#tw offing yourself

[xan-the-emo-trans-man]

My mom will be like “I want you to talk to me, I love you, I want to help you”

and then ignore me when I have a panic attack or beg to see a therapist, or pretend I haven’t openly admitted I’m suicidal and think about killing myself vividly, mind you

[midnightpsychos]

Admin speaks:

Okay, it has come to my attention that two of my very lovely and amazing mutuals (they’re staying nameless) have been receiving hateful anon asks. I - as someone who has been told in the past to go off myself - I feel like it’s a need to for me to fucking step in. The anon button is only for rp use or if you don’t want to speak to someone until you’ve got the guts to, IT IS NOT AN EXCUSE to abuse that rule and send hateful shit to people. I am fucking sick to the back teeth of this happening and enough is enough and I’m not having people being disrespectful or disrespected for how they portray a muse. ITS THEIR BLOG AND IF YOU DONT LIKE IT THEN FUCK OFF! No one wants to hear the negativity that you sick, lonely bastards say when they spend their times doing something better then wasting their time on sending unnecessary hate messages like the low life people who hide behind the anon button, have the fucking guts to say it to peoples faces instead of being a pussy and if I get hate for this, I don’t fucking care because I’d rather protect my friends then myself because my friends mean so much to me.

Thank you for reading this and I am sorry I’ve have to make this announcement but I’ve simply have had enough of people abusing their power over a fucking anon button

[spacebarbarianweird]

@ramlightly graciously let me write a fic based on this comic. Check it out, it's so cool!

"Dominate Person" is a nasty spell that can fully submit a humanoid to your power. It's unclear if the victim has self-consciousness in the moment but since it's possible to throw Wisdom saving rolls I think you can feel that you are controlled.

Thanks @bhaalbaaby for beta-reading!

Puppet Master

Synopsis: Astarion is enchanted by the "Dominate Person" spell and almost kills Tav.

Tags: angst, comfort

TW: A description of physical violence

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion wants to move. To hide in the shadows and shoot the necromancer from there.

You are surrounded, but you keep doing your work.

But he can't.

His body is paralyzed, and he feels a wave of panic. 

No, not this. Not "Hold Person"!

He can't do this. He can't make it.

Paralysis is like being sealed in a tomb with too little space to move. Helpless, voiceless.

What if something happens to you when he is like this?

"Astarion, use your daggers!"

Is it you? Or one of the adventurers you've teamed up this morning to kick necromancers out of the town?

Astarion just has to wait. The spell wears off when the spellcaster is down. Or a healer manages to find a way to get rid of the invisible chains.

Or...

USE THE DAGGER

The voice is intimidating, too loud, and too powerful.

It's like the Cazador's voice in his head again. Suppressing. Ordering. Torturing.

No, no...

Astarion feels his hand move toward the dagger. The strings make him move.

It's not "Hold Person".

It's "Dominate Person".

Full control of the victim. The voice your body cannot resist. You become one of them, fighting for them.

Murdering your loved ones.

KILL

Astarion rushes forward to you. To the only person he loves and cares about. The only person in the entire world who has never hurt him.

"Astarion! Help me! Astarion, what's wrong?"

Astarion pushes you into the ground with all his newfound vampiric strength.

No, no, please, stop it!

MURDER THEM

The dagger stabs through your stomach, causing an internal rupture. The second dagger wounds your chest.

You stare at him in pain, in silent prayer. You watch your lover killing you.

Blood. So much blood. Your blood.

A strong hand pulls Astarion from you, but it's not enough.

Astarion has an order from his new master.

To kill you. To make sure you are dead.

It is the worst type of dissociation. He is just an observer.

His hands rip you apart as if you are a prey he's found in the woods. Your eyes are full of terror and pain.

VAMPIRE, DRINK THE BLOOD.

No, no, I won't do it. I don't take the blood without consent... NO!

His fangs pierce into your neck, taking the blood non-stop. To satiate him, to let him feel alive.

And to drain you.

He is less than a slave. A puppet. With his locked mind in agony.

CRUSH THE SKULL

Astarion grabs a handful of your hair to smash you against a stone. Your body is motionless. Broken. Almost dead.

And then...

The agony of death pierces the mind. It's an acid flare of horror - too familiar for the undead.

It happened to him once, many years ago. When he was killed by Cazador and revived as a vampire spawn.

That's how death feels.

But he isn't dying. More than this, his body is his again.

Astarion stands up, feeling the nightmare wearing off.

Your body lies on the ground in blood and gore.

Astarion falls to his knees, his hands shaking.

And yells.

**

You wake up, your body sore and in terrible pain.

Astarion.

Your mind reacts with a panic attack - a near-death experience causing mental anguish. Your body remembers how Astarion jumped on you with his daggers.

How he ripped your throat.

How he almost crushed your skull.

You try to collect yourself. "Dominate Person". One of the nastiest spells necromancers know. Create a humanoid puppet and make them kill their friends and loved ones. While they silently scream, locked in their minds.

Some people never recover from that. Offing themselves, not being capable of dealing with what they did.

Damn, and what did it do to Astarion? It's what happened to him during his enslavement. Orders impossible to resist.

You want to call for him, but your body refuses to act. It remembers.

His hands, his fangs.

And his eyes in such desperation you've never seen.

Before you manage to collect yourself again, you fall into oblivion.

**

Astarion is silent.

His nails pierce his scalp. His teeth are clenched. His eyes open wide as he stares at the wall.

The companions who murdered the necromancers ignore him, but he doesn't feel any hostility.

Just a spell. It happens.

"Astarion... Is this your name, right?" a young fighter approaches him. "You need to take a bath."

Astarion looks at himself. His clothes are covered in blood. Your blood.

"Tav will be fine. We have good healers here. Don't blame yourself."

As if enchanted again, Astarion walks away. In silence, he locks himself in the bathroom - a small wooden room with a tub full of hot water. But instead of putting off the dirty clothes, he submerges himself fully clothed.

The fabric clings to the body, and Astarion hugs his knees. The blood mixes with water.

His back hurts as if his scars are bleeding.

He doesn't know how long he spends there. An hour? A day? A week? The water is cold. but he can't care less still hearing your cries.

The door creaks, and he notices familiar soft steps.

"Astarion? Are you alright?"

He can't look at you. Can't make himself. Can't witness the damage he caused.

"I almost killed you, and you ask how I am doing?" his voice breaks.

"The necromancer almost killed me," you say firmly. "Not you. Hey, look at me!"

Your head is heavily bandaged. There are bruises all over your face, and he knows there is much more evidence of his violence below your shirt and trousers.

"It wasn’t you. It was them. You would never do this to me."

"I did."

"You didn't. Come on, take off your clothes. They’re all wet."

He wants to make you go, make you leave. He will be happy knowing you are somewhere safe and far from him.

You touch his neck, and he can't resist. Astarion allows you to pull off his shirt and then manages to take off the trousers as well. 

"I am sorry," he whispers.

"Don't." You start rubbing his back, and he flinches when your gentle fingers touch the edges of the scars.

"Tav... You need to rest..."

"Don't be selfish. I need this, too."

"What? Why?"

You take his chin and make him look up at you. "Because my body remembers you killing me. Because my subconscious tells me to run away. Because I remember these gentle hands of yours driving blades into my chest. I need to forget it before it's engraved forever. So please, don’t push me away. Not now..."

You keep rubbing his back, hands, and chest. You plant kisses on the clean skin. You wash his hair, stained blood, and gore, and make sure your touches are light and tender.

"If you want to talk about it, I am here. I know what exactly it reminded you of," you whisper in his ear.

And at that moment it's too much.

His body shudders as he starts crying, hiding his face from you in his palms. You drop the rags and wrap your hands around his neck.

You sit like that for an eternity, lulling each other until the healer starts banging into the door, demanding you to return to bed. You reluctantly let Astarion go.

You kiss him goodbye and leave, hoping the darkness won't hold his mind again, and he won't run away from you and his guilt.

**

The bed is comfortable as you lie motionless on a blanket. The healer did a great job patching you together. But you will need to fully recover. And gallons of healing potion.

Astarion enters the room. He wears fresh clothes, and if it wasn't for his facial expression, you could think nothing bad has happened.

"Come," you ask him. "I am sorry, but the night of passion isn't an offer today."

"Don't be ridiculous. How are you feeling?"

"Beaten. Wounded. Tired. And you?"

"Violated"

You both are silent. Finally, Astarion lies beside you and wraps his hands around you.

Your body stiffens against your will. Astarion feels it and tries to let you go.

"No. Hold me like that!"

He obliges and gently places your head on his chest. His cool skin feels nice.

Astarion loves me. He won't hurt me.

You repeat it like a prayer before finally being able to fully relax.

"I love you," he mutters. "I won't hurt you. You hear me?"

You nod.

"I love you, too," You smile, and your heart rejoices when he smiles back.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx@astarion-beloved@tallymonster@caitlincat-95@tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars

[throneofsapphics]

I figured I should ask before requesting but here goes nothing, again, ‼️TW‼️;

Can I request more angst with Az? Like uhmm.... Maybe the reader has extreme trust issues and she finally has opened up to Az but now that Elaine is here, she finds Ax drifting (not much but they don't do their normal dinners together as much as they used to, they don't bathe together as much, etc, small things she needs to that stability) and it starts to eat away at her but she doesn't want to tell Az about her feelings because she feels like a burden but then maybe Mor or someone convinces her to talk to him but he's had a long day so he snaps at her and leaves and she ends up... Offing herself..... Uhm.. and then Az's finding her body the next morning and his reaction and everyone else's too...... 👁️👁️

It only takes three 

Azriel x Reader

Summary: “There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you.”

Warnings: suicide, pills & alcohol, suicidal ideation, angst

A/N: I appreciate you asking, thank you for the request! & what’s a little more trauma for the inner circle? know your triggers y'all, this is heavy

Azriel dedicated himself to gaining your trust. The one person who managed to knock those walls down, and it took decades before you’d opened up to him. Mor was a close second. Maybe it was a cliche, but he understood you, more than anyone else. He’d listened through everything, listened as you broke, and helped you put the pieces back together. 

All these years, you’d been waiting and hoping he’d see it, hoping he’d feel the same bond you did. You were somewhere between friends and lovers, nothing ever clear or defined. But, you knew he was the one person you could rely on. 

Resentment was ugly, and so was jealousy, but you couldn’t help those emotions as you watched his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister grow. It was nothing against her, she truly was a lovely person, and you could see why Azriel took an interest in her. The nasty little voice told you he’d grown tired of you, that you were too much, that he’d found someone less burdensome - as you’d always feared. 

At first, you wrote it off as him being busy. That’s what he said - and he’d never lied to you. After the war with Hybern, things hadn’t quite settled and his workload was high. You tried to be understanding, to be respectful of the boundaries he’d subtly set. But you craved your old routine. Wednesday morning breakfasts, him slipping into your bed when he couldn’t sleep, bringing him tea when you knew he was working a late night. He used to always leave his door cracked, but recently it had been locked. Any knocks went unanswered, even though you could hear him inside. Instead, you’d leave the cup outside of his door, only to find it there in the mornings - untouched. 

It really began to fall apart, to you, when you went to visit Feyre at the River House. Azriel said he had some kind of work mission, that he’d be out for the day, and as Feyre led you around, he was in the gardens, with Elain. You didn’t let him see you, instead you stuck out the rest of the tour with a smile, saving your tears for home. 

It was a different type of torture, watching the one person destined for you fall in love with someone else. You tortured yourself too, holding on to hope he’d realize and he’d come back to you. 

Finally, you built the courage to tell Mor. You needed a sounding board, someone to give some advice, someone outside of your head. 

“Tell him,” Mor encouraged you, “he’ll understand.”

“He’s been pulling away, I don’t want him to think I’m trying to … I don't know, trap him.” 

“Az,” she sighed, “he’s wanted to find his mate for … well maybe even for centuries. For a shadowsinger, he’s too stubborn to see what’s right in front of him,” her mouth curved up at one corner. “If you don’t tell him, he might never know. I imagine you’re tired of waiting.” 

“You have no idea,” you laughed, but stood. Brave. Three words; I’m your mate, and at least the weight would be off your chest. Whatever happened next, whatever his reaction was, you could figure that out as it came. Despite the growing distance, he was still the person you trusted above all, and you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

For once, his door was open. This felt like a good sign. 

“Az,” you called, peeking your head inside the room. “Can I talk to you about something?” 

“Tomorrow,” a clipped one word answer, not even bothering to look up from his desk. 

“It really is important.” 

“It can wait.” there was such a finality in his tone. Almost like he thought nothing regarding you could be important. But you wanted to give it one more shot. 

“Please-” 

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.” 

Well, he’d finally looked up at you, like you were some obnoxious fly he was trying to get rid of. Swallowing your tears, you nodded and turned away. Part of you knew you couldn’t promise tomorrow. 

There were three words you came to say, three little syllables, and it only took three to shatter you. To shatter the fragile self he’d helped you build. 

-

Maybe it was intentional. You knew exactly what this cocktail could do to you, and you wanted that sweet release to drag you under. When every breath felt like a chore, every word like an ache tearing out of you, it felt like the only option. 

One hand clutched the bottle of pills, the other the bottle of wine. 

Pills from a friend, who warned you taking too many could kill you. That warning was a siren call now. 

You were already drunk when you poured the entire bottle into your hands, throwing them back without a second thought, wine washing them down. It would take you into sweet, sweet oblivion, and only the mother knew whether you’d wake up on this earth or not. 

Maybe your soul could become one of those pretty little spirits, migrating on starfall. Or maybe you’d end up in another universe, like the ones you studied in the library. You giggled to yourself. Anywhere else felt like a better option now. 

You were definitely hallucinating, because three little butterflies floated in front of you, reaching out you felt them touch your fingers. Was it welcoming? Or an omen? The butterflies faded, bursting into dust, and the tears began. A few minutes later, you knew nothing.

-

“Where’s y/n?” Mor asked Azriel as he stalked into the room. He was still in a piss-poor mood, and this was the last thing he wanted to do this morning. Going to a court meeting. 

“Do I look like her keeper?” 

Mor seemed a bit confused by his response. “Can you get her?” 

He wanted to ask; why not you, but it felt a bit too childish. Besides, he needed to talk about last night anyway. Too late, a shadow whispered in his ear. It’s never too late, he could fix this. Taking the stairs two at a time, he headed for your bedroom. Shadows swirled around him, in front of him, searching and … storming the room. They unlocked the door before he could, gone, gone, gone, they whispered to him. Had you left in the middle of the night? He couldn’t hear you in there, but your scent was still fresh. 

And alcohol. A pit settled in his stomach. Gone. Too late. 

Azriel pushed the door open. Not in your room. A small click and his shadows opened the door to your bathing room. There were sweet and tender memories from that room. Him washing your hair, delicately working through the strands that always seemed tangled, you washing his wings. 

He didn’t think this would be one of those memories. 

Pushing the door open, he fell to his knees. 

-

Mor heard the guttural scream, one of pain and sorrow. Something she’d never heard from Az. Mor didn’t bother taking the stairs, and winnowed to your door. Directly across from her, another door was swung open, offering her a clear view. Azriel on his knees in front of … your body. Lips blue, skin white. His hands pressed down on your chest, up and down, up and down. 

“You’re late,” Rhys said, echoing through her mind. She only cast the image to him. Within a minute, more voices and footsteps sounded inside the house. Mor had already crossed the room, kneeling next to Azriel, her magic searching desperately for a sign of life. 

Minutes later, Madja was there, crowding in behind her. Cassian pulled a thrashing Azriel away from your body. 

Mor could only stand by the door, mouth parted and body still in shock. 

An empty pill bottle, one blue pill laying next to your hand, as if it had fallen out. An empty bottle of wine on the floor, dregs of red liquid still gathering in the bottle. 

Today was supposed to be good. Last night, you’d told Azriel you were his mate. She was prepared for the two of you to miss today entirely. 

Something had gone terribly wrong. Whirling around, she took one step closer to the shadowsinger, each movement laced with fury, entire body trembling. 

“Did you reject her?” Mor had skipped the earthly and deadly quiet, and screamed at Az, power rumbling through the room. 

“What do you mean reject?” 

“She is - was - your mate.” 

-

Azriel felt like his world stopped. Each word sliced into his chest. Mate. 

That’s what you wanted to tell him, and he told you, unequivocally, that he didn’t care. He was the person you trusted above all others, at one point. The one who spent decades breaking down those walls, slowly and carefully gaining your trust. Decades working towards that goal, and a year to throw it away. 

This was his fault. 

He could imagine the hopeful look on your face as you peeked into his door. If he’d seen that … if he’d just looked. 

“Az, can I talk to you about something?” Fuck, he’d forgotten to lock his door. Papers obscured his entire vision. Today had been too damn much, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone. It wasn’t specifically you.

“Tomorrow,”

“It really is important.” Desperation, but he knew there wasn’t much going on in your life. A shadow swirled angrily at the callous thoughts. 

“It can wait.” 

“Please-” 

He looked at you, your face had fallen. The beginnings of tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Listen, listen, listen, his shadows were nearly begging. Tomorrow, he told them. 

“I don’t care, whatever it is, I. Don’t. Care.” 

You finally left. A small tinge of guilt, but he’d make it up to you tomorrow, or maybe the next day - that would be Wednesday, and he’d get up early to bring you breakfast, the old tradition you’d fallen out of habit with. Something easily revived. 

Tomorrow, however, would be chock full of meetings. Meetings you’d be at too, and he’d make the time to hear you out, to apologize. 

Now, a shadow curled next to his ear, pleading. He ignored it. They’d always favored you, and now he’d even say they were fussing. You were strong enough. 

Azriel had ignored everything. Ignored each warning sign, ignored the desperate pleas of his shadows and the tears on your face. You cried, but it was never often. 

“It’s my fault,” he said - more to himself. “My fault.” 

He felt himself crumble, felt everything he used to keep himself in check slip away, his magic threatening to burst from him, to turn this house to rubble. He didn’t fight as Rhys grabbed him, as he winnowed him out to somewhere far out in the mountains. His brother released him as soon as they landed, but didn’t leave, he didn’t abandon him. Rhys should’ve, should’ve left him out here to bury himself. That’s what he deserved. 

The ground shook, parts of the mountains surrounding him faded into dust, snow flooded down the sides, birds squawked as they fled. He spent hours, hours and hours up there - until his siphons dulled, until he felt his magic start to protest, until Rhys had to knock him unconscious before he let it tear him apart.

[cyllres]

Promise | KNY x Reader

Chapter 00

TW: implied sexual assault, reader is a fucking child (9-11? I forgor lmao), arrange marriages

You lived a pretty insignificant life.

You were born, unfortunately, a woman, whose only task was to be owned by men, to bear heirs for the next generation and to make her father wealthier.

Of course, you'd never subject yourself to that fate, especially since you already saw the effects of it on your equally deranged mother.

Not that you blame her, honestly—who wouldn't go insane when the very first wife of the wealthy man of the Toshiro clan dares to bore a daughter as his first and oldest child? As his successor? Such a shame!

A woman has no place to lead clans; their only purpose is to serve their husbands—the head, their sons—the heirs, and teach their daughters the way to a married life. After several attempts, which unfortunately only led to multiple miscarriages due to the stress and pressure, your father eventually gave up and decided to take in multiple concubines with the promise to make them wealthy if they bore him a male heir.

Those concubines achieved something your mother couldn't: to give your father a son. That's why, despite still being the wife, your mother was constantly degraded by the concubines. Your mother couldn't do anything else but to endure, after all—she had already lost the affection of her husband.

Her only hope was you. Despite spending her whole life loathing your existence, she knows she might have her husband’s affection back if you manage to marry into another worthy family. Eager to please your mother, you did everything to woo your much- much older finacé and who wouldn't be eagered when a beautiful child from a wealthy clan is practically submitting to him.

Your only goal was to marry, that was until your fiancé decided to force himself onto you.

It was short, traumatic, and if a servant from your clan hadn't passed by it would've escalated further. You were only ten for fuck's sake. The promise was till you have your first menstruation, you're owned by your father and it wasn't something your finacé wanted to be caught offending.

You tried telling your mother how scary that experience was but her reaction was not concern but fear. Not because she was scared that her young daughter was almost sexually assaulted but fear that maybe the promise of marriage would be offed.

Scared for your life you decided to run away. It was a gamble. It's either you end up dead or found in one of those prostitution houses but it was a decision you had to make because you can't let your fiance near you. It took your father several weeks to find you and the state you were in wasn't to his satisfaction. That's why he decided to offer you to another clan.

The Ubuyashiki, a wealthy clan with a very private life. According to your father, despite having a privilege to know this wealthy clan, he still did not like the fact that it's a very sickly bloodline. The current leader— just like every leader is very ill and is being taken care of by his wife. Your father thinks, by offering his good for nothing daughter as a concubine to help the wife, he's doing something noble.

At first the head refused—was it because you were already dirty? Unpure? That was what your mother told you. But after a few days of being convinced by your own father and his own wife, the leader eventually gave in and accepted you into his clan. You weren't entirely sure what your position was, but all you knew was that you were no longer under your father's ownership but this man’s.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki was a rather strange man, he had light skin and black shoulder-length hair. You were taught by your mother not to look him or his wife in the eye, fearing that you might offend them. You were very well aware that this man was dying because of a curse you couldn't quite grasp. You were treated coldly by him for the first few days of your marriage, and you didn't mind that, especially since you were occupied with helping his wife take care of their 1-year-old children.

Amane possessed the same quiet, strict, and serious disposition as her husband, but she was much—much more softer to you. She was like a mother you never had sometimes, she even helped you bathe even though your position was lesser than hers.

Amane, with her gentle guidance, became your anchor. She showed you the ropes of managing the household and the delicate art of tending to Kagaya's needs. Despite the cold treatment from Kagaya, you noticed fleeting moments of curiosity in his eyes, as if he was trying to understand the enigma that you were. You reciprocated by maintaining your distance, respecting his space and waiting for the right moment to bridge the gap.

One particularly chilly night, as you sat by the engawa with the children, Kagaya and Amane joined you. The children, excited to have their father and mother's attention, clambered onto their laps, giggling and chattering away. The warmth of their small bodies contrasted with the cool night air, creating a cozy, familial atmosphere.

Kagaya looked at you over their heads, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “For caring for my family.” You nodded, a bit giddy from the praise, feeling a sense of belonging you had never experienced before.

"Y/n," Kagaya continued, his tone shifting to one of solemnity, "you've been with us for some time now, and I must commend you for your dedication and care. However, I must speak with you about a matter of great importance."

You nodded, listening intently, feeling the weight of his words settle over you.

"Being involved with the Ubuyashiki clan is dangerous. We are constantly under threat from demons, and the curse that plagues our family is relentless. I do not wish to subject you to a life of perpetual fear and danger unless it is your choice to stay. You have a right to decide your own fate." His words struck a chord deep within you. No one had ever given you a choice before. Your entire life had been dictated by the whims of others, and now, here was a man offering you agency over your own destiny. “The marriage ceremony wasn't serious but a front to take you from your father's grasp.”

Bewildered, you asked, “Why did you agree to take me from my clan, Ubuyashiki-sama?”

“At first I refused. I couldn't possibly bring a child into this family without their consent, without them fully grasping the consequences of being part of this clan. But Amane convinced me, and even I, could see so much potential in you, Y/n.”

Touched by his sincerity and the kindness you had experienced from Amane, you found yourself speaking from the heart. "I want to stay. Not as a wife, but as someone who can protect this family. I want to become a swordsman and serve Kagaya-sama and Amane-san."

Kagaya's eyes widened slightly, but then a small, approving smile appeared on his lips. "If that is truly what you wish, then I will support you. But from now on, you should train on your own." You glanced at Amane, who gave you a soft smile, then you glanced at their children: Hinaki, Nichika, Kiriya, Kanata, and Kuina, all watching you with wide, curious eyes.

“I think, no I know, I want to serve this family, and I'll work hard for that,” you said, determination clear in your voice.

Kagaya nodded, his expression one of approval and respect. "Very well, Y/n. Your dedication will not go unnoticed. From this moment on, you are a protector of the Ubuyashiki family. Train hard.”.

-

Tears continue to stream down your face as you look up, or down? In fact, you don't know. Ever since you saw your family’s mansion explode in front of you, you lost your senses. All you know is that you heard a biwa strike and you are falling into infinite rooms. Not having a chance to recover, some demons managed to impale you, leaving a gaping hole in your stomach, resulting in you just laying on the floor, or the roof, or the wall—you have no idea. You were dying.

You did not even have the chance to prove to them that you were strong enough. You did not have a chance to be a slayer. Despite failing the final selection two times (it was even a miracle you were still alive), you were convinced by Kagaya to lead the Kakushi instead.

The pain in your stomach is overwhelming, but the confusion and betrayal hurt even more. Your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of what led to this moment. You recall Kagaya’s serene yet firm voice when he spoke to you, urging you to focus on supporting the Hashira, to ensure that the Kakushi were well-trained and prepared.

But now, lying here, bleeding out, reality crashes down on you. You remember the countless hours spent with the Kakushi, training them, guiding them. You remember the memories you made with the Ubuyashiki clan. The trinkets you brought for the children who you started treating as your younger siblings.

You think of Amane, her gentle hands guiding you, her soft voice reassuring you during those times of self-doubt. Was she part of this too? Did she intentionally not tell you what the plan was because you were not part of the family? The questions swirl in your mind, each one a dagger of betrayal.

Why? Why are you dying right now without having any idea that their plan was to have their whole mansion explode? Was that the reason why Kagaya asked you to focus on Hashira's training? To busy yourself with making sure that your fellow Kakushi were knowledgeable enough?

As your vision blurs and your strength fades, you think back to the moments of warmth and acceptance you found in the Ubuyashiki household. The children's laughter, Amane’s kindness, and even Kagaya’s smiles.

In your final moments, you whisper a prayer, to have another chance to prove yourself strong enough. Strong enough to bravely be part of the front lines. To be strong enough to be part of the plans.

As darkness envelops you, a single tear slips down your cheek, a silent testament to the dreams left unfulfilled, the questions left unanswered, and the love that was never truly yours.

-

buy me a coffee♡: ko-fi.com/cyllres

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT #1: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

The Aftermath before the End - Speculative/science fiction universe.

TW: Mentions of suicide attempt | references to self harm | drug abuse | depression | emetophobia WC:

Summary: Jack visits Mitch after a troubling night.

WC: 684

The soft thud of fabric on his chest swore him to consciousness before he could even comprehend it.

Like the desert, his mouth was parched; his lungs heaving for the dry air his surroundings had to offer. Exhaustion carried his limbs while his heart beat to its own erratic drum.

His eyes were open, staring as they always were. How long had they been open for? The grittiness to his vision suggested a while, yet the fresh tear tracks trailing his temples suggested otherwise.

His sense of hearing was the last to come back, like a reluctant tide it washed in, first with static then with details of his surroundings. The rustle of fabric, the scrape and stomp of worn feet on an even more trodden carpet. Next was the grumble of the ancient boiler, followed by the fan of an overworked computer in the corner. A clatter in the kitchen and traffic outside developed more of his soundscape, whereas an argument on the floor above rounded him back to the room.

The steps approached. Stomp, drag, stomp, drag. Somewhere in there was a curse, and maybe even a sigh.

A man dropped into his periphery, a stilted action that landed him on one knee with the other leg stretched elsewhere.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Jack asked, showing him the backs of his index and middle finger, the others were tucked into his palm.

“Two, you tosser.” He groaned, rolling his head to get a good view of under the sofa. In hindsight he was ashamed.

“Yep, that’s you alive.”

And if the man strained, he may have heard pity behind the thinly veiled relief that was Jacks anger.

“You’ve got to stop doing this Mitch.”

“I know.”

“I know, you know. But knowing is different to acting upon it.” Jack huffed, hauling himself back onto his feet.

“What was it this time?” He asked, taking back the hoodie he had previously tossed onto Mitchell’s chest, and folded it over the back of the sofa. “Rich said you were pretty close to offing yourself this time before they intervened. Apparently you were trying to toss yourself in the estuary.”

“Probably coke then.” Mitchell groveled, his heart pounding in his chest, so much so he wondered if a heart attack was on the way.

“One of these days someone’s not gonna be around to stop you. To haul you back here and call me.” Said Jack, returning from the small ensuite where he had turned the shower to warm. But by the time Mitchell would get to it, the water would only be halfway to tepid. 

"I know."

"I know you know." Jack said. The mantra had long lost its anger - it's ire at Mitchell's lies. He stood patiently, watching the husk of his friend slowly gather himself. He crawled up the edge of the couch, fingers clawing the cracked, faux leather as he went. Splashes of mud and vomit and traces of road salt from the winter slush coated his trouser legs that hid scarred skin, and eventually Mitch managed to get standing on the shaking appendages. Jack crossed his arms, more in an attempt to get warm as opposed to a refusal to help. There was a rattle of pans, startling Mitchell from his concentration. Jack appeared nonplussed. 

"Lisa insisted on coming too. She's starting dinner; figured you might need to line your stomach with something."

Mitchell stopped, swaying on the spot. He frowned as he tried to comprehend the scenario; he didn't have any meaningful food beyond the few old vegetables in the fridge. And how did Lisa get in? How did Mitchell get in? 

A migraine began to spark behind his eyes as he tried to shift the cogs in his mind into remembrance. 

"She bought stuff from our flat.” Jack filled in, stepping forward and taking Mitchell's arm. He gripped hard, and Mitchell hissed in pain. Jack immediately softened. Specs of dried blood soaked through the thin cotton of his old plaid shirt. 

“Come on Mitch, you’re the one who has to pay the water bill.” 

“I know.” 

“I know you know.” 

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

TW: suicide

I can't keep watching RWBY if this is the direction we're going, that killing yourself is a good solution and will make things better. That your friends won't care because it's your choice and they have to respect that.

I stuck out V7 - V8, but V9 may be the final straw. I cannot support a show that, if I saw a few years back, most likely would have sent me into a relapse.

Ruby drank the tea wanting to die. It doesn't matter what actually happens - she thought she would die. She didn't want to be herself anymore - something I thought about a lot at that time.

It is so disgusting to me that the show frames this as a positive thing, that Ruby will be better / different or perhaps she won't return at all but (J)WBY won't care because it was her choice and there was nothing they could do. Her sister doesn't care. Her team doesn't care. They immediately comfort JAUNE.

So it's like "sure you can kill yourself and things will be better. look, your friends / family won't even care. no one will mourn the loss. isn't that great?"

And one big thing that kept me from offing myself was that my family + friends would care. They would be horrified beyond words. And I couldn't do that to them.

So, yeah. I can't support RWBY anymore, not even to see it through. This isn't the show my friend and I waited eagerly for (back in HS, we were excited for V4). This isn't the show I was drawn to several years ago.

Sorry for depressing rant. But I wanted to get this out.

- mean-and-rwde

Hey do not apologize for having to rant I get it that's what this blog is here for, for you to rant whatever it is you need to vent about.

It is disgusting how irresponsible CRWBY has been with this entire arc. They don't care about the people who could be triggered or otherwise be harmed by this kind of message. What was CRWBY thinking with telling depressed and suicidal people that their family will respect their decision and it's okay. It's so dangerous and harmful and careless of CRWBY to send this kind of message. Ontop of that they're trying to sell the idea that you'll become "better" if you do.

People are trying to insist that it's not suicide but ascension so it's different but....even with it being that Ruby still drank the tea not wanting to be Ruby anymore. She wanted to erase all things Ruby and wipe it from existence. How is that not a death? I know people love RW//BY but that doesn't magically erase how harmful this kind of message is. I do not blame you one bit for not wanting to continue watching the show and it's sad, it's really really sad. This show used to bring so much happiness to people and now it's just causes to much pain and trauma to people.

I just hate so much how the show wants to pretend this is a good and powerful message to send to people. I hate how we're supposed to think this is somehow a good thing. Ruby wanted to end herself. She didn't want to be "her" anymore and the show trying to frame this as a good thing, that her family and friends will support this choice, is careless.

I'm so sorry you went through that, I cannot imagine how hard that time must have been for you but I am so happy you're here still and with us. I hate that this show causes so much pain now but please take care of yourself.

[inhibitionfreewriting]

nothin to apologize for, darlin

it's been a bad time lately. sorry for being absent. this is just a drabble of jerma noticing how down you've been and making sure you remember he loves you

tw self harm

jeremy sees it, when you two are cooking together and you feign pain in your hands ("old surgery pain and carpal tunnel, you know how it is") so he offers to chop whatever it is. he sees it when you hesitate to take scissors to cut the simplest of things, resorting often to ripping things up neatly or even leaving it for him to do it. he sees the pain in your eyes when you go to shower and you can see the long healed scars on your body.

"hey," he calls gently, causing you to turn towards him away from the shower curtain, door still open. your eyes are weary,  body barely moving with the crushing weight that is breathing. he knows the line is thin now, between being okay for another moment and breaking down,  so he tiptoes, closing the distance between you.  he takes your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gently, "why don't I join you?" you can't find it in you to give a verbal answer, settling on a tiny nod and tearing yourself from his grip before turning the water on.

he sees it at night while you're settling for bed, the way your body bristles at the off hand comment on the stream that's on. something about offing themselves if they fuck up on the level again. he finishes brushing his teeth and holds you a little closer, foregoing being an iPad Andy tonight. he wonders vaguely if you can tell that he's nervous and on edge, that he doesn't want to hold too tight but doesn't want to let go. but you are tired, so so tired.

"j," you murmur and he hums in response, softly rubbing his cheek into your hair, "i'm sorry."

"don't you dare," he replies quickly, a bit of his boston coming out, pulling you a little closer (though there isn't much room left between you). his fingers lace with yours and he squeezes. "you know there's nothin for you to apologize for darlin', i'm gonna be here for you up or down." you snort with a laugh, tears threatening to fall but you make your dumb joke anyway.

"i don't know j, it feels like a big -2 moment." you're both laughing now as he holds you tighter.

"oh yeah, BIG -2 behavior comin from you, gotta correct that." he yanks the blankets over the both of you and holds you against him tightly. "if i've got you right here, there's no way you can do anything cringe." or hurt yourself, jeremy thinks. he kisses your temple and forehead for what he can reach. a few tears still fall despite your giggles, but he wipes them away. "try to get some sleep huh?"

"okay."

"i love you."

"love you too."

[the-squishy-scrimblo]

This might seem really random and I’m sorry if it triggers you

And You can answer this privately if you want but please answer it,

Is the something special you offing yourself? Please tell me it isn’t,

. I will explain . !TW!

In short term , no, this special day is not me going to off myself.

On January 22, 2024 at 1:49 am, I will be proud enough to say that I have managed to stay one year fully cleaned from self harm. I was close to doing such some days, but I held strong.

I will not promise that I’ll be clean or attempt free in the future, but for you my family; Teardrop, Vissy, Inde, Wormy, Yago, Autism Criminal / Aussie, and so many more, I will stay strong for you all.

I love you all to much to do anything that would hurt you, so I’ll try and stay strong.

[strangepersonthefirst]

Are you open to discussing astral trauma? I'm very new to tapping into spirituality & I'd appreciate it if you could share how to be safe

Ooh. Ok. So. Please be aware this entire post will be colored by my own astral traumas. I've gotten over a lot of this. Kind of! Ok. also TWs for Sui, Abuse, Violence on Every count. So, Between the astral and physical, you start (I say start because oh boy spirituality is weird..) You start with one mind that can't intentionally divide between the shit that happens astrally and the shit that happens physically. So, let's say this. You're living in an abusive situation at home. Spirituality is both keeping you from offing yourself, and getting you out of the situation because you've learned to Astral Project or even Bilocate. Escape reached! Let's say you've gotten to.. a city, perhaps. No big destiny crap, no gods, Just a city. 2 spirits decide to rob you in an allyway. You try to fight back with what you have. They cut off your arm. You kill them. Suddenly this isn't an escape anymore. You lost an arm. Depending on who you are, you don't even have the means to just put it back. What's worse for you? The arm-loss thing is a modified version of the first taste of spiritual violence I ever really got injured in. I was 11. I didn't have an abusive household, but I was running from my own brain at the time. I didn't feel great. Now then, we're swapping gears to my story, but you asked so buckle the hell in. That was my first taste of violence. Unfortunately for me, I actually was a fucking idiot and decided to try and rule a spirit city. At probably 12. Never said I was smart. So I got into a lot more fights, and I killed.. A lot. And uhm. I was raised human! So you can imagine how I felt about killing a metric FUCKTON of people. And I didn't stop, because I was also getting into more physical trauma (because traumatic situations compound!) So as I went into the years where my personality was developing, I literally had to rationalize the idea of murder to myself so that I didn't kill myself for being a monster. And I actually consider myself way luckier. A lot of people who AP are older, and smart enough to try and get a guide-spirit to help them out. However, why help when you can take advantage of someone and manipulate them into doing anything for you? It's stuff like this that fueled my original RB. because you're absolutely right that AP is an escape for people. I still use it to escape from my current situation as I try to plot out my life. But if you aren't in the lucky, lucky minority, AP will have it's fucking nasty share of traumas to hand you, or it'll just worsen ones you have.

[suiana]

What would stalker do if he had camera in our house and saw us off ourselves? You don’t have to answer if it’s a sensitive topic because like yeah lol but just curious

TW SU!C!DE

stalker is kinda depressed that u asked this so I'm here to answer instead but he'd probably off himself as well. what's there to live for if you aren't around? stalker would probably try to prevent you from offing yourself in the first place though.

[overlordofawesomeness]

TW: Implied Suicide

Oftentimes whenever the thought of offing yourself enters your head, one of the reasons why you won't do it is you don't want your mom to be sad, but what if she's no longer with you? What will become of you?

[pebletz]

Short Oneshot South Park fic (TW’s down below before reading)

Hellu friends! I was just sort of lying in bed when this story idea came to mind. While yes, I do love my romance, every once in a while I’m here for the sweet sweet angst/slight mix of horror. I also barely write fanfics but can think of scripts of dialogue for some reason? So that’s the format of this story… oops. Also, the characters can be read as either platonic or romantic, though honestly you shouldn’t be thinking about either for this one, folks.

This is a south park Stan and Kyle short one-shot script dialogue thingy ma jig, and I give you my love right now because in all seriousness, this contains a very dark topic. If you are uncomfortable with what is in the trigger warnings I give below, by all means, DO NOT READ PAST THE MORE LINE. It made me feel a slight panic in my chest just writing this, and I really would hate to have someone go through some dark traumatic memories again. So last warning, it’s about to get real dark, and very uncomfortable.

To the people who are going to read this, I wish you luck, not only for the gruesome topics at hand but also for dealing with my weird mix of both fanfic and theater script dialogue format. I’m also writing this sort of late at night, so if I made some mistakes uh… I’m very sorry. Anyways, this won’t be long, promise.

Stay safe everyone, I love you, and everything will be okay. You got this. Always be sure to ask for help when you need it. <3

-Guppie

TW/ S*icide mentions, graphic g*re mentions, possible derealization(?), anxiety, depression, eyes(?), panic attacks, hyperventilating, mentions of drugs, and finally a weird ass Omori ref I added in for no reason other than I thought it fit .-.

Speechless

Stan: Have you ever thought of killing yourself?

Kyle: …I’m sorry?

Stan: You know, offing yourself. Grab a rope, buy a gun, the end.

Kyle: … *smirks, he thinks it’s a joke* Ah yes, of course. However, I really cannot decide my fate, Stanley. Which method would best accommodate my attitude? *he chuckled*

Stan: *smiles, but it’s forced and dry. Kyle feels like he hears his lips crack.* I’m being serious.

Kyle: *giggles more, and then it slows* …why would you even ask me that?

Stan: *he brushes some of his stray hair back with his hand* You seem different. I can see it in your eyes, the way you smile. God- you’re smoking a pack of cigarettes right next to me on the rooftop of Randy’s barn. You have the biggest eye-bags I’ve ever seen on you.

Kyle: *looks away, suddenly feeling sweat under his collar* “You sure that’s not just because of finals?”

Stan: You haven’t cared about anything this year.

Kyle: …. Stan, if I’m being honest, I- … *he sees Stan’s sad smile and he gulps* I can’t say I’ve been feeling much better than that to be honest..

Stan: … *he takes a hit from his own cigar, eyes dead to the world. That once beautiful sky blue Kyle used to see were now pale in comparison, Stans eyes looked like the mariana trench now. Black. Empty. Devoid of all hope. It’s then his shoulders perk up, but only slightly. He has an idea, Kyle bets.* Let’s do it together, then.

Kyle: *his breath hitches, and suddenly he feels like he’s being pressed into the ground by a boulder* …what..?

Stan: I’m serious. I can figure it out for the both of us and we can just- end it. Together. Like always.

Kyle: …Stan I don’t think we are on the same page here-

Stan: Kyle, I have wanted nothing more than to eliminate my very existence since I was only ten years old. You get how that feels, right?

Kyle: …I-

Stan: whether you are coming with me or not, I’m not going to be here very long. I know it.

Kyle: *he’s full-on sweating now, shaking, panicking* Stan, please- I don’t think this is-

Stan: Kyle.

Kyle: Stan- please let me just-

Stan: Kyle. *he grabs Kyle’s hand, Kyle reflexes and tries to pull his hand back, but Stan doesn’t let him. He puts Kyle’s hand against his own chest.* Do you feel this? This pounding?

Kyle: *he’s breathing heavily, quickly.. it’s getting hard to breathe*

Stan: … Kyle, this- this pounding- it’s all around me now. It’s in my head- it’s- I can feel the ground b r e a t h i n g beneath me. Do you feel it too? Because fuck- Kyle- I need it gone. It’s like the world knows what’s gonna happen. It’s screaming for it. It hurts- it fucking hurts too much. I want to tear out my own organs. Isn’t that just sad? Is that a cynical thing? To want to wipe off every last trace of my existence? Is god a sadist, or am I a masochist? Does he want my blood oozing out, or is that just what they want? All I see nowadays are eyes, Kyle. Like people are watching me- waiting-

Waiting for something to happen?

I can’t take it anymore. Please Kyle- save me- help me…

Kyle: I- you- Stan- *he’s hyperventilating now, vision fuzzy. What’s happening!?* I can’t- bre a th-

Stan: ..Kyle? Kyle!?

Kyle: *everything grows dark as he falls, but Kyle still feels like he’s not alone. He feels the weight of the world crawling on his shoulders. His chest hurts. He looks around, but there’s only silence. What is he doing? Is he going to stop falling? When is he going to hit the ground with a loud crunch?*

…

……

He’s waiting for his end too.

[saintvintagearchived]

I read Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar once about three or four years ago and proceeded to try to take my life. Every time I see someone post that book, it reminds me of how I felt reading it and a simultaneous concern for anyone else that’s drawn to it. The sorrow and hopelessness it made me feel is honestly indescribable and, while I’m sure everyone must figure beforehand it’s gonna be a heavy read, it really can effect you more than you realize, especially if you’re already in a vulnerable mental place.

[bajablastwrites]

Okay, I know there’s only going to be a solid 50% chance of you actually doing this request but I’m willing to take the chance because I can’t shake the feeling that you’re the perfect person to give this ask to. How would Saiki react to a s/o that suffers from… not exactly intrusive thoughts…but still thoughts that randomly pop into her head that’s straight out of a horror movie? Like they can never open the front door normally without randomly picturing someone stabbing them as they open it.

What do you mean it’s not normal?

TW: somewhat detailed description of gore

Saiki x fem reader

Authors Note: you’re right anon! I am the right person because I too have questionable, graphic, horrendous, disgusting and extremely detailed thoughts like this. (I had unrestricted access to the internet as a kid and my morbid curiosity always wins when it comes to graphic content, builds character and I don’t regret it👍🏼) I was originally going to just go with just the questionable thoughts but it turned into a completely different thing so… oops. Hope you still like it tho!

—————————————————————————————

so I’m going too assume you also had unrestricted access to the internet and your thoughts really show it with how gory and graphic your imagination is. It concerns Kusuo a little bit since they just pop up during the most normal and mundane tasks.

Or sometimes you’ll just space out and your mind wanders to that one gore video from you saw on online one day that was filmed by the Mexican cartel, with quality so shit it might as well have been filmed with a microwave.

Now Kusuo doesn’t think you’re a bad person at all, just because your morbid curiosity has you stare at a dead body for a bit doesn’t mean you’ll want to recreate them. You’re no sicko after all.

But it always catches him off guard because he never knows when it’s going to happen, especially if they involve you. You had the most detailed scenario on what would happen if the person behind you pushed you down the schools stairs or shoved you over the railing and your only thoughts afterwards was “damn that’d suck real bad.” Which concerned him even more. What do you mean “that’d suck real bad.” It’ll be more than just sucking really bad. Man’s was flabbergasted.

He’s followed you home and used his clairvoyance on you on multiple occasions because you’d randomly have thoughts of offing yourself— like a “if I had to” scenario. You had everything from how you’d do it, down to even the contact info of company who’ll clean up any blood or other biohazards left behind. Like how or why do you know the contact info for a clean up crew?

Now that he knows you and you know about his powers, he now intervenes on your graphic thoughts if they involve you.

I feel like he also has a morbid curiosity as well so he’ll also be weirdly fascinated with things like gore to a mild extent. But if your thoughts involve you he’ll be quick to interrupt your thoughts by saying something like “stop it.” That’s probably the only time he’ll get a little upset with you and your graphic thoughts. He knows you can’t control your thoughts but like, can you not think about those things happening to you, please?? He doesn’t care about your thoughts unless they involve you getting hurt or dying in someway because he cares about you, will he tell you that? Absolutely not!

You’re still his favorite person even if he won’t admit it to you or himself.

A weird advantage of your dark and gory thoughts is that you also have some useful medical knowledge as well. You know where important arteries are located and such.

But back on topic, Kusuo likes to have you around when he’s with Toritsuka. Man’s was scared of you after Kusuo asked you what the worst way to kill someone would be and you gave the description of the worst Mexican cartel gore video to exist. (If you know, you know)

“Just out of curiosity. What’s the most creative and painful way to kill a person?” Kusuo asked as you began to sort through all the horrendous and atrocious things you’ve seen. “I mean you want them to be awake you’ll have to drug them with adrenaline. For maximum pain use dulled knives or machetes to chop off the hands and feet, maybe skin them too— it’ll take a lot of work because the blades are dull but they’ll feel everything and be awake for it all. It’ll get pretty bloody though.” You said as you had a vivid memory of the atrocity you’ve seen on the place you call the internet. “Good to know.” He patted your shoulder, satisfied with your answer. What he saw you visualize was less satisfying to him though.

Toritsuka fears you just as much as he fears Saiki. To add to your fear factor, your guardian spirit is either a mortician or a critical care surgeon. Man’s starts sweating when he’s partnered with you during any cooking assignment— or when you have any sharp or pointed object in your hand. Kusuo can’t help but feel proud that you can put the fear of god in him just by holding a pen or pencil, even if you don’t mean to.

Speaking of scaring people, you used scare Kaido when he first met you. You know how he was first scared of Aren when he first met him, it was like that with you as well. He’s not scared of you anymore— or at least not as much as he used to be. You still make him a little nervous though. In his head he sees you as Dark Reunion’s ultimate weapon that was created to defeat him, but ended up becoming a failed experiment and rebelled against them to fight by his side.

Now you and Aren get along really well. He really likes you, he likes to ask you “hypothetical” questions. So you both look very sus, since he’s making questionable scenarios and you have answers for said questionable scenarios. They mostly involve ways to help or get people to the hospital in time if said scenarios were to happen, so it’s oddly wholesome. Kusuo is always nearby because (he’s salty) you guys look like you’re planning a murder and he can’t have you guys getting arrested— it’ll draw too much attention to his class. It’s not that he cares about you guys! (He doesn’t want Aren taking away his only favorite person)

Your aura is somewhat unsettling at the start according to Aiura, like there’s a layer of dark purple clouds or fog surrounding you but once you get passed them it’s a warm and golden aura. Good people work behind the scenes after all.

Speaking of good people Hairo also likes you, man respects you even. He knows how to stop heavy bleeding, what to do if someone has a seizure, breaks a bone, etc.

Teruhashi thought what you were saying was either bullshit or saying it to impress Kusuo since he’s always with you. (I love Teruhashi, but I like slandering her a little bit more) She made the most elaborate scenario in her head about you wanting to be a nurse or doctor in order to get close to Kusuo and be able give him a “physical” (Kusuo didn’t appreciate that visual and wanted to go back to your gory thoughts afterwards) she tried to learn random facts about the body to try to get Kusuo’s attention but you always add more details or facts because you just simply know more (it’s that mortician/surgeon guardian spirit watching over you I swear) you add in extra information in ways that is easy to understand too. So she kinda just gave up because she can’t memorize all that shit to try and out perform you.

Despite your gory and graphic thoughts Kusuo still likes you, wouldn’t change a thing about you— well if he could have you stop making up scenarios where you die or get severely hurt he would, but that’s about it! Loves you just the way you are.