#vague suicidal ideation

[dittolicous]

part three of raging stealth black!sanji i guess! (part one - part two)

sanji is very aware that he's just a means to an end. that he's being lied to and used and manipulated. he was given a butchered version of his 'life history' to make up for his amnesia, which included the strawhats abandoning him when he proved too weak and got hurt, something which he had no frame of reference to doubt when he first awoke from death

but if vinsmoke judge is anything, its being ridiculously bad at foresight and little details

honestly, how did he really expect to hide the relative truth with the strawhats being such big names? their journey has been documented, and while its clearly got some biases, sanji can read between the lines. little details are his *job*, thats all espionage is!

so, yeah. he knows hes being used to get the strawhat pirates, knows that he and his siblings are nothing but manufactured tools

it just adds another coal to the growing fire pit of rage in his stomach. its really all he can feel these days, this growing red hot anger, so bright that he perpetually, endlessly fights to keep flames from dancing along his form. he cant place it at first, has no reason to dislike his fathers hand on his shoulder the night he finally awakens, yet the weight lights something within him. his skin prickles where the hand had rested. he wants to scratch it off, to remove the tainted section of his body

he says nothing. good children are seen and not heard.... hes good, yes? right? thats... what he wants?

(can he even want? everything is so empty, so quiet... why-why-why-)

his brother's hollow laughter, the smell of bins full of rotting food, the bubble-filled cloning tubes, the taste of his sisters poison in the air as it lays waste to their enemies, the joyous smile on his fathers face...

sanji also knows he shouldn't be able to feel, yet he can very clearly name this white hot feeling taking root deep within him - rage, unabashed and uncontrollable

when hes not dreaming of sea salt, citrus, or distant laughter, he dreams of vinsmoke blood staining the ground, of satisfaction as his heels dig into ribs, of inflicting every wound they ever gave him right back at them (an odd thing, his waking mind supplies, seeing as his family has never hurt him...), of crushing the shells to the sailing snails which house this tyrannical kingdom

he had hoped to exorcize the demons haunting his dream by gathering knowledge, hence why he sought outside information sources (ie where ever judge deemed worth attacking), surely these unbiased sources would clear away this doubt that should never have exsisted!

instead the roots of his vitriol are set. there is no going back to sanji that woke to his family's supposedly loving faces

they are warmongers, destroyers... liars... they take more than they could ever need or desire... he isn't a son or brother, hes nothing more than another plunder of victory. a walking symbol of their prowess

what do these fools even hope to achieve with their senseless grapples for power? kingdoms?? glory of germa66? scientific might?

don't make him laugh

sanji might only be a means to an end, but so are they, not that those arrogent buffoons even realize

(he cannot say how he knows nor does he really care, but the danger of the world government runs deeper than any outsider could ever grasp - the five shadowy beasts of his dreams tell him so with guttural voices and air-tainting bloodlust)

all too soon it becomes clear that life is nothing but pointless suffering, engineered by tyrants just like vinsmoke judge, just like the shadow beasts whos screams having him waking in cold-sweats, there is no end... they are only free from this horrible cycle in the embrace of death. the dead cannot bleed nor starve nor struggling to breath through grief filled lungs. life is children sobbing over the prone form of their parents or hollowed faces taking mouthfuls of poisoned water to quiet aching stomachs...

the vinsmokes take blindly and foolishly, they took everything from him, took his life, his memories, his heart, left him nothing but a tense anger that leaves his muscles aching and fingers twitching to destroy, pride blinding them to the encroaching cliff into hell

if they wish for hell so badly, who is sanji to deny them? he will bring down the flames of hell and rip clean through the earth to deliver them personally. every sensless act of violence, every life taken without a blink of an eye, every drop of blood the fed the ground, sanji shall return tenfold, yet deny them the relief of death just as they stole him from his

he'll go along with their little plan to draw out the strawhat pirates, give them the easy satisfaction they desire, and just when they feel victory by the tips of their fingers.... they will learn what life is truly like by sanji's very own hands

(and if he holds tightly to the fleeting moments of calm like a balm on his burned exoskeleton, brought on by the face of his former captain or flashes of green from the perpetually lost swordsmen, no one has to know

none of it will matter in the end)

[timasco-tabasco]

No bc like I get that this is the only way it could have ended. Like I get it. Theming and all that or whatever. But oh my god??? Never before has an anime made me want to kill myself as much as this???? I don’t cry during shows. I almost fucking cried. I think I would have cried if my parents weren’t sitting next to me asking if I’m watching another gay show and if Ash and Eiji are gay or just friends.

Genuinely tho, this show is sooo well written. The way they handled the plot and the themes and like Ash’s trauma was so well done. I think imma just sit and disassociate for the next like however long.

I was sooo fucking excited to read the fanfic for this (bc I have a feeling it’s gonna be good) but ohhhhh my god. I was so ready until like the last *four minutes happened and now I want to die*

[stil-lindigo]

lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)

if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.

--

no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.

I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.

I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.

If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.

[sad-leon]

i dont have a clever caption for this one

[ciderjacks]

This always stuck with me for some reason. I wonder what he saw.

[brinnanza]

"oh they both support genocide I'm not voting idc what happens to my rights" cool but it's not just your rights it's my fucking life. it's the lives of every disabled person, every queer person, every person of color, every poor person, every jew, every muslim, every single person who does not fit the white nationalist capitalist ideal. trying to survive as a disabled trans person is hard enough and I'm white!!! there are axies of oppression that do not apply to me and let me tell you I only barely survived the first trump term. I'd probably survive a second one, but a lot of people won't. A lot of people didn't survive the first one.

I don't know how to tell you that you should care about other people

[disniq]

Thinking about this panel

in relation to this one

[byrdtrollsunoreversearchive]

Three Things Rollyn Firlyn Does Not Remember

(teehee, if you want to read the drabble preceding this one, it is here)

Two months into their relationship, Rollyn Firlyn and Sunset Blinks are on a video call in Rollyn’s seemingly endless closet. She holds up a dress so he can see in the camera. 

“Yay or nay” She says. 

“Hmm” He thinks. “Maybe if you swap back to the other bodysuit with it?” He says. 

“It’s coldddd” She complains. “I’m not wearing that.” 

“Not the sleeveless one” he corrects. “The one with the sequins.” 

“Oh” She says, going back to look for the offending bodysuit, and accidentally knocking over her phone. 

“Ow- dammit” She curses, picking it up. 

“Did you drop me?” Sunset jokes. “I broke all my bones.” 

“Sunset, why can’t you just BE here” She voices, gesturing frustratedly. 

“I have work,” he says. 

“This party is kind of important to me” She sighs. 

“So is my work” He replies. 

“Yeah yeah, I know.” She complains. “But we’re doing something important here, the fundraisers for a really good cause” 

“I know” he sighs, “And I am so proud of you, and I wish I could be there, but I can’t. I told you, I would-” 

“Yeah, I heard your whole stupid monologue” She complains. “‘I will compromise with you on every single front but one’” She quotes her lover, in a mockery of Sunset’s voice. Sunset is silent for a long moment, and the quiet goes on so long even the video call cannot disguise the hurt in his eyes. 

“Don’t look like a kicked puppy” She pleads. “Our second date, you told me you were always going to put your mafia bullshit above all else '' She says, stepping out of the view to change her clothes. “Do you not hear how you sound?” She says, dejected. “You’re difficult to understand, Sunset. You are so loving and reasonable so much of the time, but. So obsessed with whatever stupid highblood criminal powergrab that constantly occupies your waking mind. You walk and talk like you’re so much better than that. And I wish you could be.” She rambles, hurt. She is well used to being disappointed by highbloods, and she does not think him any different. 

“That’s- not what’s happening here” He says, finally. “I’m not looking for power.” He says. 

“Are you?” She retorts. “Or do you just have a more convenient excuse than other clowns?” 

“Rollyn,” He pleads. 

“Prove me wrong,” She says. “Prove me wrong, Sunset, I beg of you. You’re better than this.” 

She is once again answered by silence. 

“Well?” She insists. 

“I can’t tell you why,” He says. “But you have deeply misunderstood the situation.” 

“Why can’t you tell me!” She snaps. “I tell you everything Sunset! I’m an open book! I put so much trust in you! You won’t put any in me?” She says, frustrated, pulling on her dress. 

“Rollyn, I…” He starts but can’t finish. 

“I took a leap of faith,” She says. “I took the leap of faith, as a mutant, into the arms of a rich highblood in a gang. I hoped so much you would prove my assumptions wrong.” 

“Can we wait?” He says, “To have this conversation in person?” 

“No,” She says. 

“On another night?” he tries. 

“No.” She retorts. 

“In a few hours?” He says quietly.

“It can’t wait” She huffs. 

“If I told you” He says carefully. “You’d understand.” 

“Then TELL ME!” She says, holding the phone close. 

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. 

“You can always wipe my memory if it goes wrong” She jokes, bitterly. 

“I would never do that to you unless you asked,” He says. “I promise.” 

“What are you afraid of?” She says. 

“A lot of things” he says, trying to dig up the words to explain, trying to drag a well kept secret out of an iron box. He had buried this so deep for his safety. It’s easy to say. It should be easy to say. Throw a couple words in a sentence, Sunset, you can do it. 

“I…” He starts. “You know my tattoos, on my chest?” He says. 

“The lines, and the arms?” She says, confused. 

“I got them to cover up surgical scars.” He admits. “I- was born a mutant. I had an extra pair of arms and pectorals, until a sweep ago, when I got them removed” He says. “So I could infiltrate the mafia, and take it down from the inside. I wiped the memory of how I used to be from everyone's mind. I- was not treated well… growing up on the streets, as a mutant. I was in a circus. I had a lot of hard jobs. It’s why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s not just, stupid power bullshit, I promise. When I say ‘I get it’ I mean it, I really mean it Rollyn I do. But if I let my guard down about this Mafia thing for a second- if I missed a single spot in erasing everything I could of my past- I could be in real danger.” 

And now it is Rollyns turn to stand there in stunned silence, trying to process what she’s just heard. 

“You’re serious?” She says, running her hand through her hair.

“Yes, and I have proof if you need it- but also Rollyn- you just did that” He says, as she messes up the hair she had just spent a while styling. “Don’t touch it, you have the party, remember? I’m sorry. This was probably a bad time for this conversation. But in my defense, I tried to tell you that.” 

Rollyn’s wings droop a little, shamefully. 

“I’m sorry-” She says. “I didn’t think- I. Shit. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” He says. “I would have done the same in your situation.” 

“Shit” The supermodel says, her wings fluttering nervously as she tries to fix her hair. “Go to work! If you have to. Hang up. Stay safe. I love you.” She stutters. “I’m sorry” 

“I love you too,” He says. “It’s okay- I’m gonna be okay.” He reassures. “Look at me Rollyn. You’re gonna nail it” He says. 

“Yeah?” She replies. 

“Yeah. Goodbye” He says. “I love you” He repeats, and hangs up the phone. 

.

.

.

.

.

“Really” She says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No fancy restaurant?” 

“Aren’t you drowning in suitors who would treat you to fancy restaurants?” He teases. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m tired of it” She says, squeezing his hand, glancing down the street they’re walking down with trepidation. It feels so civilian, so exposed. Fears for her own safety turn restlessly in her pan, the mutant’s wings held close to their body.

He seems to pick up on the tension in her stance, giving Rollyn’s hand a squeeze. 

“You’re safe” he says, leaning over to kiss the woman’s forehead. “I promise.” And its a mark of the trust that had continued to grow between them since his confession, that Rollyn believes him. 

“I don’t think I’ve walked” She says, “More than like, a couple blocks, in ages” 

“Aren’t you glad I made you change out of those heels?” He jokes, and she shoulder checks him. 

“You have Rollyn Firlyn on your doorstep” She says. “I came all the way across town to see you- trolls would kill to take your place- and you took me grocery shopping?”

“I told you” He grins. “I have errands today. You can come over but we’re not doing anything fancy” He says, stepping into the laundromat.

“Sunset,” She says. “Aren't we both rich?” She continues. “I appreciate your down to alternia attitude but you can’t expect me to believe you can’t pay someone to do your laundry.” 

“You are just as beautiful to me in a laundromat,” He says. “As you are on the red carpet.” 

She crosses her arms. 

“This is just starting to feel like some kind of strange performance art” They say, “To domesticate me. Or prove I’m stuck up. Which is rich coming from you.” 

“I would be here” he says, “Whether you came over or not. I said I have errands tonight, and I meant it.” 

“You own over ten casinos” She says, Sunsets power in the mafia having grown exponentially since that fateful night Nycisn entrusted him with the pier. “And none of them have a laundry machine?” 

“That hard to believe I just like doing laundry?”He says, the tiniest bit of his tongue sticking out as it was prone to do. “You know- recreationally.”

“Who does laundry recreationally?” She teases. “That’s like taking aspirin for the thrill. Yes, darling, I find that hard to believe.” 

The man behind the laundromat counter is glancing at the couple in disbelief, as if he cannot believe a supermodel is just standing in his dime a dozen shop as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“‘’xcuse me, m’am,” he says, “Are you the lady from that skincare commercial?” 

She turns, flashing him a smile, maybe relishing a bit in his surprise. 

“The one and only” She says. 

“Gosh” He says, sheepishly. “You’d think you’d have maids doing your laundry.” 

The woman lets out a loud bark of a laugh. 

“Ha! You’d think” She says, making eyes at her kismesis. 

“I brought her here” Sunset replies, rolling his eyes in answer, the ghost of a smile on his face. 

“Hey,” Says Rasley, the laundromat operator. “Are you famous too? You look familiar.” He says. 

“Only in some circles,” Sunset replies, looking away, rubbing his arm. 

“Don’t be so ominous,” Rollyn says, glancing between the two of them, trying to figure out what’s happening here. The machine finishes, and Sunset pulls his clothes from it. 

“Dunno what that’s s’pposed to mean” Rasley shrugs. “But I swear I’ve seen you before.” 

“I’ve come here before,” Sunset admits. “Sans Rollyn. To do laundry.” 

“Yeah, he’s a real laundry head,” Rollyn jokes. “Laundries recreationally.” 

“Never heard of somebody doin’ that before” Rasley says, fascinated. 

“I invented it” Sunset says, taking Rollyn’s hand in the one not currently holding his bag. “See you around” He promises, flashing a smile, before turning to exit. 

“Wait,” Rasley says, “I never got your name” He mutters, but the purpleblood does not answer. 

Rollyn walks in silence for a moment, before turning back to him. 

“So what was all that?” She says. 

“Hmm?” he replies, swinging the hand she’s holding. 

“You and the laundromat guy! What’s the deal” She teases. 

“There is no deal,” Sunset says. 

“You have a crush on him” She guesses, grinning, thinking she has it all figured out. “That’s why you do your laundry there!” 

Sunset's hand goes to his face. 

“AH!” Rollyn squeals girlishly, believing she’s hit the money. “Are you flustered? That’s so cute,"she says, charmed. 

“I do not,” Sunset says. 

“Yeah right” Rollyn grins, glancing back at the shop. “Big old country guy. He is cute, "she teases. “Want me to play wingwan???? I’m very good at it, "she says, flapping her wings jokingly. 

.

.

.

.

.

Three months later, Rollyn lovingly dabs a small, stitched up wound on her kismesis’s shoulder. 

“Should we change the bandage color to match the dress” Sunset jokes. 

“Sunset!” Rollyn chides. 

“What! I want you to look good” He smiles, sticking out his tongue. 

“I don’t think they make medical gauze in different colors.” She dismisses. 

“They should,” He says. “For the stylishly injured” He jokes, wincing as she wraps the wound. 

“I just-” She sighs. “Sometimes disturbs me how flippant you are about this sort of thing.” 

“Babe,” he says. “It’s a couple inch wound. Barely five stitches.” 

“You got stabbed,” She says. 

“On the arm” he retorts. 

“I worry about you” She says, her brows furrowed as she seals the wrapping with medical tape. 

“I’m fine,” He says. “Sometimes you’ve got to lose a little to win a little,” He says. 

“Oh, so getting stabbed was part of the plan? That’s not better, "she sighs. 

“Gimme a month, I’ll be good as new” He says. “I’m sure no one at the premiere will even notice.” 

Rollyn looks over her work once, twice, and then sighs. 

“What is the plan, Sunset?” They say. 

“For… the premiere?” He says. “I dunno, I figured we’d smooze around enough for the press to get photos, and then dip and go get sushi or something.” 

“Not for the premiere,” She says. “I mean. The plan plan. The mother of all plans. The, I’m going to infiltrate the mafia and take it down from the inside plan," she says. 

“You’re really good at asking easy questions,” He says. “Right before parties.” 

“Sorry,” She says. “I know it’s- sensitive information. And can’t go into the wrong hands. And all I ever get to hear about it is vague asides and talk about Kokoro faking his death and Midas’s mirror demon and all the nonsense. But, can you just tell me one thing?” She says. 

He is silent for a moment. 

“Depends what thing” he says. 

“You know I love you, Sunset?” She says. “You mean the universe to me. I could live a thousand lifetimes and I’d want to fall in love with you everytime.” She says. “Can you promise me one thing?” 

“No fair” He jokes, his left arm gently touching his left arm in trepidation. “You can’t lead with that. What thing?” 

“Promise me,” She says. “You don’t lose more than you win on this one. Promise me- at the end of all of this- When, if, Midas dies- you’ll be okay.” She says. “Can you promise me you’ll be fine?” 

He does not meet her gaze. 

“There are a lot of variables at play here” He says, an answer that sounds as weak and pedantic in his mouth as it did in his head. 

“It’s your plan.” She says, reaching over and tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “Can’t you pick where it ends?” 

“There is always an element of risk,” He sighs. “That is out of my control.” 

“Promise me,” She says. “That sacrificing yourself somehow is not part of the plan.” 

“I…” he trails off. “There's no way to do this without risk.” He repeats himself, lamely. 

“Promise me” She pleads. “You got stabbed, Sunset! You were lucky to get away with five stitches and you’re laughing like it's nothing!” They say, their voice cracking. “It hurts,” She says. “To see you care about yourself so little. Do you have any idea, how many sleepless days I’ve had, wondering if you’re out there getting shot or killed or discovered- promise me there's a light at the end of it all, promise me you’ll be okay” She pleads, covering her face. 

Sunset is silent for a moment, before sitting down, staring at the wall, and then back at her, and then back at the wall. 

“I can’t promise you that” He says. 

Rollyn struggles to ease her breathing. 

“You are in” She says. “Over your head.” 

“No, I’m not.” He says. “I know what I’m-” 

“It’s not too late to back out, Sunset!” She pleads. “Whatever he did to you. It’s not too late to change your mind and run”

He stares at her, unable to answer. 

“It is too late,” Sunset says, finally. 

“We could go to Gihyun,” Rollyn says. “We could ask her for help” 

“Rollyn,” He pleads. 

“We could run away together” She begs. “Take the biggest pile of mafia money they have- and run. Find a new city. Find a new life.” 

“I can't,” he says. 

“Why not!” 

“Tes Roven is my home,” He says. “I promised someone. I would see this through to the end. I would go down fighting.” 

“I don’t want to lose you” Rollyn chokes. Finally losing her battle to not cry. “This isn't fair.” She says. “You can’t make me care about you so much, and then care about yourself so little.” She sobs, “I know you have a friend who died” She says. 

Sunset freezes, suddenly, like a deer in the headlights, never having deliberately shared that information with her. 

She sighs. “That night you sent me your old private instagram post, to make fun of how you used to do your hair” She says, wiping her face. “I looked at the other photos on it. It’s full of photos of you and a girl. And then she just stops showing up in the photos. I noticed it was the same girl you have a picture of in your wallet. You’re not the only one who can play detective” She says. 

He is still staring at the wall, as if barely hearing what she’s saying at all. 

“Whoever she was. Is this really what she would have wanted?” She pleads. 

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about” He warns, softly, gently. 

“You’re alive,” Rollyn says. “I’m alive. Can’t we both just be alive and in love and be fine, Sunset. I know you’re hurt. I’m sure she meant the world to you and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I can’t keep watching you put yourself in danger.” 

He does not answer. 

“We could run,” She says, taking his hand. “We could both run.” 

“I can't,” he says. She knew he would say it. She keeps asking questions she already knows the answers too. She wanted so badly to believe she was wrong. 

“I can’t watch you get yourself killed” She says. 

“Then don’t” He says, and flinches as he hears the bitterness in his own voice. “I love you” he corrects. “But I said on our second date, and I meant it. I will compromise on every front. Every front. But one.” 

Rollyn stands up, wiping her face again, getting makeup on her hands. She fishes through a drawer in her closet for a cigarette, and lights it, like a woman about to dig her own grave. 

“You shouldn’t” Sunset says softly to his asthmatic kismesis. 

“Fuck you” she says, and inhales shakily. “You remember that first fight we had? Three months ago? On a phone call in this closet?” She says, sitting down in front of him. 

“Yeah?” He says, carefully. 

“When you told me you were a mutant for the first time” She says, wiping at her ruined mascara. She looks him dead in the eyes. 

“Wipe my memory of you” She orders. “Back to then” 

“What?” He stutters. 

“You said you wouldn’t do it unless I asked. Well I’m asking.” She says. 

“Rollyn,” he pleads. 

“I could not stand,” She says, her voice trembling. “To love you, and then lose you, Sunset Blinks.” She says, her voice layered over with rage and care and hurt and despair. “So make it so I never loved you at all. Back when you were an ordinary purpleblood, and this was a silly fling. Give us some silly reason to break up.” 

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. His shoulders sinking. 

“Okay” he says gently, taking her hands in his. “Are you sure there's nothing you want to keep?” He says. And she exhales, closing her eyes. 

“Remember that day we went to the aquarium?” She says, the ghost of a smile on her face. 

“Yeah?” He says, trying to keep steady. 

“And they had the wading pool with the stingrays, and-” She makes a noise half sob, half laugh. “And you walked right up to the edge- and one of them splashed you? Soaked your whole outfit.” She grins, and then it fades. She could list more things. She could list a thousand things. But she must not start now or she won't be able to stop. Or she’ll want to keep it all. 

He touches a hand to cup the side of her face, looking at Rollyn like he always does. Like she were a waterfall, or an open sky, or a range of mountains turning blue and purple as it fades into the horizon- like she is unfathomably beautiful and just out of reach. 

“I guess I could keep that” She sighs, leaning into his touch. 

“Okay” He says, his gaze lighting up a gentle, purple glow. “Open your eyes” 

She pauses, just a second.

“I love you,” She says, opening them.

“I love you too,” He says, “And I’m sorry”

[espectres]

THE CLOUDS FALL DOWN and they are of crushing rubble and hazardous rods of metal. Puddles of blood dry quickly, and there is no shine that rattles through them as you step there, worn-out snickers pressing on the cement painted with liveless rust. It makes you think of the dead, the lives which has been turned upside down, tossed around before giving in under the weight of heartless cruelty, just like their bodies under the weight of their homes. You stand there in the middle, stranded and small and lost between the jagged ends of torn buildings and your own weariness, mesmerized with how you could look on the dead, the cold limbs and rotting flesh and eyes that speak of unfathomable last terrors- and still, you feel absolutely nothing. 

Because it isn't death that twists your gut brutally, and it isn't the unsightly things that unsettle you- never quite has ... & never will. It isn't death that brings you here, carrying your heavy limbs and restless mind and bright eyes along. They never really lose their shine, your eyes, even rimmed from tearing and hooded by sleepless nights, it's not really their choice, no matter how you look at it, it's never really your choice, either. They stare at everything and nothing, your eyes, at the chaos where you once stood, unstoppable and determined; at the city lights in the distance, how can they go on like nothing has happened ? at the hand that burns by your side, it hasn't recovered from your own recklessness.

What were thinking, anyway ? Housing all that energy within your core ? Was it empowering; to know that you've kept going for months ? Was it relieving; to feel how it fizzled and bubbled and thrived in your veins, alive and overwhelming and threatening to simply burst and kill you ? 

" Shou-chan, " A familiar voice asks, you've been aware of her for a while now, refusing to acknowledge the company as your whole being hides out of sight, stubborn and upset and uselessly invisible. You listen, though, you always do so, carefully. " Do you blame yourself ? " 

You raise your head, your powers falter away and so does your orientation, apparently, because you stare again, but it's as thought you've suddenly forgot all cognitive skills, looking so lost. Maybe you are lost, maybe it's answers that you've come here to find, to find out where did you go wrong, to stop your mind from thinking of what has been and what's to come and what could've been, to help you ease the frightened beating of your heart that refuses to cease, you're so ... you're so afraid ! What are you afraid of ? Isn't it over already ? What worse could possibly happen to you ? You don't know, you don't know, you don't know anything anymore. 

Intead there is the weight of life sitting ever so gracelessly on your shoulders, and the phantom press of hands against your throat, pressing onto your feeble pulse, and you can't talk, you can't move, you can't breath and you're terrified like you've never been your whole life. You couldn't do a single thing, you couldn't change a single thing, you could have done better, if only you'd have been stronger, if only you'd have known better- 

" You never had a chance. " She smiles, she might as well kick you in the stomach. But her eyes are kind in a way, just like your mother when she calls to check on you, just like your healer when he takes care of your reopened scars. None of that mattered, none of that could help you, none of that could save you. None of that could stop you from trying, even if you never had a chance - were you so wrong ? Was it all so pointless ? 

" It was completely out of your control. " She walks away, then. Leaving you behind to your staring and your confusion, the fresh wounds in your hands and the unshed tears, the palpable race of your heart and the unamed, chronic ache in your chest. 

[positivelyqueer]

With praise for this film going around, I would highly recommend folks watch Nimona. However I would also recommend you take a look at Does the Dog Die or similar information if you are in a place to be triggered by certain themes. I know that’s frustratingly vague but I also want to avoid spoilers (more specifics in the tags). Also happy if folks wanted to message me for more specific info. Enjoy and stay safe <3

[anxiously-going]

This morning I sat for a while going through indeed and compiling a list of jobs that I seem qualified for, that I might potentially have a shot at if I did apply for them, and I was looking over them and thinking about where to start applying for, what I might want to do as a job.

I don't want to do any of them. I have no desire to have a full time or even part time job doing any of those things.

Which is hard enough on its own. It's hard enough to realize you don't have any passion or drive to do the things required for work, but I realized part of where I struggle is that on top of not having motivation or drive or what have you, I also have a lot of shame about not having those things.

I was told a lot while living at home about how "worried" my parent was over my perceived lack of motivation and drive. This was, of course, after being told directly that my passion for art was inadequate as was my skill.

So I was shamed for both having and not having passion and drive.

I was made to feel inadequate over my ability to find a job ten years ago and almost immediately told that the full time job I had found was still not enough.

Any kind of intrinsic motivation I might have had for being "a productive member of society" was squashed out of me and my low level and constant desire to not be here anymore does not help.

I don't want to sell myself to a job I couldn't possibly care less about I want to lie down and not get up again.

It makes it so hard to function in this world when there is no passion for doing the things you have to do.

[transterrence]

death is a mercy not granted to fools like you, my friend!

[lovingoverwatchguys]

Making myself sad by thinking about the concept that the reason Soldier 76 runs himself so ragged and doesn't take care of himself is because he wants to achieve as much as possible, then die early.

[mummelthecryptid]

a poem about outlaws and omens

taglist under the cut, send an ask my way if u wanna be added :)

@szollibisz @eliias-bouchard @arabriddler

[yume-fanfare]

THE WAY THIS WAS AFTER A HEARTBREAKING SCENE IN CHRISTMAS LIVE

tetora homophobic violence moment. we should cancel him on 旧twitter.

[solreefs]

guy who didn’t take their meds: who else up feeling like everything is really just awful and terrible forever lol like we’re just shuffling ourselves through the motions of daily routine while our lives slip away before our eyes haha