Hey! I loved your yandere!konig and ghost when their darling runs away. But how would they react if they're darling broke out. But couldn't bring themselves to go farther than 10 - 20 feet away. Cause if their anxiety of leaving the cabin?
Ah, the sweet, sweet betrayal of the own mind, I like that :D
Thanks for requesting!
With a sharp click, the front door unlocked. The wooden cabin creaked as if warning you to stay, but you were up and outside before you could even think to listen. For weeks, you had worked towards this moment, and as the taste of freedomâearthy like the forest that surrounded the lonesome cabinâcaressed your senses, a big smile curled the corners of your mouth upwards.
Day after day, you had swallowed your pride, nodded, and agreed. Laid still next to your captor in bed at night and listened to his footsteps whenever he returned, hoping they'd pass by your bedroom. The first few weeks had been the worst, with you still shackled and panicked, the masked man telling you to behave at every outburst of yours. But how could you?
It took a lot of time until he trusted you enough to let you freely walk around the secluded cabin. It wasn't without punishments as you tried to escape so many times before, until your feet were bloody from his knife and your wrists sore from the restraints he put you back in, but you learned your lessons. Listened to him. Obeyed him. Waited like a good little spouse a few steps away from the entrance whenever he returned. Enough so that he started trusting you.
Enough so that he grew careless.
Ghost, he called himself. It wasn't the most accurate description as he was tall and burly, not exactly haggard. His skeleton mask could be frightening; that much was true. As was his strength and the ruthless use of force to cause you pain and torture you. It was hard to get to this point of him letting his guard down, and you figured pretty quickly that he wasn't just some random man; all his senses were sharp, and his actions were skilled as if he was trained for this. Ghost was lines of muscles and scars all over his body. He was a human predator as far as you could see, but it made his weakness glaringly obvious;
You.
Because the moment you cuddled up to him, his tense posture grew slack, his arms gentle around you, his hands massaging you as if you were a fragile being. When you asked for something, he'd simply say, "We'll see," but would return with it after his next grocery run without needing a reminder. Meals were always cooked the way you wanted, and the heater was always set to the temperature you decided on. Even if he insisted on sleeping next to you, he let you have his blanket if you stole it at night. You'd constantly wake up to him gently rubbing your back whenever you accidentally laid on top of him at night.
It was a gamble to try and make him careless. You couldn't be sure it would work. However, you still worked towards your goal every day, pretending to get along with him, slowly falling into a routine he could get used to without letting him find out you were merely playing him. And now, finally, it had paid off.
Mud and grass had never felt better beneath the soles of your shoes as you stepped down the porch and onto the forest ground. Freeing and invitingâalive. Compared to the outside, the air inside the cabin had been terribly stale, and the building made of wood weighed down on your mood. Here, you finally felt in control of your life and closer than ever to escaping the nightmare!
There was barely anything around besides the dense treeline in front of you. A stump with an axe rested on the right corner of the cabin, but there was no path, no signs of a car or any way out, meaning what Ghost had told you about the cabin being far away from any other living soul must have been true.
Your heart sunk a little at the realization. You had seen the forest through the windows, but the ones showing the front had always been boarded shut. It gave you hope that there was something you weren't supposed to see or know, but you realized now that it was to keep uninvited eyes out should anyone stumble across the cabin instead.
So where were you supposed to go? There were trees on the left and trees on the right. Undoubtedly, more forest awaited you behind the cabin, so your only chance was to go forward. Looking at the ground, you tried to find Ghost's footsteps, any indication that this was the right way, but despite his hefty stature, you found none that could lead you.
You were on your own.
"Nothing wrong with that," you muttered to yourself, curling your hands into fists before saying a quick pep-talk. Surely, you'd find back to civilization once you fought your way through the forest. You were well-fed and clothed, had slept a full ten hours last night, and were young enough to take one or two days trekking through the thicket easily. The thought made you nervous regardless, but everything would be fine. You just had to get going so as to not get caught by the man who was trying to ruin your life with his fantasies.
Frankly, any fate awaiting you outside was better than staying at the cabin with him.
Taking your first steps, you felt your pulse quicken, your nostrils expanding to let more air into your lungs. You knew you couldn't afford to overthink things. There simply wasn't enough time. Ghost stayed away for two hours whenever he went out, and you had struggled to open the high-security lock on the front door that stood out like a sore spot against the wood. It took you months to find out what you needed to do and prepare everything for this momentâyou couldn't afford to waste your efforts now.
Months, huh? It had been so long since you'd been under people. This forest wasn't familiar to you in the slightest, but you've been to forests before. This was just another one that would surely end in a town or at least a street. Hopefully, someone would believe you when you were found and help you. You didn't even have anything to verify yourself with.
But it didn't matter, surely your family had reported you as missing! It had been too long since you last spoke, even if you weren't in contact regularly. They would have noticed you being gone!
Right?
You felt your throat constrict as you swallowed down the doubt. "It's all his fault," you cursed through shallow breaths, wrapping your arm around yourself in an effort to calm down. Ghost had been putting all these thoughts inside your head, and you were merely reaping the fruits of his manipulation now. It was unfair, but you were stronger than this! You'd not allow him to continue to hold you hostage, his ill-willed comments meaningless since he clearly wasn't sane.
"There are dangerous animals out there. Big ones."
You remembered thinking, 'Where the fuck did he take me?' when you first heard him tell you about the outside of the cabin. You obviously weren't in your hometown anymore, where the biggest animal was a freaking squirrel.
"He's just messing with you," you bit out, banishing your own thoughts. Even now, that psycho held way too much power over you, his words and warnings repeating over and over as your doubts and anxiety grew. If only you made it to the tree line, you'd probably be able to convince yourself that there was nothing more dangerous than Ghost out there. Moving forward, your knees wobbled when you were barely two steps away from the edge of the clearing.
But what if it was him coming for you again?
"I'll always find you," you remembered him continuing as he told you about the animals while he softly played with your hair, the distant sound of rain thrumming on the roof enveloping the otherwise reigning silence in the cabin. "Won't let any of these wankers 'urt you. I'll make them piss right off, you're mine."
He'd be gone for a while. If he could track out of the forest, go shopping, and come back in about two hours, you could do the same and find help on the way. He'd first had to come back and notice you were gone before even starting to look for you. By then, you'd be long gone.
It wasn't like you were going to run straight into his arms by going this way, right? Shivering, you remembered the pain of when he cut your soles with his knife for daring to make a run for the door the first time Ghost let you "off the leash". The way it hurt every time he forced you to walk to the bathroom on your own, and how you barely made it while he stood above you, clicking his tongue at the bloody footsteps you left on the floor. You remembered the harsh cold and huddling in the corner of the basement, naked in the darkness, until Ghost showed you mercy, allowing you back into his arms after leaving you there for who-knows-how-long, just because you refused to sleep in the same bed with him.
If these natural reactionsâthe "petty crimes"âlanded you a punishment this bad, then what would happen if he found you outside, trying to run from him? What more could he do to you before you'd break beyond repair?
Looking back over your shoulder, you stared at the open door. Maybe you should go back to close it? Buy yourself some time by pretending to hide from him? You could take some food and water with you. Honestly, your preparation was still pretty bad. Perhaps it would be better to try this another time when you had better chances of running from him, the time was so short, and after allâ
Your cheek immediately started to burn as you suddenly struck yourself with the palm of your hand. "Focus!" you chided yourself. Why would you let this moment go to waste?! Taking a few more steps, you managed to break through the invisible line that Ghost had kept you behind, the forest enveloping youâswallowing you, like a hungry animal.
You were going to get out of here! You were going to make it!
The branches and leaves snatching at your clothes and skin felt like Ghost's hands reaching for you, trying to pull you back. But with an iron will, you moved on, determined to get through this. All his tricks became meaningless as you powered through the thicket. The hold on you melted away as you used all your strength to escape it. It felt like hours as you rushed through the green, never looking left and right, your determination the goal.
It needed your body to give out beneath you to finally make you stop. You could barely breathe at this point, your vision blurry with tears you didn't know had collected. Your head was spinning like you hit it on something hard, and hundreds of small areas on your body hurt for no reason, but you must have cut or poked yourself on the thicket without realizing it. Your legs felt weak, but your mind was still determined to get through this! You had come so far, just a little more, and you could rest for the night that had surely already fallen, considering how dark it was all around you.
Despite your loud breathing, the silence around you was deafening. It felt exactly like the dark basement you'd been locked in a few times. Air didn't seem to be able to fill your lungs quickly enough, and the sound of your own blood rushing through your body was an uncanny reminder of the fact that you were alive and well. And you'd make it; you had already come so far!
The sound of branches cracking near you made you still instantly.
The animals, you thought. But it could just be a deer.
More shuffling, leaves against fur, hoves breaking through branches and thicket. You'd simply spring up and yell at it to go away! It would be that easy to send it off in another direction. There was nothing to fear; it was all one of Ghost's tactics to scare you of leaving, and it would not work for you anymore!
You knew what you had to do, knew how to behave, and yet, for some reason, your body didn't obey you. Not even as a white face came into few, looking over a bush and staring straight at you. You opened your mouth, ready to yell and scream so the creature would quickly take off, but only a pitiful croak escaped from your throat, everything so tight and clamped up. Your helplessness barely registered, your brain ordering your arms to lift up menacingly, but your fingers merely trembled, hands slack in your lap.
Nothing was working, and your vision grew even darker as you rapidly tried to blink the tears away that filled your eyes. "What's going on?" you asked, but you heard your own voice, incomprehensible, a mix of strangled grunts and breathless squeaks.
"[Name]?"
For some reason, the sound of another voice appeared much clearer than your own. You heard it even through your desperate groans. It sounded firm. Concerned. Safe. It wasn't the sound of an animal, no roar or yap or growl or hiss. You knew that voice, it was... it was...
Something dropped to the ground, and you squeaked in surprise, jerking so hard you felt the branches of the bush poke into your body again. Your senses slowly returned as you were enveloped in warmth, the familiar scent you had breathed day in and day out wrapping around you. Strong barriers held you tightly, lifting you from the ground and adjusting their grip on you, and you managed to worm your own arms around a firm neck, your legs slipping into position in the familiar feeling of being held.
Sobs overwhelmed you as you buried your face into the firm shoulder, the flesh molding around your features, giving you a place to hide. Immense warmth attacked you but hugged you just as tightly as the two arms wrapped around your body. "You're safe. Calm down, love."
The darkness clouding your mind dispersed as you felt the soft rocking of footsteps swaying your whole body. Finally, clear thoughts returned to you as you realized you were being carried. You felt the synthetic feel of a rain jacket beneath your fingers, which you had clawed into the fabric, while your breathing grew steadier, your lungs finally satisfied with the amount of air you were getting.
"What happened?" you slurred, still holding on to the person who had found you. Were you finally saved? Did someone rescue you, and did you make it out alive?
"Found you on the edge of the forest, all panicked and shit. For fuck's sake you doin' out here anyway, darlin'?"
The arms squeezed you a little tighter, almost uncomfortably so. But you squeezed back, holding on to your savior with all the strength you had left. "Running... outside... need to find..."
"Were you lookin' for me? Fuckin' hell... can't even punish you for that, sweet'eart."
"I... What?" you mumbled, clarity slowly climbing back into your brain. You heard the sounds of the steps changing from grass to wood, making you finally look up again. Blinking away the rest of your tears, your eyes adjusted, and you clearly watched the line of trees you had become oddly familiar with move away from you. The sight was enough to make you realize you were moving backward instead of through and out of the forest.
You weren't escaping anymore.
Straightening your back, you looked down at the black mask to your right, Ghost being preoccupied with something at your back, releasing one arm from you while he fumbled around with it. "Gave that lock a good kick, eh?" he commented as dread began running down your spine. He sighed, apparently bothered by having to replace the lock before he returned your gaze. He appeared to be relaxed, his eyes a bit lidded and his arms sturdy, giving no indication of his emotions.
But you noticed the blown-apart pupils, the way his gaze fixated on you like a crosshair. He had you all figured outâor at least, you managed to give him a fright.
"How did you find me?" you croaked warily, but the exhaustion made your voice sound sweet and gentle, not wavering and allowing him to hear the rush of nervosity in it. "I ran so far..."
"Told you, I'll always find you. Besides, you were collapsed in a ditch, lookin' absolutely horrified just in front of the cabin. First time 'avin' a panic attack, love?"
"Oh," you muttered, sacking back into his arms and forcing yourself to take deep breaths. You were fucked. Absolutely screwed. Messed up big time. Being carried inside the cabin, the dream of freedom vanished as Ghost squatted down in front of the couch. He slowly tipped you backward, making sure you'd not hurt yourself by falling off him, but instead of getting up, he stayed in the same position, finding your gaze no matter how hard you tried to avoid it.
"You were tryin' to find me, right?" he asked all of a sudden, questioning your motive after all.
"Y-Yeah..." you falsely admitted, your voice finally faltering. He was going to hurt you. Maybe you'd not survive this... would anyone notice if you were dead? Would anyone find you and bring justice to this unfairness you were experiencing? Why did you have to have a panic attack just from running away when all of this was a nightmare you wished to wake up from?!
When his hands landed on your thighs, you flinched, clenching your teeth together and bracing for the pain he was going to inflict on you any second now. You failed bitterly. So much so that you were already crying, tears dripping on his hands while you resigned yourself to your miserable faith.
Ghost rose from before you, pushing some weight onto your legs as he leaned forward, masked lips brushing against your forehead. "Don't do that again," he warned quietly, and you were sure he meant escaping rather than looking for him. "Don't want to have to break your legs just to keep you here, darlin'."
And with that, a firm but merciful warning, he let go, trudging off back outside, leaving the door wide open. Before the stairs leading off the porch, Ghost stopped, looking back over his shoulder, and you flinchedâhardânoticing the cold glare he was giving you. "I'll go fetch the groceries. You stay."
With that, he left back towards the forest, making you watch as he brushed through the thicket and disappeared into darkness. Freedom seemed even closer with the unlocked door and Ghost's back turned. Just a few steps, and you'd be outside again. You could hide from him and then make a break for it.
Your body sacked, sliding deeper into the soft cushions of the couch.
"Next time," you mumbled. "I'll escape for sure."
Exhaustion took over as your eyes closed slowly. The last thing you saw was Ghost's silhouette marching back towards the cabin before your body collapsed onto the couch, the soulless eyes behind the skeleton mask drilling into your soul. Like a dog, trained to obey, you stayed.
And Ghost watched over you for a while, trying to push the thoughts of breaking your ankles out of his mind as he went to make you dinner instead. You've been through enough that day. This experience would teach you that you couldn't escape him. Even if your brain still fought, your body knew better than to disobey him. It even knew to cling to him for safety, so it was just a matter of time. He had chipped away at your psyche long enough for you to not even recognize what he had done. Slicing a carrot into two parts, Ghost knew he'd soon get to reap the fruits of his labor.
And once you were as broken as he was, you two would finally be happy together.
Fungus has done so much for humanity. Penicillin. Radiation cleanup. Delicious mushrooms. Deadly mushrooms. Psychadelic mushrooms. And now my boy RA has chosen the humble mold spores as his vessel through which to cure cancer.
price puts you on a pedestal, shakes it until you fall off, catches you, and then clicks his tongue. says you never should have climbed up there in the first place.
âAuthors should not be ALLOWED to write aboutââ you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative
âThis book should be taken off of shelves for featuringââ you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative
âSchools shouldnât teach this book in class becauseââ you are an anti-intellectual and functionally a conservative
âNobody actually likes or wants to read classics because theyâreââ you are an anti-intellectual and an idiot
âI only read YA fantasy books because every classic novel or work of literary fiction is problematic and featuresââ you are an anti-intellectual and you are robbing yourself of the full richness of the human experience.
"you are functionally a conservative" is such a good and clarifying insult
Literally right after I saw this post, I saw another post in a discord chat for BOOK EDITORS in which an outspokenly liberal editor talked about how Nabokov should have never been published because he wrote about p*dophiles and described women's bodies in ways that made her uncomfortable. She described his writing as "objectively terrible" and said she wanted to burn his books. And other editors were bringing up classics they didn't like and talking about how they wanted to throw them in the trash. This wasn't like a light "unpopular opinion!" conversation. This was actual book editors talking about how books should be destroyed and censored.
There is something so scary and toxic in global culture right now. The revival of fascism is influencing everyone's mindset and approach to art, regardless of where they fall on the political spectrum.
I see far more books being censored today than when I was a kid. Librarians handed me The Catcher in the Rye, The Sexual Politics of Meat, and Animal Farm when I was literally 8-11. My mom would never have taken a book away from me. I read everything from the Tao Te Ching to the Qur'an to atheist texts under my desk at school. Teachers thought nothing of it or encouraged it. Books seemed universally acknowledged as sacrosanct to me.
Now I can't find any adults who don't hesitate or want to make exceptions when it comes to censorship. Even the most liberal social activist librarians I know go, "well except for book X..."
Functionally conservative. It's so important to have the language to express that.
Sometimes you have to be yourself on purpose. What I mean by this is that sometimes we lose touch with ourselves and start coasting and just going through the motions. Which is fine for a while because we get tired and/or depressed and that's fine. Happens to everyone. But eventually it starts to feel bad and you get a specific kind of brainweird that's hard to describe but means that you've lost sight of who you are, what your values are, and what you love.
Leaning really hard into something that makes you go "this is the most me thing ever" helps that specific type of brainweird quite a bit! But maybe you don't know what the most you thing ever is. You are not alone! I get depressed and forget every interest I have. 100% understand that.
When this happens, it helps to remind yourself what you like and enjoy. So what do you do? Well for me, it helps to think about 1. Things I used to enjoy and 2. Things my friends Know Me For.
Like I've been feeling not myself lately and I haven't really knit or created much this month at all. But I'm the Makes Things Guy. I like making things and many of my friends not only know me as someone who makes things but a lot of my friendships specifically come from communities of People Who Make Things.
So I forced myself to pick up an old project, and that helped a bit. But what really helped was coming up with a project that combined my interests (leather jackets, art, and teapots) for me to look forward to and get really into planning for! The most ME I've felt in weeks has been the last hour I've spent planning on painting a famous fine China design on the back of my leather trenchcoat. Because not ONLY am I the Makes Things Guy, I am also The Teapot Guy. I finally feel like myself again.
I wish I had more concrete advice in regards to how you remember your own interests when you get disconnected from them, but a solid place to start is things you used to like and things your friends know you like. If you struggle consider asking a friend what things they know you like. Sometimes friends can see us better than we can see ourselves and it helps to use them as a mirror to see yourself through.
This is good advice and also dovetails with one of my pet theories, which is that one of the major things executive function handles is identity formation, and if you have a chronic or acute problem with your volition (to put it in Disco terms) you may have to actively work to think of yourself as an individual rather than a collection of passing urges and wants.
As with many other things, good habits and good meds can make this easier.
the fact that this appears on my dash feels like a sign...I've been in this state for a long time
I love my plants and exploring the wonders of the natural world, but discovering an interest in sciences contradicted my previous understanding of myself, (double majoring in history and creative writing, centered entire identity on writing novels)
and that previous understanding had become painful and associated with my internal torments so I've just. let it drop. and I haven't done anything creative in a long time.
I spent most of my growing up with an obsessively fixed idea of who i was, now its like "you can do whatever you want actually," which leaves me "uhhh well who am I then"
danny overall doesnt target people based on identity (would kill a woman but not for being a woman type shit) but i think he breaks this rule once a year and kills the loudest homophobe on the first of pridemonth
oh, youâre into free use? is it because it lets someone else take over the responsibility of deciding when youâve contributed enough worth so you donât have to worry about whether or not youâre giving enough because someone else will just take it from you as they see fit?
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