#hes deranged and in DESPERATE need of therapy..

[povertygoblin]

The skrunkl— i mean the Demon king!

Casually sneaking into the AFO side of the mha fandom dont mind me

[lavalampstealer]

give me your John juniper headcanons if he survived please

Oh my god I’m so happy someone asked, I’d be DELIGHTED to put these out there :)) this is gonna also lightly cover Handler and Phoenix’s reactions/feelings to him surviving

Headcanon dump below the cut because it’s long

- He would have a massive scar on almost the entirety of the left side of his face from the Mask, making him near unrecognizable

- He would be blind in his left eye and have cataracts in his right

- His hair would be shorter and not as neat as before

- He would be missing his pinky on his right hand

- He would be a devastated shell of his former self and struggle with his identity

- He had placed his entire career, his persona, his whole identity on being John Juniper, world famous actor, but now that he was legally dead and (in his eyes) horribly disfigured, was he really the same person? He had it all, risked everything without a second thought, and now he was left with nothing. All of his wealth and belongings were surely auctioned off or distributed to god knows who or where. He wasn’t close to any of his family, he didn’t have a partner, there was no one for him to go to. Hell, he even burned the bridge with Gibson in a blind rage, his closest friend and confidant for the past [X] years. He had ruined his ties with Zoraxis and he thought the Agency sure as hell wasn’t about to help him. He had been relying on the rush he got from acting and deceiving, and he got so good at it that he couldn’t tell if he was tricking himself or whether his emotions were truly his own. Juniper was alive, but the man who was power-crazed and willing to launch nuclear missiles around the world without a batting an eye was gone. Was he still himself?

- A really good song that I feel matches him perfectly in this state is The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical (right now I’m actually working on an animatic of a specific part of it that especially fits).

- Much to his shock and confusion, the reason he was alive was because the Agency found his body when they went searching for Phoenix and treated him as best they could. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, why would they help him? Were they just keeping him alive so they could force information out of him.. and then what? Kill him? Kick him out into the world? No one would recognize him, not his face at least, and as for his voice it was much scratchier and had lost all of its bravado and smugness. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the Agent, that pesky, meddling, self righteous Phoenix who had ruined his plans and his life. He had no clue who their Handler was, he only borrowed his voice to lure them into a false sense of security, but by the way that man glared poisoned daggers at him like he was nothing more than a roach made him want to shrink into nothingness. No one had ever looked at him with that much hate, no, disgust before.

- He’s very conflicted about his emotions towards Phoenix. He recognizes how bad what he almost accomplished was and he feels awful about it, yet he can’t help but despise them because they had slapped him in the face and snapped him out of his star-struck stupor. He was so close, so close to proving to himself to the world that he was the best that he became blinded to the reality of his actions. He still wishes them dead but wouldn’t dare act on those thoughts because 1) he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t stand to gain anything from it anymore, he’s just tired. 2) the Agency would surely do worse to him if he offed their best agent. and 3) they were arguing in his favor for some kind of forgiveness or at least amnesty. Why they would do that he has no idea, but he wouldn’t push back if it meant his life being spared or a roof over his head. After all, the Agency couldn’t risk the beloved-actor-turned-mass-felon-turned-dead-man to be recognized in public, for their sake and for his.

- Phoenix is nowhere near close to forgiving Juniper, but they don’t completely despise him either. They can see that the he’s not who kidnapped them and tried to blow them up multiple times, that Juniper is lost. They take a sort of pity on him, and thats not to say that they didn’t go off on him for his actions. They just realize that there’s no use in berating him.

- He now hates that shade of emerald green he always wore because it reminded him of how he was before the Incident, so instead he opts for darker, muted greens or dark grey clothing. He dresses more casually than the suits he used to wear (think jeans/slacks and casual dress shirts).

I definitely want to write a story with him at some point, I love the idea of him losing it all, getting somehow worse and better at the same time, and then coming out on the other side as a decent, if not bearable, person. I wouldn’t call it a redemption arc, it’d be more of a healing/development arc because he wouldn’t be like “Yeah I’m gonna help the EOD kick Zor’s ass! Revenge time!” No, he’d never want to hear from any of them ever again and would rather live out the rest of his life without catching either of their attention. The EOD would set him up with a place where he wouldn’t be noticed by Zor and they’d ‘promise’ to leave him alone (in reality one of his neighbors is a retired Agency contact who gives them updates). He’d take up baking as a hobby and turn it into a local business, specializing in handmade desserts :) just get the man his therapy and let him live out of sight, out of mind.

[konigsblog]

therapist!reader x obsessive patient!könig? omg… but reader low-key feeds into his obsessions cause she likes the attention? I need this so bad pls pls pls make it as dark as possible I love your work, have an awesome day!! <3

brutality - patient-könig & therapist-reader.

anon, anon... you're absolutely killing me with this concept! 😵‍💫

tw/cw: non-con/dub-con, RAPE, obsessive and manipulative behaviour, guilt tripping, talk of mental health struggles, stalking, perv!könig, stalker!könig, yandere!könig.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

patient-könig tried not to become obsessive with you, as he could feel himself struggling, the irresistible desire burning inside of him. i mean, you're his therapist for christ's sake! but, you being his therapist makes it even worse, since you know all about his sick and twisted desires. he rants to you, frustrated and nearly screaming at you as if you caused all his pain and ache, talking about all the sick things he desired about.

one thing könig left out was who he wanted his victim to be. he talked about rape, taking advantage and corrupting someone. he even promised to never act on his deranged and depraved desires, to conceal them and continue with therapy to help könig with his cruel, brutal fantasies. something about you listening to him so intently drove him insane. you were the only one who cared — who bothered to listen!

of course, it's your job — but könig took this as a hint that you wanted him, you wanted him to act on his gross, perverse ideas. and so he did. he stalked you; perved and jerked off to the sight of you asleep, he even cuddled you; breathed hot air down your neck while you shuddered in your sleep. and soon enough, könig was utterly and completely obsessed with you, desperate for your love and care.

why are you surprised? that you're tied to a metal table with rope, duct tape covering your screams as he rapes you brutally and disgustingly. his thrusts are so incredibly painful and brutal. to make it even worse, he records it for other rapists to watch, to get their release through your pain.

you scream and sob and shake while you bleed, crimson rolling down your thighs and covering his lengthy cock and balls in crimson. you recognise him, behind the mask, his body fit the size of your patient all too well... and all you could do was fight uselessly as he continued for hours on end, making sure you knew how obsessed he was.

[finniestoncrane]

Therapy Pet

Capullo!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 2k commission: eddie's partner is used as a little therapy pet for him when he's too stressed (changed from trans-masc reader to gn!reader) 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: pet play, sub/dom dynamics

From outside in the hall, you could hear Edward’s frustrated grunting. It was no way to conduct a business call, and you doubted very much that things were going his way. He could get away with a lot, but even the powerful needed to schmooze. At least before they ruled the world. And Edward wasn’t quite there yet, though he was hurtling towards levels of domination that were almost comical, if they weren’t attributable to someone as threatening and deranged as you knew he could be. Give it a month or so, and you were sure his plan would be complete. And then you’d have him all to yourself again.

A loud thud signalled the end of the call, Eddie’s hands slammed down onto the desk in resignation and disappointment in whatever poor soul’s services he was attempting to render. You were quick to attention, ready to take your place by his side at the desk, but not quick enough that he wasn’t yelling for you, impatient as ever.

“And where is my precious little pet?”

Stepping through the door, shuffling, more accurately, you sheepishly made your way to him, eyes deigning to gaze up through your eyelashes at him, wide and pleading, the way he liked you. And when you were close enough to him, he reached his hand out cupping your chin, placing pressure on it with his fingers and thumb and gently shaking your head. You tilted your head back, allowing him to let his fingers drift to your chin, tilting it up and tickling under it as he cooed at you. But, true as ever to his slight distancing of you from any emotional depth, he let your head fall with a sharp slump as he withdrew his hand. Tenting his fingers in front of him, he tutted as you stood still, soft pout on your lips, confused at his sudden withdrawal of affection.

“Oh, don’t pout my sweet, little thing. You know why I did that.”

Tilting your head, you offered him a quizzical stare, opening your mouth only slightly, about to ask him to clarify before realising that he would surely enjoy the opportunity to over explain things to you in his own time. And, leaning back in his chair, he offered you a hint.

“Adorable, sure. But you’re the worst fucking therapy animal I’ve ever had. I know your job title says ‘Assistant’ but you and I both know exactly how I need your assistance.”

Suddenly very aware of his exact desires, you let yourself fall gracefully to your knees at his feet. Edward hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs, hands clasped with his chin atop them.

“Very good! Now can you speak for me?”

“Yes, Eddie. Yes, sir.”

His smile was wide, appreciation tinged with cruel mischief as he leaned ever further forward, his face in yours, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the coffee on his breath, the product that kept his hair slicked back.

“What a good trick. Let’s see if you know any others, shall we?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes widened, a sparkle of excitement lighting them up as you waited obligingly for his command.

“Beg for me, little pet. Beg for me to reward you.”

Placing your hands on the ground, you lowered yourself to the floor, chest flush with it as you lifted your head to gaze at him.

“Please, Eddie.”

He balanced your chin on the side of his crooked finger.

“Nope. Try again. That was absolutely pathetic.”

He spat the word with such vitriol that droplets of his saliva flecked your cheeks, which blushed instantly. Raising yourself up again, you straightened your back, puffed out your chest, clasped your hands in front of you, and licked at your lips before parting them for your pleading words.

“Please, sir. I’m desperate for you. I want to show you how good I am. I want you to give me what you think I deserve.”

Eddie let his fingers spread through your hair on either side of your temples, brushing stray strands behind your ears before cupping your cheeks and pressing them tight. He smiled at the pout he had forced your mouth into, placing a soft kiss against it and resting his head gently on your forehead as he whispered his next command.

“Bend over the desk.”

As soon as you had positioned yourself, you could feel Eddie behind you. His palms gripped at your hips as he thudded into you, the bulge at the front of his pants so obvious now that it was pressed tight to your ass cheeks. He stayed there, grinding against you as he moaned, infuriated at the limitations he had placed on himself, dry humping you to drive himself crazy.

He slid his hand up your spine, lifting your shirt slightly as he went, and let it settle on your scalp, his fingers tugging at your hair, pulling you up, causing your back to arch as he slammed his abdomen into your rear. He was making himself crazy, desperate. A slight wet patch formed on the front of his trousers, the fabric turning a dark green from the precum that oozed excitedly from his thick and twitching cock. From his lips, a small pool of drool collected and dribbled from the corner as he tried to remember your taste on his tongue, how he felt when he was inside of you.

It was becoming too much. If he didn’t stop now, he’d be cumming in his pants and not in you, and what a waste that would be. So, with a rough shove, he let you fall back to the table, slowing his grinding to a halt before he turned his attention to your ass. A sharp crack rang out as his palm made contact with your cheek, still clothed, but the pain seared through anyway. A delightful sting that made you bite your lip, still whining even though you were trying to stifle the sounds.

He followed in succession with four more spanks, each one followed by his gentle cooing as he reassured you that this was part of your reward and not a punishment.

“You’re far too well-behaved to be punished, hm?”

When he realised that you were nodding still, despite your position and despite how weak you were with arousal, he grabbed your hips and pulled you to him once more, raising his hands to your chest and standing you up. Once he had turned you around to face him, he winked at you, relishing in the way you blushed at the small gesture.

“I want more. I need more.”

Eddie snapped his fingers, the digits following through the motion to point to the floor. Obedient, excited, you fell to your knees and whimpered with excitement as he joined you. Pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips, you could feel his hands around your back, laying you down flat on the floor. Following the sides of your body, he brought his fingers to the front of your pants, pulling at them as you rushed to help remove them from you. Laying there, exposed in front of him, you watched as he inspected you, parting your legs slightly to get a better look at your hole, licking his lips as you throbbed in pleasure, pulsing as you waited for his touch.

Still kneeling, he unzipped the front of his chartreuse pants and freed his cock, palming at it and letting it bounce before he spat on his hand and lubed himself up. He popped two fingers into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl over them, coating them in his saliva, before he pressed them to your entrance, collecting your own slick and soaking you completely. Warm, wet and ready for him, he pushed his tip to you and entered you, his breath hissing in pleasure as you scratched for purchase on the carpet below you. After a few minutes of pumping steadily, his forehead was sweating and his hair messy as he leant over you, rutting against you and into you.

“Can you lift your legs for me? I want to get deeper.”

He grinned wide as he stared at you, doing exactly as you were told. Bent in half, spread open wide for him.

“That’s my good pet.”

You lay there, back pressed flat against the floor, as Eddie knelt on either side of your rear. His knees helped keep your thighs in place, his hands and fingers pressed into them tight enough to create small red dents. Stretched to your limits, you held your legs up and folded, your own hands under your knees to assist the position. And with his cock buried deeper inside of you than you thought possible, he began pumping once more. Each brutal shift, the pummelling your desperate cunt received, brought you closer and closer to your own orgasm, the arrival of which was only made sooner as Eddie let go of one of your thighs to run his fingers over you.

“Do you like it when I touch you? Tell me you like it.”

“I like it Eddie, I love it.”

With a finger and thumb on either side of the protruding, sensitive member, he rubbed his digits up and down, jerking you until you were shuddering under him and begging him for more through your wailing and panting.

“Good pet, not long now. Keep moaning for me.”

It was impossible not to, the way he filled you up completely, stretching you out in the position you were in, held there by his brute force, his slender but powerful body balanced almost completely atop your own.

“I’m going to… fill you up… heh… with a little litter… would you like that?”

Biting your lip, all you could do was nod. No words would come. You were being fucked to the point of stupidity. Just an object for him to use at that moment.

“Of course… urgh… you would! Because you’re… mine… Whose pet are you?”

“Y-yours… Eddie…”

“Who… who do you… belong to?”

“You, Eddie… you!”

With a final push, Eddie buried his cock within you, holding himself there as he grunted, letting out a deep growl and an animalistic screech as he came. You could feel it, hot, thick, coating your insides. Long after you had felt the last spurt of his seed being deposited, he stayed there, making sure not a drop was wasted. And when he finally pulled out with a sloppy pop, you could feel his cum dribbling out over you as your body relaxed.

Eddie collapsed onto his back, taking a moment to allow both of you to catch your breath before he rolled you onto your side and curled in behind you. Taking you in his arms, he nuzzled his face into your neck. As true to himself as ever, though, his words were less than romantic, his praise tinted with eroticism, and punctuated by soft nibbles against your skin and lewd laps of his tongue.

“Such a good little pup for me. You always take me so well.”

His fingers followed the shape of your side as he lightly dragged them up and down, the tips of them just grazing over your skin, a sweet, tickling sensation that you could feel bolstering your arousal, building it up again like only he knew how. Preparing you for round two when he’d barely just finished with you.

“You’re very impressive, not as impressive as me, obviously, but close. Enough that you might bruise my ego if you’re not careful.”

He meant it, and the vague threat that came with it. But the way his hands held you on your front, fingers stroking up and down, you were soothed and comforted, rewarded for your efforts, for your good behaviour, and confident that you were far too much of a pleasure for him to ever get rid of you. After all, you were his pet.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

So I generally don't like to overshare on the internet, but sometimes a bitch has got to vent. There have been some things going on and I need to get this off my chest:

I never expected Kit to be a character anyone would like tbh, and as with most creative types a lot of her character is based around parts of me (even if she is a deranged monster of a person) she's not entirely made up out of nowhere.

Her backstory with her father, that desperate all-consuming need to hear him say he's proud of her is this writer's free therapy, it's my most cathartic part of Kit's story. My father died when i was 10, he was never there for the major moments in my life: he didn't see me graduate, didn't meet the man I'm married to, didn't get to hold his grandchild when he was born. These are all moments that I wish he had been there for. I will never get to hear him say he's proud of me for the things I've done in my life.

When i say Kit would literally crawl through glass to hear her father say that he's proud, that's ME!

So in saying this, to have that part of my character taken and repurposed by someone else who can't come up with their own original ideas, please know that I have moved past being hurt and sad, and I am now beyond pissed off

[thatmoththoth]

Woah, Juno managed to go a whole episode without making out with someone. No surprise asmr this time!

Also here are some thoughts:

•fuck Darkmatter

•mmm Juno got that Narcissistic depression ‘woops I drive all my friends away’ sadness.

•yaaaay backstory time!

•still very vague, but my man needs some therapy. Maybe he can get over his fear of psychiatrists some day. Why do all my podcast people desperately need therapy. Name one podcast person who doesn’t atleast have one mental disorder based on vibes and trauma. I would say Cecil Palmer from welcome to nightvale, but uh, he acts cheerfull but is probably the most deranged considering he’s ok with ‘legalised murder’.

•everyone here needs a good hug

•anyway I have brain damage, goodbye.

[tohellandback99]

Well, I feel bad for Raul who has to sit and listen to all the creepies online, white knighting him as if there was anything to white knight over. By also attacking and derailing and defaming his person of interest, Kat, for absolutely no fucking reason, all while choosing to be tone deaf to the whole reason why she’s the “asshole,” to begin with. And the fact that he stays with her throughout on his own accord because he genuinely likes her no matter how you choose to look at it, he’s not an imbecile and understands why she is having a hard time intrinsically (and from experiences,) and simply wants to support Kat.

Yes he probably understands. Yeah that’s right. During, those three nights, and four mornings of them knowing each other, or being reunited with each other. Because maybe, that’s the whole goddamn point. AND MAYBE, the ending of the movie was just the beginning of their “acquaintanceship.”

So wait…. you didn’t, watch the movie? All you did was lurk upon Raul in certain scenes with Kat and thought, “hey, she’s being a dick. I’m gonna go post about it now!”

Raul didn’t ask for this, and you’re not saving him at all you’re just sneakily choosing for him like he’s a baby with no autonomy. And just for which you feel so strongly about him without looking at anything else this movie had to say, makes me wonder if you want him all to yourself locked inside of your musty weird sultry basement.

What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you care so much who Raul wants to be around? Are you jealous of Kat or something? It kinda feels like it. Yikes

So for everyone’s sake,

Leave Raul, a fourteen. Yes, let me remind people since someone has forgotten already. Leave this FOURTEEN-year old transgender BOY, who is a literal DOLL, out of this! He’s not YOUR puppet. He’s his own boy and you can’t keep him contained in your deranged fantasyland. So he’s hanging out with a girl with bad PTSD who’s his own age!? Too bad, princess. Deal with it.

You have nothing to do with him. You ain’t his mom, you ain’t his dad, and you’re not his teachers, friends, and his doctor. Luckily, you’re not even the creep neighbor next door to him. You’re absolutely NOTHING, to Raul. So let the teenage boy, be a teenage boy. How bout that?

And if you didn’t watch the movie then don’t fucking come over here with your CORRUPTED Raul obsession and then tell everyone Kat’s story like you have any degrading leg to stand on. Lol, I scoff at the notion. You don’t, you’re not an expert on this subject, and your opinion is crap on my cat’s fuzzy ass that will just be stuck there for two days, and then later disposed of. Watch the movie and get some therapy, or fuck right the fuck off. And please for the love of all humanity, leave the children alone!

Thank you to the majority of the people who I know is almost everybody out and around and everywhere here, who either don’t care or who have the rationality to contemplate the fact. that actually. you can’t make Raul run around with no shoes on in the snow to desperately speak to anyone other than Kat, with VISCERAL YEARNING. This is not directed at you, just to the ONE PERSON, and potentially any other two people here who want to “protect” Raul. Happy Holidays 💜

Yes

(Deleted my post after because this one says all I needed to say really.)

[kokonutcat]

Hi!! I hope you’re having a good day :D You’ve said that you considered Minato as a problematic fav of yours, and I’d be glad to hear you thoughts about him if you want to! I personally don’t have many strong feelings toward him, so I’m curious about your own vision of Minato’s character…

Hello!

What I think about his character is rather complex. He’s not just the perfect malewife husband shinobi people think he is and he seems kinda deranged to me. He often gets woobified even by Kishimoto himself to the point that the fandom forget that he’s also a criminal.

I often think about the number of other ninjas he killed in cold blood and the number of characters who got traumatised because of him. Speaking of trauma, people always blame Madara of Obito’s trauma and there’s me who blames Minato more. I can’t get over how unserious he was when he left his students in the middle of a war, that was so fucked up. And he had no excuse to be so absent when he was "the yellow flash". He’s the main reason why Obito "died" and Rin too after (as if that wasn’t enough of a lesson) and then he also put Kakashi in the anbu turning him into a killing machine when he just desperately needed therapy at this time. That’s sadism to me, there’s no other word.

Another very funny thing it was at Naruto’s birth when Kushina wanted to sacrifice herself so Kyubi would die too and Minato could raise Naruto in peace but instead he was like "but what about the bijuu balance?"

I support Naruto for punching him as soon as they met, and Obito was onto something when he said "I’m glad my teacher was hokage, it made me easier to give up on my dream of becoming one".

Also that’s a headcanon but I love thinking that Naruto would be a villain if Minato ever had the chance to raise him.

So even if here I pointed out his flaws, I don’t dislike him, and more than that it’s actually why I find him fun. Maybe you’ll find that weird but I love the duality of this man.

[maxverstepponme]

but can we also talk about Max' behaviour around her? he's always barely interacting and acknowledging her, she's there and right in the middle but he prefers to talk with other people. their relationship is so weird. most of the other drivers have sweet moments with their partner but most of the times it's awkward with K and Max 😅//

Tbh she seems really obsessed with being viewed as the queen of the paddock and F1 royalty so she's always super overdressed and trying to project a superior image but she just comes across as snotty, out of place and desperate.

Kelly has a ridiculously high opinion of herself that isn't at all rooted in reality. She genuinely thinks she's a big celebrity and as a result has to behave a certain way.

Honestly if she showed up in a cute white tee with jeans and plimsolls wearing minimal make up and a casual pony nobody would think less of her. They wouldn't even notice. If she stopped going altogether nobody would be any worse off for it.

You can support someone without making it all about yourself. The other partners do that without issue. She wouldn't do that though because she's obsessed with attention and validation from strangers. She spends all her time looking herself up online and reading what people say and post about her (hi Kelly! get some therapy!!)

I think also max is extremely focused on a race weekend, so between his focus and her deranged image control and need to insert herself into everything his spotlight shines on it's no wonder they look so off-putting when they're around each other.

Agree

[crazy-fangirl2524]

I’m right where you left me

Aaron should have expected this. He should’ve known that this is going to happen. Every single good thing that he has never last. He will never be good enough. Katelyn broke up with him because “being with Aaron is too much.” And Aaron understands, his psychotic brother and derange boyfriend, his trauma and the stupid fucking foxes. Of course it will all be too much. He doesn’t blame Katelyn.

So why is he completely shattered when Kevin left him for Andrew and Neil?

Kevin and he are nothing, just two guys fucking because they have nothing better to do. So it is Aaron’s fault for falling. And how can he not? When Kevin is the one to take care of him and make sure he is okay after they fucked every time. When they go out and have dinners and watch movies and take late night walks at the beach. When Kevin helps Aaron to study for his finals, making him food and reminding him to drink water.

Aaron has no one. The broken deal he had with Andrew left him with no friends. He had Katelyn, but now, he only has the fucking foxes. So of course it will be Kevin.

Aaron is not delusional, they explicitly say that they are only friends with benefits. Kevin tells Aaron many times how much he looks like Andrew. Kevin whispers to Aaron that he likes Andrew but Andrew is with Neil and Kevin cannot decide if he likes Andrew or Neil more. Aaron knows all of these. Kevin can never hide it well when he is staring at Andrew and Neil.

Aaron notices Andrew noticing. Aaron just did not expect Andrew to talk to him about it.

“What is going on between you and Kevin?” Andrew asks Aaron one day, when they are somehow alone in Andrew’s room.

“Nothing,”

“Don’t lie to me.” Aaron does not answer. But andrew will not budge and there is no one more stubborn than Andrew maybe except Neil.

“We are just friends with benefits.” Aaron snaps.

“Kevin likes Neil and I.” Andrew casually says, taking a cigarette and lighting it.

“I know,”

“Neil and I don’t mind,” Aaron’s entire world collapses right there and then.

“Okay, I don’t care.” Whatever pieces of Aaron’s heart that are left have burnt up to ashes.

Andrew looks at him, but Aaron has been in therapy with Andrew long enough that Aaron knows how to hide something from him.

Without another word, Andrew left Aaron, taking the ashes with him.

Aaron stands there stupidly. He feels like crying. He does not want to cry. He cannot cry. His chest is burning and his eyes are watering and he cannot breathe and he needs to get out of Andrew’s room before anyone comes back and go back to his room and lock it and-

The door opens, Kevin comes in and one look at Aaron’s blank face he envelops him in his arms.

“What’s wrong?”

Aaron cannot talk, his throat is so tight that if he speaks then all that will come out of it are screams.

Aaron wants to pull away, before the remaining pieces of his soul are ruined. But he is selfish and desperate and a masochist. So he allows himself to stay in Kevin’s embrace. He hugs him back tightly.

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asks again, sounding very concerned.

“Just terrified of my finals,” Aaron mumbles into Kevin’s hoodie.

“You will ace it,” Kevin says, “I’ll help you.”

No you won’t. You will be with Andrew and Neil.

“Okay,” Aaron says.

Then Kevin kisses him. And one thing leads to another and they end up in Kevin’s bed.

Aaron wakes up to an empty bed. He should get used to it. But he already misses waking up in Kevin’s arms. Aaron cannot help but lingers in Kevin’s bed before getting out.

Aaron tries to go on as usual. He goes to classes, he goes to practices, he studies. He tries to ignore Kevin. Kevin is confused at first, seems even a bit hurt. But then he spends all his time with Andrew and Neil. And Aaron knows that Andrew and Neil told him.

So there is nothing left for Aaron. Once again Aaron is being left.

[anisecandy]

Imagine an au where Eddie is a patient at a mental hospital,everything was just from his fantasy and venom is a persona he created to cope with his isolation and trauma that led him to mass murder his whole family and other people,thinking that he was doing something good to protect innocents.Peter either is his doctor or he’s another patient

You know, I feel like if this ask would reach me when I'm in the right mood, I would react to it with "Heck yeah! Messed up, edgy psychological horror romance!! Let's go!!!". But when I saw it today I just thought, man, doesn't it suck how often we have stories demonizing mentally ill people... Perhaps it's the inclusion of mental hospital and grounding it in reality.

So... let me change things up a little. Or maybe a lot.

Sure, let's make it more grounded. But let's also make it sad. Let's make it soft. Let's make it... to be about compassion.

Now... I'm not a perfect person to write about a mental health and treatment. While I have been in therapy for... 3 years now, I've never been to a mental hospital. But here are some ideas(not a full fic though. just ideas). I hope I was able to be adequatly tactful while talking about this.

(tw for mentions of abuse, medical malpractice and implied sexual abuse)

Peter is a new hire at a prestigious mental hospital. It's not one of those places that your average joe could find himself in, if the world got to him a little to much. Here, the patients pay the top dolar for the top doctors providing the best service. And Peter, well, Peter certainly is what you would describe as the best. He graduated at the top of his class and got recommendations from some of the most demanding intern supervisors. He's smart, good at what he's doing and wants to help people.

And if incidentally that means he'll get to earn some good money... well, if you have health insurance bills to pay for your surrogate mother, then you can't really afford being all that selfless in your mission to help, can you?

So Peter works with people in need. But mostly, he works with people who have a lot of money, and little heart. He works with a drug addict, who is only here because the family threatened to cut him off otherwise and not because he's ruining the life of his fiancee. He works with a film director, whose excellent lawyer managed to reduce his sentence from 9 to 3 years and a court ordered therapy. Said man cares a lot about numbers in his pocket. Not so much about those by the birth date of the actresses he helped to promote, for a price, of course.

Peter works hard and a lot, and he doesn't feel like he's making a difference.

He sees a lot of corruption among his colleagues, too. He learns that not every patient is treated the same. That some of them are placed here by powerful people, because nobody would believe abuse accusations from poor, broken madmen. And said "some" are not getting out. (Somehow, he manages to at least be assigned as an assistant to the dostor in charge of Harry Osborn's treatment. He wishes, desperately wishes he could do more.)

Also, he hears gossip.

Most patients here are nonviolent. There are only three rooms serving to hold the "troublemakers". Those are swept clean of anything that could be used as a weapon. Their walls are padded, and built to contain most sounds, as to not disturb the rest of the high paying clientele. Two of them stand empty. But the third one, as Peter learns one day, has a resident.

There are countless rumors about that one isolated patient. He's said to have murdered his wife. Some add, that they never found the body. The more imaginative clarify, that it's because he ate her. The least outrageous gossips suggest that he's one of those old money people, escaping jail thanks to insanity defense in the court. But not many repeat that version of the events. After all, everybody knows that this man is a bonafide, drolling, deranged lunatic. A lost cause if there ever was one, really. What everybody agrees on, is that he's unpredictable and dangerous. He has to be kept sedated at all times, so as to not harm the staff. And of course, every nurse and security guard knows somebody, who knows somebody, whom he attacked and maimed.

And maybe it's because he's surrounded by people so divorced from the reality thanks to their status and privilege, against whom he, poor Jewish man from the Queens stands out so much, but Peter starts to develop interest in this patient, that slowly changes to a strange feeling of kinship, as he seldom catches the glimpses of said patient.

He's not often let out of his room. But sometimes, Peter can see him being walked for one or another experimental treatment, in the assistance of two muscular caretakers, over whom he still towers. He doesn't seem "deranged", not in the pejorative way the staff is using this word anyway. Despite eyes muddied by the sedatives, he walks straight, with his head up and a dismissive grimace on his face, as if he was too proud to look anybody in the eyes. There's an arrogance there that fits right in with the lebel "old money". But then, there's something else too. There's the eagerness of every caretaker to be very generous with their usage of strength, with dragging and showing the man around. Once or twice, Peter sees him beng pinned to the ground and restrained. After he snapped at a nurse gossiping about his late wife too loudly, too close. After he doesn't leave his room as quickly as he's supposed to.

From his perspective of someone not quite on the inside, Peter can see a lot. And he doesn't like what he's seeing.

It takes a lot of persuading to let him at least meet the isolated patient. But eventually, he's allowed a session with him. There are no special requirements from the client handling the bills for that one. And no doctor really wants to work with him on their own either.

Leading to the session, Peter is nervous. It starts dawning on him that perhaps he's just developed an unhealthy obsession over a patient, that maybe he's just acting out of curiosity, treating this man as a novelty. A fun excerpt for his research paper. He starts getting scared too. He's heard the gossip. He's been paying close attention to them, more than anybody else in the whole hospital.

But when Edward Brock is brought in, he doesn't seem very eager to jump for his jugular or clawing out his eyes. He appears... tired. Still proud, oh yes, but mostly tired. He doesn't speak much, aside from asking to not be referred to by his full name. The sedatives make him slur words and lose the thread often, which visibly upsets him. Still, even in such a state, he appears to be a rather bright man, his only visible fault being perhaps a bit too dark sense of humor.

This causes Peter to develop certain guesses and he starts pushing for more opportunities to get to know Eddie better.

And he discovers that there most of what is said about the harm he did to the nurses and guards are made up. That there was in fact no wife's murder, that she just divorced him. And that Eddie was brought to the hospital after a failed suicide attempt.

He discovers that this isn't some Silence of the Lambs-esque thriller, but rather a story about a man, who didn't get the help he needed, because he appeared too threatening. Whose worsening mental health became an excuse for escalating the "precautions" around him, to objectifying him as this evil, grotesque monster, because he has one of the "bad" illnesses.

He discovers that Eddie has DID, developed over the childhood of neglect and emotional abuse. He meets Venom - a headmate, who's Eddie's protector, in the times when his trauma gets triggered or the harm caused him by the hospital staff gets too hard to bear. He learns that they both like old music, although Venom has rather severe sensory issues, making them only want to listen to it very quietly. He learns Eddie's favorite books. And how he looks when he smiles

All in all, from this point on, Peter does what he can to help Eddie, both in terms of healing, but also trying to change the things around the hospital. Some other Spider-man could be there as well, for example, villains and friends alike as doctors or patients (like mentioned before Harry). But, all in all, today I just really wanted this to be a more gentle story. Something with hope and kindness. And I think I quite like this idea. I could write it some day, or maybe somebody else could write it. I think there could be space here for an interesting plot and a nuanced take on mental health (maybe even some subtle romance, hah, but "subtle" being absolutely the key word here. given the ethics of it all), as well as social classes.

I know this isn't what you wanted from me, but I still hope this turned out to be an interesting little creative session.

[shittysawtraps]

Hello Sakamaki brothers.

As you're hearing this individual tape, you're all in your own tests. I've seen how you brutalise and torment women in some desperate attempt to get what your own parents couldn't give you. Well, if you all survive these tests then you will get your wish - I have captured your father. If all of you survive, you can dispose of him however you like. First, you must survive your games.

To the brute, Ayato; you use cold remarks to hide your own insecurities instead of getting therapy. You may have been abused and let down, but it is no excuse to call someone, and I quote, "titless". Your game is simple - your mouth has been sewn shut. In front of you is a pool of sewage water. At the bottom is the key to the door that will free you from this room. However, something exists at the bottom of the pool. Even I'm not sure what it is. Will you learn some humility and suck up the humiliation and pain for freedom, or cry like a little baby and sulk in your own self pity?

To the creep, Laito; to say your tongue disgusts me is an understatement. Your mother manipulated you, but you clearly learned nothing. So, in front of you is a scale - after a certain amount of weight has been added to the scale, the key to the chain around your neck will be released. Hint; the weight needed is equivalent to an arm, a leg, a tongue and a certain something else. Will you finally move past your mother's lies, or will you continue to entertain her deranged games?

To the brat, Kanato; you witnessed horrible things. You have the easiest trap, so you better be grateful. In your room are sound detectors - anything past 80 decibels will trigger bombs in your room, leaving you a burnt crisp. That means no crying and no shouting. You have been poisoned, and the antidote resides in your teddy. To get the antidote, burn teddy - the symbol of your mother's influence. If not, then die in the fire yourself.

To the obsessed son, Reiji; you tormented your brother out of jealousy, destroyed his life while holding your mother to impossible standards. Now it is time for you to swallow your own medicine. In front of you is a corset similar in style to an iron maiden. You must put the corset on - like the crushing expectations you forced on your own mother. Once it is on, you must dig through the shards of your broken teacups and teapots. Hidden in the pile is a memento of Shu's childhood friend; that memento is your key to escape. After you find the memento, use it to open your door and take part in a second game. The corset will tighten and squeeze you until you explode in 2 hours, meaning you have to complete two games in that allotted time.

To the lifeless son, Shu; you were broken and abused by your own brother, and now you act more like a zombie than a vampire. If you really want to value life, then you will do as I say. In the room with you is a wolf infected with a strain of rabies fatal to your kind. That I have ensured. Once the timer begins, your door will open - as will the pen of the wolf. Run as fast as you can. Go to each of your brother's rooms, assist them. Your survival depends on them surviving.

And to the delinquent, Subaru; strapped to your hands are gauntlets that will crush your hands for every punch against the walls. Stay still, manage your anger and wait for Shu to assist you. It will be hard to do much if you have no hands to hit walls with, or threaten violence to people with. And as motivation, inside one of the gauntlets is a button that upon the gauntlets crushing your hands will set off bombs inside the gauntlets.

Shu has 5 hours to get around to assist all of you. If he fails to assist all of you and doesn't gather you all in the main hall, then you will all be sealed in and burned alive - like the fire you used to burn the physical body of Cordelia, without burning her hold on you. If you want your much desired revenge against your father, then you will all complete your tasks without complaint. Live or die, the choice is yours.

[ace-of-gay]

Happiness greed?

Steve rogers x reader

Warnings: depressing a self depreciating/ destructive thoughts, mental health, physical ailments, being held still, head banging, angst with a tiny little piece of fluff in there but not alot, this is a very self indulgent fic with a terrible mental thought process that i still deal with but am working on healing myself from this is putting you into my shoes from a few years ago shifted a little with how someone helps you, to fit it into a fanfic.

No pronouns or skintone used or implied

Welcome to all body types

1,353words

Edited to the best of my ability

Im being serious as ever when i say this, the thought process in this may be triggering for some, if you are struggling with mental health and are impulsive on it or triggerd easily do not read this, you are responsible for your own media consumption especially after two sets of warnings.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

Neutral for you was normal, but if you happened to explain Neutral people would probably fear for you, all your life you’ve been shut down and walked all over, never given a chance to have someone listen to your desperate cries for help.

So be it, you shut all emotions out and after enough time Neutral became safe, a cascade of walls to surround the figmented little version of yourself that lives inside your head, screaming, begging, desires so sick all behind a straight face, it was easier to be what you needed for others than the other way around.

Maybe it led to frustration and pessimism and really by Maybe I mean it does, its like drowning to the point the deep end becomes your air.

After so long of walking in darkness your eyes dry of trailing useless tears that you start to see the tiny glints of others happiness.

Your body doesn't deserve happiness, it hurt you, all you wanted was happiness and everyone else on a parallel path said that the doctors could fix you how they did them so you tried it, you sought help.

But your body became a vessel of negative reaction, no one would listen, every moment it continued the worse it got, the convulsions, the tremors the tics, your body no longer yours but freedom to chemical derangement, just a happiness greed.

Emotions being turned off, if everyone else can ignore them surely you can as well, your mind finding itself to be on autopilot almost always there for someone else’s desires, take take take, desperately feed their desperation from a merely empty wishing well.

Drowning in burning chemicals and bodily ailments but everyone else’s rose tinted glasses cancel out the crimson words figuratively written in vein.

For some time you could push through it even while watching peter parker golden retriever teen bounce around the halls or the bump in Steve’s step, it took him years and years of therapy to get where he’s at.

Therapy, it only works for people who deserve it, who have a reason, and you’ve helped everyone you know without being a licensed therapist but the doctors cant fix you, its a sickening feeling, you’re only here to make people feel better, surely somehow you deserve to as well right?

Everyone greets you with kindness and than there’s Steve, you don’t realize he sees it, he sees himself in you he tries to check how you’re doing everyday but your mind has written rules that if anyone ever asks the dreaded "how are you" it give in return a chuckle and "debatable" to let it all carry on.

Lost in your mind there’s just something desperately different about the way today etches in your chest, but you wont find out why until later.

A façade on your slate you head out to meet up with the team in the common room, the only reason you get out of bed is because you cant help remind yourself of everything everyone else has gone through.

Oddly enough your day went by with a breeze, you cant remember much of it but in this case its good, you got done with work around five giving yourself time to finally eat and than go about your personal life for as long as your head will let you.

You end up in a call with one of your friends, everyone would think that’s great but its the type of phone call that only happens when you’re needed to be someone else’s serotonin service.

Letting them rant is the best you can do but when they just go on and on about the same thing it bores into time you could have spent trying to chill the once rolling fire now scolding drilling agony of a spike in your migraine. Your neck twitching from medically induced illness, happiness is a drug and it one you cant get addicted to, what good is a dealer to be addicted to their own give, easy answer they’re not, they would just take it all for themselves. But greed for your own space is all it is that you feel so as you sit there listening to them drone on your mind fills with the sound of tv static.

the one tremor that really causes issues sets in, you cant fight the fragment false signals that come from the remnants of serotonin syndrome damage, like a shiver in the cold your jaw rattles and tremors, the person finally hangs up and you’re left alone in agony.

The dark of the room seeping to your thoughts you cant even feel the rapid jolts in your body, your body lurching forward and than relaxing and lurching once more over and over until the direction of everything's torment shifts.

*thud* and your head slams backwards into the wall, you don’t have the strength to move, again *bam* the sound resonates through the floor followed by choked trembling sobs, your hands so numb but electricity coursing through your arms, you can taste the blood of despair in your mouth *thud* you have no control of anything happening but the tears and sobs.

Your eyes fluttering in time with your jaw causing a strobing affect... strobing? *thud*

And in seconds you feel a hand cushion behind your head, pulling you into sitting in-between their legs, your back to their chest.

They shift their hand to your forehead holding your head against their shoulder, their other arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders to keep you from lurching and slamming.

They cross their legs over yours to keep them still to not hurt yourself in your brains signals redirection of electric pulses.

Your jaw continuing and your hands trembling your body convulsing but still enough to silence the you inside your head from screaming to end it.

Your hearing coming back slowly still plagued by the beat of your heart thrumming in your ears "shhh hey were okay, you’re okay, were just going to sit he and breathe for a bit, you hear me y/n? I’m here I’m not going anywhere."

Your hands eventually stop and you subdue your convulsions to a gentle rocking that he does with you.

Someone is finally there and you don’t need to speak, he takes his hand from your forehead as your bodies attack finally settles enough to leave you with the tremor in your jaw.

"Hey Jarvis can you ask Bucky to bring a bottle of water to y/n's room please?"

A few minutes later Bucky walks in handing the water to Steve "do you need me to stay or do you want me to go?"

"I’ve got it bud, but thank you, ill call if i need some help" leaving it to you and who you’ve determined to be Steve, his hold warm and kind, "do you think you can drink some water for me?" You nod letting him hold the cup to your mouth not yet able to move your body yourself yet.

He later helps you lay down in your bed, sitting next to you he just wants to make sure you’re safe.

"Do you want me to stay in here with you tonight?" Nodding you cant get speaking to work just yet.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~◇~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

Its three months later, the movements, tremors, convulsions, vocal and physical tics still happen but its three months in time that you’ve been going to therapy, not to fix anything how you hoped but to learn, with Steve you’ve come to finally feel like its not greedy to want to be happy.

Happy, you still don’t feel it but you’re learning, advocating for your health both physically and mentally, its going to be a long journey, the ailments aren’t going to go away, they’re permanent damage but its not because you were greedy, its from medical malpractice.

Steve has promised he’s there for the ride of life with you, even when your body collapses and your heartrate "hits a new high score"

He’s not going anywhere, he loves you and he will make it as abundantly clear as you need him to.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

Please know you are not alone, its okay to reach out, you are not weak you are not greedy, you are just as deserving of the help you desire as everyone one else no if ands or buts.

My messages are always always open💚

[yuukei-yikes]

can i just say im obsessed with ur brand of shinaya. genuinely horrible and pathetic guy who is so pathetically in love x girl who is deranged enough to love him back. ur harutaka is the gayest straight couple ever but ur shinaya is the most homophobic gay straight couple ive ever seen

THIS IS THE FUNNIEST ASK IVE EVER GOTTEN also thank god an ask in my kageblog i can talk yes yes yes yes YES YESSS dude i NEED to talk about my blorbos

Bro in all honesty i ship shinaya in a good day. or bad day. it depends on how u feel about it to say if its a good or bad day. my shinaya headcanon is they date on and off and whether they do end up together or not depends on how i am feeling that day 💗 shinaya is kind of an awful trope but out of nostalgia and love for the characters i still ship it. shintaro and ayano post str going through the messiest breakup ever that distances them (but still see each other bc they literally have all the same friends) but when they find they way to each other again as more mature people they end up together again OR stay close friends. i like both.

but in the brand of dating shinaya regardless whether they end up together or not, they care for each other nonetheless. and my favorite thing to have fun with is their messy fresh off the daze dating bc they spent NO time healing/talking/etc and its a nightmare to everyone. literally that couple fighting and everyone being like Ok were leaving now and them being like NO!!!! WE ARE NOT FIGHTING STAY THERE!!!!!! and shinaya is so good bc u can twist the trope of Asshole x Angel into Guy who has it coming x Weird girl. shintaro being the one to constantly reject ayano. ayano never stopping to think why she even likes him or insists on being with him, and when she does and She Leaves Him and that makes shintaro spiral into the role of Desperately Trying To Get Her Attention Back in a pathetic role swap. idk. god i fucking love/hate shinaya theyre so fun to play with. and since im a harutaka4life of course theyre along for this awful fucking ride they didnt want tickets for but they have to be constantly there for their friends😭 i also think takane would be like sort of intertwined in at least 1 of the many shinaya problems (and therefore also a harutaka relationship problem though probably the only one LOL) bc shintaro and takane are completely codependent Post str because i fucking say so and ayano in her lack of therapy and obsession with being shintaros girlfriend is jealous shintaro isnt vulnerable with her but he is with takane (with harutaka the problem is rather takane will drop EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING if shintaro needs anything, cancelling on haruka if necessary just to go find shintaros wallet or something and haruka is like Lol this is fine and normal *will explode at any moment*) man dont get me STARTED on the shintaro and takane Ene Aftermath Codependency (i say as i already started) ummm *chews the yuukei quartet like gum* theyre my dolls i play with and you can play too but you have to follow my rules otherwise ill ask my mom to ask ur mom to pick u up :/

[unhingedwomandiaries]

I had this totally bizarre dream last night that I'm still trying to unpack. It started off with me being back in high school, which is already disorienting enough. But I was wandering the halls in that dazed, confused state we all know so well from those years, totally lost about where I was supposed to go next. Then I see this sign for the "Problem Room" which just sounds like some sadistic high school counselor's idea of therapy.

Anyway, I finally make it to my next class and who's teaching it but my old high school faculty. These weren't even the good teachers that sparked some vague whiff of intellectual curiosity. Just the real deadweights coasting to retirement. So I lay into them about how this is some surreal "Twilight Zone" nightmare where I've inexplicably been condemned to relive my adolescent purgatory. And rather than acknowledging the fundamentally traumatizing situation I found myself in, they just banally insisted I quiet down and assimilate back into the mundanity of the classroom ritual. Yeah, no thanks. I booked it out of there.

The dream then cuts to me fleeing high school altogether and deciding to treat myself to some West End show. Doesn't matter which one, just that I've seemingly escaped the lifeless abyss. But then who do I see in the crowd but my husband modeling some new jacket like a doofus dad who desperately needs to feel cool again. NEWSFLASH: He's always cool. Part of me wanted to snuggle up to him for some protectiveness from…I don't know, the teachers chasing me? Made no sense, but that's how dreams are I suppose. Pure deranged nonsense we spend too much energy analyzing rather than just admiring the demented blockbuster that unspooled in our strange gray matter. An instant cult classic.

[scaredofmyocs]

If I made an OC who was sad all the time bc he kept having things that were specifically horrible for them happen to them (and also me because they would be facing my issues bc) and they are somewhat me but they're aware something greater than their comprehension is putting them in situations that are horrible for them and want to be freed desperately bc I feel that do you think that would be too meta and also possibly cause a paradox and that by thinking about it I have already perpetuated the cycle. Or am I fucking deranged I think it's that second part I think I need therapy 4 years ago