#just fucking sickens me how much tolerance people have for the worst people on earth

[gender-euphowrya]

why is the go-to reaction people have to calls Not to consume media involving super problematic people always "i'll pirate it :)" just don't fucking do that either

how do you fucking find the ability to enjoy the thing knowing the fucked up shit the people behind it did.

[mylittlewritingnook]

It didn’t make any sense, for as long as I, and anyone else could remember, the time, date, and year was never wrong. I’d lost friends, family and lovers to their dates, and I knew that my time was coming; and after all the pain these tattoos had caused, I welcomed it. 

Looking at it from a lighter perspective however, it did have its benefits; it meant that death was never sudden, everyone knew their time, and everyone made the effort to express their love towards others before their passing. The sickening part of it was that it could not be stopped, and that you wouldn’t know how it was going to happen. This was the fear, but seeing as we spent our whole lives living up until that moment, knowing that one way or another it would all end at that specific moment, you found a sort of peace within yourself and just accepted it. 

But how was I supposed to feel knowing that my date was somehow... incorrect? That I’d somehow made an unconscious deal with death and it had decided to spare me? I felt cheated. Why did I have to endure all the loss and tragedy of so many people that I had loved and cherished, who I wished I could have had even an extra minute with, people who weren’t ready to go, and I get to continue living? Its wasn’t fair. The fear of the unknown is somehow much more sickening. I sat and waited, expecting at any moment for some government officials, in their perfectly tailored suits to come bursting through the door of my apartment, ready to end my life. Surely they would know I was somehow still alive? But it had already been 24 hours, and there was no sign of anyone. I was alone.

I hadn’t contacted any of my family since my time had been and gone, what was I supposed to even say to them? ‘Hey everybody surprise I’m alive!’? This had become the way the world worked, with the constant increasing population of the earth, the world leaders had all agreed it was the only hope to save humanity, even they had their dates set to prove that they were not immune. Of course, people revolted, there was an uprising, but we soon learned that rebellion would not be tolerated. Anyone who defied them, was given an earlier date, or killed on the spot. Fucked up, I know, but thats whats written in the history books that we read at school. 

Fear began to sink in, what if they thought I was defying them? They might decide to kill me in the worst, most agonising way possible, and I would be powerless to stop them. But if they hadn’t showed up now, would they ever know? Was I some sort of glitch in the system? Too many questions reeled around in my mind. 

Knock...Knock...Knock.

My stomach twisted. They’d finally realised. I slowly exhaled through quivering lips as I carefully rose to my feet. I wouldn’t fight them. I would obey them and take my death with the last of my dignity.

Knock...Knock...Knock.

I walked across the carpeted floor, feeling the soft, spongey wool between my toes, I took in the final sights and smells that surrounded me, the stale coffee smell when I had made what was supposed to be my last drink from the previous day. The sound of my clock faintly ticking in the kitchen and the distant drone of cars on the road outside. I didn’t bother to look through the peep hole, I wanted all these senses I was currently experiencing to be my last, not whoever was on the other side of my door. I gently gripped the handle, and with one last breath, I closed my eyes and opened the door.

‘Open your eyes.’ The voice whispered. I didn’t want to.

‘Open...your fucking eyes.’ They said, in a much harsher tone. I trembled, and slowly opened.

‘You’re not going to die...not yet. We have work to do.’ A young woman, dressed in clothing that definitely looked like it had not been cleaned for a good period of time, her short, black hair pushed back from her face and piercing blue eyes that did not deter their gaze for even a second stood before me. 

‘W-what?’ I managed to stutter.

‘You’re not the only one who missed their due date.’ She pulled back her sleeve, no tattoo, in its place a large, bumpy, uneven scar. ‘Things are changing, and you are one of the few survivors, and unless you want to die you need to do everything that I tell you to do. Do you understand?.’ She seemed serious, that or she was some assassin with a really sick sense of humour. 

‘..Ok.’ I agreed. She stepped into my apartment. ‘Should I pack?’ I asked, the girl scoffed.

‘You take anything and they’ll know you’re alive.’ The girl said. ‘You need to leave this place like any dead persons house would normally be left, exactly as it was when you were alive. Oh, and one more thing.’ She continued, unsheathing a small, sharp blade from a pocket in her jacket.

‘We need to remove your tattoo.’