#anger at habitual choices

[at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix]

TW: Suicide attempts mentioned, suicidal ideation mentioned, the boundary set by the suicidal ideation havng person might be interpreted as ableist - but they are trying to prevent their own end in setting it.  Life sucks sometimes. STAY SAFE. NOTHING GRAPHIC.  RED FLAGS by Phoenix M.T. Noah

Back from the dead years after I heard him drown after I heard the waters rise well over his head a ghost awakes

that mourning period long ago did come and pass a heart deconstructed & rebuilt in the meantime

five years later that ghost arose, acknowledged he’d fucked up, but he was alive

and

Would I take him back? Would I be his friend again? Would I risk my heart again?

Would I?

Yes, but - but, I say only if you

NEVER

put me through that again

I ask him:

Do you know what it was you did to me?

Do you know?

Are you ABLE to make that promise?

Can you even try to hold that rule?

OH YES!

He says, all confidence, a toddler screaming his sense of invincible power to the wind

(red flag, that, wish I’d noticed sooner)

INDEED! I WILL NEVER SUICIDE ON YOU AGAIN

the unspoken, uneasy subtext dangerous whitewater beneath his words fingers crossed behind his back

all italics

at least not on the phone with you while you desperately, fruitlessly try to save my life with nothing but your words flying across an ocean in a flurry of compassion and terror

with my active resentment of your love, my refusal to even try to seek a path ahead

or through

or even to take just one more breath hauling every other suicide related trauma you’ve ever endured to the surface causing your very soul to spin out in pain and rage the flashbacks feeding your own self-destructive tendencies . . . oh yes, you will react and I will be fed because only poking the wounds of another til they bleed makes me feel life is worth living

aloud, he said

I WILL NEVER PUT YOU IN THAT PLACE WHERE SOCIETY WILL BLAME YOU FOR MY DEATH

(his words drip honey)

WHEN IT’S MY CHOICE TO OFF MYSELF AND TORTURE YOU SPECIFICALLY WHILE I DO SO

it was all a lie, you know,

this time, perhaps it was not our Holy Mother Thames he sought union with, but Grandmother of the Great Sea just past Dover

after all the protestations that he chose to heal, would fight for his own survival

That mental illness I’ve come to understand is only slightly less complex than some

but at its core is an inability to accept

that life involves big feelings and discomfort

that pain is an absolutely normal part of every life -      the issue is what you do with it

that it’s nobody else’s job to babysit one’s feelings

nobody’s

not even those we most adore and whose adoration we long for so

no one but our lonesome self is responsible for managing our heart for we are the only ones capable

I am no one’s savior, nor do I wish to be

within a year of this false hope’s renewal of this tasteless crust’s poor reformation

it crumbled

precisely as I feared it would.

TELL MY WIFE

he typed

I’M SORRY FOR THE DEBTS

no. you broke the last contract, sir

I never signed an NDA even so, your name will never pass my lips again

I live with the slow drip of constant death-luring thoughts in ways you never have and yet I fight to stand before the world and sing my truth to the four winds to stand empowered before those who seek to disenfranchise

I have compassion for the pain of big feelings you never learnt to process

but over you not being the only one those you love engage with?

I have nothing but contempt for an ego so fragile you must throw a deadly temper fit every time you are not worshipped as a god by those you claim to love.

Should another ghost awake I will report identity theft

my heart will not be manipulated again by someone who chooses to weaponize their suffering

or by a catfish trying to get me alone in a strange land

oh no. this error will not be made again. ~FIN~

[kidasthings]

Echoes of Eden by Kida

Noa x Mae - #omgisthisastorywithplot?

Chapter 2: Echoes of Eden by Kida – @kidasthings on Tumblr

Prologue

Three centuries after a catastrophic virus decimated human intelligence, turning the survivors into primal shadows of their former selves, the world has irrevocably changed. The ALZ virus, originally intended to combat Alzheimer's disease, not only ravaged humanity but inadvertently gave rise to a new dominant species: intelligent apes.

Near the ruins of what was once Los Angeles, Noa, a valiant chimpanzee of the Eagle clan, has just thwarted a power-hungry bonobo, Proximus Caesar, from enslaving his people. Guided by the teachings of a certain orangutan, Raka, who revered the nearly forgotten, peace-loving chimp Caesar, Noa believes in a world where apes and humans can coexist peacefully. However, during his quest, he encounters Mae, a human who defies his expectations. Mae, immune to the virus and possessing the ability to speak, challenges Noa's perceptions of humans as mere animals.

Together, Noa and Mae manage to prevent Proximus Caesar from seizing a cache of potent human technology by flooding an old bunker. In the process, Mae secures a crucial computer drive that enables her underground human community to reconnect with distant survivors, bridging isolated pockets of humanity; she also manages to betray Noa and his clan by leaving them to fend for themselves.

As Mae's group in Los Angeles prepares to merge with new allies from Fort Wayne, Indiana, tensions escalate. Unaware of Mae's bond with Noa, a small but well-armed scouting party from Fort Wayne comes across the Eagle Clan’s village on their way to Los Angeles to meet up with Mae’s people.

Far more adept on their own home turf, the scouting party is caught by the apes, rounded up, and held hostage. Their weapons are confiscated. Mae is called in when the scouting party never reports to the underground bunker where the rest of the intelligent humans in her group seek refuge. Caught between her origins and her convictions, Mae faces the ultimate choice during the tense encounter: stand with her human kin or protect Noa, the ape she has come to admire.

This story explores the fragile hope for reconciliation in a world torn apart by fear and prejudice. Can Noa and Mae forge a path toward peace, or will the shadows of old wars darken the future dreamed of by the legendary Caesar?

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

In the dense shadows cast by the towering trees that skirt the Eagle clan's village, the air was thick with tension and the faint scent of smoke from distant fires. The setting sun bled red over the horizon, casting long shadows across the rough-hewn faces of the Eagle clan and their new captives. Five ALZ-immune humans from Fort Wayne sat bound and rigid, their eyes darting nervously as they listened to the low, ominous murmurs of the assembled apes.

Noa moved deliberately among the captives, his demeanor stern yet marked by an inherent fairness. Each human he approached met his gaze with a mix of defiance and fear, but none spoke. They clung to their silence like a shield, even under the weight of Noa's penetrating stare.

"No purpose here can be good if it starts with secrets," Noa stated, his voice resonating with a calm authority as he paused before a younger man whose jaw was stubbornly set.

The chants from the simian crowd grew louder, a discordant mix of anger and fear, with proposals of banishment or worse. They remembered what happened with Proximus Caesar, the obsession with human technology and worldly knowledge, and want none of it. Noa raised a hand, called for silence, but the restlessness was palpable, a living thing that fed on uncertainty and fear.

At the perimeter of the village, a human woman keeps a low profile in the brush. She had followed a single flare that burst bright in the sky to this location. It was a habitual thing, to bypass this region when doing her rounds in the forest. Immunity to the Simian Flu had bequeathed her the role of tracker, hunter, and scout after her initial mission was completed. Brown hair, blue eyes like the sky, Mae can only watch the scene unfold with a pounding heart. Worry lines were etched deeply into her brow, and her hand reached up to clutch at something around her neck - Raka's pendant - the symbol of peace promoted by an ape named Caesar long ago.

Noa gave her that pendant. For an inopportune moment, Mae was lost in reverie.

Without warning, a strong hand gripped her shoulder, yanked her from the shadows. Mae stumbled forward, dragged into the open. Her breath caught as she was thrown unceremoniously to the ground before Noa and his human captives. Dust and small stones bit into her palms as she caught herself, and a small grunt escaped her lips.

The sudden appearance of the human - a known and not particularly fondly remembered human - amongst them drew shocked gasps and murmurs.

Noa’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed in a complex tumult of emotion. The last time they parted, it was with a promise of peace, and yet here she was, thrown at his feet, disrupting the fragile balance he had fought to maintain.

Mae’s chest heaved as she pushed herself up slightly, her voice raspy but resolute as she met Noa's gaze. A single word hangs between them, charged with layers of meaning, a plea, a greeting, a reminder of shared dreams and bitter realities.

"Noa."

In that moment, the world narrowed to the space between them. Noa stood motionless, the voices around him faded into a distant hum. His heart fought a fierce battle within, torn between his duty to his clan and the undeniable pull he felt towards this woman who embodied both the past they shared and the future they might still forge. He can see Caesar’s pendant, an encircled diamond, as it swung from Mae’s neck wildly.

She still had it.

It is a symbol of ideals that suddenly seem so distant in the face of palpable tension and looming conflict.

The standoff stretched out, every breath, every silent plea, every hope and fear suspended in the dusty air of the dying day.

“Noa,” Mae tried again, defeated. She pulled herself up to stand on shaky, coltish legs. The Eagle Clan scout that initially seized her did not reach for her again as Noa lifted one hand to stay him.

Noa closed his eyes, as if in contemplation.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, as he reopened his eyes and shuttered his gaze.

Mae’s lips thinned out into a seamless line, and she cut a gaze over to the trussed-up humans attached to poles in the center of the village.

Noa nodded, once. He did not need much more than that as he added, “They approached our borders. We do not yet know their intention.”

The five Fort Wayne humans, still tied tight, share deliberate looks of fear between themselves. There is clear intelligence writ into their faces. They are not gagged, much to the chagrin of some of the villagers, as Noa would not have it. Still, they are oddly quiet. A few cast curious looks at Mae, no recognition in their eyes. The only woman in the group chewed her lower lip in frustration. Her blonde hair is cut short in a severe bob.

“Let them go, Noa.” Mae stated boldly, taking a step forward. Two other apes, positioned parallel to her, moved to intercept her advance towards the hero of the Eagle Clan. Once again, Noa lifted his calloused palm and gritted his sharp canines.

“Follow,” he told her, indicating something or someplace to the left with a sharp jerk of his head.

There is a short murmur of indignation from the gathered villagers, save for a small group which consisted of Soona, Anaya, and Noa’s mother. They appeared stuck in a shallower tumult of emotion. Noa’s mother took a step forward, unsure, but Soona placed her palm on the female ape’s furry shawl-covered shoulder and stopped her.

Mae’s eyes followed Noa, capturing his unique profile in a blink, and then dipped her head and hesitated. It is always that hesitation, caught between following an ape and leaving her kind behind, but with a reluctant glance at the captives she turned to follow.

He led her to a towering edifice of wood and natural materials that might be described as a tree house. Far above them, hawks circled in the sky, their soaring shadows blotting out the last rays of the sun. They landed at the top of the tower, a dizzying height, and screeched down at her.

Noa ascended a small ramp and stepped past a woven flap of material.

Mae did the same after taking a moment to peer backwards over her shoulder to ascertain the serious faces of a few apes herding her to the entrance.

Once inside, the darkness enveloped her, and the woman became hyper-aware of a dual pair of reflective eyes that watched her in the darkness of the interior.

“You came back,” he said, voice rough with something like emotion.

“Not by choice,” she quipped, and then stepped sideways away from the shaft of light thrown down by the door.

“Why?” It’s a simple question for a complex answer, and she wasn’t ready to answer it.

“I saw a distress signal in the sky,” she replied easily, eyes skating over the shadows and shapes in the interior of the newly rebuilt tower. “I had to see for myself. It looked like a human flare.”

“A flare?” he questioned; voice flat.

“It’s a human thing,” she sighed.

She heard him padding closer to her, his eerie eyes backlit by whatever reflective photo-sensitive cells nocturnal animals possessed. More of his face came into detail. After he stood about a few feet away, he stopped.

Mae froze.

“You have  ... it,” he informed her quietly.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

A hand reached out, seemingly disembodied in black space, and she felt the immediate lift of the small weight at her neck.

“Do you ... still believe .. in what it stands for?”

Her answer is the same as before, the same empty mantra. “I-I don’t know, Noa.”

A huff, a sigh. The weight on the back of the cord returned and he stepped back.

“Let them go,” Mae demanded, again.

He did not reply, not right away, but he did give her a long look. It was hard for her to discern in the dim dark, but it might be a soft rebuke. “I have to know … why they are … here.”

Mae’s mind shut down, because she wasn’t ready, or can’t tell him that. Her group of survivors had been expecting the Fort Wayne scouting party for months now. The underground bunker housing her people was the last of its kind for hundreds of miles. They had not come across any other intelligent humans in that time, so this must be the group they awaited. Mae was not an idiot; she had seen the sentry apes rifling through a small stockpile of guns on the ground when she was roughly manhandled to the ground.

She trusted Noa situationally, sure, but did she trust him with this?

There might have been a flash of hurt on his face but the dim interior concealed it well. “They belong with me,” is all she can muster.

“Tell the truth,” he parried back. There was a frustrated edge to his voice, nearly a growl.

“I am telling the truth,” she quipped stubbornly.

“Mae,” he refuted quietly, moving so fast that he is suddenly in her space again, too much and too soon. She gasped, caught off guard. His fingers found Raka’s necklace again, still around her neck. He was staring hard at it.

“Tell … me.”

Her tongue is nothing but a slug in her mouth, unable to form words. Noa had never been this close before, taking up her space, her attention, her very being. Caught between one moment and the next, she shook her head in utter disbelief. She could see his features more clearly, the craggy brow, the dark-light eyes, the slight downturn of his mouth beneath an inhuman nose. For a second, he gripped the pendant around her neck tightly, as if he wanted to hold it for some length of time, and then released it yet again to step past her.

Their shoulders brushed, and Mae forgot to breathe.

His voice carried over from somewhere behind her, close to the entrance. “If you will … not speak …  they will.” A rustle of fabric against fur, and he is gone.

Within the crude tower, Mae lets out the breath she held in a slow whoosh.

Noa.

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Hey Sol-Cherubs! I've had this sitting in my drafts for a while but just didn't have the stability over the past few months to finally finish it. This is a pick a card for those having a tough time soothing themselves over a betrayal that happened to them, I hope this helps and gives space for those to validate their emotions but also see the situation from a different perspective to help them heal and move on.

Paid Readings | Patreon | Tip Jar

Pile One ⚔

If you had it your way? "If there's an open position for the devil's advocate, then I'll be it. If Karma's really a bitch, then how can I make her my apprentice? God if you're actually real, I think it's time to send the floods and bring back Noah's ship" If you had it your way, regardless of the religion that you practice and believe in, you'd want a higher power to "correct" this person. I feel like this individual is some sort of "fallen angel", someone who had great potential in being a trustworthy companion in your life, making good deeds to hunanity, or both, that ended up becoming the total opposite. Perhaps, one of the main immoral acts that this person committed, is putting you through some psychological torment that could have made you feel trapped in a mental spiral about your identity and self worth. They could have even weaponized personal information such as your trauma and insecurities that you confidentially shared with them, against you as a manipulation tactic. The vengeance that you want for this person, strikes to me as something that you're kind of wishing for, as if you're not entirely confident that justice will be made, or that if there actually is a higher power, that they'd consider your injustice as something that's worth putting attention towards and balancing. The kind of correction that you want this person to have, relates to some sort of reality check, where the feathers of their deceptive wings get plucked one by one to expose who they really are. This isn't even about other people seeing this person's exposure, you feel that the only way for balance to be restored is if this person recognizes and finally checks their own behavior. This person could have a stubborn ego that's pretty much fired up by delusion, or could have a habit of concealing their toxicity by latching onto others emotionally or spiritually. You don't want this person to catch a break, I'm seeing you kind of wanting them to be placed onto this wheel and spinned around for eternity which could represent internally how they made you feel, but also I'm envisioning the karmic retribution, as them trapped in a fun house, alone, filled with mirrors that expose their inner monstrosities.

How the universe is actually working this situation in your favor:

Instead of being passive in this situation to let a higher power get this person, the universe is actually using you to directly serve this person with a taste of their own medicine. The purpose of this connection since the beginning, was to be each other's mirror. You could feel like this situation has brought out the the worst in you, you may even be right, but this is actually cycle that's supposed to finally help you step into your power. The characters Eleven and One are what I think of for this pile, and also the planets Venus and Saturn. This encounter demonstrates the different ways of things being similar, but not exactly the same, and that there's always a choice. This person was used to restricting others with their superiority complex, until they met someone like you who let's your own energy speak for itself. Do not demonize yourself for the anger that you feel towards this person, but let it be known, that how this person treated you and the misuse of their talents is a habitual thing for them to do to others. The reality check is coming, but what's different is that it's not supposed to be something that's reoccurring, this cycle has gone on too long and this ending is actually what's supposed to be the nail in coffin for this person to change or remain stagnant in the consequences of havoc that they wreaked.

Pile Two ⚔

If you had it your way? If you had it your way, you'd dunk this person in chaos, pull them back up for air, and then dump them back in when they think that shit's sweet. I'm seeing this pile relating to a romantic connection from either the past or something in the present that's past it's expiration date that you need to end now. When they hurt you, they fumbled a big bag, so revenge in your image, would be for this person to literally fumble bags by getting massive hits to their finances and partnership deals. I see that person could have gave you a lot of false promises, and apologies with no changed behavior or sincerity. If they're with another person now, you want them to be dogged out by that individual. This could look like seducing them until they're comfortable as if they've found their dream person that'll elevate them higher in life, to actually being wiped out dry of whatever assets they had. This could be a massive financial loss, or an assassination to their confidence and charisma that they're used to fooling others with. This could even look like you partnering up with their lover to make this person's life a living hell. How the universe is actually working this situation in your favor: The universe is going to orchestrate an ending whether you like it or not, to get you away from this person. You or anyone else cannot be this person's karma in this situation, because they're already on the road of demolishing themselves just fine. If you see this person happy and at peace as if they're being rewarded for their behavior, they are not. This is a person that regardless of how brazen they are, that lacks self love to the point where they are incapable at the moment of treating others right, and will continue to ruin their relationships both professionally and intimately, until they do the inner work that is needed. This person is all talk, but you can only get but so far with words, people in their friendships, family, and career life are going to pick up on how foolish this person is and will follow suit in separating themselves from being associated with this person. It's going to hurt trying to move on with someone you really wanted to work things out with, but for your greater good, see this rejection as redirection from a sinking ship. This situation will teach you to not follow people and proposals at a face value, and to not destroy yourselves (tit for tat) to get back at someone.

Pile Three ⚔

If you had it your way?

If you had it your way, you'd set the whole building on fire. I keep seeing that scene with Tanisha from Bad Girls Club singing "I ain't get no sleep, cause of y'all, and y'all ain't getting sleep cause of me!". This could be a workplace that did you dirty, or in general something that you invested a lot of time, money, loyalty, and self sacrifices in that dropped and replaced you as if you were nothing. Perhaps this pile is for those in my audience who were known as the golden child of the family, working so hard to please people who don't value you outside of your achievements. You want to burn everything, flaming hot to the ground, so that you can finally lay on the ashes and just rest. You want something, anything, even a reset if it means getting your time back. How the universe is actually working this situation in your favor? Maybe the hard work didn't get you where you wanted, but use the knowledge learned and experience gained, to create something in your control and authority, in the right way. You know what it takes to build this new start, and you know what not to do when you acquire this newfound power when you're in a position to lead others. But more importantly, the universe is giving you an opportunity to slow down, and to not be humble when it comes to what you have to offer in this world ruled by transactional relationships and the rise and grind lifestyle. This is teaching you to nourish yourself in the way others didn't, and start investing in your freedom and tapping into your potential. You weren't meant to follow others, you're meant to lead, don't try to burn others dysfunction, it's not your responsibility to, let them have it. Redirect your energy into fulfilling your purpose, reclaim your life again.

[delta-queerdrant]

Ce que j'ai fait, ce soir-là (Meld, s2 e16)

Let me begin this review with a compliment sandwich - "Meld" is an episode that packs a lot of acting chops. Our guest star is everyone's favorite weird little guy, Brad Dourif, paired with a really compelling performance from Tim Russ, who at last gets to demonstrate his range. Watching these two together is a treat!

I came to “Meld” with a lot of prejudgment, insofar as I belong to the You’re Wrong About school of media criticism and am skeptical of pop culture portrayals of criminality. Violent behavior is a sad and fucked up consequence of people being people, but I find that our attempts to depict violence in fiction usually say more about our hunger for monsters than about real-life monstrous behaviors.

We open in Sandrine’s, where the Voyager crew is making their own fun by betting on the outcomes of on-board particle counts. Thus begins a tedious multi-episode arc for which the viewer experience can be summed up as, “Tom Paris is a dumbass, but a boring one.” Eventually Chekhov's dumbass will go off, but until then, watching Paris get up to illicit shenanigans is so dull. Why can't this man adopt the persona of an interesting bad boy? The whole thing lands real weird in the aftermath of the "dear god, go to therapy" storyline of "Threshold."

The mood is lightened by the news that there’s been a murder on Voyager! There’s no sleuthing required, as only one person, Lon Suder, was at the scene of the crime. It turns out that Chakotay failed to share that one of his crew might be a serial killer (oopsy-doops). I feel like the fact that none of the former Maquis have passed a recent psych eval should have come up before now. Instead, intimations that they might not be thriving surface only occasionally, as in “Learning Curve” or “Meld.”

Suder confesses to his crime, and Tuvok and the EMH discuss his behavior, in a scene that betrays ignorance of even 90s-era psychology. “Psychosis” is considered, but only one possible diagnosis is mentioned: “bipolar disorder.” This feels pretty damn harmful at a time when there was so much stigma against a bipolar diagnosis. Based on Kes’s analysis of his medical history, the Doctor finally diagnoses Suder with, wait for it, “violent impulses.” Later, Tuvok describes him as having “an incredibly violent nature.”

I was frustrated by the choice of Suder for this case study of habitual violence. Are there people out there who are hyperviolent, don't have mental health disorders or known trauma histories, and can successfully mask their behavior for years at a time? Possibly - I am not a psychologist. But I don't think people like Suder are the norm. Why do we fixate on people with serial killer vibes when the abusive husbands-next-door are right there?

Apparently 24th-century medicine has no tools for treating anger management issues, so Tuvok proposes a mind-meld to share his emotional self-regulation techniques with Suder. I guess this is like Vulcan DBT? As a result, Tuvok starts to experience Suder’s violent thoughts. It’s an acting treat for Tim Russ, who delivers a compelling performance in which our even-keeled lieutenant commander absolutely loses it.

Suder, meanwhile, begins to find equilibrium. As a result, he wants to keep melding, and somehow makes it very sexy in a way that no one asked for. “Penetration,” he tells Tuvok, describing a mind meld. “Your will dissolving mine. The joining.” In response, the EMH kink-shames: “Anybody with an ounce of sense wouldn't share his brain with someone else. Would you? I certainly wouldn't.”

What makes Tuvok’s uncontrolled anger interesting is the way that it intersects with the question of criminal punishment. Early in the episode, Tuvok suggests capital punishment as a possible solution for Suder. After all, Voyager (which, again, apparently has no treatment for Suder's emotional problems) can only offer lifelong incarceration as a solution.

Now that Tuvok is full of rage, he's obsessed with the desire to violently punish Suder. The idea that criminal punishment is a manifestation of our animal aggression is certainly an interesting thesis, though I suspect it’s a lot more complicated than that.

“Meld” has some great acting and tries to address Big Human Questions. Maybe we weren't sure how to formulate those questions in 1996, or maybe I'm just not the right viewer for this episode.

3/5 radiogenic particles.

[eternal-echoes]

“One aspect of ancient Greek philosophy that constituted a bridge to Catholic thought is the suggestion that there is a certain kind of life that befits a chimpanzee, and one that befits a human being. Possessed of reason, the human being is not condemned to act on mere instinct. He is capable of moral reflection, an ability that must always elude even the cleverest specimens of the animal kingdom. Should he fail to exercise this faculty, then he never lives up to his own nature. If he will not engage in intellectual activity or serious moral reckoning when it comes to his own behavior, then what is the point of his being human in the first place? If one's guiding principle is to do whatever brings immediate pleasure, one is in a sense no different from a beast.

The Church teaches that a life truly befitting humanity requires the assistance of divine grace. Even pagan Romans perceived something of the degraded condition of man: "What a contemptible thing is man," wrote Seneca, "if he fail to rise above the human condition!" The grace of God could help him do so. Here the Church has held out the examples of the saints, who demonstrate that lives of heroic virtue are possible when human beings let themselves decrease so that Christ may increase.

The Church teaches that a good life is not simply one in which our external actions are beyond reproach. Christ insists that it is not enough merely to refrain from murder or adultery; not only must the body not yield to such crimes, but the soul must also keep from leaning toward them. Not only should we not steal from our neighbor, but we should also not allow ourselves to indulge in envious thoughts about his possessions. Although we are certainly permitted to hate what is evil—sin, for example, or Satan himself—we are to divorce ourselves from the kind of anger and hatred that only corrode the soul. We are not only not to commit adultery, but we are also not to entertain impure thoughts, for to do so turns one of our fellow human beings into a thing, a mere object. Someone wishing to lead a good life should not want to make a fellow human being into a thing.

It has been said that to do anything well is difficult, and that living as a human being rather than as a beast is no exception. It requires moral seriousness and self-discipline. Socrates had famously said that knowledge was virtue, that to know the good was to do the good. Aristotle and St. Paul knew better, for we can all recall moments in our lives at which we knew perfectly well what the good was but did not do it, and likewise knew what was wrong but did do that. This is why Catholic spiritual directors instruct those under their charge to eat a carrot the next time we want a cupcake; not because cupcakes are evil, but because if we can get into the habit of disciplining our wills in cases in which no moral principle is at stake, then we shall be better prepared in the moment of temptation, when we are indeed faced with a choice between good and evil. And just as the more habituated we become to sin the easier further sin becomes, it is also true, as Aristotle observed, that virtuous living becomes ever easier the more we engage in it and the more it becomes a matter of habit.”

- Thomas E. Woods Jr., Ph.D., “The Church and Western Morality,” How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization

[dianethepisceswitch]

The Seven Deadly Sins

This post will contain spoilers for all of Twisted Wonderland, including the main books, events, and cards may be referenced. This is your only warning.

For those who are unacquainted with the concept of the seven deadly sins, let me explain briefly.

The seven deadly sins are basically sins that you should never commit/act upon. Acting upon them can "inspire further sin". These sins include pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. There were two sins that were removed from this list, vainglory and acedia.

Pride is basically like having a big ego and being full of yourself.

"consciousness of one's own dignity"

Vainglory is just being prideful and bragging

inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements; excessive vanity.

They're pretty much the same thing, so they got lumped in together.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Greed:

"intense and selfish desire for something, especially wealth, power, or food"

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Lust:

"very strong sexual desire"

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Envy is just being jealous, to put it simply

"a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Gluttony is being a fatass eating a lot of food(me)

"habitual greed or excess in eating."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Wrath is extreme anger

"an intense emotional state involving a strong uncomfortable and non-cooperative response to a perceived provocation, hurt or threat."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Sloth:

"reluctance to work or make an effort; laziness."

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

The 8th sin, acedia, is:

"spiritual or mental sloth; apathy."

I did a bit of extra reading on this one, and it pretty much sounds like depression.

"a state of listlessness or torpor, of not caring or not being concerned with one's position or condition in the world. In ancient Greece akidía literally meant an inert state without pain or care...In modern times it has been taken up by literary figures and connected to depression."

If you take a moment to think about it, you can see how these sins can connect to certain characters.

Riddle is wrath, this one is obvious. Riddle has a reputation for being easily angered, so him representing the sin of wrath makes the most sense.

Leona is sloth. He's lazy. It's obvious he does care about things, but he doesn't care enough to make an effort. He also displays the sin of pride, though I feel like sloth is a better choice because his laziness is more apparent as opposed to his pride.

Azul is greed. C'mon, he's completely capitalist. He's greedy in two ways. One, his money. That's one of the most important things to him, hence why he buys ingredients "for the low low price of free", according to Jade. Two, his power. It's clear that he values his power above all else, which is why he goes completely insane once Leona destroys his golden contracts.

Jamil is envy. He's envious of Kalim, not because of his status, but more so his lifestyle. Kalim will get praised and thanked for doing the bare minimum, whereas Jamil could plan a whole banquet and not get a single thanks. No praise or gratitude for anything he does, because it all goes to Kalim. I was going to put lust, because of Jafar, but I'm going to try and keep my reasoning strictly canon to Twisted Wonderland.

Vil is pride. Vil is very prideful when it comes to himself, and Rook and Vil's other fans aren't helping. Vil has high self-esteem, which is good. However, assuming you watched chapter 5, you would've seen what happened when someone hurts his pride. He goes "evil berserker mode". When his pride gets hurt, bad things happen. If you look at the song lyrics of "Absolutely Beautiful"(a banger btw), this point becomes much more clear as well. He puts himself above others, and views himself as more important.

Idia is acedia. It's really obvious Idia has depression. Given his backstory and the way he acts, it would be weird if he didn't. Just like Leona, you can tell he cares, but he just can't bring himself to care, physically or mentally. He stays in his room, refuses to socialize, and if he has to attend class, he just goes via tablet. This is clearly depression, and remember, depression is pretty much acedia.

Malleus is lust. Ok, hear me out. It could happen. I know I put the definition up top, but technically it's possible to lust for someone or something non-sexually.

"In fact, sometimes lust has nothing to do with sexual desire. It can be “intense enthusiasm; zest,” which is closer to its earlier meanings of “pleasure,” “delight” and “inclination.”"

So it would be possible for Malleus to be lusting for Yuu, in a friendship way. Or perhaps Aniplex will cater to the simps and make it sexual, though I doubt it.

Grim is gluttony. I feel the prologue monster was either overblot Grim, or foreshadowing to overblot Grim. Either way, Grim is a glutton, he LOVES food. If he can eat it, he will. Blot stones, grass, etc.

[cinderella-ish]

Fruits Basket Personality Types Part 19: Saki Hanajima

Saki is such a fun character. The way she always wins card games with a dramatic card flourish is one of my favorite running gags in the series.

I've spent a lot of time with Saki while writing Bloom Within Us, and I think my view on her Enneagram might be one of my more surprising takes! Anyway, here's how I see her personality type!

Saki Hanajima's Enneagram

Wound: Saki was born with strange powers that always overwhelmed her when she went out in public. She was viciously bullied due to these powers, and blamed herself when a boy collapsed after she told him to die.

Wounding message: The world isn't made for weirdos like you. It's not okay to stand up for yourself.

Core desire: To belong, not to hurt anyone again, not to cause problems for her family.

Core fear: That she'll hurt someone again.

Defense mechanism: Saki withdraws almost completely, burying her emotions as much as she can so she won't accidentally hurt anyone else.

Strengths: Saki has a strong aesthetic sense, she's loyal, protective, funny, weird, and comfortable being her strange self.

Challenges: Saki doesn't show her true feelings to anyone except those closest to her, she's lazy, gluttonous, and stubborn.

When healthy: Saki is more comfortable with herself, she believes she deserves friends and her kind family, she's a loyal and caring friend, she's funny for her own sake, and she lets herself have fun.

When unhealthy: Saki is completely withdrawn, plagued by feelings of worthlessness, terrified of hurting anyone, and pushes people away.

Looking at all of this, here's what connects when I go back to the Enneagram post:

Wound: 6 or 8

Wounding message: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, or 9

Core desire: strongly 9

Core fear: 1 or 9

Defense mechanism: 5 and 9

Strengths: 4, 5, 6, or 8

Challenges: 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, or 9

When healthy: 2, 3, 5, 6, or 9

When unhealthy: 3, 8, or 9

Saki is an Enneagram 9.

Saki is such an interesting 9 because we see her both in a fairly healthy place (most of the series' current timeline), and a very unhealthy place (her backstory). It's such a striking contrast to see what she's like in each state, and it's such a joy to see who she can be when she's not so terrified of hurting or burdening others.

Nines live in the Gut center, and tend to underexpress Anger.

Wing

The Enneagram Institute calls 9w8s "The Referee" and 9w1s "The Dreamer."

I see Saki as a 9w8, because she's fairly comfortable with conflict as long as she's not afraid of losing control of her powers.

EnneaApp describes 9w8s like this:

Seek peace/conflict resolution through a strong, cooperative approach

Can explode with impulsive anger when self or others are threatened

Can be stubborn and defensive; can flip from placidity to aggression

Has a lusty side (sensually/materially); seeks comfort/habitual routines

More extroverted and sociable than 9w1; has a higher charge than 9w1

While I don't think this is a perfect description of Saki, I do think the second, third, and fourth bullet points are great descriptions of her. I also think she has a higher charge than the 9w1s we've seen so far (Tohru, Kisa, and Kureno).

Subtype

I see Saki as a SP 9w8.

EnneaApp describes SP Nines like this:

Attention fixated on secondary sources of gratification; denies emotional needs

Needs replaced with substitutes: food/TV/shopping/hobbies/substance addictions

Preoccupied with physical comfort, maintaining habits, and satisfying appetites

Anesthetize/narcotize the self - love to numb out/relax on one's drug of choice

Store up a supply of "love substitute;" the stash is a source of comfort/security

Appetite for the substitute is strongest when distracting from self-improvement

The rising interest in indulgence doesn't feel lazy, it feels exhilarating; insatiable

Gets along by asking as little of life as possible; seeks needs patiently & covertly

May have a love of the minimal and enjoy the repetition of known routines/rituals

May be physically slow moving; inclined to inertia: "built for comfort, not speed"

Like to collect objects/information; has trouble discarding and making decisions

Wants to be seen as kind/loving peacemaker, but underneath can be "hard as nails"

Strong connection to Six; may focus on fear/doubt of needs ever being truly met

I think this description connects to Saki's apparent lust/gluttony - the way she's always eating, loves aesthetically pleasing clothes, etc...

Tritype

I think Saki's Heart type must be 4, but her Head type is a little less obvious. She has elements of all three Head types (5, 6, and 7), being withdrawn and perceptive like a 5, safety-oriented like a 6, and an appreciation of material comforts like a 7. Ultimately, I think 7 describes her internal state more accurately than 5 or 6. This makes her tritype 4-7-9, "The Gentle Spirit." Here's the description from Katherine Fauvre's website:

If you are a 479, you are intuitive, innovative, and accepting. You want to be original, positive, and peaceful. Others see you as very receptive and ethereal. You are identified with the defense of optimism and possibilities. Secretly, you are shy and long-suffering and tend to hide your painful feelings and pessimism for fear of being rejected. You focus on what is new and giving meaning to your suffering. Others see you as gentle, tenderhearted, and lyrical. You are attracted to healing arts.

Saki Hanajima's MBTI

Here's how I see Saki's Type Dynamics:

Feeling: I think her Dominant process is Introverted Feeling. According to The Myers & Briggs Foundation, when Fi is exaggerated, someone might "carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, hypersensitive, pompous, feel sorry for themselves"

Sensing: Saki likes experiencing the world in a tactile, concrete way. I see her as using Extroverted Sensing.

iNtuiting: The Myers & Briggs Foundation website doesn't describe how the Tertiary process can look distinct from the Dominant or Inferior processes, but here's what Ni can look like at its best: "Can appear visionary. Connects unconscious images, themes, and connections to see things in new ways. Brainstorm internally with themselves. Trusts and relies on inner insights, which may be hard for others to understand."

Thinking: I think this is shown in Saki's tendency to be rather literal and think in black and white terms.

This makes her Type Dynamics Fi Se Ni Te, and her MBTI Type ISFP, "The Composer."

Here's how Truity describes ISFP:

ISFPs are gentle caretakers who live in the present moment and enjoy their surroundings with cheerful, low-key enthusiasm. They are flexible and spontaneous, and like to go with the flow to enjoy what life has to offer. ISFPs are quiet and unassuming, and may be hard to get to know. However, to those who know them well, the ISFP is warm and friendly, eager to share in life's many experiences. ISFPs have a strong aesthetic sense and seek out beauty in their surroundings. They are attuned to sensory experience, and often have a natural talent for the arts. ISFPs especially excel at manipulating objects, and may wield creative tools like paintbrushes and sculptor's knives with great mastery.

So, to summarize:

Enneagram: SP 9w8 (The Peacemaker/The Referee)

Tritype: 4-7-9 (The Gentle Spirit)

MBTI: ISFP (The Composer)

What do you think? Did I get it right or wrong? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Next up: Arisa!

Fruits Basket Personality Types: Enneagram | MBTI | Tohru | Akito | Kyo | Yuki | Haru | Kisa | Momiji | Hatori | Ayame | Rin | Hiro | Ritsu | Kureno | Shigure | Kagura | Kazuma | Arisa | Machi | Kakeru | The Hondas | Kaibara Students

[nirashiyahell]

Drabble #1: The Beach.

Neither of them liked executive meetings, for one reason or another, but they went anyway because there was no other choice, it was mandatory, a few times to call in sick and that's it.

But in opposition, there was something to look forward to, during those (mostly) pointless gatherings ordered by the Leader, and to everyone else's dismay, it was a constant and would continue as one; fights. Though childish at first, they would evolve to more serious complaints, in an attempt to personally harm the other person or have them back down from arguing, automotically giving the other victory; sure, it would've been more accepted as a calm debate, but that was nearly impossible when the people involved were two geniuses.

Their personalities clashing were a recipe for disaster, two adults that were not above acting like children if it was to degrade each other, which happened at least twice every fight, as if it was an indespensable step in their routinely screaming matches; sometimes major, minor on hard days, but they would never miss a day, it was a crucial part that needed to be adressed, and since they were to remain on civil terms, it was the only way to let out the anger they had, wether it was directed towards the other was subjective.

Most of the executive board had gotten used to their repeating quarrels, and some even made bets on who would stop them before it turned physical; it rarely got to that point anymore, after a few broken limbs they understood verbally abusing each other was the best option, and there were no more incidents after that.

Some theorized that it was a routine purely born from the sentiment of frustration, maybe hate at its extreme, while others assumed that it was simply a release of tension from the Games or the responsibilities of being an executive.

Both of them would be hilariously wrong suppositions, although neither the militant or the hooded man had a proper answer, it certainly wasn’t that; the pressure of such an important position was well within their control, and they were not as immature as they let it be believed, at least in public.

What was it then?

Comfort. The aimless debates were something that helped them amidst the rambling of their lunatic chief intergrated in their life as a necessary repetition that was moreso tolerated by their colleagues; Hatter and the rest likely let it slide because if they hadn't allowed that, the two men would have surely killed each other, it was a fact that was unanimously agreed upon, not a threat or a negotiation.

It was refreshing, after the initial bitterness towards the other party, an imaginary weight was lifted off their chest, as if those missiles of words could free them of some kind of repressed longing; the sore throat they would get afterwards was worth it, though they had never confirmed it, they weren't upset about it and almost treated it as something to be proud of, a sign that they had held their ground unril the end, that they didn't let the other one win.

For Niragi it might have been the increasing satisfaction of getting reactions out of him, the mysteriously deadpan man succumbing to emotions in those fights; the knowledge that they were on equal footing was amazing, although the blonde wouldn't admit it, he probably recognized the shoother as an equal, his intelligent enemy.

As for Chishiya, on the outside, it did him no hot or cold, it was an habitual situation disrupting the mundane, but he would have been lying if he said there wasn't more to it, that uncontrolled rush of adrenaline and emotion was almost addicting, and the subtle implications that his rival was smarter than he looked was rewarding; the cherry on top was that anything could be said, no holding back, the only rule was to not have anything physical.

It was their way of flirting, in a way.

[zoroswifesposts]

On all the ashes in my wake

Chapter One - Habitual Gestures

______________________________________________________________

You first meet the straw hat pirates when you stow away on their ship. 

Granted, it’s not the best of scenarios, having just managed to escape your (Captors) adoptive father’s hands and being sold off as a wife to the highest bidder and being used as a pawn, but it’s your best chance of survival. So you had jumped onto the closest ship possible, hiding in the cargo to get as far away from the royal city as possible. 

You had spent the first few days scared for your life, keeping as quiet as possible as the ship travelled away from port. The voices of the crew were loud, loud enough to carry through the cargo hold and let you know how many people were on the ship. So far you had counted five, but it may have been more or less. All you knew was that you didn’t want to get caught, or worse, end up murdered.

But- you had noticed that something was wrong with you. It had started out with a weakness in your muscles, an exhaustion in your bones that any amount of sleep couldn't touch. It left you worried, scared that you were getting sick, or worse. 

The sickness only got worse over the course of the next few days, taking with it your remaining strength and leaving you lying against the bottom of the ship, unable to move. Consciousness comes in waves, each one worse then the last. As you fade into what you can only assume to be your death, your last remaining thought is I didn't wanna die like this. 

<●>

The first thing you realise as you come too is that you aren't dead. It isn't much better then that, though. Your body is weak, leaving you unable to move as your eyes blink open to blinding sunlight. You wince, slowly and carefully sitting up, muscles screaming as you move to look around. You weren't in the cargo hold. 

Your eyes widen, panic filling you as you glance around the room you had been placed in. It seemed to be a bedroom of sorts, containing a dresser and the bed that you lay in. You bring your legs over to the edge of the bed, attempting to stand up- only to promptly fall on your ass. 

The following thump sounds loud in the silence, similar panic filling you as you scramble up, forcing your legs to start moving. Your hand closes around the doorknob, twisting it open as you step out- only to run directly into someone. 

You stumble back, head jerking up to see a man staring dumbfounded down at you, eyes wide. Your shock turns into anger, and you use the shock to shove past him,  running down the hallway. 

Blinding sunlight forces you to squint, and you find yourself out on the deck of the ship. From behind you the sound of voices grow louder, and you turn around to see the faces of three men staring you down. 

The shortest is still taller then you, with blond hair and a half-lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, pervy eyes racking over your figure. The second figure is a strange boy, all long limbs and a beaming smile on his face, despite the circumstances, which only makes you even more scared. The third man is taller, with both green hair and an intimidating scowl plastered on his face. But, more concerningly, he had three swords in his hands. 

The sight of the weapons snap you out of your trance, and you take off as fast as you could go in the condition that you were in. behind you the men start yelling, the thump of boots indicating that you were being chased. It wasn’t like you could escape, trapped on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean, but you weren't going down without a fight. But, without any weapons, you were left with one choice- to use your powers to survive. If they didn’t kill you… 

Now standing at the bow of the ship, the same men from before corner you, alongside an additional three people and one…. Thing. The green haired man from earlier steps forward, breaking the tense silence as he speaks. 

“Just who in the hell are you?” No. They couldn’t find out who you really were. You stay quiet, levelling him with the worst glare you could muster. 

The sound of unclasping swords is his response, sounding loud in the quiet of the sea. Now. 

You tense, bringing your hands up and forward as the familiar pull of the ocean flowing through your veins as you move. A gasp escapes the group of pirates as twin water spouts jet out of the water, moving in front of you to act as a makeshift weapon. 

You look up to see the man fully unsheath a sword, studying your movement. You tense your legs, bringing your hands together, the water mimicking your movements. The movement sends a shutter up your back, and then it happens- 

No. 

Blinding pain shoots out from the back of your neck, the water instantly dropping as you fall to your knees, pain flowing through your veins. You can feel your conscious start to fade, the figures of the people surrounding you growing blurry, and then black. 

<●>

It’s disorientating, the second time you wake up on the ship. 

You’re back in the same bedroom that you had run out of just hours ago, the realisation hitting you as you sit up, fast enough to send stars flying through your vision. Fuck. Fuck. FuckFuckFuckFuck- 

You scramble to your feet, a familiar headache forming against the back of your head from using your abilities. You twist the doorknob, only to find it locked. The click of the metal latch sends panic through you, and you start pounding your fists against the door, anger rising as you continue at your attempt to break the door down. 

Then- it opens, to your surprise, sending you falling yet again against someone’s chest. You look up to see the green-haired man from earlier staring down at you, a mix of anger and confusion on his face as he watches your movements. 

“Let me go.” You break the silence, attempting to look over the broad shoulders of the man, only to spot other members of the crew behind him. 

Suddenly, a head of black hair and a straw hat appears, the same strange boy from before shoving past the larger man with a smile. He steps towards you, staring at your quivering figure and puts his hand out, as if he was waiting for you to shake his hand. 

“I’m Luffy. What’s your name?” 

You stare at the boy, flabbergasted at his actions. Who asks the stowaway in their ship for their name? You step back, wary of the boy standing before you. As the seconds pass, you realise that it might not be a trap. Oh, what the hell. 

You mutter your name, waiting for the gasp, the shouts, the anger that happens when people realise who you're related to, but there’s nothing. You look up to see the boy still looking at you with his strange smile, still holding his hand out. 

You cautiously grasp his hand, quickly shaking hands before stepping back once again. His smile grows even bigger, and he laughs, repeating your name. The sound immediately breaks the tension in the room, the taller man relaxing somewhat as he stares you down. 

“So, why’d you stowaway on our ship?” The taller man speaks up, deep voice betraying no emotion. 

You gulp, looking away from the group that had congregated at the door, feeling the same panic from before rising in your body. 

The man scowls, continuing to speak. “You stowaway on our ship, get sick, we saved you and wasted precious materials on you, and when you try to escape you collapse yet again. And on top of all of this, you have devil fruit powers. While Luffy here might be kind, you better explain yourself before I personally cut you to ribbons.” 

His words make your stomach twist, the now familiar panic continuing to rise as you stand there, sweating. Fuck. I guess I’ll have to explain. 

“I was sold off to a man to be married. Instead of allowing that to happen, I killed him and went on the run. My father issued a bounty and I had to escape, so I jumped on the closest ship available and this just so happened to be it.”  There. That should be enough for them to not grow suspicious of me. 

The man scoffs, disbelieving of your words. “Yeah, right. Stop trying to create a sob story to earn our sympathy-” 

You cut the man off, digging into your pocket and pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper, carefully unfolding it. You hold it up for everyone to see. The image of your face stares out at them, a ten million bounty written across the bottom. 

“Is this good enough proof?” You stare up at the man, scowling. He scoffs yet again, stepping forward to grab the paper out of your hand. 

“Fine, So this is true. What about your story?” He lets the paper fall to the ground, setting a hand back on his swords. 

“Okay Zoro, That’s enough. She’s clearly telling the truth. Leave her alone, we’ll let her stay until we make port again.” A female voice speaks up, sharp in the quiet. 

A woman steps forward, short orange hair standing bright against the rest of the crew. She shoves past the man deemed Zoro and moves closer to you, holding out a hand. “I’m Nami. Sorry for Zoro’s behaviour, He’s just a bit suspicious of any outsiders.” 

You shake her hand with a bit more ease, thankful for the kindness. She turns back to face the rest of the group, arms folded across her front. 

“She’s running for her life, she has no idea who we are. Luffy, you’re fine with her staying just until we reach port, right?” She turns to face the boy from earlier, glaring at him. 

“Of course she can stay! Where else is she supposed to go!?” His voice is loud in the small room, and it seems to solidify the plan. The original man, “Zoro”, swears under his breath, abruptly turning around and leaving the room. The rest of the crew slowly dissipates, leaving you alone with Nami, who turns back to face you once again. 

You stand up, turning back to look at the woman on the bed. “Please accept my apology. If there is anything I can do to help, I will do it.” 

Nami stands up, moving closer to you. “None of this was your fault. It was clear to see that you had no idea where you are or who we are. And of course you can help, we could always use an extra set of hands!” She smiles, continuing. 

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew. They’re a bit strange, but I’ll handle that.”  She starts walking out of the room, leaving you to stand there, alone. Still processing her words, you jump, starting to sweat as you follow the woman out of the room. 

She leads you out of the hallway, back the way that you had run the first time you had woken up. You take the time to look around the ship as the two of you walk. The hallway opens up into the deck of the ship, where a group of people stands- the rest of the crew. Their loud chatter halts as you and Nami draw closer, turning to look at you. 

Nami steps forward, waving a hand over the group of people. “The blond man is Sanji, the cook. Then there’s Robin, Usopp, Chopper, and the two that you’ve already met- Zoro, a swordsman, and our captain, Luffy.” The group stays silent for a minute, and then chaos breaks out. 

“My, aren't you a beautiful flower! Would you like me to make you anything? A drink? A snack!?”  The blond man named Sanji steps forward, bending down on one knee to kiss your hand. The words immediately make you uncomfortable, and you step back, wrenching your hand away from him. 

“Sanji, you idiot! Can you keep it in your pants for five minutes and not bother the woman!” Nami’s voice breaks through, her hand coming down to punch the top of his head, knocking him down onto his back with a quiet ow. 

The loud strange boy from before steps forward, eyes taking in everything that you do, almost as if he was inspecting you. 

“You made the ocean move.” He speaks up, the words making your eyes bulge as you look down at him. You gulp, stepping back.

“Well yes…” You quietly say, inching towards Nami as you speak. The woman in question looks like she’s going to burst a vessel as she glares at Luffy, stepping in front of you.

“You, Don’t bother her either! She doesn’t need to explain everything to you!” She thumps him on the back of the head, making him wobble back. 

He completely ignores the woman’s words. “I ate a Devil fruit as well, the Gum Gum Fruit. I’m a rubber man!” 

You stare at him, almost disbelieving of his words as you hide behind Nami. The boy in question, as if to prove his words true, stretches his arm. Stretches it further then humanly possible, so that it wrapped around the main mast of the ship before letting it snap back to it’s original length. 

Nami slaps him across the head again, continuing to yell at him about ‘not scaring the new girl’. You step away from the both of them, already done with the both of them. 

“Quite the handful, aren’t they.” A voice speaks up from behind you, making you jump. You quickly turn to face the woman who had spoken, spotting the one that Nami had called Robin. She stares you down, taking a moment to study your nervous form, just as the swordsman had done. It leaves you uneasy, how her eyes seemed to pierce directly into your soul. 

The next to speak up is a boy with a massive nose, loud mouth already starting to blabber on. “If you think that you can just stowaway on our ship and get away with it, you’re dead wrong. Just because Nami and Luffy think that you’re innocent doesn’t mean that I trust you! You should know that I am Usopp, commander of eight hundred men! Zoro here has taken on at least that number, if not more, without even breaking a sweat!” 

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, levelling him with a glare of distaste as you stare at the strange man. You turn back around to wander back over to Nami, intending to stick by her side, when a piercing whistle fills the air. The people surrounding you immediately jump into action, spotting three black dots growing closer to the ship- directly towards where you were standing. 

Suddenly, The blur of a body fills your vision, flying directly into the cannonball's path. A yell pinches in your throat, but you couldn’t speak, only watching with widened eyes as the metal presses into his skin, stretching it until it could no longer move. Then, with a starling yell, the balls go flying back in the direction of where they had come from, leaving not one scratch on the ship you were standing on. 

The boy lands on the deck, body shrinking back to it’s usual appearance as he turns to face the crew as if nothing had happened. The rest of the crew are still staring at the horizon,  studying an approaching body of a ship that slowly draws closer. What the fuck. 

Nami catches your widened eyes and gives you a bright smile. “That’s our captain for you. His devil fruit powers come in handy!”

You nod, still too stunned to speak. 

From behind you comes a high-pitched squeal, the sound making you cringe as it rings out across the ship, turning around to see the same man from before, (the one that had attempted to threaten you)  curled up into a ball, tears streaming down his face. You stare at him, face contorted into a look of disgust as he sobs. The other crew members ignore him, busy with destroying the other cannon balls flying at the ship. What was wrong with these people!? 

As the cannonballs fly thicker, the ship draws closer and you realise that the ship is familiar to you- meaning only one thing- that it was the marines. Your eyes widen, body freezing in place as the ship sails closer, bringing into view the face of your father’s right hand man: Commander Vee. 

The man standing in front of you was known for his cruelty and hatred of pirates, torturing anyone who even showed the slightest sympathy towards pirates. Even your own father had feared him, (Not that he would admit it).  You hadn’t spent much time around him- due to both your attitude and refusal to cooperate with any of the hoity-toity upper class- but the minimal time you did interact with the man bad left you with a bad taste in your mouth, as if you would come to regret the few words you had spoken to him. 

You snapped back into your current predicament to see Nami staring at you, fear etched in her expression as she screams your name, the desperation making you turn to face what she was so terrified of- only to see a cannonball flying directly at your face. 

You instinctually duck, the cannonball whooshing by your head just seconds after, only to be cut in half with a flick of Zoro’s swords. He towers over where you sit, sprawled out against the hard wood of the ship. 

“Get out of the way if you’re just gonna be a distraction.” He glares down at you, letting the  of being saved from a stupid fucking canon ball fill you- before his attention is abruptly taken by more incomming canon balls, and he runs off, intent on saving the ship. 

Anger and embarrassment flood your veins as you stand up, face flushing red as you right yourself. Asshole. You turn back to face the marine ship, an idea slowly forming. Maybe… 

You move towards the front of the ship, staring directly at the ship in front of you. The familiar fear of Commander Vee fills you, but still you stand, focusing on the water surrounding the ship. You could feel the muffled pull of the water, a familiar sensation that you had missed. You spread your arms out, towards the ship in front of you, focusing on the brilliant blue of the sea. This was going to hurt. A tugging sensation pulls at your hands, making you stumble, as a pressure builds at the back of your skull. The confused voices of the crew fade as you press forward, drawing as much energy as you can muster. The sea has grown quiet, as still as solid ground, and then-  it explodes. 

A jet of water shoots from the centre of the ship, the sound of wood splintering accompanying as the vessel cracks into two pieces, sending sailors shrieking as they fall into the raging waters. Commander Vee had disappeared amidst the chaos, unknowing that you of all people had done that to one of his ships. (Hopefully, you guess. He’d probably have drawn some sort of conclusion by now). You drop to your knees at the explosion, the rising pressure exploding into pain at the back of your neck, creeping up your skull as you clutch your head in your hands. Your breathing stutters, the pain flowing through your body in waves as you curl up on the deck, wishing that you were dead. 

The pain slowly fades, growing fainter and fainter as time passes, and you gradually come back- finding your nails digging crescent shaped grooves into the skin of your palms, thin lines of blood trickling from the cuts. You blink your eyes open, finding the blurry outline of a strange racoon dog crouched down in front of you with a concerned expression on its face as it studies your hunched form. Your eyes widen, the creature mirroring your expression as it scrambles backwards, letting out a small scream. The rest of the crew seemed to have gathered around your figure, relief evident on Nami’s face as you carefully sat up, grimacing at the bright sunlight. 

Nami calls your name, coming forward to crouch down beside you. “Was that you? The marine ship explosion?” 

You gingerly nod in response, shaking off the remnants of the headache as you attempt to stand up, muscles shaking- an unnatural weakness from what had just happened. Thanks, dad. The racoon creature darts forwards again, pushing you back down onto your back. Surprised, you lie back down, staring back up at the creature as it begins to speak. “You need to stay down! You just collapsed after using your powers, something is  clearly wrong!” 

You scoff, glancing off to the side to avoid his exaggeratedly wide eyes. “It’s fine, this has happened before. There’s a reason for it, you don’t have to worry.” 

The creature seems to vibrate with anxiety- nervous eyes softening at your words, which just makes you angry. “I’m fine. It’s just linked to my abilities. I just wanted to help get away from the marines.” The words seem to work, and most of the crew disperse, leaving just Nami and the creature at your side- the two of them talking to each other. 

“Hey, do you mind talking to Chopper? He’s our doctor and might be able to help you with your problem.” She gestures to the raccoon dog beside her. 

You eye the creature, who is ruffling through a bag that was at his side, something that you think is just for show. Fine. What was the harm? Maybe he could even help you. “Sure.”

Nami smiles. “Great! I’ll leave the two of you alone, then.” And with that you’re alone with the creature. 

He closes the bag, turning back to face you. “We can talk more in my office. Come with me.” 

You follow him across the ship, down a hallway and into a small room containing shelves overflowing with random plants, jars of what appears to be medicine, different coloured pills, and more. There was a desk and a pair of chairs underneath a porthole window, the creature motioning with a hand for you to sit down. You do so, eyeing the mess of medical related things with caution. 

The creature sits down on the opposite chair, facing you with a matter-of-fact expression. “Did you know that you have a sea crystal embedded in the back of your neck?”

Your eyes widen, then narrow, shock turning into anger at his words as you stare at him. “How the fuck did you come up with that!?” 

The creature scrambles back, strange hoof-hands coming up as he talks. “H-Hey! Don’t get angry, I only figured it out after you tried to use your powers! It was fairly obvious that something was stopping you from using them, and I only found the crystal when you collapsed!” 

His words make you pause, sitting back in your chair as you stare him down. He’s way more observant then you had originally thought. You sigh, the familiar pain of a headache lacing its way across the front of your head as you drag a hand down your face. “Yeah, I knew. Is there anything you can do about it?” 

He shuffles through some papers on his desk, appearing to read something from a page before he turns to face you, nervously shuffling said papers. “I could attempt to remove the crystal, if you wanted me to.” 

You stare at the creature for a second as the words register, lips parting in disbelief. “Excuse me!?”

He nervously nods, confirming what you had heard. 

The weight of his words sink in, that you could finally be free of his control, that you could finally sever the last remaining connection to your father- that you could finally be free. But- at what cost? 

That thought pulls you out of your day dream, bringing you back to the harsh reality that you stood face to face with. “You’d do something that kind for someone you don’t know? For a stowaway on your ship? That doesn’t seem quite… right.” 

The creature pauses, continuing to stare at the floor in front of you as he speaks. “If a doctor can, then they should help everyone they can. It’s not up to me to decide who should and shouldn’t get help. I’m just trying to help you. And, you helped us with those marines even with the knowledge of what would happen to your body if you used your powers.”

Your anger starts to fade at his words, turning to a strange mix of sadness and hope that you attempt to subdue, mixing together in your stomach in turmoil. At your hesitation, the creature continues; “I didn’t want to say this earlier, but from your reaction to the sea crystal from earlier, you’ll probably die if you continue to use your powers while the sea crystal is in your body.” 

You freeze at his words, staring at him with wide eyes. Your thoughts start to spin, emotions rising and falling as you take in what he said. No. You couldn’t let your father take anything else from you. You wouldn’t. 

“Fine. Do what needs to be done.” Your words break the tense silence, the creature releasing a deep sigh of relief. 

“If this is going to be done, It’ll need to be done quickly so that you’ll be healed by the time we reach port. I’ll talk to the others to come up with a plan. In the meantime, don’t use your powers.” He emphasises the last few words with a flick of his papers. You scoff, rolling your eyes as he patters out of the room, strange hooved feet clicking against the wooden boards of the ship, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

You stare at the floor, going over what the creature had told you. So. you’d die if you used your powers with the sea crystal still attached to you. The thought makes you scoff yet again. Of course this would happen- your father was attached to it. He'd always have to have some form of control over you, whether it be physical or mental. And now here you are, letting an uncertified doctor operate on you, a pirate no less. (He wasn’t human either. Honestly, you have no clue what was going to happen). You get up from the chair,  deciding to wander around the ship to get an idea of where everything was- you were going to be spending the next few weeks on the ship, so why not?

You wander out of the doctor creature’s room, heading down the hallway and away from the deck. There are twin lines of doors that you leave untouched, following the corridor until it opens up into a room. The room is large, with a state-of-the-art kitchen set up that sparkles in sunlight that comes through large windows that show the ship’s wake. You move over to the windows, staring out at the open sea, the ship leaving a trail of foamy white waves as the only sign that it was ever there. 

“Is there anything I can help you with, Mademoiselle?” A voice breaks you out of your thoughts, making you jump. You spin around to face the blond man from before, the one that Nami had called Sanji. The one that had tried to flirt with you. The stowaway. He was staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond. 

“Excuse me?” You give him a deer-in-headlights look, unknowing of what he was trying to do. The man steps closer to you and bends down on one knee, grabbing your hand in both of his warm ones and bringing it to his lips in an exaggerated motion. 

“I am the chef of this ship, and you are standing in my kitchen; so, mademoiselle, is there anything that I could do to help? Do you need me to make you something to eat?” You wrench your hand out of his grasp as he speaks, stepping away from the strange man. Was everyone on this ship fucking insane? 

“Uh, No thanks. I was just getting an idea of the ship and came across this room. I’ll be going now.” You inch away from him, ignoring his protests as you back out of the room.  You wander back down the hallway, glancing around as you move. You find yourself back out on the deck of the ship, blinking in the sudden bright sunlight and wind that tugs at your hair. In front of you stretches out the main deck, three main masts breaking up the massive wooden platform. At the top of the largest mast there is a small room that overlooks the entire ship. The main mast’s sail has a massive skull-and-crossbones symbol with a straw hat painted onto the material that stares you down as you walk across the ship. 

From behind you someone calls your name, making you turn in surprise, spotting Nami waving down at you from the top deck of the ship, gesturing for you to come over. You smile slightly, quickly heading up the wooden steps to the small deck, where a few of the crew had gathered. Among them was the doctor creature from before, immersed in conversation with the captain, (Luffy), and the annoying man that had screamed like a child, (Usopp. You should really start remembering their names or at least come up with some sort of nicknames for them). Additionally, the man with the green hair, (Zoro, or what Sanji had called him, Moss Head) was sitting on the deck, deep asleep and snoring over the conversation. 

“There you are! We didn’t get to properly thank you for what you did- especially after what Chopper just told us about your condition- Why didn’t you tell us earlier!?” She switches from a wide smile to a glare in seconds as she yells the last few words, making your eyes widen at the emotional whiplash. 

You step back from her menacing aura, face flushing as the others turn to stare at you. “Uh, I didn’t think it was that important?”  you break the silence, unknowing of what to say to calm her down. 

Nami crosses her arms at your statement, narrowing her eyes. “You didn’t think it was important to mention that you could die if you used your powers?” 

The reaction of the other crewmate shows you that they had no clue of what the creature-doctor had told Nami, at long-nose’s (Usopp), crying and Luffy’s head snapping to stare at you, strange eyes staring into your soul. From behind them a scoff sounds, and a head of green hair stands up, Zoro’s form stepping closer and into the circle of pirates. “As if that’s true. She’s probably trying to gain more sympathy or something. I don’t trust it for a second, and you guys shouldn’t either.” 

The swordsman’s words break you out of your shock, making red hot rage seep into your expression as he stares you down, one hand on the swords at his side. You step closer to him, glaring up at the man. “Maybe you should be more grateful that I saved your ass.” 

He steps closer to you, arms coming to cross against his chest in an effort to intimidate you, (It works, but you’re way too angry to back down). “We would’ve been fine without you. It was just one marine ship; it wasn’t like it could’ve done much.” 

Just as you open your mouth to retort, Nami steps between the two of you, breaking the tension as she speaks. “Okay you guys, break it up. Zoro, if Chopper says that something is wrong with her, then something is wrong. Stop acting like an asshole.” The man gives you one last sneer before he turns away, ambling down the steps and into the ship, disappearing from view. 

With Zoro gone, Nami turns back to face you, mouth set into a firm line. “Sorry for Zoro- he’s just acting like an asshole. I’ll talk to him later, after we’ve sorted out how we can help you.” She pauses, giving you a chance to talk. 

The anger has started to fade, replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry for causing trouble.” Nami looks at you questioningly, and then laughs, to your embarrassment. 

“It’s not your fault for Zoro’s actions, so don’t feel guilty. Now, we need to discuss how we’re gonna get that sea crystal out of your neck.” She turns back to face the rest of the crew, ordering them to leave, with only you, Chopper, and Nami. (Honestly it seemed like Nami was more of a captain then Luffy- but the crew already seemed insane, so this was the least of their problems). 

You move over to lean against the railing of the deck as Nami and the others form a small half circle around you. “How is this going to work?” You break the silence, both scared and curious as to how this doctor creature would attempt to get the sea crystal out. 

“I’ve explained the situation to most of the crew, so they should leave us alone for the most part. We have access to medicines and such that will be able to knock you out, and then I'll be able to take the sea crystal out.” Chopper speaks up, squeaky voice quiet in the air. 

Nami hums in response. “Is there anything that we’ll need to do? When is this going to happen?” 

“Just keep the other crew members out of the room. Because this operation is taking place on your neck, It would be better to do it at port and on land, but our current circumstances make it practically impossible. Due to the nature of the reaction you have to the sea crystal, It should be done as quickly as possible- the next few days at the latest.” He pauses, taking a moment to think. 

“On top of this, recovery time will be significant as it is on your neck and you’ll want to be decently healed by the time we make the port.” 

You nod, thinking over what Chopper had said. “So, what’s the earliest that we could do this? If it's okay, I want to get this done as soon as possible.”  

Chopper sighs, turning to look up at you. “I’ll need a few hours to figure some things out, but we could probably start at some time tonight.” 

His words shock you- (He’d be willing to do the surgery today? More importantly, would you survive?)- “Are you sure?” 

Nami pipes up, “Don’t worry, Chopper has saved most of the members of our crew from death several times- this’ll be a walk in the park!” 

The words bring some comfort, but the scepticism still lingers as you chat with the two of them for a little while longer before you part ways. 

<●>

The rest of the day was spent helping out Nami, worrying, and occasionally butting heads with Zoro. Finally, the sun begins to sink below the waves, the sky blooming into a mix of red, pink, orange, and yellow, forming a perfect reflection against the glass-like water of the sea. You study the picturesque view with a solemn expression, thoughts spinning of what was going to happen. (Granted, you probably won’t die, but there is still a chance- and that chance is what bothers you). 

From behind you comes a squeaky voice calling your name, Chopper. “I’ve finished setting up, so if you're ready, I can start." 

You give the sunset one last look before you turn to face him, stomach flipping. "I'm ready." He nods, and motions for you to follow him.

He brings you to a room quite similar to the first room he had taken you to- wall to wall with jars of strangely coloured plants, liquids, and whatever else he could've had. Except, where his desk would've been there was a cot, set up alongside a table with all sorts of medical equipment that just looking at made you queasy.

“I have something for you to drink that will knock you out for the surgery. You should wake up in about a day or so, if everything goes accordingly.” He moves over to the table covered in equipment, grabbing a cup that appears to contain a strange blue liquid. 

You sit down on the edge of the cot, accepting the cool glass with thanks. “So I just have to drink this and I’ll wake up tomorrow with the sea crystal removed?” 

Chopper nods. “It won’t taste that good, but you’ll be out within minutes, so make sure you’re on the cot.” At his approval you eye the cup dubiously, then down it in one gulp. The taste makes you shutter, mouth tingling as a strange sensation starts to take over your body. You quickly hand the glass back, feeling as though your body weighed several times more then what it truly was. You sink back into the cot, sleep already pulling at your conscious starts to fade- and you’re gone. 

<●>

Your consciousness comes back in waves. 

There's a strange feeling that fills your head, a sort of buzzing unlike anything you had ever felt. It wasn’t unpleasant, per say, but it was new. Your eyes blink open in a fuzzy haze to a multicoloured sunrise that floods the room you lie in. The buzzing remains in the back of your head, forming a tugging sensation that seems to want to guide you somewhere. You sit up with a groan,  feeling a thick bandage hindering the movement of your neck, leaving you unable to turn your head very far. Your hands move up to feet the wrappings, finding them wrapped solidly around your neck, an even thick padding around the back. It doesn’t hurt, but it is sensitive. 

From across the room a door opens, a small form with antlers making it’s way over, hooves clicking against the wooden floorboards being the only sound in the room. “You’ve woken up? How are you feeling?” Chopper's squeaky voice breaks the quiet. 

You let your hands fall back to your sides. “It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you're asking. Did you manage to remove the sea crystal?” Your stomach twists, a familiar unease filling you. 

He smiles. “Yep! And fully intact. Although, it was buried a lot deeper then I had originally thought.” 

His words make you freeze, any and all background noise fading as you take in his words. What? Was it true? You were finally free? A smile starts to grow on your face, your eyes burning as you turn to look at Chopper, voice thick with emotion as you speak. “Thank you.” 

He seems taken aback at your emotional state; eyes widened as he watches a tear creep down your face. “Uh- you’re welcome, but are you okay? Are you in pain?” He moves closer, grabbing your wrist to check your pulse between two cold hooves. 

“No, no, It’s not that, I feel fine. Sorry for scaring you, I was just overwhelmed.” You look away from him, embarrassment flushing your cheeks bright red. 

“O-Oh! Sorry, I overreacted. If you’re feeling up to it you should be able to get up and move about as normal, minus stretching/moving your neck. The crystal was deep, so the wound might need a little bit longer then I was originally thinking to heal. Make sure not to twist/move your neck around during the next few weeks. Other then that, you should be good to go!”  He releases your wrist, stepping back from the cot with a smile. 

A genuine smile starts to pull at the corners of your mouth, your heart feeling lighter then ever. You were free. Free from your father. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.” 

Chopper blushes, (How, you have no idea), and starts insulting you, but you’re already standing up, legs wobbly as you head out of the room and down the hall, the strange buzzing sensation pulling you along. It seems to be leading you somewhere, almost as if…

You find yourself back out on the open deck, mouth agape at the stunning beauty of the sea. But you don’t have long to study it, the buzzing sensation from earlier  growing stronger, almost dragging you towards the side of the ship. You stare over the edge of the railing, down at the multicoloured waves that surround the ship. They’re mesmerising, it almost makes you want to- 

Before you know it, your hands feel nothing but open air, and you're plummeting over the edge of the deck and into the sea. But where there would have been panic there is nothing but a serene sense of calm that washes over you as you hit the sea and start to sink. Your eyes open, the water as clear as the air above the sea, letting you study your surroundings. Your breath didn’t even need to be held, you were instinctively already breathing in the water as if it was air. Above you lay the bottom of the ship you had been on moments prior, steadily creeping away from you. You laugh, feeling your hair floating around you in a halo as you stand suspended in the open water. 

You take off, following the ship as you move forward, letting the water pull you along, almost as if your powers weren’t needed. But- you could feel the wound on the back of your neck start to sting, then burn, the pain growing stronger the more time you spent under the water. Fuck. You should probably get back on the ship. You will the water to bring you up, and a current suddenly appears below you, bubbles swirling as you are pushed up at an increasing speed until you break the surface, a rush of water sending you up and over the side of the ship, where you land in a heap on the now wet deck. You cough, sending a wave of salty sea water out of your lungs as you unsteadily bring yourself onto your knees, pushing your hair out of your eyes. You feel lighter then ever before, a smile creeping onto your face even as you cough, neck burning. 

Free. You were finally free. 

______________________________________________________________

so... I wasn't expecting this to be so long lmao honestly I'm surprised I wrote so much tho please feel free to leave ideas, thoughts, opinions, criticism and more!

[earthly-apples]

I really like Uwe’s Erik…disclaimer that I never completed the original novel or watched a full Broadway prod before, but I applaud his choice to make Erik a creep. Man has been living in the sewers for I don’t know how many years, eaten away by loneliness and self-contempt, never had a chance to learn the logic of normal social interacting.

He bends the managers to his will through fear and benefits, and not out of personal charm. He throws a tantrum when his wishes are ignored, one that could go as far as to murdering innocent people. I can see why people feel that Uwe’s Erik grabbing Christine and dragging her around with little care comes across as rough, but this is a man who has communicated with others only through threats for decades. It has become habitual—natural even—for him to impose his will upon others through violence. He wants to see Christine submit when he shows his anger, when he pinches her arm and screams in her face.

So it’s confusing for him to see that Christine answers neither with absolute obedience (fear) nor further resistance (hate). Fear and hate are the only emotions he’s familiar with, and in the moment of confusion he lets Christine and Raoul go, and being overwhelmed with emotions, he harshly fends off Christine when she turns to check on him.

Tl;dr: I am a man-child character interpretation enjoyer.

-

Also. Der Tod and Erik are very different, even though the former throws a bit of a tantrum when he gets turned down. But he’s much more sophisticated in character and a man enjoying his job at the heart of it all. Truly my little meow meow.

[meowww-ffxiv]

Up until 6.0 where Ptolemy was bodily-- uh, well, soul-ly pulled to the First and had neither frailty to worry about nor a choice to stay home and let Liios n Friends do their Scions thing, Liios had been... well, not LYING lying to Ptolemy about how dangerous things had been for him, but had been downplaying it a lot.

He had a heart condition. There was no point in telling him about terrible things that he couldn't change, Liios thought. So what if Liios almost died a few more times. So what if the cruelty he'd witnessed in Ala Mhigo and Doma kept him from sleep at night. The universe was unfeeling, and people could be cruel. Hadn't Ptolemy known that already, in all the years they'd both lived? Why would Liios put more of the same on him?

Then they had their "adventures" on the First, and as was habit, Liios brushed off the Scions' concern with his usual mad sort of confidence. As was habit, they were convinced.

Ptolemy was not.

They argued explosively and bitterly about it. They screamed and shouted and pointed fingers. The primordial light was already excruciating, but in front of Ptolemy's anger it was like some kind of dam had broken. Liios shouted until he was hoarse. Isn't it enough that I am here, he said. Can't you afford me at least the dignity of minding my wounds in peace?

"You are proud, and you are stupid," Ptolemy said, incensed. "There is no dignity in whimpering like a dog with a broken leg behind closed doors. I, we, aren't acquaintances for you to coddle. At the very least, I am your family. For the sake of our relation, can you not find it in yourself to be honest with me?"

"I am honest with you," Liios bit back. "About things that matter."

"You matter to me," Ptolemy replied. "How you feel and how you are matter to me. So why don't you please do as you claim?"

It was like giving medicine to a vicious cat, but, yes. After the whole thing on the First was over, Liios really started to try putting his actions where his mouth was. He still didn't tell any of the Scions a damn thing. They found out he had this or that problem when he collapsed in front of them. But Ptolemy, he did tell. Because there was a responsibility there and Liios couldn't stand being accused of being neglectful of it.

It was striking, and it was sad, how little Ptolemy knew of Liios's various "adventures" then. How many obstacles he faced in silence, or how much he hurt about this or that, or how many things he had encountered that left him shaken and unsure. How cornered and alone he felt because of things Liios wasn't sure how to... how to put into words, or who to tell, but the words did pour out of him.

And punctuating every new, hesitant morsel of vulnerability, Liios said, "Sorry." Sorry for putting this on you. Sorry for interrupting your night, or whatever you were doing. Sorry about, you know, me. Haha.

Ptolemy let him get away with the almost habitual apologies twice before he pointed it out. And Liios said, "Well, it's not pleasant, is it. To know about these things."

"And so?" Ptolemy replied. "We all live with them. You live with them, as do I, in my course of caring for people disabled and crippled by these 'not pleasant' things." Because Ptolemy had been a doctor for fifty years, had spent the better part of three decades specifically caring for those with such long-lasting disabilities, which he knew that Liios knew.

He wondered if Liios would be offended at being called, tacitly, an obtuse person. Liios was not in fact a proud person. He hid behind labels such as dignity and pride when he thought people would be more worried about offending him and would stay away instead of pushing him to show them where he hurt. It did not matter, really, that he bled. This was undisputed fact. But Liios needed very badly for people to look away when he did, and Ptolemy could not understand why.

There was no offense taken, because ruffled feathers would be a pretension and Liios at this point in time was too tired, and also not allowed, to do such things to Ptolemy.

Instead he said, "I'm sorry."

"Can you tell me why you are sorry? Or at least, what about?"

"Generally, I suppose," Liios said, not looking at Ptolemy or at anyone else. Then, "I never imagined I would spend so many bullets to kill so many people, you know. And still, it is not enough. Ascian machinations aside, this star is full of bastards who'd tread on the backs and necks of others and call it the 'spoils of the strong'. I don't know what to tell their victims I didn't save in time except sorry."

"I am not one of them, though. You do not have to apologize to me."

"You almost were," Liios said tiredly.

There was something both humbling and terribly heavy, in knowing you were so important to someone that every choice they made, they made it with you in mind. Ptolemy had lived with the simple fact of Liios's various sacrifices for him since he was five years old; this was no different.

"I will stop, if you would like," Liios said. "Saying sorry, I mean. You are right; it is irritating and unproductive. Guilt is unproductive."

"Guilt is human, and normal," Ptolemy reminded him.

"I asked you to not harbor any over what I've left behind to keep you safe, and to save your life," Liios shook his head. "In all these years, you've kept your promise. You never told me you were sorry about what I had to do. And it was a great relief for me, to know you were able to put our exile aside and keep on living. I will do the same for you."

He peered at him. "Does it help? For me to... to tell you things like these?"

"Yes," Ptolemy said. "Please."

"Alright," Liios agreed.

He, too, had kept this promise since.

[sreekar]

I live in a household,

where dining rooms are landfills of fights and pickles,

greed and arrogance made familial minds turn fickle.

Where generational habitual errors are dogma,

and being emotionally available is a stigma.

Love and companionship are absentee landlords,

just like two lovers who allowed themselves to part with a rift of feudal fjord.

Intimacy is a jester’s showpiece,

offsprings are objects of emotional incest,

trauma and feelings bleed through anger and sadness, which are barely addressed.

Here lies a broken family, hanging by its last straws,

Now I have a choice, either leave it to rot

or burn beside them and their flaws.

[sholiofic]

Whump wheel pleaaaseee! :) Biggles, von Stalhein, possession

Thank you so much <3

I got two of these! Clearly it is Meant To Be.

Anonymous asked: From the Whump wheel, Biggles &/ EvS, Possessed? I was thinking possessed!Biggles could be interesting (and scary!), but I'd be ecstatic to read anything you write for the Biggles fandom!

It was startling to Erich how he had known immediately that Bigglesworth wasn't quite right. Those narrow, boyishly pretty features were so habitually calm, so controlled, so filled with Bigglesworth's certainty of purpose that it was infuriating to him sometimes; he wanted to shake Bigglesworth until he shocked him into a reaction, even if it was anger or hate. But this was something different, a snakelike coldness that looked so out of place that Erich had to force himself not to stare.

When Bigglesworth pushed him into the wall with unexpected strength, Erich couldn't quite explain why he just let him do it, even though he could have tried to overpower him, shot or stabbed him. Instead he found himself with his back against the stone wall and Bigglesworth's slim forearm pressed to his throat. The hazel eyes glittered with a viciousness that was as wrong as a machine gun in the hand of a nurse.

There should have been a quip or a comment or a statement on his life choices. Instead, the cold hazel eyes simply stared at him for a moment before Bigglesworth said quietly, "Stay out of my business, Erich." 

Then he let him go and turn his back as if Erich wasn't worth the effort to bother with.

Erich staggered a little, getting his balance. He stared at the slim, straight back of the man in front of him, as Bigglesworth ignored him completely.

Something was wrong. And he needed to do something about it -- no matter what part of his mission he had to betray.

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 5: He has me

A lifetimes worth of bad decisions, it was all there. 

Price, barely able to contain his anger, fists clenched white.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist: my lovely @deadbranch , @jxvipike

warnings: angst, sa.

The weather stayed angry as the week passed by, confined to the hospital bed her only choice was to wait and watch, witness the wrath of whipping winds and the war cries of thunder. Wishing she could invoke her own brand of revenge, some sort of punishment for the revolving door of staff that never let her be. 

Humiliation bubbled constantly, sat silently, she’d resort to side-eye and the cold shoulder, unwilling to engage with the onslaught of whoever had been given the task of checking in on their little fugitive. She tolerated Garrick, a mutual understanding of just how cruel and unusual this situation was seemed to allow a soft lull in her habitual biting personality. He even offered her some pittance, a small admission. 

“I know you weren’t out to hurt Ghost.” 

Lilith nearly cried when she heard it, tired of constantly defending herself, answering questions so carefully, unsure if her reply would be the last nail in the coffin. So when Garrick came, they’d play games. 

“Price made us do p.t in the rain because Soap left a huge mess in the common room and roped everyone else in” Gaz announced his entry, every time, with a complaint. Lily laughed mockingly, enjoying the defeated, wet-dog look he held. 

“Yes but now you’ve got an i.o.u in your favour” She hummed, the small welcoming smile she’d graced the other soon turning into a scowl as he sopped onto the bed, dampening the sheets by her feet. 

“Dick.” 

“It’s your turn-“ Garrick flopped fully, back crashing onto the bed as his feet hung off the side, awkwardly dangling for a moment before the movement stopped and he closed his eyes. She peered down at him for a while, contemplating their game. The yes but, game. ‘Try be positive!’ they jeered at one another, hurling grievance after grievance and awaiting the silver lining the other would offer. 

“I haven’t been outside in nearly three weeks” She sighed, eyes lingering on the window once more, admiring the way the rain slid down the glass, tear-like streaks that felt so familiar. 

“Yes but you get to see that hot nurse all the time” A sly smile spreads with his reply, and Lilith rolled her eyes at the mention of her. 

“She’s got that, way too chipper, thing about her- it’s off-putting”

“You’re just jealous she gets to actually leave this place” Gaz teased, turning to look at the other as he reached out and pinched the back of her ankle, squishing the tendon between his cold fingers.

“OW! That’s fucking horrible!” Loud, shrill shouts of Lilly kicking his onslaught of abuse away and the satisfied cackles of her abuser ensued. The pair resembled two kids at a sleepover, yelling and jibing at one another until the heavy sound of the door slamming shut cut through the light moment. Garrick slid off the bed within an instant, the movement smothering the smiles from both of their faces, eyes a little hesitant as they looked over at Price. Scowl evident, he stood by the door, arms crossed, already on edge. 

The quiet that came soon after was painful, awkward and reluctant as the three just looked at one another. Lilith could barely take it. 

“Can I fucking help you?” Petulant as she barked out, thankful for the sound of her own voice, unable to just sit in the thick of it all. Her unforgiving glare fixed on John, watching as he barely shifted, the deep-seated look of burden ever-present as the lines of his forehead crinkled under the stress of it all. “Is it ‘berate Lilly’ time again? I’ll save you the trouble, no I'm not a super spy and no I have zero interest in your little ragtag bunch of gal-pals.” 

A small snort sounded from Gaz, regret instant as he shrunk under Price’s burning gaze. 

“There’s been some development in your situation, super spy” His voice never failed to raise bumps on her skin, the prickling feeling felt like a wave of minute shocks, always so deep it felt like it would always elicit such a reaction. Even over the radio, it had incited her to action. 

“What will it be this time Sherlock, finally figured out my i.d is real? Has it taken you three weeks to confirm that my bank cards are legit?” Price let out a gruff sound of amusement, it made her even more suspicious. 

“No. But I’ve just received a lovely email, you’d be so happy to hear that the boys over in research  have had a whale of a time looking at your profile” 

His answer brought no relief, Lilith could only glare as the man rounded the corner of her bed, key already within his palm as he unlocked her only cuff. She remained, brows pinched together in confusion, eyes questioning as she looked up at Garrick, the other just shrugged. “What profile?” Finally, she landed on a question, rubbing the freed wrist as Price neglected her reddened skin, unlike the last time. 

“Your profile, love. All the nooks and crannies of your digital footprint. Every last little like, save or search, you’d be amazed at how much we can access.” It dawned on her, why the man seemed so questionable, the tickle of a smirk that ghosted over his lips only confirmed it. 

“Everything?” Not so sarcastic now, she shifted back into the bed, unsure as to where this was going. 

“Oh, everything.” Price stood back, tucking the handcuffs into his back pocket before he nodded towards Gaz. “Go grab Lilith some clothes would you, thought we’d go have a little look at what they’ve got” 

What she felt before, was no match for this. Shame, anger, humiliation, perhaps every bad emotion and reaction she could muster, they were all brought forward. Standing in borrowed clothes, face alight with the deafening burn of embarrassment as it all flooded the multiple screens in front of them all. Everything she’d ever done, Price wasn’t exaggerating, the data filled all the screens available, the so-called ‘intel’ team enjoying this as much as the task force seemed to be, all gathered around to gawk and pry at the discovery. 

“Where does Tom Hardy live?” One voice read aloud, earning a ripple of chuckles. 

“What does Tom Hardy do in his spare time?” 

“How fast can you learn jiu-jitsu?” 

“Where does Tom Hardy do jiu-jitsu?” By now, a few of them were holding their stomachs, most notably the data team, who to Lilith looked like they hadn’t seen the sun in years. Unkept compared to the other soldiers around her, holed up in their little data den, this was probably going to be the highlight of their month, terrorising her. 

“Christ lass, I don’t think it’s us who should be worried, Tom needs a restraining order-“ Soap bubbled wickedly, another eruption of laughter. 

She stood silent, arms soon crossed over her body, almost as if it would shield her somehow, ill-fitting clothes from the lost and found barely providing any reprieve, she was exposed. Was anything ever private? Lilith never gave much thought to it, not that she’d ever had to before. Part of her wanted to cry, it was overwhelming, surrounded by men as they relished unpicking every thought she’d ever had. She watched it unfold in front of her, every order placed, every email used, every GPS ping that her devices had given off. It was all there. 

“Anything actually worth reporting on?” He cut through the humour, deadpan and serious, no longer smug like he had been before. Price eyed the screens cautiously, unsure exactly what he was expecting but it wasn’t this, seeing it all there, humanised her. Not some abstract threat that thrashed and howled in the hospital, but a lifetimes worth of questions and answers. A wiry researcher grinned at the question like he’d been waiting with bated breath. Spindly fingers began to type away at the keyboard, thick clunks and clicks before he pressed enter, a host of images flying out of a folder. 

“Nothing but these.” 

The air seemed to stale. 

“Oh fuck” Soap, ever vocal. 

Maroon, baby pink, black, white- a host of different little sets, low lighting, her body positioned in different ways to accentuate herself. A lifetimes worth of bad decisions, it was all there. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you“ Price towered over the greasy-looking lad, shoving him down into his seat with a growl, ironclad grip nearly breaking skin. 

 Confronted with her explicit pictures plastered across the wide screens, Lilith felt as if her heart had stopped. She wished it did, the reprieve in dropping dead, unable to fully register anything anymore, unburdened. Instead, despite her silent pleas, she remained there, alive. Aware. Aware now that these men had insisted upon gathering her here to rub it in, to show her that nothing she ever did, or will do, would be hers alone. 

They were wiped from view in a matter of moments after the Captain's outburst, though it had still happened, they had all seen. Lily gulped thickly, trying to blink away a few tears, trying to figure out what to do. One foot in front of the other, the blind movement felt so similar, the desperate run from a man and his knife, now from men and their prying eyes. She bolted out of the cramped room, no one made any moves to try and stop her, watching as she disappeared from sight. 

“Deal with this. All of it, I want it gone.” Price, barely able to contain his anger, fists clenched white. He’d get them all fired, at best. A million happy images of the intel team bloodied from the face down flickering through his head. “Fucking disgusting” His parting words, a wavering look toward his men spoke volumes, they all acknowledged it with a small nod, already moving to trap the others between their keyboards, making sure they’d follow through with the Captain's demands. 

“You lot are sick.” Garrick could barely believe it, only finding his voice now in the aftermath. The four remained, looming threats of what was to come, the men beneath them sharing a certain understanding of their lingering presences, a promise of pain. 

[feedingtheflockministry]

The Digital Gossip

The dictionary defines the word gossip as a person who habitually reveals personal or sensational facts about others. The word sensational is defined as the arousing or tending to arouse a quick, intense, and usually superficial interest, curiosity, or emotional reaction.

“Without wood a fire goes out; without a gossip a quarrel dies down. As charcoal to embers and as wood to fire, so is a quarrelsome person for kindling strife. The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to the inmost parts.” Proverbs 26:20-22

“A perverse man spreads strife, and a slanderer separates intimate friends.” Proverbs 16:28

“Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless.” James 1:26

“But avoid worldly and empty chatter, for it will lead to further ungodliness” 2 Timothy 2;16

“Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice.” Ephesus 4:31

Throughout the scriptures the words gossip and slander are often found together. For many times they have similar results. When we all get on social media what we find is mostly gossip and slander masquerading as patriotism, loyalty, and righteousness. Gossip about politicians, religious leaders, judges, bad police officers, and many others. This gossip often turns into slander, mockery, malicious and murderous thoughts, feelings of hatred and anger, and robbing anyone who even glances at a post of their peace of mind, love for others, and joy for life. The mass majority of those that become popular on social media only post such content and reshare that type of content from others like themselves

As I scroll through various social media sites I find Christian people giving themselves over to such behavior. They mention they are “conservative Christians” in their bios, and when you scroll their timelines they are bursting at the seams with political rhetoric and harsh rebukes of wicked people. When they do mention Christ it’s about a pre tribulation rapture, or the wrath of God being poured out on the earth. Their posts are full of anything but the good news of Jesus Christ that saves us from eternal fire, brimstone, and separation from God and life.

Living in this generation of social media is not easy. As followers of Christ we must refrain from participating in gossip and slander. We must only use these platforms to further the Lord’s message (which is the sowing of good seed), and not for our judgment and condemnation. For our time is limited in this life. So we must be good stewards of our time and the influence we have on others. Gossip is not a good thing, and we must learn to stop and turn our focus and efforts towards saving the souls of others by sharing Christ with them. For this is why He chose us as His people to proclaim the good news, not our viewpoints or opinions of worldly behaviors.

[funkymbtifiction]

hi! question about the frustration types/wings/trifix - is there a part of them LIKES being in a state of frustration? and if so can they ever really overcome that or be happy with how things are? i read a lot about how the purpose to learning the enneagram is to eventually notice when you’re doing personality things and unlearn them/realize you can choose not to. but can someone who becomes happy by being unhappy, negative or frustrated ever be capable of not only realizing life is okay as it is but also feeling happy/fulfilled/satisfied with how things are, without being dissatisfied with the lack of frustration itself? i know someone who’s type i am unsure of (i thought he was a 6 bc he’s very into the concept of allies and enemies and identity politics, you’re with me or against me, and he is often unsure of himself/indecisive, however i also see many traits of 1 anger at an imperfect world/perfectionism and 4 drowning in misery) who displays a LOT of frustration. i’ve rarely seen him happy or satisfied with anything. nothing and no one is ever quite good enough for him and something is always wrong with him/his life/his people and when nothing is objectively wrong he nitpicks until he finds something wrong and if you try to help or offer solutions, you’re wrong, they won’t work, or he admits maybe they will work if he tried but he won’t because he’s not in the mood or somehow isn’t capable of doing it. i understand to an extent because when i’m upset, i can act like this too. but once i calm down i want solutions and i want to fix it. he doesn’t seem to ever get to that part and if he did ever fix his problems i’m not quite sure what he would do with himself. is that how the frustration triad is? if so can they ever really feel content in life, even with enough personal growth to notice their personality style and choose differently?

Yes, that is correct. No one does anything without getting something out of it, and the frustration triad actively works to keep part of themselves frustrated and dissatisfied, because life doesn’t measure up to their desired ideal. It’s a subconscious choice.

It is possible to change this, but the person has to first acknowledge that the frustration is a choice, and then decide to change it. They have to see this habitual tendency to embrace chronic dissatisfaction as a pattern and recognize that it’s optional, and then want to do something about it. They have to want to change, and acknowledge that this current behavior is not working for me (it is self-sabotaging me in some way, by making me always frustrated by life, relationships, etc), and accept the burden of self-responsibility in changing it, for their own self-betterment. Frustration has become a pattern with them, but it’s not chronic – it’s a choice and they can choose to catch themselves looking for what’s missing and instead, choose to embrace the happiness of the moment.

Your friend sounds like a 6 with a strong 4 fix; double-reactivity – my life is awful, you need to agree with me how awful it is, and it can’t be fixed, because it just… wouldn’t work, and nothing is good enough, and cue the self-pity, the whining, and the drawing attention to whatever is wrong. To be honest, it sounds like a 649. There’s a reason they’re roasted online as the “Whiny Tears.” 6 is reactive and negative, looking for what’s wrong and missing; 4 over-inflates wounds, problems, and deficiencies and remains frustrated as a way to show everyone their life is broken and cannot be fixed; throw 9ish apathy and inertia in there, and you have two reactive fixes that obsess and complain and draw attention to problems, along with two twithdrawn fixes that don’t assume the problem is theirs to fix, leading to an endless state of “wallowing without seeking solutions.”

The 6 over-thinks, the 4 over-feels, and the 9 does nothing about it. A 469 in any order has to come to terms with their negativity and see that as a choice; with their ongoing frustration and realize that’s optional; they have to choose to look for the positive since their default is the negative, and above all, they have to learn to productively think about things (as opposed to ruminating on them, or thinking about them without ever instigating change) and figure out the direct actions they could take that would change their life for the better. It won’t be easy, but if they decide it’s worth doing, they can pursue it through self-observation and choosing to change their reactions, by not allowing themselves to dramatize their problems as “unsolvable,” but instead, asking themselves what they’re going to DO to resolve this ongoing problem.