#we have to handle everything ourselves because no one else will ever understand our evil hearts of darkness

[crimeronan]

luz and hunter are the funniest hand in unlovable hand pair of all time because they are patently fucking NOT hand in unlovable hand but they are both SO CONVINCED THAT THEY ARE. hunter and luz out here like "i'm gonna destroy and kill us both we're gonna take this whole world down with us i am the cancer in your blood i am the monster under the bed we're evil and wrong and bad and MIRED IN SIN" while the rest of their giant family who all love their lovable asses so fucking much are watching them like "for CHRIST'S SAKE. can you PLEASE just eat a fucking meal. and STOP BEING CATHOLIC"

[c-is-for-circinate]

The story creates the story tells itself. That's it, that's what this is, it's the thing I always end up saying when Critical Role hits me right in the solar plexus, because stories are how we make sense of events after they've already happened. The story is not a thing in the moment it is created, it is a thing you can only know the shape of once it's over with, and then you look at it and you say, yes, of COURSE, it only ever could have been this from the first, couldn't it?

Seven miserable loners and outcasts and reckless illegitimate rebels meet in a tavern with no desire whatsoever for heroism. Their morals are quickfire and slapdash, casual and arbitrary, we'll help out these people, those people aren't our problem, we dislike those fucks over there. There is a war brewing and they want nothing to do with it. Fuck fame, fuck fortune, we'll keep to ourselves and play fast and loose with crime and take care of our own and maybe some lucky randoms we meet along the way. We'll fight and scrap and tussle amongst ourselves because none of us even entirely understand our own morals, let alone how to reconcile them with any of these other half-assed motherfuckers we apparently have to care about now.

They fuck up. One of their own dies.

They drown in rage and fury for just long enough, until they can stop gasping and growling for vengeance to take a breath. Then they run.

They run, because they do not care to stand and fight: not against evil or dragons or tyrant kings, not against their own grief. They flee the country. Nobody is chasing them, but they flee anyway, to avoid shackles, to avoid control, to avoid being set to anyone else's purpose, to avoid their own loss and their own sins. They run to the sea. (They find danger, and shackles, and control, and somebody else's purpose there again. The world is full of shackles and those who would wield them.)

They grieve. They avoid their grief. They sanctify their fallen comrade. They do not aim to be anything, this ragtag group of miserable loners and outcasts. The only thing they know themselves to be is each other's. They do not know themselves at all, but this grief, this loss--they know it, at least, know it together, an iron band binding them all heart to heart. It is the first truth they have to hold on to, the thing that lets them see each other as the only thing that matters, the only thing that's really real.

They face down a cult and win, because the other option is shackles or death. They face a demigod and flee, again, again, again. Always they flee.

They flee towards home and home is burned. They have seen loss and they have seen death and it finds them no matter how they run away, so maybe it's time to change direction. Maybe it's time to run towards. It's still running, still half-mindless directionality, it's still familiar. They are not heroes, they are not somebodies, they have never wanted to be somebody. This group has never wanted to be anybody, not as a group, not when they're whole. They're nobodies, trying to take care of themselves, take care of their own, to grow past their grief that they pretend they're gone from now, mostly, most days, when they can. (Pretend it's not the grief that made them each other's in the first place, like none of the fighting and scrapping and scrabbling along beside one another ever had in the first place.)

They bulldoze and trip and stumble and run towards instead of away, for once, just this once, the very first time they've run towards a thing since that last time, the only time, when they temporarily lost three of their own and then broke themselves trying to chase them (trying to chase vengeance). Towards is so much more dangerous than away. Run towards something hard enough, you might actually find it. You might have to become somebody when you get there, instead of just not-being somebody else.

They're somebody now. This rag-tag, broken, mismatched knot of nobodies, not even mercenaries because they're too skittish to even really look for paid work, they're somebodies now, or so Someone Important says. It fits like an ill-tailored coat that they've been forced into without ever making a choice. Without ever realizing, entirely, how much they never made a choice. The world said congrats, you're heroes now, and these killers and thieves went, well, fuck.

And then they tried to be heroes anyway. Not because it fit, not because they knew what to do, but because the mess of them, the seven of them, barely knew who they were to begin with. If the world was shouting HEROES! YOU'RE HEROES! BE HEROES! at them this very loudly--then don't they have to wear the coat that's being given to them? Don't they have to be, have to find some way to become, the heroes they've tripped and stumbled into appearing?

They don't know themselves. All they've done so far is run from themselves--from parents and children and their own crimes, from chains and challenges, limits and labels. They only barely know who they're not. They couldn't know who they are. How do they know they aren't heroes? The one thing they know, the only thing they have, the only thing they've ever run towards, is each other. The one thing they know for absolute sure and certain that defines and binds them is that steel band of grief, that first loss, the thing that broke and forged them to begin with.

So they look for answers in their grief, in what they've lost, because if it's the first true thing about them as a group, them as a whole, then it must be able to tell them who they have to be now. They sanctify their fallen, twist meaning and moral out of conversational confrontational casualness, make a mission statement out of leave every place better than you found it. They forget who he was, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. (They try to convince themselves that they don't have to be petty and venal and mortal and flawed.) They cling to what he meant.

And they fail. God, looking back on it all, with the shape of the story and the shape it's become, is it any wonder they failed? Petty and venal and moral and flawed, these rough-edged rabble-rousers, not even mercenaries because they don't even know how to take orders besides their own. Trying to be heroes. Trying to stop a war, because that's their job, right? It has to be. That's the shape of the coat they're trying to wear, that's the shape of leave every place better than you found it, that's the thing they crashed straight into while they were running, running, running the way they've always run, run, run. So they look for answers everywhere, because they have to have the answers to everything, and they scry and they spy and they play sides. They meet with queens. They turn to each other on the streets on the way out of the palace and ask in horror, "What did we just do?"

They run and they run and they trip and they fall and they unleash more evil than there was to start with. They lose one of their own, again. They sit in shattered shards, and what just happened? How could we have seen this coming? What did we just do?

They don't know themselves. They've been running from themselves, trying to run towards misty shapes they can't define in a too-big coat and too-small shoes, without any real practice in running towards to begin with. They don't know themselves, but they need to move forwards. They need to be whole again, the six, the seven (the eight, the nein). How can they do that if they don't know themselves?

And--finally, finally, they learn.

They learn. They throw a sword in a volcano and forge a sword anew. They rediscover their own mind, their own heart, covered in blood with each other's blood on their hands. They walk into their abusers' homes and then walk back out again alive and un-alone and unchained. They recover bodies. They recover families. They find themselves.

(And the selves they find are mortal and flawed, because they have always been mortal and flawed, because they are built to be mortal and flawed, because they are still the same misbegotten messes they have ever been. But they are stronger for having sought themselves out, for what they have found. They are the stronger for those threads of heroism they tried to, managed to keep.)

They stop a war, incidentally. In the end it's not even all that much due to them. They sit, nobodies on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and watch in silence. It chafes a little, not to be in the center of things, to be able to be the heroes it felt like the world told them they had to be. (It feels a little like relief.)

They find themselves. They find themselves, and they find another lost and broken man, miserable outcast loner, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. They only start to realize how they know themselves now when they see how much he doesn't.

(The peace treaty happens, happened, is/was/will be happening, because they tripped and trembled and tried their way into it, but in the end a thousand chess pieces moved to make it so, and it is signed on a boat where we do not even set foot. The culmination, the crowning glory, the true victory of that whole middle story, is a perfectly-dressed man in chains in the hold of a boat, admitting to his own sins. It is secret and it is individual, and it is the concrete proof above all proofs that our nobody unknowns are finally their own very-known selves. Because they were Essek, once--but know they know their own mirrors well enough to look at him and recognize that.)

They know so much, now, about who they are and who they are to become. They have looked at their pasts and, yes, flinched away, but they've seen, and they know, now, as much as they can handle. In the end, the one thing they don't know the true shape of, the one thing left to seek that must be sought, is of course (of course, of course) that very first thing they thought they knew to begin with. The one thing left to face is their grief. The one thing left to discover is what shaped it from the very start.

So they run, like they have always run. In amongst the snow it is the very distillation of running, towards and away, away and towards, chasing and fleeing and fleeing and chasing, are we in front or are they? It's every mistake they ever made all over again. It's every new lesson they've ever learned.

They don't ask any more, what's the right thing to do. They don't need to ask. They know, already, swift and sure and confident as they once stumbled and dodged. This is a thing that must be stopped. It is ours to stop it. Yes, it is a heavy, clumsy coat to wear, but it fits us out here in the snows where we're not trying to prove our heroism to anybody any more, for good or for evil. Yes, it weighs on our backs and tangles our legs, but it fits as well as any role we've ever tried to wear. It fits us more than it could ever fit anybody else. It's our role. It's our coat. It was forged of our choices, our pieces, our fights. It was forged of our grief.

Nobody else is here with us, to watch, to know. Just like when we were seven shiftless, aimless, worthless nobodies wandering through a circus tent on the way to nowhere (everywhere) else. There's us and the demon born from our grief, the demon who sprang up and died and is the only reason we any of us ever met. Just us, just the nine of us, three and three and three. The three who were dragged off in chains and gave us something to run towards, that very first time. The three who chased, and watched their companion fall, and faced their grief head on, and ran. And Lucien, and Caduceus, and Essek, beginning and middle and end: The man whose demise allowed us to come together, reborn from the loss that bound us. The man who found us and told us that grief is inevitable and passing, that we must continue with it, that we still had such a long way to go. The man who we found like a reflection in an aging mirror, reflecting our own progress back at us, showing us how far we've come and what we've learned how to be.

Of course it had to end this way. (There were so very many other ways it could have ended, once. Of course there were none at all.) Of course it would be nine and nine in the end. Of course it would be this final perfect marriage of heroism and anonymity, for this group that's finally figured out their selves, past and future and right-the-fuck-now, saviors and heroes and petty nobody fucks. Of course it would be this.

And of course, of course, of course it had to go like this. Of course, after everything, the first six of them would try to reverse that grief that forged and tied them. Of course they couldn't. Of course they couldn't, of course, of course--(and was it fate, that 1-in-20 chance, that 5% chance, that 1 on a die? was it fate like the dice are always fate in every game, rolling out poetry with every throw, because all the rolls that aren't quite poetic enough get forgotten?) Of course it was a 1, not some other number, not some sheepish failure of a 4. Of course the universe itself would speak to say no.

No, says the universe, that is not how this story goes--because the road is full of shattered shards, and our heroes only learned to be heroes by discovering how bloodily bad at it they were, by nearly causing the apocalypse before wrestling it back again. Of course the universe itself says that after all this time, after changing so far and discovering so much, this the inciting thing from the very beginning that bound this group in steel must not be changed. Of course, with all their pleas, the six people who knew him cannot bring him back.

Of course that's how the story would go. And of course there's Essek, the man who met this party so long after their throes of mourning that it had sunk into their bones and grown quiet before they ever knew him, who cannot accept this outcome. Of course it's Essek, who never met and has barely heard of this man, this grief--Essek who has not yet grown into the quiet acceptance of his own grief, who does not yet know his own mirror, who has only just barely begun to understand running to instead of from and still doesn't know the shape of what he might eventually choose to chase--who seethes in rage. Who cries about not fair.

Of course it's Caduceus who takes the inspiration of that anger, that grief, and changes it all. Of course it's Caduceus, who the group only even found out of their grief. (They tracked him down to beg to know if he could raise the dead in the first place. Do you remember? One, two, three, Caleb and Beau and Nott, finding him in his graveyard to beg him to help.) Of course it's Caduceus, created to serve and to heal and to make so, so very sure that everyone understood that death could be necessary and final. Of course it's Caduceus, who stood over Mollymauk's grave by the roadside and put a hand in the dirt and cast decompose, because what is dead should be allowed to stay that way until it grows into something else. Of course it is. Because Caduceus has learned his own shape by now, too--and it is still full of devotion, of dedication to the dead remaining dead, but it is steadfast and selfish sometimes too, forged in friendship, full enough of love to try, just this once.

Of course Caduceus gave the diamond but didn't try to perform the ritual, at first, at first. Of course he's spent so very long so very gently urging his friends to reconcile themselves to their loss, to letting their loved one sleep. Of course, in the end, in the very end, he weighed all his faith that once held so firm and final and without exceptions, with this grief before him, and found just this once, maybe, within it.

Of course when he tried, the man who lives to put things in the ground (to put Molly in the ground), even after the fates and the gods and the universe had spoken--when, just this once, against the will of the natural order and the universe and the power of destiny, he asked, just once, for the path of things to reverse--of course. Of course he was the voice that needed to speak for the story to listen.

Of course Molly would end the campaign. Of course this had to be the finale of it all. Of course this ritual--not this fight, not this mission, not even this apocalypse, but this ritual, this resurrection--must be the end of things. Of course it's the end of the story. You can't go any farther than this.

There can never be nine of us. It won't be ironic any more. But irony, after all, is just a way of running from sincerity, sometimes running away from sincerity so hard and fast you crash back into it from the other side. Like running from being a person, from being that person, from letting things matter, from mattering. Like running so far and fast from being found that eventually you have no choice but to find yourself. Irony's a shield against having to know the truth.

There's nine of them. It's not ironic. It's perfect, but it's not ironic. It's just the truth. They know who they are, now. Not who they were running away from being. Not who they tried to be for the sake of anyone else. Who they always are. Always were.

This story could have been a hundred thousand different things, when it started. Of course it was always fated to end with nine.

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[official-weasley]

Love, William (Bill Weasley x OC) - Chapter 8

WARNINGS: maybe a little bit of angst

Chapter 8 - Dear Theodora

It’s been 2 days since Theodora’s birthday and she still couldn’t get over her letter to Bill. She hated that she gave in and wrote him back. What was she thinking? Bill will think she’s insane and she started to panic – forgetting what she wrote as she wrote the letter at 4 in the morning – wondering if she said too much.

How could she allow herself to do this? How could she be so stupid? Bill just wanted to give her something for her birthday and she blew it out of porpo...

Theodora’s thoughts were disturbed by a tap on her window. She let out a gasp as the owl startled her. She pushed herself off the bed and walked to the window to let the owl in.

Giving the owl some treats and letting the window open so that the bird can easily fly out when she pleases to do so, she sat back on her bed with the envelope in her hand.

With the two letters she received 2 days ago, she recognized the handwriting on the envelope as Bill’s at once.

She knew she made a mistake writing to him. He probably sent her a letter to tell her that she should stop writing to him or how inappropriate he found her reply.

Theodora opened the envelope with shaking hands and took out the parchment. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that if she waited for another second to see what he wrote to her, she would simply burn it and let the curiosity kill her.

Dear Theodora,

it brought a smile to my face to know you received the gift and that you liked it so much. Did you ever get to cast the spell on the rose? Do you still have it?

How did you spend your birthday? Fred and George told me that they are going to surprise you with a party – did they succeed? I hope you had fun and that they didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t like.

They also told me that you are having quite a bit of trouble with your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Has she calmed down? Fred said something about a new regime and her inventing rules all the time?

Are you alright? How is everybody coping with that?

I sure hope she isn’t intervening with your education. Remember that you will soon finish school and won’t have to see her ever again.

I know you are strong and can handle it. Just try not to get yourself into too much trouble. I know you’re a good student – I just don’t trust her, that’s all.

I apologize if expressing my concern went too far,

Bill

Theodora was once again thankful that her roommates were asleep. She couldn’t imagine how her face must’ve looked like reading the letter. Bill didn’t say anything about her letter being distasteful – on the contrary, it seemed he wasn’t bothered by her reply at all.

And he was asking her all these questions and he even seemed concerned for her and the twins.

He was just worried about his brothers doing alright and making sure they don’t get in trouble with Umbridge. She only made Bill worried and of course, now she has to reply to him otherwise he will worry even more.

She tip-toed to her desk – careful not to wake her roommates – and took out a piece of parchment and her writing set.

Dear Bill,

I did cast the spell on the rose and I am happy to say it’s still as beautiful as I found it on my bed. Even though it’s only been 2 days it’s a nice motivation to endure Dolores Umbridge.

My birthday has been as lovely as every year with your brothers around. I knew they were up to something for weeks but they succeeded in surprising me nonetheless after our Quidditch practice. The party was great – chill but amazing and full of laughter. I think I got to my dorm at 2 in the morning and Freddie and Georgie were over the roof that they succeeded.

Back to Umbridge – I honestly don’t know what to tell you. She is evil. That would be one way of putting it. She gives your brothers and me detention almost every week. I know we should keep our mouths shut but sometimes she takes it too far.

She keeps trying to convince us that You-Know-Who is not back and she made Harry write lines: I must not tell lies with a black quill. Honestly, I don’t know how she got away with it. The scar it left on his hand is still not completely healed and no matter how we try to stay out of trouble, we want to stay on Harry’s side. Merlin knows he needs all the support. It’s enough that there are barely any students who believe him.

I’m alright and so are all your siblings so you don’t have to worry. We are there for each other and we are thinking of doing something about her but we don’t know what quite yet.

She keeps attending other lessons and there are rumors that she wants to sack Professor Trelawney. Can she even do that?

I am not as concerned about myself, I know I am out of here in a few months. But what if she gets to stay? What if she will be around for years with Harry and Hermione and Ginny and Ron still at school? I don’t want them to be around that woman!

It’s nice to see how much you care for your siblings and expressing your concern so don’t worry about it being too much. I will protect them as much as I can, you have my word.

Theodora

She folded the parchment and since the owl was in no hurry to leave and kept pecking at her quill while she was writing, she decided to send the letter back immediately. She wouldn’t want Bill to be worried about his siblings so the sooner she can tell him they are all alright the better.

Dear Theodora,

if the rose makes you feel motivated to stay in school with everything you described in your last letter, I will gladly send you another one.

I am beginning to see what you said about the twins while we were at the Burrow last summer. They really are amazing friends to you and I am proud of them for that. They might like to joke around but I can see that they take you seriously and that’s a good quality of theirs – they are growing up.

Honestly, things have been chaotic everywhere. I don’t understand how she can have so much power either and it scares me to see what she can do to students. I believe Harry as well – we all do – but I hope that for his sake, he will stop talking back at Umbridge.

If she used that quill on him, who knows what else she is capable of. I know it’s none of my business telling you this, but be careful. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt or get in serious trouble with that woman because you had to defend someone.

I know how it sounds – you should stand up for what you believe but do so together if you can. Unfortunately, I reckon things will only get worse from here on out and Ron told me that you don’t have proper DADA lessons. I think you should try and find a way to learn some spells on your own. I can tell you about some that might come in handy.

You have to be prepared for anything and know that you can’t trust all your teachers anymore. Whether they would like it or not, they might not have the power to protect you, so you will have to do so yourself.

I admire you for trying to fight for what is right and I have no doubt that you and the twins are already sticking your heads together and thinking of what to do or how to make the situation better. At least try to do so quietly and strike when she’ll least expect it.

I think at this point, she can do whatever she wants. And if she starts firing the most innocent of professors then she might take all your protection away from you. Just know that you are safe at school as long as Headmaster Dumbledore is around.

Thank you for easing my mind and telling me all my siblings are okay – it means a lot. But know that I worry for you as much as for them.

Please stay safe,

Bill

Theodora didn’t know what to think of Bill’s letter. She has to ask Harry if he needs some help with the spells they are going to learn.

She was now even happier that they came up with the idea of trying to defend themselves and Bill was right – it will only get worse from here so she and the twins need to act fast and try to get that woman out of their school.

They had a rather peaceful time at Hogwarts and if there is anything she can do about it, she wants to help the next generations to have the same experience and she couldn’t see that happening with the toad on the throne.

It brought a smile to her face when she read that Bill wants to give her another rose. She would like to think that the gesture is romantic but she thought better of it. She knew now – Bill telling her that he is also concerned for her – that he sees her as a good friend and as much as she would like him to think of her as something more, she couldn’t deny being friends with him meant a lot to her too.

Dear Bill,

the rose is going stronger than ever. I had to get a bigger glass from the kitchen as it keeps growing and is not even close to withering away.

I know it would be better if Harry stopped talking about You-Know-Who around that woman but at the same time, I admire him for it. We should all spread awareness that our world might not be as safe as it used to be and don’t worry we are doing something about it!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione came up with an idea to have secret lessons on how to defend ourselves. We had a meeting a week ago and I have to say they are quite prepared. I will tell you if we would need any spells to work on but I think Harry has a whole curriculum for us and I can’t help but be excited about it!

We will have these meetings in secret, don’t you worry and all your siblings are a part of it, so they will all know how to defend themselves.

Fred, George, and I have an idea how to get back at Umbridge. It would take weeks to execute the plan but it might just work to make other students want to fight back!

I know you trust Dumbledore and so do I, but to be honest he hasn’t been around much. Perhaps that’s the reason she can get away with everything she wants.

We will keep an eye out and try and protect and get as many students on our side as we can. We are doing a great job so far, a lot of people that didn’t believe Harry before are on our side now and that gives me hope.

How is it on your side? How are you handling everything?

Expressing my concern for you in the hopes you are okay,

Theodora

Theodora came to her dorm late one evening – exhausted from another DA meeting. She fell on her bed – with her nose straight into the sheets – when she heard her body crushing something. She moved to see what it was and found a letter in the middle of her bed.

Dear Theodora,

I can’t express how proud I am of you, my siblings, and all your friends for doing what you are. I think you are doing the right thing creating this secret group of yours and I hope you won’t get caught.

I believe Harry is the best teacher you could have. He, after all, faced the Dark Lord many times and I think we could all learn something from him. I secretly wish to be there with you. It not only sounds nice to learn new spells but also fun for doing so with your friends.

I feel relief that Ginny and Ron are a part of it. I know that the twins are quite good with their spellwork but Ginny and Ron are still young and I don’t even want to imagine them fighting.

Dumbledore, unfortunately, has a lot on his mind and is also working on something else about which I can’t tell you for your own protection. Let’s just say that you are not the only one forming a group.

You are truly remarkable, do you know that? Wanting to help the younger students and promising to protect them without even thinking twice about it, makes me think that the Hat did a great job sorting you into Gryffindor.

Thank you for expressing your concern for me. I can assure you I am doing fine. I am thinking about leaving Egypt so I can be closer to home. I know it’s my dream job but family and friends are more important and if anything ought to go down, I want to be there to help and I can’t see myself doing so from Egypt.

Things here are okay otherwise. Of course, a day doesn’t go by without whispers and people expressing concern even though it seems we are so far away from troubles.

I promise I will stay out of harm's way so you needn’t worry about me.

Bill

Theodora read the letter twice – as she did with every single one Bill sent her. She couldn’t deny that she was getting quite fond of them writing back and forth so much and it made her mind more peaceful knowing that Bill was okay.

She yawned and looked at the time. It wasn’t even 10 in the evening but she felt so tired. She folded the piece of parchment and promised herself to write him back the second she wakes up tomorrow.

Dear Bill,

Our meetings are going great. As you can imagine Freddie and Georgie are having no problems perfecting all their spells. Ron is doing a great job too! I think all three of them were pleasantly surprised by Ginny though. Your sister is one of the most powerful witches I have ever seen!

Her spells are so strong and she doesn’t need much time at all to master them. All your brothers are very proud of her and I think their mind is more at ease – knowing Ginny is perfectly capable of defending herself. She isn’t a baby anymore!

My heart is lighter knowing that you are doing okay. I fully support you if you decide to come back to be closer to your family. My brother Eric is thinking of doing the same. He doesn’t trust my mother to take good care of me and him being an Auror could help when things get bad.

I think it would mean a lot to your family to have you closer. I know Mrs. Weasley would sleep better at night. Charlie wrote to me a few days ago, saying that she is constantly asking him if he is alright being so far away. I can imagine you are getting the same letters.

I wish you could be able to come here and help us with DA but with you being in a similar organization you probably have a lot on your mind as it is.

Being in Egypt has its perks as the tension isn’t as bad as here I believe, but I know I would lose my mind not being here to help and to constantly think about how my family is.

Your number one supporter for you to come home,

Theodora

[plush-rabbit]

Bleeding Knees

Warnings: Religion (Christianity)

Word Count: 2.3K

Fandom: Obey Me

-

It's a restless night where no matter what you do, you can't sleep. You toss and turn and try to shut your eyes for the tiniest bit of sleep but it leads you nowhere, just limbs lost in blankets and a mind that wanders and lingers too much on unpleasant thoughts.

With a huff, you throw the blankets off, and slip into your slippers, the floor is steady underneath and doesn't alert your sleeping roommates. The door opens without a squeak and clicks softly when you close it. You walk around aimlessly, your fingertips tracing along the walls, your ears falling flat as you ignore  the whisperings of paintings.

You lose yourself within this palace, the walls blend in together, paintings full of color and life make you hesitant to to watch and admire, knowing that they would scrutinize you and huff and puff.

The closer you get to the end of the hallway, the chiller it becomes. There's a gentle breeze that makes you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, your hands rubbing down the sides of your arms for comfort and warmth. 

You crane your head over the corner, spotting a balcony door open wide, curtains fluttering and creating ghastly shadows. There's a bubble of anxiety that starts to rise but your body has a mind if it's own, walking towards the open door and stepping onto the balcony. 

You breathe in the fresh air, the cold air nips at your lungs, not ready for the change of temperature. Your brush your fingers against the mental railing, the obsidian railing shines, the intricate details are etched upon the metal. 

The moon shines brilliantly above you. It's full, large carters visible with a light, warm yellow glow. Stars are visible, hidden for moments behind passing clouds, but shining just as bright when you look at them again.

"It's usually a clear night here. Sorry that you stayed up late for nothing," a gentle voice fills in the night chuckles.

You jump and turn your head. "Ah! Lord Diavolo! I-I'm so sorry," you quiet to a voice in a hush, your cheeks burn red. "I didn't mean to be awake at this hour, I just couldn't sleep." You try to keep his gaze but fall at the tip of his nose, clasping your hands behind your back you look at the open door. "I'll just be on my way," you mutter.

"Oh no. Don't go. You're free to look around." He stands next to you, his arms resting at his sides, bright golden eyes watching you. "I just wish you had asked. I wouldn't want you to get lost." He pauses, his lips form a smile and there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Again."

You let out a nervous laugh. "Right." You pause and force your jaw to unclench. "I just- It was late and I didn't want to disturb anyone."

He hums next you and shifts his gaze to the garden. "May I ask you something personal?"

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirked before you return your gaze to the front of you. "Of course."

He's silent for a while that you begin to wonder if he really didn’t have a question and just wanted to make conversation. In the short time that you’ve known him, you wouldn’t put it past him but then his voice fills the night. "Do you ever think about death?" 

Your hands still above the railing. "All the time," you whisper, your fingers scratching the metal railing.

"Would you accept death?" His voice lowers to match yours, his posture straightens and eyes grow heavy.

"With open arms," you answer honestly. Your eyes glance to the side, and meet his for a second. "I feel as if you're threatening me, Lord Diavolo," you say, your tone both teasing tinged by a hint of fear on your words. 

He chuckles. It's a nice sound, deep and rich. "I would never threaten you." 

You nod, the smile that had been beginning to form falls and you're both left staring at the scenery in front of you. Your eyes make out the outline of a hedge, following the gentle curves of the art. 

The silence that fills the air is light. The lanterns outside cast a soft orange glow, flickers of shadows dancing across the both of you, your shadows bleeding out into the night.

"Do you fear death?" You ask, breaking the silence.

There's a twitch of his eyebrows, his expression unreadable before it relaxes, a coy smile plays on his lips. 

"No. I'll live longer than you can ever comprehend." Exhaustion laced his voice and for a second he appears older and much more tired. It’s a sight that makes your stomach churn. "Long lifespans make for great kings." He winks at you, a cheeky grin returning to his face.

"I'm sure you'll make a great king, Lord Diavolo." You stand up straight and let out a breath. The trees rustle in the night, branches looming over head. 

"Why don't you fear death?" His voice cuts through the night, rushed and shaky.

You let out a thoughtful hum. Your posture slinking back down to rest against the railing as you try to find the right words. You open and close your mouth. Tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth and peeking out to wet your lips.

"I suppose," you start out, "humans- some humans have religion to turn to and I suppose that makes it easier to handle death."

"Do you turn to religion in your time of need?"

Your eyes narrow and gaze hardens. "No."

"Why is that?" He pries further, gentle prodding of the sleeping bear.

You stare at the sky, it's endless and vacant, ends at the horizon and full of stars and colors.

"Religion," you pause, the word heavy on our tongue, "is something that you're supposed to dedicate yourself to." Your stomach churns as you speak to the Lord. "You're supposed to bleed for God. To kneel and wail praises to the Lord- to God. You should scream and pray until your throat is hoarse and bleeding." You want to claw your throat. "There is no benevolent God. No God that you can pray to when you're sobbing in the middle of the night and trying to grasp for air. No, that God is hungry- aching to hear your prayers and sins- to whisper them in the night in hope for forgiveness. You're supposed to be willing to die, to rip out your heart, to claw your throat and offer God everything you own." Your throat is burning and it's getting harder to talk. "You have to beg on the floor like a dog, to kneel and give thanks for everything that you own. That that God," you spit out the word, "is holy and above, can do no wrong. That everything you have and are is because of them." You bark out a laughter. It's sharp and humorless. "Don't get me wrong. The minute you're different- the minute that you deviate from who you're supposed to be, that you cast aside God's little vessel, you're thrown away and told that you are nothing more. You're beaten until you're black and blue, until you're crawling and spitting blood, promising to everyone above, that you won't do it again because if you do, your spirit is going to hell. You'll be tortured and murdered above ground before you ever reach hell." Your teeth are bared and you're speaking through clenched teeth. Eyes sting with unshed tears. "You eat his body and drink his blood but that isn't enough to protect you. His body is bread and you have to rip it apart- dig your teeth in and bite. His blood is wine and it's bitter and burns your throat and you have to drink it all as it stains your insides." You look back at the Lord, golden eyes that shine too bright make you look. "We're told that demons are evil. Manipulative. That you'll do your best to whisper lies into us and pervert us." Your jaw clenches and fists tighten. "If we suffer, it's all because our faith wasn't enough." You don't have the courage to look him in the eyes so you stare at his medal, the light catches on it and it glimmers. "We're made to pay the church, we're forced to give money to a place while we're told God did everything for free. That he washed the feet of prostitutes when no one else would but the believers, his followers, will turn their nose up at the thought of getting near someone like that. They'll scowl and spit and yell, insults hurled and whispered all while they go back to church and sing and hold hands and talk about doing good." You take in a deep breath, the tips of your ears burn and your nails dig into your biceps. "We're supposed to suffer for God. To praise and pray and sob and bleed," your voice cracks and a warm brown hand twitches, fingers inching towards you. "We are dogs. Loyal and willing to die. Below our Master. On our knees until we bleed." Your whole body grows heavy, arms dangling over the railing. "We don't get to be who we want to be. We have to hide ourselves and pray for this wickedness to go away." You let out a breath that you hadn't realized that you've been holding in. "That's religion in the human world."

Tears burn in your eyes, a lump in your throat makes it hard to bread and bright red lines paint your arms. You turn around and lean on the railing, arms crossed in front of you as you try to regain your breathing. 

"Not a very good relationship with religion I see." His voice whispers, holding no sarcasm or attempt at a joke- just pure, genuine curiosity.

You chuckle, it isn't totally devoid of humor. "Yeah." You nod your head. "Yeah, I guess you could say it's not a good relationship." 

It's silent for a while after. Gentle breeze makes the hair on your arms stand and you think about asking where the breeze comes from but you hold your tongue.

It's comfortable. Two beings enjoying each other's company while one listens to the other and their relationship to the outside.There is a silent understanding- to no poke or prod. 

Your words hang in the air, heavy yet light. Burning yet cold. You've gotten your grievance out and while in no way you are healed, the wounds open and bleeding, you feel lighter. Your shoulders don't carry a burden, your stomach has lost the everlasting knot, your head feels clear and your heart aches and wants to wail until you can't speak but you feel as if it's easier to beat. 

"Not all religion is like that," you whisper. "In some you aren't condemned to a life of torture." You stand a bit taller and wipe your eyes.

"But you still believe in a God?" He asks, attention fully on you. You nod. "What God do you believe in then?" He turns to face you, a gentle smile and reassuring eyes urge you to explain.

"I believe in one that is just," you answer honestly. "One that doesn’t condemn every one who disobeys to a life of torture, one who loves and welcomes everyone." You look back at Lord Diavolo and grin. "It's silly to a demon, but to a human whose life goes by so quick but lasts so long, it's a nice comfort to have."

"Humans are very strange." He runs a hand through his hair, deshelving it in the process.

"Is that why you want relationships to strengthen between the three Realms?"

He nods. "It would be nice to interact freely." He smiles at you. "Even if not everyone is as passionate as you." He gives you a chuckle.

"Heh. Are you teasing me Lord Diavolo?" 

He waves his hand and shakes his head. "Please, I appreciate the title but you're free to call me Diavolo. You aren't my subject." He grabs your hand gingerly in his. "You are my guest." He bows, lowering his gaze and meets your eyes, staring intently into them. 

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you turn away, thankful that the orange glow casted by the lanterns on the walls will blend in with the pink that has begun to settle on your face. You shuffle and force out a yawn. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll be heading to bed now." You pull your hand away from his and glass your hands together intertwining them and watching him rise back to full height.

The way his eyebrows quirk makes you sure that he doesn't believe your statement.

"Allow me to walk you back." He offers his hand towards you, his cape draping and falling off his shoulder.

You give him a gentle smile and place your hand in his.

The walk back to your room is silent, steps echoing in the empty corridors, paintings that come to life watch and try to peer out of the frame as you both pass by hand in hand. He squeezes your hand every so slightly, fingers rubbing along your knuckles. You smile softly whenever he does this, feeling a sense of bond grow between you.

You arrive at your room, the door still closed and silent inside. You both stand there, hands still collapsed tightly against one anothers. He clears his throat and you turn to face him. His eyes look deep into yours, full of an emotion that you can't place.

There's a moment that lasts for too long, with breaths being held and your palms starting to get clammy, where you can feel butterflies make a home in your stomach. 

"Good night Diavolo." You smile at him and the name on your tongue makes your heart skip a beat. 

He presses his lips against the crown of your head and bids you good night, his hand slipping out of yours with ease, his fingers dragging and committing the feel of your hand to memory. 

Once he hears the door click behind him, he brings two fingers to his lips delicately and smiles softly.

[yunhostinyuyu]

don’t be so naive - part one

pairing: prince!yeosang x princess!reader ft. brother!seonghwa

genre: royal au, angst, little fluff

wc: 3.6k

synopsis: your parents got themselves into a hassle, and the only way out involves you and a handsome Prince from a neighbouring kingdom...

warnings: arranged marriage, mentioned murder, mentioned ambush

—

“I expected to find you here.” you turn your head around from the corner of the glasshouse you were currently hiding at. It was your older brother with a relieved look painted on his face as he saw you in between the plants, playing with one of the many cats that found home in the ginormous park like garden your family got to call their own. It wasn’t very princess-like, you knew that, but you liked the nature. And despite living in a giant castle with countless rooms, this was the only place were you could truly catch a break and think. Seonghwa however just beat you to it, which made the stray cats jump out of your lap and run into the nearest bushes, looking after thier retreading froms for as long as possible to avoid the conversation with your brother that you could no longer hide from.

Turning your back back to him, you sigh, “Don’t wanna talk, leave me alone.” trying to shrug him off, but knowing him, he wouldn’t leave until he got to say what he came here for. You fumble with some fallen leaves and blossoms that are already dead, lying infront of you on the cobbled ground. Thoughts about the stone cold reality your parents confronted you with just hours ago still fresh in your mind.

“Since things haven’t gone smoothly recently and we have gotten ourselves in quite a bit of trouble, we had to ask around in the kingdoms nearby for help. We found a wealthy family willing to support us, but... their oldest son is going to marry you in return. We are deeply sad about this, since we know you didn’t want this, but this is the only way. If you reject, they won’t help us and we will be doomed.”

You hated this. They were giving you no options. And even if you would do everything to help your family out of their mess, this was the only thing you would never want to do. Being young, free, on your own. Riding the horses out into the woods and shooting animals in the mountains, practicing your archery skills and gardening all the rare flowers and plants from all over the world... this is what you lived for. Being forced into a marriage would mean for you to quit all those things and never be able to do them again. Only because of the mistakes your parents caused.

Seonghwa reaches his hand towards you, nodding his head back where he entered the little shelter. „If we had more time I would let you alone, but that’s not the case. Please, just walk around with me and listen, will you?“.

Even if your parents were the definition of evil, your brother clearly wasn’t. He is the only person you could lean on and most importantly, trust. The both of you really loved your parents, regardless of their wrong doings. Like they said, love makes blind, and that doesn’t only apply to romatic relationships. Whenever the news about your parents broke, murdering other kings and queens, raiding them of all thier belongings just to name the worst, You and Seonghwa have always turned a blind eye - or a deaf ear - towards the accusations and defended them regardless. But deep in your heart, you knew that they have overstepped many borders, and were now stuck.

Groaning to yourself, you pulled yourself up to your feet and patted the dirt of your skirt before following your brother around the garden as he started to state the facts, and quite frankly, what’s at stake here:

„You should know that they arranged a meeting with him already. He could arrive any minute, and he‘s eager to see you.“ he said, earning another groan from you, but this time out of pure frustration. This was moving too fast, only adding to the irritation that was already building up inside of you for hours, now threatening to come loose.

„Seonghwa,“ you started, but stopped for a second as you interwined your fingers with the older ones. „I don’t wanna do this. You‘re eager to marry, why don‘t you go ahead? They surely have many daughters desperate to get a man like you. Not to mention you‘re the oldest out of us.“ you tried to push the responsibility onto him, but he only scoffed in reply. He looked down to you, before dipping his chin towards his chest. Seeing faint traces of sadness resurface on his face. Your gut told you that he wasn’t happy about bringing you those news, but yet, it was his duty. He was the only one you’re willing to listen to, but you cursed at yourself and wishing you would have stayed in the glasshouse with the cats.

„They specifically asked for you. Even if I wanted to take your place, they don’t want me. Just you.“ he tried his best to stay serious and not show his outrage, staying calm instead. Whipping your head towards him and slowing your movements, „What if I do reject him? For all I know he could be some old, disgusting person. And it wouldn’t be so bad if they denied their support, surely there are other-“

Seonghwa stopped and pulled you by your shoulder, his glance boring holes into your skull. „Then they will kill us all, Y/N, don’t you get it? They are the only people willing to help us, because everyone else is out to murder us! If you deny, then you can already start planning your funeral, aswell as mine and our parents’. This is the last straw - no, you are the last straw.“

The words hit you with more force than ever before, ducking your head away from his heated stare and trying to get away. You sighed. This really wasn’t your usual way of handling things, and it only added to your bad feeling. Being weak and hiding wasn’t really like you at all, and you swore to yourself in that very moment, in Seonghwas harsh grip and angsty eyes, that no matter what happened - you were staying strong and true to yourself. And if it was the last thing you were doing. Taking a deep breath before you met his eyes for the first time in what felt like ages, your confidence struck.

„Okay. I will do it. There is no choice, so I‘ll have to do it.“

He sighed, but a small smile stretched his lips, “I know you will, and you can. But father send me not to console you, but to get yourself dressed and ready for Yeosang.” He started to walk again, aim back on the entrance back into the giant hallways of your home. Heading towards one of the rooms that had a majority of your fancier attire. Leaving you alone in the room as soon as you two arrive, but sending in the tailor just a few minutes later. Indicating how important the meeting actually is to your parents. As if their life depended on it, which it ironically did.

Yeosang, Yeosang, Yeosang... you thought to yourself while the familiar person started to work on your clothing. You heard that name before, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. May it be from on of the many balls and festivities you attended when you were younger, which basically were failed attempts to find a fitting spouse for both you and Seonghwa. And there were so many handsome, young, intelligent and athletic princes pining at you, but in the end you turned them all down. Secretly hoping that he wasn’t one of the many rejected boys, or else things are garantueed to turn awkward the moment he steps foot into your home.

After what felt like hours of the tailor getting you dressed in one of the finest dresses and brushing your long hair to hang loosely over your shoulders and chest, you heard a knock on the door and spotted two pairs of curious eyes peaking in. It was Seonghwa alongside your mother, whose eyes were puffy and nose was red from assumingly crying. The arm of Seonghwas tall form reached around her shoulder, trying to hold her steady. The tailor left after the finishing touches and your mother crashed into your arms, crying uncontrollably into your hair.

She sobbed so much it was hard to understand everything she was saying, other than that she was sorry and that she would miss you. You looked at your tall brother for advice on how you should react or what to say, but he just shrugged and extended a hand to pull her away from you. The longer you were trapped in her shaky arms, the final realisation grew larger and larger, that you would have to leave your family and not be able to see them for a very long time.

„Don’t worry about me mother. I can handle myself. And I will sure to visit when it’s possible... And I still have to teach Seonghwa how to shoot a dove with an arrow the right way, no?“ you joked half heartedly in a try to make her smile and take the strange negativity which was tangible in the air, away. It was an inside joke between your sibling and you, but your mother understood what you meant. But the lack of a response just supported your fear that you would not be able to go hunting ever again.

Seonghwa nudged you, as he held out his hand for you to take. Your mother waved you off, telling you to go ahead and not let them wait since she was still trying to collect herself from her excessive crying. Once again, the only reliable person in your life was next to you, pushing the stinging fact about this being the last time you will be with him for who knows how long - maybe even forever - to the side. They really took everything you had away from you, just to save themselves, and a strange, bitter taste formed in your mouth, starting to rethink the entire situation. The unconditional love slowly started to wear off, and this was only the start of it.

Before you turned the last corner into the main hall you stopped and pulled your brother back a few steps to make sure the others didn’t recognise him before you spoke your mind. Clearly hearing how your father was currently chirping a cheerful conversation with the family of your future husband as a distraction for their long wait, and how you hated the sound of that already.

“Can you promise me one thing? Not as the Prince, but as my brother?” You whispered after you caged his rough hands innetween your thin fingers and held his fist against your chest, for him to feel your heartbeat. Nodding in reply, watching your movements very closely, as if he tried to memorise this for him to remember forever. “Promise me that I will be able to see you again after I leave. And promise me you make sure the kingdom stays safe. I want to come back and rule with you once the time is right...”

His expression turned soft, and he pulled your small body into a brief hug, murmuring quietly, “I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep Y/N, but I will promise you with my entire heart that I will try my best. This is your home, no matter what happens, and I will always be here for you.” Tears were about to appear in your eyes, but as the two of you heard the dark voice of your father shout for your attendance, you quickly pulled away and swallowed the tears down.

Following closely after Seonghwa, stepping into view for the strangers to eye you curiously. You stood next to his throne and kept your gaze fixed on the floor, nor daring to look at them yet. As your father introduced you to his family, the stranger, which you assumed to be your future man, took a step forward and tapped his foot lightly against the stone cold floor, showing his impatience roughly. Still not daring to look him into the eyes, but he came closer and closer towards you, when he suddenly went down on one knee and pulled a giant diamond ring out of the back pocket of his slacks.

“Let’s make this quick, yes?” were his first and only words, and you finally looked him into his eyes, immediately regretting all your previous life choices.

His hair was dark brown and parted down the middle, his eyes held the fires of hell and the clouds of heaven in them at the same time. His high cheek bones and sharp jawline only adding to the attractiveness of him. His expression was unreadable, since you were indeed looking at a stranger. The longer you inspected his face and body, you assured yourself that you have never seen this man before, which was at least a little thing that made everything a little less worse. His hand snatched your wrist pretty forcefully, which almost made you jolt, but keeping the control over your body and balance, you stood straight. His gentle fingers fidgeting with your small hand, pushing the cold metal of the ring onto your ringfinger, and placing a soft but rushed kiss onto the back of your hand.

“It’s official then. Time to say goodbye.” The older man behind your fiancée spoke. You looked around for Seonghwa, but his gaze told you to stay still and not do anything crazy. Turning towards your father and bowing at the hip, you waved him goodbye, and did the same to your brother. This is happening. This is really happening. What am I gonna do now? rushed thoughts made you forget your surroundings for a moment, and before you even realized, you were on your way out of your home, Yeosang snaking his arm around your waist to guide you out.

Leading you out of your home and into their coach which was pulled by four big, brown horses. Taking a seat on the back, with Yeosang plopping down right next to you, and the proximity making your palms sweaty. Anxiety was bubbling in your stomach and through every other part of your body, and you didn’t dare to say something yet. Even if you were marrying their son and were going to stay with them for a very long time, you felt uneasy about everything. Like something was wrong... What were you going to do with all your time? All the things that kept you busy were all cancelled. Should you read? Cook? What do they even expect from this whole thing, other than the help your parents depended on? Questions over questions, no answers. In due time, you would get the answers, but first you needed to learn how to open your mouth Infront of them.

A threatening, long silence laid over the two of you, but after some time had passed, Yeosang clears his throat before he starts talking: “It should only take us four more hours until we arrive in Sangju. You may lean on me if you want to rest.” He suggested, and you eyed him, still unsure. Shaking your head after a few moments, declining his offer, “I’m well, thank you.”. You let your eyes wander over the landscapes to make him stop looking at you. Thankfully it worked.

After a long journey, your travel route finally came to a stop at what would be Yeosang’s family home… And now also your home. When you tried to stand up, you stumbled for a few steps, before regaining your balance again. Looking around you, his parents were watching you already. His father wore a strict look on his face, but his mother was shining, showing her teeth to you and trying to seem welcoming towards you. Even if it was just a tiny act of kindness, you felt a little less lost on your shoes. Your future husband stood next to you as he entered the giant gates of their castle.

“We should head to the main hall, for our two love birds to sign the marriage certificate.” His father exclaimed while pasting through the giant corridors. You looked a bit lost in the giant building, yet the sudden placement of the princes’ hand back on the small of your waist calmed your nerves for what ever reason. It might be from the physical touch, since what else would it be? He was still a stranger.

Shortly after you signed the documents, they brought you to the quarters you were to share with the prince, or now your husband, you started wondering for how long they have been planning this. Obtaining these sort of documents would take several weeks at least. Starting to think of the true intentions of these people. What could they possibly want from you? Money? No, they surely had enough... maybe fame? But still, what was your part in that? You were renowned for being “not suitable for marriage”, so yet again - where was the catch? Walking up and down the giant bedroom in a hurry, your thoughts were overwhelming you. Only did you wish to be able to seek Seonghwa’s advice, or be able to run away. It was all way too sketchy.

“May I come in, my grace?” Yeosang asked, the door being opened only a few inches to peek in. Noticing your distressed state, but choosing not yet to comment on it. You slowed your hasty footsteps and sat down on the foot of the bed. He sat down beside you, like you were sitting in your travel here, but now you were alone. But that made you feel more angsty. Even if you were not married in a formal way, the documents are signed. You were, in fact, husband and wife now.

You sighed deeply, catching his attention again. “Your highness, I believe I do not quite understand what is expected of me as your wife. And I’m worried about the well being of my family. I gave up all my hopes and dreams for the future to come here, so they may be saved.” You explained. He eyed you carefully, your words were thick with desparation, but the tone in your voice didn’t indicate your emotions about the matter. “Now, Now, my grace, do not mistaken our efforts to help as a way to ruin your future. In fact, I do believe we might have a bright future ahead of us. I am your newly wed husband after all, am I not? Please, I want you make you feel as welcome as possible, let me or anyone know if something is not to your liking. We ought to take care of it.” He announced, before slipping off the bed and heading back outside. Sudden alarm going off in your head:

“Yeosang,” you started, suprising both of you by your informality towards the older man, “I have one request, if I might.” He nodded, turning on his heel to look at you again. “Of course, anything for you, my lady. What is bothering you?”

swallowing down the thick blob of nervousness before continuing with your request: “I don’t know much of the deal between your parents of mine, but can you please ensure me, that my brother will not endear any form of pain or injustice... I wouldn’t be able to look at myself anymore if anything were to happen to him..."

"Now, don’t be so naive, my grace. Our intentions are purely out of charity.” Yeosang swiftly interrupted your ramblings. Taking your gaze off of him and hiding your hand behind the back of your hand, a sob slipped out of your lips.

He stayed still for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Does your dear brother mean a lot to you?” You simply nod your head while collecting yourself again from almost bursting into tears at the mere thought of Seonghwa being in pain. “Seonghwa is everything I have. Had... he was the only one who I could trust and who would understand the, uhm... the scandals revolving our parents. He is truly the only sencire person in my family.” explaining while panting softly, his eyes turned soft after seeing you so vulnerable right infront of him. Taking a few steps back to your direction, cupping your cheek lightly with his big palm, and meeting your gaze. “I will ensure your brothers safety, there will be no need to worry. But now you should rest, we will show you everything that you can do to entertain yourself tomorrow. I will join you shortly.”

After a few moments of intaking the intimacy between you two strangers, he detached himself from you and you felt cold and alone. It made you creeped out at the strong emotions and feelings he errupted inside you. Also wondering if he would take your innocence away from you, since this would be your wedding night. But before you could ask anything else, he stood up and walked out of the bedroom. But regardless the mess inside your mind, his words brought calm to your mind, and you were able to lay down and close your eyes for a short while.

Meanwhile, Yeosang entered his fathers study, interrupting him doing important paperwork:

“It’s about the brother. Take him to Keomgyu, make him marry one of my cousins, but you shan’t kill him. They are aware of thier parents mishaps, but do not support them at all. He could do good for our kingdom, so again: I ask you not to kill him.”

—

[witchbitchheadedtoaditch]

Shadow Work Prompts Part 2

Hello my loves! I'm going to add some more shadow work prompts (primarily because... Kaye needs to do shadow work and maybe this will convince them to do it. (It won't. We all know it won't. But we can hope....))

I'm gonna put these below the cut just so people don't have to scroll through this long as fuck list on their dash if they don't want to see them lol

Some of these are really, really heavy, and do touch on things like sexual assault, abuse, death, etc., so this is the trigger warning for you.

A lot of these are also focused on women and AFAB folks because I'm trying to reconcile with my femininity and whatnot.

Anne Carson Quotes

You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.

Words bounce. Words, if you let them, will do what they want to do and what they have to do.

Eros is an issue of boundaries. He exists because certain boundaries do. ... Eros: the boundary of flesh and self between you and me.

Desire is no light thing.

It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

All mortals owe a debt to death.

...sex is a substitute, like money or language.

...your story begins the moment Eros enters you. That incursion is the biggest risk of your life. How you handle it is an index of the quality, wisdom, and decorum of the things inside you.

Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.

Philosophers say man forms himself in dialogue.

There is no person without a world.

If there is anything dearer than being alive, it's dark to me.

We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing... life.

The underworld's a blank and all the rest just fantasy.

Caught between the tongue and the taste.

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us? For an instant God suspends assent and poof! we disappear.

Girls are cruelest to themselves.

What really connects words and things?

Blessed be they whose lives do not taste of evil

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.

Consider incompleteness as a verb.

You can get used to anything, my mother was in the habit of saying.

I am talking about evil. It blooms. It eats. It grins.

I don't want to be a person. I want to be unbearable.

Beauty makes me hopeless.

The dead... are victims of love, many of them.

To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

You read a hundred military manuals you won't find the word kill they trick you into killing.

I went mad, a god hurt me, I fell.

Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.

Love does not make me gentle or kind.

Your grief is as great as your splendor was: some god is weighing the one out equal to the other.

You can never know enough, never work enough, ... never leave the mind quickly enough.

Language is what eases the pain of living with other people, language is what makes the wounds come open again.

Where does unbelief begin?

Everything that is me is with me.

A wound gives off its own light...

I began to think I was someone thirsting for God.

You are a person in love with the impossible.

When we are denied a story, a light goes off.

Some conversations are not what they're about.

I lack myself.

Who knows what will happen if I'm alone with my grief.

I... forbid that you should ever lose your screams.

You are not a god. You are not that enlarged self. Indeed, you are not even a whole self, as you now see. Your new knowledge of possibilities is also a knowledge of what is lacking in the actual.

There is a loneliness that fills the plain.

The women of mythology regularly lose their form in monstrosity.

We live by waters breaking out of the heart.

Time as hunger. Time passing and gazing. Time as perseverance. Mountain time. Time as paper folded to look like a mountain. Time compared to the wild fantastic silence of stars.

What are we made of but hunger and rage?

When I look at you, even for a moment, no speaking is left in me.

Kelly Cherry Quotes

I didn't find my story; it found me.

There is blood everywhere and I am lost in it. I breathe blood, not air.

The story of [their] great-grandfather [or any ancestor]... was [their] own story, too.

Ashe Vernon Quotes

Don't you dare, for one minute, believe that my kindness makes me anything but insurmountable.

Understand that I am not your next victim in a laundry list of broken girls.

I will eat you alive before I let you make a meal of me.

What they don't tell you about standing up for what you believe in is that your feet will bruise and your legs will ache.

I'd like to take a moment to submit a formal apology to my soft parts because they kept me warm when I was trying to freeze to death, and I hated them for it.

I let myself be afraid.

When you learn you are only as good as your beauty routine, you forget how to define yourself by anything else.

I will know how to be vulnerable with you, but I won't know how to not regret it.

I know how to put my body inside someone else's but not how to make it beautiful.

I love better at a distance.

I am as much lion as I am lion tamer.

I got good at inflicting pain the same way I got good at soothing it.

Quit picking old wounds and going tor walks in the aches and pains you already made it through--you call it healing, but it sounds like a good way to take a haunting home with you.

I am a cathedral of almost-lovers

Louise Gluck Quotes

We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.

I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.

The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.

Intense love always leads to mourning.

You will never let go, you will never be satiated.

It will feed you, it will ravish you, it will not keep you alive.

Why love what you will lose? There is nothing else to love.

I speak because I am shattered.

I don't need your praise to survive.

Whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice.

Nakedness in women is always a pose. I was not transfigured. I would never be free.

The unsaid, for me, exerts great power.

I am tired of human... I want to live on the sun

Death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life.

There are places like this... you enter as a young girl... you never return.

Writing is a kind of revenge against circumstance, too: bad luck, loss, pain. If you make something out of it, then you've no longer been bested by these events.

The riddle was: why couldn't we live in the mind. The answer was: the barrier of the earth intervened.

It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.

You're not a creature in body. You exist as the stars exist, participating in their stillness, their immensity.

And then, suddenly, something is over.

You must be taught to love me. Human beings must be taught to love silence and darkness.

Sappho Quotes

Someone will remember us/I say/even in another time.

Their heart grew cold. They let their wings down.

What cannot be said will be wept.

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Love shook my heart like the wind on the mountain rushing over the oak trees

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

The female creature is a letter.

No holy place existed without us then

She who loves roses must be patient and not cry when she is pierced by thorns.

Because I prayed this word: I want.

If you had a desire for good or beautiful things and your tongue were not concocting some evil to say, shame would not hold down your eyes but rather you would speak about what is just.

Wealth without virtue is no harmless neighbor.

I am weary of all your words and soft, strange ways.

Paisley Rekdal Quotes

Does it offend you to watch me working in it, touching my hands to the greening tips or tearing the yellow stalks back, so wild the living and dead both snap off in my hands?

I can wait longer than sadness.

It is such a small thing to be proud of.

Should I, too, not be loved?

We are even now still so young

I loved him. I loved forgiving him.

Yasmin Belkhyr Quotes

Contrary to wound, I still know nothing of defeat.

Contrary to ache, I still know nothing of guilt.

I help: a good daughter.

Someone always ends up holding something mangled.

It wasn't enough to feel... he had to see, to know.

Adrienne Rich Quotes

There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.

Lying is done with words, and also with silence

Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you; it means learning to respect and use your own brains and instincts; hence, grappling with hard work.

When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.

My heart is moved by all I cannot save: so much has been destroyed

If you are trying to transform a brutalized society into one where people can live in dignity and hope, you begin with the empowering of the most powerless. You build from the ground up.

Until we know the assumptions in which we are drenched, we cannot know ourselves.

The truth of our bodies and our minds has been mystified to us.

It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath. It will be short, it will not be simple.

You look at me like an emergency.

The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than truth.

In a world where language and naming are power, silence is oppression, is violence.

There is no 'the truth', 'a truth'--truth is not one thing, or even a system. It is an increasing complexity. The pattern of the carpet is a surface. When we look closely, or when we become weavers, we learn of the tiny multiple threads unseen in the overall pattern, the knots on the underside of the carpet.

The moment of change is the only poem

There is nothing revolutionary whatsoever about the control of women's bodies by men. The woman's body is the terrain on which the patriarchy is erected.

The scars bear witness but whether to repair or to destruction I no longer know.

Not biology, but ignorance of ourselves, has been the key to our powerlessness

What kind of beast would turn its life into words?

Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has been created between people.

You touched me in places so deep I wanted to ignore you

Silence can be a plan rigorously executed, the blueprint to a life, it is a presence, it has a history, a form. Do not confuse it with any kind of absence.

Most women have not even been able to touch this anger, except to drive it inward like a rusted nail.

We have lived with violence for so long.

This is my body, take it and destroy it

We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings. And the fear of our deepest cravings keeps them suspect, keeps us docile and loyal and obedient, and leads us to settle for... many facets of our own oppression.

Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.

A language is a map of our failures.

The more I live the more I think two people together is a miracle.

Poetry is, among other things, a criticism of language.

How do you make it, all the way from here to morning?

An honorable human relationship--that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word "love"--is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.

You grieve in loneliness, and if I understand you fuck in loneliness.

We write from the marrow of our bones.

The liar has many friends, and leads an existence of great loneliness

We must use what we have to invent what we desire.

William Styron Quotes

We're all in this game together.

In depression this faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come-not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute.

It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul

We each devise our means of escape from the intolerable.

Reading--the best state yet to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.

Let your love flow out on all living things.

Loss in all of its manifestations is the touchstone of depression--in the progress of the disease and, most likely, in its origin.

Kai Cheng Thom Quotes

I wanted to protect you, but I'm starting to think that the best thing you can do for people is teach them how to protect themselves. Every girl needs to be at least a little dangerous.

A sanctuary is a place where the door only locks from the inside.

Sometimes to be somebody else, you have to be nobody first.

You will be able to stop hurting people when you stop hurting yourself.

When you're a child trapped in a situation of physical or psychological depravation, you learn shame as an efficient, elegant mechanism of survival: shame simultaneously shields you from the reality that danger is out of your control (since the problem is not that you're unloved and deprived; it's that you're Bad) and prevents you from doing or saying anything challenging that might provoke a threat.

It's good for you to cry sometimes. Even if there isn't a reason.

When you live in a community of queers, anarchists, & activists, crisis is the baseline and stability an outlier.

You are mine like nothing has ever been before.

Safety is, I believe, an inherently classed, raced, and gendered experience that frequently runs the risk of being used for regressive ends--ironically, for restricting the freedoms of the vulnerable, those who are never really safe. Often, we see the call for safety actually reinforce the power of oppressive institutions, like the police and the prison system, in our lives. When we choose safety over liberation, our movements fail.

When they looked at me and my sister, even their love was hungry.

Some people will cling on to anything that makes them feel even a little bit free.

Forget, if you can, all the promises you've ever made and the lies that you've told.

Once you start hurting people, you can't stop

I feel tired. I don't want to be myself anymore.

Sometimes it's important to be alive.

Sometimes, there is nothing you can do but surrender.

You are always disappearing in the hope of being seen. You are always shrinking to fit into someone else's arms. You are collapsing ever inward, a galaxy to become smaller.

Gregory Orr Quotes

If we're not supposed to dance, why all this music?

Even hell is holy.

I was born with a knife in one hand and a wound in the other.

Maybe she loved me, maybe not--who knows? Not even the gods can see into a human heart--it's that dark.

Writing often reveals us to ourselves, lets us name what's important to us and what has been silent or silenced inside us.

And to live only once--what if that's not enough?

Maybe it was always simple: loss surrounds us. Who would deny it? We ourselves are loss, are lost.

I want to study the book of the world: every vanishing page.

The dead sing us songs I'm learning to answer.

[beybladefanboy]

Top 5 Favourite Beyblade Characters

Random and unasked for but I figured I would talk about my favourite characters in the Beyblade Metal Saga.

#5 A tie between Chris and Hikaru

Chris

I’m putting these two in the same spot because I wanted both of them to be on this list and a “top 6” doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as a “top 5.” Anyways, the first time I watched Metal Fury, I didn’t care much about Chris. Now however, I find his arc of being stuck in a job that brings him no joy to be incredibly relatable. His lack of passion for Beyblade makes complete sense: the fun of the sport was completely sucked out when it became an obligation for him and he wasn’t allowed to fight for himself. He was completely obligated to his employer and had little choice in the matter. That would suck away anyone’s passion, trust me, I know. So seeing the light return to his eyes as he rediscovered his passion for Beyblading was incredibly satisfying.

Hikaru

A lot of the appeal of Hikaru is admittedly that she is a female blader, and yeah, it is great having a strong female character. (We need more of those) What’s great about Hikaru however is that she isn’t just a token girl character or a mary sue: she is treated the same as any other blader and is allowed to fail and feel emotions without being degraded. I like that we even see a bit of her backstory where we learn that she is driven to be the best blader because of her likely deceased mother’s words. It’s a shame that she quit Beyblade due to her trauma but I also think it’s understandable and that it was interesting to explore that trauma. The moment that broke my heart rewatching Metal Masters was when Hikaru sees Dark Tsubasa and is paralyzed by terror, clearly remembering what Ryuga did to her. Beyblade’s most powerful scenes to me are the ones that delve into a character’s mind and allows me to see their thoughts and feelings. It allows me to understand and be more attached to the character and we got a lot of that from Hikaru and Chris.

#4 Yuki

Yuki is kind of underrated in my opinion but then again, so is the entirety of Metal Fury. Yuki was a really fresh character for the series. Nearly every character is extremely reckless: acting first, thinking later so it was really refreshing to see a character who overthinks everything to the point of anxiety. I just relate more to a character that doubts himself and has to fight to overcome not just the great evil but his own self-doubt and fear as well. Also, I love that scene where he fights Ryuga. He probably knows he doesn’t stand a chance against a guy like him but he doesn’t care because he’s fighting for his friends. I can relate to that. When I’m just doing something for myself, I tend to doubt and question myself but when I’m standing up for my friends, I show no mercy. So yeah, Yuki is a really relatable character, as well as a pure cinnamon roll that needs more love.

#3 Kyoya

If you asked who my favourite Beyblade character was two and half years ago, I would’ve answered “Kyoya” without any hesitation. While I do still really like him, I think his character was kind of fumbled in Metal Fury. I’ll talk about that separately though because I want this to be a positive post. Still, Kyoya is a great character. I like how he develops from a villain to that one liner asshole friend of Gingka’s. While I do like him unironically, Kyoya is honestly just funny to me. He is so ridiculously arrogant about his own skills but he actually is as good as he says he is. He’s also a tsundere. He’s absolutely a tsundere. He’s always helping his friends with whatever bullshit they’re doing: helping them infiltrate the Dark Nebula, going to look for Gingka when he disappears, helping them infiltrate Hades city, going with them to look for the Legendary Bladers, and on two separate occasions, staying behind to fight someone so the others can go forward. Even his determination to beat Gingka feels more like friendly competition than actual malice. And yet he insists he doesn’t care about them with lines like, “It’s not like I came to save you or anything.” It’s honestly kind of majestic. He’s also a complete badass. He always gets back up after a loss and fights to the bitter end and, sometimes to the detriment of himself but never his Beyblade. When Leone was on the verge of breaking to pieces in The Fearsome Libra, he forfeited the match to stop that from happening, risking humiliation and accepting defeat to do the right thing. That is genuinely admirable. It takes courage to fight but even more courage to admit defeat. Also, his fight against Ryuga in Metal Fusion is insane. Kyoya nearly falls so many times but keeps himself on his feet and rises up again. It takes being stabbed in the heart by the dark power for Kyoya to be defeated. Out of everyone, Kyoya came the closest to defeating Ryuga through sheer will and determination alone. What a badass.

#2 Tsubasa

Similar to Yuki, Tsubasa is also a pretty unique character for this series. While he is passionate about fighting like all the others, Tsubasa is much more thoughtful and cool-headed, which is appealing especially among a cast of hot-headed crazy characters. When Tsubasa is first introduced, he’s kind of a mystery. We don’t know his true intentions or alignment until we learn that he was working for the WVBA, about 15 episodes after his initial introduction. This unpredictability made him interesting to watch in Metal Fusion as I didn’t know what he was going to do next. Then in Metal Masters, he becomes even more interesting. While it was emotionally intense to watch, I think the “Dark Tsubasa” arc is one of this series’ greatest achievements. It revealed a completely new layer of personality to Tsubasa and gave him so much development. 

While he was being somewhat controlled by the dark power, it is made clear through the dialogue that that side of him was always there and the dark power just enhanced and unmasked it. He did often hide his true emotions and intentions in Metal Fusion after all. The scenes where Tsubasa interacts with his dark self are very interesting and relatable to me because I often try to hide my negative emotions and avoid situations where they might come out until those feelings fester into madness, which is essentially what Tsubasa did. However, the resolution to this arc is what makes it so special to me. Tsubasa doesn’t drive out the darkness or continue to repress it: he accepts the darkness as part of who he is because everyone has darkness in them and the way to control it is to become one with it. And in the end, he becomes a stronger blader and person as a result of this arc. This is legitimately inspiring and helpful to me. It’s important to remember that we are not defined by our worst thoughts/feelings, we are defined by how we handle them and accepting ourselves, flaws and all, is important. So really that arc alone makes Tsubasa one of my favourite characters but he also has an appealing personality as well. It’s a shame he was kind of underused in Metal Fury but I love what we got from him.

#1 Ryuga

Yeah, okay, this was obvious. Take one look at my feed or even my profile picture and you could probably guess that I love Ryuga. Two and a half years ago, I hated him with a passion but after rewatching the show again, I realized I only really hated him because of what he did to Hikaru, Tsubasa, and Kyoya which yes was horrible and I don’t condone it in any way but he was under the influence of the dark power at that point and he never does anything quite that awful again. Anyways, onto the positives. Ryuga in Metal Fusion is the best villain the show ever had. He poses a significant threat and was the first person to legitimately defeat Gingka. He’s also a terrifying sadist that cackles at others’ pain. If Ryuga had stayed like that, I would probably still like him as a character but I certainly wouldn’t have developed a crush. Damn, that would’ve been nice. But alas, even in Metal Fusion, Ryuga is somewhat sympathetic when you remember that he is just a kid and was both used by Doji and not even in full control of himself because of the dark power. He is seen trying to resist its control in the final battle after all. It’s interesting to see a character who is literally corrupted by the power he sought out and actually does learn from his mistake. In Metal Masters, he realized that humans’ greed and hatred was what caused the dark power to be so harmful and decided to draw the power from its original source, before it was tainted by humans, and became super powerful. Even if you hate Ryuga, you have to admit that is awesome. And once he stopped being a sadistic villain, he became much more unpredictable as sometimes he would even help the main heroes in Metal Masters, albeit for selfish reasons. Ryuga sort of feels like a combination of traits I liked most in Tsubasa and Kyoya. He has the unpredictability and loner attitude of Tsubasa and the confidence and determination of Kyoya. Also, I don’t think I need to say that Ryuga is a badass. That’s not even an opinion: it’s something that we all know to be a fact. I mean, this is the guy who launched his Beyblade at a floating city, wrecking it enough to send it crashing into the water and causing a reactor meltdown that nearly destroyed the earth. That last part was unintentional and in all fairness, he did help stop the end of the world, but still, he is both powerful and reckless enough to do something like that. He was kind of frustrating in Metal Fury but I did like his friendship with Kenta and while his blind pursuit of power was annoying, I gotta admire the ambition. And… yeah, I cried at his death. I cried harder at that than anything else in this show at any other point I watched it, including when I was a kid even though I knew it was coming. Even though his motivations for fighting Nemesis were far from righteous, he still died trying to defeat the great evil and his final act was giving Kenta the star fragment to give the heroes the chance they needed to win. Ryuga died a hero, plain and simple. I wish he had lived so we could see him develop even more after that moment but either way, Ryuga is a great character. He’s the best villain in season one and I love his fiery personality and aesthetic in the following seasons.

[leutik]

Literature between Political Correctness and Cancel Culture

(Analyzed through Walter Siti, Natalie Wynn and Rick DuFer.)

(buckle up, because if you're gonna read this, it's gonna be long)

«Today is much easier to mistake an author’s personal stances with the content of their works, and then make the author pay for the work’s sins.

Today I look around and I have the sensation that literature is no longer taken seriously: that the way to interpret literature the way I knew it, depth-focused, focused on the power of words to reveal truths otherwise concealed to their own author, is disappearing — substituted by a conception of literature that has to serve a list of good causes.

When some writers of the “neo-effort” (Siti’s neologism) insist on the fact that words are decisive, and that it’d be urgent to change the words in order to change reality, I’m suddenly reminded of those old Marxist authors: they explained that the structure, which is what lays under society, determines what lays upon it, that is words and ideology. Thus, changing the name of something doesn’t change the thing the word stands for at all.

Literature has been considered throughout time the most indicated form to make resurface the part of ourselves — often, the least pleasant — that we’ve exiled in the shadows of our subconscious: a process that often happens without the author’s acknowledgement of it.

The authors of the neo-effort believe they have the duty to spread their ideas to the largest possible number of people and that, in order to do so, they have to simplify as much as they can what they write, sacrificing on the altar of efficiency the style, considered useless. The aim is to do good, namely gain an effect, what does it matter if it’s good or bad literature? Literature used to “take root”, to influence; put at the service of pre-established ideas, and not to venture into the discovery of something we don’t know yet. This way, it gains an ancillary role. And it’s a humiliation of literature — which can truly be useful, instead, only then it hurts.

Sartre’s “Nausea” doesn’t align with his political stances. For Sartre, the effort was the individual reflection of a society in perennial revolution, substantially a school of liberty, whilst for neo-effort the role of literature is to reassure.

Their attitude, their rejection of style, their low consideration of literature, tends to isolate the good writers out there, marginalizing them in a niche that looks like a convention of obsessed aesthetes in the public’s eyes.

I see it in the writing courses I teach: more and more young people whose main interest isn’t to write to learn something about themselves or society, but it’s to write to gain the title of writer and place themselves on the market, detecting the most profitable sector at the moment, which might be fantasy, crime, or effort-centred writing: it doesn’t matter, what matters is for it to be trending and to be reassuring to the reader, in a more and more therapeutic conception of writing.

Literature isn’t immediately therapeutic, this is the difference. When “The Sorrows of Young Werther” was published, copies of this book were burnt, because of the suicides it inspired. Today we read it at school. How much time has passed? I don’t refuse knowledge’s benefit, I refuse that knowledge can benefit instantly, painlessly. When I went to a psychoanalyst to face my neurosis, the psychoanalyst made me suffer for months, and only after I took benefit from it. What would have happened if they had welcomed me with a pat on the back and said “Don’t worry, stop thinking and go help African children”. Probably I would have had an immediate benefit, but all my neurosis would have stayed there, intact.

The Literature I talked to you about is depth-centred, and literature hasn’t always existed: thus it can disappear, sink for many years. Who said that it’ll survive, despite everything?

In Pasolini’s trial he was acquitted because Ungaretti was called to testify. He wrote a letter where he wrote that the formal value of Pasolini’s work turned into literature even those scenes that the prosecution deemed obscene. Law couldn’t do anything but recognize the critical judgement and welcome it. Web’s tribunal, today, would have burned Pasolini at the stake, and Ungaretti with him.» (via Walter Siti’s interview with the Huffingtonpost)

In other words, we can summarize Siti’s view with the sentence «novels aren’t the cure to the world’s evils.» They aren’t, because they don’t have the power to be, and more so they aren’t even supposed to be: writing is a form of art, and art has primarily an end in itself. Literature isn’t a political marketplace, even if it can be used to be — it’s not a crime to turn it into one, but by doing so, one loses Literature’s nature. By doing so, the harm could be mistake literature’s primary aim (that is being a form of art, that is style, that is the pursuit of the truth) with what they turned literature into: a marketplace to defend the author’s ideology.

Siti’s powerful image of the Web’s tribunal, the Web’s court finds an echo in Natalie Wynn video Canceling: in a sense, what Siti calls “neo-effort writers” fall under the same line of thoughts of Cancel Culture perpetrators.

«Like the guillotine, [cancelling] can become a sadistic entertainment spectacle.

Now there's a version of this conversation that's already been had to death, and it goes like this: On the one side are a bunch of male comedians who constantly bitch about how Cancel Culture is out of control, you can't joke about anything anymore without these Millennial jackals trying to get you in trouble.

And the other side is mostly progressive think-piece authors who argue that there's no such thing as cancel culture, it's just that powerful people are finally being held accountable for their actions and they can't fucking handle it, so they go around bitching about cancel culture.

Now unfortunately, neither of those viewpoints is quite as correct as some people might hope.

What Cancel Culture does, [is to] take one story and transform it into a significantly different story.

Presumption of Guilt

There's a traditional understanding of justice according to which, before you condemn or punish a person, you hear the accuser's side of the story and the accused's side of the story. You allow both sides to present evidence and only after everyone involved has had a chance to make their case do you pass judgment and punish the convict.

But cancelling does not abide by the law. Cancelling is a form of vigilante mob justice. And a lot of times, an accusation is proof enough.

Abstraction

Abstraction replaces the specific, concrete details of a claim with a more generic statement.

Essentialism

Essentialism is when we go from criticizing a person's actions to criticizing the person themselves. We're not just saying they did bad things. We’re saying they’re a bad person.

Pseudo-Moralism or Pseudo-Intellectualism

Moralism or intellectualism provide a phony pretext for the call-out. You can pretend you just want an apology; you can pretend you're just a “concerned citizen” who wants the person to improve. You can pretend you're simply offering up criticism, when what you're really doing is attacking a person's career and reputation out of spite, envy, revenge.

No Forgiveness

Cancelers will often dismiss an apology as insincere, no matter how convincingly written or delivered. And of course, an insincere apology is further proof of what a Machiavellian psychopath you really are.

Now sometimes, a good apology will calm things down for a while. But the next time there's a scandal, the original accusation will be raised again as if you never apologized.

The Transitive Property of Cancellation

Cancellation is infectious. If you associate with a cancelled person, the cancellation rubs off. It's like gonorrhoea, except doxycycline won't save you this time sweetie.» (via Natalie Wynn's Canceling video transcript)

Natalie Wynn describes and formalizes the phenomenon of Cancel Culture in those steps:

I only listen to the presumed victim,

I abstract the context to a vague idea,

I equate the action to the actor’s very essence (as if such thing even existed),

I say I’m acting in favour of morals or truth,

I accuse every person the presumed abuser ever came in contact with to be an abuser as well,

and I either reject every form of apology at the moment, or bring up the issue as if no apology was ever made at their first misstep.

Now, in this post I’m not trying to perpetrate any concept of charity, not only because it’s an attitude that takes a lot of work to inherit, but also because the negative aspects that might bring one to be a neo-effort writer or a Cancel Culture perpetrator are part of the very human nature (or, very stupidly, they wouldn’t be humans.)

The self-evidence rises here: those negative parts of human nature can be channelled everywhere, and literature or any other form of art is the healthiest way to do so: you’re not going to get rid of your anger, or your sadness — the best thing you can do is learn to control it and suppress it, but how is it going to work in the long run? It’s going to act past your good judgement, or even cloud your good judgement, clouding it into thinking you’re defending some pseudo-moralism or pseudo-intellectualism, when what you’ll be doing is just venting on someone else.

This is one way to see it: when one forgets what proper thinking is and falls into those quick and gut-feeling “thoughts”. Or one could even take advantage of this Cancel Culture, of this ground of poor thinking to instrumentalize this lack of critical judgement to attack someone else.

On instrumentalization and its dangers, Rick DuFer says:

«Political correctness works when its aim is to protect the weak from abusers, but when it favours every little susceptible sensitivity it turns dangerous.» (via Rick DuFer’s podcast DailyCogito)

Rick DuFer talks about a shared responsibility that happens during offence: shared between the offender and the offended. The problem with offence, as opposed to harm, is that it isn’t quantifiable, so the offender is guilty in regard to their intentions, and the offended is guilty in regard to the instrumentalization they can enact with the situation.

And again we find “instrumentalization��: if one destroys my property, I can quantify the damage, but if one insults me, how can I quantify how offended I truly am? This is when I can twist one person’s words and turn them into an offender, this is when sensitivity becomes a mask and no longer a virtue (or, for the toxic masculinity’s thought, a vice.)

Now, to wrap things up:

These people take the (s)word of this school of thought (which some other dichotomists may, generalizing it, call it “Strong Thought” or “Unique Thought”), perhaps without even knowing there’s an alternative, while there are multiple, actually: as many as the human beings right now populating Earth.

They may do it out of a dualistic and very childish view of society — divided into good and bad people. And if that’s your view of life, you’re not gonna want to be associated with who others deem as bad, following a gut feeling and nothing more. (And I say “gut feeling” to avoid saying “very poor thinking”, because that’s what absolutization, essentialism, and the rest is.)

Your thoughts aren’t really yours, and you become a vessel for something that belongs to someone else, someone who crafted those thoughts in a very different context, or with instrumentalization in mind. You don’t want to risk criticizing those thoughts because you don’t want to be isolated, or because you’re a sane person who deems it important to act rightfully (even if you’re letting others tell you what “right” is.)

And for how problematic moral relativism is, it surely is better than any form of absolutization: better than rejecting your status as “sapiens” and stopping thinking altogether, passively accepting what others taught you to be right and wrong, maybe even out of fear, or a stupid rush for glory and sympathy.

So I wouldn’t call this moral relativism, strictly, but rather moral subjectivism, or context-centred morality. A morality in which people still have a brain to separate a piece of work from an author’s ideology (against essentialism) and to still take into account the context in which an action was performed (against abstraction). A morality in which “good” and “wrong” aren’t seen in black and whites, but rather into lighter and darker greys; a morality which systematic use can slowly dress into the habit of charity towards one another, into kind teaching rather than cruel instrumentalization.

And is it really utopistic, is it really unfeasible, if we’re not falsely annihilating the suffering and the negative parts of the Human Experience?

This whole discourse could be turned into a political marketplace of rights and lefts, of conservatives and progressivists — but my aim here is much smaller (or bigger, if one is a humanist): to make the reader question their critical thinking, and just that.

(We love some self-doubt.)

I believe moral acts aren’t supposed to be a badge to share on one’s vest — to renew your status as “approachable person” (as if saying “don’t worry, you can talk to me, you’re not going to be deemed as bad for it”) or to be praised for. Moral acts are the only acts that raise humans from other species, the acts where the “sapiens” shows its evolution, the acts where our negative aspects aren’t hidden but channelled into arts, without the fear that someone might call us bad for it. (Immoral, even, whilst acting in the most moral way possible, exorcising those negative parts of us in the least harmful way possible.)

So, at the end of this unnecessary rant, my question is: is it better to be a minion in a culture where you have to watch your mouth, as if it wasn’t yours, or to be a person who’s engaged in researching how right and wrong truly manifest?

[beyondthecosmicvoid]

"What you're talking about is manifest destiny."

"You can call it whatever you want, Tom. The fact remains that if the human race needs to do something to survive and lower orders don't have the power to stop us, we will prevail. It is not right ir wrong, it is just the way things are. You've got to stop projecting human motives and es onto other organisms. Everything is merely what it is. A mongoose that tries to steal a cobra's egg isn't evil -- it is just trying to survive. But the cobra is trying to survive too. And if it catches the mongoose in its nest, there's going be a fight. Fortunately for the mongoose, it has faster reflexes and a more efficient metabolism. Whether that's fair or not isn't event part of the equation -- it's simply the way things are."

"Yeah? Try telling that to the cobra. But for the sake of argument, we'll ignore the question of ethics. Still, all you're saying, Scott, is that it's all right to do whatever we want. To exploit any ecosystem, any species -- as long as we don't run into anything big enough to kick our butts."

"If you want to phrase it that way. Yeah. That's the way nature works."

"Sure, on tutoring disks, but not in the real world. Every part of an ecosystem is dependent on every other part. It's that interdependence that makes interfering with existing systems so chancy. Even the smallest components are vitally important."

“Who could have guessed that millions of ‘killer bee’s could spring from a handful of escaped African bees? Or that a few Brazilian fire ants could make the Southeastern portion of the U.S. virtually uninhabitable in just over seventy years? And what about the ‘oil-eating’ bacterium the gene-splicers at the petroleum companies developed to clean up their spills? Remember how they thought they had it completely in their control?”

“Come on, Tom, the oil would’ve dried up sooner or later anyway, and I hear the new repro-inhibitors they’re using are making a substantial dent in the fire ant populations. Sure, we suffer setbacks, but we’ll always find ways around the problems that nature throw at us.”

“Will we Scott? I’m not so sure, mankind never seems to learn. We get our hands slapped on a regular basis, but we still can’t seem to keep them to ourselves. The tighter the grip we try to get on nature, the more nature pushes through the cracks in our technology. And with some of the things we’re encountering in the settlements, we have no idea what kind of trouble we may be letting ourselves in for by messing around.”

“Well, so far we’ve done okay. On all of the life-supporting planets we’ve come across. The worst thing we’ve ever encountered has been the ‘blood willies’ of epsilon INDI TWO. And I hear they’ve got a vaccine for that now. If I were you, I’d put my faith in science and stop worrying about the bogeyman. And I’d watch what I said around the corporate types, Tom. All any of them care about is their jobs, and you’ll make them nervous with talk about problems that don’t exist yet.”

“I don’t care. This is my last long haul. I’m getting out while the getting’s good. All of the monkeying around the corporations are doing out in the settlements may not bother you, Scott, but it does me. We’ve had a long run of good fortune –longer than we’ve deserved there’s a major league turd coming down the pike, mark my words--- and I don’t want to be around when it hits the fan. I’m telling you, we shouldn’t be messing with mother nature. She’s a real bitch. We have to learn to work with nature. This reliance on technology is getting to be too much for me, Scott. It’s no longer a means to an end. It’s become an end unto itself. We use it like a wall between ourselves and our surroundings … between ourselves and who we really are. We’ve come a long way in the past three thousands years but I can’t help feeling that we’ve lost as much as we’ve gained.”

“So what’s your solution Tom? Give up modern convenience and go back to stone knives and squatting in caves?”

“You’re reaching for extreme again, Scott, but that just might be what it takes to put us back on the right track. And I’m not talking about austerity or deprivation. I’m talking about the challenge of putting away the crutches of our technology and going back to relying on our own strength and cunning. These days we’re so insulated that we make heroes out of anyone who dares to face up to a challenge. But it wasn’t always like that. Life of death challenges used to be an every day thing and real men didn’t wait for adventure to come to them. They rushed out to meet it not like the generals and corporate heads these days who send out the little guys to do their dirty work. It used to be that a man’s standing as a leader was determined by how he handled himself in the face of danger.”

“Yeah, yeah – very nostalgic, Thom. Very macho. But it’s not very practical in this day and age. Can you see a bunch of corporate VPs duking it out for the right be CEO? Or maybe you and me going at each other with knives to see who gets a better pilot’s rating?”

“Hey, every culture observes its own rituals for establishing status. Look at the infighting and back-stabbing that goes on at every level of our society. And we’re still fighting over the same things: property, leadership, territorial rights. The only difference is our methods have become more subtle, less direct. Somehow the old ways seem more honest.”

“You’re an idealist, Tom. What happens when the wrong guy wins? Then you’ve got the neighborhood bully calling the shots: You’re back to pack mentality.”

“There are checks and balances in every system, Scott.”

“Yeah, but your way leaves them all up to individual initiative! Without some kind of sanctioned avenue for dissent. A guy would have to be a real hero or a real fool to butt heads with the chief.”

“So? Are things really so different for us? You’re the one that’s always telling me to watch what I say around the desk jockeys. Where’s my ‘sanctioned avenue for dissent’? At least if I bust a gay in the chops, he clearly understands that I don’t like what he’s doing.”

“There you go with your idealism again. You’re trying to romanticize this into two tigers brawling to determine dominance or rights to a favorite hunting area. In the same situation humans would just kill each other. We’ve ‘out-grown’ the instinct for species preservation that prevents that in the lower orders but we haven’t truly grown into the morality that you’re so fond of citing, Tom. The society we’ve built isn’t perfect. Granted. But it works, probably more because of our level of technology than in spite of it. How many guys wouldn’t want to trade their boring, earthside job for yours: a job made possible by technology? But if you want to get back to nature, there are ways to do it. Go on one of those ‘wilderness’ safaris to Alpha C. I understand the gene-splicers now have something that almost looks like an elephant. Or, if you want real adventure, sign on for a hitch as a ranch hand at our next stop; plenty of fresh air, hard work, and not much else. Maybe that’s your idea of fulfillment. Though I can’t imagine anyone envying you the job. Me, I can get enough adventure from the vids. God bless modern technology!”

                                         (...)

“You’re awfully quiet, Tom. What’s the matter? YOu mad at me?”

“Huh? Uh, no Scott. I was just thinking.”

“Look, I know you said it as a joke. But maybe I should go on one of those safaris or sign on as a ranch hand. Maybe it’ll turn out that you’re right, and I wouldn’t like it. But I should at least give it a try. A change of scenery might be just what I need ... Get back to the land and living things ... Get some adventure and uncertainty back into my life. Did i ever tell you that I went hunting once? I had an uncle who was wealthy. He took me qual hunting when I turned fifteen -said it wuold make a man of me. But all I could think about was how big my shot gun was, and how small the birds were. I guess I oculd understand the potential for excitement in the hunt, but for me the thrill was missing. The contest seemed so lopsided. I wondered what it would be like to hunt something that was capable of hunting me. The challenge. The Danger. To put yourself on an equal footing with nature, that’s got to be the ultimate thrill! To risk everything on your own skill and strength ... I mean, look at what we do for a living - access the computer, punch a few buttons - all of the work is done for us. Anybody could do this job, with the right training. I guess that’s what I meant by m anti-technology tirade. It’s not that technology is evil in and of itself - but once in a while we have to put it aside and do something to remind ourselves that we’re alive - prove that we can accomplish something by relying solely on ourselves. I can’t help but think an experience like that would change a person. Maybe not in a way that other people would notice, but it would be something you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.”

“I know what you mean, Tom. Kinda like the first time you get laid, right? Did I ever tell you about that? I was at this party, see, and ...”

“Oh, brother ...”

   ~ Conversation between Tim & Scott from ALIEN VS PREDATOR #1

^It’s this type of existentialism that makes Dark Horse comics and other graphic novels set in the ALIENS/PREDATOR universe some of the best stuff in science fiction. It has a little bit of everything. Philosophy, cosmic horror, with occasional degrees of theological abstraction.If Disney wants to add more money to their pockets and wants to be true to their motto of inclusion and so on, keep this universe. Don’t erase it. Everything that it preaches, are in these comics. Not only that, but there is also a diversity of ideas where it subtly criticizes every school of thought via different characters and storylines. These are the types of stories that attract every fan, regardless of what their politics are. It’s entertainment, pure escapism (without preaching or self-serving, shaming BS) and world-building at its finest. And it remains respectful of ALL the ALIENS/PREDATORS films, while still offering something new.

Take Tom and Scott’s conversation here. These are two space truckers, blue collar workers like those from the first ALIEN movie, that are bringing up two very interesting points. They don’t fit into any neat box we assign a certain ideology. BOTH of these guys make good salient points. There is also a reason why the first issue of the AVP series starts with this conversation of technological dependence vs the old ways that Tom keeps going back to. While these two argue to disprove the other’s point and defend their own, we catch a brief glimpse into Yautja (Predator) society. It is a violent hierarchy where might becomes right. This is the type of meritocracy that Tom keeps defending. At the same time, it is also opportunistic and more technological advance to the point that they use their technology and survival instincts to hunt other species they deem worthy. This is done at the back of other species they consider inferior or worth risking for the ultimate hunt to prove their worth. Everything that Scott defends is part of the Yautja culture -with the obvious exception of divisions and over-dependence on technology and a corporate conglomerate controlling every aspect of daily life. Then there are the Xenomorphs (aliens). They are the other that is constantly being used as a coming-of-age rite for the predators, It’s an interest dynamic which hasn’t (yet) been explored in the films. This, among other things, makes this universe one of the most fascinating in the science fiction and horror genre.

[casualkoalafart]

Life These Days.

Disabilities are associated with weakness. The biggest disability is living in an unhealthy mindset, and getting trapped in it. Perspective(s), and the ability to control your perspective, is strength. It gives you power, rather than feed your deterioration.  Strength and success are different for everyone and do not have and specific unit of measurement, despite what society depicts. Everyone is different, and is seen different. The idea that you have to look and act a certain way that is unreachable to 99% of us is mental abuse. No matter your race or religion, we are all equal in the eyes of the natural world, although it is a sad, unnecessary, and certainly outdated fight that too many still face today within our human world. The only things that truly matter come from within, and often require some searching through trial and error. I am certainly not perfect, I have made more mistakes and bad choices in my life than I can count, and I want to learn from them. I cannot change the past, but I can change the future. My past does not define me. The person you are within your family, your friends, your workplace, your neighbourhood, and your society are all strangers to each other in one way or another. They are aware that each of them exists, but a different thought process prepares you for the presented environments.

One person’s strength is someone else’s weakness. Winning the lottery could save so many lives if put into the right places, however it could also be the death of you if you are overcome by addiction, greed, or any other toxicities. The ability to put yourself into someone else’s shoes is a mindset that many of us as humans lack, whether we like it or not. After all, how are we supposed to relate to someone who is starving if we don’t know what it is like to be truly hungry? How do we understand what an abused child sees in the world if our brains were developed in a safe and healthy environment? These are uncomfortable thoughts that often lead to the sad path of “ignorance is bliss.” For others, it may have a lasting impact of giving them their purpose in life. Like becoming a detective, a therapist, or a positive role model to whatever cause speaks to them.  

Everyone has the right to speak, but not to be heard. Some people are heard by too many and get overwhelmed, and begin a filtering process that should not exist toward their feelings and emotions. Some people are getting heard by too many and are abusing their power through brainwashing impressionable people too scared to think for themselves. Some people are getting heard by the wrong people, inevitably feeling judged and out of place in the world. Humans have great instincts, but often do not have the confidence to follow them.  Finding someone like-minded is refreshing, just as finding someone that believes in something that you do not can feel offensive and cause you to become defensive. These lessons that present themselves to us in the form of challenges make us who we are. Everyone expresses themselves differently, and that is what makes the world so beautiful. Art, music, literature, traditions, food, drink, and each unique personality makes life worth living. For those who have yet to find a way to express themselves, the opportunities to deal with their thoughts while also feeling safe and understood (despite whether the view or perspective is the same as the listener), are everything. The right to speak gives you the right to be judged, something that many find out the hard way. It can be discouraging, and that feeling of failure sticks with you more prominently than any win, especially to yourself.

Every mind is its own universe, and the energy that comes from it we feel is seen by who (or what) we call god. We strive to be heard and felt, because after all we can only truly feel our own feelings, and we want to share those feelings with others. Listening and hearing others in the way they express themselves through whichever outlet best suits them brings power, empathy, and unity. The sense of being alone in the world is a feeling that has unfortunately impacted everyone. As unique and different that we all are, we are the same in that sense. I feel my energy is felt through the earth, and I find comfort in and with those who share my perspective. I feel I am most understood and heard by animals, my family, and my best friends. I am really attracted to the energy from animals because I have yet to find my way in the world, my true outlet for my feelings and expressions, or something that I feel is my purpose. With animals not being able to communicate with language, and since I cannot always seem to put things into words for others to understand me, I feel a true connection through the brainwaves, the loving and healing energy we make and willingly give to one another, specially made for each being. I do not want my energy that I create to come from animals, because I do not want to take from them. They already willingly give so much, but we continue to take and take and take until there is ultimately nothing left.

Right now, the world is speaking to us with the undeniable statistics through every outlet and source possible. Unfortunately, we do not listen, and the next warning I fear will be fatal. Global warming,  fires, floods, plagues, are begging for us to acknowledge that we are killing our Mother Earth, and we are not listening. Hatred, inequality, and the sensation that we cannot make a difference in these challenging times is going to undoubtedly be our last fight, and we must keep fighting. With lockdown forcing all of us to reflect in this time, our biggest strength would be to come together while we are apart. Many of us feel our weakest, and as strange as it sounds, we could use that to our advantage. Turning weakness into strength is not only achievable, it is necessary. Humans are so incredible, we are inventors and have made a way to connect all of us, in the idea that by doing so, no one is alone. This creates a broader sense of loneliness, being surrounded by the internet world but still not being seen for who you are. So, we are back at the beginning again it seems. Some people go to extreme lengths to be heard or remembered. The idea of being alone is a powerful feeling that can lead to either good or evil, or in tragic (but not rare) cases, suicide. We need to understand that the rising of mental sickness is another form in which our planet is letting us know that we are literally killing ourselves. Too many are unable to deal with stress, guilt, pressure, loss, and so on. Drug addictions, accidental or purposeful overdoses, and self-harm are all fatal hand-me-down outlets to deal with man-made problems that we should never have had to deal with in the first place. These man-made problems are not made up or any less real than a hurricane. They create new emotions, ones that we are not equip to handle,  forcing our bodies to call for any response to these ever-evolving threats, and are often fatal solutions. Depression and anxiety should not be a mental illness, they are simply emotions that come with the good of life. Nobody is happy all the time, and the idea that life should always be happy is sad in itself. When there is life, there is death. Where there is good, there is bad. Where there is love, there is hate. Instead of teaching each other how to handle the yin and the yang, we prescribe drugs like opioids, while also trying to convey the image that drugs are bad and drug addicts are failures. So many poor people are brainwashed into thinking that marijuana is bad, but for some reason popping pills to manipulate your body to function is normal. Writing this makes my heart race, and I cannot describe the feeling because it is a cocktail that is mixed with emotions that do not belong together. We do not know how to deal with so many things because to put it bluntly, they are not natural and they evolve every day and are designed to break us.  

Our relationships with each other is everything, and our compassion and ability to hear others is power. Emotions, and being able to talk about and express them, is a gift and a privilege. We have been given the false connotation that feelings are weakness, that the idea of healthy options and outlets of expression for them are also weakening. Someone who takes anti-depressants to cope with feelings, drinks excessively to not have to feel, and take drugs may have the sensation that they are being stronger than someone who goes to therapy. This is backwards, and we as a society need to understand this together. Our strength of our ability to exchange knowledge is getting the best of us with the media not passing on the right messages. The government favouring the majority and purposefully challenging the minority is poisoning all of us, because we are all the same. It can give a person too much power, the corrupt idea that you are somehow better than a person who is not on social media, planting trees for a living. It will give people who do not have a platform a feeling that they cannot make a change to the world, since they are just one person. Evilness derives from this false and discouraging perspective. It will not give the right people anything, it will eventually take from them everything that matters.

There is strength in getting up in the morning, brushing your teeth, creating a healthy routine. Don’t cut yourself short. You’re doing great. It’s not supposed to be easy.

I did not filter myself writing this, and I hope I did not offend anyone who took the time to read my thoughts. We are all just trying to find our place in the world. In the perspective from our planet, no person is above or below another. Society, a man-made revolution, needs to help spread the right messages. We are all part of society. You are society.

The idea of posting this to the world gives me anxiety, however I am doing it because I know I am not the only one who feels this way, and I want anyone who can relate to this message at all to know that they are not alone. I am also posting this to let ANYONE know that if they want to talk about something, I am happy to listen and to hear them. I hope this message can inspire you to feel comfortable in your mind, your body, and to not be embarrassed or feel shame to share yourself with the world through your personally suited outlet. I would love to see your art, hear your music, read your words, or learn other forms of expression from you.

In writing this, I have escaped in a sense. I have allowed so many overwhelming thoughts and emotions to form words, and with this vulnerability comes a sense of relief that I hope everyone feels they have access to.

I am so overwhelmed and overcome with emotions all of a sudden, and then they go away as if they were just thoughts passing by in a train, just making a quick stop to drop off some passengers and pick up others on their way to an unknown destination. I wish that I could control the waves in which I feel so helpless, heavy, weak, and overcome. I wish I could pace myself. I know a quick way out would be to inebriate myself, a desire of what seems like freedom is powerful and can become uncontrollable in seconds.

I really hope I am confident enough to share this one day. My goal is to organize my thoughts and feelings into words that I can be proud to own, unapologetically.

Thank goodness for computers. I love the idea of having a beautiful mind and expressing words through pen and paper. Making my words beautiful through calligraphy and ink created with my own specific muscle movements. I have a strange admiration for penmanship. However that is not the case, as my mind is a mess with thoughts that come and go at what seems like the speed of light. I am grateful for the ability to edit my words efficiently through text. But, with the sense that I am feeding into the “everything is instant” perspective/generation of society, I am also disappointed in myself for not being able to slow down my mind enough to hand write most of what I choose to put into words to remind my future self. Or my present self.

I feel like after starting this page, I have opened a vault. One that should never have been a vault to begin with, but a welcoming and open-minded space. Instead of numbing and silencing my mind, I would like to have the strength to escape my escape, get my bearings back in a healthy way by reading other people’s escapes, appreciating their art, or listening to stories. Grounding myself back into reality. That I am actually okay. That I am just another person. A somebody, or a nobody, depending on my perspective.

I feel like I have experienced so many emotions today, that my body was overtaken by my mind because it was trapped. I can’t even remember writing some of it, which is curious. Hopefully that is where dying comes in, to release your trapped mind. Not now of course, but that is a nice and comforting thought for me, to think that in facing your worst fear you achieve real freedom.

I am glad I wrote it down, to reflect on later.

Everything written above was written on February 5th, 2021. It was snowy today. I had a lot of butterflies feeling my mind race so fast on so many deep levels. It is now 21:22, and although I still don’t quite know how I’m feeling, I feel like I have said what I needed to for the day. I also did not drink any alcohol today, which I am proud of after doing so much self-reflection. I am going to cuddle with Sammy, play games, and try to feel at peace with where I am in the world and in my mind.

Goodnight.  

[masterheartsxiii]

Notes from mass 10/4/20

Today’s message: what we sow, we reap

>is what they said. Sure didn’t think it would go the direction it went

(Prepping ahead you’re focus only on myself, just offering one prayer for my dear friend)

>it’s so easy to focus on someone else when you go to these things. Need to turn inward during these

(Good thing I went to mass in college, able to remember some of the spoken stuff)

>they sang this at the one I went to in college so I was able to remember parts like “you alone are the holy one, you alone are the lord” because I can hear the song in my head.

Reading 1: Isaiah (couldn’t get a notes sheet so I didn’t know the readings numbers)

Planted, built watchtower and a wine press

Grew wild grapes not proper grapes (what’s the difference?)

Destroy the vineyard

(Seems a waste)

“The vineyard of the lord is the house of Israel”

Reading 2: idk

Have no anxiety

(Easy for you to say)

>seriously has anyone ever said don’t be anxious and you’ve felt anything but more anxious? Maybe that’s just my own nueroses.

Meditate on all good things

(How to handle when the good things cause anxiety)

>this is my issue currently. The realization that with many things, not just the big one in my life, nothing is just good or just bad. Everything’s so complex how can you be happy about one thing and not have the anxiety. How can one play a game with friends, without wanting to seek after their well-being and being too cautious to the point of annoyance? (That one definitely didn’t happen and I’m regretting now. Haha)

Gospel: Matthew

Parable: leases vineyard to tenants. Tenants beat up+ servants twice, then attacks the heir.

What will the owner do?

Kingdom of god given to those who will take care of it.

Homily:

Note: read specifically, not summarized, cause important.

> hoo boy, did I not know what I was about to get into... I’ll probably be seeking a new catholic church after this.

Tenants choose to rule themselves. Kill son for inheritance, how insane and arrogant

>lol agreed. Who thinks “hey if I kill this guy on the street, do you think his dad will give me his stuff?”

We as a community, talked ourselves into accepting things that are wrong.

>this is where I got leery. Is this on sexuality, transgenderism....

Example: abortion

(Something the church only relatively recently is against, but ok.

>ah there it is. Shoulda seen the big sign outside for the month. Abortion talk, something I used to be pro life on that I have since moved on, not cause I’m heartless, but because I understand there’s nuance. I also know the church has had at best boxed views on when the soul is added, with up until the 19th century usually believing at birth, due to higher stillborn rates (effectively the fetus is like an animal until birth. That’s painfully simply summarizing it but still). But sure let’s do this same song and dance that led my dear friend to question her faith when they told her her sexuality was equally as wrong. Because god cares about you only so long as you fit the heteronormative, pro-life view, but that’s definitely a tangent)

“You are the sinner. You’re body and you own up to it”

(WHAT!? You better have a “but”, Pharisee)

(Ok. He says aid them not condemn. Ok. Still issues with abortion as a sin, but that’s a different argument)

>I about walked out of there then. As that condemnation would have been exactly against Christ’s teachings, but he recovered. He was saying that’s what the people outside PP tend to do, and that’s wrong, to which we agree.

“Loved not judged. Cared for, not condemned. Hugged, not midtreated”

“The laws are one thing, our behavior is another”

(But does the church not still deny comprehensive sex Ed and contraceptives?)

>condemnation still exists if it’s systemic. Making someone feel guilty, even without saying the words is still the same. Believe me, I know. I’m great at haughty, passive aggressive condemnation. #selfloathing.

Can’t let evil laws exist

Should work to eliminate them, but we should also care.

>no comment

“These women are not evil, they don’t want to lose their minds”

>wow what great words of wisdom. People aren’t inherently evil? I am shocked, shocked I say. This really felt like it needed to be on script for import. Is my sarcasm palpable enough yet.

Not screaming about going to hell (thank you)

> the bare minimum was met

Misc:

So yeah, I’m gonna be looking for a new church. Between this talk, the presumption they will be continuing this course, and literally asking for money in the prayer itself, I feel this church does not necessarily have the spirit of god held in it.

I asked my catholic friends if this anti-abortion (which I know the church as a whole is against, THATS not the issue) tirade month is like a church wide thing, and was assured it wasn’t. The fact that I got more divine inspiration out of my dear friend’s shorthand notes on a virtual sermon than from being in person at my own tells me all I need to know.

[literary-masochism]

Midnight Sun: Chapter One - My Descent Into Madness

(reposted from my blog)

I kind of want to be dramatic and say I have a long, sordid history with Twilight, but I’m not sure that’s accurate. I do have a history, but it is one of pain, tears, and frustration.

I’m a firm believer in reading a ‘bad’ book to form your own opinion on it instead of just believing what you’re told...

The criticisms against Twilight were more than justified.

It took me multiple attempts to get through the first book – The first time I didn’t even finish the first chapter. I loathed Bella Swan from the moment we met her. She whined nonstop, she bitched nonstop, and was instantly so shallow and two-faced to everyone she met that I wanted to punch her in her (at the time) nondescript face.

But I tried again and again and finally finished the series. I remember crying during the Breaking Dawn because nothing was fucking happening and there was so much left in the book and I just wanted it to END.

Then my brain, trying to save me, made me forget everything about what I read. When I realized what had happened, I checked my Goodreads to make sure I did, in fact, read those books and they weren’t just a fever dream sent by the forces of evil to torment me.

As much as I appreciated the attempt, I earned those scars... at least audiobooks are easier to get through, even though I had to pause them to rage, again, at the idiocy.

And now... Now we have Midnight Sun. I believe I skimmed the leaked book but never gave it any real attention... so, of course, the full book gets released the day after my 34th birthday.

Joy.

But it gives me an excuse to try something I always wanted to do: Snarking bad books... because if I have to suffer, you might as well too!

So... without further delay... here is the first chapter, as seen by me, of Midnight Sun.

Chapter 1: First Sight

We open up with Edward being a melodramatic prick about having to go to school and how boring it is.

THIS WAS THE TIME OF DAY WHEN I MOST WISHED I WERE ABLE TO SLEEP.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there were any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

Followed quickly by how much humans, especially teenagers, suck absolute ass.

When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body. It took so little to work them up. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human girl. The excitement over her arrival was tiresomely predictable—it was the same reaction as one would get from flashing a shiny object at a group of toddlers. Half the sheep-like males were already imagining themselves infatuated with her, just because she was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Don’t you just love him already?

This is only the first page... It’s not even a full page... Edward tells us how he tries not to listen to his siblings then tells us exactly what his siblings are thinking.

He shames Rosalie for thinking about how hot she is, but since that’s her only personality trait we ever got in the entire saga (besides bitch), I’m not that worked up over it. She’s hot and she knows it.

Emmett is just thinking about kicking Jasper’s ass which, I feel, is a goal everyone should aspire to because Jasper’s thoughts...

And Jasper was… suffering.

GOOD

Alice mentally calls his name and Edward is kind enough to let us know that it’s just the same as if someone said it out loud... you know, because we’re too dumb to work that out ourselves.

Also, he is so thankful that the name EDWARD has ‘fallen out of style’ in the last few decades.

Alice is worried about Jasper slaughtering everybody within a ten-mile radius because he’s become a literal statue (because Meyerpires are made of stone and this is in no way a ripoff of Anne Rice) and, stupidly, she asks Edward how he’s doing...

I guess Alice forgot she could, you know, SEE INTO THE FUTURE. Because checking to see if your boyfriend is about to go on a murder spree is a telepathy situation.

She relaxed. Let me know if it gets too bad.

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

Thanks for doing this.

YOU CAN SEE THE GOD DAMN FUTURE!

Was it really necessary to experiment this way? Wouldn’t the safer path be to just admit that he might never be able to handle his thirst as well as the rest of us could, and not push his limits? Why flirt with disaster?

YES! WHY?!

For a group of vampires that don’t want to kill humans, so we’re told, they certainly don’t give a fuck if they kill humans.

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally—if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand: We were a danger that must be avoided.

So... which is it?

Edward thinks about how oblivious the humans around them are and how they avoid the ‘odd-looking’ group.

Okay, if I had to guess, the avoidance has more to do with how fucking weird you are. A group of five incredibly attractive (And yet odd-looking? Sure Meyer) teenagers sitting by themselves with full trays of food that they don’t eat, all while wearing designer clothing. They don’t talk to each other, they barely even look at each other...

That’s fucking weird. THEY’RE WEIRD.

Meyer: They’re either so attractive as to lure their prey in for the kill or they’re so inhuman looking that no one wants to go near them. It can’t be both.

Anyway, a girl walks by and Edward starts frothing at the mouth while he and Jasper get a vampire erection over Jasper imagining MURDERING AN INNOCENT GIRL.

Also, calling her a ‘little girl’ is very creepy in an entirely different way. Just sayin’.

Edward snaps Jasper out of it and Alice lies and says he wasn’t going to slaughter an innocent human being in the middle of the cafeteria.

We had to stick together, Alice and I. It wasn’t easy, being the freaks among those who were already freaks.

Shut the ever-loving-fuck up.

And Alice, ever-so-helpfully, reminds Jasper to think of humans as people... because, you know, they aren’t really. Not compared to vampires anyway.

Someone mentally says the name ‘Edward’ so Edward turns to them as though they had actually called his name. Only it was in his head, not in real life. In case you didn’t catch that. That Edward is telepathic... so he hears thoughts as though they were being spoken to him. That’s why he looked over when someone thought his name.

In case you didn’t understand what was going on.

This is the first time Edward sees Bella and... he gives no fucks. But wait! Turns out it was Jessica Stanley thinking about him, not Bella!

In fact, Jessica thinks Bella is already crushing on all the Cullens.

Good for you, Jessica, not assuming Bella is only after the undead D. Rosalie/Bella shippers thank you.

Edward is relieved Jessica got over her fixation on him (because it’s totally normal for teenager girls to crush on weird-looking weirdos). He then goes on to show he has no idea how teenage girls (or adult women for that matter) work:

What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced fixation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. I’d wished, at the time, that I could explain to her exactly what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near her. That would have silenced those annoying fantasies.

That is the exact fantasy most TwiHards were having.

Jessica complains that she doesn’t see why all the boys are looking at Bella, thinking she’s ‘not even pretty’. I know this is supposed to make Jessica unlikable but, you know what? That is a very wounded teenage thought process. It’s immature and turning the blame somewhere else but that’s teenagers in a nutshell.

Edward comments on Jessica’s new obsession with Mike Newton – creepily calling him a child.

There is the implication that Jessica’s not a nice person because she’s being outwardly nice to Bella while bad-mouthing her mentally and... that’s such a Christian mentality: the idea that your thoughts matter as much as your actions. Just putting that out there because, clearly, we can see what Meyer’s opinion on that is… as long as it’s one of the Cullens or Bella doing the thinking, it’s fine! In Twilight, Bella was putting down everyone who looked at her until the hideously beautiful Edward was so mean to her.

No, I didn’t forget that shit.

Jessica continues being a teenager girl, hoping that with Bella’s ever-shining light of beauty shining beside her that maybe Senpai Mike will notice her.

And, of course, Edward is an asshole because he’s upset that a teenager girl has teenage thoughts.

He tells Emmett what’s going down with the new girl and tries to listen in on Bella’s thoughts to see what she thinks about all this.

And, because Bella doesn’t actually have thoughts, all Edward hears in the unending howling void.

Edward tells us he has to use his powers to protect his family! He has to listen to everyone’s thoughts in case anyone gets suspicious about the beautiful/weird/attractive/repulsive family in their midst.

I feel like that would be easier if Edward didn’t actively try to ignore everyone.

But sometimes people get it right and the Cullens have to disappear before... I don’t know. Meyerpires are indestructible by humans to the point that they can outrun nuclear bombs. The Vultori might come whine at them for exposing the secret but by that point, the Cullens disappearing would just draw even more attention.

Edward tries to listen to the new girl but gets nothing. He turns to check and all he can see is the brown-void eyes of Bella.

There’s also a bit in there where Edward wonders if Bella is still sitting there because she must be since Jessica is still talking. He turns and sees Bella still sitting there because of course she is, because Jessica is still talking to her. You see, Bella was still there and Edward suspected as much as Jessica was still talking to her because she was still sitting there.

He gets another hard-on as Bella blushes. He comments that she “looked surprised” as she “unknowingly absorbed the signs of subtle differences between her kind and mine.”

Bitch, you don’t know that. You can’t read her fucking thoughts. You’re just assuming this bullshit. This is some of what I remember from skimming the first Midnight Sun. You just make up shit about her personality to suit what you want! Reality is completely optional.

And we get this:

[...] as she listened to Jessica’s tale; and something more… Fascination? It wouldn’t be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey.

You know, the hyper attractiveness that turns people away because of how odd-looking they are but also draws people to them while also making people avoid them because they’re so inhuman.

And yet, though her thoughts had been so clear in her odd eyes—odd because of the depth to them—I could hear only silence from the place she was sitting. Just… silence.

Yes, because she’s the void personified.

Try and keep up.

Edward decides that he’s just not trying hard enough and stops blocking out all the teenager chatter – you know, the chatter he constantly listens to to ensure the safety of his family? That chatter.

Also, shout out to Ashley Dowling for obviously having a crush on Bella.

Angela Weber is the only one not thinking about Bella. I’m sure Meyer’s just trying to show how ‘unusually kind’ she is but... acting like a completely normal person doesn’t really qualify as being ‘unusually kind’.

Then Meyer, again, tries too hard to make Jessica unlikable by having her mentally calling Bella an idiot for asking about Edward Cullen. But since Bella is an idiot...

We get the infamous “He’s gorgeous, obviously.” line even though all of student body finds the Cullens odd-looking and want nothing to do with them.

And Edward gets this strong impulse to protect Bella from Jessica’s nefarious plots to... get mildly more popular for the short time people care that there’s a new student at school. He describes how fragile Bella looks and how translucent her skin is...

Then we get this little gem where Meyer, apparently, forgot Edward can’t read Bella’s mind while describing things he’d only know if he could read her mind.

It was unbelievably frustrating! I could easily see that it was a strain for her to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense her shyness from the way she held her frail-looking shoulders, slightly hunched, as if she was expecting a rebuff at any moment.

This is a one-way street, Meyer. Edward has to stay his ass in his own lane.

Edward informs us that, despite not being able to hear Bella’s thoughts, he’s not going to let himself get too interest in them just because they’re hidden from him... then immediately says he’s going to find out what she thinks no matter what it takes. No matter how petty, trivial, self-absorbed, whiny, and shallow they are! He will find out!

Emmett interrupts Edward’s obliviousness to his own faults and asks if Bella is afraid of them yet.

“They sit by themselves, never talk to anyone, and stare at the wall.” Absolutely terrifying.

Lunch is over and the Cullens to go their classes. Edward is an asshole prepared to be bored because he’s so much smarter than the biology teacher.

He also tells us the reason he has a table to himself is because everyone is avoiding him and they were too stupid to know why. Yes, that is the word he uses.

Such a Prince Charming, isn’t he?

Again, Edward laments his inability to sleep when Angela leads Bella into class! Then Edward remembers he was totally thinking about Bella just now and not wishing he was asleep!

Also, Angela? Shut up.

The Void comes in and Edward still can’t hear her and, in one of the few moments I like, he worries that he’s losing his gift. Don’t worry, nothing comes out of that thought.

Edward notes that the only available seat is beside him so he clears a bit of room for her, feeling sorry that she’s doomed to spend so much time next to his hideousness. BUT THEN!

Bella Swan walked into the flow of heated air that blew toward me from the vent.

Her scent hit me like a battering ram, like an exploding grenade. There was no image violent enough to encompass the force of what happened to me in that moment.

Now comes a page long description of Edward losing his shit. He tells us, multiple times, how much he wants to eat her, how he’ll have to get rid of the witnesses, blah blah blah. It’s basically the same paragraph repeated a few times... But you know what? It’s better than the whiny shit we’ve been getting and it’s nice to actually see the ‘good’ vampires struggle in a not completely idiotic way... so I ain’t that mad at it.

I was actually enjoying it a bit until Meyer stuck her dumb in my chocolate by having Edward rip a bit of wood off the desk. Like no one would have heard that. Or wonder why there’s a pile of sawdust under Edward’s desk.

Edward... I know that you’re far older than anyone in that room but... calling people children is just fucking creepy. Stop.

He calculates the best way to slurp Bella up and kill witnesses in the most efficient way (interrupted occasionally by an eye-roll worthy melodramatic thought about murdering innocents). I would like this if it wasn’t such a stark reminder of how Edward doesn’t actually give two fucks about humans – he just doesn’t want to disappoint his Not-Dad... who, from what we’ve seen in the guide (shudder) doesn’t really seem to care either as long as he’s not the one doing the murdering. They don’t kill people not because they care or want to protect them but because Dad said not to.

Bella sits down beside him (And he’s absolutely sure she’s terrified of him though she’s shown no sign of that and HE CAN’T READ HER THOUGHTS.)

Anyway, he whines that now he has to kill her for existing.

This is another little plothole that bothers me: he doesn’t have to stay in the classroom. He can ask to be excused, say he’s feeling sick or he has to use the bathroom. Yeah, it would draw a few moments of attention but, you know, IT’S BETTER THAN PLOTTING THE MURDER OF THIRTY PEOPLE.

Meyer decides to call me out on that thought and claims:

Every life in this room was in danger while she and I were in it together. I should run. I wanted to run, to get away from the heat of her next to me, and the punishing pain of the burning, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that if I unlocked my muscles to move, even just to stand, I wouldn’t lash out and commit the slaughter I’d already planned.

Fuck you, he only needs to resist for the half-a-dozen seconds it’d take to get out of the room. But no, he’d rather try and resist for an hour instead.

He, again, talks about Bella’s skin and calls it ‘See-through’.

Sexy

Edward’s becomes increasingly paranoid that Bella’s ‘trying to hide her secrets from him’.

Chillax, Eddie. She ain’t that deep.

He changes tactics. He’ll try to get her alone and his plan for this is flawless!

If he asks to walk her to her next class, she has to be polite and say yes! Even though he’s certain she’s terrified of him (because he completely fails at reading human reactions if he can’t read their minds), she’ll have to do the polite thing! Because reasons!

While he doesn’t realize how stupid that is, he does notice that everyone with an interest in ladies is already obsessing over Ms. Swan so people will probably notice him leading her away like the serial killer he is.

So he plots to wait until she gets home to murder her.

And you guys, he just hates her so much! I mean, he hates himself but he hates her for making him hate himself but also her because she exists but also himself but also her but also himself...

And apparently that was his entire thought process for the next hour because class is suddenly over!

Edward runs out of the room – you know, the thing he said he couldn’t do before because even just moving might prompt him to murder everything – and mopes in his car where he realizes that ‘Wait... I don’t have to do the thing’.

He wonders why Alice didn’t break their cover and draw attention to themselves by barging into Edward’s class to help him get rid of either his murder-boner or the bodies caused by his murder-boner. He decides that she’s focusing on making sure Jasper doesn’t get a murder-boner and she’s concentrating ‘vary’ hard on that.

(Is pointing out typos a bit too petty? Maybe but I did it.)

And Edward feels a new burn coursing through his body! The burn of SHAME!

(I'm glad I got to use this Gif so early on!)

I should say that, through out all of this, Edward’s been going on about his little monster (not that one) growling around his head but all I can imagine are the critters from Critters Attack:

He decides to just avoid Bella as much as possible while being in the same building as her and goes to try and change his classes halfway through the semester.

He startles Mrs. Cope by being so vampirey, though humans are too stupid to notice that, because he came in quietly while she wasn’t paying attention. Her panties are immediately soaked at the sight of teenage boy bod (ew) and asks how she could help him. Eddie lays it on thick because... I don’t know. I’m pretty sure she’s not in charge of the classes, so there’s no reason for him to make her flood the office like this...

Even he’s uncomfortable but he still does it. Gross.

Also, statistically, women prefer men close to their own age or slightly older, so...

We get a whole paragraph of Mrs. Cope thinking of how smart and perfect the Cullens are – actually thinking the line ‘Perfect Cullen’.

When she says that he can’t change or drop the class, he tries to stare her into submission, lamenting that his eyes aren’t gold but the terrifying black instead.

Uh... dark dark brown, almost black eyes are pretty common and can be very alluring. Have you forgotten Ben Barnes exists?! Here, I'll remind you:

I’d be more freaked out by the gold.

Bella, of course, interrupts this awkward seduction and sends Edward running with his tail between his legs. He passes by some random guy in the parking lot and, since Edward is so all important, the guy wonders where Edward came from and, instead of deciding he must not have noticed him before (Like a normal person not in a SMeyer book would do) he decides his imagination is getting the better of him.

Edward makes it to the Volvo where the others are waiting. He takes off like a bat out of hell (lawl) and in a moment of stupid where Meyer, once again, forgets how her characters's powers work:

She looked ahead for me now. We both processed what she saw in her head, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

You see... Alice’s visions are based on people’s decisions... Edward didn’t know he was leaving until he saw that Alice saw he was leaving... which makes no sense in the context of what we’ve been given.

And so, after a moment of Edward thinking about killing Bella, he decides to flee the entire country.

And that’s the end of chapter one! It took me way longer than I expected and I used 74 tabs... This is going to be an experience and a half...

Until next time, I'm out!

[lovelyr00]

A conversation that I had with my stepdad many weeks ago made me want to share my thoughts on Trump.

So fair warning to everyone:

⚠️THIS IS A LONG POST⚠️

I still get salty that I pay more thousands in taxes every year, shit…I pay more in speeding tickets and Trump pays a measly $700 for his.

I brought this argument to my stepdad and he got upset.

“It doesn’t matter that he pays less than us,” my stepdad told me.

Throughout the rest of the night, while my stepdad continued to talk..I stayed silent. I was so upset that I did not get a chance to put any words chiming in on our discussion. Now that I am calm, I think back to that moment and realize what I should have said to him.

My stepdad should not get to complain about what our tax dollars pay for as a country. He made money on stocks, profits from giant conglomerates. THEY were the only ones profiting from this whole mess.

It is so agonizing. That is because the poor every day people have to continue working and put themselves at risk in order to stay ALIVE. We are not worried about the big corporations. They will still stay open and survive despite all the pain losses that the every day person is experiencing.

So many mom and pop shops have closed, so many people have died, so many have become homeless, and every day there are people on the front lines risking their lives. While businessmen are able to live in luxury, still making money, and acting as though everything is the same because they do not feel these fears personally.

My stepdad asked me: “what is Biden’s platform? What are his plans to continue for this country?”

I did not answer at the time, due to my anger but what I did wish to say: “I don’t know yet but if you asked me this…well, what is Trump’s?”

Anytime Trump is asked for a finite plan, there is nothing. We do not necessarily vote for Biden for his platform and policies. We are simply voting AGAINST Trump for who he is…for the MASS CHAOS he has sown, for the lack of empathy and understanding in what his words have caused. If for nothing else, his extremely and disgusting handling of the pandemic is sole PROOF why he should not be in office. His vocal and baseless attacks on other politicians, organizations, etc. are all insults under the belt.

His entire platform is built on fear…fear and hate mongering.

To not understand this is to be completely disconnected with the current condition of our country and our people. If nothing else, his lies and bolstering of himself should be concerning. He galvanizes the far right and he cannot even-for one second-condemn white supremacists, a group that even the FBI calls “the biggest terrorist group in the US.”

What we need in such a trying time is someone with empathy.

Let me get this message across loud and clear: I do NOT like Biden, that is the sole truth. I really do NOT.

However when compared to two evils…there is only one clear choice. Maybe if there is a different Republican, America would have been okay.

I do not vote party lines but we only had two true choices at this point.

Trump, in every single way, has undermined our democracy. The election was never Trump vs Biden, not for the majority of us who understand our government. This election was Trump vs Democracy.

Trump used third world tactics from dictators in order to hold onto his power. He has never been fit to be president. Nothing made him qualified.

An average person can compare him to a game of family feud. Where Steve Harvey asks, “what scares rich white people the most?”

Trump took advantage of that fear. He dug into so many people’s deepest and darkest fears because he touts that he will solve it all.

Then what do people do? People listen.

Let us be honest, the education system in America is sorely lacking. It is only the stupid and the willfully ignorant that is deceived.

Why is it mostly people in my age group and generation-those that grew up with technology and the entire world of information at their fingertips-can grasp the true reality of our situation?

Generations before us fought through a recession. They fought to take back their lives and to break old norms, but now scoff at my generation for doing the same thing. The only difference is that my generation is at a precipice.

What is a precipice? It is a very steep rock face or a cliff, especially a tall one. That is where we are at.

We are focused on the future, not just the here and now.

The generation before is worried about too much government control, yet they seek to control women’s bodies and right to healthcare. Why? Is the reason that they will actually have to contribute to society? To “strangers” they do not know?

Our government is falling apart. Without federal help, each state has been forced to deal with the pandemic themselves. Look where that brought it. Fucking hell, there are counties where cops are not allowed to wear masks. How is that even something that makes sense?

All our generation is asking for is a voice. This is the sole foundation our nation was founded on. It is why we separated from England back then, a right to govern ourselves.

“By the people, for the people..” Is that what our declaration said?

So let the people have a say. Let us govern.

The truth is that the majority of our citizens want more, want better.

Just like what happened in 2016, Hilary won the popular vote yet Trump still got elected. Amy got nominated and sworn into the Supreme Court without true vetting.

Our government is not what it once was. There has always been corruption, everyone knows it but now no one cares to even hide it anymore. Those that inflect it are not even remotely embarrassed in any sense.

This does not sound like the proud America our parents sought out to live in. This sounds like a corrupted government of any other third world country, where citizens are fighting for basic human rights and safety for their family.

The left is not brainwashed. They are educated. The far right is the one who can only mimic Trump’s words when asking for why they want him in office.

Both my mom and stepdad voted for Trump again. They still say my only perception of Trump is that he is a bad businessman. There is no winning my parents or anyone over.

Being American born Vietnamese, I have been drilled how my mom and her family escaped Vietnam constantly my entire life. Despite that I see there is a disconnect between myself and other children of immigrants with our families. Those who fled Vietnam cannot understand us, because in Vietnam the government over there is in total control. That is the core depth of their fears. They do not understand that the breadcrumbs we get (while more than they ever got), are still just breadcrumbs.

Our democracy is a facade. The only way to fix it is to vote for those who at least WANT to try. Trump only cares about exploiting any and all loopholes that he can. Fuck that, he has always openly voiced how he has “all the power and can do whatever he wants.”

That is not a president, that is a dictator. Our parents and others who follow him are just blind to see it.

Republicans only ever talk about the economy and “family values.” Whereas Democrats are currently prioritizing social causes and policies.

The truth is, when Republicans talk about the economy, they use the stock exchange as a metric. Again, those are companies that have their own legal-they identify in the eyes of our government. Democrats are talking about saving the people, the individuals that make up the working class and beyond. That is the core difference between both parties.

Republicans hold dear of an idea. An idea of fictional rights and benefits attributed directly to them but in truth, benefits no one but those at the very top-those in power and those with already padded pockets.

Just like how they cling to the idea of a fetus as human life, but completely disregard that baby once born. Republicans hide and pretend that real life struggles do not exist because on paper America is thriving.

Those I fear, honestly, are not Republicans but Nationalists. This is not “American Pride.” Nationalism is when that gets taken too far...to the point of no return.

So with me sharing this, I hope you understand where I am coming from. Everything that happened in this past year has been difficult to bear. Hell, the past four years felt like a long ass tv show that I did not want to be a part in.

With this new presidency, it feels like a season finale…a new arc that has been desperately desired by my generation and others that look forward to something new. Let us be prepared for what is to come that will come indefinitely and that is change.

[adhd-inkubus]

Remember Where you Come From

Almost everyone I know is bitter and venomous - or at the very least indifferent - when discussing ex-significant-others. No matter what happened, both sides decide the other side is evil, and disregard all positivity that they brought into each other’s lives. They choose to stand behind walls of indignation, blinding themselves to the fact that in 99.99% of failed relationships... everyone involved was there for a reason. They were all people, and they all have value to someone and - in a lot of cases - we do owe that person the recognition of what light they brought.

Look, I’m in the process of getting a divorce. It’s mercifully not messy. She and I don’t talk much because I cut her off for being toxic toward me - nether here nor there - unless we’re talking about our son. We’re civil. We behave. We still genuinely care for each other. And when I talk to friends and family, they’re blown away at the concept that we could be divorcing and there’s no war between us. ‘Oh man, she did X, you should totally put it all over facebook!’ That doesn’t do ANYTHING productive. ‘Holy shit, she said Y? Like, TO you? You should fight her for custody!.’ I don’t have to, because of the two of us only I am legally his guardian, but also, why would I do that just because she said something shitty? Where is this coming from? 

So many people end relationships having decided that the other person doesn’t qualify as a ‘person’ in their book, anymore. I’m not saying we should excuse any actions or words that come from them, but we have to understand that their emotions, limitations and experiences are all human. More than that, we poison ourselves and often our children by not recognizing the good someone has done for us, whether it be helping in a time of need or simply providing you the motivation to improve yourself and get out of a bad situation.

My first wife cost me everything I loved and everything I owned, and resulted in me losing my daughter for a decade. Drama ripples through her family and set off little lies she planted until the day she died. I spent a year in jail on a crime I had nothing to do with, and the only reason it didn’t turn into ten years is because she finally came clean at her trial. Over a decade later and my life is rough mainly due to the fact that my multiple degrees and job experience is useless as my A Felony arrest trips every back ground check EVER because I signed a plea agreement for a D felony. She accidentally almost killed my daughter as a baby.  --- But she helped me learn who I was, and how love was supposed to be, through demonstrating how it shouldn’t be. She gave me my daughter. She held me together when things were rough many times. She uprooted her life, abandoned her family, and left her congregation for me when I wouldn’t become a Jehovah’s Witness to be with her. She fought hard before he brain finally snapped, and she genuinely loved me.

My next major relationship was a young woman who thrived on taking risks. She cheated on me with more people than I could begin to count. She did every drug known to man with meth being a particular favorite, even up until she was 8 months pregnant with ‘our’ child. She stole from me, tried to burn my home down with me in it, stole my car, threatened future girlfriends, tried to get me arrested multiple times, and got a restraining order placed on me which resulted in me getting arrested the first time I took our son for an overnight visit. She was also there for me at my absolute lowest and was exactly what I needed at the time. She laid with me when I couldn’t sleep through the night without having night terrors. She might have been on her back with every other guy in town, but she always ALWAYS had my back until I told her I was done. She was smart enough not to fight me for custody. She was humble enough to admit that given her conditions, she shouldn’t care for a child. That’s big.

My soon to be ex wife did a lot of things that hurt me. I did a lot of things that hurt her, too. But we spent ten years together and she’s a damn good mother for two kids that didn’t have one. She was incapable of providing what I needed the last few years but the seven or so before that? Wonderful. She fought long and hard as a CNA to provide for our family when my entire world collapsed around me. When it got hard, she tucked her shoulder and pushed back. When I collapsed, she couldn’t handle it, but god damn it she dug her feet in and tried, doing what she thought was best (even if she was incredibly wrong.). And she loved me. She loves me. She doesn’t know how to love me like I need to be loved, but she loves me, and she was mature enough to understand that in order for either of us to be okay, we needed to be apart. She did some fucked up things... but all the messed up things she ever did amount to maybe two percent of my life with her. She was patient and kind and she wasn’t complex - I didn’t have to be on my guard and god I needed that. I needed to learn to trust again and I don’t know that anyone else could have gotten me back to the point of being able to trust a woman, the way she did.

There are many more in between, but these are the major examples. You are shaped by your experiences. It would be very easy for my wife and I to be enemies, and we both have valid reason to do so. However we took the time to step back, recognize why what was happening was happening, and apply solutions. She’s not my enemy. My exes used to be enemies but are no longer. I don’t have the energy to fight everyone. If someone had an impact on you that resulted in a net-positive, then you need to recognize that. Maybe not to them, but to yourself; understand where you come from, what shaped you, be proud of what you can, and use that to grow.

[dailyaudiobible]

01/28/2020 DAB Transcript

Exodus 5:22-7:25, Matthew 18:21-19:12, Psalms 23:1-6, Proverbs 5:22-23

Today is January 28th, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it's great to be here with you today. Looking at the number, January 28th and just realizing we’ve only got a few more days in this month and I’m still scratching my head about where the weeks have gone because I know I just celebrated Christmas but…but I don't…and…and that happens every year and I don't know why I can’t finally get my…I mean, I’m at this every single day. So, I should be able to mark my days but then I get to the end of January and I’m like, how did that happen so quickly? Anyway, how are you? How's your day going? You’re probably just like right where you need to be. You’re right centered in the here and now, January 28th, you’re not wondering where the month went. You lived it fully. And that's great. I want to grow up to be like you. And, so, that’s why I read the Bible every day to us. And I let's get to it. We’re in the book of Exodus. We have begun to…to get to know Moses who is a major character in the Bible, and we’ll be journeying with Moses for…for a while as I've mentioned. So, we’ll get to know him. He has reluctantly obeyed God and gone back to Egypt and confronted Pharaoh who has essentially laughed him out of the palace and made things much more difficult for the Hebrew people. And we can already tell a pretty big showdown is gonna happen at some point. So, let's take the next step forward. We’re reading from Evangelical Heritage Version this week. Exodus chapter 5 verse 22 through 7 verse 25.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the book of Matthew Jesus brought up a subject that He has already brought up and He was even more direct and forceful with it this time than...than the first time we encountered it because it is, according to Jesus, an irreplaceable component of God's kingdom, and it's a word that…I mean…it can…it can be a tricky work, forgiveness. It's kind of a funny thing because we like the concept of it. We just…we just don't want to have to do it. We want everybody else to have to do it, but we don't have to let go. So, the way that this goes down is that Peter’s just asking like, “okay. I see forgiveness is a part of this story. How many times…like define this for me. If…if somebody sins against me, how many times,  seven? Like do I forgive them 7 times.” Jesus is like, “no, like 77,” right? So, like if you forgive somebody 77 times and you’re counting it up and you get to offense number 78 and you tell that person, “I don't forgive you because I’ve forgive you 77 times” then you probably haven't forgiven them 77 times. Jesus tells a story - a master and a servant. A servant, who…who owes a great deal, an amount he can't pay. He falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness. He begs for mercy. He begs for more time. The master forgives him completely and sends him on his way. But then that person will not forgive his brother, his fellow servant who owes them significantly less. He won't forgive that debt. He throws him into prison. So, just imagine this for a minute. Imagine God saying to you, “you wicked servant. I forgave you all that debt when you bagged me to. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had mercy on you?” I do not ever, ever, ever want to hear those words from my Father but I'm quoting Jesus here. “This is what my heavenly Father will also do to you, unless each one of you forgives his brother from his heart.” Like that…that's pretty hard to navigate around. Like, that’s pretty hard to set aside and say, “well it doesn't really mean what…it's...it's not…that's not what it means” because Jesus has taken away the ability to sort like fake it. He said, “from the heart.” So, it's like…it's got to be real and genuine. And this…this can bring up all kinds of things inside of us, because we immediately…you know when we start thinking about forgiveness we have to begin to think about the wounds of our lives and some of them have been fairly significant. Like, none of us…none of us gets out of here without getting hurt in some way and some of us have been hurt pretty bad. And, so, just to even go there at all is a pretty…pretty difficult journey. But to think of forgiveness, you know, it's really easy to be like, “you just don't understand. Like you don't know happened to me, the trauma. Like you just don't understand. I…I…the guy with the microphone…I…I wouldn't…I've been through my own traumas…I wouldn't…but normally we’re not trying to say this to somebody else, we’re trying to say to God, “like I can't do what you're asking me to do because it broke me and I'm fragmented and I don't even know how…how to approach forgiveness when something so wicked has happened. And, so, we can be angry that God would even think about asking us or forcing us into this kind of posture, but let's…let's just pause for second…and understand like, we’re 19 chapters into the book of Matthew and Matthew is the first of the Gospels and for this year anyway, this is first accounting of Jesus ministry and so we’re getting to know Jesus for this year as we go through the Gospels. And we noticed right away there was something different. Like, we saw right from the get-go, and we began to realize is that we’re looking at somebody who is different because they are whole. Their…their heart and their mind and their bodies are not all detached and living in separate realities. Wholeness, the lack of separation any longer inside of ourselves and from God, this is the message of the gospel. And, so, this is what Jesus is revealing in His ministry as He reveals the kingdom of God. And you could be like, “I am tracking with you there. What has that got to do with forgiveness?” Forgiveness can bring wholeness. Forgiveness isn't saying, “alright. I guess it was okay that that happened to me. I forgive them for what they did. I guess I have to do that. It's gotta be okay.” That's not what forgiveness is. And forgiveness isn't. “Okay. I'm not gonna talk about that anymore, that wound anymore. I’m not gonna…I’m gonna forget it. Like, I’m gonna…I’m gonna suppress it down and never visit it again.” That’s not it either. Forgiveness is saying, “injustice in some way was done to me. It happened. It shattered to me in some way. I'm broken because of it. There's poison inside of me like seeping through my veins. It affects my life and it has affected the way my life has gone, and I cannot do this anymore and I cannot get free of this by myself. I've tried to medicate. I've tried everything. I can't do it. And, so, I release this to You God. You are the judge. I release this to You. You handle this. I release them to You. God, I can't handle this anymore. I release them to You. I unchain myself from that person or event and I give it to you.” Forgiveness is one of these things, at least in the ministry of Jesus that is very direct because it’s very important because forgiveness sets us free and unforgiveness does the opposite. And Jesus came to set us free. So, we can hold onto those wounds as if they’ve become a part of our identity. We can hold onto those attachments or things that have hurt us as if we wouldn't even know how to be ourselves without carrying that around anymore, or we can understand this is part of the process of walking the narrow path that leads to life and wholeness. And I realize I’m…I mean I’m talking to lots and lots of people and there lots and lots of stories. There are plenty of things to release. There are plenty of things to let go of. There are…I mean the posture of forgiveness isn't a one-off, it's a lifestyle, it's always on and never off. And at least in my experience, some of the deepest roots of bitterness and awfulness and frank…frankly darkness and evil happen between spouses. Like that's ground zero. Like that is your ultimate union with another person and that union then represents your greater union with God. And the thing that will destroy that out right straightaway is unforgiveness. And we all know it. Unforgiveness leads to bitterness, anger, resentment, you name it, and none of that will bring us to God.

Prayer:

Father, it is to You that we want to be led. It is a growing awareness of Your presence in and around and among and through and in all things, including our lives and our relationships and our marriages. And one of the things that flows through all of that in Your kingdom is the ability to let go, the ability to release, the ability to forgive. And all we have to do is look at our own lives and we can find the places that we've been bound up because of bitterness and unforgiveness. We were talking about our marriages a minute ago Father and all we have to do is look there really to find places that have been walled off and places that have become battle lines and we might count 7 times or we might count 77 times and then we’re done with it. And, so, we begin the slow, steady, methodical process of dismantling and disintegrating our relationships through this unforgiveness. And You've been very clear, very clear in the Scriptures that that is leading nowhere. And, so, Father help us to learn to forgive. Help us to learn to release and let go. And help us to be willing to ask to be forgiven because in one way or another we’re in need of it. Father, it's our desire to dwell in Your presence in Your kingdom and to reveal it in this world and one of the ways that we will do that is that we walk in forgiveness. Come Holy Spirit we pray into this because it's a big thing for us. We ask in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Song:

Sara Groves - It's Me

Well, it came and caught us off our guard We were just laughing, feeling alright Had such a great time just last night We walked into a minefield undetected You took a tone and I took offense Anger replacing all common sense

Oh, run for your life, all tenderness is gone In the blink of an eye all goodwill has withdrawn We mark out our paces and stare out from our faces Baby, you and I are gone, gone, gone

Incomprehensible layers of isolation Now you're the man with a heart of stone Making me pay by being alone Soon you will justify righteous indignation Now I'm a woman who holds all her pain Looking for somebody else to blame

Oh, run for your life, all tenderness is gone In the blink of an eye all goodwill has withdrawn We mark out our paces and stare out from our faces But baby, you and I are gone, gone, gone

We hold all the keys to our undoing Cutting me down in small degrees You know my worst insecurities I'm making no effort to understand No one can hurt you like I can

Deep down inside the girl's waking up She's going out to the boy she loves It's me, oh, baby, it's me

How in the world can tenderness be gone In the blink of an eye? Oh, how in the world can tenderness be gone In the blink of an eye?

And the girl in me, she's calling out Oh, the girl in me, she's calling out To the boy in you, to the boy in you And the girl in me, she's calling out Oh, the girl in me, she's calling out To the boy in you

Baby, come back, baby, come back to me Baby, come back, baby, come back