#PLEASE why did i commit psychological torture on myself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

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Why do I not have the option to copy and paste formatting? Why is that an option I am not given? Who thought that I wouldn’t need that when I’m on my phone? Screw that guy, who I am arbitrarily calling Adam. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me.

Chapter 6 Pt 2

“There is no fucking way you got a date with her.” Raphael does not even look it up. “No way in hell.”

“And yet the flow chart worked.” He laughs from his lab, shutting off any excess equipment as to not overwork it. “It worked like a charm and she asked me to go to her place so ha.”

”You didn’t show her the chart, did you?”

“I did not.”

“Well, there you go.” Leo looks back at him from his seat on the couch. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.” He slides the door closed. “But I’m planning on being there at six fifty-five so that she knows I value her time.”

“Does the sun set that early?”

“Why do you even ask?” Raph turns a page in his once periodical periodical. “You know he looked it up.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Forgive me for also valuing preparedness.”

“Nobody likes a know it all.”

He grins smugly. “That’s where you’re wrong. See, I,” he gestured to himself, “have a date with a gorgeous girl tonight, one where she has already invited me into her home, and you,” he gestured to Raphael, “are reading a magazine from a company that went out of business two years ago alone.”

“Donnie, don’t be a jerk.” Leonardo looked back at the television. “Raphael brings up a valid point; you tend to act like you know everything, and the actual request wasn’t for a date.”

“How else can I interpret one on one time with her?”

“Well,” he counters, “how do you interpret one on one time with us?”

He blinks. “Wait, so you’re saying she’s… how do you put it?”

“Nah, I don’t think she’s friendzonin ‘im.” Mickey looks up from his drawing. “Think she’s sending signals she doesn’t mean to.” He sets his half-shaded piece aside. “Think about it; she said she’s been all stressed out, right? She died like two weeks ago.” He shrugs. “She’s probably just lonely and needs the company.”

“That’s… actually really insightful of you.”

He grins. “What can I say? I’m a modern McPherson.”

Raph snickers at that. “Donnie is more of a McPher—how old is that movie, anyway? A hundred?

“Hey!” He shoots a glare at his brother. “Respect the classics.”

“Not to interrupt your riveting intro to film class,” Donnie interjects, losing his shit, “but I really need to know what this is before I go, and it’s already fifteen ‘till.”

“Look, maybe she’s interested, maybe she’s not.” Leonardo’s eyes are back on the screen. “Just try to tread carefully and you’ll probably be fine.”

“Probably?”

“Again, Raph had a point.”

He groans, walking to the entrance and exit of their home. “You guys aren’t helping.”

“Not our job.”

Leo calls after him. “Be home before six!”

He turns the corner, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I am totally and thoroughly fucked.’

GoodFellas.

Of all the movies in the world, that is the movie you have decided to use to explain these concepts. This is the example piece that you are going to show to the vigilante. All you know is that you had started watching the Phantom Menace and had decided against explaining the concept of racial coding and this is the only other movie that you can think of right now. You have decided to commit, and you are already regretting it, but you decide to figure it out as you go.

You set the pizza on the coffee table, throwing a bag of popcorn in the microwave to pop. You do not expect Donatello to be late, so you decided to start now so that they could get started right away. You start walking to the window, stopping at the mouth of the hallway. You look yourself over one more time in the bathroom mirror despite yourself. You do not exactly know why you care so much; this was not a date, and you had not advertised it as one. Still, impressions are important, and the last thing you need is for him to not listen to you because of it. That is what you are telling yourself, anyhow.

You hear knocking against the glass. You check your phone for the time. ‘Five minutes early.’ You smile softly. ‘How responsible.’ You open it up, smiling at your guest. “Welcome, Donatello.” You take a step back. “Please, make yourself at home.”

He barely makes a sound as he steps off the windowsill, looking around your apartment, fully illuminated, for the first time.

After about thirty seconds of his investigation, you clear your throat. “Donnie?”

He snaps out of it. “Huh?”

You smile gently. “You wanna sit down? I bought pizza.”

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, sitting down and facing the television screen. “I like your place.”

“Thanks.” You sit down next to him, tucking your feet under you as you flip on the television. “How do you feel about gangster movies?”

“Gangster movies?”

“Yeah.” You list a couple on your fingers. “Scarface, Godfather, all that jazz.”

He shakes his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “How can you make gangster movies legally?”

“That is a long answer. The short version?” You lean forward, taking a slice from the box. “The police are kind to those who cooperate, and people think their stories are fascinating.”

“So they’re documentaries?” He mimics you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. You want something to drink?” You hear the microwave beep as you stand up.

“Water?”

You nod, walking over to pull the popcorn out of the microwave and grab your drinks. “I trust the walk wasn’t too bad?”

“Not at all.” The small talk is torture. “Getting to your window was a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t anything too bad.”

“That’s good.” You pour him a glass. “I’ll have to get something for that; maybe a planter or something, so you have a bigger ledge.”

“It’s alright.” He taps his fingers against his knee. “It’s wide enough to stand.”

“Still.” You place his cup on the counter, dumping the kernels into a large plastic bowl. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if one of you guys got hurt trying to come in through the window.” You grab a can of soda out of the refrigerator, sitting down and handing him the glass.

He smiles slightly. “You’re really sweet sometimes, you know that?”

You grin. “I try,” you hum, starting to pull up the movie. “I think you’re pretty cool too, Hamato.”

He chuckles. “You make me sound like I’m fifty.”

“Oh, totally.” You nod in agreement. “You’re an old soul.”

He blinks. “Old soul?”

“Mature, I mean.” You shrug. “I mean, handling the stuff you do with any degree of tact, to me, displays a great maturity you don’t see in most teenagers, myself included.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You get back up for napkins and plates. “Not at all.” You hand him one of each. “It’s an admirable quality, though not one I particularly envy.”

“You think?” His hands linger for a moment longer than typical as he took them.

“Yeah. You want me to turn down the lights for the movie while I’m up?”

His face goes red. “I-I mean,” he stutters, “if you want to.”

“Then I will; shows the image better when it’s dark.” You walk to the wall, flicking off the lights and sitting down next to him, setting your slice on your plate as you turn on the movie.

Your reactions to it are different.

He does not seem what you would call disturbed, but he gets grossly invested in the story extremely quickly. He is noticeably more interested in watching you watch the movie, but he studies the plot intently, noting the more domestic plotline between the lead and his wife in particular. His reaction to the violence is strange to you; he is not aloof, so to speak, but he does not flinch much until the fighting is between Henry and Karen.

You have seen this movie what feels like a thousand times. Whenever you think it applicable, you lean over and whisper to him about the directing, the script, the plot—it is supposed to be a lesson, after all. But you realize that your attention, every so often, shifts to the bed, to your pillow with the knife underneath it. The violence of the movie makes you edgier than you are used to.

About halfway through the movie, you move closer to the boy sitting beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listen for cues for comments. You don’t notice his reaction, but you do notice how his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You do not object; you were the one who initiated, after all.

“Here’s a psychology relationship thingy you can tell your family about.” You cringe at that poor little girl standing in the hallway. “’That’s all in your head’ is classic gaslighting. I dunno if that’s really your area or not.”

“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean.” He fiddles with the cloth of your jacket absentmindedly. “It’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around, people staying like that. I mean,” he clarifies, “I get why, but—”

You both tense up as a young man on screen is shot dead by Joe Pesci’s character.

You exhale. “Yeah, I get what you mean.” You shrug. “But folks get scared, ya know? In her case, she doesn’t want to break the family apart, and she’s really into him.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.” You look up at him. “What can I say? We fall into infatuation so fast with bad people who say what we want to hear.”

“Don’t you mean fall in love?”

You watch as Lorraine Bracco holds a gun to her husband’s face. “Nope. Love is entirely different.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at you.

“Apples and oranges.” You gesture to the television. “Love is supplementary, a beautifully imperfect connection between people.” Your voice becomes smoother, airier. “It’s a bond built on trust and respect. Infatuation is more of an addiction than anything.” You sigh as Liota meets to discuss his relationship with Sorvino. “At least I think so. That’s why love at first sight is a bunch of bullshit; you can’t have that kind of profound trust with someone you just met.” You shrug, looking back up at him. “Then again, what do I know? I’m an inexperienced, fifteen-year-old girl.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually.” He looks back down at you. “I get what familial love is, but whenever Master Splinter talks about his wife, he has a hard time putting what he means into words.”

You hear their guilty verdict. “Totally get that. Articulation is not easy to do.”

A few minutes go by.

“May I be frank?”

“Please.”

You watch as a man drags his wife out of a Christmas party. “This movie is exactly why I don’t ever want to learn how to do the stuff you do. It changes you, all that violence; desensitizes you.” You bring your knees to your chest. “Especially Raphael. I swear, that shift was as dramatic as his, at least at this point in the flick.”

He pauses. “Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

You close your eyes, breathing slowly. “I’m going to try my best,” you swear, “do everything in my power, to see to it that you guys don’t experience more than you have to.”

You mean it. He can tell.

You two are quiet for the rest of the movie. You explain why certain directing choices were made, connect the beginning with the end, talk about the theme, all while you two watched their fall from grace. When the movie ends, you realize how tangled up in him you are; your head on his chest, legs draped over his with his arms around your waist. You feel the icy air against you, as if his skin attracted it to you. You push the hair out of your face. “So,” you stretch, turning the light back on, “do you wanna see another movie, or do you have a curfew?”

He pauses. “I should honestly probably get home,” he sighs. “If I’m not home early they’ll start getting ideas.”

“Oh, yeah.” You nod, completely understanding the reasoning. “You can take the leftover pizza home if you want; the guys’ll probably eat it before I do.”

“Mikey’ll be on cloud nine.” He picks the box off the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You stand at the window, opening it for him.

He climbs onto the windowsill, looking down at you from his perch. “I had a good time.” His face flushed. “We should do this again.”

You nod in agreement. “Definitely.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’ll pick a lighter movie next time.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.” He gives you a thumbs up.

You steal yourself, cupping one side of his face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight, Donnie.” You smile. “See ya tomorrow.”

You are a bit concerned he’s going to fall off the windowsill. “Y-Yeah,” he grinned, words slurred. “See ya later, Y/N.” He waved, climbing up and out of your window.

You smile softly, sigh. You flop back on the bed, rolling over. You have not been this at ease since you died.

‘I really like that guy.’ You close your eyes. ‘I really, honestly do.’

You drift off to sleep, dreamless for the first time in too long.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 6 Part 1

Chapter 7

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cooliogirl101 · 4 years ago

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Hello! TLM is my favourite Bleach fic of ALL TIME and I wanted to say thank you so much for writing it!!! I’ve obsessively gone through the TLM tags and AUs and I’m still impressed and amazed by how awesome (and terrifying) Sayuri is. I love your writing style and how you really flesh out all of your OCs :D anyway, after going through all the tags I realized I still don’t know how Sayuri and Tousen’s first meeting went and why it makes Sayuri so terrifying?? If you don’t plan to write it (1/2)

(2/2) Can you still tell us how it goes? Also, what was the original direction you planned to take TLM? It seems Sayuri goes along with Aizen’s plans but what end did you have in mind before you abandoned it, and how were you going to get there? No pressure to answer but it’d be awesome to know :) Again thank you for sharing your awesome writing!! I love all your AUs

Thank you so much for sending me this message anon-- it really means a lot to me that even after all this time, people still remember and care about the characters I’ve created.

To be honest, I didn’t have a firm direction in mind when I started writing TLM. I just saw all these stories with positive character development, where the person in question becomes a better person throughout the course of the story, and thought to myself, hmm, what if I wrote an SIOC story where the MC just...heads in the opposite direction. An SIOC that starts off, all things considered, as a reasonably kind, decent, empathetic person and evolves into someone who commits atrocities without blinking an eye, all in the name of love, loyalty, and keeping her little brother safe (that being said, I did imagine a few scenarios where Sayuri ends up on the side of the ‘good guys’-- see my black king au).

Regarding her obtaining Tousen’s loyalty...well the story there doesn’t start with Sayuri and Tousen, per se. It actually starts with Tousen’s unnamed friend (who I’m going to call Yui).

Warnings: Psychological torture, suicide mention, manipulation

Yui, who saw Sayuri sitting by herself at lunch at the Academy (Sousuke was on a mission) and broke away from her group of friends just to keep her company. Yui, who loves drawing in a way Sayuri both misses and envies (for her, the act of drawing is forever tainted by the portraits of hundreds dead-- and no matter what people think of her, Sayuri has never delighted in death). Yui, who always keeps a bag of seeds on her to feed the crows that are a nuisance to everyone else. Yui, who seeks her out even after they both graduate and join different divisions. Yui, with her quiet kindness and soothing aura, like cool water on a feverish face.

Yui, who spoke passionately about creating a better world, who believed so fiercely in the inherent goodness of people. Yui, who was murdered by the man she loved.

Sayuri stares out the window, face as expressionless as always. Normally, the death of a high-ranking noble’s wife would have been news for weeks, if not months. The fact that Yui’s death has been hushed up, kept quiet to the point that only a select few outside the nobility even know about it, is as good as a confession.

She glances down at her newest portrait, lips tightening for the briefest second. Then she leaves to find her brother.

Tousen Kaname learns of his only friend’s death nearly a month after it happens. He makes it as far as the gates to Central 46 (demanding answers, justice, revenge) before he finds himself wrestled to the ground, arms wrenched behind him to the point of dislocation, face shoved into the dirt. He can’t breathe, can’t smell anything except dirt and dust and his own blood, but he struggles anyway, screams his rage and grief into the air, cries murderer! for all to hear.

“What are you doing? Stop,” a voice orders sharply, cold as frost. Kaname feels the guards around him freeze, even as the guard kneeling on his back shoves his face further into the dirt warningly.

“Aizen-sama,” one of the other guards says respectfully, almost reverently. “Don’t worry, we have the situation well under control. We were just about to escort the miscreant into a cell--”

“No need. I’ll take it from here,” the first voice says coolly. “Head back to your posts, you’re making a scene.”

“Aizen-sama, please, there’s no need to trouble yourself--”

“I’ll decide for myself what troubles me, thank you,” she says shortly. The next thing Kaname knows, a gentle hand is helping him up and he lurches forward, clinging to it.

“Please,” he says desperately. He doesn’t know who his savior is but judging by the respect-borderline-fear the guards had addressed her with, she had to be someone important. “Please, you have to-- my friend, she-- she’s dead, they killed her, and--please, you have to make them pay, you have to get justice for her, you hear me? She didn’t do anything, she was good and now she’s dead and-- and--”

“Calm down. Focus on me,” the voice-- Aizen-sama--orders, quiet but firm, as Kaname breaks off into a series of increasingly panicked breaths. He obeys, clinging to her voice and her hand like a lifeline, focusing on her aura-- like starlight, he can’t help but think. Cold and distant, but no less bright for it.

“Good,” Aizen-sama says quietly and Kaname feels his shoulders relax slightly. “Come with me. We’ll talk in private.”

It isn’t until Kaname finds himself sitting on an absurdly comfortable chair with a cup of tea in his hands, his wounds cleaned and bandaged, that his mysterious benefactor speaks up again.

“You’re Kaname, aren’t you?” She asks, causing him to stiffen. “Yui talked about you.”

Kaname swallows, gripping his cup tightly.

“You knew her?” He asks hoarsely.

“I did,” she replies. Her tone is unchanged from before, still as emotionless as ever, and yet--

Yui had once told Kaname that he was the most perceptive person she knew. He reaches out with his own spiritual energy-- feels the tiniest ripple in a sea of composure that speaks of a grief that mirrors his own-- and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter how much she might pretend otherwise, Aizen-sama had cared for Yui.

Which means that Kaname is no longer alone in his quest to find justice for his friend. He can’t deny the sheer, bone-crushing relief he feels at that.

“Then please. Don’t let them get away with this,” he begs. “She deserved-- deserves better. She deserves justice.”

There’s a long pause.

“A month,” Aizen-sama says finally. Kaname blinks.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“Give me a month,” she repeats. “Trust me, it won’t take longer than that.”

This is what the rest of the world sees:

A week after his wife’s death, Fukushima Akito stops going to the social events and parties he’s known for. Those who are close to him say he hasn’t been sleeping well, that he’s lost his appetite, that he’s been drinking more.

“It’s understandable. His wife just passed,” people say. “He’s just grieving.”

Two weeks in, the heir to the Fukushima Clan starts talking to himself, shouting at things that aren’t there, crying for his deceased wife to leave him alone. He refuses to see anyone, even his closest friends.

“He’ll come around. Give him time,” people say, a bit more worriedly this time.

Behind closed doors, the servants whisper as well.

“Gone mad with guilt, I imagine,” one murmurs.

“Serves him right,” another says. “Lady Yui deserved better.”

Eighteen days after Fukushima Yui’s death, he starts complaining about bruises appearing on his skin that no one else can see. Twenty-one days after, Akito shatters a mirror with his bare hands, continuing to pummel the shards until his father and three cousins pull him away. Twenty-five days after, his screams wake the entire household-- his servants come running only to find him clawing at his neck.

“It-- it won’t come off,” he gasps. “The noose. It won’t come off!”

At twenty-nine days, he breaks down and begs for Yui’s forgiveness.

Exactly thirty days after Lady Yui dies, his two best friends-- the heir of the Goto Clan and the heir of the Miyake Clan-- finally have enough and drag him out of the house.

“It’s not good for you, being cooped up in that house like that. No wonder you’ve been going crazy,” Miyake Kaede complains.

“Look, we’re taking you out to have a good time and there’s nothing you can do to convince us otherwise,” Goto Dai adds.

And at first, it seems to work. Once he leaves his house, it’s like a weight has been lifted off Fukushima Akito’s shoulders-- he begins to relax, he laughs for the first time in weeks. Then at 4 p.m., he pulls out his zanpakuto and slaughters both of his closest friends without warning.

At 4:13 p.m., Fukushima Akito takes his own life.

(“That was unusually brutal of you,” Sousuke comments, looking down at the carnage from a nearby rooftop. Sayuri was many things-- ruthless, efficient, merciless-- but rarely cruel.

“I suppose I was curious what it would take to destroy a person,” Sayuri says after a pause.

“And? Did you receive your answer?”

Sayuri hums.

“The thing is, Sousuke, if you want to hurt a man, you go after him. If you want to break him, you go after those he loves. But to shatter a man beyond repair...he has to tear down everything he loves himself,” she says slowly. “You saw Fukushima Akito’s face once he’d seen what he’d done, when the illusion fell away and he saw the bodies of his best friends in front of him-- there’s no coming back from that.”

“Did you predict that would happen? That he would end up killing himself?” Sousuke asks curiously.

“Does it matter?” Sayuri asks indifferently. “He was finished either way.”

Sousuke looks at her for a moment. There’s no joy on her face, no satisfaction or pride, simply the steadfast resoluteness of completing a job that wasn’t particularly enjoyable, but which had to be done.

“Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I think it was a good thing I ended up being the one with Kyouka Suigetsu as a zanpakuto, not you.”

He may have provided her the ability, but every single torment, every single nightmare Fukushima Akito suffered during the last month of his life? That had been all Sayuri.

Sayuri smiles wryly.

“No, instead I ended up with Shiroi Seiun. Is that better or worse?” She asks.)

One day later, Sayuri opens her front door to find Tousen Kaname standing outside her home. She’s mildly impressed, although not surprised, that he’s managed to track her down.

“How did you do it? He demands in lieu of a greeting.

Sayuri pauses for a moment, then steps aside to let him in.

“I won’t insult you by pretending I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. “Fukushima Akito is dead. Is that not what you wanted?”

Kaname swallows.

“You killed him,” he says, voice shaking. Sayuri doesn’t bother to deny it-- she may not have been the one to strike the final blow, but she walked Fukushima Akito to his grave. “I...I should report you.”

“Then do it,” she says calmly. “If you truly believe I did something wrong, turn me in. I certainly won’t stop you.”

Kaname hesitates, looking torn.

“You...you won’t?” He asks uncertainly.

Sayuri takes a step closer to him-- watches him stiffen, sees him fight with himself not to retreat-- and brings his hand up to her heart, where her spiritual energy pulses the brightest.

“You’re a sensor, aren’t you?” She murmurs, leaning in so that her lips are by his ear. “You tell me. Am I lying to you right now?”

Kaname’s brow furrows as he focuses. Her spiritual energy is as calm as ever, no fluctuations or dips that might hint at a lie.

“Why?” He asks after a moment. “You say you won’t stop me if I choose to report you. Why?”

Sayuri studies him for a moment, the way he broadcasts his every emotion on his face for the world to see-- the naked vulnerability of someone who’d never learned to hide his expressions.

“Yui spoke of you, you know,” she says quietly. “The blind boy with the gentle heart, who shared her dream of creating a peaceful world. She trusted your judgement but more than that, she trusted that you would always do the right thing. I believed in Yui’s goodness and so I’ll believe in yours.” She lets his arm drop. “If you truly believe that what I did was wrong, that I shed unnecessary blood-- that what I did was unjust-- then by all means, turn me in to Central 46. Make me accept punishment. But if not...”

Kaname turns his head away.

“Was it really necessary to target his friends too?” He whispers.

Sayuri exhales.

“There were three main factors protecting Fukushima Akito. There was his own family, of course. However, although the Fukushima Clan is fairly powerful on its own, its true strength lies in its allies,” she states. “The Miyake Clan has two seats on Central 46. The Goto Clan has four. With those alliances in place, Fukushima Akito was untouchable. Now, however...” She tilts her head to the side. “By tomorrow, the entire Fukushima Clan will cease to exist. The Miyake and Goto Clans will make sure of that.”

She pauses.

“As for Miyake Kaede and Goto Dai...they chose to protect Fukushima Akito knowing full well what he was, what he’d done. They were not innocent.”

Kaname’s jaw clenches.

“Still, you...you could have gone through the courts, you could have--”

“And I would have gotten exactly as far as you did,” Sayuri interrupts sharply. “Spiritual power and political power are not the same, Kaname. I may have plenty of the former but in this world, the justice a person receives is decided by the latter. Yui died for no reason and the courts let her killer get away with it because his family was powerful, and he knew the right people. Me? I made sure those involved were punished for what they’d done,” she says, voice hardening. “For the crime of killing his wife, Fukushima Akito paid with his life. For the crime of betraying Fukushima Yui, a member of their family, the Fukushima Clan will be destroyed by their former allies. And for the crime of shielding a murderer, the Miyake and Goto Clans lost their heirs. Now tell me, is that not justice?”

Kaname swallows. He has no response to that.

“One thing you’ll learn, Kaname, is that the system fails,” Sayuri says after a moment’s pause, the anger in her voice replaced by something softer, tired. A deep sadness that makes something in Kaname’s chest ache. “Things slip through the cracks and all too often, it’s the innocents, the Yui’s of this world that pay for it, while their abusers, aided by the courts, go free. And when that happens, you have a question to ask yourself-- whose side are you going to take?”

“And you say I’m the manipulative one,” Sousuke’s voice comes from behind her, amused. “What do you call that then?”

“I didn’t lie to him,” Sayuri protests.

“Never said you did.” He pauses. “That boy...he’s blind.”

“Yes, he is,” Sayuri agrees. “Observant of you to notice.”

Sousuke laughs quietly.

“Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?” He asks, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You think he’s worth the effort?”

Sayuri pauses.

“I think he has potential. Might even become captain, someday,” she says.

Sousuke’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, really? Care to bet on it?” He asks slyly.

The corner of Sayuri’s mouth quirks up.

“Sure, I’ll take that bet.”

(Ironically, she caused herself to lose that bet.

“Oh sure, when Kaname achieves bankai but doesn’t want to be captain, everyone’s understanding about it. Me on the other hand, I’ve never released my bankai in my life, and yet when I ask to stay a lieutenant, I get Kyouraku shoving a captain’s haori in my direction and telling me to be at the captain’s meeting in 10 minutes. How is that fair?”

“No one believes that you haven’t attained bankai yet, Sayuri.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s true that you’ve never released it, not that you haven’t attained it.”

“I would have thought you of all people would be on my side in this matter, Sousuke.”

“I prefer you as my equal, Sayuri, not my subordinate. I would have thought you, of all people, would know that by now.”)

#Anonymous #sorry this took so long #let me know what you guys think! man it's been a while since I've written anything for this #to love a monster #tlm

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canarypoint · 5 years ago

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You Don't Know What It's Like to Come Back if You Never Been Gone

The title is from Up by Thomas Rhett.

Warning: angst (even tho I’m so bad at it)

This is part one of a two-part series. The second (and final) part will not have angst.

•••

Walking into the compound after eight and a half weeks of torture - both physical and psychological - and returning to your ragtag family of superheroes is like being handed a gallon of water after walking across Egypt.

You notice that everyone is holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you. Steve and Sam - the ones who rescued you - walk a few feet ahead of you. Tony and Bruce look up from their spots at the kitchen island and nod to you with soft smiles. Bucky slowly approaches you and gently pats you on the shoulder with his metal hand, whispering, “Nice to have you back, Y/N/N.”

Walking past them, merely nodding your head and sending the men a soft smile, you head towards the housing section, greeting Wanda - your best friend - on the way there. She quickly pulls you into a much appreciated (and much needed) hug, telling you how much she’s missed you, how happy she is that you’re back, asking how you are, and a plethora of other questions that fly right over your head.

After another minute, she hugs you again and tells you she’s here for whatever you need. You thank her before heading to who you really want to see, Natasha.

You find your girlfriend of fifteen months in your shared room, sitting on the bed with a file in her hands. You lean on the door frame as you note how tense she is and how her eyes aren’t actually focused on the papers in her hands. She’s scared. It’s a word you’d never in a million years associate with the former-assassin, unless, of course, she was the reason someone was frightened.

Then it hits you, you’re the reason she’s scared. You’re the cause of this anxious lack of focus; you’re the root of this dilemma. Why? That’s easy. Because she cares about you. She told you going into the relationship that she’s not good at displaying her affection.

“It’s alright, neither am I,” you had responded, “But you know what? We’ll learn together. Because I care about you and you care about me. So, it might be hard, we might hit some obstacles, but it’ll be worth it. Because we’re worth it; because you’re worth it.”

It was the first time you had seen her cry.

When the two of you had your first official couple’s argument, you ran. Nat had lied to you about a mission. She told you it was a quick in-and-out, just a basic reconnaissance mission, that it was no big deal.

Except it was. There was no actual evacuation plan, it was a suicide mission, and Natasha knew all along, but didn’t tell you. She said they had planned it, so her death would look like an accident, a technical error in the Quinjet’s hardware or an enemy managed to get the upper hand. So, when you found out the truth, you ran to Wanda, who told you to listen to the spy’s reasoning, and you did.

Natasha had brought up your first declaration - not of love, but of commitment. Those three little words, you’re worth it, had you running back into the safety her arms, and you never regretted and yet cherished arguing with her more than in that moment, because at that moment, you knew everything was right in the world as long as she called you hers and you called her yours.

“Hey, Nat…” you whisper, grimacing as you hear the sound of your voice, hoarse from the lack of use.

You watch as the redhead blinks out of her daze, turning to look at you with red-rimmed eyes. The hopeful look in her eyes etches a stabbing pain of regret into your heart. You caused this pain, you tell yourself.

“Y/N,” she murmurs, pulling you out of your thoughts. You give her a sad smile as she walks closer. You’re two inches taller than her - something you both tease each other about all the time - and yet you still manage to flawlessly rest your head into the crook of her neck without any discomfort or awkwardness. You can feel the knife dragging itself down through your chest.

After a few moments of serene peace, you pull away, a frown tugging the features of your tired and sore face.

“Nat, I-” you stop, trying to ignore the lump forming in your still-raw throat, “You’re crying… and I’m- I’m the reason you’re crying and I- I can’t be… but I have to be… because I can’t do this anymore, it isn’t worth the emotional stress I keep putting you in… I run the second things get shaky, I’m reckless and- and stupid, and I got myself abducted by HYDRA. And you�� you don’t deserve that… you don’t deserve reckless and stupid. I’m sorry I-”

“Y/N-”

“No! Please, don’t rebut it. I- I don’t- I can’t…”

“Y/N, please-”

“Natasha! Damn it, please just let me break up with you!” your eyes widen as they meet Natasha’s doe-in-headlights look.

“You’re breaking up with me?” you hate how vulnerable and soft she sounds. The delicate whisper, the careful phrasing, the hesitant tone, it’s excruciating. “Y/N, please, we can talk about this! What happened to us being-”

“Don’t you dare say it, Romanoff,” you threaten. There’s a harsh finality to your tone, one that you know will haunt the both of you for a very long time.

You walk away with a single thought on your mind, maybe it’s not worth it.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x avenger!reader #black widow x avenger!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #i'm sorry i wrote this

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brattydoctorcrane · 5 years ago

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Light Yagami is a Fucking Moron: An Analysis of Light Yagami’s Actions and Their Consequences According to Current Psychological Research

Let me begin by saying that this is going to be long, and I’m going to be writing this more in the style of a lecture as opposed to a straight through scientific paper. I enjoy humor and don’t want to completely bore you with heavy talk, so I will have moments that are biased, sarcastic, and intended for entertainment. The research itself, however, does not have my same biases and will be condemning Light for not actually researching what the hell he was doing, at least in the United States. On top of all of this, please feel free to message me if you want one of the articles/books, and I will do my best to get you a copy! With that being said, let’s jump on in.

DISCLAIMER: This is all based on the United States. I’m not here to argue, I just like talking about psych and law and DN. This is purely for fun and it’s meant to be a little silly. I am not writing this to be a scientific paper by any means. If you’d like me to expand on anything, feel free to ask me! Thank you!

Light is hailed all through out Death Note as being this extremely intelligent, well thought out person. We’re told he is smart, cool, and charming, but what if I were to say he’s actually not these things? Well, maybe he’s charming, but that’s for another discussion. When he picks up the notebook, he seems somewhat altruistic in saying he will kill criminals to deter other criminals to make the world safer. Except there’s a problem. A big one.

The death penalty… Doesn’t conclusively deter crime (Nagin et. al, 2012).

Currently, within the psychological community, there is large debate as to the effectiveness of the death penalty and whether it is therefore even useful. Some studies say yes, some say no, and some say that they have no idea. Nagin et. al breaks down the issues and problems inherent in many of the studies and why we can’t conclusively say anything. Not only is it extremely difficult to extract out variables (do noncapital punishments deter crime? What about home factors? Social supports?), but many studies only look at specific geographic areas (Nagin et. al, 2012). This is based on the research of approximately the last thirty years! Thirty! And yet, we can’t say one way or the other whether it actually affects the amount of crime committed.

So, 0 for Light, 1 for research.

But at least he’s killing criminals, right? Er. Sure. I suppose, as a whole, he kills many more criminals. Unfortunately, though, I would say he’s probably killing many more innocents than he cares to believe. The conservative estimate from the Innocence Project is that it’s 1% of the US Prison Population. Now, I think it’s fair to use the US here, since given how involved the US is in Death Note, and our high as hell incarceration rate, Light likely kills many US criminals. Within the US, however, 1% of our prison population means 20,000 people, and this is the conservative estimate (Innocence Project, 2011)! Fucking conservative! This means Light likely killed many more innocents than he truly believed, especially considering how he didn’t, y’know, have the circumstances surrounding arrests, confessions, etc. He would have no way of determining for himself if he truly believed someone deserved punishment or not, and I just don’t see that as moral or altruistic myself.

To dive a little further in on this point and why I harp on it, it’s very important to consider evidence. I’ll talk about confessions in a minute, when I also talk about Misa (you can see where that one’s going), but let’s hone in on evidence. For specifically sexual assault charges, which we know Light abhors, DNA exoneration makes up 63% of all their exonerations (Gross et. al, 2012). Hell, DNA makes up 37% of all exonerations, and we cannot ignore that half of all exonerees are black (Gross et. al, 2012). Eyewitnesses are also nowhere near as reliable as we like to believe, and can be influenced in several ways (Loftus, 2019). (Please note the Loftus paper is a summation of findings from many studies of hers and others. I highly recommend reading her research as it’s so important to the law.) Light has no way of knowing why and how the criminal was convicted. At all. So, he just doesn’t bother. The type of evidence and amount of evidence is so important to a crime, as well as the criminal’s race, since there have been and will continue to be cases that are decided based on shoestring amounts of it.

Light, my man. You’re 0 for 2.

After this declaration of altruism, he then tries to evade capture. Which, I don’t know about y’all, but that doesn’t exactly scream altruism (though by this point he also wants to be GOD so, grain of salt I suppose). However, what Light doesn’t realize as he does supremely convoluted things to avoid other supremely convoluted things is that… Dude. They wouldn’t fucking. Accept any of the evidence they would supposedly have against you. Illegally obtained video of the house is just that. ILLEGAL. It’d be inadmissible in court (at least, of course, in the United States). If L can show me his fucking warrant, then we’ll talk, but otherwise that’s inadmissible evidence. As well as Misa’s potential confession.

Oh, Misa. You have such scary tendencies towards stalking behaviors. But at least your confession would’ve been entirely inadmissible.

Let’s talk about torture and coerced confessions!

First let me define a coerced confession for everyone, just to be on the same page (though y’all probably know what it is). A coerced confession is a confession that was made against one’s free will or involuntarily. To be honest, I Googled the definition, because I needed something short and succinct. This means that a coerced confession isn’t always through obvious brute force, and in fact means so long as it wasn’t voluntary in any way, shape, or form, the confession is useless. The legal definition of torture (again, also Googled for something succinct) is “any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person information or a confession.” Thank you, Association for the Prevention of Torture. For obvious reasons, both torture and coerced confessions are very much illegal.

Whew, lets break up this huge paragraph. Torture, on top of being illegal, also doesn’t yield accurate information from the person being tortured (Costanzo et. al, 2009). “The goal was to appease the torturer, not to reveal the truth,” Costanzo et. al writes (2009). Sure, some truthful information is revealed, but as a whole it is ineffective. I think it’s safe to say Misa was tortured (that straight jacket and not giving her water for several days gave it away), so immediately I would question the accuracy of anything she says. Especially as she offers to do whatever Mr. Stalker wants if she can just leave.

Her confession, had she confessed, would’ve been very blatantly coerced, too. Interestingly enough, L is actually using a less effective method of interrogation than he could be. L appears to use what is called an accusatorial method of interrogation. Accusatorial methods are based on control, psychological manipulation, and the primary goal is confession (Meissner et. al, 2014). Sound familiar? What he should have been using is an information-gathering method. Information-gathering methods are based on establishing rapport, using direct and positive confrontation, and the primary goal is elicitation (Meissner et. al, 2014). The information-gathering method is shown to be nearly as good at eliciting a confession, but it does not elicit as many false confessions as the accusatorial method (Meissner et. al, 2014).

So, Misa here is being tortured, and then even if you say she wasn’t, then she’s clearly being coerced. If you somehow still say she wasn’t coerced, then L’s use of the accusatorial method still makes me say double check her confession. So really, that confession is fucked. Light didn’t have to go through the entire thing of confinement, when his ass was in the clear all along.

Light is now 0 for 3, and L is 0 for 1.

Considering I’ve already got Light at 0 for 3, I’m going to lay off him a little. He makes so many of these same mistakes over, and over, and over again throughout the entire manga, even pulling more people into it (hi, Takada and Mikami, who would’ve also been coerced confessions). I’ll go more into detail about the second half later, but for now I’ll pause, and ask what should Light have done instead? What should he have done that would’ve been more effective? What about L and Misa?

The answer is, of course, not whatever the fuck he did do.

I suppose I should start with a caveat. The DN Universe may be fundamentally different than our own outside of shinigamis and such. Perhaps these are admissible confessions in the DN world, maybe killing people did deter crime (as is stated at one point, actually), and maybe L’s interrogation methods aren’t highly questionable. Who knows. This is a fictional world after all.

But if we assume the DN Universe is like our own and isn’t a hellscape, then I would’ve recommended a few things. Personally, I think Light should’ve focused more on supports for criminals instead. Unfortunately, a large part of the research is focused more on if something deters crime rather than how, especially given the issues in trying to even determine what variables are at play. But it feels personally more humanitarian to offer supports, and I feel as if that would be of more help than a death penalty that views itself above the law.

Secondly, Light needed to at the very goddamn least have seen the evidence himself. He prides himself so much on being so smart an yet… He’s so dumb, y’all. He relied on others’ judgements when he should’ve only relied on his own. This way, he stays on top of who in the fuck he’s actually killing, why he’s actually killing them, and if they were innocent (in his view) or not. It’s just almost common sense.

Finally, Light should’ve just let it play out. Seriously. He needed to just sit on his ass and watch as L made himself out to be unfit and coercive. Because L is not fit for his job and needs to be removed from it. Torture is disallowed by even the fucking Geneva Conventions, L. The argument would be that Light wanted to maintain his status with the others though, too, but I think that L being declared unfit would’ve solved that. You can’t trust a single fucking thing coming out of L’s mouth, period. Especially not when he’s so aggressive and horrific to his suspects.

And so, with the evidence stacked before us I have to say… Light Yagami is a moron. He should’ve done some research (I know I cite things that would’ve been post Kira, but these debates have been going on for years, y’all) before he did his Kira thing.

Below I’m putting my references for the articles/books, but not in APA format and in the order they appear. That would take a bit of time, and I’m doing this for free and on my own time. If you want more information on them, you can message me. Thanks!

Daniel S. Nagin and John V. Peppers, Deterrence and the Death Penalty. 2012. They’re actually the editors, just an FYI, and this book is available online!

Innocence Project (link) in 2011!

Samuel R. Gross and Michael Shaffer, Exonerations in the United States. 2012. This one is also available online at the Social Science Research Network!

Elizabeth Loftus, Eyewitness Testimony. 2019. (link)

Christian A. Meissner and many others, Accusatorial and information-gathering interrogation methods and their effects on true and false confessions: a meta-analytic review. 2014.

Mark A. Costanzo and Ellen Gerrity, The Effects and Effectiveness of Using Torture as an Interrogation Device: Using Research to Inform the Policy Debate. 2009.

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #meta #my writing

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be-ca-lm · 4 years ago

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pls ignore just gotta get thoughts out of my brain

tw rape and sexual assault ok so i think it started very young when i couldn’t understand why the hell boys and men seemed more important to god and that god was always presented male - i was very young, like elementary aged when i reasoned: he made us in his own image, in order to create female he has to BE equally female, he has to have female image. i was told no no that is wrong and bad and heresy.

then i ALWAYS chafed at the idea of women being helpmeets to men, created as servants to them, their sole reason for existing being in service to better, stronger, smarter males (who cause all the problems like wtf) and that doesn’t seem right or just. the garden was perfect the world god created was perfect so why create anything as lesser than? do you hate women? but men came first - then woman to help, woman as decoration, as slave, as child bearer, as comforter, as mother, as scapegoat. woman as weaker. she fell for temptation in the garden, where was adam? See? Women are stupid, need protecting, incapable of rational thought, logic, reason. look how gullible. look how dangerous to be left unsupervised. all of humanity condemned to fiery torment because of woman. no responsibility of man. hate woman, blame woman, hurt woman, you have every justification to do so. she is trapped, hobbled, shackled, tied to you for her protection, existence, safety. she is prize, she is bounty, she is spoils of war. daughters are property. a woman who does not produce children is worthless, sons are currency for power, social capital, strength. daughters serve you. woman is there as punching bag, as masturbatory relief, as house slave, as decoration, worthless but worth stealing, dirty but rapeable, stupid but cunning, pure but deceptive, ruined but redeemable through birthing. a portal, a tool, woman as commodity, woman as vehicle of corruption and vehicle of salvation, simultaneously and never, all at once and at the same time, wretched and woman. not equal to, but a compliment. a complement. you are no equal to god’s masterpiece, the man. do not kid yourself.

god’s grand plan! look at his design. how perfect. how freeing. how it was meant to be. he created woman who would ruin it, but he is not to blame, it is his creation’s fault, but not the man who he likes better, no not his fault. she is saved through childbirth? she is worthy as ALWAYS depending on her proximity to a MAN to a husband father brother rapist captor buyer slaver son stoner judge jury executioner savior.

so why? why condemn me to this torturous existence, why give me the capacity to KNOW that I am intended to be Less Than, that I am the Weaker Vessel, that I am Not A Man but give me no comfort in that, no recourse, no ability to appeal this existence. Make me a man! I could do so much more for you! I could do your pillaging and raping, I could do your genocide, I could carry out your orders, sacrifice my children, I could spread your Gospel and praise your name, I could earn my place in your heaven by your side because you commanded that I Love You, I could invade your earth, slaughter your animals, impregnate your weaker washy women and fulfill your great commission, i could be the mulitiplier, the glorifier, the pastor preacher whitewasher brainwasher tombfiller father soldier conqueror profiteer leader ruler dictator sin hater. PICK ME CHOOSE ME all I wanted was to be LOVED by you to be told WELL DONE MY GOOD AND FAITHFUL SERVANT am i not enough for you and since i so clearly am not, why did you create me this way.

find peace in your role. you have purpose. then why does that not feel natural as young as five years old? at 10? at 14? at 18? at 27? at 33? jesus knows your sorrows he knows you- JESUS CANNOT RELATE TO ME. he was born a man. he was not asked to make himself small. he submitted to dying. no one asked me if i wanted to volunteer. could i come back a man? I do not want to be a man. I want to be a woman in an existence where that is not automatically a Bad Thing, automatically a disadvantage. I am born guilty of the fall of humanity on my shoulders and told my shoulders can never be strong enough to carry that weight. a man will save me. be submissive. men are leaders, you are not naturally a leader.

men are logical. they can compartmentalize. women are emotional. they cannot compartmentalize, they are ruled by their emotions. men are waffles. women are spaghetti. men are from mars. women are from venus. pop psychology will explain why men are Better. they are better at math, geometry, women cannot visualize things in their brains like that. women are not good engineers. women are soft and kind and nurturing. THIS IS WHAT WAS TOLD TO MY FACE AS A CHILD. i nodded. ok this must be so, i do not see it, it is not true for me, it is not true of any of the women i know, but my dad is saying this IT MUST BE TRUE. how does he know how my brain is wired?

an escape. i learned about biblical singleness. i do not have to marry, i do not have to trade one household bondage for another, one male protector for a new one. i have an option? I can be single, nay, a single MISSIONARY. i can escape america, the bible belt, i can really and truly help people. i can share my burdens with them so i do not have to carry them alone. it will please god. it will make up for my being born a useless woman. if i do not marry, i do not have to submit to a man. i can be free. i can find some type of comfort in this lifetime.

somewhere along the way, i put aside my ever-growing frustrations toward the treatment of women and the hypocrisy. husbands lead the wife, they are the Head of the Household. I never saw that enacted. Pastor’s wives planned events, spoke at bible studies, sat on committees - it was limited to women only events, yes, but they led? they spoke? they taught and preached and sang and witnessed? the cognitive dissonance was too much. they budgeted, they shopped, they wore clothes i wasn’t allowed to, they were showy. but not allowed to speak in church, not allowed to preach, to pastor, to shepherd. they could mentor. Oh! Perfect. call it a different name and then you can do it. You’re not a pastor, a mentor. Not a preacher, a Bible teacher. The pastor husbands walked around domineering their families and making all the decisions? No - their families would have imploded. They preached submission but in function they were a team. everyone’s parents were. so i guess we can get away with it, and that makes it ok. label it differently and suddenly the bible has nothing to say on that particular matter. they are playing theological gymnastics, but if they can, i can too. i can sleep at night now, i do not have to be angry at god. i can ignore it.

A thought. I believe it grew in the garden of my own mind, but it’s possible a wayward seed blew in from elsewhere but I don’t remember. I was all-in, I silenced my doubts, I screwed my courage to the sticking place, I said yes I believe this, yes I am a dirty sinner, yes I do not deserve grace or mercy or forgiveness, yes I believe that god can give me that anyway in return for my life, my love, my thoughts, my actions, my deeds, my affiliations, my comfort, my pride, my complete and total surrender of my Self, my personality, my person, my autonomy, my desires, my entire existence. I was fervent. I learned the most, I delved in deep, it was theology, soteriology, epistemology, apologetics, baptisms and trinities and divine mysteries. i knew nothing of secular science, i learned nothing of sex. I knew dead men - Calvin, Luther, Arminius, Aquinas, Origen, Augustine, Spurgeon, Bonhoeffer, Wycliff, Niemoller, Lewis, Piper, Paul, James, I knew creeds, doctrines, catechisms, doxology, councils, heresies.

And I thought. I am all in. I accept all this. I evoke the proper response in myself when I learn these things. If I were born in any other time, any other place, into any other religion - I would accept those things just as eagerly and honestly. Would I not? How could I not? I earned the praise of adults, the admiration of youth group peers, I could exercise my intellect in a way not too offensive for a female to do, because it was always good to learn the bible, right? I was special, smart, serious. A student of the bible, i committed HUNDREDS of verses to memory, i competed in competitions that tested my knowledge of scripture against my peers, I was dominant. It nagged at me. I would have been the best anything, the best Muslim, the best Mormon, the best Hindu, the best Orthodox Jew (especially Orthodox Jew - there are so many RULES and ways to do it BETTER), I was completely lost in the swirl of religiosity that was my life. I did Christian ballet, Christian theater, watched Christian entertainment, listened to Christian music, went to Christian summer camp, had Christian friends, was in a Christian home school group, read Christian books, did Christian mission trips, and eventually chose to go to a Christian college. Not to brag, to sound so insanely arrogant - any religion would be happy to have me. I would give your cult a great name. I’ve got the resume and CV to join any believing army, just give me my marching orders. I swallowed my Self in the belly of the whale of god. My whole life and personality were these things and activities.

then - purity culture hit. and it brought back all the female trauma. the trauma of existing as a woman who THINKS in the subculture of christianity insanity.

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razorblade180 · 6 years ago

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Lasting Embers pt21: Wariness of battle

[Menagerie]

*Blake still on the phone with Yang. Sun and Ilia are in the room.*

Sun:So, what’s the situation?

Yang:Nora got attacked in the Emerald Forest by what looked like to be at least fifteen cult members. They new when to get her, what time to take out Mercury and Emerald, and also knew about Tenzen despite them being out of the fight for so long.

Ilia:Are Mercury and Emerald okay? Those two aren’t the kind to just simply go down easily.

Yang:They were ambushed and said before they could really do anything they were overwhelmed by grimm. If it wasn’t for Tenzen then this story would have a pretty horrific story. He’s the only reason we even know about the attack; the only reason we made it in time.

Blake:Where is everyone now?

Yang:We’re all at my dad’s house recuperating. Emerald wounds were bad but not life threatening while Mercury is currently bedridden. He got pretty roughed up but he’ll pull through. Nora is up and active thanks to Jaune. Tenzen however, he’s unconscious. Things got dicey for him at the very end. I’m told he’ll be fine. Everyone should pull through.

Sun:Blake, this seems to be way too coordinated to be the acts of a dying cult. Whitley, Jacquelyn, now Nora. I hate to say it but-

Blake:We missed something huge; something detrimental.

Yang:I hate to ask but it would be really nice to have you here. Ruby’s is on edge about this and frankly so am I. Weiss already said she’ll head out as quick as possible.

Blake:As much as I would love to hop on a airship right now I can’t. The festival here is in honor of my return and I have to attend; honestly everyone knowing I’m back is gonna make everything from here on out difficult for me. I’ll show up first chance I get when it’s all over though. I’m technically not in power again yet.

Sun:That role is still on me miraculously. *making a call*

Ilia:Who are you calling?

Sun:All these attacks on families yet I’ve heard nothing from Neo in Argus. It has me concerned.

Yang:Don’t you mean “text?” Last time I checked she wasn’t really chatty.

Ilia:Oh she’s pretty chatty these days. Adam’s eye wasn’t the only thing the creation relic was used for. Neo can talk and next chance you get you should tell Mercury to roll up his pants. Seemed like a fair trade for working in our organization.

Yang:I can see why you were a team leader; you’ve been busy.

Sun:Just making the most of crappy situations.

*a hologram pops up with Neo standing there waving. There’s blood on her clothes*

Neo:Sup boss, I was just about to report in actually. The Arc family was attacked yesterday.

Ilia:WHAT!?

Blake:This just keeps getting worse...

Neo:Relax, everyone is fine. Adrian had a construction job and thought one of the buildings listed seemed a bit off. He notified me about it and sure enough 45 members using it as a place to hide until they captured everyone.

Sun:Why am I hearing about this only now!?

Neo:I’ve been busy being your top operative that’s why!

Ilia:You’re ranked number three; only behind myself and Adam because you’re a bit.....of a wild card.

Neo:Regardless, I’m arguably the best around; especially with assignments like these. My report is late because I moved the entire family to a safe place on the Atlas base then made an identical copy of their house for the cult to raid with my semblances. Shit like that takes time that can’t be wasted.

Yang:*shocked* 45 members? That’s extremely excessive and more than a few stragglers.

Neo:They were all basically fodder. The only reason for their numbers so high has to because either they wanted the family captured in one fell swoop, or they thought that would be enough to stop me. I guess they might’ve feared the military being close by too.

Sun:Where are the members now?

Neo:They walked into the decoy house only for it to be an abandoned building with me inside. All of them fought their hardest but ended up the same; tortured for information and killed. Now they’re buried deep under rubble because it “just so happened” that building was set for demolition and destroyed by Adrian. Simple as that.

Blake:You tortured and killed 45 people....

Neo:infiltration and information gathering is why I’m ranked so high. Not to mention I did it all alone. I’m a wild card for sure. I’m sort of a badass.

Sun:Focus Neo, what did you learn?

Neo:Nothing important; like I said they were fodder. Given orders by some boss they don’t even know the name of. I thought they were bluffing but annoyingly they were all just pawns. Not even an actual member here looked like they could lead for a second or even the grimm using type. Now someone like that might know something of use.

Ilia:What are chances any of your assailants are still alive Yang?

Yang:Surprisingly, exactly one. He lead the attack and Jaune wanted answers to. He isn’t saying anything though; he’s been trained real well or still in too much pain from his broken legs.

Neo:I bet I could get him to sing like a bird if I had a moment with him.

Yang:More than welcome to try. Frankly I’m tired of looking at the guy and I don’t have the stomach to do what you do.

Neo:Well you might have to because unless you ship him over here I can’t leave. The Arc family is safe for now but I don’t them alone.

Ilia:They won’t be, I’ll take your spot and you can go to Atlas to catch a ride with Weiss to Vale.

Sun:Are you really okay with that? You just got back.

Ilia:Eh, this is very important. Besides, festivals were never really my scene anyways. *smiles*

Blake:I guess it’s settled then. Let’s keep everything about this between us for now. That includes Adam; I don’t want him involved in this if I could help it.

Ilia:You’re the boss. Well, former boss. *leaves* I’ll pack my things and head out.

Neo:I’m gonna go clean up. Blood takes forever to get out. *hangs up*

Sun:Sigh, this sure kills the festive mood a bit. I’m gonna triple check all set ups and just make sure everything stays peaceful for tonight. *kisses Blake and leaves*

Yang:You want to keep Adam out the loop?

Blake:You can call me soft or sentimental but I don’t want him wondering around the world more than he needs to. His family really missed him.

Yang:I know how that goes. This whole thing is gonna blow over right....?

Blake:We can only be so lucky. Be safe alright?

Yang:You too Blake, I’ll call back later. *hangs up and starts walking through her childhood home*

Despite the countless years, things remain the same. From the scuffs on the wooden floor to the photos on the wall leading to her old room.

Yang:*slowly opens the door to peak in on Tenzen.*......

Tenzen:*laying in her old bed asleep. A purple bruise across his nose and on his left cheek. Bandages across his bare chest and slightly bruised ribs*

Yujin:*sitting by his bed on the floor. Placing the bracelet he gave her back into his hand and holding it tightly* I think you need jade dragon luck more than I do right now....

Yang:Sigh.....

Jaune:*behind Yang* She’s not gonna leave his side until he wakes up you know? Hopefully it won’t take too long.

Yang:Can’t you help speed up the process a little? I mean the kid still has some pretty bad bruises.

Jaune:Tenzen’s semblance and mine don’t really compliment each other. I’ve done all I’ve can for now; natural rest is the best thing for him now.

Yang:How’s our special guest?

Jaune:See for yourself *gestures outside*

*Jericho tied against a tree as he’s propped up on the ground as the remaining friends and family of Yang rest outside*

Nora:*watching him like a hawk*......

Jericho:You know is this really necessary? *looks at his crippled legs* I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. You worried I might almost kill you again.

Ren:Talk to her again and I’ll snap your neck.

Jericho:That would make you really bad at interrogation. I guess your mind has gotten weaker with your body.

*Before Ren gets the chance to walk over to him he’s stopped by Nora. Quelling his anger and preventing him from doing anything he’ll regret*

Jericho:Honestly both of you are a little disappointing. I thought huntsmen where supposed be honored by civilization and feared by villains. I don’t feel very afraid of-*cresent rose wraps around the tree as the blade presses against his neck*

Ruby:If you’re gonna talk then it better be about something valuable. Otherwise I’d recommend you keep quiet.

Jericho:So the Red Reaper finally speaks. I’ll admit that you are the only one that’s worth being afraid of around here. After all, you’re the only one here with nothing to lose. *smirks*

Ruby:*adds more pressure, cutting his neck slightly*

Jericho:Ooo did I strike a nerve?

Tai:Don’t let him get to you Ruby.

*Jaune and Yang finally come walking out the house. Jaune’s sword drawn and ready to strike*

Jericho:Someone looks a little-AH!!

Jaune:*stabbing his leg* I can understand a lot of things like attacking people who are actively going after you. But please explain why the hell I was just told my family was almost murdered?*digs the blade in*

Jericho:*grits teeth* Hehehe so I guess that means they screwed up the job. How *spits blood* unfortunate.

Jaune:Honestly what the hell is wrong with you bastards!? Why rope kids into this? Why go after distant relatives and people who don’t know anything about how the world really works.

Jericho:Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Can you truly not grasp the simple concept of our warfare? I know one of you probably gets it as clear as day. *looks at Raven*

Raven:....Sigh, it’s psychological and emotional torture. However, I’ve never known anybody to commit to that kind of tactic for over a decade.

Jericho:True but what choice do we have? You’re all too damn strong for your own good. No well we could move the way we want to when you people are at your best. So we use fear.

Ruby:*stares him down* No one here is afraid of scum like you.

Jericho:Mmmm such hate in those eyes. We aren’t trying to make you afraid of us my darling, you’re fear lies in living another day knowing things will never be the same.

Everyone:......

Jericho:Does it haunt you often? Knowing tomorrow is another day without the intimate love you once had? The mentor’s warm embrace you grew up with ripped away from you? Are you even sure how they died?

Ruby:*eyes slightly soften as she takes a step back* What are you going on about.

Jericho:It’s a simple question I know you’ve had to talk about. I bet you like to think it was as painless as possible but that’s impossible to know. The screams of your late husband as he burned alive, or maybe it was quiet gasps as he crushed by the debris of your burning home.

Ruby:Shut up.....

Jericho:Did your Uncle put up a valiant fight and almost won? Not likely, he probably screamed as the grimm ripped him apart and dragged him into his flames! Both of them wishing you were there to save them. I bet silver eyes would’ve saved them!!!

Ruby:I SAID SHUT UP!!! *she drops to her knees crying and covering her ears*

Yang and Tai:Ruby!!! *rushes to her side*

Jericho:Oh she looked so dangerous just a few minutes ago and now look at her; far from her best.

Jaune:.....

Jericho:Loved ones, children, family, and friends. It doesn’t matter how strong you are when you have these ripped from you. Knowing that you’ll never see their face again eats away at a persons mind. Awake, asleep, everyday life, or on the battlefield of war. Even just a close call messes with people’s head. *looks at Ren* ever wonder how much your wife might blame herself for your condition? Seeing you in pain everyday thinking how she should’ve been better.

Nora:*stares at the ground clenching her fist* Someone shut him up already please.....?

Jaune:*walking over to him*

Jericho:Have a said too much? Hehehe I didn’t even get started on how this involves all of your kids.

*Everyone freezes in place for a moment*

Jericho:You do everything for them, including leave them. Believeing it’s the best option to stop people like me. Praying you don’t come back home to find them dead and not even by us. Ten years is a long time, any natural disaster could’ve happened. A simple car or mugger is all it takes and next thing you know is the person you fought ten years for died seven years ago. These plans all of you make are simply the works of people clinging on to what little hope they have. Stop us all you want; when the fighting is over you gotta live with what you lost until you die and-

Yang:*picks him up and slams him against a tree. Her eyes a deep blood red* You can stop spouting all of your crap now. You’ll have plenty of time to talk later when our friend gets the information we want out of you. Then all of us can finally move on from this nightmare!

Jericho:Are you *cough* sure you want to know how many of us are left? It could be 50 or it could be 500. Do you think you can take another indefinite journey; I wonder how your daughter would feel about her mom leaving again?

Yang:.....*drops him*

Jericho:HAHAHAHA! Oooo boy! If she doesn’t hate you now then she’s definitely going to after that! So much for coming home to loved ones; if you both live long enough to see each other that is!!! HAHAHAHA- *knocked out by a punch from Jaune*

Jaune:The moment he wakes up....knock him out again. I don’t wanna hear his voice for the rest of my life. *looks around at everyone*

Ren holds a crying Nora in his arms to comfort. Both of them obviously shaken by the man’s words. Raven proceeds to hug her daughter who’s eyes still haven’t calm down her body heaving out rage and fear of the future. Then there’s Ruby, wailing and trembling on the ground until she can barely breath. Tai holds back his tears as he holds his youngest daughter close to him. The sun is finally going down but nobody seems to care. It helps hide the pain on their face. So Jaune doesn’t say anything; he just walks back upstairs to Yujin.

Jaune:*peeks through the door*.....

Yujin:*Fast asleep and still clinging to Tenzen’s hand*Zzzzzz

Jaune:*picks her up and places her in bed* sleep tight*

Yujin:*barely awake* Dad? Hey, how is everyone doing?

Jaune:They’re....they are doing just fine. Gets some rest okay? *kisses her forehead*

Yujin:Alright dad; feel bad though. Not like I’ve been doing much. *yawns* at least.....it’s almost over....*passes out*

Jaune:........*tears well up as he leaves the room* Damnit *sniff* stay strong Jaune. You have to be the strong one right now. You have to keep things-*looks at his wedding ring*.......

*he slides down the wall and just sits on the floor*

Jaune:For crying out loud *tears finally start running down his face* she’s gonna leave again isn’t she?

#rwby #sun wukong #lie ren #nora valkryie #renora #ilia amitola #rwby neo #neo politan #jaune arc #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #taiyang xiao long #raven branwen #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #rwby blacksun #rwby dragonslayer #rwby lasting embers #ruby rose

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ursoself-satisfying · 6 years ago

Text

An excerpt from a fanfiction I’m on a hiatus from (if you like it and want to read the entire thing, please tell me)

...As I took in my surroundings, I was in a kitchen. A kitchen with one dark powder blue wall and two with neutral toned farm wallpaper. I feel like I’ve seen this kitchen before, but where? I turn my head, slowly, to the direction in which a tall blonde woman was standing. She was standing in front of the kitchen counter, doing dishes. Did she kidnap me? I try to not make any sounds as I explore the new territory like a captured army captain observing the small area of a temple. I felt the urge to scratch my nose, as my brain directed my arm to move, I noticed I wasn’t bound to a chair. One side of my nerves ordered me to question the blonde woman, meanwhile the other, ridden with anxiety, wanted me to stay silent and stealthy. I attempted to scoot out of my chair to be hidden from the stranger in their own kitchen.

A guitar riff accompanied by obscene lyrics boomed in my skull, nearly putting me into the mindset to grab a machete and kill this woman in her own home as if she were wanted by the U.S. government. I crawled out of the kitchen, resemblant of a soldier delving under barbed wire to take out an entire squadron. I noticed a pair of pink bunny slippers under the door of the refrigerator, possibly belonging to a woman. Would I have to assassinate another innocent person to escape? I gravitated towards the barriers of this kitchen, not wanting to draw attention to myself. In the next room, an elderly lady reading the newspaper and a tall lady in an outfit resemblant of Julia Roberts in the iconic pink and black outfit. In the corner of my eye, I saw a door. Will it take me back to my dimension? Doubt it. Will I be hidden from these people? Yes.

I continued crawling to the door, but the elderly lady turned her head in my direction, gazing at me as if I insulted her. Naturally I slowly raised my arms, my head sinking into my torso like a man being consumed by a field near a rice paddy. Suddenly everyone was staring at me in the same manner. The pretty woman, the schoolgirl, the older woman, and the elderly lady. All visibly confused and horrified by my presence. The silence was almost as dense as the moustache on the pretty woman’s face. The pretty woman pointed a light canary yellow feather duster in my face, “who let you in here?” she interrogated me without mentioning her name, then pulling out a knife. “Did Rog leave the door open again? Well, you better get out before this”, she wiggles the knife in front of my throat, threatening to puncture my trachea. “Is slicing in your neck.” she ended.

I could feel a single bead of sweat slither down my temple, like a dream, or like a nightmare? “Uh, miss.”, Melina she interjected. “I can explain my situation, even though it’s quite the acid trip.”, she raised her eyebrow in a fascinating manner. “Apparently a psychopathic redhead is chasing me for no reason and is trying to psychologically torture me for no reason whatsoever, besides wanting young people to commit crime and just be absolutely stupid.” I explained. She asked why it’s like an acid trip, “Sadly, I have no clue how I ended up in your home, Mad Mod probably teleported me here.”.

((IS THIS A FUCKING QUEEN/TEEN TITANS CROSSOVER CUS IDK BUT MY 12YRO SELF NEEDED THIS AHSJFLGLSKHAHSLF th for the sub btw!!!!!))

#submissions #shared between friends #submission #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #she has a voice!!!#bohrhap #new blog #personal

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meli-r · 2 years ago

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Colorful World, Ch. 19

Locations: Wattpad | AO3

“You wanted to see me.”

Unlike other inspectors, Yashiro stood before her as a woman stands with the most genuine innocence and a clear conscience. But she stood thus before a hostile presence, and Kasei Joushuu suddenly knew that no hatred could dwarf her.

“Yes, have a seat,” Kasei ordered.

“I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind,” she said in a calm, cordial tone.

“Please, I insist,” Kasei rose from her seat, making her way to one of the couches. “I have some matters to discuss with you, Inspector Takahashi. But first…”

As they sat on the black couches, facing each other, Kasei raised her right hand, pointing her wrist at her to determine Yashiro’s crime coefficient. She narrowed her gray eyes, peering at her over the frame of her glasses. It was 33. Yashiro’s reaction was a brief eyebrow waggle, but not because the chief disliked her low psycho pass, but because they had gone back to formalities. Both were sitting with one leg over the other, pointing in opposite directions, though Yashiro had her hands clasped together on her knee. Neither of them began to speak for a minute. As Kasei’s eyes studied her, Yashiro surveyed the large room, wondering who had been the architect who designed it.

“You went to see a former inspector,” Kasei spoke.

“Is it prohibited?”

“It’s unadvised.”

“I required his professional expertise.”

“And you would travel miles to see him when he can be easily replaced.”

“There is no substitute for competence.”

“I think I made myself clear saying that you would have to bring at least one enforcer with you.”

“When investigating a crime scene,” Yashiro lowered her head a bit. “Which is why I concluded that an enforcer was not necessary this time.”

“You came to that decision yourself without consulting your superior, hardly surprising since that’s what you always do. You have successfully closed cold cases since joining Division 2. However, the Public Safety Bureau is displeased with your methods. You make deliberate decisions on your own over and over again. Criminal profilers are rare these days. Whilst you are fully aware of the consequences of studying the psychology behind why certain serial killers, kidnappers and other violent offenders commit crimes, and what goes through their minds as they commit them, I need to know how you are holding up.”

“Good.”

“Your evaluations paint a different picture. Reckless, insubordinate—"

“I did not have time to ask for permission. Inspector Aoyanagi was not available at that time.”

“She was not available because we were just talking about you. Apparently, she put an inspector in a detention room with a suspect, letting her break two of his fingers and trigger a stress level warning in the building.”

“Two, huh?” Yashiro raised an eyebrow.

“Inspector Aoyanagi thinks I should sideline you before you crack.”

“I won’t. I have a personal stake in bringing Agawa in, but I won’t let it interfere with the job.”

“I hope so... because you've become a key player for him, so I can’t just kick you to the curb. I am sure you don’t want your actions to be... misinterpreted. Some have begun to wonder if we use discarded methods such as violence and torture when interrogating criminals. They are going to ask me if there is truth to it.”

“You’ll tell them no.”

“Will I be lying?” Kasei tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

Yashiro sighed and looked up for a moment, then to the side, without moving her head.

“I will tell you anything you want to know, but there are certain disadvantages to that.”

“You willingly raised his crime coefficient to make him a target for enforcement action. Had the enforcer not stopped you, you would have succeeded. Either that, or you broke his hand as revenge so he can’t enjoy his stay in prison. However, even though he is a latent criminal, Sibyl did not consider him a serious threat at the time. You would have made an attempt on his life by raising his psycho pass, which is considered a crime as much as murder. Have you ever stopped to think about that?”

“I don’t recognize my action as a crime.”

“Is it necessary for me to point out that your recognition was not required?” Kasei’s voice echoed.

“I am fully aware of it, so I act accordingly.”

“This is unprecedented. Do you realize the possible consequences of your attitude?”

“Completely.”

“The punishment we have the power to impose upon you is extremely severe,” Kasei warned.

“Go ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Impose it.”

“You fool. What are you talking about?”

“I’m just so tired of the double standard,” Yashiro sighed.

“What double standard?” Kasei raised her voice. Narrowed, silver eyes looked at her impassively. “Watch it, girl. You may thank your biological structure and the high esteem in which certain people hold you, for having a chance to speak to us in the first place. Don’t overplay the hand that was dealt to you. Fortunes can quickly turn.”

There was no response.

“Now, the fact that you mentioned it clears up your doubts for me. Your overall rejection towards authority and the Sibyl System must go back to your childhood. You cared deeply about your father… no, your mother. When you read his crime coefficient, you expected it to be higher. After all, your mother did not get a second chance once she became a latent criminal herself,” Kasei paused for a long moment, studying her features and body language. “Given the chance to enjoy time alone with him in a room without scanners, wouldn’t you torture him with impunity?”

“No.”

“Because you know there are consequences.”

“I’m not like them,” Yashiro frowned, raising her voice a bit.

Kasei’s lips curved further up.

“Meyer Kane thought the same thing once. It was foretold that you would meet. He was a criminal profiler after all. I really hope… you don’t make the same mistakes he did.”

Yashiro did not answer.

“You were again driven by a moral authorization of your own… and you acted out with force,” she continued in a soft, clear voice, like a college professor lecturing, making her look away. “Why do criminals like Endo Seiji get the benefit of the doubt in your world… while others like Miyake Ren or Agawa Hajime don’t? Is it because of your connection to their childhood, their tales of solitude and manipulation, or is it because of their own motivations for killing? What criteria do you use to judge their crimes?”

“Endo Seiji did not kill innocent people.”

“None of them killed innocent people,” Kasei corrected her slowly, blinking and squinting her eyes as if giving her a closer look.

Yashiro’s eyes were much darker and dilated than before, with eyebrows drawn together.

“Where does your selective, sentimental view on crime come from?”

Yashiro’s lips parted for a few seconds and then closed tightly again.

“How is that related to the truth of your own? And how is that being rational and ethical, given you can’t practice what you preach?”

Yashiro looked absently at her fingers, which were still on her knee.

“Where does your hatred of society come from?”

“I don’t hate society,” Yashiro blinked and stared at her. “I hate everyone, including myself.”

“Your mother?” Kasei raised her chin a bit.

Yashiro barely turned her head to the side, pursing her lips, then slowly looked away.

“She must have meant so much to you,” observed Kasei.

“Everyone’s mother means a great deal to them.”

“Not everyone’s mother dies while her only daughter survives,” Kasei blurted out in a calm tone.

Yashiro looked at her, then fixed her gaze on the small table between them, her eyes slightly widened.

“That must have left you very angry… abandoned, alone. Anger is one of the most powerful emotions a person can experience, a natural defense against pain, and also part of human nature,” Kasei paused as she spoke, waiting for a response or a facial change on Yashiro’s face. “Were you a lonely child?”

“And you weren’t?” Yashiro raised an eyebrow with a thin smile. “Psychologically analyzing others is a lonely pastime.”

Kasei observed her for several seconds, with the same precise and curious eyes of someone examining an insect through a microscope.

“Tell me, how did it feel afterwards?” she continued, slowly and gently, giving her time to answer. “Guilt? Shame? Remorse? Fear? You must have felt guilt.”

“Why do we talk to the dead? They’re gone. After my sister died, I used to see her in my apartment. Kept talking to her for a while. People always try to make you feel better by saying they’re resting in peace, that they’re not gone. As long as we’re here, they’re here with us. But they’re wrong. They’re not resting nor at peace. They’re dead. They can’t be disturbed because they don’t exist. We exist. We live. And we will eventually die. Such is the fate of all living things.”

Yashiro's head was turned slightly to the side, with the memory of Touma Kouzaburou in her mind. She opened her eyes wider for a second, until she looked at the older woman again. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, her eyes very relaxed, and she had a thin smile.

“It doesn’t matter because she doesn’t exist anymore. If you think you can cloud my hue triggering that memory, you’ve miscalculated.”

“Is there a point in trying to cloud the psycho pass of someone who can keep it low all the time?” Kasei bluffed, but her gaze could not hide that she was serious. “While it has not yet been scientifically proven that crime coefficients are genetically inherited, it has not been disproved. You are a valuable exception.”

Yashiro’s smile faded and her left eye narrowed slightly for a second, before she looked away. Kasei got up from the couch and walked to her desk at the end of the room.

“You were due for an appointment with your therapist. This will no longer be necessary. You’re free to go.”

#psycho pass #kasei joshu #kasei joushuu #sibyl system #psycho pass fanfiction

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starspatter · 6 years ago

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Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 7

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,067 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Well time has a way of throwing it all in your face The past, she is haunted, the future is laced Heartbreak, you know, drives a big black car Swear I was in the back seat, just minding my own

-Gregory Alan Isakov, "Big Black Car"

Now.

“The Bat Signal is not a toy, Ms. Brown.”

Startled, Stephanie swerved around at the sudden emergence of a man swathed in black from the shadows, cloak whipping wordlessly in the wind. She hadn’t even heard him arrive on the rooftop.

How does he do that?

“You know my name?”

She asked, flustered.

“I make it my business to know. You’re Stephanie Brown, daughter of Crystal and Arthur Brown, a.k.a. Cluemaster. …Tim Drake’s girlfriend.”

Stephanie blinked, sighing before lowering her mantle and removing the guise’s (apparently ineffectual) inner layer, letting luminescent locks fall free around her shoulders. (Reasoning that if the cops hadn’t come up to bust her by now, then it seemed rather unlikely they’d show up anytime soon.) …Wish I knew what the heck to do with my hair under this thing, she thought idly as she combed her hand through the tangles. Maybe I should try putting it in a ponytail or something.

“Then you probably know why I called you here then. Sorry about the theatrics,” she gestured towards the spotlight, “But I figured this was the fastest way to get your attention.”

“Tim told you about our history together.”

“Some of it. He wouldn’t tell me why you two split up.”

There was a palpable beat.

“If he didn’t see fit to explain, then it’s not my place to intervene.”

“Please, Mr. Wayne.” Those crescent slits narrowed at equally intimate address. “I think I deserve to know at this point.”

“This isn’t any of your business, Ms. Brown. I suggest you go home, and get rid of that silly costume.”

Like yours is any less ridiculous.

“This isn’t a game. Quit before you get yourself into trouble.”

Holy déjà vu.

She crossed her arms frankly, standing firm.

“Tim said the same thing. I’m getting real sick and tired of hearing it.”

“He’s right. The streets are far too risky, especially for someone like you.” There was a rough rigor to his tenor; like a razor blade scraping severely against the grain, incisive and insistent. Deliberately rubbing salt and steel into the wound until it irritated. “I’ve seen how you operate: rash, reckless, impulsive, impetuous – not thinking before you act. You might believe you’re being brave – that you’re endeavoring to prove something by jumping directly into danger, putting yourself in the constant thick of threats – but you’re just behaving brashly like a child. A person of your kind doesn’t belong in this field.”

Stephanie bristled at the blunt onslaught, blue irises burning boldly defiant.

“You don’t understand: My dad was supposed to be dead, and now he shows back up again in Gotham like nothing happened – except now he’s committing crimes without even leaving clues. I couldn’t just stand aside and let him get away with it. I had to do something. After all, I’ve got a stake in this.”

Batman made a smothered sound, like a pained grunt – as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

“You sound just like he did. All you stupid kids, don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I know that without me you wouldn’t have been able to figure out the next place my father was planning to hit.”

Admit it, that “chopping mall” clue was a stroke of genius.

“And your assistance in bringing him down during the heist is appreciated. But this ends tonight. You should leave the crimefighting to trained professionals.”

“I just wanted to help…”

Batman took a step forward, looming ominously over her. His voice was dangerous.

“You don’t know what you want. None of you ever did.”

Despite the fierce menace in his tone, she staunchly stood her ground, eyes stubborn and challenging as she declined to back down. Her opponent carried on lecturing:

“You’ve accomplished your mission; succeeded in putting your father in jail. Now that you’ve gotten your revenge, there’s no more reason for you to continue this fight anymore. I suppose you’re just doing this now for fun, for the thrill. Because you think it’s ‘cool’.”

Stephanie clenched her fists. He had struck a chord, but she didn’t take kindly to being patronized either, her entire motivations being put down, brushed aside just like that.

“That’s not the only reason. I mean, yeah this just kinda started out as a goof to get back at my dad of course, and sure I’ll confess I do get a kick out of the rush – but there’s more to it than that. I may not be all that smart or skilled at… anything really. But this – this is something I can do to help others. People in need. For the first time in my life, it feels like I’m really doing something worthwhile, that I’m doing some good. Like I’m making a real difference. I’m doing this… I don’t know. Not even for me.” She turned towards the skyline, surveying over the (for the moment at least) peacefully sleeping city, lights reflecting above and below. “I’m doing this for all of them.”

Batman stared at her.

“Regardless, this isn’t your responsibility.”

“And it’s supposed to be solely yours? You’re just one man in a batsuit, you’re not in charge of this town. You may be able to handle all the crimes within the city limits, but the suburbs don’t have anyone. Not even you can be everywhere at once. Hell, no one can carry the weight of the world by himself.”

“This is a vow I took on my own shoulder’s, no one else’s. I work alone.”

“If you really thought that, why’d you agree to take an apprentice on in the first place?”

While visibly there was no noticeable wince, another wounded growl escaped from the cowl.

“That was a mistake.”

“Oh really? I’ve seen how you operate: Ever since you’ve gone partnerless, you’ve been colder, harsher, overly aggressive, and more unforgiving than ever before. Everyone’s noticed; it’s been all over news reports everywhere, criminals claiming to be the ‘victims’ of vigilante violence. All the tabloids assume you’ve gone off the deep end, that you’ve finally cracked – or that you were off your rocker all along. That’s why they say even the police won’t cooperate with you anymore.” She looked towards the tarp lying on the ground, which had been covering the searchlight up to now. Lucky for her they hadn’t removed the apparatus entirely. “You accuse me of being hotheaded, but I could say the exact same of you. Heck, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you seem to have some sort of death wish.”

“How I conduct myself is none of your concern.”

“It is when there are people suffering for it. Tim included. The truth is Batman needs a Robin, doesn’t he? Since your parents died, you need – want company. Otherwise you’ll go crazy, doing what you do all the time. Anyone would.”

Way to play psychoanalyst with the most famous and powerful – not to mention richest – man in Gotham, girl.

Batman held her undeterred gaze.

“…You really do sound just like him.”

Grudgingly, he gruffly acknowledged the comparison – though it wasn’t quite a concession.

Still, Stephanie seized on the opening.

“Seriously, just what the hell happened? You two used to be such a great team. You guys were a legend, the ‘Dynamic Duo’ and all that. Nightwing and Batgirl too, whatever happened to them?”

His answer was aggravatingly simple.

“Things change.”

Why do I get the feeling I’ve heard that somewhere before?

She exhaled in exasperation, sensing the discussion was going in circles. She wasn’t about to allow such curt tautology cut her off though.

“You used to mean something to people. This,” she pointed purposefully at the symbol in the sky, before jabbing at the mirrored center of his chest, “…used to mean something. Sure, you could be scary sometimes, but it was clear that you cared. Now, it’s like all the lives you save don’t even matter anymore. All that exists in your mind – or your heart, whatever’s left of it – that is, assuming you even still have one – is darkness and dread. Am I wrong?”

Her assertive allegation was met with stony silence. Tentatively, she tried to uplift the weight on the conversation somewhat.

“Not everything has to be about fear. There’s room in our line of work for hope too, you know.”

Again, he merely remained mute, scrutiny slanting into the distance.

All right, fine. Don’t answer me.

Growing annoyed by such obstinate reticence (which she recognized all too well at this point; it was no wonder where her boyfriend got it from) and desperate for some sort of reaction, she attempted to return again to the original topic – her whole goal for summoning this guy’s big broody butt in the first place.

“Look, I’m sure you’re as aware as I am this isn’t just about me trying to barge in on your territory – your private little crusade – is it? I don’t mean to pry open old wounds just for the sake of sating my curiosity either. Something obviously happened between you two – something that changed him – that changed the both of you – and I need to know what in order to get through to him.” She placed a palm on her breast, clutching and curling fretful fingers against cloth as she bit her lip, baring honest emotion. “I want to be able to understand what he’s going through, but every time I try to get him to talk about it, he won’t let me near. Refuses to open up, shuts me out just like you’ve been doing all night.”

His vision panned back slowly, restoring rapt concentration. Again, those slim slivers of snow were silent, searching – scant headlights scanning in the dark. Stark and cold against coal, yet somewhere within seemed to spark a vestige of warmth; like stoking, coaxing the burnt out ashes of an old flame to stir and rise again. To remember.

“Tim means a lot to you.”

“The whole world. He’s a great guy.”

“Greater than he knows.”

“Please,” she begged, “Let me help him at least. I’m worried about him.”

He regarded her unwavering expression, gauging sincerity.

“…You really care for him, don’t you?”

She nodded, thinking to herself that- despite his still-outwardly icy demeanor, there was indeed a thaw in his throat, a slight swell of sympathy slipping through the grave gravel.

He rotated with a sharp whisk of cape, heading for the edge of the roof.

“Come with me.”

She followed, taking cue to simultaneously fumble for her cheap grapple as he reached for his own (no doubt state-of-the-art) device. Whilst descending down the decel line, Batman pressed a button on his utility belt, and a rumble hummed from down the road as a long, sleek, jet-black vehicle charged along the street, skidding to a stop right in front of them as they alighted on the sidewalk. The hood automatically slid back upon recognizing its owner, inviting within the depths of its leather wings.

HolycraptheBatmobile.

She hesitated as he walked round to the driver’s side and climbed in, casting an expectant – impatient – glance at his guest.

“Well. Hurry up and get in.”

“O- okay.”

Dear Diary, whatever you do, don’t tell my mom I agreed to get into a strange car in the middle of the night with a shady man wearing a mask. Pretty sure she’d flip her shit.

She hopped in after, settling against the cozy cushions. Leave it to a billionaire to be able to afford the best quality sitting material. Admiring the impressive array of controls on the dashboard, she figured the machine in itself probably cost more than her whole house combined.

“Hang on,” he warned as they lurched forward, “And don’t touch anything.”

Stephanie hastily withdrew her itchy fingers from the nearest knob, sweating nervously.

“Can I ask what this does at least?”

“Passenger seat ejector.”

She shrank back sullenly, leaning slumped into the lavish upholstery.

Mock me at your peril, masked man.

As they sped past buildings and streetlamps, Steph inquired with a hunch as to their destination:

“So are we going to your hideout?”

“I prefer to think of it as a lair.”

She couldn’t tell whether that was supposed to be a joke or not. Either way, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of giddy excitement at her current situation. Not many people could proudly proclaim they got to ride in the freakin’ Batmobile once during their lives.

Cool.

Hope was a letter I never could send Love was a country we couldn't defend

And through the carnival we watch them go round and round All we knew of home was just a sunset and some clowns

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #I'm kinda knee deep in Kagepro hell right now but #I still love my Bat babies too #so here's a quick lil update #<3 #in which I combine all the quotes #*shot*

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govtplates · 7 years ago

Text

Suicide Note

Mirror: paste.ee/p/iClXD

Please rehost on zeronet and substratum when they publish their hosting platform

Early Saturday morning, I killed myself with toxic gas. The last two years of my life have been a slow motion death sentence, and I’ve finally chosen to complete it on my own terms. I started planning this more than a month ago when I first realized that my last chance for survival had failed me. I’m mentally disabled, very ill and I was illegally fired from my last job as a dishwasher because of it six months ago. Since then, I’ve been fighting a discrimination case against the company through the Seattle Office for Civil Rights. A settlement from the result of that became my only chance to escape what’s destroyed my life, but SOCR failed me. It was agonizingly difficult and straining to get an investigator on my case, and then he quit a few weeks after opening it in February. Since then every employee I’ve dealt with from top to bottom has been dishonest and deceitful to me, after realizing that no one in the only organization with the ability to help me had any interest of actually helping me, I lost any hope of getting a new investigator in a time frame that’ll save me. I only got a new investigator last week, and by then it was far too late. If this got started when it should have, it would be wrapped up this month at the very latest.

Then, some days later I go notice that my rent is going up next month, which sealed my fate. For the last year I’ve had to depend on my parents, Ken and Jodi for bills after an unsuccessful job hunt after being laid off. They have abused me my entire life, always mentally and emotionally and sometimes physically. They’re delusional, sadistic, childishly vindictive, dangerously stupid, and terrifyingly negligent. In January they forced me into an agreement that conditioned their continued payment of my bills on me taking pharmaceutical medication from a psychiatrist. This is in virtue of their delusion that my mental illnesses are genetic and innate, not brought up from my environment and what’s done to me. I’ve had all of my DNA sequenced, which disproved any disposition to neural conditions early in life. This agreement wasn’t arrived at through discourse or negotiation, but out of nowhere they exploited my worst fears against me at my most vulnerable moment in order to renege on past agreements and strong arm me into lying about agreeing to their condition. A few psychiatrist meetings and a pharmacy visit later, it was relatively harmless but insanely stressful because of how impulsively aggressive my parents are. So my current fears aren’t precisely that their current condition is unachievable, it doesn’t hurt me to fill my cabinet with wasted pill bottles, despite the wasted money handed to big pharma that could go to help cover my basic needs. But they are absurdly dishonest people, they will never for even a second stay faithful to any agreement or negotiation. They hold the fact that they cover my bills over me to try to leverage me into more and more of their impulsive demands, they talk to me like I’m a pet dog and to this day it’s never stopped even though I’m 20. I’d need the settlement money to cover my life expenses until I could get back on my feet alone, given that relying on my parents is untenable and could be revoke any month now on their whim. They’ve always prospered from their privilege, idolized the rich and loathed the poor which is why they just don’t understand at all the poverty that they forced me into.

In late 2016, I moved back in with them after having to drop out of university and they promised to support me in moving back out to a new college somewhere to do whatever program I wanted. Then within days they did a reversal and said they’d only pay for me to get a Bachelor’s, claiming that it’s necessary for a job which is bullshit since nearly all degrees are useless, connections are all that matter. Then again just days later, another reversal and they said they wouldn’t support me living anywhere doing anything, not even staying at their home, with the cannabis that I needed for medical purposes. They were very clearly freestyling their parenting methods, with zero regard for my wellbeing and the pathetic notion that they could squeeze aspects of me that they disapproved of out with force, and I’ll eventually submit to their every whim after their force me through enough misery and suffering. It was at that point that I was forced out of their place, and living out of a suitcase I couch hopped until landing at this current house in December.

The cannabis has been medicinal since that summer two years ago for PTSD, I had been illegally detained (essentially kidnapped) and psychologically tortured at a mental institution for more than two weeks. I was the victim of multiple felonies committed by government officials and medical professionals, including perjury and malpractice to justify my detainment in what was basically a jail. It was aided and encouraged by my parents, my mom said the first night she had slept well in a while was after hearing that I had gotten locked up. The corporation that owns the Fairfax institution, United Health Services, has been under investigation by multiple federal agencies for years for longterm and widespread national fraud and abuse, scheming insurance to lock people up on false pretenses and abuse them under state sanctioned involuntary detainment. This has been covered by Rosalind Adams extensively in Buzzfeed, and it’s exactly what happened to me. I had excessive hubris and had ordered what I thought was acid from an onion market, it turned out to be 25i-NBOMe which is a very dangerous and toxic synthetic compound. I mistakenly tried some without testing and had a jarring trip, ending with inescapable paranoia and hallucinations that I had copped from a honeypot and the feds would be at my door in the morning, I panicked and thought suicide was my only way out so I chugged some rum and put back a handful of prozac, then promptly puked it all up. Clearly not premeditated and I quickly called 911, telling police everything because I couldn’t hide anything and I realized I needed help. Any young person that takes a FULL serotonin agonist without preparation absolutely needs gentle and attentive care to help them calm down and move on from the trip, because that shit throttles your neuron pathways and fucks with your chemical balances way more easily than most drugs. It is an absolute crime against my humanity that no one would be there to give me that, all it did was make me a perfect target for the UHS involuntary detainment insurance scam, basically farming the vulnerable and mentally ill to harvest money from while being tortured and held in a pseudo jail without any consent or due process. That arguably makes it worse than jail since aside from the massive corruption and inequality at the roots of the criminal justice system, there’s still the intention and supposition of fair and due process. The cops decided not to charge me with possession and I went to the ER while still super drunk and out of it. The staff at the hospital there didn’t wait at all to question me which I’m pretty certain was illegal, if they waited a few hours until I sobered up I would have told them succinctly the foolish mistakes I made and wouldn’t make again, and that I wasn’t in any danger to anyone. Instead the responses they got from me were drunken mumbling and incoherent partial words, which they used to justify me needing to be shipped off to an institution the next day. Once there I petitioned to be released as soon as possible but I was obstructed everywhere and I was diagnosed with “cannabis use disorder,” normally diagnosed with daily smokers for a decade but I had only been for six months, and they intended to treat it through psychological torture and abuse. It was insanely traumatic and I went on a hunger strike the whole time, only eating some very small snacks and drinking more than ten cups of tea a day. I had bought tickets to fly out and protest at the Democratic National Convention for Bernie, but I was locked up over that whole time and couldn’t follow what happened at all. Since I got out I’ve needed cannabis to cope with the PTSD from then. If I lived in a socialist country then these institutions would actually exist to help people and treat them, and I would have gotten help with the judgment issues that led to the drug mishap. Instead these institutions betrayed me and threw my life into a tailspin, all for some company’s profit.

And at the very least my parents should have stood up for me and done anything to help me from the predatory hospitals but they were completely on their side and took pleasure in my suffering. They have never let up this behavior pattern since, kicking me out on the street a few months later and then six months ago they trigged the incident which led to my former employer turning on me. Then in January they tried to have me murdered by bring cops banging down my door because they exaggerated and trumped up the risk that I was violent which was nonsense and something that I went out of my way to try to tell them. It is the police’s job to exterminate the mentally ill, and having someone lie that you’re a violent threat exponentiates the risk of being gunned down. I kept them from coming inside but they made a huge disturbance for more than an hour on a Saturday afternoon. If I wasn’t white, there would be no question they would have broken the door down and executed me. All of this was done under my parent’s greedy impulses and attempts to force me to become subservient, submissive and forget my long history of being abused by them. They should be given no condolences or extended any sympathy, they need to be criminally investigated and prosecuted for driving my life to its end.

After many traumas all at once last spring (being laid off, losing my partner and all of my friends, people encouraging me to kill myself, friendship with my landlord was ruined, returning to dependence on parents), compounded with my PTSD led me to develop more serious cognitive disabilities, what I suspect is brain damage from hypersecretion of glucocorticoids in the limbic system. I lost my ability to function in public, every friend I had lost patience with me and I was completely isolated while being squeezed all around into deeper poverty and despair. I started to improve in the fall and getting the dishwasher job gave me hope, since they promised to quickly promote me to higher kitchen positions and I expected to soon be able to cover rent again, finally becoming independent. But after the incident which is completely covered in my SOCR file, that did a complete 180 and my hope vanished, sending me back into unending despair and misery.

Dear Filippo Fiori: You had been the first person ever in my entire life to make me feel appreciated and valued. I worked my ass off cleaning every corner of that kitchen because you promised to promote and teach me so fast. Then you committed multiple crimes that set my death in motion, and tried to frame me as having always been incompetent to avoid blame which is far beyond unforgivable. Had I seen the investigation through its end, my plan was to demand at least twenty grand or bankrupt your restaurant, whichever came first. That would be the bare minimum punishment you deserve for your initial crimes, but now it’s up to someone else. I hope it was worth it to you, killing someone in the most vulnerable position because they’re mentally disabled. I did everything I could to warn and explain this all to you but you did what you did and here we are, you made the last six months of my short life miserable and agonizing all to defend a full grown middle aged man with only one year of managing experience.

Lawyers Nancy Chupp and Liza Burke both have my blood on their hands too, they both went out of their way to deliberately lie to me, waste my time and cause me serious damage that I wouldn’t even let them pay me to do. Every lawyer I’ve ever dealt with everywhere has been obstructive and malicious, I think it’s beyond vile how prevalent contempt against the most vulnerable and needing of help is.

To law enforcement: My linux machine is fully encrypted with a very long password, and even if you crack that, all that’s left is my book and media collection. I erased and sfill’d anything interesting so good luck trying to recover shit. If you crack my old laptop password, the only interesting things left on there are my unfinished film and media projects, as that’s all I’ve used it for in many years.

I’m not scared of dying because I’ve already met god, and I’ve discovered the deep truths of this existence. The universe is a hologram, at a subatomic level every single point in space contains a portal to the “implicate order,” or the universal consciousness. The explicate order we reside in is manifested by the ebb and flow of this united energy, at a frequency of planck time each electron enfolds and unfolds, perpetuating alternated spin states that present the illusion of movement and time progression we perceive. All of consciousness and our external reality are the same energy waves manifested and concentrated in different forms, the simulation is like a giant 4D film with a frame rate at the 44th degree of magnitude. We think that our external environment and its objects have physical permanence, while our thoughts in our head are imaginary neurochemical processes, but consciousness is a form of matter ultimately inseparable from anything “physical.” When a 30fps video is slowed down frame by frame, that’s sinking down one order in magnitude of playback speed. If we could do that with the linear time we exist in 44 times, we would reach the plane of existence from which everything that’s ever been and ever will be is conjured from.

To quote David Bohm, who pioneered this theory - “At the present, our whole thought process is telling us that we have to keep our attention here. You can’t cross the street, for example, if you don’t. But consciousness is always in the unlimited depth which is beyond space and time, in the subtler levels of the implicate order. Therefore, if you went deeply enough into the actual present, then maybe there’s no difference between this moment and the next. The idea would be that in the death experience you would get into that. Contact with eternity is in the present moment, but it is mediated by thought. It is a matter of attention.” This four-dimensional universe with linear temporality traps our minds from experiencing the full potential that can be harnessed through tapping into the universal energy, but throughout history those boundaries cosmically foisted upon us have been challenged through shamanism, entheogens, and spirituality in general. To quote Michael Talbot’s book Holographic Universe, “we are so thoroughly conditioned to believe that perceiving the future is not possible, our natural precognitive abilities have gone dormant. Like the superhuman strengths individuals display during life-threatening emergencies, they only spill over into our conscious minds during times of crisis – when someone near to us is about to die; when our children or some other loved one is in danger, and so on. That our “sophisticated” understanding of reality is responsible for our inability to both grasp and utilize the true nature of our relationship with time is evident in the fact that primitive cultures nearly always score better on ESP tests than so-called civilized cultures. Further evidence that we have relegated our innate precognitive abilities to the hinterlands of the unconscious can be found in the close association between premonitions and dreams. Studies show that from 60 to 68 percent of all precognitions occur during dreaming. We may have banished our ability to see the future from our conscious minds, but it is still very active in the deeper strata of our psyches.” (209)

Now we think of those in past eras as just stupid and bored from their lack of modern technology, and they only hallucinated and wrote religious tales to replace the forms of innovation valued post-industrialization. I posit this could not be less true, it is the rise and spread of modern education that has taught us to rid ourselves of our innate connection to the implicate order and awareness of the fluidity of reality.

I never really dream, either that or I’m never consciously aware of it. I suspect it’s from always having so many cannabinoids flowing through my brain putting me in too deep sleep to allow my conscious to travel to another reality. If there would have been precognitions in them, maybe it’s also because of my fear of the future and being too occupied with messes in the present to wonder what will come after. Instead I push my conscious to travel outside of this realm through entheogens, which is how I met god during a McKenna heroic dose of fungus. I traveled into a realm completely filled with moving and spiraling fractalized columns of light and waves of energy. I was taken on a tour throughout time and space, traveling between discombobulated and disjointed morphing spatiotemporal environments. Later I realized that I had been taken to the implicated realm from which all of this universe’s particles unfold out of, and some force was spinning me around and through this cosmic soup. I had been researching and studying all of this closely for many months beforehand but when I had everything that I supposed to be accurate about reality through holographic theory absolutely proven and validated just by eating a handful of things that had grown out of the ground in nature in my city, I became 100% certain of the validity in all of this. The amount of unfathomably unpredictable evidence that would be needed to safely and thoroughly disprove holographic theory makes it a practical impossibility, there’s so much otherwise unexplained that is resolved perfectly this way.

This also proves exactly why America has engaged in global psyops since Nixon to plant disinformation at the basis of societies about fabricated dangers of psychedelics and discourage its use through criminalization. The government has never actually been concerned about stopping people from taking drugs since everyone knows that is impossible to accomplish. The CIA has always been a fan of using acid when it can brainwash people and torture prisoners in more sadistic ways, and using cocaine when they can flood the streets of black communities with it, and creating cartels or black market trafficking ops when they achieve geopolitical results desired by the imperialist capitalist hegemony agenda.

Can you imagine what it would do to society if any adult could go to a mushroom dispensary and experience the same kind of reality-shattering and consciousness-expanding experience as I did whenever they wanted? I’ve read a lot of psilocybin trip reports and the majority of them include very similar things to what I experienced. They do not describe these phenomena holographically like I do, but I’m absolutely certain that it’s a universal experience that the same fungi allow anyone to travel to. It’s so tragic to me that most describe these as hallucinations, and the drugs as hallucinogens which of course restrains it as being unreal. But these alternate planes are much more real than our reality, and calling it a trip could not be more accurate as it is essentially traveling towards home, as in the origin of all of us and everything else. One’s consciousness, being energy waves in a different form than whats around it, exists in a spectrum between entirely localized in the brain and expanding radiating outwards to rejoin the cosmic energy. When low/mild doses of entheogens give one visuals that fill, surround and saturate the visual field, it is their consciousness beginning to expand outwards and begin moving towards the other end of the energy spectrum. Taking a large dose is more like god reaching a hand out of the sky and plucking their soul out of their body and tossing it out of this simulation. By god I don’t mean a singular or cohesive entity, but of the powerful forces manifested by the collective universal consciousness. We are subject to the supreme power of supernatural forces, but instead of a higher being it is the energy of all of us, all of us that have ever been and ever will. That’s why I use a lowercase g.

If these kind of spiritual awakenings happened on a massive scale, it would cause unheard of social unrest. Everything that holds up the capitalist order and necessitates global neoliberal capitalism would dissolve, so many people would become entirely different people, giving up hollow norms and starting to question the real purpose and meaning in what this life is. The rising of class consciousness and awareness of the cruelty manifested by capitalism, which only persists when it’s not questioned, will spell its certain demise. Nearly everything all of us are taught about how the world works is falsified and perpetuated by the minimally satisfactory life circumstances capitalism provides for most. When people are fed lies from birth, taught to be satisfied with a substandard life with the false hope that anyone can “succeed” in a free market (which is another fabrication), and discouraged from ever questioning why things are this way, that’s what allows cruelty to persist.

That’s why the most important thing for people to do is just QUESTION. Especially at a time when daring to ever question what our government says gets you immediately smeared as a puppet or useful idiot of some boogeyman. For most of my life I thought, as we’re all raised to, that communists are evil authoritarians and that it’s not something anyone takes seriously. But up until I shed my last trace of liberalism and beyond, I kept questioning everything and being skeptical, which led me on a path eventually ending at becoming a devout communist. Like many others I started being inspired about political change and social justice from Bernie’s campaign. During his speech at Safeco Field my volunteer job was to run up and down the line waiting outside before helping people, and the lines stretched block after block after block after block in every direction. And everyone was excited or cheering, that kind of mass enthusiasm about something so progressive made me genuinely optimistic about a radically improved future. Then I watched all of the rigging, interference and corruption by the democratic party and corporate media. I knew what was happening behind the scenes all along, but the wikileaks podesta emails of course proved it all. It was soon after that that my political involvement and aspirations were demolished when I was kidnapped during the DNC convention. For better or for worse I was not at all tuned into all the fuckery and media nonsense happening around late summer that year since obviously no internet in there. So after that I just kinda gave up on Bernie, started to move on and voted for Jill Stein. If only I had known I’d fallen victim to a disinformation campaign led by Putin to sow discord in the stable and perfectly equal American democracy!

I think I was one of the only people that was not at all surprised and completely indifferent on election night, going into it I knew there was a 50/50 chance and it could go either way dependent on a million unpredictable things. At least it was hilarious seeing the delusional liberal establishment having their hopes and fantasies of a continued neoliberal slow descent into corporate neofeudalism shattered. I honestly thought Trump was gonna get assassinated either before or soon after taking office, largely driven by my throwing up my hands and saying fuck it to any sense of an illusion of social stability. Yet at that point I suppose I didn’t fully understand the size, power and pervasiveness of the elites and the extent of their resources to which they protect their own and maintain control over what tragedies or shocking events are allowed to happen or unfold in different ways.

The very next day was the first time I ever heard the phrase fake news, and I immediately thought it was just something made up out of nowhere by the democrats to avoid blaming themselves for the loss. I was half right, it was a deliberate attempt by the clinton campaign to avert blame and feed into Russiagate, but what I also didn’t fully understand yet then was the pervasiveness of literal actual fake news in the entire news and media establishment. I mean Operation Mockingbird is real history and it never ended, the CIA has always controlled the media and had a hand in making everything pro-America and advantageous for the government’s agenda. Now there’s so many former intelligence directors as news “contributors” or “analysts” it’s never been more obvious. But since Russiagate has been such a successful psyop, liberals have revealed themselves as ultimately only wanting to serve the intelligence community and uphold capitalism. And such a huge portion of ex-intelligence spooks are running as democrats in the midterms this year, it’s absolutely insane! Talk about a slow coup of the supposed “left” in this country.

There is of course no actual leftist representation in the federal government as they’re diametrically opposed to each other. The actual political spectrum is between socialism/communism on the left and capitalism on the right, with social democrats in the center. Bernie is extremely radical compared to all of his peers but he is still a centrist, it’s just that this country has been constantly shifting rightward faster and faster pretty much throughout most of it’s history, so it allows liberals to pretend to be opposed to conservatives while actually not moving far enough to the left to actually be on a different side, this of course requires abandonment of any hope and admiration for capitalism which is something always taught to us as being of the utmost importance. Democrat president terms do not do anything to oppose this never ending move rightward, Carter, Clinton and Obama all did a ton to service and build up the military industrial complex, surveillance state, NATO aggression, and the tentacles of the secret mafia police known as the CIA. We’re now at the point of our society not being able to reach a consensus of opposition to Bloody Gina becoming its director, which would never be happening now if Obama ever bothered to do a single thing to punish the Bush torture regime. Does anyone even realize that since last February she’s been the fucking deputy director, the position right below, which Trump appointed her to without any need for confirmation, and no one in the media ever said a damn thing about it? Being the deputy director of an intelligence agency is clearly an important position, as McCabe was able to grift all these shitlibs out of more than half a million dollars over a lie about him being fired for being a liar. And even if Haspel had been kept away from any job with any amount of power this whole time, does anyone honestly think the CIA would avoid black ops torture programs without her? Yeah she is one of the biggest torture lovers around there, but would an agency that never hesitates to send out right wing extremist death squads to rape and pillage entire countries just as punishment for striving for independence from capitalist hegemony, ever hesitate to commit unthinkable atrocities if it’s even possibly remotely helpful for America, regardless of who’s directing the agency? The state of public discourse is so so so far behind anything remotely substantive and real that it’s hard to be anything but hopeless for the future, and that is absolutely a consequence of the neoliberal order which has dominated globally and continued to expand ever since the cold war.

The only hope for revolution, besides legalization of psychedelics, is capitalism’s built in self destruction. Anything always expanding, growing without regulation or concern for sustainability, zero concern for accountability and the wellbeing of the common man, will always be unsustainable and eventually crumble upon itself. As Lenin wrote in ‘Left-Wing’ Communism: An Infantile Disorder, “the fundamental law of revolution, which has been confirmed by all revolutions and especially by all three Russian revolutions in the twentieth century, is as follows: for a revolution to take place it is not enough for the exploited and oppressed masses to realise the impossibility of living in the old way, and demand changes; for a revolution to take place it is essential that the exploiters should not be able to live and rule in the old way. It is only when the ‘lower classes’ do not want to live in the wold way and the ‘upper classes’ cannot carry on in the old way that the revolution can triumph. Revolution is impossible without a nation-wide crisis (affecting both the exploited and exploiters). It follows that, for a revolution to take place, it is essential, first, that a majority of the workers (or at least a majority of the class-conscious, thinking and politically active workers) should fully realise that revolution is necessary, and that they should be prepared to die for it; second, that the ruling classes should be going through a government crisis, which draws even the most backward masses into politics, weakens the government, and makes it possible for the revolutionaries to rapidly overthrow it.”

I am gracious to have lived in the only area of the country, from what I understand, to have a socialist representing in local government – it is good that DSA members have been getting elected different places but I’m not counting them. But there’s still such massive problems facing Seattle brought by Amazon, such as hordes of rich liberals and neo nazis (less of a difference than most think) displacing so many families and making the prices of everything skyrocket, while stripping away the beautiful generations-old history of the city for lifeless, cold machinations of the corporate stranglehold smothering us all. And then when someone dares to request that that megacorp sucking the life out of everything around us pay some taxes so that the people that aren’t rich or white enough for a plush tech career might have a chance to find affordable housing, they all cry and moan about stifling the business community. It’s so toxic how the unending and unquestioned obsession with infinite growth is willingly upheld by capitalists, it’s absolutely untethered from the basic principles of reality. Not even talking about holograms and other realms, but how the laws of nature that we all know physically work on this planet. The “market” as an entity with agency is the biggest delusion of all within economics, stories like it’s invisible hand or that it always corrects itself are such obvious infantile fantasies. This unfortunately only becomes obvious when you lose motivation or ability to climb the ladders within capitalist structures, namely the poor and underprivileged and disadvantaged. These are things I only realized after being forced into long-term serious poverty and suffering from serious mental illnesses with zero support system or anyone anywhere with the ability or desire to actually help me. How could someone in my situation, having been through what I have, still be delusional enough to think that there’s hope for everyone and oppression is easily escapable? Having been exposed to the deep depths of cruelty life can throw you in, it freed me from having to make excuses for all of the suffering around the world. That’s one of the main cognitive dissonances ingrained into liberalism, awareness of how many people around the world are starving, in serious poverty, in a war torn country or exposed to natural disasters without aid, or victim of genocide or political violence, but all of that is so complicated and messy it’s easier to just focus on what affects you directly and pretend that all those people will find help eventually. The lie we’re all fed is that capitalism provides people with opportunity, but the reality is that on a large scale it robs people of opportunity, and whenever people try alternative systems aimed at providing for the common man, the CIA (Capitalist Insurgency Assholes) stops at nothing sabotage and suppress socialist movements through false flags, psyops, puppet dictators, agitprop, death squads and militias.

And of course business partner and close friend of the CIA being Bezos, who is undoubtedly feeding live audio streams of everyone with an IoT’s household conversations to Langley and/or Fort Meade. He has the fucking balls to say that the only responsible thing he can think to do with his billions upon billions in hoarded wealth grifted from the national taxpayer base is to burn it on fancy space fantasies for the ultra rich, but then halts expansion of new offices (as if destroying entire neighborhoods isn’t already enough) in order to feed the boot lickers eager to attack any taxes on businesses or the rich. They moan about taxes from the massive tax-cheating megacorp already crushing the city in order to support poor people is the worst thing ever, but how many of them know how many billions of taxpayer dollars the Pentagon has wasted and tossed away? How many people know that the money taken out of their paychecks goes to funding the worst genocide since WW2 in Yemen, the indiscriminate slaughter of Arabs in Gaza, and towards numerous Jihadist terrorist groups in Syria? I mean there’s been points in recent history where Pentagon-backed extremist militants were fighting CIA-backed extremist militants in Syria, money is being stolen from all of us without consent to fund the majority of the worst atrocities on the globe, we’re paying for Islamic terrorists to shoot each other with our guns. But how dare the evil socialists suggest that megacorporations that already evade all its taxes pay something to help the poor! And if anyone dares to say anything about this in public, then they must be a Putin puppet or Assad apologist.

So many people around here are so eager to brown-nose Bezos, who clearly has zero concern for the wellbeing of any of his workers or the communities he burns to the ground, I fear that in the coming decades, everyone will be mandated to live in cookie cutter Amazon micro-apartment buildings with mandated subcutaneous surveillance trackers. The tech workers and elites get the Prime luxury apartments, while the poor have to fight each other to the death for squatting rights in the dwindling number of tiny run down studios, and those are the only two classes. AI, AR, VR and robots will of course be taking over the vast majority of jobs in the near future, and as long as the means of production remain in the control of the elite, these new tech advancements will never ever even be considered to be put to use for solving mass poverty or ending wars or radical climate action or redistributing wealth, every hedge fund and investor will jump at the first opportunity to kick out all vulnerable and low wage workers and make shiny expensive fancy toys for corporate welfare queens. Because that’s the very purpose of capitalism, always make as much profit as possible and strive to eventually concentrate the entirety of global wealth in the hands of a few people. It’s not nearly enough to tax corporations like Amazon, there needs to be heads rolling in the street. Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk need to be executed for their crimes against humanity along with the rest of their ilk, and all these corporate structures need to be forcefully dissolved entirely. There will never be hope of reversing how fast we’re spiraling into unfathomably unsustainable inequality, mass human rights violations and inescapable oppression, unless the bastards leading us down that road feel the pain that they inflict on millions and millions of innocent people. I hope that the Seattle Times cartoonist is a clairvoyant instead of just a whiny dipshit, most of the absurd right-wing cartoons fear-mongering about democrats and libs being communists that are taking radical action could not be less accurate now but I hope are prophetic of the future.

Some things I can’t publish while living without being slandered as a Russian troll – In the same way that Iran Contra, MK Ultra and the JFK assassination have gone down in history as the intelligence operations of a past era, this era will have Russiagate, White Helmets and false flag gas attacks, Skripal, and the assassinations of BLM leaders as the intelligence ops of the time. This is all obvious to anyone that reads the news closely without corporate filters and can see the patterns of how the CIA and FBI have always covertly operated domestically and globally since their inception, in collaboration with MI6 and the Mossad. The state of Israel needs to be destroyed entirely, it was a mistake in the first place, has always enforced worse apartheid than in South Africa, and is an inspiring ethnostate. And their state-sponsored troll farms and disinformation campaigns along with the most advanced intelligence capabilities aimed with the only purpose of destabilizing the middle east and maintaining perpetual chaos. People are fucking stupid enough to think that some non-government affiliated click farm in St Petersburg posting puppy memes on facebook actually damaged our “democracy” but are completely blind to how nearly everyone in our government begs and grovels for the opportunity to pander to Israel, who’s covertly influencing so many internet and media narratives. It’s not an anti-semetic thing, Bibi loves anti-semites and to enable them because that’s what serves the Israeli geopolitical agenda. And there’s no proof at all to that Russian influence and sowing discord bullshit, literally every single story is hollow with nothing to back it up. It’s easy to believe what’s shoved down your throat by mainstream media, but when you actually look at it, it’s clear that Guccifer 2.0 is a multi-level fraud, a fictional identity created by the Crowdstrike CEOs as the solution for the Clinton campaign panicking about wikileaks teasing email dumps. Unintentionally meta, it’s like a matroyshka doll. On the outside, he’s a lone wolf somewhere in Europe. Then you look at the first layer of planted metadata and forensic info which points towards Russia, and everyone in the media immediately jumps to it having to be a Putin agent who very poorly tried to appear as a lone wolf. But every single piece of evidence tying Guccifer 2 to Russia was so shoddily tacked on to the documents, while genuine data indicating that the data had to have been locally transferred and was modified on the American east coast, plus the public timeline of relevant events makes it obvious that it was impossible to have come from a foreign “hack” and someone on the east coast is very obviously trying to frame this as someone in Russia who’s poorly trying to appear as a lone wolf. As far as I can tell, the recent story about Guccifer having logged “real” Russian IPs in social media sites has no technical hard evidence to support that. So the FBI and the CIA should put their cards on the table and reveal precisely where and what these Russian IP logs are. That’s the start of a long road of allegations and fake news stories that need to be revisited and given real, no bullshit evidence to support.

Many years ago, in late middle and early high school I was in a band that played mostly Muse covers, they were my favorite back then but I haven’t listened to any rock at all for years until very recently. I’ve been revisiting Muse’s catalog and remembered a song titled “Thoughts of a Dying Atheist.” That moment struck me as Jungian given the circumstances, hearing it for the first time a couple weeks ago since long before ever becoming suicidal, in a period when I loved it only for the music. The chorus goes “it scares the hell out of me, and the end is all I can see.” I have always been an atheist being it’s how I was raised, even though I’ve long abandoned nihilism and the foolish idea that there’s no form of genuine spirituality. Back when I was a Muse fan, even though I was no where near needing to fear death I would have agreed with the words by and large, as death is not something we’re raised to appreciate or assess in this society. Yet now in revisiting I feel rather proud since I’m not scared of death at all. Through spiritual awakenings mostly since last summer I’ve completely made peace with transitioning out of this plane. Having found a method and time frame where I can pass immediately without pain all on my own time and terms, I’ve taken care of every concern on this end of the journey. I can’t know what it will be like on the other side, but I am absolutely certain that the energy of my conscious will be returned to the universal order. Thus, the thoughts of this dying atheist are that even though the end is all I can see, it excites the hell out of me. It is only a transformation, all that will end is the torture and agony that has been foisted upon me in this existence.

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” - Macbeth (5.5.19-28)

Recently I’ve gone to the beach, ridden ferries and sought out large pools often because there’s nothing more calming to me than the meditation of staring off into the water. As Mandelbrot and fractal patterns are found throughout math, science and much of nature, I see the waves in large bodies of water as fractal-like too. No matter how closely you focus your gaze or how far you stare out into the horizon, the patterns of the waves appear to repeat inside and outside of each other at all magnitudes of size along the surface. And I feel an incredible energy from it, how the waves can appear calm and tranquil on the surface but you know deeper down, the entire moving masses of water carry enormous weight and power. The waves exponentially repeat themselves in all directions with simultaneous grace and massive force, reconciling contradictions and entire spectrums, what could be more emblematic of the beauty of the laws of nature? When I ask myself where I go after I die, I say that’s where, the water. I doubt I would and wouldn’t want to be reincarnated as water, but as my brain shuts off and my soul becomes non-localized and free, its essence will return into the entirety of nature, and I have never been more certain of that than anything in my life. Pharrell got it right, no one ever really dies because energy is never created or destroyed, and whats in all of our minds are just localized variants of the same energy that makes everything else around us.

My final work can be found at scribd.com/document/378259892 or anonfile.com/86C0raeeb1, I’m pulling a Kafka and leaving it unfinished

Did I truly live life, or simply ride the sands as they tumbled through the hour glass? Holding on the fine moments is like grasping water – always there, yet always slipping away. Lusting for more than we need, leading to the greed of acquisition and the gluttony of position. A future that feels far but all too close. One that could be sublime if we didn’t fall behind in the times from our refinement of the mind, the state of my people is altered but my faith is completely unfaltered. I’m reaching up and reaching out, to go where no one’s been. Spiral out, keep going

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weebrecs · 8 years ago

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Can you recommend BL Manwha? Your BL anime list was epic btw

Thank you so much! I love Manhwas myself. For anyone who doesn’t know they are Korean Comics. Here is a recommendation list for some of the ones that I’ve read. I’ve marked the Mature ones with (***)

19 Days (7/10): This one tells the story of high schoolers going about their daily life and the silly situations they get themselves into as they try and work on their relationships, friendships, and social lives. If you’re looking for a good laugh this is the one for you. The thing I didn’t like is that the releases of the chapters are only a few pages long and the story feels a little disjointed. Of course the main couple swears that they are “just friends” but it’s very obvious where the doubt comes from. This is currently still on-going with over 200 chapters. Comedy, School Life, Slice of Life

A Guy Like You (10/10): Go Siwon suddenly wakes up in a dream with a classmate that he rarely talks to and is asked if he remembers what they did during the freshmen retreat when they all got drunk. The supernatural element is heavy in this one where two boys share the same dreams and slowly grow together in their waking hours. I cannot rave about this manhaw enough: the art is beautiful, the story is captivating, and the characters are so lovable. This is currently on-going with a little over 30 chapters. Drama, Slice of Life, Supernatural, Romance

All About Lust (7/10): After seeing his upperclassmen’s artwork Wooseung decides that he will confess, and his confession is easily accepted. Only problem is that his upperclassmen’s idea of love and lust are a little muddled. In order to mend their twisted relationship Wooseung must find the middle between love and lust. This one started off really strong, but I’m not a super fan of the new couple or the most recent chapters. However, I still think that it’s worth the read. It’s still on-going with a little over 30 chapters. Drama, Slice of Life, Mature, Romance

At the End of the Road (9/10): Taemin suddenly has a dream about a man he has never meet before and watches him try to commit suicide. The next day Taemin is hit by a truck and when he wake up he finds that he’s no longer in his own body, but the body of the man that he watched last night in his dream. He later learns that his body didn’t survive the accident. He believes that he has switched bodies with the man from his dreams, and now he must live the other man’s life. However, a handsome man from his childhood identifies Taemin and swears to protect him. I feel like I used up my lifetime of “oh shit’s” reading this. There are so many twists and turns with this story. It’s currently on-going with over 35 chapters. Supernatural, School life, Romance

***Blood Bank (10/10): This is my favorite one on the list hands down. Shell Overlord is a powerful vampire who suddenly becomes very interested in a human named One who works as a banker. In this world humans are treated like livestock and their blood is collected every month to feed the vampires that rule all. However, one day One finds himself standing over Shell as the vampire asks, “Please, step on me.” Shell is an abnormal that must hide the fact that he loves to be dominated by humans, but can he really get One’s love when One has already promised to harden his heart against this cruel world? This has currently finished publishing and has 61 chapters. Mature, Drama, Comedy, Romance, Supernatural, Vampires

H&H Roman Company (8/10): God has decided that since humans have become so self-reliant and aren’t asking for any help that he will put all of his angels and demons into a company and make them work along side the humans. Ginger is born of both an angel and demon parent. He declares that his angel side is stronger so that he can join his childhood best friend Rum as a pair (pairs are made of one angel and one demon) together they struggle to come to terms with their feelings for each other. This is currently completed with 33 chapters. Comedy, Drama, Supernatural, Slice of Life, Romance, Childhood Friends

Heart Silent (8/10): Hyeon-Jin’s heart has never beat a day in his life, and then one day he stumbles across Chan. Since then his heart will randomly start beating whenever they’re together. Hyeon-Jin is terrified of his heartbeat, but he doesn’t want to stop meeting Chan. This one is on-going and currently has over 30 chapters. Unlike the others this one is slow-paced and everything is just starting to get rolling, but it’s still very cute. Slice of Life, Drama, Comedy, Romance

***Killing Stalking (8/10): This one is not for someone who’s weak of heart. The story tells of a stalker, Yoon Bum, who falls in love with a man that happens to be a serial killer. The serial killer, Sangwoo, keeps Yoon Bum prisoner in his house as they do dreadful things together from torture to killing people. At first I think I was so shocked that everything was happening and that’s why I kept reading, but now I can tell you that I think the creepiness has ebbed. I don’t really like this manhwa, but I think I keep reading because I’m curious on how it will end. This is still on-going with currently about 30 chapters. Psychological, Thriller, Horror, Mature

***Lover Boy (8/10): Eunho once asked Jaeha to be his, but it was too late he was already getting married. However, now they meet again after Jaeha’s divorce and now the time for new love has arrived. Sadly Jaeha is going out with another man in order to try and help himself forget his feelings for Eunho, but Eunho refuses to give up on their love. This is currently on-going with almost 30 chapters. Romance, Slice of Life, Drama

Meeting Him (10/10): This is one of the fluffiest things on this list. One day Shiwoo finds an unconscious man wearing traditional clothing outside of his apartment. Shiwoo brings the man into his house only to find that the man is an ancient prince, Jun, that time traveled to find his lover. In Jun’s time his lover is dying of a unknown disease, but in this time Shiwoo is fine but he doesn’t know Jun. Shiwoo and Jun’s lover have the same three moles on their shoulder making Jun think Shiwoo is his lover. I read everything that was translated in one sitting and I’m dying inside. It’s so cute and I need more. This is currently on-going with just over 15 chapters. Romance, Slice of Life, Drama, Comedy

Raising a Bat (10/10): The cover makes this look like it’s going to be a naughty kind of manhwa, but that couldn’t be more of a lie. Park Min Gyeom has a problem: his body produces too much blood. In order to rid himself of all of the blood he usually donates it, but one day he’s attacked by a vampire. Said Vampire actually is the socially awkward Kim Chun Sam. Together they form a strange relationship as blood provider and vampire. Slowly their feelings for each other start to grow. This is currently complete with 58 chapters, but extras for the story are currently still coming out. Romance, Comedy, Supernatural, Vampire, School Life

***Royal Servant (10/10): I know that when I started this I was like “Interesting, but not my favorite.” Now I’m super invested in their happiness. This tells the story of Kyon who works for Lucaon who is a Royal Blood/Master with supernatural powers. Lucaon’s parents were poisoned causing him not to trust any of the servants or get close to any of them. However, this all starts to change when he notices Kyon and learns that Kyon has a crush on him. Thus starts their Master/Servant relationship and the thawing of Lucaon’s heart. This is currently on-going with over 30 chapters. Drama, Romance, Slice of Life, Supernatural

***Window Beyond Window (9/10): They’ve been childhood friends for as long as they could remember. Yubin has been in love with Shin-Ginu for the past six years and now they are living next door to each other. One night Shin-Ginu sees Yubin playing with his ass and now their strange relationship is about to take off. They both love each other, but neither will admit it. They’re super adorable and funny. I read everything that was translated in one sitting. This is currently on-going with over 20 chapters. Romance, Slice of life, School Life, Childhood friends

***You JIn (9/10): You Jin is a terrible drunk and did something that he shouldn’t have (give a blow job to a stranger) now said stranger has returned to his room and wants to start a serious relationship with him. Slowly their relationship starts to grow closer after they start being honest with each other. When I started this one I was a little confused because of the lie, but then it made sense. This is currently complete with 16 chapters and a few extras. Romance, Comedy, Slice of Life

#blood bank #youjin #window beyond window #royal servant #raising a bat #meeting him #lover boy #killing stalking #heart silent #h&h roman company #at the end of the road #all about lust #a guy like you #19 days #recommendations #ask box #yaoi recommendation list #bl manhwa #manhwa

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itshaykuni · 6 years ago

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ON HOW I FELL IN LOVE WITH READING

“Read. If you have finished reading something, read more.” This is what I used to hear when I was a little restless schoolgirl whose mind was full of vivid dreams and fantasies. For a child whose tiny brain was fully occupied by imaginary universes and characters, there was no space left for those created by someone else’s imagination. And since my eyes were always in search of something close to my imaginary worlds - colorful, engaging, breathtakingly adventurous - staring at the dull wooden white pages filled with nothing but black letters seemed to be a torture to me.

On the other hand, I was the youngest in my family and in the circle of friends, and to be taken seriously, I had to gain authority and trust among them. So I was looking to be an excellent student and reach farther than my peers to establish my authority. And I knew - reading is something that brilliant kids do, whereas the weaker ones hate, so I have to do it as well. This would be a huge additional bonus on my way of getting praise and trust.

This attitude was my first and biggest misconception about reading - doing it only to get praise and recognition, not delving into the mesmerizing new worlds yet undiscovered by me. And alongside this rather toxic attitude, I stumbled upon a serious problem in my elementary school years. Regardless of the fascinating speed, as claimed by my teachers, at which I could process any information I was given, I soon noticed a thing that started to worry me more with each passing year. I was always the last to finish reading something in my class. Reading one page took me 2 times more than my peers. My mother's first response to this was, naturally, that everything was fine, and my classmates were just too lazy to read every word of every sentence. That is why, she’d say, I could process information better than them - because I read everything thoroughly. Her explanation sounded convincing enough. It was only 15 years later that I came across the term ‘dyslexia’.

With time, I noticed that, after reading a couple of pages in a row, I was feeling physically tired, even though I was an eternal engine as a child. It felt like I had sprinted a couple of kilometers with my tiny legs. Dizziness, low levels of energy would play cruel tricks with my eyes and brain. With each passage, it was becoming harder for me to connect one word with another, sometimes I would spend a minute to see and read one word. Not that the letters jumped around as rabbits, just keeping the attention on the character deciphering was hard. And it sucked, I felt an extremely unpleasant discomfort.

Physically painful and heavy - a human will do anything to avoid a task that has these two qualities, at least for as long as that human is at middle school. And if reading takes those qualities upon itself, adding even a grain of dullness to a text can instantaneously make finishing it impossible. Whatever our teachers assigned to read were particularly uninteresting - none of the stories about simple village boys and their grandfathers related to me - a girl who had never been in a rural community and, in her fantasies, was riding a green-scaled dragon over the mountain forests and exploring the seas with Sinbad on a longship with enormous sails. And the poems about our favorite Holy Mountain would literally drive me crazy. Literature classes mostly seemed bullshit to me, and I wasn’t sure if I was right or if I just couldn’t find and see and understand the beauty in those pieces.

At high school, I gave up on pleasing the grown-ups and getting out of my own skin to be an excellent student. Instead, I started to explore my own likes and dislikes, thus not feeling too obligated to read whatever we were assigned. Even though the authors and literary pieces we studied diversified a bit over time, I admitted one simple truth - Armenian literature was not for me. So I started to give attention to stories that were able to capture my attention. Still, whatever interested me the most wasn’t translated into my native language, making reading way more difficult and even slower than usual, no matter how well I could comprehend the language. And as a top cherry, I was a dramatic teenager more interested in socializing, getting stories first-hand from real people rather than closing up in a room and staring at the pages of heavy books.

As I was graduating from high school and applying to a bachelor's degree, I had to do a ton of obligatory reading, having left no time and desire to find something that would truly relate to me. Things started to slowly change by the variety of books offered on the internet and my improved skills in foreign languages. I had the opportunity to explore online libraries as a student, but still, no matter how deep I searched, none of my findings would really come close to my heart. And my reading speed just didn’t seem to improve with time, which was truly enraging me.

With my ‘Oh well, okay’ reaction to whatever I read, soon I thought I had to accept the fact that reading simply wasn’t enjoyable for me and come to terms with that once and for all. So, I abandoned my attempts of forcing myself to like reading and allowed myself the luxury to only read whatever I really wanted, whenever I wanted it and for as much as it was light and enjoyable. Instead, visual media is what I could swim in like a fish. As I fell in the addictive loop of mindlessly checking social media pages and quickly found my way out of it, I discovered invaluable resources on the way like TED Talks, online courses in history, art, psychology, design, photography, videography, journalism, and even literature. These platforms opened new galaxies for me. As I explored so many new topics, global social problems and authors, I soon started to figure out my taste in everything, literature as well.

Due to self-reflection that had grown roots during my high-school years and gradually increased over time, I realized something incredible. My emotional intelligence and non-verbal communication (especially analyzing and understanding the latter) had grown unbelievably. I surely knew it wasn’t only due to growing up, and not the “enormous” experience from communicating to different people. It was also the reading’s doing. I glanced back upon some of the authors I had read- Weber, Hesse, Palahniuk, Akutagawa, Mayne Reid, Christie and Doyle, Fitzgerald, Phillip Dick and many others. To be honest, very often the real value and meaning of the books I read would come to me much later after certain events had taken place in my life. No matter how slow I’d read, no matter how uninterested I was in the obligatory literature, no matter that over 15 years I hadn’t been able to find a book that I would actually like, literature had a great influence on shaping my personality, empathy and perception. That brought hope back to me - perhaps I wasn’t as pitiful as a literature person as I thought I was.

Soon I stumbled upon several books from reading which I received a marvelous experience. The first one was just a 300-page self-help book I purchased in Berlin. Even though it was way far from being a literary masterpiece, I was in need of those pieces of advice and reminders, so it only made a positive influence on me. What mattered the most, though, was the speed with which I finished the book - 10 days only, during travel! That was a personal record for me that raised my hopes a level higher - hopes that I’ll be able to read a book (with normal speed) and enjoy it like normal people do.

After that, I again abandoned my attempts to commit to reading. But one fine spring day when I was browsing my YouTube recommendations, I found a stunning documentary about the most impressive bookstores in the world. In it, the author Mas Joseph shares his anxiety about reading and his endless love for books and bookstores. Nothing could relate me more than this film. In fact, it relates to me to the point where I was crying over the sights of the enormous bookstores that exist to bring us millions of new worlds, realities, fantasies, ideas and invaluable information. “I just found my church,” I thought to myself, “bookstores should be the real churches, the real centers to connect to the higher powers of the universe, not the lifeless cathedrals that have nothing to offer but a stunning architecture. Bookstores contain all the wisdom of the world, and it’s worth it to spend our lives exploring those pieces of wisdom.”

I came across another book that I enjoyed reading from the first sentence to the last. It was a super-captivating detective story that developed around Istanbul’s cultural heritage - something I’ve had a great interest in recent years. But the book was rather heavy - almost 800 pages. And since I still wasn’t getting used to a high-speed committed reading, it took me about a year to finish it. I had abandoned the book a couple of times before, not because it wasn’t engaging enough but because I wasn’t able to commit to finishing it. But it was such a joy when I did, and realizing I had guessed the killers correctly from the very beginning really excited me.

Being so inspired, I set my mind on making reading a daily habit and decided to go back to the most interesting books that I had abandoned and finish those as well. As a result, I read 30-90 minutes every day, finished 3 books in a month and even fell in love with one of them - “The Last Wish” by Andrzej Sapkowski, a collection of short stories about Geralt of Rivia, the famous Witcher that instantly captures gamers’ hearts. The obsession with the Witcher universe and my excitement of improving reading skills brought me a new challenge - to commit to reading all the books of the series. Currently, I’m on the 2nd tome, “Sword of Destiny”, and I’m totally loving it! The book is with me wherever I go, despite the heaviness of my bag.

Nothing can be compared to stare at the dull black characters written on the yellowish pages and hallucinate like you’ve swallowed a mushroom. The more I read, the faster my reading rate gets, and my imagination enhances, giving me a wider variety of colors, perspectives, patterns and settings to explore the story in. Reading is not about getting acquainted with the story and learning what happened eventually. And by no means, it is about getting recognition and appraisal. It’s an experience that fully activates my brain, and when I say fully, I mean it. I can hear each character’s voice, the subtle trembles of their speech, see the goosebumps when the wind softly runs over their skins, I can smell the stinking corpse or taste the delicious freshly-baked cheese-pie in the noisy inn where Slavic traditional music is playing. I can see the subtle mimics when characters flirt, and how they cross their legs, and how a person not related to their story is silently watching them from the corner.

Only now I can genuinely believe the famous quote by George RR Martin:

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.”

#itshaykuni #personal #reading #anxiety #books #bookworm #literature #development #words

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