#IM SO LONLI

[boopicide]

i don't wanna die, i just wanna never have existed in the first place.

[se1c0uth]

I just want someone with whom I'm deeply in love with to kiss the scars that decorate my arms, legs, and torso. I want them to follow them down my body.

[jarsarahere]

I envy people who have never experienced what it’s like to be truly lonely, because it’s an evil thing. It aches your heart, your real, actual, beating heart. I just want to be loved.

[wishingintotheunknown]

I’ve never felt more alone and more useless than I do right now. I don’t know how to be better. I don’t know how to convince anyone that I’m worth knowing or loving. I try so hard to not complain about my pain and I’m so desperate to just feel like I’m more than disappointment and wasted potential. I know that disability doesn’t have to be the end, and I know people can move past trauma and learn to accept or even love themselves. I know people recover from Ed’s, even when they’ve been living this way for decades. I keep watching other people recover and find success and discover passion and go on with it all but I’m still here. I’m stuck. I’m trapped. I keep thinking I’ve found a way out but really it’s just another cage, or just another trap. Another path that leads me right back to the beginning. I don’t understand what I ever did to deserve to be stuck here no matter what I try to do. I’m so tired of pretending I’m okay with watching everyone else from the outside. I’m just so damn tired of being left behind without any explanation of why.

[cvsette]

hey all if you like

incredibly toxic yuri

complex, interesting characters

fascinating, well-developed and unique lore

locked room murder-mystery plots with time shenanigans (?)

media that speaks to the experience of being chronically lonely and isolated socially from others starting at a very young age and continuing into early adulthood to the point where you have no reference as to what is normal and continue to isolate yourself from social interaction even when people try to reach out to you because you have no idea how to connect with them or maintain connections with them or even a drive to connect with them anymore and now you're programmed to view new social situations as tests you must pass rather than opportunities to connect with people and thus avoid them despite the pain of loneliness never really going away

pseudo-cannibalism

long interesting debates about arcane in-world political issues

You should absolutely read The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere by Lurina

[triglycercule]

ok ok you dont need to threaten me here's some art ☹️☹️☹️

appreciate now while you have it because doodles are rare coming from me (only tri-yearly. i cannot doodle for the life of me its hard 🙁)

[thevampirearchive]

There’s something I've been meaning to say but I haven't had the words till now. There is something that deeply upsets me about witnessing stories where villains, who are literal killers, fall in love and somehow become good or act outside of what is expected from them. I love love, love is beautfiul, it is powerful and it can truly change a lot. But to sit, and write a killer suddenly go "actually, this one can stay because I am in love for the first time" is such a weird concept to me. Is this happening because as a sociaty we're trying to convince ourselves that deeply disturbed people can be cured by the power of love? That if they just find the right person, they would stop the masacer? or at least no longer feel the need to kill how they were or at least let their person live? And I am not mad at the love, I do belive anyone can fall deeply in love, but my issue is with how it ends. I want to witness the unthinkable — I want to see is exactly what we expect but hoped won't happen, happening. A gut wrenching truth that stays true to who we have been witnessing, despite the "I can change them" dance. And perhaps people hate this idea because they want to belive that anyone can change if only they meet the right one, or that we can change the monsters in our lives with affection, but trust most likly is that they cannot be changed. And I can understand that to some this is then seen as an illusion. "oh then this was never true love", why can the two not exist? Do we not hurt those we love? Maybe not kill them, but someone elses hurt could feel like a small death to me, and vice versa.

Examples, so that you are not confused as to what I am reffering too;

Killing Eve; I stopped watching when Villanelle was shown shooting Eve. It felt true to her character, even if it hurt. She is a killer, we knew that and so did Eve. Regardless of her love, that was what was always going to happen so why were we given additional seaons of this fanatsy of a declawed Villanelle?

Hannibal; It should have ended with the death of Will, and possibly Hannibal consuming him. Didn't Hannibal say that the consumption of Will would somehow join them in a deeper way?Something so disturbing that only could make sense to a serial killing-cannibal. And I would have watched with wide eyes, and gone to sleep staring at the ceiling.

Interveiw With The Vampire; Louis' death in the hand of a Lestat would have made sense, and despite his dramatics, Lestat would have not committed suicide but instead burried himself in deep regret untill he was too numb to his own feelings that he could return to the world of the living. He would have never forgotten Louis, nor what he did, but he would have moved on beause Lestat is not a good person. He's deeply disturbed and Louis knew this. I don't even aknoclege that beatdown episode because Lestat may be a killer, but he's a drama queen first and formost. Louis' death would have been poetic, beautiful and grusom like a greek tragedy without an audiance.

Bonus - Twilight; I could not end without adding my own favorite, and despite this path never being teased to the audiance the same way the other's were, I would have loved the book simply ending because Edward did as he said he would - drained Bella like a Caprisun on a hot summer day. Because what is love agaisnt animalistic urgase (I understand why it is much hotter that he is simply so retsrained and devoted that he resists her, but I'd pay good money for an AU)

At the end of it all, I think want I want is for sociaty to get over the idea that a good woman, love or any form of kindness can change who some people are. Love can do many things - look at crimes of passion! And to some extend I belive that these villain's love were true, possibly not the way we imagine them - which is less so "I love you too" and more so, "wow, finally someone I can manipulate and obsess over. Someone who I can mold, someone who is alone in the world like me" only to realize that is not true.

So why do we make love into what it isnt? Even when the scene is set for us to be shown the truth, writers and the audiance always make the plot lean towards whatever fits so that we can have that "happy ending".

Honorable mentions;

God should have killed Lucifer, I know the bible and christianity is not technically fiction for all, but the idea that he is forgivin but lets the biggest meanness HE CREATED terrorize everybody is evil. Take him out or let somebody else do it homie.

[never-enough-13]

[autisticlee]

sometimes being autistic really separates me from other people. there's an invisible wall that separates me from people, society, the world. all those things can reach through the wall and slap me around, but it's one way. I can't reach them. and they never pat me on the head. nothing nice comes through. and I can't get out. I try to share good things. nothing gets through the wall. they see it as I purposely don't come out of the room i'm locked in. they think I act like i'm too good for them. they are offended and reach in to slap me. i'm desperately screaming and trying to reach out to them. trying to be part of things. but I can't. I can't connect with them. I can't be part of society. this wall isn't my doing, but they are making sure it stays up and making sure they only send negative signals through. know I can't stay behind this wall or I literally can't live. but also can't get out. i'm stuck and blamed for it. told i'm not trying and it's on purpose. i've been kicking and screaming at the wall my whole life and didn't make a dent. the lonliness and disconnection that can be felt when autistic is something nonautistic people will never feel or understand.

[ladyriddle1]

I thought I was getting better. I honestly did. But now I'm laying in bed trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me and why I'm never enough.💔

- ladyriddle1💫

[twelfth-dykector]

I FEEL SO FUCKING LONELY

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​

[cytostiitch]

damn, sometimes you just can't girlboss bootstrap your way out of the soupy garbage juice of loneliness huh?

I have more posts on IG - follow me there if you want

https://instagram.com/cytoplasm.kd

[blaze4chuu]

having no friends is so freeing yet so painful.

[sparklecare-good-au]

wow, what a totally nornal render of the v3 landing art. nothing out of the ordinary here. awesome 👍

[krispyykrab]

there is really something cruel and strange and fucked up about switching between thinking youre the center of the universe and thinking youre completely invisible 50 fuckin times a day. like do you have a god complex or an inferiority complex make up your mind