The problem with having OCs is that sometimes you wanna read about your little guy being in situations but unfortunately he is YOUR little guy and no one is gonna put him in that situation but you. Tragic.
You are an unreliable narrator because your coping mechanisms for your deep-seated trauma forbid you from acknowledging the reality of the situation. I am an unreliable narrator because I sincerely have no idea what the fuck is going on.
trope i really like is self-loathing characters desperate for the catharsis of punishment for frankly rather selfish reasons who r also obsessed with repeatedly pressing others into hating them and hurting them as essentially a method of self harm. yes baby continue making it worse for urself and everybody around u instead of doing an actually productive and effective journey of improvement and redemption
Was really trying to follow the canon timeline with my venable fic, and like it kind of does, but only if you squint your eyes so tight they’re closed.
I told my mom that I was planning on going to grad school. She completely shit on it. Not because I was going to grad school, but because the career I want isn’t what she envisioned for me. She didn’t even try to be happy for me.
What’s worse is that I was expecting it. I wasn’t planning on telling her, but my sister had already said something. I knew she wouldn’t be excited for me. I knew she would try to talk me out of it. The funny thing is this is a career I’ve wanted for years, it’s not a surprise. It makes good money, and I’m good at it. It makes sense.
The good thing is, I’m still going to do it. I’ve learned that some of my best decisions have been things my parents have strongly pushed against. It just sucks that I don’t have a support system for it.
Short little update for you all, I know the beginning is slow but I promise it'll pick up soon! Thanks for reading!
Word count: 1.4k+
Warnings: Vomiting, references to ED, cannabilism (?)
GIF by rosalie-starfall
You spent the next day doing exactly that, stuffing your emotions down and following Venable around like a lost puppy. It became clear within the first hour that this position wasn’t a well thought out one, as Venable didn’t have a single thing for you to do. If she wasn’t doing it herself, Mead would do it, and you knew Venable was growing annoyed with your constant hovering, as were you.
Eventually, you gave yourself the task of refilling her water pitcher, if for nothing else then to give you something to do. While you knew Venable didn’t take to kindly to acting out of orders, you also knew she didn’t know what to do with you, and if she couldn’t find a purpose for you, it was only a matter of time before your purpose was her own sick entertainment.
You ignored her glare as you reached for the pitcher and walked out of the room, following the endless winding hallways down to the kitchen. You didn’t know the last time the pitcher had been replaced, so you handed it off to a member of the kitchen staff, choosing to sit there and watch while they scrubbed and put it through the dishwasher. The last thing you all needed was some sort of brain eating bacteria to spawn from the still water, and even if they were keeping up on sanitization practices, you didn’t think Venable had the forethought to not mess with the people that handled her food.
When you returned with the fresh pitcher, Venable seemed significantly less irritated with your presence, and you could see the wheels turning in her head, which was the entire point of your interruption. The woman had always been extremely set in her routines, and until you gave her something to give up, she wasn’t going to give up anything.
By the afternoon, she had thought of a few things to delegate to you, although they weren’t particularly interesting. She spent the rest of the afternoon introducing you to the people you would need to know and showing you the ropes but made sure to mention that she wouldn’t be showing you again. It wasn’t necessary, and she knew it wasn’t. You never needed to be shown something twice, it was one of the only reasons you had managed to stay in her good graces. There was nothing Venable hated more than having to repeat herself, so you made sure to pay attention, knowing very well what would happen if you didn’t.
She dismissed you shortly before dinner, giving you just enough time to change into your evening attire. You sat down at the table only moments before Venable appeared, her face smug as she stood at the head, and you eyed the pot next to her carefully. She began to speak about how difficult the past day had been, and how the group deserved a treat, lifting the lid of the pot to reveal some sort of stew. The server set down a bowl in front of you, but as you stared at it, you found your appetite to be missing.
Diane asked about the meat and Venable responded that they had resources, and you briefly wondered if the men that brought you also brought this. After all, what kind of meat would keep for nearly two weeks? You didn’t see a fridge or a freezer when you were in the kitchen, although to be fair, you didn’t see much. You felt Venable’s eyes on you as the residents questioned about the bones they were finding, but she couldn’t pay you much mind, not when Andre was jumping up and screaming “The stew is Stu!”
Chaos erupted, every resident jumping out of their seats as your head was spinning, but you stayed seated. As insidious as Venable was, cannibalism was a reach, and you knew she wasn’t stupid enough to feed you infected meat. Spoiled meat, however….
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be ridiculous.” Venable chided, cutting through the noise and snapping you back to reality, “There are lines that can never be crossed, and not eating people is of the first rank.”
“I don’t care what it is, it tastes divine,” Evie said, “And it’s full of fiber. I’m going to finish every drop.”
One by one, the group slowly returned to their seats, the once chatty group now dead silent as they ate their food, and Venable’s gaze returned to you, who still hadn’t touched your food. “Eat,” She demanded, nudging you with her foot, “Or you won’t eat again.”
You slowly picked up your spoon, managing to choke it down, but it was clear you were struggling. You didn’t know if you believed it was Stu, but now that the thought was there, it made it all the more unappetizing.
You managed to make it through social hour by the grace of god, and you expected to be able to retreat to your own room after, but Venable had other plans, ordering you to follow her back to her room. You did your best to control your rolling stomach as she went over the following day’s itinerary, but one second you were by her side, and the next you were running to the toilet, barely managing to get your head over the bowl before you watched your entire dinner come back out the way it came. Somewhere in the middle of the retching, you heard the taps of her cane, and you swore you felt a hand on your back, but when you were finally finished, you looked back and she was in the exact spot you had left her in, glaring at you.
You cleaned yourself up as quickly as you could, rinsing your mouth out in the sink before you rejoined her and stumbled out an apology, but she cut you off halfway.
“Well you certainly put on a show.” Venable snarled, “I’ll consider that the next time I think about being generous to you all.”
“Excuse me?” You asked, genuinely confused, but she only glared back at you, like her statement was obvious, “You think I did that on purpose?”
“You’ve only been here a day.” Venable bit, “Don’t try to pretend like you can’t handle a proper meal.”
“I can’t puke on command; I still need to shove my fingers down my throat like every other teenager.” You scoffed, “And for your information, I felt sick long before dinner, which is why I didn’t want to eat, but you so kindly insisted.”
Venable was taken aback by your directness, and for a moment you thought you saw genuine concern, but it was gone in a flash. “Well, are you alright?” She asked, her tone oozing with fake sympathy.
“I’m fine.” You snapped, “Now is there anything else you need, or can I be done for the night?”
Venable’s face set, “You’re dismissed.”
You glared back, “Goodnight, Miss Venable.”
When you returned to your room, you were quick to shower and crawl into bed. Although you hadn’t done much that day, you were exhausted, falling asleep practically as soon as your head hit the pillow. When you woke up in the middle of the night, you were surprised to see a cube on your bedside table, and more surprised that whoever dropped it off didn’t manage to wake you up, you had always been an incredibly light sleeper.
You stared at it, deciding that it must have been Venable’s form of an apology, either that or she was mocking you, you weren’t really sure. Still, you ate it in good faith, downing it with a sip of water before you pulled the covers back over you. You stared at the ceiling for a bit, willing yourself to fall back asleep, but you knew it was futile. You had never slept well, in fact, the only time you had slept well is when you were completely exhausted. Your mind was just too loud otherwise, which is why you would never admit it, but you preferred working for Venable.
There were always a million things to do and not enough time to do it, a challenge for you to conquer. But here, everything moved much slower, and it was becoming clear to you that while you were saved for a purpose, no one seemed to know what that purpose was, or what to do with you. If your life was now reduced to refilling water pitchers and delivering messages, you were truly screwed, and that scared you more than anything.
Had to give yall something on the Queen's birthday. Enjoy!
Words: 2k+
Warnings: Language
You weren’t told why they were taking you, and you weren’t told where. You had just gotten the alert on your phone when they showed up, dragging you out of the chaotic café just moments after the newscast went dead, a chilling rainbow of colors lighting up the screen.
Signal lost.
You weren’t sure how they found you, but suddenly you were being dragged down a series of stairs and locked in a cell, far below the city. A few moments later, you heard another cell open, then another, and then screams as the lights went out and the entire structure began to shake. The other two inhabitants talked to each other, but you didn’t make a sound, you couldn’t, not when you knew that all of this was your fault.
By the time they loaded you into the car two weeks later, you weren’t even sure your voice still worked. The other two were surprised that you had been below them all this time. They asked you questions, but you just stared blankly ahead, watching the never-ending haze that stretched in every direction.
When you arrived, you were sent to decontamination, being subjected to the same protocol you designed, being stripped bare and scrubbed down from head to toe. Somehow, knowing the very valid reasons behind it didn’t make it any more bearable, and you cursed yourself for designing something so inhumane. You trailed behind Emily and Timothy, staring down at the floor as you entered some sort of great room, and then you heard her speak.
Your head snapped up, only to find Venable staring right back at you, a hundred different emotions flashing across your features before the anger took over, your eyes going straight back to the floor, counting the cracks in the cement. You wondered if they had been there before, or if they had appeared after the blast, a flaw in the already fragile system.
You barely listened as she droned on about how you were the chosen ones to survive, a sour taste invading your mouth. This was the cruelest form of punishment, and maybe she knew that, maybe that was why you were spared, her personal chew toy that she could destroy on any and every whim. She rattled off the schedule and the rules: mealtimes are strictly enforced, social hour is mandatory, no sex allowed, and it was all you could do to not laugh. What a joke this was, adhering to any kind of schedule when the world was in ruins, when anyone you had ever loved was either incinerated, or dying a slow, agonizing death.
“Is there a problem?” Venable sneered, breaking you out of your thoughts. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but Emily and Timothy appeared to be long gone.
“I did everything you asked…” You ground out, glaring at the woman now perched in front of you.
Venable hummed, motioning for you to follow her, “And that is why you were spared.”
“Spared?” You chuckled darkly, “I was spared?”
“Yes,” Venable snapped, turning to glare at you, “You are here. You are alive. You were spared, and you should be grateful.” You rolled your eyes, and Venable motioned to a door, “This is your room, now get dressed before I change my mind and make you a grey.”
You huffed as she walked away, muttering, “You should have let me die.”
Venable turned on her heel, giving you a steely gaze, “I’ll be back shortly to discuss your duties, be ready. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
You walked into your room and slammed the door, ripping open your wardrobe and pulling out an all-black outfit and throwing it on the bed, plopping down as you began to work at the corset, pulling back when the tears were threatening to overflow. You thought about walking out the doors and into the nuclear winter, but you knew at this point it would only lead to a slow, painful death. It had been at least two weeks since the initial blast, and the radiation was already beginning to decay. If you were going to do it, it would have had to be long before this. Before, it would have been a simple “lights out” scenario, now, it would be cancer and starvation.
You didn’t realize how long you had been sitting there until you heard a knock on your door, quickly stripping and yanking the dress up your body, “Just a second!”
You should have known Venable wouldn’t wait, the door opening only a moment later. Luckily, you had the dress most of the way on, but your back was still exposed as you fought with the strings of the corset. “You should have already been dressed.” Venable sneered.
You sighed, “The dress was a little more complicated than I anticipated.”
Venable rolled her eyes and you refocused on lacing your dress, your hands fumbling as you heard the taps of her cane, and you jumped when you felt her cold rings on your back. “Stay still.” She chided, her hands gliding over the strings as she tightened every row, the action making your already struggling lungs feel even more constricted and bringing a fresh set of tears to your eyes. After she tied them in a bow, you turned to face her, trying and failing to hide how you were gasping for breath. “Is it too tight?” She asked, her eyes glancing over you.
You shook your head, only to be met with a look, so you doubled down, “It’s not too tight. Thank you, Miss Venable.”
Venable nodded curtly, “Very well. Follow me.”
You ended up in her room, staring at a dinosaur of a desktop. “Unfortunately, the server is hardwired to the system and can’t be moved, so you’ll have to work in here.”
You glanced over at her, “What do you mean?”
Venable pointed to the computer, “This is why Jeff and Mutt wanted you to be saved. You created the system, you’ll be the one to upkeep and monitor it.”
You shook your head, “Have there been any issues?”
“No,” Venable said, pursing her lips, “But I’m sure there will be something, updates you have to run.”
You shook your head again, “That’s not a good idea. If the system is functioning how you want it to, you don’t want to introduce new codes. It could create a bug.”
Venable cocked her head, her eyes raking over you, “How do you know there isn’t a bug already?”
“I tested the system thousands of times, under hundreds of conditions with 100% success.” You explained, “If it fails, it isn’t because of a coding error, it’s a mechanical issue, and I can’t fix that.”
“You always have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Venable sneered, “Why would they want you down here if you weren’t of any use?”
“I don’t know.” You said, shaking your head, more confused than anything, “They would have known that I couldn’t do anything.”
Venable rolled her eyes, “Well, I guess I’ll have to find something else for you to do so that you’re not completely useless.” You nodded, waiting for further instruction, but she just huffed, “That will be all.”
You went back to your room, sitting on the bed and staring at the wall until dinner. You followed the other guests to the dining room, quietly introducing yourself to the others as you waited for the meal to be served and choosing to spend the remaining time taking in your surroundings. While you had designed practically all of the features of this outpost, there was some novelty to it. Despite having electricity, the entire bunker was lit by candlelight, and it gave you just enough distance from the whole thing to give you some relief from the guilt you felt swirling in your gut.
You refocused just as dinner was brought out, seeing the gelatinous nutrition cube centered on your plate. Another thing that was new to you. You had heard about these things in passing at your old job, and you assumed there would be some form of food source, but your brain had never connected the dots. You heard another resident begin to complain, whining about how much money they paid to be fed scraps, and then you heard the slap, snapping your gaze up and watching your bosses hand drop back down to her side. You didn’t believe what you were seeing. Sure, Venable had always been a particular kind of cruel, but you had never seen her so much as pinch another person, let alone hit them.
“I received correspondence from the cooperative. Three of the other outposts have been overrun, we are the last of civilization.”
“That’s impossible.” You said, your eyes wide and frantic as you searched for any indication that she was playing some kind of fucked up joke, but she simply raised her eyebrows knowingly.
“Nothing is impossible these days.”
You nodded, fixing your features and focusing on your food, staring down at the plate so hard you thought you might burn a hole right through it, your mind going over and over every code you wrote, every protocol you built. How could it have failed that quickly? All those people, dead because of you, because of what you built. They thought they were paying for a sanctuary, instead they got a tomb.
You heard the numerous footsteps approaching and glanced up, only to see a woman you didn’t recognize. “There’s been a radiation spike. Someone went outside.”
Venable glared at the group as they all proclaimed their innocence, but she found her eyes drifting to you, who stayed silent. You didn’t move when they ran the sensor over you, didn’t even flinch, your face was just blank. No worry, no anger, no fear, nothing, and Venable began to wonder if she made a mistake bringing you here. While she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that you wouldn’t have some sort of reaction, she did expect something different out of you, although she wasn’t sure exactly what. She still wasn’t sure what made her save you in the first place.
The sensors went off, the two culprits dragged out kicking and screaming, but it didn’t bring the satisfaction that Venable though it would. Maybe it wasn’t exciting enough, or maybe it was the way you glared at her, but either way, Venable felt something unfamiliar stirring in her chest.
Guilt.
She didn’t like it, shaking her hands like it would somehow flick off and splatter the walls like wet sand. She looked away from you, choosing to eat the rest of her dinner in silence like the rest of the inhabitants. After all, this was only the first act.
When Gallant returned towards the end of social hour, Venable watched as he recounted the events to the rest of the group. How he was scrubbed down raw, how they weren’t able to clean Stu, how he was shot. She watched you fidget, watched your cheeks flush and your breath quicken, and she felt that same feeling again. She looked away, and when she looked back, you were gone.
You slipped away the first chance you had, sprinting back to your room and closing the door, struggling to breathe as you fumbled for the strings at your back and desperately tried to untie the knot with shaky hands. It wasn’t happening fast enough, so you dug your nails in and pulled. You heard the threads straining, then your shoulder broke free, and you used the leverage from the newly torn fabric to rip the dress down and off your body, curling up on the stone floor as your body was wracked with heaving sobs. It was all too much for your brain to process, you couldn’t think. Everything was hitting you all at once, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. This was your life now.
When the tears finally subsided, you looked up, only to see Venable towering in front of you, and you quickly moved to cover your exposed body with your arms. Venable didn’t seem to notice, or care, her eyes moving from your face to the clearly ripped dress on the floor.
“It wouldn’t come off.” You whispered, your voice hoarse from all the wailing.
Venable nodded, but barely, “Until I find a purpose for you, you’ll be my personal assistant.” You nodded, confused as Venable reached down and picked up your dress, running her fingers over the ripped seam, “I’ll fix it, but it would be in your best interest to keep your emotions in check.”
Timothy and Emily being in the bunker was foreshadowing, which we know because at the end of season 8 we see that their child is the second antichrist (which makes absolutely no sense but whatever, we’ll ignore it). But, it also foreshadows that the antichrist is an endless loop, when one falls, another rises in its place.
Which means, Mallory is going to have to battle the antichrist again and again, potentially for eternity because the timeline keeps getting rewound. Now, each time that timeline is pushed slightly back, but still.
In order for Mallory to gain her power, Cordelia has to fall. She has to die in every timeline, over and over and over again. And based on the first time around, it’s heavily implied that she will have to kill herself in order to do it. Every. Single. Time.
Imagine you spend your whole life thinking you’re worthless, and when you finally think you’ve figured it out, you realize your worth is in your death. And not only does it happen once, but you have to do it again and again.
Timothy and Emily being in the bunker was foreshadowing, which we know because at the end of season 8 we see that their child is the second antichrist (which makes absolutely no sense but whatever, we’ll ignore it). But, it also foreshadows that the antichrist is an endless loop, when one falls, another rises in its place.
Which means, Mallory is going to have to battle the antichrist again and again, potentially for eternity because the timeline keeps getting rewound. Now, each time that timeline is pushed slightly back, but still.
In order for Mallory to gain her power, Cordelia has to fall. She has to die in every timeline, over and over and over again. And based on the first time around, it’s heavily implied that she will have to kill herself in order to do it. Every. Single. Time.
Imagine you spend your whole life thinking you’re worthless, and when you finally think you’ve figured it out, you realize your worth is in your death. And not only does it happen once, but you have to do it again and again.
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