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mystery-wings · 24 days

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Roleplay Search

I am 22 years old and look for someone who is 20+ years.

Literacy: I can do semi-literate, literate, and advanced novella, though I attempt to do the novella the most unless my roleplay partner or partners say otherwise.

Fandoms:

Beastars

My Hero Academia

Arcane

BoJack Horseman

Castlevania

Thomas & Friends

MCU

Cars

Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

Shrek & Puss In Boots

Sanders Sides/Sanders Asides

Five Nights at Freddy's

Poppy Playtime

Bendy and the Ink Machine

Happy Meat Farms

Welcome Home

Super Mario Bros. (including The Super Mario Bros, Movie)

Gravity Falls

Other Roleplays:

Original, no fandom (though characters from fandoms can be used)

Alex Bale's Pixar Metaverse Theory

Character Relationships: I have no with fxf, mxf, mxm, ccxcc, ocxoc being included in the roleplay, though I don't want the character to be written/typed out in a way where all they are is just the romantic interest/platonic soul and to explore who they are as a person outside of that. And I am open to familial, mentor-mentee, and other relationships as well.

Character(s): I have original characters and can roleplay as canon characters as well, though I have a preference for roleplaying as my OCs.

Triggers: I genuinely don't have any triggers.

Genres: Science fiction, religious fiction, adventure/action, horror, thriller, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, fluff, contemporary fantasy, alternate history, counterfactual history, steampunk, biopunk, solarpunk, crime and mystery, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, and more.

Tropes: De-aged/De-aging (temporary),

Kinks & More: I have thought about what my original characters would possibly explore/be into, though I am willing to explore outside of these possibilities, only if it is still in character for them. However there are things that will never be allowed: zoophilia, pedophilia, feederism, agraphilia, abasiophilia, agalmatophilia, agrizoophilia, angrophilia, anthrophila/anthophilia, anthropophagolagnia, apiphilia, arachnophilia/arachnephilia, autonepiophilia, autopedophilia, automatonophila, batrachophilia, capnolagnia, cleptophilia, contreltophilia, diplophilia, ephebiphilia, erotophonophilia, hadephilia, hagiophilia, hamartophilia, harpaxophilia, homilophilia, hybristophilia, illyngophilia, infantophilia, lactophilia, lockiophilia, maieusiophilia, menophilia, methyphilia, necrophilia, neopharmaphilia, objectophilia, paralipophilia, parasitophilia, parthenophilia, penisphilia, peodeiktophilia, potophilia, pharmacophilia, taphophilia, uranophilia.

Where To Roleplay: I prefer to roleplay on Discord, whether in the roleplay server with private categories and channels (so no one other than those involved in the roleplay can see the roleplay and other messages) or have a new server created.

Extra:

If you want to turn our roleplay into fanfiction, I will happily help.

If you are interested in creating fanart of my OCs and other things related to my OCs, speak me first.

There is this thing I started to do a few days, where I think about the relationships and create categorized lists of the potential relationship or relationships between my OC & a character. It’s just to help get an idea of the interactions between the characters for the roleplay/story, then figure out the undecided and other relationships along the way.

Though I don't have any triggers, there are things I won't do with my OCs because it would truly be out of character for them.

I research a lot for my OCs, world building, and roleplaying, and I put much thought in various topics. But there is something in particular I have a personal experience with and it's something those who have also experienced or something similar, which is official adoption (legal adoption). For various other people, they have specially when there is no consent involved, no informed consent, and the lack of looking into alternatives (kinship (only if there is anyone alive, and safe for said person or people, to community/tribe (if you are familiar with ICWA (Indian Child Welfare Act), you will understand what I mean), to guardianship; then fostering last); I only have experience with the lack of consent and informed consent. And there is also the issue of not being trauma informed (which is especially important when it comes to newborns and infants, and if the bio mother/parent had trauma (before, during the pregnancy (physical pain or injury, serious illness, war, natural disasters, terrorism, witnessing a death, rape, domestic abuse, incarceration within the criminal justice system, poverty, adoption trauma, medical trauma, family trauma, refugee trauma, traumatic grief, abuse and neglect (physical, sexual, emotional or psychological, religious, financial, digital, stalking, educational)—and those on the receiving end (and the causer) might not even recognize it was, is, or has been done at all or to a certain extent (even if the trauma suddenly hits them the worse they've experienced, though it could also be what leads them what realize they have trauma and what caused it); generational trauma comes to mind (humans being blank slates were never true, people just used to believe it was; but there are people who still believe this dangerous myth. Or if someone doesn't have a pre-trauma self, a self before their trauma, something not everyone has) —You can find information on this topic and related topic, on my Tumblr, TikTok, and Twitter, and YouTube.

If you are interested, like the post, then message me on here with the link to it and we will go from there.

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lalunedigimon · 2 years

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This is a little oneshot i made inspired by this post by @autoplaysdigimon

Fic is put under the cut,

Tw of implied abuse, war and abandonment.

Also a few hints of Gatomon being gay for another digimon but that's just me trying to keep a slight brighter mood. No beta

Wizardmon gave a quick look over at the white cat digimon he had found himself traveling with. They hadn't exactly spoken a word to the other since he had first woken up at the digimon's camp. They had developed a silent agreement to travel together.

The fire was starting to dwindle, and Wizardmon had a feeling he would once again take first shift. Though, Gatomon didn't show any sign of moving to lay down and get a nap before her shift came.

"You can get some rest. I'm not ready to sleep." Gatomon stated as they looked up and met Wizardmon's gaze, adjusting the green gloves on her paws.

"You don't need to do that, you've been up since before the sun rose this morning." Wizardmon quickly responded as he picked up his staff to put on his lap.

The white cat digimon looked away from the scarecrow magician, standing up and moving to grab some of the branches and firewood they had gathered just before dusk. The silence was tense, with the only major sounds around them being the howls of the Garurumon in the distance and the crackling of the now roaring fire.

Wizardmon wasn't sure how to properly keep a conversation going with this mon. They just seemed quite distant in general. They could relate on that. How many years had it been since he traveled with another? He didn't want to really think on it. So instead he just said the first thing on his mind.

"You told me you are looking for someone, correct?" Wizardmon asked Gatomon as he watched them stoke the fire.

"I am." She responded as she sat down next to him, crossing her legs as she stretched.

"Have you met them before?"

"No... Yes? I don't know, my memories from my rookiehood are fuzzy. If I had, it would have had to been when I was a Salamon."

Wizardmon gave a hum of acknowledgement as he watched the other. Gatomon had started holding their head, trying their best to rack their brain.

"I have trained in two magic schools since my own rookiehood. If you wish, I can look within your memories-"

"NO." Gatomon responded rather quickly, looking at Wizardmon with a look of slight panic. They cleared their throat and tried to return to their more controlled attitude, "I would... rather not. I have a feeling that you wont find anything you would like "

Wizardmon had been quite surprised by Gatomon's outburst, and he glanced at her in a slight state of shock. But he wouldn't push it.

"Alright. I'm sorry." He was a bit slower to respond to Gatomon, needing to think through what they needed to say.

"Can we change the topic?" Gatomon asked as they looked at Wizardmon again.

"Of course. Do you have anything you wish for me to talk about?"

"You said you trained in magic? Where would someone learn something like that?"

Of course. This topic was rough to explain. But he trusted Gatomon. He didn't really get how he trusted her so much, he could assume it's because shes been the first mon to actually try and help his situation for a long time. He took a deep breath and looked down at his feet before he began to speak.

"Well, I'm from a parallel world. It was called Witchelny."

"Was?"

"Well, around four years ago, my frie-." Wizardmon caught himself in the moment, and he cleared his throat "My acquaintance, Witchmon, came to this world to practice magic outside of a classroom setting. I came with her. When we originally planned to return, we were told the two heroes of our world had failed, and that our home was at war. It's completely sealed off. Witchmon left me behind after we both found out we could no longer return home."

"Oh... Wow."

"Ah- Sorry, was that too much?" Wizardmon realised he probably was ranting at Gatomon, he doesn't want to scare her away because he couldn't control his emotions.

"No. It's just sad. You can't go home, while I'll hav to go home before he finds me."

Wizardmon raised an eybrow as he looked back at Gatomon. She had said that first day that she had been on the run. What was she running from? Or who was she running from.

"Who are you speaking of?" Wizardmon found himself questioning as he moved closer to Gatomon.

"...I have someone to return to. Her name is Noir. Shes a Blackgatomon. I met her when we were both Salamon." Gatomon was deflecting, it was easy to tell.

"Is she a friend?" Wizardmon would roll with it. He didn't need to know too much.

"She is our..." Gatomon hesitated as she looked at her gloves, fiddling with them a bit "Master... always liked her more than me. Something about her eyes. They are a pretty green but I don't think he cared about that."

"Why isn't she here with you then-"

"To keep her safe! If she ran with me, it would put a target on her head! She... Did try to come with me but it just isn't safe."

Wizardmon got closer and gave an awkward hug to the kitten. Gatomon froze for a few seconds before she nuzzled into him. Wizardmon was pretty sure that he hadn't hugged anyone since he was a Candlemon, but he was sure that they needed it.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but it lasted at least the rest of the night. It probably didn't take that long before the two fell asleep like that. It was probably the best sleep they've had in months.

In the morning, Wizardmon awoke after Gatomon. She had already made a meal for him. The only thing Gatomon said that morning had been "I ate before you woke up."

He thanked her of course. After he ate, they were back to walking, while Wizardmon was still processing the night before. About midday was when Wizardmon made a decision and gave an offer to Gatomon.

"What if I went back with you?" Wizardmon had sort of said it out of no where, with little context to what he had been talking about.

"What?"

"You have been the first to show me there is still a light left in this world. I don't have anywhere to go, so what if i go with you to where you return?"

Gatomon freezes. She had to properly think out a response, and Wizardmon just patiently waited for a reply from the cat digimon.

"If... You do go with me, you're putting yourself in danger."

"Nothing i wouldn't hav to face on my own. After all nothing would be worse than being on my own once again after traveling with you."

"Let me... Think on it alright? I'd have to make an excuse of why you're with me."

They talked together over this possible situation. Gatomon decided an excuse for why she had left her 'home'. She had left to find recruits of course, and she had found Wizardmon to be capable. The two of them started on their way to Myotismon's mansion after they had came up with what they would say.

Wizardmon had a feeling that staying with Gatomon will be both the worst and best decision he will ever make.

#digimon fandom #digimon adventure #gatomon #wizardmon #tw implied abuse #tw mentions of war #digimon fanfiction #oneshot #gatomon is gay for noir #Noir the blackgatomon #digimon #writing #no beta we die like wizardmon #.... too soon?#probably #me with my digimon going by he/they or she/they hcs-#Happy Pride you get gay cats.

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imagine-the-energon · 1 year

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PRIME DIRECTIVES, CHAPTER 2

When she woke up, it was in her bed, under the covers but wearing nothing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be embarrassed as she looked at the two people in the room with her. One was a latino man, roughly her age, with a giant, fresh scar running across the right side of his mouth. His eyes were blue and glowing in the dim light as he quietly argued with another man. The second one had pale skin, bright red hair, and glowing blue eyes as well, and she could see that both of them were wearing button-up shirts with only half of the buttons done, showing off the Y stitches.

Their words felt muffled as she struggled to listen in on what they were saying. “We can’t just leave her alone Nexus.,” the redhead said.

“I know, Quintus, but you saw that paperwork. We need to get the Allspark out of it’s previous vessel before it gets destroyed.”

Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and her tongue was made of lead as she went to talk. “Wha… wha’ ‘app’n?”

The two men jumped up, all but running across the room to sit on either side of her bed. “You’re awake,” Nexus breathed, making her squint at him. “How do you feel?”

“She-et,” she muttered, her arms heavy as she kept the blanket on her chest while Quintus helped her sit up.

“You tore your stitches,” he told her. “If you hadn’t texted us, we would’ve done the same. Solus says you’ll heal fine.”

She squinted at them a bit more. Nexus. Solus. Quintus. “‘ime,” she muttered.

“Well, you remember, so that’s good,” Nexus quipped before sighing. “You’re going to have to be on bedrest until your incision heals.

“O’hers?”

“Still a bit out,” Quintus told her, holding up a cup of water that had a bendy straw in it. “We happened to be the closest. Mortilus and Onyx are the furthest away in Maine.”

“Were are-?” She started to ask before coughing and taking a drink.

“About 100 miles north of Tranquility,” Nexus answered. “And 250 miles from Mission City.”

She nodded. “Dam?”

“Damn?”

She shook her head. “Allspa’k. Dam. Hoo’er.”

“Hover Dam,” Nexus translated, and she nodded frantically, making her head spin. “300 miles.”

She shut her eyes, nodding as she took the information in. So close, yet so far away. She wondered, how far away was Diego Garcia? She was 100 miles from Tranquility, would she see the Autobots landing, or would she be too far away?

Would she even still be alive to see it?

She hadn’t been lying when she said she most likely wouldn’t survive if it was before Mission City, especially this… what year was it? She glanced around the room, noting the calendar that said it was March 23rd, 2006. Which meant there was anywhere from 12 to 18 months until the Autobots got there, as she was pretty certain the movie either happened before, during, or after Spring Break, or a few weeks into school.

“We should probably let you get some sleep,” Quintus said, causing her to jolt from her thoughts.

“Yes, the others will want to know you’re awake,” Nexus stood before offering her phone. She took it, seeing the 100+ messages with a grimace as the two went downstairs, the front door opening a second later.

She was going to just turn the screen off, but something on her nightstand caught her eye, causing her to look at it. It was the smaller folder, and from it, she could see part of a numerical code peeking out.

Glancing it over, it looked like just a bunch of normal names if you had no context, but as soon as she got to one name in particular, her heart stopped.

Pax, Orion.

Scanning through the list of names at a desperate pace, she realized-

Samson, Sean.

Samson, Shane

Hatch, Jack

Hyde, Aaron

Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, Ironhide. Their “human” names.

“Holy shit,” she murmured before fumbling for her phone, noting the full signal strength. Who could she test it on?

Brown, Ben.

Bumblebee.

She quickly entered the 25 digits before sending a quick, hello?

She leaned back, keeping her eyes set on the three dots that were popping up. What did it look like for him? Was it a text message? Or was there a false voice messaging him saying hello?

[B. BROWN]: Hello! I think I lost your number. New phone.

She bit her lip trying to hold back a laugh at the unintentional ‘new phone who dis’.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Riley? Riley Jaseen? Did I get the wrong number? I thought I was texting B’, but if that’s not you, then sorry!

[B. BROWN]: Riley… human?

[SECURED PHONE 1]: I mean, last I checked, yes??? You have to be B’, he was always saying shit like that.

She wanted to say more, but the phone vibrated, showing a new message from COMM 3.

[SECURED COMM 3]: Sleep before I send Nexus up there to drug you again.

“Solus,” she muttered before sending a ‘k’ and sending Bumblebee one last message.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: I gotta go. Turns out that getting hit with a semi-truck is “potentially deadly” and “life-altering”. Plus my stitches itch.

Perhaps it was a bit mean to slam him with a “here’s a human you’ve never met but you don’t know that, oh, and also, they’re very injured!” card and just ignore him to sleep. But, then again, she really didn’t want someone coming up here again until she was dressed.

He could be ignored for a few hours.

Over the next few weeks, she met the rest, but the two that remained through the waves were Solus and Nexus. It made sense, as both had been registered and practicing nurses before their respective murders.

Her phone was also buzzing, as she found a steady friendship with Bumblebee, who had a holoform of a teenager with dark skin, and big blue eyes framed by black curls with yellow streaks in them. She only knew this as he had wanted a photo of the view from her cabin, and she wanted to see the bottom of the Grand Canyon, which is where he had been camped for the past month or so.

It was stupid, but she immediately offered for him to stay with her, as she “couldn’t let a teenager be homeless in good conscious”, and, well… from what she could tell, he didn’t exactly protest the teenager bit, just that he wasn’t technically homeless as his camero was his home.

And then the idiot sends her an image of his alt-form, symbol included.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Hey, what’s that symbol on the side? And the steering wheel?

[B. BROWN]: Oh, my father made those. Well, I think the term is godfather? He looked after me when my father was busy.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Do you know if he made any others? ‘Cause that symbol looks familiar…

She bit her lip, sitting on the couch outside, wondering if she had said the right thing. Stomdrive saw her expression and sighed, moving to sit beside her in her own holoform, or, rather, hardlight form as it was apparently called.

“Still texting the youngling?” She asked, and Ashley absently nodded.

“He sent me a selfie,” she showed the picture, and the female prime sighed again. “I may have messed up…”

“I have the faction symbol,” Stormdrive said, shaking her head. “And I’ve accepted my new name and frame perfectly well.” And for the most part, she had. Since being named after the Thirteen tended to end poorly, those who were Cybertronians chose new names. Solus kept the S, changing to Stormdrive, an autobot forger who had been ambushed by the DJD killed to get to her Conjunx. She vaguely knew the connection that Conjunx and Sparkmates were one in the name, so she just nodded, having already talked to Nexus (now Nathan Blaire), who was going to be open about remembering Lunardrift’s life, even if it made him seem crazy.

“Wouldn’t they list you as offline?” she asked, dragging herself from her thoughts as her phone buzzed, unsure if she wanted to look at what he had just asked.

“There’s been a few times an Autobot has escaped the DJD.” Stormdrive shrugged, a completely human motion. “I can say I’ve been in stasis and recovering until my nanites healed enough for me to online.”

“Have fun with Ratchet,” she snorted, finally opening the message.

[B. BROWN]: are you sure you’re not mistaken? It’s not common.

She glanced at Solus, who sighed but nodded. Grimacing, she took a photo of the female prime’s alt mode, the grey and blue pattern shining in the sun, the Autobot emblem sitting just above the back wheel hub.

[SECURED PHONE 1]: Considering I’m literally staring at it…

[B. BROWN]: What is your designation?!

[SECURED PHONE 1]: I’m human. I have friends who aren’t. She calls herself Stormdrive? She’s been with me for a few years now.

There was nothing to describe the lack of messages aside from stunned silence before the femme beside her startled before going crosseyed and grimacing. “The mechling found my comm,” she said. “I have a helmache now.”

“I’d say take some Advil but that won’t work,” she huffed. “What is he saying?”

“Asking if I’m really online. He was just out of the youngling phase when the war kicked out of its lull,” she answered, making her blink.

“It was in a lull?”

Stormdrive nodded. “I keep forgetting you don’t know much despite your information. As you know, Cybertron was created by Primus, and he created my caste to defeat Unicron then protect him as he went into his Eternal Slumber. We did our best to ensure everyone was equal, but after the Quintessons stole our sparks, the Caste system was made. It had horrid laws and made it near impossible to bond out of castes. One such law was if a family was in great debt and they had sparked twins, they could give one away to the pits of Kaon to pay off their debts.

“The Pax family unit was in debt, despite being a higher cast. They had twin mechs, and the collectors came even before their protoforms were fully formed. They didn’t even let them choose and took the closest one, who was almost complete. They were left with one, whom they called Orion.” Stormdrive paused, and Ashley felt sick.

“So Megatron and Optimus are actually brothers?” she asked mutely. “It wasn’t a one-off line?”

Stormdrive shook her head, shifting in her seat. “No. Optimus’s creators died before he was 10 vorns old. Alpha Trion took him in and taught him how to keep Iacon’s databases. He formed an easy friendship with a senator, Shockwave, and when he was 49 vorns, Megatron was already the top gladiator in the pits. Megatron wanted to get rid of the castes, and Orion and Shockwave agreed. Alongside another gladiator, Soundwave, Shockwave’s brother, they met up and began planning.”

“The senate chose Orion to be next Prime, I know that much,” she said. “But they weren’t there to argue about picking a prime. They were there to get rid of the castes.”

Stormdrive nodded, looking equally disgusted and sick as the human felt. “It took them all by surprise enough that they forgot until some 40 vorns later. Megatron felt betrayed, especially since the other three had all said he was the one leading the movement. Shockwave tried to still help both of them before something happened, an accident of some type, that left him a disconnected husk of what he used to be. Soundwave was firmly with Megatron on how quickly the castes should be dismantled, while Optimus wanted the integration to be slow. The war wasn’t immediate, and even though the first portion was only 40 vorns, it was still 40 vorns too long.”

She shifted, leaning forward a bit. “What caused the lull?”

“The senate, the fourth faction in a war,” the femme answered. “They weren’t NAILs, but they definitely weren’t Autobot or Decepticon. They held the moons, and when it became apparent we weren’t paying enough attention to them, they bombed Uraya.”

She tilted her head. “That’s a city on Cybertron,” she knew that much. “What’s so significant about it?”

“It’s where the younglings were kept. It was the one thing both sides agreed on: don’t bring the little ones in on it. So when the senate bombed the city, they killed almost all of the younglings. Bumblebee was the only survivor from the clutch we pulled him from. Optimus took him in, Ultra Magnus being his godfather. The recovery teams were searching through the collector’s databanks, trying to find the original family units when they came across the datapackets for the Pax family.

“Neither faction could believe it at first, but then they did Spark Testing and Bond Stressing, and, well, the results spoke for themselves. They aren’t just twins. They’re Split-Sparked.”

Ashley closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “So what, they feel it when the other dies?”

“Yes,” Storm answered. “They can also talk to one another, no matter the distance. There’s the awkward parts of romantic partners, but-”

“Oh please don’t tell me they’re involved with each other,” she balked, making the femme bust out into laughter.

“Oh, no! You know what split sparks are!”

“Two bodies, one soul,” she answered. “So they’re one spark in two frames. They… share a partner?”

“Only if it’s serious,” she soothed. “Besides, Primes aren’t allowed to have Conjunxs. Part of the stupid castes that they were trying to get rid of.”

She did her best to push down disappointment (so what if she had a crush on Optimus? She didn’t exactly have a chance with him) and nodded. “So they raised Bumblebee?”

“The beginning of the lull,” she confirmed. “Sentinel Prime assigned them to be Caretakers of the Allspark. One led the scientists, and the other lead the guards. When it came time to transfer the Allspark’s vessel, nothing happened. It usually happens if there isn’t a suitable vessel anywhere nearby, so there wasn’t much fuss about it. But something happened to Megatron during those next mega-cycles that… I wish we call could’ve seen before now.”

“He got corrupted?” She found herself asking. “‘Cause the Allspark right now makes Cybertronians who attack on sight. Could he have been affected when the cube didn’t switch vessels?”

Storm paused, blinking rapidly before cursing. “I didn’t think of that,” she answered. “Would there be any way to clear it?”

Death , she thought, but that wouldn’t make sense… right? As he had died and came back two years later, angrier than before. “My first thought is death, using the Allspark to resurrect, but that would have to be with a new vessel, which we’ve yet to start working on. The second option is the Matrix of Leadership, but,”

“That alone won’t have the power to bring back a full spark,” Storm cut in. “It would bring back a partial one. You’d…”

“Have to use both at the same time,” she finished. “Damnit.”

“I know where the Matrix is,” the femme murmured, and she forced herself not to flinch at the reminder that sealing it had been what had originally killed the Cybertronian. “It’s safer where it is.”

“But Megatron-”

“We need to confirm he’s being corrupted before trying anything,” her tone was strict, but softened as she continued. “Megatron didn’t try to harm Optimus or Bumblebee until Tyger Pax. With your theory, the corrupted Allspark would’ve done anything not to be sent away. Since Bumblebee was the one manning the controls, he was the main target. Luckily, he had been trained by him to some extent. Instead of killing him, he was rendered mute.”

“Megatron followed the Allspark off of Cybertron, and a few weeks after that, Sentinel’s ship was “lost to space”,” she made the quotations, getting a nod. “And that leads us to here.”

It changed so much but left so many questions unanswered.

Her phone gave a sharp buzz.

[B. BROWN]: Is the offer for me to stay with you still there?

#Transformers #Prime Directives #The Failed Fix-it fic #Original Characters #Fanfiction #fanfic #writing #Transformers Fanfic #Transformers Bayverse #Bayverse #Dynasty of Primes #Bumblebee #Bayverse Bumblebee #maccadam #Prime Directives Fic #tw injury #tw mentioned death #tw mentions of war #queuecon

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lilyminer · 2 years

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Innocence

As much nostalgia Philza has for his past there is one thing he has never missed in the slightest. That is the look of paranoia and sorrow in the eyes of a child who was brought up in a world at war. He’d watched many generations on children loose a precious part of their little spirits to that kind of violence, whether indirectly or through the loathsome actions of those who’ve used children to fight their battles.

That was far from what was on his mind as he travelled to l’manburg, his sons country. His son was intelligent, compassionate, and a good leader, at least he was in the adoring eyes of a father. And so he expected the fierce battles he’d heard so much about to be led accordingly.

There was never anything to be worried about, and Philza never expected to be wrong about that.

Then he met Fundy.

His grandson, the boy his son raised all on his own, his very own blood. Yet it was already there, as soon as he met Fundys eyes he saw it. The pain that followed him, that portion of his deepest self torn bloody from his spirit, his grandson had been raised in the belly of a brutal war.

The dishonour of what had become of Wilbur before he intervened paled in comparison to the betrayal and burning anger that flooded his veins in that moment. He was supposed to know better, his bloodline was supposed to have the knowledge of centuries to better themselves as well as the world around them. And yet his own blood bares the scars of a broken childhood, of innocence torn from a child in the most preventable way.

How could he ever let this happen?

#philza #c!philza #fundy #c!fundy #mcyt philza #mcyt fundy #itsfundy #mcyt #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp writing #tw child soldiers #tw mentions of war #my writing #btw this is inspired by the song Wolf by First Aid Kit

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toast-com · 2 years

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Retort

(Trigger Warnings: Brief descriptions of Trauma, and War.)

Stanley's face reddened.

"...Did you think I wanted this?!" He shouted in Jennings' face. "That I wanted to be stuck on this dinky railway?!" Jennings reared back, as if struck, and she retorted back with a venomous;

"What? Did you want to be in that war or something?!" She snapped, guilt flooding her as soon as the words left her mouth. Stanley stared at her, in shock, and sagged, sorrow flooding his features. Jennings covered her mouth with a hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" Stanley shook his head slowly.

"No, it's fine," He said quietly, turning away from Jennings. "It's obvious that you did mean it..."

"Stanley wait-" She grabbed his wrist and he whirled to face her.

"Don't touch me!" He snapped viciously.

"You have no idea, what that war was like. You must think I enjoyed myself in the States, running my engine through the trenches, watching my frie-" His voice hitched, and he struggled to compose himself, various emotions warring across his face.

He took a shaky breath, and sighed.

"It's no use trying to explain it to you Jennings." He said, sounding defeated, and looking suddenly very tired. He turned away from her. "I'm just...gonna go." Stanley walked away, bumping into Monty, who looked at him worriedly as he passed her.

"What's wrong with Stanley?" Monty asked Jennings. She frowned. "What did you say?" Jennings wrung her hands nervously, now regretting her word choices. It was very well known on the Mid-Sodor that Monty loved Stanley fiercely, and was very quick to come to his aid.

"Uhm..." Jennings began nervously. "Would you mind, if we took this discussion somewhere else? Somewhere less public?" She continued, in a murmur: "So everyone won't look at us when you start shouting at me..."

Monty was taking deep breaths, and shaking.

"...I don't understand," She said, more to herself than Jennings. "Why would you mention that? Why would you mention that, when you know how he feels about it?!"

"I-I was being stupid," Jennings stammered. "I wasn't thinking-" Monty silenced her with a hardened glare.

"No, you didn't think-" Monty snapped. "You just bought up a traumatizing event for Stanley. And for what? To one up him, trying to get him back for angry comment he made about the railway!"

Monty just stood there, face to face with Jennings. She turned away from Jennings, and exhaled angrily.

"I'm just so angry-" Monty began, her back to Jennings. "Out of everyone, I didn't expect you to be so insensitive, and cruel." She sighed. "I'd expect something like this from John maybe, but you?" She shook her head. "I thought that you'd be better than that. Better than making cruel and ignorant comments, about a traumatizing event."

"I'm sorry, I'm truly am," Jennings replied quietly. "Maybe I-" Monty shook her head, and turned to face her, a disappointed look on her face.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." She snapped, hands on her hips.

#rws characters #toasty's writing #ttte fic #tw mentions of war #tw brief mentions of trauma #rws stanley #rws jennings #rws the mine engine #ttte humanized

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thecitythatdoesntsleep · 2 years

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MAY 5TH “MIND IF I CUT IN?“

Ballroom | Knife | Stumbling || @themerrywhumpofmay

(TCW: threatening, vaguely implied noncon, mentions of war, harsh language, implied intimate whumper, implied slavery, death threats via dialogue, knight!whumpee, prince!whumper, royal whump)

"The Prince has requested you dance with him," A man in a dress suit spoke, leaning closer to Whumpee who had been sticking close to the walls of the ballroom.

"His Majesty can fuck himself, sir." Whumpee replied to the noble, whom was the only person they remotely respected of their own will.

“I’ve already told you, if this goes well and he dares to get intoxicated,” The noble man trailed off and leaned in as if he were casually speaking above the harps and violins around them. “You can seduce him, and surely talk his inebriation into signing you free.”

“I came here in a suit of armor and you’ve stuffed me into a corset, you’re telling me I have to catch his attention?” Whumpee gaped and both of them parted from conversation when the Prince started to stride closer.

“Let’s just hope you can dance,” A final mutter from the nobleman and he and Whumpee both bowed to show their respect at his incoming.

“I know you’re shy, Whumpee, but I shouldn’t have to pluck you off the wall, you’re far from a flower.” Whumper purred, watching Whumpee lift from their bow and the Prince extended his hand towards them.

They cringed inwardly, eased clammy fingers into a smooth but threatening hand. It snatched them closer and drug them out begrudgingly to the dancefloor.

All eyes turned to them, they were forced to wear a faux smile of bashfulness and glee; pretending to be bewildered that they would ever get a chance to dance with ‘His Highness.’

“You look beautiful tonight,” Whumper spoke lowly, watching the preying eyes squint in conversation as he’d leaned into Whumpee.

“You’re too kind my liege, I take it you enjoy the outfit you put me in.” They rattled back coyly, while earning a stern clench of the Prince’s jaw.

“It seems you haven’t learned how to accept a compliment yet, we’ll work on that.” Whumper denoted, both taking position at the center of the floor; a spotlight panning to them and the rest of the room starting to dim.

Whumpee hadn’t realized it was going to be such an event, whispers all around them as the dancefloor cleared but circled around like an arena spectating a duel.

“Don’t disappoint me, knight,” The Prince muttered in a quiet voice, “Or I’ll invade your Kingdom and violate your Queen.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened marginally, swallowed around their words and instead gave a small nod of acknowledgement. They understood their captivity, they had since they’d been taken as a prisoner of war, when they’d been sent in as a messenger of treaty.

Violins slowly started to hum and with the first step, Whumpee and the Prince were locked into a heated stare; both daring the other to fumble their steps and ruin the plan. If Whumpee wanted to play, Whumper had far more practice in skills of fancy and knew it well. Whumpee would have to be extremely poised, to be able to keep up once the tune increased.

As the two started to trade steps, held their left hands palm to palm and the right holding each others forearms; the crowd started to whisper and gossip. Each turn they took, every articulated tip-toe, people were making bets and telling stories about who they thought the stranger was.

Unannounced, untitled, merely plucked from their edge and thrust into blinding lights. Dancing with someone that other nobles would kill to have a single twirl with. Here Whumpee was, sweating bullets and feeling it drip down their scalp from under their pinned on wig.

When the music started to go up tempo and the Prince’s lip cocked into a half-smirk, guised as a charming stare; he added an extra two steps and gave a single tug to initiate he’d curl them closer, just to see if they could keep up.

Whumpee gave it their all, tried to loosen up enough that they could merely be toted along and counterbalanced his steps as though they’d been dancing all their life. When their arm felt a tug, they gracefully twirled in, met opposite hands as Whumper held their back to his chest for a single moment that captivated the audience with a lull of envy.

“You’re not as daft as I thought you’d be, but let’s see if you’re fit for a King,” The Prince whispered, as if he were giving them a bashful compliment in the backwards hug that had been paused for tabloid sake.

“You’re not the King yet, and you’ll never be in my Kingdom.” Whumpee whispered, tucking in shyly and giving a coy glance to a prying and curious Royal, that had stopped to admire their fluid pause. They looked like such a nesting couple, despite how much hatred fueled their comments.

He slung them outward and they resumed another hold, palms flat and hands cupping, Whumpee’s hand on his shoulder and his at their waist. More intimate, inches closer to reset their distance and increase Whumpee’s chance of fumbling their steps. Another stare-down and they’d picked back up to the live musicians; one step, two steps and they were working back around the ballroom in a large, exaggerated circle.

“If you make me look like a fool, I’ll cut off your ring fingers and send them to your family.” Another idle threat and Whumpee almost wasn’t taking it seriously anymore. He’d talked such a big game but so far, he’d done nothing than have guards throw them in holding and beat them up periodically when they didn’t gush information.

“If I impress you with this dance, you’ll pour us a glass of your favorite rum and let us escape to the garden for a drink.” Whumpee bargained and the Prince looked suspicious but pleased at how simple their request was. Perhaps Whumpee just needed a stiff drink, maybe his threats hadn’t overpowered his charm and they were falling already.

Sharp strings started to be backed up by cellos, harps and flutes, the symphony was reaching a climax and the sparkle in Whumper’s eye said they needed to be prepared for failure. They weren’t skilled in dance but they were skilled in fighting. They knew how to move with an opponent and thought surely if they could do it on the battlefield, doing it at a tenth of the speed, could only be easier.

The hard part, was always making sure they looked as haphazardly in-love with the face above them, scrutinizing, staring them down as if they were a target and he was a bow. Keeping their body and movements graceful, instead of stiff, while they had the attention of ten different Kingdoms in attendance.

Whumper lifted their held hands and Whumpee gave a slow twirl, feeling him pull towards himself after and they met chest to chest, palms meeting at their center between them. He grabbed their hand in a cupping fashion and they both stepped backwards, Whumpee picking up their unspoken cue and starting to turn clockwise.

Half way through the turn, Whumper turned back the opposite way and they quickly followed suit to meet again and swirl in a counter direction now. They repeated it, four, six times before returning back to holding waists and shoulders; cupped hands to their left once more.

The Prince gave a cocky smirk, uncaring this time about the preparation and as they quickly spun in a three-step pattern, he gripped at their back and they both knew the ballroom favorite was coming to an end.

It was signal enough and Whumpee struggled but gave in blindly, leaning against the Prince’s hold and trusting he’d support them as they slowly were tipped back. They lifted a slowly poised leg, just enough off the ground to make a statement of trust and graceful balance; a single arm wrapping around his neck with a gentle decline.

The lights snapped off and when the whole room brightened again, uproarious cheers and applauds came from all angles around them and Whumper carefully set them back on their feet. They gave another pause for the benefit of their audience and held each others forearms as every other sound but clapping and conversation drowned them out.

“I suppose I’ll have to get you that rum, if I’m a man of my word.” The Prince incited and they slowly weaved through the re-arranging ballroom to find a servant at the lounge.

Once they’d acquired their liquor, the Prince escorted them arm in arm to the garden; never once leaving their side and being allowed it as the guise of a courtship.

“I’m surprised you picked something self indulgent, when you seem so honorable and driven.” Whumper mused, taking a long sip of his crystal glass to imbibe himself.

“Are you saying I could have asked for freedom within a single dance, Majesty?” Whumpee inquired and recieved a low chuckle from the man beside them.

“I suppose you’re wise, asking for something small, first.” The Prince came to round the large fountain and sat at a ledge, pulling them into sitting with him.

“I employ good keep, not a single bruise on your face just how I instructed. Have they been treating you well?”

“Oh it’s been quite fair your highness, They’ve been quite generous in corrections and satisfactory in their egregious pleasure seeking.” Whumpee denoted, as if none of it had affected them in the first place and had merely been an inconvenience instead.

“You’re a prisoner here and until I hear from your Kingdom about my diplomatic reconditioning, you’ll be used how I see fit. For now I just want you pliant.” The Prince informed, waving his half empty glass in eyesight of a lingering servant and being ushered another fill to the rim.

“I have been pliant, I’ve made you look good tonight and caught the attention of the other monarchs; I’m not sure when you’ll manage to be satisfied.” Whumpee insisted and took a cautious sip of their own liquor, unflinching to the burn as it scalded it’s way down.

“If they’ve saw fit to correct you, obviously you’re still rigid in some sense of pride.” He chastised and they gave a flutter of lashes over the rim of their glass.

“Would you like to see how they’ve treated me, your Majesty? View the brutality at your namesake, driven so deeply into my skin a short dance almost sent me to tears?” Whumpee questioned, watching the depth in the Prince’s eyes start to drop as they dangled temptation in his face. They just barely pulled back the hem of their neckline, revealed a dark purple bruise that was just within alignment of their dress garment.

They took a solid drink now, needing a buzz to calm their spiking anxiety at the fact they were trying to seduce this ruthless man and it was somehow working. He drank with them, finished the glass and the servant came forward with a whole glass decanter to refill it. He took it from them this time, kept it for them and poured their glass full of his own accord.

“This might be the first thing I’ve had to drink since I was cleaned up and fed to attend. They kept me starved and weak, but knew I needed to not disgrace you this evening.” Whumpee recalled their torture in his cells to him as if it were a love story and it disgustingly held the same effect to him. He got a sparkle to his eye, looked at them with more enticement.

Surely if they got him drunk and filled his lustful appetite, he’d easily sign the treaty they’d prepared and they could escape soon after.

“They even branded me, your Highness.. I wear your crest on my body, forever now, nothing to be done about it.” Whumpee purred, shifting closer on the edge and coming to give a soft clink of their glass to his.

They both drank but he took greedy gulps and they took a swig and slowly spit it back into the crystal. He didn’t notice and they thanked both the liquor and the low lighting they’d carefully picked in the garden.

“Since I’ve become your property, I think it’s only right you examine your men’s handiwork and break me in how you’d have me, your highness.” They offered lowly and reached out to pull the Prince’s hand to their thigh.

When he didn’t pull away, they knew they had a chance at their plan after all.

“If we leave now, there will be talk,” The Prince worried aloud and Whumpee laughed.

“Isn’t talk what you love, Prince? If everyone is talking about you that means you’re of interest.”

“Meet me in the southmost tower in ten minutes,” The Prince ordered lowly. “I’m trusting you to show up or I’ll put a bounty on your head.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Prince.”

As he walked back the way they came, they let out a sigh and held their breath again. It was a step closer to what they needed, where they needed to be. Now all they had to do was go through with it, give themselves up as sacrifice and trick him into signing their peace treaty.

They knew what they’d face when they signed up and they’d promised their Queen success. No matter the cost. That’s why they hadn’t come yet, hadn’t invaded with an army to get her right hand back. Because they already knew they’d be captured and had planned it all along.

“Are you really willing to go this far for your Kingdom, knight?” The noble that had been helping them inquired, coming around the fountain to see them brushing themselves off.

“I told My Lady I would succeed in getting a signature, no matter the means and I’m a right-hand of my word. My body is a small price to pay to save families, soldiers and her Majesty of any more tragedy.” Whumpee admitted, standing to take to his side as they already knew he’d been sent to show them the route to the tower.

“You don’t think she’d find tragedy in your self-sacrifice?” The nobleman inquired as they walked back into the castle and took down a hall.

“She would, she’d mourn my death for a decade, at least. But that’s why she’ll never know what it costs for our survival in these lands.” Whumpee replied in a soft voice, hands shaking at their sides as they got closer to a cutout in a wall that revealed a spiral staircase.

“I hope her Majesty is aware of what a noble heart her right hand has, how much they’d give up for her and her rule.” Even in such a grim time, the nobleman smiled and they found themselves smiling too, basking in such a simple, kind emotion.

“Her Majesty knows I’d die for her,” Whumpee admitted, turning towards the stairs and only glancing back with a slightly wider smile.

“That’s why she agreed to be my bride.”

I vaguely remember @painsandconfusion asking for ballroom whump? Here love, a treat for you, I hope I didn’t just dream that up or that I’m confusing you with someone else. IF SO IGNORE BUT KNOW ILY and your whump keeps me shooketh not stirred.

#whump #whump community #whumpblr #royal whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump writing #the merry whump of may #mind if i cut in #tw threatening #tw whump #tw language #tw implied future noncon #tw implied past abuse #tw implied noncon #tw death threats #tw mentions of war

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intersectionalpraxis · 2 months

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Israel went to Jenin today, in the West Bank, and kidnapped this 7 year old girl from her family. They do these things often but we rarely catch them on film [@/Carl0s_Vela on X.]:

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sayruq · 25 days

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#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #gaza genocide #genocide #shoah mention #holocaust tw #famine #epidemics

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stuhde · 1 year

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i had shared what is happening in sudan on a long facebook post last night, but it virtually received almost little to no engagement or shares from the nearly 600 “friends” i have on the site.

this morning, my great-aunt was shot by the soldiers fighting for power, and God forbid, i lose more of my family members before eid this friday.

please read below to understand what is happening and how you can help my country. i hope the tumblr community can show more kindness than the lack of support and advocacy i’ve seen elsewhere.

يا رب اجعل هذا البلد آمناً 🇸🇩

the lack of awareness and advocacy from the African, Arab, and Muslim diaspora and the human rights community has been painful.

while Western media has done little to no coverage of the ongoing conflict in the capital city of my motherland, Sudan, it appears that the rest of the world also partakes in normalizing crimes and violence against SWANA people.

violence and war hurting the SWANA region are NOT ordinary occurrences — no one, regardless of race, creed, ethnicity, religion, and gender, should experience the unprecedented amount of violence that harms my two living grandmothers, aunts and uncles, and baby cousins who live in Khartoum.

your decision to ignore reading or educating and discussing with others about what is likely to be a civil war is complicity in viewing SWANA people as individuals who regularly experience conflict and are undeserving of help.

the silence is damaging, and it is up to us as privileged members of the diaspora (or individuals living in the Western world committed to human rights) to support the people of my country and their dream for a stable, democratically elected government.

what is happening in Sudan is a fight that started on April 15 between two competing forces for power — the Sudanese Army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) — neither groups are representative of the needs of our people. The Sudan Army is loyal to the dictator, Omar Al-Bashir, and the RSF is responsible for the genocide in Darfur.

with both power struggles backed by different Arab and Gulf nations, the two parties have been fighting for power for the last few years. While they worked together to try and end the people’s revolution, they lost. however, they are now in a constant power play of who will get to rule the nation.

this all means that war is NOT a reflection of my country — violence does not represent the SWANA people. Sudan is a nation of beautiful culture, strong women, intellectual and influential Islamic scholars, poets, and youth at the front lines of the revolution. we are a people committed to a region of peace for ourselves and the rest of the Ummah.

my family and the rest of Sudan’s innocent civilians are at the most risk, with many currently without drinking water, food to eat, electricity, and complete blockage to any mosques during the final nights of Ramadan, our holiest month of the year.

i ask that you please keep Sudan and our people in your prayers — donate to the Sudan Red Crescent or a mutual aid GoFund Me, email your representatives if you live in a country that can put pressure on either competing force of power, discuss this with your family and friends, and please do not forget to think about SWANA people — our brothers and sisters in Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and many others need our love and support.

الردة_مستحيلة ✊🏾

#KeepEyesOnSudan

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coffeelovinggayidiot · 7 months

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Listen, y'all outside of the Israel/Palestine situation can have whatever opinions you have, but as someone who woke up at 7am by the sounds of sirens and who has friends and family living in the danger zone, I honestly don't give a shit, and no other israel or palestinian gives a shit either over what some dumb fuck on the internet who's never experienced war or even been in a bomb shelter has to say. I pray that my palestinian friends are safe, and that they will suffer as little as possible. People on both sides are DYING. You can have your bullshit, experienceless opinion all you want, but fact is people here are suffering, and you, person getting angry and writing shitty tumblr posts, are not.

Go to hell, people are dying and you making anti-semetic/anti-palestinian post is helping no one but your pathetic ego

Edit: there's were just attacks where I live (which is considered safe) and I'm gonna be completely honest, I'm terrified, for both sides. PLEASE if you're in Palestine/Israel dm/reblog/comment to let me know your ok. We need to support each other through this. This is going to cause us all so much trauma, and we need to hold each other's hands.

#palestine #israel #ישראבלר #ישרבלר #sorry for being harsh but I'm sick of this shit #tw bomb #tw bombing #tw war #tw war mention #i'm really sorry everyone

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galactic-rhea · 1 month

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i am sooo desperate to see more art of shmi skywalker because i love her so much so thats DEFINITELY my doodle request lol

The original Skywalker, you're so right about it.

Also I have her a good friend, I'll call her...idk, Tei Demma (she is another slave, obviously).

#Thanks for the ask!#ask #request #sw #star wars fanart #my art #star wars #star wars prequels #prequel trilogy #prequels #shmi skywalker #anakin skywalker #star wars oc #oc #tw for implied abuse #tw abuse mention #tatooine #skywalker family

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antianakin · 5 months

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You know, if you watched Star Wars and claim to be a fan of it, but your takeaway of it is "this specific small group of people deserves to be murdered down to the last child" then I'm fairly certain the only thing you have ever enjoyed about Star Wars is the pew pew aesthetics of it because the overarching message seems to have completely blown right over your head. I can't imagine watching Star Wars, with its very very obvious symbolism and messages, and then coming onto someone else's post to advocate for the genocide of a minority cultural group. I'd be embarrassed. I'm embarrassed FOR YOU.

#star wars #fandom wank #jedi #pro jedi #tw genocide mention #tw genocide

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call-me-maggie13 · 1 year

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My late 40s to early 50s boss just asked what’s wrong with 18-25 year olds these days

And as a 21 year old all I could think was

The world has been on fire since we were born and we’ve been told the adults are putting it out and now we’re old enough to realize they’ve been pouring kerosene on the flames instead of water.

Before my first birthday, 9/11 happened and the world wouldn’t let us forget it. When I was 6 years old, on September 11th, my teacher sat us down in front of a tv and showed us footage of 9/11 and then told us we weren’t allowed to cry. She said that it was real and those were real people jumping from the building because jumping was a faster death than burning.

When I was 7 years old, the economy collapsed and my family went from lower middle class to poverty, we went from healthy home cooked meals every night to mac and cheese and beans for weeks in a row. We started skipping holidays because mom and dad couldn’t keep the lights on and buy us new toys. We started wearing clothes and shoes until they fell apart.

When I was 11 years old, Sandy Hook was attacked by a grown man with a gun and 26 children and teachers were brutally murdered. My teachers never looked at us the same and I haven’t felt safe in a school since. After that, once a month we would have active shooter drills and we were taught to fight and cause as much damage as possible if an armed man entered our classroom because it gave other classes a few extra seconds to escape, it gave our siblings a few extra breaths of safety. We were taught to cover ourselves in other students blood and play dead if we weren’t hit, we were taught that we weren’t safe and we wouldn’t be safe as long as we were in school.

When I was 15 years old, my high school art teacher locked us in the classroom and told us if we heard gunshots we should line the desks up lengthwise so that they reached the other wall because that would be harder to break through than a barricade. She told us that she knew about the threats and she wouldn’t judge any of us that wanted to leave. She told us to get our siblings and stay in the buildings as long as possible, to duck in between the cars so we couldn’t be seen until we got to ours. She told us about the trail behind the auto shop that was lined with trees and led off campus. I got my brother and his friends and we left, we spent the day sitting on the floor in my living room waiting for a phone call that the people we left behind were dying.

Two weeks later, one of my friends dragged me out of a football game and forced me to go home with him. He grabbed my brothers and my best friend and forced the six of us into a two seater car before he would tell us anything. His mom worked for the school board and had told him the police found an active bomb under the bleachers in the student section, and they weren’t informing anyone because they didn’t want to incite panic.

When I was 16 years old, ISIS set off a bomb at a pop concert in Britain and killed 22 people, injuring at least 100 more. The next day at school, our teachers went over how to stay safe if we ever experienced something like that. They told us the most important thing to remember was to not remove any shrapnel because it could be keeping us from bleeding out, they said it was more important to get yourself out safely before you worried about anyone else.

When I was 18 years old, my teachers stopped teaching and put the news up on the projector and we watched as the Notre-Dame burned. The boy I had sat next to since second grade spent the entire day trying to call his sister who was studying abroad in Paris, I watched this kid I had never even seen frown fall apart in English because she wouldn’t pick up the phone. We didn’t know it at the time, but she was okay.

Six months later, my history teacher put the news on the projector again for another fire. This time, we watched as an entire continent burned for three months. We watched their sky turned orange from the smoke and their wildlife drowned in pools because they were trying to escape the heat.

When I was 19 years old, the whole world shut down because of a global pandemic. I didn’t meet a single new person for eight months, despite the fact that I had just moved across the country. I watched as people didn’t wear masks and spread it to everyone around them, I was so scared when I went back to my room every night because my roommate was immunocompromised and I was terrified I would give her Covid and kill her.

Just two months later, I watched a video of a black man being murdered by police officers. I watched the world around me explode after George Floyd’s death, people destroying businesses and police stations. I watched some of my friends realize police officers didn’t exist to keep them safe, they existed to keep the people in power in power. I learned that some of the people I had grown up with would rather watch a black man die than admit that maybe, maybe, the system was broken.

When I was 20 years old, I went to the mall with a friend to buy a birthday present and I was pulled to the ground by a twelve-year-old girl after gunshots went off in the mall. I held this child’s hands as she cried for two hours until we were evacuated by police, and then I waited with her outside and helped her look for her mom. I gave her my phone to call her mom and I watched as she called the number over and over and never got a reply. I waited with her until a police officer took her to the station to try to find out more information about the girl’s mom, I hugged this girl I had never seen before and I wished her the best. I never found out what happened to her or her mom, it keeps me up at night sometimes worrying that this little girl was orphaned.

When I was 21 years old, I started working at a daycare and exactly a week later, Uvalde happened and I found myself crying because my students are the same age those kids were. When they came in after school the next day, one of them had asked me if I had heard about Uvalde and I told her I had, I asked her if she was scared of going to school because of it. Her reply broke my heart. “We practice for it every week so that when it happens to us, we know what to do. I’m just worried that the shooter is going to start in my baby sister’s classroom and not mine.” I listened as other students with younger siblings agreed with her, one of them saying “I would take fifty bullets, if I had to to keep my little brother safe.”

Early this year, I watched Russia launched bombs into Ukraine, blowing up churches and schools and hospitals and apartment buildings. I watched as the estimated death count rose from the hundreds to the thousands to the tens of thousands. I watched men send their wives and children to bordering countries for refuge while they stayed behind to fight, knowing they would probably never see each other again.

Just four months ago, I watched as my right to medical privacy got taken away. I watched my old roommate fall apart because she was denied the right to have her dead fetus removed from her body for almost two days, I worried every time I looked away from her that the next time I saw her would be in a casket. I watched as the women around me realized the military-grade weapons that had torn children in classrooms apart were protected by the government but our bodies weren’t.

There is nothing “wrong” with my generation, we’ve experienced all these things as children and were expected to respond with patriotism for a country that continuously sacrificed their children for the “right” to military-grade weapons, that took away my freedom of choice. We are tired, we were told the world was a wonderful place then shown, at every step, how the world was a place of destruction and pain. And we are angry. We are angry because no one but us seems to be trying to fix anything. And we are scared. We are scared because our children, our nieces and nephews, our cousins and our friends children are growing up in a world that won’t protect them.

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