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#that's both a quote and a reference to my current mental state.

thunder-jolt · 6 months

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Just made up a Black Lagoon OC heavily inspired by Jiren from DBS. Currently drawing him, but his name is Rejin Greyblood, nicknamed by most crime organizations as the "Monochrome Menace". He's given that nickname by the way because of him being the scariest mercenary and vanguard anyone can come across, he's also nomadic, meaning he can work with anyone however he pleases.

Though he wasn't intentionally going for the crime scenery, instead, before he became what he currently is, all he wanted to be a rockstar and form a band called the "Troops of Pride" or something like that, but ended up becoming a skilled merc-vanguard after coming into the crosshairs of Roberta's Blood Trail.

Though he didn't become a rockstar, he does have a taste in rock music, especially ones like Bon Jovi and the like. He often quotes the song "It's My Life" whenever he has a conversation with Revy or Rock.

Speaking of Rock, Rejin has a liking towards him, to the point where it's unknown if it's romantic or platonic. Though, by obvious standards, it's both.

FUN FACTS ABOUT REJIN GREYBLOOD!

Fun Fact #1: Though he has "Greyblood" as his name, he is born Japanese-raised-American. Hence his liking towards Rock, who is Japanese.

Fun Fact #2: Though not a parental figure or married to some degree (simply put, he's single and unmarried), he does treat most of the other mercenaries as if they're his own kids (for example, Hansel and Gretel), so he's not only skilled in murder but he's also skilled in parenting.

Fun Fact #3: Though identifying as a male, both mentally and biologically, he does like to crossdress at times. Though, he only does it when he feels pretty.

Fun Fact #4: Rejin has the same meaning as Jiren's name, it's just the Japanese word for "stove", just with a few letters rearranged to make a new name. This also makes up a new meaning with that new arrangement, meaning "King", "Precious", or "Extraordinary", which kind of fits, given Rejin's character as being extraordinary to the others.

Fun Fact #5: He knows of Roberta and her Blood Trail, as he was the one to witness all the blood that she spreads (well that's a weird way to say it), but also because of them later gaining mutual respect the more they meet each other during battle. (Which that whole thing is of course a reference to my poll, pitting Jiren against Roberta on Tumblr.)

Fun Fact #6: He takes insults as compliments, especially when he has conversations with Revy. (At one point, Revy called Rejin a "f*ggot" when regarding Rejin's platonic-romantic relationship with Rock, and he took it as a fact, stating "That's what he is". I mean, to be fair, Revy calling him that might be accurate so yeah.)

Fun Fact #7: His birthday is October 9th, 1960, making him (according to my sources) 35 years old, considering Black Lagoon is set in the mid-1990s, though if we put it in today's date; he'd be 63 years old by now. (Although Jiren's age is relatively unknown, I just decided to give Rejin my birthday, October 9th, because I can. Besides, I've done it before so what's stopping me from doing it again? Plus, his birthday is on a Sunday, which for most religious people is going-to-Church day, which is ironic considering Rejin is like a quarter away from being gay for Rock, if it's not obvious from the very start, and him not a religious person. So yeah.)

Fun Fact #8: Though he has a somewhat skinny physique, he's relatively muscular, with all the weight of firearms that he has been blasting and carrying throughout most of his time as a menace.

Fun Fact #9: His hair is naturally grey, despite him being 35, which for Japanese people only happens in their late 30s.

Fun Fact #10: He is quite an insomniac, due to him having to take missions during the night time and him not having a proper sleep schedule. Making him paler, sickly, and almost zombie-like to say the least. Which sort of describes the Grey Alien concept a bit more.

Fun Fact #11: Though he is not religious, Eda mentions how his outfit resembles church clothes most people wear when they go to worship God. He states to Eda that "he'll only consider worshipping a god when the world is on the brink of extinction". (Simply put, Rejin is an atheist)

Fun Fact #12: He's not a natural smiler, only able to smirk and grin at things he knows are intentional. He only genuinely smiles when Rock is in the room or when he is near Rock.

= = = = = =

"It's my life, it's now or never, I ain't gonna live forever, I just wanna live when I'm alive."

Day 6: Human Form (Black Lagoon)

My OC Rejin Greyblood, AKA Jiren if he's from the Black Lagoon Universe instead of the Dragon Ball Universe.

#jiren #dbs jiren #dbs #Draw Jiren in different outfits #black lagoon #black lagoon oc #day 6

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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somnoflesh · 1 year

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Michael Myers & Psych

Warnings for — sanism / ableism, sexism, incest, sexual violence, animal death

I will not give a very long preface, most are aware of Halloween and M. Myers. My fascination with the Horror and particularly the Slasher genre is deeply connected with my sense of Mental Illness & Disability. I am an extremely low empathetic individual and have always felt an outsider for my violent & weird tendencies. It was, perhaps, only natural I find some kinship in these exaggerated killers of disorder.

Myers is a unique case to me, however. Psychiatry is a large if understated part of Halloween. Much staging for the films and stories are of institutions that simply can never hold Myers for long, and a reoccurring face is of Dr. Loomis, Michael Myers’ psychiatrist.

This is an important part of Myers for both story and real life inspiration purposes. Carpenter based much of his concept for Michael Myers on a real person.

In A Cut Above The Rest, a Halloween documentary from 2003, Carpenter shares that while he was in university his class visited such institutions and he saw a young boy of about 13 there. He describes his eyes as a “schizophrenic stare”, referring to schizophrenic catatonia in a blithe manner. This directly is the spark for the quote by Dr. Loomis within the films;

Loomis: I met this... six-year-old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face, and... the blackest eyes - the Devil's eyes

The connotations of schizophrenic individuals have shifted from the time of Carpenter’s experience to current day, with Myers being spoken of in more schizoid terms, coldness, apathy, social isolation, and his catatonia. Michael Myers is explicitly stated has experiencing catatonia in numerous films.

Interestingly, regarding his catatonic states, in a scene added to pad more time in the television cut, Dr. Loomis thinks he is faking catatonia. Myers is about preteen or teenaged in this moment. From a young age Dr. Loomis made his mind that he cannot he fixed and that there is nothing more than a primal instinct to kill.

Loomis : [talking over] Michael Myers is the most dangerous patient I have ever observed.

Younger Doctor : Doctor, there is no diagnostic evidence to support that statement.

Loomis : He's... he's covering up. This catatonia is a conscious act. There's an instinctive force within him. He's waiting.

Younger Doctor : For what?

Loomis : I don't know.

I find that Dr. Loomis claim that he is faking is as in character as it could be, this belief permeates the franchise save for some exceptions. It is key, as well, that Dr. Loomis is always proven right about Michael Myers.

The institutions he is held in do not fail him, Dr. Loomis does not abuse his power and cross boundaries, Myers is not dehumanized by him, he is incurable and inhuman to start with. There was nothing to be done about Michael Myers.

Loomis: You’ve fooled them, haven’t you Michael?

Loomis: But not me.

Dr. Loomis’ stance on Michael Myers rings very familiar to the experience of those denied care or humanity because those who hold power over us declare that either we are faking our ailments or that we are incurable.

With Dr. Loomis main position on Myers as such, It is not the only ‘diagnosis’ he receives through the films.

In The Curse of Michael Myers, the films writer intended a sexual deviance within Myers. Sexual sadism being a repeating concept of serial murderers of women. Farrands believes he wants to repeat the murder of his sister, Judith. It is of note she was naked at the time he had murdered her when he was a young boy, an impressionable age for him. Though, Farrands’ idea of Myers having an incestuous obsession isn’t just exclusive to canons in which he isn’t related to Laurie Strode.

Sex as power and violence against women is the main fear and persistent trait of serial killer archetypes. Myers characterization is no exception to this. Making a psychosexual aspect of Myers is what feels natural to someone who wishes to dissect the mind of a killer. Michael does not only kill, he stalks. Particularly his female victims. His primary watch is as always Laurie Strode. Compared to his immediate violence to men, boys, and on occasion animals.

Michael Myers is the perfect vessel for a societies fears and conceptions about serial killers, despite his own creator wishing for him to be more of a supernatural force. He is grounded in real life by those who view him and use him.

He is the suburban terror. An anonymous danger you never know will turn up. He stalks and kills your teenaged daughters, he kills your children while they play in the same park you’ve taken them for years, he’s why your dog ends up lifeless in a home invasion, he is whatever you want him to be—as long as he is evil. For when these things happen, you simply cannot think of why. Why someone could be capable of this. It must be some instinctual base reason beyond our moral and good human thought. It must be a fear as old as humans can conceive of. It must be evil.

Michael Myers can be whatever fear you wish him, can do whatever you wish him to do, but he will always be connected to the idea that mental illness beyond others compassions and imagination are an inhuman primordial thing, that they are evil and must be purified.

He cannot be fixed, he is not a person at all, he must be stopped and yet he can’t be. He is evil simply. For evil does not end as long as it’s feared. It merely breeds more evil. Like an infectious disease the same people could not dream of contracting and spreading. A sickness they thought only the other could have.

#halloween 1978 #michael myers #halloween #slashers

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quoteablebooks · 2 years

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Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult, Science Fiction,

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

Trigger Warning: Alcoholism, Misogyny, Violence, Sexual assault, Torture, Suicidal thoughts, Rape

Summary:

The boys of Huaxia dream of pairing up with girls to pilot Chrysalises, giant transforming robots that can battle the mecha aliens that lurk beyond the Great Wall. It doesn't matter that the girls often die from the mental strain. When 18-year-old Zetian offers herself up as a concubine-pilot, it's to assassinate the ace male pilot responsible for her sister's death. But she gets her vengeance in a way nobody expected—she kills him through the psychic link between pilots and emerges from the cockpit unscathed. She is labeled an Iron Widow, a much-feared and much-silenced kind of female pilot who can sacrifice boys to power up Chrysalises instead. To tame her unnerving yet invaluable mental strength, she is paired up with Li Shimin, the strongest and most controversial male pilot in Huaxia. But now that Zetian has had a taste of power, she will not cower so easily. She will miss no opportunity to leverage their combined might and infamy to survive attempt after attempt on her life, until she can figure out exactly why the pilot system works in its misogynist way—and stop more girls from being sacrificed.

*Opinions*

So, I usually don’t pay much attention to the quotes on the cover of books, but according to this cover E.K. Johnston called this “A primal scream of a book” and I could not agree more. While I believe that current events might have added to my enjoyment of this book, as I am also a female-presenting person who wants to burn the world down, there was something so refreshing with a female-presenting character who did not “see both sides” or “finds compromise” with the misogynistic system they were born into. Zeitan Wu’s rage is never quelled, even if it was somewhat misplaced at times, and they let that rage and vengeance dictate their actions. I can see why people would find her annoying or unlikeable, but I enjoyed her constant anger in the face of injustice. At the beginning of the novel, Zeitan states that she doesn’t feel either male or female and does not enjoy the deicotmy, but is then referred to the rest of the novel as a woman and she doesn’t correct those close to her, so I am also going to refer to Zeitan with she/her pronouns. I can see why people complained that a book started with the main character railing against the binary in regards to gender and then doesn’t really explore that idea and the main struggle is very binary in nature. That is a very valid criticism, but it didn’t take anything away from the enjoyment for my reading experience. Given what happens at the end of the novel, perhaps in the next book this idea will be explored a bit more. The plot of this book was not anything new or ground-breaking, but I did enjoy it. It is pretty fast-paced and doesn’t pull back from the brutality that Zeitan faced and inflicted on others in her quest for vengeance. I feel as if Zhao walked a good balance between this being a YA novel and not pulling any punches for the reader. From the breaking of Zeitan’s feet so that they could be formed into the lotus position to the memories of what was done to Li Shimin during his imprisonment and training, Zhao paints a world that does not see people as more than tools to be used and discarded at the ruling elite whim. While there were a few surprises in this novel, the main plot moved on an expected path. That didn’t bother me, but if you don’t like predictable novels then this might be a bit of a disappointment. Now, I can see why people don’t like Zeitan as the main character or have an issue with the writing style. I saw a couple of reviews state that it was all surface-level feminism and more preformative than saying something important. As this is a fantasy novel about giant metal robots fighting aliens, I didn’t need it to be a deep reflection on feminism and how misogyny hurts everyone. I also feel as if Zhao touched on this slightly, but it was not the focus of the novel and I was okay with that. Then again, I can see how at times the writing was a bit over the top in terms of a woman’s feral anger, but I even found that refreshing. Zeitan started the book ready to die and it makes sense that when you are already ready to die, you would make ruthless and reckless decisions until she was given a reason not to in terms of her found family. I would have liked more characterization with the two main males in the story, Li Shimin and Yizhi, but I did enjoy how they worked with Zeitan and all her schemes. While they start off as the archetypes you expect in a love triangle, the gentle and understanding best friend and the bad-boy enemy turned lover, that is expanded a bit by the end of the novel. Li Shimin had been so beaten down by a society that he became the monster they wanted him to be while Yizhi believed that there was good in people, but was the product of being the son of his scheming father. Other than in the very beginning, neither one of them wished to stop Zeitan, but they did focus her schemes on something that wouldn’t result in her being murdered outright. They were good side characters, but I couldn’t say there was much about their characters that stood out. The fact that this YA novel leaned into the love triangle by making it an actual, consensual, triangle was very refreshing. The fact that there was no jealousy from any of the parties and an understanding and respect was great to see. This wasn’t some angst-filled relationship for the sake of angst, but because outside factors had skewed some perceptions. However, it was believable that they would all work with and want each other. I also think that the sex scenes (which are fade to black) were steamy enough for YA without making me feel uncomfortable. Overall, I really enjoyed this novel and will definitely be picking up the sequel when it comes out. I also found Zhao’s acknowledgments funny. Is this a perfect book? No. However, I think it is a fun ride and really captures the anger that a lot of female-presenting people feel when faced with how the system is against them from birth. Maybe not always in the same brutal ways, but against them all the same. It seems to be a rather polarizing novel, but for me, it is a 4.5 Star that I am rounding up to 5.

#book review #booklr #Iron Widow #xiran jay zhao #4.5 out of 5

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wouldnt-it-be-hilarious-if-i · 2 years

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🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿

Currently listening to: 100 years by Five For Fighting

🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿

Thinking about this poem I wrote in 2016. It's very timely. I really always had the answers, didn't I? I like the line where I say, "Come back to the world, stop loving her and love yourself."

And the line where I say, "When you see her fire burning your heart away, shoo it. Pour water on it and tell it to go." The hurricane references a girl I really loved when I was younger. We used to quote John Green to each other, "If people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane." I was always the drizzle.

I wish I could say I wish I'd have listened to my own advice sooner, but I think that's a naive thing to say.

I think knowing is different from accepting.

I always knew I needed to love myself more. But I couldn't accept it because I had never learned how. I wasn't in an environment fit for growth and self love.

Now, I think I'm getting closer to an era of self love. I saw a TikTok earlier that was talking about how healing and growth aren't about becoming the perfect versions of ourselves. It's about loving every version of ourselves, even the ones that we think are hard to handle or love.

It made me think about my best friend. We both refer to me as a swamp monster because I live in absolute filth either when I'm in a very creative season or a several weeks long depressive episode. Some of my other friends call me a goblin.

I try really hard to appear as if I know what is going on, but I'm generally confused as hell and distracted halfway through any given moment. I am never as put together as I appear. I'll say I'm the happiest I've ever been and just straight up forget about the massive crying panic attack I had like two hours before that over a hypothetical problem I created in my head. I forget that I am simultaneously unmedicated and mentally ill and doing better often.

My room is never, and I do mean never, in a state of organization unless I am trying very hard to Be Normal About Things or I'm Turning Over A New Leaf (that will last about a week at best). I'm actually really gross, and I'm very insecure about it. I'll never be one of those girls who has a skincare regimen that they stick to every night or who wake up, smell like magic and pixie dust and then get everything done before 9 am.

But even more than that, I'm generally just really freaking anxious and depressed. Most people who meet me are surprised to learn this. They see me as sunny and put together and sure of what I plan to do next.

And I'm never any of those things without all of the fear and doubt and tears behind it. I am constantly dealing with crippling self doubt and hatred. Knowing all of this about myself, I genuinely never thought anyone could possibly love me if they knew the real me. My parents always told me so: For example, "You'd have such pretty lips if you didn't pick them. Nobody will ever want to kiss you with those crackhead lips." (That's an OCD trait, and it goes hand in hand with my trichotillomania. I pull my hair out often, and it's another thing I'm insecure about.)

I tend to lie about who I really am. I don't tell people that I peel the skin off of my lips until they bleed all over my fingers until they see it. I don't tell people that the reason I don't wear makeup is not just because I'm allergic to most of it, but because I don't want people to be disappointed when they see how I really look. I don't tell people that sometimes I sleep with dozens of half finished bottles of sprite and candy wrappers in my bed because I'll go weeks forgetting that I'm living in a space and that mess does accumulate into a mountain if you don't take care of it. Hello, ADHD.

I'll always tell people about all the things I can do and carefully arrange myself to seem a lot less confused than I am. Sometimes, rather than admit that I fucked up, I'll lie and blame things that did not happen because I'm terrified of getting into trouble with others for disappointing them. I hate lying. But damn, I do it a lot when it comes to making sure no one ever knows these things about me.

I never thought anyone could possibly love me if they knew the real me. And then I met my best friend and she taught me otherwise. She's seen every side of me, and has never once made me feel bad about it. She's heard my scariest, most traumatic intrusive thoughts and loved me regardless. She's seen my room at my worst (poor girl has been a bit shaken, but she's good now I promise 😂) and me in the depths of some of the worst depressive episodes of my life and she's held me through them.

And I knew she meant that she loved me no matter what when after I started taking antidepressants, my family didn't care at all that I was happier. But she hugged me and cried a little because she had not seen me smile in months.

She told me that she missed me while I was gone. She knew I was still there behind those depressive episodes, but she missed the me that belts out songs off key and serenades her with old Justin Bieber songs. And that was when I realized that through all my depressive episodes, she had been there. To comfort me. To love me. To make art with me. To pull me back from letting it consume me entirely.

She literally taught me what it means to be unconditionally loved outside of familial obligation. And she's part of the bigger reasons why I believe that I am capable of not only healing, but learning to love myself unconditionally.

I think meeting her was a step toward teaching my higher self. I really think almost everyone since her has been.

🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿🍄🌿

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 3 years

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Whenever I post something like this, about how in direct opposition science and religion are, there’s always some fool who comes along to insist that they “believe” in both science and religion, so yes, they absolutely can coexist.

They pop out words like “metaphysics,” which is a form of philosophy, not a form of physics, and is therefore limited to mental exercises of what might be, not what is. Or they pop out “non-overlapping magisteria,” which is really just a phrase to pretend that things that don’t exist in the real world can be regarded as as a different type of “real,” other than real-in-reality, and therefore expect the same recognition as things that do. It’s a way to leverage Special Pleading (a fallacy) to insist they’re immune from the Burden of Proof everything else is subject to. They describe things as being beyond science, and outside human detection or experience. And then act like they don’t sound like complete clowns who’ve already negated their entire proposition.

They ramble about earlier scientists being religious. Ignoring the fact that religion held societal power, and thus anyone who expected to continue to retain their professional and academic standing needed to declare their religiosity, whether it was true or not. Ignoring that the church pursued science expecting to have its superstitions affirmed, and concealed results that were theologically inconvenient, and threatened those who discovered them (see: Galileo).

By then an old man of 69 who in his defense referred to his "pitiable state of bodily indisposition," Galileo was charged with "vehement suspicion of heresy." He had to renounce "with sincere heart and unfeigned faith" his belief that the sun, not Earth, was the center of the universe and that Earth moved around the sun and not vice versa, as ecclesiastical teaching dictated.

-- “Galileo vs the Pope” by Hal Hellman, The Washington Post (Sept 9, 1998)

Ignoring the overrepresentation of irreligious scientists in the modern day, compared to the general populace, as science has broken away from its primitive roots and outgrown its parent. And certainly ignoring that there isn’t a single one of these religious scientists who has been able to test and validate the superstitious claims of their religion, despite being the most qualified of all to do so -- and if they can’t, then what makes the garden variety religionist think they can, or that non-believers should accept what even an expert has not been able to justify?

They misrepresent Einstein, and name-drop or even quote other religious scientists, none of whom have ever used their religion to find new scientific discoveries, nor used science to justify the magical claims of own religion, or any of the others. Despite being the most qualified of all to do so. This appears to be aligned with the construction of their superstitious beliefs, which rely entirely on quotes and storytelling, and not on evidence or substantiation of any variety.

“It was, of course, a lie what you read about my religious convictions, a lie which is being systematically repeated. I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it.”

-- Albert Einstein, ”Albert Einstein the Human Side” (1981) by Helen Dukas.

They say things like “can science explain X?” and when our knowledge about the everything of the universe inevitably comes up incomplete, then claim it is answered by their science-avoidant thing. Which is like saying that because I don’t currently own a car, I can never own a car, therefore an invisible, immaterial, undetectable flying Santa sleigh exists. Because their belief in Santa is not constrained by needing to be real in reality as as the limiting factor of mere science. But you can’t solve a mystery by invoking an even greater mystery.

This, of course, sometimes results in the claim that “you worship science!” or “science is your religion”. Science is, of course, simply a method for discovering, explaining and predicting reality with as little bias and error as possible. If there was a better, more accurate way, we would use it, but its present success is demonstrable by all the modern everything around even believers. What this means is that this is code for “you worship reality” or “reality is your religion.”

Or they may say that “you don’t understand science!” when the science you don’t uncritically accept is their bullshit strawman version that they think supports their superstitions, but is merely their attempt at a Middle Ground fallacy to prop up ideas they should have already discarded. Which means they are, by definition, not doing science.

Or accuse you of being “close minded.” Open mindedness enables an idea to be entertained, but does not obligate one to accept it. It’s not “open minded” to accept an idea as “true” uncritically, without good reason, good evidence, good justification. And it’s not “close minded” of anyone, or science, to reject an idea believers will not, and seemingly cannot, substantiate. It’s not the skeptic’s fault that the believer can’t justify their claim. Indeed, it’s inevitably the believer who is close minded, as they can’t and won’t entertain the notion that they’re wrong and that there could be another explanation.

“Faith” is close mindedness.

Science: If you don't make mistakes, you're doing it wrong. If you don't correct those mistakes, you're doing it really wrong. If you can't accept that you're mistaken, you're not doing it at all.

-- Richard Feynman

What they demonstrate is that it is they who do not understand science. Science explores specific propositions, not vague, poetic ones. They must be testable. They must be defeasible. They must be falsifiable. They must be replicable. It uses evidence. The evidence must be tested to both confirm and disconfirm (falsify) the proposition (e.g. a control group). Although it may propose possible implications, it must not draw conclusions beyond its evidence, testing and results. Those conclusions are tentative and subject to testing, confirmation and refutation by others, and revision or withdrawal as a result.

Religion works the opposite way. You start with your conclusion and then try to find evidence that props it up, seeking only verification - through poetic interpretation or outright misrepresentation - and never seeks falsification. The scripture insists that the god claim is untestable - not only can you not test it, you’re forbidden from even trying. Falsification is not acknowledged or honestly addressed. What revision there is consists of the panicked look on a believer’s face when they discover what their scripture says that they didn’t know, and the hasty post-hoc rescue “it’s a metaphor!” When no evidence exists, the belief is supported by faith. When faith results in contradictory and incompatible conclusions, more faith is added to conclude that their faith is the right faith.

“Could anything convince you that your conclusion is wrong?” “Yes, evidence.” ← this is science. “No, nothing.” ← this is faith, and believers are proud of it.

It doesn’t matter if you can find a way to make the religious mythology fit the scientific reality. That’s not the point. The problem is that these are incompatible ways of determining truth.

In order to find truth, you must risk being wrong. The religionist does not accept this as an option, declares themselves to be “right” on no grounds whatsoever, and thus truth surrenders to comfort and the emotional satisfaction of “dearly held” belief.

The religionist who insists they “believe” in both science and religion is not evidence that science and religion are compatible. They’re evidence that cognitive dissonance is a real thing, and that people can rationalize their way through inconsistent skepticism, inconsistent standards and inconsistent beliefs.

#Darwin Chandler #religion #science #science vs religion #religion vs science #cognitive dissonance #cognitive bias #religious scientists #religion is a mental illness

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nikadoesanart · 3 years

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Why I think Bones animated the light novels in the order they have so far

Before I start, I will preface this by directly quoting Asagiri as he did say himself:

“...each of the plots in [novel] Volumes 1 through 4 are independent with their own timelines that follow different protagonists, meaning you can start them in any order.” (55 Minutes, Afterword, Yen Press translation)

This was of course written at the time of 55 Minutes being written (which was first released in October of 2016), but this has so far held true for all of the following light novels except for Storm Bringer. So officially speaking, you don’t necessarily have to read the bsd light novels in numerical/release order or chronological to the story order either, though you’d probably want to have read or watched 15 Years Old before Storm Bringer. Also, considering that 55 Minutes and Dead Apple are the only ones that take place during the main story, you may want to have at least finished season 2 or read up to the end of ch 37 in the manga so that you’re familiar with the characters (because these two take place shortly after where s2 left off).

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to why I personally think that Bones has decided to adapt the light novels that have been animated so far in the order that they have. Seeing as Dead Apple was pretty much requested by Bones for Asagiri to write (according to his afterword in the novel), I won’t really be going over it.

Anyway, my theory is that they chose to adapt Entrance Exam>Dark Era>15 YO because in that order the light novels are most relevant to which part of Dazai’s past and mental state are tied to the current main story arc being animated. This doesn’t make Dazai the protagonist in the main story, in fact he never has been as of yet, but this is how the audience is able to slowly uncover Dazai’s past and try to learn about how his mind works. Keep in mind that even the novels with Dazai’s name in the title and even what few scenes there are focused on Dazai and his POV in them, they are not actually from his POV and we are given the absolute minimal clues as to what he may be thinking.

In s1 we don’t know much about his past yet but Entrance Exam/Azure Messenger helps to highlight his eccentricities while also showing his cunning, but also addresses the question of how Dazai and Kunikida are able to work together. Atsushi himself starts the arc off by questioning how two people with seemingly such incompatible work ethics and personalities are able to work together and even became work partners in the first place.

This was cut out from the anime but the novel also shows how Dazai can act sketchy at times and acts on his own behind people’s backs. There were also a lot of overall changes from the Entrance Exam novel to the point that I find it more fitting to refer to the novel as Entrance Exam and the animated arc as the Azure Messenger arc due to how much was cut and changed, but that’s not the point here.

Next, Dark Era shows not only that Dazai used to work in the Port Mafia, but also some of his closest connections within it and why he left, which becomes relevant during the Guild arc. It also introduces us to the Lupin bar, which Dazai is later shown holding a match box from there as a relic of Oda, who he always thinks about/remembers in difficult situations. Dark Era is also where we’re introduced to Ango and what led to Dazai pretty much despising and refusing to forgive Ango.

15 Years Old mainly shows us the relationship between Dazai and Chuuya. This includes how they first met, the earliest instance we know of when Dazai can act his age, but also touches on the topic of Mori’s leadership. It takes place shortly after when Mori became leader, so the choices Mori makes during this time are crucial to both him and the PM. The importance of Mori’s leadership is later mentioned again during the Cannibalism arc, and we see Chuuya respecting Mori as a fellow leader at the end of 15 YO. We also see in 15 some of Dazai’s mentality as a strategist and leader when directly under Mori’s influence, and it is Mori’s teaching that got Dazai to a point that the only reason Fyodor was able to be found in s3 was because Dazai claimed that it’s how he would act in that situation. This is shown in some of Dazai’s unnecessary cruelty and use of excessive force during the arc (ie. continuing to shoot a dead body). 15 also shows not only how Dazai and Chuuya first met but also how they are both able to act their age around each other. Their constant bickering shows that they can both act like the teens or young adults that they are (depending on when we’re looking at) but also that they already have at least some respect and trust for each of them being their own person and each having their own strengths. They’re both being used as very important and powerful tools by their respective groups during 15, but they still realize that the other can each make their own decisions. Dazai is the one that tells the Sheep that Chuuya is his own person and Chuuya assures Shirase and Yuan of the captured members safety and he later realizes the extent of Dazai’s foresight after asking him to spare the kids, which Dazai mentions was part of his original plan anyway.

What’s interesting to me is how during the Rimbaud fight, Dazai claims that he’s started to become interested in living again yet only 1 year later in Storm Bringer, he is at his absolute worst in terms of what we’ve seen so far of his mental health. In regards to everything that went into Dazai’s mental health plummeting between 15 and SB and then improving again between SB and the Dragon Head Conflict, for now we can only hope to one day learn more about the DHC, how Dazai and Oda first met and what happened to Dazai during Chuuya’s first year in the PM. Also do keep in mind that 15 Years Old was originally written at Bones’ request (you can read the full afterword here).

In my opinion, when you think of these as some of the reasons for the order of the light novel adaptations so far, it makes sense to me. I do still question why we got Dead Apple instead of getting 55 Minutes animated, as they take place at around the same time on the timeline. However, if Dead Apple and even the Walking Alone OVA have proved anything, it’s that Chuuya’s mere presence alone brings in the money. Entrance Exam and Dark Era are respectively light novels 1 & 2 but #3 is Untold Origins of the Agency, which has a short story about Atsushi’s entrance exam being planned (A Day at the Agency) followed by the story of how Ranpo and Fukuzawa met and how this led to the need for the ADA to be founded. Personally, I don’t think Untold Origins is too necessary to the main story until Bones gets to animating chapter 71 onwards. In fact, if you want to look at the order of the Japanese release dates for the novels, Gaiden (January 2016) came out between Untold Origins (May 2015) and 55 Minutes (October 2016), yet with the official translations for the novels it’s been skipped over. But at the end of the day, the order Bones has chosen so far is by no means wrong or right. I’m not sure if the information regarding who chose which novel to adapt when is available to the public (if it’s in an interview or one of the guidebooks, hopefully there are translations available so please lmk if you know anything!), but hopefully Asagiri was involved in that part of the decision making as bsd is originally his story.

If you want to see my more in depth predictions for when the remaining light novel anime adaptations would take place (as in which order they’d be animated) and my estimated screen time for each, you can check it out here.

Also last minute thought/realization but they probably could’ve animated A Day at the Agency instead of Entrance Exam and achieved almost the same goal? I think I’ll revisit this idea later after rereading the novels eventually.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd spoilers #bsd theories #bsd light novel #bungo stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd dazai

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hitory--chan · 3 years

Text

Day 5: Queen of the Garden

(Ranked T)

Title: In my withered roses you lay resting

Around the forest there were always legends of all kinds, about fantastic creatures and horrifying monsters beyond human imagination, about nymphs, fairies, werewolves and giant snakes that would devastate the entire town in a few minutes if they wanted to; they were just legends, stories to amaze or scare whoever would listen to them, hypnotizing the virgin ear that listened to them with their magnetism, leading their victim to demand more, driving them mad in the search to satisfy that need.

But there was one in particular, the biggest, the most fantastic, the most sublime and the most terrifying no one ever dared to tell, the one whose existence was only known to the oldest of the town who defended tooth and nail its veracity, but nevertheless only tell each other, remembering and crying the intense agony that each word conveyed.

The legend of Hinata, the queen of the garden in the heart of the forest, and Sasuke, the infamous king who without any army was able to penetrate the invulnerable barriers that protected the queen.

The king who never returned.

“My King!” One of her courtesans shouted. "Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

He ignored her, tightening the draws of his armor as the guards placed the shoulder pads and handed him his helmet, which he took.

It was still dark, the moonlight hanging over the entire sleeping kingdom as he prepared to leave.

"My lord, he turned, now listening to his first officer, Kakashi, who was speaking to him "Are you sure this is a good idea? Going into the forest alone?"

"It's not something I didn't do before, Kakashi, you should know" he replied without much interest as he grasped the reins of Onyx, the majestic black horse that had accompanied him for years.

"I understand, but it's not the same, your majesty, it never got beyond the Stone River" the man said, his voice so slow and dull as if it was something he was trained to say, but Sasuke knew him better than many as to know that there was concern hidden behind those dead tones “It is a great risk to take to find a woman that we do not even know exists”

"People are dying Kakashi, of hunger, of disease ..." He inclined his head a little towards his first officer, not enough to really see him “If that woman, that… witch exists, it will be our chance to solve all the evils that afflict us, if I find her, then I save my people”

“And if you do not find her, my lord?”

“Then we will have to take more drastic actions, actions that I don't think we're ready for right now, Kakashi”

The silence that followed told Sasuke that the man knew what he was referring to.

They had recently fought a war against a rival kingdom that wanted to take over all his lands. They attacked in the middle of the night, cowardly seeking to have the tactical advantage darkness gave them without expecting the surprise that they were ready to fight back with much more violence than would be expected of a small kingdom that barely prospered in comparison to others. Many lives were lost on both sides, but his army had kept the slightest advantage over the invaders and captured the main officers of the intruders, executing him right on the battlefield as he had ordered them to do, closing any openings to negotiation the rival might propose.

They rose above them and conquered, drove the remaining invaders from their lands and proclaimed their victory, but they had not come out without casualties, as happened in any other war.

Their crops were burned and their women desecrated. Bodies of infants who had adventured out of their hiding spots now laying among the corpses of their fathers and men who sacrificed their lives in the name of the king's sovereignty, waiting to be buried or burned while their mothers, wives, and brothers mourned their losses.

Soon after came the diseases, plagues so violent that even the best physicians in the kingdom had succumbed to permanent contact with the infected and were now lying in beds, signaling with weak voices to proceed to their charges.

The only hope was the woman who dwelt in the depths of the forest, a queen in her own right, the oracle told him, whose miraculous fingers brought life to everything she touched. A witch, servant of the devil, counterattacked the priest, who would only bring bliss before plunging them further into misery.

A queen, a witch, Sasuke didn't care, he only wanted her hands to heal his people, determined to cut them off if necessary to save the few that were left.

Then Sasuke mounted his horse and reached out his hand, taking the sword that Kakashi had prepared for him and fastening it to his waist strap, where it would remain with him throughout his journey.

"Itachi will be in charge while I'm gone" he decreed, looking at his court, who looked at him in surprise and disbelief.

“My king, my lord!” The woman spoke again “His majesty is very ill for this task, I fear that his condition is too delicate to carry the role, your highness!”

“My brother already ruled once in a worse state than the one he currently is in while waiting for me to grow up to cede the throne, he certainly can do it a bit more while I'm gone”

“But sir…!”

"In case his condition worsens ..." he interrupted, with a tone of voice as icy as the look he gave the woman "in case he´s not an act to continue, then Kakashi will make all the decisions in my absence and my brother's disability”

Several indignant murmurs were heard from the other members of the court, annoyed by the possibility of a military man would rule them, but with the same look he gave the insolent woman, he quieted them all.

"Kakashi" he called and the man walked with him towards the limits of the kingdom that served as the border of the forest, trotting slowly as his first officer followed him with great ease "I trust you to keep everyone safe, especially my brother” he said, stopping his steed and staring at the man.

"My king's orders are my perpetual la," Kakashi recited, quoting the motto of imperial strength as he brought his right hand to his heart and bowed to him.

Sasuke nodded, but before starting his horse again, he spoke for the last time.

- And Kakashi ... execute her

Kakashi bowed again and Sasuke pulled the reins of his horse to start running, going into the forest when the first rays of dawn hit the ground, and knowing his order would be carried out without hesitation.

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

Inside the forest the thick trees hid any trace of the sun, giving the illusion that it was still night even though Sasuke knew it must be after eight.

Still he didn't back down, mentally reciting the directions the oracle had given him to find the mysterious woman.

“Once crossed the river of stone, the road will split for you, one more dangerous the other, competing for the new prey that appears before them. Be guided by the horrendous noises that make the bones of the strongest of men tremble, by the trail of perdition from which your eyes will not be able to turn away, from the putrid stench of those who defied the sanctity of the earth who stepped on impure feet.

Along the way you will find death's favorite resting place. Do not drink or eat the natural delicacies that will be shown for you, instead you must use your senses, facing the great beast that will attack from the shadows.

If the combat is satisfactory, then the beast will show its respects by leading you to its queen, otherwise, there will be the place of your last rest"

Naturally, oracles liked to be cryptic with their words to the point of making them indecipherable, but the more than a century old woman who had served three generations of her family had put those fanfare behind her, preferring to be as clear as possible in her revelations than risk a bad future for the kingdom because of misunderstandings out of her tongue.

Upon reaching the Stone River, he took a moment to observe the waters peacefully.

That river had been named this way not only because of the rock formation that simulated a natural bridge in the center of that great pool, just covering its surface with a thin layer of water that made it extremely slippery, but also because of the rock at its bottom, arranged in the shape of spikes so sharp that even the slightest fall on them could cause fatal injuries to the unfortunate victim.

He allowed Onyx to drink some of the water before venturing across the stone bridge.

His horse, fearless just like his owner, also had some afraid. On rare occasions he’d tried to cross that path through the waters with the equine, but his partner had acquired a phobia at that particular step when, being very young, he slipped on the stone and it was almost impossible for him to get back on his feet, almost falling to the bottom of the river when with desperate movements he slid to one side before finally reaching the bank of the river and climbing, being completely exhausted on the grass, all under the frightened gaze of his owner who had remained on dry land while his horse struggled.

He remembers that, after that, he had remained with Onyx there for longer than he ever was in that place, being found by the royal guard and brought to the castle only to remain expectant all night at the possibility of having to sacrifice the animal.

Now, Onyx was a majestic and imposing stallion with more history than half his stablemates, but from time to time he would turn back into a fearful foal when they were near that place.

However, while he normally wouldn't push him any further than he considered Onyx could take, this time around he couldn't afford to be understandable to his horse or to be left without a mount for the rest of the way.

“Come on boy!” He encouraged him, shaking the reins several times and smiling as Onyx, refusing at first, approached the rock and put his front legs on it, whinnying loudly as he took small terrified steps.

Even in the slippery material, the new horseshoes he had had his horse put on were being especially helpful in preventing the equine's legs from slipping over the rock even when Onyx's steps were somewhat shaky, leading the horse to gain a little confidence with every step until he was finally on the other side.

“Well done, Onyx!” He congratulated the horse, patting and stroking his neck before pulling out an apple, which he happily accepted.

He wasted no time and continued with the journey, reaching the place where the road divided in three.

At first glance they did not seem dangerous at all, leading him to wonder if the oracle had been wrong with her interpretation or if he had deviated from the correct path himself, but the sudden sound of something sliding on the ground caught his attention and put his whole body on guard again, waiting for any sign of attack.

Instead what he received was the cawing of birds, crows, he recognized, noises of something sliding and the screeching of bats that flew directly to his face at that moment, causing Onyx to panic and stand up on his two hind legs, almost making Sasuke to fall.

When he regained his balance and Onyx was back on all fours, Sasuke looked at the central path, remembering what the oracle had said and thinking that this should be the way to go, so he made the horse move forward, despite the reluctance of the animal.

The putrid stench started only a few minutes on the road before dead animals began to appear on the road, being replaced only a few meters later by human corpses in various states of putrefaction, from skeletons to bodies that should barely have been there for a few days. , and even recognized the uniform worn by the third-rank guards in his kingdom, only stuffed with bones, each corpse wrapped by vines and other local weeds.

He was forced to breathe as little as possible when the stench became impossible to bear, coming to vomit in the section where everything was strongest, without having the opportunity to breathe until the road began to clear of so much death, showing to his sight a great stone plateau clothed with climbing vines and rosebuds.

He got off his horse and gave him another snack, tying the reins to the tree farthest from the ferns and other plants full of fruit that he knew they shouldn't eat.

Slowly and carefully he approached the great structure, gazing at it in fascination. Up close, he noticed the spines that protruded around the roses of different sizes that decorated the plateau, which, he noticed, were deceptively sharp, cutting him at the simple touch and spilling a thick drop of blood that bathed the thorn that caused his wound.

The sudden tremor in his spine appeared as the slight trembling of the earth beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of something sliding - something that must have been big and heavy, from the way it sounded - and then deafening silence was present. .

“Onyx!” He shouted, turning around when he heard the horse whinny and stop suddenly, expecting to meet the animal where he had left it, however in its place he found another type of animal, giant and with shiny black scales, which were only cut with the three red lines of scales on the tip of its tail, raised in the air with a swaying motion.

The gigantic snake kept its eyes fixed on his, hissing and showing off his forked white tongue.

Eyes wider than they had ever been in his life, he diverted them just a little to the rest of the great reptile's body, almost growling in pain at the bulge protruding from where, he guessed, was the stomach of the immense snake, sure it was the product of his horse swallowing.

Feeling the flame of fury ignite and grow in him, he grasped the hilt of his sword in a slow motion and drew it lightly, as the serpent rose a little higher above him.

With one swift movement he pulled it out completely as the snake lunged at him, barely being fast enough to avoid its jaws, but not fast enough to dodge its tail, which slammed it against a tree and left it stamped there until he nailed the sword almost halfway.

Even his powerful armor hadn't been enough to shield him from that blow, catching his breath cut short by the pressure of the limb that had held him captive, but he had no time to think about that as he tried to get away from the great perimeter that covered the snake.

The injured tail slammed into the ground next to him, causing him to stumble from the din it caused.

The reptile's head also collided with the ground a few feet from his back and then glided at high speed towards him, using its nose to push him up when he collided with him and sent him flying into the air as the snake rose again, now with its jaws open.

But Sasuke was able to hold on to the tip of the animal's nose and avoid being swallowed as he had done with his horse by resting his feet against the bottom of the snake's mouth and giving a little jump before it closed it, being helped by the impulse that the same reptile gave him before the abrupt movement it made while trying to make him fall.

Sasuke stayed on the snake's skull and held onto its scales as best he could before stabbing his sword - which he had clung to as much as he could during the attack - into one of the animal's eyes, which let out a shrill and strange sound before, to Sasuke's immense amazement, it made a 180 ° turn and threw himself hard against the floor, taking him with and crashing him on the flat surface, a blow so violent that it caused him to lose his helmet, his mobility and his strength.

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

Only seconds before he lost consciousness he saw the towering snake - now one-eyed - rise above him before launching itself with his jaws open just as Sasuke's eyes finally gave up.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the immense throbbing pain in his head that only got worse when he tried to open his eyes, being hit by the brightest sunlight that forced him to close them again.

Where had so much light come from?

After a while, and when he was sure he could resist it, he opened his eyes again.

It took him a long time to regain the clarity of his sight, but once everything was clear he was astonished at what he saw.

In front of him a large colorful space, green above all, stood proud in all that light. Huge trees were here and there, casting great shadows, covered with fruit in great quantity.

A few meters from him was a lake with crystal clear waters, reflecting everything that was shown from above.

It was only when a slight movement behind him caught his attention that he realized he had been leaning against something cold, and when he turned around he felt as if his entire being had left his body when he found himself face to face with the giant eye yellowish that he recognized instantly.

He backed away quickly, grunting in pain as his muscles protested at his sudden movements, but instead of stopping to ease them, he fought them and reached for his sword at her waist, surprised not to find it.

The snake stared at him for a few seconds before lazily deflecting its head toward the center of the thread that had turned its body.

—You must not fear, it will not hurt you

He turned quickly and looked around, searching for the soft voice that he had said those words.

"Onyx" he breathed out, seeing the mate he had thought he lost, now lying on the grass, asleep on the other side of the lake.

Naturally those words were not said by the animal, but by the other person next to it, who was gently stroking the mane of his horse.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe, incredulous of the moons that were his pupils, beautiful, and that without a doubt were looking directly at him.

The woman stood up and he could see her completely: snowy skin, long dark hair that swayed with every step she took. Her body was covered in leaves, branches and flowers that clung to her like a second layer. The upper part of her was covered by vines up to the middle of her breasts, being enough to cover the most. The lower part was a skirt, much less rigid than the upper one as it was made entirely of green leaves in different sizes, stopping only a few inches above her knees.

A long vine rested in the center of her abdomen, joining the two pieces as one.

She was barefoot and her hair was decorated with the most elaborate flower crown he had ever seen in his life.

As he passed by the lake, he stopped, crouching in the direction of the water, taking from the ground a large leaf of a plant that he did not recognize - and which he had not realized was lying there - and wrapped it gently until it formed a bowl that she plunged into the water until filled it, rising again and resuming its way towards him, now with the makeshift pot that spilled tiny drops from its bottom.

When she finally got to him, he saw her more clearly: thin and natural pink lips, a small and upturned nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes that only marveled her appearance even more, also highlighting the lack of the slightest freckle on her face.

She offered him the bowl but he did not take it at first, still fascinated and hypnotized by the beauty of the woman in front of him until she pushed it to his chest, forcing him to hold it as she took one by one his hands between her smallest and drew them to the sides of the blade, releasing it when she made sure his grip was firm.

She, with one of her index fingers, touched the surface of the water three times in different parts, and when her hand lowered three different flowers grew in the water: a lotus, a calla and a water lily, which immediately disintegrated and mixed with the liquid, giving it a color that ranged from pink to purple.

"Take it" she said, looking into his eyes "it will help you heal."

He didn't know why, but he obeyed her and took the entire tonic in one gulp, grimacing when the bitter taste of it touched his tongue and she slid down her throat.

She smirked and turned around, walking back to where Onyx was now awake, looking at them wearily.

"It's you" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, looking at her completely uncovered back as she walked away from him “The witch”.

Her walking stopped and she turned around again, looking at him now with a frown, offended.

“That's very rude!. I am not a witch" she protested "My name is Hinata Hyuga, and I am the queen of this garden" she said proudly, turning to resume her march as if her statement was enough to deny his word.

But he would not be fooled; he had witnessed for himself what she had done in the water she had given him to drink.

He looked around him and his sight fell on his sword and armor, arranged neatly on the grass near the giant serpent's tail.

Slowly and careful not to be heard he approached his things and took the sword at the same time that with difficulty he took three steps back as the snake's tail moved to hit the ground and then returned to its original position.

It took a bit of trouble, but he was able to raise his sword and hold it with both hands, directing the tip in the direction in which that woman - that witch - was, now again sitting on the grass, stroking the back of his horse, looking at him unimpressed.

"Witch, you will come with me" he demanded "Everything will be easier if you do not resist, you will get a decent treatment: you will sleep in the softest bed, you will wear the finest clothes ... otherwise, if you resist, you ... you ..." He stopped for a moment, not for lack of words, but from shortness of breath —If… if you resist… the dungeon… the smallest and dirtiest dungeon will be…

"You’re hurting them" she interrupted, and he didn't understand.

The witch looked down and he followed her eyes, stopping at the sword that was now stuck in the middle of a small group of flowers.

When had he lowered his sword?

“What did you do to me?” He growled, aware of the progressive loss of strength to which he was subjected.

"It's the medicine" said the witch, calmly "for your body to heal, it must first rest”

And as if that were a command, his body fell apart, causing him to fall to the floor on a tall grass bed that he could swear was not there a moment ago.

- Witch! ... You will pay...

Unconsciousness welcomed him.

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

When he woke up there was still sunlight, quite clear, so he thought that maybe he had only slept a few seconds, but the environment felt different from before and he could hear the distinctive galloping and neighing of Onyx, going here and there as his footsteps slightly covered the happy laugh of the female.

He could not move his body freely, only just his fingers, and mentally he cursed himself for having taken that concoction that this evil woman had given him, clearly using her sorcery to weaken him.

“Your body still needs rest” he could have shuddered at the sudden voice if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed, shortly afterwards the witch's face appeared in his visual range, tilted from above so he could see her “you´ve been very hurt by your confrontation with Munda, your injuries will take a little longer to heal”

He grunted, annoyed.

“Why have you risked your life to get here, mortal?” She asked him, now in a more serious tone.

Then and once again without really knowing why, he began to tell her about his kingdom, about the moments of wealth and prosperity before the war struck, about the deaths and the lack of food that besieged them, making their situation worse. He told her about his brother and his mysterious bedridden illness, about the sudden barrenness of his lands, and how he had preferred to make this trip alone rather than take away much-needed protection in case they tried again to invade them during his absence.

In her face there was no sorrow, annoyance or joy for their misfortunes, instead it was pure curiosity what he could see while he finished explaining the reason why he was looking for her.

"Okay, I'll go with you" she answered with conviction.

He, who had gradually regained mobility to the point where he could now sit up and the waves of heat attacked him insistently, looked at her in surprise, unable to avoid questioning her decision.

"I'll go with you" she confirmed again "However, the starting path is more dangerous than the one you traveled to get here, so you will have to make a full recovery first" She stood up and looked at him “I cannot be away for long, this place depends on me, so I will help your people and leave immediately, it is my only condition”

He watched her, almost denying immediately that he could leave that easily, but he was quick enough to bite his tongue before speaking.

"Okay, then we have a deal" he agreed.

She nodded pleased and stood up, walking away from him and up a tiny hill where she began to press with her fingers the closed buds and the withered flowers that surrounded her, opening and coming back to life with the simple touch of her.

Despite having accepted, in his mind they only danced ways of how he would interrupt her departure, it would be very foolish of him to let her go that easy, a person with her abilities, whether witch or not, was unique, one in a million , and no self-respecting kingdom would let her go that easily.

He could try to convince her by showing her everything that she obviously didn't have in her "garden", the wonders of modernity, and if that couldn't convince her, well, he had dungeons at his disposal that he could trick her into or even without them, but surely he would not lose those abilities from his hands.

Satisfied with that plan, he began to touch the back of both of his hands, searching and removing the splinters that he did not know how he has nailed himself.

Even though Hinata's tonics were helping him recover faster than he normally would, it felt like it was actually taking forever.

There, the days and nights seemed to last longer than normal, as if the clock had 36 hours instead of 24.

Each remedy that Hinata gave her were different and she healed something different, like the one she used to make his bruises disappear, which were a combination of wild flowers and citrus fruits that melted in the water as soon as she created them and released. Those bruises that would normally take a week or more to fade, she had done it in almost three days.

The problem is that she could only give him a tonic for one thing at a time, along with the first one that she had given him so his body relaxes and rests.

Now he was drinking one that she claimed would help with his internal ailments, and he guessed she was referring to the bruised bones that barely allowed her to walk or breathe. This was particularly bitter and she had to take it several times a day, which was a mini torture considering that these wounds would take even longer to heal.

He was washing his armor when he heard her scream.

“No! Go away, you can't be here!”

His skin prickled when she heard it. Had someone entered that place? An ally or an enemy? The great snake that was supposed to be the only one that could make someone else reach that place, Munda, hadn't moved from the rock it had spread on the day before, almost looking dead if it weren't for the hiss it left escape from time to time, maybe someone had found a way to enter without facing the great reptile?

“No! Get away!”

Wasting no time he dropped the piece of armor he was washing into the water and instead grabbed his sword, gripping it tightly and ran - or rather, he limped quickly - looking beyond the trees and bushes until he saw her midnight hair, covered with small flowers of various colors, and he went quickly towards her, who kept her fists clenched and her arms stiff down, slapping the floor with one foot while she kept yelling at whoever was there to leave.

But as he got closer to her, he still couldn't see anyone else; maybe it was some invisible person? It would not be unreasonable to think about that.

Finally, when he got to her side, he saw whoever caused her annoyance.

"This… creature…" she began, making an exasperated gesture with her hand at the wild boar that nonchalantly ate the blackberries from the orchard it raided "This annoying creature won't go away!" I've tried everything but it keeps coming back”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“So much fuss over a wild boar?”

“Is this the name of this demon spawn?” She asked him, looking at him intensely "Do you know him?"

"It's a wild boar, there are hundreds of them in the forest" he said more calmly, dismissing the accusation of her previous question.

“Hundreds?!” She gasped in disbelief.

"Calm down, just ... get rid of him."

“I´ve tried it! But this ... boar keeps coming back”

He let out an exasperated sigh, thinking of suggesting of making her pet snake eat the animal, but dismissed the idea as he thought the reptile was pretty useless when it don´t came to attacking and killing unsuspecting humans and their horses near the plateau of stone.

Since he first woke up he had only seen it move a few inches and change position, so another idea occurred to him.

“Can you hold it?” He asked him “with your ivy?”

She looked at him curiously and suspiciously, but instead of answering vocally, she raised a hand and made a few short movements with her fingers before clenching her fist, catching the animal that began to screech in panic.

He approached it, and with a certain movement, cut off it head.

When he heard her loud gasp he looked back and there she was, her brows furrowed, her eyes staked and both of her hands covering her mouth.

He looked back at the now dead animal, grabbed it head and raised it before asking.

“Do you know fire?”

Sasuke sat on a rock while at the same time bringing the now cooked boar meat to his mouth, biting off a large chunk and tearing it from the rest so he could eat it.

Sitting on another rock on the other side of the bonfire he had made, Hinata found herself with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, looking at him with such intensity as if she wanted to make his head explode with just her powerful gaze.

She was upset with him, that was clear. Since he had killed the animal and cut its meat into smaller portions so he could stick them into branches and put them on the fire to cook.

The turning point, however, was when he gathered branches and leaves and started the fire that he had surrounded with rocks of different sizes as a barrier so that the fire did not spread.

Apparently, she could forgive him for killing an animal even if she was clearly against it, but lighting wood and using leaves as a burning material was where she drew the line, practically declaring enmity at the prolonged silence she had maintained.

It was funny to tell the truth, even if preparing that meat and the dressing he had bathed it with to give it a little more flavor had been torture for his sprained wrist, it was worth it if I could see her normally relaxed and smiling face distorted with annoyance and disappointment, her lower lip sticking out childishly.

Furthermore, and despite the wide variety of fruits she had been feeding him - more delicious than he had ever eaten - he had really missed the taste of meat on his palate.

“Hey!” He called her even though it wasn't necessary, since she hadn't taken her gaze from him for a second. "Try a little" he said, spreading some meat even though he was too far for her to reach.

That scandalized her.

“I will not do it!” She vigorously refused, looking quite offended by his proposal “I'm not a savage!”

"Me neither" he said, shrugging even though he wanted to burst in laughs at her expression.

“You are eating a living being”

“You eat the children of your plants, but I don't judge you for doing that”

The expression on her face finally overcame him, making him laugh.

With difficulty and care, he rose to his feet and walked around the fire, sitting next to her and extending with his good hand the piece of meat he himself had previously been eating.

"Try a little" he repeated, but she pursed her lips and turned her face away, refusing.

“No, I do not like”

"You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it yet" he told her, repeating the words his mother had repeated so much to the fussy eight-year-old he was.

But she kept refusing, so he took another approach they used to use with him when he was especially difficult to feed: negotiation.

"How about this" he began “If you try a little of this, I promise I won't complain and take all your strange meds even if they taste like hell itself, you don't have to like it, just try a little”

She looked at him scrutinizingly, apparently looking for some kind of dishonesty, but he just brought his injured wrist to the center of his abdomen, in a well-camouflaged dirty little manipulative move, which he knew was working when she looked at his wrist and then again to in his eyes.

“Just a little?” He nodded "And will you take the medicine without complaining?" He affirmed again.

Hinata closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again in the form of a long sigh.

She opened her eyes again, now with a look of determination and nodded.

He smiled and brought the meat to her mouth.

“W-wait!” she yelled, holding his wrist.

He was really having a hard time not laugh again.

Without letting go his wrist, she barely opened her mouth and bit into some of the meat, chewing it and stopping after swallowing it.

He looked at her expectantly, watching as she frowned again and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.

Was it really that bad?

He began to feel guilty for forcing her to do so, but he was surprised when she now took a bigger bite, taking the meat from his hand to grab it herself, saying between sobs

"It's good!" she sniffed and cried harder as she ate more of it.

________________________

That night he woke up because of the pain that attacked his healthy wrist, grunting and looking for the reason for that, and when he looked at it, he was surprised and out of breath to see how a bracelet of branches wrapped him, which would not be a problem if it was not for the fact that they seemed to come straight out of his skin.

________________________

Another few days passed and he had kept thinking a lot about his situation.

Due to his suspicions, he decided to do an experiment.

For a few days he stayed especially close to her, touching her skin with his fingertips in the most subtle way he could, leading him to offer help during the moments when she did her self-imposed tasks that were not really necessary - there was not much to entertain herself with, he supposed — and despite confusion at his sudden need to help, she agreed and directed him what to do, frustrating him when any of those tasks kept him away from her.

But at the end of the day he touched her enough without going overboard - tapping her shoulder to get her attention or patted it awkwardly as he congratulated her with a "good job" - and then he walked away from her and went to the makeshift cot she had created for him, leaving her more confused than at first.

The first night he waited awake for something to happen, for the branches to start coming out or for his skin to turn green, he wasn't entirely sure what could happen, but he waited.

And he received nothing.

He repeated the experiment several more times and nothing happened, so he thought maybe it was a side effect of the last potion she had given him to drink? It would make sense that his body is no longer producing more vegetation by changing the type of medicine she was giving him, and it would also make sense that she did not know that effect as something out of the ordinary, since her own body seemed to produce by itself the plants that dressed her.

Then he forgot the topic, classifying it as a one-time occurrence.

Until he wasn't.

That morning, when he no longer had any kind of ailment and was beginning to feel he was finally regaining his strength, he had helped Munda - who, he learned, was really peaceful when he was not protecting the entrance to that garden - to get rid of the little debris that had stuck to him after his last shedding of skin.

"Good work," Hinata said, patting him on the shoulder as best she could since he was significantly taller than her “Munda's shedding of skin is usually a disaster because it is more resistant than normal, so I always have a hard time cleaning it when it's in season” she revealed, now with her hand fixed on his shoulder “you are very good at that”

He accepted her congratulations with a small hint of pride on her chest.

They passed the day with normally, and at night, while taking a bath in the lake, a sudden pain attacked his shoulder.

When he tried to move his shoulder in circles, he couldn´t, the pain and stiffness prevented him from the slightest movement, then he brought his other hand over said shoulder to try to massage himself, but when he felt his fingers prick, He stopped.

Surprised, he looked at his shoulder and couldn't believe what he saw: it was covered in thorns right where Hinata had touched it.

The fire of anger ignited in him and spread like forest fire, was that it? Her hands? Were her hands causing his body to produce leaves and thorns as if it were a simple plant? Although, now that he thought about it, he had been a fool not to realize it before, after all, she was nothing more than a witch whose hands could grow trees and flowers out of nowhere.

He had been fooled. He had let his guard down and this witch was turning him into another plant in her garden.

Who many more had she done this to?

He looked at the surrounding trees for the hint that any of them were once a man, but he had done his job so well that there was not the slightest trace of a previous humanity in them.

Angry, he left the lake and put on his pants, not caring they were dirty and dusty from the activities he had done that day. He dressed in his armor and took the sword with him, searching for Hinata and finding her, as always, in the center of the small flower-covered hill that surrounded her.

His quick and heavy steps caught his attention, turning and smiling at him when she saw him approaching, but that expression quickly changed when he entered, stepping carelessly on the flowers that she loved so much.

"Sasuk ..!"

"In two days we will leave," he interrupted, placing the sword under her chin and applying enough pressure so the tip dug lightly into her neck, hurting her “I have already lost a lot of valuable time with your stupid games, as of today, I command”

He turned around without giving her the opportunity to speak and went to the farthest part of that garden, where he found what seemed to be the oldest tree of all, the most leafy, where he sat down and pressed his back against it, crossing his arms with his sword still in his hand, quickly creating in his mind all the logistics of what he would do next.

______________________

The desperate neighing of Onyx woke him up.

He hadn't realized when he had fallen asleep, but it seems as if the apocalypse had taken place once he closed his eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear the blurry view of him until everything was terrifyingly sharp.

In front of him, Onyx kept crying, rising on his hind legs and then dropping the front legs in heavy blows, kicking up the dust with each fall.

It was daytime, he could tell, but the whole environment was so bleak that his brain had a hard time understanding it.

He looked around him, all the space that had previously been green and colorful had turned to the darkest gray he had ever seen. The trees shed their leaves at an impressive speed, the same ones that were now on the ground, surrounding him.

He tried to take one, but the blades were so brittle they broke with the simple touch.

"Onix, take it easy" But the horse ignored him; instead, he whinnied louder as if urging him to stop and then ran, leaving him behind.

He walked carefully, looking everywhere: the bushes were dry but still held some of their fruits, of which he took one and put it in his mouth only to spit it out instantly, disgusted by the horrible taste of the previously delicious blackberry had taken. As he walked, a foul stench began to fill his nostrils, aggravating the closer he got to the lake, until he realized that was where it came from. The waters, previously clean and clear, were now as black and thick as tar.

What was happening?

It didn't take long for him to find the cause.

Still on the small hill was Hinata, motionless and with her head bowed, the flowers around her were wilted. Munda surrounded the hill, making a great circle with its whole body, as trying to be a wall of protection for her owner.

The great snake gave him a warning hiss, glaring at him, now with both of its healthy eyes, as if it was challenging him to come closer.

Even with the threat of the reptile, he did, he knew how protective he was, but he had learned that in here Munda was more like a puppy playing at being brave than the gigantic and terrifying snake really was.

Already within the circle of protection of him everything was more horrible, here the flowers were not withered, and instead they seemed burned. Hinata's body remained immobile, not even seemed to breathe, and when he surrounded her and was face to face with her, he was surprised by the horrible state that in just a few hours she had gotten.

Her skin was as gray as the rest of the earth, her previously pink lips were now dangerously close to black, almost all the flowers in her hair and crown had lost their petals and the ones that remained would fall at any moment. Her eyes were open and she kept them that way, without blinking, and the only sign that told him there was still life in her was the trail of tears that fell without stopping.

He crouched in front of her and called out, but he didn't get the slightest bit of recognition from her.

He grabbed her face and winced at the ease of movement he had from her, even if her body seemed stiffer than could be possible.

Then the dark green trail that fell from her throat to her abdomen caught his eye, and he felt as if he had been hit with the strongest metal as he remembered what he had done.

Was this his fault?

"Hinata," he called her, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes, which seemed to be empty. "Hinata, I'm sorry."

But his attempts were in vain because she did not respond or make the slightest movement that indicated she would do it at some point.

Desperation began to fill him and he didn't know what to do, stroking her face and trying to wipe the tears away, but they kept falling and instead, sliding over and around his thumbs, mocking his unsuccessful attempts to stop them.

Then, in a moment of utter despair he did something he had only thought would happen in his dreams, and kissed her.

His lips froze over the cold, chapped of hers, and all ambient sound that he had previously not actively noticed disappeared. He made no move, just stood with his lips joined, praying inside his mind for a reaction, until her lips trembled.

One sob left them, then two, until it was totally a symphony of wailing.

He hugged her and pressed her to his chest, quietly apologizing to her and preferring to hear her cry than remain in the deathly silence of moments ago.

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

Recovery was slower than he could have imagined. While it took less than one night to produce the disaster, fixing it was a matter of a long time.

She avoided talking to him and he couldn't blame her, not after all that he´d caused.

She was just getting back to her normal color and at the same time so did her garden, slowly returning to the green it was when he had arrived.

He hadn't given her a reason for his action in the first place, and he didn't think he'd do it sometime soon - never, if he could.

He just helped her silently, discovering that when he kissed her, she recovered a little more.

So he kept doing it, morning, afternoon and evening, until the pink on her cheeks appeared and the flowers in her hair began to bloom.

That, however, came at a price, and it didn't take long for him to realize that the mere touch was more powerful than that of her fingers.

It first reflected on his nails, which turned brown and their textures became like that of a tree trunk. Then on his chest, where leaves and thorns came out again.

It was a much faster process than he had thought.

"I think we can leave tomorrow" were the first words she spoke to him after days of silence, smiling shyly at him, speaking in a low voice.

He nodded as best she could, his neck stiff from the changes taking place in him.

That day his feet stuck to the ground, and pulling them off felt as if he had lost a limb.

"Sasuke" Hinata called him the next morning, worried about what she was seeing. "Since when has this been happening?"

He looked at her, but he didn't answer.

He was still lying on his grass cot, trapped by the ivy that had tightly encircled his arms, torso, and legs to keep him in place.

"Wait." The desperation in Hinata's voice was palpable, but he could barely recognize anything.

With her hands, Hinata touched the plants on top of him, but was surprised to see that instead of obeying her and disappearing, they seemed to tighten around Sasuke.

She looked at her hands without understanding what was happening and tried again, her eyes clouding over as she obtained the same result as the first time.

The tears left her eyes and the sobs soon appeared the more she tried and failed, becoming more energetic and miserable with every second more.

"Hinata," he called out, barely a hoarse whisper as he felt a new plant grow from his stomach and slide its roots through his esophagus, slowly exiting his mouth "There is no time for me…”

“Do not!" She shouted shakily" Don't say that!”

“S. Save them ... my people ...” he said, barely breathing.

"I-I will, but-but first ..." A sob interrupted her "you first..."

Sasuke wanted to deny, but he had neither the strength nor the mobility to do so.

"There ... there is ... no time for ... me" he repeated.

“Sasuke”

“Please”

Without finding the words to answer him, she just nodded.

Sasuke smiled and looked at her, grateful as a single tear slid down the side of his face as more roots came out of his mouth.

"Thank you" he said, his voice cracking, closing his eyes, "I lo ..."

But he couldn't finish his sentence, losing the last breath he had and finally letting the roots slide out of his mouth and dig into the ground beneath him.

A heartrending scream came from Hinata's mouth, the loss, for the first time in hundreds of years, completely ripping her apart.

She cried over his body, feeling a pain much worse than that of a few days ago completely invade her, feeling again how she was fainting rapidly.

But she still had one last promise to keep.

Unwilling to leave him, Hinata placed both hands on the ground and gathered all of her strength, screaming as she transferred her power beyond the forest, filling all around with the life that he had come looking for.

The earth shook and great thorny walls rose above all of her garden, joining in the center without closing completely, and leaving a small gap through which the sunlight entered.

Exhausted, she walked to where Sasuke's body lay covered in roots and she dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his chest, slowly closing her eyes and melting into him.

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

From the highest tower of the Uchiha castle, the cries of the courtesans invaded the room of King Itachi, whose body was covered by a white sheet as his court surrounded him.

"You did it, my king," Kakashi whispered, watching from the window as the kingdom began to fill with the vivid green of the growing plants and the colorful buds of flowers and fruit that followed them, though his attention was really fixed on the large bud that it had formed in the farthest part of the forest.

While, at the gates of the kingdom, Onyx the steed without his king arrived.

@sasuhinamonth

#sasuhina month #sasuhinamonth2021 #day 5 #sasuhina #queen of the garden #theres a spanish vertion #but im not publishing it here #too long

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kh-genvs3000w22 · 2 years

Text

Shinrin-Yoku

I want to share a really cool practice with you all. And I hope that it inspires you to spend as much time as you can out in nature wherever you can find it. 'Shinrin-Yoku', translated into English as Forest Bathing, is the Japanese study of using the beauty and rejuvenation of the forest to heal. The research and data continue to show a lot of potential in reducing many mental and physical health issues, where the main way to reduce the issues has been medications (Hansen, et al 2017). The idea of letting time in nature heal the mind and reminding people that it is okay to go slowly in life was promoted in Japan during the 1980s as preventative health care (Hansen, et al 2017). The combination of Shinrin-Yoku with environmental interpretation and education has enormous potential to help both environmental degradation and mental health. In our course reading, the Richard Louv term 'Nature Deficit Disorder' (Hooykaas, 2021) refers to the negative effects that can come from people spending all their free time on electronics, for example short attention span, anxiety, and depression, due to missing out on the benefits that come from spending time in nature. Although Louv is not from Japan, his ideas have been connected to Nature Bathing which is seen as a cure for Nature Deficit Disorder. An article by the Government of Canada states that Shinrin-Yoku has been studied for nearly 40 years and is an evidence-based wellness practice (Health Promotion, 2021).

This is one of my favourite spots to experience Shinrin-Yoku at the Bruce peninsula.

Our textbook says that when people are just browsing online, their attention span is often that of a goldfish: that is 9 seconds (Beck et al. 2018). Set the timer and see how long that is—I bet you won't, you'll get bored—you're currently reading this on the web! The idea of nature being a cure can give the environment even more standing against developers. Shinrin-Yoku is motivation to protect natural habitats and visit nature centers with interpreters so visitors can learn and understand the importance of nature in their life: for example, physical improvements of walking, climbing, emotional relaxation, and purposefully being present and interacting in the community. It is very easy to feel isolated in buildings and this disconnect from others can have severe consequences. These issues can be not just reduced but may even be cured with as little as a daily 30 minute walk in the forest. An impactful quote in our textbook says: “But if the trance induced by electronic gadgets makes us oblivious to the wood, the wildflowers, and the songs and smells of resurgent spring, then we have suffered a grievous loss” (Beck et al. 2018). There are a lot of reasons for the disconnect from nature, not just electronics, but the main emphasis for me is to not lose the natural health benefits of nature for children and adults and to make experiencing nature a priority. I would love to hear if anyone else has heard of Shinrin-Yoku or have felt the benefits of time in nature for themselves.

References

Beck, L. Cable, T. Knudson, D. (2018). Interpreting Cultural and Natural Heritage For a Better World. Sagamore-Venture Publishing LLC. ISBN 978-1-57167-865-2

Hansen. (2017). Shinrin-Yoku (Forest Bathing) and Nature Therapy: A State-of-the-Art Review. PMC. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5580555/

Health Promotion .(2021). Health Promotion- Improve your mental well-being with forest bathing and fall into wellness. Government of Canada.

https://www.canada.ca/en/department-national-defence/corporate/news/regional-news/western-sentinel/2021/09/improve-your-mental-well-being-with-forest-bathing-and-fall-into-wellness.ht

Hooykaas, A. (2022). Sense-Making of Nature Interpretation. [Unit 9 course reading]. Nature Interpretation Course University of Guelph.

Wals, A. Bordy, M. Dillon, J. Stevenson, R. (2014). Convergence Between Science and

Environmental Education. Science. https://www-science-org.subzero.lib.uoguelph.ca/doi/10.1126/science.1250515

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Coworker tried to get me fired over breast implants, so I pulled a reverse uno card.

4 years ago now, when I was 24, my mum died of breast cancer, and as both my grandmothers had also died of it I saw a specialist for a screening. I found out I had some cells in one of my breasts that could have turned cancerous at any given moment.

I was told I had a few options:

I could have regular screenings every 3 or 4 months until it does develop into cancer (I was told the risk of the cells becoming cancerous was very high due to family history) but it could also potentially never could turn so I'd just be getting these screenings for no reason

I could get a single mastectomy on the breast with the bad cells, but they'd need to keep an eye on the other one, so I'd still need regular checkups for the other breast

I could get a bilateral mastectomy and remove all of my breast tissue, basically eliminating the risk.

I went for the bilateral mastectomy. It was admittedly the most drastic option but after seeing what cancer did to my mum and grandmothers I didn't want to risk it.

I was warned about scarring but told it should be fairly minor. It wasn't and I was left with 2 huge, pink, jagged scars on either side of my chest, each about an inch long and half an inch wide, and it caused me to go into a severe depression, where it got to the stage of me not even leaving my flat because I didn't want people to see me, throwing out my mirrors, and getting physically sick looking at myself.

I went to a therapist, who suggested a plastic surgeon. The therapist said they'd never normally do that but it was clearly something I was struggling with and I might never get over it, and the therapist could see why I struggle with it. Although I'll admit the therapist did send me to ask about scar reduction. The plastic surgeon suggested a cream, a laser or implants. The cream didn't work, and the laser was both expensive and risky, so I went with the implants. My natural boobs were an F cup so I went with a slightly smaller DD. Since then my mental health has improved and I feel a lot better about the way I look. My confidence has gone up, as has my self esteem. I know I shouldn't put so much into my appearance but I wasn't exaggerating about these scars. Huge, bright pink, jagged, raised, just really awful to look at and I hated seeing myself, and they are now nicely hidden away and you can barely feel them.

In the present day, I'm 28 years old and working in an office. I'm doing a lot better than I was. My coworker, Jill, found out I'd had a boob job (but not about the cancer thing), when myself and my friend from years before the mastectomy were planning a holiday and she made a joke about me going on a plane with my implants, and Jill overheard. By the end of the day, the entire office knew I'd had a boob job, but not why, and half a dozen people confirmed Jill had told them.

Over the next few months Jill made many "jokes" and comments about my chest to coworkers when I was in earshot, at one point saying I had "more plastic than Barbie" and calling me "fake in two ways". I didn't hear this one myself but a friend in the office told me that Jill had at one point referred to me as a "sack of silicone".

IDK what her problem was exactly but at one point she mentioned the NHS so I assume Jill thought that I'd got my tits done for free on taxpayer money (I'd gotten the mastectomy on NHS but gone private for therapy and implants).

I asked her to stop more than once, but unfortunately the places I'd talked to her were places like the lift and the women's bathroom, where there weren't any cameras, and Jill just kept making comments no matter how often I asked her not to. I wouldn't say it was every single day, but I heard at least 3 comments per week for 3 months.

I hit my breaking point when me, Jill and a few other coworkers were having lunch, I referred to something as being shallow and Jill said "you'd know all about being shallow" while gesturing to my chest. I snapped.

I said "do you know why I have these? A few years ago the doctors found potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue, I was advised to get a mastectomy and was left with huge ugly scars on my chest. I went to see a therapist who sent me to a cosmetic surgeon, who advised me to get implants to hide the scars, and I did just so I could look at myself in the mirror without crying. So maybe next time you want to judge someone for having cosmetic surgery, you should ask them why they had it first". And feeling like that was a mic drop moment I picked up my food and left.

For the rest of the day I had about 1/3 of my office come up to me and offer support, and the rest tell me that Jill was just joking around and I was being a bitch. I replied that Jill was being a bitch long before I was.

I then got an email from HR saying they wanted to talk to me the following day, and when I called for clarification they mentioned a "hostile work environment" (note: this is apparently an American term and holds little weight in England but it's what was said over the phone). I knew the person who signed off the email and I'd spoken to. Her name was Debbie, and she was Jill's friend in HR so I was fairly confident on who had reported me.

I realised that if this was already being sent to HR, I needed as much ammunition as possible, so I went about collecting my information.

As Debbie had dealt with me so far, it was safe to assume she would be the person reviewing the complaint with me, and if that was true I was fucked. However, I vaguely remembered a section on complaints that was in my contract when I first signed with the company. I flicked through the contract and there was a part in complaints section that said I was contractually allowed to request a change of reviewer if I felt my allocated reviewer was biased. It was called an "impartial overseer". I photocopied the page and highlighted that part.

Then I messaged the people who had offered their support over facebook, and said basically "HR have asked to see me. Do any of you remember Jill insulting me to your face and are you willing to write and sign something saying what you heard and when?". Not everyone was willing to help as Jill is somewhat feared in the office due to her befriending HR and management but about 20 people were willing to help me.

I guessed roughly when I'd asked Jill to stop previously (the 4 asks over the last few months, some timings were easy to guess as they'd happened on my break or when I'd first arrived at work) and I wrote them all down, along with a rough time of when the lunchroom confrontation happened and a list of names of who was there for the lunchroom confrontation.

I got to work slightly early the next morning. I went round everyone who had messaged me and most of them managed to give me a printed and signed letter (some didn't manage to write one but nbd). This isn't exact words as there's 16 letters to sum up here but the gist was:

"My name is [their name]. I work with Jill Lastname and OP. On [date] at [time] (approx), I spoke with Jill Lastname, during which she referred to OP as [quoted insult]. I felt this was inappropriate as it directly related to OP's appearance and am willing to go on record further to establish that Jill Lastname has been discussing OP in the workplace in the same manner for 3 months now, causing me discomfort and creating what I feel is a hostile work environment. Signed [their name]"

I wound up with about 16 letters, all from different people, and one of them was in the lunchroom for my conversation with Jill. Some even had bulletpointed lists of everything Jill had said to them about me or other people, as it turns out Jill has issues with a lot of people's appearances. She apparently made comments about one coworker's weight, and something antisemitic about a different coworker's nose, all of which were put in these letters. There are about 45 people in the office so while 16 wasn't a majority, it's still a decent amount. The letters weren't hugely long, most were only a paragraph, but they had all the necessary information.

I was asked to come to HR at 10am. I took the letters from coworkers, the photocopy of the page in my contract, and my dates and times in a little folder with me.

I got there and Debbie was the one overseeing the interview. She got up from her desk, ready to lead me into another room.

I immediately turned to the other HR worker that was currently there and said "so is my meeting with you, then?"

Debbie said "no, you're with me."

I replied that this wouldn't sit well with me, as "my contract states I have a right to an impartial overseer" and as I said this I took the contract page out of my folder. Debbie read it (I wouldn't let her take the paper when there was a shredder so close by) and said she could be impartial. I replied that I really didn't mean to be a pain, but I had it on good authority that the person on the other end of this complaint is her friend, and my contract does say I'm allowed an impartial overseer.

Debbie stomped off to get Supervisor. Supervisor asks how I know she can't be impartial and I tell him that I have it on good authority that the Jill, who was on the other end of this complaint, is a close friend of Debbie. He asked Debbie if this was true, to which she only replied "I can be impartial".

Supervisor took a deep breath, asked the other HR rep to come with him, and the four of us all went to review the complaint. I thanked them for being so accommodating (I was worried I'd annoyed them), Debbie took out the complaint and all 3 of them went through it with me. Debbie looked homicidal the whole time the interview was happening, as she had clearly anticipated firing me (or at least recommending me being fired).

The interview went something like this. It took like over half an hour and they kept asking me the same questions but phrased different ways so this is a really drastically condensed version.

Q: You said outside that you think Jill Lastname reported you. Why is this?

A: Jill has had an issue with me for about 3 months now

Q: Why didn't you come to us when you realised Jill had an issue?

A: I had no issue with her

Q: What issue does Jill have with you?

A: Four years ago a specialist identified potentially cancerous cells in my breast tissue. I had surgery to remove my breast tissue, thereby removing the cells and the risk. After the surgery I was left with large scars on my chest. I went to a therapist for low self esteem and depression. The therapist suggested a plastic surgeon who suggested breast implants to cover my scars. All of this is in my medical history which you have a copy of in my file and my full permission to review. Jill found out about my breast implants but didn't know about the cancer. Jill had a problem with my breast implants, and decided to communicate this problem to our coworkers.

Q: Why do you feel this is true?

A: Here's 16 signed statements all from different coworkers, all testifying that Jill told the entire office I'd had breast implants on the day she found out and has since made comments about these implants frequently. They have quotes of what Jill said to them about it and rough dates and times.

Q: Rough dates and times?

A: No one knew this would be escalated to such an extent so no one really took notes as and when it happened.

Q: What event or events do you think directly led to this complaint of harassment?

A: For me harassment began when Jill told everyone about my breast implants without my consent, but as to the complaint placed against me, it would probably be what happened at about [time] yesterday in the lunch room. Jill made a comment about me being shallow while gesturing to my breasts and I replied by giving her an abridged version of my relevant medical history and ending with a comment about the importance of getting the full story. There are cameras in the lunch room, so I'm sure you'll be able to find that conversation. I'll admit I could have handled the situation better, but after 3 months I felt I had to put my foot down. Here's a list of names of people who were also present. There were 6 people at the table, including myself and Jill. One of these people is also in those letters, and has written their account of the conversation and signed it.

Q: Had you had a conversation with Jill prior to this regarding her comments about you?

A: Several, spaced out over the last 3 months. Each time I communicated to her that I felt uncomfortable and upset with these comments she was making and would appreciate it if she were to stop.

Q: To your knowledge, was Jill made aware of your former cancer at any point in this time?

A: No. It wasn't mentioned in the conversation with my friend she overheard and I didn't tell her because frankly it's none of her business and I did not feel the need to detail my medical history to a coworker in order to avoid further sexual harassment.

Supervisor stands up and says "well I think we're done here". He shakes my hand and sends me back to my desk saying that I'd hear from them after they reviewed the evidence (letters, CCTV, medical history and anything they had already) and made a decision on the case.

I got back to my desk, pulled up my CV, and prepared to start the job search again.

About an hour goes by, then the person who wrote the letter and was there for the lunchroom conversation gets called for a meeting with HR. They come back 10ish minutes later.

The other people who were also there for the lunchroom conversation get called one by one, except Jill. All of them are gone for about 10 minutes then come back, find a coworker, and say that HR wants to see them.

Then the people who wrote letters but weren't there yesterday are also called one by one and are each gone for about 10 minutes each, some longer, some shorter. By about 3:30 it looks like everyone who wrote a letter or was there in the lunch room has been interviewed.

Then, finally, Jill gets called in. She's gone for about 30 minutes and comes back fuming. She glares at me while I work, but I ignore her.

4:30ish, Jill gets called into HR again. 5 pm rolls around, everyone is either leaving or getting ready to leave, when Jill storms back into the office. She glares at me the whole time she packs up her desk. She then starts telling anyone who will listen that I got her fired before shoving her way onto the lift.

An email comes in from HR. My case is closed.

(source) story by (/u/3240278189)

#prorevenge #by /u/3240278189 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [03]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; we’re finally getting into some traction with the main plot! who are we liking more so far, w1!jk or w2!jk??

[02] [03] [04]-> masterpost

Instead of going to the doctor, you take a trip to the library. If Namjoon thinks your ideas are supernatural, you’re going to find someone who believes in the supernatural.

He calls you in the morning just to make sure you’re going to his recommended doctor. You fabricate a lie that the doctor friend he recommended is busy so you’re going to go find another one in the meantime. Just in case Namjoon decides to ask said doctor about your current mental and physical state, you want to make sure you cover your tracks. As much as you want to give it another go and help Namjoon understand your precarious situation, you weren’t up for another possibility of rejection.

You wanted to avoid Namjoon’s rejection so much that you’d rather turn to unconventional alternatives to finding your answer.

Unfortunately, Tony Stark and Steven Strange do not exist in this universe, and therefore you need to turn to more practical measures.

Seoul University has a zillion libraries, and you decide to go to the general library in the hopes you’ll find something in the subject of world-hopping. Unfortunately you haven’t been in a huge library since you were a senior in college, and the smell of paper, sad students and ink all but overwhelms you.

You’re about to start wandering when a young voice snatches your attention. “Miss,” you feel a tug at your belt loop, and you notice a little boy looking up at you with a pout. “I lost my way after using the bathroom and I can’t find the daycare.”

A little part of you wonders who on earth could’ve let a boy no older than five out of their sights, especially in such a spacious building. Alas, you smile and offer him your hand, suggesting that the two of you look for a map.

“Well it’s a good thing we found each other!” you say brightly, encouraging the kid to follow you to the kiosk, “I was just about to look for a map because I’m a little lost too, we can read it together.”

The boy tells you his name is Bogum, and you respond with yours and explain that it’s okay to get lost, especially when this library is so big. He listens to you with rapt attention, wide eyes as you spell out the words “daycare” using the little paper map you brought with you from the lobby.

Bogum and you stop in front of a plain room with a cheap powder blue baby gate, deep in the children’s section of the library. It’s there that you spot five or so children huddled over the flatscreen television, ‘oh’ and ‘ah’-ing over whatever film’s prattling on. You’re not surprised that Frozen 2 remains a sensation in both worlds.

Bogum opens the door first, and you make eye contact with the only adult in the room. He’s lean and friendly-looking, holding a child in their lap as they sing along to “Into the Unknown”. Your heart is caught in your throat, begging to be released as your eyes widen in surprise.

“Hobi!” you blurt instinctively, but you immediately clamp your mouth upon realizing. You really need to get used to this, but honestly how can anyone get used to this kind of situation? Hoseok will definitely be the fourth person you’ve alarmed in the past five days.

Hoseok’s jaw drops slightly, head tilted as the rest of the mini-crew train their eyes on you. You shrink in the presence of children, knowing from experience nothing gets by them.

“Is that your girlfriend, Hobi-ah?”

“Do you know her, Mr. Hoseok?”

“She looks scared, what did you do?”

The affronted man presses his lips in a thin line, “Dunno,” he answers vaguely. He seems unperturbed, hands settling in his traffic cone orange sweatpants. He gestures to the snacks in the middle of the room, releasing the children’s inner fire for food, “but it’s fruit snack time! Go ahead and grab your water from the cubbies, you can eat while you watch.”

The babies cheer, and you smile fondly as the kids rip open their packets and giggle over Olaf. You wish you could go back to simpler times.

“So,” Hoseok stands up, and gestures for you to sit at the small kids table in the back, “Do I know you? I don’t know if I know you, but I feel like I know you. Because you know me.”

Deciding you need to sit down for his bombardment you squeeze your legs into the worn Fisher-Price desk, running your nails over the crayon stains and pencil shavings. “Uh, no?”

“Did we have a class together? Hook-up? Friend’s hook-up that I tried to coerce into a threesome?”

“Ohmygod, there are children here!” you hiss, but Hoseok just smiles plainly, offering you a bag of fruit snacks that he snagged before the children emptied his bowl. You accept the gesture, unable to make eye contact.

Seeing the members out of their clan of seven is still jarring to you. You can’t imagine a world without the seven of them together. Like they always say, Bangtan is fate.

“I just wanted to return Bogum,” you say, crinkling the foil bag in your grasp, “and I’m actually looking for a professor who has her office hours here. I have uh, questions on my thesis on alternate universes.”

“Ah, are you referring to Professor Song?” you nod, “she cancelled her office hours for today, if you bothered to email her. And anyways, she doesn’t take kindly to questions on supernatural phenomena. Not since her latest book on paranormal channeling tanked.”

Your face visibly falls, dejected. You probably should’ve tried to schedule an appointment. “O-oh.”

“But as a non-judgemental soul, I would be happy to assist you on your ‘thesis’.” Hoseok air-quotes, noting that the kids are only in the very beginning of Frozen 2 and they have a whole hour and a half to their own devices. “And in exchange, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re looking for her, especially because you referred to me so excitedly as Hobi, and not Hoseok,” he crosses his arms, “and only my mother and sister have the right to call me that.”

You feel like a kid sent to the time-out corner, inevitably forced to fess up. It didn’t work out as well as you hoped with Namjoon, and you feared to be disappointed when Hoseok disagreed with you as well. Of course, you can’t blame them. If Hoseok came up to you and said he came from an alternate universe, you’d run for the hills.

But Hoseok is sweet and sincere, and he’s definitely not letting you go. In fact, he’s empathetic, already distressed from seeing you sweating and wringing the poor fruit snack packet.

He drags over a mini chalkboard cart, poised to take notes. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”

You frown, “Promise you won’t laugh at me until the very end?”

“Promise.”

Forty minutes later and in the turning point of Frozen 2, Hoseok has drawn up what looks like a convoluted flowchart detailing every single thing you’ve said up until this point. It reminds you of a child’s drawing, symbolizing all the dead-ends and turns of your life, but you’re sure Hoseok doesn’t want to hear that.

Within the first ten minutes of your story, Hoseok is shaking his head. “That’s crazy. C’mon, prove it. If we’re really friends in an alternate universe, how much do you know about me?”

Hoseok's face falls farther and farther into his lap as you respond with a straight face. His birthday, favorite foods, hobbies, music taste, and even feelings towards melodramatic movies are laid out in your words like a personal diary.

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Tell a secret that you know about me.”

That stumps you. You make a face, stuffing a strawberry gummy in your mouth as you think about any conversation you could’ve possibly had with Hoseok in the past year. There’s a possibility that whatever happened to Hoseok in your world hasn’t happened in this one, but you have to at least try.

With as much confidence as you can muster you say, “When you were in the 3rd grade, your older sister was playing with sticks in your backyard and accidentally stabbed you.”

He narrows his carmine eyes, “Where?”

“Left breast,” you chirp, “under the nipple.”

Hoseok’s face twists like he’s in the 8th dimension, and he clutches his left breast comically. “You’re either psychic or telling the truth,” he marvels, nearly cracking the bud of chalk in his fingertips.

You fight the urge to sigh in relief, running a hand through your hair. You can’t believe that actually worked.

“Okay so obviously because I need to know my alter-self, what’s Jung Hoseok like in World One?”

“World One?” you snort.

“Yeah, since it’s your home world. This is World Two, because this is your second reality.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing, waving his hands in the air.

“You’re a rapper and incredible dancer in the world’s top boy band.” and Hoseok doesn’t know whether to think you’re an impeccable actor or really telling the truth by the way you smile so tenderly. “And you managed to get your mom the barbeque restaurant she always wanted. Best place for pork belly wraps.”

And because you know he’s a softie for his mother, you already have a tissue stretched out for him, confirming that you have him convinced. Seeing it all laid out terrifies him, not because he’s scared of someone infiltrating his reality, but because you’re lost. You’re lost and you can’t go home and he can feel like he’s known you all this time. Not because you know every single fact about him under the sun, but something tells him you were meant to find him today.

“So, you got hit by a truck in World One, and end up in World Two just like that?” you nod again, and Hoseok starts to line up whatever code he’s created on the blackboard. “What were you doing before that?”

“I went drinking with my friend Sehlyung.”

“Uh-huh, and before that?”

“Got into a fight with the guy I love.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Even worse, he ended up being the first person I met once I entered your world.”

Hoseok blinks, “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Your face sours, “Impossible. Jungkook didn’t recognize me either.”

“Anything else happened that day? Perhaps something to do with the both of you? It can’t just be coincidence,” Hoseok insists, and you almost see the potential theories looming over his head.

Wishing you bought some aspirin on your way, you pinch your brows together. You’ve recollected that night one too many times that it’s been starting to overwhelm you. You hate thinking back to how harshly Jungkook rejected you. How much his words pierced you clean like you were soft and breakable. The twist in the knife was seeing him again in this world, only for him to reject you again for an entirely different reason.

“Wait,” you bite your lip, the final memory from your last conversation with Jungkook resurfacing.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

“He said maybe we’d be together in another world,” you say slowly, the words sinking in your form like a key to a lock.

Hoseok snaps his fingers, a huge white grin beaming on his face. “Shit, this is straight out of the Twilight Zone or something. Cool!”

It’s then that the credits roll for Frozen 2, and the children are pouncing on him like leeches to a sweet treat. They laugh and beg for his attention, teasing him because he said the s-word.

“I’m sure this Jungkook kid has something to do with why you’re here—ow, Haneul! My hair is precious!” Hoseok is busy fending off kids and trying to continue your conversation. He gets up from the tiny chair to prevent them from reaching, and you follow suit. “In the meantime,” he reaches for your phone, typing something, “here’s some books Professor Song recommended to me when I was fascinated in alternate universes. Maybe they’ll help, I don’t know. But good luck, update me when you get a chance! I work here most days.”

“Thanks Hoseok,” and before you can second guess yourself, you find space between the children to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push you away, and hugs you back just as tightly. You can’t help it, and bury your face into his shoulder, trying to conceal your sobs. He even smells like World One Hoseok. You miss them.

The rest of your afternoon is spent in the library, searching for book after book regarding the supernatural and other phenomena. A little part of you hoped Hoseok would join you in your navigation, but he had a job and you had yours. He already offered you an ear and much, much more.

You feel a little stir-crazy, despite the fact that these books could contain important information, only Jungkook’s words seem to register in your brain.

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

You groan, stretching out your back so you could reach the final book out of Hoseok’s recommendations. You blush when your joints complain about your lack of exercise and sudden exertion of physical activity. This last one just so happens to be on the highest possible shelf. There’s really no need to have more than five books on supernatural phenomena, but you’re already here and it’s vermillion red cover is taunting you like a bull to its matador.

Fuck it. Making sure no librarians are watching, you hop on the first shelf, heels dangling in the air. You could climb trees like it was nothing when you’re a child, but ten years later you can feel all the joints in your body protest at the sudden bout of athleticism.

Alas, even with the added height you can barely reach the top, fingers brushing over the hardcover. You’re starting to sweat with nerves, thankful for the whirring of the icy air conditioner. With a sigh you attempt to climb on the next highest shelf, until the familiar smell of detergent and florals invades your personal space. Even his scent is the same.

“Y’know, there’s a help desk for a reason.”

Your shoulders slump as Jungkook wordlessly instructs you to get down from the shelf. You feel the warmth of his palm shadow your back, not touching you but prepared to in the event you slip and fall. With a cross of your arms, you hug your books to your chest, refusing to make eye contact as he retrieves the book for you. Call it being petty, or overly defensive because of past events, but you’re not ready to talk to Jungkook right now.

Conversely, Jungkook is piqued. He’s lived here for the past six years and it’s the first time he’s seen you in this library. Twice in the span of two weeks is definitely something worth noting, especially when his new co-worker just so happens to be friends with you.

In fact he’s excited, curious. He just entered the library, dropping off some proofs for his graduate school’s office when he spotted you in the corner of one of the shelves, determined. Something warm and light brings a smile to his face when he sees how endearing you look trying to get that too-high book. Despite the fact that he’s still on the fence about your sanity, he wants to make sure you don’t almost-die a second time from head injury.

“Here ya go,” He easily grabs the book and Jungkook is prepared to plop the book in your pile, but you’re hugging the others so tightly that he has to wedge it between two other ones.

You press your lips together as Jungkook goes into your personal space, miffed that you’re being a little defensive. After all, you’re embarrassed from the last time you saw him and you’re heart is beating wildly, confused over the man in front of you. It takes a wiggle before you concede, letting him tuck the red novel between two other larger books.

“Thanks,” you mumble, nodding at him once before swiftly turning the corner, skirt swishing.

The smile on his face is wiped clean when you don’t even bother to spare him a little eye contact.

“Hey, wait up!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately shh’ed by at least five students and an angry librarian. He deflates, giving sheepish bows as he walk-runs after you.

He feels like the tables have turned, now he’s the one chasing after you. Should he apologize for leaving you on the sidewalk two weeks ago? Should he offer to hold your books, or drive you home? Maybe not drive you home, because he brought his bike today and he fears that you may be traumatized by the fact that you almost ate pavement under his wheels. If he has to ease into it, maybe he could offer his phone number up as compensation for accidentally almost-killing you? Suggest that his number is for you to contact him as an IOU. Smooth.

You look over your shoulder briefly, suppressing a groan as Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that this is not the end of your interaction. He’s boring into you, looking past you and his eyes are dark with information. As much as you want to know what’s going on in his mind, seeing Hoseok and Jungkook within the same hour is wholly overwhelming, especially when you just laid your whole life story out to Hoseok in a daycare.

He’s now staring holes in your back as you hand over your books and work identification to the unsuspecting librarian, who chalks up your awkwardness between two friends toeing around a relationship. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s not out of the ordinary. You can’t just tell Jungkook to “kindly fuck off because I’m still processing your existence” because he’s really done nothing wrong. Inevitable, you let him heat your skin with his imploring eyes until he starts to squirm like a garden snake. He’s waiting for you, silently begging you to turn your head and acknowledge how hard his brain is working right now. This boy is always after attention.

Finally, you spare him. “Yes?” you say softly, keeping your focus on the bookkeeper checking you out as Jungkook hovers over your form.

“Uh,” he scratches his head, searching for words, “are you hurt? Y’know, from the other day?”

“Judging from the way I was prepared to climb the shelves, no,” you stuff the books in your tote bag, “are you hurt?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. That’s good.” You brush past him, making it a blatant point to stride out the first door you see.

Even with all the telltale signs, Jungkook continues to feel something. An urge, a bell, something. He doesn’t know what, but he’s compelled to follow you. For a small thing you sure know how to walk, and he has to pump his legs a little to catch up with your speedy form.

He follows you to the middle of the campus courtyard, where students are lounging about and studying or playing football. It’s already starting to turn dark, and the orange sky sits impatiently on your bodies as you try to walk as fast as possible to your apartment.

“Hey—hey, c’mon!” his long legs manage to get close enough to you, but he has to halt as soon as you stop, whipping around to glare at him.

Jungkook stumbles as you’re centimeters away from him, visibly annoyed. You’re super close, impossibly close to him. He holds his breath, fearing he’d fan your face and you wouldn’t appreciate his chicken-salad breath. He doesn’t understand why you’re upset, but he wants to jab a thumb between your brows and even out the adorable expression that pinches your visage.

“What, do you need something from a stranger?” you bite icily, and he doesn’t understand the pang in his chest when you refer to each other as strangers. It’s true, you are, but you don’t have to be so harsh about it.

“I, I just want to know why you knew my name,” he replies weakly, hands going up as if he committed a crime. “Back then, I’ve been confused ever since,” it’s wholly innocent, and genuine, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, I guess?”

It’s then you soften, melting like the yolk in the sky. The strap of your bag digs in your palm, the leather probably indenting your skin.

“I got really drunk last night,” you concede, and at the very least it’s the truth, “probably woke up drunk too. I stumbled outside and when I saw you, and mistook you for another Jungkook I know.”

You’re pulling this excuse out of your ass, and you hope that someone watching you from above (or below) will give you a reprieve on this one. He seems to believe this notion, probably used to one too many drunk girls fawning over him half-sane.

“Another Jungkook?” he balks, mouth parting like a baby kitten, “a Jungkook with the same name and face?”

“Uh kinda, like Mario and Wario?” you say, and you know Jungkook will get the reference if he remains a video game lover, “what’s that called, doppelgangers?”

“I’m partial to Luigi and Waluigi, but I get it.” he replies with a small smile, proud to have gotten you to open up, even a little. “That’s cool. I’m sorry for freaking out back there.”

“Understandable,” you look at the grass crunching at your feet. You definitely understood, but it still hurt recollecting the way he pushed you off of him like a bug. “I’m sorry for mistaking you, I just kinda stumbled out of an apartment and got walking, I thought I was in a dream or something.”

“So uh, where’s this other Jungkook?” and it’s an innocent enough question, and he’s almost boyish about it, rocking back and forth with his hands in his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to meet my own twin, I just didn’t expect them living in Korea and having the same name. That’s like a two for one deal!”

You wince, avoiding the way Jungkook tries to bend down to match your eyes. “He’s uh, not around anymore. Completely gone,” you mutter.

Completely gone? Did that mean the person you were worrying about on the streets, the person who you worried over so thoughtfully in place of Jungkook, is dead?

Jungkook puffs out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. Boy, does he feel like a piece of shit for bringing up tough memories. “I’m so sorry,” he gushes, voice cracking as he tries to get you to lift your head, “I was just being nosy, alright? The fact that you knew my name freaked me out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I saw you in the library I pounced but I realize that this is such a huge mistake and—”

“Jungkook,” you hold up a hand, a twinge of a smile barely grazing your lips, “I already told you, it’s understandable you would’ve been freaked out. Don’t blame yourself,” you size him up a little, looking up and down and he automatically straightens his back. He feels his ears heat beneath his hair, “but you look like the type of guy to be too hard on himself.”

He laughs, nodding profusely, “So I’ve been told.” Feeling lighter at the assurance of your feelings, he sticks out his hand, “then can we call a truce?”

It’s then you see it.

“Tiger lilies,” you marvel, hands reaching out instinctively to touch the tattoo adorning his arm. It’s the same design, same position, the dark ink vibrant as ever.

“It’s my birth flower,” he puffs out his chest a bit, feeling elated that someone appreciates the fine art he spent weeks drafting. Tattoos aren’t particularly popular in this area, so he can’t help but feel a little cheeky that someone’s attracted to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle over the black ink, the most positive emotion he’s gotten out of you since meeting. “Tiger lilies, they mean—”

“Please love me,” you finish, letting go of his arms so it drops to his side. You finally look up at him, and your eyes prick.

He looks so much like him, it hurts. Seeing Hoseok and Namjoon also pained you considerably, but nothing compared to how much it ached to have Jungkook around, vying for your attention. How well you knew his body, and how much you wish you could hug him. Today he’s even dressed a little similarly to how you’re used to, soft and comfortable in black sweats and a Carhartt hoodie. But this Jungkook isn’t scarred by the industry, and it fills the curiosity that plagued you for days on end. Your Jungkook is always vibrant, but the one in front of you is radiant. He’s young, eager, and ready to take on the world.

Jungkook grins, impressed by your knowledge. He wonders about your birth flower, and whether you have it tattooed somewhere on your body. “Is that your birth flower too?” he asks, debating on whether or not it’s too late to ask you out for coffee because evening is approaching. Maybe dinner was more appropriate? But it would be like a date? Maybe pizza or McDonalds to keep it casual?

You see the gears turning in his head, and you feel like you’ve wasted too much time thinking. “Ah, no,” you flounder, rapidly shaking your head, “just some random information I’ve picked up.”

“Are you into flower meanings?” he tilts his head.

“Not particularly,” you say ominously, and you try not to ache when he seems disheartened at your lack of elaboration, “but I will be. I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”

You can tell he has more to say, especially because Jungkook is one to finish what he starts. But you can’t give him that satisfaction now, not when you’re onto something. You spare him a wave over your shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment in his face when you leave him in the dust for a second time.

And with that unpromised promise, you go back into the direction of your apartment. You have some extensive research to do tonight.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook wakes up to the sun, and he bolts up in his bed.

“Hey!” he yells to no one in particular, knowing his voice is loud enough to echo throughout the dorm. “Why did no one call me? We had practice!”

Instead of passing out in the studio he’s wrapped up in his sheets, bundled comfortably as if he’s been in bed for hours. He’s almost disoriented, looking around the room and waiting for someone to barge in and tell him to hurry up and get somewhere.

After working on his music, the seven of them were supposed to meet up. The plan was to take a nap from ten to eleven, and be at the studio to go over some modifications to a new setlist. However, those plans evidently did not go through, because he had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks and that only happens if there’s a schedule cancellation or vacation.

He feels particularly antsy because he couldn’t work on anything last night. His mind was like tunnel vision, completely filled by visions of you and last night’s fight. It’s frustrating, especially when there’s so much he’s behind on already.

But today’s a new day. He takes his time in his room, popping out all his joints and doing leg and arm stretches on his mattress. For once, no one’s ushering him away to do the nth task. He mindlessly scrolls his phone, taking note of the insistence for him to return to social media but pins it away for yet another promise of next time.

Mindlessly clicking his phone button on and off, his wallpaper shows a picture of your back facing the sunset. An old, innocent picture that could be mistaken for a random shot Jungkook stole on an empty night in Dongdaemun. With a sigh he throws his phone somewhere between the sheets, rubbing his eyes. There’s nothing he can do now but move forward, and he takes that in stride.

But when he walks out of his room, the air feels terse. It’s strange, as if he could cut through the tension in the room with a butterknife.

He looks on in confusion to see all the other members settled in the living room, hovered over their phones. They’re all still in their clothes from last night as well, grave expressions on their faces.

Someone’s choked sobs are echoing from a corner of the room, and Jungkook is worried when he sees Taehyung sobbing in Hoseok’s arms.

“What happened?” he asks, brows knitting together as he walks over to Namjoon, looking over his phone.

Namjoon immediately presses his phone to his chest, concealing whatever is on the screen. Jungkook’s heart pangs at his block, because Namjoon isn’t one to hide things. He’s feeling cut out of a secret so deep that it must be either a secret, or something he shouldn’t see. “It’s,” he takes a deep breath, and Jungkook feels it. He feels that whatever Namjoon has to say is going to be hard.

Seokjin speaks up for the leader, bright eyes that always spark like fireworks now dim. “We got a call from Sehlyung early this morning. Before it got light out she—she was frantic. She said Camille wasn’t answering her calls after they went drinking.”

No. No.

“Then BigHit got a call from the hospital. They said a truck hit the curb, knocking her clean,” it doesn’t even sound like Seokjin’s speaking, just the shell of him, regurgitating information. “She’s alive, but it’s critical, no one’s allowed to see her until she’s stable. We don’t know when,” Seokjin bites his lip, choosing his words carefully, “or if, she’ll wake up.”

Jungkook doesn’t even register that he’s crying until Seokjin pulls him into his arms.

#jungkook fic #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios

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divineknowing2021 · 3 years

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viewing guide

At its core, divine knowing is an exhibition about knowledge, power, and agency. It’s become a more common understanding that governments, institutions, and algorithms will manipulate the public with what information they frame as fact, fiction, or worthy of attention. Though I am early in researching this topic, I've only come across a minimal amount of mainstream discourse on how the initial threat limiting our scope of knowledge is a refusal to listen to ourselves.

In a world faced with so many threats - humans being violent toward each other, toward animals, toward the earth - it can be a bit unsettling to release the reins and allow ourselves to bear witness for a moment, as we slowly develop a deeper awareness of surrounding phenomena and happenings.

divine knowing includes works by formally trained and self-taught artists. A majority of the artists are bisexual, non-binary, or transgender. Regardless of degree-status, gender, or sexuality, these artists have tapped into the autonomous well of self-knowing. Their artworks speak to tactics for opening up to a more perceptive mode of being. They unravel dependencies on external sources for knowledge and what we might recognize, connect with, or achieve once we do.

The installation Femme Digitale by Sierra Bagish originates from a series she began in 2017 by converting photographs of women that were taken and distributed online without the subject’s consent into paintings. Her practice at the time was concerned with female abjection. Sourcing images found via simple keywords and phrases (e.g., passed out, passed out drunk) she swathes a mass-circulated canon of internet detritus that articulates and produces aggression towards women. With her paintings, she circumvents the images’ original framing mechanisms and subverts these proliferated images through a sincere and personal lens.

These paintings divulge the blurred space between idolatry and denigration these online photos occupy, asking whose desires these images fulfill and what their propagation reveals about the culture producing them. While Bagish's work contends with political motivations, she also remains keenly observant of form and the varying utilities of different media.

“I use the expressive potential of paint as a vehicle to intervene and challenge ideas about photography as a harbinger of the real and everyday.”

Chariot Birthday Wish is an artist and angel living in Brooklyn. They have seen The Matrix 28 times in 2 years and love horses. The tarot series included in divine knowing is their most intuitive project, something they revisit when unsure of what to work on next. The Major Arcana are composed of digital collages made from sourced images, the Minor Arcana are represented by short, poetic, interpretative texts about the cards. The series is played on shuffle, creating a unique reading for each viewer. This is a work in progress that will eventually finalize as a completed deck of digital collages available for purchase.

Chariot's work emerges from a constant consideration of apocalypse and connection. They reference technology in tandem with nature and a desire for unity. Underneath their work's surface conversation on beauty, care, and relationship exists an agenda to subtly evoke a conspiratorial anti-state mindset. Through a collective imagining of how good things could be and how good we want them to be, we might be able to reckon with how bad things are in contrast.

“I think about texting my friends from the middle of the woods...

Humans are a part of nature and we created these things. There's this Bjork quote where she says that "You can use pro tools and still be pagan." I'm really into the idea of using technology as a tool for divination and holy connection with nature. I imagine a scene; being in moss, it's absolute bliss, and then the connection of texting, sharing an image of moss with a friend, sharing that moment through cellular towers.”

The album "adding up" by thanks for coming is composed of songs Rachel Brown wrote during what they believe to be the most challenging year of their life. Rachel now looks back on this time in appreciation, recognizing they grew in ways they had never imagined. The entire year, they were committed to following their feelings to wherever it may lead.

“If I hadn't been open to following the almost indiscernible signs I was being sent, then I would have missed out on some of the most important moments in my life.”

Kimberly Consroe holds a Masters in Anthropology along with degrees in Archaeology, Literature, and History. She is currently a Research Analyst at the US Department of Commerce. Her artwork is a passionate escape from a hectic professional life and touches on themes of feminism and nature.

Her works begin as general ideas; their narrative complexity growing with the amount of time she invests in making each one. Her decoupage process starts with cutting hundreds, if not thousands, pieces of paper. The accumulation of clippings sourced from vintage and current-day magazines overlap to tell a story. In Domestication, Kimberly borrows submissive female figures from found images of Ryan Mcguinness's work and places them in a position of power.

“I believe intuition is associated with emotion and experience. It is wisdom and fear, empathy and outrage, distrust and familiarity. It is what we know before we know it. This relates to my artwork in that, from beginning to end, there is never one complete idea concerning the outcome: it is a personal journey. It emerges from an ephemeral narrative that coalesces into a definitive story.”

Anabelle DeClement is a photographer who primarily works with film and is interested in relationships as they exist within a frame. She is drawn to the mystery of the mundane. Intuition exists in her practice as a feeling of urgency and the decision to act on it --- a drive often used to describe street photography where the camera catches unexpected moments in an urban environment. Anabelle tends to photograph individuals with whom she has established personal relationships in a slow domestic setting. Her sense of urgency lies in capturing moments of peak intimacy, preserving a memory's informal beauty that otherwise may have been forgotten or overlooked.

Gla5 is a visual artist, poet, bookmaker, production designer, and educator. Play is at the center of their practice. Their process is an experimental one embracing impulse and adventure. Their compositions are informed by relationships among bodies of varying shapes, materials, and densities. Interests that come up in their work include a discernment between symbols and non-symbols, dream states, the portrayal of energy in action, and a fixation on forms such as cups, tables, and spoons.

“I generally think of my work as depicting a layer of life that exists underneath what we see in our everyday lives.”

Gladys Harlow is a sound-based performance artist, comedian, and activist who experiments with found objects, contact mics, textures, range, analog formats, present moments, and emotions. Through raw, avant-garbage performance art, they aim to breakdown societal barriers, abolish oppressive systems, and empower communities. Gladys was born in Queens, NY, raised in Miami, FL and has deep roots in Venezuela. Currently haunting in Philadelphia, PA, Gladys is a founding member of Sound Museum Collective. SMC holds space for reconstructing our relationships to sounds by creating a platform for women, nonbinary, and trans sound artists and engineers.

Street Rat is a visceral exploration of the mysteries of life. Attempting to bring heavy concepts to your reality, it is the eye on the ground that sees and translates all intersecting issues as they merge, explode, dissolve, and implode. Street Rat is Gladys Harlow's way of comprehending, coping, feeling, taking action, disrupting the status quo, and rebuilding our path.

All Power To The People originated as a recorded performance intended to demystify sound by revealing the tools, wires, and movements used to create it. All Power To The People evolved into an installation conceived specifically for this exhibition. The installation includes a theremin and oscillator built by Gladys, a tarot deck they made by hand, and books from the artist's personal collection, amongst other elements. Gladys has created a structure of comfort and exploration. They welcome all visitors of divine knowing to play with the instrument, flip freely through the books, and pull a tarot card to take home.

Phoebe Hart is an experimental animator and filmmaker. A majority of her work is centered around mental illness and the line between dreams and reality. Merry Go Round is a sculptural zoetrope that changes in shape and color as it spins. Its form is inspired by nature and its color by the circus. The video’s sound was produced by Hayden Waggener. It consists of reverbing chimes which are in rhythm with the stop animation’s movement; both oscillate seamlessly between serene and anxious states.

“I often don't plan the sculptures or objects I am fabricating, there is a vague image in my mind, and my hands take care of the rest. I find that sometimes overthinking is what can get me and other artists stuck. If I just abandon my judgments and ego, I can really let go and create work that feels like it came inherently from me.”

Powerviolets is the solo project of multi-instrumentalist Violet Hetson who is currently based in New York. After experiencing several false starts while bouncing coast to coast, recording and performing with several lineups, Hetson has finally released her debut album. ~No Boys~ namesake is a sarcastic sign she hung on her suburban CT teenage bedroom door. Violet Hetson grew up primarily listening to punk and hardcore. She parses elements of these genres with influences from bands such as X and Suburban Lawns. ~No Boys~ takes a softer, melodic approach to Hetson's punk roots. Powerviolets' music is linear, unconventional, dark, and airy with a sense of humor.

Mary Hunt is a fiber artist specializing in chain stitch embroidery. This traditional form of embroidery uses vintage machinery and thick thread to create fibrous art and embellishments. They use an approach called "thread painting," which requires each stitch to be hand guided by the turn of a knob underneath the table while the speed of movement is controlled by a foot pedal. Chainstitch works can take anywhere from 20 minutes to 200 hours, encouraging a slow and thoughtful process. Mary uses a Cornely A machine, made in Paris more than 100 years ago.

“I think we are sent messages and guidance constantly. Our intuition is simply our ability to clear the path for those messages. The largest obstacles on my artistic path are usually self-imposed negative thoughts. I simply do things to take care of my spiritual well-being, first and foremost, and the rest follows. If I can trust the universe, trust the process, then I am much more likely to listen to the messages sent my way.”

Jes the Jem is a multi-media artist working with acrylic, watercolor, mold clay, and whatever else she can get her hands on. She uses vivid color to bring joy into the lives of those who view her art. Jes the Jem has experienced a great deal of pain in her life. Through that unique displeasure, she has been gifted a nuanced perspective. She aims to energize the present while paying homage to the past events that shape us. In her art, her life, and her interpersonal relationships, Jes the Jem appreciates the gift of all of life's experiences.

“The pursuit of happiness and understanding is instinct.”

Pamela Kivi pieces together visual scraps she has saved over the years, choosing to fuse them at whatever present moment she sees fit. Her work reflects on creative mania, fleeting emotions, and memories. Pamela's collages are a compilation of unexpected elements that include: old notebooks, cut-outs, text messages or Facebook message conversations, nostalgic cellphone photos, and visual materials she has chosen to hold onto. She prints out, cuts up, scans, edits, repeats. Pamela's artistic practice is deeply personal. It is a submittal to the process of dusting things off until a reflection can be seen, all enacted without an attachment to the end result.

“I rely on intuition and whatever state of mind I am in to whisk me away. In life, I often confuse intuition with anxiety- when it comes to creative work, I can decipher the two.”

Through sobriety, Kendall Kolenik's focus has shifted toward self-discovery and shedding old adaptive patterns, a process that led her to a passion for helping others heal themselves too. In autumn, she will begin her Masters in Social Work at Columbia University.

“I love how when I'm painting my self-doubt becomes so apparent. Painting shows me exactly where my doubt lies, which guides me towards overriding it. When I paint something and lean into doubt, I don't like what comes out. When I take note of the resistance and go with my gut more freely, I love it. This reminds me of my yoga practice. What you practice on the mat is a metaphor for how you show up in life. By breathing through the uncomfortable poses on the mat, you learn to breathe through challenging life moments.

I think we all grow up learning to numb and edit ourselves. We are taught not to trust our feelings; we are told to look outside ourselves for answers when we already have a perfectly good compass within. Painting is an archway back to that for me - rediscovering self-reliance and faith in my first instinct. When I'm creating these rainbow squares, sometimes I move so fast it's like something else is carrying me. I sort of leave myself and enter a trance. Like how you don't have to tell the heart to beat or the lungs to breathe - thinking goes away and I can get so close to my knowing that I become it. I love how art allows me to access my love for ambiguity, interpretation, and an interpretation that feels closer to Truth. I find no greater purpose than guiding people back to safety and reconnecting them with themselves. The most important thing to ever happen in my life was when I stopped trying to deny my reality - listening to your intuition can be like a freefall - no one but you can ever know or tell you - it is a deep trust without any outside proof.”

Lucille Loffredo is a music school dropout, Jewish trans lesbian, and veterinary assistant doing her best to make sure each day is better than the last. Lucille tries to find the music rather than make it. She lets it tell her what it wants to do and what it wants to be. The Wandering EP was in part written as a way to come out to herself. She asks all listeners to please be gentle.

“Change will come, and it will be good. You are who you think you are, no matter how far it seems.”

Whitney Lorenze generally works without reference, making thick, graphic pictures with precise forms conceived almost entirely from her imagination. Images like a slowly rolling car crackling out of a driveway, afternoon sun rays shining through a cloud of humidity, or headlights throwing a lined shadow across a black bedroom inspire her.

“As it concerns my own practice and the creation of artworks generally, I would define intuition as the ability to succumb to some primal creative impulse. Of course, this implies also the ability to resist the temptations of producing a calculated or contrived output.”

Ellie Mesa began teaching herself to paint at the age of 15, exploring landscapes and portraiture. Her work has evolved into a style of painting influenced by surrealism where teddy bears will morph into demons and vice versa. Her work speaks to cuteness, the grotesque, and mystical beings. The painting "Kali" is an homage to the Hindu goddess of creation, destruction, life and death. This was Ellie's first painting after becoming sober and is an expression of the aforementioned forces in her own life. Through meditations on Kali, Elli has been able to find beauty in the cycle of love and loss.

“To me, intuition means doing the thing that feels right whether or not it's what you want it to be. When I'm painting or making a sculpture, I give myself the freedom to follow what feels right, even if that means starting over or changing it completely. I allow the piece to present itself to me instead of forcing something that doesn't want to be.”

Mari Ogihara is a sculptor exploring duality, resilience, beauty, and serenity as experienced through the female gaze. Her work is informed by the duality of womanhood and the contradictions of femininity. In particular, the multitude of roles we inhabit as friend, lover, sister, and mother and their complex associations to the feminine perspective.

“Intuition is an innate, immediate reaction to an experience. While making art, I try to balance intuition, logic, and craftsmanship.”

All Of Me Is War by Ames Valaitis addresses the subconscious rifts society initiates between women, estranging them from each other and themselves.

“It is an unspoken, quick, and quiet battle within me as the feeling of intuition purely, and when I am making a drawing. I am immediately drawn to poses and subject matter that reflect the emotion inside myself, whether it is loud or under the surface. If a line or figure doesn't move me, after working on it for a few minutes, I get rid of it. If something looks right to me immediately, I keep it; nurture it. I try to let go of my vision, let my instinct take hold. I mirror this in my life as I get older, choosing who and what to put my energy into. The feeling is rarely wrong; I'd say we all know inherently when it is time to continue or tap out.”

Chardel Williams is a self-taught artist currently living in Bridgeport. Her biggest inspiration is her birthplace of Jamaica. Chardel views painting as a method for blocking out chaos. Her attraction to the medium springs from its coalescence of freedom, meditative qualities, and the connection it engenders. rears.

“Intuition for me is going where my art flows. I implement it in my practice by simply creating space and time to listen. There are times when what I'm painting is done in everyone else's eyes, but I just keep picking at it. Sometimes I would stop painting a piece and go months without touching it. Then, out of nowhere, be obsessed with finishing. I used to get frustrated with that process, but now I go with it. I stopped calling it a block and just flow with it. I listen because my work talks.”

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