summary: two teenagers meet almost everyday at the empty park swings and today is no different, except this time, things get revealed.
word count: 2454 words
warnings: mentions of domestic violence
a/n: alright, whew, i was extremely LOCKED IN while writing this fic. i just really liked their dynamic and the idea from the prompt my friend gave me kept flowing on and on and on until i eventually ended up with the longest trade fic i've ever made in my trading career, enjoy the milkbread, i baked it thoroughly for two hours. almost forgot to mention that this is also a continuation of this fic so read that first if you haven't yet!
credits: @hellosweetart for the awesome milkbread thumbnail art & @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers
The park was empty after three o'clock in the afternoon, as always. Besides Francis, only an elderly couple would consistently come at an hour like this with the snow raining over the greenery and the cold almost unbearable. Still, even a negative degree celsius never stopped Francis from coming back here after his morning shift at his part-time job, and it was as plain as the snow gathered atop one of the swings part of the playground set to see why.
His thoughts filled itself with a girl's freckled complexion and mismatched eyes as he swept the snow off with his gloved hands and sat down on the swing. Francis still couldn't believe how fast time had passed with Nacha---before she came to his life, time moved torturously slow, especially on the days when he'd face the wrath of his father, Richard. Now? The hours spent at work barely registered to him anymore. Other than the tiredness that seeped into his bones from a job (hopefully) well done, everything else seemed to pass by so quickly as long as he had the routine of Nacha coming to their usual spot and talking to him like a normal human being.
Francis sighed and smiled to himself while imagining Nacha's smile, Yeah… As long as I have her, this life is still worth living… His eyes felt heavy and his vision blurred at the edges as time passed by. How long ago was it that he had eaten something? He had skipped on lunch break because the prospect of spending a single dime on food felt unnecessary, especially when the reason for him taking up work was… Francis's smile fell at the flashback of his mother completely bedridden and her medicine running short on stock.
A sigh was just about to escape his lips when a loud, sweet voice called out from afar, "Francis!" His breath hitched in his throat and he snapped his chin up to watch as Nacha ran towards him, her blue pencil skirt flew in the direction of the wind along with her scarf while she looked to be carrying a metal tumbler in one hand and a plastic of goodies being cradled on her other arm.
"Hah…" Nacha panted as she got ready to sit on the empty swing besides him. Francis hurriedly swept the snow away before she could get her skirt wet by sitting on it and immediately placed his hands on his lap and twiddled his fingers. "Whew…" Even though she was breathing hard, she still managed a huge smile and a hearty laugh, which Francis returned---albeit, a little crooked. She looks… extremely happy today, Francis thought as he stared at the side of her face. "Wow, that was a long run from here to there. But I didn't want the bread to go cold and stale, so I had to actually make a run for it this time."
Francis perked up on his swing and his grip on the chains tightened as his stomach let out a horribly loud growling sound. Nacha blinked, which made Francis flush and avert his gaze. "U-Um…" He stammered, completely at a loss for a words. This wasn't the first time Nacha had prepared snacks for their meeting, and given that she had shown such an unrivaled passion for cooking through her ramblings, it wasn't the last. Still, the embarrassment ate at him; after all, the reason for why he skipped out on lunch break was also partly due to Nacha always making sure he was fed when they would meet in the park.
"Teehee, I didn't know you wanted my cooking that much, Francis." Nacha teased, narrowing her eyes at him with a mischievous smile.
Francis's lower lip quivered and he bit it down while mumbling, "Mmm, of course I do…"
Nacha smiled wider, "Well, a chef is not complete without her taste tester. I actually made something new today and I'm a little bit prouder of myself because of it! Would you like to try it, Francis?"
Oh, so that's why she looked so happy today, Francis acknowledged in his mind and nodded fervently.
Pleased, Nacha didn't hesitate to grab something from her paper bag, and presented it to him with the same flourish that she did when she showed him the contents of the first aid kid all those months ago. Francis looked at it curiously, it looked like some sort of bread bulging with whatever filling it had. "Ta-da! It's called empanada! I read about it from one of my mom's old food magazines. These ones are very popular back in my home country, and they're really savory!"
Francis never once doubted the description Nacha gave him. Knowing her skills, it probably tasted just as good---no, better---than how she described it as. He eagerly took the empanada she handed to him in both hands like it was some kind of treasure before bring it to his mouth with just one hand and taking a bite out of it. Was that…? His eyes blew wide open as he tasted the cacophony of ingredients that were beans, cheese, chicken, and minced potato, as well as ground beef.
Nacha watched amusingly as Francis scarfed down his meal, wolfing it down entirely in just three bites. When he made a look even after devouring one empanada, Nacha placed two more in his hands and watched as he devoured them too. All the while, she was content while nomming on her own piece.
"That was…" Francis trailed off as he wiped the corner of his mouth, leaving no crumbs in Nacha's cooking's wake. "Good. Really good, Nacha."
"I'm glad you think so, Francis." Nacha giggled as she wiped the corner of her lips after finishing her empanada and handing the metal tumbler to Francis after taking a quick sip.
Francis gladly swallowed down a good amount of its content, only pausing to check for himself what drink the sweet and chocolatey taste was from and concluding in his mind that it was hot chocolate, before taking another long sip and letting the hot beverage warm his insides.
Nacha took the tumbler from him as she heaved a content sigh---coincidentally, Francis burped at the same time and made her laugh in surprise. Francis stared at her as she laughed heartily, watching as her features contorted so beautifully on her freckled face---it made her look like a radiant goddess in his mind. "Haha… You really do like my cooking, don't you, Francis?"
"Of course, it's the best I've ever had."
"Really?" Francis nodded. "Ah, I'm so embarrassed. I'm still just a novice in cooking, after all." He tilted his head in response, not quite believing it. "Hmmm… Oh! I know!" Nacha clapped her hands together in epiphany. "My next goal is to make more servings of my cooking next time so you can bring some home to your family! If you're this sweet about my cooking, I can only imagine your parents' reactions!"
This time, however, Francis's eyes constricted and looked smaller than it had been previously. My family… His forehead wrinkled as he scrunched up his nose. There was only one person in his home life that would genuinely be kind enough to actually judge Nacha's cooking fairly, and she was stuck in bed without her sense of taste. His face darkened and his gaze naturally drew towards the ground---like it always did when he was contemplating something.
Nacha narrowed his eyes and her face fell slightly as she put a hand above his shoulder, hovering over it just in case he didn't want to be touched. "Hey… If it's a sensitive topic, I understand." Francis looked up at her, his lips slightly parted. Nonetheless, Nacha gave him a reassuring smile in turn. "I'm always here for you, Francis. Whenever you feel like telling me, I'd be willing to listen."
"I…" Francis racked his brain for any good response, but his head kept filling up with these negative thoughts. Why now? Why in the presence of someone he looked up to and felt the most happiest around? It made him look even more pathetic than he already was. Still… As he turned to look back at Nacha and catching a glimpse of those mismatched eyes staring back at him with a sympathetic gaze, he couldn't just freeze up and keep the truth about his family hidden anymore. "My mom… is sick…"
Nacha's eyes widened and she placed a hand on her chest while gripping one of the chains with her other hand tightly. "Oh no, is she okay?"
Francis smiled up at her sadly, "She'll be fine… At least, that's what I want to believe, and what I've been working so hard for."
"Francis…"
"My dad has been complaining about the medical bills for her so she's stuck at home while she recuperates and I've… been working part-time as a cashier at this small grocery store north of town so I can pay for her meds." Francis sighed. "It's not ideal, but it's like you've always said to me before, that at least, I'm taking steps to try and make it work."
"What about your dad?" Francis stared at her wordlessly for a moment. "Sorry, it's just… Aren't fathers supposed to be the ones supporting their family at a time like this? I mean, it's not like I can say for certain, after all, my mom and dad only got recently in touch with each other after getting divorced and well-" Nacha captured her mouth with her own hands and shook her head rapidly to get further thoughts out of her head. "Sorry, sorry, this isn't about me. I get way too ahead of myself sometimes, it's a bad habit."
"Mmm… It's fine…" Francis smiled reassuringly. "…Your parents were divorced?"
"Yeah, but, I mean, it's confusing, really," Nacha smiled nervously as she fidgeted with her skirt. "They were in a loving marriage. Totally no reason for them to get divorced, but they still did. And now, we're here in the States, to reconnect with my dad."
"…That sounds nice…"
"That's one way to put it… What about you? Your parents are married, right?"
"Yeah…" Francis narrowed his eyes. "But they really should have gotten divorced earlier…"
"Francis, you can't just say that-"
"My dad beats my mom." Francis interrupted, sending Nacha speechless. "She's kind, and sweet, and so patient with him, meanwhile he does terrible things to her without her even doing anything to him at all."
"I, I'm sorry…" Nacha hung her head low. "I didn't know… Does he…" She chewed on her lip and didn't dare look Francis in the eyes for this one. "Did he beat you too…?"
"…Yeah…" Francis said and raised his sleeve farther up his arm, to reveal cuts and bruises that was definitely not just from the bullies this time (given that it was already their Winter break after all, and they hadn't seen them in a week now).
"That's- that's horrible! We should-"
"Call a police…? They won't believe us, Nacha. Besides… I really don't want to make it more complicated for my mom…"
"But still… He can't keep getting away with this, Francis." She reached her hand out and placed it on top of his, making him flinch. Nacha also felt an electric sensation suddenly course through her veins, but she pushed it to the back of her mind while thinking of something to say. "Is this… also why they bully you?" Francis nodded slowly. She sighed, "I figured…"
"It felt really lonely before you… well…"
"Yeah, same here." That surprised Francis, who looked up at her with tears being shed slowly in the corner of his eyes. "I… always felt lonely, especially when I was a kid. It was around at the time when my mom and dad got divorced. I didn't understand any of it all. Why my mom chose to divorce my dad, why my dad didn't even fight it. I was confused about a lot of things, and because I was the only kid who only had a mom in a brand new country with kids I didn't know, I felt… isolated."
"But you have so many people around you."
Nacha shook her head. "That may be so, but… they're more like background noise! You know, when you turn on the TV in the early morning despite there being no programs available and it's just white noise…" Francis didn't quite get it, really. Maybe because he didn't have a TV anymore after Richard had broken their new one not too long after, but also because he didn't share the same situation as Nacha. He never had friends before, and the people around him were still loud. There was never a day of quiet in his life, that is until Nacha came to him like a guardian angel in his time of need. Nacha noticed his confused expression and sighed, "I guess what I wanted to say is that… They don't really matter to me. They're mean, and they say thing I don't agree with, but I'm more scared of being alone than actually standing up for myself and becoming isolated like I was again."
…
"That's why…" Nacha took one of his hands in both her hands and looked into his eyes intensely. "I really admire you, Francis."
"M-me? You're mistaken, I… sigh There's nothing good about me…"
"But there is! You just fail to see it because everyone around you keeps on pointing out your flaws. You're stronger than you think you are, for never bending your back just to please someone, for aways staying true to yourself despite the people who try to break you down for it."
"Nach…"
"I… I could never be like that."
Their eyes finally met and the budding heat that creeped up to Nacha's cheeks made her finally aware of how intimate it was to be holding Francis's hand like this and she kindly put it back down on her lap before putting her hands back on hers.
The two turned dead silent as the conversation was completely forgotten.
After a few more minutes of deliberation, one of them finally decided to speak up.
"…Thank you." Francis quietly muttered, loud enough for Nacha to hear and be swiftly carried away by the cold, winter breeze.
Nacha smiled, "…No need…"
For the rest of the day, the two felt just a little bit lighter and a little bit suspicious of the butterflies that invaded their stomach, fluttering around with a hidden message they have yet to decipher.
Maybe one day, they will find out what it is.
For now, their feelings slowly become solidified by the cold Winter atmosphere.
summary: in a universe where nacha was a new transfer student in the same high school as poor francis, she shows him a rare moment of kindness that left him actually feeling hopeful for the rest of the day afterwards.
word count: 1681 words
warnings: use of slurs in a bigoted era, mentioned violence, and an extremely unhappy francis
a/n: this francis is specifically an sk! francis by my friend, onyx, who wanted a milkbread au where him and nacha ended up meeting in high school. their prompt was so sweet and i genuinely enjoyed making their interaction so bittersweetly diabetic
credits: @notmyy4 for the lovely milkbread thumbnail art & @/strangergraphics for the ao3 dividers
The cafeteria was loud and bustling with energy, just what you'd expect from American high schools. Nacha had seen it in movies and even some of the cartoons when she was a kid, but she didn't think it was actually accurate until now.
And just her luck, as the newest transfer student, many of her classmates have naturally gravitated to her. One of the more popular girls in her class even offered her a seat at their table, and Nacha, during her bewilderment, almost stuttered while saying yes.
Now, Nacha sat among them at the far end of the table, where she watched them laugh at each other's inside jokes and talk about things like their boyfriends or the new shopping mall being constructed down at Flatbush Avenue. She mostly stayed in the background and occasionally echoed a sentiment from the other girls when it was needed.
Then, finally something that wasn't about boyfriends or new hangouts (that Nacha was sure she wasn't even going to be invited to) was brought up among them and it made Nacha's ears perk up and get herself out of her head for once during the entire exchange.
"Oh yeah, I heard that boy- what's his name again? Fagcis?" Some of the girls giggled at the cruel nickname and Nacha could only giggle with them. "So yeah, that guy. He got into another fight with some of the boys at our school."
"Well, I wouldn't say it was a fight, he barely even got to return a hit," the blonde one said, swirling her peas around with her fork. "Honestly, it's a miracle the boy's still not dead."
"What was he even thinking when he tried swinging his fist at my lovely Edmond?" The girl with wavy brown hair rolled her eyes. "He deserves it just for trying to damage his beautiful face."
"Ugh, Fagcis this, Fagcis that," the bossy-looking one of the bunch with the red hair crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm so tired of him. Can he just die already?"
"Heard he was bleeding badly from some really bad cuts and the boys, including your precious Edmond, were guarding the nurse's office, so he might not survive after all."
Nacha's face contorted with each and every exchange that the girls threw at each other. Frankly, she didn't know why this boy didn't just hang his head low and avoided the bullying, but if he was bleeding, that must mean he needed help, right?
Compelled, she finally decided to speak, albeit, it was quiet at first, "Um, if I may, where did they last see him?"
"Nobody knows," the blonde shrugged. "He ran off like a dog with his tail between his legs to god knows where. Didn't even attend his classes, I heard. Since none of the boys have seen him at school so far, I doubt he's in the building either."
That must mean he's outside the school, Nacha thought to herself and jotted it down in the back of her mind.
"Why? You wanna ask him out, Sasha?" Half the table laughed at that.
Nacha wanted to correct her on her name but figured she had other priorities. "Haha… right, as if I would ever…" She decided to play along with it for now and got some approving looks from the others. "Well, hah, do you guys know where the bathroom is here? I really need to go."
"Second building to the left of the old building. If you see Denver, run."
Nacha perked her brow at that, but made sure to nod anyway.
"Do you need me to go with you, Nacha?" The meek-looking one from across her seat asked quietly.
"No no, it's fine," Nacha smiled gently. "I won't be long, anyway." Then, she stood up and headed out of the cafeteria. To her relief, the girls paid her no more heed as she finally reached the exit and began gossiping amongst each other again. For once, she was actually grateful for the fact that these kind of girls usually just forgot about her.
And Nacha reckoned that going against her words this time wouldn't matter at all.
With the first aid kit she grabbed from her backpack, she rushed outside the school gates. The guard at the gate barely even spared her a glance as she quite literally just walked past him. She started walking around the corner, keeping her eyes wide and senses sharp for any pitiful kid her age who might be bleeding out in the open.
"hic Uhn… sniff"
Nacha immediately snapped her head in the direction of the sudden sound and there, she saw it---a small boy wedged between a very tight space between two buildings, sobbing into his arms while badly injured and bruised all over.
Her instincts immediately drew her to him and she briskly walked towards him. When the boy heard the sounds of someone's footsteps, he looked up to find a taller girl who looked just about his age and flinched before trying to make himself look even smaller.
"Hey…" Nacha greeted softly, trying to be gentle with him. "You don't look so good. Do you need someone to patch you up?"
He slowly looked back up at her then at his arms and shook his head no. But while the extent of his injuries wasn't as dramatic or bloody as the popular girls had exaggerated, Nacha couldn't just leave him alone here, especially while he's still hurt.
"I've got a first aid kit!" She said cheerfully and presented the kit in his line of sight. He looked at it with a curious glint in his eyes, but still didn't seem to trust her. "It must be weird to you, right? Some kid just carrying a medicine kit everywhere… My mom had a bit of a history with these sorts of medical emergencies, and she's actually a nurse, well, was. So this is her way of looking out for me when I'm at school."
The boy tilted his head at her.
"I can show you the contents if that would make you trust me a little bit better!" At that, he nodded very slowly. Somewhat glowing and excited to prove herself, she opened the box with the type of energy she once reserved for show and tell back in Kindergarten.
"Tada! What do you think?"
The boy looked at it. The kit contained just about all the kinds of things you would expect from a first aid kit, and he finally concluded that this girl was telling the truth about it, but… still, what was she getting out of this exchange? Barely anyone did something for Francis unless it was to force him into doing them a favor or as a cruel dare.
"Oh my, forgive my manners," Nacha flushed. "My name is Nacha! Nacha Mikaelys. I'm a new student at that school over there. I actually come from Mexico and I can cook some really mean fish tacos."
He blinked at her and finally opened his mouth and said something as his lower lip quivered. "Fra-Francis…"
Nacha's eyes widened. So that's the real name of the 'Fagcis' they were making fun of earlier. It reminded her of France---such a romantic city that she had only seen in her teledramas, but still longed to visit one day. "That's such a lovely name, Francis, it reminds me of France."
"Yeah…" Francis was still averting his gaze and looking at the first aid kit instead of her. "Um…" He wanted to say something more than that, but failed at piecing the words together and pursed his lips together instead. "Mmm…"
"Well, Francis, would you do me the honor of being able to treat you?" She looked at him with wide, expectant eyes.
Francis grunted, which was probably his code for yes. "Okay, hold still…"
For a long fifteen minutes, she began treating his wounds and disinfecting some of the bruises before wrapping a gauze around the large ones and bandages on the smaller ones. Nacha hummed a happy tune as she busied herself with each and every open cut---while the whole time, Francis gripped his shirt tight so it wouldn't fly open and reveal more scars hiding there.
Finally, when she was all done, Nacha stood up and patted herself on the back for a job well done. "There we go! All patched up!"
Francis looked at them and really looked. He had never had such careful coverings for his scars done by someone other than the school nurse before.
"What do we think?"
"Um, uh…" Looking someone in the eyes was only the correct manners for thanking someone, right? That's what his mother has taught him after all. But when he finally looked up and into her savior's eyes, all words disappeared from his mind.
One eye the color of the calming sea that he had only seen once or twice on the television before his dad inevitably punched it out of service. The other was reminiscent of the kind leaves that swayed on a breezy day when he was a kid.
"Hmm…?" Nacha hummed interestingly at his response, but was practically oblivious.
Francis, a blushing mess and looking like he was about to implode, hung his head low and stole quick glances at her eyes every now and then before muttering quietly under his breath: "Thank you…"
Nacha smiled wider and was about to say more when the bell finally rang from the distance. "Oh no! I really shouldn't be late for classes. Can I meet you after school, Francis?"
"Yeah…" He said mindlessly, though he was going to be here the whole day anyway because his bullies were still tirelessly looking for him at school and his father would beat him up as soon as he got home earlier than school allowed. So was it really so bad to stay here by himself for hours? At least at the end of the day, he might actually get to see her sweet smile and those pretty eyes of hers.
WARNING: CONTENT CONTAINS BLOOD, BODY INJURIES, VIOLENCE, EYE CONTACT, DARK TOPICS, DARK ROMANCE... HARMFUL
You've been warned, if you don't like it, just skip this. Nonsense will get you blocked
"She was wrong about him...she thought he was polite, cheerful, and optimistic...But men are unpredictable, aren't they? Unfortunately...or fortunately for her, her husband saved her from this series of violence"
🚨 Urgent: Twins Mohammad & Mayar urgently need milk, diapers, and immediate support 👶👶💔
After a painful and difficult journey, Najah has come out of surgery safely. What should have been a moment of pure joy—welcoming her newborn twins, Mohammad and Mayar—has become a mix of relief and worry 💔👶👶
Najah is now physically exhausted and in urgent need of care. She cannot recover without proper nutrition, essential medication, vitamins, and calcium. At the same time, her newborn babies need a constant supply of milk and diapers just to get through each day 🍼
This small family is facing a heavy burden right after such a critical moment. Your kindness today can help a mother heal and give her babies a healthy start in life 🙏
Even the smallest act of generosity can bring comfort, dignity, and hope when it’s needed most 🤍
Well written morally grey characters/terrible people
They're past explains why they choose to make selfish decisions for the purpose of an intriguing narrative about human morality
The audience isn't being gaslit into defending their more atrocious behavior.
They have other positive traits aside from their toxic behavior, sometimes not even because their writers wanted to make a scarier antagonist, they can be capable of doing good just because real people aren't one-note bad guys.
The story they're apart of doesn't twist and turn into a pretzel for their sake.
Relating way too much to a few of these characters is concerning.
Badly written morally grey characters/terrible people
Not all of them are exactly the same. Some have positive character development that leads to them becoming better people, some only become worse people as time goes on, and on occasion, they can still be the same questionable person they were to begin with.
No matter how they end up, you still feel satisfied with how much nuance was used to make these characters feel like people you could imagine existing in the real world.
Anyone who challenges them is coincidentally written to be even worse. If they are about to suffer consequences, then something else will happen to save them from accountability.
Their pasts excuse everything they've ever done because they're not messed up, the world is.
Other characters have to be victims of character assassination just so they can evade consequences.
On the contrary, they can also be mind-numingly edgy super villains for no apparent reason other than the writer thinking that randomly tossing in murder or sexual assault is "totally badass and non-conformist" (looking at you, Karen)
They end up getting exactly what they want even when they don't deserve it.
At the end of the day, you feel annoyed because you hate all of these characters, but not for the reasons you should have been hating them for. They just suck and you don't like seeing them on screen because you know there won't be a satisfying payoff.
Words are no longer enough to capture the tragedy my family and I endure.
My name is Wedad Shadi, I am 15 years old, and I live in Gaza, Palestine.🇵🇸
Our home was completely destroyed, and now we live in a torn, fragile tent. We are a family of 7, and my mother, father, and my little sister Mira were injured when our house was bombed.
My mother and Mira are in urgent need of medical treatment, but we have nothing to pay for their care, not even food to survive.
My mother and my sister were injured during the war. I am terrified of losing them… please, don’t leave me without my mother and sister. They need urgent help to survive.
They desperately need medicine and medical treatment, as shown in the videos. Every moment without help is a struggle for their lives.
Please, I beg you… save them, help us, and give them a chance to live. 🙏💔
I have started school, but I could not register because I cannot afford the fees.
Please, I beg you to help us. Donate to save my mother and my innocent little sister before it’s too late. Every contribution can save a life and bring hope to a family in desperate need.
Every day we wake up to the same reality: destroyed homes, no safety, no stability, and needs that keep growing.
People think the pain paused… but for us, it never did.
Even with a so-called “ceasefire,” nothing has really stopped.
The explosions, the drones, the fear — the violations never ended.
And our suffering definitely didn’t.
Your support is the only reason many of us manage to keep going.
Your donation 🙏🙏 — no matter how small — can mean medicine, food, warmth, and a little bit of dignity in a life that’s been stripped of everything.
Please, stand with us. Don’t let this struggle fade from the world’s attention.
We still desperately need you to get back on our feet.
Campaign checked by 90-ghosr
Donation link
Hello, my name is Mickey from Michigan USA and I am raising funds for Wedad… Mickey Dee needs your support for Support Wedad's Journey to Sa
We are often asked why we are so drawn to the dark, the macabre, and the unsettling. This fascination is not born of a simple, pervasive sadness, but rather from a complex anthropology of the sanctuary that we have constructed within the shadows. This connection with darkness is a powerful shield against a world that demands a sterile, sunlit perfection; to find peace here is to reclaim an ancient, honest human experience.
In a society that is endlessly obsessed with artificial perfection and the fantasy of eternal youth, our embrace of decay through concepts like Memento Mori is, in fact, an act of radical honesty. We choose to see that a withered flower, with its wrinkles and loss, carries a deeper history and a more authentic soul than any sterile plastic imitation. The color black itself acts as an armor; it does not reflect the world’s intrusive light but absorbs it, creating a private, silent space where the true self can exist without visual noise. This is the profound elegance of the void.
Furthermore, we are entranced by the uncanny—the Unheimlich, as Freud termed it—finding depth and truth where the "normal" breaks down. Shadows often contain more honesty than any relentless, exposed spotlight. Ultimately, this journey leads to our embrace of the monster as hero. For centuries, the "different" were exiled into the outermost darkness. We have reclaimed that exile, making that very darkness our throne, embracing our beautiful, chaotic existence.
Il Conforto delle Ombre: Un Rifugio nell’Oscurità 🖤
Ci viene spesso chiesto perché siamo così attratti dall'oscuro, dal macabro e dall'inquietante. Questa nostra attrazione non nasce da una semplice e pervasiva tristezza, ma piuttosto da una complessa antropologia del rifugio che abbiamo costruito all'interno delle ombre stesse. Questa connessione con l'oscurità funge da potente scudo contro un mondo che esige una perfezione sterile e perennemente illuminata dal sole; trovare pace qui significa rivendicare un'esperienza umana antica e onesta.
In una società incessantemente ossessionata dalla perfezione artificiale e dal fantasma della eterna giovinezza, il nostro abbraccio della decadenza attraverso concetti come il Memento Mori è, di fatto, un atto di onestà radicale. Scegliamo di vedere che un fiore appassito, con le sue rughe e la sua perdita, porta con sé una storia più profonda e un'anima più autentica di qualsiasi sterile imitazione di plastica. Il colore nero stesso agisce come un'armatura; non riflette la luce invadente del mondo ma la assorbe, creando uno spazio privato e silenzioso dove il vero sé può esistere senza rumore visivo. Questa è la profonda eleganza del vuoto.
Inoltre, siamo incantati dal perturbante, l'Unheimlich, come lo definì Freud, trovando profondità e verità dove il "normale" si sgretola. Le ombre spesso contengono più onestà di qualsiasi riflettore implacabile ed esposto. In definitiva, questo viaggio ci porta ad abbracciare il mostro come eroe. Per secoli, i "diversi" sono stati esiliati nell'oscurità più profonda. Abbiamo rivendicato quell'esilio, facendo proprio di quell'oscurità il nostro trono, abbracciando la nostra bellissima e caotica esistenza.
"Invention, it must be admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos."
— Mary Shelley
(L'invenzione, bisogna ammetterlo, non consiste nel creare dal vuoto, ma dal caos.)
Words are no longer enough to capture the tragedy my family and I endure.
My name is Wedad Shadi, I am 15 years old, and I live in Gaza, Palestine.🇵🇸
Our home was completely destroyed, and now we live in a torn, fragile tent. We are a family of 7, and my mother, father, and my little sister Mira were injured when our house was bombed.
My mother and Mira are in urgent need of medical treatment, but we have nothing to pay for their care, not even food to survive.
My mother and my sister were injured during the war. I am terrified of losing them… please, don’t leave me without my mother and sister. They need urgent help to survive.
They desperately need medicine and medical treatment, as shown in the videos. Every moment without help is a struggle for their lives.
Please, I beg you… save them, help us, and give them a chance to live. 🙏💔
I have started school, but I could not register because I cannot afford the fees.
Please, I beg you to help us. Donate to save my mother and my innocent little sister before it’s too late. Every contribution can save a life and bring hope to a family in desperate need.
Every day we wake up to the same reality: destroyed homes, no safety, no stability, and needs that keep growing.
People think the pain paused… but for us, it never did.
Even with a so-called “ceasefire,” nothing has really stopped.
The explosions, the drones, the fear — the violations never ended.
And our suffering definitely didn’t.
Your support is the only reason many of us manage to keep going.
Your donation 🙏🙏 — no matter how small — can mean medicine, food, warmth, and a little bit of dignity in a life that’s been stripped of everything.
Please, stand with us. Don’t let this struggle fade from the world’s attention.
We still desperately need you to get back on our feet.
Campaign checked by 90-ghosr
Donation link
Hello, my name is Mickey from Michigan USA and I am raising funds for Wedad… Mickey Dee needs your support for Support Wedad's Journey to Sa
Words are no longer enough to capture the tragedy my family and I endure.
My name is Wedad Shadi, I am 15 years old, and I live in Gaza, Palestine.🇵🇸
Our home was completely destroyed, and now we live in a torn, fragile tent. We are a family of 7, and my mother, father, and my little sister Mira were injured when our house was bombed.
My mother and Mira are in urgent need of medical treatment, but we have nothing to pay for their care, not even food to survive.
My mother and my sister were injured during the war. I am terrified of losing them… please, don’t leave me without my mother and sister. They need urgent help to survive.
They desperately need medicine and medical treatment, as shown in the videos. Every moment without help is a struggle for their lives.
Please, I beg you… save them, help us, and give them a chance to live. 🙏💔
I have started school, but I could not register because I cannot afford the fees.
Please, I beg you to help us. Donate to save my mother and my innocent little sister before it’s too late. Every contribution can save a life and bring hope to a family in desperate need.
Every day we wake up to the same reality: destroyed homes, no safety, no stability, and needs that keep growing.
People think the pain paused… but for us, it never did.
Even with a so-called “ceasefire,” nothing has really stopped.
The explosions, the drones, the fear — the violations never ended.
And our suffering definitely didn’t.
Your support is the only reason many of us manage to keep going.
Your donation 🙏🙏 — no matter how small — can mean medicine, food, warmth, and a little bit of dignity in a life that’s been stripped of everything.
Please, stand with us. Don’t let this struggle fade from the world’s attention.
We still desperately need you to get back on our feet.
Campaign checked by 90-ghosr
Donation link
Hello, my name is Mickey from Michigan USA and I am raising funds for Wedad… Mickey Dee needs your support for Support Wedad's Journey to Sa
izzy806
dailybridgerton
