#you GLORIFIED TERRORISM AND SUICIDE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stargirl-writes · 5 months

Text

heal

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 3.5 k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

in which anakin skywalker chooses to run away with you before all is lost in mustafar.

tags : au, angst!!, hurt/no comfort

warnings : toxic love, dark fic, ptsd, and reader being so dependent on anakin, suicidal behavior

notes : my reader character being a healer is my self indulgent insert 😭

i've sat w this 4 so long cause i was like 'realistically, what would happen if anakin ran away?' and i think i've finally made up my mind abt it.

time is moving fast for this fic because i wanted to cover so much, so heads up for the skips!

ALSO, ear-ringing apologist perspective. if u can't handle reader being blind to faults, this is not for u haha!

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

At least, it was something you want believed in.

The clone war that raged on revealed just how much people can be persuaded to do horrible things when their survival is at stake.

You underestimated that instinct yourself. The burning desperation to not lose your Anakin Skywalker. You thought, you would have killed for him, the way he would for you.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one to tell you how Anakin became irredeemable.

It was a blur how you flew to Mustafar despite it. You needed Anakin to admit to it, you needed to take him away from what he'll become.

The crimes he committed made you feel sick, septic like a festering wound.

But, whether you love what you love.

Or live in divided ceaseless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.

You've been so alone. So much so, you can only define a time with Anakin, and without him.

It was gradual. It couldn't have been some higher power that destined you to him, He had been a General of a war, and you, the Healer. It was all odds, that you fell in the right place at the wrong time.

An unwilling hero, and a glorified murderer.

He was crafted to be a tool in the war. Divinely created by the Force with the purpose of bringing balance. And in a war, that meant doing damage, killing.

Every victory he had was a stark contrast to yours.

Every life he takes, be it a droid or a separatist, is a win. And every life you lose is a name added to the long list of casualties.

You and Anakin were opposites.

So, the shock of it remains, because somehow along the way, Anakin loved you. And you loved him. You had each other to cling to.

The terror of What if it doesn't last, What if there's no one else? What happens if it goes back to being alone? persists.

And you might not belong anywhere else.

But you were his. As he is yours. Not in the manner of possession. Yours in the way of devotion.

Mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love.

You knew that Anakin's love was conditional. You were only the one in front of him. You didn't misunderstand. You let him use you anyway.

It's not like you were loving him unconditionally, it was because you were terrified to be lonely.

At least, in the beginning, you believed so.

Most days were occupied by your duties. And Anakin would love you in a way that is shaped like fingers wrapped around a throat. Incessant. Hungry. Teeth deep in possession. Making up for the little time, holding you against him as if he was bracing himself that someday you won't be around.

It felt like he was always saying goodbye.

So, though your heart was nearly breaking out of your ribs, you flew by yourself to Mustafar.

A pile of lifeless Separatist figures greeted you in horror.

It was true. Anakin had gone to the dark side. What he did with those children...

The fear consumed you like a corrosion, but still, you stood in front of him, begging him to come back.

Anakin had carried a deep malaise when you had found him. It was almost emanating from his blood-stained robe, a coldness, a deadly assurance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anakin says in a strangled voice. His hands firmly holding your arms.

The color of his eyes startled you. It was like looking at a ghost, and all that was left was an unending rage. You fought to not let your fear swallow you.

"Anakin, we have to go" Your lips quivered, not entirely sure what you were planning.

There will never be escaping the things he's done.

You want him to go away with you, anyway.

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

For a while, it was quiet. Anakin's glossy blue eyes were gazing at you, in conflict, and begging to be understood.

"I can't... Don't you see? I've restored justice to the galaxy" He abruptly lets go, and turns, concealing his face away from your sight. "The things I've done... I can't, there's no running away from it"

The guilt he feels leads him to think that the only path now is through the one he sacrificed his morality for.

"No," you struggled, voice failing to hide your anguish. "Anakin, you can't let this be your fate. Run away with me." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears.

A life of loneliness. With no one, the way it used to.

Then, Anakin half turns. He surveys your willingness to take him as he is. Maybe, even wanting to believe it.

You have always loved Anakin, even the parts you have not understood.

Perhaps, this was the similarity that bound you together. Burning devotion. One that allows you to see past your moral code.

You gave so much to the war. You'd run yourself spent from the hours. You fought so hard to keep people from dying. You'd never taken anything but this. A chance at life. Away from it all.

"I would've done anything you asked of me" His voice reveals his devastation.

You stepped forward, "Then come with me, Leave it all behind, I need you"

You held your breath, half convinced that this may very much be the end of things.

But Anakin takes your hand, and you don't waste a minute more to take him away in your ship.

Your hands shook the entire time.

The galaxy was silent when the war ended.

Mace Windu's attempt to assassinate the Chancellor made the Jedi an enemy of the Empire.

It triggered an Order that made clone soldiers turn against their Generals. The Jedi are hunted down for treason.

You and Anakin will never find security again.

The atmosphere was thick with emotions that were strained by the abruptness of events. It was making it so much harder to breathe. To live with the truth of it.

All three years of the war are reduced to two moments; Anakin falling into Palpatine's manipulation, and Anakin choosing to run away with you.

You caught yourself slipping away. Tucked in a corner of your mind where you can feel safe.

The healer's oath replays in your mind, the cruelest reminder.

Blind to faults, blind to good. Serve to save, not to see.

As the jedi healer, you weren't allowed to deny patients. You wondered whether that played into role when you stomached all the horrible things Anakin did. Serve to save, despite, despite, despite...

You landed in a remote place on your home planet of Hapes.

It was a secluded cabin that you used to go to when you were younger. Surrounded by a lake that stretches as far as your eyes can see. It was the first thing that came to mind when you set your ship on autopilot.

Anakin was quiet the entire time.

You, too, became paralyzed by the events that has unraveled.

For a few days, it remained like that.

Though the event has passed, your body can't quite regulate.

It still feels as though someone will find you. And take Anakin with them. You knew your hypervigilance was a consequence of your trauma, but knowing doesn't mean you can let the feeling go.

Even Anakin responds to mild stressors as if he was still in the war. He'd not let you off his sight the first few weeks.

You felt as though Anakin was trying to process everything in his mind. And you grew terrified of his growing silence. Knowing Anakin meant knowing his tendencies to vacillate violently. The reality of what he had done would set and it'd twist into something septic. An unending shame.

You were convinced that he'd have killed himself from it.

But then he'd stare at you deeply as if he was committing you to memory. He'd coddle your face in his palm. He'd hold your hand, hands that are capable of so much rage, and so much tenderness. He'd hold you tight against him in bed, the way he used to.

He can't quite communicate it through words yet, so he'd rely on his touch to let you know that he was still here. Your anxieties eased after. He needed to detangle it on his own. You'd be there whenever he is ready.

Obi-Wan Kenobi appears the next month.

It was through luck that you were the one to open the door.

You knew Obi-Wan would want Anakin to answer for the crimes he's committed.

You won't let him.

"What do you want?" You say cautiously. Stepping forward to the Jedi Master to stop him from entering your new home.

Obi-wan furrows his eyebrows at your action. He gazes at you for a moment before speaking up. "You know what he's done, [Name]"

"The Republic has fallen. The system that replaced it won't hold him to what he's done. It's the very reason for its existence, anyway"

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flashed hearing your words. It seemed as though you'd be the last person he'd expect to exhibit such... heartlessness.

"And what, do you intend to keep him here forever?"

You looked down, fiending an expression of indifference you learnt from Anakin.

"I'm more selfish than he is"

Obi-Wan sighs. There were no more Jedi Council to hold Anakin accountable. You wonder if Obi-Wan had gone looking for him out of the responsibility he felt he had. You could use that.

"If you have any love left for Anakin, You'll leave him with me" You persuaded.

Obi-Wan sharply looks at you. You knew he was being torn apart by his mind and heart.

The door swings, revealing Anakin who appears behind you.

Anakin's arm extends to put you behind him. Obi-Wan was caught, stricken by the sight of his apprentice. You held on to Anakin's forearm.

You held your breath.

Then, Obi-Wan opens his arm to hug Anakin.

Anakin froze, perhaps not expecting his Master to embrace him after...

He turns his head to look at you, then back to his Master. And he reluctantly wraps his arm around Obi-Wan.

You exhaled finally.

You saw Obi-Wan's glossy eyes as he pulled away. He may not forgive Anakin for all the things he's responsible for, but his love for him surpasses all the anger he has.

Gaining his master's acceptance, Anakin became recognizable once more.

However, Obi-Wan could not stay. Perhaps, he's grown sick of stomaching the love he had for Anakin. It was not an easy feeling to be fond of.

When Obi-Wan left, Anakin finally came to you.

It hauntingly paralleled the moment he broke down after he lost his mother. After he gave in to his rage. Only this time, he didn't hold the pose of defiance and came undone, weeping for what he'd done.

You held him and told him that what matters now is what he'll choose to do.

And in the months that come, Anakin has fought to deserve your forgiveness.

He wanted to earn your love.

As a healer, your experience with foraging natural medicine made you more equipped to build a sustainable life. In six months, you were able to make this house by the lake a place to call home.

But, Anakin is being dragged through time. He'd do his best to help, but you can feel his... silence. The weight of it, this was not the life he was groomed to have. He has always lived off the adrenaline. The absence of it makes him constantly feel as though he is at the other end of the high.

It'd worry you whenever he comes home late from a hunt. He's always been reckless, that much hasn't changed. He'd come home covered in tissue deep cuts, bruised muscles, and a dead-pan look in his eyes. It was a topic that you tried to communicate— and a topic Anakin would respond defensively to.

"It's nothing" He'd dismiss whilst you were dressing the wound.

You'd press the clean gauze over his skin, on the brink of anxiety. He'd wince and take the gauze from your hand.

And you'd stand up and leave, because your patience would have run out by then.

It upset you how he always stands on a cliff to wait for the winds to swoon him over because he won't jump, he won't make that decision himself.

Your breaths were shallow as you tried to calm down after yelling about how his passivity over danger was eating at you. You needed him to try. Because you can't save him on your own.

"I'm sorry" Anakin looks down, receding. " I just don't know how to do this" He admits, eyes wide, childlike, helpless.

And you thaw, breaths shallow as you fought to not cry from the anger.

"Anakin, if you don't..." You began, looking down at the ground as if the words would appear before you there. "if you don't want this anymore, you can go"

Because the entire year you have spent in this cabin, it felt like time has frozen. You hoped that in time, you and Anakin would find the courage to move past the war. Of course, it was futile, you can never take back what you've given to the effort.

Whatever is left of you and Anakin is all there is now. And sometimes, it feels like there is nothing. Just ghosts of who you once were. You weren't sure if being with you was making any difference at all.

You were selfish, but not enough to keep him as he wastes away. You'd let him go, even if it'd cripple you forever.

Anakin grabs both of your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up to him.

"Why do you think I came with you?" Anakin's voice was stern. His eyes fixed, determined to imprint words to your heart.

You held on to his arm, swallowing your anguish. "I only meant that if I'm not doing you any good, you should—"

"And where would I go?" He interrupts, unrelenting.

"I don't know" You admitted. You're ruining him. You've done this to him. You should let him go.

His grip loosened, and his lips kept opening and closing as if he was eating up the words before letting it leave his mouth.

"—I'm trying, [Name]"

"I'm giving you my life, I don't have anything larger to give" His voice breaks, and his head dips. "I'm trying" he repeats.

You felt his tears warm against your clavicle. Your fingers tangling with his hair.

"I know, Ani" You coo gently. "We'll try together" You promised.

It was becoming clearer that he was alleviating his sins by trying to kill the entity that once controlled him. It was also becoming harder to see a monster when all you see is Anakin, the love you abandoned everything for.

Anakin, who was sold as a slave, and then freed, only to be chained to another lifelong servitude through the Jedi. Anakin, who was dropped in the middle of a war, and made responsible for a child whilst being a child himself.

The Jedi Order relied on his nature of winning, despite not agreeing with his tactics. He'd be patronized for his violence, which his life would soon be defined by. Anakin's worst action is murder, the same way his best action is murder. Because if he doesn't answer to the shots fired, he'd be the one receiving them.

He was never afforded any space to become anything else.

Except when he's with you.

Anakin can become cruel, the same way he is loving. Two truths can exist at the same time.

And with the months that flew by, you watched as Anakin continually chose to not let his darkness define him.

You were learning things about him that you couldn't have had during the war. The way he neatly keeps inventory of his tools. The intense focus in his eyes when he is concentrating. The way the wood creaks— the cadence of his steps. All committed to memory because no one else can know him the way you do.

He told you, you saved him. And you wept, unsure whether what you did was really an act of selflessness.

Living with him became easier. No more effort to try to gain his love. No approval, no admiration to attain. There is no role to play, no one to convince. Just, being. There was so much time, and the only thing that mattered was; how long do we have each other?

Most days, Anakin would carry his grief so well, that you'd forget it was even there. He'd work to minimize it, to live with it. However, when the dark comes, he has no control over his dreams. and the overwhelming shame and guilt seep.

It had been two years when you woke up abruptly to find the space beside you empty.

You grabbed your robe, the cold midnight air felt crisp against your skin. Finding Anakin was easy. He'd always wander towards the edge of the lake, staring at the moons.

"It's cold, Ani, come back to sleep" You urged, but Anakin's gaze was far away.

He has chopped some of his hair, and it looked the way it used to during the war. It startles you sometimes to remember how young he still was.

"I had a dream" He speaks softly, arms finding a way to snake around you so he'd press you against him. "It felt as real as you now" His gaze lands on you.

It terrified you to ask, but you did anyway.

"We had a child"

Oh.

You chuckled in surprise. Stepping back to process what he said. It just never seemed to occur to you, then. Though you have never dismissed the idea, it just felt like you were barely surviving to try to raise a child.

Anakin smiles when he realizes he made you flustered. "Good thing it was only a dream?"

You let out a breathless laugh, somehow relieved that Anakin was not seriously considering it.

"Yes," You weren't ready. You may never find it in yourself to ever be ready.

"We're not bringing a child now, not like this"

Anakin's expression melts, "Yes, the empire is growing stronger" His guilt resurfaces.

"I never imagined it to be like this for us," He thinks out loud,

"We have to make the best of what we have" You sigh.

"I've been thinking" Anakin begins, "maybe, there is still something that can be done"

You try steadying your breath, somehow bracing yourself for this moment; when he'll want to fight again.

It was everything he was made for. You knew that, you just didn't think it'd be in under a short period.

Something was screaming inside you. A fear, that you thought had gone when you ran away with Anakin. It was telling you that you were going to lose him. And you, selfishly, want to stop him. He can't... if he goes, he'll die. And you can't even begin to imagine what'll happen to you if he dies.

"How?" You asked despite yourself.

"Ahsoka mentioned something about a rebellion," He says, voice thick with something he hasn't had before. Hope.

"The galaxy needs changing" He steps forward.

You shook your head, overcome by the anxiety of it. "Anakin, I'm never going back"

He turns on his heel, eyes narrowed at your proclamation. "I didn't ask you to come back"

You tilt your head, "Of course, you weren't" Though you knew you were being unfair, just the idea of it was sending stress already.

Anakin's eyebrows knit. "I'm only thinking out loud, it's one thing to consider it but another to act on it" He defends.

Though, you know this is where it begins. And you were responding defensively because you knew where it would lead.

Anakin will forever feel as though he has to restore the galaxy to how it was before he helped destroyed it. It won't be long until he'd despise himself for choosing to stay here with you. Especially since it's been drilled into him that he's supposed to be the one to bring balance to the force.

Whether he loves you or lives in a divided ceaseless revolt against it, what he chooses to love is your fate.

His purpose or you.

Going would give him his closure.

Going would anchor you to the hells of your biggest fear.

"Anakin, please don't go where I can't follow" Your voice broke, begging. It was selfish to want to keep him for the second time.

And you weren't sure whether your love would be enough for Anakin to stay.

Not when it only brought him here, a home by the lake, forever standing on thin ice that always threatened to break under.

You were living under the false pretense of security. All of this, the house, the lake, the isolation, are reminders that you and Anakin will never go back to normalcy, no matter how much you pretend.

A knife may dull, but its purpose remains to cut.

Anakin's expression softens and he presses his lips on the temples of your forehead.

You were slowly understanding that the entire galaxy's fate was carried inside Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one.

Every decision he made was informed by that pressure. No matter how personal, it always builds to a path that he can't control, because it's already laid out for him.

Created by the force, to be used by the force.

So you can't find the heart to be angry when he left.

You decided it would be hopeless to try to stop him. Anakin has this view that everything in his life, he has to work to earn. To deserve.

Even this... freedom that you have.

He has to contribute to it, in this perverse grandiose action as to fight the Empire. So he can accept that you do indeed love him.

He has to seize this opportunity with Ahsoka. He is more autonomous of his power now. He is once again engaging in something that's risking his life. He can fulfill his destiny.

It didn't make it any less painful.

You had to inspire confidence in him, otherwise, he'd doubt. So, you pushed all your feelings away and smiled when you kissed him goodbye.

You never left the war. The two years you stole were only stalling the inevitable. Perhaps, two years was too generous.

"Bring him back, please" You took Ahsoka aside. Ahsoka nods uncommitedly. For, she won't promise what she can't deliver.

And once again, you have found yourself alone.

He swore he'd have done anything for you.

Just not this one.

His belief that he has no inherent right to life; and has to work to earn anything made you feel as though you were his... prize. A trophy. In which he'd fight for to retain but not value enough to take care of.

He should've stayed. It's good he left.

Because now that you have nothing, you're finally able to detangle how Anakin doesn't love you. Not in the way you thought. Anakin loves that he has you.

You have always put his wellness first, that now, when you are not so worried by walking carefully around his hurt, you are able to feel yours.

Perhaps, losing Anakin was good. You can finally put yourself first. Whilst he still seeks answers in the past

There is no going back to the way it was. You tried living 'normally' and it just became a bitter reminder that you are forever changed.

Acceptance of that and lending yourself a little more compassion might just be the beginning of your healing.

footnote

i'm obsessed with the writing style where authors strikes through the text ! it's such a smart way to imply that the character that's narrating is choosing not to allow those thoughts and so it looks like it's been scribbled out .

also, quoting ka applegate on relationships not lasting outside the war :

"wars don't end happily. not ever. often relationships that were central during war, dissolve during peace. some people who were brave and fearless in a war are unable to handle peace, feel disconnected and confused. "

#anakin skywalker #anakin (ciella's ver)#star wars #sw #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin star wars #anakin skywalker fic #fanfic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader

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the-rocket-scientist · 11 months

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Yandere! Alt. Gabriel X Reader (ROMANTIC) (Part 1)

Honestly I was waiting for this request to come while having no plot ready in mind Requested by Nadmur on AO3 Warning: gore, inhumane features, death, suicide, lengthy writing, kind of angsty? Not very heavy on angst tho (Alt. Gabriel = Lucifer Toonbriel = Gabriel)

. . . . .

You are a child of a humble shepherd, and one of God's most devoted followers.

You held the Bible in your hands every morning and every night, and prayed to Him and glorified Him and asked for His mercy. Although your friends around you have scolded you for believing such lies, you only felt pity for them that they would end up in Hell if they kept denying the truth. You have tried countless of times to spread the word of God, the Gospel. But some people, like your friends, weren't so open to messages. There was word that spread around those days, the Son of God would descend from the Heavens and would be brought upon to Earth. But people were getting impatient and was losing their faith. You stayed strong, just like your mother and father. Your family wasn't the richest, as your mother made crafts and delicious goods to sell, and you had to admit, was one of the best items to be made and sold in this little countryside near Bethlehem.

One day, at night, your father was tending his flock, with his other shepherd friend. You were beside them and talking to your father's friend's daughter. Her name was Ruth, a nice young female from the midst of Bethlehem. Ruth had dark large irises with long lashes, long dark brown curly hair, and tan skin, a little plump and shorter than you. You and Ruth weren't just friends, you were best friends with her. She showed humbleness and kindness towards everyone, and was another devoted follower of the Father, their Lord. Ruth was the only person you felt the closest to, as your other friends weren't as close to God as both of you were. She was just more... easily approachable and non-judgemental than the others were.

Suddenly, the four was blinded by a bright light from the skies. Was this the birth of the Father's Son, and were they there to witness it with their very own eyes? Suddenly, from the skies a masculine voice rang out, echoing across the meadows heavily, yet light as a flute.

"Greetings!"

Your father and friend stumbled in terror and tripped over each other as you and Ruth looked up at the strange, spirits, hugging each other in fear. The spirits were humanoids with golden halos over their heads, clad in white and pale golden robes, with magnificent white wings outstretched behind their backs. One of them flew towards the humans and approached carefully, his figure illuminated by a golden light that he himself radiated alone brightly. He wore a white robe over his yellow one, had blue eyes, fair skin, and short orange curly hair. He looked beautiful, and pure and holy, and no human languages could describe these heavenly angels.

"Don't be afraid!" the spirit reassured, "I am the Archangel Gabriel, and I bring forth with great news of great joy, for you and all people."

The shepherds stood up and you and Ruth let go, but not before looking at each other in the eyes and holding hands tightly.

"Tonight, your savior was born in Davidstown," the angel continued on his message, "He is Christ, the Lord. You will find him wrapped in soft cloth and lying in a manger."

Then the spirits sing heavenly while they flew away into the midnight skies, and the four watched them fly away and get enveloped by white clouds. The shepherds look at one another, and shrug to each other. "We should visit Christ, the Lord," your father said to his friend. "We got the privilege to see our savior, so we shall go and see the birth of the Son."

"That I agree with," his friend agreed. He turned to you and Ruth. "Young ones, prepare the food and water, for we shall go our way to Davidstown, Bethlehem. We will go when you are ready whenever you are, but make haste."

"Yes, father," Ruth said obediently, and you slightly bowed in respect to the elderly. Both of you went back inside the house. "Oh my, I am rather feeling nervous," Ruth whispered to you as both of you started packing for a journey to the city. "For we are the first to get to see our true Savior? I can't believe my luck that has passed forth to me."

You agreed with her, whether you were anxious to meet him in person, in birth, or excited. Possibly both.

"I have finished, [Name]," Ruth informed you. "I shall be waiting for you outside, dear friend. Take your time as you may need." Then she left outside with a small bundle of bag, to help the shepherds herd their sheep in their pens.

You were almost done packing when you suddenly heard an eldritch sound and the skies suddenly darkened. The world visibly darkened before your eyes, and even though you could barely see in the dark, you could hear. The deafening silence that blanketed heavily in the air. You were curious, and fearful, but you had to see what was going on. So you recklessly ran outside, but then hid behind a rock closeby the shepherds and Ruth.

A pale, beautiful figure was in the sky, their face obscured by a black shadow. Their hair was long and wavy, apparently blond. They were clad in long, white robes that covered their feet yet they never seemed to get dirty from the soil. Their skin was pale and fair, their form slender. They seemed to look like the Archangel Gabriel, except more in a light grey monochromatic color scheme and the clothing was a little different. Their slinder, beautiful hands were clasped together as if desperate for a prayer.

But this wasn't a holy spirit.

"Do not be afraid, my dear shepherds."

Their raspy voice was whispery, trailing in the air with power despite the volume they were speaking in. Their pronunciation with words and accents were strange; some parts dragged out longer than usual or some words were pronounced strangely. Their voice did not sound humane, but they still sounded ethereal despite the strange conditions.

"I have great news."

You kept on eavesdropping.

"I am your true savior."

... What??

"I know everything about what makes you human."

The way the being said unnerved you down the spine, and you shivered in fear and discomfort. The air was suddenly much colder than before. Had it always been this cold under the beautiful night sky?

The shadow in their face cleared slowly, and underneath revealed a surprisingly elegant face: almond blue eyes, fair skin and high cheekbones.

"I know what you love."

Here the being smiled.

"I know what you dread."

Here the false angel's face suddenly stretches unnaturally wide, and in a blink of your eyes, their face had completely changed. Tall, elongated white eyes with pitch black irises with a huge, uncanny smile impossible for a human. You father, his fried, and Ruth covered their ears with their hands and bent over, kneeling in pain, screaming. You were also doing the same, feeling sharp pains stabbing in your mind through your ears. You were also screaming, but it was silent and your screams were unheard. You closed your eyes tightly.

"Jesus loves me, this I know!

"FOOȮ̴͓̯͚͉̥̈́͘Ọ̴̲͔͙̗͈̪͊̓͑͂͂̍̅O̷̲͙̊̔͒ͅO̴͖̎̾̐͛̄͒̃O̶̩͍̰̺͕̤̓̾̔͆̈̆͠ Ō̵̗̬̿̀̈̋̇̏̋ O̷̳̙͚͚̲͈̠͉̓̎Ó̸̧͉͕̗͓̳͌̇̆̅̕͝ O̶̙͚͌́̋͂̍̈́Ọ̵͉̳̫̻̯̈͂̊́͘ O̶̟͉̮̺̞̝̖̣͑̈́̈̾ Ǫ̵̨̳͍̩͙͙̤́́ Ŗ̵̧͉̹̈̆̆͂̇̆ O̷̧͙̓̂̈́̏͌̊͝R̶̺̗͠͠ R̷̩̫͍̬̅̑̓͆͑ Ŗ̵̲̲̤̿̍Ŕ̴̝̖͉̄ R̷̰͙͉̳̞͗̀̾̅̓̐̇͘R̶̨̨͔͍̼̺̟͌ Ŗ̴̛̪̗͍͙̆̈́͘ Ṟ̸͎͔͕͑̾̀̎͘͜ R̸̢̐̍͒̋͌͂̕͘ Ṟ̶̢̠͈̱͕͐̏͌̏͆̐͝ͅ R̷̯͈̭̦̹̖͑̂̔͑̏̎̇ Ṟ̶͓͓̣͚̜͆̌̐̽͐͠ R̵̤̊̈́̃̋͝ R̵̨̨̡͇̄ͅŖ̷͓̹̀̆̀̓̇̑͠R̴̨̛̘̰̘̯͔͈̳͊R̷̨̨͉̣̪̀R̷̜͎̯͓͇͔̖̃̀R̶̨͋̈́͑͑͑Ṙ̸̯͉̞͓͈̆̽̔̃̇̃-"

Then silence. The only thing you could hear was your own breath, panting from the adrenaline that shot through you.

Moments that seemed to last an eternity passed.

The pain that have shot up in your head and in your ears stopped. You slowly looked up while uncovering your ears. You saw three fallen human figures, the false angel nowhere to be seen, but the skies were still pitch dark. You ran over to them, and realized with a lurching horror all of them died, blood pouring from their eyes and ears, pooling underneath their heads. Your father had his eyes closed, and his friend stared off into the valleys blanky, which was a mercy.

But Ruth was staring, glassy eyed, right at you, her lifeless brown eyes boring into your own and burned into your mind. You couldn't move. It was as if she was blaming you that you couldn't stop her death. You couldn't breathe, as if someone was strangling you and sucking the breath out of you.

You felt like you were being watched by something else other than Ruth, but your legs gave in underneath you, and you collapsed onto your knees next to Ruth. Your dear friend Ruth. You felt your heart sink and hurt you as your emotions got wounded. You were deeply in grief, and anguished. Your best friend, taken away by that.. false angel.

Who were they, entitled enough to call themselves that they were the true savior, and proceed to take your loved ones away in a night?

How DARE they take away your own life you didn't expect would change this drastically?

You started to cry as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Why do you weep?"

You didn't answer, because you knew the false angel was back. You didn't know why. Maybe they wanted to deceive you into further damnation. Maybe they wanted to see your life fall apart and walk away from God by suicide. Or maybe they just simply wanted to see your suffering.

"Beautiful one, there is no need to stay melancholy. I shall be here for you."

You didn't answer yet again. You just ran back inside your home in desperation to get away from the false angel's attraction. They watched you go inside the house and slam the door. They knew exactly why you were acting like this, but they couldn't help that heavy hearted feeling for a moment when you ran away from them. But no matter. He knows what you love, and what you dread. They are in neither of that list, as far as they knew.

But even if by force, they'll make you love them. And only them.

. . . . .

You felt the constant feel of being watched after that incident happened.

Whenever you went, a pair of eyes always followed you, but when you looked around no one was watching you in particular. When you were alone on night streets it was even worse, even hearing an occasional footstep behind you every once in a while. Your paranoia increased, and you refused to leave your home now. You were scared, honestly; nothing had made you this much terror before. You prayed to God, in hopes of His protection against the fear you were feeling, but strangely, He was silent and never replied. Which was strange, as 90% of the time you prayed to Him you heard His voice directly speaking to you. But now as if He disappeared, or abandoned you, or He wasn't able to receive any prayers.

The situation only turned for the worse from here. You thought it couldn't get any worse, but it did. Rumors of these beings known as Alternates, were silently replacing humanity, most of the times without much notice. Some had witnessed a tall figure of a shadow with piercing white eyes. Others have seen the similar creatures turn into one of the people they have killed. These people barely came out alive. Reports of a strange grey angel was sometimes seen walking in the streets, but every time the people blinked the angel vanished from view, as if they were never there.

You knew what that meant.

But no, you would never commit (or try to) commit a sin. That would be against the Ten Commandments, against the word of God. You would try your best to maintain your faith on Him. This was probably just one of His tests on you to see if you could hold onto your humbleness, right?

Right?

You firmly believed in this until the false angel approached you in your home while you were sleeping. When you have opened your eyes, startled, you were even more shocked to see that this being was invading your bedroom. Those pale blue eyes, cold as ice and intense, boring into your own. Their beautiful face seemingly illuminating in the dark even though black shadows emitted from this creature.

"Greetings," they said in a whispery voice, sounding almost angelic, but you wouldn never forget that encounter that changed your life forever. "As you have already seen my true form, I will not conceal my true name from you. I am Lucifer of the fallen angels."

... wait.

Did this being just say...

Their name was Lucifer?

The infamous fallen angel known to have rebelled against God, and became the Deceiver, Satan himself?

"You seem quite surprised," Lucifer noted, mostly to himself. You were extremely confused. Yes, you were a very devoted follower of God, and expected that one day, Satan would come in a beautiful disguise and deceive you to turn away from the Lord. You heard of stories in the Bible where God would give permission to Satan to test their faith in the Heavenly Father, but you didn't expect Him to choose you as one of those beings. You were worth the time from the Devil himself to get personally deceived by him??

"I have come forth with wonderful news," Satan, or Lucifer, as he seems to be preferably called for now, spoke after watching you with careful eyes. He said this next sentence very carefully and slowly while watching your reaction. "I have decided... with lots of consideration and time put into the thoughts... that you shall become my apprentice... in the arts of deceiving and lies."

You stared back at him dumbly. What??? Not what you were expecting, but for the Lord you had to stay strong. You very politely declined his offer, despite the fearful stutterings you let out and a whimper of terror when he pursed his lips in slight impatience.

"Why do you deny me, young one?" He said calmly, his patience everlasting. "Why do you choose to live in darkness, when I could bring you forth into light? I wish only for the best of you, [Name]." Here you shudder, because how did this creep figure out what your name was? You've never introduced to him in your life. "Why do you deny me?"

Stay strong, [Name].

You told him the reasons why, nervously, knowing this choice would bring great consequences.

The false angel's face turned grim and dark.

"I am your Lord, my child," he said sternly with a cold voice. Every word could not be unheard, all the letters burned into your head and brightly displayed what he was telling you. Every single letter, sharp as knives, unescapable. "You shall be my apprentice no matter the choice you desire to make. I will make the choices for you that shall benefit your life one way or another. It is only for the best for you, after all."

You cried out in pain as Lucifer loomed over you, shadows dancing behind his form. You kept denying him, repeating the truth in the Scripture over and over again, in hopes the words from the Bible cleared your mind. Instead, it strangely had the opposite effect, fogging up your mind, and your consciousness fading to darkness. The last words before your eyes fluttered closed was from Lucifer.

"Sleep well, my love."

TO BE CONTINUED... in part 2

. . . . .

(Edit: this is one of my most popular chapters written long ago. If you want to read the rest of the parts without waiting for upload go to my WATTPAD and AO3 account for more! :D)

#mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue #tmc alternate #alt!gabriel #the mandela catalog #alternate gabriel #mandela catalog #tmc #tmc x reader #alt gabriel x reader #alt gabriel #alternate gabriel x reader #susbriel #mandela catalogue x reader #the mandela catalogue x reader

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none-shall-caricature-me · 29 days

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Fear and Hunger is such an awesome game that only hardcore channels cover because most famous players cater either to children, more sensitive folks or to the pussy 'omigosh how DARE a game depict realistic brutality and sexual violence even though it DOESN'T glorify it in the least' crowd. Yes, some people are legit uncomfy with that stuff and that's totally fine (even though I personally will NOT be discussing media with those types. Too easy to spook them), but the nutjob crowd on social media would've thrown a hissy fit over this game. What a shame.

Also, it's honestly pathetic how some people say the game 'trivialises' or is 'problematic' in its depiction of frequent sexual violence / nudity. As someone who lives in a country where rape horror stories are well - known (India), I'll provide an explanation to y'all. The dungeons and historical war setting are the core of this story. Historically and even nowadays, prisons are chock - full of depravity. Warfare and famine enable the shittiest among us to dominate the social order. When it's universally accepted that awful people in positions of power WILL murder, torture, pillage in such situations - how come sexual assault is out of the question for such an uncaring mind ? Face reality, both 'normal' and less - triggering - for - sheltered - USAmericans forms of violence, AND sexual violence have been and ARE distressingly common in the settings this game depicts. It's not problematic, it's just the truth. The devs, streamers, any content ratings website gives you ample warning about these elemnts. If you can't handle it that's a YOU thing. This story is for those people who CAN handle it.

Also the violence and gore are perfectly historically accurate too. You get a hopelessly infected limb, even nowadays ? It gets amputated. You don't have a safe medical facility around to assist ? It gets amputated painfully without anaesthesia. People used to easily die of what today are laughably small wounds, because they got infected. Germ theory didn't exist. Starvation was widespread. Betraying your fellows to terrible fates to save yourself is a timeless viable strategy - we privileged asses can't complain about it cuz we've never had to face those terrors. It is in fact ABNORMAL to not resort to cannibalism or deceit to survive in terrible conditions with no way out. You'd have to be suicidal, too good for this world, a rabid religious fanatic or psychopathic to not do so. I am none of those, and nor are 99.99 % of you.

And about sexual content in general - there's a reason soldiers / mercenaries and prostitutes have often gone together. Warfare is stressful and you're constantly hoping you won't be the next one to die or get captured / wounded. Sex is a great stress reliever and literally the opposite of death. I'm not saying prostitution networks can't be exploitative. But it makes sense why high - anxiety professions are big users of these services.

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger 2 #funger #cancel culture #puritanism #censorship #tw sa #tw rape #tw cannibalism #tw gore #tw body horror #tw violence

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helpmeimblorboing · 9 months

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Transphobes when they see a trans person in media : OMG THE TRANS AGENDA IS EVERYWHERE. OMG MUH CHILDREN (rapidly packs up abused and beaten children in a blanket) MUST PROTECT MUH AMERICAN RIGHT TO FREEDOM AND FREE SPEECH!! (quickly takes down Confederate flags hanging outside).

Transphobes when they meet a trans person : OMH NO ONE BELIEVES YOU'RE ACTUALLY TRANS !! 43 % !!(harasses a teenage child to suicide) YUR WEAK !! JK ROOLING WILL SUE YO ASS !!

In their eyes, trans people are simultaneously overwhelming and pathetic. As Umberto Eco once said in his essay "Ur Fascism", "Followers (of fascist movements) must be convinced that they can overwhelm the enemies. Thus, by a continuous shifting of rhetorical focus, the enemies are at the same time too strong and too weak." Transphobia is literal fascism, by definition.

"Fascist groups often appeal to these individuals by offering a simplistic and seductive worldview that blames certain groups for their problems and presents a vision of a powerful and homogeneous community that can restore order and greatness."

A simple idea of how fascist groups attract new recruits

Sound familiar ? It should. That's exactly what GCs (Gender Criticals, or as I like to call them, Genital-obsessed Creeps ) do to attract new recruits, blaming the "trans agenda" for everything

"Another factor that can contribute to the adoption of fascist beliefs is a sense of fear and anxiety about the future. This can be exacerbated by real or perceived threats to one’s security, such as economic instability, social unrest, cultural change, or terrorism. Fascist movements often exploit these fears by offering a strong and authoritarian leader who promises to protect and defend the community from perceived enemies, both internal and external.

In addition, fascist ideology often relies on a narrative of victimhood and a sense of historical grievance, which can appeal to individuals who feel disempowered or marginalised in some way. This narrative portrays the group as having been unfairly oppressed or humiliated by other groups or forces, and seeks to restore a sense of pride and dignity by reclaiming power and status.

Finally, the process of radicalization into fascist beliefs can be facilitated by socialisation and exposure to extremist propaganda, whether through online forums, social media, or face-to-face interactions with other members of the group. This can create a sense of belonging and solidarity, as well as reinforce the group’s ideology and worldview."

Again, all things actively used by TERFs to spread their worldview. A common fear is seen in them. A fear that is perpetuated by the more obsessed amongst them, who were once homophobes, who simply shifted gears, and changed the word "gay" to "trans". A fear that was last seen during the anti-gay crusades, peddled by priests and Christians, and is seen again today. This fear is often fueled by media coverage of cases of violence or abuse perpetrated by individuals who identify as trans, and by the portrayal of trans activism as a totalitarian movement that seeks to silence dissent and impose a new orthodoxy. A lie, but one that is widespread (Again, setting the stage for recruitment)

"This can lead to a sense of moral superiority and a willingness to use extreme tactics, such as harassment, doxxing, and censorship, to silence opponents and defend their views."

All things TERFs have done and are doing

I rest my case

Additionally, a message to any TERFs reading this

A common thread in fascism is that it is never about the message itself. The message is merely a cover for self-glorification. The original Fascist movement was not there for the reasons they claimed. It was there to glorify Mussolini, with everything they did playing to that end goal. The same with Nazism, and the same with TERFs.

Please remember, we are not your enemies. We do not want harm to befall you. We do care about you, but your leaders don't

TERFs do not care about women. TERFs care about hatred

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little-klng · 1 year

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My twitter was permanently suspended. Here's (probably) why.

oh hey!

so, my last tweets were on november 9th, where i said these things:

and thats. it. 100% of my twitter experience. other than this, its tweets from back in august when i was complaining that some nft bro hacked my account and performed a full takeover, which i fixed myself and reported the user involved (which went nowhere btw), and some tweets from when i made my account and tried to use it in 2019.

guess it was too much anyway! weird

to be honest? i personally cant find a single thing here that actually breaks any of the twitter rules. but just to be sure, lets check together, and you can be the judge of that:

The following is a complete list of Twitters 16 listed rules. Breaking any of the following rules can and likely will result in a temporary or permanent suspension, or even a ban. According to Elon Musk and Twitter, my account sometime around November 9th broke one of these 16 rules.

Important note: I have already sent in an appeal to Twitter, and assuming they still actually have "Support", they should have already seen it. The appeal has been in for a few days (i found out i was banned between the 29th and the 2nd) and remained completely ignored, as I havent had a reply even once. At this point, I'm posting this here to pose the question to you. Do you think that ive broken a single one of these rules? do you think that anything ive done is worth a permanent suspension? I dont actually care about getting my twitter back, since as you can clearly see i really dont use it. im posting this here because its 100% the clearest cut example of Elons Twitter banning someone for what can literally ONLY be a set, cut criteria that has otherwise only been speculated as suspendable, which is at the bottom of the post.

Violence

were any of these tweets violent? threatening violence? glorifying violence in any way?

Terrorism or Violent Extremism

did any of these tweets indicate a promotion of terrorism? were any of them indicative of extremist views? did i threaten any large groups of people based on their protected class while treating that class as a monolith?

Child Sexual Exploitation

did any of these tweets contain child sexual exploitation material?

Abuse/Harassment

were my tweets harassing or targeting anyone? were any of them wishing or hoping that someone experiences harm, violence, or death?

Hateful Conduct

did any of my tweets attack someone based on their protected class?

Perpetrator of Violent Attacks

did any of my tweets contain plans to commit an attack, or disseminate a violent manifesto?

Suicide or Self Harm

did i post anything, either towards myself or others, that seemed to glorify or encourage self harm or suicide?

Sensitive Media

did any of my tweets contain graphic violence or adult content?

Illegal or certain Regulated Goods or Services

were any of my tweets in reference to, containing, or attempting to advertise drugs or prostitution in or towards states or countries that regulate or criminalize that type of content?

Private Information

did i tweet out anyones private address, phone numbers, or other personal identifiable information without authorization? did my tweets incentivize others to do so?

Non Consensual Nudity

did i post adult content of someone without their permission?

Platform Manipulation and Spam

did i attempt to use twitter to advertise scams or phishing software? did i attempt to either amplify or silence information in a way that disrupted the twitter experience?

Civic Integrity

did i commit, or allege to, or spread misinformation about, election fraud?

Misleading and Deceptive Identity

does my twitter handle and twitter profile content reflect who i am? am i trying to impersonate anyone important in an attempt to mislead, confuse, or get a rise out of others?

Synthetic and Manipulated Media

do any of my tweets contain fake screenshots or altered photos in an attempt to cause reputational harm, such as in defamation?

do any of my tweets steal trademarked content or intellectual property?

...So, with that out of the way, heres the meat of my point. If you got this far and said no, i didnt actually break a single one of those rules, then it might interest you to know what i think i might have been banned for. I had "queer" in my bio, i had Elon Musk blocked, and i mentioned Elon Musk in a tweet. i also said in one tweet that i "wasnt a very big fan of twitters overall site layout as a new user". These are genuinely the only things in this entire account i can put close to something Elon would suspend me for. I want to highlight them, since again, there is genuinely not one single other thing to highlight here. Its the only options, until twitter support actually finds something suspendable in my account and tells me what it is directly via email. Until then, do with that what you will.

#twitter #elon musk #twitter suspension #reblog

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transcendentalmaggot · 2 years

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I’m reluctantly hopeful that I may have made some positive progress in accessing medical care for both my birth defect and my mental health issues. I met with the pediatric urology head of the newly formed transitional care program for those with my complex congenital conditions. He’s switched me to a more effective kidney medication with fewer side effects. While the wait times since COVID have been baffling they were able to set up appointments for me to have my routine testing done that I’ve been unable to access for years. He even accepts Medicaid. He listened to me, let me vent (even about a colleague that I later learned is a personal friend), and made me feel seen by the behemoth benefactor of human suffering that is the medical system.

My pain management doctor was also able to get me an appointment on the spot to see their resident doctor that specializes in both pain management and psychiatry for those dealing with these issues. I wanted to discuss trying out the nasal spray version of ketamine therapy as I am completely unable to afford the IV protocols for any of my conditions (the lowest each session runs for is $450 and none of it is covered by insurance as it’s not fully FDA approved). However, the nasal spray is covered and I was able to get a appointment for next week.

If they ever manage to approve the protocol for peripheral neuropathy I think that would turn my life around entirely or at least improve things. But that requires a 1-2 night hospitalization every other month and at the moment requires a $2600 assessment with their own psychiatrist (even though I’ve had infusions with no adverse effects before). Then each infusion is $1,500 a pop without considering what the hospital might charge.

Between despairing over each customer service job posting that requires I be able to lift 50 lbs. on a frequent basis, crawl, bend, and perform acrobatic acts to answer phones and emails so the company can legally discriminate against the disabled to those that want to pay me minimum wage and purchase all of my own equipment (before you assume it’s a scam this is standard practice now that remote work is more common even after confirming with the companies directly) I have nothing beyond a despondent shell in flesh form resigned to a hopefully short life of unmitigated hell.

I love that part of my assessment for the ketamine nasal spray was a long interrogation over whether I’m experiencing suicidal ideation as it’s one of the primary reasons they can convince insurance to cover it without a fight. In what conceivable universe would anyone in that position would admit to such thoughts to someone who would commit you without a second thought? I know too many friends and family who have been abused and assaulted in such facilities. None have ever reported receiving any level of care - it’s a glorified yet somewhat more gentle prison that exists to protect medical professionals from liability and play babysitter for anyone who might be in that person’s life.

I cannot bring myself to hope but it’s something. It’s more than I had yesterday. I’m still caught in a rip tide unable to break free or work past my feelings of terror whenever I have to be around other people. My avoidance is so bad I don’t think I’ve left the house for anything but my future sister-in-law’s bridal shower and doctors appointments since June.

#and no I don’t want to hear about how the 20 grand a month facility your parents sent you to was helpful #most of us have no such support system #I’m considered abundantly wealthy because my dad’s covers my state insurance premium #venting #being poor and sick and alone has made it iimpossible for me to envision a life worth living

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lucianajellyfish · 1 year

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If you’re thinking about killing yourself, don’t.

Suicide & Crisis helpline is 988

Basically PTSD I didn’t know I had was triggered & I’m venting about it below

Earlier this week while listening to a podcast about a piece of media they began discussing the suicide that happened in it...and then began glorifying it. When they started talking the same way about a real person who’d killed themself I turned it off and just sat in silence, trying to keep it together while finishing my drive to work.

I contacted them because this talk seemed out of character and they apologized and agreed to put a trigger warning on the episode (it was an episode from deep in their archive, so I don’t expect them to bring it up on the current podcast or re-record), but now I’ve been finding myself all week drifting into memories of the time in high school I was up all night being the voice on the end of the line keeping my best friend alive. I remember the terror of having to hang up in the morning because I had to get to the bus. My last desperate bid was “I’ll see you at school.”

I did. I saw her at school that morning and for many mornings after. That wasn’t her last struggle with suicidal thoughts, but she got help after that. We’re both adults now. She has a kid. I’m glad I was able to keep her here.

Suicide & Crisis helpline is 988

#cw suicide #trauma dump #vent

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ethereal-nighttmare · 2 years

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welcome to my nebulous nighttmare!

hello all! my name is reign (she/xe/xor/xira)! i’m a queer (soulqueer), omniaspec aroace sapphic xenogender genderqueer cis+ girl! you may know me from my main mogai blogs- @mogai-sunflowers and @meadow-of-mogai-melodies ! i am a radical inclusionist and a critical/analytical inclusionist!

on this account, i do mogai coining with a dark theme! this means that i will coin terms related to darker themes, subjects, and content! pretty much anything is on the table, but you can find my limited blacklist for things i won’t accept requests for below! note- if it’s not on the blacklist, you can request it!

themes that are a-okay to request-

murder

gore

death

decay/rot

trauma

war

blood and anatomy

grief/tragedy*

unreality

weirdcore

dark thoughts/intrusive thoughts

difficult emotions like rage and hatred

horror/terror

self harm/suicide**

eating disorders

cannibalism

flesh

sensuality/non-explicit sexuality

* you can request terms related to tragedy/tragic feelings in general, but not related to actual real-life tragic incidents. for example, you can request “a gender related to tragedy and grief”, but NOT “a gender related to the parkland tragedy”

** okay to request as long as it doesnt glorify it

themes that are not okay to request-

pedophilia

incest

zoophilia

necrophilia

bigotry

abuse

rape

genocide

explicit sex/kink/BDSM*

* im not sex-negative but im a minor and these things make me uncomfortable.

dni/byf-

i support all queer identities- i especially love and support mspec lesbians/gays, lesboys and turigirls, straightbians/straytbians, and gaybians/gaibians. additionally, i support all aspec people, the loveless label, xenogenders, neopronouns, all mspec people- if you feel like you’re queer, you’re queer.

i am vehemently against proshipping, but i do not consider myself an antishipper because the antiship community also has immense issues- namely demonizing people with paraphilias and paraphilic disorders. person with pedophilic/zoophilic disorder =/= abuser/bad person, and if you’re an anti who thinks it’s okay to demonize people with paraphilic disorders, i don’t want you interacting just as much as i don’t want proshippers interacting.

i do not support the term ‘transabled’, but i have no issues with people with BIID/xenomelia

i do not support using the term ‘transracial’ to mean ‘i identify as a different race/am transitioning races’, but i have no issues with the actual definition and usage

do not interact if you are a bigot of any sort (racist/antiblack/antisemitic, sexist, ableist/stigmatize personality disorders, queerphobic/exclusionist/transmed/TERF, etc), if you are against nontraumagenic systems, if you are a proshipper or a toxic anti, or if you gatekeep queer experiences, ESPECIALLY do not interact with me if you support lesbian gatekeeping, are against mspec lesbians and lesboys/lesbian men, and if you don’t believe in transandrophobia/transmisandry/treiphobia

#pinned #pinned post #intro #intro post #mogai #mogai community #mogai blog #pro mogai #mogai friendly #mogai heaven #mogai real #xenogender #xenogender coining #gender coining #pro endo #endo safe #pro mspec lesbians #pro lesboy #anti proship

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girlactionfigure · 2 years

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Everyday Antisemitism. Jew Hate in San Francisco

Antisemitic propaganda has moved from the social media into our neighborhoods. From the NextDoor Neighborhood App Posted earlier today. I picked up 20 of these weighted baggies filled with antisemitic COVID propaganda at ~8:30am today along Pacific Ave. (mostly between Baker and Scott). There were quite a few more I couldn't grab. Apparently the acting organization (Goyim Defense League) has carried out the same campaign several times in Berkeley (beginning during the week of Hanukkah). I texted SFPD's tipline with pictures; not sure if there's anything else I should do? Check your lawns, driveways, and sidewalks if you live nearby!

If you receive one of this packets, please report it to the ADL's tipline. And please check your security cameras for footage of those spreading this trash.

For more information:

Anti-Semitic messages blaming Jews for COVID response found in Pacific Heights

Islamic Jihad glorifies terror: The Beit Lid Massacre

Posted: 23 Jan 2022 06:15 PM PST

This week in 1995, a bomb exploded at the Beit Lid junction near Netanya, killing 18 soldiers and one civilian.

Ohad Sahar Ha Levi described the scene

On January 22,1995, as an 18 year old soldier in the paratroops (Force 202), I stood waiting at Beit Lid Junction. A few moments after 9 o’clock am two suicide bombers dressed as soldiers infiltrated the military bus station where hundreds of young soldiers waited to go to their bases. In one last moment, where I remember talking to a fellow soldier, a massive explosion of a suicide bomber ripped all our lives apart. A second attacker exploded a few minutes later as medical personal had already responded to the scene. I cannot explain to you the casualty I saw this day, or what it means to see and feel 22 young soldiers blown apart

The soldiers killed were: Lt. David Ben-Zino, 20, of Ashdod; Lt. Adi Rosen, 20, of Moshav Bitzaron; Lt. Yuval Tuvya, 22, of Jerusalem; Sgt.-Maj. Anan Kadur, 24, of Daliat al-Carmel; Staff-Sgt. Damian Rosovski, 20, of Kadima; Staff-Sgt. Yehiel Sharvit, 21, of Haifa; Staff-Sgt. Yaron Blum, 20, of Jerusalem; Sgt. Maya Kopstein, 19, of Jerusalem; Sgt. Daniel Tzikuashvili, 19, of Jerusalem; Sgt. Avi Salto, 19, of Rishon Lezion; Sgt. Rafael Mizrahi, 19, of Ramat Gan; Sgt. Eran Gueta, 20, of Ashkelon; Cpl. Soli Mizrahi, 18, of Ramat Ramat Gan; Cpl. David Hasson, 18, of Ashkelon; Cpl. Amir Hirschenson, 18, of Jerusalem; Cpl. Gilad Gaon, 18, of Herzliya; Cpl. Ilie Dagan, 18, of Kochav Yair; Cpl. Eitan Peretz, 18, of Nahariya; and Shabtai Mahpud, 34, of Moshav Tnuvot. Moments after the first bomb went off, a second was detonated, in an attempt to kill first responders rushing to the scene.

Lt. Eyal Levy, 20, of Ashdod, and Cpl. Yaniv Weiser, 18, of Givatayim, who were seriously wounded in the attacks, later died of their wounds. Dozens more were seriously wounded.

Islamic Jihad claimed responsibility for the attack.

On the anniversary of the attack, Islamic Jihad took to social media, bragging of the "heroic martyrdom operation". No regrets, no talk of peace, just raw glorification of violence and terror.

For Islamic Jihad and those that chose a life of terror the young Israeli lives lost, and the shattered families are a source of pride and inspiration. This vile glorification of violence hasn't abated in 27 years.

Pro Israel Bay Bloggers

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words-writ-in-starlight · 3 years

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Jfkdjilgkfg I didnt see this when you posted it! If you're still answering:

For your Gabriel Shepard ♒ - cooking/food♦ - quirks/hobbies

And if you want to, for Shakarian ✿ - Sex 👀👀

Oh hell yeah. If anyone wants more of my Extensive Thoughts on Shepard, the o blessed gabriel series is like...30K of those, and also is the source of Gabriel Shepard.

♒ - Cooking/Food Headcanon

I’m trying to think of a nice way to phrase this, but--

Gabriel Shepard is Not A Good Cook. She’s serviceable, in the sense that she has never once given anyone food poisoning or lit anything major on fire. If you hand her a recipe and a reasonably compelling reason to use it, she’ll probably produce something that’s perfectly fine. Exactingly correct, because she’s a perfectionist. But she has literally never cooked something more complex than pre-made spaghetti sauce heated in a pan and non-instant noodles for herself. She just doesn’t see the point.

She explains this to Joker, when he asks why the hero of the ongoing galactic war is eating Cup Noodles in a very expensive Council-funded apartment on the Citadel, and he buries his face in his hands and whispers, “I hate you so much.”

“I’m your best friend,” Shepard says as she crumbles some reserved noodles over her dinner. For the crunch, she told Joker when he asked.

“I’m demoting you. Please at least put a vegetable in that.”

“Do you want vegetables? I could get some.”

“No, I already--please focus, Shepard.” She makes a point to shove the biggest possible bite into her mouth as she blinks at him, and Joker makes a mildly aggrieved noise. “When was the last time you ate something that didn’t include the word ‘instant’ on the package?” She shrugs at him and slurps some broth. “You’re the worst person I know.”

♦ - Quirks/Hobbies Headcanon

While she’s spending six months on Earth in what she calls a glorified drunk tank, Shepard learns real fast that, apparently, almost everything she previously considered ‘a hobby’ was like...technically part of her job. And that she’s not allowed to have anything that might be classed as a weapon of any kind (she makes it an entire month before she tells a guard that he’s stupider than he looks if he thinks she couldn’t kill him with a chair just as easily as a box cutter, and honestly she thinks she should get a prize). She doesn’t have a particular gift for studying and there’s only so much time in a day that a person can spend reading up on current events and turian linguistics. No, she hasn’t been allowed to send letters, even and possibly especially to Palaven. How did you guess. Mostly she just works out a lot.

She’s hit the start of month three by the time she cracks completely and downloads some video guides on building models from scratch. She liked the models she found sometimes, filled her cabin on the Normandy with them, but they didn’t take too long to assemble and she needs to fill time so starting from scratch it is.

Apparently she’s terrorized her guards suitably into submission, because when she corners one and says “You can get me cardboard, right? That’s not considered a deadly weapon?” the rookie squeaks out a “yessir” and doesn’t ask any questions. Three hours later Shepard has a nice assortment of carboard types and some kitchen shears that she took the pin out of so that she has two loose blades. The guard walks in on Shepard sharpening one and does not say anything as she sets down the cardboard on the table and books it.

By the end of six months, Shepard wouldn’t consider herself particularly competent, but her little cardboard structures are certainly recognizable. The whole lot of them are lost in the attack, of course. She barely remembers. There are bigger fish to fry.

✿ - Sex Headcanon

I really want to be applauded for how hard I’m working not to make a “what that tongue do” joke here and leaving it at that. This is a Herculean labor.

Anyway, point is, there are Logistical Problems(TM) with turian/human relationships. It starts with “human skin is pretty delicate, compared to the turian equivalent of keratin” and goes from there, but. Just because Shepard isn’t in a rush to be cornered by her subordinates and given pro tips (she is, in fact, avoiding Mordin, thank you for asking, Jacob, don’t tell him she was here) doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of it. And Gabriel Shepard is a soldier first, a tactician second, and everything else including human and alive somewhere below, ask anyone, so she uh--

Does research?

Some of it is from what she would personally consider accredited sources, although probably not for their intended purposes. Interspecies relationships aren’t unheard of--with the asari in the mix, they’re not even particularly rare--but if there’s a human-turian guidebook, not even Spectre clearance is dredging it up. Shepard thinks (after three solid evenings dedicated to way, way more research than she’s ever put into sex before, including the first time she gave bondage a whirl in basic training) that there’s a nonzero chance that they’re the first to try it. Not a high chance! But nonzero. So--

Listen, what the Alliance doesn’t know about why a Spectre is accessing their old wartime surveillance data won’t hurt them. Shepard takes it all with a grain of salt for obvious reasons, but it’s the obvious starting place because it’s in her own language.

Then she starts hitting EDI up for help finding a turian sex ed book and it’s all pretty much an uphill slog through half-useful translations, dictionary definitions, and really questionable porn from there.

And actually, it’s not even the research that’s the problem. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but at the end of the day, Shepard is pretty determined NOT to have this be a terrible moment of interspecies awkwardness, because--well, she doesn’t have to interrogate that thought. That’s the beauty of a probable upcoming suicide mission. She has rights, as a recently dead woman now looking at another, probably more painful death, and those rights include not having to think about her own feelings more than absolutely mandatory.

No, see, the problem comes once she’s done all the research she feasibly can and she’s walking to her door to let Garrus in and being confronted with the fact that now she will have to admit to doing that research.

She makes the tactical decision not to say anything until after she strips.

(Garrus actually doesn’t say a damn word until the next morning, when Shepard is waking up, when he bumps his jaw fondly against her head and says, “You really are the brains of the outfit.”)

(”Mmph,” Gabriel mumbles into her pillow, and adjusts his arm over her waist so that it settles a bit lower, where the edge of his plating won’t poke at her. “And don’t you forget it.”)

#shakarian #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #gabriel shepard #mass effect #starlight writes stuff #headcanon meme #ask meme #this got LONG but listen hey they just announced a remaster so i gotta FINISH THIS BITCH #i still haven't finished the games #i got SAD ABOUT THE TRILOGY ENDING OKAY #i have this problem with media i watch or read or play something i ADORE and then freeze up because i don't want it to end #but anyway probably i'll finish it and then restart it with exactly the same character #because i understand that 'replay value' is a thing but i don't actually care about it i made my choices and i like them #ANYWAY yeah listen that last one is basically 'gabriel shepard is thinking about writing an anonymously published book so no one else has t #if i ever get my life together and finish the game i will write a post-canon fic #where gabriel and garrus deal with the political nuclear fallout of their relationship being public #because they're not FLASHY during me3 but also Literally Everyone They Meet Knows (Plus Some People They Don't)#every single idiot on palaven who spoke to garrus while shep was gone knows #she hangs out in the refugee camp and does inventory with him and so the whole refugee camp knows #shepard personally has told very few people but It Is Known #and eventually! eventually! they will have to deal with being basically the only high profile human-turian romance in the galaxy #anyway loved this ask great choices thanks babe #anonymous #asked and answered

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hamliet · 4 years

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hi hamliet! i just finished dostoyevsky's demons! i was wondering if you could write a little about kirillov, stepan, and stavrogin: it seems like kirillov's thinking and stepan's final speech are the two messages the novel really wants to impart to the reader, but i felt like they were somewhat at odds with one another? kirillov was all about the will of man, while stepan was about God. which one is "right"? and what's stavrogin's final death and overall arc about? thank you so much!

Hello Anon!! Thank you for the ask about my favorite novel, and such an exciting ask too! *breaks into a happy dance*

So I would caution against the interpretation that Dostoyevsky wanted to endorse Kirillov’s message, because I think the opposite is the case. Dostoyevsky is fundamentally existentialist; however, he despised nihilism (as each of his major works take it apart that is present in each of his major works), and that is thus reflected in the framing of Kirillov’s ideas, which were born out of bitter despair. Kirillov, you see, did not want to die.

He simply wanted to matter.

However, he was not convinced he did, despite how kind and genuinely good he was. He begs before his death:

“Let it be comfort. God is necessary and so must exist… But I know He doesn’t and can’t… Surely you must understand that a man with two such ideas can’t go on living?”

For Kirillov, God is the Russian Orthodox version, the one Dostoyevsky very much believed in (in his later years anyways, including when he wrote his major works) as well. Thus, what Kirillov is saying here is that he wants to believe in some kind of sense in this world, a divine maker who is watching over them, who cares about them--but when he looks at the world and how terrible it is, when he sees little children being insulted, when he sees people killing innocents like Shatov, he does not have a way of comprising that with the existence of a loving God. It’s a well known conundrum in theology: the problem of evil.

Demons is entirely about the evil humans beings are capable of when they become possessed by ideologies--yet, Demons also implies that people need to believe in something. Look at Stavrogin and his despair and aimless actions. Look at Pyotr and how his selfishness literally destroys an entire town, including a good man (Shatov) who had forgiven his wife and loved her despite what she had done to him. As Kirillov says:

“Man has done nothing but invent God so as to go on living, and not kill himself; that’s the whole of universal history up till now. I am the first one in the whole history of mankind who would not invent God. Let them know it once for all…

“I am awfully unhappy, for I’m awfully afraid. Terror is the curse of man.… But I will assert my will, I am bound to believe that I don’t believe. I will begin and will make an end of it and open the door, and will save. That’s the only thing that will save mankind and will re-create the next generation physically; for with his present physical nature man can’t get on without his former God, I believe. For three years I’ve been seeking for the attribute of my godhead and I’ve found it; the attribute of my godhead is self-will! That’s all I can do to prove in the highest point my independence and my new terrible freedom. For it is very terrible. I am killing myself to prove my independence and my new terrible freedom.”

Kirillov is terrified to be alone and to be worthless. If there is no God, he believes he is both. However, if he can be brought to utterly control his own life, setting a precedent, that will “save” people by showing them freedom. It’s not a sane theory (Kirillov is decidedly unstable), but it reflects his desperate desire to grasp at meaning in his life, to make himself count. It’s why he even agrees to die and write a note that will help his friends when he does (without knowing Pyotr’s evil schemes).

But the thing is, Kirillov killing himself is an act of nihilism. He does not want to die, as evidenced by how terrified he is during that scene, how he literally bites down on Pyotr’s finger and nearly severs it, because he is so desperately angry that Pyotr is forcing him to do this. And his death accomplishes nothing. There is no freedom and no salvation that comes from him killing himself; not for Pyotr, not for Liza, not for Nikolai, not for anyone.

His death was empty. But his life, his very human fears and need to live, to be worth something, his stunning kindness in a novel that is fundamentally cruel--that is what matters to the reader. His death can’t be regarded as anything other than a tragedy, which is why I’d say that Dostoyevesky is showing the faults in his ideas (while exploring them with empathy) rather than endorsing them.

So, onto Stepan. Remember when I said it was Russian Orthodox Christianity? The faith element is present in all of Dostoyevsky’s works, and is integral to them. I do think Dostoyevsky is endorsing Stepan’s final speech:

“My friends,” he said, “God is necessary to me, if only because He is the only being whom one can love eternally.”...“My immortality is necessary if only because God will not be guilty of injustice and extinguish altogether the flame of love for Him once kindled in my heart. And what is more precious than love? Love is higher than existence, love is the crown of existence; and how is it possible that existence should not be under its dominance? If I have once loved Him and rejoiced in my love, is it possible that He should extinguish me and my joy and bring me to nothingness again? If there is a God, then I am immortal..”

“There is a God, Stepan Trofimovitch, I assure you there is,” Varvara Petrovna implored him. “Give it up, drop all your foolishness for once in your life!”

...

“Oh, I should dearly like to live again!” he exclaimed with an extraordinary rush of energy. “Every minute, every instant of life ought to be a blessing to man … they ought to be, they certainly ought to be! It’s the duty of man to make it so; that’s the law of his nature, which always exists even if hidden.… Oh, I wish I could see Petrusha … and all of them …"...

“The mere fact of the ever present idea that there exists something infinitely more just and more happy than I am fills me through and through with tender ecstasy—and glorifies me—oh, whoever I may be, whatever I have done! What is far more essential for man than personal happiness is to know and to believe at every instant that there is somewhere a perfect and serene happiness for all men and for everything.… The one essential condition of human existence is that man should always be able to bow down before something infinitely great. If men are deprived of the infinitely great they will not go on living and will die of despair. The Infinite and the Eternal are as essential for man as the little planet on which he dwells. My friends, all, all: hail to the Great Idea! The Eternal, Infinite Idea! It is essential to every man, whoever he may be, to bow down before what is the Great Idea. Even the stupidest man needs something great. Petrusha … oh, how I want to see them all again! They don’t know, they don’t know that that same Eternal, Grand Idea lies in them all!”

Stepan’s ideas are repeated in The Brothers Karamazov and in The Dream of a Ridiculous Man (a fantastic short story!). Dostoyevsky was very much not just an existentialist and a Christian, but a humanist: he believed this life on earth was incomparably valuable, but also the next life was, as well (in contrast to assuming this life is worthless in light of the next, as many theologies in Christianity will proclaim). Stepan is expressing now that the purpose of life is to live and to love--which is meaningful for Stepan’s character and the novel as a whole in two ways: firstly, because Stepan’s denial of his love for Varvara led to a lot of pain and suffering for both of them (as Varvara setting him up with Dasha is what provoked Stepan to beg his son to visit him), and secondly, Stepan’s abandonment of Pyotr as a child is a direct catalyst of the person Pyotr has become. His failure to love his son well is what led to all this tragedy. He now sees it, but it is too late for him to remedy in this life. However, not all is lost: he has a second life he anticipates, and he dies with his love, Varvara, with him, assuring him that there is a hereafter.

On the subject of failure to parent and messed-up children: Stavrogin. He is one of Dostoyevsky’s most complex and disturbing characters. On the one hand, Stavrogin knows right and wrong better than most in the cast; on the other hand, he acts contrary to it because Stavrogin wants to believe that there is no right and wrong, and hence he does more and more ‘wrong’ things in an almost subconscious way to... well, prove his philosophy, like Kirillov, but also to punish himself because much like Kirillov’s beliefs were founded on a contradiction, so are Stavrogin’s. (Shatov says that Stavrogin lives to morally torment himself, and notably he’s the first character who loses his enamorment with Stavorigin, hence I trust his viewpoint.) Also, Stavrogin tells Tikhon that his philosophy is that there is “neither good nor evil,” yet he proves this by acting on things that torment him.

The whole reason people project onto Stavrogin and are drawn to his charisma is because he is empty inside, making him ripe for projection. He is capable of much good and has done some good, but he also is capable of evil (as all characters and people are). Keep in mind that most of the evil Stavrogin is responsible for is through passive means (he foils Stepan here): what he doesn’t do is perhaps more devastating than what he does do. He allows evil to reign and to draw to its tragic conclusions. He sleeps with Liza knowing it will destroy her, but Liza pursued him heavily. He allows Matryosha to commit suicide after he assaults her. He allows Shatov’s death, his wife’s murder, Kirillov’s suicide. He could take action and prevent any of these things, could have even taken responsibility for his evil treatment of Matryosha, but he does not. Instead, he allows her to punish herself because it allows him to continue in his complacent, passively nihilistic philosophy--in fact, it reinforces his philosophy. Good and evil are thus pointless and only lead to ruin, right? These ideas about morality lead to tragedy! He can thus do whatever he wants! (For example, he cites Matryosha believing she has sinned against God--when he’s the one who hurt her--as her reason for her suicide; ie it’s her belief that is the culprit more so than he himself.)

Except, Stavrogin’s moral nihilism fails him. Because in the end, Stavrogin cannot out run his conscience, and commits suicide. Good and evil might just be ideas, or they might not be, but he cannot escape how he feels about them. His feelings are real, and through hurting others he hurts himself, and he cannot live on with such feelings. Society may shape our ideas of what’s right and wrong and it may be twisted and hurt us (for example, Dostoyevsky surely felt society treated women unfairly, especially in matters of sexuality, as we see in how society ruins Liza and Matryosha), but we also cannot heal without each other (for example, Shatov forgiving his wife, and Stepan being able to die with Varvara; in contrast, Stavrogin isolates himself and dies).

So, yeah. I hope that was helpful and not too rambly. Feel free to ask any more questions on the novel/for clarification!

#ask hamliet #demons #dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky #nikolai stavrogin #alexei kirillov #existentialism #nihilism #humanism #christianity #the possessed #the devils #Бесы #Anonymous

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nyrator · 3 years

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another long vent post about depression/anxiety

extremely depressed tonight

first made the mistake of driving myself to the grocery store at 6pm, first I had to try scraping the ice off the windshield with nothing but a broom and bare hands, then driving itself was nightmareish, the car feels like a death trap to me, very loose and sloppy compared to my last car, so loud and uncomfortable with no audible music to calm my nerves. My eyes have worsened to the point where I can’t see anything at night- glare takes up my whole vision, even with anti-glare shades. I was driving well below the speed limit the entire time and still almost hit three pedestrians who were all recklessly out on the roads in all black for whatever reason. My nerves are completely shot from it, my chest feels like I’m in a vice and can’t breathe, my eyes are wide open and hunched over the steering wheel, and my body feels both like I’m about to wet myself at any moment and that I’m too stiff/tense/frozen to function as a human at all, it’s that fight-or-flight response at its extreme. Meanwhile, my skin must be weak- my knuckles bleed when driving, and my wrists bled just from carrying in bags of groceries.

then getting home and just dealing with personal drama of someone I know who is so depressed and self destructive and too smart to reason with, who refuses/is unable to seek professional help, who just doesn’t understand or just can’t help venting to me nonstop, no matter how much I beg them not to over and over- their life is so terrible that suicide seems like the only option to them, and I don’t want them to do so, but I can’t keep suffering like this either and I feel like the only thing preventing them from doing so, as poor a job as I do as a human being anyway. But I can’t help them if they can’t help themselves, even if they were just ate a bit better, or just had a journal or someone anonymous they could talk to, but it seems inescapable and impossible to change anything and all we do is argue over it until I snap at them to leave me alone. That person is probably reading this right now and probably hating it, but I doubt anyone on this site even knows who they are.

Tuesday morning, I couldn’t sleep at all from anxiety- it was so severe and inescapable, I laid in bed for four hours feeling like I was dying until I was finally able to sleep for two hours. I can’t seem to stay asleep longer than two hours anymore. Was supposed to hang out with friends that day, but between lack of sleep, depression, and my absolute terror at driving in a snowstorm, I ended up just staying home.

Anxiety has gotten so bad again. I know a lot of how the mechanics work behind it, I know a lot of pains are from tension and lack of breathing. But my old coping mechanisms don’t work anymore. I can focus on breathing for several minutes straight and then fall right back into suffocating. Music, counting things, meditating, none of it helps anymore.

One way to describe the feeling of anxiety- it’s kind of like when you fall asleep on your arm, and you feel all the blood rushing back into it and that tingling sensation. Imagine that, maybe a bit less, but throughout your entire body (especially chest), your body is stiff and not numb, and your entire body is vibrating or shivering/shaking or something.

I still spend 16+ hours laying in bed every single day. When I got home from shopping, the walking around (and the stress of driving) was enough to send me straight to bed, I was so tired and weak. It’s probably why I don’t sleep properly, I’m half awake in bed all the time, what need is there for sleep

I have mail I haven’t opened, taxes I still have to do, messes to clean, and don’t care for any of it. Can’t even talk about some things I’ve been doing to myself out of spite or general depression, the way I’ve been abusing. I promise to try not to do anything too crazy or directly harmful, but even then I worry about slipping up- I tried one thing I shouldn’t talk about, which wasn’t too serious, but still seriously concerning how easy it was to try doing

still haven’t contacted a therapist, my fear of calling someone is so strong I can’t overcome it, especially not after just waking up. Talked to some friends, some agree that I should, at least one thinks it’s a waste of time and money- up to $125 per session to just get a glorified phone call thanks to covid restrictions. I just don’t see the point if I’m still stuck in my apartment at my computer, especially if I have an internet addiction already.

The lack of doing anything is driving me insane, I think. I’ve played four single player games in 2020- ACNH, KH MoM, Panel de Pon, and Picross. In terms of things watched on my own, probably just Japan Sinks and whatever else was on Netflix the few months I had it. Don’t feel motivated to play or watch anything anymore, nothing seems interesting, and mostly just do things with friends if at all

Even ACNH, the game I play the most, I barely do anything in it- mostly just get new items from stores, that’s it. My island decorating has come to a hard halt, mostly because I barely have any furniture I’d like to embellish it with, and mainly because I have no ideas to layout most of it

I want to create, but don’t have the energy to make anything at all. Rotten Nyan is still my current goal, but anxiety has made it next to impossible to work on. I’ve tried several times the past few weeks, all met with failure- the anxiety’s too much, half the time I don’t even know what’s causing it, but my body just gets too tense and cramped without even doing anything, and I just can’t breathe at all while working on it.

Thought about making an omake comic for it, then realized what a terrible idea it was, and how hard it is to draw comics in general. Or anything in general. Wrote down the entire comic while laying in bed one day, went to draw it, was unable to, tried making it a yonkoma, gave up, and felt sick thinking of all the gross things in it that I just made a vent description of Middle Lave and just posted that to the RN tumblr instead.

I can’t think of any ideas, I feel like my art has regressed- I’ve taken more shortcuts for the sake of my hands tensing so fast from anxiety, and I’ve gotten decent at drawing middle Lave I feel, but anything besides a character standing is impossible for me- any environments or character interactions that I’d love to do just feel impossible, let alone my inability to write good ones. Anything I try to think of writing-wise always ends up the same gross content that burned into my memories that I just can’t feel comfortable talking about much at all, nor do I think it’s content people want to see at all.

There’s a lot of detailed kind of art I’d like to do. I kind of want to loosen my restrictions on myself and just draw whatever suffering I feel like, maybe once I use the RN twitter more I might get a little more courage to do so. I see many artists draw detailed scenes in single images, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t capture that feeling.

Part of me feels torn about it being an autobiography for people to relate to, and being a suffering experience for people to find some weird enjoyment out of. I feel like I’ve lost sight of what it was originally meant to be and now just enjoy “bullying” Middle Lave half the time I guess, but unfortunately for me, bullying makes me feel like vomiting and is hard to draw consistently- maybe I’m too nice. I don’t know, I’m just rambling at this point. The comic is still laid out and just meant to explore the life of Lave, but it’s just so hard to work on.

In terms of other things, I have no idea what to do

Vtuber/streaming? Hate my voice, can’t focus on learning what I need for it in terms of rigging and texturing models. I only know the basics of making 3D things and nothing else.

Console art? I already designed all the ones I’m mainly interested in, but like I mentioned before, can’t think of any character interactions at all that I feel like drawing.

Making a game? I know 2k3 well enough to make anything in it event-wise, though never got over my map failings, and I can’t commit to anything long-term. Godot or another program, or programming in general? Good luck.

I just want to make something, work on a project without losing steam or letting anxiety prevent me from learning. Can’t focus on anything long enough to learn it- Japanese, making a game, programming, a new hobby, anything. I just don’t have the drive to do anything and will give up anything I even try to start, so what’s the point in even trying anything. I have books I haven’t read that I’ve been meaning to read for years, and still don’t have an ounce of energy to want to even organize them on their shelf, let alone open it

At the very least, I got my first big commission (second one ever), designing an OC for someone, and it’s going well, though tonight I’ve lost steam to finish it, and I hope I can get it back tomorrow to try to finalize it.

I’ve mentioned it before, but I really wish I just had someone guide me with art- I miss doing those 30 day challenge kind of things, or “send a number/emoji” kind of asks for OCs, but tumblr’s so inactive that I don’t see them on my dash anymore, and don’t know how to even look for them, especially not on sites like twitter these days. Though, the problem is, no one knows exactly what I like, and I feel awful letting people down if they ask for something I don’t want to draw

I can’t focus on exercise long term, and I’m so out of practice that exhaustion is too strong to beat. I’ve been trying to walk up and down on a step stool for exercise to get me back into basic movement, but even that’s too tiring. Want to do it while watching something, then I realize, I don’t watch anything at all, not even youtube, just an occasional artist stream that I mainly chat with rather than watch

I feel like I’m going to collapse if I turn or move too suddenly, and my eyes are absolutely terrible- glasses are okay, but without them I’m completely blind now- not just blind, but it’s like my eyes see at two different angles sometimes, like one is slanted or something, very disorientating.

It’s 7:30AM, and no desire to sleep at all. Terrified of laying in bed and letting anxiety take over me again. Part of me wants to become completely nocturnal and just avoid everyone during the day and just respond to messages in the AM hours, just wake up at midnight each day and avoid dealing with people. Go to sleep when everyone starts to get active and just isolate myself entirely from society.

I feel like I exist with no purpose whatsoever, and it’s driving me insane- not that life is meant to have a purpose, but I could at least be doing something more than laying in bed all day every day for a year

#text stuffs #nyrants

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theangrypokemaniac · 3 years

Text

Random Irritations

The People's Republic of Galar

Red bus? Racists.

Crude cultural appropriation starts as it means to go on with infamous cliché.

As if you get red buses in market towns. I mean, I ask yer.

Never seen a single-decker red bus in me life.

Never seen a single red bus in me life, except for when I visited That London.

Never again, my friends. Never again.

Not only no bloody door, bloody door hole's on wrong bloody side.

Yer gotta take yer life in yer hands and stand in the middle of the road to board a bloody bus these days.

First the Harrying of the North, now this.

Have they not suffered enough?

Yes fellas, it is He: the Son of God.

Pokémon S.S. is so terrible even these writers won't touch it, and that takes some doing.

Unsurprising however, given Galar glorifies Leon, a mauve-mulleted Eighties throwback chav in white tights under Daz-fresh boxers.

There is a green hill far away

Without a city wall,

Where Our Dear Lord was crucified

He died to save us all!

The Saviour's shower cap stadium resembles an inverted lampshade from a Victorian whore's bedroom.

Or I'm looking up a jellyfish minge.

This anatomical monstrosity is home to the World Coronation Series, an event open to all, not that Gen. Ten and Eleven have much representation.

Ah yes, that never-before- mentioned-and-yet-so-very- famous competition, suddenly the be-all and end-all of everyone's lives, so desperate are they to grasp a fleeting battle with Saint Leon, A.K.A. The Mauve Golden One.

Nay, to bask in His shadow shall suffice! Such a towering titan of epic manliness He be!

As a Communist territory, Galar is a shithole with a severe backlog of nuclear waste.

Barrel upon barrel of radioactive gunge piled up in the earth, until the very ground was as thin and brittle as a Jacob's Cream Cracker.

All it takes is Bellsprout's leaf slicing through the tarmac, and BAM!, there's hell to pay.

Jumbo Chu!

In true comic style, one sniff of luminous asbestos turns normal Pokémon into hideous, super-powered mutants.

Pah. Giovanni was pulling this stunt twenty years ago at Pokémon Land. Yer never saw him make a big deal about it.

Such fragile terrain means every building site, archeological dig or graveyard is a bloody death trap.

Dare so much as disturb the soil and wildlife freaks start kicking over skyscrapers like Godzilla storming Tokyo.

And that ain't very festive when you're trying to bury Nana.

Here's a magical land where trains:

A. Arrive.

B. Arrive on time.

C. Are clean.

D. Are spacious.

E. Provide silver-service dining.

F. Are well within the budget of a pair of kids.

G. Don't have pissed passengers slumped in the corner.

Oh now we're in the realms of fantasy.

Given the lack of custom and rural destination, this must be prior to Doctor Beeching's infamous cull of services.

The villain!

Lads, count yer blessings to be spared the soul-depleting trauma of the filthy Underground.

With them backpacks and demented eyes, folk'd mistake yer for suicide bombers.

And they'd be right, 'cause this cartoon's trying to top itself.

I think it's more than leaves on the line this week, Maureen.

Like many fat 'uns, Snorlax neglected his personal hygiene, and washed himself with a rag on a stick.

Sure enough, add a little bit of toxic seepage and the entire Mushroom Kingdom sprouted from his belly button.

Let that be a lesson to you.

Unable to fit in his specially-adapted bungalow, even with windows removed, Jumbo Lax laid his corpulence on the railway to end it all.

Goodnight Vienna!

Cursing his fate, eyes glimmering with Satan's flames, Jumbo Lax vowed to take us all with him, for if he can't eat his entire body weight in Ginsters and not suffer the consequences, then no one can.

Can't so much as commute to work without being murdered in a trainwreck thanks to bloody subterranean leakage.

And they said fracking was safe.

Soft Southern Sissies wrote Pokémon, proven by their terror of what lurks beyond the cosy metropolitan bubble.

I didn't half panic when the boys headed off to the Wild Area:

Not Moss Side? That's the last we'll see of them!

Nah, turned out to be just some fields.

...

The word you're looking for there is 'countryside'.

I remember when this show was all about lighting fires in the woods and sleeping under the stars.

Now anything green is held at arm's length, for fear it might be catching, with it all neatly contained in one fenced-off sector of the Soviet map.

Say goodbye to foraging, drinking from rivers, week-long hikes and anything resembling hardship.

Our designated heroes are a couple of bed-wetting Townies treating nature like a rancid turd poked with a stick.

If either of these invertebrate milksops ever encountered a speck of dirt they'd run home screaming.

And every kid's like No-Go: a zombified slave to his smart phone life support, rolling into a fœtal position after losing the internet for ten minutes.

It ain't meant to be a bloody documentary!

Look at the screen, not the view. That's you all over.

It ain't Pokémon no more. You can forget that nonsense right now.

It's different.

It's fresh.

There's gonna be some changes.

It shall be renamed Pokémon Journeys.

This is the beginning.

This is the future.

This is the true way, my children.

Well until Gen. Nine comes along anyway, at which point it'll never have happened.

But until that dark day, this is the correct incarnation.

It must be christened anew, set apart from the past.

Hence Pokémon Journeys.

As opposed to all those journeys Ash used to have, walking everywhere, camping, the nomad's existence.

Certainly not. Nature is so ewwwww these days.

You don't understand. It's deep.

This is 'journey' in a reality T.V sense. You know, spiritual, oooh so spiritual.

Well it certainly isn't literal.

Ash wakes up on his orthopædic mattress, puts in his teeth, takes public transport, and is always back before ten to eight to get curtains drawn.

No way is he missing his slippers and mug of cocoa, because he lives life on the edge.

...

Should've called it Pokémon Pensioner Day Trips.

#Pokémon #Galar #Ash #Goh #Leon #Pikachu #Snorlax

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thequeendesi · 5 years

Text

Shit y'all need to acknowledge

Johnny isn't some small "uwu baby"

He's 16 years old

He can hold his own in a fight

He killed someone

He is a minor

He once got beaten by a board and didn't cry

Just bc he expressed remorse for murder, doesn't make him any less of a murderer

"But Des! He was just defending himself and Pony!" That is true, however, it doesn't change the fact that he is one, and you guys need to stop fucking acting like all he does is cry and is a "smol uwu baby". He isn't some stutter-y fool who can't speak up for himself. He stood up to DALLAS. He stood up to the SOCS. He saved CHILDREN. Johnny is so misinterpreted. He's SOFT SPOKEN, He is not DEFENCELESS.

Ponyboy is NOT a cry baby.

He is a 14 year old boy who lost his parents and then saw a DEAD body right in front of him

Ponyboy is a CHILD

Please read that one again

Ponyboy is a child who lost 4 people in less than a year

Who would most likely deal w ptsd.

Ponyboy can also hold his own in a fight.

The reason why pony thinks everyone hates him; HES A KID DUDE. Everyone gets that feeling.

"But Des! He cries a lot in the book :(". You tell me that you wouldn't cry after being an orphan raised by your eldest brother who is under so much stress that you think he hates you, lose your parents in a car crash, near 'bout fucking drown than like 30 minutes later see that person dead right next to you, lose your best friend right in front of your eyes, and then witness someone's suicide. The kid is going through the motions. He can't even remember to keep both of his shoes on, he has a nicotine addiction, and had to go to court to pretty much testify.

Dallas is literally a criminal at like 16ish years old

He fights

Steals

Harasses women

He terrorizes kids

All for the hell of it

He got locked up at 10

He isn't some good guy, he is a TERRIBLE person

"Uh, Des, He gave Johnny and Pony a place to stay when they went on the run, he obviously is a good person." Ok, no. Literally. No. He gave them a temporary place to go while they were on the run for murder. He gave a child a gun. He literally kept trying to get into Cherry's pants after she told him no. That is nOT ok. You guys need to stop glorifying Dallas as this hero who saved the day. Dallas is CANNONLY terrible person; he bullies kids, harasses women, breaks peoples bones for fun, steals and tried to rob a man at gun point. How bad of a kid could you be to get locked up at 10??

Soda is a high school drop out.

And he isnt better than Sandy

He flirted with other chicks

He made inappropriate comments to women

Soda's pretty much only talents are being "pretty" and "good at cars"

He isn't that smart. It's literally canon. And he's also a child at 16.

"But Sandy cheated Des!" In the book, i dont remember where it said Sandy cheated. I know she ran away to Florida. But the whole cheating part i dont really remember that. It's pretty much speculation people made to peg Sandy, a woman only mentioned like ONE or TWO TIMES, a villan. Soda isn't that much better if she even did cheat anyway. Soda regularily called women names, cat call, whistle, flirted. Pretty much was unloyal in different ways. Soda isn't that innocent either.

Steve doesnt fucking hate Ponyboy.

Steve isn't mentioned more than a handful of times anyway

Steve is pretty much described as Soda's best friend, who's gf's name is Evie, and "hates Pony"

He doesn't hate pony.

Coming from the eldest sibling with 5 younger, anyone would get annoyed if their friend's younger sibling would try to tag along everywhere.

He isnt a drop out, and is 16

Another child

Wow

"But Des. Pony literally says Steve hates him." And what i gotta say is; there are 2 sides to every story. Everything you guys say about Steve are pretty much speculation bc you want to villanize someone so bady. Steve is a child/teenager who wants to hang w his best friend and his gf, and his best friends gf without a kid tagging along. And i totally relate. It. Gets. Irritating. Stop villanizing Steve. Hes pretty much the best character.

Two Bit is a 18 year old alcoholic

Who pulls up girl's skirts at movie theaters

Does he even have a gf bc if he did he's definitely a cheater

Twobit is 18 and a jr in hs (wow just like my pos exgf)

He cares about ponyboy and shows it

He blames himself for pony getting sick (even tho that little asshole took a shitton of meds which isnt good)

"But Des! He-" nope. Shut up. TwoBit is a little shit too, he pulled a girls skirt up in public, does that mean him doing a bunch of good shit eliminate him humiliating that girl? Fuck no, he should pay the consequences of his actions. He isn't pure and innocent either, but he isnt a huge fucking dickwad either. He's just insensitive to women's feelings.

DARRY IS 20.

HE IS UNDER A LOT OF STRESS

HE'S BARELY PAYING BILLS

He's worried all the time, Ponyboy sleeping until the middle of the damn night in a fucking lot doesn't make it better.

Should he have slapped him? No. Do i understand on why he did? Yea

I have slapped the shit out of someone for saying something out of line. Ponyboy is a child, he doesnt understand the stress of being an adult, said something, and Dar lost it for a second.

"Darry abused Ponyboy!" No. He didn't. He did not abuse his brother, he provides the necessities, he smacked him ONE TIME. That is not abuse, maybe a small assault, but not abuse. And please refer to the fact, there is pretty much a cake in the fridge everyday that he makes. He works a job roofing houses, he takes care of a brother who dropped out of school and a brother whos going through a quarter life crisis. The man is stressed and tired. But he, of all people, doesn't deserve to be villanized the way y'all are doing. Quit.

"Cherry Valance/Sandy/Sylvia are a bunch of whores who cheated!" Yo, shut the fuck up. Cherry didnt even cheat. She talked to pony and then stopped. She had a reputation to uphold, shes a cheerleader, she has the ideal life. I completely understand on why she stopped, bc in all honesty i would have stopped too if my whole reputation was at stake. I did talk stop talking to a bunch of people bc my reputation and friendships were at stake. Shes also a kid.

Sandy is a teenager who made a mistake/choice if she did cheat. But running away from her problems is something a lot of people do. Ok. I know a lot of people who run away from their problems. Its pretty fucking common.

I DO NOT BLAME SYLVIA FOR CHEATING ON DALLAS. The man is in jail pretty much all of the time, he is bad with communicating his feelings, he's a fucking asshole. He probably cheated on her too, and treated her like shit. Don't villanize Sylvia and treat Dal like some victim of "bad gf syndrome" when they both made mistakes in the relationship.

#des shut up #des vents #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #cherry valance #sylvia the outsiders #sandy the outsiders #steve randle #sodapop winston #darry curtis #two bit curtis #the outsiders

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millie-ionaire05 · 4 years

Text

Saudade - Ot 7 | 09

Ot7 BTS

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Rating: M (Mature)

word count: 2,188

Trigger Warnings: Hospitalization (rehab, mental institute). Mental health issues (Text Reason to 741741 if you need to reach out for help). Insinuated M x M (if you squint hard enough). Substance abuse (alcohol, pills | call 1-800-662-4357 if you are dealing with this). Weapons (gun, knife). Smoking (cigarettes, weed). Mentions of suicide/attempted suicide (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255). Violence (murder/attempted murder). Mentions of blood. Mentions of therapy sessions (these are not accurate representations, please leave it to proper professionals). Mentions of physical abuse (Call 1-800-799-7233 if you are dealing with domestic violence) WE DO NOT GLORIFY THESE WARNINGS/TRIGGERS; THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY, AND DOES NOT RELATE TO ANY OF THE MEMBERS. IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH ANY OF THESE, PLEASE REACH OUT TO YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES FOR ASSISTANCE, OR THE NUMBERS LISTED ABOVE.

↤ Previous | 09 | Next ↦

January 14th, 2018 | 15:20

“I think he’s starting to remember.”

Yoongi’s words reverberate like a threat in his brain as he downs another bottle of soju, disregarding the shot glass he’d previously been using. The desire to quiet the voice overrides the need to take things slow. Namjoon stumbles, colliding softly with the wall. He shifts, his back sliding clumsily down until his ass hits the ground and he releases the bottle, hearing it roll across the floor a bit from him.

From his pocket he pulls out the drawing Yoongi had brought and his heart begins to thrum furiously beneath his ribs. A smudge of the graphite used tints his fingers as he unfurls the paper. Swallowing hard, he stares at the dark image, the strokes seemingly etched hurriedly on the page as if the artist felt the inspiration would disappear from his mind before he could finish it.

As he continues to stare, the raven becomes a blur, Namjoon’s eyes beginning to lose focus. Could things have been different if he had tried more? If he had intervened and forced them to talk it out, would things not have gone so far? Would they all not be so estranged from each other?

Letting his head fall back as despair washes over him, he turns to gaze over at the afternoon light streaming into his place from two square windows high above a small table and chair set against the container wall. In his peripheral vision, he makes out the tattooing needle, ink and supplies he has stored in that area and sits up, eyes widening slightly. He stumbles up onto his feet, sauntering over unsteadily before plopping down into the chair, his mind now locked on one thought only.

Tattoo the bird as tribute.

Even in his inebriated state, he doesn't worry about making a mistake. This was the one thing he was good at. His fingers are nimble, steady as he opens a new needle and attaches it to the nail gun along with the ink. An incessant buzzing soon fills the quiet space as his brows furrow in concentration.

He barely feels the pain of the needle as it rapidly punctures his flesh repeatedly, delivering the black ink to the space beneath his skin. At the faint sound of police sirens in the far distance, a memory from the prior year comes to the forefront as he focuses on each line and stroke. A memory of him and Taehyung as they’d been tagging a concrete hedge in the middle of the night. After a few drinks, the two had grown bored, looking for something to do. Taehyung had brought a few cans of spray paint and suggested they add a bit of art to the playground not too far from where they were. He hadn’t really been down for that, but Taehyung had insisted and he didn’t want him to go alone. It wasn’t long before they had reached the spot and Taehyung began spray painting the area.

They chuckled and teased each other as Tae colored the cement, both too busy enjoying themselves to notice the police car patrolling the area. Blue and red lights flashed across the wall, alerting Namjoon first. Straightening, eyes-wide, he tapped Taehyung’s arm, his chin jutting out to the area behind him, simultaneously snatching up his younger friend’s backpack. Taehyung turned, mouth and eyes turning into large O’s before the two began to run.

Though their feet pumped swiftly, eating up the pavement, they were no match for the police and were soon caught, the officers none too gentle as they slammed them against their vehicle. Namjoon couldn’t help but grin over at Taehyung as the cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. Taehyung returned the gesture with a boxy smile of his own, even as one of the officers opened his bag, the spray cans spilling out onto the asphalt below. His smile dissipates as the officer grows rougher with Namjoon, yanking him harshly, hurting his arm as they straighten him up. It was then that Namjoon noticed the shift in Taehyung’s eyes go from mirthful to worried.

He had been concerned with how the officer was treating Namjoon, but he had also come to realize that his parents would be notified of his arrest and were not going to take it well. Especially his father. Taehyung’s father was very strict and was known for physically showing his displeasure in the way of bruises and nicks that would decorate his skin.

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as if to clear the images from his mind. Letting out a heavy breath, he stands, walking towards a tall floor mirror he has leaning against the opposite wall. He’d placed it there for his clients to check out the ink he’d apply to them. Namjoon turns his forearm towards the mirror, twisting his wrist left and right as he takes in the image he’d permanently etched there.

A lump forms in his throat, as he remembers receiving a frantic phone call from Jin just a few days after Taehyung and he had been arrested.

“Slow down, Jin-hyung. I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Namjoon urged.

He could hear Jin take in a breath and let it out before he made another attempt to convey his message.

“It’s Taehyung,” he began again, his voice shaking terribly. “He...Jesus, he tried to kill himself, man.”

“What?!” Namjoon exclaimed, his heart falling with a thud into the pit of his stomach.

“Look, we’re nearby,” he’d informed him. “Can-can I just bring him over? I can’t do this on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Just have a towel and some clothes ready...for both of us.”

“Wha…”

But Jin had hung up without elaborating and after a few seconds of staring at his phone, random scenarios accosting his mind, he’d sprang into action, grabbing towels and clothes for Jin and Taehyung. And he’d been right. It had not taken but about ten minutes for them to reach his place.

After Jin had pounded on his door, Namjoon opened up to the sight of Jin holding up their younger friend. Taehyung raised his head slowly, his cobalt blue hair plastered to his head and face. He moved as if his head weighed tons, his eyes meeting Namjoons almost reluctantly. The dark orbs swam with guilt and exhaustion. Snapping to, he reached forward to help Jin bring Taehyung in.

The two assisted Tae with undressing and drying up. There was a lavender tint to his lips, his face pallid and devoid of it’s usual tanned color. His skin was icy to the touch. Namjoon shivered fearfully. They dressed him quickly and Namjoon had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding what had happened. He led him to his sofa bed while Jin went into the bathroom to switch into dry clothes.

Taehyung didn’t speak as he crawled onto the pull out bed, his eyes already fluttering closed as his head touched down on the pillow. Namjoon tucked a thick blanket around him, squeezing his shoulder gently before straightening up. Jin was just stepping out of the bathroom, his dark brown hair slightly dishevelled.

“Can we talk outside?” Jin questioned, glancing over at Taehyung’s presumably sleeping form.

Namjoon nodded and grabbed coats for both of them. Zipping them up, they stepped outside, puffs of steam expelling from their mouths as they met the cool Spring evening.

As the door clicked behind him, Namjoon could no longer wait for the details, demanding, “What happened?” Jin ran both of his hands through his hair in exasperation, his usually plump lips pressed tightly together in a thin grave line.

“My being there was just pure chance, ya know?” he started, head shaking as he paced back and forth. “I keep trying not to think about how differently this night would have turned out had I not had the fucking sudden urge to go night fishing.”

“Jin-hyung,” Namjoon insisted. “Just tell me what happened.” He paused, staring at Najmoon, his eyes full of terror.

“Like I said, I went to the pier to go night fishing, fish bite good in this type of weather.” He closed his eyes, trying to get himself back on track. “Anyway, I had casted my line when I saw the moonlight gleam off of something in the water. At first, I just thought it was a dolphin, but it wasn’t moving. I turned my flashlight towards the object and realized it was a person. I didn’t even think twice. I took off my clothes and jumped in.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon swiped a hand down his face in surprise.

“I couldn’t really see their face, I just grabbed them and swam with them to the water's edge. Once on shore, and we were beneath a street lamp, the blood drained out of my body when I saw it was Taehyung. He was so pale, his lips blue. God, I panicked for a moment, but it was just a moment. I performed CPR on him and it worked, obviously,” his hand signaled towards the door.

“How did he end up in the water?!” Namjoon exclaimed.

“When he came to, he didn’t want to say, but he finally admitted he had climbed up the scaffolding and jumped in. Since he doesn’t know how to swim, he was hoping he would drown.”

“What? Why?”

Jin shook his head, “He said he didn’t want to be a disgrace to his family.”

“Shit,” Namjoon cursed, biting at his lower lip. “His father must have reamed him pretty badly for him to want to go to this extreme.”

“Yea,” Jin agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the coat.

“Look, I’ll take care of him tonight,” Namjoon dropped a comforting hand on Jin’s shoulder. “Go home, get some rest. I’ll talk to him. He’s going to be ok.”

Jin nodded, “Ok. I’ll call in the morning to check up on you two.”

Jin had left then and when Namjoon re-entered his home, Taehyung’s eyes were open, staring out, unseeing.

“Tae?” Namjoon called softly, and his eyes refocused and landed on him. “You’re ok. You’re safe now.”

“He told you,” he whispered, despondently.

“Of course he did,” Namjoon sat down cross-legged before Taehyung. “We are all brothers after all and we don’t keep things from each other.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Namjoon probed. “I mean, what made you want to do this?”

Taehyung drew his body into the fetal position, his brows drawing down tightly.

“My...my dad didn’t take my arrest too well,” he admitted. “He beat me when I came home and told me I was a disgrace and had brought dishonor to our family. I figured killing myself would restore my family’s honor.”

Namjoon’s eyes glittered with unshed tears, as he tried to remain strong for his young friend.

“No. Killing yourself will not restore your family’s honor, Taehyungie,” he told him softly. “Living an honorable life will. Don’t do anything to get arrested again and work hard. That’s all you have to do. Can you promise me that?”

Taehyung sighed, but nodded. “I promise.”

“OK then. Let’s get some sleep.”

Putting down a comforter on the floor, Namjoon curled up underneath a blanket next to the sofa bed, and slept knowing Taehyung was alive and well next to him.

Namjoon picks up the soju bottle he’d released earlier and throws it angrily at the mirror. What had happened to their brotherhood and their promise to never keep things from each other? The glass shatters, falling in a glittering cascade at his feet. He looks down, his reflection a broken image across hundreds of shards. He catches sight of the white lily tattoo on his other forearm that he’d previously given himself.

“Namjoon, listen, it’s Jin,” his hyung sighs heavily into the phone. “I got a missed call from Taehyung earlier. He’s been arrested again. He asked me not to tell you, but you know what happened last time and I couldn’t…. You have to get him out. We can’t let his parent’s find out this time.”

Namjoon replays the voicemail left the previous night, cursing himself for drinking that night and not bothering to charge his phone.

Namjoon takes the picture of the bird and walks to his kitchen to grab another drink, whiskey this time, pouring it into a short glass. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he brings the sheet towards it as he flicks it open. The paper instantly kindles, growing brighter as the flame licks up the dry surface. Namjoon’s eyes follow the chard edge as it swallows up the initials that had been scribbled on the back. When there is nothing but a corner left, he drops it into the amber liquid. As the hiss quiets, he brings the alcohol to his lips. The ash and whisky slide down past his lips to mingle in his gut with the beer and soju he had previously drunk. Jin's pale face flashes before his eyes just as he passes out in a heap on the floor.

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