#so much sin always

[inkskinned]

oh you know it's all latestage capitalism but the thing is. how are you supposed to be a person inside of this. a person trying to be a better version of yourself.

oh, you started working young, which was kind of hard, but it's just the way stuff works sometimes. and it was 2008 and your family couldn't afford heat. but it's fine, you grow a spine and get used to the professional world and besides it was the suburbs we're talking about here, like, your life could have been actually hard, so what if your father lost his job and you can't afford to move or turn the lights back on. and once you start making money, it's good. you keep doing that. because now they're relying on you. so you have to do that.

oh you were in thousands of dollars of debt at 17 years old so that you could go to school, because you have to go to school if you want to get a "real" job. you even did it "right", you worked parttime and attended community college before you transferred to a public school. you were under so many merit scholarships.

which is fine. you pick yourself up and you say like, okay. i graduated college. i'm holding down a job. i'm doing the Adult Thing, which looks and acts like this, according to all the books i've read. you start with the shitty job and then you climb that corporate ladder.

but the shitty job doesn't cover rent and you stretch yourself too-thin so you get sick. good luck with that. the shitty job no longer pays for your meals. everyone asks why you don't just move, but there's nowhere to move to. and with what money are you going to be moving? and then the loans come back, because they were never going to forgive them, because you were 17 and trying to do the right thing, which was stupid. people are now saying you shouldn't have even gone to school.

which is fine. but because you have no other option, so you do the shitty job, and you apply every day for like 5 new ones, and despite the fact everyone says "there's no one who wants to work!" it's actually just that nobody is fucking hiring so you can either work for 13 dollars an hour in the shitty place you know (where at least you have a passingly friendly relationship with the manager) or you can start from scratch again with a different 13 dollars an hour without knowing how much abuse from the new job you'll be taking.

and if you quit you lose your insurance. if you quit you lose your housing. if you quit, you'll be another burnout kid. the lazy ones. these assholes, look at them!

and you come home to a family dinner and you hear from your father the same old thing. how he worked hard at his job and yes it sucked for a while but he was able to provide for the family and then the house and the dog and the rest of barbie's dream vacation. how the insurance did cover some of it. how you just really need to start speaking up more in manager conversations so they know you're a go-getter. you want to tell him - did you know we're actually doing more now hourly than any previous generation? - but you can't remember where you heard that statistic, and you're far too tired for the fucking argument. and then he starts in on his usual bit. where's the house? where's your kids? where's your ambition.

the same job the same money the same hours doesn't do it anymore. the same nose-to-the-grindstone now just shreds your face off. there's no such thing as upwards mobility, not really. and as far as you're aware, the money certainly is not trickling. you do the soulless stupid shit you signed up for because you fucking have to or else you literally risk your life (food, the apartment, the insurance), but it's not getting you anything. you download the stupid "save more" app and you budget and you do every right thing and then the price of eggs is 7 dollars and you say - oh great! another thing i have to fucking worry about now!

and you go to your stupid job and everyone in your father's generation just tells you to be better about being an adult. they have their homes and their savings account and their bailout and they say. well have you tried not drinking starbucks. well your generation just spends too much on clothing. well you might just be too addicted to travelling. and you - because you need the job - you bite your tongue and don't say i am being held prisoner and you're suggesting i stop pacing my cell if i don't like the scenery and you don't say what the fuck do you think i've been doing with my money and you don't say i haven't spent a cent on something nice in literally forever much less coffee you arrogant asshole. you open and close your bank app and check your loans and check your credit score and check fucking zillow and ziprecruiter and apartments.com just one time more. and still they give you that demeaning little grin and say - see, what you need is -

what you need is for your meds to stop being so fucking expensive. what you need is for the housing bubble to explode into dust. what you need is for billionaires to choke on their wealth. what you need is actual help. what you will get is more economic advice from people who are older-and-wiser.

and above you, almost in a glimmer, you can see the wedged smile of your debt getting toothier, wider.

[darkdragon768]

Various doodles of the Dorito Twins.

I just like to play with them like dolls and put them into situations.

[dykedvonte]

Honestly a sorry from Curly would mean nothing to Anya.

I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to hear it, it’s a hollow vindication. She told him and he couldn’t hear her. He saw it and he couldn’t understand it. They both experienced it and he should apologize that it took that for him to get it. She already knows he’s sorry but what’s the point if neither of them can do anything about it? It’s earnest but at the same time what she wants an apology for is what Curlu can’t apologize for.

He can’t be sorry for what happened to her even if he is. Even if he carries that guilt with him until the day he dies it’s not all his to bare. The most heinous parts aren’t his weight even if he tries to balance it. A part of her bitterness is the fact he can’t be sorry for it all. She can’t just direct it all towards him even if she wants to. She was failed in so many ways by all of them. It hurts with him the most cause he had the power but they all did nothing in the grand scheme of things.

The one person who should apologize would never and could never, it’s not something you can be sorry for. She wants an apology, she needs one but what would it fix?

[ryllen]

miscellaneous

[lesbiamano]

some persona 2 headcanons of mine!! these are all for fun and extremely self indulgent as you can tell, so don't take them too seriously,,,

ever since i first came across the games and realized they lived in "sumaru city" i kept thinking "sumer?" so now they're all south-central iraqis 😫

[undefeatablesin]

Like just about everyone else does, the Good Hunter Ruza finds Lady Maria very ✨️compelling✨️

[alxastrx]

When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.

[fairylando]

don't ask me why, but me and my friend were talking about how carlos is going to be free from fraudrrari in less than 20 days and we ended up comparing him to the virgin mary (i swear it will make sense and we both grew up in christian italian families as atheists) and... how her given festivities actually add up with some of his important dates ??? buckle up!

‧˚

⭒ "Festa dell'Assunzione di Maria" — august 15 she was raised to eternal life without bodily death, and very close to it carlos announced he signed with williams.

⭒ "La Natività della Beata Vergine Maria" — she was born on september 8th, he was born on september 1st (BOTH VIRGOS)!

⭒ "L'Immacolata Concezione" — december 8th, "from the first moment of her conception, the Blessed Virgin Mary was, by the singular grace and privilege of Almighty God, and in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, Savior of Mankind, kept free from all stain of original sin."... and what happens on december 8th? his last race in fraudrrari, exactly.

she was the lightly brushed by melancholy blue print after all!

[quatregats]

I'm rereading Master and Commander and I'm deeply in danger of just posting every single passage from it ever but I did love the way that the capture of the prize in Chapter 6 was framed on either side by the logbook's entry, and also the way he transitions out of it to set the scene and tone:

Sunday, July 1 … Mustered the ship’s company by divisions read the Articles of War performed Divine Service and committed the body of Henry Gouges to the deep. At noon dº weather. Ditto weather: but the sun sank towards a livid, purple, tumescent cloud-bank piled deep on the western horizon, and it was clear to every seaman aboard that it was not going to remain ditto much longer. The seamen, sprawling abroad on the fo’c’sle and combing out their long hair or plaiting it up again for one another, kindly explained to the landmen that this long swell from the south and east, this strange sticky heat that came both from the sky and the glassy surface of the heaving sea, and this horribly threatening appearance of the sun, meant that there was to be a coming dissolution of all natural bonds, an apocalyptic upheaval, a right dirty night ahead. The sailormen had plenty of time to depress their hearers, already low in their spirits because of the unnatural death of Henry Gouges (had said, ‘Ha, ha, mates, I am fifty years old this day. Oh dear,’ and had died sitting there, still holding his untasted grog) – they had plenty of time, for this was Sunday afternoon, when in the course of nature the fo’c’sle was covered with sailors at their ease, their pigtails undone. Some of the more gifted had queues they could tuck into their belts; and now that these ornaments were loosened and combed out, lank when still wet, or bushy when dry and as yet ungreased, they gave their owners a strangely awful and foreboding look, like oracles; which added to the landmen’s uneasiness.

[...]

Jack leant back against the curved run of the stern-window and let Killick’s version of coffee down by gulps into his grateful stomach; and at the same time that its warmth spread through him, so there ran a lively tide of settled, pure, unfevered happiness – a happiness that another commander (remembering his own first prize) might have discerned from the log-entry, although it was not specifically mentioned there: 1/2 past 10 tacked, 11 in courses, reefed topsail. AM cloudy and rain. 1/2 past 4 chase observed E by S, distance 1/2 mile. Bore up and took possession of dº, which proved to be L’Aimable Louise, French polacre laden with corn and general merchandise for Cette, of about 200 tons, 6 guns and 19 men. Sent her with an officer and eight men to Mahon.

[sinnbaddie]

I think Rose had no issues turning into Steven because she knew Pearl would serve him the same way she served her.

And I use the word served intentionally here - while she broke many habits the environment she was in instilled in her, Rose still had subconscious discrimination towards Pearl and you can see it in her actions towards her.

The lack of awareness towards her feelings, disregarding her opinions, uplifting the other gems in ways she never gave her. She was her own Pearl but she was still a Pearl in Rose’s eyes. Her function was that to serve and the war worsened that mindset the both of them already had of Pearls. Rose knew that Pearl would continue her function after she stopped existing and Steven was created

Unfortunately, Pearl really never had a chance and honestly wouldn’t have unless Rose disappeared. Steven truly was the best thing for Pearl’s development

[eliseliedl]

3rd run party! (Fane, The Red Prince, Ifan Ben Mezd and Lohse) Divinity Original Sin II 32 / ?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Pride month everyone B*) Allow me to reveal a little behind the scenes detail behind my Banner and Icon. Love was always winning <3

[vancalox]

writing post veilguard solas as theeeeee clingiest most reassurance-starved man in the world who literally needs to hold lavellans hand every second of the day for the next 6 years or he WILL fall untethered in the literal abyss of despair he willingly walked into in the end.

[anticidic]

89 + fyozai for the spotify wrapped fic ask game?

#89: Nothing Ever Dies — Kamelot

Here we are Under the same old sun All alone yet somehow bound and unified Dust to dust Ashes to ashes won't take long We search for a harbour, somewhere to belong

“Us meeting by chance like this yet again in the same alley—” Fyodor stopped short and blinked with a show of concern, his eyes shifting to the blade of a knife pointed at him.

They were an arm’s length apart. One swipe from Dazai and Fyodor wouldn’t be able to react before it was too late.

Then Fyodor’s features softened, and his frown gave way to a splitting smile. "Not even five seconds after greeting you, you're already so hostile." He held his hands up, but Dazai did not buy the act. Another one of Fyodor's ways of pretending to be concerned about his life being put at risk. A reaction any other person would have.

A reaction that made sense to anyone who wasn't Fyodor. Dazai bared his teeth in a sneer and narrowed his eyes with a burning intent to kill.

"Death is too good for you. Even the deepest pits of hell wouldn't want something like you, Dostoevsky. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. That's why you've been here the last several years wandering Yokohama like a ghost. How miserable and boring."

Snow drifted through the air and fell down around them. Fyodor reached out with a hand to catch some of the flakes in his palm, watching the dust build up and spill over. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing," he said, dumping the snow and looking back up. "As if...you don't know what that feels like yourself. I can think of worse fates, Dazai-kun, like a homeless beggar passing away on the cold ground as the snow piles up."

"You forget people change," Dazai started as he approached, the grip he had on the knife white-knuckled and pointed at Fyodor's chest—right where the heart was, "people get older, people die, we lose a few along the way and meet others. Maybe once I could've agreed with that line of logic of yours that hasn't changed since the day we met." A light smile played on his lips while Fyodor stared back unfazed, maybe plotting a way out of the conversation by way of another sniper gunning down Dazai. But no. No one would be out in this godforsaken weather if they didn't have to be. Only people like him, like Fyodor, were out all hours of the night and through all weathers during the day. "But I don't agree with it now, because I've changed my way of thinking over the years, but you still haven't changed. You're the same Dostoevsky, whether for better...or for worse."

Striking Fyodor down where he stood was too good for him. Even if Dazai's blows carried anger, despair, chaos and Fyodor left the world for good and left him finally, it was not enough. Death was not enough. Nothing would ever be enough. They were alike in many ways, but the mean little light in Fyodor's dead eyes told him this: where Dazai went through the motions waiting to die because he couldn't find anything worth sticking around for, Fyodor wanted death because it would give him the last laugh.

If Dazai killed him, Fyodor won. He was best left alive. Suffering. He wanted to be taken out by someone, and Dazai would not give that to him. He had never seen someone so silently miserable that they made it their life mission to spread it to others like the plague.

Once, maybe when he was fifteen or sixteen and probably not eighteen, Dazai felt the same way. But not now. What looked back at him resembled Fyodor, but Dazai also saw an old piece of himself somewhere in there. And it made his skin crawl.

"Go on," Fyodor said, steps light and airy against the frosted ground. Closer, closer yet. Until the tip of the blade touched his chest and he had a look of dare. Please go on, you know you want to do it. You'd probably feel better getting rid of someone as bad as you. The words went unsaid. But Dazai could hear that taunting voice in the back of his mind. “Your hesitation to kill me when you have the chance strikes me as odd. As if you’re conflicted. Is this also supposed to be one of your changes you went on about? You think yourself a better man now though you know blood as much as I do?”

Something cold brushed against Dazai's fingers and for a moment he thought it was Fyodor grabbing him, but even the subzero temperatures and wind blowing through his hair were warmer than how Fyodor felt. His breaths came out in tiny, white puffs and nothing came from Fyodor. As if he was holding his breath. Or...or could not process the cold because he was even colder than it.

“You’ll die. But you won’t die when you want to, it’ll be when I want you to,, because otherwise what's the fun in it, huh? I'd be disappointed if you let me kill you right here and right now so easily.”

Instead, he put the knife away and walked off. His footsteps faded the more they grew apart until Dazai paused by the alleyway entrance and breathed out quietly. He was no ghost, but he felt equally restless letting Fyodor go this one time. Was it a terrible mistake? Maybe this would’ve been his one shot to end things for good and put another great and terrible part of his past behind him. Perhaps, even death yearned for comfort in the meaningless rituals of the living.

“We’ll both die someday. Your body will be marked by scars and sins people couldn’t forgive you for and you couldn’t forgive yourself for, just like everyone else in this world.”

The words, Fyodor’s confession, his mocking declaration, pierced Dazai’s mind. He flinched. Not from their thousand cuts, but from the bite of the cold lashing against his cheeks.

“What do you suppose will kill you, Dostoevsky?”

A pause.

“God.”

Spotify Ask Game!

[val-of-the-north]

Sigh, I love the Aldian gang...

[undefeatablesin]

Watch out ya'll, Sin's sketching Bloodborne comics again! 💀