myojo_8989

If someone you know has a sensitive disposition, and tells you that they literally cannot stomach certain topics: Fucking respect it. \

You don’t have to stop liking the things you like. You aren’t being asked to never talk about said things ever again. It literally costs nothing to try to be mindful of peoples’ boundaries.

And if you’re the type of asshole that goes in the other direction and makes someone feel bad about their own comfort zones? Or tells them to “toughen up” and tries to expose them to more of it just because you can’t accept that they don’t have the same interests as you? I hope your friend or partner ditches your ass because that kind of mindset is toxic as shit.

Horror is like a punch in the face. Some people are into that shit; some aren’t phased by it. Some respond by laughing it off. If they can brace themselves for it, then maybe they want to prove to themselves and to others that they can handle it. But don’t spring that shit on someone unannounced and then make fun of them for being shocked and upset by it.

I’ve found that I can handle horror in small doses, and only when I’m mentally prepared for it, or viewing it from a third-person lens (i.e. Jacksepticeye’s LPs of Fran Bow, Sally Face, and Little Nightmares.) But I still have my hard limits. And I’m extremely grateful that I now have a circle of friends that, for the first time since I can remember, actually respect my boundaries. They make an effort not to talk about things they know will upset me, or will hide it behind spoiler tags.

But for the longest time, a couple ex friends - and especiallymy ex boyfriend - made me feel so fucking self-conscious about my distaste in horror. He would keep pushing graphic content on me and ‘forget’ that it bothered me 9 times out of 10. He would incessantly try to nag me into watching Hellsing. He would use every opportunity to jab at me with “lol wuss” when I said I didn’t want to see something, then backpedal with “It’s just a joke jeez” when I got upset about being made fun of. He literally tried to trick me into watching a psychological thriller/horror movie by leading me into believing it was just like, a run-of-the-mill bad ghost hunter movie. had I not skimmed the trackbar to glimpse some of the fucked up shit later down the line, I could have been thrown into a legit panic attack and it sickens me to know that he may have been trying to cause that.

These days, horror isn’t justa trigger to me because it makes me feel angry and physically ill, or because my overactive imagination, anxiety disorders & empathic tendencies will lead me to vividly picture myself being in the victim’s place. It’s now a trigger to me because there is always a part of me that’s worried that even bringing up the topic among other people will lead to them sending me right back down that lane of “Oh what, you can’t handle it?? Lol what a wuss, grow a spine, just try it, there’s so much good horror media out there with such Deep Introspective Meaning n shit, you’re missing out!!”

Iwill say that if someone is going out of their way to try and make you feel like a terrible person for being into darker themes, they need to check themselves. They aren’t a saint. It’s literally just a difference in opinion and life experiences, and the sooner they realize that, the sooner they can understand that being into fictional blood SFX in a fictional movie doesn’t mean someone condones irl axe murderers.

But still; if you have to bully someone into trying to like something you like, you’re the weak one. Not them.

yooooooo

i just got discharged from the hospital on sunday, and when they took out my iv IT WOULDN’T STOP BLEEDING. after 20 mins of pushing on it, putting ice on it, and many cotton balls, it finally stopped. sadly i didnt get any pics :/

Bungou Stray Dogs, 2016

gods of war fight themselves constantly.

a foot soldier see himself in the enemy as the charge propels him forward.

the mounted warriors circle themselves with harrying blade amd arrow.

the sniper peeks over cover and spots a flash of light, equal parts divinty and panic.

the general watches a dozen small gods of war tackle into eachother and themselves. all the while plotting the downfall of that dreaded doppleganger he spies in the command tent opposite theirs. they watch back.

War gods are not omnipotent but they are omnipresent. every regiment has one. one that smells the swear of their counterpart in another army. they seek eachother out.

sword and gun and horse and command all intertwined in an endless dance as old as war itself. momentum and velocity marking turning points in an endless maze of conflict. where the blood congeals is where two gods fought.

ripping eachother to bits in hail of bullet and flurry of steel. still they rise. no memory of victory or defeat. for in war there is nothing like that for eternal gods of strife. they catch the smell on the wind and move to the opposing army, join up, and the battle of hunters begins again.

the generals order capture but as soon as they lay eyes on eachother there is chaos. fist, knife and teeth all cuddled up for warmth in the blood of the victim. they both fall but the day is won. they already plotted their maneuvers to see the war ended. all that matters is the deatb of the other.

hollow point deities seek eachother out and let loose sheets of metallic fire. in their bedlam there is no friend or foe or neutrality. only the ruined remains of themselves.

for a god to see themselves is to assert dominion over domain. so they hunt and fight and kill.

a clash of steel, a tearing of skin and sinew, another god felled but the injuries lefr the victor vulnerable. it wasnt long before a roaming squad caught scent and collapse on the limping entity.

to them they see a warrior like themselves, wearing the colors of foreigners or rebels or imperialists or barbarians. but the blood on their colors call out in rich reds. they pull the weapons out of their sheaths almost unwittingly. they crush the poor god like a hammer on a grape.

the cycle begins anew when the horsemen notice eachother. they charge immediately, bringing their horses around and forward, spears lowered, and bows firing. arrow after arrow. pass after pass. an intricate dance of control and unyielding advance. till they both run out of arrows and imoale eachother ontheir lances.

so the little prophets whose gospel is bloodshed and turmoil end another day of soaking the earth in their blood. they rise the next month. or year. or decade. another war. another battle. sign up. train. charge and fall. A tempo as calm as firing squads. as war drums. as marching. always marching.