#this was originally all one chunk of text but i’ve broken it up to make it easier to read | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emeraldbabygirl · 1 year

Text

Bruh it’s getting to the point that my blog is so messy and such an eyesore and I hate my fics so much that I want to just deactivate. Either completely or start fresh. Like I rarely tag reblogged so sometimes my own posts cause I get lazy and just don’t feel like tagging and then later on when I try to find a post I can’t cause I didn’t tag it or I did and I can’t remember what tags I used or the tags don’t register so I have to search through multiple other posts just to find the one I want

And my blog has like a cute pfp and header and colors but all my posts are just chunks of texts with the same plain ass font and my master list is the most basic master list I’ve ever seen and some of the links are broken and I can’t find the posts to fix them so they stay broken.

I don’t have a layout with easy to get to posts, I don’t have cute lil fonts and details in my posts, I don’t put links within links like what some people do with their masterlists and I know I originally made fics and posts for myself and then I started putting tags in but half my posts I’ve made over the past couple months I feel are a complete waste of time even if I reblog them myself, they aren’t even good posts like the content is a complete train wreck I talk about so much in some posts when it’s supposed to be like one topic and then I have the audacity to get “upset” or “disappointed” when my posts get no notes at all or like 2 likes or a reblog. Like I should be grateful people even bother to look at my dumb shit and say “I like that.” Like I have over a thousand followers and I notice the same like 2-5 people in my notifs that like or make any interaction at all with my posts. Idk what the others are doing but I just ugh. And I constantly feel like I have to make posts on everything and I have to constantly be on tumblr and I have to message people and I have to do this and this and I like when I took breaks from tumblr but my mind is constantly running and I want to share my thought cause sometimes I imagine people liking my posts and stuff. Idk I’m just ranting which I do a lot. And like I notice blog that have lil tags for when they ramble and things and I had that with the 3 brain cell hour but that’s not a thing anymore.

I totally get the destructive feeling of wanting to cleanse your account and get rid of everything and start fresh with a new identity but there are some things on this blog that I want to keep to look at later if I want. I have most of my gifs backed up but now I can’t back anymore up cause my computers are both dead and I can’t charge them cause there’s something wrong with the cable. I think Cooper chewed it like he did my last two pairs of earbuds.

And and because in complete Willow fashion I have to spill everything, I get days off where I want to catch up on a comeback of write a little or watch a series or do something that makes me feel like a mature adult but my day off gets here and I do none of that. I revert to channel surfing all night and into the morning when there’s nothing of interest on. And I watch like one video then “feel the need” to come here and share whatever my thoughts are and I feel like in a way, some of the things I do, if they are recent habits, have before so “organized” that they aren’t really organized and it’s not like “oh do this if you want whenever you have free time” it’s “this is what you should do on your day off as your free time” and then it doesn’t feel like free time. But then..ok I’m gonna stop now cause I do my want to get into literally everything even tho I really just dump shit on this account.

Tl;dr: I think I need another break but I just want to focus on one fic and I want to clear out my drafts of unfinished fics and I want to get away from the internet and social media. But I also wish I could learn how to make my blog more appealing to the eyes and make things that maybe will invite more people to my blog, I want to start making cooler looking layouts and things and learn how to make gifs but I’m obviously so lazy anyway which is another problem. And I don’t like to spill everything about me online, unless I’m talking to someone I trust I’d rather have my blog be less personal like I don’t want everyone to know everything about me but sometimes I just want to spill everything.

#still too long of a post ugh #I think a lot of it is also my everyday routine is the same #and I feel like I never look forward to anything anymore #unless if it’s a dinner I like or a lunch I pack that I’m excited to have #I go to work at a place I don’t like with people I don’t fit in with #I’m not happy fully in my life rn #idk what to do to make things better #I have my ups and downs and the meds help the downs not stay down #but it’s the same thing everyday and I kinda feel trapped #but I am too comfortable to do anything different and too scared #ignore all these tags I’m still ranting 🙄#rant #personal #and I need a new tag other than rant and personal #I need a personal personal tag for when my mind just goes #I also have a bunch of posts I scheduled and shit #plus like the series is taking longer than I thought #and I want it to be finished

0 notes

symptoms-syndrome · 3 years

Text

Alters and Race in White-Bodied Systems

I said I was going to write something up, so I’m going to try. I will try to make this as easily understandable as possible, so please let me know if parts are unclear. This will be a little long because it’s a complex topic, but I hope you try to read it if you can. I’ve broken things up into chunks and made the text large for each header so that it is more ADHD-friendly, and tried to use layman’s terms whenever possible.

Things I’m going to be talking about in this post will be:

What is race?

What are the types of racial oppression?

How do people in DID communities/spaces perpetuate racism?

How can I check myself and avoid perpetuating racism?

Final notes

When I can, I will link to sources. For transparency, I am a nonblack/indigenous, Korean-American mixed race person with diagnosed DID. When I use the term “DID” in this post I am referring to both DID and OSDD.

#1: What is Race?

Race is a social construct, created by white people. It is not based in any science, as science has disproven there are significant genetic markers that differ between different races. “Whiteness,“ especially, has been an idea that has changed wildly over time. (A good book to read about this is called How The Irish Became White.)

Socially, people are divided along lines of race, which are blurry at best. Things like “the one drop rule“ make it so that no person of color (POC, a noun not an adjective) can fully claim whiteness. Whiteness is primarily defined by “not being a POC.”

‘Whiteness,’ like ‘colour' and ‘Blackness,' are essentially social constructs applied to human beings rather than veritable truths that have universal validity. The power of Whiteness, however, is manifested by the ways in which racialized Whiteness becomes transformed into social, political, economic, and cultural behaviour. White culture, norms, and values in all these areas become normative natural. They become the standard against which all other cultures, groups, and individuals are measured and usually found to be inferior (Henry & Tator, 2006, p. 46-47).

(In layman’s terms: Whiteness is created by society, and is now defined as “normal” and “default,” while actively oppressing people of color. People of color, by not being white, are seen as inferior. It’s a catch 22 of not being enough, and when you ARE enough, you’re not considered a person of color anymore, which is exactly what happened to the Irish.)

#2: What is Racial Oppression?

“Oppression” is a word a lot of folks throw around these days, and is commonly defined by what are called the “four Is of oppression.” These four Is are:

Internalized: This is oppression instilled in POC. Thoughts like “if I am more like my white peers, I will be more respected,” “I’m not like those people of color,” and pitting different POC against each other are all examples of internalized racism.

Interpersonal: This is oppression that is between individuals, and the most recognized form of racism. Interpersonal racism can look like calling people slurs, expecting POC to conform to stereotypes, etc.

Institutional: This is oppression built into the society and systems we live in. It can look like schools with higher percentages of POC getting less funding, differing descriptions for the same behavior (hyperactive white children being described as “outgoing” while a child of color is described as “disruptive”,) income inequality, and police brutality.

Ideological: Probably the hardest for people to recognize, ideological racism exists within our very thought processes. White people are told, directly and indirectly, that they are harder working, more deserving, more capable, more advanced, and so on. The inverse is applied to POC. A good example of this is the idea of “welfare queens,” or the idea that someone only got to where they are “by playing the race card.”

All of these interact with each other. Ideological racism is the basis of institutional racism, institutional racism is enforced by interpersonal racism, and progress towards liberation is inhibited by internalized racism, which is instilled in us by all of the above. Oftentimes, these are perpetuated in ways white folks don’t even notice or intend. Offhand comments and other microaggressions (more about those here, in a 2 minute video) can reinforce racism in ways that seem small or insignificant.

Now, onto the part folks are most likely here for:

#3: How Does This Relate to DID?

In DID, alters form for all sorts of reasons, and can look like anything. From demons to angels, fictional characters to animals or objects, the ways parts form can tell someone a lot about that parts beliefs, particularly when they differ from the body. In The Haunted Self, an example is given of a part that believes they are Superman because they cannot be hurt.

When race is involved with this, ideological biases come into play. Though you may not consciously make the decision to have an alter appear a certain way, ultimately, an alter is created by your brain and your brain alone (apart from, of course, the society that your brain/body exist in.) When you are a white person, and your brain creates an alter that appears to be of color, there is a reason. Even “positive” reasons can carry racism, such as splitting an Asian-appearing alter to help with schoolwork. Oftentimes, even without knowing, that reason is due to biases regarding race.

When an alter is created, it does not magically gain the experiences of someone who would actually live in that body. An alter that appears to be a POC has no idea what it’s actually like to be a POC, has no experience with racism, and does not experience any racism. Any racial experiences they may seem to carry with them are a white person’s perception of them, it’s a lot like claiming you know a show because you watched it through a neighbor’s window.

#4: How Can I Check Myself?

So, how do you never do anything racist ever again?

I’m sorry to say, but it just isn’t possible to be 100% non-racist. Even POC cannot be 100% non-racist or anti-racist, because we unfortunately live in a society that is constantly upholding white supremacy and white supremacist beliefs.

However, the next best step is being an anti-racist! Checking yourself for biases you’re upholding or racism you’re perpetuating is an important first step. This is an often uncomfortable and confronting process, and one that never has an end, but an important one. There are a LOT of ways you can do this, but I’ll just list a few that are relevant to DID.

Familiarize yourself with common stereotypes.

The easiest way to find where your internalized biases are with alters that appear to be a different race is familiarizing yourself with common stereotypes and ideas that our society has about POC. These are often tied to things like violence, hypersexualization, drug use, and other negative attributes, but can also be things that on the surface appear to be positive, such as being studious, people-pleasing, or frugal. Regardless of whether the stereotype seems positive or negative, either way it’s still perpetuating racism.

Ask yourself: Is my POC-appearing alter more sexual than others? Are they aggressive? Is my POC-appearing alter a monster (such as a demon or a zombie,) or otherwise less human, like an animal?

Keep an eye on your language

Obviously, if you follow my blog, I don’t support talking negatively about my parts. But in addition to this, when race is involved, it’s even more important. Words like “feral,” “aggressive,“ “sassy,” “soft,” and others can have a more racist impact when used on POC than when used on white folks. Additionally, your POC-appearing alter is not an actual person of color, so avoiding language like “my Asian alter” and replacing it with (when race is relevant,) “my alter that appears Asian” can be also a helpful change. Lastly, and I would hope this goes without saying, but language like AAVE, slurs, and “broken” English are not yours to use if you have a white body. If you wouldn’t let a white person say it, you should not let an alter in a white body say it.

Ask yourself: Would I use this word if this alter appeared white? If I saw another white person talking like this, would I be okay with that?

Avoid cultural appropriation, be aware of culture

A lot of this may seem obvious, such as not wearing native regalia if you are not native, but other aspects of cultural appropriation may not be as obvious. Asian names, for example, are both incredibly personal, important, and significant in Asian culture, and stigmatized against in white society. I don’t know of any Asian folks who do not have a white name they used in school because teachers literally refuse to try and learn our real names. The issue of cultural appropriation is, at its core, that white people are treated differently for doing the same things that POC do, even when it’s originally something that POC created.

Ask yourself: Would someone of x race be treated differently from me doing this? Is this something that POC have been told they cannot do, even though I can?

#5: Final Notes

As I say whenever I do equity workshops, learning does not end here. I encourage you, if possible, to do more research on your own about racial equity! Clicking the links I’ve included throughout my writing would be a good start, and those links may lead you to others. Getting involved with local activism groups, meeting diverse groups of people with varying ideas, and reading would also be excellent ways to further your learning at your own pace.

Reading this may have made you uncomfortable. You might’ve read something and cringed, thinking to yourself “oh no, I do/did that!” in which case, forgive yourself. Learning is always a process, and no one is ever perfect. As long as you keep in mind what you’ve learned going forward, you are not a bad person for having done something racist in the past. We live in a society that at best doesn’t punish, and at worst rewards upholding the racist beliefs we all live with. Discomfort is a part of learning, and if you were uncomfortable and kept reading, I commend you. That’s hard.

This is all written by one person, with one experience and one life story. You may at some point in time talk to someone with an entirely different experience who may say totally different things than me. Use your best judgement.

If you read all the way through and found something useful, and you can spare any change, my cashapp is $beepollen98. Money would be used to prepare for my upcoming gender surgery! Obviously no pressure, I hope you learned something and feel a little more educated, and maybe even enjoyed reading!

As always, my DMs and asks are open if you found anything confusing, and/or have suggestions/questions.

#actuallydid #actuallyosdd #did/osdd #dissociative identity disorder #other specified dissociative disorder #actuallydissociative #did #osdd #race and DID

468 notes · View notes

ot3 · 3 years

Note

Sorry to bother - feel free to ignore. I’m trying to write an orv fic bc. I like them. And I’m having trouble understanding why with the regression depression it’s the happy memories that get yjh the most. Best I can figure it’s bc he can use the bad memories to propel him forward - like he’s doing this to avenge them. But the good memories force him to realize these people are gone and he’ll never see them again. Do you have any thoughts? Thanks!

i think that's definitely more or less accurate! i think the 'those people are gone and he'll never see them again' bit you've pointed out is the critical piece here. ill stick my further thoughts below the cut. this is really long because i've pulled a LOT of long chunks of text from the novel to shore up this point. i just got home from work so my thoughts are gonna be a little bit incoherent here. skip to the end if you're not interested in reading all the segments i pulled from the text. spoilers all the way up through chapter 508

first things first, let's just go back to the novel and look at all the bits where YJH's depression gets brought up

“Maybe Yoo Jonghyuk-nim has already repeated a few lives. You have fought against terrible enemies and struggled against the beings of this world to save people. Enduring alone, lonely memories… We respect your sublime spirit.”

This jerk, such skillful flattery. Yoo Jonghyuk would be moved to tears if he heard. Later when he was depressed, I would have to tell him these words.

“But Yoo Jonghyuk-nim should’ve realized it from your past regressions. Even if you have an outstanding miracle, you alone can’t fight against the disasters that will come.”

Plus, he was right.

- from ch 48

「 Everything is twisted because of this person. 」

「 It is different from what I know in the earlier regressions. The amount of information available is too limited. I can’t save the world like this. 」

What was this?

「 The reason I was hurt by the Salvation Church was because we spent too much time in the last round. It was a mistake to train for 100 years then. My mind was permanently damaged. 」

「 Maybe it was a mistake not to get the Absolute Throne. 」

「 I will start from the beginning again… 」

Dammit, the regressor’s depression had begun. Was it due to the mental attack? I cried out in fear of what he would decide. “I’m hurt you jerk!”

- from ch 140

「 Those people can’t save the world, even with 100 trucks. 」

「 Once again, the answer is regression… 」

“Now now, our Supreme King isn’t in a good mood right now so back off. Do you want to die?” I personally stepped forward to get rid of any causes of depression.

- later on in ch140 as well

This jerk, he was always so impatient. He had been given time to rest but he was still busy thinking. Regardless of his depressed state, Yoo Jonghyuk was Yoo Jonghyuk.

“Before that, let’s take a moment to breath. The view is great.” I said while sitting on the roof railing.

Yoo Jonghyuk asked me, “What are you up to?”

“I’m just looking at the world. Isn’t it beautiful?” The city of Seoul was destroyed by the monsters. I quickly added, “It was originally a beautiful place.”

“I don’t like landscapes.”

“Why?”

“They are things that will disappear someday.”

I thought I had a bit more understanding of the third regression Yoo Jonghyuk after fighting against Shin Yoosung. I wanted to believe he was a person who could love this world without giving up or feeling despair.

I told him, “However, we need to protect these things.”

“Kim Dokja, you don’t know.”

This might be my misunderstanding. Yoo Jonghyuk could give up at any time because he was still in the midst of his regressions.

In the end, Yoo Jonghyuk’s purpose was to prevent the ‘destruction of this world.’ Paradoxically, he could give up on this world at any time. His essence was regression and this fact would never change.

“No, I know,” I replied.

“What?”

“The fact that you can regress at any time means that death is meaningless.”

I looked down at Lee Seolhwa caring for the injured. Lee Seolhwa was feeding her boiled soup to an unknown person. Despite her efforts, there was a high probability that the character would die. Even if they lied now, they would die tomorrow. If they miraculously survived tomorrow, they would die the day after tomorrow.

It was the same in the fourth regression and the fifth regression. There would always be ‘death’ in the world of Yoo Jonghyuk, even after passing the 100th regression.

“If there is no sense of death then the value of life also disappears.”

- ch141

There was the vague belief that he could do better in the next round with more information. It was easy for him to give up on this regression if something went wrong.

This was the precursor symptom of ‘regression depression.’ Some of the contents of Ways of Survival passed through my head.

It was around the 48th regression. Yoo Jonghyuk had consulted with an incarnation of the constellation ‘Discoverer of the Subconscious’ on the ‘regression depression.’ At the time, he seemed to be speaking like I was now.

I continued speaking, “Yes. It might be as you say. If you repeat it 10 or 20 times then it will surely get better. You’ll be exposed to more scenarios and see more of the future. The real problem is when you someday save the world in this manner.”

“What does this mean?”

“At that time, do you really think you saved this world?”

“…”

“Do you think you will be able to keep the same mindset after repeating it 100 or 200 times?”

“I won’t regress that many times.”

I silently stared at Yoo Jonghyuk.

「 …Don’t tell me? 」 Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes slowly widened.

I kept speaking, “Are you having nightmares these days?”

“…”

“You won’t be saved, even if you save the world. The moment you save the world, the worlds you have forsaken will come to you. Despite saving one world, all the other worlds you abandoned will drag you to hell.”

- from further down in ch141

「 Yoo Jonghyuk felt lonely as he saw these watches. They got their time back but he still wasn’t

living in this time. Yoo Jonghyuk suddenly thought. If so, where do I live in those countless hours? 」

It was the monologue of Yoo Jonghyuk, who once saved the Demon World. It was also one of my favourite scenes from Ways of Survival.

I suddenly seemed to understand a bit of his mind. To the regressor Yoo Jonghyuk, the time in these worlds didn’t belong to him. In a life that could go back over and over again, the present time was meaningless.

Once this was over, I would ask Aileen to make me a watch. If he had something like this, he might become more attached to this world. Maybe the regression depression would get better…

- ch 207

A person who regressed more than a thousand times. A spirit that had become insensitive from the hundreds of suicides and tragedies that an individual could suffer. The extremely widespread regression depression…

「 Yoo Jonghyuk of the 1863rd round is the despair of the world itself. 」

- ch 285

Abnormal condition? There was no way. Who was the 1863rd regression Yoo Jonghyuk? This was Yoo Jonghyuk who was the Ruler of the East Hell and killed the Devil of Principles. There was no one among the constellations who could place an abnormal condition on the present Yoo Jonghyuk.

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes were blank.

I felt uncomfortable like something was stuck in my throat. No, there was. There was only one person who could cause an abnormal status in Yoo Jonghyuk.

* The target is suffering from ‘regression depression’ due to an unknown cause.

It was Yoo Jonghyuk himself.

Regression depression. The spirit of the man who had been broken over 1863 lives made the regression depression almost a passive, low level skill. Once he fell into the depression, his consciousness was caught in the weight of his memories and he couldn’t wake up.

[Kill him! He isn’t invincible!]

The ruthless strikes caused Yoo Jonghyuk’s body to bleed little by little. It was strange. Originally, the regression depression shouldn’t occur in this situation. In the 1863rd round, Yoo Jonghyuk had learnt how to manage this disease.

- ch 286

then this REALLY LONG BIT from 287. it has stopped letting me indent for some reason so i guess ill bold this.

I knew how to wake up Yoo Jonghyuk from his regression depression. In other words, it meant I also knew how to sink him deeper into that melancholy.

I saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s fingertips moving and opened my mouth. “Do you remember? The 33rd round. You cleared the 40th scenario and Lee Jihye said this.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes dimmed and his moving fingertips stopped.

「 “It would be nice if Master didn’t have to go to the next round.” 」

“Think about it. You weren’t always unhappy. Right? In all the rounds, there were moments when you were happy.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression was becoming stiffer.

“The 173rd round. You protected Earth for quite some time. You also saw Lee Jihye receiving her high school diploma and Lee Seolhwa smiling at someone’s child.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, are you happy that you’re alive?” 」

Every time I spoke, Yoo Jonghyuk’s expression collapsed. It wasn’t despair that broke down Yoo Jonghyuk.

“The 383rd round. You finally cleared the 75th scenario. Fortunately, nobody died in that round. That was the first time. Then Lee Hyunsung told you.”

「 “Jonghyuk-ssi, I won’t forget today until I die.” 」

The feather-like memories sank into his head.

“Then the 498th round…”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s palms moved to cover his ears. The usual Yoo Jonghyuk wouldn’t have fallen from this much. Now it was different. I held his hands and kept talking. “That happened 10 times.”

A human sank deeper into the water just because of the weight of these feathers.

“Twenty times.”

My breath clogged up and my lungs tightened. I could feel what Yoo Jonghyuk was going through. Only I could feel it. The most primitive darkness at the bottom of one person was swallowing his ego greedily.

“100 times. It repeated over 1,000 times.”

All those words were destroyed. All the happy memories flowed back to a time they could never return to. Through the countless regressions, the meaning of happiness faded. All the values he preserved became pieces of torn paper.

“Yoo Jonghyuk.”

Yoo Jonghyuk’s self was sinking into the deep sea. It was to a place that he could never come up from without someone’s help.

“Have you protected all the things you wanted to keep?”

I looked at Yoo Jonghyuk’s miserable face and thought: Don’t worry Yoo Jonghyuk. I’ll do the rest. You stop and rest.

[Your understanding of the character ‘Yoo Jonghyuk’ is increasing explosively.]

Yoo Jonghyuk’s empty eyes were showing memories of losing his master. I didn’t use Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint but it wasn’t hard to read.

「 I want to die. 」

「 I want to finish all of this. 」

「 If only I can never wake up. 」

A few drops of rain fell from the sky. It was black rain made from the blood of the demon kings and constellations. Liquid also flowed onto Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. Yoo Jonghyuk’s gaze lowered and finally fell on me.

I was looking at the moment a human’s spirit collapsed. There was a broken voice. Like a creaking machine, Yoo Jonghyuk stammered, “Wh,at… should, I, d…o?”

i think this one is obviously very important.

then, the 'have you protected all you wanted to protect' stuff obviously reaches its culmination in the finale

⸢The regression depression.⸥

That was the only weakness of Yu Jung-Hyeok, who had repeatedly regressed for a very long time.

[In the 173rd turn. You managed to protect Earth for a pretty long time. You got to see Yi Ji-Hye receive her high school diploma, and you even got to see Yi Seol-Hwa smile with another’s child in her arms.]

The light in Yu Jung-Hyeok’s eyes was wavering.

⸢It wasn’t despair that could defeat Yu Jung-Hyeok.⸥

⸢Small feather-like memories settled down inside his head one by one.⸥

The ‘Dokkaebi King’ was using the exact same method I relied on back then.

⸢The breathing got harder, and the lungs were getting tighter.⸥

⸢A man drowning in water would sink even deeper under the surface from the weight of a mere feather.⸥

I couldn’t afford to idly watch on anymore. I shouted at Yu Jung-Hyeok, telling him to wake up, and not to fall for such an illusion.

However, my voice couldn’t reach them as if a non-conductive barrier was set up between us. And the ‘Dokkaebi King’ was smiling away, perhaps to mock this entire story.

[Yu Jung-Hyeok, have you protected all that you wanted to protect?]

Slowly, Yu Jung-Hyeok’s knees sank down.

I roused the Status of Fables. I needed to undo that ⸢Stage Transformation⸥ right now, But, how should I…

Grab.

There was a hand still tightly clutching mine. It was Han Su-Yeong.

“That’s not a battle you can interfere in.”

“But, if he’s left alone….!”

“….Even a star that can’t be seen still emits light. You said that, right?”

….A star that can’t be seen?

Her words made me look back at Yu Jung-Hyeok once more.

His gaze being lowered had come to a stop. Blinding sparks were completely enveloping him.

Tsu-chuchuchuchu….

Something was waking up his fading consciousness.

[Great Fable, ‘Ones that Remember the Apocalypse’, has begun its storytelling!]

That was a Fable I wasn’t aware of.

As the sparks lessened gradually, several silhouettes revealed themselves. Now that I took a closer look, Yu Jung-Hyeok wasn’t alone. No, four others were standing beside him.

A tall man, a young man with blonde hair, a girl with a ponytail, and finally…

[[He couldn’t protect anyone. That’s why he now stands in this place.]]

….An Archangel with blindingly-pure wings.

Astonishment quickly dyed the Dokkaebi King’s expression.

The Fable from the destroyed 999th turn was now burning brightly like the conflagration of end times on the edges of the Archangel’s blade.

[[Because he believes there are still things left to protect.]]

- from ch 508

Now here's a couple of tidbits about depression when it comes up for Other entities:

The fastest thing to get shaved away after becoming a Constellation was their own ‘Fable’. The more a Constellation depleted its story, the weaker its power would get. They would grow bored, disinterested, fall into depression, or lose themselves in tedium.

Constellations would desperately seek out other Fables in order to escape from such a quagmire. In other words, they would search for a new tragedy to escape from this horrible eternal cycle, even if it was only for a brief moment.

- ch 498

⸢[Constellation, ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’s’ ■■ is ‘Something that can’t be found’.]⸥

I had read what his ■■ was from the original novel. His description showed up when he became Yu Jung-Hyeok’s ally for a little while during the 1863rd turn.

⸢The evil dragon suffering from the worst possible depression in this <Star Stream>.⸥

The reason why the ‘Abyssal Black Flame Dragon’ believed his age to be 15 was simply that he’d not be able to continue on if he didn’t.

A life stretching for thousands, no, tens of thousands of years, made an originally solitary dragon into such a creature.

In order to stop itself from decaying, he chose not to age. He chose not to lose his curiosity of the world. He chose to torment Incarnations or play bizarre pranks. And for his final prank, he even chose to betray the ‘Absolute Evil’, too. He stood on Yu Jung-Hyeok’s side and while mocking the <Star Stream>, breathed his last.

- ch 503

okay so

i think there are a couple of different ways to look at the regression depression in line with each of orv's 'themes'. of course despair at losing his comrades is the main primary emotion here, but there's subtler stuff going on here too.

for starters, the foundational components of any creature within the star stream is its stories. the more your stories are known and shared the more powerful they are, etc, etc. time and time again their shared stories are the thing to save them and ground them. but as we see with the hellscape of eternity, yjh begins to become isolated from the interpersonal aspect of the story as he loses the people he originally formed these stories with. the stories are how people communicate. as YJH progresses through his regressions he is unable to relate to the 'story' in the way you are supposed to, and this essentially causes a complete ego death. life no longer has any meaning for him, because he is fundamentally incapable of connecting with people. the [impossible communication] of a life and a burden that can't be shared.

then there's the [samsara] aspect - being worn down by the endless repetition of fate. everything is the same, over and over again, and yet we still delve into it hoping to get something new out of it. maybe the story will be different this time. ABFD was able to stave off depression by keeping himself in a state of permanent novelty - there was still something left to discover - but as YJH progresses through the regressions and falls deeper and deeper into repeating the same pattern, the tedium becomes too much. he has nothing new to experience. he has repeated everything this reality has to offer - or so he thinks - and it shows no sign of ever changing. if it's the same every time, why stick around? why not go again? it doesn't matter. none of it matters. you are just part of the wheel.

and if we think of it in terms of [good and evil] we see yjh slowly become something that almost any human being would call a monster. as kdj says in that conversation with anna croft near the end, "can you really call someone a human if you have to look so hard to find their humanity?" as far as it goes. yjh commits some atrocities! Because of said aforementioned removal from reality and ego death, he is able to fully justify any action it takes no matter how horrendous. and yet his noble goal never changes. undeniably, what he is by the end is some sort of monster. but still, of course, just a man. and he knows this. he feels himself slipping a little bit more, every regression. he knows its coming. and he doesn't want it. he wants to maintain his humanity.

but really i think we can almost best think of yjh's regression depression as almost his equivalent to the [fourth wall]. whereas the 4th wall is a unique passive skill that protects kim dokja by preventing him from fully conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality', the regression depression harms yjh by preventing him from conceptualizing what's happening to him as 'reality'. in a sense, his friends and loved ones have almost become 'characters' to him as well, as he already knows the way this story happens. he is an outsider, observing these beings interact with each other but not quite the same as them. he is an anachronism. this isn't his present. this is a present, one he can take or leave at any time. the thing yjh does in his later regressions - using people as tools - is something kdj does in the beginning of his journey. because, well, it doesnt matter if this isn't the 'real world'! they mirror each other.

that ended up being so much longer than i thought it would im sorry. i hope this was even like 10% helpful.

#orv #orv spoilers #yjh

68 notes · View notes

animebw · 3 years

Text

The Promised Neverland Season 2

Greetings, all! I’m The Anime Binge-Watcher, a blog dedicated to me binge-watching anime in episodic chunks and analyzing it in long-form text posts for your enjoyment! Today, I'm returning to a show I tackled some time ago now that its second season has finished airing: The Promised Neverland!

If you’re interested in my full thoughts on the first season, you can read my analysis here. But here’s the short version; The Promised Neverland was one hell of a good time that kept surprising me in good ways. It’s rare you get an anime that’s genuinely scary, let alone a good horror shonen, but TPN makes it look easy. And the hints of the world that lay beyond the Grace Field house- coupled with commentary on the cyclical nature of oppression- only made me more excited to see what came next. True, it wasn’t perfect; some of the strategy was a little too convenient, having the characters scheme aloud make for some really awkward dialogue, and there was that whole thing about Sister Krone being... kind of a really offensive racial stereotype? Yeah, that was a mistake. On the bright side, though, Mother Isabella is one of the most compelling villains I’ve seen in a long time, and the final episode alone was good enough to make me appreciate the whole thing that much more. I give the first season 7.5/10, a very promising start to a story that promised to only soar higher and higher from here.

At least, that was the plan.

See, I’ve been paying attention to the chatter surrounding this season. Not enough to spoil anything specific, but enough to get the general vibe. And it’s a pretty open secret now that this season is- to put it lightly- a gigantic flaming garbage heap. It rushes through the entire rest of the manga at such blistering speed that any semblance of logic or emotional clarity is thrown right out the window, skipping right over some of the most beloved arcs and ruining basically everything that made people like TPN in the first place. Nobody knows why they went this route, and nobody’s happy about it. It may well be the most infamous anime-original ending of all time, more universally reviled than Blue Exorcist, FMA 03, Akame ga Kill, Soul Eater (which I still say has a good ending, fuck you fight me), and even Tokyo Ghoul. Hell, it’s probably the first anime I’ve ever seen trending on Twitter for pissing people off so much. It is impressive how united the anime community is in despising this season. You need to work to suck as hard as TPN Season 2 apparently sucks.

That. Having. Been. Said. I’m still going to watch this season, and I’m still going to judge it fairly. I’m not much of a manga reader, One Piece and yuri manga aside, and there’s basically zero chance I’d pick up the TPN manga anywhere in the immediate future, so I might as well see the story to its end this way. It might be awful, but at least it will be some kind of closure. Besides, not having read the manga should make me uniquely qualified to judge this season. I don’t know all the stuff they skipped and changed, so I can judge it as its own thing. Plenty of manga fans have surely already broken down all the ways it betrays the manga; I can analyze it solely as a continuation of TPN’s first season, with no expectations from the manga. And that should be, if not a good experience, at least an informative one. Putting adaptation aside, how does TPN Season 2 hold up as a show in its own right? Does it work at all as an anime-original follow-up to the first season, or is it really just garbage all the way down? Either way, it should be interesting to find out.

With that said, don’t spoil me on anything! I prefer watching anime as blind as possible, and I’m sure I’ll find my answers soon enough. Expect my first update later today, and thank you for joining me on this new adventure!

Schedule: I watch two shows concurrently, one long-running, one shorter, alternating each day. Currently, my long-running show is Pokemon Johto. Feel free to visit my home page and explore my extensive backlog of previous binge-watches, a list of shows I’ll be watching in the future, a link to my Discord where you can hang out with me and fellow anime fans to chat about the shows I’m watching, and much more!

#the anime binge-watcher #tabw #anime #the promised neverland #tpn #yakusoku no neverland

34 notes · View notes

theycallmebecca · 3 years

Text

February Ice Storm

It just occurred to me that I hadn’t really told you guys about the experience I had back in February with the ice storm that nailed us and knocked out power for us for 3 days but people in my city for up to 10 days.

Originally, I had planned to turn it into a drabble and I actually started it, but it wasn’t exactly something I wanted to revisit. Mentally, I wasn’t in a good place thanks to anxiety and an emotional rollercoaster of what’s going to happen.

I know I shared bits and pieces of what had gone down, but this a more in-depth account of my experience from the ice storm that hit Oregon Valentine’s weekend of this year.

Let me preface this by saying that we knew that we were going to get an ice storm... but it was the worst ice storm we’ve had in a long time. And it did an astonishing amount of damage that we are still trying to recover from a month and a half later. Driving around, it looked like a tornado had ripped through and knocked down trees randomly. With as many trees that fell, it’s shocking how many didn’t.

The storm hit Friday night, February 12th, and it was just cold. Then about 3 am, the power went out. I know this because that’s when I suddenly found myself in the complete dark (no alarm clock, etc.) I didn’t think much of it and went back to sleep.

I was rudely awaken a few hours later by the sound of trees cracking and crashing to the ground. Let me tell you, that is a terrifying experience.

Knowing I still didn’t have power, I put on multiple layers and tried to make myself comfortable. However, by this time, it had started to warm up so there was lots of trees cracking all around me. Which was great for my anxiety.

Neither was the fact that the power outage had taken out the cell phone networks in my area. More on that in a moment.

Then I heard some neighbors outside, so I went out to talk to them and saw that a large limb from the pine tree by my building, was practically laying on my car. Some guys walking past, assured me that it was just on my car and not in my car.

It was cold, so I went back inside and tried to distract myself. But my main source of distraction, aka my phone, wasn’t really an option to me. And I could not access any of the music I would normally use to help myself relax when my anxiety is acting up.

I finally found a place in my apartment where I got good reception... by the sliding glass door that over looks the backyard where one tree had already uprooted itself and where more trees could easily come crashing down.

Anxiety is being amazing at this point. I’m sure you can tell.

Especially when on top of the trees cracking... I got the beautiful thunking of ice dropping out of trees as it warmed up. And we’re talking like chunks of ice as big as baseballs!

It was about that time that I heard a crack that was too close for comfort and knew, without a shadow of a doubt that the limb had broken and it was on my car. Two steps out my front door confirmed my fear, but when I tried to go see how bad it was, I heard the cracking of limbs and had to run back to the safety of my apartment as more limbs and ice baseballs dropped.

I was able to text my parents and asked if someone could try and come get me. They live parallel to me across two major roads, so it wouldn’t be a long trip if they could make it a little later once it had warmed up some more.

While I waited, I packed some stuff and tried to read, but it honestly was just too much.

And as annoying and little brother like as my brother-in-law can be, I have never been so happy to see him as I was that day when he and my mom showed up to get me.

By that time, I was flinching at every little noise that seemed to echo through my small apartment. And it was just becoming way too much. Even as I write this, the memory of that morning has me crying because I was too scared to cry on that day.

While he was waiting for me, my brother in law looked at my car and saw that the branches were resting on it, but the car looked ok.

The short drive to my parents house was shocking with the number of trees and power lines that were down. Also shocking was how many trees that didn’t land on houses. We did see a couple of cars smashed by trees though. And street lights were out every where.

I was very happy when we got to my parents house which is bigger than the building with 8 apartments that I live in. Their backyard is full of pine trees and they had lost a lot of limbs and stuff, but with everyone else there, you couldn’t hear the noises that had ramped up my anxiety.

Once I was there, the rest of the day passed relatively easy. I was with my family and that helped calm my anxiety because I knew I was in a safe place. We ordered pizza from a place that still had power. My brother in law built fires my parents fire places and my mom and I played dominos by flashlight. I also got some reading done.

Then I slept in my parents guest room... and the bed isn’t comfortable and the house was probably in the 45F range.

Sunday morning aka Valentine’s Day was warmer than the day before and my mom and I drove to my apartment to see what we could do about the limb on my car... only to find that someone had already pulled it off and chopped it up. We confirmed that my car was ok and the only damage to it was that my $5 license plate frame had been broken and the corner of my license plate was bent.

After that, we drove out to a grocery store that had power for some food, more logs for the fireplace and coffee... that my mom had to stand in line for 20+ mins to get.

When we got back to their house, we found a flurry of activity happening as my parents next door neighbor had rented a giant generator the day before to keep his house going and offered to let us plug some extension cords in so we could charge stuff, use small appliances and use a small heater.

So our Sunday afternoon was spent with our phones plugged in and a small space heater barely keeping us warm. But it was an improvement from the day before.

Then my uncle showed up. He’s been going back and forth between living with his ex girlfriend and living with my parents. With him at my parents house and knowing that my own apartment was still above 50F and therefore warmer than my parents house, I opted to sleep in my own bed that night.

So after getting pizza for dinner again (🤢) my mom dropped me off at my apartment for a cool night.

I started in my living room knowing that my back wouldn’t like 10+ hours in my bed and I actually got some light from a lamp by plugging it into my computer’s battery backup, which really did raise my spirits a bit.

But eventually I ended up in my room with the door closed, knowing I’d be able to lock in more heat that way. And it did work... but it was still a long night.

Because of no power and the fact that I’ve been working from home since March 2020, I told my boss I was taking the day off. At that time, the power company still still quoting power back on Monday. For me, they were even saying early Monday.

But my apartment was still cold and dark when I woke up. Which meant I cleaned out my fridge and freezer and then took my laundry out to the laundromat by my mom’s office that had power and heat.

So I took care of my laundry and then was going to head back to my parents, until I decided to see if Office Depot had any sales going on with laptops. And I ended up driving across town to buy one in case I needed to find some place to work other than my apartment for a couple days.

After that, I went to my parents house and watched a movie with my niece while power crews worked outside. I was still hoping they’d be able to get the power and internet back up so I wouldn’t have to drive to work Tuesday, but it wasn’t looking good.

By 5:30, I knew even if the power did some how come back on, I was still going to be without internet, so I left my parents and went to the grocery store for things to make a lunch that didn’t require a fridge since I still didn’t have that. And they were operating on their backup generators and actually stopped letting people into the store as I was checking out.

That evening, I played on my new laptop a bit and chatted with friends since my cell network was almost back up to speed, but I was in bed when the power came back on around 10 pm. And you sure as hell know I got out of bed and turned on every light switch just because I could!

I slept much better than night and did end up going into the office the next day for a partial day, but when I got home I had internet again.

For me and my family, we were without power for some 56 hours or so. But we had family friends and coworkers who went a good 10 days without power.

We don’t get storms like this and we were not prepared for it to be as bad as it was.

But the biggest take away for me is now necessarily how dependent I am on technology to entertain me... but for how to help me get through a rough situation.

Other than seeing a few members of my family once a week, I’ve been relatively on my own for the last year. And it’s been my “pocket friends” that have been my saving grace, my connection with the outside world. They’re the people that I turn to when I’m having a problem. And I was almost completely cut off from them for two whole days.

Add to that the rain storms and other anxiety reducing sounds that I’ve come to depend on. With the networks down, I couldn’t access any of those coping tools either.

My anxiety was the worst that Saturday morning than it has been in a long time. But by Monday evening, I was so tired emotionally and physically that I was just a mess. The roller coaster of the unknown was the worst part. You could make plans... but without power, there were things you just couldn’t do.

All in all, it was a once in a life time experience. As in, I don’t want to experience it again. Ever.

I think it will be a long time before a power outage doesn’t trigger anxiety within me. Because this last one was rough.

And now that I’ve relived this all in hopes that it might help me recover a little from what happened, it’s time for me to try and get some sleep. Probably shouldn’t have written this at night.. but oh well.

13 notes · View notes

godslayingenthusiast · 3 years

Text

https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/jailbreaking-for-idiots/

Jailbreaking For Idiots is a work from Holy Nonsense, a Creative Commons project. View Holy Nonsense 2020 here. This was originally written for publication in The Black Iron Prison.

Each entry (single page or multiple pages of the same work) is released under an individual CC: Attribution, Non Commercial, No Derivatives license. That means you can repost this work as-is anywhere for any non-commercial purposes.

Image descriptions, including transcriptions of text, are expressly allowed, but just make sure you include the credits that are baked into the image when you do them. Image Description after the cut.

JAILBREAKING FOR IDIOTS - from the Black Iron Prison -

This prison cell’s got to give, you say. These iron shackles, they’re really chaffing my ankles and the noose makes it hard to breathe! I want OUT! I need a jailbreak!

O RLY? Or are you, like many are, stuttering back a broken reflection of something you heard somebody say somewhere? Do you want OUT? Do you know what OUT is? Do you know what IN is, RLY? Do you? Ask yourself. You have to ask yourself all the time. I ask myself, and the answer is “no” a lot more often than I like to admit! In today’s world, here’s what The Con has done: not only is it hard to get out, it’s hard to want out. Because before you can want out, you have to know what IN is, and in order to do that you’ve got a lot of serious (SRSLY serious, as in a mad rush naked through the parking lot serious, not Greyface/cabbage serious) thinking to do.

QUESTION THE FIRST: WHO is YOU, and WHAT is THEM?

Before you can want out of the Con, you have to realize that there are probably very large chunks of what you think is yourSelf, that are actually not. I say large chunks because you’re probably fond of your personal rituals that depend on the Con: your daily cup of coffee. Your music choices. Your opinions about fashion. Humans by nature are ritualistic beings, which leads us into...

QUESTION THE NEXT: AM MYSELVES OUR HABITS?

Dreadful thought: are you actually a Person, or are you just an unconscious bag of protoplasm that exists to run around town collecting disposable shit and then pay somebody to haul it to the dump when you’re done with it? It may seem fairly obvious, but I’ve found myself disappear for WEEKS at a time, only to resurface in the middle of some Anonymous January wondering what the fuck just happened. Come to find out, I’d been so lost in the “Daily Grind,” (which is a fallacy) that I didn’t even notice that the fucking sun came up. Repeatedly.

THRICE QUESTIONED: AM WE COMMITTED?

Once you’ve shoved a splint between who you actually are and the shit you waste your time on, you can start to think about this point. Don’t bother trying to feel committed to a larger agenda like Jailbreaking before those first two points are covered — you’ll just spin in circles. But once you’re here, you’re on your way. Every Action is a Choice, and every Choice is an Action. When you’re presented with 2 options, this is the power to choose the 3rd one.

QUESTION THE LAST: AREN’T WE ALL “IN IT TOGETHER?”

The answer is NO. We’re not. Some people will help, most people won’t. And good luck finding somebody who WILL within kicking distance. And even if you did, they can’t dig your escape tunnel FOR you, that’s all yours. So quit waiting for the fucking Cavalry, the scalping blade’s already on your SKIN. With these 4 points, a tin-foil cap, and everything else you’ll need that isn’t mentioned here, you’ll be prepared to at least start SRSLY considering your jailbreak.

#Holy Nonsense #Black Iron Prison #hail eris #all hail discordia #Modern Discordia #Discordia beyond the Principia #essay #philosophy

3 notes · View notes

that-good-trash · 4 years

Text

Burn Away With ME

Shoto Todoroki x reader / Dabi x reader????

Warnings: mentions of death, profanity, kidnap? Angst?

Word count: 2,504

Summary: Your mornings were always something you looked forward to. Wake up with your fiance, enjoy the comfort of bed, bask in the morning sunlight. Except this morning was much different than all the others, something wasn’t right and it was only going to get worse.

Comment: I needed an escape from one angst fic so I wrote another one. This was originally going to be a one shot but I might make a second chapter. Hope you enjoy!

--------------------------------------------

Waking up from a peaceful sleep was usually annoying but how could you be annoyed when you felt kisses being peppered across you bare back. The pair of warm lips gently pressing between your shoulder blades. A giggle breaks the morning silence as you try to squirm away from the body moving closer to yours. Your eyes were still closed not wanted to wake up yet but you thought about opening them so you could look into the gorgeous heterochromatic eyes of your fiancé. You could feel another kiss press against your back, this time higher up closer to the nape of your neck. Another giggle was pulled from you before you reached your hand onto the nightstand. You pulled your phone to you so you could check the time. You knew it was still early but you wanted to know exactly what time your frisky fiancé decided to wake you. As the light shined you squinted trying to adjust to the brightness. Eventually the light was no longer a problem. Instead there was a real issue. A single text flashed on your screen; it had been sent an hour ago. An hour ago, from Shoto Todoroki, your fiancé.

[ Hey babe I got called into work. I’ll make up for it tonight. Try to relax today. I love you.]

A shiver went down your spine as you were now completely aware that the person that moments ago was showering you in kisses was not your lover. You could feel the heat coming from the persons body and were now becoming aware of other facts. His body was to heated to be Shoto, Shoto always ran his cold hand down your back in the morning. The lips that pressed into your back were not plush and warm. They were firmer, rougher, much hotter in temperature. You were a hero, powerful and strong so why were you shaking. Why did you suddenly find it so hard to breathe? You needed to remain calm. To keep the innocent façade that you thought this man was your fiancé. A shaky giggle was forced out when you felt a warm finger run up your spine. You close your eyes and let your body turn till your back is against the bed and you are facing the intruder. Your eyes stay closed and you even cover your face with your arm as if pretending that it was to bright to open them yet. You needed this person to believe your act of ignorance. You lift your hand upward like a blind individual grasping for familiarity. This person didn’t shy away but instead leaned forward allowing you to make contact. A tremor of fear washed over you as your fingers pressed into the rough calloused skin. You move gently as to not enrage your captor. Your movement stops when your fingers brush something cool, metal, patterned. There were staples the separated/held together the calloused burnt textured skin and smooth unblemished skin. You knew who was hovering over you and by now they knew that you knew. Before you could activate your quirk, your wrists were locked together in a death grip above your head. You didn’t open your eyes until lips pressed against your ear.

“Come on doll, open up those gorgeous eyes.” His breath was hot against your ear and you could smell whiskey on it. You didn’t obey, keeping your eyes tightly shut. He found your resistance cute. His free hand lifts to your throat without you knowing until his fingers wrap around it. You gasp from the sudden pressure; the gasp comes out as a choked gargle. His grip tightens causing your legs to thrash underneath him. You want nothing more then to throw him off and attack however you find it impossible with his tight grip and slightly heavy body pushing into your own like a concrete weight against your abdomen. He isn’t trying to suffocate you, that much you can tell. He’s playing with you, like a predator plays with its prey before it eats it.

“What do you want with me.” Your eyes open glaring daggers at the villain holding you against your will. You voice held so much malice when you spoke. He didn’t seem to think to long about his answer.

“It’s not about you, nothing personal really. You are collateral damage, a pawn to get to the other pieces in the game. I don’t mean you any harm, this is about him.” The villain pointed to the photo on your bedside table. It was at your three-year anniversary party. Everyone had shown up but the photo only had family. You stood smiling pressed against a content Shoto behind you stood Endeavor while behind Shoto was an irritated Natsuo with a happy Fuyumi. There were multiple people in the photo yet you knew who he was talking about. You scoff turning your attention back to the charred man.

“Endeavor? This is all some scheme against Endeavor? Well this is a stupid scheme because he couldn’t care less about me.” You weren’t completely lying. You remember the arguing between Shoto and his father when he told him about you. Over time he seemed to open up more to the idea of you but that recently changed when Shoto went public with your engagement. When asked about it on live TV Endeavor stormed out of the interview. It hurt to know he didn’t like you but you also knew what he had done to his family so that made it easier to not care about his opinion.

“Oh sweetheart, this isn’t just about him. Your fiancé is my key component and for this to work in my favor I need you.” A million scenarios flashed behind your eyes. He could have killed you by now but he kept you alive. Was he planning on kidnapping you? Were you going to be held as ransom? Money didn’t seem like the endgame here. Dabi the cremation villain had you in his clutches and could do with you what he wanted and yet he spent a chunk of time kissing your shoulders and playing the part of your fiancé. Whatever he wanted from you wasn’t going to be good for Shoto which was your biggest concern. He had already dealt with so much trauma you didn’t need to contribute to it. You stared into the piercing blue eyes of Dabi, they had a hypnotic glow to them. His body heat had caused sweat to gather on your body. The room seemed stuffy and you became more and more aware of what little chances you had to escape. How stupid had you been to not immediately text Shoto when you had the chance. You can’t help but glace over at your phone. Dabi catches you looking and laughs. It resonates deep in his chest and comes out with a slight growl to it. His gravelly voice breaks your thoughts of escape.

“You wish you had texted him back. Too bad I had already known that he had texted you. I’ve been keeping his spot warm from the moment he left. You wouldn’t have gotten the chance to text. I wouldn’t have let you.” Fear, you could feel it envelop you, taking control of your heart and mind. He had been laying next to you for hours and you had no idea. Your now very aware of the lack of clothing covering your body and try to cover yourself but fail since your hands are still above your head. Your eyes which had held so much fight had started to waiver and give into fear and hopelessness. Dabi could see it, hell he could smell it. Your sweating was not just from his heat but also from nervousness. He did something he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He let your wrists go. He waited for you to hit him or reach for the phone but you just rubbed the tender marks he had left.

“You may not believe this but I don’t want to hurt you. Hell, I don’t even want to hurt your stupid fucking fiancé. It just has to be this way or else I won’t get another chance like this. Understand from a hero’s perspective. You’d do anything to save someone. Pretend like helping me would save hundreds of people. Don’t think about casualties or what I’ve done. Just look at me like I am worth saving or that I am the key to saving a fuck ton of people. I need you regardless if you come willingly, I just would rather not drag you away kicking and screaming.”

You couldn’t believe that you were really thinking about his offer. You listened to him and weighed the pros and cons of going along with it. He was a villain, someone who had no disregard for human life. What if he was lying? What if he hurts Shoto? There was no way for you to prove that he was telling the truth and yet when you looked into the familiar broken blue eyes you saw humanity in them. You saw a person who had been wronged by someone who was supposed to help keep him safe. He had enough right to be a villain as you had to be a hero. He had let you go even if he did have the ability to scorch you if you had tried to run however, he never seemed over alert. He didn’t think you’d try to run. Maybe he was taking advantage of your kindness or maybe he just needed some of it. You had no clue what his plan was and you had high doubts that he would share the details with you.

“Okay, say I believe you. What is your plan? What exactly are you going to do with me, to Shoto, against Endeavor?” That fear from earlier, that fear you had let dissipate earlier, it was back. The smirk that spread across his face. The shimmer of his teeth and the dark glowing embers that burned beyond his eyes showed more than just a simple plan. This was bigger than you’d be able to understand. Bigger than you’d want to. He leaned closer till his chest basically touched yours. Your face was flushed from lack of space and his body temperature. His hand snuck under your chin; a single finger jutted outward lifting your face up to meet his. Your e/c eyes staring into his scared of what he was going to do. He waited just looking into your eyes. You realized he wasn’t going to humor you anymore. No answers to your questions. He wanted you to tell him whether you’d agree to help, willingly.

You thought about Shoto as you nodded your head. Tears filled your eyes worried that you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to say goodbye, worried that you would not survive this. You felt Dabi finally get off you. He stood next to the bed patting down his coat. He tossed you your phone. This was a surprise. You opened up the text Shoto had sent that morning. A single tear fell down your cheek as you texted him.

[I love you Shoto, always have always will.]

You left the phone on the bedside table before turning to Dabi. Your eyes widen as he lunges at you. A scream escapes before the world goes dark.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Breaking news

Every TV was talking about the devastation that had just occurred. Shoto Todoroki arrived on scene to his own home covered in police tape and news vans surrounding the place. He walked through the crowds of police, medical staff, and pro heroes. They looked at him with pity but he never spared them a glance. He felt like he was stuck in a nightmare and he’s waiting to wake up with you gently brushing his hair out of his face with hushed words of comfort. Instead he walked into your shared bedroom to find the bed completely turned to ash. Amongst the ash was tattered remains of your night clothes. Blood stained the carpet in front of the nightstand, it was still warm. The whole room was hot, like hell. His eyes fell upon your engagement ring still attached to your finger which was the only part of your body left. Reality set in and Shoto stumbled back, you were a pile of ash on the ground and no one had been caught for the crime. This was wrong. So wrong. He shouldn’t have gone into work. He should have stayed and you would still be here. He wasn’t one to show emotions to strangers but right now he didn’t care. He had lost the love of his life and it burned worse than hot water and hurt deeper than childhood trauma. The person who loved him unconditionally was gone and he was alone again. Falling to his knees he choked on sobs, even beautiful people can ugly cry. The snot dripping down his lips and red swollen eyes gave the most heartbreaking display. No one dared to make him move they just worked around him. Eventually he was alone. As he tried to get up, he saw something. A slip of paper hidden just out of sight between a crack in the bedside table. He removed the paper and opened it.

Crying won’t bring her back but I know how to ease the pain. Find the person who killed her. I did the deed but someone was pulling the strings. Someone that would gain from her being gone.

As Shoto read the letter he felt rage, he was going to hunt down the person who left it. He ignored the puppeteer’s comment, that is until he heard the TV playing. He looked up to see a few straggling officers watching the news. Endeavor stood in front of the cameras.

“It is heartbreaking to here that Y/n has died. She will be missed, but she would want Shoto to keep going without her.”

Shoto crumpled the paper in his fist. The writer of the letter was correct. Someone must have wanted you gone. Someone very close to him. Someone who had called for his help on a case that morning taking him from you. Someone who had the codes to the locks. Someone who had all the reason and ability to have you killed.

Shoto Todoroki had lost everything and that was where Endeavor had messed up. He had nothing to lose but everything to gain from the murder of japans current number one hero.

-----------------------------------------

Elsewhere wrapped in a dark leather like jacket your unconscious body was laid onto a bed. Your hand was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages and you had no idea that you were ‘dead’. Dabi sat down on the edge of the bed watching Endeavor fall right into his trap. Now just to wait for the dominos to finish falling. His hand reaches over and strokes your hair gently.

“Sorry I had to get you sucked into this mess, family drama is a bitch.”

#bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha dabi #bnha todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader

106 notes · View notes

oakleaf--bearer · 3 years

Text

this is my third ace jon fic, this time featuring a lot more projection, particularly around jon discovering what asexuality means

aka georgie tries to take the next step and jon learns a new word

also on ao3

Jon pressed play. He was curled up in bed, back against the headboard and cross stitch in his hands. It was a hobby he'd gotten into after his grandmother had become frustrated when he interrupted his television programs with his fidgeting. Give his hands something to do and he could pay attention for hours. Cross stitches were a pleasant distraction for his thoughts.

The theme song had just finished playing when Georgie came out of the bathroom. She blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching that documentary I was telling you about." He pointed to the screen of his laptop. "Oh, did you want to watch it with me? I can start it again."

"No, that's okay." She said slowly, climbing onto her side of the bed.

He hummed and returned his attention to the screen.

"My housemates will be out all night." She whispered, curling against his side.

"You said."

"It's just us."

"Mmm."

She reached out and took the cross stitch out of his hands.

"Georgie-"

"Jon."

"I'm watching-" He pointed to the screen. "I've been looking forward to this documentary."

She nuzzled against his neck. "It'll still be there."

"Yeah, but it's really interesting. This episode is about Dover Castle."

"Mmm. Sounds fascinating."

"It is, there's a Roman lighthouse there. The curtain wall, that's the bit around the outside, you know, the wall, it's a mile long. There was restoration work done on the keep, it's now fully decorated again. With original techniques, it was a whole thing- What are you doing?" She was rubbing gentle circles into his belly. It felt a bit like she was petting him like a cat.

Sighing, she sat back, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table, deaf to his sounds of protest. She clambered up, sitting herself on his lap. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. If you wanted to cuddle, you could've said, I wouldn't have minded wearing headphones."

"Christ Jon, you're so oblivious." She lowered herself against him and Jon's brain suddenly caught up.

"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, you wanted- Right, my mistake." He awkwardly put his hands on his hips. "I'll, you know, get to work, I suppose."

She snorted, shaking her head fondly. "Get to work?"

"No?"

"Not the usual phrase."

"What is the usual phrase?"

She leant forward and whispered something in his ear that made him blush furiously.

"Oh!" His voice came out as a squeak. "Oh? I see. Yes, okay, right."

She chuckled and leant down to kiss him, deep and slow, gently biting on his bottom lip. Jon just sort of sat there, letting her move (there was a shocking amount of moving) and trusting her to take the reigns, so to speak.

Apparently that was the wrong choice, because after a minute or so of kissing (and moving) she leant away from him. "You're still thinking about Dover Castle, aren't you?"

"No."

"Jon."

He ducked his head, a little sheepish. "I was thinking about Edinburgh Castle."

"Jon, your girlfriend is currently on top of you and you're thinking about Edinburgh Castle. Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Everything's fine! Sorry, I'm just distracted."

"Is this because I interrupted your documentary?"

"No, not that," He shook his head, then paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Come on, tell me what's happening in that big brain of yours?" She wriggled backwards until she was sat more firmly on his thighs, a safe distance from any potential distractions.

He tilted his head back, dropping it against the headboard. "I just didn't think this was going to happen tonight. I knew it would happen at some point, but I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"I invited you over to my flat while my housemates were out. What did you think was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "Not this, I guess."

Jon could see her mental cogs whirring away. "Jon, is this the first time anyone's done anything like this with you?"

He nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No, no, everyone takes things at their own pace, it's just-" She frowned. "I thought I was being obvious."

"You've told me extensively how oblivious I am."

"And I love you for that, but still. I thought I was being Jonathan Sims levels of obvious."

He shrugged, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I didn't pick up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, I just know to be even more obvious next time."

He blanched. "There will be a next time?"

"You don't want there to be a next time?"

"I've just... not considered it, I guess. It feels like a very big thing to discuss, and I knew it was going to come up at some point but I thought we would have more time."

"Are you nervous?"

He nodded. "Very much so. People make such a big deal out of having sex that I suppose I don't want to mess up."

"Mess up? Jon," Georgie laughed gently, stroking his face. "you won't mess up. It's not that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all.

"But you like sex. People like sex. I'm going to like it, I just don't know how to-" He waved his hands. "I'm supposed to want to do this."

"Supposed to- Jon, if you don't want to then that's okay."

"But it's not fair to you for me to ask that you wait for me to get over my ridiculous hang ups."

Georgie shook her head. "Come on, let's talk about this tomorrow. Tonight is clearly not the night. Finish your documentary, I'm going to get some water."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"More than."

"But aren't you-" He searched for the right words. "Don't you want to-"

Georgie grabbed his hand. "Jon, I love you, but do not finish that sentence, okay?"

"Okay."

A few days later he was sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee being pushed into his hands, grimacing about the smell. "I really don't understand why people like this."

"It's coffee."

"I'm aware."

Georgie gave him one of her 'I'm plotting something, play along' looks. "Lots of people like coffee."

"I know they do, I just don't get it."

"What don't you like about it?"

"The smell? The taste? Tea is just a far superior drink on all levels."

She leant forward over the table. "So there's not a single thing you like about coffee?"

He thought. "The warmth, I guess? If nothing else it's nice to hold. Comforting."

"Right."

"Right. What's this about?"

Georgie leant down to her bag and slapped a leaflet on the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's this?" He pulled the leaflet towards himself. The bright flashy words on the front read 'So You Think You're Queer?''. "Georgie, I'm bi. You know that right? We are well past this."

"Are we?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Is this about the other night? I know I'm attracted to women, I promise you I'm not gay."

"It's not that. I was just reading it when I was waiting for my appointment and I came across a bit that made me think of you. Particularly about the chat we had the other night." She took it out of his hands and flipped it open to one of the pages. "Here."

He stared down at the page she was holding out. "What- what is this?"

'Asexuality', the page announced. Georgie had clearly underlined it a couple of times. The page had a definition and a small chunk of text that Jon's eyes skipped right over.

"Georgie, what is this?" Jon looked up at her.

She was staring at him with an expectant expression. "Asexuality. It's the lack of sexual attraction."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I know I am attracted to you."

"Sexually?"

He paused. He knew Georgie was pretty, that much was clear. And she was funny, she always knew how to make him laugh. He liked spending time with her. He liked calling her his girlfriend. But as he tried to picture their relationship, each logical step of it, the part with sex was just... missing, he supposed. He couldn't picture it.

"But, I like you. I know I like you."

"You can like me without it being sexual. Warmth without the smell or the taste, right?"

Jon blinked at her, then remembered the coffee in his hands. "That's a drink. Did you just compare our relationship to a drink?"

"I knew if I thrust this onto you without some sort of metaphor you'd immediately panic. Make it weird or Jonathan Sims won't focus."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. But what do you think?"

He stared at the leaflet. It was a possibility. Georgie was nice, he liked dating her, but the thought of doing... that made him feel sick.

But people enjoyed sex. It seemed to be all people could talk about a lot of the time. If Jon didn't want that...

"Georgie, is there something wrong with me?"

"What?"

"Sex is normal, it's a thing normal people do. If I don't want it, surely that makes me-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Listen to me very carefully Jon." She took his hands. "Not wanting sex doesn't make you not normal. It just means you don't want sex. There isn't some preordained rule that says that sex is something everyone has to do. So you might be asexual, who cares? You're not broken. Being bi doesn't make you broken, why would this? It's just another label."

He gave her a small smile. "You're sure?"

"A thousand percent. Read the leaflet. If you agree with it, then we can do some more research. If not, then we can forget about this." She took the mug of coffee out of his hands. "Until then, let's not worry about that particular facet of a relationship."

"But what about your needs."

She gave him a look that would've been withering had she not been grinning ear to ear. "Jon, I have dated plenty of very crappy dudes who aren't nearly as considerate as you. I can look after myself. This just means I won't have to fake it."

"Fake it." He frowned. "Fake what?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Oh good lord. Really?"

"Oh yes."

"How often?"

"More than you'd think. Some people just don't know their way around down there."

Jon felt somewhat lightheaded. "I doubt I'd be much better."

"Well like I said, we aren't gonna worry about that until you've done your homework. Don't fall into a guilt spiral over this. Remember, you're not broken, no matter how much of that you agree with." She pointed at the leaflet.

He nodded.

Over the next half an hour of reading the leaflet, then opening up his laptop and reading some more, Jon felt more seen than he had in years. A comforting sort of warmth settled into his stomach.

Asexual. Strange how one little word could make so much sense.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #georgie barker

25 notes · View notes

tilltheendwilliwrite · 4 years

Text

Not Another Mummy!

Chapter One

First Chapter will be on Tumblr only until more can be written. Story originated thanks to this thread. One hundred percent @magellan-88 ‘s fault.

Pairing: Stucky | Word Count: 2001

Warnings: Language, mild angst, takes place after CA:TWS

Rick O'Connell was a mummy hunter.

It hadn't always been his job, but he fell into it rather naturally. Well, Evie fell into it by way of raising Imhotep from the dead, damn near dying as the sacrifice to return his dead lover Anck-su-namun to the living, and then banishing him to the underworld.

Twice.

As he was the (often) put upon hothead Yank to her more stoic (stiff upper lip, Chaps) British ways, her colleagues rolled their eyes at her but always out of Rick's line of sight. Still, there was no one better when it came to weird, ancient woo-woo crap.

So when a telegram came from a woman named Pegs, Evie had dropped everything to run to her side.

It didn't matter they were crossing warzones or dragging their seventeen-year-old son with them to occupied France, Evie was going.

That was how Rick O'Connell met Steve Rogers, the Captain America, and his best friend, Bucky Barnes, and learned there was such a thing as kindred spirits.

Because Steven Grant Rogers was a punk with balls the size of Texas and no sense of self-preservation, and while Rick would never comment on the size of Evie's metaphorical brass bangers, the first time Bucky Barnes groaned with all the dramatics of a putout housewife and screamed, "Steven Grant Rogers! What the hell are you doing? Get down from there; you shit little punk!" Rick knew he'd finally met someone with his own Evie.

For Barnes, Rogers was a bit like watching Evie, Alex, and Jonathan all rolled into one, but he at least had Peggy and the Howling Commandos as backup. Rick only had himself - and occasionally Ardeth Bay - to keep his troop of walking disasters from falling into pits, and waking the undead.

In France, the Howlies helped them clear out the spookables in the castle where Pegs had found the books she knew Evie would want to preserve, and the O'Connells and Howling Commandos had parted ways.

Over the next few years, they occasionally crossed paths, and Rick developed a lasting friendship with Bucky Barnes built on saving their idiots and loving them with their whole hearts.

So when the news came that Barnes had died, Rick took it hard. He tried to find Steve, but the war was too hot, and any commiseration of grief would have to wait.

Still, he drowned himself in liquor for a week straight, and Evie, lovely, wonderful Evie, his very own Steve Rogers, poured him repeatedly into bed, where if Rick cried out his grief against her, she never told a soul.

Then, with the news about Steve, Rick was both saddened and a little at peace. At least they were together. They could spend their afterlife as they had their life. Together. Best friends and, if Rick wasn't mistaken, something a little closer to what he had with Evie than either man shared publicly.

Rick didn't mind. He'd seen them together. Love like that, what did gender matter?

Decades later, when the news splashed across the screen that Steve Rogers was alive, Rick again cried for Bucky Barnes. Seventy years apart. How cruel was this world?

Things had changed by then, some for the better, some worse, but when Steve Rogers once again took up his shield and defeated the enemy falling out of the sky, Rick knew the world hadn't lost both heroes. Steve was still there, still fighting, still a symbol of hope to a nation desperately in need of it.

When the giant of a man showed up at Rick's door, after the Battle for New York, Rick was one hundred and ten years old. The look of surprise on Steve's face made Rick chuckle, even as he welcomed him inside and shuffled back to his recliner.

They didn't talk about Bucky, though they did chat about Peggy, and Steve asked after Evie, gone now almost thirty years. A long time to be without his soulmate. They'd lost Jonathon before Evie, surprisingly to something as benign as a heart attack, not the loan sharks Rick always figured would do him in. Alex was eighty-six, but that hadn't stopped him from continuing the family business, hunting down artifacts and saving them and humanity when such was required.

Steve smiled softly before saying, "Thank you. People always know what I do or what I've done. They see me as a hero, but you and Evelyn, Alex and Jonathon? You saved the world a couple of times yourselves, but no one knows."

Rick shrugged. "I didn't do it for the world."

Two years later, though Steve didn't visit much, he kept in touch via email or text, which both surprised and touched Rick. He'd moved back to the States after Evie's death, mostly because he couldn't stand to be where she wasn't and had made a life there with Alex hovering.

Then one night, Steve showed up on his doorstep in the pouring rain, still healing from the bruises and broken ribs.

"He's alive."

Rick didn't need to ask who. Just led Steve into the house where the man fell to his knees beside Rick's chair and cried against his thigh like his soul had broken.

Or maybe it was like the broken bits were slowly forging back together, a beautiful work of Kintsugi, his fractured soul now filling with golden lines of hope.

When Steve left, it was with determination and purpose Rick hadn't seen on him since the forties. It was like he became a man possessed, determined to find what he'd lost, and Rick wished him every bit of luck. If Rick had the chance to get Evie back, there would be no stopping him.

Two more years passed, Rick aged a little more, and finally, a knock came at his door. He was one hundred and fourteen when he saw Bucky again. One hundred and fourteen, when he opened the door to a man haunted by trauma Rick couldn't even fathom.

Still, he opened the door to a grinning Steve, but it was the scowling Barnes he looked at.

"Jesus fuck you got old," Barnes muttered.

"Bucky!" Steve gasped.

Rick laughed so hard he made himself wheeze and waved them in. They joined him in his living room, where he sat, unable to stop smiling. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humour."

"Lost some good chunks of memory, but some nice people helped stuff them back in."

The harsh, cold blue eyes weren't the ones he remembered, but Rick could see him in there. He knew the stories, had heard all the reports. Longest living POW. Assassin. Killed JFK. Some said, war hero. Others cried, villain.

Rick knew it was likely a little of both in Barnes' mind.

But Steve still looked at Bucky like he hung the moon, and Bucky occasionally linked his pinky finger through Steve's when he thought Rick wouldn't notice.

"It's nice to see you boys back together." He jerked his chin at Steve. "That one mopes around something fierce."

"We're figuring it out," Steve said, enough force in the sentence to make it clear he was tired of Bucky running. It had taken two years to get the man to stop. "We've worked things out with Stark. Tony's a hothead, he's angry, but he gets Bucky wasn't in control as the soldier."

Rick watched Barnes' flinch. "No, but it was still your hands, right, Buck?"

Blue eyes darted to his and then away. "How the hell are you still alive?"

"Jeez, Buck!" Steve growled.

Rick chuckled, enjoying the role reversal. "Clean living."

They both snorted.

"Clean my ass. I've never seen anyone out drink Dum Dum before. What gives, O'Connell?" Barnes muttered.

Rick glanced at Steve. There was a pink flush to the man's cheeks, a clear indication this was something they'd talked about, but Steve had never asked. Rick had always wondered if it was out of self-preservation. Maybe he thought asking would jinx whatever link Steve had left to his past.

"Alex?" he called out. "Could you come in here?"

"You sure, Dad?"

Steve and Bucky both stiffened and exchanged a look, likely surprised they hadn't known Alex was there.

"I thought you said Alex was still in London?" Steve frowned.

"I lied," Rick smirked. "Yeah, boy. Get your arse in here."

He trotted down the hall and into the living room. "Highya, fellas!"

Bucky and Steve stared, gaping from Alex to Rick and back.

"Shit," Bucky hissed. "They got you too? How come no one knows?"

Alex leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, grin wide, his face as smooth and unwrinkled as it had been at twenty-five, the year he stopped ageing. The bright, burnished blond of his mop of unruly curls, something he'd inherited from Evie and only recently allowed to grow out, fell over his forehead and into his eyes.

"He's not a super-soldier," Rick explained before either man could have kittens. "Seems there was a side effect to the Bracelet of Anubis no one knew about."

Alex spread his arms and gave a cheeky grin. "Looks like I'm immortal."

Rick slapped a hand to his face. "Unageing is not immortal. You can still die, dumbass!"

"That explains him, but what about you?" Steve asked.

"Something to do with the temple." Rick shrugged. "I went through the door with him. Some of the power rubbed off. I age, just… slower."

"Hence the reason you look a spry eighty?" Barnes mumbled.

Rick chuckled, reached up, and pulled the prosthetics from his face. "More like a spry fifty."

"Jesus!" Steve's eyes went wide. "I never even guessed!"

"Alex is good with the face paint. We've had to be. And that's another reason we moved back here. People were starting to remark on the uncanny resemblance of my grandson to my son."

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look.

"What?" Rick murmured. "Surely, this isn't too much after witches, aliens, and giant green Hulks?"

"No. No, it's not that," Steve said, quick to reassure them. "It's just…"

"Punk had a second reason for coming today. The Avengers found some woo-woo shit. He wanted you to take a look at it. Stark's fancy AI can tell us lots, but she ain't you."

Rick leaned forward, his back cracking, thankful to be straightened. "I'm no Evie, but squirt over there took after her for smarts. She was always the brain. I was just the muscle."

"Come on, Dad." Alex sauntered in and nudged him. "You learned loads from Mum. Plus, that Warrior for God thing comes in handy on occasion."

"Warrior for God?" Bucky asked.

Rick worked the cuff off his right arm, showing them the tattoo hidden beneath it. "Sorry, fellas. Didn't tell you everything that happened with the Scorpion King."

"Yeah. Like how we used the Book of the Dead to bring Mum back to life," Alex grinned.

"I'm sorry. You did what now?" Steve asked.

Rick laughed and shook his head. "All in good time. Alex, get the whiskey. Let's see what you've got."

Steve rose and returned to the door where he'd left a backpack, while Alex grabbed four glasses and a bottle and dumped an unhealthy amount into each one. The bag clanked when Steve set it on the floor between his feet, and Rick arched a brow.

"This is what we found." He placed the golden box on the coffee table.

Rick gave a low whistle. "Jonathon would have liked the look of that."

"It's really brilliant, isn't it?" Alex mumbled as he crouched to take a closer look. "Look at the way the rubies are inlaid. It's like someone wanted it to appear as if it were dripping blood." He spun it slowly, taking in the images and raised glyphs. "Shite, Dad! Do you know what this is?"

Rick didn't get a chance to answer no as Alex was already running out of the room.

"So, is he as reckless as Evie?" Bucky asked, the first semblance of a smirk since his arrival twitching the man's lips.

"Worse. He's got a nose for treasure like Jonathon and my stubbornness," Rick chuckled. "Then, there's his mouth."

"Which he definitely got from you," Steve chuckled.

Rick didn't dispute it.

Alex returned and dropped a book as thick as Steve's arm on the table, causing it to jump, the chest to skitter across it, and only the reflexes of two super-soldiers to keep everything from going sideways.

"Alex! Calm your enthusiasm!" Rick barked.

"No! No, calming!" The manic gleam in his eyes never boded well for any expedition. "Look!"

He wrenched the book open, sending dust and the scent of musty pages spinning, but it opened on an illustrated page of a female warrior standing over the bodies of the slain.

"Ah, no," Rick groaned. "Not another mummy!"

#the mummy #the avengers #crossover #coming soonish

127 notes · View notes

rchtoziers · 4 years

Note

favorite reddie fic(s)?

i’ve been sitting on this ask for so long bc answering things is Not My Forte i’m SO SORRY but let’s get some recommendations going shall we!!!! i’m gonna include like so many fics but there are BANGERS in my bookmarks and i think they deserve to be screamed about so lets go

Eurydice; The Original Comeback Kid by Vulcanodon — y’all this fic fucked me up. the imagery in this one is So Intense and so good i could read it a thousand more times. i know i’ve returned to it more than once. great horror writing (stephen king who i only know vulcanodon) but god GOD the conclusion!! i thought i was gonna pass out it was so well done

keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice. by theappleppielifestyle — i’m not kidding when i say this fic took my breath away. i don’t think i breathed for the entirety that i was reading it. i LOST it. the angst was Just Enough and the happy ending felt realistic in a way they deserved and god. god i’m crying again just thinking about it!!!

you’re already gone by ameliepoulain — just thinking about this fic makes me feral. i will be unreachable until everyone has read this. anything that combines hozier and reddie is automatically an a+ in my book. they’re dumb IDIOTS and this fic is perfect and i will not be accepting criticism at this time!

pretty much everything ever written by ShowMeAHero but in particular: as the ghost begins to bleed has been fucking me up since i first read it. the characterization of this series is so splendid and every time there’s an update i pterodactyl screech and stop literally everything i’m doing to read it. i just don’t have enough words but i’m pretty much always screaming internally abt this series. read it and then come scream with me

you never cried to them, just to your soul by dgalerab — i’m the most emotional person on the face of the planet so i cry at literally everything but i can’t think about this fic for too long without bursting into tears. it’s perfect. a great balance of the heavy stuff and a happy ending. absolutely losing it right now just thinking about this fic

go west by ssstrychnine — this is probably one of the most emotional written works of art i’ve ever read. to this day when i think about it i get choked up. this fic hurts in all the right ways and heals you in every way you need, too. this fic immediately activated my need to flee my smalltown and cross the country with the love of my life which was such a specific need i didn’t realize it was even there lol. also go look at this stunning art because i cry over it constantly

nor rivers drown it by theparadigmshifts — this is technically a stanpat fic that’s reddie adjacent but it’s the most perfect fic i’ve ever read legitimately 100% seriously, plus kit is writing a reddie sequel right now and the bits and pieces i’ve been collecting like a greedy little gremlin are actually perfection so prepare yourself by reading this first, which is also perfection

the mind’s a funny fruit by joldiego — EDDIE WAKES UP WITH AMNESIA AND DOESN’T KNOW HIS OWN NAME SO HE STARTS GOING BY RICHIE AND GETS ADOPTED BY THE PUREST GAY AUNTS IN THE WORLD AND SLOWLY TRIES TO FIND HIMSELF, dj if you see this you’ve written an actually perfect fic and i cry every time i think about it. also there’s a TWIST at the end that made me literally scream out loud

Broken Record by spunknbite — this one is adequately named because it a) broke me and 2) turned me into a broken record with how much i talk about it. i love timeloop fics because i’m a sucker for angst and i love being sad :) but this one PUNCHED ME IN THE GUT. i have text messages to multiple people that i spammed with my feelings as i read this one. amazing

we’ve been here before by hyruling — if i ever stop talking about we’ve been here before assume i have died. this fic fucked me UP. it fucked me up. such a unique concept and so brilliantly executed that i was breathless the entire time that i was reading. a really realistic portrayal of grief and trying to move on and then elation when the good things come. god i could talk about this fic for hours and i have, before, so

first love / late spring by vowelinthug — i have screenshots of huge chunks of text from this fic that punched me in the chest so hard i had to put my phone down and walk away. this is so good. i YEARNED. i laughed out loud multiple times. they’re idiots but they’re in love and it’s perfect. makes me want to start a podcast because it will solve all my problems. ICONIC

The Great Unsnappening of Derry, Maine, circa 2016 by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid — TAGGED AS FICS THAT MADE ME GO ABSOLUTE BATSHIT FERAL. THIS FIC. OH MY GOD. i was screaming the entire time that i was reading it. such a good concept SO GOOD and i was LOSING MY SHIT. it’s perfect. everyone is so in character and so realistic and i felt like i was actually in the middle of this and i think about this fic at least daily probably

WELL. this got way longer than i intended but i’ve read some phenomenal fics in this fandom and i have a lot to say about all of them lmao. ANYWAY. enjoy xx

#anon #answered #fic rec #reddie #this is basically just me screaming about my talented friends for 20 paragraphs but so what #<3 <3 <3

321 notes · View notes

saywhatjessie · 3 years

Text

fic writer interview

tagged by @toast-the-unknowing , thanks!

name: Jessie etc

fandoms (i write for): I am all over the goddamn place, I’ll tell ya. I have posted the most Glee fics, but more words of Destiel. I’ve posted a couple fics in Marvel, The Raven Cycle, Red White & Royal Blue, and one fic in each Check Please!, The Witcher, In Other Lands, and Divergent (which is an outlier and should not be counted)

I am also currently working on a The Magnus Archives fic. So yeah.

two-shot: I have only one of those currently, I think. I have vague schemes on expanding it so it may not always be a two-shot bUT

Baby... You’re The Greatest

(aka two one-chapter fics that take place in the Baby Del Mar WWE expanded universe)

most popular multi-chapter: I only have one (1) fic that I’ve actually divided into chapters. Everything else I just post as a big chunk because dividing into chapters stresses me out. There was a point that I wanted to try a weekly posting schedule so my one (1) multi-chapter fic and therefore the only one to qualify is The Worst Of Me, a Destiel Dear Evan Hansen au

actual worst part of writing: at this point it’s been so long since I even TRIED to sit down and write that I am so intimidated by opening that WIP back up. I haven’t gone this long without writing in YEARS, but so much has been going on in my life and I haven’t felt like I had TIME to LET myself really TRY and UGH this is the hardest part. I have struggles when I’m actually DOING it for sure but going to long without doing it is the WORST

how you chose your titles: I have a bad habit of titling docs with a joke title and then getting attached to it bUT dependng on the vibe of the fic and what it’s for I usually try and pick something that’s probably a pop culture reference. I also love super long titles because I’m a shit.

do you outline: God no. Every time I’ve tried, I got really stressed out because it just went completely off the rails and I didn’t know how to get back to my outline. I will do things like make notes in my word tracker or something like “Have this character say this later” or “bring this back”, and when I’m writing if I don’t feel like riting a scene I’ll skip it with a note like [this is where they do banter over drinks] or something but, generally, no.

ideas I probably won’t get around to but wouldn’t it be nice: I used to have a whole channel for these in Discord servers I was in (I’m still in them but extremely inactive. I am not made for Discord) where you have this plot bunny and you post it as a prompt that anyone could write. I’ve only gone back and written maybe two of those I’ve ever posted? Doesn’t mean I don’t think about some of the others though.

Callouts @ me: Have you ever in your life had an original thought??? You can’t make every fic an au of an already established story you absolute walnut! STOP STEALING IDEAS FROM FUNNY ANECDOTES YOU SEE ON TUMBLR DOT COM

best writing traits: Dialogue, characterization/character voice, family dynamics

spicy tangential opinion: I do not give a shit if you’re bad at summaries. Stop saying you're bad at summaries in your summary. And ESPECIALLY stop saying “I’m bad at summaries just read it!” because I will not. You have broken my trust. I cannot trust that your fic will be good if you don’t even have the confidence to tell me what it’s about.

If you don’t know what to write for a summary, give me the first line! Give me a dialogue exchange! Give me a section you just really liked! That serves perfectly well as a summary. Just stop shooting yourself in the goddamn foot!

tagging: @tomhardysteeth, @hschill5, @scones-and-texting-and-murder

#challenge accepted #writing is hard #doing this may have lit a fire under my ass #WATCH OUT WIP

2 notes · View notes

waywardrose13 · 4 years

Text

Falling Stars

Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, heartbreak, mentions of divorce and past break-ups

This fic is loosely based on Dolly Parton’s “Jolene.” Lyrics are in italics and in bold.

A/N- This fic is un-betad, as per usual. So all mistakes are mine and there is not nearly enough editing to satisfy me but here we are.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please don't take him just because you can

Your hands were gently cupping your kneecaps. You sat cross legged on your bed you shared with Dean. You stared down at the picture, tears welling in your eyes.

“I thought you should know.”

You sniffled softly. It felt as if your heart had broken into a million little pieces. You had originally tried to catch them all, piece by piece as they fell, hoping you could put them all back together again.

But you eventually gave up as the heart began to crack and break more quickly as everything set in.

“Don’t ask me why I care about you, but I do. I know you don’t trust me, but trust this.”

A shaky sob sighed from your parted lips. The betrayal you felt was greater than anything you’ve ever felt. It felt worse than the time you were nearly clawed to death by a werewolf. It felt worse than the time that vampire sunk its teeth into your neck to rip a chunk of flesh from you. Because this pain was straight to your core. It tore itself through your heart, all the while ripping each string along the way. It was an internal pain that burned so brightly, it set you aflame from the inside out.

Your beauty is beyond compare

With flaming locks of auburn hair

With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green

Your smile is like a breath of spring

Your voice is soft like summer rain

And I cannot compete with you

Jolene

You had to admit, she was gorgeous. Her body was tall and lean, with slender, yet round hips, and full breasts. Her face was simply glowing. Green eyes shined behind dark lashes, waves of liquid fire hanging to her waist. Perfectly manicured hands, full rows of pristine teeth, skin like the purest milk.

You hated her.

She was ethereally beautiful. You understood why Dean would want her. You were nothing special, not with fuller hips than you wanted, hip dips, and a squishy belly. Scars littered your body from years of hunting and battling your own demons years before. You used to be ashamed of them. That is, until Dean came along.

“They tell a story,” Dean had said. His cheek rested against your bare stomach. He relaxed as your hand gently ran through his hair.

“Of how I was weak?” You whispered.

Dean shifted, kissing the skin of your belly, lips brushing every so softly against your scars.

“Of how you were strong.”

He looked up at you then, hand cupping your cheek, face inching closer to yours.

“You’ve fought battles and won. These scars show me how strong and brave you are. They tell me you’re here and alive with me.”

Maybe Dean got tired of seeing them. Maybe he missed the feel of soft, unmarred skin beneath his hands.

He talks about you in his sleep

And there's nothing I can do to keep

From crying when he calls your name

Jolene

Crowley’s information simply proved what you’ve thought for months now.

Dean had become more distant, pulling away from you. Your relationship had begun to feel strained, like it was hanging on by a thread, ready to fall apart in any second.

Once upon a time, your name would fall from Dean’s lips as he slept. Sometimes he’d murmur sweet nothings within his dreams of you, whispering how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you. Now, it was the same, except for the name.

“Jolene,” he would whisper, the phrases in which he used to say about you following after the alien name. You didn’t know a Jolene, hoping he made a mistake. Maybe it was an actress he had a crush on. Or maybe he was remembering an old crush. Whatever it was, you simply hoped it wasn’t what you feared.

But it kept happening. Your name never again slipped from his lips during his sleep. It was always “Jolene.” You never asked him about it. You figured that if you did ask about it, it would make the whole thing real. That your fear would be proved correct, and then you wouldn’t know what to do.

And I can easily understand

How you could easily take my man

But you don't know what he means to me

Jolene

Not only were there pictures of her and Dean together, wrapped in a lover’s embrace, cuddling on a couch inside a foreign home. But there were text exchanges. Somehow, Crowley had obtained all of this information, and you didn’t want to know how. Just why.

Jolene had told Dean to leave you. She wanted to be with him. She thought it was sexy for awhile, sneaking around behind your back. She liked to mock you.

Dean would respond with worse insults about you.

But now, she had her fun, she wanted to settle down with him.

Ha.

Been there, tried that.

He didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted him to say ok, drop you and be with him. He simply changed the subject.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please don't take him just because you can

You carefully gathered each of the photos, arranging them in a neat pile before reaching over to your nightstand drawer, placing the stack of photos inside and closing it.

Dean had left hours ago, not telling you where he was going, simply muttering something about needing a different atmosphere for awhile. Of course, you had your doubts as to where he was going. You wondered if he was going to visit “Jolene.” You wondered if the places he disappeared to were with her.

Dean came back after only moments of being gone with a small package addressed to you. There was no return address, and Dean warned you not to open it, but you ignored him. For some reason, your gut told you that you needed to see what was inside. So you wished Dean a good night and went back to your room.

And here you were.

You could have your choice of men

But I could never love again

He's the only one for me

Jolene

Crowley had included a letter inside the box, amongst the photographs and printouts of text messages.

Chipmunk,

I hope you’re well, darling. I know this may be hard to believe, especially coming from me, but I hope you do. Don’t ask me why I care about you, but I do. I know you don’t trust me, but trust this. Squirrel is seeing someone else. Before you toss this letter in the rubbish and ignore my existence once more, hear me out. I’ve also included some photographs in the box. I’ve had a few of my men keep an eye on your beau. I suspected something was off in our last meeting and I needed to figure it out for myself. I know this must be hard for you, and know that I am deeply sorry you had to find out this way. But I figured it was important, and I know it would be difficult to speak to you without your guard dog breathing down our necks.

The texts were a bit more difficult to obtain. Nothing I couldn’t handle though, darling. Don’t ask how I got them. Don’t even ask why. I have a soft spot for you, Y/N. I thought you should know. You deserve to know.

Crowley.

You read over the letter a few more times. You believed him. Dean had been acting suspicious for some time now, and the photos looked so real. You knew it was real.

You just didn’t want to lose him.

How were you supposed to confront him? Were you even going to? Would you stay with him? He obviously wasn’t in love with you anymore, or else he wouldn’t have branched out.

I had to have this talk with you

My happiness depends on you

And whatever you decide to do

Jolene

You sighed deeply. Turning off the lights, you settled down under the sheets, curling into a fetal position. Your heart was broken. Dean Winchester had been the first and only man you had loved. He was your first everything. He was the only man you ever let into your bed, your heart, your head. The love the two of you had shared was epic. It consumed you so greatly, twirling you up into the air and into the infinite sky, allowing you and Dean to dance amongst the stars together. It hit you so fast and so hard, and you fell before you could comprehend it.

An agonized cry sounded in your ears. It didn’t take long to realize the sound came from your own mouth.

The pain in your chest resonated throughout your body. It seared your heart and burned your soul. It crippled your limbs and set your mind aflame. This was why you pushed everyone away in the first place. This is why you didn’t let people get close to you.

This is why you never wanted to fall in love.

You had witnessed enough heartbreak in your family and friends. Everyone around you since you were little. Love was never something you strived to have. Sure, you were lonely. And yes, sometimes you envied your sisters or your friends for the love they would have. You were happy for them, beyond happy. You were ecstatic when one of your sisters told you she was getting married, or when your older brother announced his girlfriend’s pregnancy, or when your mother finally found a man that was so good and loving to her. You were happy for them all.

However, before that happiness, you also knew they experienced profound heartbreak.

You watched your parents’ divorce happen before your eyes. You watched your sister break down after her first love left her. You watched as your brother had to lift himself up again after his girlfriend of five years broke up with him. And yes, they were all happy now. But you never wanted to experience that loss, that pain. Especially when in your line of work, that loss would most likely be death.

It wasn’t long after you had settled into bed that Dean came into the room. You froze at the sound of his footsteps. He let out a deep breath, changing quickly, and then slipping into bed behind you. He got comfortable and then slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly into his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear.

You knew you needed to confront him. You knew you should’ve been angry.

I’ll do it tomorrow, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes, snuggling deeper into his arms. You allowed yourself the peace of falling asleep in the arms of the man you loved so dearly. Let me have this one last time.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

I'm begging of you please don't take my man

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

Please don't take him even though you can

Jolene, Jolene

Enjoyed the story? Let me know here! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated! If your names is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you:(

Jensen/Dean beans:

@dean-winchesters-bacon

@polina-93

@deans-baby-momma

@akshi8278

@sasquatch5

@adoptdontshoppets

@thisismysecrethappyplace

@fangirl-forevers-world

@rawritsmolly

@frozenhuntress67

@reginaphalange2403

@x-waywardaf-x

@jessieray98

@thewinchesterchronicles

@cookiechipdough

@tryn25

@yesfictionalboysarebetter

@angelessquirrel

@ackleholic-hunter

@weepingwillowphoenix

@analisespn

@dolans-lover

@captaincvans

@mrspeacem1nusone

@all-will-be-well-love

Forever Lovlies:

@jennalyncarrigan1230

@mogaruke

@kittyk26

@waywardsepticeye

@luciferslucille

@cookiecakeslive

@wheres-my-cheese

@supernatural-strangerthings-1980

@sunnysaysbookreviews

@nyxveracity

@raining-murder

@just-a-supernatural-sister

@hi-my-name-is-riley

@thehufflepuffblog

@donnaintx

@pisces-cutie

@waywardnerd67

@alexwinchester23

@jotink78

@sandlee44

@blackcherrywhiskey

@ain-t-bovvered

@witch-of-letters

@supernatural-crazed-girl

@gh0stgurl

@choosemyname

@1800-fandoms

@spnskinnyballs

@kcrews74

@adoptdontshoppets

@x-waywardaf-x

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes

@natura1phenomenon

@deanandsamsbitch

@heyitscam99

@thewinchesterchronicles

@thegirlsadventuresinwonderland

@shortbty14

@frozenhuntress67

@arses21434

@geeksareunique

@squirrelgirl67

@flamencodiva

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #fanfiction #supernatural #waywardrose13 #cheating #angst #fic

206 notes · View notes

homicidalbf · 3 years

Note

Hello, may I request Junko Enoshima tying up a long-haired fem!reader and giving them a buzzcut?

This is a very original concept! Thank you for the ask and I'm so sorry for the wait!

Y/N was always known for her long, gorgeous hair; strangers everywhere would always compliment her on how soft it looked or how it shined perfectly in the sun. So it was normal when she moved to her school and quickly gained friends and even admirers

Y/N was currently walking with her friends Aoi and Sayaka, the girls has made a pact to walk home with each other for safety reasons.

Eventually they had made it home, the last one being Y/N, she was a few houses up from Aoi's so she wasn't really scared. Y/N was looking at her phone, double checking the code for her new home when suddenly she bumped into someone

"OH MY GOD. WATCH WHERE YOURE GOING DIPSHIT!" Junko said, shaking her head as she tried to get up

"I-Im so sorry!" Y/N said, picking up her things in a hurry

"O.M.G" Junko said enthusiastically "You're like totally that new girl! I've been dying to meet you!"

Y/N nodded "you must be Junko Enoshima, I've heard so much about you!" Y/N with a smile

"well how about you pay me back for totally being a clutz by giving me and ice pack and letting me get to know you" Junko said in a friendly tone.

With that, the two girls were walking into Y/N's home "my parents won't be back for a while, they had to get some furniture and say goodbye to friends in our hometown" Y/N said "So it's just us for now, feel free to make yourself at home!"

There was an awkward silence for a bit before Junko had broken it

"So we're completely alone?" Junko said with a grin

"Uh yeah, is that not okay?" Y/N said, but before she knew it she was being whacked over the head by Junko, the last thing she saw was her grabbing her face before slipping unconscious.

Y/N eventually woke up alone in her room, the feeling in the back of her head was throbbing from being hit earlier; she looked around to see that she was naked and tied to one of her kitchen chairs "W-What.."

Y/N blinked four times and whispered to herself to wake up. It was no use, still naked and tied to a chair. "H-Hello?" Y/N screamed out "Mom? Dad?".

"Oh good you're awake!" Said Junko

"W-What the fuck is happening! I'll call the police!" Y/N spat out and tried to wiggle free from the chair

"And I'll just tell the police that you're my psychotic friend who shaved her own head. Who do you think they'll believe doll? Famous model and Fashionista or worthless new girl whose only popular for her hair." Junko said with a smile

"M-my..hair? Shaved my own head?" Y/N said, she took another look around, the ground below her was infact covered in chunks of Y/N's gorgeous long hair. Y/N started to cry

"Hey don't worry! Now I can stay queen bee and you can stay below me. Everything goes back to normal" Junko said, stroking Y/N's tears away softly "and besides, you don't enjoy all that male attention anyway do you now?" Junko giggled

Y/N face was now burning hot "W-What are you talking about! You're crazy!"

"Oh am I now? So your journal doesn't have pages full of adorable love letters for me?" Junko said, now holding Y/N's gaze by her chin

"It's not like that! I don't like girls like that!" Y/N sobbed out

"Well that's a shame, I guess you won't like this very much now will you?" Junko said before planting a kiss onto Y/N's lips, causing Y/N's face to break out in red, if it wasn't for the dim lighting Junko likely would've mocked Y/N for it

"Y-Youre sick! Untie me right now before my parents come home!" Y/N said feeling a cluster of emotions all at once

"oh don't worry about that, they texted you hours ago saying they were gonna stay out with some friends for the night and be back tomorrow morning" Junko grabbed a vibrator that was sitting on Y/N's desk "so we have plenty of time alone together"

Junko place the vibe onto Y/N's sensitive spot making Y/N wiggle and bit her lip to contain the noises "S-stop I don't want this!" Y/N yelled out

"Too bad! I'm having fun making all those things you wrote come true. Anything for a fan!" Junko giggled and continued to press the vibe onto Y/N's clit

Y/N's legs were now shaking as she tried her best not to cum "are you close Y/N, am I making you feel good baby?" Junko taunted Y/N before turning off the vibe and tossing it aside.

Y/N was panting, her chest rising up and down as she tried to gain her composure, she wasn't even focused on Junko enough to realise she was being untied

"get on the bed, I want to finish you off myself, don't even think about running away because I'll just knock you out and do it in your sleep instead" Junko said as she threw the ropes to the ground

Y/N obliged hesitantly "is my hair really gone?" She said looking at Junko with tears in her eyes

"It'll grow back my love, now hurry up I wanna make you cry for a better reason" Junko said, giving Y/N a little shove towards the bed

Y/N was laying down when Junko got between her legs, planting kisses and nibbles all over her thighs

"It's okay to pull my hair when it feels too good" Junko said with a cocky tone before starting to eat Y/N out. Y/N tried her best not to grind onto Junko's tounge, she didn't want to give her the satisfaction that she was actually feeling so good she could scream

"J-Junko please I can't!" Y/N said trying to pull herself away a bit, it was to no use when Junko grabbed Y/N's hips and started to go even faster Y/N could no longer control the sounds coming out of her, she had her fingers tangled in Junko's hair and was grinding against her tounge "Junko I love you! I love you so fucking much you're my everything!" Y/N yelled out before finally cumming on Junko's tounge

Junko stopped and lay next to Y/N, who was shaking and panting uncontrollably "Can you hold me please" Y/N said almost sounding like she was going to cry again

Junko held Y/N into her chest, softly rubbing her back before whispering "I love you too"

The two fell asleep in each other's arms that night.

3 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 20)

It was over something so stupid, she could have probably forgotten about it entirely if it weren’t such a milestone.

Sokka was absolutely convinced that angelfish and angler fish were the same thing. For some reason, it drove her mad and she just couldn’t let it slide. After a certain point, she was almost certain that he was basking in his wrongness, flaunting it pridefully and adamantly rejecting facts just to spite and bother her.

She searched up images and presented them to him. She edited side by side pictures of angelfish verses anglers. He would declare that anyone could edit text to make it look like a real search and that all of her images were fakes. And louder than ever he would declare that the fish were exactly the same. And when those antics became tired, he began stating that that ‘angle’ was a mispronunciation of ‘angle’ and therefore that angelfish do not exist.

Azula’s face had grown beet with aggravation that day, her patience worn thin. She began bickering with him about other things; about how he was growing his facial hair out because he knows that she hated the scratchy feeling of it while kissing him, that she was blowing him off for surfing and Chan, that he needed to clean his damn room if he wanted her to come over…

It was endless. She was certain that Toph was watching with a bowl of popcorn. And then he told her that she was too fussy and uptight and that he wanted to find himself a girlfriend that wasn’t so high strung and argumentative.

She was thankful for her own stubbornness, lest she’d have tried to make herself more sheepish and timid to appease him. But she would have been fooling herself if she said that she, even if unconsciously, toned it down several notches. It might have been the product of a low mood. She didn’t really speak with many people that week, no matter how many times Mai and TyLee tried to coax it out of her.

The following week she’d finally vented to TyLee who had nodded along and got teary eyed on her behalf. Azula sighed, the girl seemed almost more distressed about the breakup than she had been.

Evidently that was how things got resolved. Sokka had been passing by when TyLee’s lip began to quiver. He turned around ready to scold her for making TyLee cry and then TyLee had burst out that she was weeping because the two of them had made such a cute couple and she was sad to see it end over angelfish.

How absurd it had sounded when phrased like that.

“Oh man, that is…” his face had gone so very red. “Wow.” And he started chuckling.

For some reason Azula had felt compelled to point out, “you shaved?”

Sokka stroked his chin. “Turns out that facial hair nurtured and grown using spite is very patchy and makes you look like a backwoods serial killer.”

“At least they’ll see it coming this time.”

That was their first fight. That was their first break up and make up.

It wasn’t their only fight but it was their only break up.

.oOo.

The storm raging outside leaves Azula with too much time to think. For awhile she and Jet wander the hotel hallways, stealing kisses when Ozai isn’t there to groan or roll his eyes. But they feel somehow empty and she thinks that he is aware. Evidently she just isn’t in the mood for passion and romance.

She can’t quite place its origins but a feeling of sorrow is choking her, muting many of her other emotions. Jet, Zuko, and Katara have all gone to the cafeteria for snacks. She lies on her bed and stares at the ceiling, tuning in and out of Ozai’s video call. She knows that the storm has broken the connection when she hears a muttered curse, “dammit.” The only other explanation is that Nobu has made another off color remark. Her father has only complained about the squeaky voiced man at every chance he got. “Nobu should be banned from our meetings, he is enough to have a person drinking again.” Is among his most common declaration. It faintly humors she and Zuko both.

He closes his laptop and peers over at her. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I think that your AA meetings are more entertaining.”

“You can lie to everyone else, but not me.” He says flatly. “Are you still thinking about the last storm?”

Azula swallows, it comes to her that, that is a decent chunk of her distress. But it is more than that. Much more. She finds herself staring at the floor with an uncomfortable fluttering in her tummy.

“If you want to talk, I’ll be here…”

“I was going to let Katara die.” She pauses. “Just like I let mother die.”

Ozai inhales sharply. “Zuko is your brother.”

“And Katara is my friend. Her family let me stay at their house…”

“I think that it would have been much harder to have lost your brother, yes. But you don’t have to worry about that because both of them are alive. Even if Katara had fallen, it might have been for the best. She would have been with her brother.”

She knows that he is trying to help, that he is doing his best. “That’s awful, father.” She says flatly.

He sighs. “You know that I am not a very comforting person.”

She nods. “Yes. But I still want to talk to you.”

“Well continue then.” He prompts.

“I think that she is angry with me, she knows that I picked Zuzu.”

“I’m not angry.” Katara replies as she closes the door. “I care about you and Zuko more than you guys know. But I would have chosen Sokka if I had to make that choice. He’s your brother, Azula and losing a brother…” She falters. “I can’t even explain how it feels.”

“Probably a lot like losing your mother…”

“Yeah.” She trails off. “Can I sit?”

Azula makes room on the bed.

“Is that what has been bothering you?”

“One of the things.”

“What are the others?”

Azula stares, with tired eyes, at her palms. She hasn’t checked the mirror, but she is fairly certain that she has rather prevalent bags under her eyes. Decidedly, she is glad that she isn’t on the ship right now. That in itself is exhausting enough. She lays down upon the mattress and clutches a pillow.

“You aren’t sleeping well?” Katara guesses.

“Correct.”

“Do you miss home?” Ozai asks.

She shakes her head. “I’ve been having dreams.”

“Dreams?” Ozai inquires.

“About mother.” Her grip tightens.

“Let me guess, she asks you why you couldn’t save her?” Katara asks.

“No.” She is quiet for a very long time, the knots in her stomach build and tighten. She bites the inside of her cheek. “She doesn’t say anything at all. She just goes under and I don’t see her again.” She is surprised that she can keep her tone so level with such an intense wave of sadness is building up in her brain. “And then I see the bloody foam and the sand.”

Katara swallows.

“I haven’t had that dream in a while.” She adds quietly. “I thought that I was done having them.”

“Well, you were just put in the exact same situation as before.” Katara points out.

“I know.”

“And this time it worked in your favor.” Ozai comments. “You saved your brother and Katara.” He clamps a hand on her shoulder. “That is power, dear. That is something to be proud of. Carry it into your dream.”

“I’ll try.” But, for as much as she fancies control, she isn’t a lucid dreamer.

“I dream about your mother too.” Ozai admits upon growing tired of hearing only the hum of the air conditioner. “She asks me why I didn’t tell her to stay home.” He pauses. “I should have. I had a feeling about that day and I ignored it.”

There comes a flash of lightning so bright and then the room goes dark. The air conditioner’s incessant whir is cut short, leaving them with only the sound of rain falling as heavy as the death they speak of.

“Why is it always like that? Why do we always feel so guilty?” Katara asks.

“Because, when there’s nothing that you can do, the mind fills itself with fantasies of what you could have done if you had only been stronger.” Ozai answers.

Azula isn’t sure if this is true for her, but it is the only answer that anyone has ever given her. She grips the pillow tighter, if only she had seen it coming. And she thinks that, that is a better answer “We feel guilty because we keep reminding ourselves of what we could have done if we would have just seen it coming.”

Her father suddenly looks so very far away.

Her head pounds and aches as it tries to work through guilt and grief so freshly resurfaced. Doubly so when Sokka’s face slips into the mix.

The door crashes open.

“They found someone in the storm!” Jet declares.

“They’re trying to get them out of the water.” Zuko adds.

Azula nearly covers her ears. The last thing that she needs right now. She isn’t sure why, but she gets to her feet and heads for the door.

“Azula where are you going?” Her father asks.

“To the beach.”

“For what?!”

To be stronger, she notes to herself. For who, she isn’t sure. Perhaps only herself, to prove that she can beat the storm and the ocean more than it has beaten her. She had lost her mother and Sokka to it but she has kept if from stealing Zuko twice and Katara once. She will fight the ocean until the score is so tipped in her favor that the nightmares will cease.

“You are not going out there!” His voice is raised but she keeps walking.

She feels his hand clamp around her wrist, bruisingly hard. This time she doesn’t flinch. “Let go, father.” He is already dragging her back into the room. “Would it matter if I said that you’re hurting me?”

“I’m hurting you?” He asks. “That storm will hurt you more than I ever can.”

“I’m going to help them rescue the sailor, father. I am going to do it so that the nightmares will stop. I am strong, I know what is coming. This time I am going to stop it.”

Ozai rubs his hands over his face. “You enjoy raising my blood pressure, don’t you?” He asks. “We’ll go out there together.”

“I’ll go too.” Zuko replies.

“So, you wanna watch TV or something?” Jet asks Katara.

“First of all, the power is out. Second of all, if they’re going into the storm, so am I.”

Jet groans. “And I thought that my reckless hero syndrome was bad.”

Azula narrows her eyes as she makes her way down the hall. She has already decided the outcome of this fight. The storm won’t fracture another family. The dreams will leave her mind.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Ozai #Zuko #Katara #Jet #Fanfiction

12 notes · View notes

imuybemovoko · 3 years

Text

I die inside while dissecting Jesus music, part 3

Yep. Doing this shit again. It might take me a hot minute to write this one up, but I’ll get it done sooner or later.

This one gets a bit more fucky than usual, so here’s a few (US) suicide hotline numbers and a rather serious trigger warning. If you’re going to have a hard time with religious trauma, weird indirect forms of suicidality, and that kind of thing, go read something more wholesome. Practice self care better than I do. For the love of all you hold holy, my thoughts are less important than your well-being. Do not read this if it’ll hurt you to do so.

National suicide prevention lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 Trevor Project lifeline: 1-866-488-7386 The Crisis Text Line: text HOME to 741-741 Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860

I’ve looked through my playlist trying to find a song that I don’t remember as being repetitive as fuck. There are artists out there who don’t make their shit sad and modular for church camps and I was at least somewhat into their stuff. There are also older hymns. The playlist is mostly full of that weird shitty contemporary Christian music, but somewhere nestled in between stacks of almost painfully similar songs from Hillsong (they’re not all samey, but they get pretty repetitive) is Audrey Assad’s Even Unto Death.

At first glance, listening back, it seems to have some of the same formatting elements as the shitty modern-styled songs I’ve gotten tired of, but it gives me a very different vibe for a few reasons. First, Assad’s general body of work as I can find it on Youtube (and is also stored in my playlist) is largely older hymns, and that’s her general style. This song is, as far as I can tell, an original work, but its instrumental and melodic style is heavily influenced by the vibe that older hymns give off. Second, the bridge is more varied and interesting than that of Even So Come or Gracefully Broken. The song does, in the final bridge and in the choruses, engage in some repetition, but at a level that I find far closer to what’s typical in secular music. Third, the melody reminds me somewhat of old hymns in a way I don’t know exactly how to describe. I just imagine it with piano and SATB choir. Most modern Christian music just doesn’t land like that. But for the trauma, I’d say analyzing this song might end up being a breath of fresh air.

But for the trauma...

Anyway. Here are the lyrics, and here is the video again.

The song is formatted in a way that’s nearly typical of a pop song. You have a verse (in this case composed of “Jesus”, two lines of bullshit, “Jesus” again, and two more lines of bullshit), a three line chorus repeated twice, a second verse (same format), the chorus again but this time with a more personal form of address on the second time through, the bridge (which Genius divides into four distinct sections) with some repetitions of the final lines, the chorus again, and an outro that’s basically just some repetitions of lines in the chorus and then “Jesus” and the first line of bullshit from the first verse, twice.

So let’s get into this.

First verse:

Jesus The very thought of You It fills my heart with love Jesus You burn like wildfire And I am overcome

Alright. These lines are (clearly) addressed towards Jesus. (Speaking to him directly is a thing people do.) The song has a bit of a mix of a romantic bent and something a... little bit weirder, and both are starting to become visible in this first verse. The first couplet is like... straightforward. The singer is very in love with Jesus and even thinking of him makes her feel things. She’s not quite doing a John Donne here, I don’t think, but this is a pretty strong thing and this is part of why I say there’s a romantic bent to this. The second stanza contains that “fire” imagery that’s often associated with the Christian god, most often the Holy Spirit, that serves the purpose of showing how believers’ whole beings should be consumed by God. Then she says “I am overcome”. This reads to me like one of those “this makes me feel things to a degree I don’t know what to do with” kind of things, but there’s an element of what I’ll describe as a conquest narrative here. ...Again, not quite doing a John Donne, but not not doing it either.

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

Next comes the chorus, and I think it bears mention now rather than somewhere strange like I’d normally do it because this verse flows right into it.

Lover of my soul Even unto death With my every breath I will love You

It plays through this twice.

Gives me the same kind of vibe as Job 13:15 here. “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him.” The difference here is Assad’s song mentions love, which I guess goes beyond trust. So it’s even a bit crazier, and the “with my every breath” thing is the absolute kicker. This means she’s wanting to do literally everything, literally everything, in a way that expresses her love for Jesus. Extreme sentiments like this aren’t uncommon in song, sure, but given that we’re discussing Christianity...

it’s not just hyperbole, they actually think this way and it’s very fucking toxic.

Also the chorus is the main reason I say this has a romantic bent. “Lover of my soul” is a fucking juicy lyric.

Jesus You are my only hope And You, my prize shall be Jesus You are my glory now And in eternity

I think this second verse is mostly straightforward too. Literally just “Jesus is the entire source of my hope and I see him as a prize for whatever I’m doing” and “Jesus is my glory now and forever”. Glory here refers to like... honor and magnificence. In Christian parlance it refers to the condition that believers will be in after the world is overthrown by Jesus and me and all my fellow non-believing sexual deviants get hyucked straight into the eternal fire. It’s just like... shorthand for being “cleansed of sin” or whatever and living with God for eternity. I don’t know what circles Assad is active in; she might have a different take on this than I’m inclined to, but honestly given my understanding of this concept that’s primarily fueled by Protestant views and especially Evangelicalism, I’m inclined to read this as an empty threat.

Oof.

Onto the bridge.

I notice now that the bridge has essentially two main sections. Genius says four; that’s a weird choice to me because each section they label is not doing a separate thing, but the two I see, based more on the repetition of the last two lines of each stanza and the similarity of the sentiment in the first half of each, very much are.The first chunk of it goes like this:

In my darkest hour In humiliation I will wait for You I am not forsaken

The idea here is that even in the darkest hour of their life or humiliating moments, the singer is trusting in God to get them through it and like... idk, remedy their humiliation or make it worthwhile somehow? This serves as a reminder that God hasn’t left even if it looks like he might’ve.

Genius does a bit of a fucky-wucky here in the second section. They replace “though” with “oh”. I’m not sure how they could’ve messed this up, the video they link is literally the same lyric video that I linked, produced by Assad’s literal official artist channel, and the video shows this section the way I do below.

Though I lose my life Though my breath be taken I will wait for You I am not forsaken

This second chunk is more of the same “even if this destroys me I’ll trust you God”. Job 13:15 again, basically. Again, not hyperbole, they actually aspire to this. It’s not healthy at all. This first half of the bridge is basically just “haha I’m devoted to this relationship to the point of self-betrayal and inaction.”

Oof.

Second half:

One thing I desire To see You in Your beauty You are my delight Yeah, You are my glory

So this third section is basically just inserting verse 2 into the bridge in slightly different words, but the role it plays here, juxtaposed so much more directly with the extreme, self-betraying devotion expressed in the first half of the bridge, is more as a declaration that Jesus is the only thing that truly matters to the singer. Like the entire vibe here is “this life doesn’t even matter to me, yeet this body and idgaf, just let me go see Jesus.” I think I mentioned in a previous post, I think another one of these depression-spiking jesus song dissections, that this kind of mindset leads to what I’ll describe as a soft form of suicidality in which someone desires death by way of yelling at people for Jesus in places where that’s dangerous to do. If the singer’s only real desire is to see Jesus, then they’re very much at risk for this. Which prompts the question...

Is Audrey Assad okay?

You my sacrifice Oh, Your love is all consuming You are my delight Yeah, You are my glory Yeah, oh You are my glory God, yeah You are my glory Yeah

So aside from the “sacrifice” line here, which I’ll get to, this whole thing is more of the same. All-consuming love, Jesus is her delight, blah blah. The sacrifice thing refers to the crucifixion and to the framework Christianity posits by which blood needs to be spilled so that God can decide not to fucking yeet someone into an unending fire hole and that Jesus came to be the final perfect sacrifice so that no one needs to stab a goat or whatever the fuck again.

After this there’s the chorus and the outro that’s basically just the end of the chorus and then the first two lines repeated a bit, you know, just as this last little reminder that dying is ok if it’s for Jesus.

Which I guess is the overarching message of this song too. Dying is fun if it’s for Jesus, kids! Also let’s definitely not do a John Donne!

I feel like I reference that poem a lot. But it goddamn fits. Like terrifyingly well. I think the reason I latched onto that poem so hard when I learned about it in my literature survey course last fall is because, minus the borderline sexual nature of Donne’s thoughts here, it maps onto my own experience very goddamn hard. I went far enough into Assad’s self-betraying devotion to God for a while there that I fantasized about dying for Jesus in a country where that’s likely. Suicide by martyrdom, if you will.

On that note, here are the hotlines again.

National suicide prevention lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 Trevor Project lifeline: 1-866-488-7386 The Crisis Text Line: text HOME to 741-741 Trans Lifeline: 1-877-565-8860

If you read this far, I guess thanks for being interested in my thoughts, and I really hope this didn’t trigger anything too serious.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably go talk to my therapist about this.

#exchristian #religious trauma #christian music

1 note · View note