#lashing out

[momentsbeforemass]

Malice

(my annual PSA for people who are “winning” the debate, and losing their souls)

“Every man on earth is sick with the fever of sin, with the blindness of sin and is overcome with its fury. As sins consist mostly of malice and pride, it is necessary to treat everyone who suffers from the malady of sin with kindness and love.

This is an important truth, which we often forget. Very often we act in the opposite manner: we add malice to malice by our anger, we oppose pride with pride.

Thus, evil grows within us and does not decrease; it is not cured – rather it spreads.”

St. John of Kronstadt could well have written that today.

It’s easy to forget that the people we are reacting to, shouting down, lashing out at are, well, people.

Someone says something we disagree with. So we react and unload on them. With something demeaning, something degrading, something dehumanizing.

Without really thinking about it, “we add malice to malice.”

Or we rationalize that with the bile we’re copying and pasting, we’re just getting the truth out. Or just telling it like it is. Or just standing up for our rights.

In truth, we’re just fooling ourselves, while “we add malice to malice.”

The thing is, when we add malice to malice, it’s not a precision strike. We do just as much damage to ourselves as anyone else.

When we add malice to malice, “evil grows within us and does not decrease; it is not cured – rather it spreads.”

But what about all the wrong stuff that people say online? How do you ignore that? How can you not respond?

I checked with the bishop. He promised me that he did not commission you as the official responder to every wrong thing on the Internet.

But what if you just have to respond?

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is clear. If we are His, then we are to be in the love of God, as God’s love is in us.

Which means what? That if we’re Christians in more than name, then we follow St. John’s advice. We “treat everyone who suffers from the malady of sin with kindness and love.”

Today’s Readings

[howifeltabouthim]

All thoughts of revenge are born of the pain of helplessness. I suffer becomes You will suffer.

Siri Hustvedt, from The Blazing World

[iwritewhump]

lashing out

day 8 of @whumptember

618 words

warnings: teenage whumpee, implied abuse, conditioned response, cursing

part one | part two | part three | part five | part six

---

Villain finally takes down Hero’s ‘we left, he’s with me now <3’ note off of the fridge and lays it on the counter, not quite ready to completely forget about what had happened only a month ago. He smiles softly and dials Hero’s number. 

Her voicemail runs and he nods along until the beep, “Hey, Hero! I’m just checking in on you and Vigilante. I know you’re keeping him safe and I don’t have anything to worry about, but I just want to talk with him if he wants to. Anyway…just get back to me, thanks!” 

He sets the phone on his table and swings the refrigerator door open and bends down to find something to eat. With a small, contented chuckle he grabs pizza from the shelf and takes a bite. 

Villain’s phone rings, Hero’s number is on the display. He smiles, sets the pizza down on a napkin and answers, “Hey! Glad you were able to-” 

“Villain?” someone whispers. 

After a moment, Villain recognizes the voice. Under the hoarseness and fear, it was Vigilante. “Vigilante? Are you alright? Where’s Hero?” 

Rustling comes from his end and Villain can tell he’s running. “I need you to come get me. I’m running to the lot behind the forest next to Hero’s base. Please.” 

“Y-yeah,” Villain stutters. “I’ll…I’m leaving right now. Hang tight.” 

Instead of an answer, the phone falls to the ground and Villain can hear as it crashes against something hard and breaks. Without wasting a second, Villain grabs his keys and jacket, pulling his jacket on as he runs down the stairs of his apartment building. 

He ignores the shouts from neighbors, and mutters apologies to the others in the hallway that he barrels past. The elevator goes too slow, so he gets off after two stories and flies down the barely used stairwell and makes it to his car in record time. 

The lot by Hero’s base has never been a welcoming place, and the sun going down and the new moon shining no light definitely didn’t help. Vigilante sits against a tree trunk with his knees drawn tightly to his chest, vigilantly searching for anything coming for him. 

By some miracle, he sees Villain’s car before he hears it, grateful that he took the time to take note of the keys in Villain’s coin dish by the front door. 

He almost laughs and stands up, stumbling to the middle of the lot where Villain parks the car. Villain steps out of the car and Vigilante collapses in his arms. 

“Thank you for coming,” he sobs. Villain cups the back of his head with a hand and uses the other to open the passenger door and guide him in. 

After buckling Vigilante, Villain pulls away and studies him in the low light. 

Bruises litter every inch of skin Villain can see. He has barely scabbed over cuts and scrapes. Swollen lip, black eye and a cut on his cheek where blood still trickles out. Villain reaches his hand out, pulling his jacket sleeve over his hand to wipe it away and Vigilante flinches back so aggressively that he hits his head on the headrest. 

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “What happened to you?” 

Vigilante stares up at him, eyes glazed over, and shakes his head. He pulls the door shut and hugs his knees to his chest. 

The ride back to Villain’s apartment is deathly quiet, Villain glances over at Vigilante every few seconds and every time he’s staring blankly forward. 

“Vigilante…”

“No.” he snaps. “No. You don’t get to ask.” pulling his knees closer to himself, he shakes his head. “It’s all your fault, you should’ve known. So you don’t get to fucking ask.” 

[whats-in-a-sentence]

The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull.

"The Illustrated Sherlock Holmes Treasury" - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

[problematic-tip-centre]

Emphasis on number 3

Whump prompts I can’t get enough of:

1. The shifty and embarrassed look in a stoic leader’s eyes as they finally are forced to reveal an injury to their friends, reluctantly allowing themselves to be treated for the first time. The awkwardness as they strip, and/or lay down to be examined. The subtle fighting to maintain some choice or control ( would rather sit up, “I can do that myself thanks”) and so on.

2. The limp warmth of a Whumpee’s sleeping body as they are treated in the middle of the night. The change in their breathing as the covers are gently pulled back. The clumsiness of their movements as they flit in and out of sleep, sudden gasps or flinching as their wounds are tended. The caretaker’s whispers of comfort, hushing them back to sleep.

3. Whumpee lashing out in sudden rage at some petty action of another, before collapsing and breaking down in sobs. Everyone standing around awkwardly in shock, before caretaker goes in to grab whumpee in a crushing embrace, trying to calm their shaking.

4. Stoic whumpee being humiliated by Whumper. Orders like: ‘strip’, ‘face the wall’, ‘kneel’, ‘down on your hands and knees’, etc etc.

5. Slightly delusional whumpee being tied/held down for some potentially lifesaving procedure and quietly begging caretaker to stop, please please stop. Then more loudly, desperately, until they are crying out and fighting in a panic. Caretaker meanwhile is (1)staring at them in stoic silence while their heart is wrung with pity, or (2) they are quietly reassuring them, telling them it’s going to be alright.

Feel free to use as you like.

[shironezuninja]

Don’t make me any angrier than I already am. I still can’t get the “Single & Ready To Tingle” Spidey t-shirt from RedBubble, after getting unexplained automatic refunds twice.

[thearcher-2]

This Full Moon is seriously no joke… hope everyone is doing okay during this tough lunation. This energy is not easy at all. This is ending a cycle that started in April 2023. We are officially done with past shit that we don’t need anymore. We are about to enter a new chapter that will shift us into a much needed reality for everyone in the near future! This next coming year is the year that shit changes everything, just get ready…

[doukyuusei-lover]

whenever i feel mad or feel like yelling i listen to music to block it all out, it works sometimes i guess but i never feel fulfilled. i still feel a little like lashing out.

———————————————————————— ?

08/31/24 ✿

[throwaway-settings]

what if..... tassos...... was a werewolf

[planetzambon]

[dumb-bitch-poetry]

i looked in my mind

theres a bullet in there

surround by bones

and blood

and hair

it was caught by a thought

much stronger than it

and it slid down my throat

to my mouth

then i spit

it shot from my teeth

i should have watched where i aimed

i never considered who else

it might maim

[hinamie]

take the blue line

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: The Cousin

Clark had always known that Krypton was an entire planet with more than just a few cities scattered about, but it was a very distant knowledge that he grew up with.

Yes, it was sad that he was among the few Kyptonians left in the universe, but Clark has always considered himself human before anything else. He was Jonathan Kent and Martha Kent's son long before he learned of his identity as Kal-El.

It made him feel guilty that he preferred being Clark Kent to Kal-El, but it was the honest truth, as mean as it was.

Kara had once accused him of not understanding what it mean to have lost their home planet like she did. She often pointed out that his Kryptonese sounded like someone who had learned it as a second language. She also claimed that he was only pretending to be Kryptonian in another argument, and the worst was when she stated he wasn't Kryptonian enough. She raged because she was mourning the loss of her planet and people, and lashing out at him was easier.

He knew that, but it still stung, though not in the way she wanted. It stung because of the guilt: He agreed that he was prouder to be considered an Earthling than a Kryptonian.

He couldn't help that English rested more comfortably on his tongue or the scents of Earth's food were far more appetizing than the meals Kara made (As close to her family's recipes as she could. There were some spices Earth similarly couldn't substitute)

His rocket ship was his parents' attempt to stuff as much of their culture as they could into it before their people were wiped out. He tried hard to learn everything they managed to save, but he didn't connect to it as strongly as he did in history class listening to the USA's humble beginnings.

He felt guilty about that, too.

When they found Kon-El, he let Kara give him a name, only to later discover what Kon in Kryptonian meant. By that point, the clone had built an entire identity out of the name, and seeing his cousin's smug smirk made his insides turn.

He didn't like the clone, but he didn't think the boy deserved that. Though Clark should have done something, eventually, he would help rebrand the name, shifting the translation of the more modern (or it was before Kypton was no more) to an older Kryptonian one. Although Kara acted like he was destroying more of their culture, Clark felt it was better this way.

It was a struggle to be trapped between two worlds, but Clark knew which one he would choose every single time.

Then Bruce found the boy.

As usual, Bruce kept an eye on all major powers, including up-and-coming heroes. He first gained wind of the young hero in Amity Park from a young Wes Weston, who posted daily about Phantom. Since Phantom seemed to fall under the jurisdiction of the Justice League Dark, Clark didn't pay much attention to him.

Bruce had eyes on the young hero and had sent Robin to offer training and support, but the boy seemed much more interested in staying in his own part of the world and fighting the dead. Clark could respect that.

All heroes had an area that was undoubtedly theirs, and Phantom picked the most haunted place in the country to protect. It made sense. Months went by with Bruce occasionally bringing up the boy in meetings, to either update them on his work or praise the child for his missions in that weird, emotionless way Bruce talked as Batman.

Then, one day, Kara barged into the meeting, about to argue for her right to join the Justice League, when her eyes landed on the hologram of Phantom, which was frozen in place. Her mouth opened and closed, eyes wide, before she blurted out, "You found someone from the house of Lor-Van!?"

"What?" Clark sat up, recognizing his mother's maiden name.

"Look at his chest! That's the Lor-Van symbol!" Kara screeched, hope starting to bloom in her eyes. "He's your cousin, Kal. Likely from your mother's young brother! I heard he was attempting to make a rocket on the other side of Kypton, but I never knew if he was successful....but he must have! He has your mother's eyes!"

Clark feels like someone kicked him in the chest. His voice cracks as he asks, "There were other refugees from Kypton?"

Whatever glee was on Kara's face died a painful death as she turned away, hiding her tears. "Not everyone believed Uncle Jor, but not everyone thinks he was lying. They just didn't make it."

The silence in the meeting hall is heavy. Clark is only half aware of his teammates shooting unsure glances between the two aliens until Bruce clears his throat. "If Phantom is truly of house Lor-Van, I think it's time to approach him again, especially since he's a ghost. Anyone with magic can take control of him."

"Oh," Kara's voice is small. "He didn't make it either."

Clark leaps to drag Kara into a hug. She goes willingly, but doesn't hug back as she stays stiff as a board, hiding her face in his chest. "He should have been your age. Makes sense why he's still a teenager."

He doesn't know what to say to make her feel better. Nothing will feel better when you lose your entire world.

"We could go meet him, " he offers instead. Clark feels Kara move her head against his chest in one brisk nod, but it's enough for him to excuse himself from the rest of the League. They wave away his apology, offering to come with them for moral support, but Clark feels it's something he and Kara should be able to handle on their own.

She's crying on her way back to Earth, aiming for the part of the planet that houses Amity Park. Clark could have just had the Zeta beams from the Watch Tower, but he felt a flight would have done her some good.

"I don't know why I'm sad," She laughs wetly. "It's not like he's my cousin. He's a cousin of a cousin. I just thought...."

"I know," he tells her, pretending not to see the flooding tears behind her. Maybe we can find out what happened to him."

Maybe he was raised on Earth before his early death. Maybe Phantom is like me. Clark says, but he hopes. Even if it were a ghost, it would be nice to have someone understand.

The two Supers don't say anything else as they re-enter Earth's skies, and they can spot a ain't green glowing monster fighting against another smaller white glowing figure on the horizon.

[lucabyte]

even dogs pass the mirror test

[jilyandbambi]

I really wish the Yellowjackets fandom could accept Shauna is mentally ill in the same way Lottie is.

Obviously, yes, all of the Yellowjackets have severe PTSD. But it's like people get that Lottie is schizophrenic and that Tai suffers from some unspecified/undiagnosed dissociative disorder on top of having PTSD while Shauna's postpartum psychosis--the symptoms of which include but aren't limited to:

hallucinations

increased agitation/irritability

paranoia

persecutory delusions/feeling that others are out to get you

disruptive or aggressive behavior

withdrawing from loved ones & social activities

--is largely overlooked and instead her actions are treated as the result of her grief over losing Jackie and her baby.

Although it's understood that Shauna's labor and resulting stillbirth were uniquely damaging experiences that compounded her trauma in ways the others were spared from, she still gets lumped in with the other Yellowjackets as "only" suffering from PTSD. She just has *extra* PTSD. She suffered the most and it turned her into The Most Deranged and Bloodthirsty Yellowjacket.

But how would discussion of Shauna's season 3 arc look if her lashing out at Nat, her fixation on Ben as the culprit behind the cabin fire, her withdrawing socially from the group, and, yes, her extremely (often disproportionate) violent behavior were seen as being driven by her postpartum psychosis the way Lottie's faith in the wilderness is understood to be driven by her schizophrenia?

I don't know where I'm going with this, to be honest. I guess my point is that I think the fandom views the loss of wilderness baby as just a tragic event that compounded Shauna's grief and trauma when what we're actually seeing is the effects of an untreated severe mental health emergency not unlike Lottie's deterioration since running out of her meds.

[qoldenskies]

i think its so funny when people take the way donnie acts at face value even though its a horrible lie because he's a horrible liar, while understanding leo is bullshitting very well despite him actually being GOOD at bullshitting. many such cases