#which has in turn made me contemplate every possible way that I've contributed to that system

[jankwritten]

having a hard time existing alone in my head rn so I'm jut gonna kind of dump all of my stressed out bullshit into this post so I can stop just having it all ricochet around in there sorry about that let's hope this immediately gets buried. I don't want to post it but I know that if I don't post it it's going to sit in the back of my mind and I hate that so I just gotta fuckin hit the button and hope nobody reads this WAHOO.

grey is oversharing on the internet again, who woulda guessed. i think part of why i feel the need to post this is because somebody else might feel the same in some capacity and therefore I won't feel so alone. hm. either way: don't read this if you're uncomfortable with strangers on the internet being stupidly open about cringey thoughts and feelings. don't read this if you get secondhand embarrassment either lmao.

edit: the fact that a sugardaddy bot thing just commented on this has reminded me of the absurd beauty that is reality.

i'm having one of those days where everything feels like it's my fault no matter how much I tell myself that it isn't and that it's largely selfish of me to think that I matter so much that I'm the one causing everybody all of their problems. i know that's not true. I know that I might have CONTRIBUTED to some of it by being careless but that doesn't automatically mean that I caused it or it's entirely my fault and that's really hard to contend with for some reason.

i'm terrified that all of my friends and family hate me all of a sudden because I know they don't.

i can't do my homework because my ADHD is out of control and I feel like I'm numb and floating out of my own head every time I even sit and TRY to concentrate on the readings I should have done 4 days ago. I will do my homework and it will take me 3 hours longer than it normally does and that's okay but it doesn't feel like it's okay and I can't control it because everyone i talk to in any medical or serious capacity doesn't seem to take me seriously when I say I think I have ADHD or autism or SOMETHING that does this to me, because I have a 4.0, and I get nothing but As, and that's because I have crippling anxiety that balances it out.

I only just today learned that it's OKAY to tell people when you might not be around much because you're having a bad day. if I start doing that too I feel like i'll just use it like a crutch and never talk to anybody again even though i love talking to people.

i feel like i'm messed up but not messed up enough to really SAY that I'm messed up because all I'm messed up is in my own head and I DID IT to myself, nobody else did it. i'm fucked up in a way that doesn't make sense when I try to explain it because the way it is is just ME, in my OWN HEAD, saying this shit and coming up with things and not being able to forget it or stop thinking about it until it haunts me. maybe that's just what having anxiety is but wow does it feel fucking isolating. like no, my parents never abused me or neglected me, but I grew up terrified that there was always the possibility that they COULD and I got it into my head that there is ALWAYS going to be that possibility which means that I always have to be on my guard and always being the best person I can be so I at least know that when it happens it's not because I deserve it.

i keep looking over at my door expecting someone to walk in and catch me crying about all this and I'm so scared of that that I'm holding off tears in the privacy of my own space for the fear of it. like that can't be normal, can it?

none of this to mention the fact that I think when I got COVID it majorly fucked with my memory and COVID isolation/quarantine for the past 2 years really sapped all of my social understanding and awareness and now every time I leave the house I'm TERRIFIED of having to interact with other people because I just flat out don't know how. i don't really remember anything anymore. what I do remember is always the most anxious parts, the scariest parts because they are what made me feel the most.

ugh. I think everything has been building up to today for weeks now lmao i'm finishing school next week and I'm going to be free for the first time since fuck knows when and I am BRUTALLY TERRIFIED of what comes next. i have all of these obligations and things I need to finish for school too that keep slipping my mind, not to mention the things I need to do for IRL.

[tessiete]

Hiii! I'm in love with your Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fics, you have such a deep understanding of the characters and their relationship in Legends (old EU) canon and Disney canon,too. It's an absolute joy to read your stories about them,I love the angst,I love the hurt/comfort, I love the sweet moments!!! That's why I've decided to participate in the prompt "game" you posted about on Friday. If you're still taking prompts,I really like #18 or #21 with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, ofc. Have a lovely day ahead!

Oh, thank you so much!! It truly does mean so much to here. Writing is never easy, and so often you rely on instinct, and second guess, but I am so sO SO happy that you enjoy my fics. That’s what it’s about after all - they’re meant for YOU! To love, and to enjoy!

And thank you for contributing to that. I hope you enjoy this prompt fill for #18 (”I am alive. I can tell because of the pain.”) and #21 (”No heart is made of stone.”) Much love!

JUDGEMENT

“Do you think they were...kind?” he asks. “In the end?” 

And though it pains him to speak, Qui-Gon answers honestly.

“No,” he says. “I do not think they were.”

At this, Obi-Wan nods. The judiciary benches have long since emptied, the crowds roused by a hard judgement, and a swiftly executed sentence. There had been jeering, mockery, and cruel laughter, and Obi-Wan had sat silently by Qui-Gon’s side, wrapped utterly in his dark travelling cloak. There had been no gaze to catch, the somber pools of his eyes concealed by the drape of his hood. Neither had there been a hand to hold, their delicate articulations twisted so deep within the folds of coarse fabric as to be invisible to Qui-Gon’s searching grasp. 

Instead, he’d remained stoic, hardly breathing as the magistrate had condemned a young woman to death. 

And it had been Obi-Wan’s word which brought her there.

“I do not think that I should be a Jedi.”

The phrase is whispered, whistled through the clenched teeth, and cracked lips of Qui-Gon’s charge. It is quiet, as though he cannot bear the thought of his pronouncement, but it is also clear, and earnestly meant.

On this, Qui-Gon is not so certain as his padawan, but it is not his place to refute him. Only Obi-Wan can do that. Qui-Gon Jinn is a Master, and it is his job to teach.

So he swallows, shifts his weight, and allows the contours of his body to fall into something more relaxed, hoping to coax Obi-Wan along with him. But Obi-Wan does not relent. So Qui-Gon seeks to educate him.

“And why do you think that?”

The boy turns to him abruptly, offended by the possibility that Qui-Gon cannot see how clearly he has transgressed, and how unworthy it must make him.

“Is it not obvious, Master?” he demands, some fire warming his benumbed lips. “I have murdered her.”

“It is not you who has shaved her head, or torn her limb from limb. It is not you who cried for blood. You did not sentence her. You did not bring her here. You did not sanction or commit her crimes.”

“But I told you who she was.”

“Ah,” says Qui-Gon, comprehension beating a percussive note from his lips. He leans forward, elbows braced upon his thighs, his hair trailing over his knees as he sits in deep thought, puzzling out the stars with Obi-Wan. “Then do you suggest it is my fault for alerting the authorities? Or for failing to negotiate a plea, or mitigate her sentence?”

“No!” cries Obi-Wan. The edge of his hood is too slow to keep pace with the padawan’s thoughts, and slips over his ear to catch and expose his pale face to Qui-Gon’s contemplation. “You tried,” he insists. “Even when it made them angry, even when they threatened to arrest you with her - you still tried...I only tattled.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” the master sighs. “Can you not see how cruelly you accuse yourself?”

“She came to me for help,” Obi-Wan protests. “And I killed her for it.”

“No,” says Qui-Gon, firm in this where moments before he has been lax. But then, it had been an exercise, and he had meant for Obi-Wan to reason his way into illumination. Instead, he sinks deeper into self-recrimination, and despair, both of which are far less becoming of a Jedi than an optimistic spirit and faith in his elders. This cannot continue. “You are a child, Obi-Wan,” he says.

“I’m thirteen!”

“And I have lived more than three of your lifetimes, my padawan. Grant me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to accumulated wisdom, both as your teacher, and your elder.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw snaps shut, his eyes falling low. A narrow hand has emerged to pick at a loose thread, worrying the small flaw into a larger fraying edge.

“Yes, Master Qui-Gon,” he mumbles. 

“You are a child, and this woman came to you because she knew you would act as such. She wanted sympathy. She wanted malleability. She wanted a defender who could neither judge nor question her.”

“She used me.”

“We are Jedi, Master Kenobi,” he says. “We come to be used. We arrive with every intent to serve. We are here to help in any way we can, as best we can. You helped her.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, unconvinced, but a drop of water, illumined by the sun slipping slowly beyond the horizon, falls hot and shining upon the sea of cloth pooled in Obi-Wan’s lap. It disappears in almost the same instant, only to be chased by another, and another.

“None of that,” sighs Qui-Gon. He is a proud man, he knows, and gruff besides, but he is no stoic, not like the stubborn boy beside him. And he is proud of him. So he does what Obi-Wan so vehemently chastises himself for now: he shows him kindness. He reaches out and pulls his padawan close, until Obi-Wan’s head is tucked beneath his chin, until his cold hands slide beneath the folds of Qui-Gon’s own cloak to feel the heat of him beneath, until his upset is soothed and muffled by the low susurrations of Qui-Gon’s voice, vibrating like tectonics shifting in his chest. “It will be alright.”

“It still feels wrong,” cries Obi-Wan, his anguish drowning in his throat. “It still feels unfair. It still hurts.”

“It will always hurt, young one,” Qui-Gon says.

At this, Obi-Wan’s upset turns briefly to rage, flickering impotently against the sea before being drowned again by sorrow. “Well, I wish it didn’t,” he says. 

“Don’t say that,” Qui-Gon chides. “It must hurt. It is right that it hurts. You must know it hurts me too, but that is how I know I am alive - I can tell because of the pain. I would never wish something as awful as apathy on you.”

“Well, I do wish it,” Obi-Wan says, tearful and insistent. “I wish I didn’t care. I wish I was numb. I wish I was ice.”

“Do you think that would help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I shall tell you, dear Obi-Wan,” says Qui-Gon, his mouth close to his padawan’s ear. “It would not. Ice melts, after all. It does no good to turn away, and leave others to their strife.”

“And yet, everyone here did!” the boy cries. He pulls away to stare Qui-Gon square in the face, his little visage torn and scarred with salt-stained grief. “They didn’t care that she was to be killed.”

“They’ve been hurt, as well,” he replies. “They are also mourning.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “No,” he says, a flat denial. “They liked it. They were happy.” 

“And can those things not grow from anger, grief, or fear? Can not the Dark rejoice in the sufferings of any heart?”

Obi-Wan frowns. His tears abate, and he takes a deep, gasping breath before laying his head down on Qui-Gon’s broad shoulder.

“Then perhaps one must not simply be cold,” the child suggests. “Perhaps it would be better to be made entirely of stone, so that nothing at all can touch you.”

“Oh, my padawan,” Qui-Gon sighs. He holds his burden close, and runs his fingers through the copper strands of tangled hair pressed against his breast. “No heart is made of stone. They are fragile, heavy things, and that is why we must be so careful with them.”

[sending-the-message]

I've been wandering through Aokigahara Forest, where bodies hang all year long by Ra1n_Walker

Hi guys. This is going to be long, because I'll just be as thorough as possible. I don't think leaving out details will contribute to the story, so bear with me. Or don't… I was wondering how many of you are aware of the existence of this forest. The Sea of Trees, as they like to call it, or, on a less brighter note; Suicide Forest.

I have a mildly unhealthy obsession for the obscure and unsolved mysteries, which often leads me to venture to lost and forgotten places. Abandoned asylums, hotels, evil looking buildings. I love to scour the internet for strange occurences and events that seem to involve anything going from ghosts to murderers or aliens. People will believe anything to feel excitement.

I wouldn't call myself a believer. In fact, I think it's funny how people can get all serious and worked up about some weird theory that sounds creepy, but has not the slightest proof or link to a plausible explanation. What I do believe in is that people have a tendency to do some really fucked up things. Guess everyone knows to what extent, but the real atrocities are preferably kept a bit further in our daily lives and rather not thought of.

It litterally turns me on. I can get goosebumps hearing about gruesome scenes, imagining someone's pain or finding truly disturbing things. The 'this-song-makes-me-wanna-cry' type of goosebumps. I can't ever get enough. So I heard of this forest and read about it on the web. Reddit also has some accounts on this and there's even a few movies based on its reputation and stories (which I haven't seen yet as I don't want to ruin the experience) so it really isn't hard getting a bit educated about it. I had to fricking go there.

So that was that, and I was off to Japan only about a month later. I always thought Mount Fuji might be worth seeing and I definitely had a strong passion for the Japanese culture. And their anime and manga, obviously. Being on a plane towards my long awaited destination, I had enough time to go through the available information and read up on the forest. I probably read it all already, being the special person that I am, but it amused me. 

It definitely was a cool mystery anyway. The 'facts' were often disturbing and the assumptions made around the place were even more so. There's a few of those that really stuck with me that I think are thought provoking or at the very least interesting. I read about a lot of aspects. Locals would believe they could pin point the exact type of visitor to the woods.

There were the ones trying to snap pictures of Mount Fuji and its impressive base and flora around it. Some would go in there and hope to find something dark or scary. Thrillseekers if you will. And then there's the obvious type, the type that make the forest famous; the suicidals that don't plan on coming back out. What the fuck

The thing that struck me when I first heard about it is that it would have to be littered with corpses, seeing as over 75 people were found every year. Most of them hanged. They even reached over a hundred victims a few years back and decided to stop reveiling numbers to avoid making it more popular, thus resulting in more suicides. So yeah, there's a fricking cleanup crew. Every year locals search the forest for bodies or what's left of them.

According to what I'd read, they would drag decomposed bodies or parts of them, skeletons and personal belongings scattered around the sea of trees back to some kind of room where they'd store them. There's accounts of people staying in a room with the bodies, because according to local folklore, it would mean bad luck to leave those  alone.

I landed after a long flight and needed a good night's rest. I always admired people who were able to sleep on a plane, I was too nervous to achieve that. I'd never been too keen on flying and this time was no different. It felt good to get out of that bird. I called a cab and made my way to my hotel, about an hour drive from Shizuoka airport. I would've loved to chat with the driver and learn more than I already knew, but guess what. The dude didn't speak one word of English. 

"Yessir."

Good talk...

I dozed off in the car, face against the window and coat over my head to block out the light of the evening that still shone bright. When I woke up, the cab had stopped and I was in... Shimizu? My Japanese was about as good as the cab driver's English, so I didn't bother even trying to ask. I got out, stepped inside the hotel and was pointed to my room. I stayed there the whole evening to fall asleep quickly. Next day; alarm at 6am, breakfast with some documents and brochures to re-check my way to Aokigahara and what to look out for.

After speaking with the hotel clerk, whose English was good enough to be able to make out key words. It only took me half an hour before being on a train towards Mount Fuji. Shizuoka airport was about 80 miles from Aokigahara  and I was about half way going from where I was right then. An hour drive before getting there and I had to walk quite a bit before arriving at the area I was trying to get to, after even taking an extra bus.

And that's when I finally got to the place I had been looking forward to for the last weeks. I had Mount Fuji looking over me from the distance, like a titan contemplating the world beneath, and the forest of Aokigahara in front of me. The Sea of Trees. Suicide Forest... I was standing at the beginning of a path that lead into the woods. The path seemed to be an easy one to follow, it was clearly maintained regularly and countless footsteps were printed in the slightly muddy trail. Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, I took off hoping for adventure.

The path continued for much further than I had imagined and started twisting and turning the more I got into the forest. I knew it stretched about 13 miles and I wasn't helpless at all when it comes to navigating. I know how to use a compass and I have a good sense of awareness, so I never worried once. I just thought it was a bit weird that people tried to maintain this, as if they were trying to shake the woods' reputation and attract more tourists and less suicidals.

I have to say, after an hour or so, my surroundings felt a bit darker, a bit scarier if you will. One of the reasons for this is that there were multiple ways to go from the main trail. Dozens of paths leading deeper through the trees that were everywhere. I mean it's a forest, but goddamn this forest was dense. A lot of those paths were marked with a sign or a carving in a tree. Messages saying things I couldn't read, others in English saying life is precious and I shouldn't give in, a plea to return to the town and talk to someone... They really tried hard to stop you from killing yourself. Those signs were well intended, but I couldn't help thinking this shit was spooky and so out of place.

Honestly, it was creepy, but nothing I couldn't handle and definitely not enough to satisfy my need for excitement and adventure. I noticed more turns and twists in the trail I was following and I looked behind me on a few occasions just to make sure I kept my bearings. Plus, I was slowly getting a bit paranoid. The forest got darker the more I ventured in and I thought I heard footsteps every so often. Don't get me wrong, I love this. But yeah, shit gets scary when you go looking for it.

At one point, I decided I'd take a break and drink some water while checking the compass, just to be sure. And of course, my compass was acting up and desperately looking for north, while I looked at it and sighed. No biggie, I just have to turn around and follow the trail back, should I want to leave. Problem is, I turned around to find myself standing on an intersection. I had three possible directions to go and I doubted a little when wondering which one I came from. I couldn't remember seeing any paths starting from the one I was walking until then and I felt a lot less confident all of a sudden.

Shit

I was used to the feeling of panic rising and that was also part of the thrill I wanted to find every time I went looking for it. So I took some time to take in my surroundings and thought about what to do now. I hadn't seen anything really exciting so far and I was slowly doubting to go back. But the day wasn't over and I was dedicated to my trip. So I looked up to see if I could see the sun's position and nearly screamed like a girl. The foliage was way too dense to see through, only a small amount of light pierced through the canopy. But hanging practically right above me was a little girl, eyes missing and legs bitten off to the knees. Her head was hanging down rested on her chest and I gagged.

I jumped back and fell down, tripping over and hurting my wrist in the process. I cursed at myself while looking at the grim scene before me, but I can't say I wasn't excited. THIS was the thrill I liked and I was proud of myself for getting where I was trying to get, the small border between adrenaline and madness or insanity. But when you're looking at a dead body of a hanged little girl, there's some things you don't expect/want to happen, because you might just get a heart attack like I almost did.

"Hoshi."

Guys. No shit. I sharted then and there and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. It was the voice of a little girl that sounded like she was playing with her dolls or having an imaginary tea-party. Except she was having it in the middle of a dark forest all alone with a dead girl as a view... It came from right behind me and I turned around with eyes wide open and a scream ready to escape my mouth. There was no one there and I started to feel watched and incredibly nervous. I could hear rustling from behind me and I prayed. I wasn't superstitious, but I think I knew what was coming. I turned around and felt myself turn pale.

"We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

The girl was still hanging in the trees when she said it and her empty eye sockets seemed to be shimmering in the dim light. Her mouth didn't move, but her head was straight up and looking forward, completely immobile. It was the most unsettling thing I'd ever experienced and I honestly stood there nailed to the ground, unable to think or move. I didn't understand the first word I heard coming from behind me, but what she was repeating now was so chaotic and abnormal that it scared the living shit out of me.

I stepped back even more and rubbed my eyes, hoping I was dreaming (which I definitely wasn't) and I tried to set my mind straight.

""We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

This time it was MUCH louder and coming from much closer and I felt my heart pumping in my head, scared to open my eyes. When I did, I could've cried. The girl was now standing a few feet in front of me, pieces of flesh dragging behind her while her legs, or what was left of them, carried her lifeless body towards me. Saying the same thing over and over again with the rope still tied around her neck, tight.

I stood there watching her, never blinking. She was really frightening with her deep empty eye sockets, her mutilated body and the fact that she was so little. Despite all of that, the sensation of fear and the desire to run became less urgent. I started feeling more sad than scared. A girl that age committing suicide was just above me, it blew my mind and I couldn't shake the feeling this was wrong. Well, of course it was, but isn't it more than just weird to see such a young child here? I looked up and saw the rope going from her neck towards the canopy and realized what was bothering me that much. How the fucking fuck does that rope even get there.

Not kidding, the trees were high. Like, really high. You'd have to use machinery to get all the way up or be a damn good climber and I couldn't for the life of me picture this kid doing that. It was so high up I couldn't even exactly see where it was attached and when I looked back at her, she was holding out her hand as to motion me to grab it. I reluctently took a step forward and held out my hand, watching her getting closer.

Before I continue; what would you do?

Seriously. I'm nearly 30 years old, I'm the biggest horror fan I can think of and I have a tendency to question everything that doesn't have a reasonable explanation. So, what would you do?

I stood there watching her as she stopped in place and looked right back at me with those black, hollow eyes. Despite the obvious fucked-upness of the whole situation, I just couldn't shake the feeling I was having. Unable to explain it, I'd have to go with sheer empathy… This girl had to be, what? Six? Seven years old? I'm not a pro, so ten probably would've done it as well, but you get it. No kid this young should be thinking about suicide, nor should a girl this young be here in a forest so dark and dense you can't hear any birds or other animals. I only heard the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves as I looked at the first person I encountered in these woods; a girl that was so young and looked so innocent that I got sick thinking about the undeniable fact she was here. In these woods that carried its name so clearly and casually, forgotten forever.

"Hoshi."

That word snapped me back to my senses instantly and made me feel like I lost something that I never had. Who the fuck leaves a kid in here, or who the fucking fuck makes a kid feel so bad that it makes her ending up here with a rope around its neck in the Aokigahara forest? Or where the fuck ever. So I don't know what you would do, but tears were almost running down my face when I practically lunged forward and grabbed her hand as firmly as I could.

I guess the world stopped

I was somewhere else, feeling like someone else and thinking like someone else. I was afraid.

If only…

I was scared as I had never been before. The world around me was pitch black and I couldn't hear anything but my frantic screams and the drumming of my blood pumping in my brain, making me feel like I was going to explode. The feeling I had persisted until a loud bang made me jump up and nearly gave me a heart attack.

My blindfold was taken away and the light that attacked my face stung like a thousand wasps. The smack on my jaw made sure I wasn't distracted by the stinging of the air in my nostrils and also made me open my burning blue eyes to watch what was causing me to feel like this.

The guy I was watching looked far too happy to be sane.

I was sitting down in a corner of a room, hands tied behind my back to a chain that was attached to a radiator, the only thing in the room besides me. My wrists were on fire and I saw my little feet twisting in front of me as I cowarded backwards against the wall, trying to escape his filthy hands. The knife in his right hand was all the more threatening when he grabbed my neck with his left and started applying pressure.

Panic, fear, anger, loss, despair. Those are but a fraction of the emotions flooding me at that time and I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe the rest of them. As if the lack of oxygen wasn't enough, the pressure on my neck felt like it was going to make it snap and the fact that my legs were everywhere and arms flailing made sure to make me lose all hope. The world went dark with the last image of a lunatic smiling at me as I drew my last breath.

Then I woke up

I was in the middle of the forest at an intersection and it didn't take me more than a few seconds to realize I was right where I was before I started dreaming. Panicked, I turned to look around me and above me, only to see I was alone in the woods. But the fucking rope was there. Right in front of me, where the girl had been standing, there was a rope on the ground heading deeper into the woods.

Safe to say everything was already fucked up and I didn't even think straight when I bent over to grab it and started following it into the forest.

Stay. The fuck. Out of there.

Guys, I followed it and walked for an hour (approximately) and from the very first minute I was surrounded by a sea. Not of trees, but bodies. Kids hanging from trees, some mutilated, some unharmed as if they were sleeping. Others decomposed to almost nothing but bones, fallen down as their ropes were still ominously hanging from the invisible canopy… it kept going for as long as I was. When I got to the end of the rope and thought I'd shed every tear and consumed all the fear that was hidden inside me, I was standing in the middle of a clearing and looking at a guy.

An asian guy standing by some kind of enormous plastic bag and hoisting something up in the trees with a rope. I started shivering and I felt like all power was taken away from me when I saw an arm sticking out if the bag. The boy he was hanging couldn't have been older than five and the fact I was watching this as if I'd be watching a street musician suddenly put me in a mood I hadn't yet been in.

Tears running down my face and legs unable to take a step in whatever direction, I felt a hand grabbing a hold of mine. The little girl, the one I could watch now without being scared, the one that showed me and asked for help was standing next to me. Although they were blue, she didn't have eyes, but her smile was worth a thousand words.

What happened next took five minutes at the most.

I anonymously notified the police when I found my way back out of the forest almost a full day later and I went back home immediately. I know that nobody there likes to talk about the reputation of the forest and I know that other things have been covered up, so I have no way of knowing what happened or if anything got done.

Don't fucking touch children, because I might be the last thing you see. I looked up what she said -hoshi- and I guess she meant hoshii… I'm not Japanese so I might be wrong, but I believe she wanted/needed someone to help her