#however would it be Problematic to say i didn't mind not feeling cold all the time for once. wish i could feel that without all the Effects

[pochapal]

reunited with my sweet sweet beautiful precious finasteride <3 <3 <3 <3 twink death staying dead <3 <3 <3

[viraliz]

Why Corazon ❤️‍🔥and Law's 🐯 relationship isn't Father and son coded!

Here's an small thread to why, canonically speaking, Cora and Law don't have this kind of relationship even when Law were younger.

Now, I'm not stupid. I know what you're gonna say "ofc you would say that, you're one of the freaks". That's why I'm writing this,

to prove that there's no freaks here. And is all a matter of point of view and interpretation!

Enough said, let's be straight to the point.

We have some kind of interesting found family dynamics in One piece!

Like Uta and Shanks,

Nami, her sister and Bellemere,

Luffy and his brothers.

Sanji and Zeff,

Zoro and Kuina

Franky and Tom,

And etc.

But all these side characters happen to substitute their problematic or non existent family! That's how Oda writes.

In Law's case, he had a father and had a mother and a sister. So none of this could ever be substituted. He loved them very much and carried them in his memory, his hat and then in his life. Since he becomes a doctor after all!

He never admitted to see Cora this ways. Never ever. And isn't like he had no opportunities.

"But he's too cold for that!"

Nuh uh!

He openly tells Luffy that "Doflamingo killed someone he loved a long time ago."

Till then, we have never see he open this much.

And while we have characters like Sanji, who's pride can be bigger than Luffy's hungriness, the Cook didn't lost the opportunity to tell his true (shit) father, who's really is his dad. Zeff. Who took care and also saved him.

And when I say "took care ", is really raising a teenager he saved from starving. Not kidnapping! (ilv u Cora)

We have to keep on mind, that Cora and Law only got together for 6 months alone. But even that, was enough to make Law (kind of creeply) obsessed with Cora.

Again, Canon only, the way Law See's Cora's is unique. He is his benefactor (was), his savior. Being deep honest, Law sees him like some kind of Jesus. A religious figure. That he holds in his heart and in his daily life.

Cora inspired him in his Jolly Roger, in his tattoos, in his pirate crew name, in everything!

He felt so grateful to that man, he loved him so much it surpass any kind of love.

It's different from Zeff and Sanji,

different from Nami and Bellemere,

Different from Uta and Shanks

Different from any kind of confirmed family relationship

(even Perona and Moria are confirmed)

Law is basically christian at this point and Cora is his religion!

That's how Oda decided to portray them.

BUUUUUT

as OBVIOUS as it is, yes, Of course you can still see them like father and son if you want. You can see them as bros, as roomies, idk. You're free to do whatever you want!

Because that's what's One piece is about.

However, don't go around saying they're canonically father and son, just because you feel that way.

Don't harm others because of your own opinion.

Thank you for The attention and may you all find your one Piece

[perictione00]

Oops!...I Did It Again

Ch 2: Lucky Charm

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Warnings: Use of profanities and curse words, power dynamics, toxic work culture

Synopsis: When life was throwing you uncountable curveballs, an unexpected reunion with your high school friend helped you dodge every single one of them. Coping mechanisms leave you both in a complicated situationship. So what happens when one of you ends up catching feelings? The cliche or the unexpected?

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Ch 1

Naoya Zenin was a menace. A woman-hating man-child who was also an out-and-proud nepotism baby. He was a nightmare to work with, and it didn't help that you were his secretary. The pay was good, very good, but you didn't know how long you could tolerate his trashy behavior. For now, you have to go with the flow and put up with his issues to avoid pulling three part-timers a day. Which was why you were redoing the whole file work because he didn't like the original font. You were sure the font did not matter to him; he was just enjoying his time moonwalking on your last nerve and misusing his position to make you feel inferior or something along those lines.

"Get me a grilled steak and green salad from that French place", Naoya ordered as the clock hit 12.

It was lunch time, commonly known as his infamous "booty hour", where he would invite a woman from the department to discuss a crucial company matter until his lunch arrived. What was worse was the fact that he would expect you to instruct the delivery person to take the food inside his office while he went at it. Some weird kink of his that got him off. But being the compassionate human you are, a friendly warning was provided instead. However, the same couldn't be said about you. Today was not your lucky day, as your order was declined due to traffic problems, and you had to inform that ass of a man about it.

"Um, sir, would you like to order something else? They're not taking online orders today", you asked, already expecting a dramatic reaction from him.

"Just go get it then, and better make it quick; I don't like my food cold."

The sheer audacity this man had was unbelievable. So fucking ill-mannered and rude that you could easily see yourself killing him. Before you could give him a piece of your mind, in a very toned-down way, of course, a woman entered the office, which was your cue to leave. She was very pretty, and it was a pity that she was there to entertain your boss. It's not like she was forced to, but you're sure that she wants a promotion, and this was the only way. With the experience of two weeks here, you were enlightened with the information about the consultation department being the worst of all when it came to the work environment and treatment of staff. And there was literally nothing anyone could do about it, not even the HR department, because the person on top of the food chain was affiliated with the Zenin family. So you did your job and kept quiet like everyone else.

You felt disgusted as you walked out of the office. The huge pay makes sense now. No one would voluntarily want to work with a jerk like Naoya. For someone from such an influential family, he was too ignorant to survive in the real world. And although he was actually good at what he did, his problematic behavior left no space for praise. But at the end of the day, it was true that he was your boss, and it was also true that you were literally running an errand for him right now. Complaining is all you can do, which was tiring. It is what it is. So with a smile on your face, you entered the restaurant and ordered a grilled steak seasoned with extra pepper and a green salad to go. Yes, it was childish and petty; however, you don't remember him saying "please" while requesting either, so a little spice makes it even now.

You looked around for an empty seat to sit on while you waited, and just then you saw a familiar face offering you one beside him. Oh, he was totally an angel in disguise. You remember that in high school, he helped you several times. Like that one time when you were late for PE class and he lied on your behalf to save you from punishment, or that one time when he helped you revise the whole syllabus minutes before the test, or the one where he stayed awake the whole night to keep you company at a sleepover because you were hellbent on completing the horror movie marathon, or the one where he held your hand while the doctor informed you about your parents' deaths. Nanami Kento was a kind person. A Lucky Charm. And the same kind person found out that you left the city a day before his 19th birthday without telling him.

"Are you stalking me?", you said with a playful smile as you sat down.

"Are you planning on leaving without a word again?", he countered, reciprocating your smirk.

"Oh, so we're going that way, huh", you replied, chuckling. It was not awkward, but you didn't feel like explaining that situation.

"Are we? Anyway, what are you doing in this part of town? Fancy something French?", he asked, changing the subject.

"Oh no. I'm here to get food for a walking STD", you stated almost immediately.

"Interesting. Please elaborate", Nanami said, unsure if he was just entertaining your rant or genuinely invested.

"It's my boss. He's such a douchebag. I can't stand him, but I have to since I'm his assistant. It's exhausting having to sit through his bullshit. He just never shuts up, you know. Legit crap comes out of his mouth. And honestly, he knows his shit, I'll give him that, but the guy's hopeless when it comes to basic human decency. God, he's trash", you stopped knowing well that you could go on forever.

"That sounds like a lot. Why not switch? The company, I mean", Nanami questioned.

You were hesitant, almost uncomfortable, with him knowing about your employment crisis. For some reason, you didn't want him to look at you any differently than he did before. You didn't want him to view you as a failure. Maybe it was the inferiority complex or whatever, but you just wanted to avoid the topic. Fortunately for you, your order was ready, and so were you, to leave. With that, you said your goodbyes, promising to catch up again.

"Sir, you have a meeting with the head of the marketing department at 3", you said while organizing his schedule.

"Yeah, that. Let's go; you're coming with me. I need someone to carry the paperwork", he said nonchalantly.

It was while working with him, that you noticed that Naoya Zenin had a knack for enraging people. But trying your best to pay him no mind, you followed him with your hands full to the meeting auditorium. Once you reached the well-furnished venue, he instructed you to arrange the files and leave. Damn, this job was hitting on all the tough spots of your already bruised ego. You opened the door to leave, only to bump into a large man. A large man in a white tuxedo with blonde hair, to be specific. Who knew that on your way out, you would bump into Nanami Kento of all people?

Ch 3

Series Masterlist

[tlgpandoramia]

Neon Blood : The First Chapter

Just the first chapter of my new book. Currently it's the second draft, however I still didn't decided entirely about many things, so It may drastically change it in the future...Or Not XD Any (kind) feedback it's appreaciate it. OBS: It contains several spelling and grammar errors.

Welcome To Near Dark

Great and creatives mind preaches about the Devil and evil in the form of a horned man, that the world started as a ball of nothingness, beginning when the first human were born...A little egocentric thought, it isn't?

The devil can be quite a genius, tricking people to believe that It doesn’t exist, alive in the mind of the faithful that if though they pray for Its destruction, fear gives birth to strength, after all it’s a standard human thing to ignore the fact that if you despise something, then you’re acknowledging its existence. A perfect disguise for a world where no one believes the very thing in front of their eyes. Think about it, a perfect disguise, for the evil to do the Devil’s job.

Mary Shelley once said ‘’No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks’’. Few blood-hand individual will see themselves as doing a genuine macabre thing, instead perusing the path of justifying their actions, either by using the excuse of a god complex, or just for fun, true evil draws in the weakness of the unfaithful.

How easy it would be to tell a tale and make as if some guy in a jumpsuit, or a creepy clown acted as the antagonist bogeyman in my closet, after all many children are scared by that. When I came to be, Father called me a perfect angel, saying how pretty those bright blue eyes were, or the pretty ginger flocks coming out of the skull. An ordinary man, disguising himself as an angelic persona with fluffy white wings, yet later that child grow to be a girl and she started to see his true self, a definition of deception and pain.

I could indulge in a story about some child that got crushed by an incoming truck and left on the scorching asphalt. However, nothing worked as in the movies, as she learned why fiction is called fiction, no reanimated corpses attempting to eat your brain, werewolves howling under the moonlight and ripping humans apart, or the cliche that danger is outside and lurking in the dark.

Sometimes it happened in the dark, I would cry and beg for someone to be telepathic and read my thoughts. Father loved horror movies, he used to tell stories about shadow like beings living in the house, and locked me inside a dark closet just for the laughs.

‘’You talk and our family’s over, you don’t want that, do ya?’’ the raspy tone still plagues my mind, in special during the night. A perfect child, quiet, intelligence, non problematic and quite independent, yet I had to act as a the clumsy and silly girl that would fall and injured herself in a daily basis.

Now I’m seventeen, just achieved that milestone last year February’s, although no pride behind it, I saw more disgrace, poverty and pain than an experience slash horror protagonist, no scary slasher killed me, in the final scene a random car appeared and picked me up. On the outside a neutral persona, yet inside things were different, screaming, crying and laughing, all in the same time, and in the same order.

Things changed, and the prophecy of the family being separated came true, although I stayed in the good guys side, it could a case of Freddy and Frank, that returned to the sequel to suffer the same fate in a different place, nevertheless it feels that a mantle of fog envelops me and prevents anyone to see me the same way they did before, it can be so cold and lifeless inside of it, a feverish dream, or a summer afternoon nap, nothing has the sensation to be real, a collective madness that involves my brothers and mother, a dream sequence of some kind, although it sound absurd, not a single souls enjoys when everything’s perfect and the character realizes that it happened during a dream.

No demon or haunting are present in this plot, I’m haunted, okay, yet not by some gray skin with spiked fangs. It may be wrong to think, but it would’ve be easier if the haunting stayed physical, the screams and traumas caused more injuries that the metal leash or the slaps, no one wishes to hear from their parent that they were a mistake, that nobody would missed me, Father acted cruel without trying, or he tried to offer a lesson about real life.

The Dilemma that ‘’if it’s bad, why not leave?’’ can be common, and I have an answer for it, a caged bird that lived its entire live inside bars sees flying as an illness. If Shelley’s quote has real knowledge, then it means that father held no evil inside of him, trying on his own way to prove a point of view.

By thinking about it, I can’t shake the thought that no one stood up for me, how wrong its to think it, even as a intrusive emotion, I didn’t asked for help, feeding the foolish judgment that somehow any of the three could notice it. Kids dream about strong heroes flying and save them, later in life that children becomes the adult that were their ideal savior. I don’t feel like one, or capable of aiding that little girl, to be honest from time to time I tend to still be scared of the past.

I had mother in my thought when the decision to reveal what happened won, I didn’t wished for her to remain married with that boomer, yet the doubt that she would take his side and refuse to believe in my version kept me from sleeping for many nights. Telling that a child is bad when it isn’t changes their soul, starting as a thought, then confirmation and last, vengeance, when the wish of wanting nothing more that to be evil comes over.

I didn’t turned into a slasher. However I didn’t gained justice for ten years of abuse, we just left it all behind in Detroit, hoping that moving somewhere else could help all four of us.

She couldn’t afford Las Californias, or a one bedroom house anywhere in the country. We were lost, they all enjoyed our old home and it broke the younger one.

As a child, I imagined how the sea and a beach would be, photos could’ve helped, if only people without a neural implant could access it. The sea fascinates me, how life began in it, so full of life and history, a living poetry of billion of years.

For three days and three nights we stayed in cramped hotels that smelled as if a chem party happened there, I preferred to stay on the chair instead of sleeping on those bed sheets, imaging the beach waves and how it could feel during late evenings, more that once I caught signs of people meant to be road killers, yet much less charming.

Mother talked about that town hundred of times, describing it as the perfect haven for the punks and wires, a woman born and raised there, leaving it behind for some steam surfer guy.

The trip proved to be brutal to mother’s wallet, and for me, since I have a bad breath dog breathing on my neck for hours.

Both boys kept going on who should decide the radio song , quite annoying bantering, songs changing every two minutes, until one of the great lords decided that it’s worth to be played.

‘’In the web that is my, I begin again…’’ Mom hums to the song coming out of the dusty radio, she has her moments, sometimes longer that usual.

‘’Nope’’ Jesse leans over, pressing the button and changing station for the fifth time.

‘’Come on, that was rad in my time’’ the next music station proves to be boring to both boys, two industrial guys cringing over the slang and non synth wave song.

‘’Not yet’’ the two syncs their voices, Mom sighs in defeat, pressing the button three times until a rock music plays, something about a teenage frankstein.

Xeno stretches its paws, forcing me to further shrug my legs, between the travel from that creepy hotel and the three hours on the highway my poor lower limbs took the worse, not to mention wearing a long skirt had been the stupidest thing ever after the name Jesse gave the dog. It feels that every lower muscle cramped and shrink, January should've been colder, winter and all, yet the climates changes, plus the local humidity made everything worse.

It amazes me how neither of them bother to ask ‘’Are we there yet?’’, classic line in any horror movie, a family moving into a chaotic and fisherman town, to live in a decayed overpopulated building, still requires a decent author to make things interesting, it could have some dark romance, and no computer generated imagery, or that virtual reality images, I’m a practical effects girl all the way.

‘’Look, jus’ a little longer’’ Mom points to the neon billboard on a small island a few meters from the shore and the coastal rocks.

It says ‘’Welcome To Near Dark’’, a turned off neon LED banner, daytime reduced it to a giant glass letters, erasing all the traces of the images.

‘’Real niche, Mom’’ Jesse adjust the headphones that ran out of battery hours ago’’It smells funny, fish, and oil, and fuel…’’

‘’Jesse...’’Mom rubs his left arm, glancing back at Michael and I, she told so many tales about this town, conjuring images of a true Las Californias haven experience’’I know things are awful, like totally gnarly, but I think that you’re goin’ to really like here’’

Mom optimism can make a corpse believe in resurrection, it makes my heart twitches, almost if it would hurt if I chose not to believe, as if she speak it enough times it will be true.

The air’s hotter, cursed be humidity, making my hair frizzy and reducing my head size. A fresh breeze comes from the sea helps to fend off the thick warm air, Michael has a stoic expression, yet this type of weather its his thing, how Jesse and him would spend hours in the backyard old pool, the horrible combination of aromas is just a side effect for him.

For me it plays a different role, as the sun only purpose is to burn my skin, causing some friendly fire on my exposed forearms.

And so it begins, the first sights of civilization of Near Dark, which promised nothing and delivered everything, a kaleidoscope of styles and bizarreness. People driving convertibles, whooping and hollering at anything that has legs, pedestrians showing middle fingers and shouting bad names, cursing the driver’s family down to their first generation, a few throw things at it, a true free for all, a true beach town experience, the weakest here could send the strongest from Detroit to a clinic.

To add further, sunburn skins and bodily implants seems to be the fashion, plus a notorious clothing shortage, a lady wearing a yellow fluorescent bikini spins around on a Rollerblade, waving at the upcoming vehicles and just acting as the standard gore character that get kill in the first forty minutes.

Tourist and locals alike passes by the street, carrying their frozen treats and ice cream cones melting on the two afternoon sun, a thrill of sweat grease on the sidewalk, it should be the least of the contamination worries, as the gutter are filled with wasted cigarettes, discarded food packaging and plastic, I can imagine the state of the water drainage system, at least no one will flow down there.

Mom flags the pedestrians, giving time for the crowd to disperse, some do just that, allowing us to pull over and enter a side way to some rinky dink gas station. Others are not so polite, screaming at mother to be careful, a guy punches the hood, not hard enough to cause a full argument, yet loud enough to make her apologizes. He passes by my window, although the wagon truck is tall, I just sink lower on the seat to avoid eye contact, a gang of Nazi Runners, mowhanks, loose tank tops, thick gloves covered by spikes, shoulders pad meant to tackle on their victims and the surgical implanted enhance eyes, dark silver goggles scanning me and waiting for a breach to engage in their illicit hobbies.

As soon as the wagon parks, Jesse jumps out, dragging Xeno along by the leash, running to the opposite side of the station.

Although Michael’s my brother which I love with all my heart, being alone with a male a few centimeters away sparks an unsettling sensation, he breaks the uncomfortable mood between us by distancing himself.

‘’Hey, you saw that thing on the sign?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’Nevermind’’ Michael sighs, leaving the car and entering the gas station, just standing there without any goal.

My knees twinges on the chance to be stretch, however the humidity is worse outside, forcing me to shield my eyes from the sun and the breeze of warm wind. The beach has a second sea, this one of people, some laying on the hot sand, cooking alive while others are enjoying the water, most of the frequents are tourist, it can be spotted with ease due to eye squinting and expensive sunglasses, over the years pollution made the sun increased its radiation rays, or whatever its called. People passes by and throw glares at me, the worst part is how I can feel the sweat sliding on my legs below the socks, lack high knees frying my skin, can’t blame them for the crooked eyes, I would do the same if someone’s wearing fluorescent bikinis back in Detroit.

Mom fills the car with gas, giving me an accidental high from the smell, natives from here drinks fuel as part of an initiation ritual, how she knows this is beyond me, although I can guess the answer for this enigma.

On the outskirts, three older teenagers ignores the beach across the street, instead diving in the dumpster, Jesse run past it, pointing beyond the city.

‘’There’s a freakin’ amusement park there, look, Mom!’’

At the distance, a glorious roller coaster shape decorates the horizon, even two enormous spotlights simulating eyes of some sort, below it a large construction gives access to the pier, beach and a coastal mall. The whole place’s sleeping, the glass signs and billboards, plus it lacks crowd, although Jesse’s swooning over the sight, Mom’s unphased, mere giving him an agreement and focusing her attention to the gas pump.

One of the teens falls on the floor, laughing about it and complaining about the cement hardness, only to dive right back in. A faded green hair girl pick a white and red fast food package, taking a piece of a half eaten pie, biting it as it’s a delicacy of some sort.

Runways escaping from someone or something, those three could’ve been Michael, Jesse and I, Mom worked hard to prevent that, pointing us to the right direction and creating an environment where we could talk to each other, instead of dwelling within our heads and battling it alone.

Near Dark it’s full of this type, overpopulated it, one on every sidewalk, some better dressed, a few with implants, yet all carries the same essence, a dozen bleed with the background, attempting to survive and just go on another day.

As I open my bad, the wallet beg for some content, it’s being a whole month since it saw money, yet a single ten Neodollar chip remains, the last memory from my collection sold two months ago.

Mom expressions frowns, yet she makes the choice to handle over her last chip to those teenagers, urging Jesse to approach.

‘’Jes, get those kid this for some food’’ although Jesse don’t challenges her orders, yet gives me a side look when I also give some chips for the homeless youth.

He opens the mouth for a split second, a single word coming out, however Mom rubs his shoulder, although he’s reluctant, Jesse budges, giving the chips to the teenagers, signaling that the task went smooth. It mesmerizes me how happy those kids are by receiving the chips, jumping around and teasing each other by touches and playful punches, waving at Mom and screaming around.

‘’Thanks, cougar, you’re ten!’’ the green hair one performs a gesture with both hands, Mom face lights up on the compliment.

No doubt that those chips will be quite useful for them, buying food for tonight or maybe rent some place to take a shower, nevertheless we could’ve used it as well.

Jay insist on going into the amusement park as a reward from following the command, circling around the car and putting Xeno back inside.

‘’Come on, I’m more desperate that a brain eater zombie in a influencers party!’’

‘’Later, zombie punk, Grandma’s watin’ for us’’

A convertible full of Runners approaches, the beat coming out of their speakers vibrates the wagon interior, at least it look that the group’s having fun, unlike me, being burn alive by the scorching seat. Michael has the right idea, getting the key for his motorcycle on the wagon’s cart, a true classic from decades ago, a custom Cynthia Davidson model, bough in a junkyard and customize to his taste, the memory of Jesse bringing the possibility that it could’ve belonged to someone that died in an accident cheers me up a little, he cherishes that motorcycle so much, and to think how he tried to sell it for money.

The remain of the city follows the same pattern, crowds of gangs, runaways, guys and gal rocking ripped bodies , turned off neon billboards and a awful brightness for a place that has the word ‘’dark’’ in its name. Ahead of the park the avenue gives access to several residential streets, the terrain so flat that I can see homes miles away, Mom calls it the ‘’Diamondback’’ where the rich lives, near the beach and the city’s center, the poor lives near the mountains, and below.

Jesse seems unpleased by the idea of meeting Grandma, crossing the arms and shaking the legs, to be honest, I can’t recall much of her and I understand his disinterested by it, she meet him the day he was born , almost fifteen years ago, even leaving the in the same day, Grandma refuses to leave the house for the past fifty years, she didn’t even show up for mine or Michael birth, so one can imagine everyone surprise when that old lady ring our apartment. Although, it seems cruel of a grandparent to do such thing, she never hide the distance between us, her and mom had many issues and it strained further the day she discovered about Michael’s pregnancy, I still remember the day she call and mistaken me for mom, ‘’Hey, did you or the kids die yet?’’, when a negative answer came, the call ended.

It must be hard for mom to have no one else to turn to help, forced to live with her three children in their grandmother’s house in some backwater Las Californias town. However, its amazing how Grandma agreed to offer us shelter in the first place. I have the best memory between the four of us and even with this quality, I recall little of her, a reddish brown hair woman with the same eyes as mine, although I’m not expecting a graceful elder lady serving milk and cookies, I hope that we ain’t digging yourselves in a house that will be plagued by constant discussions, it may be a sign of weakness, yet I no longer can’t take violence and screams, at least for the next months.

The stimulating from earlier vanishes as quick as it came, turning into the only clues of nature in this place. Bleached from the sunshine, overcrowded by rangy flora, almost if this place segregates from the rest of the city, who could’ve guess that’s the same location from forty minutes ago, a harsh, yet positive chance, I only hope Michael didn’t forgot to put on googles. Following an inclined road, and a eerie view of a ravine by the right, the Andrei matriarch house shows itself by the cliff. Large wooden poles laying around, forming symbols that fails to be familiar, some are craved to resemble animals, one type is the trident poles, it means ‘’Algiz’’, belonging to the Elder Futhrark runic alphabet, its use to offer protection and security, surrounding the fence project that seems untouched in decades. A six foot pentagram forged in metal hangs on the arc by the entrance.

Mother parks the car in front of the eight steps wood stairs leading to the porch, a delicate two people size swing agitates by wind, no doubt Jesse’s thinking how much this resembles the Knowby Cabin, although it’s larger and with luck no evil book in the basement. A shed ahead seems to act as a garage, however its impossible to go any further, as all manners of bizarre symbols and ornaments blocks the passage, some are unfinished poles or craving of the symbols around the property. Dolls head are hanging on the trees, their eyes replaced by shards of mirror, crosses made of wood circles around, either grandma’s trying to keep the evil in, or out, guess we’ll see soon.

This house, or cabin, it’s something else, to be mild. The design dates back to the two thousand, yet the construction pattern from the today is strong with this one, large windows, brown and neutral colors, lack of vibrant ones and a double glass door featuring seven tiles in a pair of segment top and solid, whatever it means, I read once about it in a magazine that explained about it, it was the same door, it seems heavy and sturdy, way to thick for the house of an elder lady edging her eighty years.

All is so quiet, Mom stares around, from her blink less eyes she’s expecting something to occur. Michael climbs down , going a few steps ahead before freezing, staring at the porch hidden for my vision.

A pair of legs sprawled out, wearing a worn out slipper. On the floor, Grandma’s impaled by a short wooden pole, right through her chest. The body lies below an aluminum plate, crushing the fragile body, a brick broken in half close to her head indicates how it happened.

An absurd amount of crimson blood overflows the porch, dripping on the stair as he eyes are wide open, and the tongue already purple, spread out on the right corner of the lips. Michael pupils dilated as if he saw his soulmate, while Jesse quint ahead, shaking the head and sitting on the part of the porch untouched by the substance. Mom sighs and kneels.

‘’Mom?’’ Michael’s unruffled about it, stepping back.

‘’Great, she died, how’ bout we sell this and go back to Detroit?’’ Jesse ignores a answer and takes Xeno out .

‘’Syrup mixed with red dye’’ Mom wheeze in disappointment, showing us the scheme, as the stake proves to be a mere piece of foam ‘’Mom, get up’’

The former corpse comes to live, removing the false eyeballs and laughing, like if anyone found it funny.

‘’Did a damn good job this time’’ the elder put her glasses back on, coughing the red syrup that invade the mouth.

Mom embraces her, still it doesn’t make the situation better or helps me to forget about the silly prank. The air get stuck in my throat, as if invisible hands strangulates me, I could pay the same way, fall on the floor and pretend to be dead, that would make us even, good thing Mom gave me such a good education.

She opened both main door, allowing the boys to bring in the boxes. Unpacking it’s the easier part about it, every appliance and furniture we owned was sold to either pay the lawyers or the bills, plus most of our belongings were left behind. We couldn’t afford a true moving trailer to bring everything, so everything ended up on the general store balcony, not even Jesse rare comic books escaped the fate, good thing Mom raised us in a bohemian style, avoiding implants, neural links and eletronics, instead letting us focus on physical things, I still remember about high school, while the others had their fancy neural implants, I resorted to dusty books fabricated in the past century, a few nicknamed me ‘’Time Traveler’’, teasing all the time about the peculiar way my family lived, I don’t miss school or technology.

The last books in the wagon are the rest of my books and Mom’s vinyl collection, tunnels to the past. Weird how much life changed over such a short time, it feels scary to be on this highway, things can go over the weather so quick, I had good memories about those vinyl, if only Dad hadn’t blighted it, once he kicked the door of my room because the music was too loud, wielding that leather leash that hurted so bad, the metal parts were heavy and wide, meant to cause bruises and with enough force, broken bones, the final hit would hurt me the most, as if each hit I would shrink, getting smaller and smaller, the final one gave me some nasty purple bruise on the back of my neck, a soreness that last for almost one week, in a few occasions I would catch my reflection during shower and see the damage on my back and shoulders , one more reason for a silly teenager to be disgust with her body.

‘’You alrigh’?’’ Mom pulls me off the trance, petting my shoulder and smiling, I know she means well and I’m not ashamed to talk about feelings, yet I can’t shake off the feeling of shame, as if she knows something quite embarrassing about me, I don’t want people pitying me or mentioning all the time what happened, on the other hand there’s nothing I wish more that to be given a lot of attention.

‘’Darling, you’th only woman that got nothing in a divorce’’ Grandma smokes a jet, grape flavor, a horrible smell raises.

‘’I know, but the guy had nothin’ to take, and I didn’t wanted a huge fight’’Mom takes off one box, putting on the floor before organizing everything in a weight order’’We didn’t need more fight’’

That’s my queue to leave, before they starts to referring to me in the third person as if I’m not present.

Inside, those two are already jumping around and exploring the first floor. Two bathrooms, one upstairs and other below the stairs, four bedrooms and a thick door blocking the access to the basement, eight padlocks and four locks, none of the fancy electronic codes or locks, just the vanilla way people used to do it. A woman living in a isolated house on the hill inviting people to live with her, talk about The House On The Skull Mountain.

The place’s a mess, to be delicate about it. Melted candles stick on the chandeliers, long ago since cleaned, weird symbols hanging around the living room, plants with vines and covered by thorns, the awfull scent of religious aroma and the essence of jet grape smoke. A true alternative nightmare, to add further, the huge statues of owls and wolfs don’t make things better in any degree, up on the wall a taxidermy head of a bear stares at me all the time, as if those glass eyes are following each step, and watching over the entrance.

It’s cozy, won’t lie about it, a certain charm mixing several styles and delusions. Aside from how muddle the house is, it’s clean enough, the wood floor shines and the decoration has no traces of dust.

Every room is a living tomb.

[redphlox]

How Touya can be Saved

I’ve talked before about why I think Shouto will save Touya, and now I want to talk about how. No doubt saving the eldest Todoroki child will be a combined family effort, but I want to specifically talk about Shouto’s role in this because it will be the culmination of his character arc. I also want to tie in how Dabi can make himself seen and understood by crying tears of blood in front of his family. Finally receiving validation after desperately needing it his entire life will be the key to his salvation.

As of chapter 298, Shouto already empathizes with Touya; he feels Touya’s hate and even recognizes Dabi is the person Shouto himself was before the Sports Festival. Shouto is extending his empathy and understanding to his brother the same way he reacted to Iida during the Stain arc in chapter 53, “Todoroki to Iida.”

Having empathy for Dabi’s resentment is only the first step in reaching him, though. That shared rage doesn’t completely validate Dabi’s pain as an abuse victim, which is something Shouto has yet to recognize about himself. Shouto’s anger has always been about how Endeavor abused Rei to the point she had to be institutionalized and not how Endeavor isolated him, physically abused him, and robbed him of his childhood. Shouto probably hadn’t stopped to think about how the other Todorokis perceived their family situation because, like most families in this situation, no one talked about the abuse - Shouto even expresses surprise and agreement in 192 when Natsuo confronts Endeavor with the entire family’s pain. Shouto thinks back to the memory of wanting to play with his siblings and realizes that specific day didn't only stay with him but that his siblings remember it and were impacted by it, too.

Like Natsuo, Dabi knows the root cause of their family’s dysfunction was Endeavor, and while he had a problem with what he perceived as each individual member’s blindness to their abuse, he ultimately doesn’t blame the victims and instead assigns all the blame onto Endeavor. Even 10 years later, he still calls Rei ‘okaasan’, Fuyumi ‘Fuyumi-chan’, and Natsuo ‘Natsu-kun’ because he still cares about them and recognizes all of them as victims of a corrupt hero who never set out to be a husband and a father and only used them.

However, Touya's own victimhood has never been validated - in 301 and 302, it was seen that he was the scapegoat for his family, and no matter how much he tried to earn back his father’s approval or call his father out on his unfair treatment, no one was ever on Touya’s side. His mother told him to look away from his father as an example instead of standing up to Endeavor for herself and her children, and Fuyumi and Natsuo were too young to understand and couldn't relate to what Touya went through as Endeavor's prized heir. Touya needs validation that he was abused and neglected. He always has. He still does.

The person in the perfect position to understand what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Endeavor’s impossibly high standards, obsession with surpassing All Might, and quirk training is Shouto. But in order to fully empathize with Dabi and show his brother that he can relate, Shouto needs to acknowledge that he too was a victim. In 292, Dabi basically asks Shouto to validate the pain and suffering Dabi had just exposed in the battlefield, but his question still stands unanswered.

To reach Touya, Shouto also has to show Dabi what kind of person he is - as in, Shouto has to separate himself from Endeavor’s shadow and establish that he too has been holding Endeavor accountable for his actions. We as readers know that Shouto’s entire character arc has been about asking himself, “Who am I?” Often, children who grow up in abusive households struggle with their identity and Shouto is a perfect example of this. This is why he chose his hero name to be his name: Shouto. He’s learning who he is after years of trying so hard to not be his father and becoming exactly like him - cold, distant, tunnel visioned, hateful. It wasn't until he met Inasa that he realized this and wanted to right his wrongs.

Like Inasa, Dabi doesn’t know Shouto at all. Both Inasa and Dabi knew Endeavor and assumed Shouto would be just like him. Inasa had a valid reason to think this of Shouto of course, because Shouto was standoffish and dismissive during the UA entrance exams, but at the time of the provisional license exam Inasa hadn’t learned that Shouto had recognized this toxic side of himself and had begun working towards the kind of person he wants to be. Shouto had to show Inasa the real him, and in a similar way, he will have to prove this to Dabi. Dabi hasn’t seen Shouto struggle with his identity like we the readers have; Dabi only sees his usurper making headlines and willingly interning with Endeavor. He probably assumes Shouto is proudly training to carry their father’s legacy. Dabi isn’t privy to the nuanced relationship Shouto or their siblings have with their father. All Dabi knows is that Endeavor is seeing and paying attention to Shouto and Shouto seemingly submitting. Dabi has no idea THIS is how it really is:

Showing others who he is is a way for Shouto to process his own trauma and establish his identity. As the son of the #2 hero, Shouto has always had to prove himself to others - that he’s not his father. He’s even had to prove this to himself by accepting his fire side and making it his own in spite of his father repeatedly calling him a creation or a masterpiece. Not being like his father is such a defining trait for Shouto that he feels compelled to tell kindergarteners during the re-licensing exam his life story and his trauma. He literally bore his heart out to these kids because he knew he wouldn’t get through to them unless he was genuine. I think he’ll apply this concept to Touya, too.

The thing about Shouto is that, while he hasn’t reconciled with his own status as an abuse victim, he sees himself as a survivor. He sees himself as someone who managed through a difficult situation and wants to help others get through their struggles too. That's why getting through to these kids was so important to him, why he took it so seriously. These were problematic kids, and instead of calling them brats or trying to intimidate or manipulate them, he tries to get down to their level and relate. Notice he emphasizes how much he struggled in school at first, how his relationship with his father is strained - in his mind, it's something these kids may be able to relate to.

Shouto is someone who sets out to understand and make others feel seen and understood. It's what makes him kind. Shouto probably understands why his father abused the entire family - Endeavor's reasons don't excuse him or earn his children's forgiveness, but it's a reason that humanizes him to Shouto. He himself was a cold, bitter person who now believes people can change if given the right opportunity and self-awareness because this is a lesson he's learned from Midoriya and Inasa. This is also something Shouto can grant Touya: understanding, a listening ear, space to be wrong, and a chance to be seen.

Touya wanted and still craves to be seen, and he has to see in return. He has to realize Shouto isn't his father's puppet. He has to relate to Shouto much like Shouto is relating to him. Shouto will have to pull the same move he pulled on those kindergarteners and tell Dabi his struggles, and then show him he’s making his own path different from their father’s and that the family isn’t blindly following Endeavor anymore or letting him do what he wants. Natsuo has stood up to him, Rei has stood up to him, Fuyumi has admitted to herself she had been trying to play a happy family instead of fixing the internal mess - they as a family will have to show Dabi all of this, and he’ll have to wrap his head around it. He has to realize that his family is different from how they were 10 years ago. This is what I mean by allowing Touya space to be wrong - it’s okay for him to be wrong in assuming all these things about Shouto. Shouto won’t judge him for it.

I've talked before about how the narrative framing as of chapter 309 has set up that a person must express their feelings in a socially acceptable manner before they can be a candidate for saving, and that means crying. As soon as Midoriya saw a glimpse of little Tenko crying, he switched his mentality from "I'll never forgive you" to "I want to save that crying boy." When Toga ran away from Ochako crying, Ochako became concerned and curious. Following this pattern, it makes sense that Dabi also has to show his emotions, but it’s complicated because he can’t cry due to his burnt tear ducts. Every time we’ve seen him cry tears of blood, he’s been alone - he’ll have to cry in front of Shouto and the family for it to sink in that all of Dabi’s destruction and hate stems from deep-seated sorrow and feelings of abandonment. The family does not yet know how the fire that killed Touya started, and they have no idea that Touya’s emotions are linked to his fire and that he died because he was feeling overwhelmingly forsaken and sad. Once they find out, however, they’ll fully understand Touya (hopefully) and recognize they haven’t been understanding him at all. Saving Touya will be difficult because he has to be vulnerable and that's not something he's done as Dabi, but that's where the Todoroki family arc is headed: healing as a family.

As a side note: I’m not saying that the message the manga is giving is the correct one (how you express yourself shouldn’t be a determinant of the help you receive) but it’s what we have to work with. I also think saving Touya will be more complicated than this and will also involve Natsuo, but that’s a meta for another day! ;]

[lucky-clover-gazette]

this is about the handmaid's tale

if you don't want to hear about the handmaid's tale, or think it's useless literature or not worth mentioning because of its failings, just move on from this post and find something else that speaks to you

that said

the handmaid's tale does have value. it does. genuine question - have you read it, and/or the recently published sequel the testaments? what do you know about them? there are issues with both, as with any media with any substance, but tht is a relevant satire and its sequel is atwood's attempt to write something NON defeatist in the same world.

intersectionality is important and the handmaid's tale does have a main character who is a white, straight, privleged afab person pre-gilead. june is that, yes. however, there is a LARGE cast of afab people designated handmaids and others who are actually allies to gilead, and their stories, races, sexualities, and socioeconomic backgrounds are all very different. personally when i read the book i saw myself in june's friend moira, who is a lesbian but is forced into sex work with powerful men because she wasn't compliant as a handmaid, and fellow handmaid ofglen, who is punished for falling in love with another women working at the house where she is a handmaid. to suggest that the book is just for and about straight women, at least, is fucking absurd.

i'm not going to go over an Intersectionality Laundry List of the boxes each character checks, because honestly i think it's performative bullshit that prevents important stories from doing their jobs, and i doubt i'm changing someone's mind by doing so. if you don't want to care about anything i'm saying, you're completely entitled to that, especially if you feel the story doesn't resonate with you. but the story is NOT just for straight white privileged women to get off on their own suffering, and to portray it as such at a time where women are processing these events in the best ways they can, is... i mean, come on. especially in their comment sections, where countless pro-life idiots are probably already attacking them if they've gotten any kind of attention.

hell, and atwood is even trying to make a point about women who side with gilead through characters like serena joy and aunt lydia, who are both privileged white women who are never framed in a way that asks for the reader's empathy--in fact, the opposite. serena is almost a greater betrayal to women's rights than the men in charge of gilead, and she is far more brutal to offred our main character. that's saying something about people like amy coney barrett, and if we just write off this book as a pity piece for the white women who see themselves in offred it's honestly a disservice to other characters' roles in the story. it has so much to say and goes even deeper in the show, sometimes in ways i personally didn't even like, so don't think i'm a total apologist for the whole thing. in fact, i'm kind of cold towards atwood now, because while she seems not to be actively wishing harm to trans folks the way jkr is, she also seems not to really care about advocating for trans people. but handmaid's tale doesn't equal atwood, and it's such a cultural cornerstone at this point that it's unreasonable to expect any person who cites it to have a thorough timeline of everything problematic about the story and author.

anyway, in the books and show -- each handmaid that's given any kind of backstory is different, but they are united by one thing: being oppressed by a christofascist society. kiiinda like real life, right now. it's very relevant to EVERY afab person's potential future and does a good job of showing what a christofascist state looks like. when i saw that term for the FIRST TIME EVER yesterday i immediately was like, "oh, that's gilead." probably a lot of people had the same thought process, just by being somewhat exposed to literature and popular media.

i just think it would be rly nice if people stopped shutting down others who are trying to put into words what they fear for their own futures the best way they can, relating to popular media. it's not helpful and it feels, at least to me, like yet another straw of "shut up women" to add onto the camel's back. you don't have to like or reference tht or find value in it as a feminist piece of literature, but i would love to see fewer tweets belittling the analogies people are making in their shock or people directly replying to tweets like "well actually," especially if the person being critical isn't afab.

i'm not advocating for the handmaid's tale to be the pinnacle of feminist literature at all, but you have to acknowledge that to a lot of afab people of ALL races and sexualities and socioeconomic statuses, especially those older than gen z, it has been for the majority of their lives. let them hurt and explore that hurt. be kind. we're all so fucking pissed and hurt and tired right now.

or don't, but i've said my piece and it felt good to get out

(also it's not lost on me that tht is written by a woman and i don't see nearly as much "well actually"ing about male authors' literature that is commonly mentioned in progressive social justice-adjacent spaces)

(and yeah it's corny for people to cosplay handmaid's i'm pretty sure margaret atwood is cringing too)

[the-mortifying-ordeal-of]

Hey champ, what's new?

I am both craving and irritated by my Reptar style of blogging but I kinda need a purge before I can sort.

He asked me for a kiss and even said I could say no, but I said yes even though I didn't want to because I can't say no without consequences.

My mom is not a happy person and I want to be a happy person.

I have relapsed on true crime but I'm more choosey, more mindful, and some of it feels really nice.

I wanna start wearing a choker again.

I've wanted to cold-text/booty-text Benjadizzle and Fuckass but luckily Past Me deleted both their numbers. I've also wanted to reach out to Kelly Bean and a few other poeple from my past.

I have new leadership at work and I'm trying to be bigger, louder, softer, realer. It's a lot and I'm both scared and hopeful.

I really don't know to what degree I'm being encouraging/strengths-focused versus fawning/attaching with compliments. I try my best to use the nonviolent communication framework to express my appreciating in terms of my own feelings and needs but that's way more raw and soft so I avoid it, professionally, quite a bit more than I'd like to.

AlAnon is good for me. I want a sponsor and to work the steps. I want to have constructive journal prompts. I also want to finish the What Color Is Your Parachute book but I've been stuck on the third petal since... August?

The past few weeks, I've found myself content to just sit and breathe and settle. Like I'm trying to think of what to do next, but when I check my texts and calendar and to-do lists, I'm good. There's stuff I could do, but nothing urgent, so I just sit and chill a bit. It feels super weird.

I'd like to be outside more. Turns out I really enjoy hiking in cooler weather.

Keeping the Big December Secret has been difficult and I'm looking forward to both the event and the ability to be transparent and let my guard down afterward.

I flaked last-minute on hanging out with Ahimsa today and I feel good about cancelling. I probably would have felt resentful about going and it was nice to stay home.

We had a ladies night last night and I was the DD. I loved it, I feel no shame or regret or hot-stove mortification, I had a great time, and I need to remember that I have a better time in social settings when I'm sober. Next I need to figure out if that's because I have a problematic relationship with alcohol or if I hate myself so much that being unfiltered is intolerable.

I'd like to make more money and have more responsibility, but I also want a work setting that isn't so white supremacy culture-y with all the sense of urgency, perfectionism, hierarchy, etc. I think I'm ready to be responsible for more interpersonal complexity and exposure.

However, after ladies night last night and friend call this morning, and the brief call with Ahimsa to cancel, I've needed most of today to just chill. I may be ready for more complex content, but I'm not ready for a higher quantity of work. I require a lot of down time to stay steady and balanced.

I like DuoLingo.

I think he's doing better when I'm not around. The financial stuff still sucks but I hope it's worth it. A big part of me hopes we can have a year or two of separation and tight finances, so we can get back together and live together and be good together. Another part of me feels the tickle of denial and delusion when I say that. Who knows what the future will hold. ODAT.

Man we really sucked at pool last night. It was a great time. I love my people.

I'd like to make time each week, maybe three or even four days, to schedule a walk out in nature for either silence or podcasts. I crave all of those things but currently don't have it on my calendar so it isn't happening. Hmm but I now work four days a week. Long lunches, maybe? Or my after-work routine before dinner and meetings?

I really have been in recovery since 2016 and that's neat. I was about to berate myself for falling out of yoga, but I just shifted my healing and nurturing from yoga to walking and meditation. I have taken my recovery with me everywhere, into all realms of my life, and the form shifts but the substance only deepens and grows. I am firmly rooted, and I feel myself beginning to reach for the sun, growing taller, taking more risks, bending in the wind but not breaking, with a sturdy base but delicate and sensitive edges. I am blooming. And winter will come, fall will take this season's leaves, but I have committed to my health and wellness and I'll be okay. I may even lose branches as my environment affects me, but I take care of myself, give myself water, turn toward the sun, breathe deeply, and grow where I'm planted.

Boundaries are what I say I'm going to do, and it's my responsibility to then do that, because boundaries are also my own customized self-care instructions, my user guide, my enrichment plan.

I'm so grateful for my yoga teacher's public playlists on Spotify. And Spotify in general. Music is good.

I ate a salad today!

AlAnon really is for all my relationships. And not just through the lens of "I collect broken people" but in the sense that everyone suffers, no one is perfect, and it's important to me to find my own way of living with others that is satisfying, authentic, productive, and joyful during the inevitable and natural suffering and imperfection. Not that there's anything wrong with them, or even me really, but I am the only person whose life I can change.

Michel was talking to me about how no one can hurt her, because no action is objectively hurtful. She asked me to push back, and maybe I will because the second arrow is certainly my responsibility but the first isn't, and other people are responsible for knowing that a likely risk of shooting arrows is hitting and harming someone. Ignorance of the law is not a defense, and so forth. But I hear her saying to truly take nothing personally; to communicate and customize our interactions once we have the information, and that is what caring and the verb of love is, but that essentially what we do is only about ourselves, so you can't hurt me and I can't hurt you - you can be hurt, and I can be hurt, and we can commit to mutuality, but mutuality is a choice and we are responsible for ourselves first. I dunno, I need to think about it more. But it reminded me of the four agreements, and I sense some useful clarity there.

I think that's all for today folks. OH. I hate it when Adam calls me kiddo but I think I interrupted it by calling him old man.

And I'm still deeply triggered by sexual violence, car troubles, and being expected to make nice food. Hmm there was something else...

I'll come back when I remember. For now, nightly DuoLingo and then a meeting!

[a-writer-for-her-soul]

Half-full glass of water

I was in a New Year's Eve dinner and everyone was confessing how they have learnt and felt for the last 365 days. I had had a monologue myself about my 2020 few days ago. I knew it would sound selfish and ridiculous to say that this year is a wonderful year, but it means to me personally that way. 2020 impacted adversely on everything, and everyone and I myself wasn't an exception. Even though the losses and challenges I have been through weren't comparable to many others' but we all have been facing a difficult time. However, I must say without experiencing this, I couldn't gain what I have now and it was worth learning journey for me last year. I have been saying 2020 is the best year of my life so far, and it wasn't because I had more money, bought more things or achieved all goals on my list. In fact, I got trouble with finance and my last internship went in an unexpected which I didn't prepare or plan for.

Regardless of all unwanted things that happened, there were unpredictable lessons that came along with all the troubles, which I have never thought it could change my mind completely about the way I sense this world. One of those learning is being aware of what I have. It seems basic and theoretical but it's absolutely the best thing I have ever learned and truly enable me to define what really matters in my life. I have heard of a story about a half-full water glass and I'm using it for manifesting my lesson. Some look at the half-full water glass and said: it's too bad, I only got half of the glass of water. On the other hand, the others look at it and actually be grateful for having even half of the water glass.

That story has always been valuable to me because I believe that joy and sorrow are formed by the way we perceive. However, from knowing to understanding requires experiencing. Therefore I only understood it until I had reflected the story on the way I have acted and lived my life. I was buying so many clothes and stuff for the last two years since I started living on my own, going to restaurants every days or every weeks, finding reason to getting something news (either products or services). Apparently, I always felt insufficient and that feeling wasn't because of the lack of my basic needs. The fact is that my life has always been more than just meeting the basics. I didn't know where the feeling came from but I could see the way it eroded other aspects in my life. For instance, I had never felt I had friends and none of the surrounding people would understand me as much as I wish. Due to that personal negative belief, I always challenged people who came to my life, I always seemed indifferent or cold to them. Deep down I wanted to be cared and loved but I was passive in every relationship and waited for them to show me their patience or their yearn for my affection.

Subconsciously, I pushed people away and hated them because of not staying. I realized the problematic is not others but my belief, my perspective. I always want more of what I already had, but never recognized their presences. I remembered a statement that I have read in a book: “You will not have that for which you ask, nor can you have anything you want. This is because your very request is a statement of lack, and your saying you want a thing only works to produce that precise experience—wanting—in your reality.

The correct prayer is therefore never a prayer of supplication, but a prayer of gratitude.” In other words, when we ask for something, which means we claimed that we don't have it, we affirm inexistence of it and therefore we will not reach that thing. How could we get what we seek for if we stated that it doesn't exist in our lives? And we keep comparing our lives to others, why can't we have what they have? Just because we don't want to see what we have, thus we ask for what others have instead.

The same happened to my boyfriend. He is a game developer and a tech enthusiast. He got his self a PS2, PS3, PS4, PSP, PS Vita, Nintendo Wii U, Nintendo 3DS, Nintendo Switch, 4 VR headset and so on. This year PS5 is out and he planned to get it. Nevertheless, when I asked if it really matters to his needs in life, to his happiness, he couldn't answer me that having the new PS5 would bring him more fulfillment as the feeling he has when he publishes his new games. Also he have had tons of video games in different devices and kept buying new ones with a thought that this purchase would make difference. In fact, his collection gets bigger but his satisfaction remains low or even got less through those purchasing times.

What is the point of having plenty of choices but you don't even want to choose any of them? The more you possess might be equal to the more possessiveness you feel. But to me possesiveness isn't the feeling that truly fulfills me but enjoyment. And enjoyment happens when I feel grateful. Being grateful is not about having whatever we want but being aware of what we already had.

Not only for tangible wants but emotional satisfaction. If I kept asking for others' proactive care, their time and their patience instead of realizing that there are people who have been listened and present in my life, I would always create an illusional expectation which none could meet. They would not stay for someone that doesn't appreciate their presences. If myself isn't enough for me, if my family isn't enough, if my friends aren't enough, so who else comes into my life could make me fulfilled?