#hope this connects to anyone else

[queeresthellhound]

My mother always loved Jesus more than she loved me

And my mother hears me say I was drafted into a holy war I never wanted to be in

Expected to ostracize myself with joy because if the other children hated me it’s because they were Satanic

And sees nothing wrong with it except that I defected.

And she reads the essay I wrote in the third grade before I even knew where babies came from

Saying that if I were president abortion would be illegal everywhere

Because I had been groomed to be a Christian Nationalist ready to ruin lives for the lord

And thinks not that it is horrific a child of not even 12 would write that but rather how horrific it is I do not believe it anymore.

My mother always loved Jesus more than she loved me

And if she was called to do as Abraham, and if I was called to become her Isaac she would have done it

And on the long walk home she would have told me that it was god’s will and that he had a plan that’s bigger than all of us

And at one time I would have believed everything she said on the long journey home, nodding my head silently

Because if she loved Jesus more than me, he must know something that I don’t.

And when my very life was saved by EMTs and doctors and nurses and so many others

Who worked their asses off to make sure my mother’s only begotten son would not be lost

My mother thought of a different only begotten son, the son of John 3:16

And when I survived she praised him for saving her wayward, rebellious child who had hardened his heart to her precious Jesus

Instead of the sinful humans who did all of the work.

And when I had finally gotten up the courage to sit on her bed, bawling my eyes out, a river spring up from the spot I occupied

Telling her that her darling Jesus made a mistake, that I was a mistake,

She decided that god had not made a mistake but that my sinful existence was a part of his holy plan

And then days later shoved me back in the closet with the force of a summer thunderstorm

Because the mouthpieces of Jesus decided that I could not decide for myself what a life of joy looked like

And after all she always loved Jesus more than me.

And my mother still thinks that I will come back to the flock

Despite the fact that I have a crisis every time I step in a church

Despite the fact I see myself as chewed gum, licked cupcakes, dirty duct tape for being alive

Despite the fact that at lectures which remind me of sermons I feel trapped behind a window in my brain

Despite the fact that her church would vote me out of existence tomorrow if given the choice

Despite the fact that her church friend’s “love” for me is predicated on me coming back to their cult

Because my mother has always loved her abusive, manipulative, absentee, deadbeat son Jesus more than the son standing right in front of her

Because Jesus can be anyone and anything she needs him to be

And I can only ever be a goat standing in a flock of sheep, hoping no one ever looks close enough to notice the differences.

[miraclesprinkle]

No memories remain of anything before

Yes, I'm with you in a garden of carnage

In a mayhem of trickster and tricked!

[crispywizardtale]

[hephaestuscrew]

A book asks the reader to imagine any sensory input of the story, whereas a film or TV show provides both sound and visuals. Audio fiction lives in the space between these two approaches. I think there's a unique power to that middle ground. I love how audio drama asks the listener to co-construct their sensory experience of the story.

Audio drama allows me to simultaneously experience 'This character feels real to me because I've heard their voice' and 'This character feels real to me because I've pictured them myself'.

What the characters are experiencing is both directly presented to me and left to my imagination. There's no page or screen between me and the story. It's there in my ears. It's there in my mind's eye.

There's a strange sense of intimacy to that, the intimacy of feeling like a fly on the wall during a conversation or of hearing a character speaking as if directly to me. Perhaps it sounds contradictory to say that experiencing a story only through sound allows me to feel uniquely connected to that story, but that's one of the reasons why I love audio fiction so much.

[planet4546b]

i think one of my favorite things about citizen sleeper and the experience of playing that game is the realization that the characters who look like cute, cozy-game-type possible friends and love interests do not care about you and are using you for their own goals. and you can use them back to get the ending you want but i felt bitter and scared and alone while playing that game and the game shrugged right back at me and said yeah. you might be.

[chinacatmoonflower]

i love everyone so much but i do not know how to be a friend :(

[m1xieup]

honestly as a resident Will-enjoyer I find my mind plagued with questions after reading the story he’s actually based on- William Wilson (though I’ve heard he’s also inspired by Prufrock though I don’t know if that’s true [it would be cool if it was]). Now the ending of William Wilson is kinda up in the air as it’s highly symbolic, which means there’s a lot of ways it could be used for Will’s character, so I was thinking: is Will based on the narrator or the doppelgänger? How did he die? And thus this poll was born, I’m sorry for the very dramatic and overdrawn introduction to what is essentially just a poll, but I am nothing if not dramatic, so without further ado:

cw: minor mentions of suicide in the context of the original story

I created this poll mainly because I’m curious as to what the community thinks, if there’s anymore theories or official information I don’t have, I’d love to hear about it! Anyways have a great day y’all

[bunnihearted]

ᯓ★

[iguessitsjustme]

Hey, quick questions. What's worse? Violating a dumb clause of a contract that you signed (when the clause should not exist in the first place) in a way that is not harming anyone and filling the world with love in the process or....being a fucking narc?

or

[cashmere-caveman]

Hanif Abdurraqib, it’s not like nikola tesla knew all of those people were going to die | Anne Carson, H of H Playbook | Richard Siken, Snow and Dirty Rain | Franz Wright, Heaven | Toby Whithouse, shooting script for Being Human S1E1 | Franz Wright, Heaven | Erin Slaughter, I Hope My Salt Lamp is a Weeping Deity | Richard Siken, Straw House, Straw Dog & My Country: The New Age, Episode 16

image descriptions in alt

[akalegos]

remember guys. if its bad, we can just give it the s18 treatment!

[universestreasures]

The Lockets (Drabble)

Expansion/Spin Off From This Thread With @shacchou (Hope you like this Ani <3)

The young boy didn't expect her to come, if he's being honest. Since Gozaboru Kaiba passed away, Mokuba had cut off all contact with Lady Suzuha. It wasn't because he was grieving over the abusive man. No, it was because his focus had...shifted. He didn't want her to see him like this, to see him do what he thought he had to in order to regain what he lost...

His big brother's love...

Now that the puzzle of his big brother's heart had been broken due to the Penalty Game he suffered at Yugi Muto's hands, and his brother left in a coma for weeks now, everything had shifted. Mokuba was starting to act like himself again, as if he too had been consumed by the demon of games just like his older brother for the last half of a year. That was why he reached out to, really, his closest friend, to one of the only good things that being adopted by his stepfather had given him. And thankfully, she responded and hurried over quickly, overwhelmed with concern and worry herself after having heard the news about his brother's condition.

The two were in one of the many living spaces inside the mansion, arts and craft supplies spread all over the massive table in the middle. The two children often did this activity when they met up, this time being no different. He had something specific in mind that he wanted to do, something that had his immediate focus as he worked diligently on his project.

"M-Mokuba, dear?" The voice of the young lady pulled the youngest Kaiba out of his focus, purple hues staring at hers that could be seen above her signature pink fan. "Are you sure...this is what you called me over for? I-I mean, making arts and crafts with you is certainly a delight and one I rather missed. However, considering...recent events, I...I thought...I thought you called me over so that you could...have a trusted ear to talk about what happened..."

Her inquiry causes him to freeze in place, almost dropping the rope he had been working with. He should have figured this would happen. His friend was rather perceptive, not that Mokuba was any good at hiding his emotions to begin with. Unlike his older brother, he wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see, and she had seen right through him.

"I...I..."

"It's alright if you'd rather not discuss it. I...I know things are hard for you as it is right now. I simply wanted to express my own thoughts. If you simply want my company as we make artistic creations together like we always do, then that is alright. I am here for you today. No one else."

"...Thanks, Suzuha." Mokuba gives her a weak smile. He appreciates her understanding. It was true he did want to talk about it, but...not right now. Not when he had something he needed to finish first and his own thoughts and feelings together.

The room is filled again with silence as the two return to their work. While he worked on his project, she seemed to be painting a tea set of some sort. Perhaps it was a gift for Lord Amanosuzu. If that was the case, then they both had a similar idea in terms of what the purpose of making their crafts was.

As soon as he is about to put the finishing touches on his twin creations, he looks up as he notices Suzuha had gotten out of her chair and was above his shoulder, examining his work closely. "My, my! These are quite lovely, Mokuba dear! Are these for...you and your brother?"

"That's the idea...but I'm not sure if he will-" His words are cut short by the gentle gloved hand of the older young lady being placed on his shoulder, Suzuha's reassuring smile providing a comfort he had been lacking in his life for so long now; the smile of someone who cared about him deeply.

"Of course, he will like it! No, he'll love it! It's a handmade gift from you, his dear little brother! What sibling wouldn't adore such a thing filled with one's true feelings of brotherly love?"

"L-Love...?"

The word sounded so foreign escaping his lips, as if it was the first time he'd ever heard such a concept. His brother had told him brotherly love was a waste, something that only held one back. Those words stuck with him, even as he desperately tried anything and everything to get it from the older Kaiba since his spiral. That's why he had doubted even doing this in the first place, but yet he persisted anyway, creating something with his whole heart that was broken into many pieces by the events that had transpired.

Seems like the more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?

Before he can continue his response, he and she are both directed to the door. It then opens, revealing both one of the mansion staff and someone that caused both Suzuha and Mokuba's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Master Mokuba, Sorry to interrupt, but Officer Ryuenji is here to see you."

"Hey. Sorry for dropping in like this. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright, Mokuba."

Before Mokuba can attempt to comment on the other's words, the ruby hues of the other focus on the other individual in the room. A hand goes over Tasuku chest as Mokuba watches him do a slight bow, like a prince would greeting a princess. "Lady Suzuha? Is that you? What a surprise! I did not expect to see you here today. I was not aware you and Mokuba knew each other."

"O-Oh! Y-Yes!" Mokuba's eyes widen just a bit at the sudden stammering in her voice, something he has never seen before from his friend. Suzuha whips out her fan, quickly covering the light blush forming in her cheeks with it. "We've been friends for years, T-Tasuku! Our fathers...were acquainted, and that's how we got introduced. My being here today is just one of many I've had with Mokuba dear over the years. I was not aware you were acquainted with him as well, but considering the celebrity that you are, I guess it's no surprise."

Mokuba and Tasuku both take a sigh of relief at her conclusion,both seemingly deciding to go along with it. Considering all the work Tasuku and the Buddy Police had done to keep the Death-T incident from going public, Suzuha becoming privy to it would put that in jeopardy. Not only that, Mokuba didn't want his friend to know his part of it, a part he felt like he had to do as a last-ditch effort to get the older Kaiba's attention at the time.

"Thanks for coming to check on me, Officer Ryuenji. I appreciate it."

"Please, just call me Tasuku. I think you and I are well acquainted enough to not speak so formally to one another."

Tasuku then took a seat, watching the two go back to their crafts as he did not want to intrude it seemed. It was a new thing for Mokuba to have 'friends over' like this, people who actively wanted to see him and were not trying to get anything out of him. It was...nice.

Was this...the feeling that comes from true friendship and unity with others? The very thing that Yugi seemed to have harnessed to beat his brother?

Mokuba then picks up the last part, the last piece, to his creation, the one item from the past he's treasured and preserved throughout the years. It was something he had clung to, a spark of hope he always held onto despite the darkness that came into his life. It was important to him, more than anyone including his brother, knew..until today that is.

"Mokuba? Is that...?" Tasuku questions, looking over along with Suzuha at the item the youngest in the room now held in his hands.

"Mhmm...It's an old picture of me and Seto before we were adopted by Gozaboru. We looked pretty different back then, huh?"

"You look the same to me, dear Mokuba. It is your brother who is the different one here. I..I have never seen Seto Kaiba...smile with such heart before. Not even during events we've both attended or any promotions I've seen. It's... polarizing, to put it mildly."

"Yeah...It was...a different time, a time before...all of this. That's why this picture is very dear to me, probably the most important thing I own now. And..."

Mokuba begins to do the unthinkable next, slowly starting to rip the photograph in two. His actions shock the other two in the room, both almost going to say something before he continues on and starts to place half of the picture into one of the lockets, precisely the half of the photograph he is featured in.

"I'm going to share it with him, share with Seto my most treasured memory, so that he will...come back to me someday."

Once he finishes the process with the other locket, the boy moves to leave the room, telling his guests he needs to do something. With that, he runs down the long corridors of the Kaiba Mansion, not stopping until he reaches the most guarded part of the house: his brother's chambers.

The maid moves aside to let him in, bringing Mokuba face-to-face with his brother for the first time in weeks. Just looking at him like this, in a coma and stuck in a wheelchair like a lifeless husk, pained him like nothing else. However, he pressed forward anyway, for he had something important to do.

"Big Brother...I...I don't know if you can hear me, but...I...I want to give you something, something to help guide you back to me...A piece of my heart..."

Mokuba then places one of the lockets he created, the one containing his own picture, around his brother's neck. He then puts the remaining one, the one containing Seto's picture, around his own neck, the boy then clenching it protectively like he was a dragon protecting a treasured gem. He can feel his heart start to ache and his body start to quake along with it, his emotions that he had been trying so hard to manage in order to stay strong finally taking over him.

Before he can realize it, his knees buckle, sending him down to the floor and his face into Seto's lap. Water flows from his eyes and land on the white fabric of his brother's clothing, his cries starting to echo throughout the mansion. His friends, immediately upon hearing it spring into action, both stopping in their tracks upon meeting the maid when having reached the entrance. The woman told them to leave the young master on his own for now, to allow him his feelings he's been holding in to come out freely without judgment.

"Mokuba..."

"Mokuba..."

And so the two listened and waited outside the door as Mokuba's cries continued for what seemed like forever, the cries being some of the most painful they'd ever heard. Little did they knew that this was not even close to displaying the amount of anguish the young boy felt, an anguish that had been building up for years upon years that all just spilled over the second his brother went into that coma. For he had been through so much, seen so much, all since that fateful day that changed everything for him and his older brother...

"Seto...Come back...Come back to me...Big brother...I...I miss you...I...I need you...I need you here with me...I don't know who I am without you...So, please...Please I'm begging you...Come home soon..."

[theramblingvoid]

Being unemployed and out of school in your early 20s is so weird. like I'm free I'm trapped time isn't real but neither is bedtime I'm making food from scratch I'm sweating over the price of groceries I'm entirely outside the rhythm of humanity while only now starting to see how it works. I'm living I'm dying I'm holding together my mental health with duct tape and one nice thing a person said to me 5 months ago I am running out of shredded cheese. yknow?

[wuhei-archived]

@cloudhymn  :  accidentally  falls  asleep  on.

the  film  they  chose  to  watch  together  was  nearing  the  climax,  but  mòzé  is  instead  focused  on  his  dozing  companion.  as  the  vidyadhara's  head  rests  against  his  shoulder,  he  can't  help  but  to  wonder  how  hard  he  has  been  working  to  reach  such  a  vulnerable  state.  located  in  xī's  home,  there  is  essentially  no  safer  place  for  him  to  exist  like  this.  with  top  security  paired  with  corvus  personally  watching  over  him,  dan  heng  is  safe. 

after  a  couple  of  minutes  pass  by,  the  assassin  decides  to  shut  the  movie  off.  it  isn't  as  fun  to  watch  it  alone,  he  silently  notes.  carefully,  he  stands  up,  though  his  connection  with  dan  heng  does  not  fade.  instead,  he  scoops  up  the  dragon  into  his  arms  and  carries  him  up  the  stairs  to  his  loft  bedroom.  with  a  certain  gentleness  that  his  hands  are  not  used  to  showing  others,  he  places  the  other  onto  the  mattress. 

slender  fingers  brush  back  dark  bangs,  revealing  more  of  his  face.  they  move  to  trace  his  pointed  ears  before  then  falling  to  his  jawline.  everything  about  his  touch  is  gentle,  as  if  he  is  afraid  that  one  wrong  move  will  completely  shatter  the  man  in  front  of  him. 

his  hands  are  meant  to  kill,  not  love  in  any  sort  of  capacity,  but  ..  when  in  front  of  dan  heng,  he  finds  himself  faltering,  wavering  from  his  true  nature.  is  it  possible  for  a  murderer  to  do  both  ?  to  passionately  end  someone's  life  whilst  passionately  loving  another.

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[blastburnt]

so seeing her again did not hurt in the way i expected but how am i meant to go back to living now. like where is my other half