and wouldn’t heal anymore.

Whenever Lyf exited their room, they were disgruntled and their braids looked rougher than it ever had in all the time Marius knew them. Their hair was still stained with rainbows and their eyes still shined with opalescent colors, but the keening Void and keening Whippoorwills had calmed down, simply matching their usual background noise.

Marius approached them, after that.

“I think I’m glad you’re not Temporary,” he admitted. “But it scares me more than I’m glad.”

Lyfrassir replied with a confused ‘thank you’. They didn’t look at him. “I didn’t want this, when I escaped. I just wanted to live, but not like this.”

“You didn’t deserve to be Taken by something like our Music. But it probably only let you escape on purpose, for this.”

There was a moment of silence. “I think eternity is a long time. I don’t want to live forever.”

“I’m not certain we will. But at least we’re here, for however long ‘forever’ really is.”

After that, things returned to mostly-normal. It was strange, and everything was different, but it was like nothing had changed, in a way.

Marius just had one more person to hover over, whenever they were injured and whenever they got killed. To make sure that they lived, that they came back.

Marius just had one more person to fear losing.

Marius really hated the uncertainty of immortality. Marius really hated how scared it made him.

But it was something he was going to have to live with probably-forever.

Hopefully Nastya was somewhere warm.

[humming-pokemon-helpers]

//It's also in the tags but to reiterate, major warning for a written description of Pokémon death below the cut. It's not particularly graphic or bloody, but it's written as somebody standing from a distance would see it and with heavy emotional weight afterwards, so do be aware.

[Video after video...

As Reshiram stumbles across the ground, sending Pokémon scattering with each move and attacking with Dragon Pulse those that move too swiftly, Cross focuses not on the two Zor leading the giant dragon's movements with illusions away from the population, and instead towards Vision, whose heels squelch in the rain-dampened earth as she pushes past just about every other combatant to seize Colress by the lapels of his lab jacket. He doesn't do much to resist with his usable hand as she sets into reaming the man out.

"You! You and I both know this isn't how things were supposed to go at all, you sorry excuse for a whelp of a man! We agreed on the Moor of Icirrus! So why are we here, and why am I fighting my brother?! Can you not follow the simplest of directions?! The simplest of boundaries?! Or are you forgetting who the person who controls the Dragon of Truth is here?! Besides, if this keeps going, we're all going to--to die, with how this thing is rampaging! So end this madness already!"

Colress, oddly smug for someone who could have his face kicked in at any given moment, replies in an even tone. "I had told you that Lostlorn Forest was by far the best location to amplify the emotions of those fighting, and thus produce the best data. That includes your own, of course. Even if you are the one who wields Reshiram... right now, Reshiram's will is fully its own. Something you can only accomplish with my help. So even so, I can't let you sabotage my experiment. For both of our sakes. My apologies, Lady Vision."

The half-Zorua sneers at Colress, pulling at his lapels one more time as she roughly tosses his weight to the ground, hard enough to leave skids in the mud. "Watch your temper..." Colress warns sternly as Vision turns to Reshiram. The dragon's steely blue eyes were already locked onto Vision's position. It seemed more enraged by the incessant noise than the skittering creatures Vanilla and Wolfgang had conjured.

"And you! You've been here since that day, you should understand exactly why--!" She slips into snarling at the Reshiram, voice intensifying as she becomes more and more incensed, her screams breaking into an outraged cry at the end. Cross moves closer to Vanilla and Wolfgang, capturing their glimpses at each other, their faces softening as something hits them. Maybe even sympathy.

What Cross is more interested in, though, is the Reshiram's looming posture as Vision continues to rant, its wings rearing upwards and upwards until in a clean motion--

A scream pierces the air, the same in pitch and tone as Vanilla's, as Reshiram seizes Vision in its claws and readies its wings as if to take to the sky, flapping heavily, shaking the nuisance in its confusion. Nobody moves an inch, save Wolfgang, who Vanilla catches by his arm. The microphone picks up a soft "Please," but the wolf shakes his head and snarls in response. Vanilla nods reluctantly. She begins focusing her power, scars glowing red through her clothing. Wolfgang rushes for the dragon's shank, leaping in the air to claw into the dragon's fur as its feet leave the earth and it rapidly ascends.

Reshiram thrashes as the Zoroark claws its way up its body and across the dragon's wing, but Wolfgang's battle-bonded claws hold even when shaken high in the air. Even when his crest finally breaks into energy. It's inaudible, but Wolfgang snarls something at Vision. Her mouth moves as Wolfgang pries her arm from Reshiram's claw, then her body. Below, Dolly the Darmanitan holds out her arms, watching for the soundless cue. And then the girl falls, for what feels like an eternity, until she meets Dolly's arms. They both buckle under the inertia of a 30-foot drop, but Dolly pulls her arm out from under Vision soon enough to give a triumphant thumbs-up to Wolfgang. He roars back.

At the signal, Vanilla reaches out her hand, stretching from it a chilling deep purple aura of malice that wraps itself around Reshiram's leg and tugs it to the ground as hard as she can muster. They scream in effort, their voice cracking with the pressure as they brace their body backwards, but the dragon rears upwards harder as Wolfgang readies a Shadow Claw and is thrown off balance. His remaining claw slips. Vanilla releases the dragon. He reaches for his brother instead. So does Reshiram, grabbing the Zoroark with the sharp talons on its feet. Before Vanilla can reach again, the dragon toys with its prey, tossing Wolfgang above its own head as he snarls something at the top of his voice and just a little further, just reach a little further--

There's a deafening crunch.

Reshiram holds something in its mouth. Something unmoving. It lands gracefully. As if its head had never been clearer. It drops the thing casually. Preens its wings. The thing has the shape of Wolfgang, but it doesn't move.

The malice returns to Vanilla's core. They stand, eyes wide, for seconds or eternities. The thing doesn't move. She stumbles and nearly collapses on her first step. She keeps stumbling as Amadeus rushes over to the thing, some unspoken barrier broken. It doesn't move. Amadeus whines low and hurt and shakes the thing as Vanilla manages to lower himself towards the ground without collapsing. The thing doesn't move. Not to get up, not to mumble something into the dirt, not to breathe. But the thing is, without a doubt, Wolfgang.

Vanilla just kneels. Breathes. Waiting. Even when Amadeus lays her head on her auncle's lap, curling herself into the smallest shape she can muster. Even when Tula rushes over to confirm, as a trauma nurse, what was already known. Even when she tries to meet their eyes, leaning low, but can't. "...I'm... so sorry." They squeeze her hand so tight it hurts when she rests next to them.

Vanilla turns and blinks at the Swords as they approach. He takes in enough to shoo them off with his free hand. He stands roughly when Vision approaches with timid steps. Apologetic. Horrified, from the look on her face. Reliving something. She touches her fur collar again. Amadeus stands to steady her relative, but Vanilla keeps going, speeding until she full-force charges her counterpart, toppling them both to the ground. They draw their blade to Vision's throat wordlessly as Cross readjusts to capture the scene.

"...Do it. You know how I feel, correct? There's no life for me. After this."

His sword hand wavers like it can't decide where the blade's home is. There's a forceful intake of breath as their eyes water, the silence deafening.

Until Reshiram decides there's too much of it, its tail blazing to life. Vanilla glances up, back at Vision, and sighs as she weakly pushes off the ground.

"...But there is. You're going to help me. You say you want justice so badly... then start with yourself. Right your wrongs. And I'll do the same."

The video saves.]

[undersaarthal]

TW : sexual assault, suicidal ideation, psychosis. A very personal story--I've never seen my story told, so I'm telling it. If you were feeling as alone as I am, I hope you find comfort in shared understanding. <3

[vocaloidsongpoll]

do you like this vocaloid song?

(EXTREME FLASHING IMAGES WARNING, SUICIDE WARNING, VIOLENCE WARNING, ANIMAL VIOLENCE WARNING, DRUG USAGE WARNING)

(composed by Pepoyo)

submitted by @raaaamen! thank you so much!!!

[naturalist-doctor]

winston lore post; studies on antidepressants and how i taught myself to die

tw [ death, mental illness, descriptions of blood and gore, suicide and suicidal ideation, guns. ]

Dr. Corvus toiled on the floor. His skull cracked and folded under his skin. Masses of flesh waltzed and crawled loudly begging for help, knowing there was a better way. But Winston is a stubborn man, who dared not to listen.

His abdomen crawled with life--something that wasn't him, something hopeful and naive and loud. He cried out to it, something about how he’d tried every antidepressant and drug and chore and it never worked. The pharmacy and the oils and the stars lied to him, how he couldn’t be cured. A life lived in eternity is a life which he sees no hope in. Not like this. Not like Corvus.

Every cough drew up more bile, decayed crawling remains of morning coffee, beady silver swimming and refusing to bond to the blackened blood draining down the man’s chin and throat and core. He grabbed the lump in his muscles and pulled and tugged and fought and it did not come loose. He didn’t want to live, but he is the plaything of whatever cruel deity lies above. Whoever granted him his birth--one truth--but refuses to grant him one more--his death. He collapses, hitting the hardwood and being forced out of whatever contortion he tried to maintain. He didn’t remember how it felt anyway.

Doktor Corvus was a desperate man ever since that day when he walked home from his studies and put a bullet to his head and his heart, stubbornly, loudly, defiantly beat in his chest despite his brains on the wall and his skull glistening like glass. Broken like glass. And he looked up from his state on the floor, denied death as the poison tore through his body and ran thick in his veins, and he saw a man. Tall, like him. Brown-haired, like him. His messy hair flowed around the cavern in his face where a heart beat, loudly, almost as if he was hearing it in his own head.

The man vanished into Hyde’s mind, and suddenly, he felt different: like his body wasn’t his, and that he wanted to live.

Hyde sat across the counter as Cattie mindlessly chatted with him, the doctor sipping on some fancy coffee. He lamented on how the attempts to clear his veins of the silvery medicine Jekyll had fed Winston when he was whole, and by extent, the masked naturalist, were unsuccessful. But he wasn’t the one searching for a way out of living. He was searching for a way out of living as a passenger in a train, a way to rid Jekyll of this body. 

After all, that man took no issue with throwing his birth given name away, so why should Hyde let him keep it?

[weevilsart]

MASSIVE CW: Vent, suicide mentioned, Drug and alcohol addiction, Caffiene addiction, Accidental Overdose, child abuse mentioned, mental health neglect, medical malpractice, mental hospitalization, police brutality, prison mentioned, AND THIS IS A VERY POLITICAL POST (FAR LEFTISM (I am a anarchocommunist)) PLEASE ASK ME TO ADD MORE CW IF NEEDED,

It really bothers me how I will never relate to or feel nostalgic to late 2000s to early 2010s post about elementary school.. I see picture of the inside of buses, school activities, and all of that, I can’t relate to any of it.. I didn’t go to elementary school and I only did 2 months of 7th grade and 1 week as a freshman and 1 fucking day as a sophomore, the rest of my schooling was at alternative schools that sucked and homeschooling which I can’t remember most of it cause at the time I was still actively being abused, I see my three youngest siblings and how they are still in school, how they got to learn and have friends, and I have none of that.. my two older siblings also have been to and completed high school, I have nothing.. I was too autistic and weird and mentally Ill to have done anything, I had been hospitalized twice and fucking spent my whole summer of 2018 (my last year in my home state) in a fucking residential program that said they were duel diagnosis BUT THEY ONLY FOCUSED ON THE KIDS THERE THAT HAD DRUG AND ALCHOL ADDICTIONS AND THEY COMPLETELY IGNORED MY CAFFEINE ADDICTION AND DOWNPLAYED IT SO MUCH THAT I GAVE UP ON QUITING they had FORCED me go to NA, MA, and AA meetings WHEN I DIDNT HAVE TO GO and they ignored my mental health, I LITERALLY HAVE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH SCHIZOAFFECTIVE DISORDER SINCE I WAS FUCKING 4 YEARS OLD AND IT TOOK 17 FUCKING YEARS TO GET A DIAGNOSIS CAUSE NO ONE WANTED TO DIAGNOSE A CHILD AND CAUSE OF THAT I WASNT ON ANTIPSYCHOTICS INTIL I WAS FUCKING 18!!!!! I WAS IN CONSTANT PSYCHOSIS AND I WAS PARANOID ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND I COULDNT DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!! AND MY AUTISM AND ADHD WERE NEGLECTED CAUSE MY PARENT WERE TOO FOCUSED ON MY MENTAL ILLNESS AND MY TWO BROTHERS WHO WERE DIAGNOSED WITH AUTISM EARLY ON!!! I WAS DIAGNOSED AT 12 AND THEY DIDNT TELL ME INTIL I WAS 15!!!! I WAS CONSTANTLY DRINKING ENERGY DRINKS SO MANY IN A FUCKING DAY THAT I FUCKING OVERDOSED AND WAS UP FOR 3 WHOLE FUCKING DAYS AND MY MOM STILL DIDNT TAKE ME TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL AND I WAS DOING ALL THAT TO SELF MEDICATE MY ADHD AND I DIDNT GET PUT ONTO STIMULENTS INTIL I WAS 18 AND THEN MY PSYCH TOOK ME OFF CAUSE I DIDNT DO WHAT SHE TOLD ME TO AND I SPENT MONTHS TRYING TO GET A NEW PSYCHIATRIST AND WHEN I DID SHE PUT ME BACK ON THEM WITH NO STIPULATIONS CAUSE ITS FUCKED UP TO DO THAT!!!!AND I MISSED THE LAST 4 APPOINTMENTS WITH HER CAUSE THEY ARE ONLINE ONLY APPOINTMENTS AND I HAVE MEMORY FUCKNG ISSUES CAUSE OF LONG FUCKING COVID SO NOW IVE RUN OUT OF MY FUCKING RITALIN AND I HAVE TO SELF MEDICATE WITH ENERGY DRINKS TO FUNCTION PROPERLY BUT I HAVE A FUCKING HEART CONDITION AND SO NOW MY HEART RATE IS HIGHER THAN AVERAGE (USUALLY ITS 100 AND NOW ITS BEEN AROUND 150) CAUSE I DONT HAVE PROPER STIMULENTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK THE MENTAL AND MEDICAL HEALTH CARE SYSTEM IN THE FUCKING UNITED STATES OF FASCISM CAUSE NOW I HAVE FUCKED UP TEETH AND CAUSE I CANT GET THEM FUCKING FIXEX CAUSD I DONT HAVE FUCKING DENTAL INSURANCE CAUSE MY STATE INSURANCE DOSENT COVER DENTAL OR OPTICAL AND GUESS WHAT? BLINDNESS RUNS IN MY FAMILY AND MY VISION HAS BEEN SLOWLY DETERIORATING AND I JUST HAD TO PAY 80$ FUCKING DOLLARS TO SEE AN OPTRISTION AND I ONLY RECEIVED 628$ A MONTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK THE SYSTEM FUCK CAPITALISM FUCK CHRISTOFASCISM FUCK THE GOVERNMENT FUCK COPS FUCK THE PRISON INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX FUCK THE MILITARY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX FUCK IT ALL

I AM FULL OF SO MUCH FUCKING RAGE I SWEAR I COULD TAKE ON THE WHOLE POLICE FORCE HERE BUT I KNOW I CANT AND THAT IT JUST BE POLICE ASSISTED SUICIDE!!!!!!!

[soft-serve-soymilk]

With me trying to apply, yet again, to get my work exhibited, i'm reminded of the censorship that has gone into Inigo this whole year:

He thinks he's responsible for someone's suicide a bearer of misfortune~ I hope it makes him G-rated enough for public display xD

[serickswrites]

Idea : whumpee who is always joyous and kind to others despite never receiving kindness themselves

Hello @lockedwith-care that is a great idea! Please enjoy! And please ask for anything you would like to see written or more of!

Warnings: degradation, emotional abuse, mention of suicidal ideation, physical abuse, bruises, burns, domestic violence

Whumpee pulled the sleeves of their sweater lower, making sure the cigarette burns on their forearms weren't visible. They checked their make up in the bathroom mirror. Whumpee had spent a good portion of their morning trying to cover up the bruises on their face and their black eye. It looked like the make up was holding up. They sighed, their bone-weary exhaustion filling them along with the unspeakable sadness.

Whumpee was trapped with Whumper. Every time Whumpee plucked up the courage to try and leave, Whumper would threaten to kill themself and Whumpee felt guilty and would stay. Would stay despite how much Whumper hit them. Would stay despite how Whumper would extinguish their cigarettes on Whumpee's arm. And would stay despite wanting desperately to be free.

"You are mine forever, Whumpee. You're not going anywhere. Who would want a stupid, ugly slut like you?" Whumper had sneered that morning before slamming the door closed.

Whumpee had taken a moment to cry because Whumper was right. No one would want them. They were trapped. Forever. After allowing themself a five minute pity party, Whumpee knew they had to get up and get ready for work.

As Whumpee washed their hands, shaking the image of their perfectly made up face from their mirror, they plastered on their best customer service smile. "No one will ever know," they muttered as they left the bathroom.

"Whumpee! What took you so long, we're swamped!" Coworker shouted as Whumpee returned.

"Sorry, Coworker, won't happen again." Whumpee's smile dropped a little as they ducked their head.

"It better not, get your butt up here now!"