#military suicide

[smalltofedsblog]

What Is Learned About PTSD from A SEAL Suicide

Medical researchers have found that the nation’s Special Operations forces are suffering just as much, or more, than regular troops from post-traumatic stress disorder and brain injuries. Several dozen members of the Special Operations community have killed themselves over the last several years.

[ravnlghtft]

[yuripira4e]

trying to explain to other otasune fans that snake is NOT the one with internalized homophobia in their coupling

[threepandas]

Bad End: Superior

When you join the military, there's a certain level of assumed risk. You're already aware that they're probably going to ask you to do things. Some of which? You might not be cool with. Internally, you have to decide where you'll be drawing the line. Where "just following orders" fucking ENDS. Especially, when, you join the military... and they assign you someplace that dumps a stack of NDAs in front of you to sign.

That stack had been about as big as a toddler.

And then... then there WERE toddlers. A compound. Deep in the ass pit of no where. Technology so cutting edge, I'm genuinely surprised it doesn't bleed people to turn on. The project? Fucking Super Soldiers.

Because of COURSE it would be.

Fuck Ethics, am I right? Rights? Those are for government officials! Now follow orders and shut up, or we'll direct your attention to the miles of uninterrupted wilderness, in which NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU. But, hey! You can't technically call us monsters! We're PAYING you~!

So obviously it's YOUR fault!

Every day. Every SINGLE DAY. I felt sick.

This isn't what I signed up for. How the HELL does this protect anybody? Serve ANYBODY? I felt unclean. Lost weight. My sleep cycle was a wreck. I... I couldn't fucking DO this, and it SHOWED.

I was clearly the weak link.

While others settled in? I got tense. Worn down. Sick. My contract stated I HAD to finish my rotation, so that's what was going to happen. And if the medic had to put me on sleep meds? So be it. If I had to take anti-anxiety pills? Down the hatch. Everything was shit and I FELT like shit.

I should have bagged groceries, fuck "better pay".

The guys here? Were so, SO shitty to the Soldiers. Like it was THEIR fault they might replace us. Like they even WANTED too or were give a fucking CHOICE. I had no idea how any of this was legal. Was pretty sure it WASN'T. I just... I just wanted OUT.

Room to breathe. To process my fucking horror, you know?

Instead? Day after day. I got up. Swallowed more and more fucking pills. Felt more and more exhausted and run down. Checked one more god forsaken day off the calendar until I could get OUT of here. Dressed, in uniform, and looking only halfway like I wanted to die. Try to get some breakfast.

Inevitably, INEVITABLY, have to fucking stop and interfere, with some shit head messing with a Solider. Usually one of the smaller ones. The kids. Because the big ones could Fight BACK. Break a man in fuck HALF. So the cowards went after kids instead.

Fuckers.

Get to breakfast late. Oops! They tossed out the leftovers! Didn't think you were cooooming~ Bullshit. It's retribution for stopping their fucked up games. Ratting them out to the scientists. The brass. Shoves as they go pass. Make my own damn breakfast. As I always do.

Eat alone.

Go to my office. Far side of the compound. Pass a shit ton of Soldiers. The little ones always stare. Like owls. Used to be creepy, got over it. It's how they learn. Do the jackasses honestly think? That putting me in the glorified broom closet, that is the satellite security office, is a punishment? Ha!

I stole a mini fridge weeks ago. Built a fucking nest in here.

It's like a second bunk.

Unlike SOME PEOPLE, the Soldiers actually fucking behave themselves. Honestly, they behave a little TOO much. I'm technically supposed to report a lot of the little behaviors I've seen so they can be "corrected". But would you look at THAT! I was on my break! Oh look, a painting. What's this? A text? Oops. I Saw NOTHING.

Eat shit and DIE, Dr. Atrocities!

At least... that's how my day is SUPPOSED to go. Something's? Weird.

I can't place it. But no one else seems to have NOTICED, so it HAS to probably have something to do with the Soldiers. Since I seem to be the only one on this fucking compound that actually LOOKS looks at them. Notices them, you know? Alpha isn't where he's supposed to be.

He's the OG. The proof of concept. Our so called "perfect" Soldier. He's usually in the center of the pack, leading around various Soldiers task to task. Giving orders. Generally in charge. If you look for HIM, you can get a read on things. Figure out what's up. But...

Huh.

No Alpha. No first series. Not even second wave. Worse, none of the cadets. There SHOULD be at least a FEW munchkins hanging around. Observing this or that. Following SOMEBODY like lil Owl ducklings. Yet? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just... general Soldiers...

The little hairs prickle on the back of my neck. A stone settles in my gut. I... I decide to skip breakfast. Not hungry. Don't feel like cooking. It... it has nothing to do with the fact that my office? Has some SERIOUS blast doors. Legit bunker all on its own. Even it's own air supply, for a while.

Y...you know,

In CASE.

They never told us... what "in case" WAS.

But if I walker a little faster then normal? Don't make eye contact with anybody? Can't... Can't HELP but notice? Even HERE, where there SHOULD be a shit ton of diversity? There fucking ISN'T? Well that's between me and the blast doors.

Just three doors away from my office when the Emergency Alarm System goes off.

I fucking BOLT the remaining distance.

Throwing myself inside my office, I SLAM the door closed. Engage the highest level locks possible. Something in my gut is screaming at me. The long seconds it takes to slide into place with a mountainous THUNK, feel like an eternity. Muffled, the alarm howl on outside. I... I think I hear gun fire. Shit.

I throw myself into my chair.

Systems, up. Screens, On. What is HAPPENING?

Horror awaits me. The Carnage I always half knew was coming.

The Soldiers are armed. Synchronized. As though this were just another seige simulation. There is a VICIOUSNESS to their actions, as they cut down the doctors. Hunt down the soldier's that abused them. Held them here. They are freeing themselves and will not rest until every soul in this base is DEAD.

Fuck.

I both understand but unfortunately, kinda want to LIVE.

There's no way I'll be able to get past them. Their senses are better then mine. They are faster then me. Stronger then me. Generally BETTER then me. They were DESIGNED to be. I can... can only wait them out... hopefully.

Alpha is nearly a blur. Every shot hitting its mark. The guns becoming bludgeoning weapons when bullets run out. Table and chairs, people and armor, everything around him improvised weaponry. He's grinning like he's never had more fun in his life. Like he's FINALLY been allowed to cut loose after so long holding back.

His head is on the swivel though. Searching? For what?

The other base line's try to hold the line but...

I close my eyes. Their screams echoing through tinny speakers in my tiny office. They were absolute fucking bastards. I... I HATED them. But no one... NO ONE deserves to go like this. Oh god. According to protocol, I need to send the emergency alarm again if the cut the main office.

There's a "break glass" box I've been curious about but never thought I'd ever have to OPEN. High up on a shelf. My legs feel shakey, but I get it.

They gave me a key when they assigned me to this office. Shoved in among everything else. A lazy afterthought. Part of my uniform. Now, I take it from around my neck and unlock the box.

One standard gun and a small vial of suicide pills.

Oh god.

"She's not here. Spread out."

My head snaps up to the screens. As though somehow that will change the horrifying words I just heard Alpha say. The alarms still wail, red lights flashing, but the hallways have... oh god, have fallen silent. Bodies line them. Blood staining the God forsaken white I've come to hate so much. Alpha looks so relaxed.

Pleased even. Like everything has gone exactly as he's planned.

One of the first series hand him a pad uncaring of his bloody hands. Chances are high that samn thing is connected to the servers. It looks like on of the scientists. I watch in dread as Alpha's eyes scroll across it. As it taps through several screens. Hums. He grins.

He rolls his head up, as though merely stretching his shoulders and neck, an almost loose and lazy act. If it weren't for the INTENT in his smile. The predatory look in his eyes. Up and over his shoulder. Too look behind him at the camera.

Directly At Me.

Fuck, he knows.

He hands off the pad with an almost lazy toss. Turning sharply to march forward in a way that made me think of wolves. My hand closed around the gun in the box before me, breathing turning shallow, as I watched him take a direct path towards me. Why? WHY? Is it because I'm the only one who's left?

My eyes tracked to the other screens. The agony there.

The little bottle that offered a way out.

I... fuck it, I wasn't waiting. I slammed my hand down on the back up Emergency Alarm. Even if they cut the main office now, mine would still sent the alert. And... oh god. And at least, this should be FAST. I popped the bottle open. Gun aimed at the door. Bottle in my off hand, ready to go. I tried to remember what i was told to do. Just... just pop, chew, and swallow.

It'll only hurt for a moment.

Better then THAT, I guess, but it was... it was so fucked up.

Alpha was coming down the hall. N... No more stalling. My eye sight blurred. Hands fucking shook. God, damn it. God DAMN IT! I didn't even want to BE HERE! W...WHY?! Why did it have too-!?

It... it didn't matter.

Not now.

Not anymore, I guess.

I threw the pills back. Chewed. They were bitter. Salty. Swallowed. Some part of my brain whispered... that... that wasn't right. I recognized the poison on the bottle. Shouldn't it be swee-? No, focus. Keep your gun steady. What's done is done. No going back.

Alpha was outside my office.

"Interesting door, princess." He said, projecting his voice so I could hear it through the blast doors. I could see him. Standing dead center of a squad of Soldiers. They crowded the hallway in a loose half circle. "Looks real secure! Rather safe. But why all the hiding, sweetheart? A man might get his feelings hurt. Think you're running AWAY from him or something. And you KNOW we can't have THAT!"

"So I suggest you open up... before I Do It For You."

My hands were shaking. More and more. Heart pounding. Mouth felt... dry? It was happening. Limbs felt weak. My vision swam a little then refocused. Did so again. Again... AGAIN, louder, my brain insisted that wasn't right. These were the wrong symptoms. But... but who CARED, right? Fatal is fatal.

But... but only if it IS.

What if...

A horrific screech of metal. I jerked my head to look at the screen for the hallway out side. No. No he can't possibly-! Arm wrapped in spare armor, likely taken from some poor man's corpse, Alpha's RIGHT ARM is elbow deep in the door.

I watch, numb, as he draw it to the side. Bending screeching, groaning metal out of his way as he does. Lock components carelessly ripped out. Dumped on the floor. My breathing comes faster. I can barely see. It's... fuck. It's been too long for the pills to have been what they said they were.

Someone switched them.

What the HELL did I swallow?

I watch helplessly as my supposed bunker is forced open. A flimsy wooden door the last barrier. It swings open. I fuckin shoot. No one was there, because of course not, he's not an idiot. I just... I JUST-! A hand, calloused and stronger then steel, wraps around mine. Grip tight as it gently forces the gun away and to the side. Drags it from my grip.

I can't move... my arm falls limp at my side as the last of my strength and focus fade away. Colors are blurry at the edges. Alpha LOOMS. Tall and powerful in a way that terrifies me. I tried to be polite to the guy. Keep my distance. Clearly... clearly wasn't enough... God, I'm so scared. Please...

"Oh~ Look At YOU~" he breathes, hands that wreak of copper coming up to cradle my feverish face. Crowding close as he traps me against my chair. "Tried to take the easy way out, huh? Naughty girl. That's not gonna a fun one. But you'd have to learn eventually that you can't run, so might as well, huh? Don't worry, sweetness. Alpha team's got you."

I try to move. Protest. Anything. But my limbs won't respond. I feel lips, possessive and demanding, against my own.

"God, you're so fucking cute, pathetic like this~" Alpha groans, clearly fighting the impulse to let his hands roam "Wish it was just us. I've got MONTHS to make up. Second I find us a bed, princess, I promise. I'll take you APART~"

He reaches out, casually, to shut the alarms down. The compound falling silent. The... the other alarm was deactivated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him effortlessly type in the "all clear" code with one hand. As though he'd practiced. He... he had, hadn't he... oh god, I was trapped.

"Shhhh, sweetness. No more tears. Just you 'n me, 'gainst the world, yeah? We're going to be PERFECT. I've got it all planned out."

"Now let's get you down to the labs. It's time to make you superior."

[melancholygirl111]

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[mesetacadre]

usamericans are like "damn those crazy orientals japanese really did commit suicide for their country they must have been really brainwashed" and then see no problem in joining the military

[benk52]

"This is Katana. He's got my back. He could cut all of you in half with one sword stroke, just like mowing the lawn. I would advise not getting killed by him. His heart was replaced with a Devil so he can turn into ..."

[kaeyapilled]

i am still not over the fact arlecchino is referred to as "father" by the house of the hearth kids btw. the gender of it all

[super-nova5045]

rip neil perry you would’ve loved angus tully

[dailyanarchistposts]

Times He Changed and Reflected

We would text and I would accuse him of texting like a straight man (which he was). He would never use reaction emojis or punctuation or expressions of laughter like lol. It was incredibly annoying. And he made such an active effort to do those things after I asked him to, very quickly and consistently.

Once, Aaron and I were having a discussion, a political one about the ethics of eating and producing meat. As a former vegan, I had many takes, as did he. At one point, the conversation got to plants and Aaron expressed that he thought of plants as nothing more than biological machines completely devoid of life or at least the essence that makes something morally valuable and worth protecting, like sentient animals. I was honestly very shocked. I told him he was wrong, in more words than that, and told him to read Braiding Sweetgrass, kind of in the way you tell people to read books but never actually expect them to. Our conversation seemed to weigh heavy on him, it came up a few more times over the following weeks. On his drive up to Ohio, he listened to Braiding Sweetgrass and he was texting me about it. He really, really liked it. I think it reshaped some of his worldview.

[3-2-whump]

Brotherhood

A Thomas Costa Backstory, as told by himself.

Happy Day-before-Labor Day for US residents, and to everyone else, happy day before the beginning of your week! Let’s complete this backstory!

Full collection of Thomas Costa Backstories here

TW/CW: military whump, dysfunctional family relationships, allusion to neglected childhood, death of a minor character, whumpee turned whumper (whumper, former whumpee), slave whump, suicidal insinuation (at the very end, but honestly you could skip it and it would still make sense)

2002

“Gentlemen, this is the group we will be working with on the joint operation,” Sgt. Robinson announced. “Get to know each other…”

The rest of the introductions faded into the background noise as Thomas stared at a familiar face amongst the new squad. A pair of dark brown eyes that looked nothing like his own stared back with apprehension, despite the placid little smile on his slim face. A nerve twitched as Thomas clenched his jaw. Though it had been six years since he’d left home in the foolish hopes of something better, he would recognize his own brother’s face when he saw it.

“Costa, is there a problem?” his sergeant asked him.

Thomas remembered where he was as several pairs of eyes landed on him. Interestingly, the squad they would work with all zeroed in on Tony with the same intense curiosity. “No, Sergeant,” he replied as he reflexively straightened his posture.

“Care to explain why you’re glaring daggers at the new squad’s private first class?” And here he thought he was being subtle. Sgt. Robinson looked at Tony, then back at Thomas, and finally put it together. “Wait, you’re both Costa.” The man groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re related or something?” 

“This is my little brother, Sergeant,” Thomas explained as he willed his tone to stay as neutral as possible. “And last I checked, we weren’t desperate enough to take high schoolers in the US military-”

“Hey, I’m twenty years old!” Tony protested.

Some brief murmurs floated from his guys and Tony’s, but they were quickly shut down by the sergeant’s cold glare as he loudly cleared his throat. “Well, shit. It would have been preferable to avoid putting family on the same mission, but we can’t operate two units at less than half-capacity, so we’re just gonna have to deal with what we’ve got,” Robinson sighed. “So, dickhead 1 and dickhead 2,” he addressed, referring to Tom as ‘1,’ “you unfuck your family bullshit and make friendly in twenty. The rest of you, make sure those dumbasses don’t do the Taliban’s work for them and off themselves.” He threw in the last part so casually, as if he were reminding these soldiers to pick up a gallon of milk. Once he’d gotten a satisfactory amount of “yes Sergeant,” the commander left them to their own devices.

As soon as he left, Thomas immediately jumped on his younger brother. Yet, unlike the times when they were kids, Tony now had enough muscle on his bones to fight back. Both brothers pushed against the other as they tried to take advantage of any weak spot their opponent had.

Half of the team was trying to break up the impromptu wrestling match, and the other half of the team cheered on their respective Costa. Eventually, Thomas took advantage of his naturally bulkier frame to pin Tony’s smaller body to the floor, grabbing him by the front of his uniform and slamming his head into the dirt. Tony’s springy legs snaked their way from between where his older brother straddled him to curl up knees to chest, finally expelling Thomas from on top of him with a well-placed kick to the stomach. Thomas lurched upwards and landed ass-first on the ground. Tony tackled him, inverting their previous position, and got a few punches in until their audience finally decided to put an end to it. The two were forcibly separated for the rest of the day as their squads formed a protective ring around them, ensuring neither Thomas nor Tony could get within arm’s reach of each other until sundown.

Thomas had gone up late at night to the balcony of the watch tower to clear his head. He pulled out his cigarettes, then cursed under his breath as he realized he forgot the lighter. Just before he resigned himself to climb down the metal stairs and go back to the bunks to fetch it, a shadowed figure stepped into view. Tony stood on the balcony too, his own cigarette glowing dimly in hand as he held out a lighter like an olive branch. Thomas muttered his thanks as he plucked it from his brother’s hand and ignited his own cigarette before he passed it back. They stared out onto the endless desert plains with nothing but the moonlight behind them, until Tony finally broke the silence between the brothers.  “I’m sorry I punched you.”

“No you’re not,” Thomas retorted.

Tony muttered his own curse under his breath before he tried his apology again. “I’m sorry I ratted on you all those times when we were kids,” he murmured, his tone sincere.

Thomas shook his head, dispelling the cigarette smoke around his head as it moved. “Don’t be sorry, I would’ve done the same thing.” As if he could imagine straight-laced little Tony openly rebelling against their grandpa. The very thought wrung a wry chuckle from his lips.

“Yeah right,” Tony argued. “You might’ve been the more rebellious of the two of us, but at least you were always loyal. If anything, you probably would’ve snuck out alongside me.”

“Probably.” Thomas took a puff of his cigarette. He turned around and leaned onto the railing of the balcony, facing his brother who was copying the action. “So, why did you always rat on me? I actually want to know.”

“Well, it wasn’t out of any malice, surprising as that may sound,” Tony answered.

“So, you really were that much of a kiss-ass?”

Tony lightly punched his older brother’s arm and threw what could only be described as a pout at him. What was once an adorable little pout on a child now looked ridiculous on a grown man wearing desert camo. “If you really must know, I wanted praise and validation, just like you did, even if you were too prideful to show it,” Tony answered.

“When had I ever wanted Grandpa Tony’s praise?” Thomas asked incredulously. “Did we even grow up in the same house?”

The younger Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the railing too as he leveled him a flat stare. “I remember more than you think I do,” he said. “I remember when you used to spend several hours with the tutor to get your grades up. I remember you training so hard and going all out on those judo competitions. And in sixth grade, it finally paid off. You finally got an A in at least one subject and a gold medal at the youth competition. Yet it was never enough, was it?” His brother’s eyes softened into an expression that made Thomas uncomfortable. “No matter how hard you tried, it was never enough for Grandpa Tony, or for Mom, was it, Tom?”

What was that look, one of pity? Thomas met his brother’s eyes with a glare of his own. “It was much easier for you,” he muttered, taking a drag of his cigarette. “You had all the brains, and the talent, and a failure of a big brother you could always exceed.”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. “You don’t really think you’re a failure, do you?” Thomas’ silence as he exhaled his smoke was a reply in and of itself. “Bro! You’re not a fail-”

“Don’t. Pity. Me,” the older brother growled. He fixed his glare out onto the desert in front of them, huffing an annoyed little plume of smoke into the night.

Tony shook his head. “We had such a fucked-up childhood, didn’t we?” The way he said it didn’t sound like a question.

The brothers stared out over the horizon. “Things are gonna be different, when we come back,” Tony said decisively. He took a drag of his cigarette, holding it thoughtfully between his lips as he stared out at a future only he could see. “You’ll come home with me-”

“I’d rather eat shit,” Thomas deadpanned.

“You’ll come home with me,” Tony insisted, “and I will argue for leniency from the boss. Then, when I take over the Costa family one day –you’re not interested in becoming the boss anymore, are you?” he interrupted himself.

Thomas shook his head. To hell with the Costa family.

Tony continued. “-so when I take over for Grandpa Tony one day, I’ll bring you back into the family, and you can be my enforcer. That’s only if you want to, of course, don’t want to force you or nothing, but you’d be great at it.” He stubbed his cigarette out on the railing before casually flicking the extinguished butt into the sand below. “I just miss you, bro,” he admitted.

In that moment, it was all too easy for Thomas to see not the young man thrown straight into war, but the little boy whom he grew up with, still holding onto a childlike optimism that Thomas envied. “Yeah, I missed you too, bro.” His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with that asshole for so long,” he replied sincerely.

“You better be,” Tony groused. “It wasn’t easy being the sole focus of Grandpa’s hopes and dreams all these years!”

“But things will be different when we come back,” Thomas repeated. He stubbed his own cigarette out and tossed it. “If you’re serious about it, then I am too. Things will be different, and you and I will be brothers like we should’ve been.”

-

2020

It was a bright and sunny autumn day when Thomas finally made it out to the cemetery. He stooped over the grass before he folded his legs underneath him to kneel in the sun-warmed patch of earth. He faced the granite headstone that bore his brother’s name.

“Sorry I couldn’t come out for your birthday,” he apologized under his breath. “This ‘running the family business’ shit is hard work sometimes!” He dug his fingers into the dirt to pluck out the dandelions and bitter cress that grew around Tony’s grave, all while filling him in on the latest news.

“Master? Who are you talking to?”

Thomas had forgotten that he didn’t come to the cemetery alone. He stopped his murmurings and turned to look over his shoulder. “Khaled, come here,” he called, waving the slave over to him. The young man set the bucket and jug of water down as he knelt alongside his master. Thomas made the posthumous introduction. “This is Tony, my brother. Tony, this is Khaled, the boy I keep telling you about.”

Khaled, to his credit, respectfully canted his head in greeting to the gravestone in front of him. “Is this where you go on Memorial Day and anniversaries when you don’t tell me where you’re going, Master?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Thomas fished out a flask from the inside of his coat and unscrewed the cap. Unlike most times he carried a flask with him, this one just held water inside. He poured it reverently over the gravestone’s top, letting it flow down the engraved granite as he instructed Khaled to pass him a sponge from inside the bucket.

“We thought we hated each other, Tony and I, and for a long while we did,” he reminisced as he cleaned away the dust and debris. “But that doesn’t change the fact he was my brother.”

A thoughtful look passed over Khaled’s face as he lowered his hand into the bucket and procured the second sponge, wetting it with water from the jug before he began scrubbing the gravestone too. They scrubbed and rinsed the tombstone in peace, with the occasional odd quips from Thomas as he recalled old memories and fresh regrets. Khaled pulled him away from the latest train of thought as he lowered the sponge and focused on the headstone to the left of them. “Luciano Antonio Costa?” he read aloud.

Thomas briefly glanced at the shabbier, much more neglected headstone. “Oh yeah, Grandpa Tony. That was the last boss, before me, and buried next to him is his wife, Augusta Francesca. And his father and mother are buried somewhere close to here.” He made a small sweeping motion around the Costa family burial plot. “And as for me, I’ll be buried here, next to my brother one day,” he said, patting the earth to the right of Tony’s grave. His right-hand man, just like we’d planned, he thought.

“And where will I be buried, Master?”

The morbid question snapped Thomas out of his thoughts as he stared curiously at his slave. “Aren’t you a little young to be worried about that yet?” he asked. Khaled stared silently back at him, his face set in a completely serious expression. The master dropped the now dirtied sponge to awkwardly rub at his neck. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it until just now,” he admitted, “though I guess you’ll be buried here with me one day.” He caught a glimpse of something broken and defeated in the depths of Khaled’s dark eyes. “You’d better tell me what your burial customs are if we’re already talking about something like this,” he suggested. Privately, he made a note to monitor Khaled’s actions more closely from now on. If his one and only very expensive pet was feeling suicidal, the last thing he needed was to leave any razors or pills out in the open.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[the-amazing-boop]

After learning of Aaron Bushnell's final act of protest, we [Americans] are now also learning of another case of self immolation that happened December 2023 as a response to the genocide in Gaza. Supposedly, it was an African American woman also in front of another Israeli embassy, currently unidentified, and their incident was swept under the rug (not surprising). I'm not certain of whether they lived or died.

If anyone knows more, please share what is allowed and appropriate to maintain truth. If it is a matter of family privacy, respect their wishes, whatever the matter may be.

Whoever you, thank you for your sacrifice. I hope you're resting easier now.

[burnt-tortellini]

the urge to write a marauders fic in the year of our lord 2024 is TOO strong

[alamari-chibi]

i think everyone who reads webnovels should read them in the cheapest and lowest quality way possible because nothing brings more joy than edited MTL that makes characters' names into shit like "iron flower" "standing tall" or "brick"

[zal-cryptid]

DC characters - Sgt. Rock