#cursed with knowledge

[cursed-with-knowledge]

She pulled it away, slow enough as to not show how much she wanted to throw the book away and never show it to anyone.

"Nothing" she says putting it aside what she hoped was causally enough.

"Whatcha doing here?" She questioned back

Open Starter

Deyanira was at the library, in one of the quiet corners where she thought she was least likely to be disturbed.

However I like most times when she was in the library, she wasn't surrounded by physics books, or a cluster of paper with designs on them.

She grabbed another book. It was heavier than she expected. Maybe it was just the title "Understanding Anxiety" sitting on the cover like it knew something she didn’t.

She flipped through the pages. I like most times when she was here the quiet around her wasn't comforting. It felt like it might crack under the weight of her thoughts.

Her thoughts that she couldn't even figure out anymore. Her brain had always been what helped her survive and now it felt as if it was betraying her.

She was too in her head to notice that someone had entered the area, she only realized when she heard the chair across from her creak.

She lifted her head to see who it was, closing the book and putting it aside, faced down, slowly like she was trying to hide it. Fruitless really, she was surrounded by more books than she had fingers. All of them were about the same thing. Anxiety.

"Hey"

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Tags (ask to be added or removed)

@under0-0s @giovannistark @official-james-b @rouge-wolfspider @nathan-shrieks

[whenthewallfell]

knowing how A Craft is done is both the best and worst thing because you'll see something like The Outfit where they've clearly done research on sewing and tailoring and it's beautiful and there's so much to appreciate

but you'll also see questionable things like crochet with knitting needles or someone holding the yarn wrong and go

'hmm.'

[icycove]

Upset

One (1) Pointy

[sombeswastaken]

Started playing this neat Death Game sort of VN i found on steam and it's rly good and has a super likeable cast which is kinda key to this stories and i'm also cursed with the knowledge and existence of this twink "doll" and it's doing horrific things to my mental

[cursed-with-knowledge]

Deyanira saw the guy standing there, he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

She was going to ignore him when he talked.

"I don't think it's stalking when you're the one standing outside my potential new apartment" she replied, raising a brow.

She looked at the building, "actually never mind I get why it was so cheap now"

"I have way better options, this place looks like it's seconds away from falling apart" she says

Open rp: burn it all down

Tw: violence, burning buildings, intentional murder, mental breakdown

Nate’s violence had been getting worse. Way worse. He kept coming home broken and beaten and soaked in blood after vanishing for days on end. No matter what anyone said, no matter how hard anyone tried to keep him inside and safe he always got away, and more people ended up dead. Overkill? Sure. But the people he hurt deserved it. And yeah this wasn’t ’normal’ sixteen year old stuff but he hadn’t been a kid in a very long time, as well as he plastered a smile on his face and kept joking. Kept laughing.

There was a warrant out for his arrest and a list of names scratched out one by one in his room. Over 300 down, just 12 left, and they were all in one building. He’d dropped off the radar for almost a week, no contact with anyone. Until his little appearance now.

Nate stood outside on the street, flicking his lighter on and off. Yards and yards of fuse and literal gallons on petrol were now inside that building, every vent and wall and unused room one spark away from flame. And he had the spark.

Other people would get hurt, other people would die. The fire would spread. But at this point he didn’t really care, not anymore. The idea of suffering was numbed, and the thought of finally, finally killing the people he’d been after the whole time filled him with a giddy excitement he didn’t want to think too hard about.

They killed my mom. I’m gonna stop them from doing it in the first place.

Nate smiled to himself as he flicked the lighter on one last time and lit the fuse at his feet, the spark running across it and vanishing into a pipe in the building’s wall. In ten minutes the thing would be ablaze, and those monsters would be dead. He could finally sleep at night.

Until he heard something behind him. Footsteps. A familiar voice.

No no no no no not now, any time but now

“You know it’s kinda rude to stalk people? Especially when they’re busy”

————————————————————

//AND THUS we begin Nate’s proper villain arc. He is acting not normal and very irrational and will lash out. He is completely beyond reason and your efforts will fail. This is an angst rp proceed with caution. I’m gonna tag people but PLEASE don’t interact if you don’t feel 100% up to it.

@clintbarton-thearrowguy @laura-barton-shield @the-good-redheaded-witch @natt-romanoff @under0-0s @chaotic-shapeshifter @whosafraidoflittleoldme17 @thebetterbartontwin @your-fav-russian-assassin

[croaker-explained]

[hkthatgffan]

ALEX! YOU CAN'T JUST DROP MAJOR LOST GRAVITY FALLS MEDIA LORE ON ME LIKE THIS AND GET AWAY WITH IT?! 😭

Link to Alex's tweet...

He also asked fans to record their own version of the Stan lines here and also gave advice on how to do it, lmao

[aardvaark]

i think maggie would be the only person in the leverage universe who DOES notice the leverage team members occasionally becoming famous. like she’d tune into the world news and then have to call the team to check if sophie really died in a small european country during a turbulent election. "no but wasn’t my funeral so poignant? they put my face on the $20 note!" okay great glad to know you’re not dead. she watches a game of baseball on TV and just sighs deeply when the camera pans to eliot. next time she sees the team, she compliments his baseball skills. for some reason he mutters something about a sandwich while looking wistfully into the distance.

[cursed-with-knowledge]

Deyanira was about to leave. A little earlier than usual but she decided she could use the sleep and a treat from her favorite food truck.

As she was walking out, her bag over her shoulder like always, her feet halted. She saw Tony's office door.

Was he busy? She hadn't seen him much. And part of her had been wanting to find an excuse to check up on him.

He was her boss, sure. At times her mentor. He checked in on her even if she didn't really want him to.

Maybe she'll just return the favor.

She walked over before she had a proper idea of what she was gonna do and swung open the office door, "hey just letting you I'm leaving. I'd say goodnight but I doubt you'll sleep so-" she paused, her eyes catching his.

Why did he look so...tired? Dead? Indifferent?

She couldn't find the word but she stepped in.

"Mr. Stark?" She called, she walked over, door closing behind her and for some reason, maybe out of instinct, she knocked on him.

Like just knocked his arm, like he was a machine she was making sure was working right.

"You alright?"

"Nothing can, capture the sting."

May 29th, '25.

(Listen to the music to enhance the reading experience.)

The day unfolded like a shrug.

A sky too blank. A room too neat. The air hung without texture, like something forgotten before it was even named. Tony moved through it anyway—out of habit, maybe, or obligation. He ran diagnostics with the same idle detachment someone might water plants they never really looked at. The coffee brewed. He drank it. Too bitter. He didn’t change it.

The hours blurred.

Someone knocked at some point. A courier, probably. He signed without reading the label. There was a call with someone in Tokyo—he cracked a joke he didn’t finish. Laughed half a second too late. The suits hummed on their rails. The lab whispered like it always did, a gentle reminder of things that once excited him, now just routines he folded himself into like laundry.

At 2:13 PM, he stopped walking mid-hallway.

For no reason at all.

Just a pause. An odd stillness, like the kind you feel when you’ve misplaced something—wallet, phone, name—but can't trace what’s missing.

He looked at his hands. No grease. No tremor. Just… there. As if they belonged to someone else today.

There had been something he meant to do, hadn’t there?

Or maybe that was yesterday. Or a week ago. The notion dissolved before it fully formed. So he moved on, letting the silence fill the cracks where memory should have lived.

The others didn’t call.

But why would they? There was no occasion. No event. No red circle on any wall-hung calendar. Not even FRIDAY chimed in with a reminder or an ironic note. No balloon emojis from Peter. No package from Pepper. Not even a message from Rhodey, who always remembered the things Tony didn’t.

But it didn’t feel like anything was missing. Just a faint buzzing absence, like walking into a room right after someone’s left.

By late afternoon, the shadows had lengthened and bled over the floor like ink. The lights stayed off. He didn’t notice.

He sat in the living room—half in the chair, half out of thought. A drink in his hand. Ice melted. Unnoticed. His gaze fixed on nothing.

It had been an unremarkable day. Which was fine.

Not every day needed purpose.

And yet, something tugged at him. Quietly. Persistently. The way an old scar itches before a storm. The feeling of stepping over a spot that once mattered. Like standing in a hallway and forgetting why you came.

The kind of sadness that didn't show up with violins or tears. Just a hollow sort of forgetting. Of not knowing what you’d lost.

It was only later, sometime past nine, that he passed a drawer in his room. One that stuck. One he hadn’t opened in… months? Years? It snagged on the way out, coughing up a cascade of papers, pens, and an old photograph wedged between two receipts.

A birthday card.

Bent at the edges. From… Maria.

No date on the front. Just her handwriting.

Look at you, my little moonbeam.

Try not to set the kitchen on fire today.

His breath caught. Just slightly. Like a glitch.

Something shifted in his chest. Like a floorboard creaking underfoot.

It was today, wasn’t it?

Or yesterday?

Or maybe a week ago?

No… it had to be today.

That was the thought that finally formed, full and sudden. Crashing down without welcome.

His birthday.

He hadn’t known.

Hadn’t even remembered it long enough to feel forgotten.

And for a man who once lit the sky on his own name-day, who built celebrations into spectacle, who wrapped meaning in champagne and fire—this… silence was foreign. Terrifying in its gentleness.

No one had said anything.

But worse—neither had he.

There was a kind of grief in that.

The slow kind.

The kind that doesn’t cry, doesn’t scream—just settles.

He held the card like something fragile, something fossilized. Like maybe if he stared long enough, he could crawl back into a memory that hadn’t faded around the edges yet. Maybe he could remember what it used to feel like—to be known, even for just a day.

But the moment passed.

The card went back in the drawer.

The silence resumed its reign.

And Tony?

He turned off the lights. Let the city’s glow spill through the windows and wash over him, impersonal and indifferent.

It was just another day.

And if it wasn’t, he wasn’t sure he’d know the difference.

Tags so that this doesn't just die: @oh-to-be-a-murderer @hydra-failure @im-feeling-blue-today @cursed-with-knowledge @of-spite-and-hatred @insomniac-lifestyle @mightymarvelite @over-bi-the-wayside @multifandomer537 @moon-x0 @thund3randrain @sunny-the-intern @woodsparker-family @askatrigenderlgbt

[cursed-with-knowledge]

OPEN STARTER

TW: (very) brief mention of drugs, panic attack

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A walk. A simple walk to and from the convenience store and back.

It was a late night errand, she wanted some nice ramen and groceries. The roads were quiet, the street lights flickered while others didn't even turn on.

There was a small hum from the lights, a few rooms from the buildings around showed that she wasn't the only one awake at this late hour.

It was supposed to be a quick errand. A walk that'll help her get some fresh air and a goodnight's sleep.

But she had bumped into a group in an alley on the way. Just a bunch of friends getting high. Not uncommon, especially around here and this late. She tended to ignore them, much like how everyone else did.

However this time they called for her. Asked her if she wanted some. That they could hook her with a supplier. The first one was free as a courtesy.

It was obvious they weren't just teenagers smoking a joint, they were trying to go around and sell this, make a dime. Get a job done for someone bigger. And it was obvious they were amateurs

The offer hadn't been the problem. She had said no, been stern, punched the girl trying to grab her wrist and ran back to her apartment.

She hadn't noticed until she was opening her doors that her hand was shaking. She wasn't scared. Not from that group of idiots anyway.

But she could still smell it, the smoke, the drug. She walked in, first mistake. Her apartment was nice but it was small.

She felt herself not breathing right so she went to the bathroom to splash her face with some water.

That was the second mistake, the sink, white lights, porcelain shelf, it all made it worse. It brought her back. Back to where she never wanted to go.

And suddenly she couldn't breathe. She didn't know why.

Was she having a heart attack? Were her lungs failing? Was she having some weird allergic reaction?

She couldn't find an answer as her hands shook and she found herself sliding to the floor, grabbing at her chest.

The idea of a panic attack didn't even cross her mind.

She felt like she was dying. Like every breath she took just weighed on her chest and never made it to her lungs.

She couldn't die. Not now. Not here. Who would even find her body?

She grabbed her bag, fishing out her flip phone before calling the first person she could click.

Still not able to breath properly and unsure what was happening to her she put the phone to her ear.

If she was dying she might as well make sure they found her body before she rotted.

She heard her phone beep and she gathered whatever breath she could muster, "hello?"

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No pressure tags: (ask to be added or removed)

@under0-0s @official-james-b @nathan-shrieks @rouge-wolfspider @to-takeon-theworld @giovannistark

[disgracefulthings]

At Qian Cao Peak

Mu Qingfang: Shixiong has been stressed lately. What is weighing on your mind?

Shang Qinghua: I can't really say- wait! You're a doctor, that means you took the Hippocratic Oath! Which means that whatever I tell you, you can't repeat it to the other peak lords...

Mu Qingfang: What is-

Shang Qinghua, not listening: Well it all started in a previous life...

Later

Shang Qinghua: ...and now Cucumber-Bro and I need to make sure the world doesn't end. Wow, it feels nice to get that off my chest. Thank you for listening, Mu-shidi! I'll be back in a week for our next session

Mu Qingfang: ...

Yue Qingyuan, walking up to him: What's wrong, shidi? You look spooked

Mu Qingfang: I can't say. Apparently I took a hypocrite oath

Yue Qingyuan: ?

[canterbury-bell]

More fanart for @beanandberry's This Love Is Ours 💗💗💗

[howlhawk]

i like this mark grayson guy i sure hope nothing bad happens to him

[cat-cosplay]

I could have lived without the knowledge that there was a live action Wallace and Gromit short that is truly cursed.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking many thoughts about the fact that Ravi is a manifestation of bucks abandonment issues - in that he is essentially the ghost of Daniel - who always appears in the firehouse at moments when bucks abandonment issues are at their most pronounced.

Ravi first appears the episode after Buck finds out about Daniel in season 4 and has popped up at every critical point since - the sniper arc in 4 - at the moment when Buck is facing the possibility of losing Eddie.

He is there pretty much all the way through season 5 when Buck was facing Maddie being gone and then when Maddie returns, with Eddie leaving the 118 and breaking down.

In season 5 (defend in place) we also found out about him surviving childhood cancer and the parallels to Daniel become very obvious.

Then in season 6 he pops back up in the aftermath of bucks coma - when he’s wrestling with his own mortality and with the ghost of Daniel from his coma.

Then in season 7 he pops up during bucks bi arc - when buck is fearing Eddie’s abandonment (and his jealousy) because he’s hanging out with Tommy. Then he appears at the end of the season when Bobby is in hospital having had a heart attack. A representation of bucks fears around losing Bobby.

And now he’s turning up in season 8 when Eddie is going to be gone and buck is really having to face all of his abandonment issues - with Maddie being kidnapped, Eddie and Chris being gone and the end of his first queer relationship.

So Ravi seems to represent Bucks fears and issues rising to the surface - being consciously present and there for Buck to actually address. With Ravi disappearing again when Buck manages to rebury or repress them.

[uncontrol-freak]

how about some eldritch Outsider that you can't really look at (and whose real name isn't that much of a secret but you shouldn't say it)