#I know my mental health takes a turn when my tumblr followers increase

[kellandavidchristopher]

Opening TikTok to a surge of new followers: oh that’s nice. I wonder what video they liked.

Opening Tumblr to a surge of new followers: for Christ sakes did I say something really neurotic again?

[ikamigami]

Idk if it'll mean anything coming from me, especially since I'm anonymously sending this, but I followed your blog for a while and I noticed recently that your mental health has begun to spiral the more you interact with the TSAMS fandom.

You might get mad or feel attacked, but I'm saying this out of concern, even if I'm a fellow internet stranger. I see you taking criticisms other people have for the show and interpreting it as a personal attack against you. Yes, this show is important, especially to you, it seems. I know what it feels like to be attached to a character you deeply connect with and get frustrated when their issues are overlooked or not treated seriously. But at the end of the day, it is a show.

I'm not your parent, so it's not like I can control what you do, but the tsams-confessions blog only seems to make you even more upset. I think you should take a step back from everything, block that blog for your own mental health, and allow yourself a moment to breathe. I'm not saying to stop watching tsams, but maybe unfollow the tags on tumblr (I know I had to for my own sake lol) and just enjoy the show alone and with your friends. That's my suggestion

Again, I am sending this out of concern. It doesn't seem like you're enjoying the show anymore, it's only causing you increase distress, especially the more you interact with the fandom. I hope if you do take my advice, you'll be able to return to the fandom space if you wish to do so after some time with a clearer head and be able to enjoy things again. I know you struggle a lot with mental health, and it's likely you don't see what is happening to you.

Take care of yourself. I don't know you, you're just words on my screen, but I still worry for you and hope to see you happy <3

Thank you so much for this beautiful message, dear anon 💗

You're absolutely right that I should distance myself from sams fandom. It helped a lot when I distanced myself from mha (my hero academia) fandom.

I'm taking others' criticism as personal attack mainly because of my paranoia. Whenever someone is saying something negative and it's related to something I was talking about I catch myself on immediately relating this to myself. That people are talking badly about me. I know that it's not the case every time.. but it's hard to not think like that when I see people saying something related to topic about Sun being suicidal.. Topic that I'm mainly talking about..

I just wanted to share my experiences alongside talking about show. I thought that people wouldn't have problem with that. But it turned out that they do.

The thing is that I'm blocked by tsams confessions blog. I'm getting the feedback from one of my friends. They're sharing what is upsetting them.

Which also makes me upset and on top of that there's also the fact that there are others who relate to Sun and his mental issues and they are the ones who are sending anonymous confessions pouring their hearts there saying their frustrations about the fact that others dimiss Sun's problems..

Someone even said that they were also ignored the same way Sun was.. and seeing later that people say that we want Sun to suffer to prove ourselves to be right is awful..

I was talking to one of my friends @magrigano ... They're deactivated now.. They are most definitely depressed themselves.. They often expressed how much they're upset about people not seeing that Sun is depressed.. They also relate to Sun a lot..

I'm worried about them because they deactivated and I don't have any contact with them beside Tumblr..

I'm scared that they took what people are saying to their heart..

I hope that they're fine but it concerns me that they deactivated..

If you or anyone else know @magrigano please check what's happening with them..

They often liked my posts and commented on them.. I think that they felt understood..

I know that this is just a show.. but fans are real people and this fandom treats people who are concerned about Sun (because they relate to Sun and his mental issues) awfully..

They don't seem to realize or maybe they just don't care that they words are hurting real people..

For me these people seem as if they want to be right. They want their headcanons to turn out to be true.

That anon I was talking about last time for example said that just because we're worried about Sun it means that we wishes him to be harmed to prove ourselves right and it's yikes.. but that's not true.. these words are very harmful because this is just assumption made by a stranger.. this person doesn't even know any of us and yet they don't seem to have a problem with making things up..

When it really isn't about who is right or wrong or what is canon and what isn't..

It's about letting others be. Why people can't let others relate to Sun and be worried about him?

I think that people like that anon likes to always be right. They think that they're superior than others. I'm making assumptions now, I know. But this is exactly how this anon comes across with what they're saying.

Because at the end of the day it's more than just angst and headcanons etc. Because people who relate to Sun and his mental issues are real. People who are worried about Sun are real.

Maybe my posts were only fuelling everything more.. but like I said I'm not the one who is sending those confessions about Sun - those ones who seem concerned about him and being upset with how fandom treats Sun's fans..

And it makes me worried.. because it's not only me.. if it was just me I wouldn't be that much upset.. but now one of my friends deactivated and I don't know what's happening with them..

I'm appreciate your concern and kind words, dear anon 💗

I just wish that this fandom wouldn't attack people who struggle with mental issues just because they want to be right.

Also it's important to note that not every person deals with mental issues the same way because everyone is different and also there are a lot more mental issues/disorders beside the more popular one. Let's take depression for example.

People think that when you're depressed it's obvious because you look sad and you sit in dark room and cry a lot.. but that's not true. Many people have atypical depression or they have high functioning depression.

People should learn more about mental health to not harm others with what they say.. or they should just simply not talk about mental health if they don't want to learn more about it..

It's not that people only ignore Sun's mental issues.. because with how they words things it comes off that they're dismissive of mental issues of real people who relate to Sun.. with how they say things carelessly, they hurt real people..

That's why I'm worried. It's not only about me. More people say that they relate to Sun and it hurts them as well..

I just wanted to be a voice for them.. I wanted to help for our struggles to not be ignored..

I think that it'd be enough if people just let us be. If they let us be concerned about Sun. If they let us relate to Sun.

But some people are just awfully mean and don't care if they hurt someone because they are right.

Also it's hard for me to just stop watching the show because it helped me realize so much about myself.. and I want to know how Sun's plot will resolve because I relate to him and because thanks to him and obviously Davis and EC.. I could finally connect the broken pieces of myself.. because when I'm looking at Sun I see a reflection of myself.. He not only deals with similar mental issues to me but he also has the same character/personality. His short temper and sometimes mean comments or his horniness it's all the same.. I just feel like I'm looking at slightly different version of me.. because his life is worse than mine ever was..

I often catch myself on saying that I wouldn't be as nice as Sun in some situations.. or I don't know if I would survive as long as him in his situation..

I think that he's strong but having your issues ignored is awful also if you struggle with depression or any mental disorder that others seem to not see..

Thank you for your advice, dear anon 💗

I think that I'll try to stick to just watching show and talking only to my friends.

I'm still worried about others who relate to Sun especially my friend @magrigano.. I hope that they're alright 🥺

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's (16-08-2021 - 22-08-2021) reading log is here. This week's reading log is super duper long and filled with lots of good things (my apologies for the long post, I really could not find a good spot to do a read more). I discovered some new favourites and re-read some old favourites and while I had an intense week personally at least the fics I read were absolutely phenomenal. I do recommend checking out the warnings as some fics are a bit heavier/angstier and you might wanna be prepared. Most of these fics are Stucky but there are a couple of other ships in between.

If you are looking for more fun and/or good things make sure to check out the @marveldisabilitycelebration as well to see all the awesome art, fics, meta, etcetera people created! And while I am mentioning events I am a mod for let me also just quickly mention that sign-ups for the @stuckygiftexchange are still open until the end of the month <3

Favourites are marked with a 🌻 Fics that are only available to AO3 users are marked with a 🔒 and Tumblr fics are marked with a 🍀

🌻 The Bends by dreamsinthewitchouse @dreamsinthewitchouse [Danbeau, side Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Memory is not a house you can just walk back into after finding the key you thought you’d lost. It’s a thing you wade into and out of, rewriting it as it rewrites you.

It’s not without its rewards, either - recovering a memory about Maria and Monica, about her life, feels better than socking a thousand bad guys in the face, better than all the photon blasts in the world.

Then again, realising there’s still memories she can’t access, even after all this time, feels like drowning in space.

Not the one out there - the one inside her.

🌻 Sweet & Salty by musette22 @musette22 [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Idiots in love. That's it. That's the fic.

When life gives you lemons by moonythejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 34k words, Explicit] (11/15 chapters)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

🍀 SamRhodey Tumblr Fic by ipoiledi [SamRhodey, ? words, Teen?]

“Wilson, this is Rhodey; Rhodey, Wilson,” Tony Stark says, and suddenly some six foot tall sexy guy is shoved right in front of Sam, and they both stumble a little, bumping into each other. This is a crowded party. “You guys have things in common, right?” Stark asks. “Uh, Army stuff. Talk about that. I hate wallflowers; stop wallflowering and talk to each other.”

Shorteralls by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 6k words, Explicit]

The first time Bucky ever saw Steve Rogers, he was struck by how Neanderthal-like his response was. It was immediately followed by a bout of mental scolding. The second time was just about the same. The third time, it was actually appropriate for Bucky to start a conversation with him, at which point he was determined to be the gentleman.

No such luck. Steve Rogers is, always has been and always will be, a relentless flirt. These days, Bucky's Neanderthal-ist feelings about Steve are consensual and highly appreciated. More so now that they're having a baby.

what the fuck are perfect places anyway by tigerlilycorinne [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Steve clears his throat and stands. “Well, I should head in. I might want to begin packing.”

Bucky stills. “You won’t,” he says, trying to sound commanding. It only comes out uncertain. “Don’t.”

Steve shakes his head. “Maybe not tonight,” he says, and Bucky knows they’ll be discussing this again soon.

“Then stay. Play… play cards with me or something.”

Steve’s eyebrows jump up, his mouth tugging up in another of his bemused smiles that do things to Bucky’s insides, but he drops his hand from the doorway and steps back into Bucky’s room. Somehow, Bucky feels as if he’s won—not the war, just the battle.

Steve won’t stay forever. But he’ll stay for cards.

Steve and Bucky, on the run after Civil War (with a few alterations to canon), are laying low in Wakanda. But they can’t stay there forever.

🌻 honestly thought i’d be dead by now, but what you can trust is that i need your touch by moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 105k words, Explicit]

Bucky is 37 years old; he’s unmarried, hasn’t had a Sub of his own, is definitely not ripped, comfortable at his job as an Advanced Practice RN at Brooklyn General ER, and just got his Five Years coin from AA.

Steve is 26 years old; he’s unmarried, his last and only Dom has Alzheimer's, he's worryingly muscular, uncomfortable in his job as the government’s poster Alpha for masculinity and strength, and worries more than he should about his BMI.

Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky meet initially in a not-cute moment. Bucky’s tired as shit thanks to the sudden alien invasion that shook New York and Steve is tired as shit because he hasn’t slept more than 20 minutes at a time in – well, since 1936, probably. Bucky’s Alpha instincts get irritated at the sudden presence of another "Alpha" into his territory and Steve’s suppressed submissive tendencies latch onto this grumpy bachelor Alpha and he only suppresses it further.

Bucky’s grumpiness and Steve’s duckling impressionism aside, both of them are a mess. But since both of them are a mess? Their messes seem to fit pretty well together.

Deep Sea Diving by Aida Ronan [Stucky, 5k words, Explicit]

Steve's wallowing in heat-related misery under a shade tree in Central Park when a man walks by in bright red booty shorts and a crop top. RIP Steve Rogers. It was nice knowing you.

honey, make this easy by steebadore [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

Bucky likes the way he looks. His silk button up with the tiny gold polka dots feels soft on his skin and is tailored perfectly; no pulling at his chest or belly. His hair falls in shiny dark waves and his skin is smooth and dewy. He looks expensive. He looks taken care of. He looks like Steve’s.

🌻 let's take it back to the start by howdoyousleep @howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

How it all began.

This sleepwalking through my life. by barthelme [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

The internet is an interesting place and when Bucky came home (or, when he came to live with Steve), Steve did a lot of research. Apparently, it’s not safe to wake a sleepwalker. He assumes that waking a sleepwalker with traumatic dreams and PTSD is beyond just being frowned upon.

And he tells himself--has told himself--that this is safer for Bucky. That if he were to stop him and wake him up, that Bucky would be mortified to be slurping on his best friend’s cock. That all of the improvements he’s made would be lost, would be repressed, would be just--

They’d be back at square one.

So he lets Bucky do it.

🌻 the way i've been craving by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

"Lunch break at 12:30. My office. Hope you’re hungry…"

It’s the ellipsis that sends Bucky’s insides swimming warmly, his heart beating twice as fast against his ribs where he sits in class. Senator Rogers is concise, direct, to the point. Without an ellipsis this is lunch, this is a meeting. With it though?

This is a booty call.

nasty but classy by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

“No, you don’t have to know the purpose, that doesn’t matter. Nat showed me this challenge where couples drink a lot of wine and get drunk together but they can’t touch each other. And whoever touches the other first has to...has to give the other head.”

🌻 Put It on Repeat, It Stays the Same by giselleslash [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Steve and Bucky have a one night stand that turns into a friends with benefits situation. A weekend snowed in at Bucky’s apartment brings to light how much that really doesn’t suit either one of them.

Greetings to the New Brunette by victoria_p (musesfool) [Stucky, 10k words, General]

"You said he should have a hobby. That it would help."

"I meant, like, knitting or coin collecting. Motocross, if he was feeling antsy. A baby's not a hobby. It's lifetime commitment."

🌻 Rogers & Barnes: Partners by triedunture [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky have to pose as a couple for a mission. Nat insists it really is the only option. She's checked.

The complication: unbeknownst to even Natasha, Steve and Bucky's friendship has been rocky ever since Bucky confessed his tender feelings and Steve left him out in the cold. Can asexual, completely-in-love-with-his-angry-best-friend Steve complete the mission and win Bucky's heart?

(The answer is yes. Yay!)

this will be our year (took a long time to come) by biblionerd07 [Stucky, 4k words, General]

Bucky's therapist is worried he's using Steve as a crutch and wants him to try going on outings without Steve. It wouldn't be terrible, honestly, if Bucky could just manage to open his mouth and say something to Steve.

I'll hold my breath by Little_Lottie (tfwatson) [Stucky, 8k words, Mature]

Sometimes Bucky’s hands flex in Steve's direction. Neither of them knows exactly why, but at least one of them has a hunch.

Bucky touches everything but Steve, even though Steve is all he really wants to touch.

Start from the Beginning by Mumble_Bee [Stucky, 13k words, Explicit]

What about a sex pollen fic where the pollen-ed one doesn’t remember getting hit in the face with a sex flower, and wakes up midway through the depollenating?

Or: the one where Steve wakes up on his back with a stranger buried balls-deep in his ass.

Match by emphasisonem [Stucky, 4k words, Mature]

The situation’s actually kind of funny from the right perspective, Bucky thinks as he reads the message for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s finally matched with a hot, funny guy. Tall and broad and clean cut. An absolutely breathtaking smile. Bucky’s walking wet dream. And he’s good. They haven’t messaged on the app, but Bucky already knows him.

He knows him because Steve Rogers is an art history professor at his university. His art history professor.

Best friends and married since childhood by StuckySituation [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Inspired by @/peterssquill's post in tumblr: "bucky and steve got married on the playground when they were like eight and though neither of them would ever admit it to anyone, even each other, they still consider it official"

~♥~ ♥~ ♥~

“Natasha, stop trying to set me up with every woman you meet, I’m-”

“Too shy? Too scared?”

“No, I’m-”

“Too busy? You’re mostly retired these days, not a good excuse anymore.” Natasha smirks and then drawls: “Or just too gay?”

Steve flushes at that, even if isn’t true -- he’s bisexual, not gay. “Let it go, Nat, I’m not looking for anything. I’m already married, for fuck’s sake.”

Clearly not what she expected. “What.”

Steve grimaces. He didn’t mean to tell anyone that, ever.

“Sorry, can’t talk about it right now!” he says and jumps out of the plane.

Nobody Should Be Alone on a Holiday by emphasisonem [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

“So, um-” Bucky begins speaking again, pulling Steve from his less-than-work-appropriate thoughts. The brunet has shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks, and he’s shifting from one foot to the other as he smiles shyly. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” Steve grins, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his broad chest. Bucky swallows deeply as one of his hands comes up to pull at the collar of his button-up, and Steve can’t help following the motion of his Adam’s apple.

“I was, uh-” Bucky continues- “That is, I heard you don’t have Thanksgiving plans?”

In which Bucky finds out that Steve's going to be alone on Thanksgiving and invites his coworker to spend the holiday with him.

🌻 It's Been A Long Season Through by thiccbuckybarnes @thiccbuckybarnesfic [Stucky, 49k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes is in desperate need of a change in scenery, which is why he makes the foolhardy decision to quit his job, leave his asshole of a fiance, pack up his life, and move to his grandfather’s old farm all within a single day.

He expects confusion, hardship, and maybe even failure. But love? He wasn’t expecting that.

--

Or, a Stucky Stardew Valley AU that nobody but me wanted and that’s ok.

oh, peach pit, where'd the hours go? by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 10k words, Explicit]

Can't see the forest for the trees.

--

Or, Steve learns that just because he and Bucky got their happily ever after, it doesn’t mean the past won’t come back to bite them.

I'll find my way by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 725 words, Teen]

Steve had watched Bucky fall, and nothing had been the same since.

AU-gust day 19: Daemons

special delivery by glim @glim [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

It's not that Steve's bad at taking care of himself when he gets sick; he just wishes he didn't have to all the time.

At least he can order most of what he needs online. That's some small comfort, that he can have soup and ice cream and everything else brought to his door.

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 8k words, Explicit]

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

🌻 Rock On! by millesable @marvelousescapism [Clintasha, 700 words, General]

“Hey, Romanoff!”

He lifted his hand, index finger and pinky finger raised, thumb out, all other fingers tucked. Their secret sign; their confession for the world to see, safe in the knowledge that the world wasn’t listening.

“Rock on!”

🌻 You Like the Way I Look by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

Bucky sidles up to him, hand boldly coming to rest on his chest. “What about you, big guy? Care for a dance?” Steve watches Bucky’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction, somehow already knowing he’s got Steve on the hook.

A decade out of the ice, Steve Rogers returns to New York. Reeling from a battle against the Chitauri, a night with the troublesome Bucky Barnes might be just what he needs.

Join the Rebellion by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 765 words, Teen]

Bucky knew he shouldn't be out after curfew, but he couldn't resist the urge. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew it was where he wanted to be.

AU-gust day 20: Dystopia

🔒 Five Days in December by mywingsareonwheels @mywingsareonwheels [Evanstan, 4k words, Teen]

“Shit shit shit shit...” muttered Chris to himself, glad that the sound of piped Christmas carols was drowning out his swearing amid the picture books. Most of the store was heaving even though it was Sunday, he’d been recognised at least three times, finding presents for all of his nieces and nephews was proving far more of a headache than expected, and he’d just sent a pile of copies of "Strictly No Elephants" tumbling off the bookshelf.

He scrambled about trying to pick them all up, and then dropped them again as someone bumped right into his backside. He lost his balance, caught himself against a bookcase, and a landslide of "Carter Is a Painter’s Cat" joined "Strictly No Elephants" on the floor. He yelped.

“Ah fuck, I’m so sorry… Chris!”

* * * * * * * * * *

London, December 2021. Amid cats, books, and the cold English drizzle, Chris finds everything he was hoping for and thought he would never have.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Reaching for Fire by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit]

Bucky has always felt a fire in his heart (and other body parts) when it came to his boss, Steve Rogers, but he's made sure to never feed those flames. When he finds out about Steve's second job, though, he's tempted to let that fire out.

i've been dreaming of a face like yours by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

Bucky is about to busy himself with making a small dinner for himself when he stops in his tracks at the figure drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and smirking at him.

It’s Steve.

“Surprise, sweet boy,” he says before setting his cup down.

--

Or, PWP reunion sex

🌻 Somewhere, Under Your Skin by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 16k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes treats himself to a one-night stand after having a very bad no good day.

The sex is good--great, even. Might be the best sex of his life.

But Bucky wouldn’t have slept with the guy if he had known that he was going to continuously run into him every day for the next fucking month.

--

Or, a Big Grump Bucky has a hot one night stand with a college kid who is popping up everywhere in his everyday life and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

(Written for HYBB Bingo Square: Grumpy Bucky)

i've played heartstrings before but not in your key by thiccbuckybarnes [Stucky, 11k words, Explicit]

He glances down, seeing a folded couple of papers, before peering up at Bucky. The older man is biting his bottom lip, making it pretty and red. Steve wants to run his tongue across where his teeth are digging into his flesh.

"What's this?" Steve asks, setting his phone down, emails forgotten. Bucky shrugs and looks away.

"I dunno. You tell me, genius," he says, sounding bratty enough that it makes Steve's dick twitch in his pants. Jesus, there has to be something wrong with him.

Steve glances once more at Bucky, who now has his arms crossed against his chest and is pointedly not looking at Steve, before picking up the stack of folded papers. He opens them, seeing a collection of maybe five or six sheets of paper. His eyes immediately land on the list of familiar words with negative next to each one. -- Or, Steve Rogers is a jealous, possessive little shit that wants nothing more than to mark up his boyfriend and stake his claim. And Bucky knows it. (And he likes it.)

🌻 I'm Home (With You) by BonkyBornes @padfoot-and-the-marauders [Stucky, 2k words, General]

In any other circumstance, the apartment would've been perfect. But it was today, and the fact that he was here meant he wasn’t out searching. He knew they hadn’t had any leads for weeks and he knew Natasha was right; all three of them were exhausted and a break would do them good. It just felt wrong to Steve that he was comfortable while Bucky was still out there—somewhere. Probably cold. Probably hungry.

The knock came again. Sighing, Steve unwrapped his hand from the dog tags and remembered how to move. Cold wind and snow greeted him when he opened the door. The solitary figure was walking down the steps, collar popped against the chill.

“Did you need something?” he called.

The person stopped. They were still. And then they turned. *

Or, the Christmas Steve deserved after Winter Soldier.

The portrait by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 915 words, General]

Steve Rogers has a Gift. He can help people find their soulmates, all he needs is some art supplies, a quiet place, and eye contact.

AU-gust day 21: soulmates

Maybe A Muse by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 2k words, Mature]

When Bucky Barnes needs extra money, he’s appalled that his best friends think he should become a model for the art department on campus. Shy, nerdy, and socially awkward, he’s not sure that’s something he feels comfortable doing. Still, he needs money, and he likes the idea of becoming someone’s muse. The problem is he had no idea two things would happen. First, one of the students in the class is exactly his type; second, he has to model nude.

[mugasofer]

It seems like many, perhaps most, people historically believed in some immanent apocalypse.

Many philosophies claim that the world is passing into a degenerate age of chaos (Ages of Man, Kali Yuga, life-cycle of civilisation), or divine conflict will shortly spill over & destroy the Earth (Ragnorok, Revelations, Zoroastrian Frashokereti), or that the natural forces sustaining us must be transient.

Yet few panic or do anything. What anyone does "do about it" is often symbolic & self-admittedly unlikely to do much.

Maybe humans evolved not to care, to avoid being manipulated?

Many cults make similar claims, and do uproot their lives around them. Even very rarely committing mass suicide or terror attacks etc on occasion. But cults exist that don't make such claims, so it may not be the mechanism they use to control, or at most a minor one. "This is about the fate of the whole world, nothing can be more important than that, so shut up" may work as as a thought terminating cliche, but it doesn't seem to work that strongly, and there are many at least equally effective ones.

Some large scale orgs do exist that seem to take their eschatology "seriously". The Aztecs committed atrocities trying to hold off apocalypse, ISIS trying to cause it. Arguably some Communist or even fascist groups count, depending on your definition of apocalypse.

But even then, one can argue their actions are not radically different from non-apocalypse-motivated ones - e.g. the Aztecs mass-executed less per capita than the UK did at times & some historians view them as more about displaying authority.

I'm thinking about this because of two secular eschatologies - climate apocalypse and the Singularity.

My view on climate change, which as far as I can tell is the scientific consensus, is that it is real and bad but by no means apocalyptic. We're talking incremental increases in storms, droughts, floods etc, all of which are terrible, but none of which remotely threaten human civilisation. E.g. according to the first Google result, the sea is set to rise by 1 decimeter by 2100 in a "high emissions scenario", not to rise by tens or hundreds of meters and consume all coastal nations as I was taught as a child. Some more drastic projections suggest that the sea might rise by as much as two or three meters in the worst case scenario.

It really creeps me out when I hear people who confess to believe that human civilisation, the human species, or even all life on Earth is most likely going to be destroyed soon by climate change. The most recent example, which prompted this post, was the Call of Cthulhu podcast I was listening to casually suggesting that it might be a good idea to summon an Elder God of ice and snow to combat climate change as the "lesser existential risk", perhaps by sacrificing "climate skeptics" to it. It's incredibly jarring for me to realise that the guys I've been listening to casually chatting about RPGs think they live in a world that will shortly be ended by the greed of it's rulers. But this idea is everywhere. Discussions of existential risks from e.g. pandemics inevitably attract people arguing that the real existential risk is climate change. A major anti-global-warming protest movement, Extinction Rebellion, is literally named after the idea that they're fighting against their own extinction. Viral Tumblr posts talk about how the fear of knowing that the world is probably going to be destroyed soon by climate change and fascism is crippling their mental health, and they have no idea how to deal with it because it's all so real.

But it's not. It's not real.

Well, I can't claim that political science is accurate enough for me to definitively say that fascism isn't going to take over, but I can say that climate science is fairly accurate and it predicts that the world is definitely not about to end in fire or in flood.

(There are valid arguments that climate change or other environmental issues might precipitate wars, which could turn apocalyptic due to nuclear weapons; or that we might potentially encounter a black swan event due to our poor understanding of the ecosystem and climate-feedback systems. But these are very different, as they're self-admittedly "just" small risks to the world.)

And I get the impression that a lot of people with more realistic views about climate change deliberately pander to this, deliberately encouraging people to believe that they're going to die because it puts them on the "right side of the issue". The MCU's Loki, for instance, recently casually brought up a "climate apocalypse" in 2050, which many viewers took as meaning the world ending. Technically, the show uses a broad definition of "apocalypse" - Pompeii is given as another example - and it kind of seems like maybe all they meant was natural disasters encouraged by climate change, totally defensible. But I still felt kinda mad about it, that they're deliberately pandering to an idea which they hopefully know is false and which is causing incredible anxiety in people. I remember when Greta Thurnberg was a big deal, I read through her speeches to Extinction Rebellion, and if you parsed them closely it seemed like she actually did have a somewhat realistic understanding of what climate change is. But she would never come out and say it, it was all vague implications of doom, which she was happily giving to a rally called "Extinction Rebellion" filled with speakers who were explicitly stating, not just coyly implying, that this was a fight for humanity's survival against all the great powers of the world.

But maybe there's nothing wrong with that. I despise lying, but as I've been rambling about, this is a very common lie that most people somehow seem unaffected by. Maybe the viral tumblr posts are wrong about the source of their anxiety; maybe it's internal/neurochemical and they world just have picked some other topic to project their anxieties on if this particular apocalypse wasn't available. Maybe this isn't a particularly harmful lie, and it's hypocritical of me to be shocked by those who believe it.

Incidentally, I believe the world is probably going to end within the next fifty years.

Intellectually, I find the arguments that superhuman AI will destroy the world pretty undeniable. Sure, forecasting the path of future technology is inherently unreliable. But the existence of human brains, some of which are quite smart, proves pretty conclusively it's possible to get lumps of matter to think - and human brains are designed to run on the tiny amounts of energy they can get by scavenging plants and the occasional scraps of meat in the wilderness as fuel, with chemical signals that propagate at around the speed of sound (much slower than electronic ones), with only the data they can get from input devices they carry around with them, and which break down irrevocably after a few decades. And while we cannot necessarily extrapolate from the history of progress in both computer hardware and AI, that progress is incredibly impressive, and there's no particular reason to believe it will fortuitously stop right before we manufacture enough rope to hang ourselves.

Right now, at time of writing, we have neural nets that can write basic code, appear to scale linearly in effectiveness with the available hardware with no signs that we're reaching their limit, and have not yet been applied at the current limits of available hardware let alone what will be available in a few years. They absorb information like a sponge at a vastly superhuman speed and scale, allowing them to be trained in days or hours rather than the years or decades humans require. They are already human-level or massively superhuman at many tasks, and are capable of many things I would have confidently told you a few years ago were probably impossible without human-level intelligence, like the crazy shit AI dungeon is capable of. People are actively working on scaling them up so that they can work on and improve the sort of code they are made from. And we have no ability to tell what they're thinking or control them without a ton of trial and error.

If you follow this blog, you're probably familiar with all the above arguments for why we're probably very close to getting clobbered by superhuman AI, and many more, as well as all the standard counter-arguments and the counter-arguments to those counter arguments.

(Note: I do take some comfort in God, but even if my faith were so rock solid that I would cheerfully bet the world on it - which it's not - there's no real reason why our purpose in God's plan couldn't be to destroy ourselves or be destroyed as an object lesson to some other, more important civilization. There's ample precedent.)

Here's the thing: I'm not doing anything about it, unless you count occasionally, casually talking about it with people online. I'm not even donating to help any of the terrifyingly-few people who are trying to do something about it. Part of why I'm not contributing is, frankly, I don't have a clue what to do, nor do I have much confidence in any of the stuff people are currently doing (although I bloody well hope some of it works.)

And yet I don't actually feel that scared.

I feel more of a visceral chill reading about the nuclear close calls that almost destroyed the world in the recent past than thinking about the stuff that has a serious chance of doing so in a few decades. I'm a neurotic mess, and yet what is objectively the most terrifying thing on my radar does not actually seem to contribute to my neurosis.

[lifeofroos]

Part 34: Ever seen a god in IKEA?

In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, Nico goes to IKEA to fix something, with a special guest. The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net! Also in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Trials of Apollo, Pjo, etc.  This might be crazy: Chapter 34: Coffee in a cardboard cup ‘Is this sort of like Hephaestus��� workshop?’ My dad looked up at the big, glowing IKEA logo over our heads. 

‘Let’s say it sells you the parts to start your own Hephaestus’ workshop at home.’

‘Then why are we here when we could have gone to Hephaestus?’

‘There is a restaurant. Also, most mortals cannot go to Hephaestus’ workshop.’ 

‘They could in the old days!’ 

‘These aren’t the old days anymore.’

‘That is no reason to go to a dump like this.’

I sighed. ‘Let's just get inside.’ 

‘So, what do you need? Let’s be quick, I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.’

‘We’ll have to follow the route through the entire store. That might take a while.’

Hades threw his hands in the air, which made his robes flutter. I wondered what the mortals saw through the mist. ‘Why?’

‘Store design. Probably a tactic to generate money.’

‘How stupid.’ 

‘Let’s just go, dad. I know what I want, so we can quickly walk past the bedroom- and kitchendisplays.’

Even though Hades speed walked through the IKEA, pulling me along, it took about fifteen minutes to get to cupboard display. My dad was walking so fast we almost skipped them. 

‘How big is this store?’ Hades yelled when I told him to stop. A few people looked at us. 

‘Big. Okay, I am going to choose one of these cabinets.’

‘Yes, you will. Why, again?’

I stared at the cabinets in front of me. It needed to be thin and about a metre high. For a second, I wondered whether I should just lie about dads’ question. 

‘I wanted to make a memorial for mom. And for Bianca.’ Also Bianca, although I might have mentioned that to soften my intent. 

‘...ah.’ He ruffled with his sleeves. ‘Did you already tell me that?’ 

‘Only in passing,’ I muttered. Not with so many words. It was difficult, okay?

‘Okay, eh, but, I think it is a good idea.’

I looked up and gave him an awkward smile. ‘Yes. Thanks.’ I turned back to the cabinets. 

‘I think I want the black one. With the glass window.’

‘Not the white one?’

‘No, that one is thicker, I don’t want that if I can have the other one.’

‘Oh.’ He looked a little confused. ‘Than we’ll take the black one. Can you carry it?’

I turned around. ‘We don’t have to, not yet anyway.’ I looked around. ‘Do you see a dispenser with pencils and paper somewhere?’

‘Paper and pencils? What do you need those for?’

‘We need to write down the number and unpronouncable Swedish name of this cabinet...’

‘Nico, we can just get out of this store. I’ll ask Hephaestus to make you a cabinet.’

I shook my head. ‘I wanted to get it here. Then it feels like I made the cabinet myself without having to cut wood or something.’ 

‘This is a pre-made cabinet!’

‘It only looks like that.’ Oh, dad, if only you knew. I noticed a pencil dispenser close by and walked towards it. Like a good citizen, I took only four pencils when I could have totally gotten five. 

After I had written down the product information, I looked back at my dad, who looked very confused by everything. ‘Now let’s go to the storage room before we buy a bunch of useless stuff.’

‘How long are we going to be in here?’

‘I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes?’ 

‘I want to get out. And I don’t feel tempted to buy anything at all here, I don’t know why you are afraid we’ll buy useless stuff.’

I was tempted. I wanted to have the fancy black lamp, for example. I had to admit, my father was a good IKEA partner. He stopped me from caving. ‘We’re almost there.’ 

My father nervously looked around. ‘What even is the storage room?’

‘It is like the Underworld of IKEA. We pick up a box with everything we need to built the cabinet ourselves.’ 

‘What an...’ He took a pause. ‘...unique concept.’ I looked over my shoulder. 

‘Yes, it is.’

‘This is it?’

‘it is.’

‘Also, Nico, I think it is a very good idea.’ I looked up from taking the box of the shelf. Dad was looking at the ground. ‘To make a memorial. I could not do such a thing. It would hurt too much to remember my past.’

I took a second to reply. ‘Yes, I get that.’ He looked like he wanted to say something, but it did not come. Not now, at least. 

‘Okay, now we got this… this.’ Hades looked at the box. ‘And now? Somehow it feels like we are still stuck in this prison of interior design.’

‘We can get something to eat at the restaurant. Or something to drink.’

‘Yes, yes, let’s do that. Eh, where do we keep the…’ He narrowed his eyes, while trying to read the Swedish on the side of the box. 

‘We’ll just carry the you-know. Come, I want a cup of something.’

The restaurant amazed him even more than the store itself. We sat down at a table next to the window, each with a cardboard cup of coffee.  He took a deep breath. ‘I want to say that I might have something you want to put into your shrine,’ he mumbeld. 

‘Memorial cabinet.’ I didn’t like to call it a shrine.

‘...Memorial cabinet.’ He shifted into a different position.

I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like sludge, but it was better than what I had drank at Hephaestus’ place. ‘What then?’

My father snapped his fingers. A picture of my mother appeared out of thin air. ‘This. I kept it for quite some time, but I think...’ He swallowed. ‘...you know, I also learn things from the things you tell me. And I think keeping something like this around isn’t healthy for me? But it might help you.’

I looked at the picture. It was a black-and-white photo of my mother as a young woman. She was wearing a hat, a waistcoat, gloves and a string of pearls. She was smiling widely at whoever was holding the camera. 

I smiled back at her. Hades put a and around his cup. He knew he should get rid of it, he just could not get himself to destroy it for good. 

I looked up at him. ‘Thanks. I’ll put it into my cabinet.’

‘I know you will.’ He looked out the window, to the people in the parking lot. ‘I still have a locket as well, and a picture of Bianca. You can have those too.’ 

‘Maybe it can be our memorial.’

‘I think I  it has to be your memorial.’

I slowly nodded, while taking a sip of my sludge and trying not to gag.

While we were carrying the cardboard box into the parking lot, I looked up at my dad. My heartrate increased. ‘You said it should be my memorial.’

He immediately knew what I was getting at, probably because he had been thinking about since I told him I wanted to make a memorial. ‘Nico, eh, about Alecto, and the Lethe.’ He lowered the box to the ground. ‘In hindsight...’ he pulled on his sleeve. ‘In hindsight I think that is one of the worst things I have done.’ He looked like he was about to cry. ‘When you and your sister were small, it seemed like a good idea. I wanted to free you two of the weight of being demigods, or at least the weight of having a dead mother. I should have known...’ He moved his hands to the side. ‘...I should have known it does not work that way. That it was absurdly stupid to even think of it.’ He held a hand in front of his eyes. ‘Sorry, Nico. Sorry. If it means absolutely anything, sorry.’ 

I looked at him. ‘It doesn’t bring my memories back,’ I muttered, ‘But now that I see that you…’ I looked at the ground. ‘It does mean something to me, dad.’

‘Not everything.’

‘Not everything. But something.’ 

He took a deep breath. ‘Something is good,’ he said. Slowly, he picked up the box again. ‘Let’s get this to...’

‘To camp?’

‘To camp. But next time, you are going to get it made by Hephaestus. Maybe you can even ask Dionysus to request it. Those two go way back.’ 

Yes, they did. ‘Is that very well known?’

‘Of course it is. You could even say Hephaestus was the first person Dionysus ever helped with his mental issues.’ He sighed. 

We brought the box to my cabin via teleportation. Hades forgot to say goodbye. He just left me alone with my box, a few posters for the mental health action me and the Apollo campers had been working on, and Will, who was asleep on my bed. 

I laid down next to him. He groaned. ‘Nico?’

‘Who else.’ 

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes. I think I might go to Hephaestus in a few days, to talk and to let him make my cabinet more beautiful.’ 

‘Nice.’ He drifted off to sleep again. Not soon after, so did I. 

A/N: the trouble with the world today beyond a doubt, is coffee, in a cardboard cup. 

It might be more than just Coffee In A Cardboard cup LMAO. But go listen to that song, it was in the musical ‘And the world goes ‘round.’ I love it, it is my happy song. 

Nico and Hades managed to avoid all the ghosts of people who went into IKEA and never got out this time. Be safe, people, don’t let IKEA take your soul. Don’t sell it for meatballs. 

Sorry to any Swedish readers. I am sure the words on the side mean something, but I imagine that to an American they look like nothing, that is why I wrote it this way. 

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

[disastrousjest]

Confessions of 2020..

(tw: covid mention, mental health mention)

I wanted to post a little something that might put out some insight for my followers, friends, mutuals alike. With the recent battle I had with some personal blogs attacking me over some posts I made because of the images, regardless of the purpose of the post. I just wanted to let everyone aware of why that sent me over the edge and why I handled it the way I did. Please note: I will not be apologizing for what I said, I do feel as though those that tried to reach out to me did not realize the purpose of the post. And while I understand now I should just tag things like that differently, I will not be apologizing for stating the fact that this is a rp  blog and I do not appreciate personal blogs attacking me over something like that. That being said, I will not be bullied off tumblr or this account. Because I love JJBA and Joseph Joestar. So for future reference, if you don’t like my content, unfollow it. Don’t bother sending me nasty remarks because I do not have the time for those types of things.  But I wanted to open the doorway to some insight for you all who have been paying attention or who just might care to know why I came off so incredibly outraged by that little bit. Because to me it was just the topping of a whole bunch of bullshit as is 2020.  This whole shithole of a year began in March. I got promoted at work to salary. That’s 35k a year my friends and that’s a hell of an upgrade for someone who barely makes a living wage right now and came from a working poor family. I really thought my life was gonna turn around. For once my fiance and I wouldn’t have to struggle so hard and we could afford to do everything we talked about doing. Well guess what--2 weeks after the announcement of my promotion my work place shut down because of Covid-19. Nothing new, lots of people and places were shut down. So fine, it pushed back my transfer and such. That wasn’t a big deal.  Enter June 2020. We re-open and my manager calls me into his office to talk to him about said mentioned promotion. They are suspending it, means it could be pushed back until we could lift the restrictions. Understandably so, I would just have to keep my old position, an hourly one, until they were called back. Now the months pass, June becomes July and enter August.  I find out about a week before the company announces it at the start of August, the position I was promoted to has been eliminated indefinitely. There is a chance they could come back, but right now they have no idea when or if that’ll happen. Which means that whole part of my department no longer exists at my place of work. I mean it’s a good thing I had my hourly position to fall back into or I’d lost my job. But that salary raise? Gone. 

Rewind back to July. I get very very VERY sick. And have to test for covid-19 the first time. Only because I am so sick and have a roommate with asthma I have to quarantine myself for 14 days. So 14 days I am locked in my bedroom alone, sleeping alone after 3 years of being with someone in bed. My meals are being left at the door for me and the only room I am allowed to enter is the bathroom, but only after it has been sanitized. Only for my results to come back negative. And now... we enter September 2020. Two major things started in September. The first, our old, senior dog became very ill. Started losing weight, wasn’t eating, losing hair, etc. So we knew his time was coming soon enough. Mid-September, I wake up one morning while our dog is dying mind you, and I cannot move my body from the waist down. Every time I tried, I’m greeted with a shot of pain straight up my spine that feels something like a hot poker being stabbed right through my spinal cord. Very very painful. I end up bed-ridden for a day or two because I cannot move. So once the pain subsides, I go see a chiropractor. Shocking (not really) announcement that my sway back--to which I was diagnosed with 10 years prior from a bad car accident--has gotten worse. What does  that mean exactly? Well--my spine bends in like a S for those who don’t know, which means my lower back dips inward deeper inside my body and my tail bone curves out. Now along that dip there are 3 or 4 vertebrae that are especially messed up. The bones have become staggered out of place on top of one another, just from the muscles pulling the bones out of shape since my spine doesn’t flex the way it’s supposed to anymore. (And it hasn’t for years). The pain before this was tolerable, it would ache from time to time but never like this. Now I am crippled more or less.  Here’s what that means: my mobility became extremely limited. At first in the am when I woke up I couldn’t move from the waist down for the first hour or two after I woke up. Then when I was finally able to move, I had to use my forearms to literally drag my lower body upright (still painful). Once I was able to manage that, I had to gage how strong my legs were to support my weight. And at first walking wasn’t terrible, but as the treatments began--doctor appointments, spinal adjustments, and physical therapy--to correct my spinal issue, nerve damage became clear. So now on top of this horrible pain, I had to deal with weak legs. Because of nerve damage, my right leg especially became weak. On days my back would hurt especially bad, my right knee would collapse out from under me. Which meant falling to the ground and not being able to stand up or walk for sometime there after.  Now imagine dealing with not being able to support your own body, not being able to hardly walk and your dog dying at the same time. So while I”m trying not to focus on the fact that my mobility is limiting me on what I can and can’t do, my fiance is upset about this. Our dog (then weighed about 100 or more pounds) could no longer walk either. His back legs and hips were giving out as his health declined. I did not have the strength in my own legs to help carry him because his weight hurt me too much and would cause me to collapse. I had to watch my fiance struggle with this practically all by herself while I sat on the floor, only able to use my arms to help with what I could because my legs and back were too weak to do the work.  This carried on into October. Our dog passes away and that alone is hard for me. I still kind of wonder if I wasn’t so weak when he got sick if I could have helped prolong his life just a little longer. I couldn’t hardly look at him when he passed and I couldn’t look at anyone else. I was very angry that my legs and back had failed me. They had failed everyone. So yes, that weight still lingers over me. It was so bad that when it came time to take turns digging his grave, I struggled with the shovel. Because I couldn’t stand up or be bent over to move the dirt, I got on my hands and knees and I took that shovel in my hands and used my arms and shoulders to dig. I wasn’t going to continue to be useless because of my limited mobility. I felt I already let him down and everyone else by not being able to help take care of him while he was still alive and sick. This was the least I could do.  November comes. Things are calm now, for a while. Not bad. I finally get some braces to help with my back issues (which still continue). I keep on with my physical therapy, trying to heal and help my fiance through her mourning over the dog. My mobility slowly begins to improve, though the doctor informs me it will be a very slow process. Small steps he says. But he is still confident he can fix my spine without back surgery so I can walk again, like a regular person. The limit I am able to stand and walk increases with the help of my braces and I begin taking herbal supplements and drinking herbal teas to increase the rate of my recovery. It seems to be working better than over the counter medication. The rest of 2020 seems promising.  Here comes December. On the night my fiance and I decide to go out on a date to celebrate our 5 years together. I get a phone call from work. One of my co-workers tested positive for Covid-19 and I was exposed. I am now suspended from work without pay until my test results come back negative. A real mood killer for the night. It gets better, we get home and despite the dinner being pretty somber the rest of the night seems fine. We watch movies and spend time together, finish wrapping gifts for Christmas. Then we realize the cat is missing. He’s been missing all day and all night. Nobody has seen him.  Two days prior, I had taken my cat to the vet because he was sick. Again, weight loss, losing hair, etc. I was worried he may be sick. Well it’s cold outside and here it’s been snowing so it’s very cold. I set something of mine outside and a literbox for smell. And then a plate of food. ....that was almost 4 days ago. There’s been not a sign of him. I called the county shelter and they didn’t have him. My fiance suggests he was sick so... maybe he got out of the house and went somewhere to die. My gut tells me he’s not coming back. And my heart is breaking, again. Again. I am wondering if I did something wrong. If I would have kept a better eye on him, I knew he wasn’t  feeling right. I somehow feel like I let him down.  And  then I logged into tumblr and saw those comments. Those asks people were sending about the damn images I posted for the 12 days to Christmas. And they just kept coming. I deleted the other ones, I stopped replying to them and finally just deleted the post. The Christmas spirit had been sucked out of me. I feel as though the world has began to mock me for believing the year could get better back in November. I know one thing, the holiday won’t be as bright this year. Not for me. I hope everyone stays safe and has a good holiday. Maybe 2021 will be more promising, but I”m not banking on it. Not anymore. Thanks for reading.  I hope you all understand now why I have been so slow with my replies lately. As my mood goes up and down because I have been struggling with the weight of all this and depression, just trying to hang on from losing hope that for one I will be able to walk again normally and then just the loss of my animals... everything. I can’t write and I refuse to send bad quality responses and starters for you all. I hope this puts some insight  on why I was so horribly upset the other day.   So thank you to all my friends and everyone who has been so patient with me on all my blogs. Jotaro (dmgdstar) and Johnny (rotatingstar) and this one of course. I will be catching up to everything very soon. I’ve already made a good dent in them.  Your patience is always appreciated. 

[conquerwithcoffee]

studying in isolation

Hey everyone! As the very constant person that I am, I’ve been absent from tumblr for some time (again ��). However, like the rest of the world, I’ve been having difficulties in my academic life (actually in all parts of life 😋) during this corona-crisis. I have changed the way I normally do things and it seems I’ve got a grip on my life again. So, I’ve decided to share some of the strategies I’m currently using. 

Like all of you, my life has taken a 180° turn. Suddenly I have a lot of free time on my hands and somewhat less determination to get things done (even with a copious amount of coffee). So, this is what I’m doing:

Planning

a. Time: Because of this sudden increase in free time, the plan I had in the beginning of my semester needed to be re-evaluated. The time I had assigned for study groups, thesis writing, data gathering and classes didn’t work anymore. So, I sat down with my planner and reassigned my study times. Also, since I live with my partner and he’s working the entire day, I had to take his schedule into consideration. Luckily, we agreed on each other’s times and we try not to distract one another.

b. Location: It’s really important to have a place where you won’t be distracted. In my case I was fortunate enough to get the bedroom, and since we don’t have kids I really don’t get any distractions coming my way. My partner, on the other hand, got the living room, and he sadly has to put up with me going there to grab my coffee shots and snacks every now and again. He says I don’t really distract him because I try to be quiet and he has his headphones on. Still, for those of us who do not have the same self-control to not feel bothered as my partner, I would imagine these interruptions would be annoying. But then again, just try to imagine you’re studying somewhere on campus where people come and go, and how you don’t get bothered by it (I assume). If you have kids, I know this approach will be a bit problematic. What I could suggest is what my mom did when she was in grad-school and me and my baby brother were restless. She gave us “fun assignments”, which we needed to solve together to get some sort of reward. She’s a pedagogue so I imagine she was just testing some of her theories on us... However, I have to say it was very effective and it normally led us to be quiet and concentrated for long spans of time. Usually the amount of time that allowed her to get some sh*t done.

Progression

I used to pride myself on being able to sit down for long periods of time and really concentrate on the task I was working. But since the advent of the “corona induced isolation” I seemed to have lost this power. 😞 Now I find myself sitting down in front of my computer sometimes reading papers, sometimes writing, and sometimes coding; all of which at the end of the day I feel like I haven’t accomplished. What I started doing instead was just taking short steps. I set a timer for 1 hour, but before I start it I write down what I want to accomplish in this one hour. Then I go about the task as I normally would. At the end of the hour I write down what I actually accomplished. After doing this I realized that I was working much more than I initially thought, and was feeling exhausted and frustrated at the end of the day. I’ve done this for 3-4 days and in the next following days I progressively increased the time to an additional 30 minutes. Now I’m setting 2:30 to 4:00 hours depending on the task. VERY IMPORTANT: for long periods of time I have a little break to recharge, otherwise I cannot function.

Rests

Yes, we still need to rest! This whole situation has taken a toll not only on our physical health but also on our mental well-being. So, add in your routine some time to rest, and I can’t stress this enough: Don’t feel guilty about it!!!!! Take the time to do what you like, to enjoy the company of those who are around you (or those you want to call), to sleep well, to do nothing at all. It’s very important to not feel pressured to do anything that you don’t feel like doing. If it’s not your jam to have online social gatherings or participating in a study group with other colleagues, and you are not required to do it, just say no thank you.😊 It is very important to respect yourself, and the people who are organizing these events are well aware not everyone feel comfortable joining them. However, if you feel lonely or experience any weird thoughts, then I encourage you to seek the help of those you feel comfortable with. The situation we’re living right now is hard on everyone, we are all somewhat discouraged. But be kind to yourself, be kind to others, and accept help from those who are a willing to help you. We are all on in this together.

[qqueenofhades]

So, it’s Friday evening, and it turns out I have more thoughts about things that happened this week. I almost never do Discourse on this blog, on whatever subject, but sometimes even your friendly local depressed historian gotta say things. If you’re not in the mood for a long-ass meta-y text post, just keep on scrolling, no hard feelings.

In the wake of the Notre Dame fire, which obviously a lot of us were upset about, and profoundly relieved that it did not end up being completely catastrophic, the usual spate of posts began to pop up, alleging that people only cared about Notre Dame because of the loss to Western/European/Christian history, that nobody had been this upset about the National Museum of Brazil or the outbreak of arson at three black churches in Louisiana in the same week, and so on. I don’t blame anyone for making those posts, because I know they cared about those issues and wanted to ensure that their importance was communicated, especially when something major like Notre Dame was getting all the airtime. However, I couldn’t help but notice how that followed the same pattern as all Woke Tumblr Discourse (tm). An event happens, people express reactions to it, and are then attacked or indirectly shamed for not expressing reactions to another event. Or there’s the usual cycle of “nobody will care about this because it’s not happening in America”-style posts, or passive-aggressive insinuations that “you don’t care if you don’t reblog this.” And -- I say this with the greatest kindness possible, because I know, I know you guys care -- it’s... not helpful.

The culture of Tumblr and other left-wing sections of social media often rests on enacting performative wokeness, on showing that you care about the most Progressive (tm) issues, or that you have thoroughly scrutinized your fandom tastes or political beliefs for anything Problematic and/or can prove yourself to an imagined moral standard (and there have been some great metas written on how this essentially replicates conservative evangelical purity culture, with the goalposts switched). This is why we keep having to circulate (and doubtless will have to do so with increasing frequency) those posts reminding the left not to eat its young and flame all prospective Democratic challengers to Trump in 2020 to a crisp before the right wing, which is only too happy to let us do the work of sabotaging ourselves, even gets a chance. This is also why you see the posts responding to said angry “nobody cares about this!” posts, in which people mention the fact that not visibly reacting to all the (vast and terrible) injustice in the world does not mean they don’t care. The world is a big place. So is the internet. I can guarantee you that people do care, and just because you didn’t see immediate evidence and response to it when you opened up your Tumblr dash is not proof of a collective nefarious conspiracy.

Take me, for example. I am a thirty-ish academic and historian who considers myself well-informed and literate in current events. I read national and international news every day to find out what’s going on (because I live in England, the answer is Brexit, and the status is Failed). And yet, there are plenty of things that I only hear about for the first time on Tumblr, often attached to one of those “nobody cares about this!” posts. And you know what? I do care. I care a lot. And I’m guessing that most other people do as well, because no matter how it may feel, the majority of individuals are fundamentally decent people with basic empathy for others, even if our whole system is a nightmare. But the urge to demand why nobody is Discoursing about this issue (again, among a vast and exhausting sea of them) needs to take a few fundamental things into account. 

First, the American media (as a large portion of readers are relying on) simply does not report this stuff. Look at what’s happening in that godforsaken country right now; does it really seem like the kind of place that’s eager to tell you about Brazilian museum fires or black-church arson? I’m someone who makes a conscious effort to read the news no matter how depressed it makes me, and I still miss tons of stuff, because it’s not there. The Western media reported on Notre Dame, people knew about it, and were upset. But when those of them who did not know about the National Museum of Brazil learned about it, they were also upset. We can definitively say now that the National Museum was a bigger and more irreplaceable tragedy in terms of what burned. But we were also apparently 15-30 minutes away from losing all of Notre Dame. You can be upset about both these things. You can express empathy for the history lost in both cases. There is not a greater moral value attached, and you’re not racist for caring about Notre Dame if you heard about it first (unless you’re only upset about Notre Dame for reasons related to race or perceived cultural superiority and are peddling vile conspiracy theories about Jews and Muslims intentionally burning it down, in which case you are a racist). Almost everyone who learned about the National Museum fire was just as horrified.

2019 is a hard and monstrously unfair and tremendously difficult place to live. The internet has made exposure to both all the information and no real information at all simultaneously possible. Not everyone can display active engagement and empathy with every tragedy everywhere. People have jobs, lives, kids, work, school, other commitments, mental and physical health to look after and even when they read the damn news, there’s no guarantee whatsoever the news is going to report it. If they haven’t made the conscious effort to search out every scrap of terribleness that exists in this hellworld, they.... really should not be shamed for that. If they don’t care even after they learn, that’s another debate. But again, in my experience, most people do. But if they are first exposed to it by someone claiming they won’t care, that makes them less likely to engage with it, and to want to enact meaningful change. Firing wittily sarcastic takedowns at easy targets on echo-chamber liberal Twitter is one thing. We all enjoy a good roast and venting our frustration at times. But as a long-term engagement strategy, it’s going to actively backfire.

I talk a lot about being a teacher, and my experiences with my students, but it’s relevant again, so here goes. The kids in my classes come in believing some pretty strange things, or they flat out don’t have a clue even about what I consider basic historical knowledge. If my reaction was to shame them for not knowing, when they have expressly come to me to learn better, I’m pretty sure I’d be a bad teacher. My strategy, whenever a student can actually be nudged to answer a question, is to pick out whatever correct thing they said. Even if the rest of the answer is wrong and we need to work through it, I start by highlighting the part of it that was right, and to build their confidence that I’m not just going to tear them down when they respond. Freshmen are scared of not knowing things and to be made to look like an idiot, so I try to assure them that I’m not going to do that and I will constructively engage with their contribution and treat it seriously. You can then move to dealing with the other parts of it that may not be right, or even Mmm Whatcha Say side-eye. It is a long and often frustrating process and sometimes after reading their essays, you wonder how much of an impression you made. But if you actually want to get people to care about things, you can’t mistake Ultimate Wokeness or Look How Progressive/Anti-establishment/Enlightened I Personally Am for the simple requirement of being a decent person. You can have the greatest and most necessary beliefs or value systems in the world, but if your response to people is to lash out at them even before they begin the conversation, you’re setting yourself back. And I know that’s not really what you want to do.

This should not be interpreted as some wishy-washy “everyone just needs to be nice to each other!!!” kindergarten-playground-rule. I frankly think the whole system could use a good nefarious dismantle, and you sure as hell don’t get there by mistaking insipid moral equivalence for necessary action. But accepting the existence of people different from you, and considering how you want to engage with them, and understanding that issues are complicated and people are flawed, is a fundamental part of being a mature adult (and this has nothing to do with chronological age; there are 15-year-olds who are plenty more mature adults than 50-year-olds). I honestly do love the desperate desire to make people care, and that, for the most part, is why people who identify as liberal or left-wing do so, because they want to (and they do) care. But it’s also why they can be bad at winning elections and getting into meaningful positions to enact this change. The right wing stays on message and sticks together. Even if they absolutely hated Trump, plenty of Republicans held their noses and voted for him anyway. The left did not do that. The greatest virtue of liberal thought, i.e. its determination to include multiple perspectives, has increasingly reduced it to smaller and smaller camps where only the purest survive, like some kind of ideological Hunger Games. It might be great for making yourself look good to your hall of mirrors, but.... not so good for actually doing something long-term.

Once again, this is not to blame anyone for being upset and worried about things, for wanting people to know about them, and so forth. But I am gently-but-firmly suggesting, in my capacity as old, salty, queer spinster academic aunt, that perhaps you consider how you start the conversation. Once again, it’s my experience that most people want to know and want to care, but there are countless factors that mean not every bad thing in the world will be acknowledged everywhere by everyone at all times. You can care about different things for different reasons. That is okay. You can care about something because you have a personal connection to it. That is also okay. You can not care about something because you just don’t have the capacity and are emotionally exhausted and there’s so much shit in this world that you have to compartmentalize and set boundaries. That is also okay.

For example, I was obviously very upset about Notre Dame, and still am, though I’m relieved it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Am I happy it’s going to be restored? Yes. Am I unbelievably angry that a half-dozen of the elite uber-rich could just suddenly throw billions of euros at it for its restoration, when it had to struggle for years to get funding for crucial renovations? Yes. Do I feel as if that if the vaults have suddenly been opened to restore one major European Christian landmark, it’s incredibly heartbreaking that that level of instant capital just won’t be addressed to actual endemic, long-term issues like global warming and social inequality and the Flint water crisis and whatever else, and that this is a sad and troubling message for our society in many ways? Yes.  All of these things exist together. And I imagine most people feel the same way.

In short: I realize this is the internet, and therefore just is not designed to do that, but maybe we can give each other a little bit more of the benefit of the doubt, and think about how we would like to educate and engage those we come in contact with, whether virtually or in reality. We can do it wherever and whoever we are, with anyone that we meet, and I wonder what it would be like if we did.

[giftofshewbread]

Apostate

: By Candy Austin  

Published on:June 26, 2020

Hebrews 3:12 “Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God.”

In recent years, several high-profile Christians have chosen to turn their collective backs on God and walk away from the Faith. Famous Christians such as Musicians. Leaders, Authors, and Pastors, some even losing their faith to the point of committing suicide. This is nothing more than an ‘utter tragedy’ to say the least!

From CBN news: ‘Losing My Religion:’ What We Can Learn from Celebrity Christians Who Walk Away from the Faith

20 years ago, Harris’ book on Christians and dating became a best seller, and Harris became an instant Christian celebrity when he was only 21 years old. Harris served as lead pastor at a Maryland megachurch from 2004 to 2015.

He now renounces his earlier teachings on purity, saying they “contributed to a culture of exclusion and bigotry.” Harris has also apologized to the LGBT community for ways his “writing and speaking contributed to a culture of exclusion and bigotry.” He recently took part in a gay pride festival in Vancouver, British Columbia.

Last month Harris revealed in an Instagram post that he has left Christianity altogether. “I have undergone a massive shift in regard to my faith in Jesus,” he wrote. “By all measurements that I have for defining a Christian, I am not a Christian.”

Marty Sampson who wrote music for Australia’s Hillsong ministry years ago also recently posted doubts about the Christian faith on issues such as hell and suffering, saying, “I am genuinely losing my faith, and it doesn’t bother me.” – Source

From CBN News: Beloved Pastor, Mental Health Advocate Tragically Takes His Own Life

Jarrid Wilson, author, pastor, and founder of Anthem of Hope, tragically took his life Monday night, on the eve of World Suicide Prevention Day. – Source

From CBN News: Christian Singer Announces, ‘I no longer believe in God’: How You Can Experience Jesus More Personally Than Ever Before

Jon Steingard is a pastor’s son and a musician, singer, and songwriter. He has been the lead singer for the Christian band Hawk Nelson since March 2012.

Now he has made an Instagram announcement that is generating headlines: “After growing up in a Christian home, being a pastor’s kid, playing and singing in a Christian band, and having the word ‘Christian’ in front of most of the things in my life—I am now finding that I no longer believe in God.” –Source

To be honest, I have a hard time understanding how people who once supposedly lived their lives with and for God all of a sudden decide one day that they do not believe in Him anymore. How does one sing songs, preach, or write books for years at a time and supposedly for God’s Glory, all of a sudden do ‘an about face’ on Him?

All the while, some had made a considerable amount of money from their ‘supposed Faith’ which, in the end, when they decided to walk away, makes it seem that the whole time they were just faking it and ‘making merchandise of Him.’

Such is the case with our Prodigal daughters who will be 27 and 22 this year. These are grown women who still post rants for all to see, mind you, on their social media pages. Rants stating their ‘ungrateful dissatisfaction’ on their upbringing. Lamenting their lack in getting to ‘be their true selves’ because of the restrictions of living in a Christian home.

During their time as children, as I have stated in previous articles, we were in no way as strong in the Lord as we are now. Basically, we were like a lot of Secular Christian Families nowadays who still live like the world. Our girls were raised in church but were in no way made to attend every time the church doors were open. We taught them about Jesus, but we probably only read the Bible on occasion, at best.

Anyhow, nothing was ‘force fed’ or anything like they would have their social media friends believe. Once they became teenagers, our family did start to grow more in the Lord. Our girls seemed to enjoy attending Youth Camps and even wanted to do ‘Mission Work’ when the opportunity arose. They each had their own Bible and seemed to have their own genuine relationships with the Lord until they each fell in love with an atheist.

In recent years, though, as it seems by their posts, our raising them to know and love the Lord and to follow His Word apparently became ‘toxic’ to them. How dare we not allow them to be their own person as a child, with no restraints, and to ‘Do as thou wilt’!  How ‘unhealthy’ we were to want them to do things God’s way! By pointing them to God’s Word, that meant that we were somehow silencing their voice?! What kind of lousy parenting is that?!

All of a sudden it was a ‘detriment’ for them to grow up in a God-fearing home! Look at how much they missed out on by not getting to sin like everyone else! Wait… now that they have ‘apostatized’ and are ‘finally free’ from all of our Christianly toxicity, everyone on their social media needs to know that they have ‘triumphantly walked away’ from all godly hinderances!

Now they can ‘pursue their heart’s desire’ to the fullest extent, by having premarital sex every night, march in any number of gay pride and abortion parades, get drunk several times a week, smoke all the hookah pipes and weed as often as they like, indulge in all the secular movies, concerts, and music, and any other ‘ungodly pursuits’ they may have! Yay!

Whoo hoo! Now all of their social media friends can ‘cyber pat them on the back’ for they are ‘Free at Last, Free at Last; now they can Thank their Father the Devil that they are Free at Last! Being a Christian was such a burden! Mom and Dad who are total ‘Southern Baptist Bigots’ and their ‘quack’ Rapture beliefs can stuff it! We are Women now, and we are gonna do as we darn well please!’ (Tongues audaciously sticking out and devil-horn hand signs galore!)

Yawn… ‘pinky clap’ on their newfound independence as they ‘defiantly and proudly’ march down the wide road to destruction. Whoo hoo. Yay. We are so happy for you. Not.

��Deeply saddened and frustrated’ does not even begin to describe where we are at in seeing all of this play out in our Prodigal adult children. The truth is, in these Last Days, we feel ‘utterly defeated.’ The enemy has robbed us of so much and keeps on doing so, no matter what! We cannot win for losing.

No matter what we do, we are perpetually viewed as the ‘bad guys.’ We could give all our love, approval, support, time, money, help, and gifts to them and still somehow we would be deemed as ‘the toxic Christian parents.’ Ultimately, we are despised and rejected, year after year; and, frankly, there is not much we can do about it… except Pray.

From Got Questions: Will there be a great apostasy during the end times?

The Bible indicates that there will be a great apostasy during the end times. The “great apostasy” is mentioned in 2 Thessalonians 2:3. The KJV calls it the “falling away,” while the NIV and ESV call it “the rebellion.” And that’s what an apostasy is: a rebellion, an abandonment of the truth. The end times will include a wholesale rejection of God’s revelation, a further “falling away” of an already fallen world.

The Greek word translated “rebellion” or “falling away” in verse 3 is apostasia, from which we get the English word apostasy. It refers to a general defection from the true God, the Bible, and the Christian faith. Every age has its defectors, but the falling away at the end times will be complete and worldwide. The whole planet will be in rebellion against God and His Christ. Every coup requires a leader, and into this global apostasy will step the Antichrist. We believe this takes place after the church has been raptured from the earth.

Jesus warned the disciples concerning the final days in Matthew 24:10–12: “At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold.” These are the characteristics of the great apostasy of the end times. – Source

Bottom line, Jesus tells us to love our enemies, do good unto them, and pray for those who despitefully use and persecute us. We need to also pray for all the high-profile Christians who have walked away from the Lord in recent years.

Pray that the god of this world would be hindered or stopped from blinding the minds of those who are perishing! That God would grant them and all our Prodigals salvation before it is too late! For Apostates and Prodigal sons and daughters to come to their senses and come back home to God the Father, sooner rather than later!

Time. Is. Ultimately. Running. Out.

Until next time… Maranatha!

(JESUS = THE WAY, THE TRUTH, & THE LIFE)

Candy Austin

*My 2cents worth here, as the Tumblr Author of this page, (giftofshewbread) I just wanted to say, I myself, love the lord, but it’s been a hell of a battle with the flesh & spirit, to become a follower of Christ, it’s the greatest journey you’ll ever endure & it’s truly a battle within, like they say, ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,’ and it certainly is.  God help us all, I myself wrestle a lot in these past few years, it’s not been easy and I’ve called out God and I’ve been furious with Him and not trying to come from a selfish part of me, just one that is very battle weary and people have become so ugly/cruel/wicked and in my situation, it’s been extra hard because of being alone, not much for fellowship, just thru internet and it’s very meager and so, it’s been a very lonely journey, oh I know the Lord is with us, but yet, we are human and so much to learn, it can just sure be a solo feeling and hard time of it.  Well anyways, holding on, but Lord, Maranatha, Amen !

Leho Lechem 

[themaskedwriter]

Knock Out

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky used to be a world famous boxer and he’s been out of the ring for too long

Warnings: violence, injury, boxing, surgery mentions

Word counts: 4000+ (Sorry not sorry)

Clues:

- This isn’t my first time in the ring with a fic

- I’m known for being long-winded

- I really need to post more writing on tumblr instead of Ao3

Bucky’s left fist flashed between the two fighters, making contact with his opponent’s shoulder, right before the bell rang. At the sound, the two fighters distanced themselves and moved into their corners of the boxing ring. You could tell Bucky was beginning to tire; his past stamina hadn’t completely returned. His coach, Nick Fury, and cutman, Steve Rogers, were ready and waiting. Coach Fury was going over Bucky’s opponent’s, Brock Rummlow’s, weak spot where he wasn’t blocking. Steve was gently checking a small cut which had opened over Bucky’s left eye. He quickly butterflied it shut in hopes it would mostly halt the bleeding until the fight was over.

               “He’s got this Y/N,” Natasha said from the left of you in the stands. The both of you sat in the front row of the stands. Being Bucky’s girlfriend had its perks, one of which was front row seats to all of his matches.  Nat had been a great boxer in the past, but she had decided to take a break and try coaching for a while which meant she would sit with you during fights.

               “Of course he has this Natasha,” Tony stated cockily from the other side of you. “He knows I put a lot of money into bring his ass back from the dead.” At his statement, you glared at Tony. The man was the owner of the club and you loved him, most of the time, but you were not in the mood for jokes.

               “Tony, you know I’m more concerned about his health than your money,” You responded coldly as you returned your eyes to the ring. Bucky was still breathing hard from his last round of fighting, something he had never done before his injury. Normally he could make it twelve rounds at the regional level without breaking much of a sweat, but instead he was huffing air by the 8th. You worried for not only his physical health but his mental state as well if he couldn’t win this match. It was his first fight since his injury and all you could hope for was a win.

               The bell rang once again, and the announcer called for the 9th round to start. Bucky and Brock squared off against each other, looking for an opening. Bucky initiated the fighting with a 1-1-2 combo to Brock’s chest. This consisted of two jabs and a cross. To throw Brock off, Bucky had performed the cross with his left hand rather than his right. Seeing Bucky use his left arm so well made your mind race back to a different fight.

               16 Months Ago

               You cheered exuberantly from the front row of the stands as always. Bucky had won the US National championships for the super middleweight class and was now trying to qualify for the Olympics. He was competing in a regional fight to increase his seasonal score, so he would qualify for the World Series of Boxing. Getting into that fight would almost guarantee him an Olympic slot. He was fighting Helmut Zemo, an up and comer in the boxing world. The two fighters were in the 5th round and Bucky was ahead by a drastic amount of points. He smiled as he fought, knowing this fight could be his ticket to the Olympics. He had been dreaming of being on that international stage since he was a child when him and Steve started boxing lessons.

               Zemo was tiring out. He was slower to dodge punches and wasn’t ducking completely under the hits. Bucky began picking up in rhythm and intensity of his hits, hoping for a knockout to cut the match short. With a smirk, he landed his signature left hook to Zemo’s temple, effectively putting the man on the floor. Zemo tried to stand but couldn’t as the official counted to ten. When he hit the final number, the official called the fight and held up Bucky’s arm to signal his victory. The crowd erupted into a roaring cheer. The biggest grin you had ever seen was present on Bucky’s face and you could tell he was trying to hold back tears. As you raced towards the ring to congratulate him, the world seemed to move in slow motion. Zemo slowly rose from the ground, an astonishing ferocity driving him forward. You tried to yell for Bucky, but the sound of the crowd overpowered your voice. Zemo raged forward and punched Bucky in the left shoulder. Bucky’s eyes went wide when he felt the hit and he dropped to his knees from the pain. The official rushed to detain Zemo but Bucky was kneeling on the floor, eyes-wide and filled with horror. You knew something was wrong by the haunted look in his eyes.

               “Bucky!” you screamed as you pushed through the last of the crowd and climbed through the ropes. Bruce, the team doctor, reached Bucky at the same time as you did.

               “Bucky, I need you to stay very still for me so I can look at your shoulder ok?” Bruce explained calmly. Bucky just nodded.

               “Bucky?” you asked firmly, but you received no response. “Bucky look at me.” You demanded of the man. His eyes finally slid to meet yours.

               “I’m done Y/N. I’m not going to fight in the Olympics.” He stated with a watery voice. He was still trying to hold back tears, but this time ones of heartbreak.

               “You don’t know that sweetheart,” you comforted. “The World Series isn’t for another month, you could still fight.” Bucky had always been an absurdly quick healer and you had no doubt he’d be ok to fight by the end of the month.

               “He might,” Bruce muttered. “He has a dislocated shoulder. There may be other damage to the ligaments and muscles, but it looks like the bone made a clean sweep. There’s no bruising or discoloration. I will need to set the shoulder immediately though so there’s no further damage. Bucky this will hurt. Probably a lot.”

               As Bruce got into position to set the shoulder you grabbed Bucky’s hand with one of yours and his chin with the other.

               “I’ve got you Bucky,” You told him while firmly squeezing his hand. Bruce counted to three and on the final number, set the shoulder. A loud pop sounded out and Bucky’s face contorted in pain. He wrapped his right arm around you and pulled you close to him, burying his face into your neck. You felt stray tears on your skin as he tried to even out his breathing.

               Bruce continued inspecting his shoulder for further damage, but on the surface level saw none. He instructed Bucky that he would need to go to the ER for MRIs to see if there was deeper tissue damage. Bucky said something against your shoulder, but you couldn’t understand the mumbled words.

               “Bucky? What did you say?” you questioned. He released a shaky breath and sat up slightly.

               “I can’t feel my shoulder.”

It was nerve damage. His axillary nerve in his left shoulder had been damaged with the dislocation. Bucky had no sensation in his left shoulder or his upper arm. The doctors told him they could fix it with surgery but had to wait a minimum of three months before attempting it. The main point of this: Bucky wouldn’t be going to the Olympics.

               One thing Bucky had not lost his ability to do was duck a punch. All of Brock’s punches that should have landed on Bucky’s face were deftly dodged. Bucky was quick and tactile which made him a close to perfect defensive boxer. Brock attempted to land a right cross on Bucky but he quickly ducked the hit and delivered two more jabs to Brock.

               13 Months Ago

               The doctors had agreed to do the surgery. They were going to take part of a different nerve and attach it to the damaged one in his axilla. Bucky was due to the medical center at six the next morning. He had tried to go to bed early but he was unable to fall asleep from the anxiety. You crawled into bed next to him and curled up against his right side. Ever since the injury, Bucky had been hesitant to have anyone near his left shoulder. He was worried of further damage, but also didn’t like the idea that he couldn’t feel it if someone touched that area. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him.

               “It’s going to be ok Bucky,” you comforted as you reached up to caress his face. “They’re going to do this surgery and then you can go back to doing what you love.” He looked apprehensive at your statement, something else was obviously eating away at him.

               “Talk to me tough guy,” you urged.

               “What if something goes wrong? There’s always a risk with surgeries on nerves that they’ll fuck it up. What if they make it worse? What if I can’t box anymore?” You could see the worry showing on his face as he looked down at you. Terror showed in his eyes at the thought of never being able to box again.

               “Dr. Strange is one of the best surgeons in the country and Dr. Cho is incredible with her advancements in physical therapy. You’re going to get through this. I promise.” After more reassurances and soothing touches, Bucky finally fell asleep.

               The next morning you both were quiet as you got prepared to go to the medical center. Upon your arrival, Bucky was told to take a seat and wait for a few minutes. You could tell he was still anxious from how he sat with his head down and foot bouncing rapidly. As you sat, you grabbed his hand and held it tight. Your other hand turned his face to see yours.  Your eyes met, and you passed reassurances through you gaze. When his name was called he kissed you fiercely before following the nurse back. At the door he stopped and sent another longing glance to you. All you could do was send him what you hoped looked like a reassuring smile. He turned and walked away while the doors shut behind him. All you could do was wait.

Brock was a strong fighter for the regional level and it showed. Most local boxers would have been exhausted by now, but the man’s stamina persevered to match Bucky’s. He had been worn down by some of Bucky’s hits, but he was still standing and still punching harder than you would like.

12 months ago

               A couple of weeks after Bucky’s surgery, he began going to physical therapy. The surgery had been hugely successful and Dr. Strange had connected the new nerve tissue with no issue. He had a positive outlook on Bucky’s recovery. Since the surgery, Bucky had been in a sling to keep his shoulder immobile while the nerve tissues grafted together. So far, the healing process had gone well, and he had been good about keeping the arm in place. The price of regaining sensation was the return of pain. There were multiple nights when you would wake up to a cry of pain emanating from the man beside you because he rolled over onto his shoulder. Nerves were sensitive, especially after surgery, and Bucky was wary of taking too much pain medication. Because of this, he was in pain a lot. You were there for him as much as you could be, helping make meals, shower, and get dressed. Every menial task had become a significant hurdle to climb over, but you made it through. Steve had come by on his off days to keep Bucky company or make lunch while you were at work. Sometimes Natasha would come too, but she was only free to visit at odd hours because of the schedule at the gym. Bruce called every day to check Bucky’s progress, while Tony had just called once to see how the surgery went.

               You drove Bucky to his first physical therapy appointment with Dr. Cho. She took his history and then sat him down to explain the process. She confirmed that it would take a lot of work to retrain his arm to fully function again, but with his cooperation it could surely be done. She started with basic range of motion exercises. She would move his arm for him in different directions to get test his flexibility and allow the muscles to begin working again. She had you watch so you would be able to perform the exercises at home. She also had him try gripping towels and other soft objects to make sure his brain was still successfully sending signals to his hand. Bucky was sweating by the end of the session because, even though it doesn’t seem like much to most, the different activities had worn him out.

               On the drive home, he seemed aggravated but you knew from past experience to let him have some time to think. When you arrived at your shared apartment, he swiftly opened the door and then slammed it shut. The noise startled you and you watched as he stormed into the building without you. When you finally made it up to your apartment, the sounds of off rhythm punches could be heard. You slowly made your way into one of the spare rooms which had been turned into a gym. Upon entering, you saw Bucky slamming his right fist into the hanging punching bag. The pace was haphazard without his left hand, and you could see a couple tears running down his aggravated face.

               “Bucky,” you called calmly, but he didn’t answer. He just kept hitting the bag. You tried again, attempting to keep a calm tone, but had no luck. You finally screamed his name when you saw him attempt to cock back his injured arm. He froze.

               “Bucky don’t try it,” you urged as you made your way over to him. Placing yourself between him and the bag, you reached up to cup his face.

               “Look at me baby, please just look at me.” Bucky’s eyes slowly lowered to meet yours. His left arm was still slightly raised to punch, and you could see it shaking with the exertion it took to keep it there. You moved one hand from his face to the upper portion of his left arm. Gently, you applied pressure, trying to make him lower his arm. After a moment of resistance, he let you push the injured limb down to his side again. At this, he let out a large breath, and his face crumbled further.

               “I can’t do this Y/N,” he whispered forlornly. “I can’t even move my arm by myself most of the time. How am I ever going to box again?” His eyes dropped again as he tried to contain his growing despair. You tilted his chin up so that your gazes met again.

               “Bucky Barnes, you will box again. I refuse to lie and tell you it will be easy. It’s going to fucking suck for a while. But we’re going to get through this. You’re going to get through this. You just have to stay strong and do what the doctors tell you.” As you talked, your thumb stroked his injured shoulder where you had been holding it. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

               “I almost forgot what that felt like,” he murmured. “I thought for a while I’d never feel it again.”

               “You’re starting to heal Bucky. Look how far you’ve come in a month. You went from not being able to feel or use your arm to having sensation again. And I know grabbing on to towels repeatedly may not seem like much, but that’s a big jump from not being able to do anything.” You said all of this with a soft smile which Bucky returned.

               “Ok,” he stated. “I’m going to do this.” His voice held conviction rather than sadness and a light had returned to his eyes. He leaned down and place his lips gently against yours. The kiss conveyed so much gratitude and hope between you both. He pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead to yours.

               “Thank you.”

               Bucky was determined. It was evident on his face. He was going to win this match. His punches grew stronger and faster. The combinations he threw were for higher points and more precise. Brock was able to land a few more light jabs to Bucky’s chest but you could see him begin to worry.

               6 months ago

               Bucky had been thriving in physical therapy. Dr. Cho had finally cleared him to begin boxing again. Steve had come over to the apartment to oversee Bucky’s first official day of training and to make sure he didn’t push himself too hard. When Steve arrived, you pushed him into the hallway outside of your door to talk to him. You double checked Bucky was still in your room, changing into workout clothes, before shutting the door.

               “I’m going to make this quick Rogers. The doctor said there might be some pain when he begins training again because of how long it’s been, but if you see him grimacing more than usual you make him stop. Got it?” you commanded with a stern expression. You knew Bucky was going to push himself as hard as possible, but you weren’t willing to let his stubbornness get in the way of his recovery. Steve vehemently agreed before you opened the door behind you to let him inside. As you were shutting it, Bucky emerged from your bedroom. When he saw Steve, the two embraced and patted each other on the back. Bucky made his way to you and wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close. He had a large grin on his face.

               “Promise you’ll be careful?” you questioned worriedly. Bucky had made you promise not to come in during training, knowing you would fret over his every movement. He understood your fear of him reinjuring himself, but you also understood it would hinder his recovery at this stage.

               “I promise doll. I’ll go easy with it today,” he reassured you with a squeeze and a brief peck on the lips. After the two men retreated into the at home gym, you went to sit out on the balcony to try and relax, but also to avoid hearing Bucky train. An hour later, a hand nudged you awake. You had fallen asleep at some time during the hour. Steve now stood above you with a grin. You shot up from your chair looking around for Bucky. Steve interrupted before you were able to ask questions.

               “He did great,” Steve informed you. “He didn’t push it too hard and worked hard on keeping his form correct instead of hitting hard. We mainly worked on that left hook of his. He’s inside grabbing an ice pack like the doctor told him too.” A heavy sigh of relief left you at Steve’s explanation. You made your way back through the door and saw Bucky sitting on the couch icing his shoulder with an enormous grin on his face. He had done it.

               Brock was in serious trouble. He could no longer keep up with Bucky’s hits. He tried to duck out of the way or block the punches, but Bucky was too fast. More hits were landing on Brock’s face and the man was starting to look dazed.

               1 month ago

               Bucky sat next to you in a chair in Tony’s large office. The club owner had called you both down to the gym that morning with an excited tone. It wasn’t the first time you had been back to the gym with Bucky since the injury. In the last couple of months, Bucky had moved his training back to the boxing gym and out of the home gym. He had improved immensely in that time and was sparring every day. Today was supposed to be an off day focused on recovery from an intense week of training, but Tony had insisted you come to the gym.

               Tony cleared his throat before he began.

               “So, I booked you a fight,” He stated simply. Bucky’s eye lit up at Tony’s declaration and began rapidly asking for details.

               “Slow down tin man,” Tony said. “His name is Brock Rumlow. The fight will be at a regional level and in about a month. We’ll hold it here to give you a home field advantage.”

               At Tony’s explanation, Bucky began laughing. It was a hearty laugh you hadn’t heard much of in the last year and a half.

               “I’m going to fight again? I’m going to fight again!” he yelled as he bolted up from his chair. “Y/N! I’m going to box again!” As you stood up to join his celebration, he wrapped his arms around you and swept you off your feet. He spun you around as he laughed, happiness and excitement surrounding him. When he placed you back on your feet, your eyes met.

               “You’re going to box again!”

               Brock was getting desperate. His latest punch had been dangerously close to illegal and you could tell he had been trying to get in a kidney punch to slow Bucky down. Bucky grunted, but then delivered a perfect left hook to Brock’s temple. Brock dropped. He laid unmoving on the ground as the official counted to ten. When he reached the final number, he grabbed Bucky’s left arm and raised it high in the air. The crowd erupted into cheers. You rushed to the edge of the ring where Coach Fury met you to let you through the ropes. After you climbed through, you raced to a waiting Bucky and jumped into his open arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso as he held you tight to him, burying his face into your shoulder. You felt a few happy tears wet your shoulder as you felt his smile there as well. He placed you down and you felt multiple sets of arms embrace the two of you. Nat, Steve, and Bruce had joined you huddle of excitement as they cheered for Bucky’s win. Tony stood off to the side speaking with Coach Fury, a smirk on his face.

               As the other stepped back, Bucky kissed you passionately. His lips crashed against yours, and his arms moved to your hips, pressing you against him harder. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your hands made their way to entwine with his hair. After a few moments, you pulled away from a smiling Bucky, a look of pride in both of your expressions.

               “You did it Bucky.”

               “No doll. We did it.”

[zynita]

My Decade in Books

I was tagged by the lovely @brightbeautifulthings and her blog is filled with exactly that, so please jump over and give her a follow.

The 2010's were good years - they weren't perfect by any means and they involved a lot of growing up/learning what it means to be an adult, but I think that I came out of them a much better person and better prepared for what the world has in store for me. Looking back, I read a lot of amazing books! When I went back to make my choices for this post I was surprised to find that I read 333 books from 2012 through 2019! 2012 was the year that I created my Goodreads account and since then I have used it to track my reading progress over the years, so looking back at 2010 and 2011 may be a bit hazy, but there are a couple of special reading moments near and dear to my heart that I can share. So let's get into this~

The Rules: Respond to the prompt “My Decade in Books” however you want and then tag some people! I decided to share a book and/or series which defined the year along with some of my memories/reasons as to for doing so. You can do that or make up a response that is entirely your own, there is no wrong way to go about it.

2010: Yep, like many I got caught up in the Twilight craze and while I still find sparkly vampires a bit odd/silly, this series did motivate me to start reading again on a regular basis. Prior to that, I had been in a car accident in the late fall/early winter of 2006 and then my daughter was born April 2007. Unfortunately, my mental health was not the greatest as I was dealing with post-partum depression in combination with my pre-existing depression and possible/slight post-concussive changes. In 2010 I was given a boxed set of the series as a birthday gift and reading it ultimately helped spark my interest in books again - this was one of the first steps to breaking out of my apathetic depression. I will always be thankful for Twilight because it showed me that I was still capable of feeling real living breathing changing emotions.

2011: This year was marked by the completion of my Associate's Degree in Accounting/Business Administration that spring and acceptance to continue studying accounting at the local state university. My daughter was 4 years old and about to start preschool. We were able to get a place of our own moving in with my wife (then girlfriend) into a cute 2-bedroom apartment - we became a family. One of the best memories I have from our time living there was how at night I would read the story of the boy wizard who lived in a closet under the stairs to our daughter. This series would go on to define so much of our lives as it became her favorite for a number of years - the first major book series she read entirely on her own, eventually going on to do so in Spanish as well. We became a small flock of Ravenclaws and she has bloomed into quite the reader herself. I will always have a soft spot in my heart and memory for this series because of the story it tells and for the part it played in our story.

2012: I previously read King's Dark Tower in the mid 2000's and the story deeply resonated with me. When I found out that King was planning to release a new Dark Tower book, The Wind Through the Keyhole, I knew that I had to reread the series. The series' story feels dark and gritty, the tale of a knight from a world that has moved on fulfilling his quest to reach the Tower, revered as the center of all worlds. There is a certain tragic nostalgic romance to the story of an old knight in a dying world haunted by his past questing with what initially seems to be an unlikely group, only to eventually come together as something more - as ka-tet. This is a series that I know I will return to in the future.

2013: If you go through my Tumblr history, specifically on my book blog, you will come across my reviews and a large portion of my reviews written in 2013 dealt with my read through of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series - 22 books and 1 novella (Guilty Pleasures through Affliction). I first picked up Guilty Pleasures during a book sale in ~2011 and I recall reading it and a couple of the subsequent books (maybe 3 of them at most). At first, I was drawn in by Anita herself but when I came back to the books in 2013 and read the entire series I found myself intrigued by the many characters around Anita and her relationships with them. The series started as one thing and developed into something different - changing focus from a supernatural police procedural to being more character driven. This doesn't mean that Anita doesn't still go out and hunt the bad guys, but it is no longer the absolute main focus of the story and I am okay with that. Anita and her relationship struggles helped me to understand/come to terms with the concept that love isn't the same across all relationships, that people love differently and that is okay. It helped me to become comfortable in the knowledge that I can love others and it doesn't compromise/lessen the love that I have for my wife. For that reason alone, I will always have a strong admiration/fondness for Anita Blake. I plan on reading the two most recent releases (Crimson Death and Serpentine) some time this year!~

2014: This year was a very very difficult year for me and my wife and I spiraled into a deep depression. Due to my mental health difficulties I failed to complete my bachelor's degree program and had to leave school. I ultimately wound up doing nothing more than sleeping, playing video games, and attempting to read when I could. I remember that I was scrolling through Tumblr and I saw a post praising The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - I was immediately enamoured with the cover, the starkness of the black/white/red, a circus, magic, and intrigue, I had to read it. My first read through took me 4 days because I never wanted it to end. This book helped me break a major reading slump through its beautiful lyrical prose of opponents turned lovers forged and bound within the fire locked behind the blackened gates of the traveling Les Cirques des Reves. I have read this book a total of 4 times and each time has only further deepened my love and appreciation for it - this book is my ultimate comfort read (though it may now have strong competition from her sophomore novel, The Starless Sea).

2015: At the behest of my love and my pseudo brother (I basically adopted him as the younger brother I never had) I picked up/started reading Robert Jordan's epic fantasy saga Wheel of Time which was ultimately completed by Brandon Sanderson following the death of Jordan. The series made up a great deal of my 2015 reading though I did make time for other books as well. What I particularly loved about the series was a combination of the richness of the world and the complexity of the characters. We witness these characters as they mature and grow into themselves ultimately becoming worthy of the title of ta'veren placed upon them by the Wheel. With the Amazon TV show on the horizon, I will likely pick up the series again and with subsequent readthroughs comes the opportunity to pick up on little things/foreshadowing that may have been missed before.

2016: This was another year where I didn't read a lot of books (only 38), but the majority of the ones I read were ones that I really enjoyed and Gail Carriger's Parasol Protectorate Series was a notable favorite. While I was working on my bachelor's degree I had the opportunity to take an upper division English course focused on Victorian Era literature and what started as a spark of interest became a warm comforting fire. Parasol Protectorate combined two genres which I had enjoyed on their own (historical fiction and paranormal/fantasy[?]) into something which felt entirely unique. I fell in love with the characters and thoroughly enjoyed the series - so much so that I have returned to Carriger's Victorian Era with my current read through of her Finishing School Series, an upcoming re-read of Parasol Protectorate, and a first time read through of the sequel series The Custard Protocol.

2017: So much of 2017 is honestly a blur... I was hired in July 2015 as a medical transcriptionist but over the following years would continue to gain increased responsibilities (with associated pay increases) allowing for some pretty notable things to occur leading up to my girlfriend and I getting married!~ We had been dating/living together in addition to having been friends for so much time before that it just made sense for us to get married and I can't picture my life without her in it. My favorite read that year was E.K. Johnston's That Inevitable Victorian Thing for so many reasons. The novel plays with history as we know it and speculates on what would have occurred had colonialism never taken root and instead a utopia was formed under the British Empire - an empire without racism, homophobia, and classism built upon mutual respect and harmony. This book is full of diversity/representation/LGBTQIA+/etc. while exploring identity, orientation, and relationships in a respectful/open-minded manner. I have already slated this book for a re-read as soon as I finish my current read through of Carriger's works.

2018: This book is probably one of the most important books I have ever read. I can't remember how exactly I came across it but I knew that I had to read it as soon as I read the synopsis. I then shared it with my daughter (who was then 11 years old) and we decided to buddy read it. This book...this is the book that I wish I had had the opportunity to read when I was that same age attempting to learn about and understand my own sexuality. This book has also allowed my wife and me to have a continuing, open dialogue with our daughter (now turning 13 in April). I actually Tweeted this basic sentiment to Ms. Blake upon finishing the book and she actually replied to me!~

Since then my daughter has read the book multiple times and we bought her a hardback copy for Christmas. Maybe one day we can attend a signing and thank Ms. Blake for Ivy's story personally.

2019: My favorite of read of 2019 was Elizabeth Wein's Code Name Verity. ((I know, I could have easily posted and gushed about Erin Morgenstern's The Starless Sea which I absolutely love but given that I had previously mentioned The Night Circus I felt it prudent to discuss something else.)) When I was book blogging in 2013-2014 I remember seeing a lot of posts talking about it and its unique approach to storytelling. I remember picking up the ebook but I was so caught up in reading other things at the time that it sat on my TBR shelf. Fast forward to last year and I finally decided to take the time and read it. Color me 100% floored and angry at myself for waiting so long to read it! I fell absolutely in love with Verity/Julie, with the story that she wove, with the friendship between her and Maddie. The synopsis describes the book as "harrowing" and "beautifully written," descriptors that I wholeheartedly agree with. My wife knew how much I enjoyed it and I received a copy of the hardback edition which will eventually grace my bookshelf (sort of kind of need to buy one first).

So that is My Decade in Books! I am very bad about tagging people in things, but if you saw the post and feel so inclined to make one of your own please do and tag me in it to check out. If you stuck through this post to the end, I greatly appreciate it and wish you well in the new reading decade.

*Zyn/Melanie*

[jiminisnotavirgin]

Body Electric

Pairing: Park Jimin | Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: sub!jimin, dom!reader, dom!jimin, sub!reader, SWITCH, blindfolding, bondage (slight), multiple orgasms, face-riding, intercourse, pet names, slight cum play, praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of fear, mental health, cute after-sex fluff

Notes: This is dedicated to my bby @knifetata and @submissive-bangtan thank you for being so patient with me. This is also the first of my writing that I decided to post on tumblr so here’s goes nothing ;)

The digital clock on your nightstand read 11:59 AM, the numbers seemingly angry as each digit glowed the bright shade of crimson. You pulled your heavy comforter over your head and tucked the fabric beneath your feet, desperate to block out the dreadful sound that threatened to penetrate the bubble you so-carefully constructed around you. In the silence of the night, the only sounds that could be heard in your quiet apartment were your breathing, your heartbeat in your chest, and the slight drizzle of rain that served as a warning for the approaching thunder.

Your chest restricted at the sound of keys unlocking the front door, but the anxiety pumping through your veins gradually melted into relief when you remembered it was Jimin and not the fears currently inhabiting the forefront of your mind.

“Y/N? Are you home?” he called. His shoes thudded against the ground, followed by the sound of his keys landing on the dining room table. The wood floors creaked beneath his weight as he shuffled to your bedroom, his footsteps muffled by his socks.

He paused in the doorway and squinted as he scanned the dark bedroom for your figure, already knowing where you would be hiding. He’s seen you there before but his heart broke at the sight, nonetheless. The mattress dipped beside you and you felt a large arm slowly making its way around you over your makeshift blanket tent.

“Can I go under too, baby?” he asked softly before kissing the top of your head through the sheet.

“Mmhmm,” you answered quietly, quickly lifting the cover over Jimin and wrapping your arm around him while hooking your leg over his. You buried your head in the warmth of his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of sweet, comforting aroma. You pushed yourself up and planted a quick kiss on his neck as feelings of ease rolled into your bones.

You closed your eyes and tried your best to breathe slowly. “The storm hasn’t started yet.”

“I’m proud of you,” he responded while twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers in thought. The soothing hum of his voice vibrated through his chest and your thumb drew patterns over his hand, urging him to continue. “I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself, even with the storm that’s coming. You’re conquering your fears, baby, and I’m so proud to be with a woman as brave as you are.”

You were taking care of yourself. After many, many, many years of struggling with your fear of thunderstorms, your perspective on the natural occurrence shifted into one of… acceptance. Although you weren’t outright welcoming thunderstorms with dances in the rain, you were making strides by being in rooms with windows where you could see the lightning and hear the thunder, rather than hiding in a closet for hours with headphones.

“I’m actually p-proud of me, too,” you said and you meant it, too. Your voice cracked as tears suddenly sprung to your eyes. His deep, dark brown orbs of eyes scanned your face before he gently pecked the tip of your nose. You breathed in the minty scent of his breath as he pulled you in closer and you pressed your lips against his soft, pillowy pair.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he murmured. He was sleepy from his long day at work, and you could tell from the way his eyelids began to lazily droop lower over his eyes. His gaze remained trained on your lips, however, your quick action suddenly bringing him back from the depths of sleep that threatened to drag him under. His kind gaze shifted into one of lust as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip before teasingly biting into the soft, moist flesh.

You crawled over him, watching silently as his eyes darted to the exposed skin of your smooth legs while your pajama shorts rode up with each movement. He swallowed as his eyes trailed higher and higher up your thighs, eventually landing on the place where they meet; the place you happened to rub and rock against Jimin as you sat in his lap with legs on either side of him.

You raised yourself to your knees and rested your hands on his shoulders, slowly dragging them down lower and lower, lightly scraping your nails over the fabric of his dress shirt. You ignored the blanket above you as you pushed it over your head and embraced the cold, nippy air of the bedroom. His hands hovered over your breasts and the sensitive, hard nipples you knew he was dying to touch.

“Fuck. Please, kiss me again,” he groaned as he squirmed uneasily beneath you, unsure where to put his hands. His desperation and whining caused heat to shoot through your limbs.

You loved when he begged for you. You craved it from Jimin like a drug; a hunger deep in your soul. He knew it too.

Your hands stopped their trail at the waistband of his pants, resting just over the meat of his hips. You sighed and began to fiddle with a cuticle on your index finger nonchalantly.

Sucking your teeth, you muttered, “Hmm. You don’t really want it, do you? Otherwise you’d be asking me the proper way.” He hesitated before proceeding to raise his arms above his head, crossing them at the wrists by the headboard.

“Oh!” you exclaimed while beginning to remove the tie around his neck. “Maybe my babyboy does want it. Lemme hear it nice and clear?”

He gulped nervously and kept his hands still. “I want it.”

You smacked him lightly on the cheek. “You have to be louder. I wanna hear you beg, Jimin. Beg.”

“Please, Mistress, I want you so bad. No one makes me feel like you do,” he stuttered desperately, merely watching as you wrapped the tie around around his wrists and secured them to the headboard. You stood up and sauntered to the wardrobe on the other side of the room, your hips swaying sinfully slowly with each step. You rummaged through the top drawer, searching for the perfect one.

A flash of lightning caught your attention from the window beside you, its bright, white light filling your bedroom for a fraction of a second before disappearing. You flinched, temporarily forgetting what you were doing and your boyfriend tied to the bed.

But Jimin quickly called to you, eager to distract and claim the attention of his Mistress once again. “I’m ready for you, Mistress, I promise. I wanna take care of you, I need to.”

The feeling of fear subsided in the back of your mind and you whipped out a silk blindfold from the drawer, swirling it around your index finger teasingly as you felt yourself give into the mood and bring you back to your senses.

“You always say you’re ready, babyboy,” you answered and began to approach Jimin’s figure on the bed. “But you cum the minute my tongue touches your hard cock and then I have to wait till you get hard all over again. That’s not happening today.”

You slipped the blindfold over Jimin’s eyes and grasped the collar of his shirt before pulling it apart with your bare hands, quickly disregarding the flight of each button popping off. Your mouth watered at the sight of his toned chest and the Nevermindtattoo etched across his ribs, and you wondered how you were able to control yourself for so long. His breathing grew louder as you began to unbutton his pants, revealing the tent quickly growing beneath his boxers.

“Look at you,” you cooed and he shuddered as you ran your hand over his heat. “You’re such a slut for me, baby. I’ve barely touched you and your cock is hard already. Does your cock need some love?”

He groaned in response and adjusted himself beneath you, only for you to pull your hand away.

“I’m gonna ride your pretty face first,” you said, and you planned to do just that. Nothing felt better than Jimin’s tongue as you grinded against him. You assumed your position excitedly, placing each of your knees on the side of his head.

He kissed your folds gently, each soft press of his lips a precursor of the pleasure approaching. He swiped his tongue over your entire slit in one smooth motion, messily slathering your juices all over before isolating the bud at the top. Your toes curled as you rocked your hips back and forth, following the slow rhythm of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he breathed, blowing cool air against your tight, hot core that puckered and oozed his favorite, clear nectar of yours.

His tongue pressed into you, gradually making its way into your slick entrance. He pushed it further and further, and felt your opening tighten around his wet tip, your arousal dripping onto his tongue and face. He welcomed the fluid and increased the pressure of his tongue with each flick.

“Ngh,” you moaned in response. “Faster, Jimin, faster.”

The tip of his tongue sped up as it swirled around your swollen bud, enveloping it in quick flicks and tingles that had you arching your back in satisfaction. Each lick felt like a smooth stroke and you grinded harder over his face, your movements becoming uneven as you suddenly lost control of your muscles.

You could sense the familiar feeling coming over you like a rolling wave, washing you in a stream of pleasure and release. You threw yourself beside him and tried to catch your breath for a few minutes as relief flooded into your bones.

“I want to see you, Mistress,” asked Jimin, his head turned towards your collapsed torso. “Did I do well? Was I a good boy?”

You pulled the blindfold off and cupped his cheeks with your hands in appreciation. You watched as the smile grew on his sweet face and you couldn’t control yourself as you went in for a quick peck. He licked the remaining drops of your arousal from the side of his mouth with a mischievous smile. Your face was flushed and sweaty and Jimin loved every minute of it. He loved watching as you came because of him while euphoria took its hold on you.

“You were so good, baby,” you began as you reached for your makeshift tie-handcuffs, “that I’m going to untie you and let you do whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

His eyes glittered in the moonlight and he shifted excitedly, rubbing at his wrists as soon as you granted him permission. “I need you to ride me, baby.”

Jimin’s request stirred something within you, something sinful and wild that dared to push you over the edge once again. Nothing mattered except unlocking the physical pleasure deep inside him that only you could, right here and right now.

“Come sit on my lap, princess,” asked Jimin as he patted his thighs. His low voice was raspy and out of breath, but you could feel the waves of lust and hunger radiating from him in the now-hot air of the bedroom. You pulled off your shorts and panties as he tugged off his boxers and threw them on the ground.

As you finally eased his way onto his lap, Jimin kissed you gently and you quickly found an abundance of desire in each of his kisses. You eventually fell into an even rhythm as he made out with you passionately and pressed his deliciously warm body against yours. You grinded against Jimin, digging your core into the hardness pushing beneath you.

You lifted yourself, grasping onto Jimin’s thick, veiny length and aligning your entrance with its plump, red tip. Jimin hissed as he began to feel the tightness of your soft walls immediately suck him in and clench around him. It took all the strength he had not to completely thrust himself into you all at once. You pushed yourself down lower and lower, groaning; it always felt as though Jimin had absolutely no end. Inch by inch and breath by breath, the thickness of Jimin’s girth began to stretch you out and you felt completely and entirely full. Finally, he bottomed out and sat still for a moment, breathing as you adjusted to  size.

"How are you always so tight, princess? Your cunt feels so fucking good and warm around me I could stay here forever, fuck,” breathed Jimin as he raked his long fingers through your hair.

“Lean forward,” he continued, knowing exactly the best position to reach your g-spot. The action caused you to raise yourself the slightest bit and you didn’t miss the low groan that rose out of Jimin’s chest because of the friction with the quick slide. Hearing you moan and groan as you tried to adjust yourself around Jimin turned him on even more than he thought possible. He shouldn’t have been surprised though, since you always found new ways to surprise him in the bedroom.

“Mmm,” you sighed breathlessly as soon as Jimin pulled out halfway and slid himself back in.

“You like that, princess? You like feeling daddy’s big cock inside your tight, wet cunt?” he asked as he pulled himself out to the very tip before thrusting himself back inside your hot pussy. The lewd, wet sounds escaping your core caused you to clench around him once again. Each thrust was smoother and deeper than the last and Jimin kissed your chest as he gradually picked up the pace.

“Fuck, daddy, please,” you begged as you clutched onto his back, your fingernails digging into the lean muscle of his shoulder blades.

Suddenly, Jimin hit the spongey, bundle of nerves within you that caused you to gasp desperately for air—as if you would simply die if you didn’t get any more. Goosebumps grazed your sweaty skin and urged you to pursue that addictive sensation that struck your body like a sucker-punch. Jimin smiled, satisfied that he was able to successfully locate your g-spot and eager to  strike it once more.

“Deeper, daddy, I wanna feel you deeper,” you begged him, frustrated with your positioning and that you couldn’t sink yourself lower onto him.

Or so you thought.

"Say no more, princess,” promised Jimin and he switched your positions. As you laid flat, Jimin lifted your leg over his shoulder and filled you to brim.

If Jimin was thunder, you were lightning. His body crashed into yours with the force of a thousand lightning bolts in the night sky, and each touch and stroke was more dangerously electric than the last.

He hit your sweet spot over and over and over again, until you finally came. A wave of tingles that crept from the tips of your fingers and spread across your entire body, each one like the intoxicatingly hot kiss of a flame. Your body shook uncontrollably and your toes curled tightly as the pleasurable height of your climax burned across your limbs.

You could feel as he released inside of you and you bit your lips as you felt the thick strings of his cum slowly drip out of your wet pussy, the physical product of his desire for you.

With Jimin still buried deep inside you, you scooped a drop of his cum onto the tip of your index finger and stuffed it into your mouth, your lips making a popping sound as you licked your finger clean.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy,” responded Jimin, his eyes wide in amazement. He pulled out and tackled you with quick, desperate kisses once again. He settled comfortably with you in his arms and your blanket pulled up over the the two of you. You both watched as bursts of light filled your room every few minutes, each of your flinches lessening with each strike.

You could feel him smile against the side of your head. “Look at you, so badass. Laying here watching the storm like it’s nobody’s business.”

“One step at a time, I guess,” you sighed.

He sat up and squeezed the sides of your arms. “One step at a time? You skipped six steps today then, baby.”

You laughed. “Okay, so maybe six steps this time.”

[regicide1997]

On having a body and a soul.

C.S. Lewis famously said, "You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." I know @argumate likes to make fun of that quote, so I'll tag them right now before I forget, but I recently read and reblogged a post which made me think of it. Paraphrasing, the post said, "You don't have a body; you are your body. Your body is not a thing that you should allow to be objectified and commodified." And I think that this is also (partly) true.

I'm not nearly as well-versed in philosophy or theology as I ought to be in order to be making this post, but I think my own beliefs on the subject could be summed up as follows: You are your body, and you are your soul. You are also your mind, which is physically part of the body (in the nervous system, almost entirely the brain in particular), but can also be considered as part of the soul. (Or maybe it's the house of the soul, or maybe the part of the body in which the soul acts. I don't know.)

But the point is that you are all of you, and that all of you is your own: You are a mind with a body and soul, a body with a soul and mind, and a soul with a mind and body, all three at once, all three in one. A personal trinity -- unfathomably complex, extraordinarily beautiful, and absolutely unique.

There's a pretty obvious connection between this personal philosophy of mine and the Christian concept of a Trinitarian God, so it probably ties into the concept of being made “in the Image of God”; but as much as I want to explore the theological implications more deeply (and I really want to do that), there’s another aspect to this which I think is more immediately important and more widely applicable: Taking care of any part of your person requires taking care of all of your person. To care for the mind, do not neglect the body or soul, and vice versa.

It’s already well-known that the distinction between mental health and physical health is fuzzy at best, but allow me to make the case for spiritual health as another aspect of one’s well-being. Spiritual health, in my view, is influenced primarily by doing good works. (The more religious among you might ask, “But what about faith?”, to which I say that faith without action is dead as a rotten corpse, but action without faith is still very much alive. The faith one has may guide the good works they perform, but even those with no faith understand the personal benefits of performing good works, and I will argue that their souls are stronger than [resists urge to type “any U.S. marine”] those who claim to be faithful but show nothing for it.) And, just as we know that the mental affects the physical and vice versa, performing good works (e.g., volunteering) can be beneficial to one’s mental health, which in turn benefits the physical.

Humans are social creatures. Cooperation is encouraged by natural selection when it increases individual survival. Mutual aid is a factor of evolution. It is human nature to help those in need. The need to do good works is written not only in our holy texts, but even in our DNA. It is part of what gives us life.

For now, I’m leaving the references I want to share as DOI numbers since I’m not sure if Tumblr has fixed the problem of links making posts not appear.

Links go to open access PDFs where possible. If you don’t want that, copy the text and search for the DOI.

doi: 10.1037/a0032718

doi: 10.1037/a0025226

doi: 10.1136/bmjopen-2016-011327, with minor corrections in doi: 10.1136/bmjopen-2016-011327corr1

doi: 10.1097/PSY.0000000000000274 (abstract)

Also, this blog post is worth a read: https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/volunteering-may-be-good-for-body-and-mind-201306266428

[yeonchi]

Thinking about the future of EDGN

I’ve never asked a lot out of my fans over the years, but to some of my close fans (you know who you are), I’d really appreciate some helpful advice because this is an important decision I’m making that will affect both you, the fans, and myself.

To cut a long story short for a tl;dr, I no longer enjoy posting about the voice languages in localised Japanese games because of some recent events and realisations and I want to retire from the English Dubbed Game News page altogether.

It’s been about five years since I started all this with the Koei Warriors Rant Series and since then, everything I’ve done that’s related to English dub has brought me nothing but hate. I know it’s a bit of an exaggeration and some of my close fans may have something to say to the contrary, but I’ve been feeling quite negative lately and because of that, I think it’s a brutally honest summary.

After ending the Dub Logistics series, I thought the one thing I could do to repay my fans for their support over the years was to continue posting on EDGN. Personally, I think I’ve done enough already and also, as I said in a post back in August, I’ve been having doubts about the future of the page and what I want to do with it given my current interests. There are several factors that led to me having these doubts, which I’ll be outlining after the break. (I can’t even put horizontal lines in my posts with the rich text editor now, thanks Tumblr)

1. I was never interested in any game outside of the Koei Warriors series or any game I played in the past (eg. Dissidia Final Fantasy).

This really shouldn’t be a surprise to my fans because in the past, I’ve rarely posted anything outside of the series I was interested in, including the aforementioned series. If I came across something by chance and liked it, then I would do some investigation into it, but these days, the spark just doesn’t want to light up anymore.

I’ve never really taken the chance to buy new games because my family doesn’t believe in buying things that aren’t important and as such, I took that mantra to heart. While I never brought a PS3, I did get a Nintendo Wii, but I traded it in later for a Wii U and not a PS4, which I still regret to this day. I pirated my PSP, DS and PC games (let’s face it, who doesn’t) and played with emulators on my computer. I only got a Steam account to play Team Fortress 2 (laggy though it was on my shitty computer) and I never brought anything from it, which made it difficult for me to add friends on there (not that they really cared in the end).

By extension, this applies to anime as well, which is the reason why I never post anything outside of the same few animes on the Waifu Network or on my Facebook pages. My belief on sexism in anime has also contributed to this disinterest; the only reason why I’m still posting the same few animes is because I’m still somewhat interested in them and I’m grateful for how they inspired some personal projects of mine.

2. Various factors have led me to lose interest in video games, including the Koei Warriors Series.

The reason why I started my dub crusade in the first place was because of Warriors Orochi 3 (Ultimate) and Samurai Warriors 4 not being dubbed. The reason why I decided to jump ship was because of Dynasty Warriors 9 being dubbed, just not with the same cast I had grown to love. I know that there were extenuating circumstances for the latter, but given everything that happened between that time, my hope that the old English voice cast (since Dynasty Warriors 4-6/Warriors Orochi 1-2) would return to voice that game (and other future games) was gone.

In addition to the previous factor, I started to find myself with more commitments than I had in past years, along with some different interests that I picked up along the way. At first, I didn’t feel like playing games because of my commitments, but eventually, it got to the point where I didn’t want to play most video games again because of the disappointment I’ve experienced from Koei Tecmo. Learning about all the things that AAA gaming companies do to reduce expenditure and increase revenue turned me off from video games as well. In my opinion, it wasn’t so much a boycott (per se) than it was a loss of interest.

3. The original group of people who inspired me to start writing these rants are now gone.

I know I’ve had other fans since the start of all this, but the original group had a special place in all this because of it. There were four people in the original group, who I met on Koei’s original Facebook page, and they were as follows:

The first one did comment on my older stuff, but he left quite early, possibly since DW8E’s release. I saw that he deactivated his account some time in 2017.

The second one had a YouTube channel and he was an admin on one of my Facebook pages for some time, but then he left after a period of inactivity without any explanation.

The third one was the more prominent because of his LGBT status and mental health issues. In the middle of 2015, he announced to everyone that he was deactivating his Facebook account because it was a burden on his mental health. He reactivated his account some time later, but he deactivated it again in September 2017 and hasn’t come back since. During that time, I saw a post from him stating that he was going to take a lot of pills and commit suicide. I reported it to Facebook in the hope that it might encourage him to find some help, even though I remember him stating that nothing works for him anymore. When I noticed that he hadn’t come back to Facebook months after he deactivated his account the second time, I assumed the worst.

The fourth one, also known as the family man or “the last one standing”, deactivated his account in June this year. We never really talked much, but as I said in this post, I’m still grateful to him for helping me find the new weapon and Musou information in DW8E when the Koei Wiki didn’t have it yet (because the game was just released at the time).

4. The impact of the feud’s aftermath still haunts me to this day.

When I agreed to end the feud on a mutual understanding a couple of years back, I promised myself that I would quickly move on from the troll behind it and not keep reminding myself of everything that happened. However, I’m a person that’s prone to anxiety when I think of worst-case-scenarios and at times, I found myself thinking about what would have happened had my Facebook account been deleted just because a troll couldn’t take the L when he got owned by someone half his age (compare that to Leafy who made terrible criticisms of people who are older than him, then claimed that he can hide behind the fact that he is younger than them). Him coming back out of nowhere earlier this year didn’t do any favours for anyone either. Regardless of that, I’ve got my bottom ground and I’ll continue to live on it regardless of what anyone else thinks of me.

I’d like to take a moment to digress and talk about cancel culture and political censorship. Because both parties in the feud weren’t exactly that popular (we had our own little fanbases, but that’s it), me and the other party “cancelling” each other (admittedly) didn’t seem to have as much an effect as we had hoped. Other factors that contributed to this could be that cancel culture (an extension to call-out culture) wasn’t that much of a thing two years ago and when the other party tried to cancel me, he made no attempt to spread the word to his fans. It was likely that he was trying to show mercy, but that doesn’t explain why he kept reporting my posts relating to him and current events in Hong Kong, knowing that I would eventually get banned if I didn’t call him out on it. I was as much a victim than I admittedly was an offender of cancel culture.

Following the feud, I’ve become wary of social media censorship because I experienced what it was like for someone to get petty and get people deplatformed by mass reporting them. Other pages like meme pages have suffered the same fate in the past (mostly because people take certain jokes too seriously), but despite my hopes, it didn’t seem like Facebook was going to do anything about the petty mass-reporting of those pages. Recently, however, I’ve been seeing news on tech companies being grilled over the censorship of conservatives and President Trump criticising them for the same thing. I’m not saying that I’m supporting Trump backing the pages that are being censored (conservative, far-right, alt-right, you name it), but I hope that this can hopefully extend to random meme pages being reported for petty reasons.

5. Ever since I decided to stop being toxic, I found myself conflicted when confronted with more toxic comments to the point that I’ve started to become paranoid over negative criticism.

When I decided to change the #NoDubNoBuy page to EDGN, I hoped that the hate towards my page would be reduced somewhat, but I never expected that it would be gone entirely. Since then, three people have made negative comments on the page; one was a girl who saw one of my posts being shared on a private group, misunderstood the (new) purpose of the page and despite her attitude, was still somewhat respectful, one was a Europoor dub hater from Spain (from what I’ve seen and learnt, Europeans tend to be sub fans and/or dub haters because of their English comprehension and ability to read subtitles) and one was an Americuck soyboy dub hater who pointed out about “crybaby fans” (”fans” as in the gatekeeping term “fake fans”, never mind my theory that people, especially men, who call other people, especially other men, “crybabies” are actually spreading toxic masculinity) who liked stuff to be Americanised but didn’t acknowledge the Japanese origins.

I’m gonna go off on a tangent and do a bit of an ad-homimem here (but it’s alright because I’m going to rebut his point next) and point out that I called the Americuck a soyboy because he had quite a long beard, but to be honest, if I called everyone who had beards “soyboys”, that would make people like Count Dankula and Sargon of Akkad “soyboys” as well, so it’d be a pretty slippery slope if I didn’t clarify who I was talking about.

Now, I’m going to move back on another tangent and rebut the soyboy’s point, because I think this is a pretty important point to address. No one is saying outright that they want Japanese games to be Americanised in terms of cultural references (if 4Kids has taught us anything). Saying that Americanisation is responsible for bad dubbing is a bit like blaming video games for causing violence. If someone says that they would like a game to be dubbed into English in localisation, then it is presumed that they want the dialogue to be dubbed in addition to the text being translated (or “dublated”). Any cultural changes made to the game or the dialogue are entirely the responsibility of those who made those changes, like the gaming companies who censor stuff for Western audiences, so if you’re complaining about a Japanese game being too “Americanised”, don’t take it out on dub fans because chances are that they didn’t want the dub to be too “Americanised” either.

Completing the square and going back to the original tangent, I didn’t post any of their comments to the dub hater comments album because I had deleted it after the feud in the hope that I wouldn’t be as toxic as I had been before. You can probably already see how toxic I would probably be if the above responses were posted on the page and directed back at them, which would mean that I’m not upholding myself to the standards I wanted to follow.

6. I’m becoming more and more concerned about current events to worry about things like English dubbing in video games.

If you’re someone who has unironically thought that I was making a big deal over something you thought was minor, then this is going to sound very ironic for you. From all these years of learning and research, I’ve attained an expansive world view and while I have made jokes about current events in the past to lighten the mood or express my anger, deep down I’m actually concerned about these things, particularly in regards to Hong Kong during this politically sensitive time.

For some reason, my desire to make posts has decreased because in addition to the above factors, I’ve been getting more and more worried about current affairs. Granted, the point of things like anime and video games and the Internet is to provide an escape from reality, but in the end, I guess that you have to face it whether you like it or not.

Making the decision to stop posting on EDGN hasn’t been an easy one, but all the factors I described above have gradually made it easier. Like the Undub page did, I had considered changing the focus of my page to merely report on the voice languages of games without saying whether we approve or reject it because it isn’t dubbed in English/Japanese; that is, we report on them with an unbiased viewpoint. Not adding excessively biased pro-dub comments on our posts has made it more neutral, but in the end, it didn’t stop the dub hater cucks. I should point out that one of the reasons why I wanted to change the #NoDubNoBuy page to EDGN was so that we could reduce the amount of hate we were getting.

What was the original goal of me starting this dub crusade? If you have read my rants in the past, then you will have picked up my hopes that Japanese games would be localised to the West with full Japanese and English dubbing and that if game companies couldn’t achieve that, then they should apologise and explain why. Would I say that I achieved or failed to achieve this goal? Not really, because over the years, I learnt a lot about the video game and voiceover industries and gradually realised that it’s not as straightforward as I had initially hoped. To be honest, it was kind of stupid of me to hope that gaming companies would say anything straightforward about this, but on the other hand, I learnt that gaming companies are like politicians as well; they say the things they want to say and not the things people want to hear.

To my fans, particularly my close fans, feel free to send me your opinions about my decision, however if you’re trying to change my mind, then I’m not sure if it can be changed so easily. If you think that I haven’t lived up to what you expect from me, then I’m sorry, but in the end, I have to think of myself as well.

If I could say one thing to the dub fanbase, I want to ask why no one else has ever tried to do something like EDGN. You have your groups and pages on social media and yet, it had to take two people pissed off with the dubbing direction of gaming companies to do it. Granted, that was how the Undub page started, with the lack of Japanese voices in localised games, and yet they didn’t get as much hate as my page did.

If there is anyone out there who wants to follow in my footsteps and make a page like EDGN, let me be the first to give you my blessing because I’m not going to be like the Undub page when they discovered us and point fingers for copying their posts when in the end, games are the same to everyone. While transparency regarding voice languages has increased over the years, there was never a place where dub fans could know about what games were dubbed in English. You don’t have to be like me and make a series of rants about why some games aren’t dubbed, because I’ve already done it, but instead, I suggest going the unbiased route as I stated earlier. Of course, you don’t have to follow my advice - it’s your page, after all.

My plan is to retire from EDGN at the end of the year. I have 12 more games in the backlog, all with English voices, and I’m hoping to post them all on the page before then. I probably won’t remove myself as an admin (because I think there’ll be some petty, obsessed cuck who’ll dig out my posts and make a rant series on me or something), but I’ll probably have it so that I can forget about the page as time goes on.

With this, my dub crusade has come to an end. Once again, to the fans, I’m sorry and I thank you for your support. As always, it is your choice as to whether you wish to continue following me, whether on Facebook or Tumblr, after my retirement.

[skinny-boy-endeavours]

Warning: this message might shock most people, although I assume only people with an interest in these issues are likely to read it till the end, and if you are an ex-anorexic or bulimic, or a person scanning the web in search for potential culprits against your good sense, this is perhaps not going to please you. All the same, I will write it.

Since I have been living with eating disorders, more than a decade, and very nearly two decades have elapsed, and since I have joined Tumblr in a hope of finding some comfort and expressing myself at times like “these”, not even one decade has elapsed. I am a boy, I am twenty-eight, I have suffered from eating disorders for as long as I can remember, at about when switching from childhood to adolescence. I have taken a lot upon myself, and am still taking quite a lot, either out of habit or by sheer automatic resignation. I have finished my studies, I have my university diploma, I have remained at the same workplace for several years and I am both reliable and disciplined. But in the last ten years, I have been hospitalized a dozen of times, most of which upon my own free decision, and always seemed to recover a little more each time from I knew not what exactly, but that made me heartsick to the extent of driving myself to suicide on several occasions (at least 5, almost successful, by severe poisoning). I did not heed, at first, that my parents and their controlling temperament and conduct towards me might have the invisible cause behind all my self-destructive behaviours. I still find it hard to evaluate to what extent their pressurizing and eternally unsatisfied influence has driven me to hate myself only, to bear all the pain and to live only a small percentage of what is normally called “life” only to justify my existence and temper their grave looks upon my miserable person. The first thing to be said is that anorexia, bulimia, eating disorders in general and all feverous afflictions, when befalling a young person, girl or boy, is never a “fancy”, nor an invention of problems that were nonexistent beforehand, but a real discomfort, if not a living pain that is being converted into self-destruction, for want of a proper way out to an every-moment-guilt of being alive, under the control pf one’s parents, for they are authorities that are not to be gotten rid of as long as the child is a “minor” or is under their tutelage. Even when this comes to pass, the sentiment of the child who has lived under such a control for years, legally speaking, may and sometimes will inevitably reproduce his unhealthy patterns, either by the constant skin-deep memory of his former captivity of lack of freedom, which, after all, and I understand it now, is the sole and only motive for eating disorders in an adolescent and for an entire-life-wrecking nervous indisposition. I have noticed that at a healthy distance from my parents, I thrive rather well, although I still am fragile, and that when I am intensely with them for at least three or four days, this fragility is increased twice, thrice or more, proportionally to the albeit small time I have passed in the fateful company of my parents, who, despite what might be concluded from the above-written, are loving and caring, and wish nothing but my wellbeing. How then is it possible to feel, to declare oneself oppressed and pressed if one’s parents do not beat or ill treat one ? This is the whole issue: the pain inflicted by controlling parents is infinitely more subtle than any amount of “Physical” beating or mistreatment. All the more, that it is involuntary, and the parents do not realize the pain they are inflicting, and their ignorance of their very own misbehaviour is greater as they don,t understand that their love for their children is being counterproductive and is actually undermining their child’s development into healthy adults, and most of the time, driving them to self-destructive behaviours. This is no victim-playing, one has better things to do than looking, and even finding, guilt where it dos not have an actual existence. But in this lies the problem of nervous disorders into young people and their subsequent mark left upon the young people who have become adults and have to live with their self-destructive envies or direct behaviours, probably until they die, having half-lived only, become the ghost of their either living or dead parents has taken much of their energy and has achieved its final task: make oneself self-hating although alive and “functional” in society. I know why initially, eating disorder suffering patients were rightfully and tactfully removed from their families, from the sickening environment almost entirely manifested by the parent(s) or care-giver, of whoever while wishing the best for one’s child, drives her or him to seek freedom from the yoke through means by which they can escape, both physically and emotionally, and breathe, and while in the presence of the yoke-masters, feel themselves free, at least temporarily, by taking control over the only things they have any over: in this case, food intake, calorie outtake, etc. Drug problems, self-harm, and the like, are all ways of coping with a pressure than has become internalized and persists even when the subject is withdrawn from his familial environment for one’s best recovery or when one is definitely away from it. So tis is what I feel today, and what I come to realize. Of course, I am aware that this may be my case only, and that for all sorts of people, all sorts of circumstances are accountable for all sorts of joys and pains, and consequent self-building or self-destructive behaviours; that all cases of nervous indispositions are not imputable to the familial environment or the parental controlling facies, yet, this is my case and for my wellbeing, I must try to formulate it in a rational manner both for myself and for those whom it might be of use to to read these sentences and find that, as invisible as it is, the cause of their nervous disorders (I must insist, also, that a nervous disorder is not a mere nervosity or stress felt from time to time, but a fundamental indisposition of the whole nervous system, that affect the entire life and both physical and mental health of an individual, and it often drives one from depression to anxiety and back again, until one either is taken into a hospital for rest, or commits suicide although the material conditions in which he lives are what most of our “gentle-natured philanthropists would consider to be far above 2/3 of the world’s average material conditions). The whole point of this is not to throw guilt everlastingly upon one’s parents for all that happens, far from it. But if one is of a fragile nervous disposition and his parental environment does not help this disposition otherwise than retrogressively, as in my case of a till-here lasting eating disorder and as I imagine, of several if not most other people, girls or boys, with eating disorders, then severance from those austere parents is perhaps the first and most important step to be taken, either by the patient’s initiative or by his therapist. It may not be advisable in all cases, as the patient’s have different personalities and have received the more or less bad influence from their own different environments, but I am quite certain that in many instances of anorexia or bulimia or other EDs, this severance is salutary, and may, at the patient’s will, be prolonged as indefinitely as needed, for the invisible controlling influence can follow the patient, as I have already said, like a ghost, it matters not if the parents are still “physically” alive or not, or have been “objectively” demanding/austere/controlling/oppressing. The goal of this is not to spend one’s life in accusation of one’s parents, nor to remain mournful of one’s past, but once this step made, this important step, for the patient to be able to distinguish the part of himself that WANTS to suffer, to destroy himself and punish himself (eating disorders are self-harming coping methods, again, that can become internalized and last within the individual even years after the last definite severance from the individual’s unheeding parental environment/influence. I have repeatedly insisted upon this point, because once understood, as an underlying rule to unlock a difficult calculus of mathematics or physics, it will become not only easier, but truly feasible for the patient, whether he his 12 or 30, to know herself or himself and, as I had started to disert upon a little earlier, to know that his unhappiness is rooted in a self-hated that is rooted in a distorted perception of one’s worth and value as a human, as she or he perceives herself of himself as the direct product of his parents and must be perfect in every way and every instance, until it becomes untenable and metamorphoses itself into an altogether endeavour for irreproachability and self-control, which in its turn becomes what we call an “eating” disorder”. This is no freudian explanation of the mother or father sense within the child who either wants to kill the latter in order to freely fuck the former or simply hates them and eventually, himself, and strive never to resemble either of them by saying yes when they say no and reversely. This only means that the motive for an eating disorder is, in many cases, whether felt immediately and clearly or not, or only later, and to various degrees, a consequence of one’s unhealthy parental behaviour. I have written all this because it has become clear over time, gradually, and not all at once nor in a very definite and clear perception, for it is likely to change over time, as I live on, but these two tendencies, I have observed to remain constant and increasingly self-evident over time, regardless of individual circumstances: that is, 1) that my self-observation has always led me to understand that my self-destructive tendency varies along with my frequentation and near-sensing of my parents, who renew my self-hate, diminish or augment it proportionally, 2) that as long as eating disorders have been observed, whether they had already received a name of some sort or this generally nowadays accepted name, the tendency of the observer was that either the mother or the father had a devastating influence upon their child, an influence which, albeit invisible or at least very subtile, is very real and real enough to drive the child to self-destruction although their material condition is either normal or above the average. They are unhappy and feel oppressed enough to starve themselves, or to purge themselves, or have suicidal thoughts and or behaviours. Even in ancient cases, such as the all-too-famous on of Santa Caterina da Siena, the anorexic behaviour was associated if not entirely attributable to the mother’s controlling influence. In some other cases, modern or ancient, it may be the father’s controlling influence, which, of course, might not be physically agressive, but, upon a subtler plane, emotionally, intellectually, agressive, often when he has achieved some degree of intellectual authority and tries to impress it upon his child’s senses that she or he is to be at least equally rigorous, important or what not, which the child would have fain achieved even, and better so, without this moral pressure upon her or his nerves. Now, there are things upon which one cannot go back, but it is important, at least for me at this moment, to identify this cause, and to work from the knowledge of that efficient cause of the nervous/eating disorder to move forward, and have a decent life, because one cannot have it unless one makes this turn upon oneself and sees that what impedes one is the parental ghost, and I mean this without any psychoanalytical sentiment, for I do not see it as intervening in the eating disorder instance. This is equally true in the case of the freudian explanation of anorexia, that the mother being the material feeder of the child, the child stops eating when his mother’s will she or he fells antagonistic to its own. This is good for allegorical mythology, but not for practical problems that demand a practical solution: in this instance, what has to be understood, and what indeed HAS a relationship with either of the patient’s parents or with both, is that across time and space, this relationship is the root of the problem, which itself is not a one-sided guilt, it would be too easy, but rather a bad or shock meeting of genetic nervous indisposition on one side and of an austere or controlling parental influence on the other. Eating disorders become the only way out imaginable for this situation that involves no culprit but that involves as surely as possible at least one victim: the child who seeks freedom from a legal bondage, and tries to grow and to develop herself or himself under this constant nervous strain. The formerly eating-disordered children who, like myself, have gone into the adult age still carrying their self-destructive patterns and have tried to be a good citizen while waking with the envy of suicide in the morning and going to bed in tears, sleeping by the grace of strong drugs and working like a normal person by who knows whose grace, must, I declare it bluntly, turnabout and sweet is the cause of their lasting pain and poor mental health, which, in this instance, affects the whole physical organism equally, and can damage it permanently (the nervous indisposition has already a disabling effect upon the entire being, both during the adolescent growth wherein the individual is normally meant to build himself, and after the end of hormonal growth when one is an adult; the added problem of an eating disorder, superposed upon this already fragile nervous system, may be very destructive physically, and even more so as time rolls on, but also on the mind and the emotional faculties, which become prematurely tired and strained, especially when entertained over years, and eventually decades). I therefore conclude my long word, and also congratulate my reader upon his patience, by saying that an eating disorder is controlling parental influence + genetic nervous disposition and that the recovery can neither be forced upon the patient as an evidence nor even occur in the mind of the patient while her or his father or mother has not been identified as the cause of her or his emotional imbalance, and subsequently and consequently, been put aside from one’s life and definitely either discarded or healthily dealt with (by regulating, if not abolishing, the rapports one has with one’s parents or with the one in question that has an unhealthy bearing upon the child’s nerves). Now, this is only my opinion, and I perhaps imagine everything and I am not sick after all and all this is but a bad dream... But, on the other hand, I know not why, I feel that most eating disordered people, young or less young, will relate with the few statements I have abode made, and find that they describe their own cases quite accurately, because what I have singled out as the one invariable ou almost invariable tendency across time and space, in the case of EDS, is the parental influence, and it is a tendency because it cannot, totally at least, be dissociated from the very problem of EDs, and I am quite sure that those who have read this hitherto shall feel that they are not alone, and that behind their apparent madness, and underneath their emotional pain, there is something quite similar across the cases, and that something subtle lies at the foundation of it, something that has its constancy across the circumstances, and that determines the appearance of the coping method known under the name of eating disorders.

Saturday the 18th of May, 2019