#i was literally sick and dying so my state of mind was not er????? sound?? not like in a depressed way but i was literally so sick

[artmunstudios]

Quick note about the No Goodnights Project! Aaannd maybe a little Internet History

This project was something I had started in highschool, and hadn’t touched properly again until just last year after stopping development back in 2017??? So because of that, there is a LOT of outdated information on the characters/story, so truthfully nothing before 2020 should really be considered as canon unless it it’s reiterated again recently.

Not to mention my biological extended family at the time was extremely nosy, homophobic, and I genuinely hate to say but on both sides they kinda filled some stereotypes when it comes to how the cultures I’m biracial in were. So I had sanitized certain aspects of what I had. Luckily that didn’t really bleed to on here, but some things did.

The biggest thing was Pinocchio’s sexuality—I never really imagined him as straight, but he was the protagonist, and…it’s really hard to explain to people who maybe weren’t online until like maybe 2017/18 on. The LGBTQ community was only just really becoming??? I hate to say the word mainstream because that’s not right either but.

It’s very complicated, I’ll put in a cut if you want to read about it go ahead and click the read more! If you are stopping here, that’s okay! Take a few sketchs of Razel and Pinocchio ✨

(I was still deciding on a name for him and almost named him fucking Reginault—)

Okay. So. How do I put this lightly…when it comes to the LGBTQ (I actually don’t even think LGBT was even a thing yet but feel free to correct me!!)…publicly, while frowned on to treat them badly, it was still considered not exactly a…??? It was not favored publicly, let’s just put it at that.

But online there was admittedly, in my eyes, a much bigger issue.

People, particularly anime fans/fujoshis….had a bad habit of treating the LGBTQ as a fetish/personal fantasy rather than, you know, having ships purely for romantic means. That isn’t to say they didn’t exist, but I don’t think I’m exactly wrong in saying that things like Yaoi (now called BLs since because of the past behavior Yaoi now has a bad connotation) were popular not because of positive LGBTQ rep, buutt moreso because the mass of underage hormonal teens (girls in particular) were in the mindset of “two cute guys kissing/having sex is hot”. This bled into real life as well, with many many instances of actual members of the LGBTQ being more or less sexually harassed by fujoshis. And. Lowkey,,, yeah I hate to say but some voice actor dubbers weren’t exactly helping and basically encouraged the behavior in their Q&As.

Don’t even get me started on the fucking Yaoi Paddles.

Because of this, LGBTQ ships during the 2010s, particularly early 2010s, MAYBE starting a little before that decade, we’re not viewed positively either. And admittedly I was one of those people who had that mindset. A lot of my friends were fujoshis, one fetishizing gay men to a point that it still makes my skin crawl tbh. But, at the same time it’s hard to be angry now because stupid teens are stupid teens and the mix of hormones and homophobia still being considered normal yields not fantastic and very confused results.

The reason Yuri!!! On Ice is still considered groundbreaking is because it was one of the first anime to treat LGBTQ romance as just. Romance. At the least, it was the first to become mainstream and taken seriously. I’ll be honest and say that it opened my eyes too. It wasn’t that I was outwardly homophobic as a teen, I think my mum would flip over backwards 20 times before chasing me across dimensions with a belt if I ever displayed behavior like that, but my biological father was homophobic, as was the majority of my extended family on both sides, like I mentioned. But the thing that repulsed me, I now realize, was not the sexuality itself, but rather how people treated the sexuality. I mean, yes it’s still an issue, but side of you guys have no idea how bad it was in the past, you seriously don’t.

But that’s why despite all the downsides of modern internet, I will never want to go back to the state it was during the 2010s, it was a fucking disaster, and hindered my own journey of accepting the fact that I was nonbinary/male-leaning.

So this long, long history/personal lesson is more or less to help sum up this statement here:

Pinocchio, at the very least, my Pinocchio, has always been gay—I just now feel that my space in person/online is actually safe to properly express my characters that are part of the LGBTQ!

[blush-and-books]

high school au, luke pining for julie, friendship on the cusp of something more?, dahlias

ahh got carried away with this one too would you look at that. this is another combo drabble -- @ the anon who sent the request “high school au, fluff, confession, the chain on luke’s jeans.” this one doesn’t have a precise confession, but... I think you’ll still enjoy it. both of you, hopefully!! thank you guys so much for the amazing requests.

Luke would buy Julie flowers for a wide variety of reasons. 

Their friends thought it was almost ridiculous how often Luke would show up at school or band practice or even Julie’s house with a bouquet of dahlias with some reason behind it that wasn’t the fact that he was in love with her and giving her flowers was his romantic love language. 

(Yes, we all know his primary love language is touch, but he will hug a stranger he met on the street, so it carries significantly less weight.)

He knows that dahlias are her favorite flower, and he knows how important it is that there are always dahlias in the house to keep the spirit of her mom around in a symbolic way. Wherever there are dahlias, there is Rose -- and Luke understood that almost better than any of their friends. 

Which is why he would come up with excuses to give Julie flowers all of the time. 

The night of a show? Flowers. Her birthday? Flowers. A good grade on a test, she’s having a bad week, or just him noticing that the current bouquet is dying? Flowers.

You get the picture.

On the anniversary of her mom’s passing, the dark date falls on a school day. Julie doesn’t show, which is expected from their friend group -- and when she ignores text messages, they all assume she’s taking the day to herself. 

In hopes of making her smile, Luke drops by the store on the way back from school and picks up a bouquet to bring by the Molina household before heading home. 

(Or sticking around to hang out with Julie. He would painfully prefer the second option, but also is well aware that this is a day that she needs to be alone.)

Ray Molina wears a grim smile when he sees Luke on the other side of the threshold. 

“You’re sweet, mijo. I would let you go say hi, but she woke up sick, and she could barely stand. We were going to go visit her mom today, but we want to make sure she’s there so we are postponing it for a few days. She’s pretty upset.”

Hearing that she’s sick, and likely very depressed, only makes Luke more tempted to respectfully push past her father and run up to her room to comfort her. 

“Oh,” he says instead, shoulders slumping. He holds out the bouquet of dahlias. “Okay, well, can you give these to her for me? I’m sure she’s been having a rough day, and-”

A handful of distinct thumps cut him off, and both him and Ray turn to look at the source of the sound: The staircase, where Julie is stumbling step by step, wrapped up in a blanket. 

“Julie!” 

Without hesitation, Luke crosses the threshold and darts into the house to check on Julie, alongside Ray. She’s hardly standing, and her eyes are almost fully shut as she clutches the blanket and murmurs to herself in Spanish. 

“Papa, estoy lista,” she hums into the air as they grip her arms and try to get her to sit down. “¿Por que Luke está aqui? No quiero le verme así este.” 

Luckily, Luke’s known her long enough to be able to make out what she’s saying, and finds himself running his hand over her forehead -- God, she’s burning up -- and over her hair. 

“Traje unas flores para ti. Sentarte, por favor, y no preocuparte por tu apariencia. Eres siempre hermosa.”

His Spanish is definitely average, but he knows enough to talk her down to the floor and get her resting against him as Ray looks between them with wide eyes. Luke feels himself blushing and his skin is so warm that he wonders if it could pass for a fever of his own. While her dad clearly wants to have a conversation later that Luke had been dreading  -- even though they were literally friends -- there is more focus on getting Julie back up to her room. 

“I’ll carry her back up,” Ray decides, grunting as he stands. He leans back down to tap on his daughter’s shoulders and coax her off of Luke, but she only presses farther into the boy; clutching onto his arm for dear life. Both Luke and Ray know that this means. 

“I’ll get her upstairs.” Ray nods at Luke, staring down at his daughter in the guitarist’s arms, wondering how the two of them happened right before his eyes and how Luke could never conceive how Julie adores him.

“Gracias, mijo.”

Julie is already close to his side, so all it takes is a strategic shift for him to be able to slip his right arm under her legs and tighten his arm around her back. “Okay, mi mariposita enferma, let’s get you back to bed.”

“Quiero ver a mi mamá,” she mumbles lucidly into his neck. Luke feels his heart throb under his ribs, because he knows how hard this is for her, and he just wants to make everything better for her even though no one has that kind of power. 

(Except for Julie herself. She can always make everything better for him.)

“Yo se,” he whispers back, almost at the top of the stairs. “Te traería si yo pudiera te traer.”

She doesn’t say any more, but she presses herself even closer and he worries that she may be on the verge of tears. Refusing to look down at her for fear his heart will shatter, he gently slips through her bedroom door and lays her on the mattress; pulling the covers back over her in an instant because she started shivering the second he put her down. 

She murmurs “quiero mi mama” a handful of times, and Ray brings up a cup of steaming tea, and Luke finds himself sitting on the edge of her bed trying to get her to drink some of it. 

Eventually, she gives in, grumbling more Spanish that was so quick and quiet and run together that Luke couldn’t even attempt to decipher it. 

“You should probably go home, mijo,” Ray says after a few moments. “Go take a shower and pop some Vitamin C. I didn’t mean to put you at risk.”

“No, Sir, it’s okay. I needed to make sure Julie was alright.” Gazing down at the half-asleep girl who is curled in bed with a mountain of blankets and a teddy bear pressed into her chest, Luke remembers the bouquet downstairs. “Do you mind if I put the flowers in a vase before I go?”

Who would Ray be to deny him that?

With a head nod towards the door, he gives the teenager a small grin. “Go for it, mijo. You know where the vases are by now.”

He does. And he makes quick work of a nice light pink one, tucking the bundle inside after filling it with water. After scribbling down a note on a nearby piece of paper, he is skipping every other step as he rushes up the stairs. He finds Ray hovering by the doorway, keeping watch over Julie.

The vase is positioned on her nightstand, with the note tucked under the base. Luke tries to stay as quiet as possible, because he doesn’t know if she’s asleep or awake when-

There’s an insistent pull against the chain on his jeans. 

Julie has reached out from under the covers and hooked two fingers around it to keep him close. Without opening her eyes, a small smile forms on her face: “Gracias para las flores.” And if Luke listens even closer: “Te amo.”

Julie’s dad is six feet away, but Luke forgets all about that when he unlatches her hand from the chain and presses her palm against his lips. 

“Cualquier cosa para ti, mariposa.” Quietly, murmured against her palm like a promise, “te amo.”

Her grin impossibly widens, which is the most emotion she’s shown the whole time he’s been there. It makes his chest ache a little that he managed to make her smile, even a little bit, even in this state. 

He would do just about anything to keep her smiling. 

--

The next morning is a Saturday, so he sleeps in, and plans to go over to see Julie again. He doesn’t have to wonder long if she’s still in the same state, because he wakes up to a text from her on his phone: Dad says you were killing the Spanish game yesterday. Bravo. 

And BTW, thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

And once again, Julie is the one making him smile.

TRANSLATIONS (not my four years of Spanish finally popping in):

- Papa, estoy lista. ¿Por que Luke está aqui? No quiero le verme así este = Dad, I’m ready... Why is Luke here? I don’t want him to see me like this.

- Traje unas flores para ti. Sentarte, por favor, y no preocuparte por tu apariencia. Eres siempre hermosa. = I brought flowers for you, Sit down, please, and don’t worry about your appearance. You’re always beautiful.

- mi mariposita enferma = my little sick butterfly

- quiero ver a mi mama = i want to see my mom

- yo se, te traería si yo pudiera te traer =  I know, I would bring you if I could bring you

- gracias para las flores, te amo = thank you for the flowers, I love you.

- cualquier cosa para ti, mariposa. te amo = anything for you, butterfly. i love you.

[withhowsadsteps]

the singing angel (Tom Blake/1917)

its been YEARS (not literal) since i had time to write anything. and i didnt have time today either but i still wrote. sorry for any typos. i miss my boy tom and any dean content enjoy words: about 900 to 1k

- Most of the other wounded soldiers in the hospital ward were still unconscious or just in a state of deep sleep during the nights. Blake was an exception. He would keep his eyes closed just in case he had woken up from his nightmares in the trenches, not in a warm hospital bed. He had almost lost track of time, laying on the bed. Sometimes his mom visited him, but most of the time she wasn’t allowed to visit. The nurses and the doctors would tell her that Blake needed to rest. His wound still caused infernal pain and he had never felt more alone before. At least in the trenches he had Scho, but now? The only company he had were his troubled thoughts. Weeks passed and Blake’s feelings of despair and loneliness just deepened. The nurses did their jobs, but they never talked to him more than was necessary. The night she came into his life was identical to all the previous until him waking up from one of his nightmares. While clutching his eyes close and trying to steady his breathing, he heard the sweetest, most beautiful voice he had ever heard. She, whoever she was, sang quietly enough not to disturb any sleeping soldiers, but loud enough for Blake to register her words and voice. “Yet there's no sickness, toil, nor danger In that bright land to which I go” Blake opened his weary eyes slowly, afraid of what he might see. Had he died in his sleep? Was he entering heaven? His eyes adjusted to the dimmed lights of the ward. He saw a young nurse sitting beside one of the beds. She held the hand of a soldier, singing to him. For a while he just stared at her. She sounded and looked like an angel, maybe she was. For all he knew he was just seeing things, imagining. “But golden fields lie just before me Where God’s redeemed shall ever sleep I’m going there to see my father I’m going there no more to roam…” Blake heard her voice cracking and the song stopping. He noticed that the soldier’s chest had stopped moving. The nurse placed the soldier’s hand gently on the bed, laying it down near his lifeless body. Blake felt a sudden urge to weep like a small baby, but repressed his emotions, not wanting to disturb the quiet night. The nurse had been there for that poor soul when no one else was. Who was she? After that night Blake realized she was a new night shift nurse. And after that night, she always comforted the dying soldiers. And Blake always pretended to sleep just so he could enjoy her soothing singing. One night after another soldier passed away and was taken out of the ward in the quiet of the night, Blake opened his eyes. He spotted the nurse sitting on the recently emptied bed, crying softly. He felt bad, wanting to comfort her, pay her back for all that she had done. He tried to sit up, but he only managed to hurt himself and let out a quiet moan of pain. It was enough to get the nurse’s attention and she quickly came to her, wiping her tears. “Let me check your wound, lance corporal”, she told him, but he quickly stopped her. “No, it’s ok. I just… I wanted to do something to make you feel better, I guess” Blake managed to say, too distracted by her beauty to explain himself further. The nurse looked embarrassed and quickly apologized for waking him up, but little did she know that her singing, and her presence were what he waited for each night. “He just looked like my brother. I miss him. That’s all” she quietly explained and thanked Blake for even noticing her sorrow. Before anything else could be said, she heard another soldier calling out for a nurse, and in a second, she was gone. Blake’s wound slowly got better and he could now even move around the ward with the help of a nurse or with a cane. He felt freer and appreciated the fact that the nurse let him sit by the window and look at the starry sky. He did not notice her sitting down near her. “Your eyes sparkle in the moonlight” her voice filled his ears. He felt his cheeks warming up a little and a chuckle escaped his lips, a sweet smile now framing his face. “And you can smile!” “I was not sure if I'd ever be able smile again” Blake admitted.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “Sing to me? Please” And just like that, she started singing, calming his stormy mind. His last night in the hospital arrived sooner than he thought. Every night he spent awake with her seemed to morph time. She looked exhausted. “I cannot wait to get out of the night shift” she admitted. “Especially because someone is getting out and leaving me here” the nurse then added, with a playful smirk on her face. Blake just shook his head slightly before realizing that this was very likely his last chance to ask her on a date, ask her to see him again. “This does not have to be the last time you see me” “Are you asking me out, lance corporal?” “Only if you start calling me by my name” “That’s a deal, Tom”

[hugging-jjba-characters]

Hello! I’m a different anon than your usual for the bruabba parents headcanons, but I was wondering if I could request something for them? Where they’re basically in the place of josuke’s mom when he got the terrible seemingly life threatening fever, but with y/n. Like, they’re unable to leave the house, snowed in, and she’s got that same awful fever and literally when she can walk just climbs out of bed to lay down anywhere cold(er). Feel free to ignore this tho, love your stuff!

I’m always open to new requests from anyone! This was a cute idea! I kinda got carried away and just made it a 1000 word cute sick fic, hope that's okay

It was absolutely miserable 

You had been stuck inside the house with the gang, several feet of snow blocking off the doors, for only an hour or so when your fever began to strike 

You swear up and down that whatever this is, it’s the worst virus/flu you’ve ever gotten 

It felt like you were dying, and honestly you might have been. But there wasn’t any way you were leaving the house, so you were stuck with it

Bruno tries to help you move to your bedroom but you protest, the upper rooms of the house always feel stuffy to you 

So you’re currently hunkered down on the couch, thick quilted blanket over you and a fussy Bruno checking on the washcloth covering your forehead every few minutes 

He keeps sending you that signature ‘it’ll be okay’ smile of his. Although it does make your heart feel a bit lighter, it doesn’t do much for the sheen of sweat covering you and the discomfort resulting from it  

Around dinner time, your symptoms are still going strong 

Bruno glances at the clock and back at you 

“Are you feeling up to eating something?” 

You hummed, assessing if you could feel any hunger pains through the weird temperature fluctuations of your body 

“Not really…”

His eyebrows furrowed. He hated seeing you so sick like this  

“You have to have something, Y/N. Maybe some chicken and noodles would help you feel better?”

“Mm-sure.” 

You honestly weren’t hungry at all, but you were going to try if it would wipe the worry off of his face 

“Okay,” Bruno’s shoulders sagged in a moment of relief and his lips turned upwards. “Leone! Can you watch over Y/N while I make her some soup?” 

Leone emerged from the hallway at the sound of his name, looking equally as concerned as Bruno when he saw the state you were in 

“Uh-what do you want me to do?”

“Just, make sure the washcloth doesn’t get too dry and keep her company, okay?”

Bruno stood up and moved away so Leone could take his place on the ottoman beside you 

“Yeah, okay.”

He didn’t seem very confident, but nonetheless, Bruno left to make your meal and entrusted you to your adoptive dad fellow mafioso 

Leone’s eyes softened as they took in your scrunched up face. 

Another subtle wave of uncomfortable warmth rolled through your body and caused a whimper to leave your lips

Leone brought his hand to your forehead to feel the washcloth, which had mostly acclimated to the same temperature as your skin, and wasn’t doing anything to soothe you. He took it off to dip it into the water, wring it out, and put it back where it was 

The cool material made you sigh, as did the chilly hand that Leone rested on your cheek 

“Fuck, that is a bad fever. Do you remember what temperature you were last?”

You scrambled for the answer in your muddled mind 

“Uhh, maybe, 103? Or somethin..” 

You’d never really seen Leone so openly worried about another person like this 

If you were in a joking mood, you might ask if he was feeling unwell

But you also didn’t want him to realize and go back to his whole detached “i don’t give a shit about anything” persona 

“Do I need to get you anything?” 

You noticed your throat felt hoarse when you tried to speak 

“‘Hem, maybe some water?”

Leone nodded, stood up, and made his way to the kitchen dutifully

The heat that had subsided once again flared up in your veins when you had nothing to distract yourself with 

You hurriedly kicked off the thick blanket that was so lovingly laid onto you, but then you started to feel a weird chill, so you brought it back on 

The worst part about fevers was never being able to get comfortable 

Feeling a surge of strength, you stood up, off the couch 

And you promptly laid back down on the wooden floor 

The cold planks felt so nice against your limbs and cheek, while the quilt you brought with you kept it from being too cool. You felt yourself drifting off, finally able to relax  

Leone, who took longer than he had wished because he and Bruno were talking about you, stopped in the doorway when he returned 

At first he feared that something happened to you 

But as he went to your side and noticed your peaceful face, along with the blanket, he realized with a sigh of relief that you were just sleeping 

He sat down on the ground with you, placing the glass of cold water on the nearby end table, and put your head in his lap 

Leone always tended to run cold, so he hoped it wouldn’t bother you too much 

As he wet the cloth that had fell off your head, he mused

Bruno said there was still a while to go until he was finished with the soup… 

Leone quickly used Moody Blues to check that no one was in the hall 

And then he began to hum a song to you

It was something his mom used to sing for him when he was sick or sad 

Leone didn’t have nearly enough confidence to actually say the words, but he let himself softly hum the melody  

If Bruno had almost walked in on the middle of the song and hid behind the wall to listen to the rest of it, he wouldn’t ever let Leone know 

He waited until Leone’s voice came to a stop to actually enter the room 

“Hey, her soup is read--”

It appeared that Leone hadn’t stopped because he had finished the song, he stopped because he had fallen asleep too 

Bruno’s heart leaped at the soft sight before him 

He quickly returned to the kitchen to put the bowl of chicken noodles in the fridge 

He came into the room once again and gently pressed a kiss to both of your foreheads before sitting on the couch behind you with a book to pass the time

Your fever was already broken when you awoke to the sound of Leone’s snores

Bruno smiled down at you, putting the novel down 

“Hey, you want that soup now?”

Your stomach growled loud enough for him to hear 

“Yes please,” you sheepishly answered 

You then both broke out into a happy laughter that woke Leone up too 

“You look like you’re feeling better, so why are you still on my lap?” 

You and Bruno just laughed harder

[the-gilbird]

A rare text post from yours truly.

You want to know what I find really fucking frustrating?

When I was young(er than I am now), I decided to dedicate my life to helping the planet and all the people in it. I knew I wasn't any good at people or money things, but that I was really good at science and math and would probably do well as an engineer. So, using this logic, I determined that I would be an aerospace engineer, and help the planet by expediting the process of getting people off of it.

Later, I realized that the environment really was dying really fucking fast, and that I wouldn't have the patience to apply myself to an astro-based profession (plus, I still retain a bit of my childhood fear of space). Also, I discovered that I really really fucking love plants for whatever reason! So I decided to major in environmental engineering, and help to create solutions for the future of the planet.

But this shit?

Eighteen school shootings since January 1st, 2018.

The official death of net neutrality right around the corner.

The sheer number of fucking politicians who have taken motherfucking bribes as substitutes for their political beliefs.

The racist, bigoted, idiotic, uncouth individual currently with one of the most powerful positions in the United States of fucking America.

There are so many problems to fix in this nation, and the WORLD, and they just. keep. piling. on.

Legit, the older generations are throwing every last problem they can onto our shoulders. Onto the shoulders of Millennials and Generation Z.

And you know what?

I'm goddamn fucking SICK OF IT.

I WANT SO BADLY TO HELP SOLVE EVERY ISSUE IN THIS WORLD, BUT I CAN'T. AND SOMETIMES THE LITTLE ACTIONS AREN'T ENOUGH. AND THAT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF.

I honestly, truly wish we weren't inheriting a world this goddamn broken. But that's the lot we're getting.

You know the reason behind all of the "Generation Z doesn't give a shit and wants to die" memes? You know why that's a fucking thing?

It's because you've destroyed every last ounce of faith we ever had or could have hoped to have for the decency of our fellow humans.

You've destroyed our hope for the future. You've demonstrated to us from a very young age that it will take a whole sea of active individuals to fix all of these mistakes (if we can ever hope to. I mean, God, at this point I'd be happy with just solving the environmental and economical crises and putting off the rest onto our descendents). And goddamn, when you put the pressure on at that early of an age, it takes a toll on your fucking soul, man.

Literally, the other day, I was reading through all of the reports on the most recent mass shooting (and boy, isn't that a sad phrase), and in my mind this one part of me just starts SCREAMING. I'm talking like, heartwrenching, soul-shattering screaming. And a few seconds later, my brain caught up to me and I thought, "oh, so that's where my soul went. good to see its still alive and kicking, even though it sounds like it's not having the best time right now."

I think there's a disconnect in all members of Generation Z between reality and the soul. Because in a world where news is instant and you can empathize with people all across the globe, the human spirit can only take so much.

I seem to have gone on a bit of a tangent. Let's bring this back around to the front.

It seems like I and the rest of my generation are reaching a breaking point. There's so much bad shit going on right now, that it's touching all of our souls, all of our deeply-locked feelings that we've kept buried because it's just so much easier to cope with that way, and we're putting our collective motherfucking foot down. There is a legitimate, metaphorical sea of feet that is crashing down onto this continent, and you'd best believe there's gonna be an earthquake.

I'm sick of this shit. WE'RE sick of this shit. So guess what, older generations?

The world as you know it is going to change.

We're in this for the long game, motherfuckers. So you'd best be getting ready to catch these hands.

[theextraspoon]

As the second week of 2020 is coming to an end, its become very apparent that Illinois has no idea what it's doing when it comes to marijuana legalization, most likely because Illinois dispensaries don't care much about green they care more about just the money. Is patients over profits truly done better in the CBD industry than that of total legalization or is it just Illinois, as usual, dropping the ball on its civilians? Let's find out five major blunders having us asking, what the **** are they doing with all the money we've been giving them in medical taxes for the past 10 years gone to?

If you're at all familiar with Natural Healthy CBD you'll be familiar with the many helpful things they do for their local, national, and even international communities. From secret shopper missions, dispensary tours, data audits, disability advocacy and education, we don't shy away from a challenge. It's often hard to walk the line during this time of legalization because half of people will always think you're a rat, the other half won't quite know what the catch, if there is a catch. We feel our moral compass to guide us to the sick and the people who need a fair fight but aren't given even playing fields but still stand up to with a scream and try.

No one is on your side, my side, anyone's side because there are no sides. There are sick people and not sick people. We try to understand every side and have learned a lot over the years. We've always been patients, but we're not victims. We're a business but we're not greedy. We're in medicine, kinda, but not diagnosing and we're not paid a kickback every time we prescribe this over that. We're disabled with jobs. We love animals but not like that. We have service dogs that are still learning during laws and medical change, hell, world change. So when people decide they can't play nicely with one another it makes it hard for us to know who's in the right and who has more than enough playing field. That's why it's hard to step between business and patient when the government just give us these toys, and you broke them. You broke them Illinois. This is why we cant' have nice things, er laws, in illinois.

1. No One's checking These People

Illinois, specifically Chicago, is the criminal capital, illegal gun capital, drug capital, crime capital of the world.

I'm sure from out of state it sounds like the law is easy here to get away from, that's not it either. We have, or had in marijuana for as long as I'm willing to tell you I've been in the industry, self regulated crime. I know that's not a good start but just listen for a moment and understand the we're nearing the end of prohibition. The end. Have you met someone that hasn't tried marijuana? Not very many. Self regulation. We all did our own little thing in our own little areas and we share what we can and mellow out, man.

That's why I can tell you other than collecting the money and stamping the licenses there's no one checking these places. They heard we're pretty gangster over there in California and Colorado, so who's going to tell on the weed man? We will. Most of us with medical licenses were treated like druggies with a fix and still are in many instances. Just to give all that away would be against the point, no?

The first day marijuana was legalized, there were lines around the block, venders with felonies, and the weed magically grew, was cut, dried, packaged, and delivered overnight because there was a lot of it. A lot of it is now gone again, even with those legal limits.Unless you're a patient, then what weed? Ha ha, there was never any weed!

2. Laws for thee! I have money!

These dispensaries aren't used to patients fighting back, not in Illinois it seems. That or they must think all of us are fat, lazy, stupid people that can't work because even though I hold a position of CEO even the lowest level bud tenders have shown me disrespect, as a paying customer AND patient. They make sure that you know about the lines they have to cross to provide... for you. Aww!

Thing is, every time we've seen cresco or revolution buy a place the service AND product goes INSTANTLY downhill. Every time and I've witnessed them buy out 3 now. Maybe they should spend more money on their seeds or something. We know they can because they don't spend it on background checks. We'd say this was a law thing, but it's not. You still can't work in a dispensary having just walked out of prison but wouldn't you know it.

Now, all of you know that I come off a little harsh, especially when pushed into a corner by people who do it to intimidate me. Maybe it's because I work and industry from a city littered with criminals that have learned intimidation or maybe my relationship with my dad I don't know. What I do know is when online want to be celebs attempt to gaslight and stalk me, I gaslight and stalk back. Call it a defense mechanism, or maybe horrible trait but need when it comes to getting into the mind of real scumbags like the kind that buy no-tested product to sell as product from another place or those selling stuff illegally made because they didn't know there was more than one kind of oil or when they join a dispensary to set it up for a robbery, or when people start dying from bad vape carts and mold maybe the powers that control that kinda thing will take care of it.

Now, I'm not a journalist and I don't share identities, I just think they should invest in background checks in 2020 if they don't want to invest in lawsuits. Looking at you Mindful. Earthmed... you're next.

3. Lawsuits

Lawsuits! There's already three of them! Ones even a class action!

Now, I've been in the industry a while and while I really, honestly tried to knock some sense into these people having worked with their parent companies for years now, or the industry, or patient advocacy and medical, or service dog law or literally any of the many hats I fill my time with (...thanks to CBD) or I've warned dispensaries I have to go to of what I do, they'll still do whatever they want because you don't have money. You're sick and you're a cripple, okay? You don't have real people money. At least it might as well sound that way with the way they've stacked up on the lawsuits. In fact, people started reporting to me thinking I knew to go about obtaining one.

Now, it wouldn't be fair transparency if we didn't mention one of them to be ours. Sadly, that's all I really can say because a lot of people have been coming forward and I think I'm going to stay quiet for a little bit. However, our friend Service Dog Paws doesn't have to stay quiet about the screencaps that were posted by Service Dog Headquarters posted from Mindful Dispensary to our Service Dog Training Log for Gotham and that is just the start of the bullshit I've gone through since people found out I was successful in CBD distribution and in fact, we've been informed they've been threatening our friends, but again... I'd like to stay quiet for a moment while I collect more information.

Gee thanks, Dom!

Say, did I also mention how I work in media and know about the websites being used by these kinds of people? I didn't?! We'll you see, the owner of these sites has been having people harass me for months but because we're unsure if he still works for or owns one of the dispensaries under investigation we'll say that pretending to be people isn't nice and threatening that people better never come to Chicago, when they aren't afraid of you and live here, also not a good idea.

4. Harboring Medicine from Patients

I know the look of a dispensary about to sell out. Everything goes away and becomes one brand for a little bit. That's how it happened with 3C and now Aurora with Mindful, IL in Addison and even our current site of investigation, EarthMED. We knew about the limit they've placed on their customers claiming it to be the cultivators who I've spoken to, all of them, there's no shortage. In fact, the only place with that two concentrate cap... is EarthMED.

That's why I find it so weird that they have products from October since our shortage started in Novemeber. Could it be to sell to recreational people at a higher price or maybe its because they're selling it illegally? I'll get back to you. I'm literally STILL taking in complaints.

Check out the public post about it. This is me, because I don't want you to threaten and intimidate sick people anymore courtesy of your family owned dispensary.

View this post on Instagram

"We're out of weed for medical patients," they said. "Only two medical products, *they said. "We're almost out, totally low on product," they said. How are #recreational #customers that pay 33% more getting this Today if you've been out of stock or low in stock for #illinoismedicalcannabis #patients since December? @earthmed (this is not my picture but I don't want to tag who's it is because I don't want to dox them or get them penalized for reporting to @vigilantecannabis)

A post shared by Kimber Kush CBD (@thekimberkush) on Jan 7, 2020 at 9:32pm PST

It's not the cultivators, but we feel like it's odd how long the owners of EarthMED have been harboring medicine, most likely to sell to recreational patients, who spend on average $33 more than medical patients.

We'll be sure to keep you up to date on legal dispensaries, behaving well for the right reasons and doing the right thing with real labs and honest people and you concentrate on getting better. We can't fix all these problems ourselves. For now if you've been intimidated by remember how their intimidation of people not only is just words, and it's done happening.

5. Shane Gentry and Vincent Nicotra

Vincent Nicotra is a problem. 

Grab your tinfoil hats for a moment with me because this one's a doozy. Over the past six months I've been on an audit to a case I detailed for the FTC regarding Google's wrongful ban of legal hemp ads. Much like the Hemp Industry Association did with their Timesquares ad to catch the attention of Facebook admins, it's much hard to grab their attention if their email and social media is guarded by their new hire, untrained pet dog owner, Vincent Nicotra. 

It's bad enough he threatened and harassed me, but he used my own family. He got into my friends list, made fake

profiles, fake companies, fake profiles, all to set others up with friend, Angel "Janis." It wouldn't be a problem if I wasn't forced to listen to twitch, discord voice chats, youtube videos and livestreams. Furthermore, because he'd studied me and my friends list, I was forced to listen to them mock me with personalized insults about my weight, my seizures, being raped, having my children taken, past abuse, a trusted flagger admit to gaslighting and stalking, a dispensary worker admitting to finding and running someone's debit card without their permission, doxxing paypal users, harassing porn stars and how they were going to frame people for it. 

I've seen people other than me suffer far worse. I've overheard it as a hunt for mental illness which, check. Others claim a legion, a group of people set to out people for making false allegations... unless the allegation of the allegation is false. I actually went to someone in this legion, someone I once held a lot of respect for. I sent him pictures of being threatened of being doxed and projecting... a lot. See Vincent likes to use the same couple insults like Lazy and if you show people he'll claim libel or slander. While Shane Gentry aka Spaceboy was playing character Norm, someone who suffers from a seizure disorder, Vincent was also playing in my information. Vincent got a job at a dispensary, my dispensary, Mindful dispensary where he continued to dig through my personal friends and attempt to sell them PLANTBASED or oneplant cbd, CBD products that never passed inspection and we do not sell due to failed labs in some weird MLM type of deal that I'm getting accused of but should ask Shane about. 

So, Vincent was feeding all my information back to a bunch of strangers on the internet to use against me for god knows what but I wasn't alone. If you've applied for a business license in hemp or cannabis, or you've ever purchased it, he's got you too. 

This man attempted to ruin careers like Petty Paige and Nick Schneider, in fact pitting us all against each other. He mass flags, scams, and lies then accuses others for it. I've been told that they'll use CBD Piggy to get in, whatever that means and not only told I've cost someone money and will never work in the industry again by Tommy C, but they threatened others as well in an effort to control the creative space. They're even threatening me using the name of my own father because they're to pathetic to use their own, but that is something for another time. I'm not sure what that has to do with medical or moral benefit. I've witnessed people become suicidal, relapse, I've lost friends, was mocked for my federal service dog rights, I was banned from my dispensary for having a service animal, threatened by to shut the fuck up, kept up countless nights, had my ex abuser contacted and then stalked by a legion I didn't know existed of people I respected. When I went to protect them and tell them what was happening, I was asked for proof of where some other dude asked to touch me 2 years ago because they don't associate with false allegations, of which there are none, because people who don't expect to accuse people of thing don't have every time they've rejected sex on video. This is worth two years of stalking from someone you sponsored. This sort of feels like you're going after sexual assault victims or women who speak up to force them to change their story. Classy.

That said, it concerns me that this lunatic has total access to the biotrak system with everyone's private information of which they're using to find, neigh set up pedophiles, for Chris Hansen.

I know, that's the crazy part. This man who mocked everything from my seizures to getting "throat fucked" is in charge of children that are victim of sexual predators. This man, has all your personal information and has been threatening and doxing celebrities and youtubers for god knows how long, the guy mocking and harassing sexual assault is in charge of the child victims on Hansen vs Predator. 

Don't take my word for it, I'm just going to let trusted creators of the Youtube space and the city of Chicago explain it to you.

Not to mention he dug through my friends, their friends, your friends, we're friends at this point. We all said and did some stupid stuff in the name of protecting ourselves and for that, I take responsibility and am truly sorry for my part. I'm very protective of my business and the partnerships, I've made and this guy has come between that, I have half a mind to wonder if there's anything else illegal being done at Mindful since Vincent works there and they hire felons. I'll keep you updated on that, and the current investigation and dispensary secret shop mission, now that I know Vincent won't manipulate it. I leave you with this video by Baked Salmon once again about this criminal working for Mindful and Chris Hansen because it was his channel that first was wrongfully flagged and taken down during the audit. I'm sorry it took me so long to see what was going on.

Please support each other and if you stream, don't be an asshole. Maybe you're not getting sponsors because you think it's funny to talk about their rape and throatfucking them and how abusive that must be for them mentally because you don't know who really is listening on that audit. 

If I can say one last thing out of court, I hope Nick and Paige wipe the fucking floor with you, because I'm going to.

For real products by real people or to sell yours, you know the place.

For ada law visit our new infopage here.

via Natural Healthy: Latest News

[rudolf-rokkr]

Heyo. I've been trying to get into more heathenry/norse paganism kinda stuff (what can I say, I love folk metal), but the one thing that's kind of been a damper on the concept for me is the concept of Hel - specifically, how (as I understand it) dying of sickness or old age is a form of cowardice and punishable by eternal torment. Being chronically ill myself, that doesn't really sit right with me. Do you have any thoughts/corrections/resources on this topic in particular?

Thanks for the question. Basically the image of Viking afterlife concepts that has entered popular culture is extremely shallow and not a good representation of what we know believe actually existed. This is a big topic so it’s easy to get lost but I’m gonna try to keep it simple without leaving too much out but feel free to follow up if it seems like I’ve missed something. It’s long so the rest is behind the break.

I’ll start with the major point I want to make and then we’ll fill in the “so what then?” after. The reason you’re disturbed by this is because it’s, at least partially, a recruitment tactic. It’s designed to tempt you to suspend your reason and even if it did apply to your personal situation you’re better off not falling for it.

I know some people find strength in the Valhöll idea and I don’t want to take that away from anyone but my uncensored opinion is that it’s for dupes. It’s full of people who wasted their lives in service to kings who didn’t give a shit about them, who used them to gain rule over them. Óðinn isn’t vetting them for bravery, he’s vetting them for certain personality traits that are bad for self-preservation but good for early proto-state-formation. That’s why it’s the afterlife we find out about from Snorri. He was a court poet, trying to piece back together a cosmology from shreds of court poetry that extolled the virtues of fearlessly taking an axe to the face in defense of your favored tyrant. Frankly, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go to an afterlife where you have to die every day. I think this was more of a prestige factor among the living than an actual hope for the afterlife. I could be wrong though since the primary audience of such a myth would have been, like, 18-year-old kids hopped up on adrenaline, having just left the family farm for the first time in their lives, suddenly being adorned in gold and addressed by kings and making their first kills and drinking unending ale. Frat boys to whom the world is suddenly open (note that we’re mostly talking about higher class people anyway because they’re the ones who could afford weapons, so the world was already more open to them than others). Like the primary source for details about Valhöll is Vafþrúðnismál which rather likely was performed before an audience of these young, drunk warriors far from home (see Terry Gunnell for theories about performance of Eddic poetry).

So yeah, I could see them falling for this, or thinking it sounds appealing, or whatever. But at the same time I doubt anyone would have admitted out loud that killing each other all day every day for eternity would be awful (in fact it sounds a bit like the Buddhist hell Sañjīva but with good food). If it’s a real thing its full of people who can’t admit they’ve longed for Niflhel for centuries. 

That isn’t to say it can’t be a legitimate belief as well, just that this is its primary social function from the perspective of our sources. I’m sure that another motivating factor for the preservation and distribution of this belief is that those promising 18-year-olds also had families back home and maybe wives and kids and they were supposed to come home from exploiting the Karelians for the King’s tribute to take care of all this, and the pain of such a loss is made somewhat more mild by believing that these individuals have been called to the higher purpose of preserving the cosmic order. Not saying I agree, just that I get it.

(Note that in reality we have substantial evidence that the actual motivating factor for at least some “Viking” warriors wasn’t a glorious afterlife but rather they were mercenaries and maybe not even locals).

Now onto the next point. In Gylfaginning Snorri says that Óðinn decides where people go when they die and that good (siðaðir, literally more like ‘ethical’ I guess) people go to Vingólf or Gimlé (note: not the same as Valhöll; this might be where Snorri thinks good people who aren’t killed in battle go) and that bad people go first to Hel and then to Nifhel. The problem is that he’s full of shit. This isn’t corroborated anywhere. We can put the “full of shit” onus on Snorri the Christian who believed literally in an all-powerful God and Heaven and Hell, or we can put it Snorri’s depiction of Óðinn as Hárr/Jafnhárr/Þriði lying to Gylfi, but either way it’s obviously wrong and easily refuted.

For one thing there’s nothing moral about it. It’s just down to the manner of death. The greatest hero of Germanic mythology, Sigurðr Fáfnisbani, went to hel because he was killed in his sleep or stabbed in the back. And we know he went to hel because Brynhildr committed suicide in order to follow him. And according to skaldic poetry, King Hákon góði went to Valhöll despite not even being heathen because he died in glorious battle.

Grímnismál says that Freyja gets half the slain warriors; Þorgerðr Egilsdóttir (who is not a warrior) in Egils saga expresses expectation that she’ll spend the afterlife with Freyja. In Hárbarðsljóð Hárbarðr (Óðinn) makes fun of Þórr because he receives slaves into his halls rather than rulers like Óðinn does. Snorri himself tells us that Gefjun receives those who die as unmarried women which doesn’t apply to your situation but is another hole in the Valhöll/Hel paradigm. He also says that Rán (the sea-gýgr) takes those who die by drowning, which is corroborated by Eyrbyggja saga (chapter 54, when the drowned men show up to their own funeral, perpetually dripping wet).

Meanwhile, other than very specific parts of it that might be designated for people marked for obliteration from existence (this is based on lines in Vafþrúðnismál describing Niflhel as the place “whence men die out of hel,” what precisely that means is not obvious), we don’t have much reason to believe Helheimr is really so bad. Hel herself seems to thrive on death and decay and all that but I mean, it’s the world of the dead, that kind of seems to make sense and we can’t frame it according to our perspective as the living. On the other hand though, most of our evidence actually points to the world of the dead having a relatively strong sense of continuity with the world of the living. That seems to be why people were buried with their stuff – they weren’t done using it. 

Whether or not we should place Glæsisvellir or Ódáinsakr in the “world of the dead” (they get an association with Jötunheimar in some sources – it’s not clear if this is part of the Euhemerizing process where mythological places are mapped to geographical locations, or if Jötunheimar was part of the “world of the dead”) is unclear. Glæsisvellir ‘shining fields’ are a sort of “otherworld” more like what you normally see in Gaelic myth and legend that tend to show up a bit later in Norse mythology but seems to possibly play on things that show up as early as Ahmad ibn Fadlan’s description of the Rus’. It’s pretty much Valhöll for peaceful people. Ódáinsakr is a place within Glæsisvellir where there is no death and everything comes back to life. They’re usually ruled over by a very benevolent and hospitable jötunn named Guðmundr or Goðmundr (though split from the same origin, guð is used more for the Christian god and goð more for heathen ones, so calling him Goðmundr is marking him as heathen). Basically it seems to be Norse Elysium.

Finally, the afterlife that has the most support from the Íslendinga sögur, which means it’s probably the best reflection of the day-to-day beliefs of average people during the Viking age is some kind of continued existence in the landscape. The most clear description is in Eyrbyggja saga wherein it’s seen that the mountain Helgafell opens up to receive Þorsteinn þorskabítr and his companions; the mountain contained a whole hall full of people with fires burning and horns blowing and everything to welcome Þorsteinn. It was later discovered that Þorsteinn had drowned (note that this is the same saga I mentioned before where drowned sailors go to Rán).

Some scholars think that this is actually the origin of Hel and Valhöll. That they were just the continued existence of the dead, basically underground or living in rocks or other natural formations (like the elves do in Icelandic folklore). The abstraction of Hel and Valhöll from geographical location might have been part of the universalization/mobilization that some scholars propose for the development of the Óðinn cult (see: Tracing Old Norse Cosmology by Anders Andrén).

We also see a sort of double-afterlife in Helgakviða Hundingsbana II (a.k.a. Völsungakviða in forna) wherein Helgi has some kind of mobility between his burial mound and Valhöll… and then is later reincarnated.

Reincarnation pops up a couple times in Norse lore, this aforementioned poem being one of them. It actually says:

Þat var trúa í forneskju, at menn væri endrbornir, en þat er nú kölluð kerlingavilla.

‘It was a belief in heathen times that men would be reborn, but that is now called an old wives’ tale.’

It’s also implied in Flateyjarbók that Saint Ólafr is the reincarnation of an old heathen king who was worshiped as an elf in death, Ólafr Guðrøðarson (Ólafr Geirstaðaálfr). I did a post about reincarnation on my other blog that covers a lot of the same ground as this post.

Reincarnation is also a more or less fixed part of Urglaawe, a variant of modern heathenism focusing on the experience of the Pennsylvania Dutch (although these other afterlives are as well – just part of a process that ultimately results in reincarnation. To my mind such a view is perfectly compatible with everything else I’ve mentioned above).

The Wild Hunt does not factor much into Norse mythology but we have a pretty good idea that the concept was around based on its appearance in later folklore and its general wide spread across world cultures. It could possibly be related to the Valhöll afterlife concept, perhaps among a different class of people. We are pretty sure, for example, that Óðinn was popular in Denmark before Christianization and we are not able to connect him clearly to a ruling class like we are able to do with Norway (largely because of a general lack of literary sources for heathenism for that time or place). While no evidence compels us to do so, we have room for envisioning an Óðinn-centric afterlife that is not Valhöll, nor restricted to the upper classes. I mean he’s clearly a “god of the upper classes” but he’s no less a wandering hobo.

Anyway, the point so far is that there are lots of alternatives to the “Viking heaven” vs. “Viking hell” bullshit. This is probably not exhaustive and it partially conflicts. That isn’t surprising given that there is no centralized heathen authority and what we’re actually talking about is a huge variety of religious ideas that circulated differently along localities, social classes, time periods, social contexts, etc.

If we can point to something underlying all of this, it’s that there was believed to be some kind of continuity between life, manner of death, and afterlife. People dying in battle and going to Valhöll is, to my mind, an extension of this. “Those who die violently have a violent afterlife.” Whether or not that’s good will depend on the person, I’d imagine. Those who die in illness (and remember that there was a relationship between illness and trolls and elves or other unclean or vengeful spirits) may unfortunately find themselves in an afterlife characterized by fever and coughing and other unpleasant things. However the afterlife also seems negotiable, fluid, and furthermore determined at least partially by the activities of the survivors. When Ahmad ibn Fadlan attended a Rus’ funeral one of the Rus’ made fun of him because to him, the Muslim practice of burying the dead meant that the deceased would have to lie there in the ground while they decomposed, as opposed to the Rus’ who were cremated and thereby went immediately to the gods (by the way both burial and cremation happened under heathenism, so this is clear evidence of discontinuous religious belief among heathens and that we can’t call it “one” “religion.” Snorri associated burial and cremation with the cults of Freyr and Óðinn respectively in Ynglinga saga but of course he didn’t have all the archaeological evidence we do so we shouldn’t take that as necessarily true, but it’s interesting that he knew about both). We also see worship of the dead in the sources as the dead were considered to continue to have contact with the world of the living, for example by influencing crop yields and local weather patterns. Snorri’s Euhemerized history of the kings of Scandinavia exploits this to explain how the human king Freyr became a god – he was a human king who died and was worshiped as an ancestor at first before being reanalyzed as a god in the popular tradition. Though maybe not with Freyr specifically, this probably actually happened, even if more strictly localized, like in Vita Anskarii wherein it’s said that a certain King Erik was accepted by the gods as one of them when he died.

This is why I can’t help but think of Valhöll as “if you spend your life bootlicking you’ll spend death doing the same.” Indeed, even in the old sources, hierarchy in human society is replicated in Valhöll when Helgi Hundingsbani goes there and humiliates Hundingr by ordering him around.

We might also gain some insight by comparing other cultures that share beliefs in common with the pre-Christian Norse.  Though close reading of literature and comparative religion most people believe that the Norse did not believe in a single soul but rather something of a personal complex. We see this in other circumpolar cultures that also recognize things like the World Tree, ancestor worship, nature spirits, etc – that doesn’t mean we can just lift ideas from these other cultures but they do give real-life examples of how these abstract concepts can work in day-to-day life. Personally I have been very inspired by and influenced by Buryat Mongol belief and custom, especially because they themselves are often eager to share (reminder that it not being strictly “closed” does not mean that inappropriate appropriation is not possible). Buryat Mongols recognize three “souls,” each of which go their separate ways at death. One becomes a nature spirit, one which goes to the underworld and is eventually reincarnated, and another which becomes a bird on the world tree which is also eventually reincarnated (but, if I understand correctly, not along with the soul which had gone to the underworld). Among many such cultures going to the gods in the afterlife is a possibility, but a major exception to the norm. The reason I find this so interesting for this conversation is that if the Norse believed something similar, it would explain why our sources are in such conflict, how people can be going to Hel and living in the mound at the same time, how Helgi Hundingsbani can go to Valhöll and be reincarnated, etc. If you’re interested in learning more about Buryat Mongol belief try the site I already linked and also the works of anthropologist Katherine Swancutt (note that the families she stayed with had complete agency in determining what and how she would share what she learned… she talks a lot about this in Fortune and the Cursed: The Sliding Scale of Time in Mongolian Divination).

This next part is gonna be even more opinionated than what I’ve already written. I think it’s tempting to believe that people get what they deserve in death. That people who are treated unfairly in life are compensated in death and that those who were unfair themselves get their comeuppance. But to my mind heathenism lacks a mechanism for identifying or producing desert. That means it’s up to us, the living, and maybe those dead who continue to exert an influence on the world of the living, to vindicate those who were oppressed, or robbed of a good death; and to mitigate the legacy of unfairness. I do not believe that “the universe” or “wyrd” or whatever punishes wrongdoing – not because it wouldn’t be nice but because how exactly is that supposed to even happen? Do we really want to rely on gods who often act immorally themselves and use their supernatural abilities to exert their wills, to judge us? We might ask for their help, but we shouldn’t leave it in their hands. It would be great to take the burden off of ourselves but for better or worse, that’s where the burden is. This concept is a major spiritual informant to my belief in social justice, it’s (among many other things) a way to achieve a symbolic (and restorative, rather than retributive) equivalent to the social role of blood vengeance, for people who faced oppression. And what’s more, if we’re prepared to accept the possibility of reincarnation, then it actually is helping ourselves as well as our dearly departed awaiting rebirth in the underworld to make the world a better place for future generations.

Finally the last thing I want to say is that all of this is just theory. Not believing it doesn’t make you not heathen. We don’t have a Bible, there is no centralized authority, nobody living a thousand+ years ago was totally sure what happened in death – the lore we have received is just whatever models they came up with that best explained their experiences (probably especially mystical experiences of religious specialists, but still) and informed their behavior. For that matter, plenty of this shit is probably Christian speculation about what heathens believed anyway. If you have reason to believe otherwise it isn’t “un-heathen” to trust in your own ability to reason. Like, I think I did an alright job of framing my distaste for Valhöll in heathen discourse which just means it’s a productive set of religious beliefs that’s capable of autocritique. A person can’t possibly read the sagas and conclude that everyone agreed with each other all the time; variation, dissent, and creativity are generally speaking all good signs.

Hope this helps.

P.S. I know there are a lot of people who see entrance to Valhöll being granted to anyone engaging in struggle, whether physical or otherwise. I don’t agree, and if you’ve read this far you know I haven’t factored it into my understanding at all. But I don’t necessarily have a problem with it. I think it comes down to the active conception of “violence.” I do not believe that violence is strictly an act of causing physical damage to a person or object in a single event. I think that rearranging Valhöll to conform to a modern conception of violence that also includes systematic oppression is a literally incorrect way to interpret it according to Old Norse religion – but fuck it, my opinion of Valhöll is low as shit, so do whatever you want for all I care.

[leviinmodernland]

tag game!

I’ve been tagged TWICE by lovely @captain-levi-ackerman and made my day, because whenever I am included, I feel blessed by heavens (cheesy, oops!), thank you!

so this will be twice as long.

Get To Know Me 

Rules: Tag blogs you want to get know better.

Nickname: Eni, Eri, Blueberry

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Height: 166 cm (5′4 - did I write it right?)

Last thing You Googled: post code for my house (I can’t remember it, shush)

Favorite Music Artist: Florence + the Machine, Halsey, ATB, Jon Hopkins and lotta more

Song Stuck In Your Head: some song from Lion King II 

Last Movie You Watched: The Conjuring II

What Are You Wearing Right Now: sweatshirt, jeans and tights (it’s hella cold and I am a bit sick)

Why Did You Choose Your URL: because it sounded cool and I had a thing in mind, but haven’t done it yet (dunno if I will with my procrastination)

Do You Have Any Other Blogs: yes, but I rarely reblog something there

What Did Your Last Relationship Teach You: that long distance relationship is hard to keep

Religious or Spiritual: something between I think

Favorite Color: indigo and purple

Average Hours of Sleep: 6

Lucky Number: 25

Favorite Character: Levi

How Many Blankets Do You Sleep With: one

Dream Job: writer

Five Things You’ll Find In My Bag

notebook

keys

make-up thingies

tablet

lots of loose notes

Five Things In My Bedroom:

notebooks, notebooks everywhere

cleaning supplies from my workplace

candles

books

essential oils

Five Things I’ve Always Wanted To Do In My Life:

tattoo (preferably wings on my arms)

write a book

visit Louvre

overall go on a long journey abroad

have a private library

Five Things That Make Me Happy:

my friends

drawing

nice smells

my nephews

cleaning, or rather seeing how things become clean after a good scrub

Five Things On My To-Do List:

start up my other blog

go for doctors’ appointments

donate my blood

collect my diploma from uni

learn new recipies

Five Things People May Not Know About Me:

I have an account on other site and I am fairly popular there

I work at company that distributes biological professional cleaning products

I have a big collection of teas

I have masters degree in economics

apparently I have a special type of collagen in my joints that make me more flexible than most people

Name?: Jagoda (which literally means blueberry in polish)

Sexual Orientation?: I always thought that I am a simple hetero, but I think I may be somewhere in asexual spectrum

Ethnicity?: polish

Favorite Fruit?: bananas and nectarines

Favorite Season?: autumn

Favorite Flower?: jasmine and magnolias

Favorite Scent?: cinnamon

Favorite Animal?: cats, dogs, wolves...

Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate?: all of them (I drink coffee daily)

Cat or dog?: both, I can’t choose

Dream Trip?: Norway

Number of Followers?: nothing to boast about here

What do I post about?: Levi mostly

Do I get asks on a regular basis?: nope

Aesthetic?: braids, glasses, black & white, lipstick

Fictional Character I’d Date?: too many to count haha 

Hogwarts House?: ravenclaw

Rules: BOLD the statements that are true for you!

APPEARANCE:

I am 5'7" or taller

I wear glasses

I have at least one tattoo

I have at least one piercing

I have blonde hair

I have brown eyes

I have short hair

My abs are at least somewhat defined

I have or have had braces

PERSONALITY:

I love meeting new people

People tell me that I’m funny

Helping others with their problems is a big priority for me

I enjoy physical challenges

I enjoy mental challenges

I’m playfully rude with people I know well

I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it

There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY:

I can sing well

I can play an instrument

I can do over 30 pushups without stopping

I’m a fast runner

I can draw well

I have a good memory

I’m good at doing math in my head (though not lately)

I can hold my breath underwater for under a minute

I have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling

I know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch

I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES:

I enjoy playing sports

I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else

I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else

I have learned a new song in the past week

I work out at least once a week

I’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months

I have drawn something in the past month

I enjoy writing

FANDOMS ARE MY #1 PASSION

I do or have done martial arts

EXPERIENCES:

I have had my first kiss

I have had alcohol

I have scored the winning goal in a sports game

I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting

I have been at an overnight event

I have been in a taxi

I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year

I have beaten a video game in one day

I have visited another country

I have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts

RELATIONSHIPS:

I’m in a relationship

I have a crush on a celebrity

I have a crush on someone I know

I have been in at least 3 relationships

I have never been in a relationship

I have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them

i get crushes easily

I have had a crush on someone for over a year

I have been in a relationship for at least a year

I have had feelings for a friend (you could say that)

MY LIFE:

I have at least one person I consider a “best friend”

I live close at my school

My parents are still together

I have at least one sibling

I live in the united states

There is snow right now where I live

I have hung out with a friend in the past month

I have a smartphone

I have at least 15 CD’s

I share my room with someone

RANDOM SHIT:

I have breakdanced

I know a person named Jamie

I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce (have you ever seen polish names?!)

I have dyed my hair

I’m listening to one song on repeat right now

I have punched someone in the past week

I know someone who has gone to jail

I have broken a bone

I have eaten a waffle today

I know what I want to do with my life

I speak at least 2 languages

I have made a new friend in the past year

I’d love to tag @fivenightsatereris @thefabgrimreaper @levi-snk @teatimewithamz @hanjizoeisbae @soapy0-0 but only if you want (especially since it’s hella long)

[2centsofsilver]

11/29

5:23pm The C-PTSD diagnosis makes me fearful that I have zero control over my behavior, actions, relationships, rational cognition, and as if I’m not a valid individual. I feel as if I am not allowed to say anything, have a voice, stand my ground, speak with others, ask for help, experience hurt, have a perspective, share my perspective, or generally engage and interact with this world. I am SO numb in fact, that I don’t feel I can speak at all. I am worried anything that comes out of my mouth is some weird product of C-PTSD that I can’t control that will push away anyone I try to talk with or get to know.  I have always believed myself as a rational, logical human being with a heart so caring I’d do anything for other people. I know that I’m normal. I always believed I was a regular person. I know that I’m a good person. I know that I’m a valid and a real person. I feel only people who are gone or far away know this and can vouch for this: Grandma, Mrs. Urban, Mrs. Miller, Natasha, Daniele. If the lens in which I view the world and others is broken, and my vision is skewed, then I don’t know what to make of that. I don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Does that mean everything I’ve been so far in life wasn’t normal or acceptable? I literally feel like I can’t order food in restaurants. I can’t say “excuse me” when someone is in my way in the bathroom. I can’t answer the question, “How are you?” I can’t speak on the phone to people. I can’t work as an employee. I’m just throwing out random scenarios here. But if I’m not a REAL HUMAN with control over my life and actions, if none of it is real, if I’m merely “insane,” then I simply cannot function on this earth and don’t wish to. I don’t know what to do with myself. I went to therapy with Max’s letter. I stayed up from midnight till 5:30am last night dissecting it. I annotated the entire thing, line by line on my computer. Using the comment and highlighting tool, I then wrote comments of my reactions and thoughts to each part. I then sent it as an attachment to my therapist with a brief description of what happened. I then brought my computer into therapy today from 2-3 and she and I got on our laptops and went through the whole thing. When Max’s letter first came through, all I saw was, “Hi Katie, I’m writing to tell you that I’m no” flash at the top of my phone screen. The word “no” was a negative. Wishful thinking suggested it could be, “I’m no longer in need of a break from you” or “I’m now ready to engage in conversation.” I knew that wasn’t it though. I knew this was bad bad bad bad bad. Somatics: I immediately felt faint. Like a subtle cold gust of air blown on the top of my forehead. I felt as if I could fall forward or faint. I then physically froze in the room. I put my phone down on my bed and stood up. I wasn’t reading that message. I stood up frozen in fear. Panic, Paralyzed. I walked to the kitchen. The whole living room was dark. My roommate had gone to bed. My bedroom light blue a fuse. I walked through the living room and to the high kitchen counter where I rested my elbows and hung my head down. I braced myself against the counter, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths. I then paced. I walked back to my bedroom and sat down on the bed. I stood up. I walked to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. I stood up. I walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. I stared straight ahead. I went and got my phone and flicked the home screen on. I opened the message. I read the opening line. I LAUGHED. They sounded exactly like a 4-year-old kiddo. I kept reading the first paragraph. I immediately felt physically sick. I put the phone down and walked away. I went to the bathroom and decided to take a shower. First time since dying my hair a week ago and knew it’d be a pink mess. I had to take a hot steamy shower, even though the hot water isn’t good for my newly color treated hair. I took a warm shower instead. Sure enough, pink dye flung all over the inside of my shower curtain, the tub floor, and the shower walls. It wasn’t coming off either. It wouldn’t scrub off. I’m on my period so I was also bleeding in the shower. I felt messy like I couldn’t get clean from my soul outward. I got out of the shower and needed to towel-dry my hair with a towel. I knew this would ruin the towel. Still leaking blood, I went to my bed and sat down on a towel. I dried off. I put a pad and underwear on.  I paced. I put on a dress. I went back to the living room couch and picked up my phone. I skimmed the entire message. I had to put my phone down again after skimming the second paragraph. It was too much. Way too much. A lecture on how to be a person. I put the phone down. The inside of my chest felt exasperated. I felt literal shortness of breath. Still feeling faint, I tried to remain composed. No immediate urge to cry had happened yet. I was panic-stricken, but in paralysis. I came back and skimmed the rest of the message. Having braced myself for the worst, the content itself didn’t cut me as much as it would have in the past, before I’d gone numb from klonopin, before all the trauma numbed me, and back when I could feel feelings. My world froze.  I stared blankly ahead, into nothingness, that thing I do where my eyes cross over and I go into a daze. I don’t blink forever. My mind is racing in this state, of course. My thoughts are stringing one after the other after the other. The entire time, I’m telling myself I need to sit down and blog all this. I need to take notes of everything I’m thinking and feeling. I need to track all of it for therapy. I need to write it out as therapy and as a tool to help me identify somatic reactions and patterns in my behaviors and thinking patterns triggering flash backs. I thought about things like what age my feelings felt, identifying the somatic feelings in my body following various antecedents. I thought about composure and neutrality and remained grateful that this numbing agent called Klonopin was getting me through something that would normally kill me. I tried to ask myself “what changed” in the time of not yet receiving that letter from Max and receiving that letter from Max. “Moments ago, I had not yet received the letter and things were okay. Before you met Savannah, you were okay. You were going to start an MSW program. Had you never met her, you still would have been just as okay as you became after you met her. Had you never met her you wouldn’t have known how incredibly rewarding your friendship with her would have been.” I tried to remember who I was and where things were before things happened, trying to convince myself I was okay, am okay, and will be okay.  It just wasn’t working. I thought to myself, “I have to flee.” My thoughts were:  -I can’t stay in Ann Arbor -I have to leave -I can’t go to U of M next fall -I have to move away  -I have to leave NOW -I have to do something NOW -Where do I go? -What do I do? -You have potential to build a friendship with other people if you stay, like Alyssa -How do I fix this? -I have to fix this. -I have to fucking fix this. -They have to let me fix this. -It’s fixable.  -Nothing in this letter happened. -I have to set the record straight. -Who will help me? -I need help. -Amy will help me.  -”I should tell my dad” -I want to go home -I want to go back to Kalamazoo -I should go back to my parents -I need to go to the hospital -I need to be admitted to a psych ER -I need to kill myself -I need to wipe myself out -If I take a bunch of melatonin, will that put me out peacefully? Would I wake up or would I be dead? -I need to fly out to Virginia, get Natasha, and go some place warm -I need to take a vacation with Natasha -I need to see Natasha -I need to hug Natasha -Maybe Natasha will just sit with me and we can hug -I need to be with someone -I can’t be alone tonight -I don’t feel like putting on clothes and driving anywhere -I don’t want to salvage anything with my parents -I’m ready to disown my parents -They are entitled to nothing -I am ready to be done with my parents -I am ready to see my grandma again -Will things be better there? -I have to do something -But I don’t WANT to kill myself -I have to talk to Amy first -Amy will talk to Savannah -Maybe Savannah would be willing to come to therapy with me now -Everything is going to be okay -Of course Lisa left -She had every right to -Maybe I would have too -I probably would have too -That was a smart decision -I was too much -I’m better now -I’m capable of now -I’m nothing -If I go to the hospital, will they take my phone away from me?