#zerbrechlich

[deprixpainsblog]

Irgendwie bin ich total zerbrechlich

#thoughts #depressing life #ptbs #depressiv #einsam #actually mentally ill #mentally fucked #zerbrechen #zerbrechlich

[lovejunkie97]

#liebe #Beziehung #herz #Selbstliebe #sorgsam #zerbrechlich #Partnerschaft #Wertschätzung #kostbar #sensibel #Instagram

[cosmogyral-vagabondo]

Ich bin auch zerbrechlich. Im Fall.

#scherbenhaufen #zerbrechlich #glas #reflektion

[wordart-in-german]

Die Welt ist zerbrechlich – The world is fragile!

two chopsticks lie on a bowl standing on a table with a flower, on the chopsticks is written: "The world is fragile" (in German)

Download image (via Dropbox) (without registration - keine Registrierung notwendig, ggf. das Fenster zum Registrieren rechts oben [x] wegklicken)

#world #welt #zerbrechlich #fragile #pain #suffering #leid #schmerz #broken #brokenworld #faith #love #hope #glaube #liebe #hoffnung

[daemondergefuehle]

Preis des Lebens?

Inneres Leid,ewiger Kampf.

Äußere Stärke,innerliche Schwäche.

Jedes Geräusch ein tobendes geklirre,es macht mich oft irre.

Gedanken die schwanken,der Schlaf liegt brach.

Die Kraft zum Leben ist down,der Körper nur Hülle mit zerbrechlicher Fülle.

Die Dunkelheit erscheint wieder mehr ,obwohl sie lange Zeit grau war.

Alte Gefühle und Gedanken überspringen wieder die gebauten Schranken.

Der Hass des Lebens und der Menschen zurück als gäbs kaum Grenzen.

Ich kämpfe dagegen fühle mich so schwach und leer.

Und immer die Frage:

Ist das der Preis des Lebens wurde ich geboren um zu Leiden?

#Gefühle #Seelenchaos #überSchattenspringen #zerbrechlich #Leben #Lieben #Leiden #Ängste #einsam #Gedankenfluss

[vertragswerkstatt]

What have we done ?

#original photographers #photografers on tumblr #germany #original photography blog #photographers on tumblr #ruhrgebiet #ruhrpott #original photografers on tumblr #original photography #Das zerbrechliche Paradies #The fragile paradise

[valkoinenlintu]

Peter Fieseler as Ben Ritter in "Kaltblüter" (2023)

#er ist so zerbrechlich </3 #ich liebe ihn #ben is such a fucking babygirl like actually #i mean look at him. look into his eyes. look at the sadness in them </3 #he's an emotional disaster <3 #die heiland - wir sind anwalt #die heiland #peter fieseler #ben ritter #ep: kaltblüter #gifs #gifset #mine* #💜

[giapercheno]

#Gasometer Oberhausen #Das zerbrechliche Paradies

[andreaskorn]

Das zerbrechliche Paradies

Ausstellungsbesuch im Oberhausener Gasometer 

Eine beeindruckende Ausstellung zur Geschichte und zum derzeitigen kritischen Zustand unserer Erde und unserer Zivilisation. Es wird deutlich, wie sehr die Menschheit unwiederbringlich die geniale Vielfalt der Natur und Lebensräume aller Lebensformen (inklusive des Menschen) zerstört.

Viel zu lange schon ist der angerichtete Schaden ignoriert worden. Die Fülle an Informationen zeigt ein erdrückendes Zukunftsbild, wenn nicht gravierende Rettungsversuche unternommen werden. 

Jeder sollte mithelfen sowie Beiträge zur Erhaltung und Pflege von Naturräumen leisten. Schämen sollte sich jeder, der die Natur mit den Füßen tritt, zumüllt und verseucht. Das muß aufhören!

Dr. Andreas u. Korn, 23.10.2022

#Das zerbrechliche Paradies #gasometer oberhausen #lebensräume #aussterben

[darkworkcourier]

Hi yes I've been enchanted and ensnared by @cyber-nya's Monster 141 AU, so I rolled around in that sandbox like a heathen.

---

Dr. Adler's easy to figure out. Price picks up on it the second he walks into the infirmary on his weekly blood pack acquisition mission. Rather than the usual overly-sterile, Clorox smell, he's hit with a scent wave that screams herb garden. It makes him blink hard, reeling back, covering his nose with his wrist.

Once he recovers a little, he sees stacks of cardboard boxes, all marked up in German—Zauberbücher, Kristalle, Tränke (Zerbrechlich!), among many, many others. Adler stands in the middle of her cardboard castle, holding up two little vials up to the light. She frowns, taps on one, and tilts her head when it... changes color, turning a deep mauve.

Price wavers on whether to leave her to whatever it is she's doing, or interrupt her. He decides on the latter, mostly because he's starving, and they still have another week and a half before he can get anything fresh.

"Doc?" he tries.

"I heard you come in, Captain Price," she says, not bothering to turn her head. The vial in her left hand changes color again to a fetching chartreuse. "One moment. These are very volatile."

"Like exploding kind of volatile, or...?"

"Volatile as in prone to either reverse the order of your internal organs, or potentially cure a hangover." She pauses, squints. "I can't remember which one does what."

That seems incredibly important. Price presses himself against the wall by the door, all too happy to make a break for it if it means his small intestine won't come out his nose. Not that he uses his small intestine for much these days, but he'd rather not experience that.

In the end, she seems to decide which potion does what, setting the chartreuse vial down on her desk, and tucking the other vial (deceptively clear) in a cast iron chest that looks like it was probably made in the medieval period. She locks it twice.

Once that's done, she sighs and turns to face him. "Sorry about that, Captain. What can I do for you?"

"Just swung by to pick up, uh, supplements."

Dr. Adler raises one dark brow. "The blood packs, you mean."

He didn't remember telling her about his status, but seeing her turn their formerly boring infirmary into a witchy apothecary makes him think that it wouldn't matter if he told her or not. "Yeah," he says, rather lamely.

She nods, dusting her hands off on her lab coat, before walking over to the mini-fridge. "Do you have a preference?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "Learned not to be picky."

At that, she suddenly stands up, abandoning the fridge empty-handed. Price watches her with suspicion as she approaches her fortress of boxes with the expression of a woman on a mission. Her hands hover in front of her, going over the boxes like a human metal detector, before finally landing on one of the boxes marked Tränke. She carefully moves it to her desk, rifling through its contents (which sound alarmingly fragile) before lifting a squat, rotund little glass full of wine-dark liquid. As soon as she pops the cork, the smell hits Price like a bus.

Fae blood. Fucking hell, he'd know that stuff anywhere.

Adler winds through her labyrinth of boxes toward him, and it takes a hell of a lot of self control not to rip the bottle out of her hand. Instead, she politely hands it to him before returning her hands to her coat pockets.

"Try that," she says. "It's not completely fresh, and I won't be able to refill all my stock for at least a few weeks, but it should help."

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Price drinks the bottle's contents in one go, only vaguely thinking that maybe he should have asked how much he could drink. Dr. Adler's expression doesn't change, even when the bottle's completely dry, so he assumes it's fine. And it's good. Fae blood is sweet on his tongue, a shimmery white wine to a human's dark claret. It fills him up, gets his head clear, saturates all the colors in the room, and makes his peripheral vision glow. In short, it's fucking awesome.

"Oh," he says. "That's..."

"Stop by when you need more," she cuts in with a shrug. "I have a few other varieties. Some are harder to come by than others, so I'll have to be a bit frugal with those. Give it a couple weeks and I should have better stock."

"Thanks, Doc," Price replies, a little in awe. He hands her the bottle, knowing if he keeps it any longer, he's going to break it open and lick up the remainder.

"Gern geschehen," Dr. Adler replies. She replaces the cork, then turns on heel and goes back to her boxes.

Price decides it's better to leave her be for now. But as he leaves, he gets why she came so highly recommended.

---

As easy as it is to figure out that Dr. Adler is their resident witch-on-call, it's stupid hard to identify what ever Carrion is.

When she leaves a room, the arguments get heated. Gaz swears up and down she's another kind of witch. Maybe a... flight one, if that's a thing. She's good at piloting, having, quoth he, "A weird relationship with gravity." That has to be a witch trait.

No, argues Soap. He smelled something on her, but it wasn't the same as the strange herb-earth-magic scent that follows in Dr. Adler's footsteps. No doubt she's not human, but it irks him with the same sensation of having a word on the tip of his tongue. He knows this. Shapeshifter, maybe? Some kind of weird changeling? But neither of those seem right.

"You sniffed her?" Gaz asks, incredulous.

"Not on purpose!" Soap retorts. "I just so happened to smell her when she walked by!"

"Creep," Gaz sagely confirms.

Soap responds by tackling Gaz with a decidedly dog-like growl.

For the next four weeks, the 141 puzzles over their pilot. She seems blissfully unaware of the way they stare at her, happily in her own little world. She sings to herself, preens when they compliment her after a flight, hops away in little dance steps after every mission.

Then a mission goes wrong.

They're across enemy lines, helo half-drowned in a river, a storm battering the landscape, desperation making monsters of all of them. Soap was the first to lapse, literally tearing through hostiles with otherworldly howls and snarls. Price rips open throats, pupils blown, jaw dripping with blood. Gaz pierces soft body after body with an impossibly-sharp sword, maw burning with embers as his secondary form threatens to come loose.

And Ghost— It's hard to argue with death incarnate, especially if you're on the debating team.

Everyone's so caught up in the fight, in the desperate high-stakes bloodbath, that they don't have time to check on their pilot. She got out of the crash, confirmed she was safe, and that was all.

But then Soap's pinned by gunfire, forced to crawl under rubble just to escape the onslaught. He pauses, paws burning into the mud underneath him, thinking on the best strategy to get through a wall of human hostility. During that dull roar of a lull, something catches his eye.

The first thing he thinks is that is a fucking huge bird.

The second thing isn't so much a thought as it is shock at the sight of a talon the size of a pickax piercing a man's skull like a melon. Wings furiously beat, the sound like a snarl of thunder, and a high-pitched shriek makes Soap's sensitive ears ache.

Only then does he register that it's Carrion. Their Carrie, their happy-go-lucky beam of sunlight pilot who sings made-up songs and dances like a moron when she thinks no one's watching—that Carrie is leaving gouges in their enemy like they're nothing. Her arms are massive wings, black and white tapering to red (just like the bearded vulture on her helmet, and now Soap just feels stupid), legs now scaled and ending in those deadly talons. Her head's the same, except her hair's loose from its braid and falling around her shoulders in a windblown mess, and her mouth opens to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

She's a fucking harpy.

Soap watches in awe for a moment more before realizing she's still by herself. As badass as it is, he clips around the corner of the rubble pile to attack the group from the opposite end, meeting her in the middle. Once their enemy is just a smear in the mud, he finally looks up at her, huffing once in gratitude.

"No problem," she says, smiling with her wicked teeth. Her voice is higher, crackling like lightning. It's awesome.

Their mission wraps up quick after that, a massacre split five ways, fur and feathers truly flying.

Once they're back at base, beaten and battered but otherwise whole, Carrion slinks away to the showers. The rest of the 141 leaves her be, allows her a private moment to get herself back in order.

And Gaz sums it all up with a firm, "That was badass."

Everyone hums, growls, or hisses in agreement.

#cod: mw2 #mw2 oc #monster 141 #monster 141 au #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #oc: dr leonie adler #oc: carrie carrion dunmore #THIS AU'S CONSUMING MY LIIIIIIFE

[herzsplitter]

„Ich schütze momentan einfach nur mich selbst.. ich kann keinen weiteren schlag gebrauchen.. ich bin so zerbrechlich und habe Angst. Ich habe so eine verflucht große Angst davor mich dir vollständig zu öffnen. Ich habe so eine Angst davor, dass du mich wieder anlügst, mich ausnutzt. Angst davor dass du das mit uns nur halb so sehr möchtest wie ich. Das deine Worte, deine Gefühle nicht echt sind. Angst davor, dass wir uns verlieren. Weißt du was ich mir manchmal denke? Das wenn du nicht für immer bleibst, du mein schlimmster heartbreak wirst..“

Du kanntest meine Ängste und hast all das trotzdem getan .. Du hast meine Gefühle mit Füßen getreten

#liebeskummer #liebe #depri #trennung #herzschmerz #breakup #einsam #love #gedanken #herzsplitter #belogen #lügen

[flotterhase]

Du bist so schön,

dass ich dich nicht genug betrachten kann,
Und doch ist dein Körper so zerbrechlich

wie eine Seidenraupe.
Wenn du stirbst,

wirst du zu Staub zerfallen,
Aber in meinem Herzen

wirst du ewig weiterleben…

#girls who like girls #lesben #schönheit #poesie

[alvodra]

Felsenweich

Steter Tropfen auf Stein

Bin ich der Stein?

Werde ich geformt?

Ist das Wasser Wissen

Und das Ergebnis eine

Stets sich wandelnde,

unvollkommen vollkommene Struktur?

Oder ist das Wasser Druck,

Sorgen, Ängste, Last?

Und bin ich kein Stein,

sondern starr und zerbrechlich?

Werde ich geformt?

Oder werde ich gebrochen?

Bis nichts bleibt als Stücke

Und Erinnerungen und Leere.

Oder bin ich ein Gefäß?

Das Wasser beides, Wissen und Last.

Die Schale fängt es auf,

vermischt es,

bis beides untrennbar ist.

Und es wird etwas Neues.

Mit vielen Namen.

Erfahrung, Weisheit, ja.

Aber auch Persönlichkeit.

Die Schale fängt auf,

sie trägt.

Auch sie wird geformt.

Aber brechen tut sie nie.

Der Stein akzeptiert das Wasser.

Er ist beständig. Fest.

Ein Kunstwerk.

Die Schale ist im Stein.

Sicher. Fest. Unzerbrechlich.

Die Schale bin ich.

#poetry #own poem #own post #yes i could translate it into English without destroying anything #but I'm too tired for finding words that convey exactly the same idea #and that would be important so here you go with another German poem #have fun with it #i had #gosh i love metaphors #i love to read them and i love to write them #having one image in my head and forming it is just such a cool feeling #lela's poems

[samsi6]

Wenn ich schon das Photo so lasse l, wie es in der Kamera gespeichert ist, dann ist das so l. Der Tropfen, Beweis für unerwartete Regentätigkeit im Juli, ist jetzt irgendwie fixiert. Die Dinge sind andauernd im Fluss, die Strömung wird dabei heftiger. Leben verändert sich schneller, als die einzelne Veränderung begriffen werden kann. Aber Leben wird weiter gelebt. Das zeigt wie wiederstandsfähig und zäh Leben an sich sein kann. Gleichzeitig ist es unglaublich zerbrechlich. Es ist einzigartig, aber oft wird seine Kostbarkeit verhöhnt. Menschen nehmen Menschen Leben. Sie berufen sich dabei auf Auftrag von anderen Menschen oder höheren Mächten oder sie berufen sich auf die empfundene Wichtigkeit und Richtigkeit eines eigenen Impulses. Dabei gibt es nur eine Richtigkeit. Die ist, dass wir das Leben bis Heute nicht verstehen. Ich glaube, in 'Hannah und ihre Schwestern' entspann sich zwischen Woody Allen und seinem Filmvater folgender Dialog: 'Wenn es wirklich einen Gott gibt, warum gab es dann den Holocaust?' - 'Woher soll ich wissen, wieso Gott den Holocaust zulässt? Ich weiß ja nicht einmal wie dieser Dosenöffner funktioniert!' In diesem Dialog wird nicht viel erklärt. Es wird vielmehr dokumentiert, wie wir durch's Leben gehen. Erstaunlich, wie wichtig man sich dabei trotz allem zuweilen fühlt...

.

.

I left the photo the way it's stored in the camera. The drop, evidence of unexpected rain activity in July, is now somehow fixed. Things are always in flux, and the flow is getting stronger. Life changes faster than the single change can be comprehended. But life is lived on. This shows how resilient and tough life itself can be. At the same time, it is incredibly fragile. It is unique, but its preciousness is often derided. People take people's lives. In doing so, they invoke orders from other people or higher powers, or they invoke the perceived importance and correctness of their own impulse. There is only one correctness. It's that we don't understand life to this day. I think a dialogue that unfolded between Woody Allen and his father in 'Hannah and Her Sisters' was like: 'If there really is a God, why was there the Holocaust?' - 'How should I know why God allows the Holocaust? I don't even know how that can opener works!' Not much is explained in this dialogue. Rather, it documents how we go through life. It's amazing how important you sometimes feel despite everything...

#drop #frankfurt #things to be said #not really chaotic but

[melonturtles-blog]

Und dann ist da dieser Mensch der mich beim Fallen gebremst hat so das die Landung sanfter verläuft.

Und dann ist da dieser Mensch der mit meinen Launen nicht klar kommen wird und es trotzdem versucht.

Und dann ist da dieser Mensch der mir hilft das der Kopf wieder denken kann das Herz wieder schlägt und die Lunge wieder Atmen kann.

Und dann ist da dieser Mensch selbst so zerbrechlich aber wundervoll .

#eigenes #gefühle #danke für alles #herz #lunge #kopfchaos