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Psychopath - Blog Posts
Top tip- avoid anyone who calls c!dream a psychopath.
Evan Rosier does sock shoe sock shoe
Saix... Oh, Saix. He is an absolute asshole!
burn
It wasn’t about him. It was never about him.
In fact, she never meant for him to have any involvment in the matter, never meant for him to ever know about it. He was never meant to know anything.
It had started long before she ever knew him.
It started when her father had brought out a lighter one evening. He opened his pack of cigarettes and took a long drag, his shoulders relaxing. He sunk into the chair. He no longer cared about hiding his addiction from his daughter, playing with a doll idly on the carpeted floor, six years old and quiet as a mouse.
She was known for being a rather emotionless child. Not once had she laughed or grinned or cried. Her mother fretted about her, but her father didn’t mind. No tantrums was fine with him. The lack of feelings wasn’t a problem with him. She watched with glazed eyes as flaky ashes fell to the carpet. She stared at them as they floated gently to the floor, choking and coughing a bit from the fumes.
She stared even longer at the lighter. How could a fire be hiding in the tiny object?
Late into the night, she snuck into the living room where the lighter was still lying next to the ashtray, and stole it. The next morning, she hid it in her backpack and ran off into the woods to play.
It was yellow and shiny and had a grey top that flipped open. She immediately was fascinated, entranced. Her eyes lit up for the first time. It was so small, but had such power! When she mimicked her father’s motions, it let out a fizzling spark once, twice, thrice, and then burst into a tiny flame.
She knew what she was doing tomorrow. Her eyes burned with the fire she now possessed.
Her mother found the neighbor’s cat later that month, half-decomposed and covered in soot, and she had screamed. It was the kind of scream from a horror movie that got half-hearted reviews, one that never really sent shivers down your spine. It never even got under her skin. She didn’t care that she had been found out. The cat was annoying anyways. Her flames were bright, unstoppable, unable to be extinguished, and she would feed the fire until everything came down around her.
Years later, in her twenties, she met him. Her lover. He was sunny and bright and passionate and emotional and everything she wasn’t. He was her fire. She wanted him, in a way that she hadn’t wanted since she’d laid her eyes on that lighter over a decade ago.
And eventually, she got him. It seemed like she had attached herself to him, in a strange way. She wanted him to be hers, and only hers, but shied away from affection and emotion. She didn’t know how to respond to his hugs, how to smile for him. She didn’t know how to be genuine.
And that meant that she had to avoid him, and that meant that she left the house often, coat over her shoulders and lighter in her pocket.
She didn’t know what she wanted more, him or her fire. And that scared her.
She hadn’t known what it was like to be scared before.
She flicked the lighter, and threw it down on the large pile of dry grass and twigs at her feet. The willow tree sheltered the newborn flame, and it slowly climbed higher and higher. As it began to lick the tree top, she backed away to admire the light in the drizzling rain. Her light.
Her eyes gleamed.
Her fire burned.
Her lover still smiled for her when she came home. He smiled through watery eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her late return or from the water drops tapping out a rhythm on the sidewalk or from the ash that clung to her shoulders, even through the rain. She didn’t know how to understand what he felt on their best days together.
He hugged her close and securely whenever she came home, and she responded the same. Her eyes were as dry as the Sahara, saved from the rain by her umbrella, glazed over with disinterest. Waiting for the next opportunity to buy another lighter. To buy more gasoline. To build a stack of sticks and grass. To relish in the newfound brightness.
To burn.
(She never thought about how he had had an umbrella of his own when she came out to greet him, and how his clothes were dry.)
She would set the world on fire just to watch it go ablaze, and she would smile the same smile she always had before. An answering smile. An answer to the questions, to the counselors at school and the dead cat her mother found covered in charcoal and gasoline, to the classmates who were afraid of her in kindergarten, to the prescriptions in her cabinet, ever fluorescent.
To her lover, whose eyes were still full of water on the sunniest day of the year. She still ignored the drip-dropping of water on her neck whenever they hugged.
(It wasn’t raining.)
(She didn’t know how to explain it, so she avoided it.)
(Sometimes, she thinks that he cries because he doesn’t know what to do anymore.)
He cried when she left and cried when she came home, and he cried when he was alone and cried when she was with him. He cried when she smelled like a campfire and when she had ashes sprinkled in her hair, and he cried when their budgeting started to include lighters and gasoline.
He cried every tear that she never could.
Sometimes she wished that she could cry for him instead. He must have been so dehydrated.
(For his birthday, she bought him a nice water bottle. “So you can stay hydrated. You cry an awful lot,” she said. He grinned and hugged her, then pulled away quickly.
“Thank you.” His lips were wobbly and saltwater streamed down his cheeks. She smelled like a campfire.)
She always had grey peppering her clothes. Her smile was subdued, but her eyes were distant and wild. Like they knew something. Like they had already watched the world burn down in their head a million times, and enjoyed every second.
A psychopath.
An arsonist.
Someone who burned trees and papers for fun. Someone who bought too many lighters in too little time. (The gas station attendant had never seen so many lighters be laid out on the checkout counter.) Someone who watched her lover cry and looked away with disinterest. Someone who didn’t leave the house one day to burn.
(He was still home, crying in the corner. She didn’t notice him until the end.)
Someone who never cried when she watched her lover scream and his tears evaporate, ugly crying, with eyes of crimson and half moon bruises underneath and snot running down his face, saltwater on his tongue and dripping off his chin just to go up and evaporate in flames and smoke.
Someone who died with her lover by accident and didn’t care. Someone who watched the flames with gleaming eyes until the end.
(Her eyes were still gleaming when they burned to the ground.)
Ok listen to me : FEYD DOING THIS TREND 🙏🏻😩
I'm gonna shift tn just to make him do this CAUSE MAN.. WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THAT PRETTY DARK TEETH WITHOUT MEEEEHEHSUAHAHAHA !?!? 🛐🛐🛐
LIKE COME RIGHT ON ME. I MEAN CAMARADERIE!!! 😳
IT HAS TO.
I know they're not gonna do this, but I hope that if/when Marie Fenring is introduced in the Dune movies, she looks exactly the same as Feyd-Rautha, except with a little bow stapled to her bald head like these edits I found on Pinterest
She's played by Austin Butler of course, Denis just makes him crouch the whole time
Me : spending my time daydreaming about Feyd and my Dune DR while I keep doing tiktok 'boyfriend's trends' w him (a fictional character instead of a real boy🙏🏻😭)
#fanfiction #feydrautha #duneparttwo #fictionalcharacters #loveofmylife
#how to make my fictional boyfriend real
Me and Feyd fr 🎀💋
#he is in my DR
#im worse just for thinking we're soulmates
My baby girl 🎀🙏🏻
girls will look at a man and say “he’s just misunderstood” as he murders people
I feel like I'm slowly going CRAZY INSANE.
Like you tell me I'm going to shift for this mannnnnn! 😩🙏🏻 He's my soulmate I know it, I just know it.
Look at this babyyyyyy 🎀🩶🙀
When someone says free use does that include harvesting their organs??
Asking for a friend… that friend be me 🙋🏻♂️
Brothers gotta pay the bills
People: "what's your favorite thing in the world?"
Me:
AM I BEAUTIFUL?
I dont have much new art of Spire but he’s one of my favorite ocs as well🤲 I love villains
When you read about the “dark triad” in psychology, but it’s really just a mic n match of your exes and love interests💝💝
In what type of computer simulation did you see jet stream air at the top but almost zero air flow at sea level? Or is all this just a cheap substandard trick to hide the conspiracies going on against human health by misusing the power of radio wave science technology in the name of summer season? So that's what nato's slaves do in the name of anything. So this is what the slaves of nato are expecting us to believe any of their nonsense with any nonsense substandard reason. So this is what the psychopaths of nato are expecting us to believe whatever nonsense they say about any temperature of the weather for any nonsense reason. Heating the living human bodies with microwave radiation & then blaming the summer weather for everything?!
19/05/2024, sunday 19 may 2024, 01:47 a.m, indore, madhya pradesh, india.
Villains: Bulletstorm (Richard Cardinez)
Richard was raised by a backwoods family in New Mexico, and was taught how to use a gun at the age of 7. By the time he was 15, he was skilled enough to shoot flies out of the air with perfect precision. Unfortunately, the only thing he was good at was killing, and he began to develop a bloodlust. Because of this, Richard grew into a highly volatile and impulsive person. During his time in high school, Richard’s abusive brother Hector was killed during a night out with friends, and it is heavily suspected (though never proven) that Richard was the one responsible. After growing into adulthood, Richard moved away from his home town and decided to pursue a career outside of his family. Not much is known about what happened after he left, but 10 years later, Richard resurfaced as a bounty hunter & assassin. Unlike other assassins, Richard uses older firearms from before the 22nd century, due to the fact that it’s what he was raised with. Despite his old-fashioned methods, he’s skilled enough to shoot Black Streak in the leg at his top speed, which is faster than light.
Villains: King Ace (Adrien Halbert)
Adrian is the son of a family of wealthy British nobles who was the black sheep of his bloodline. His family utterly despised him for his love of literature and music, often abusing him for his intelligence. Eventually, the abuse led to Adrian becoming a sadistic psychopath and murdering his family in return. After that, he left the manor and started an anarchic biker gang, one that spread chaos and death wherever they went. Adrian isn’t doing this for money or any physical reward, for the most part. He’s doing it simply because he loves to do wrong, and sees an artistic light to it. The man’s a sadist, plain and simple, but what’s so unsettling is how much he enjoys what he does. The smile on his face is pure delight, he is in heaven. To him, causing chaos and misery is like reaching Nirvana on a roller coaster, and he loves every second of it. He speaks very fluently, using a mixture of high society and street vernacular. He’s obviously the most intelligent out of his group, and often conducts his crimes as if they were a symphony, and every person and object were his instruments. He sees himself as something of a performer, or an artist.
,,Psychotic Laughter''
@therealjacksepticeye
Here is a compilation of some dark sides from youtubers, that I know.
Hope ya like it! ^^
@therealjacksepticeye
@thekedoszone
@jrdiehl96
@markiplier
''Don't trust Toss Boy''
@therealjacksepticeye
Here is a little fan art for Jack's Animal Crossing Character Toss Boy! Hope ya like it! ^^