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bitch-for-bo · 4 years ago

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His Destined Miracle (Asahi Azumane x Chubby Reader) (omegaverse)

POST timeskip

Asahi had been in love with you practically since the first time he saw you. He'd find himself taking walks around the office just to catch sight of your beautiful face and sunny, warm demeanor. He always wanted to approach you, but he'd never had the courage. All he could do was hope that he encountered a miracle. Going into a rut during a day that office was NOT a miracle to Asahi. In fact, it was one of his worst nightmares, but when you show up on his doorstep, looking like an angel from heaven, he realizes that miracles come in all different ways... and that you were his destined miracle.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey Y/N can you run these copies to the boss’s office, I have to go to the bathroom or I think I might die!!” One of your over-dramatic coworkers asked as they practically threw a stack of papers at you. They were shifting back and forth, their knees knocked as they hopped around in a little bathroom ‘dance’

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.” You replied, giggling quietly to yourself as they hobbled/ran quickly towards the restrooms.

You looked down at the stack of papers in your hands, admiring the brilliant pieces of art on each page. The boss would be very happy with these. Of course, if he was unhappy with them, he wouldn’t tell anyone, the boss was the type who if he didn’t like what he saw, he would improve it and then deny all credit. Some in the office called him a pushover, but you thought that it was sweet that he did that.

You stood from your cubicle and began to walk to the bosses office, it was on the other side of the floor but you had already been planning on getting up to stretch your legs out soon anyway, so it had worked out.

You strolled through the office, not in any particular rush to get to the boss’s office. You greeted people that you passed, you knew everyone on your floor by name and you knew at least one fact about them, if they had pets or kids, what their hobbies were. You did this so that you’d never run into someone and not be able to ask them a question about their personal life, this ‘technique’ is what had made you so popular around the office, every time you would talk to someone, they would walk away with a smile on their face.

Your naturally sunny demeanor had always been your redeeming trait. When you were young, kids would mercilessly bully you. The names they would call you, ‘fatty’ or ‘ugly cow’ along with the treatment you received for being an omega was enough to tear a young you apart. You had started being overly nice to people to make up for all of your shortcomings, you found that if you were constantly sucking up to them and making them feel better about themselves, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Unfortunately, this had led to you not only being incredibly insecure with very low self-esteem, but also a doormat for people to walk all over. You were always doing people favors, getting them coffees, paying for their snacks at vending machines, even doing their work for them. Your friends would tell you to stick up for yourselves, they would even tell people off if they treated you poorly in front of them. They had begun to practically beg you to start saying no to people, but you didn’t mind being a bit of a push-over. After all, you still thought of yourself as a worthless, fat, omega cow that couldn’t do anything right and if you could be useful to someone, even if it meant staying an extra hour to file their paperwork for them, it was worth it.

You frowned at the memories as you walked, catching sight of yourself in the large windows that overlooked the beautiful city outside. You winced. Even though your friends were constantly telling you that you were beautiful inside and out, it was still hard to look at yourself in the mirror. All of the traumatic events of your childhood had really affected you. It was almost impossible for you to look at yourself and not despise the person you saw.

You arrived at the boss’s office, giving a light knock on the closed door.

“Come in please.” You heard the soft voice call from inside. You twisted the knob, opened the door, and entered the room, gasping at the sight before you.

Hundreds of designs were strewn across the floor, tacked to the walls, and pulled up on the computer monitor, and in the middle of it all sat a six-foot-two alpha who was currently smiling shyly up at you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment of the mess.

“Hel-”

He stopped, his eyes wide as they stared at you. Clearly, you weren’t the person he’d been expecting. He stared at you for a solid five seconds, saying nothing as his eyes were frozen on you, making you feel extremely self-conscious and a little hot under the collar.

You cleared your throat, snapping him out of his daze.

“Excuse me.” You said. As soon as you’d spoken the boss had got up onto his knees and looked around as if wondering how he would get to you without ruining his designs.

“Sorry about the mess.” He mumbled, a large blush blooming on his cheeks as he scrambled up and towards you, trying (and failing) to avoid stepping on the designs.

“Please! Don’t apologize!” You stumbled, matching his anxious energy as your face adopted a blush of its own. “I just came to give these to you!” You squeaked, your arms holding out the designs as your gaze locked on the cluttered floor.

“Oh.” The large male said gently, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” He said, more confidently this time. He’d noticed that you were emitting a strongly anxious scent, and something about it must’ve scared him and made him think that he was scaring you.

“Your welcome.” You practically whispered, your eyes not daring to meet his, “Have a good day.” You rushed out before rushed back out of the room, letting the door almost slam behind you.

‘Dammit!’ you thought, mentally slapping yourself. You couldn’t believe you’d made such a fool out of yourself. You just couldn’t help it, the boss was super intimidating. Plus he was an alpha.

Being an alpha meant that, since you were an omega, you had a natural urge to submit to him, it also meant that he was incredibly intimidating, borderline scary.

Usually, it didn’t matter that you were an omega. You took scent and heat suppressants to control your natural omega tendencies. The suppressors made it to where no wolf could smell you and you couldn’t smell any wolf. People could smell the basics on you, fear, happiness, sadness, they just couldn’t smell your natural scent, the scent that gave you away as an omega. The suppressants also kept you from smelling other wolves and ‘losing control’ of your own scent as a reaction. This all meant that even if you encountered betas and alphas in your daily activities, they wouldn’t know you were an omega and you wouldn’t be able to smell their natural scents either.

The only exception to this was when an alpha was in a rut, when they were rutting their noses were strengthened tenfold and they could sniff you out in an instant., but thankfully, society had progressed to the point that ruts were an excused absence from your job. Another time that the suppressants weren’t at their full potency was during your heat. Yes, it suppressed almost all of your scent, but depending on the strength of your heats, some would still leak out. Thankfully, heats were also excusable by employers. Luckily you’d never had to leave work for heat, you’d always been able to track it and take off plenty early so you could lock yourself in your apartment and suffer through it, and you’d also been lucky enough to never encounter a rutting alpha.

*******************

Asahi Azumane, aka the boss, was still standing in front of his closed door. He stared at the closed door, the designs he’d been given loosely clutched in his hands.

‘Dammit!’ he thought. He couldn't believe how he’d reacted. How embarrassing!

Ever since the newest member of the floor had begun working at the studio as a financial advisor, Asahi had been incredibly infatuated. Even though he’d never held a conversation with her due to his busy schedule, he never failed to notice the way she lit up the office. Everyone liked her and got along with her. Sometimes he’d overhear people talking about her, or sometimes he’d even overhear her talking to someone, she always seemed so warm and kind that Asahi couldn’t help but be a little jealous that he’d never received the honor of ever talking to her.

When she had been the one to open the door to his office, he’d been practically incapacitated. As soon as his eyes had hit her body he’d forgotten how to talk.

As a designer he couldn’t help but admire the classy style of her outfit, the warm red-orange turtleneck tucked into a pair of brown and tan flared slacks paired with black platform boots. It took all of his willpower not to pull out a pencil and sketch it for inspiration.

And as a man, he couldn’t help but admire how the outfit fit your body perfectly. The way that it hugged your form, complementing and accentuating the curves of your figure. It was enough to take his breath away and make the alpha in him roar with the need to claim and protect such a precious sight.

Unfortunately for Asahi, as soon as the encounter with the angel began, it ended. He was beating himself up for not saying something, for not inviting you to dinner, for only staring like a lovestruck loser.

‘She probably thinks I’m a total loser...or even worse a pervert!’ he thought glumly. He sulked back over to his designs, frustrated at himself for not being bold enough to call after the beautiful girl and ask for her number.

‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘Y/N is way too out of my league, she’d reject me in a heartbeat. Or even worse! She’d say yes out of pity!’

As he continued to work on his designs, the thought of the angel that had visited him was clouding his mind, making work impossible. He just couldn’t seem to forget the shape of her lips as she spoke or the way that the perfect outfit laid on her perfect body....her perfect hips….her perfect breasts.

“Fuck” he grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably as he realized that he’d thought himself straight into having an erection.

‘I just couldn’t help it. She’s so beautiful.’ he thought.

He tried to struggle through his… problem, but it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more it persisted. It was actually to the point that he was sitting in the middle of his office, red-faced and panting with a painfully obvious tent in his pants.

“What the fuck is happening?” He grunted, feeling his canines start to lengthen and his claws emerge. Could he be going into rut already? He wasn’t due for at least another week!

Was it seeing Y/N that made him go into rut early? How? Y/N wasn’t his mate….right? No. He would’ve known if she was his mate by her scent. He had no recollection of ever smelling her, was she on suppressants, was there a chance that she could be his mate?

‘Yep.’ Asahi thought as another wave of heat and desire burst through his body, ‘I’ve started my rut early…. I need to get out of here…. Need to go home.’

He practically crawled to his desk, grasping desperately for his phone so he could call the receptionist and ask her to remove all of the females on the floor from the building. The last thing that he needed or wanted was to set off any omega’s heat by accident.

“Hello, Mr. Azumane. Is everything alright?” The receptionist asked, surprised at the call seeing as Asahi rarely called, opting to physically walk to the desk and ask. He thought that it was more polite this way, plus it gave him a chance to catch a glimpse of Y/N at her desk.

“I need all of the women on the floor to temporarily evacuate, I’ve gone into a rut.”

The receptionist on the other end, that was used to dealing with Asahi’s over-anxious personality, just laughed.

“That’s incredibly unnecessary sir. I’m sure everything will be fine if you just leave out of the back stairs, you could even leave out of the fire escape if you’re that nervous.”

Asahi sighed and nodded. It was true that he’d be wasting everyone’s time if he asked for an evacuation. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Ok……” he said warily. “I’ll try.”

“Great!” The receptionist replied, “I’ll make sure to get someone to bring your work to your house tomorrow so you can continue to work from home.”

**********************

“Right here is good. Thank you.” You said, getting out of the cab and paying the driver. YOu glanced up at the tall apartment complex as the car drove away, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You thought back to what had happened not even an hour earlier. Yui at the front desk had asked you if you would be willing to take the boss some work. She said that he was sick at home and wanted to continue to work from there. Being the people pleaser that you are, you said that it was no problem and that was how you’d wound up standing in front of Asahi Azumane’s apartment complex with a thick file full of designs and a large container of soup.

You walked into the lobby before buzzing into Asahi’s apartment. Clearly, he’d been expecting someone to come with his work seeing as he buzzed you up almost immediately.

You entered and took the elevator to his floor, the floor third from the top. When the doors opened, you were met with a small entryway that led to a single door.

“A penthouse?” you mumbled to yourself. You couldn’t be super surprised, after all, he was the boss of your floor and probably made a very comfortable salary. Still, the building hadn’t looked small from the outside, and if Asahi had a whole floor to himself that meant that his flat was at least 4,000 square feet big. You knocked on the door.

It opened.

You automatically gasped.

The scent of sandalwood and rosemary hit you like a brick wall, forcing you to stagger back on your feet.

‘Oh, shit’ you thought, ‘they told me he was sick! Not that he was in a rut!’

You began to panic in the split second that the door had been opened. You wanted to run away, but seeing as Asahi was much stronger and faster than you, you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Maybe it wasn’t a strong enough rut to enable him to smell through your suppressants? No. There was no way it was a weak rut, not when Asahi was such a powerful alpha.

In your state of panic, you failed to notice two things. The first being the fact that your wolf was screaming something at you, and the second being the large alpha, looming over you in the doorway.

Asahi’s body was heaving with heavy breath. His claws were contracted and his canines were piercing through his bottom lip, causing the taste of blood to hit his tongue as he stared at the beautiful omega in the doorway to his apartment.

‘I didn’t know Y/N was an omega’

‘Why is she here?’

‘Can she smell that I’m in rut?’

Were all questions running through the alpha’s brain, but the most important thing running through his brain was the single word that his inner wolf was practically screaming at him.

Asahi looked down at you, causing a violent shiver to wreck through your spine. You whimpered, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. His lips curled back before letting out the most deafening growl ever. A growl so loud, you were confident that people down on the sidewalks had heard.

“Mine.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, you gasped and suddenly the voice of your inner wolf was crystal clear. ‘Mate!’ it was howling happily. Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Asahi was your bond mate? YOUR BOSS WAS YOUR BOND MATE!

It made you want to faint out of surprise as well as anxiety. You considered if you could make a run for it, despite already knowing it was impossible. You were glancing at your surroundings when you finally remembered that Asahi, your mate, was still standing in front of you.

You looked at his tall frame in awe, your desire growing as you practically drooled over the sheer size of the alpha. He was huge, his broad shoulders, his built chest, and if you were to take a guess, you’d say that he was huge under the belt too.

You were so distracted ogling his body that you didn’t notice the way that his claws were digging into the flesh of his palms and how his canines had pierced his bottom lip hard enough to cause a small trickle of blood down his chin.

“Azumane! You gasped, setting the papers and soup on the floor in the hall before automatically stepping forward and grazing his hands with your own, careful to avoid the razor-sharp claws.

“No.” He grunted, trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. He feared if you stayed much longer he would do something out of his control, something unforgivable. “Please…..I don’t want to hurt you.”

You could see the pain and genuine fear in his eyes. You felt your heart fill with sadness and love at the same time. You couldn’t believe how much you’d been blessed. You had been given Azumane as a mate…. A man who was gentle and kind and was always so thoughtful of others. This was the man that you were destined to spend the rest of your life with.

Suddenly all of the fears and insecurities of not being good enough for people melted away from you. As your arms left Asahi’s hands to wrap gently around his neck, tears of happiness began to run down your face.

How could you have been so stupid? All of this time happiness and love had been right down the hall from you. You had deprived yourself of a partner to laugh with, to love, all because you felt inferior to others.

“You won’t hurt me.” You whispered, one of your hands nudging his face down closer to yours. “I trust you Azumane.”

Your lips were so close to his that you could feel his slightly labored breathing. His eyes were so close that you could seemingly see into his soul. You tried to tell him with your eyes just how hopelessly in love with him you already were.

Somehow, he must’ve felt it, because soon he was sighing into a soft kiss as one of his strong hands moved to hold your head as the other glided down your body to rest on your hip.

“Asahi….” he breathed, disconnecting your lips to look into your eyes.

“Huh?” you asked, slightly dazed from the passion of the short kiss.

“Call me Asahi, my love.” He said before once again joining your mouths in another heartfelt kiss, pulling your body flush against his own strong frame.

You moaned into the embrace, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he carefully swept you up off of the ground and began to carry you into his bedroom.

It all seemed like a whirlwind to you, but you couldn’t imagine it any other way. This was your soulmate…. Your other half.

Asahi’s body was alight with desire as well as he felt the effects of his rut in full force. He couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky he was to receive you as his mate. You…. the girl that he’d been admiring from afar, the one that, dare he say, he was already madly in love with. You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with you in his arms. When he held you, he felt like the strongest man in the world.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to force you. I’m in rut so I want you to be 100 percent sure that this is YOU wanting me, not your hormones.” Asahi whispered as he set you down on the edge of his bed.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted. You didn’t care that he was in rut, you knew that the lust you were feeling barely had anything to do with your omega nature. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad that it made you want to cry.

“Asahi,” You whimpered, falling back onto his bed and staring up at him with a maddening blush on your cheeks. “I want you to claim me…”

“My love….” he growled before lunging back down at you, his lips attaching to your jaw with a renewed feverish manner.

“Asahi!” you gasped as his large hands roamed your body, his long fingers dancing across your hips that had been exposed as the blouse you were wearing was torn off of you, the buttons flying across the room.

He chuckled at your surprise before resuming his onslaught of love onto your body, his lips seeking out your breasts as his hands began to work at your slacks and then at his own clothes.

As soon as you were both fully nude, he leaned back, leaving reality to dawn on you as you realized that you weren’t actually fully over your insecurities. Your hands flew up to cover your face and stomach in embarrassment, you didn’t want Asahi to see you under such bright lights.

“I-I’m sorry I jus-” You whispered in shame, your eyes locking on a wall in his bedroom as you tried to explain.

“Let me see you.” He demanded, interrupting your pathetic stuttering with his strong hands clasping around your wrists and pulling them above your head. Your eyes closed tightly in humiliation.

Asahi’s eyes hungrily drank in your body. Every curve and arch was precious to him. He was practically drooling at how soft you felt under his hard body, how pliant you would be to his will.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. Making your blush darken.

He brought his head down to your chest, his tongue piking out of his mouth and leaving a hot trail between your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of the appendage dancing its way down and across your stomach, down to your hips, until finally, Asahi’s head rested between your thighs.

His hands splayed out against the smooth flesh, admiring how soft they were in his grip. He could smell your arousal, turning him on that much more as he watched slick drip out of your hole and onto the meat of your upper thighs.

“One day.” He mumbled, half to himself and half for you to hear, “I will fuck these gorgeous thighs.” He said before swooping in and kissing the upper region of your legs. Biting and sucking dark spots into the sensitive skin.

“Asahi!” Was all you could manage to cry as his hands and mouth wreaked pleasurable havoc on your mind and body. You wanted him so badly. You could feel your cunt fluttering with need as slick dripped out of it, leaving a large damp spot on Asahi’s bedsheets.

“What do you want my love?” He asked, his eyes looking up from his position from in between your thighs to meet yours. You were suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of so much affection and adoration that laid in the dark brown pools.

“I want you Asahi….” you cried, panting as he quickly climbed up your body, lining himself up with you.

Both of you were hot and ready. The feeling and scent of desire clouding the room and leaving you both in a state of reckless lust. Nothing in that moment mattered but you and him.

Asahi connected your mouths once again as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls further than anyone had ever stretched them before. It felt so good…. so incredibly good.

“Asahi….” you gasped as he seated himself fully inside of you, the indescribable feeling of fullness making your body shake. “Please... Give me your cock.” A low growl ripped through his chest as his restraint finally snapped and his rut took over his mind and body. His hips began to snap in and out of your body at an almost lethal pace, leaving you writhing and gasping for air as you felt his primal instincts taking over.

“Yes!” you cried, your nails driving themselves across his upper back in a pathetic attempt to keep you rooted to this world. If the sheer size of his dick wasn’t enough to split you in two, it was the lightning-fast pace that his hips were thrusting into your body at, hitting all of the deepest areas of you, making you want to scream in pleasure.

As his cock drug in and out of you, rubbing against your walls so good that it took all of your breath away, you felt the tip of his cock but against your g-spot.

“Aah! Asahi!” You screamed, your walls clenching around him as stars painted your vision in pleasure. You couldn’t believe just how good he filled you up, how he reached every single place within you, drawing out the lewdest sounds, filling the rooms with your moans and cries as his cock pounded into you.

“You’re so beautiful” He gasped as you clenched around him, he was practically rapid with pleasure. He was slamming into you as his newfound goal in life was to please you, sucking on your neck as his hands roamed and gripped your body.

You could tell that since Asahi was in rut, his end was approaching much faster than it normally would and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t on the brink of orgasm as well. Apparently, Asahi had realized the same thing and was positioning himself to where he was hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart first.

“Asahi!” You gasped, tears running down your face as your hands gripped his strong shoulders. “Asahi, I’m gonna come….”

“Yes, my love….” He grunted, picking up his pace impossibly more before bringing his fingers down to circle your clit. He could feel you getting closer and closer with the way that you sucked him back in with each thrust. “You take me so well.”

“Yes. Only you Asahi! You fuck me so good!” You babbled, your hips circling quickly in a sad attempt to keep up with the delicious feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel the elastic of your orgasm pulling tight in your lower stomach. You knew that Asahi wouldn’t let himself come before you.

“Please….” you begged, teary eyes staring into Asahi’s lustful ones. “Please let me cum..”

“Yes my love.” he panted out, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he felt his own end rising. “Cum for me…” He said, his lips once again joining yours as your body was thrown off of the cliff into a sea of pleasure. You cried into his kiss, your body arching off of the bed as it shook with the overwhelming force of your orgasm. You swore that you temporarily went blind with the impact.

“I’m gonna come…..” Asahi breathed against your lips.

“Please…..come inside of me.” You begged, your legs wrapping around his hips and trapping his body against yours as his hips began to stutter and his cock burst inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” he groaned, pitching his head back as every fiber of his benign burned in the glory of his high. He continued to lazily thrust into you, bringing you both through your peaks.

As soon as you had been able to gain your breath again, he pulled you, leaving you incredibly empty. You whined at the loss.

“I need to take care of you.” He chuckled, climbing off of the bed to retrieve a towel from his bathroom to clean your body with. He kissed and massaged you as he gently wiped all of the cum mixed with slick off of your thighs, his face burning red at the lewd evidence of your lustful activities. You giggled as his docile, shy nature slowly returned, barely being able to make eye contact with you.

As soon as he was finished, he let you pull him back down onto the bed, despite both of you still being naked and sweaty. You closed your eyes, you knew that his rut would flare up again and you wanted to catch a quick nap before the second round.

Asahi just stared at your face as you drifted off to rest. You looked like an angel to him...so pure and beautiful. He knew then that he would always protect you, even if that meant laying down his own life. You were now his reason to live, you were his muse…..

You were his.

#haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu smut #asahi #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu 18+#asahi x reader

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

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drivers license.

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: omi receives his license and goes to the cemetery to celebrate

warnings: angst, anxiety, arguments, car crashes, driving, family trauma/issues, grieving/mourning, major character death/parental death

author’s note: if you are going through the loss of a loved one, please remember you will always have people in this world who support and love you endlessly ♡ you are not alone and you will make it through. i believe in you with all my heart—i cannot tell you it’s okay, but i can tell you it’ll get better. please keep trying, it’ll be worth it. i hope you wake up tomorrow with a lighter heart, i love you

this is not romantic! this is a headcanon i have of omi’s family history as he only lives with his father and two brothers (ＴｗＴ。) thank you!!!

word count: 2,619

music: drivers license – olivia rodrigo

I GOT MY DRIVER’S LICENSE LAST WEEK

JUST LIKE WE ALWAYS TALKED ABOUT

‘CAUSE YOU WERE SO EXCITED FOR ME

TO FINALLY DRIVE UP TO YOUR HOUSE

Omi was the first person to pass his driver’s license test in his family.

His father wasn’t getting any younger, so his hands were hesitant and shaky every time they hovered over the stick shift. The buttons out of the corners of his eyes were much too confusing for his old brain so Omi’s father insisted on walking everywhere. As he grew older, the Fushimi household reached a compromise of taking public transport during the weekdays.

Omi’s two younger brothers weren’t old enough. They were still in their early preteen years, so getting behind the wheel wasn’t a legal option. As the oldest son, Omi took it upon himself to get into a four-wheeler and figure out all the tricky mechanics for himself. Hours and hours passed borrowing his friend’s vehicle, spinning around in circles in abandoned parking lots, and studying road laws.

When Omi learned all by himself and paid for it with his own money, his father clapped his shoulder with his usual proud smile and congratulated him.

The leather beneath his father’s wrinkled hands suddenly felt like skin, as if he could see right through him. When Omi took a moment to take a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and could almost see a younger version of his father. A father that wouldn’t be so close to retirement, that wasn’t so fragile and slow.

What did his father see? Could he see Omi was still the little boy sitting in the backseat all those years ago?

“That’s my boy! You’re just like your—” Omi didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence, so he hurried upstairs and left his father alone in the corridor. Sometimes, he regrets it. But, most times, Omi’s glad he didn’t stay.

Whenever Omi got into a car after that, he sometimes still heard it in his head.

Omi knew he was like his mother.

BUT TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

CRYING ‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T AROUND

YEAH, TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

‘CAUSE HOW COULD I EVER LOVE SOMEONE ELSE?

The first thing Omi did after receiving his license was visit his mother.

The car wasn’t preferable by any means, but it did its job. The seat creaked every time Omi had to adjust it, the air freshner didn’t make anything better, and there was no possibility that the air conditioning worked. But, the windows rolled down all the way, the wheels rarely ran out of air, and the car door only jammed sometimes. At the red light, Omi shifted and heard the crease of his jacket.

Omi didn’t know why he still wore it. Those days were long past him now, but the aged material made this whole experience a little easier. Before Omi could let himself reminicse, the light turned green and Omi automatically pushed forward.

Check the rear-view mirror. Two hands on the wheels at all time. Eyes on the road. Pay attention to stop signs. Be aware of everything around you. Omi repeated this again and again until the GPS on his phone announced he reached his location. Parking carefully, Omi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until everything stopped moving.

Picking up the small bouquet of flowers on the passenger’s seat, Omi locked his car and nodded at the security guard at the gates.

“Hi, Ma.” Omi said, pausing at a worn-down grave with the same flowers as last time.

“I got my driver’s license last week.”

AND I KNOW WE WEREN’T PERFECT

BUT I’VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY FOR ANYONE

AND I JUST CAN’T IMAGINE

HOW COULD YOU BE SO OKAY NOW THAT I’M GONE?

Omi sat besides her, leaning his head upon the cold grey stone. Like her tombstone, she was always strong, resilient, and offered a shoulder to cry on. Omi shuddered and wrapped an arm around the grave, as if she was still here.

“I did it.” Omi breathed and closed his eyes shut, hearing the distant rumbling of a thunderstorm. Even though Omi knew he should’ve left to get ahead of the rain, his legs were too weak. He couldn’t move without feeling like he was going to crash and burn.

“Ma... it was so hard.” Omi finally admitted to himself, squeezing the plastic of the bouquet in his hands and distracting himself with the crinkle. “Every time I sat in the driver’s side, I thought of you. I was... I’m so scared.”

Silence, before a clap of thunder. Omi flinched, hiding his face in the grey. “You were such a good driver, you followed every single rule. You should’ve been the one to teach me...”

Omi hated this feeling, like he was selfish for wanting his mother to be here with him. But, he knew he was right. Omi shouldn’t have had to suffer through panic attacks by himself. Make close calls with no one by his side. Balance school, work, family, and driving every single day. Omi could feel the exhaustion in his bones, as if he was the one who was dead.

“Pa couldn’t. Ever since...” Omi didn’t dare relive the tragedy. All he could bear was the inhumane screams, shattering glass, and alarms of the ambulance from miles away before snapping back to reality. “... the accident, he’s been so, so sad.”

It was an under-statement to say the Fushimi boys were struggling. Losing a parent didn’t hurt just emotionally, but financially as well. As Omi’s father picked up more shifts, more and more of that money went to medical bills that should’ve been years down the line.

“Your boys miss you so much. I miss you, so much. You would’ve been so proud... just like Pa. He said—” Omi’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. Pulling the jacket tighter, Omi winced as the sudden gust of wind chilled his spine. The leaves rustled unceremoniously and Omi wished he could fly away, too.

“I’m just like you, Ma.” Placing the small flowers at the base of her grave, Omi read the faded engraving upon the surface until his vision was clearer.

Omi moved onto the next grave without a goodbye, because he’s had too many of those in this lifetime.

GUESS YOU DIDN’T MEAN WHAT YOU WROTE IN THAT SONG ABOUT ME

‘CAUSE YOU SAID FOREVER, NOW I DRIVE ALONE PAST YOUR STREET

After visiting his mother and Nachi, Omi returned to his car. It looked nothing like the car he almost died in. Back then, that car was big enough to hold a family of five snugly. Now, Omi’s car didn’t need all that room. His father would never get back into a car ever again, and his brothers could just sit in the back.

Resting his hand upon the car door, Omi didn’t have the heart to open it. Going inside meant driving home; driving home meant seeing his father flinch whenever the car pulled into the driveway. Driving home meant preparing dinner, making sure the boys did their homework, giving Pa his proper medications, doing homework, and barely sleeping. Going home meant being mom.

As the rain began to pour, Omi didn’t move. Soaked and unable to distinguish if he was crying or just stupid, Omi hung his head and let the water run over him. Was this his Ma’s way of crying for him? Omi didn’t want to know.

Omi finally yanked open the car door when a pair of glowing headlights passed by him. He nearly missed the splash of a puddle by his feet as Omi started the engine. Something was wrong. The usual ignition wasn’t audible and the lights barely illuminated the darkening path. Omi sat in the driver’s side with frustration that’s been growing ever since the car accident.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Omi swore, kicking the floor uselessly as he lifted his fist to hit the surface. Before he could slam his hand down, Omi sighed and simply hit the dashboard lightly at the last second. He had spent far too much money only to pay for repairs later on.

Omi pulled out his phone and checked, only to see no bars and no signal. Omi was cold, shivering, and crying in a cemetery and he had never felt more alone.

AND ALL MY FRIENDS ARE TIRED

OF HEARING HOW MUCH I MISS YOU, BUT

I KINDA FEEL SORRY FOR THEM

‘CAUSE THEY’LL NEVER KNOW YOU THE WAY I DO

Omi bought his first car after saving for months.

He honestly didn’t have to. Leaving behind the delinquent life meant making good friends. Friends that didn’t start fights, disobey the law, or be at risk of being put behind bars. Therefore, Omi had a friend that was willing to just give him a car.

“Come on, this is our gift to you. You don’t have to worry about this!” Omi’s friends insisted, trying to push the keys into Omi’s tight fists. No matter how much pressure was put upon him, Omi never faltered, just like stone.

“I’m sorry, but I... can’t take this.” Omi guiltily rejected the brand-new car. It was a model only rich people drove, the same exact demographic his friend was apart of. It was freshly washed with the proper tags and everything. Omi could’ve just taken it and saved thousands of dollars.

Except, he couldn’t. The car by no means was a vehicle he sat in before. But, the white color was the same. If Omi wasn’t paying attention, maybe he could ignore it. Yet every time he saw the exterior, it brought him back to that rainy day, desparately fumbling to rip off his seatbelt and wake his mother up.

“Omi... you can’t afford to say no...” They sympathetically tried to reason with him, but Omi was far gone. He backed up, nearly tripping with how hurriedly he stepped on his own heels. If he blinked, he could see the new car wrecked. If he didn’t focus, he could hear the sickening sound of the brakes failing.

“Omi, it’s been years since she—”

If he let himself get consumed by the past, he’d surely die.

“Thank you for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Omi bought a car a week later and when his father asked about price, Omi lied through his teeth.

“My friends saved up and bought me one for my birthday. Don’t worry, Pa. We can make the bills.”

Even when his friends sold it and tried to give him the money, Omi didn’t take it. His mother didn’t raise her son to take money from anyone.

Like mother, like son.

TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

AND PICTURED I WAS DRIVING HOME TO YOU

Omi left the windshield wipers on, watching as the rain drops got caught in the way. The heating wasn’t functioning, so Omi huddled in on himself and waited for some sort of sign that he could make it home tonight. The radio crackled every now and then, making Omi jump every time a voice spoke a word before getting cut off.

The world continued on as Omi lived through another rainy dark sky. Omi remembered staring up at this type of sky, his back laid out on a stretcher and hand reaching for the closest family member. Omi mentally punched himself, finding that he was getting caught up in his own trauma much more often than usual. Ever since driving lessons.

When it got too much to handle, the assignments, the expectations, the pressure, Omi indulged in make-believe. Omi imagined an universe where he was driving home to be welcomed by the warm embrace of his mother. Where his father was standing taller, where his brothers left their rooms on their own accord, where he wasn’t the backbone of the household anymore. It didn’t do him any good to hope for something impossible, but Omi did so anyways sometimes.

Perhaps it was his punishment for not being the one who died that night.

As Omi swiped mindlessly through his phone, willing for a bar, a crack of lightning made his skin crawl. Yet, beneath the pounding rain, a single yell of shock alerted Omi to look up from his screen. A deep sense of familarity forced Omi to look past his window, hoping to see past the blurriness of it all.

At the sight of a dark frame, Omi didn’t think twice before hurdling him outside, barely able to close his door before stripping his jacket and throwing it around the man. The shivering man weakly holding onto an umbrella that did nothing but cause more problems.

“Pa?! What are you doing here?”

RED LIGHTS, STOP SIGNS

I STILL SEE YOUR FACE IN WHITE CARS, FRONT YARDS

CAN’T DRIVE PAST THE PLACES WE USED TO GO TO

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“Son!” Omi’s father happily greeted despite being on the verge of catching a cold. Omi held the umbrella over his father’s head, taking the brunt of the cold willingly.

“I took the bus here. I knew you’d be visiting her today, but it was quite late.” He explained, wearing a newsboy cap that he must’ve had since youth. The sight of his father with a runny nose and wet clothes at his expense set something off in Omi.

“Why did you come?”

“To bring you home—”

“What would’ve happened if you died?”

The sound of rain was defeaning. Omi’s father stopped, staring at his son like he was seeing him for the first time. Omi’s arm started shaking, his grip on the umbrella’s handle was slacking. The truth weighed upon his shoulders, like he was about to collapse.

What if the bus had crashed? What if something happened to Pa while walking to the cemetery? What if it was Omi’s fault? Before Omi could apologize, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.

Omi dropped the umbrella.

SIDEWALKS WE CROSSED

I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE IN THE TRAFFIC, WE’RE LAUGHING OVER ALL THE NOISE

GOD, I’M SO BLUE, KNOW WE’RE THROUGH

Omi couldn’t die.

Not when he raised his weak father that wasn’t getting any younger. He had to take care of his two younger brothers. Omi had to finish university, graduate, and be hired at a high-paying job to support his family. Fushimi Omi couldn’t die.

But, here he was, breaking.

“My boy, I’m not going anywhere.” Omi’s father said it so surely, like it was a promise he could control. Omi hesitated before resting his chin on his father’s shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of cologne. It was the brand his mother used to love, but he knew his father hated this one. It was so fitting, Omi refrained from crying.

“You’re so strong, I’m so proud of you.” Omi nodded, hugging his father with unsaid words he’d never be able to speak. Omi could never tell him his greatest fear was Pa dying. Could never admit that seeing his father react a second late makes him pace. Could never reveal he only went to university close-by in case an emergency occurred. Everything Omi did was for his father, his Pa, his only parent.

“She’d be so proud of who you are today. You are her son.” Omi’s father patted him once, twice, then pulled back. He rested his aged palm upon Omi’s cheek gently, just like his mother used to. His thumb ran over his scar with no judgment, just fatherly love.

Omi had never felt more loved.

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“You’re just like your mother, Omi.”

#fushimi omi #omi fushimi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! omi #a3 omi

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rametarin · 3 years ago

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tempting.

Reflecting on my health issues, since age 17. And my living situation.

So since around the age of 16, I’ve been plagued with unpredictable bowel problems and digestive ills. Like, everybody gets constipated every now and then, but I mean I’d get just, excruciatingly backed up and my family wouldn’t help me get seen or anything.

Basically from the time I was 18 onwards I was told my medical bills were mine. But oh by the way [Ram. Not my real name, but the name fam calls me], you gotta pay us every dollar that isn’t devoted to keeping yourself alive :^)

I’d be like, family, I cannot afford this, it’d be in your best interests to invest in my health so I can figure out what’s fucky about my bowels and stomach so this can stop happening, I can live a normal life, and we can all continue on our merry way.

Basically I was told, “tough shit, do it yourself, also pay your fair share to The Family” (aka, give mom all your money.)

It was never just fear of homelessness, but fear of homelessness while my GI tract was fucky and my teeth were rotting out of my head that made escape from here impossible. It’s why I didn’t just climb into a hole in the wall and escape this garbage fire of a mother and do that bootstrap shit. Because it sincerely made me wonder sometimes if I was being poisoned by my mother to keep me powerless and in need of help, but perpetually weakened to where the best I could do is move towards help but just be put on a treadmill for someone elses financial benefit.

Perhaps my bitterness makes just a touch more sense now, right? Because Maine is a long-drive state. You need a car. You absolutely need a car to get anywhere. Not having one means you walk everywhere, you ride a bike everywhere and are FUCKED during the winter, or you go nowhere because you don’t have anywhere you need to be and don’t drive.

Now that said, imagine having bowel and ass problems so bad just the idea of driving makes you question if it’s safe for you to even be on the road.

That has been my existence for twenty years now, because my family wants me just close enough to extract what mom things “she’s owed,” but absolutely will not help me with anything. There’s no security in staying here because the whole fucking POINT of putting up with a family’s infantilizing “everything has its place” mentality, is you’re able to wisely squirrel away your income without paying a landlord anything and your income going up in smoke

If your mother is just the worst sort of landlord, you’re basically just paying a narcissistic bitch of a mother to be a narcissistic bitch of a mother. There’s absolutely no upside.

So I’ve been stuck in this virtual tutorial of an existence because my own digestive system was torturing me and seriously deleting my ability to operate independently. And mom, whom has always wanted absolute control over my finances and my future, saw it as a holistic way of penning me up and making be desperate. Never a wasted opportunity with this fucking monster.

Well. I eliminated cottonseed oil and chicken proteins from my diet and, while not perfect, the amount of excruciating pain and pressure and weird cold-acidic burning in my back and bowels has subsided a lot. As well as my stomach issues receded considerably.

The truth is I was loathe to even try and escape without figuring out these problems, but I couldn’t figure them out because I never had the money. I tried to get a barium enema x-ray when I was 17 and suffering a massive, excruciating flareup. I missed prom (I didn’t have anyone to go with anyway) because of what felt like it could’ve been anything from gall stones to bowel cancer.

Had a big useless cleanse that was excruciating, then had the guys that give the barium enema tell me, “lube is expensive” when I screamed about how much it hurt to have the thing shoved up my ass. My already inflamed, tender ass.

Absolutely nothing was found in my bowels. Which did absolutely nothing to explain why they felt inflamed and miserable. But it did give me a $1,700 bill, which proved.. absolutely nothing except they couldn’t find tumors or any object lodged in my butt. Given how it took me two summers to acquire almost that much working a shit job for my shithead father’s girlfriend, maybe you can appreciate how heartbreaking that is. Spending all that money and you don’t even learn WHY you’re suffering, you just learn why you aren’t.

And today I still fume with rage over being told, “ass lube is expensive so we’re skimping on it” and then be charged almost two thousand god damned dollars.

Absolutely could not get my family to help me pursue any other avenue. They just kept insisting, “it’s all anxiety, it’s all in your head. You just need to get off the computer and do more manual labor/make us money and your problems will go away. :^)”

But then they would not help me do it. They wanted me to take on all the risk while they got the guaranteed income from my needing to be around them.

My need to grow step by step was their opportunity to mitigate my life, every step of the way, so non-compliance with their exploitation would result in homelessness and complete uprooting. If I wasn’t going to voluntarily follow draconian rules, then I’d be governed by those rules anyway in the absence of them being verbally stated. Just, using poverty and immobility as a way to impose it.

But I refused to comply. I wasn’t going to suffer every day unendingly AND get my income snatched away, BY MY OWN GOD DAMNED FAMILY. A family that didn’t even pay RENT to live in the house we were living in at the time, and a family that made 65-70K a year, with another house they owned in a less convenient location worth $350K. My mother had ABSOLUTELY NO BUSINESS other than fun and profit as an excuse as to why I needed to buy, “the family,” a car. Other than making it the “family” car giving her defacto control over it but my obligation to pay for it. Just another indirect way to give her absolute control over my options and alternatives.

So I didn’t work. I sat at home and dealt with her abusive bullshit, because it was the only card I had left in my deck. She didn’t want the stigma of throwing out a sick man without a license, a car or any savings. I didn’t want to voluntarily throw myself out and die in the street.

So I dealt with my health problems as best as I could. There were a good many times living in this house, that we’ve lived in and she’s owned since 2006, that I questioned whether I should phone an ambulance and just say fuck it, go into tens of thousands of dollars of debt just goosechasing this problem, thanks to the backdoor socialized medical system that exploits the profit motive but uses government assured payment fixed to taxes in order to afford it.

That’s probably what pisses me off the most about my situation. Our medical system has been turned into a farce by socialists deliberately making medicine as toxic as they fucking can in order to then bat their eyes and go, “Bet you just want single payer and to basically make medicine another ring of the government NOW, don’t youuuuuu? It’d make all those woes go awayyyyy!” while turning the screws to our bodies by denying us affordable medicine. All while blaming capitalism for shit that’s assured to work at any cost by the government.

Other people pine for a more socialized system to make the disgusting exploitation and abuse stop. But the truth is, that’s just like wanting to marry a pirate so they’ll stop lobbing cannonballs and demanding tolls at sea from you. Yes, the actual literal war on you and your community and your personal sovereignty will be over, but you’ll also be institutionalizing pirates in order to make them stop taking complete advantage of you on their terms instead of taking complete advantage of you on mostly-their terms but you get to act like you’re consenting to it.

I digressed. Anyway...

Well. I’m curious about pursuing a shit job just to see if I can KEEP some income, but I know, and have always known, my mother will not allow me to do anything with that money but barely keep myself alive. While she uses it to just buy enormous bulk loads of garbage and hoards them in the corners, or throws hundreds of dollars at friends-of-the-family/neighbors and extracts that money from me to do it.

I know going into it that the job would be otherwise worthless. She wants her ten pounds of flesh a year from me, and if I worked, there’d be no getting around it. She isn’t going to allow me to profit living with her, in any way. Everything has to revolve around her, or I get made homeless.

But trying to hold a job would mean possible (there’s that ‘potential vs. guarantee dichotomy again) feelers out to couches to surf on. Or credit building.

It’d still be a sexless existence dictated by someone so fucking petty that they can’t help you fix a broken tooth but do miraculously have the money to buy you a cell phone and a plan, “if you want it,” purely to always have you at their beck and call and/or have control over your phone plan. And it’d mean committing to something that runs a minimum of a year while being able to have a foot crushing my neck and destroying whatever I’m trying to do in an instant.

but it’d also mean being able to financially pursue what’s wrong with me and fixing it.

But I will hold this grudge against women and the actual, objective privilege they have from the legal system and our social system in the US for the rest of my life. Everybody around me saw what she was doing to me and my life, and they’ve done and said absolutely nothing. An abusive woman in this society is basically on par with the richest barons in a young adult novel, and all you have to do to get that kind of institutional power, rich or poor, is have a vagina and be a mom.

Then other women will sympathize with the mother, whom can never be totally wrong about anything, and at best you might get silence and indifference about the way you’re treated.

You can be cornered, debased and neglected until you’re a greasy shoggoth of a person, and if it’s a woman doing this to you, it’s your fault for not escaping. After having every escape route made as torturous and unsustainable an option as possible, you’ll be held accountable for yourself.

I’ll be relieved and pleased when this disgusting pig of a woman dies of natural causes. She’ll have gotten away with grabbing my life and thrashing around with it for 20 years while the world passed me by, just to keep control, just for fun, just for profit.

But in the meantime, maybe there’s a local niche I can fill. Just enough of something to find somewhere else to live. Without conditions making it more damning to pursue than nothing at all.

But I’m not hoping too hard.

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

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I Can’t Eat Love pt 34

Here it is, the final part from Lenora’s perspective. I am officially planning four side parts, each from a different perspective. These will give insight into the past, and a glimpse of what happens after the story. So they’ll be very important to wrapping things up.

I really want to thank everyone who has been following this with me. I really really love writing this story, these characters, and honestly i didn’t want to end it. But this was always the story i wanted to tell. I’m so happy i had the chance to tell it.

Thank you for reading

Master post linked here.

Enjoy!

______________________________

“Will that be all your Majesty?”

A servant bowed before the King of Reterand, his face solemn and respectful. The King, sitting in his chair by the fireplace, glanced around the empty, well lit room before gesturing for the servant to leave.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.” At his cold tone the servant flinched, before backing quickly out of the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Click.

The door closed behind him, and the King was alone. He stared into the fire, his hands clenched on the armrests of his chair.

“Why couldn’t she just die?” He muttered, his face bitter. “Everything would have been settled if she were gone. I’ll have to figure out something new…”

His voice trailed off as he blinked, a strange blue smoke was coming out of the fire, surrounding him. His eyes widened with shock and he opened his mouth to call out, but before any sound escaped he slumped into his chair, unconscious.

Watching through the peepholes in the secret passageway, I grinned at the sight.

______________________________

It took around ten minutes for the king to fully wake up. In that time the room had greatly changed. The lamps had dimmed, the majority of light in the space coming from the weakened fire behind the King’s chair. A table was set before him, and across from him was an equally luxurious chair, in which I sat.

His gaze focused on me, and his face turned pale with fear. He opened his mouth once more to call out for help.

Thud.

A knife thrown from my hand passed right by his face, embedding itself into the wooden mantel of the fireplace behind him. A short distance over and it would have landed in his eye instead.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. I’m a nervous person, my hand tends to slip when I think loud noises will happen.”

I watched him with satisfaction as he understood the meaning of my words:

Call out if you want to die.

“You’re crazy.” He whispered, his eyes locked onto the throwing knife in my hand.

“Really? How strange.” I smiled gently “I’m not the one seeking my own destruction. But there doesn’t have to be any unpleasantness, Your Majesty. I’m only here to talk.”

“Talk?” He snorted. “You broke into the palace and drugged your king to have a talk? You bit…”

Thud. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of the blood running down his cheek and dripping onto the floor broke the only silence of the room. The King’s eyes held equal parts pain and terror as his hand slowly rose up to his face, and he turned to look at the bloody knife embedded in the mantel next to the first.

“Again, I have to apologize.” I held up a third knife, “I’m a very nervous person. It’s hard for me to hear such unpleasantness.”

“…” He grabbed a handkerchief and pressed it to the bleeding wound, studying me for a long moment.

“What do you want?”

I smiled at the sound of fear in his voice. “One simple question:” I leaned forward, staring into his eyes. “Why?”

The silence stretched on between us.

Why? Why had he schemed to bring me under his control? Why had he planned to hurt me, to kill me? Why had he hurt the ones I loved?

“I never wanted your throne.” My voice was quiet. “I never wanted the kingdom, to take your place. I sought only to leave you, your son and your kingdom behind.”

So why?

The king looked up at the ceiling and softly began to laugh.

“Don’t pretend to be innocent! You think I’m blind? A fool?” His laughter ended, his expression solemn. “The power shifted in this kingdom, how could I not be aware? The people all know, as do the other nobles. If you want wealth, then go to the Duchy of Armeny. If you seek knowledge, then the schools within their borders contain them. If you are poor and suffering, then the Duchy will take you in.”

He shook his head. “They all know, they all speak of it. How Lenora of Armeny loves the people. How she cares for them, works for them tirelessly. So different from the crown, from the other nobles. They view you as their leader. Did you really think I wouldn’t see what you were doing?”

“I never wanted power.”

“Liar.” He laughed again. “Maybe I would have believed it, thought you really cared for others, if you weren’t her daughter.” His voice expressed disgust at the word. “The woman who clung to me, clung to my throne. She never forgave me for casting her aside, marrying someone else.”

He’s talking about Seline. The woman I had once called mother. My smiled widened at his increasingly frantic tone.

“I thought giving you the engagement would satisfy her need for revenge. At least her daughter would be queen! But then… I saw your eyes at Ronan’s birthday party. And I realized… She didn’t want her daughter to simply succeed my position, she had brought her up to destroy me.”

I thought of the moment our eyes met in the ballroom that day, the coldness I had found there.

“You thought I was that woman’s pawn?”

“Of course! She had raised you to hate me, to destroy me! She was obsessed with me and I betrayed her! And you were her revenge!” His voice was slowly raising in volume. I held up my knife, warning him, and he quieted his tone, although he remained belligerent. “I knew I had to either bind you to the crown or destroy you.”

This was how he viewed me? His fear, his paranoia, his determination to defeat me, all stemmed from this? I couldn’t help it, I began to chuckle.

“Wha…” He stared at me in shock as the chuckle grew into a laugh, continuing until tears were rolling from my eyes.

“Fool.” A single word, but he flinched at it.

“You made the same mistake that everyone around that woman does. You thought that because you betrayed her, she would be obsessed with you? Want revenge?” I shook my head. “Seline has only ever cared about one person, and one person only: herself.”

She hated the king who betrayed her, but never sought his attention once she turned her back. She had tried to push me to be Queen, but not for revenge. She had only wanted the benefits for herself.

“She is a very simple person. She wants to be rich, she wants to be pampered, she wants to be happy.” I listed these off while counting on my fingers. “When you left her she hated you, yes… but she immediately sought out the next available rich and powerful young man to marry, thinking he would dote on her. And when that didn’t work out…”

I thought of the bitter woman I had grown up around, who hated my father for not adoring her after being forced into marriage with her. Who after realizing that having a child that would be Queen didn’t give her the attention and pampering she felt she deserved immediately abandoned us both in search of a new lover. She had never looked back, except to protect her image.

“Do you really think I was working with her?” I leaned forward, and the King flinched. “I was the one who destroyed her.”

I had quietly released the truth about her among the merchants and nobility. The truth of her actions and despicable nature was slowly spreading, with no indication of their source. The king must have heard of them, but hadn’t realized that the person he had considered her pawn had turned against the woman who gave birth to her.

“No, that’s not true. You are her revenge…” He started to mutter but I interrupted him, my bright smile causing him to shudder.

“She’s already abandoned you long ago.”

“…” He stared at me in silent shock.

“You have been wrong about so many things, Your Majesty. Wrong about Seline. Wrong about me and my motives. But most of all, your biggest mistake was this:” I twirled the throwing knife in my hand. “You thought that the reason I didn’t fight back was because I couldn’t… because I was scared.”

“You…”

A pile of documents landed on the table where I threw them, the sound silencing the King’s retort.

“The only reason I haven’t moved was because you were never worth being my opponent in the first place.”

I had ignored his attempts to force me to marry. I had turned a blind eye to his schemes to take my life. But now…

He had touched my people.

I thought of Hallers, still recovering from his injuries at the Queen’s private suite. Of Rig and Nate, whose safety in Tilendria was still unknown.

I pointed at the stack.

“What is that?” His voice betrayed his confusion and fear.

“I’m not a ruler like you, Your Majesty. I’m not a warrior, a spy or a revolutionary.” I grinned, “I’m a businesswoman.”

He looked at the papers once more.

“And I’m here to do business.”

Slowly, a shaking hand reached out towards the stack of papers, turning them and reading them one by one. The rest of the color completely drained from his face, until he looked like someone half-dead.

“An accurate representation of my wealth. You must have been surprised when I recently revealed myself as the owner of Prosperity, right?” I watched his face, and the look in his eyes made me feel happy. “You have probably been scrambling, realizing that your enemy was stronger than you thought. But you were still wrong.”

He flinched at the last word.

“I’m much more powerful than even that.” I pointed at the papers, and he continued to read. “Not only do I control Prosperity, but I’ve slowly been investing in different businesses within Reterland over the past five years. There’s very few places that are not connected to me financially, one way or the other.”

“…” He flipped to the last page, shaking his head as if to deny the information before him.

“What do you think would happen if I pulled out all of my money from Reterland?”

At those words the King’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “You wouldn’t! You could lose everything!”

“Lose everything?” The thought made me laugh. “No. I would only lose a lot of money. Most of it, in fact.” I leaned back in my chair, my eyes on his. “But I would have my life. My loved ones. I can start over and build everything again.”

I had already done it once. For them? I would do it over again a thousand times.

“But Reterland’s economy? It would be crippled. It would never recover.”

“Why…?”

“But that is only the beginning.”

Another stack of papers landed. This time he viewed them with clear terror.

“Go ahead. Read it You not looking at it won’t change anything. I’ll simply tell you the contents.” The turning blade in my hand reflected the firelight around the room, he stared at the sight, seemingly dazzled. “It’s every dirty secret within the nobility. Everything they’ve strived to keep hidden, all written neatly upon every page. Every noble.” I smiled sadly. “Even my father.”

I had initially excluded him from Rig’s investigations, but now his secrets were on the second page.

“Even you.”

The King’s secrets were on the first.

He picked up the top page, his hands shaking as he read it slowly.

“So many dirty secrets, evil deeds done in the shadows. Hiring corrupt men to infiltrate the Duchy, weaken it from within? Spreading rumors and lies? Drugging a daughter of the nobility to attach her to your son? How hideous.”

Of course there were many, many more on that page. The Duchy of Armeny wasn’t the only power he had sought to cripple.

“The people of this nation are so important. How will they react when so many of the nobility are revealed to be corrupt? How much faith will they have in them? In you?”

“…” He couldn’t reply, he just stared at the page in front of him. I needed to push harder.

“The nobility isn’t the only part of this kingdom I’ve been watching.”

A third and final stack. This time he picked it up immediately, before dropping it again as if it were burning his hand. It may have felt like that to him.

“Exact locations and numbers of your troops, your weapons… everything.”

“This is a declaration of war.” He mumbled, not looking away from the paper in front of him. “Tilendria…”

“Could destroy you in an instant.” I tapped a finger on the paper, catching his attention once more. “With a crippled economy, disgraced leadership and exact knowledge of the enemy’s military? I could place a five year old at the head of an army and he could take you down.”

The King’s lips drew back in a snarl at my words, even as he seemed to be desperately searching for a way to deny them. I stood up, vaulting over the table, arriving at the King’s side in an instant. He shrunk back in his chair but was unable to avoid the blade at his throat, or block the whisper in his ears.

“If none of that matters to you then consider this: How did I get here without raising a single alarm?”

His eyes were wide with fear as he stared up at me.

“How many of your people are already mine for me to walk calmly in and drug your fire?”

I had actually arrived through the secret passages but there was no need to tell him that. I reached out and took the wine glass from his table with my free hand, tipping it back and drinking from it. All the while the point of my dagger dug into the monarch’s throat. “How easy would it be to poison your wine? Your fire? A needle in your bed?” I laughed coldly, setting the empty glass down.

“Do you believe me now when I say that I never wanted your throne?”

The King’s gaze was steady on me as he gave the slightest nod of his head, wary of the knife in my hand. He was convinced. How could he not be?

If I had wanted the throne, I could have taken it any time I wanted.

“You were never my opponent.” I stepped away, still holding the knife, walking towards the door. “A scared old man who desperately clung to his throne, chasing shadows… when you were never prepared to sacrifice what you needed to in order to win against me.”

He was different then me. He saw everyone around him as threats or tools, moving according to his whim. He was willing to sacrifice everyone else to protect everything he had….

While I was willing to sacrifice everything I had to protect everyone else.

“What do you want?” The same question as earlier, but this time it carried the sound of defeat.

I smiled. “I want you to do nothing.”

“…” His face was incredulous, it made me laugh.

“Rule your kingdom, for as long as that lasts. Do not look at me. Do not turn towards those under my protection. If you touch a single hair on their heads…”

I paused, trying to compose the expression on my face. I couldn’t completely succeed, however, by the look of terror in his eyes.

“I will destroy everything.”

My final threat. I meant every word. A moment of hesitation, any crack in the confidence I displayed, could spell the difference between victory and continued danger for them

The King weakly nodded, looking much smaller than he had before. “I will do as you say.”

“Good.”

THUD

The third dagger flew into the fireplace, splitting open a small bag of powder, which combined with the fire, letting out blue smoke once more.

“Remember this promise.”

The King’s eyes remained on me even as he started to sway, the effect of the drug taking hold.

“Oh, and one more thing:” I turned away “I’m taking your wife with me.”

The King slipped into unconsciousness under my gold gaze.

______________________________

I arrived back at the Duchy to pick everyone up.

“Is it over?” Henry greeted me with a smile.

I nodded. “it’s over.”

“Are you leaving? For good?” He looked sad. Reaching out and hugging him, I nodded quietly.

“I’ll miss you.” He reached over and picked something up, tucking it behind my ear. A flower. Of course. I left it in place, smiling back.

“Well, you better come and visit then. And of course I’ll always be willing to help out with the duchy.”

“Nate still owes me some plants, so I’ll take you up on that.” We hugged again, and I blinked back tears.

“See you soon.”

______________________________

As we packed up and prepared to leave, I heard someone call out my name quietly. Pausing as I was about to enter the carriage, I looked over to see the pale face of my father as he stood in the doorway, watching me.

“Your daughter is in prison. For trying to kill me.” My words were short, cold. He shuddered and stepped back.

“Lenora... I’m...” His voice faded, unable to say the last word.

He wasn’t sorry. He was so focused on the future he had lost that he had never once thought of making a new one with me.

“The paperwork for you to hand over the Duchy to Henry completely has been prepared. Sign it before tomorrow.” It was a threat. I knew his secrets. He may not care about himself, but for the woman he still loved...

“I’ll sign it.” He had no hesitation. It had been a long time since my father had cared about the Duchy at all. “Are you leaving already?”

I smiled. “I have to go home.”

Where Nate was. Where my family was. It was time to go home.

I left him behind, never looking back.

______________________________

“Why are you so nervous?” Queen Amerande smiled at me as she held my hand in the carriage. I clutched at the reassuring warmth, feeling sick to my stomach as I thought of what waited for me ahead. I would rather confront the king a hundred more times than face what was before me now.

“They said he was injured.” I whispered, staring down at my lap, trying to take slow deep breathes.

“Yes, but he and Rig both made it back alive.” She patted my head. “Isn’t that a reason to be relieved?”

They were alive. I couldn’t help but smile, despite my nervousness. We had received a letter while we traveled. Rig had arrived in time to warn Nate of the bandit’s true nature. Nate had already gathered a strong force, and with knowledge of where their reinforcements were coming from, had managed to cut the secret army in half, defeating them soundly. They were recovering now in a small border town of Tilendria, where our carriage was heading right now.

“He’s waiting for you.” Was all that Rig’s note had said to tell me.

I frowned. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Hallers, Lia and the Queen all stared at me kindly, none of them needing to ask what I was worried about.

It was one thing to recognize my feelings. It was another to face them openly. To trust him with my heart.

I was terrified.

I felt a warm hand on my head. Hallers, still bandaged in multiple places, smiled at me. “You have us behind you, Miss. Live freely. Don’t be afraid.”

We won’t let you fall alone.

The words unsaid brought tears to my eyes. I nodded, feeling stronger as the carriage slowly came to a stop.

“There’s two men waiting on the road ahead.” The driver called out. I felt my heart beat faster as I looked out through the window. Rig remained on a horse, looking tired, but happy. And there, standing on the road, waiting was Prince Nathaniel of Tilendria.

The man I loved.

The man who loved me.

I stepped out of the carriage, walking towards him.

______________________________

“Love is useless.” The words escaped through chapped, broken lips. I was curled up in a ball in an alley. Pain. Hunger. Exhaustion. I could feel death’s presence hanging over me, and I was tired of fighting it.

I had loved my mother, but she had only loved herself.

I had loved my father, but he never even looked once in my direction.

I had loved Edith, and she had betrayed me, taking my engagement with a smile.

I had loved Ronan, but he had never wanted to even know my name.

I had loved Queen Amerande… but she had forgotten about me.

Love was a useless thing. A weakness. If there was any life after death, I would never love again. I would find wealth. I would find power. I would eat until I was full every day.

But I would never ever love again.

I closed my eyes for the last time.

______________________________

I kept my eyes wide open as I looked at the man I loved. His left arm was bandaged heavily, he had large bruise on one cheek, but he was smiling. The warm, loving smile that I knew so well.

“Lenora.”

I sighed at the sound of my name. I kept walking. The fear, the hesitation were still present but smaller than the force within me driving me forward. Arriving in front of him, we both stood there for a few moments, staring at each other.

“This is for you.” His hand reached out, and in it was an envelope, so similar to the others he had given me over the years.

How many times had he supported me?

I had lost count.

At my expression he laughed, a pleasant, lighthearted sound. “I promise this is the last one.”

I took it, the paper smooth against my fingertips, shaking with the trembling of my hand. The last one. Because after this, he would have nothing left to give me. A smile crossed my face as I slowly opened the paper, reading the words written inside.

“This may seem sudden. I know that you don’t believe that love is a good thing. Especially after that idio… after everything you’ve been through, I understand if you’re not ready to trust me. But I had to tell you what I hope for. What my dream is.”

The paper in my hand drifted slowly to the ground. It settled there, halfway between us. Nate frowned at the sight, anxiety creeping into his gaze as he looked up at me.

I smiled at him. “I love you.”

“…” He seemed frozen. I waited for a few moments, wondering if I needed to say something else, but then his entire face turned red and he crouched down on the ground covering his head.

“So unfair!” He muttered. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

I laughed. “You weren’t expecting me to tell you ‘I love you’ after you proposed?” I looked back down at the paper, the words facing upwards towards me. Clearly written on there was a simple request, but one that changed everything.

Please marry me. Spend forever by my side.

I wanted all of that and more.

Finally he stood up, and although his face was still red, Nate’s gaze was clear as he took a deep breath and spoke once more.

“I love you too. Will you marry me?”

Love is useless.

I left those words behind me. I reached out and touched his face, and then stepped closer.

“Yes.”

My lips touched his for only a short moment, but we each sighed with relief at the contact. I parted only the smallest distance from him. We were both smiling.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

He would know my past. Everything. It would be easier to say this time around. I looked behind me, smiling gratefully at the Queen and Hallers, who both had exited the carriage and were cheering loudly. Rig grinned as he got off of his horse and patted Nate on the back.

“Congrats, both of you.” Rig and I looked at each other, and I knew what he was excited to get a new member of the family.

“I’ll write to Erica and Marile.” Lia had stepped out as well. “We’ll hear the screams from here.”

“I’ll tell them in person when we arrive home. After that, we’ll never hear the end of it.” I pretended to complain, but knew that they would both be happy for me. They were part of it too after all. Our family.

“Good.” Nate reached out and took my hand. “Let’s go home.”

Home.

Nate and I walked hand in hand towards the carriage, ready to head back to the capital. As we walked I couldn’t help but think of everything that had led up to this. My former life. The struggles I had gone through. The hatred, the bitterness, the vengeance I had been caught up in without even knowing why.

I still didn’t know why I had been given a second chance at life.

But now, as I stood with the family that cared for me, the one that I had protected, I couldn’t help but look forward to the future.

One I would create with those I loved

#writing #i can't eat love #second life #second chance #here it is #there's still the side parts #so don't be too sad yet #:)

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literalbuzzkill · 4 years ago

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Below I'm gonna vent so y'all can ignore that XD

I'm basically making this post as a timestamp/reminder for myself about Covid2020 and what I had to deal with during it (even though it's still a relentlessly ongoing problem, as of Jan2021, yikes)

Below is my personal experience in switching from working everyday as an essential retail worker to now a stay at home unemployed/leave of absense person. Don't feel bad about not reading it, it's long, boring, and I can't really expect anyone to actually be interested because the struggle is real and who wants to be reminded of the grim reality we can't currently escape? XD

[The Start:]

I was still working retail up until a few months ago because most people left. And being short staffed already before covid at my store, things became an even worse unmanageable nightmare because they started to work the remaining staff to death because no one really knew what to do which sucked and everyone was rightfully afraid of what was happening all around them, plus everyone internally was hoping that this would all blow over in a decent amount of time and we could all return to normal and never speak of it again. Considering Covid started around late January/early February in 2019 and today's date (for my future reference) is Jan 4th 2021, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it certainly has not blown over in a decent amount of time like originally hoped for. Oof.

I was a closer but because of covid my job turned into 'every position at the store and everything/anything that you can possibly get done'. All the stuff from morning team, mid shift, and nightshift rolled into one. Cashiering, phone calls, cleaning, ship from store, backroom, covering multiple breaks, and every department on hardlines salesfloor,

(I did everything except for guest services, food service, clothing, and hr)

you name it XD because most people abandoned ship and Yeeted (which I dont blame them for, t'was a big mood) our store did not hire replacements until literally a few months ago. After I left. Nice.

We were not getting paid any extra, having to stay late, running around with an unending unfinishable list, having to deal with rude customers and cranky bosses, full 8+hour shifts having to wear a mask (even in the break room, and sometimes missing breaks all together because of the large work load) Another problem, my job did not supply masks, proper cleaning supplies, gloves etc to us until an unacceptable amount of time had passed since the start of the virus. Now I didn't expect them to be stocked and fully prepared immediately, obviously.

It was also pretty frustrating getting reprimanded by customers when supplies were low everywhere and some things necessary for existing safely could not be bought anywhere due to high demand, which was only natural, but some people actually acted like it was our personal fault for the store for being sold out of things like hand sanitizer, masks, gloves, toilet paper, and even accused us for holding it in the back for ourselves (which wasnt the case, customers are top priority at our store so the workers usually got nothing to take home or buy, even if we had pulled it from the truck or stocked it ourselves.)

Aside from the excessive draining from normal retail where we already suffer from Karen's and the often unpleasant general public, the Rona made the daily grind even more intense, as if we already thought it couldn't get any worse.

Straying away from that for a second, personal lives were now also affected greatly. Added on top of this new fear/caution/lifestyle was not being able to see my fiance or his family for months because they are all at very high risk. (Unfortunately I am too, but I really needed the paycheck so I thought I had to keep working until the inevitable, which was not looked forward to, but as long as I was potentially exposed with my job we all had to be apart unless I decided to quit and risk not having enough money to pay my bills or survive.)

(Side note for context: My fiance and I have been very lucky enough to see eachother almost every day for 4 years. Surprisingly we have not gotten sick of eachother yet and kept up with that regularity. And though we are engaged, we dont live together, but we do only live 15 minutes away so we just drive over to eachother everyday. Anyway, point being that going months without seeing him at all killed me internally hardcore. This was before zoom was popular and we were not about to resort to Skype. His parents are older and closer to me than my own family and were not comfortable with any form of in-person visits so we usually just did phone calls.)

And eventually I gave up,

I made it halfway through this pandemic working everyday, not seeing the only people I considered family, and I couldn't do it anymore. It literally didn't feel human.

Not to mention this did not help whatsoever with my pre-existing problems, bad depression, anxiety, ptsd, Self h, etc... it was all just getting way too out of hand with more stress piling up daily and taking too big a toll on me to the point where I couldn't deal with my regular lifestyle anymore. I needed a break and a change to severely turn myself around.

So a few months ago I finally went on leave of absence and it was the hardest thing for me to do but honestly the best thing I did. Because everything was so uncertain and I worried about how helpful unemployment would be towards my bills, if I'd lose my job for being gone too long due to an open ended leave of absense for the sake of my health/safety, and honestly I loved my job and my coworkers, but many of them had already left so at that point it became easier for me to leave.

I'm currently making more on unemployment than my job was paying my bi-weekly and doing leagues better mentally, emotionally, and physically, than before when I thought I could last the whole time working through covid hoping I wouldn't catch it and probably die because my health is not 100% gucci in the first place. I was too stubborn to quit until I got to a breaking point and then realised that putting my health/life on the line when I'm at risk during a pandemic for literally no reason other than feeling bad for my one really kind boss (who ended up leaving for a better job anyway right after I left)

in my brain the whole time I figured "eh if I die then I die" but there was a major upside to saying "you know what, fuck this" and leaving.

I've gotten to take up hobbies and do things that I've wanted to do for like 10 years, I improved my financial situation, bought my dream car(A 2004Crossfire), got engaged to the love of my life, had more time to read, write, learn, create, help my fiance record his first official music video, support smaller businesses, get back in better physical health, regain stability, and a new respect for life, health, friends, family, acts of kindness, and how easy things used to be before covid and how it was unintentionally taken for granted.

Not gonna lie, at first I was pretty mad that people on unemployment made more than essential workers, but I also knew that it wasn't their fault for their personal situations or reasonings for needing it. The problem was mainly that many Companies/jobs could have done more, treated essential workers better, given more help, compensated financially, offered forms of protectionagaint the virus, or done literally anything extra at all to help employees who were struggling or who stay to continue working there during a terrible pandemic, and some companies/jobs have done good things for their workers in response of the outbreak which is awesome.

Workers should absolutely be compensated for their extra efforts, time, and pleasant attitude in this difficult time, and treated better than they are. Some things should 1000% be different but some things in this world are still a work in progress.

And also, for people with health issues that are at risk but working anyway for whatever reason, there shouldn't be any shame felt for taking care of yourself or by the people who have to go on unemployment, those who can't work, lost their jobs, need help or a break, or just can't do it anymore, because it hits hard when you realise that even though your effort is important and you're doing your best, playing an important role in society, you could also be risking your health/life or even possibly someone you live withs, for a company that will replace you pretty easily if you're suddenly gone.

I worked at my store for 4 years, was extremely hard working and did everything and anything I could to stay as long as I could during this, but I realised that I'd rather not risk myself and be treated how I was.

Ultimately, the sad reality is that covid has some people forgetting that humans (whether working or not) are humans too that can die or fail at any time given the current circumstances. Some situations are unavoidable like a pandemic, but we can do our best with whatever reality we meet, whether it's being essential the whole way through like some are able, and knowing your health well enough to be able to judge what's best for you individually for now.

but regardless making sure you're not taking yourself for granted in the process.

I'm lucky enough to not have gotten covid yet, and I hope it stays that way.

If your job isnt doing what it can for you in this time, dont be too stubborn about staying

Its not worth risking yourself for your job honestly, and I really hope peoples jobs do as much as they can for those they employ.

If you aren't working, do something with your time that you'll remember (safe things obviously) and if you are still working keep up the awesome progress, stay safe, and be blessed. ❤

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call-me-alorras · 4 years ago

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Hey, so I don't really know if anyone is gonna see this, I don't really care, I think I will feel better knowing that this message is somewhere.

I'm not really lucky, life keeps giving half assed gifts and everything is always really bad timed. Everytime I get a new job I get sick the first week, then I get my period when I'm not supposed to, last winter I worked in a restaurant and I swear, two weeks in my stomach started to very badly react to acid. Took time to figure it out so I lost my job from being always sick. With my new job I had a tough start, first week I ran out of medicine for my stomach, then I had my period TWICE in a row. You know, life.

I'm 17, crying because I have to pay a rent for my dad's basement that doesn't even have a kitchen, sink or toilet. We have a shower tho. I can't clean the dishes without using my dad's dishwasher upstairs (so I have to carry a shitload of plates and bowls upstairs to get them wash and then get them back down in the basement). Anyway, I don't make enough money right now so I can't pay my dad and I owe him around 2000$ right now that me and my boyfriend have to pay back for the food and living expenses of the last few months. I want to leave this unsanitary lifestyle but I can't even pay the 400$ my dad is charging me every month with the job I have right now. I'm trying to save some money for my dad but I can't get 200$ out of my account without having to cut on the food.

Anyway, I don't think my life is that sad, but I'm 17 and crying because even by giving my health to my job by choosing to work 30h a week while being sick I can't afford a place to sleep and eat without worry. And I know it's common, I actually don't know anyone who isn't struggling financially while working full time. That's crazy.

And I always thought my dad understood me, and I think he does most of the time. But he told me today that's normal for a young adult to struggle. Yeah right, but I don't know, me and my boyfriend are both working, we have to pay rent and a little food but that's it, and we can't even afford that? My dad didn't work for a full year after my birth and only living on my mom's salary. That's how different it is. Two people can't afford what my mom could by working alone with a child to tend to.

Anyway I'm also really sad about the world, I wanna make my own place in it but sometimes I think about how this world is not worth the effort of working 40h a week to live in debts because anyway you can't afford school to finally have a degree that took some much of your life force to get that you already hate the job before actually starting the mundane career you jump into at 16 when you chose what school program you wanted to follow. And then people tell you how normal is it to give up your dream and health and time for a little comfort and a 2 weeks vacation a year. People don't even see their children growing anymore, you birth them and then go back to work because you can't let your career go down, and one day you check on your kid and they're 5 years old but since you just worked and worked you never found time to actually watch your kid and now some really fuck up and untitled asshole pop up everywhere because no one can take care of a kid correctly without letting down their job.

And people don't even care about that! People are rioting for masks and some old farts are now being asshole to a poor customer service worker that doesn't even know why they're working anyway because life on earth is dying so why bother you know?

All this seems pretty depressing, but I actually enjoy life. Smoking a little weed, having fun, a little beer, watching my dog run with his ears in the wind, the little ant on the table looking for food, some candles and a freshly washed bed, a fun car ride, a day out skating, having friends for dinner, talking shit about people in high school, you know, life in its good form. But you know, what's the point really? Why should I give my all to a blur and compromised society that doesn't even give back half. I can't even afford to buy new panties, that's how fucked I am. I have to check my bank account before buying milk, and don't get me started on my phone. I give my time, my life, to a toxic workplace filled with old people who are completely disconnected from the world who remind me everyday how poor this society is, I can only watch them while they buy their chips and soda and frozen food and scream to anyone how free they are and how the world should turn.

I have to deal with people like this around 7h a day, 5 day a week for 350$ and I can't even have my own place. I feel so broken, and let down, and forgotten, and curse, and poor, and dirty, and lazy, and tired, and empty because except working until you die the only option you have is to be fucking lucky and win the lottery of life and maybe have something else to do then die inside.

Anyway, I know life isn't about money, but if I had some I could actually give donation to the cause I support, I could feel safe in my space after a day of dealing with Karens, i could educate myself instead of standing still being a damn cash register and I could have clean and comfortable underwear and that's pretty much all I want...

Oh and I'm so sorry, to all the people changing the world right now, I'm doing my best from home but I can't do much more. Black lives matter. And animal cruelty is making me cry at night. And the president of the United States scares me. This world is wrong, and I wish I could do more to make it right for a lot of people who are suffering for a few white old ass. But I'm struggling to find my own way, I hope the world will still be standing when I'll find a way to live.

Still have a lot to say about how sad this world is but I have to go back to work. :))

#financial help #self help #send help #im screwed #life is sad #and a joke #feeling anxious #anyway #donald trump will kill us all and thats okay because i cant afford to live #i cant afford this #too poor #life #i wish life could really be a cake #relatable #every millenials #customer service #wear a fucking mask #you're full of viruses

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star-anise · 5 years ago

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Hey you mentioned in a reply to one of your asks, though it was more about word policing of bi women, anyway you mentioned that policing ableist words is a bad hill to die on and how people were turned off or allies. I used to disagree. My brother and I have physical and mental disabilities and I used to object to his usage of the word retard in jokes. Anyway do you think word policing between disabled people of ableist slurs is also a bad hill to die on? You say interesting stuff

The question for me is what’s worth it. As in, will what you get out of the argument be enough to make the resources you sink into it “worth it”?

Which is, in many ways, a super subjective decision. To a lot of my friends and family, the kind of argument I’m doing over bisexuals and language would not be worth it to them; they think I’m pouring a ton of energy into arguing with idiots and I could probably exhaust and discourage myself over something else, like writing fiction, that would be a much better return on my energies.

So in a perfect world, yes, we wouldn’t use ableist words; our language would reflect our general social understanding of the worthiness of disabled people.

But partly--and I think this is the thing--your tactic has to be geared to what the major concerns of disabled people are. In a school for preteens where their biggest social ill is bullying? That’s a great place for ableist word policing, to make life better for disabled students. Or right now on Tumblr, when language use is the thing that gets bisexuals targeted for biphobia--that’s a place to argue over language. But for a lot of disabled adults today, language isn’t the major thing oppressing us, so we get more return from things like fighting for accessible design of public spaces, or financial assistance that lets us prosper.

So my rubric is entirely based on times when I have found, in the contexts I was in, that I felt I got a “good enough” response to ableist word policing to feel like it was worth doing.

Times when ableist word policing has been worth doing for me:

When you’re a disabled person being called something derogatory

When the word is being used at you in a way you can’t escape, like your workplace or a public facility

When it’s a word at the perfect storm of “utterly irredeemable” and “refers to a super marginalized group”, like “retard” in North America or “spastic/spazz” in the UK

When you have a respectful relationship with the person you’re correcting, and there’s a very real chance they’ll listen to you and change

When the person you’re correcting is a public figure speaking in an official capacity and thus cares about coming off as an ableist ass

When you have input into something that’s being drafted, and can suggest a change that can easily be implemented before the thing goes public

When you’ve got the spoons to do it in a way that comes off as gentle and good-faith and informative and as though you’re not at all screaming inside

When you’re explaining your own personal decision not to use ableist language.

Times when ableist word policing tends to fail or backfire on me:

When you’re butting into a discussion between perfect strangers on the Internet to say nothing except “________ is an ableist slur!”

When the word is used accurately but not necessarily derogatorily (”Losing Internet access crippled the business’s capabilities” “I was blind to the suffering of others”) and you’re not part of the group that would be offended (eg. disabled, blind)

When the speaker is a disabled person in the group they’re talking about, and they’re probably slip-sliding around in the area of “bitterly repeating things said about them” and “reclaiming stigmatized language” and will fight you on it

When the person is already 2edgy4u and will seize with delight upon this new way to annoy you (yes, I have brothers too, we had some bad years)

When you’re defending a disabled person without knowing what they want, and leave them to face the consequences of your actions (”Hello Sally’s friends! Did you know, you’ve all been using a word around her that’s probably deeply hurtful to her? You’re all incredibly bad people. Anyway, see you!” leaving Sally to spend an hour either making her friends upset, or salvaging her friendships by saying no, she really doesn’t mind, it’s fine to use that word around her, they’re all good friends and she loves them very much)

This is the result of personal experimentation. You could probably come up with your own rubric of times when it’s worth it, and times when it isn’t.

#ableist language #staranise original #dragonsarecoolassparklesare #ableist slur

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96thdayofrage · 5 years ago

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That’s a bold statement right? Oprah Winfrey is what most people consider to be the epitome of black excellence. She is a rags to riches story and a story of overcoming childhood sexual trauma and poverty to gain extreme wealth which she uses to “empower women” and “give representation to black women in media”. And in a lot of ways that is true. Oprah’s face every weekday on ABC was definitely something that made way for black women in the entertainment industry and journalism. She supports black directors like Ava Duvernay and Tyler Perry. She “gives back to the community”. What’s not to like about Oprah, right? PLENTY. Plenty is not to like about Oprah and her thirty year long career has PLENTY of anti-blackness, misogynoir, and dirtiness; which should honestly be expected. No one gets that rich without playing the game.

Reasons I don’t fuck with Oprah: The semi-comprehensive rant.

Oprah caters to the white feminist gaze. If you need context on what I mean by this please check out my article: ““Aint I a Woman?”- Feminism, the Illusion of Inclusion, and Historic Betrayal of White Women”. The demographic that Oprah has targeted for viewership of her talk show, and for her magazine are white women. Any episode of her show will feature a mostly white woman audience. This is possible because white women have more economic mobility to be stay at home mothers than black women. And in knowing this, Oprah’s show catered to it’s demographic. Being a registered and loud democrat her show was also HIGHLY liberal in its topics.

She was known for asking the hard questions- which in this context means “willing to gaslight and use dog whistle tactics on her black guests”- especially her black women guests.

One instance of this is when she interviewed Toni Braxton after Braxton filed for bankruptcy in 1998. Toni was embarrassed from having found herself in this situation. She was in an abusive record contract with La Face where she was only making $0.35 per album.

For context, La Face also famously fucked over TLC and in 1995 they had to file bankruptcy as well. Toni had FIVE Grammys and had sold over $170 million in records.

With TLC going bankrupt, the conversation on black women artists in the industry and specifically the record label in question fucking black women artists over was a part of public consciousness… for the black community. But for her white feminist, neo-liberal audience, Oprah wasn’t asking questions about why this continued to happen to black women. The specific abuses of this record company were COMPLETELY glazed over. She chose instead to GASLIGHT THE FUCK out of Toni- essentially victim blaming her for being taken advantage of by her record company. She also asked Toni very pointed questions about why the then five time Grammy winner felt like she had the right to spend the money she should have been earning. Toni is noticeably hurt, embarrassed, and confused by the questions and has been vocal about her feelings in that moment. Oprah is trash as fuck for this shit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftLjr4CQcrQ

In another instance of shitting on a black woman, Mo’Nique has also been vocal about her dislike of Oprah. Mo’Nique worked with Oprah for Precious. Oprah asked permission for herself to interview Mo’Nique’s brother who molested her as a child. Mo’Nique approved, but declined her own attendance, then confided in Oprah PRIVATELY about issues with her mother. It was clear that there was no love between Mo’Nique and her mother. Oprah responded by inviting Mo’Nique’s mother and father on the show and interviewing them as well. She also allowed Gerald to “give his side” and talk about how he was hurt by talking about her abuse at this hand and paint himself as a victim, while her mother and father tell how they’re upset that she talked about this and should’ve been discussed within the family (but they all agreed to come to the show).

Oprah allowed Mo’Nique’s family, and her abuser to gaslight her on national TV. And in the interview, Oprah also acknowledged that she was aware of the beef between Mo’Nique and her mother at the time.

Mo’Nique explains her side of the story here: https://youtu.be/Jb6N7aw61z8

Mo’Nique confronted Oprah about going behind her back and Oprah said she would “check into it” and never called back. Mo’Nique then confronted Oprah the next time they saw each other in person and Oprah issued a half assed apology. Oprah, Tyler Perry, and Lee Daniels then engaged in a smear campaign labeling Mo’Nique as difficult to work with because she was not okay with Oprah exploiting her trauma in ways she didn’t approve. Mo’Nique’s career suffered as a result. Mo’Nique is still fighting the effect this has had on her career and even recently has called out Oprah again about her silence on her Netflix boycott and black women not being paid what they’re worth in Hollywood.

Oprah has been loudly silent recently as well, claiming she’s not going to “meet negative energy where it is”… but she was willing to meet Mo’Nique’s abusers (in more ways than one) and exploit her trauma. TRASH.

Oprah has several problematic business relationships and personal relationships. Her most notable one is with Donald Trump himself. They were so close that Donald Trump once remarked in 1999 that he considered her as a running mate. He even echoed the sentiment in 2015 when he was running. Oprah and Trump have an over 30 year relationship and he has been on her show several times, with the most recent being in 2011. The first known (at least to the indication of my research) appearance of his on her talk show was in 1988. We are now real aware of the kind of vile, racist, sexually abusive, and all around terrible human being he is- but how is Oprah guilty by association if his political views weren’t publicly known until his 2016 presidential run? Answer: Donald Trump has been a racist as long as he’s been a public figure.

Examples of Donald Trump’s historical racism include: being found to discriminate against black renters in the 1970’s, racist treatment of black employees at his hotels and casinos, calling for the death penalty of the Central Park 5 in 1989 (and maintaining that they were guilt in 2016 which is ten years after they were exonerated), stating in 1989 that “well educated blacks have privilege”, blatant racism on Obama’s birth, and this is all before he ever started his political campaign in 2015 with more blatant racism. And this is the man that Oprah gave a platform on her show several times and never inquired about the lawsuits, the sexual assault accusations, nor his political views. And seeing as though he was close enough to her to see her as a potential running mate- I understand why those questions never came up.

Toni Braxton’s Gucci silverware was much, much more important.

Oprah’s Harpo studios have done a lot of work with the Weinstein company. Weinstein is the man behind the co-opting of the #MeToo movement by white feminists. The #MeToo movement was started by Tarana Burke, a black woman who has all been erased from the #MeToo narrative in favor of pretty, white actresses. According to the actresses who have accused Weinstein of assault and harassment, his behavior was no secret. Oprah, as an insider to the business had to have been aware of who this man was and still chose to work with him. Weinstein also used his relationship with and proximity to Oprah to lure in women.

This, of course, is not her fault, but is also easily avoidable by not having a close relationship with a serial sexual abuser.

I don’t kiss on folks I don’t know that well- personally.

Proponents of Oprah often times cite her humanitarian efforts as a means to justify her as a “Black leader” or black excellence, but many are not aware that most celebrities only donate what they would have had to pay in taxes, and Oprah, as an incredibly wealthy woman would have to pay A LOT in taxes. Some of her tales of generosity have amounted to serious harm for its recipients. For example- the recipients of the famous car giveaway found that after being forced to pay taxes on the car, it was much more trouble than it was worth and most couldn’t afford to keep it. At her famous, glamorous school in south Africa, tales of her covering up knowledge and inaction of sexual assault being committed there is ripe. It is also notable that on the list of official charities that she has been known to contribute to- none of them are black women specific with the exception of the Girl’s school. As someone who caters to white liberals, I don’t exactly expect them to.

I grew up in Chicago and went to Harper High School for one year before transferring to a private Catholic school on a scholarship. Oprah featured the school on her show in 2006, then followed up in 2010 (the year after I transferred out). Oprah offered no financial aid to the students of Harper High School who she used for trauma porn. The student exchange program started by the show did continue, however, for a few years after she came and left.

Arne Duncan attempted to “turnaround” the school and gave it some funds, but due to the actual socioeconomic issues that were affecting student enrollment, attendance, and motivation never being addressed, mental health services never being addressed or offered, the violence in the outside community never being addressed, and the actual infrastructure of the school continuing to fall into dilapidation- the turnaround failed.

Arne Duncan never saw the turnatound through- he left Chicago to be Secretary of Education for Obama in 2008, the year I arrived at Harper as a student.

As someone who was an actual student of Harper, but came from a private education the year prior and the years after- it feels like a prison.

It is a place that sucks the motivation from even the brightest students. The work was not challenging to me. The services for students who were gifted and motivated like me were limited and I found myself coasting through because the workload wasn’t challenging. I can understand how students with hard home lives, with different educational ability levels, and with different levels of motivation could walk into that prison and never see or want anything more from their education. Having witnessed this first hand and walked away without offering aid is disgusting of Oprah.

Oprah answered questions about the opening of her South African school in 2007 with the logic ”If you ask the kids what they want or need, they will say an iPod or some sneakers. In South Africa, they don’t ask for money or toys. They ask for uniforms so they can go to school.” Her inaction is loud. She met with Harper students who were literally asking for the same standards of education as white suburban children, opened a school elsewhere without providing any resources, then went on her show and said “I believe, just as I know all of you watching believe, that every American child deserves the best school” and encouraged people to go to Standup.com for aid instead. She has no problems with broadcasting the trauma of black children so her white viewers can feel like they helped. She has no problems walking away from the same black children she just exploited without providing them resources, then further going to the media and claiming that the black children in the city she claims as home doesn’t want or deserve them. Fuck Oprah.

And yes- this one IS personal.

In the years since Oprah has ignored the cries for help from inner city Chicago kids for better education- CPS (Chicago Public Schools) has gone on a full scale assault on those same children, closing and targeting schools of children in poor black and latino neighborhoods for closure and forcing them to travel longer distances, into unfamiliar and unsafe territories. This is marked by the CPS “ Safe Passage” program where CPS now pays adults to stand on corners on the new routes to these schools and protect children who are in unfamiliar neighborhoods on their way to school. CPS has announced the closure of ALL FOUR high schools in the Englewood area, Harper will close at the end of this year. This means ALL Englewood high school students will have no high school in their neighborhood.

Oprah had a chance to make a real difference here ten years ago and decided these kids weren’t worth it. It is honestly disgusting. But let Oprah tell it- these kids don’t want or deserve more.

Oprah’s Golden Globes Speech this year was when I had officially had enough of her white feminist, neo-liberal nonsense, and pandering to white sensibilities at the cost of erasing the pain of black women and children. In this speech, Oprah compared the historical sexual and racial abuse experienced by black women and girls (like the assaults she covered up at her school) to this pretty little white elite #MeToo movement (the one that calls out her buddies Trump and Weinstein, and has erased black women like Tarana Burke). Erasure and exploitation of black women and children and our trauma for white feminists to feel some sick sense of Munchausen’s by proxy is honestly repulsive.

Their struggle has never been ours.

Oprah has been recently more on the producing side, giving opportunities to black women in film like Ava DuVernay. Most of Oprah’s credit in the black community come from her acting and producing career on the grounds that she provides representation for black people in media. I have a counter for that as well. How many films has Oprah produced that she did not also star in, thus making them self serving? Of those few- how many were actually targeted to African American demographics? Queen Sugar and Greenleaf have found a home on her network- as has Iyanla: Fix My Life- but with those exceptions- Oprah’s body of work is just more neo-liberal white feminist stories about fighting for white approval and acceptance and furthering the idea that proximity to whiteness is an accomplishment. This is an idea that’s just as damaging to black audiences as lack of representation at all.

Her stories also seem to either be black women trauma porn (on theme) or integrationalist. This is most interesting to me, as her projects that are not geared towards black audiences like The Hundred Foot Journey, don’t have these same themes.

The family of one of her films The Great Debaters is currently suing her- claiming she never paid for the rights to their patriarch’s story. She used her promotional tour for Selma to down talk the young, black, grassroots protesters against police brutality in Ferguson. This is a very stark contrast, considering that she is now offering thousands of dollars to support protesters of school shootings in Florida, whom are also grassroots, but also not mostly black and are also in line with the neo-liberal political agenda.

Between Oprah’s dicey connections in the industry, her respectability politics, her exploitation of black pain, her gas lighting of black women in crisis, and her erasure of black women’s SPECIFIC intersectionality for white women’s gaze and coin- I find no qualms with making the following statement:

FUCK OPRAH.

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cards-onthetable · 6 years ago

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Seems I'm wearing grumpy pants again... sorry

(LOL OOPS I get notifications for asks and messages but not submissions for some reason, so I’m just seeing this. Sorry if it’s been sitting since last week...)

Thanks for the review. I needed that laugh!! But I had questions, oh so many questions. So I watched the Jamko bits on instagram. I tried to send an ask but not enough characters (do you wanna punch me yet)?

1. Why does arsehole Janko have Jamie's mobile number? Do they have a relationship independent of Eddie? Maybe it's just me being stupid for assuming, but wouldn't Jamie's number be unlisted to avoid dealing with BS from those he arrests?

I’m sure Jamie’s actual cell number is not public knowledge - Maybe Armin knew which precinct Jamie’s at, and went through Police Channels to contact him? Like maybe that’s his duty phone as a sergeant or something? Or maybe Lena had passed on an NYPD courtesy card to him in jail lol. Hooray for plot holes. Who knows.

2. Did Lena know more about her husbands shady dealings than she lets on/Eddie is aware of? To me that would explain why never divorced. Or she may just be the marriage is forever no matter what type. Given the strained relationship between Eddie and her mother and also the way Lena seems to have treated her, I'm not so sure Lena was totally clueless. She may have moved a bit because people give her grief but she sure is not struggling financially so maybe her husband in jail is worth the high life.

It wouldn’t surprise me. When I wrote (and named, yo) Lena Janko I characterized her as a petty, materialistic person who was a knowing bystander at least, if not actually complicit in Armin’s crimes. But lol I also wrote Armin as a reformed, sympathetic, Good Guy out of prison so what do I know? But we saw that Eddie does not have contact with her father so I do assume Lena still has contact with him at this point - how else did he know Eddie’s engaged, which precinct to find her fiancé, etc?

3. Does Eddie still drive her Porsche? Given that it came from a dubious money source, it seems odd to me that she would still be driving it. The fanfare of the wedding will invite media attention so why make it so easy to make nasty comments? You know Garrett is all about OPTICS and she is about to be a REAGAN aka NYPD ROYALTY. What if Frank is asked about their relationship at a press conference? OPTICS PEOPLE! OPTICS!

No idea dude. When’s the last time we actually saw that car? I don’t know but previously I accepted the headcanon that she kept it at her parents’ suburban McMansion most of the time, with rare times she’ll bring it to the city for a few days. Parking in NYC is expensive af, yo. Like an actual assigned space costs as much as a second rent in some places. But now we know Lena’s been moving around the city for the last 5 years, not up in Westchester babysitting Eddie’s car, so your guess is as good as mine. As far as the optics, I’m not sure how they’ll play it. Lena has brought up the Irony of Eddie, daughter of a criminal, marrying the PC’s son but nobody else has said very much. Maybe the show will address it in a typical Who Cares way and it’ll just be a non-issue.

4. REDACTED because I have some Thoughts about this topic that I hope to address in this fic I’m hoping to finish soon. 👍

5. Why do you hate Anthony? I personally enjoy his sarcasm. But then I also enjoy Gormley's putting the mouth in gear before the brain so frequently.

WHY DO I HATE ANTHONY? OH HERE’S A CAN OF WORMS, AUSSIE. But I’ll be succinct. Anthony’s entire existence bothers me. He’s only here to make Erin’s lawyer-y storylines into detective-y storylines. How often do we see Erin actually act as a lawyer? We usually see her and Anthony Investigating or maybe arguing/discussing a case. We rarely see her actually going her job (except when her ADA position conflicts with Frank’s NYPD agenda). It’s like the show runners have no faith in their audience, and think the viewers only want to see detective/police storylines - as if lawyer storylines, and that whole branch of the justice system, would be too Boring for tv. So I hate Anthony because he takes away any opportunities for Erin - a supposedly powerful and successful woman - to do her actual job, and her entire position as ADA is minimized in the show. It’s insulting to the audience and insulting to Erin too. Anthony’s entire existence is unnecessary for the show to go on. Let us see Erin actually be a lawyer in a context other than being the Reagan Family Bad Guy (and maybe that would humanize her a little bit! We all know she gets some pretty shit writing/characterization lately) and drop this whole charade that investigative, action-packed storylines are the only interesting or relevant storylines.

The whole Jamko and the precinct secret is still BULLSHIT. There is no way there is no push back if their coworkers do in fact know. Does anybody know if this is actually allowed in the NYPD? A superior can date a direct subordinate? Seems ridiculous if that is actually true. Corruption allegations would be made daily. (Agreed yo. We all know it’s ridiculous. And like, does the precinct know? Are they still in the dark? Jamie and Eddie can discuss wedding plans in front of everyone, but it’s still a secret? Coooolcoolcool.)

Jamie not understanding Eddie's messy family situation is BULLSHIT for someone about to be married. If Eddie can't talk to Jamie about this because she fears being judged/not supported then really they should not be getting married. I'm not saying spouses have to share absolutely everything, but what you go through in life often does shape how you see the world generally, so the fact both Eddie and Jamie have chosen to not discuss important aspects of their lives with each other should be a massive red flag. (AGREED AGREED AGREED. I have so many issues all the time. If they’d dated like normal people before jumping into rings and vows, they’d have worked out the majority of this Big Stuff before deciding to commit to one another for life. Like, you typically want to know these things as relevant info when making that decision to get engaged - not after. This “get engaged and figure everything else out later” shit was/is terrible. If the show insisted on doing it this way, they AT LEAST should have moved the Armin situation and the Baby Discussion to the first few episodes of the season. Don’t talk to me about the weird time lapses and inconsistencies in this show, I don’t care if a month of ~actual time~ passes in one week between back to back episodes... they should not be introducing these topics for the first time in the two episodes leading up to the wedding. GOD I HATE EVERYTHING.) There's a reason divorce is so prevalent. I wonder if Eddie feels she should reconcile with her parents because of the closeness of the Reagan family. Or is it something Eddie herself actually wants? Family or not, sometimes people are just toxic and you need to cut them off for your own sanity. (I hope the Reagans don’t put pressure on Eddie to fix things with her parents, ugh. That would be overstepping in a major way and yeah, your relationship to someone shouldn’t trump their toxicity - like Eddie doesn’t have to forgive her parents just because they’re her parents.)

We've already discussed my thoughts on the Reagan siblings getting arsehole sprung from jail before the show aired (spoiler: they were not nice thoughts folks), but as for the BB continuity, consider this: the only consistency is the inconsistency!

@kwannemacher and I have kinda discussed the whole prison fiasco and I think arsehole lost his temper one night after watching a TV show that drove him insane so he started a prison riot and got extra time. He didn't just throw things at TV, he tore TV off wall, set fire to his mattress and started an all in brawl. So 5 years extra for totally losing his shit. BB has the capacity to ignite tempers here so it's feasible arsehole Janko totally lost it. Probably watched one of those dating shows where they pick the so called love of their lives and he couldn't believe who the guy picked. We all have bad days!! (😂😂😂😂😂 omg I can be on board with this)

In closing I hope @ontherockswithsalt has insurance because I am wondering if her TV can withstand the wedding viewing party if you will be enjoying with her (lol I think I will be, and I plan to wrap myself in whole body bubble wrap for the protection of myself and everyone/everything around me). I'm already emotional 🤮🤮🤮 if they go with their own vows. I may be wrong, but I think Will shows Jamie's soft side next week. He won't be dead face or whatever it is you call him. (Dude I am ALL IN on those ridiculous vows. If they’d only said them once, I’d be rolling my eyes @ the grossness, but it would be whatever. BUT THEY MADE A POINT OF SAYING THEM TWICE so they’re committed at this point. Make Jamie recite those ridiculous words for the third time. I want to see the pain on his terrible face as he suffers through that again. If we don’t get those vows I’ll riot.)

Enjoy your week

Aussie

P.S. Yes I realise his name is Armin, but that guy is a narcissistic ARSEHOLE

#submission #aussie

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werevulvi · 6 years ago

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I didn't have the best waking up last evening, after having been asleep all yesterday. Just a few minutes after I woke up my intrusive sexual thoughts of men hit me again, which led to me masturbating twice, feeling worse after the first time and even worse after the second time. It gets me so horny to think about how much it would hurt, mentally and physically; to be raped again, brutally. To be humiliated and used again. Thinking about that turns me on and I hate it. It's shallow, intense but superficial arousal that leaves me feeling empty right after. Sad, gross, humiliated and empty. Like my own mind is laughing at me how I struggle and fail.

I'm not making myself accessible to men anymore, and I think that in itself is making my brain stir up like this. That I no longer pursue men for sex. It makes me feel like my own mind is punishing me for acting upon self-care. Do I not want to get better? Perhaps a part of me is enjoying the suffering and pain, that old familiar sting, and has trouble letting go; doesn't want to let go. And that makes it even harder to figure out what to do about this mess. How did I stop all my self-harming methods? That might give me ideas even though this isn't exactly the same. It's similar in the sense it's kind of an unhealthy habit that I keep doing even though it makes me miserable. All of them I stopped doing around 2015-2016. With cutting the main thing that made me stop was how ashamed I felt about new cuts, that I felt a need to hide them and that I couldn't talk about it at all with anyone cause they'd just get worried about me, confuse it for suicide attempts and I hated that. The backlash/after-effects of it were no longer worth the relief. I wanted to do it less and less frequently, until eventually I didn't want to do it all, and quit it. With the drinking, what made me resume a healthy way of casual drinking was basically the same as with the cutting: the backlash/after-effects were no longer worth the relief. In this case it was the hangovers and the financial expense, and how dysfunctional it made me socially when I was constantly drunk daytime for normal every day stuff. With my eating disorder, I guess it was the same reason yet again: not worth it. It just made me feel even more powerless, if anything. It was my peak of powerlessness. When I had been yo-yoing around the same weight for around a year, not able to get past it and lose more weight, I kinda just had enough of it. I realised then how absolutely useless it was and that is wasn't worth it to wreck my mind for something so superficial, and gradually I changed my body ideal to a more healthy one. Eventually all of my symptoms of eating disorder went away. What else... oh yeah, my pill-popping. Meaning over-dosing on my prescribed medications in order to get some kind of rush, excess sleep and/or death. I think with that I mostly just quit it cause I had already quit the other methods and it simply wasn't appealing anymore. Although on extremely rare occasions I still do it, only for the rush reason. Like at least a year between occasions, and not with anything dangerous. So I don't count it as self-harm anymore.

So... I think that's all methods I can think of right now. There was probably more but that doesn't matter. It seems it was pretty much the same reason for why I quit all of those: that eventually the backlash or side-effects of the habits bothered me more than the relief/rush excited me or drew me towards it. Kinda like weighing pros and cons and eventually the cons outweighed the pros to such a degree I was put off by the habit enough to actually want to quit it. The thrill wasn't even alluring anymore when I looked at all those cons.

I guess I haven't yet reached that point with my intrusive fantasies. Not saying I in some kind of direct sense actually want them popping up or sticking around, but I think I at least indirectly "invite" them to come and stay. Like I reap their toxic seeds, knowing I'll suffer from it. It feels very similar to that "pain and reward" system like how it was with my old self-harm methods that I just described.

Meaning it kinda goes like this vicious cycle: 1.) random nasty fantasy pops up 2.) I get grossed out and scared 3.) I get turned on by it 4.) I try to resist cause it's still nasty but kinda know I can't 5.) I give into to it and masturbate 6.) I cum and get release but then feel like crap.

That I hold onto them because I get some kind of thrill out of it despite hating it, also reminds me of my past self-harming. And I think they keep coming back because I give into them, and cause I take that reward.

It does take some courage to even just say that in some sense I do want them around, that in some way I do enjoy feeling hurt and aroused by their presense. That there is some excitement attached to the process of being grossed out and scared by those brutal images in my mind, and allowing myself to be turned on by them and masturbating to that fear. It makes no sense that I wish to be raped again, and by men that I'm not even attracted to... but perhaps that makes it extra horrible which makes me want it even more.

I'm extremely repulsed by penis, even just imagining one in a non-sexual context make me shudder. It's like the last thing I wanna think about. Yet I do. Repeatedly. That's why I see there's an essence of self-harm in that thought- and masturbation process. It's alluring BECAUSE it grosses me out and scares me. Just like a blade to my skin did, or 200 pills with a bottle of vodka, not knowing if I'd wake up from it. Oh yeah, I'm traumatised alright. I stopped self-harming, actively, but I'm still self-destructive to my core. Perhaps I'm seeking my limit, what is my breaking point. My greatest fear has become my drug. Because I experienced it once, and it damaged me. For less damaged people I think this is comparable to getting a thrill out of watching horror movies. But do I really want it in reality? To get raped again. Hard question to answer, but I'll try. Yeah... I want it so badly I've even spent years seeking it out in real life. But whenever I've been sexually abused again after that, literally because I sought out to be, I freaked out and really did not like that. Some other times that happened I was really quite despondent and didn't have much of an emotional reaction at all, until months later, and then freaked out. So no, I don't think I really genuinely want that. What I want is closure, but my mind is acting like a broken record, not getting that you can't actually kill fire with fire. Or in my case, pain with pain.

But now that I've stopped seeking it out, because I don't want the harm anymore and I love myself too much to put myself through that again, if I can possibly avoid it... my mind has gotten rampant in forcing it upon me mentally instead. Perhaps those intrusive thoughts are like a withdrawal symptom from coming off a drug. But it's not a physical addiction, so just giving it time won't help.

It stems absolutely directly from my traumas. Because those intrusive fantasies are pretty much a bi-product of my many years of having tried to repeat the rape I went through as a teen, and is also connected to the sexual assault in my childhood that led me to become addicted to masturbation, and now having stopped that behaviour cold turkey... aggrevated something within me. Something that still wants to repeat the rape but cannot get the thrill of that dangerous game anymore. And it got so aggrevated that it's almost constantly throwing those nasty images and scenarios at me now, out of what feels like pure desperation.

I think in order to get rid of them, I must first completely, and actively not want them around anymore. Not even want the thrill they bring, I mean. Cause that's how I got rid of my former addictions and self-harm methods. I think I'm willing to wait and work towards that even if it means sickening myself with those intrusive thoughts deliberately until I've properly had enough of it. Cause it's so very effective to get rid of a habit once I literally no longer want the rush or relief from it anymore. Exhaust myself with it. Like that's how I can maintain drinking moderately after years of on and off alcoholism. Cause I'm still so put off by the idea of being constantly drunk and everything that comes with it that I can't even make myself do it.

So I mean... I don't want to stop masturbating completely either, so abstinence is not exactly an option with this, and should not have to be. But that means I can't really actively do much about it. Except I can try "indulging" in it to the point it's far, far, far beyond sickening to me. That could trigger a "no longer interested" response. Cause I have to get uninterested in the reward aspect of it, and that's the tricky part. Since the reward aspect is orgasm, that's tricky, but not impossible. Because I know I literally get different kinds of orgasms when it's from something I actually, genuinely enjoy. Like fantasies of healthy sex with a sexy woman. So because I already can differentiate the kind of orgasms that makes me feel bad from the kind that makes me feel good, I'm already well on my way to sort out this mess. Meaning I could come to a point where I no longer want that "bad-feeling" kind of orgasms, no matter how tempting, cause I can still get the "good-feeling" ones.

This was a good analysis. It taught me some new things about those intrusive thoughts and gave me ideas on what I could do about them: treat them like quitting a self-harm habit. Me being a lesbian doesn't really have anything to do with it, except it makes it relatively easier in the sense I don't actually have to ever figure out ways to have healthy sex with men, which I can't cause I don't have that attraction. And I think maybe quitting men entirely is easier than re-training my interactions with them would be, had I been straight. It seems my interactions with other women sexually is untouched by my traumas and has always been healthy and good. Perhaps that's both because I was never traumatised by another woman, and because I'm inexperienced, it has remained a clean slate.

I feel like that's extremely valuable, and ironically I probably actually have my internalised homophobia to thank for that. It kept me from ruining my genuine attraction with self-destructive sex, pretty much kept it safe from harm until I was ready to release and explore it in ways that are good for me. My self-hate which made me suppress my attraction to women... protected it from being harmed by my traumas?! Wow... just wow. I always believed something good will come out of everything that's generally bad, but... this is kind of amazing. And very relieving, comforting. Everything happens for a reason.

#personal #reflective #long term trauma effects #intrusive thoughts #self harm #my broken sexuality #lesbian #self discoveries #realisations #processing my inner demons

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bitcofun · 2 years ago

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When buying monetary markets, individuals typically ignore the possibility that, over a time period, the financial investment might lose its worth, and it will take some time to recuperate short-lived losses. The much deeper the loss ends up being, the more energy needed to recuperate the losses increases out of percentage. If I invest $100 and lose 10%, I wind up with $90(whether I keep the financial investment or liquidate it). To get back to $100, which returns do I have to make? I need to make 11% due to the fact that, with a base of $90, if I make 10%, I wind up with $99 This result is enhanced if I lose 20%-- to return from $80 to $100, I will need to make 25%. So, the losses are not precisely in proportion to the gains you should make to recuperate them. If I discover myself having actually lost 50% of my financial investment, to return to $100 from $50, I should double it, so it ought to be user-friendly to the reader that the more the loss is magnified, the more energy needed to recuperate. The problem is that Bitcoin ( BTC) has actually lost more than 90% of its worth on one event, more than 80% on 2 other celebrations, striking throughout this duration an efficiency portion of -75%. The excellent news is that it has actually constantly recuperated (at least so far) from losses in an extremely sensible timeframe-- even the heaviest losses. Related: Forecasting Bitcoin cost utilizing quantitative designs, Part 2 The Ulcer Index, i.e., the index produced by Peter Martin that computes the length of time a possession has actually been listed below the previous high, is clear. Purchasing Bitcoin results in ulcers for numerous months, however then results in amazing returns that, if one has the perseverance to await them, make one forget the duration of bellyaches from the losses sustained. Compared to the previous 2 charts, which cover a duration of 50 years while this one just covers 12 years, the existence of the loss location is primary, although, in truth, Bitcoin has actually constantly attained exceptionally high returns that have actually permitted it to recuperate as much as 900% in less than 2 years. Returning to the subject of this post, here are some more methodological notes: The digital property under factor to consider is Bitcoin;-LRB- The contrast currency utilized is the U.S. dollar;-LRB- The frequency of analysis is daily; and The duration is from July 23, 2010, till June 16, 2022, the day the analysis was performed. Although Bitcoin's history is really current, its volatility and speed of recuperating losses is impressive, a sign that this possession has qualities all its own to be checked out and comprehended to the max prior to potentially choosing to include it within a varied portfolio. As you can see from the length of the above table, there have actually been numerous durations of loss and healing in excess of 20%, albeit in just 12 years of history. It is a commonly held viewpoint that a person year in crypto represents 5 in conventional markets. That is because, typically, volatility, drawdowns and come down speed are 5 times exceptional to stocks. Based upon this presumption, while understanding that the duration under factor to consider is brief, we can attempt to compare it to the 50- year analysis of the marketplaces. As can be seen, the days it requires to have a 40% or higher loss typically number less than 3 months. The darker dot is the existing drawdown suffered by Bitcoin because the November highs, or about 220 days up until now, making it in line with the regression line that figures out (to streamline) a typical worth of the relationship in between losses and the time to arrive. While a possession having brief periods in getting to the low point suggests that it has a lot of volatility, it likewise implies that it can recuperating. Otherwise, it would not have actually recuperated from that low and, certainly, there would not even be a bottom from which to increase. Instead, wise

financiers who were at first suspicious of Bitcoin up until it showed to increase once again in the COVID-19 start duration (that is, March-April 2020) understood that this possession has distinct and intriguing qualities, not the least of which is its capability to recuperate from the lows. This suggests not just that there is a market, however that there is a market that thinks about (albeit still with imperfect designs) that Bitcoin has a reasonable worth rate therefore, at specific worths, it is a deal to purchase. Understanding, for that reason, the strength of the healings that Bitcoin has actually had the ability to make can provide us a price quote regarding the length of time it might take it to recuperate to brand-new highs-- not to misguide ourselves into believing that it can do so in a couple of months (although, on a couple of celebrations, it has actually shocked everybody), however to provide us the comfort to wait if currently invested, or to comprehend the chance ahead if, up until now, we have actually been reluctant towards investing. From the chart above, a regression can be drawn out that discusses Bitcoin's relationship to the time it required to recuperate a brand-new high from the relative low. To provide an example, presuming and not approving that Bitcoin has actually struck lows of about $17,000, the healing it requires to make to return to the highs is 227%. The following the formula can be obtained from the regression line explained in the chart: Where G is the predicted days to recuperate the loss and P is the healing portion needed, it can be presumed that it takes 214 days from the low of a week ago to return to a brand-new high. Of course, presuming that the low has actually currently been struck is a stretch as nobody can really understand. It can be presumed that it is would be really not likely to see the brand-new highs once again prior to January 2023, so individuals can put their hearts at rest if they have actually invested and are suffering the loss, while maybe those who have actually not yet invested can understand that they have a really fascinating chance in front of them to think about, and rapidly. Related: Forecasting Bitcoin rate utilizing quantitative designs, Part 3 I recognize that these declarations are strong. They are not indicated to be a projection, however just an analysis of the marketplace and its structure, attempting to provide as much info as possible to the financier. Undoubtedly, it is required to presume that the even worse the loss gets, the longer I will need to want to wait to recuperate it, as can be seen from the chart listed below, which is the derivative of the regression in the chart above (healing times based upon loss) associated to losses sustained. Some factors to consider: The analysis reported here represents a quote based upon historic information; there is no warranty that the marketplace will recuperate within or around the approximated worths. There is no presumption that would develop the existing loss as a duration low. Not offering does not suggest that the loss is not genuine; the loss is such even if the hidden property is not offered. It is not recognized however it is still genuine, and the marketplace will need to make the healing representing the chart at the start of this analysis to recuperate the preliminary worth. Unlike the 2 property classes equities and bonds, when it comes to Bitcoin at this moment of loss, going out represents more of a danger than a chance, since Bitcoin has actually revealed that it can recuperate much faster than those other 2 possession classes. It would have been needed to leave earlier, as we made with the alternative Digital Asset Fund, which is losing less than 20% YTD and hence will require a ludicrous 25% to return to brand-new highs for the year, compared to the 227% required by Bitcoin to climb up back up, proof that utilizing trend-following reasoning decreases volatility and healing time. To

repeat, nevertheless, the distinction in between Bitcoin and the other 2 property classes (equities and bonds), I have actually compared the 3 on this chart of relationship in between loss and healing time: It is clear from this chart that Bitcoin has an outstanding healing particular compared to equities and bonds, so having a portion, even a little portion, of Bitcoin in a portfolio can accelerate the healing time of the whole portfolio. This is most likely the very best factor to have a portion of digital possessions in a portfolio, ideally through an actively handled quantitative fund, naturally, however you currently understand this given that I remain in dispute of interest. This short article does not include financial investment recommendations or suggestions. Every financial investment and trading relocation includes danger, and readers ought to perform their own research study when deciding. The views, ideas and viewpoints revealed here are the author's alone and do not always show or represent the views and viewpoints of Cointelegraph. Daniele Bernardi is a serial business owner continuously looking for development. He is the creator of Diaman, a group committed to the advancement of lucrative financial investment techniques that just recently effectively released the PHI Token, a digital currency with the objective of combining conventional financing with crypto properties. Bernardi's work is oriented towards mathematical designs advancement which streamlines financiers' and household workplaces' decision-making procedures for danger decrease. Bernardi is likewise the chairman of financiers' publication Italia SRL and Diaman Tech SRL and is the CEO of possession management company Diaman Partners. In addition, he is the supervisor of a crypto hedge fund. He is the author of The Genesis of Crypto Assets, a book about crypto possessions. He was acknowledged as an "creator" by the European Patent Office for his European and Russian patent associated to the mobile payments field. Read More

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thetwistedrope · 6 years ago

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Hi TTR, longtime follower first time caller. I suffer from an eternal pessimistic outlook on life, combined with mental illness, and it culminates in that I am fearful the world is ending, what with all the bad news. The problem is I'm kind of hoping it just ends already instead of dragging things out, and realized that's basically me advocating for A/pep. I'm kemetic and I figured I'd ask your input, should I stop hoping the world just ends already?

I have so many thoughts and stories related to this that this will likely end up being very long winded and probably a little rambly.

So as it happens, I sorta fell into a mindset similar to this earlier this year. My grandmother had just died, I was having to put my entire life on hold and into boxes to move far far away from anything that could support me financially in order to take care of my grandfather. I was living in a place I didn’t want to be in, handling tasks I didn’t want to handle, and I really just wanted an asteroid to take us out so that I wouldn’t have to do this anymore. In my mind, it was a case that if something took out my entire immediate family, then there wouldn’t be anyone left to be sad or miss me, and therefore we could all “get out of jail free” by skipping out on our responsibilities because we’d all be dead.

Yep.

I think its understandable to sorta want things to end. When I think about the situation that our world is in, I often think of LotR:

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,“ said Frodo.“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

To answer your question, when you constantly find yourself in that mindset, you’re not necessarily driving isfet into the world, per se (unless you’re, idk, trying to push others to be so bleak in their outlook), but you certainly are generating isfet in your own life.

In so many ways, the whole “I wish I was dead” that comes with depression often does nothing except to slowly destroy your own world, your own life. So if your only concern is that you’re potentially bringing isfet into the world, I would say that my solace is that you’re really only damaging yourself. For me, when I was in my darkest places, I was glad that I was really only doing myself harm.

However, at the same time, I think it bears repeating that its a shame to live your entire life waiting to die. We only get one guaranteed trip on this punishment orb happy fun-time planet, and it always kills me when people waste that one guaranteed lifetime being super sad and miserable. Unfortunately depression often does build a big ol cage around each person that it inhabits, and that cage is meant to make you smaller, meant to tell you that hope is Too Much, and that putting yourself at risk is More Than You Can Handle. And that as such, you should make yourself small. Wish for death and never really truly feel or experience life – because if it ends up going south, why how would you deal with that???? No no no. It’s much safer to just… coast and tell yourself that you’re saving yourself heartache by not putting any investment into your life…

I know its not easy to push against depression. It’s not easy because so many of us have no access to care. We don’t have the time or resources laying around to really sit and work on our needs, on our brains. But even with that being the case, I think its still important to try. As best as we can. To push back against those thoughts, to route our feelings of hopelessness into things that we can do. Ways that we can make a positive impact. Ways that the world isn’t 100% falling apart around our ears.

Just like Set, Ra and Aset, its important to wake up each day and push back against the isfet rattling around in our heads. It’s important to remember that the fight is worth fighting, and that you’ve had a 100% track record of beating the demon so far, so you might as well keep going, yeah? Don’t want to break the streak and all.

Idk if any of this helps, or if this just feels super condescending. More than anything, I just hate seeing people being where I have been. It’s miserable, its shit. It’s god awful. But it’s still worth fighting against and working through. I promise you that the stuff on the other side of depression is worth seeing and experiencing. It’s worth fighting the fight, even if your depression tells you its not.

idk if its worth posting here, but I have written a little bit about my journey from where I was to where I sorta am now. May be worth looking at?

Carving out a space

To sustain yourself on hearts

The fight for yourself

And then to take a slightly different angle, I present this:

youtube

#asks #isfet #a/pep #depression tw #kemetic #mental illness #mental health

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noctomania · 6 years ago

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I was an accident!

So was my sister. We were not planned conceptions. I don’t know the exact details, nor do i want to, of our conception except that they were not planned. My mom and dad also were not in a healthy relationship at the time. They stuck it out through my sister’s birth but not for long until after I was born. I don’t remember them being together.

I’m not sure if it was due to my mother’s catholic upbringing, the laws in texas at the time (most likely is my thinkin), or some influence from my dad’s family, but obviously neither of us were aborted. Dad was already working as a lawyer, but mom hadn’t managed to finish her bachelors for whatever reason and I’m not sure what work she had been doing, but I reckon she had to stop to care for my sister and not but 3 yrs after her birth I came along.

My parents separated and mom leaned into alcoholism which resulted in terminal illness from destroying her liver. I watched her die for 13 years before coming across her, on my own, in her last day of life having some kind of episode that resulted in her last trip to the ER and after to Hospice (which is end of life care).

While I know I have done what i can to impart good on other’s (albeit with mistakes along the way and the all too human diagnosis of selfishness in some cases) I would have rather been aborted. I had a childhood of neglect, poverty, and emotional trauma. In my adolescence I had to figure out how to cope with the loss of my mother who was the person i was ever closest with. I learned how different my family life was from others throughout my childhood. I’ve felt apart from every community i’ve ever been in due to various symptoms of the difficulty of a terminally ill alcoholic single impoverished mother trying to raise 2 kids in a red state with little support from family. It’s kind of hard to relate to a vast amount of people after experiences like that. Even relating to my own family who didn’t witness those experiences proves difficult.

I can’t speak for my sister, but I for sure would have supported my abortion. My parents were not stable financially or emotionally, there was already a dependent on their hands, and their in-laws were not even all-in. Their conception of me was a mistake admitted by both of them, and since then I have tried my best to do my best but it’s exhausting.

I’m not saying abortion would have saved my mother, their marriage, or been any kind of miracle. But it would have prevented my own suffering and the suffering of those subjected to the lashings of my mental illness. It would have saved so many resources and perhaps my spirit might have been born into less suffering or not at all awoken. To assume there would have been a void where my life is is all selfish. Someone more deserving would have pursued and finished my degrees, gotten jobs they care about, stayed healthy, and maybe even accomplished the dreams i have.

“Do what you can with what you have”. please be quiet. that may apply for making a meal, but making a life is a hell of a lot more complicated. I’ve accomplished a lot and it amounts to nothing in society’s eyes. No job cares that I did choreographed dance, facial make up, and performed on and off for 2 years as a drag king. no job cares how many cats I have looked after and kept happy and healthy. no job cares that i managed to be a full time student, hold a part time job as a desk receptionist, a full time job as an RA, and also held a position in office for the school’s LGBT club all at once. no jobs care whats in my heart is pure and strong. nobody cares how intuitive i am. no jobs care that i’ve been cutting (and in some cases coloring) my own hair for over a decade. or that i built my own computer. or of any the artwork i’ve made from scratch. or that i’ve kept myself afloat so much with little to no help. or that, with very few interim exceptions, i’ve been employed in some kind of job since i think it was jr yr of high school while i was also taking multiple AP/preAP classes.

I must continue in the low class because thats just how it is. i’m relentlessly plagued with hopelessness, indirection, confusion, depression, stress, disappointment, indecisiveness, suicidal idealization, anxiety, and dependents i never asked for. I wasn’t raised in an environment where i learned how to handle these things in a healthy way. i’ve slowly been trying to teach myself, but ffs learning how to save yourself as a building is crumbling down on you is not really optimal and not nearly as likely for success. i’m genuinely shocked i’ve not been entirely homeless yet. To think a procedure could have prevented a life of this bullshit, i think it would have been well worth it. Especially since my scenario is not near as bad as it can be by far, but bad enough i all too often have wished i were dead.

Even at my peak moments in life i have held this belief that i wish i hadn’t been born. not worth it. if that hurts anyone’s feelings, tough. It’s not your life. I’m a blip in your existence and me not existing honestly would not have made an impact anyone else couldn’t also have had in your life.

i’d say by all means check back with me when i’m more financially stable and living a happier debt-free life with a house and car and 20 cats but that’s never going to happen so idk what else to say. except that abortion should be legal everywhere and some if not entirely covered by insurance.

you want to make the world a better place? stop subjecting innocents to the shitshow it is now.

#kinda harsh but im just fed up with people who claim to be pro-life #no doubt some accidents have turned out fine and guess what their parents probably wouldnt have wanted an abortion and thats great for them #but i reckon my mom did want one but didnt have heart to say so to us #she loved us but she hadnt been given the chance to work on herself #her foundation was faulty which transfered to us #maybe primarily me #im done maybe the holidays are getting to me but i just needed to put this out there #abortion is important and should always been an option

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dog-day-morning · 3 years ago

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WHAT THE HELL YOU SAY?? If you ascribe to the Lord's precept upon the precept's way of interpreting scripture livelihood you can conquer that 3 headed demon. 1 John 2:16 16 For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. Not too many of us have overcome these stalagmite sized thorn's so it gives reason to say that no one has truly overcome the world except those who've made it to the Kingdome. You gotta die in order to live. That's what they've been telling us since they enslaved us while they lived off of the fat of the lamb right here on Earth. It doesn't pain me to witness learned men of the Bible speak improbable things that aren't in accordance with the calling to be entrusted as a shepherd. Esau has found it upon himself to place his doctrine before God’s word. When your spiritual leaders become lovers of money it doesn't bode well for the parishioners of your Church that looks more like a cult whom Reverend No Good is playing with their financial contributions like it was 3 card monte every Sunday. I've not been corrupted with wealth by way of Mammon which has corrupted many in the Black clergy that in due time will make some believe they're God. That's cray cray. The Evangelical Rights vision of an all white Christian, Denomination Nation is being subjected to the scrutiny of every Black man who historically followed the teachings of their overseers. The people who have misled, and hated us no longer have a cover for their miscalculated deception to fall back on. In the eyes of God it was good for men to be revealed for their love of things that are temporal which have no worth, or meaningful value in the order of things. If the Kingdome has streets paved with gold, and we walk on them with our feet, what meaning taken from this premise that God has spelled out for Israel, and the gentile can you determine? 1 John 4:1-6 4 Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. 2 Hereby know ye the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God: 3 And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God: and this is that spirit of antichrist, whereof ye have heard that it should come; and even now already is it in the world. 4 Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world. 5 They are of the world: therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth them. 6 We are of God: he that knoweth God heareth us; he that is not of God heareth not us. Hereby know we the spirit of truth, and the spirit of error. The Spirit of Truth isn't what or who you believe it to be. God uses men to speak to His lost people yea though this Prophet’s in need of psychotherapy. I bear the burden of Israel's hatred, and frustration towards the God of Israel assuredly. But you as well as I must stand before the Lord God on the Day of Judgment to see if heaven will become our new address? This Nation has hated God's people much longer than the date of my birth, way before the mystery of God was revealed 3-4 generations ago in this day and time. The people of Edom have been trying to eliminate God's people off the Earth for the past 3 thousand years without actually thinking to themselves how can they maintain this planet without God behind this for we are not His people? Does the colloquial term biting off your nose to spite your face mean anything to you? If so, apply it right here. They’ve tried to destroy God's people, and they’re not wholly convinced that a man of questionable intelligence who's a case for Milledgeville; “Beyond the Tuskegee Experiment,” is the one chosen for such a hefty task? Have you seen pix of 45 walking through the white House with feces dripping from his Depends as though that crap was normal? I rest my case. I've questioned everything under the sun. The answer always goes

back to the Father. Esau, and his children have destroyed more Civilizations than they've built PERIOD!!! The Egyptians, and the Sumerians gave you astronomy, math, and languages, you still can't figure out how the Egyptians constructed the Pyramids of Giza. My God's people (Indigenous Blacks) invented the cotton gin which was a blessing to us in building, and establishing this global economy for your people. We invented the automobile, the telephone, the major component for the illuminating light bulb, the modern computer, including the internet. We invented the first Central Air and Heating unit. You stole everything from us, and after these brilliant men, and women passed, you kept all rights, and patents to their ingenuity, even if some of them were slaves this should've stayed in their family as generational wealth, and you refuse to even make us an offer of reparations which would be a slap in our face. trump did succeed in his greatest accomplishment. The destruction of Western Civilization as we all know it. I pity you not. Jeremiah 14:14 14 Then the Lord said unto me, The prophets prophesy lies in my name: I sent them not, neither have I commanded them, neither spake unto them: they prophesy unto you a false vision and divination, and a thing of nought, and the deceit of their heart. 1 Timothy 6:17-19 17 Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; 18 That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate; 19 Laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life. You had Evangelical pastors losing it over the presidential election of 2020 who went out on a limb for a man whose broken all ten of the Ten Commandments including murder. Whattup Jeffrey Epstein?!! They openly supported an orange hobbit who brought down the house of Esau with their support. Paula white beat her hands so hard that night calling on the god of aboo daboo to bring the fallen angels from Africa on Mount Hermon to fight the battle to prolong WS; WTF?!! I saw a bevy of false prophets ministering in the name of white Jesus who lied saying God spoke to them in a dream Himself personally, declaring that trump would serve a 2nd term, and sit in the oval office again with his cronies while Rome finished burning to the ground. Biden who's just as racist as Bull Connor, but for the sake of political correctness we’ll call him a left wing, conservative moderate. Add it all up, and these people are gonna hate us forever. Yeshua is coming back for Israel; let us get that point across. You will have some of those who will cleave unto the house of Judah that's Israel who will enter New Jerusalem. But, this doesn't bode well for the majority of Edom or Israel. Only a remnant of the remnant shall enter into His glory that is Israel. All of those people who look like us, you know, they're our skinfolk, but they wouldn't accept an invitation to a family reunion unless the Grand Dragon of the kkk showed up dripping with the blood of twelve Black servicemen after your first cousin who's about 6 feet 2 damn B i i i i i G beat him to within an ounce of Jack Daniels proving that a retarded 9yr old with a degree in I hate Bubba can do all things through my doctor who prescribes me 200 grams of Crack. The high profile, low down political pundits, and elected officials who sell us out when the opportunity presents itself, are not Israel. These are the people who are getting paid filthy lucre to walk confederate with those that seek our blood. Some people have trouble sleeping because their job calls for them to prosecute their people unfairly as District Attorney’s. You have a conundrum to deal with, call on Maaco. You can be as Daniel Cameron desires, hoping to become what Kamala Harris has become with even higher aspirations or walk away from your white bread world, and your white zaddy, saving your soul in the process. Believe it or

not God gave me a conscience that's why He has told me to GET OUT!!! Or else. For those who heed these words which are straight interpretations from the Bible, walking with God beats running with the devil of which the remnant will see a reward. Isaiah 28:5 5 In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, unto the residue of his people. If Yeshua wasn't full of grace and mercy, willing to sacrifice Himself for a greater reward that is His Father’s inheritance; the Jew, and the other gentiles would suffer more so had He not been ransom for Israel, and their souls. As I mentioned, Esau, and Jacob are forever at odds. Jacob's not the problem. God has seen fit for some of Esau who are not of Edom, but walk in line with the Fathers people that will enter into His good graces along with Jacob who's the beginning, Esau’s the end. 2 Esdras 6:9 9 Now Esau is the end of this age, and Jacob is the beginning of the age that follows. If the minority who are the people of the caucasus mountains cant get along with this amount of Black people on Earth today, you're not Kingdome ready. Jacob's future is bright, and the angels in heaven are Dark Black. Balsamic Black. You must question yourselves, and be truthful. do you believe you're of the chosen elect? Forget I even asked. Romans 11:1-5 11 I say then, Hath God cast away his people? God forbid. For I also am an Israelite, of the seed of Abraham, of the tribe of Benjamin. 2 God hath not cast away his people which he foreknew. Wot ye not what the scripture saith of Elias? how he maketh intercession to God against Israel saying, 3 Lord, they have killed thy prophets, and digged down thine altars; and I am left alone, and they seek my life. 4 But what saith the answer of God unto him? I have reserved to myself seven thousand men, who have not bowed the knee to the image of Baal. 5 Even so then at this present time also there is a remnant according to the election of grace. Life's cruelties has taught me not to trust anyone, almost giving up on humanity save the Son of man who is my Savior, and even He has led me into stony, dry places because of my hardened heart that cannot keep thoughts to itself or maintain a compassionate level of human kindness. If this were 1961, and God chose someone with a sane mind he would've been dead before they blew out the 13th candle on his birthday cake. That's the psychosis of Edomites. The remnant doesn’t consist of Israel only, they happen to be the major portion. God will bless those who pass the test that is Tribulation with a robe of white, and a diadem of gold. Don't expect your favorite tele evangelical pastor who supported trump to walk into the Kingdome unless he has an epiphany of the truth that is Yeshua. Many men of Jacob will teach you whereas you've taught us about our history while revising its truth, and reinventing yourselves based on your fallacies which denigrates you because it's based on our legacy, and heritage. Everything we've done here on Earth is chronicled in the heavens, with no stone left unturned. To the detriment of a baseless people who seek to exalt themselves over God's truths this is what the truth has boiled down to. It ain't in ya. Yet some of the gentiles will enter the Kingdome of heaven without ever having to face abuse, persecution, death, pain, fear, or sickness and disease ever again. When God told Abraham that all nations and families of the Earth would be blessed through his loins this was one of the blessings in the case of the gentiles he made conclusive because Abraham was faithful though Sarah's womb was barren, and he had not the strength to conceive a child in his old age, so he thought. Romans 11:21-26 21 For if God spared not the natural branches, take heed lest he also spare not thee. 22 Behold therefore the goodness and severity of God: on them which fell, severity; but toward thee, goodness, if thou continue in his goodness: otherwise thou also shalt be cut off. 23 And they also, if they abide not still in unbelief, shall be grafted in: for God

is able to graft them in again. 24 For if thou wert cut out of the olive tree which is wild by nature, and wert grafted contrary to nature into a good olive tree: how much more shall these, which be the natural branches, be grafted into

their own olive tree? 25 For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in. 26 And so all Israel shall be saved: as it is written, There shall come out of Sion the Deliverer, and shall turn away ungodliness from Jacob. The comforters in need of some Alka-Seltzer or Maalox. If you heed the teachings of Jesse Duplantis who teaches a Christian doctrine, that's a man made religion, based on a Hebrew Bible about Israelite people that the world refuses to acknowledge we are God's people not the squatters over in the Middle East which geographically is another fabrication like the size of Alkebulan that dwarfs all other land masses. Ain't nothing changed. Pat Robertson, Joyce Meyer, Rick Warren, Franklin Graham who supports Africa, and its people who are in need, yet is a staunch supporter of trump, and his all but dead lawless administration that's brought about the collapse of the Western hierarchy; makes him look schizophrenic. He could have a stake in the Motherland, and he's watching after his, our investment you tell me, but something's not adding up. I have an Apostle who I trust to a degree more so than members of my natural family which isn't a good look for Gomez, and the rest of the Adams Family. Israel is a forgiving people, because God is in them. I didn't include myself for reasons you'll find out by this time tomorrow as soon as I find the reasoning behind this façade of illusive illusions the world's trying to catch, and I'm trying to outrun called reality. Chase me down with a bag full of Bacon Cheeseburgers, and blow me a kiss before I eat from Frechelle’s goody bag. This is where I leave my computer. My senility is showing, and it looks like the ugliest dog in the pound entered in the Ms. America contest. Good morning. 10/1/2021

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