#tw mentioned human experiments

[justanothersanjilover]

My Name on your tongue

Part 2

Paring: Zosan (maybe Sanzo, too)

Soulmate AU

Triggers: Child abuse, mentioned human experiments, mild self-harm, swear words

Eight years old

The room was dark and quiet…Sanji knew the false safety by now. Judge would be here any moment. His body shook all over, and his sobs came muffled through the cloth in his mouth. Sure enough, the light above him flickered to life and burned in his eyes. The door slammed shut and made him flinch.

“Let’s see what we can do today,” his father’s voice sounded beside him.

Sanji swallowed and almost choked on his spit. He couldn't understand what his father was doing to his body…he only knew that it hurt and left him unconscious almost every single time. He hated it! But he had to endure it to please him, and maybe…maybe he’d be able to become like his siblings and get his familiar.

Sanji’s thoughts were wiped away when pain shot through his little body. He screamed against the cloth and pulled on the leather straps that tied his arms and legs to the table. Fighting against the tears, he watched his father.

Eyes cold as steel and a frown on his face, Judge stood there watching his failure of a son being weak as ever. The electroshocks he just was able to endure without passing out wouldn't even tickle his siblings. Almost disgusted, Judge turned away and hit a button on the terminal behind him. He heard Sanji scream once more - this time even higher - before his voice broke. Another push of the button and the electroshocks stopped. Looking back, Judge saw Sanji lying there, unconscious. He was furious because he couldn't handle the shocks even after weeks of trying to build his endurance up. Without another glance, Judge left the room.

~

Sanji sat in the forest, far away from his family. Here was the only place he could relax without having to worry about not hearing footsteps. For one, the animals were his friends - they warned him minutes before his siblings approached, and he could make a run for it. And there was no one expecting anything from him. He could just exist, and he longed for that feeling! He longed for just to be himself! 

In these minutes, sometimes even hours, he felt happy and at ease. Sanji knew he would never be able to let his guard down completely, but being in the forest felt a lot like that.

Watching the clouds above him, his hands rubbed his ankles where bruises had started to form - alongside the ones on his wrists. Whatever his father was doing to him, it didn't work. He wasn't getting stronger or anything. On the contrary! He felt weaker whenever he woke up in the lab and had to free himself and walk to his room. With a red face, he remembered that almost every time he wet himself. He always hoped and prayed to any god he could think of that his siblings would see his wet pants. The prayers seemed to help - for now - because he made it to his room without any encounter.

He washed his pants in the sink and dried them by hanging them from the window. No one of the staff should have to wash his pee-stained clothes. With a red face, Sanji shook his head. He needed to get stronger!

~

“No food for today!” Judge’s voice made him recoil.

Sanji stared at his father. It was the third day without food. He needed to eat! He needed it badly! He could feel himself getting weaker! The drywall of his room didn't taste good, but it suppressed the sick feeling in his stomach - at least for a bit.

“Please, father! I’m so hungry! Please! Just let me have a slice of bread! I can’t…” Sanji cried, earning a hit from his father - he was too weak to even react to it.

“A true Vinsmoke doesn't beg!”

“I know…I…”

Sanji tried to get on his feet but failed. He crashed against the floor at full force and wasn't able to get up again. He felt the unconsciousness creeping into his body.

When he woke up again, he didn't know how much time had passed. His eyes wouldn't stay open for another ten minutes. His mouth felt dry, and his ears were ringing.

He looked around and saw stone walls and iron bars. He knew the place he was in - the dungeon. He was lying in one of the cells…again. Frequently, his father used this as a punishment for him. Sanji hated it. The twilight played tricks on his mind, showing him figures and monsters where there was nothing. He was only allowed to eat old bread and drink horrible water. He always got sick after he ate the food, but it was better than nothing.

But it could be everything from an hour to a day until he was allowed to eat again. His stomach hurt from the hunger and the dirt he’d eaten in his room - simply because he had to! He had to stop his tummy from aching and grumbling all the time. The bits of the wall he could scratch off helped for some time. But he knew it was bad to do that. The doctor told him this after the last time. He even made himself throw up after he realized it wouldn't help much.

Now? He really considered eating the sand under his feet. Hugging his tummy, he leaned against the wall and cried silently.

After an endless seeming time, a guard came to him and handed him a tray of stale bread and slightly murky water. He placed it on the ground in front of Sanji and watched as he scrambled to his feet and almost threw himself on the food. Sanji had to choke the food down and physically stop himself from throwing up. He didn't know when he would get the next meal.

In the end, he sat for two days in the dungeon and got a meal once per day. On the third, a guard took him up to his room. Despite knowing he should go clean himself, Sanji couldn't do much more than lie on his bed and cry again.

~

„Useless…useless…useless!“

Sanji‘s voice echoed through his bathroom. His fist was hitting the wall for every „useless“ coming from his mouth. His knuckles were bursted and the tiles were already bloody. The pain helped to calm his racing mind.

In the morning his father had taken him and his siblings to the training ground and made them race each other - the catch wasn’t only the race, but the Parcours they had to get through. Spiked with big holes he couldn’t jump over, firewalls he had to walk around, weapons firing at them (which made him stop completely because he wasn’t bulletproof!), and, on top of that, mines which detonated when coming within a five foot radius. One of them threw Sanji against Niji and his brother started to beat him up, because now he would lose and it was Sanji‘s fault.

The uncountable bruises on his body made every move hurt and his mind screamed at him how worthless he was in his fathers voice. Another punch thrown against the wall and he cried out in pain.

Sinking to the floor he held his bloody hand and swallowed the tears down. He managed not to tear up and break out in pathetic cries (he didn’t even know what pathetic meant, but his father always said it to him). He could do what he wanted, he‘d never be as good or strong or fast as his siblings…

~

A few months later Judge had enough of his useless son. He wanted him gone and so he threw him in the dungeon again.

Sanji woke up, almost unable to raise his head. With a groan he lifted his hand to feel what was holding him down. It was iron, enclosing his head and only leaving a window he could see through. He tried to pull the helmet off, but failed. His head started to hurt shortly after. The pressure was too much. It took a whole day until he was able to lift his head more or less properly. And another for him to sit up without having to lean against the wall. All this time he called for help, for an explanation, for his father to come and let him out…for his mother to take him with her. He called Sora‘s name almost every day and when he dreamed, he saw her smile and heard her voice telling him it was fine. But it wasn’t!

„What did I do?!“ Sanji cried after the sixth day without seeing any living person.

He got food, so they haven’t forget about him. But he never saw someone bringing it down and taking the empty trays. It was weird and creepy because they need to watch him closely to know when he was sleeping. There also was a bucket for him to use as toilet, which he only did when he really needed to!

On the ninth day he finally heard footsteps and hope welled up in his little heart - hope that this was simply another way of punishment from his father. But it wasn’t Judge coming to get him. His brothers appeared in front of the cell and grinned like little devils!

„Look at him,“ Niji laughed, grabbing the iron bars. „Caged like an animal ready to be left alone.“

Sanji tried not to look at them.

„More like weakling who can‘t bend the bars.“ Ichiji giggled, actually bending one bar slightly before putting it back how it was.

„Enjoy your stay down here, failure!“ Yonji laughed.

Sanji thought they would go away after their little rant, but they stayed. Mocking him, laughing at him, throwing rock’s at him - aiming for the slit in his helmet to actually hit his face. Sanji turned away and cowered down against the wall to shield himself as much as possible. For the first time in the past days he was thankful for the iron bars because without them his brothers surely would beat him up again. And so they could only insult him and throw stuff at him.

But it didn’t stay that way. Two days later, they came down again, and this time, they brought the key to his cell. They went in, beat him up, shoved some moldy food in his mouth, and made him swallow. He was sick for two days after that - so much that he thought he had to die.

This went on for two weeks. Sanji had tried to get rid of the helmet. First with his fingers, then with a pointy stone. He had cut the back of his neck and bled so much he thought he‘d die. It was the first time a guard came into his cell to check on him. In his delirious state of mind he wasn’t able to interact with the man tending to his wound and he soon disappeared again. After that, his brothers stopped coming by and beating him up - maybe the guard had told his father about his condition and he made them stop. Or maybe it got boring because the thrill of the hunt wasn’t there.

One day, heavier footsteps sounded and as Sanji raised his head, he saw Judge in front of the cell.

“Father…” he mumbled - not being able to do anything more.

“Don't call me that! I’m not your father! I don't have a failure as a son.”

“I…”

Judge silenced him only with a stare. He took out a key a opened the cell, before turning and leaving again. Sanji wasn't sure what that meant…was he allowed to leave? Could he even leave without help? Would he be punished if he stepped outside of the cell? He wouldn't take the risk! So he stayed where he was for two more days.

“Are you that weak?”

Sanji raised his head, ignoring the pain shooting through it. Reiju was standing in front of him. Her gaze was cold, but Sanji thought he could see concern underneath all the ice.

“Why?” He mumbled.

“Because you haven't even tried to leave this cell.”

Sanji watched her closely and then let his head sink back against the wall behind him.

“I don't know if I’m allowed to,” he said with closed eyes. “Fath…Judge came down, opened the door and left. He didn't say I could come out.”

Reiju grinned and held out a hand.

“You did well, that was what he wanted. You can come out now.”

All of Sanji’s tiny body wanted was to take her hand and be led out of the cell and the dungeon. He had to hold himself back with all his remaining willpower - or maybe it was his survival instinct? So he shook his head as much as possible with the heavy helmet and stayed where he was.

Reiju’s concern showed more and more through her cold facade, and Sanji wondered if she really was as heartless as he thought all this time. At this moment, she almost looked like their mother…almost.

“Come on, I’ll take you up and help you get rid of the helmet,” she said.

“No…” His voice was small, almost inaudible. “I’ll go when Judge says I can. I’m not risking to stay down here because I disobeyed…”

Reiju let her hand sink and looked somewhat bewildered.

“You are a weakling, after all. Three weeks down here and your will is broken. No wonder Father sees you as a failure.”

And with that, she left.

Sanji cried when he couldn't hear her footsteps anymore. Yes, he was a failure, he knew that by now. Was all this really just to test him? Just to test how long it would take for him to break? And he failed that test like so many before. Sanji clawed his little hands in his arms to numb the overwhelming feeling of self-hate and disgust. He felt his chipped, sharp nails dig in so deep they drew blood. He could feel it trickle down his arm and heard the pit-pat of it dripping on the stone floor.

Another three days passed until Judge came down again to look at the failure he had to call son. Sanji looked up at him with pleading eyes…he wanted to punch him, to break him and put him back together as the great soldier he could have been without his stupid wife’s intervention! Now? He got a weak little kid, not even withstanding a basic interrogation technique he could encounter if he would someday work as one of his soldiers.

“If you can make it up the stairs, I’ll take the helmet off,” Judge said, voice as cold as his look.

He didn't wait for an answer. Part of him actually thought Sanji would just stay in the dungeon and die there. So he was surprised when he could hear the scratching sound of feet dragging over the stone floor and the short and painful huffs of breath. Still, it would take another day for Sanji to climb all the way up the long staircase.

Prev/next

First part

[uncanny-tranny]

Sometimes, when people try to invoke "trans-inclusive" bioessentialism in their arguments, I want to ask exactly what about our assigned sex says about our place in society, and ask how they've worked that into their worldview in a way that somehow simultaneously doesn't deny who we are and includes the fact that a trans experience will mean that we navigate the world in often very different ways than our cis peers, and often bucks the trends of what is commonly experienced by cis people

[fangirls-fanfiction]

Sooooooo after I wrote the chapter of my other story: 'A Contract; A Relationship' I started writing other short stories about what life was like for both Queen Dice and Luci and how their relationship developed before the main plot line of the show or the game. So I decided to make another story for it lol.

Yes, this is based on my genderbent/humanized au blog on Tumblr, though it does take place before it.

This first part is just that chapter that inspired this whole story (and a little extra st the end) just so no one gets confused lol

Enjoy! ^^

Story below undercut:

Even as they yelled after her, she ran. Even as she heard the sounds of gunshots, she ran. Even as her legs begged her to stop, she ran. She couldn't stop, it was between life or death.

In an attempt to lose them, she dashed down an alleyway. Turning around to see if the coast was clear, another gunshot fired just as she tripped and fell.

It was the end if the line. She scrambled to get up, only tripping and falling over once more. Such bad luck, tripping not once but twice; going down an alleyway with no way out; trying to pickpocket a man whilst not knowing he was the leader of a gang.

Such bad, bad luck. That's all she was good for, bad luck.

"Nowhere to run now, lil lady."

"I'm— I'm sorry! Please! I didn't mean any harm... I'm just so far away from home and I have nothing... I promise it won't happen again!" She begged for their mercy.

"There ain't no such thing as 'forgiving' in this here town. Besides, don't you know not to take things that don't belong to you?"

"Of course! I'm sorry! Here!" She tossed him his wallet. "Really! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to— "

"Too late for that, lil lady."

All four silhouettes aimed their guns at her, the girl shielding her face as she braced for impact.

But instead, she heard one of the guys screaming.

Quickly uncovering her eyes, she watched in horror as one of the gang members was caught ablaze by some unknown force. After he was scorched to ashes, another one's gun blew up in his face, causing him to fall over and his body catch in fire. The leader and one other man stood alone as a cloud of purple smoke and bright spark appeared in between the girl and the gangsters.

As the smoke cleared, she watched in horror as they all recognized who had joined them in the alleyway.

"Hello boys." The Devil sneered.

Wasting no time, the two gangsters shot at the demon, only seeming to knock her back slightly. With a snap of her fingers, the barrels of both of their guns were bent, pointing directly at them.

"Shoot another damn bullet... I fucking dare you." The Devil spoke darkly.

The two gang members ran off, the Devil still standing with her back to the girl. She had no idea what the demon had in store for her. She herself had never seen a four person gang turn to a two person gang run off from one person. Not only that, but she was the Devil. Her purpose was to cause misery and break mortals' dreams and create chaos. Who knows what she was planning for her now that the gang was gone. It didn't matter how many times those gang members had shot her, she was the Devil.

Though, as the demon stood there, the girl became less and less convinced. The gang had surely shot her more than a dozen times, but she was immortal, she would be fine. Right...?

Swaying back and forth slightly, the Devil finally fell to the ground with a thud. Her trident clanked to the cement, bouncing just out of her reach. Not that she was reaching for it, she didn't move a muscle after she fell to the ground.

Taking that as a miracle, the girl hurried out of the alleyway and past the fallen demon. Coming to the end of it, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Devil or not, the demon had saved her life and here she was running off without so much as a thank you. She turned around a bit, the demon still not moving. Walking back into the alley a few steps, she stopped when she felt she was far enough away that she could run if the Devil were to wake up.

"Are... Are you ok...?" She asked, her voice echoing in the alleyway.

But the Devil didn't react whatsoever.

"Ma'am, are you ok?" She said more confidently, taking one more step closer.

Still nothing.

Just then, she saw it. A large wound on the Demon's hip, swimming in blood. Panicking, she looked around as if someone was nearby who could help. But at this time of night, the streets were desolate. Not one person. Just her and the Devil.

Kneeling down to be more level with the demon, she felt a sharp pain near her stomach. Immediately placing a hand over it, her white glove turned red from the blood of the bullet wound.

'I didn't dodge the bullet...' She stared in complete horror.

Snapping back to reality, she noticed that the demon's wound was only getting worse by the minute.

Untying her neckscarf, she was hesitant to actually follow through with this plan. This was the Devil after all. Glancing at her face, the girl let out a sigh before letting out a deep breath and began dabbing the blood to hopefully control the bleeding. Her father had taught her a bit about first aide- But nothing about demon blood. Not that she thought that she'd ever need it; in the 20 years of her life, she never once thought that her first encounter with the Devil would be like this. So she handled this situation as she would for a human. Applying pressure, she finally took another glance at the demon. Able to concentrate on her appearance now, she was almost surprised. Aside from the horns and tail, the Devil looked pretty... Average. Despite all the stories she had heard, the Devil's appearance seemed to contradict almost all of them. The demon almost looked friendly, but she should've known better. The demon most likely used this form to trick people. Though fallen down on the ground unconscious and bleeding, the Devil looked rather defenseless. Not in a negative light, but in a damsel in distress kind of way. She'd almost call her beautiful, though that just felt... Odd. Pretty or not, she was still the Devil. Like, the mistress of all Evil and the Queen of Hell.

Turning back to the wound, her efforts hardly seemed to be working. Her neck scarf appeared to have hardly done anything. Putting the scarf aside, she looked around. Panic setting in, she realized that she had no idea how to deal with this effectively.

She jumped at a quiet groan, the Devil's eyes blinked open to a narrow slit. Her eyes were an empty, yet oddly beautiful, shade of gold. Glowing in the darkness, her eyes fixed on the girl, the girl freezing in place. Though the demon seemed less angry and more confused. Unfocused. Like she was trying to remember what had happened. Hesitantly, the demon sat up, the girls falling backwards and backing away. She coughed as blood entered her lungs, making her fall back against the brick wall of the alleyway. She struggled to breathe, as she watched the Devil stand without much effort and go to her trident.

With a single strike to the ground, the magic of the demon's trident had healed her wound. She glanced back at the girl, who panicked, trying to explain herself but instead threw herself into a coughing fit, falling to the ground.

"You're a Dice, I presume?" The Devil knelt down to be level with her. "I'd recognize that dapper clothing anywhere."

"Go away— " She started, coughing once more.

"I see they got you pretty good." The Devil ignored her comment.

Unable to speak and verbally tell her to go, the girl mustered up all her strength to swing at the Devil, the demon easily catching her fist.

"Listen, this is important, I can help you... For a price." The Devil let go of her hand. "Judging by the fact that you're inhaling your own blood, you've only got a few minutes." She went on. "You can either die here or let me help you; for the small price of working for me under a contract."

The girl sat up, opening her mouth to speak, only to fall right back over in a coughing fit.

The Devil extended out her hand for a handshake, awaiting her to take the deal. Barely able to breath, her vision began to get fuzzy as she stared at the Devil's hand. Using what was left of her strength, she took the chance, agreeing to the deal and shaking the Devil's hand.

Not even a moment later, her lungs cleared, giving her a chance to breath once more. Feeling around where her wound once was, she was relieved to see that it was gone. She was ok. She wasn't going to die.

Her gaze redirected to the Devil to thank her for what she had done, however, her heart sank as she stared right at a contract and a quill.

"That's an awful lot of fine print."

"Don't worry about it, no one reads it anyway." The Devil placed a pen in her hand.

"I..."

"Don't go back on your word now... I hate it when people go back on their word." The Devil growled.

Nodding quickly, she hesitantly signed the contract, the shimmery, gold parchment disappearing with a spark as her own left the paper.

"There we are, the deal is done and the oath is sealed." The Devil sneered. "Welcome aboard, Miss Queen Dice."

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Queen Dice sat in her seat by the office door. This was the worst thing to happen to her. Between all of the trials and tribulations she'd endured her whole life, this one certainly took the cake as the worst. She couldn't imagine what the Devil had in store for her. What she'd be doing for the rest of her life, in this awful place.

Taking a look around, her eyes gazed up at the towering walls of brimstone. Deep into the pits of hell and among the demons and the sinners. She'd always tried to be a good person, despite where she came from.

She was a good person, right?

Trying to keep her mind off of it, Dice glanced down the corridor. Though she was specifically told to stay in this spot the Devil left her in, her curiosity was piqued. Glancing at the door, Queen Dice stood from the seat, starting down the corridor.

If this would be where she would be trapped for the rest of eternity, she might as well get a look around. The Devil wouldn't even notice that she was gone.

[bnha-more-like-bnh-gay]

Tw: izuku’s self sacrificial tendencies and low self esteem

Izuku being so self sacrificial and just 1000% willing to die for his friends, and really just for anyone, and his friends are so fucking stressed about it :/

Like. It’s so unhealthy, but this kid is just willing to die to protect his friends and genuinely doesn’t understand why it freaks them out. He one time tells them point blank, “I’d die for you” and doesn’t understand why they’re like, “maybe let’s not do that????” He’s just so used to people not caring if he dies, and he thinks that it’s an okay/healthy way to show love and affection

Like, I imagine it is most detrimental with kiri, Shouto, Iida, Uraraka, Aoyama, and tsu. Like kiri is so insistent on telling izuku how manly he is, and how he admires him, and he starts to see how little izuku values his own life and it freaks him out. Like, izuku just doesn’t understand why they’re all telling him to stop and slow down, or why he needs to not jump into fights without backup. But instead keeps telling them that he’d be fine if he died protecting his friends, and it’s so earth shattering to them all

Shouto understands a bit more where izuku is coming from, but he is just so terrified of losing his first friend. Todoroki “ride or die” Shouto does NOT approve. He tries to stop izuku from putting up with bakugou’s bullshit too. He can see how bakugou impacts izuku’s mental health, and he’s the first one to try and separate them and keep izuku out of harms way. Because he knows what being around someone who torments you does to a person, and izuku, who’s so idiotically brave and kind, who sticks his nose in other people’s business for the sake of heroism and wanting them to feel safe, fucking deserves to have the same kind of annoying, amazing, really fucking odd help and support. And if Shouto can provide it, then of course he will

Iida has seen first hand how willing izuku is to jump in to protect his friends-they all have, but I’m talking about the hosu incident-and he’s so grateful for izuku helping him there, but Jesus does it terrify him how izuku just keeps doing it with no regards for his own life. He almost lost tensei, he can’t lose izuku

Uraraka knows how strong izuku is, they all do, but this dude is stressing her the fuck out with his lack of self preservation. She needs her best friend alive, thank you??? She admires him so much in the beginning, his bravery and heroic personality, and that continues, but she’s coming to realize that some of that bravery comes from such a horrible place of not caring if he lives or dies and she’s horrified

Aoyama. The fucking guilt he has right now. Because he knows where izuku is coming from to some degree, and he knows that it’s partially his fault. That if he wasn’t in cahoots with the L.O.V., izuku wouldn’t be so. Like this. He’s not stupid, he knows he’d still be like this. But he wouldn’t have the added pressure of wanting to protect Aoyama, his friend. And Aoyama doesn’t know what to do because he has to help keep his parents safe, but holy shit, what if izuku actually gets killed??

Tsu is rational, but she’s also good at looking at things from other people’s perspectives. But it just hurts so much to see how izuku views his self worth. She understands to a degree, because he grew up with pretty shitty influences (bakugou, the entirety of Aldera middle school, etc.), but she also does. Not. Get. It. She doesn’t want to get it. She loves her friends, and she knows they’re strong, hell, she’s strong as hell, but it’s just terrifying that this 16 year old, who is one of her best friends, who has saved all of their lives several times, is just so. Lackluster when it comes to keeping himself safe.

Mic (because it wouldn’t be one of my rants if I didn’t include my desire for this man to adopt me, but since that can’t happen, we project into also wanting him to adopt izuku) is just so devastated that this kid, a fucking child, a baby has to fight in a goddamn war. This is ridiculous. But just that he’s also so willing to die for literally anyone???? He’s seen where that got Oboro, and fuck if it doesn’t terrify him that, what if the green bean gets irrevocably hurt?? He’s such a kind, and thoughtful, and smart kid, but he’s also so fucking stupid. He doesn’t even mean it as an insult, it’s just so frightening that this child he’s supposed to be protecting is taking it upon himself to try and fix this major issue that has gotten multiple adults, pro-heroes, killed, maimed, and otherwise injured. AND HE IS A 16 YEAR OLD WITH A SHIT LOAD OF TRAUMA. FUCK. And he can’t even do much to try and keep him out of harms way! Hell, the kid isn’t even in his homeroom! But the war is coming and he can’t keep any of the kids away from it, and that’s even worse.

[ineffabeatlemindpalace]

tmi

[ablogthatexistsontheinternet]

the trolley and other problems regarding human life

Deny. Defend. Depose.

Three words fueled by anger and morphed into an anthem.

A dead man, and a question about morality. My opinions on this matter are irrelevant (but they are likely the same as yours given that you’ve stumbled upon this).

My opinions are irrelevant because what I am about to talk about, while it may be political at times, is not as a whole.

I am going to talk about human lives, and I think that you should listen.

Back in 2022, right around when the Dobbs decision happened and Roe v. Wade was overturned, I did a bit of writing. “There is a train,” I wrote, “It is speeding down the track at hundreds of miles per hour. There are five people tied to the track in front of it, facing almost certain doom. You are standing near the track, a lever is in front of you. Pull that lever to shift the track and send the train on a new course, saving the five people. Simple, except, another person is tied to the alternate track, and if you pull that lever, that person gets hit. That person dies. What do you do? Obviously you should pull the lever, saving those five people. That’s the logical option. Five lives are worth more than one. What would I do? Could I stand feeling responsible for that one person’s death? Even if I saved five others? I don’t like this question. I’m afraid to decide. I’m afraid to feel responsible.” I continued to write a bit about indecision and my fear of making choices, and then continued. “There is a mother and a baby. The baby has not yet been born. You have a choice. Kill the unborn baby, or refuse. If you refuse the mother dies, taking the baby with her. Sometimes it’s easier to leave out the consequences of your actions, instead of admitting that someone is going to die, and no matter what it would be your fault. Let the mother live. Pull the fucking lever.”

I do realize, looking back, what I wrote is a very specific example that does not often apply in real life situations, but the question remains: how can you quantify a human life?

Since then I’ve discovered a bit of a theme in the world: it’s all about the trolley (or train I suppose) problem. It’s all about the value of a life. Are those five people worth more than the one? What if you knew them? What if the situation is different? You and someone else you don’t know are on a bridge. There’s a trolley. The only way to stop it from hitting five people is to push the person next to you onto the track to slow it.

Or you can jump. 

And you can die.

And you can save five lives. 

What is the value of a human life? A kid's life, hiding behind her desk in her classroom, gunshots ringing through the halls? A homeless man, drug addicted and lonely? A CEO? A billionaire? A convicted felon, whose trial was just a bit sketchy, sentenced to death? What if he’s guilty? What if he’s innocent? Does it matter? 

What is the value of a human life?

Again and again we ask ourselves that question, not with trolleys and levers but with gun laws and court cases. I’m using the general “we” here, but I understand that not everyone feels like they fit under that, and that’s okay. But I still want you to consider: when’s the last time you’ve looked down on someone? thought someone should die? looked at a homeless woman on the street and refused to give her money because this is her fault? It might be. It probably is. 

Does she deserve to be happy?

Does she deserve to live?

Let me get more specific with something I’ve already talked about in a previous post: Charlotte Corday. She was a woman during the French Revolution who killed the owner of a newspaper, Jean-Paul Marat, because she believed that his writings were responsible for many deaths. She writes to her father about her decisions: “Forgive me, my dear papa, for having disposed of my existence without your permission. I have avenged many innocent victims, I have prevented many other disasters. The people, one day disillusioned, will rejoice in being delivered from a tyrant.”

Her situation is eerily similar to that of our recent “Claims-Adjuster.” Killing a man who’s pen has caused death. Killing a man to save many, and throwing your life away in the process.

Marat was worshipped as a martyr of the revolution after his asassination, but the people see Luigi as a hero. Not all the people, clearly, and this modern era is one where people are a lot less afraid to speak out. There is no threat of guillotine. Not for us. 

What is the value of their lives? Of Corday, a murderer? Of Marat? His writing posed the idea of slaughtering those held in prisons, leading to the September Massacres, yet he supported the French Revolution which aspired for equality of people, of a more democratic society. Brian Thompson was a father. That’s the only thing I’ve really heard about him recently, not that I’ve looked. You should look. He is human, after all. That doesn’t mean I don’t think he’s horrible. Just because he’s horrible doesn't mean he deserved to die. And yet, and yet and yet I am not on his side. I was happy when I heard what happened. It was with sick glee that I repeated the phrase written on bullets as my own sort of victory against the pain and suffering that that man had brought. 

What is the value of a human life?

Of a rapist?

A grandmother?

A baby?

Again and again and again we ask. 

There’s so many corners to the question, so many different scenarios in which it is relevant. The death penalty, for example. It seems dark, archaic, and I am wholly against it. It’s especially concerning when you look at the sheer amount of problems with the justice system. But then you get situations like Gonzolo Lopez. He kidnapped a man, held him for ransom, before killing him with a pickaxe. He was convicted and sentenced to life in prison in 2006, however he escaped from a prison bus in 2022, injuring two police officers. Later that same year he killed another man and his four grandchildren, before being found and killed by police later that day. If he had been executed, five people would’ve been saved. It may not have fixed the original crime, but it would’ve made a difference. So where do you draw the line? What is just? What is injust? 

How much do you value human life?

There’s a trolley. It’s heading down the tracks. There are five people in its path. You have a choice. Pull a lever, reroute the trolley, save five people and kill another. 

Shoot a CEO on his way to work. 

Stab a journalist in his bathtub. 

Sentence an innocent man to death (you thought he did it). 

Sentence a guilty one. 

Choke your abuser. 

Kill yourself because you think the world would be better without you. 

Or do nothing. Wait and wait and wait. Five people are dead, the CEO continues to deny and the journalist continues to write. The innocent man goes free (the real murderer was never found). The guilty man goes free. Maybe he kills someone else. You continue to live with the abuser (you can deal with it, you tell yourself). You live your life.

Nothing changes. 

Is that a bad thing? 

Sometimes it is. I’d rather have you living. I’d rather have that innocent man alive. I’d rather nobody die for the sins they may or may not have committed. 

What about you?

Do you pull the lever?

Do you pull the trigger?

Do you write?

Do you fight?

I only ask because the trolley problem isn’t just life or death or black or white. Tiny actions have power. Your words have consequences (I know it doesn’t feel like it I know I know).

So I ask one final time: how much do you value a human life?

[doilyboily]

So in case some of you don't know, I'm a trans 16yr old in Western Australia, AKA the worst Aus state to live in for trans minors.

I'm serious.

This state is behind on LGBT+ rights by at LEAST 5 years compared to the other states of Aus, our government has been promising to outlaw conversion therapy for the past year (give or take) and still hasn't made it into law. Despite what people believe, conversion therapy is still LEGAL, sure it's difficult to find but it is still fucking legal.

Out of the entire state of WA there is only one clinic that can offer gender affirming care to under 18s, besides the one that offers it to 17-25yr olds, and that is the Gender Diversity Service at Perth Children's Hospital. WA is a huge state, so if you lived in Albany you would need to drive over five hours to get to Perth, it is a ten hour drive there and back.

Sure they offer Telehealth appointments but what about when you need to get your HRT script, or your height and weight recorded? Sure you can do it via Telehealth and give them that info through email but they prefer to meet face to face.

The GDS doesn't have enough staff to meet the demand, and the waitlist for an actual appointment with your care team after the initial assessment is three years. I was on the waitlist from 11-13 1/2 (eleven to thirteen and a half), by the time I had my first real appointment I couldn't even be prescribed puberty blockers because I had already finished puberty. And because of the lack of info regarding minors transitioning in WA, and minors transitioning in Australia in general, my parents were unaware puberty blockers were even a thing, and I ended up thinking that I could start T at 14 with parental consent and after being deemed Gillick Competent.

nope

You can only start HRT here after you turn 16, unless you want to get a telehealth appointment over East and in which case, good luck, because most Drs over there that prescribe to minors are completely booked out. And to make things worse for my mental health, the psychiatrist on my care team said that if I didn't start attending school regularly that I wouldn't be deemed Gillick Competent and therefore, wouldn't be able to start T until I was 18.

That caused me to start having panic attacks almost daily, both while I was getting ready for school and at school drop-off. I was a complete mess, because this psychiatrist held the power to deny me medical care over something that had nothing to do with my ability to comprehend or consent to HRT. I wanted to file a complaint so badly, but my dad wouldn't let me, he said that he didn't have an opinion on it because he wasn't a medical professional and therefore didn't know the standards. So I bit my tongue, because if I did file a complaint she would know who did it, and even if she didn't she would still be kicked off my care team, and then I would have to wait months for a new psychiatrist which wasn't an option, so I clenched my teeth and let her words cause me a depressive episode.

There is so little information regarding transition for minors in WA, that even when I specified what state I was in, I still got info for the other states. So many doctors are still ignorant when it comes to the LGBT+ and trans people, that my own paediatrician tried saying that if gender roles didn't exist, or if a trans person lived on an island isolated from society, that gender dysphoria wouldn't even be a thing. Which is completely untrue, and I was in too much shock from hearing such utter bullshit that I didn't even respond.

I wanted to file a complaint, but my dad argued that he was just being "supportive" in his own way, and that because he was also both my brothers paediatricians, he couldn't possibly have some bias against me, because he's known our family for over twenty years. Mind you, that doctor is known for being dismissive towards girls/females/AFABS with autism and he is very "old fashioned" (cough, ignorant, cough), so why the fuck wouldn't he be ignorant towards the actual science around gender dysphoria?

And then a member of a political party in my state recently proposed that if she was voted into Parliament, that she would ban HRT, Puberty Blockers, and gender affirming surgery, for under 16s.

Which is quite... funny, because HRT is already illegal here for under 16s and you have to have a psych eval that takes years, surgery is only done in cases where gender dysphoria has been documented from a young age and only after multiple very long, very tedious psychological evaluations and even then there still aren't any surgeons in the entire state that would do affirming surgery on minors.

And then banning puberty blockers for under 16s is just fucking horeshit, because how the fuck do you expect puberty blockers to work on someone over 16?? There is nothing to block! Most teens have gone through Tanner stages 1,2 and 3 by age 16 so there are no more significant changes to be prevented, except maybe height but even then its not a guarantee.

She only announced this after it was confirmed that the gender reassignment board would be abolished, therefore making it so that trans people no longer have to have genital surgery to have their sex markers changed in our state, y'know, something that most of the other states have already done.

I'll probably continue this post after i get the rest of my thoughts in order, so I'll tell you all (glances at 50 followers, most of whom are bots) more about how shitty this state is for trans minors maybe in a few days.

[chronal-anomaly]

I'm gonna get a little salty real quick on here, but I kept thinking about this for the past few days and it's just driving me mad so.

I'm - and have been, really - annoyed with Tracer's treatment both from the fandom in general and Blizz, especially with the next gen of Overwatch. They cannot, and will not, commit to placing her somewhere and committing to it. And while yes, that's kinda her schtick in a way, a person sliding between times and not really fitting in with either, it's clear that they didn't plan that; they just forgot about her.

Lena was literally leading the Havana mission. She was being overseen by Sojourn, but she was the point woman on it. Her calls, her plans, took down Max. She's seen plenty of combat, more than half the roster if you go by the shorts alone, and yet, there is no talk of bringing her up into leadership during Recall. She was the first one to answer, but oh no, we can't have a Recall unless Cassidy comes in and saves the day - and this is not a hate on Cassidy at all, it's an important plotline for him to go from essentially forced servitude to running the show - but still, she's just considered the 'funky pilot'.

It's canon again and again that Jack had a vested interested in her. She was to Jack what Cass was to Gabe. And yet she is continously overlooked in lore and just in fan stuff. And I absolutely hate to play this card but it does make me wonder that, if she was male, would more people support it??? idk man I'm just super salty today.

[kataratakaran]

The First Experiment. The First Success. Death would have been the kinder option. But he'd chosen change instead. He's going to have to live with that.

Ichi was the first to be experimented on, and the first to survive. It is his pawprints that the Master used to make the guidelines everyone else follows.

The Facility is not a happy, fun, or comfortably place. It is a place where one Receives Orders, and Obeys Orders, or they are Culled. So long as they are good for Master, the Master will be Good to them. Ichi obeys, but he is a cat. Some subversion and heel-digging is expected.

But he is First. He has a responsibility to all those who come after.

[dreamingofbabylon]

group therapy wasn't particularly helpful for me in the intended way, but I do think about those people a lot. a small town partial-hospitalization program is such a weird cross section of humanity. I was one of the only people who was there voluntarily (at my therapist's suggestion)- most people were court ordered to be there, or it was part of a another more extensive program for them. one guy asked me out on a date (i declined). one lady, instead of looking for guidance on her actual life, posed a lot of questions and moral dilemmas from reality TV and soap operas. I less-than tactfully informed her that Dr Phil is not in fact a real doctor. someone was recounting a graphic story about a relative committing animal abuse (not in a therapy discussion just casually chatting like it was a little anecdote). And when I expressed that I didn't want to hear about it, these two boomers, on god, said essentially "people get all worked up about animals but no one cares about veterans 🙄😤 it's so stupid" like. hello ???????????

I guess my point is it really puts things in perspective

[majachee]

OC ask game: 24! Studying has made me crave angst

How my silly guys handle the deaths of someone they know?

Hrm... good question. You didn't specify an OC but for someone like Macaque death is something he's grown used to logically, but seeing a violent death still (understandably) sends him into shock and causes him to freeze up. The brutality of both god and man disturbs him.

For older, more experienced deities it really depends on whether that person was mortal or immortal and how close they were. Gods view death differently than mortals. It's both something inevitable yet untouchable. Due to their expanded lifespans and durability/strength, a god dying is hard to grasp for some, while a mortal man dying is seen as a regular, naturally occurance.

The relevance of prophecy also influences one's perception of death, naturally. This question is very broad and even then my OCs have a wide range of emotion and philosophy.

[the-great-donatello]

There will be no more warnings. We’ve kept LILY waiting long enough. Let’s go. - IRIS OS

(% sorry for late reply i just saw that you answered the ask hgdbdbs)

No. I'm not going with you- Death would be fucking nicer than the bullshit you're offering.

[russenoire]

please TAG YOUR SHIT. for the love of all that is holy, tag your posts so that people can protect themselves.

and tag accurately. you don't need to censor tags on [tumblr]. please don't do this. tagging, say, a suicide mention with cutesy euphemisms like #sewer slide or #unalive or #su*c*de or whatever just makes it harder for others to find or block.

TAG YOUR SHIT.

“You are responsible for the minors in your fandom!!!”

No, I’m fucking not. I’m not your parent. My past-times do not automatically sign me up to act in loco parentis. If you need someone else to monitor your own content consumption online, go get mommy and/or daddy to set up a content blocker on your computer.

[fangirls-fanfiction]

I just finished up chapter two lol

Story below undercut:

"Will you quit crying?"

The Devil dragged a sobbing Queen Dice into her office, looking her over just to make sure all the fire was completely out. Aside from a small ember on the top of her head, everything seemed to be fine. Though what wasn't fine was Dice's clothes being burnt and smoldered, along with a good portion of her hair burnt much shorter. She was a downright mess.

"I don't know what you were thinking—" The Devil scoffed as she closed the bedroom door behind her. "What were you expecting to happen when you got close to Hellfire?!"

"I— I— "

"Do you have any idea what could've happened if I hadn't gotten there in time? You could've died! Or worse!"

"... W— Worse than dying...?" Queen Dice asked.

"The point is that I told you to stay put!"

"I— I know... I should've listened... I'm sorry..."

"Damn right."

The Devil rolled her eyes, quickly changing the subject. She put the small flame out atop Dice's head, taking care of the rest if the fire.

"Are you alright?" She asked, impatiently.

"I was— I— I was nearly burnt to— To— To smithereens by y— Your Hellfire, do you think I'm— I'm ok?" Queen Dice hiccuped as she spoke through her tears, though still managed to sneak in the snide comments.

"Hey, I don't need the sass." The demon snarled back at her. "Now, let's get you cleaned up."

"What— What am I gonna do?" Dice sniffed, looking down to her ruined dress. "This was one of my m— Mamas favorite dresses..."

"Well, I think you could used a new style anyway. A show woman like you doesn't wear things like..." The Devil gestured to her dress. "That."

"But... B— But I've always worn dresses like these... If— If my mama were to find out I disobeyed her, she would— She— She would— "

Queen Dice was cut of by a loud groan from the Devil.

"For Hellfire's sake, following your parents' rules is so... Boring." The demon rolled her eyes. "What's life without getting to choose things for yourself, huh? For Hell's Sake! You're a grown woman, you don't need your mommy's approval."

Queen Dice thought for a moment, but didn't say anything.

"So what do you want to do? You can wear that stupid dress, or you can try to think for yourself for a change."

Lucifer sighed, noticing her rather unsure expression. "Look, why don't we start with the hair? Hm? Why don't we cut it all at the same length, and if you don't like it, I'll turn it back to normal. Deal?"

"O— Ok..."

"Great, now let me see."

Hesitantly turning around, Queen Dice gave the demon a better look at what she was working with. Though to the demon's horror, it was going to be a rather tough battle.

"I'm going to have to cut a lot off of this to make it even."

"What are you, a hair stylist?" Queen Dice asked.

"When living on this miserable planet for so long, one must have different hobbies." The demon explained nonchalantly.

"Besides stealing souls?"

"Yes, besides stealing souls. Now, hold still."

With a simple wave of her hand, a pair of scissors and a comb appeared in the demon's hands and she got to work. Queen Dice flinched as she cut her hair. The scissors being about level with her shoulders; quite a bit was being cut off indeed. Dice began crying again, obviously trying to keep her emotions at bay but letting a few hiccups slip through.

"I said hold still." The demon tugged on her hair slightly.

"S— Sorry." Queen Dice wiped the tears away.

"Can't you do things right the first time you're asked to?"

"So— Sorry..."

"Stop apologizing."

"S— I mean... Ok..."

Rolling her eyes, the Devil continued. A few minutes later, the demon finished, putting the scissors and comb aside.

"Turn around, let me see."

Dice's curls were much more pronounced with the shorter hair, giving it less weight and more freedom for the locks to curl every which way. The poor girl's hair looked an absolute mess. She'd hate for Dice not to feel confident about her new haircut, especially to prove her point. So she thought up a way to make it look better at its current shoulder length compared to the long length it was.

"Hold still."

She took Dice by a couple of locks of hair in each side of her face, pulling her hair out of her eyes. Those beautiful, emerald green eyes. The demon stared, tilting her head to one side for a moment. She really did look nice with the shorter hair, even with her longer hair Dice was a very attractive lady. A very very attractive lady. Especially her green eyes. They complimented the purplish-pink color to her hair so well, especially with this short hair. A familiar feeling began to grow in the pit of the demon's stomach.

Though, realizing she'd been staring for too long, the demon let go of her hair

"Turn back around for a second."

Doing as she was told again without even a word, the only sound Queen Dice made was a small sniffle as she seemed to be still crying.

Summoning a hair clip, the demon did her best to pull back Dice's hair to keep it out of her face. Satisfied with her work, a mirror appeared, the Devil facing Dice towards it.

"How is that? Do you like it or do you want to change it back?"

Queen Dice stared at her reflection, blinking. She seemed surprised, intrigued even. She stared for so long that the Devil was convinced she hated it.

"Look," The demon sighed. "If you don't like it, you don't have to give me the silent treatment."

"No!" Queen Dice turned around to face her. "I love it. Thank you... Boss."

The Devil's narrow gaze widened slightly, her ember eyes staring at Dice for a moment. That feeling in her gut returned unexpectedly, this time accompanied by a weird sensation in her chest. Though strange, it wasn't a feeling that the demon particularly hated. It felt nice. Scary, but nice. Perhaps it was because— No, it was a simple thing that she'd never experienced before;

She'd never been thanked before. Not that she regularly did nice things but in the occasion that she did, she didn't usually receive very positive feedback. Why, just the other day, some dumb baby had dropped its favorite toy without the mother realizing. Feeling rather kind that day, the Devil decided to return it to its rightful owner... Only to receive a blood curdling scream and a smack across the face from the mother's purse in return. Mortals were just too quick to jump to conclusions when it came to the ruler of Hell.

The demon's neutral expression returned with that thought.

"Whatever." The Devil rolled her eyes as she began to walk away. "Go get yourself cleaned up and come back to my office." She stopped as she opened the door for Dice. "I have a special job for you; if a self-proclaimed, show-woman such as yourself can do it right."

"Wh..." Queen Dice decided to ignore the comment. "What 'special job' do you mean?"

"If you're such a connoisseur of music and dance, then you're going to use that to get me souls. A lot of souls."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Get yourself dressed, you look like you just crawled out of a house fire."

"Ok..." Queen Dice walked out the door, the demon slamming it behind her.

Once she heard Dice's footsteps far enough away, the Devil sighed loudly, slouching back to her desk.

"C'mon, Dev, get ahold of yourself... You can't do this to yourself again..." She told herself as she sat down in her comfy chair behind her desk and leaned her chin on her hand.

"It's never worth it when you're the Devil..."

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Queen Dice let out a deep breath, knocking on the door of her new Boss' office. Her nerves were a wreck. Especially after a near-death experience, making a deal with the literal Devil, nearly getting burnt alive from Hellfire, and getting this new haircut and style in roughly the same week— She was particularly tense.

Though after wearing this new suit her boss had so generously given to her, she found a new sense of self. All her life, she was just another Dice from that family of hers. But looking in that mirror, her name meant something. It gave her a new found confidence.

But that confidence was quickly lost when she knocked on her Boss' door. What was left slipped through her fingertips when the door opened.

Offering a smile at the demon, Lucifer only seemed to glare at her as she opened the door wider and walked off back to her desk.

"So, Dice," The Queen of Hell started, sitting on her rather comfy-looking chair. "About that job I was talking about?"

"Yes?"

"You're a Dice, right? You've lived your life on the stage. And you've got talent like no other."

"Y— Yes? You know about my family...?"

"Let's just say that I've gotten to know your father pretty well." The demon smirked.

Queen Dice blinked, grimacing at that thought, though not saying anything.

"Not in that way." The Devil frowned, seeming to read the woman's mind. "I mean that he's made quite a few deals with me. Where'd you think he got all his money?"

"Hard work and dedication?"

Old Scratch rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Anyways, about that job."

"Yes?"

"I want a way to bring in unsuspecting souls. In a town as bland as Inkwell, no one can resist a pretty little lady who dances and sings."

Queen Dice didn't say anything, still she felt the heat rise to her face. Something about her Boss calling her a 'pretty little lady' left her rather speechless and surprisingly flattered.

"A game show. One that no one can lose. Hosted by a pretty doll no one can say no to."

"M— Me?" Queen Dice asked, pointing to herself.

"Yes, you, you blockhead!"

Backing a step away, Dice shut her mouth, nodding.

"A person plays three games— Incredibly easy, anyone, even the most incompetent person can win them— " The Devil continued to explain, standing from her seat. "And after they win, they get to go to the... The..." The demon stopped, seeming to have not thought up the finishing detail.

"The... Mystery... Surprise Room...?" Queen Dice offered on the spot.

"Yes! The Mystery Surprise Room!" Lucifer seemed excited by that idea, putting a smile on Dice's face.

The things that seemed to make the Devil happy were very... Odd. Not everyone was obsessed with getting their hands on every soul in the world. Though seeing that spark of excitement and joy on her Boss' face made Dice want to keep her happy. Please her in any way possible, even if the things that made her happy were very... Unorthodox.

"And do you know what the surprise will be, Dice?" The Devil got closer, her smile turning to a sneer.

"What?"

"That's when I snatch their soul."

"O— Oh..." Dice's gaze fell to the floor.

It felt wrong. So wrong. Just plain evil to lure people in with her charm and talent just for them to get their soul snatched away from them.

"I'm— I'm not so sure if I can— "

"When you work for me, you do as I say. And you do it perfectly. Unless you'd like to know what Hellhounds eat for their breakfast."

"N— No! I'll do it— I'll host the show for you." Queen Dice panicked.

"Good, good... Now you'd better go get some rest. Opening night is tomorrow night." The demon started back to her desk.

"T— Tomorrow?! B— But I can't— How am I supposed to know what to do by tomorrow?! Don't I get a script or— Or— Or something?!"

"You're the show woman, figure it out."

"Buh— But— Boss!"

"But Boss!" The Devil mocked her. "I'm not the one who made the deal. You work for me, you follow my rules."

Queen Dice was close to tears at this point. She hated her Boss. God she hated her. There was no reasoning with her, no matter how batshit insane her standards were, there was no talking her out of it. Still, Dice refused to cry in front of her Boss, she hated to see what would happen if she found Dice crying. No doubt mockery would come soon after. So she held them back, only letting a small, shaken breath slip.

"Yes, Boss." She managed to choke out as she walked out of the office.

The door clicking behind her, a few tears ran down her face. Silently crying, she quickly wiped them away, in fear that a demon or an imp might see her.

Every moment since the beginning of all this, the same question ran through Dice's mind.

Was death really worse than this?

[whattadroid]

So it's been a few days but I can't stop thinking about this. It's kind of a long story so I'll put it under the cut but there's a tldr in the tags.

When I got home from rewatching Alien: Romulus, there was blood smeared all over the tile floor in my bathroom. There were drag marks, something seemed to roll around in it, and there were large blood droplets everywhere. My bathroom is like 7ft by 6ft, and when I mean everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE.

And in the middle of the room, completely still, at the center of all of the blood, stood a mouse.

The mouse was FULLY untouched. I like, angled myself around it to look for injuries and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. It even moved a step at one point so I could see under where it was standing and there was NOTHING.

My cats aren't allowed in my bathroom (the door is always closed) but I checked them over and they were all fine. My dogs aren't even allowed in the room attached to the bathroom, but they were fine too.

There was (imo) too much blood to have all come from a mouse, and the blood droplets looked like they needed to be dripped from at LEAST 1ft in the air. They were the sort of heavy drops that HUMANS get when they're bleeding heavily for god's sake. I wish I had taken a picture before I mopped it all up, but I didn't.

So I had JUST come home from watching a movie with a scene involving a really fucked up rat only to then open the door to my blood-covered bathroom and see a mouse standing perfectly still in the center.

Anyway, I sort of quietly closed the door and let that mouse do whatever it wanted, because it was very alive so I couldn't just grab it. I assume the blood WAS from a mouse (maybe even THAT mouse, somehow) and it just dragged it around so far that it looked like a murder scene, but I have no explanation for the blood drops. They aren't pools of blood, they were DROPS, and they were clean and uniform.

We have a security system and my parents were home the whole time. There are no windows in my bathroom, but there is a vent on the ceiling. Whatever it was, it started bleeding once it was inside of my bathroom, stopped bleeding at the end of a trail, and then vanished. Or, if it WAS the mouse, did a very very very good job at hiding any injuries it had and carefully maneuvering from the end of the trail--through wet blood--to its eventual spot at the only clean spot in the center of my bathroom floor.

The mouse was gone when I checked back an hour later.

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

FUCKING NOBODY:

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOBODY EVER:

MY MOTHER TELLING ME TO STOP TALKING ABOUT MY TRANS FRIENDS, STOP TALKING ABOUT BEING GAY, STOP PULLING MY BROTHER UP ON BEING RACIST, AND GENERALLY "STOP DOING THINGS TO AGGRAVATE" MY LITERAL SELF PRONOUNCED NAZI BROTHER BECAUSE "IT JUST MAKES HIM MORE DETERMINED":

I WISH I WAS FUCKING JOKING