#i give money to my cousin and she donates for me

[bauliya]

PLEASE ANSWER

if I donate to a gofundme, will it show up on my bank account that the money went to gofundme? my father has access to my account and he's right wing. he will be really mad at me if I donate. please answer, I want to help, I am an indian college student

yes, it will show up in your bank statement if you donate to a gofundme, however you can give money to someone who will donate on your behalf esp if you have a PayPal account and explain it away (like maybe you purchased a course or something).

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[ladykailitha]

Eddie and Nancy

Just giving my brain a break from the Secret Tunnel (aka the game show) story. I still have two chapters to get through and my brain needs a cool down.

I've seen a lot of headcanons that Eddie is the Wheeler children's older half brother because of how much they look like each other.

But may I propose instead: cousins.

Hear me out.

You have first born, Elizabeth. Absolute hippie child. All about that free love, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. She learns how to play guitar, falls in with the charming and cool, Al Munson. They plan to tour the country his beat up old truck. But before that can happen, Elizabeth gets pregnant with Eddie. So she marries Al.

Then you have Karen, the younger sister. Bright, demure, absolute golden child. She dyes her hair and blows out the curls to more like waves so she doesn't look like Elizabeth anymore.

She does what she was raised her whole life to do. Get married to a good boy so they can have good children and pay taxes and never do anything fun.

When Elizabeth dies, Karen refuses to go to the funeral, hates that her name is even in the obituary at all. Then three years later when Al is sent to prison, CPS calls her first.

She's the boy's aunt. She has a comfortable home, and bringing him in would barely dent their finances. But Karen refuses. She won't have that delinquent anywhere near her children.

So they go to Wayne. Wayne who really doesn't have the space or the money to take care a little boy almost teenager. But he looks into those big brown eyes and can't say no.

They keep apart until the murders in town start in Wayne's own god damn trailer. He keeps his mouth shut when Nancy comes up to him asking about Eddie. He would like to throw it in her face that he knows who she is and that he knows full well that Karen would throw a fucking fit if she found out where her daughter was. But he won't. It's not the girl's fault her mother is a bitch.

After Vecna (and Eddie NOT dying) Nancy is sent to the attic to see if she can find some of Mike's old things to donate as a lot of Nancy's went to Holly. She finds an old trunk and though locked it comes apart in her hands. In it she finds dozens of pictures of her mom with beautiful girl with flying dark brown curls and sparkling eyes.

She smiles as she reminds her of Eddie.

Her mother calls out for her to hurry and slips one of the pictures in her back jeans pocket. Nancy closes the trunk and hurries back to her mother.

Then because Nancy can't leave a mystery well enough alone, she goes digging. All while Eddie and Max are in a coma, Nancy works on her mystery.

She finds her answer in the most unlikely of places. Joyce Byers's year book. She had it out showing her boys the outrageous hair styles they had in her day.

There two rows down from Lawrence Byers is an Elizabeth Childress. She's got ribbons in her hair and smiling brightly at camera. So full of life.

Childress.

She closes her eyes. There is no doubt this is her mother's sister. A sister Nancy never knew anything about.

She points her out to Joyce. "Oh, I remember her. Such a sweet girl. It's really too bad she fell in with that Munson boy. Or rather the wrong Munson boy."

She flips the pages and on the same row as her, is Wayne Munson staring up at her. So happy and free. The Vietnam would too soon take that from him. "That's Wayne. Such a good boy. Elizabeth would have thrived with him. But Wayne was shy and more interested in getting good grades than girls."

Joyce flips back to the seniors with Jim and Lonnie and began searching for the M's. "There." She pointed at another boy. Alan Munson. "He was trouble from the moment he was born. But he had a motorcycle and a leather jacket. Lizzy fell hard. They got married right out of high school, I heard."

Jonathan and Nancy share a look of shock.

"What happened to her?" Jonathan asks.

"Cancer," Joyce says sadly, "poor thing."

Armed with her knowledge and a borrowed yearbook, Nancy marches right up to her mother and slams the yearbook in front of her. The picture Nancy took from the attic serves as bookmark and she shoves both at her mother.

There is no denying it now. All the proof is right there in black and white.

"This is why you didn't want to join the D&D club my freshman year, isn't it? Because it was Eddie's club?"

Karen buries her head in her hands. And the truth just starts spilling out.

"And that boy is just like his father!" Karen cries. "He might have not have killed those kids but he was a drug dealer."

"To keep the lights on his trailer!" Nancy yells back. "If you and Dad had taken him in maybe he wouldn't have turned out the way he did. Maybe he be a better person."

"Or maybe he would have dragged you other children with him!"

"If you really thought that Mike wouldn't have been allow in Hellfire either!"

It's at this point Mike walks in and suddenly Karen is caught.

She breaks down and explains that Eddie had helped her with her car right before Mike started high school. So as a way to return the favor she let Mike join.

Nancy heads to the hospital and manages to get into see Eddie.

Wayne tells her only family is allowed to see him and Nancy smiles.

She knows.

Then Eddie wakes up, falls for Steve, the whole party teases Steve about keeping it in the family and Karen gets her head out of her ass and everyone lives happily ever after.

The end.

[lonniemachin]

Laila reached out to me to help share her fundraiser. She is a 22-year-old Palestinian architecture student urgently raising money to evacuate Gaza and continue her education in Cairo. She has only raised €2,489 out of her €35,000 goal so far! Please donate, and if you can’t donate, please share!

From Laila’s GFM:

My name is Laila Auda. I’m writing to you while my heart is heavy, my tears are pouring down out of fear and despair. My only shimmer of hope to achieve my dream of being an Architect relies on you.

I’m 22-year-old dreamer and 178 days genocide survivor. I’ve endured unimaginable hardships including four major aggressions and countless military escalations. I’m still reluctant to believe that I’m reliving the 177th day of the fifth war in my prime years. Not only have these wars destroyed my dreams, but they have also deepened my trauma and depression.

In 2018, I was granted the opportunity of a lifetime through the ACCESS Micro scholarship Program funded by the US Department of State for 2 years English learning.

In 2020 I graduated from Arafat for gifted high school with honor degree 94.4%. And I was granted to a scholarship for 2 years in EL-UNRWA College pursuing my dream of being an Architect. In addition of finishing 3 external courses of software's used in architecture beside the college. I’ve put immense amount of pressure on my back to fulfill my dreams in my early twenties, having a message of being an inspiring soul of success. I was already in my small circle as three of my siblings want to be architects too! They see how I stay up all night making study models.

Now I’m a third-year architecture student completing my bachelor's degree in the Islamic University of Gaza (IUG). The dream of completing my bachelor's degree in my homeland became almost impossible after the IOF bombed all the buildings of my university and amidst the terrifying conditions we endure daily being stripped of every human right imaginable.

I’m sure you’re aware of the situation we have been living. My words are laconic, but my pain is profound and my mental health has been irreversibly damaged due the state of war. Switching from a person who’s addicted to learning to a person who is thinking of how can I escape death. My dream is completing my bachelor's degree in Cairo university, come back to my homeland and be an active architect in the rebuilding programs.

My target is to raise 35000€, which will be allocated as follows:

(1500$) university registration fees.

( 5000$ ) education fees per year (*4 years > 20000$) as I’ll lose 1 one more year with the courses equivalence due to the difference between the plans.

for life expenses as student for 4 years. ( 10000$ )

Add to that 2.9% GoFundMe would take and the fees on money transfer the bank would take.

The overall sum amount is approximately 35000€ considering the bank my cousin- who's launching this campaign- is engaged which operates in Belgian currency.

Your support could mean the difference between dreams realized and dreams shattered. Together we can make a difference. Together we can ensure that the voices of those trapped in conflict zones are heard, and their dreams are not forgotten.

I love studying and I dream of a life where I can breathe giving. I want to help people to rebuild their homes thinking with them of every detail. I want to see people’s happiness by creating spaces that lies warmth within their souls..

I’m truly grateful for your time, consideration, and support. Your generosity will make a lasting impact in my life, illuminate the path toward a brighter and more hopeful chapter.

Every contribution, no matter the size it will be a step forward achieving my dream

If you would like to confirm the validity of this campaign, you can message Laila on X

Username: Laila_EYO

With gratitude

Laila Auda

[fruitsfox]

Recently, we have been struck with a death in the family. I am looking to make some money so I can give it to my family members to help pay for headstone and miscellaneous after-funeral costs so that my cousin Emily can have the rest that she deserves. May her memory be a blessing.

Please DM me if you are interested in donating. I will then link you to my ko-fi page. Once donated, send me a screenshot, as well as a reference for your character ( written is also fine ), and I will draw something for you in correlation to how much you have donated.

Please be aware that these rewards may take up to a month to deliver, though it is likely to be far sooner than that.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

[datarobotsuggestion]

i apologize for the lack of activity besides boosting posts, they're for two people who are incredibly important to me. i would like to highlight them specifically and provide both links in this post.

jocula-trixie and i have known each other for over a decade, and she has been in my life longer than any other friend. they are one of my best friends, and not only does she bring so much joy to my life, they live with me and help me with everyday problems, and i am forever grateful to her. edit: unfortunately their aunt, who they loved a lot, passed away. her family needs help to cover expenses for arrangements, remaining medical bills, and financial aid for their cousin, who is her aunt's son.

post you can share: https://www.tumblr.com/jocula-trixie/746390491455750144

donate directly: https://gofund.me/248efb4f

dragabond is also a dear friend of mine. they're funny and a ton of fun to spend time with, and a talented artist to boot. i've gotten commissions from him quite a few times, and they all came out beautifully no matter the subject. unfortunately, they constantly struggle to make ends meet and have to work themselves very hard to do so, and often have to make donation posts for it.

post you can share (and you can message a commission inquiry!): https://www.tumblr.com/dragabond/739517701882609664/in-need-of-help

donate directly: paypal.me/dragabond

if you have given money, shared the posts or read this far, thank you. this blog wouldn't exist without friends like them working with me and supporting it, so i want to give back to them as much as possible. every bit helps.

[2well2water]

wasn't expecting to get anything for christmas because mum and i are trying to save money so we agreed not to exchange gifts but my cousin just texted me demanding to know what i want for a present but i don't KNOW. i already asked her to just donate to a fundraiser i care a lot about but she's insisting on giving me something in addition to donating and it's like. okay that's really really nice and i really appreciate it but also why do i have to tell you what to get me i hate telling people what to buy me. just surprise me bc i don't get surprises. ever. just surprise me. please surprise me. just write me a card telling me you think about me or something but don't make me choose my own christmas present. i loathe choosing my own presents. we grew up together. just know me better. okay rant over. i'm very insecure and present-giving occasions stress me out always despite how much i love unwrapping things.

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream was very chill today, well as chill as you can be when Raph is live crocheting an at this moment bundle of yarn. Raph hadn't shown the pattern of what he was making yet, but it was turning into a guessing game in the chat based on the yarn colors alone.

Raph had been just chatting with the audience, answering some questions. Including that he was making the crochet projects for a small charity thing for work.

"Yeah, everybody was asked to make or donate stuff that will be part of an auction, and the money goes to the local children's hospital. We do alot of stuff for the place." Raph paused to check that he didn't mess something up, "Like even just going to visit during the kinda off season we get between all the events. And with me getting at least some basic physical therapy and sports medicine lessons, I sometimes help the kids who are in physical therapy. I think the kids like when I help, if only cause I try to make it a bit fun. Or I think I do it different from how the doctors do it."

Raph pauses again and gives his work in progress another look. The chat has been continuously finding it a bit funny how hooks look in Raphs hands. They were kinda small compared to his hands.

"We also had some mock fights for the kids, and let the kids can join in and pretend to be competing against one of the other wrestlers. Or just have a bunch of wrestlers joining a little tea party, with plastic tiaras and tiny cups. Makes for some funny pictures. Mostly we just play with the kids the best we can give or take their conditions." Raph looks over at the patterns to check that he didn't skip or double a step, if only because this was the first time working with this pattern and he wasn't confident that he wasn't messing something up.

He leans forward to check the details better, before grabbing another bundle of yarn, to switch colors for the next part.

"Star is the best with the kids, when the league started the hospital visit stuff she was the least awkward among us. Cause here's the thing, most of the members of the league don't have kids, or have young cousins or niblings. So very awkward." Raph lets out a low rumbling chuckle, "Red on the other hand, I had to remember how to deal with beings who barely reach my stomach. For the first few visits I just let the kids climb on me. The staff were worried, but I just showed them how my siblings still climb on me, just had to be careful with my back."

A notification goes off on his phone which distracts Raph for a moment. He puts the project down, and grabs his phone to check it. He takes a good few minutes going over whatever the notification was for, before putting it down.

"Sorry about that. Got a heads up that there was some last minute changes to some up coming events for work. And I will be flexing my new sports medicine lessons... Yeah one of the guys who was going to be a big focus got hurt and now has to sit out. Depending on how the guy takes the recovery time, he might be out for like a week or so, but if not. Well let's just hope he doesn't attempt to try Wrestling in a wheelchair or on crutches."

Raph has the most 'I'm so done.' looks on his face. The chat is guessing that this person is a known 'I don't want to rest!' type of guy.

"Let's just put that to the side, and let me tell you about the first time we got the guys to join a pretend tea party at the hospital." Raph says with a bit of a mischievous look on his face.

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

Masterpost

This was a very out of nowhere idea that hit me with little to no Inspiration, other that it would be interesting to write one of the turtles other than Mikey doing am art project on stream.

[soraviie]

you compare yourself to him.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation ━ part II here

━ about: angst! discusses themes of abandonment and inadequacy

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: "There's honestly no way to undersell your influence," the woman gushes on and it's like you don't exist. Joon is giving her the trademarked, polite smile, one of neutrality. It means nothing. But also at this moment, you mean nothing.

"You went to the White House and the UN, and now you're visiting my little gallery! Gosh, it's such an honour."

"Ah, it's...it was unprecedented. I'm just doing what I love, it's the people I should be thankful for. They helped me to get to these heights."

"Don't be so modest!" she pats his arm, perhaps lingering a tad too long but where once there would be a kindling flame of jealousy, there's nothing now. Her words have poured a bucket of ice-cold water soaked with a certain realization, washing away all happiness of the day.

You can't compare.

You won't ever compare.

"I have a private screening of the latest works. Usually, I wouldn't reveal such a thing, but you're Kim Namjoon!"

He takes a step back, sporting quite the awkward stance. Because this is Namjoon. He's polite. Tries to not show judgement upon anyone else. Like you, for example.

"I was actually preoccupied -" he waves at where you've been standing mute and unmoving whilst whatever this was unfolded.

"Oh, your secretary!" all too confident the owner of the gallery calls out and you can only muster to stand there. No strength left to argue.

"She's not my se-" Namjoon fruitlessly sputters but the lady waves his indignance away.

"Are you familiar with the work of contemporary artists?"

"No," you truthfully reply. They were but colours to you.

"Oh, not very educated in this field, are you?" she coos in a farce of sympathy and blankly you shrug.

"No."

"Well, then, let's go. This level of art needs viewers of...worldly inhibitions."

Her long red nails sink into Namjoon's beige shirt, one you gave him on his birthday, like a reborn harpy of old tales. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in million confused questions but you quietly wish him to have fun. His educated, smart fun, remaining to stand there in the middle of a fancy art gallery. And you can't stop thinking about that shirt and laughing dryly to yourself. A multimillion pop singer, donating his money to art galleries, collecting masterpieces, visiting presidents and here you were gifting him shirts because that's all you could afford.

"What are your thoughts on this piece?" a stranger approaches you all of a sudden probably thinking that just because you were here you belonged here, that you earned your spot here when in truth you were just someone Namjoon dragged along.

And with a carving, empty feeling you don't see any reason at all why would he do such a thing.

"It's beige," you breathe thinly, glimpsing at the painting on the wall and he leaves upon hearing the simplistic answer. Figures.

YOONGI: "Already thirty and still unmarried? Is there no one in your life?"

He looks almost apologetic into the camera. A glimpse lasting a second, travelling through infinite miles as if he knew you were watching.

"No," he lies. "No there is no one."

He lies for your safety because it's what he has to do. It's what you agreed to but right now you couldn't name a worse feeling to have than to be called nonexistent. A ghost. A void, not a living human being occupying space and deserving it.

"No way," your cousin laughs loudly across the table. "No way this guy is dating you!"

"It's true," you object poking at the plate of dinner you have no intention of eating anymore. Her words have created a gaping hole in your stomach, that honestly had been churning away for longer than you had noticed.

"What's he doing with you then? A charity?"

"Keep your mouth shut!" her mother hisses sharply but bolstered by the many wine glasses, she drones on.

"What? I'm just stating what we're all thinking. This is what? Just a reprieve, a cleanser! He'll have his fun with you and then will marry a supermodel or a singer. Cause it's what they all do. No rich person marries a commoner."

Yoongi is not like that. You knew he was not like that. He liked to eat tangerines by your side and fix the broken shelves, night upon night he'd cried how he just wanted to make music but be that as it may his life was set.

And a quiet librarian was in no sort of way part of cameras and red carpets.

And he'll have to say it time and time again that you did not exist.

And you feel like you don't.

The night is empty and cold with the house gone deathly quiet. The water runs underneath your hands as you scrape the dishes - to have something to do, to not be consumed by the gaping wound of being hidden away. Like a scab almost.

A phone rings.

"How was the dinner?" he immediately asks, sounding a bit rushed. "Sorry, I couldn't make it this time."

Or the time before that and the one before that, and a hundred others in the past, making you seem like a lonely ghost wailing false moans that you were loved by a star. He was an innocent idol onto whom you had delusionally pushed your need of companionship, pictures could be downloaded, and lies could be spun.

And as far as most people knew - you did not exist.

"It was fine," you answer monotonous. There's a wobble in your lip so you have to really frown to not let it spill.

"I didn't mean it. None of what I said. It's just something I have -"

"- to do," you finish for him and your voice wavers. "Yeah, I get it. Listen I have to go, alright."

"Wait, no-!" you drop the phone and lean over the sink, swallowing down rushing tears. Breathing in a determined breath, you wash the remaining dishes in complete silence and no one calls or talks to you for the rest of the night.

JIN: "Yeah, right," the front desk lady sneers. "Get out of here, freak."

"I'm literally handing you my ID. You saw me before!"

If only any proverbs were ever listened to. A wise saying once claimed to not judge a book by a cover. What a wonderful world would it be if it was actually listened to.

Dripping rainwater and mud, you scoffed, frustrated and just wanting to lie down. It had been an exhausting day. The kind where you regret ever waking up.

"Do you not have a register or something? This guy literally is vouching for me."

You point at the gardener of Jin's apartment building and he nods, eyes full of compassion. He was a good guy.

"It's true she was here and the day before that."

"So, you're a hooker. I'm not letting you up. Just look at yourself."

Look at yourself. Those words were like an axe to your head. A dull blade swinging time and time again as you bent your knee at the podium.

Wherever you went they reverberated like ripples in a lake.

"Just look at yourself," one woman sneered while you went to the bathroom at a party with Jin.

"Really look at yourself. You must think you have some sort of inner beauty? People like you make me sick! You're all delusional," and she had stormed off, face warped in such contempt as though you'd done something wrong. But you just stood here.

"Don't listen to her," you told your reflection but the eyes looking back were tired. "You did nothing wrong."

You can only insist that you did nothing wrong but no one listens. Certainly not the cops shoving you in the van on the charges of stalking.

The holding cell is very cold and you're freezing, wet hair seemingly lowering your body temperature even more.

"HOW DARE YOU?" Jin's voice rings even down the hallway. "WHAT SORT OF COUNTRY IS THIS WHERE INNOCENT PEOPLE GET ARRESTED?!"

"We apologize, sir, but the front desk worker phoned in as it was susp-"

"IS SHE THE CHIEF OF THE POLICE?! YOU JUST CARRY OUT THE ORDERS OF SOME RANDOM WOMAN?! LET MY GIRLFRIEND GO THIS INSTANT!"

The doors open and stiffly you clamber out, immediately swarmed by Jin's warm embrace.

"Don't think I'll let this go so easy," he growls at the nearby officer before guiding you away.

"I'm so sorry, honey, it won't ever happen again," he strokes your head all the way home but the cold doesn't dissipate. It's all a blur and you're just so very tired.

"What are you doing?" Jin asks gently opening the bathroom doors where you finished taking a warm shower as he had ordered. You wipe the steam off the mirror. The shoulders are hunched and there's no spark. Just another face in the proverbial crowd.

"Just looking at myself."

HOSEOK: It's nothing that anyone says. They think it, you can certainly tell by the snide glances occasionally thrown at where you're standing, but they don't dare to say it. The rest of the group is here and they wouldn't tolerate any off-hand remarks just as much as Hoseok himself.

But they don't need to say it. No one needs to do anything. You just have to look.

He's swarmed by celebrities, the A-listers, the top of the top, all celebrating the genius of his album and they blush as he pays they some attention. Because he's not just a celebrity, he's the top celebrity, he's what the people above aspired to be. And he wants this, he wants more of this.

And you don't belong here.

You don't belong here at all.

Like a piece of furniture or a fallen decoration, you stand in the corner invisible. The scarce attempts of talking all ended with an awkward side glance. The one given to friends, saying: "who invited her?" They excuse themselves with gritted teeth, sometimes just simply walking away and you stand by the side, admiring and not participating. How could you when this was not your world? But it's his and amidst all the fans and all the meetings, even Hoseok has forgotten you're here.

You don't belong here. You don't want to be here. Didn't want to see anyone ever again.

"Where are you off to?" a voice asks and you peek underneath the table, surprised to see Jin's head poke through. His phone light illuminates the hiding spot with flashing bright colours of a nameless webtoon.

"Just need some air," you answer emptily before pointing at the device. "You're having fun there?"

"Ah, I don't want to meet anyone," he whines and you offer a small, meaningless smile.

"I get that."

He glances up and you think he sees something in the way your eyes gaze grayly around, observing but not seeing. Though in the end, he says nothing and you're free to walk on the street. The music of Hoseok's album party pours out even there but at least it's dull. Another world now.

You push your hands deep into the jacket and not wanting to return to an empty apartment, end up in a 24/7 convenience store. It's cheap and common. Your spot, a planet familiar.

"Rough night?" the guy at the counter asks as you quietly slurp a cup of noodles on a rickety chair nearby.

"You probably had it rougher," you point out at the 2 am flashing on the clock hung behind him. He only shrugs.

"Not really. People leave me alone during night shifts and to be honest during day shifts as well. It's like I don't exist."

You frown at the red noodles and there's nothing but an empty pang in your chest. It's not one of hunger you realize now.

"Yeah. Me too."

JIMIN: The day is long and weary. Your legs ache and your apron is stained with dry milk. You're trying very hard to not cry in the break room and then you see him and you want to cry yourself to death. Be the princess that drowned in her own tears.

He's beautiful, the literal "It" boy of the nation. Kind, gorgeous, determined and you're crying in the break room.

The TV shoved in the corner has no sound but you don't need it. It's plenty enough seeing him laugh generously on the main story of the day, one discussing his success.

"Good day, sir, how ma-"

"Iced espresso," he interrupts and doesn't spare you even a single glance. You're just a machine here to obey. Nothing more.

"Damn, ________, you're still here?" a coworker asks, tying her apron hastily around. "I thought you applied for that new job?"

"Yeah, well, they rejected me," you explain lifelessly, face turned away.

"Is there no one else?"

"Yeah, and they rejected me as well. And all the other thirty places I applied."

She sucks in a breath through her teeth.

"Damn, that sucks. Still, don't keep your nose low, you might end up staying here forever."

Yes, that's just what you might end up doing. Someone had to be at the bottom of the barrel. Someone always had to do the dirty job you just never assumed it'd be you. That it'd be you who'd be the failure.

"She's a surgeon, you know," your mother says on the phone and you scuff your shoe against the tile ground.

"Yes, I know."

"Since this degree of yours didn't work out, you might apply to study something useful you know like a lawyer."

"Mom, I don't want to be a lawyer."

"Do you want to be a barista all your life? Because this art degree is certainly accomplishing that. And you're not marrying a rich man."

"What if I did?" you snap back spitefully.

"Well, then I'd be embarrassed to have a daughter whose such a liability."

"I have to go."

You're trying really hard to not cry but it's not quite working.

"I'm not a liability," you mutter underneath your breath but it feels like a lie in your mouth.

"Hey,______, we need you out here. It's a madhouse!" the frazzled head of your coworker pops in and all you can do is wipe your face and raise your aching legs once more.

"Good evening, ma'am! What would you like-"

"Iced espresso," she orders without looking up from her phone. You nod.

"Can you take the register?" you whisper to your colleague switching places.

"Why?" she furrows her brows.

"Just don't want to talk anymore."

Thankfully, she only nods curtly and you're free to do what is needed, alone and unbothered.

It's evening already but Jimin is still on the news and he smiles brightly as the sun. You don't even remember when was the last time you met him in real life, held his hand in yours. Last time he felt like a real person and not just someone you can look at through the screen.

"This dude really has it all," your coworker mutters underneath her breath whilst counting the register once there's no one in the sight.

"Yeah, he does."

TAEHYUNG: It's nothing but the truth to call jealousy a disease, a fatal one at that. Incurable, unstoppable rot wrecking you from within. Never before had you looked at a video of your boyfriend and felt...felt bad. If bad was even a word to describe the awful hollow that washes the world grey.

The entire Paris screams for him, hell, maybe the whole of France. They talk of Lisa, Park Bo Gum and V. The infamous V. And they talk of Lisa, the A-lister, the star, the face of the fashion, the top girl of the top.

"You just have to work hard, okay," your mother always said. "You work hard and you can do anything."

It was such a comforting lie. Because you did work hard, you worked so hard it nearly crushed you and all it did was land you in an office cubicle, creating documents day upon day. Just like millions of others before you and like millions after you. Just an expendable tool.

You can't help it, because it's a disease, it's wearing down all the kindness in your heart, all your confidence and reducing you to a husk slumbering on the bed. What did they have that you didn't?

As a sick sort of punishment, you continue watching the video. V is getting quite cosy with the other celebrities, the 1%, the people not doing the office jobs, not doing the sowing of the fancy clothes they wore, not serving the drinks like the nameless waiters people treated as mindless robots. You ponder how horrible they must feel, how tired. The video suggests you want this, this is the world everyone should aspire to but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth and the fact that V is there makes it only more appalling. Because that is the fact. He was your boyfriend, Taehyung, the guy from a line of farmers, a simple guy who respected everyone but it's hard to see that Taehyung in V. The fashion icon, the creme de la creme sipping champagne far far away from you. He seems happy. Happier than he was when you parted.

Coincidentally, it's your birthday the next day and there are only three calls - your mother, your best friend and for some reason Jimin. Jimin who remembers it's your birthday before Taehyung or should you say V.

You get yourself a cake. It costs a pretty penny but it's cute and just this once you want to have nice things. Just this once. You take a picture of it, almost upload it on Instagram but then think better of it. Who cares what you post. It's there that you scroll upon a video of V cutting up a cake and you just know it's much more expensive than yours will ever be. This cake he seems almost bored with costs more than your life and it's given to him. Even if he would get it himself he wouldn't have to worry about the cost. It didn't matter how much you work hard, you will always have to worry about the cost.

In the end, you blow out the candle right there in the bakery and the girl working the register is the only one who claps. She asks what wish did you make, you answer none but secretly you just wish he would call. That he would remember of his girlfriend at home as low as she was.

He doesn't call but at least a video floating around the internet tells you he has a grand old time spinning around the pole with Lisa.

JUNGKOOK: "I don't like dispassionate people, I guess. I can't imagine how can one live without a goal. I'd rather die than live without passion."

It wasn't like Jungkook to be cruel and he probably didn't intend to be one as well but it still is cruel. Your own boyfriend just told everyone on national television that he doesn't like you. You're everything he loathes - the dreamless drifter, people who are just here.

"Why are you frowning?" a voice asks and you turn to look at him standing in the doorway with a frown. He must have said something before this but you hadn't heard. The mop in your hands lays still as you finish sweeping. Bam is there as well, his big brown eyes flickering in between both of you.

"Nothing," you reply quietly.

"No, it's something," he insists. "Don't lie."

"Why is passion so important to you?"

The frown on his face deepens and Bam begins to whine from the surging tension.

"I don't know," he laughs, sound falling strained and awkward. Because it's not funny. "It just is. I mean what's the point of life then? Hanging around? That's useless, isn't it?"

"I'm useless?"

His eyes widen for a fraction the second he understood his own words.

"I didn't mean you," he corrects but whether or not it's real or just in your perception, you don't think they sound sincere enough. It's just something he has to say.

"You just haven't found your passion yet."

"Because it doesn't exist!" you don't mean to yell. It upsets Bam, upsets you and most importantly it upsets Jungkook but he's never understood this. Never grasped that it's not the matter of you not finding your special devotion, it's because you simply didn't have one. And you're tired of trying to explain yourself over and over again.

"I don't care for jobs! I don't care about hobbies! I just want to live!"

"Okay," he brushes off passively. Not that he believes you, not that he listens to you at all, he just doesn't want to fight.

"Why is it so hard for you to comprehend that I don't have any aspirations? Yoongi -"

Abruptly he rolls his eyes, arms tightening around his chest.

"Again with Yoongi. Would you stop bringing him up?"

"Because he makes me feel heard! I don't have goals, I don't have great dreams and aspirations! Does that make my life meaningless?"

"What do you think?"

For a while, the only sound are the whines and the scraping of Bam's nails against the floor.

"You think my life is meaningless?" you echo breathlessly. Jungkook merely scowls at the floor.

"Right, who are we commoners against the mighty Jungkook? The millionaire, the young idol, right?"

"It's what my passion led me to," he mutters obstinately and for all intents and purposes, he might as well just have punched you in the gut.

"You won't achieve anything if you're just hanging around."

Exhaling a shaky breath you gather the most strength you ever needed.

"I have a dream, Jungkook, it is to live happily. And I'm not happy with you."

There's really, absolutely no way of knowing now either whether the flash in his eyes is out of fear or anger. They remain only as assumptions but what is an indisputable fact are the words spoken out loud.

"Well, I'm not happy with you, either."

The floor dries as you stand in front of this man, a stranger suddenly, one to whom you're too exhausted to defend yourself anymore.

"No, you can't come with me," you whisper to Bam who tries to squeeze the nose in through the door gap, tail wagging behind him. He must think you're going on a walk. How lovely animals were, they didn't care how you looked, who you were, or what you lived for. They simply were, and enjoyed life at its face value.

"You have to stay."

Bam is a sweetheart through and through but above all he's well behaved. His eyes are brimming with sadness but he does as he's told and steps away.

"I'll miss you, buddy."

"Enjoying the weekend?" the man at the local bakery friendly questions and you cast him a smile.

"Yeah, you know, appreciating the day."

"Ah, preach! It's nice to just enjoy yourself, isn't it?"

As you pay, your phone lights up and a picture of Jungkook flashes in front of you. Briefly, you break and zone out in his eyes. Weeks have passed, you should change it.

"Does that make my life meaningless?"

"What do you think?"

You shake yourself out of it and lock the phone.

"It is," you agree with the baker.

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-23

[radroller]

I  am Kelly, My family is in danger. They are trapped in a city in Gaza called Rafah. They fled there because my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and the only chemo treatment she could receive was there. Due to a militia that is increasingly taking over the country and bombing hospitals, all of the disabled, sick and elderly had to flea to Rafah to get medical treatment. Hundreds of thousands of Gaza people fled out of Rafah earlier this week after the militia overtook the Gaza military. My family was unable to flee because my grandmother is elderly and sick.

As of yesterday, my grandmother, disabled aunt, aunt who is sick with Malaria and my two teenage girl cousins were trapped at the top of an apartment building that has been overtaken by militia. They are helpless.

My aunts are sick and they have been injured. My two cousins are just children. Please help my family.

Im so glad you sent me this ask, it pointed me in the direction of an actual cause that you lifted all of this text from! Of course the original was a person trying to get their family out of Sudan but i guess you determined that wasnt gonna tug on peoples’ heart strings as much so you can scam them out of money and changed it to Palestine instead. Very shrewd! I’ll be donating to them right away, YOU on the other hand i hope your asshole rots out!

As for the rest of y’all this woman seems pretty legit and she hasnt gotten any donations in a week so im giving her some so consider giving her some money and not fucking scam artists!

[cottoncandy-cult]

Spotless

Fan! Levi Ackerman X Celeb! Reader

So this will take place in the modern world, no titans. Reader is a celebrity. (C/L) = Clothing Line

Levi pulled up to a 3 bedroom home, the young man having put his OCD to good use as he had opened up his own cleaning service. He was specifically requested by a client this time, though he wasn't sure who it was. All he knew was that his client was more often then not busy, unable to take the time to clean properly. He had never done a live in a job but he didn't mind, it was only for about 6 months and the pay would be rather nice. He stepped out of his truck, grabbing his big bucket of cleaning supplies. Of course Levi was informed his client already had plenty, he had very specific brands he preferred to use.

Upon knocking on the door, a familiar face had opened it, the face belonging to an old school mate by the name of Erin. The boy giving him a friendly smile and stepping aside to let him in, he thought the voice over the phone was familiar, but he hadn't been able to place it. "Long time no see, thanks for taking the job. My cousin could use some help." Levi had quirked an eyebrow, he had never really heard Erin talk about his family.

Though before he could question the male further a young woman came rushing down the stairs, her (H/l) (H/c) flowing about as she seemed to search about the house. Only then did he realize how despite how clean it was, the house didn't seem to be organized. Obviously, the work of quick cleaning, though soon something registered in his mind. Right before his eyes was THE (F/n) (L/N), a famous fashion designer. Levi had been a fan of the young woman as she was one of the few who could make beautiful clothing that was still decent in nature, he himself wasn't a fan of showy clothing.

Though part of him was rather surprised, the woman was popular and made plenty of money to have a much larger house yet here she was in such a quaint area in such a normal house. Then again, another part of him wasn't, this woman was generous and donated to many foundations. He heard she was working on a new line and had disappeared from public view, something that all who knew of her had seen before. She'd disappear often to work in peace, looking at her now though she looked so normal.

"Erin, have you seen my old sketch pad from (C/L)**?" She was searching a large bookshelf for the sketchpad, the young woman usually so dressed up was in just a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She looked tired and stressed beyond belief, but she was the role model of the clothing world. All of her clothing lines were a mix of comfortable, modest and beautiful, where many lines had sacrifice modesty to try and make the clothing items attractive despite their price and how uncomfortable they can be.

"(Y/n) you're supposed to be relaxing, just sit down on the couch. Levi and I will look for it." At the mention of the name the girl spun around, wide eyed as she blushed deeply. "Why didn't you tell me he was here! I would have come to introduce myself!” She rushed over, bowing slightly before looking up at him. "I'm so sorry about that, my name is (Y/n). Thank you for agreeing to clean up this place." Inside he was fan-boying, but on the outside he managed to stay calm and return the bow. Thankful that she couldn't see his face, as he could feel the heat of his cheeks.

"It's no problem ma'am, I'll make sure that you'll be able to focus on your work." With that he and Erin went off to search for her missing item, he was already arranging everything in his head. He wanted to make sure he did well on this, should these next few months go right not only would the greatest woman he had ever seen be a repeat customer but she may even recommend his bussiness to some of the other high profiles she associated with.

       -Time Skip: 4 Months-

4 months had passed and he had grown to greatly enjoy his time in the home with her, she was kind and helpful. Always trying to return his hard work with gifts, or even home made meals on occasion, even though she was already paying him handsomely. After the second month he had informed her he was actually a fan of hers, after hearing that she began running her ideas passed him as he'd never leak her hard work.

As it turned out the reason for her stress was, she was starting a men's line, some outfits were almost like gender bent versions of some of her older female outfits. Of course, this also meant he had to be her model when he wasn't cleaning, trying on the clothes so she can modify and fit them to fit him, so she'd have physical examples to show her manager. He had never enjoyed a job this much, then again, he never thought he'd be friends with someone like her.

Though by the third month he had found he felt more than just admiration and respect for her, he had begun to catch himself smiling when he'd watch her work. He loved her hard work and how dedicated she was, he was always amazed by her kind heart. She just made him melt, her laughter and how goofy she was never failed to lighten his mood. Of course, he'd never admit to any of this, sure he was much kinder to her than others but that couldn't be helped. Something about her brought out a side of him no one else knew he had, including himself.

But today was a special day, he had come to terms with his feelings and needed to confront her with them. Sure, it may make things awkward, he could even lose his job. But it wasn't like he needed this job, or he'd go under, so if it happens it happens. He was making his way to the garden out back, knowing she'd be there taking a break. Sure enough (Y/n) was sat on a new looking bench on her patio, admiring the flowers in the garden directly in front of them. "Hey Levi, you finally taking a break?" She gave him a warm smile when she noticed him, one so contagious the corners of his lips perked up slightly into a small calm smile. "Yes, I finished doing the dishes." He approached and sat beside her, going over his words in his head.

Though any anxiety he had must have been on his face, as (Y/n)'s smile had become a look of concern. "Is everything ok Levi?..." She carefully took his hand, to say he struggled to fight the heat that formed in his cheeks was an understatement. "Yes but... I do have something I need to speak to you about, I'm merely trying to form the proper way to approach it." His gaze stayed locked on her hands as they carefully held his, though after a moment his eyes refocused on her as she nodded. "I see, whatever it is I'm all ears. So, no need to worry."

Her words brought him some comfort, so he decided to come right out and be direct. The sooner it's out, the sooner he'll know how she feels. "(Y/n) over the past few months we've grown close, but the feelings I have for you are not those of what you'd have for a friend... I like you (Y/n) maybe even love, I hope you'll give me the chance to truely understand these feelings." A wide smile decorated the young woman's face, leaning forward she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and he caught the faint fragrance of her perfume. "I like you to Levi... A lot." A deep blush coated her cheeks, realizing just how much more elegant in his admittance he was than she had been.

Though she almost fainted when he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, this gentle and rather tame form of basic affection melted her. He was more of a gentleman then any man who had tried to approach her, he took a small and slow first step. And something about it just seemed to reassure her he was telling the truth about his feelings; she wasn't a celebrity he just wanted to bang and brag about. She was the woman he wanted to love.

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Trick or treat!

🍬 Treat! Here's some information about Uneasy Money, my latest plot bunny:

It's set in the same universe as The Case-Files of Seo Yo-han. Yo-han himself doesn't appear, Phil might, and Alec and Davit definitely will. One of the protagonists is Alec's cousin.

It starts in 1919 and continues until at least 1924. I'll basically pick and choose what I want from real history, and I'll handwave the differences by pointing out it's a WW1-less alternate history.

The main inspirations are The Last Chronicle of Barset and Downton Abbey. The title is borrowed from a P. G. Wodehouse novel.

The main characters' surname is Millner. This is because I recently bought an 1870(!) edition of Alfred Lord Tennyson's poems, and it has a signature from someone named Philip Millner who owned it in 1875(!!). So I've borrowed his surname for my OCs.

There are four, possibly five main characters: Gilbert (named after Gilbert from Anne of Green Gables), his sister Helena, their brother Eric, and their cousin Helena. (Yes, there are two Helenas. Yes, this is confusing for everyone. Including me; I think I'll give one of them a nickname. I can't change one of their names because a major plot relies on no one knowing which Helena Millner is involved.) The fifth main character is Thomas, who is blackmailing one branch of the Millners.

The plot revolves around a large sum of money that was supposed to be donated to the hospital. Helena was asked to deliver it, so when it goes missing she's accused of stealing it. (The truth: the other Helena "borrowed" it to pay off Thomas. Thomas says he got the money from "Helena Millner", but doesn't say which one.)

[kindheart525]

How do Red Cedar, Minted Glacier and the children of Obbi, Rainier and Polly cope with the death of their lovers/parents?

Btw, I love how much thought goes into this interesting and fun AU!

Thank you so much!! I’ve been having a ton of fun with this AU; it really lets me go outside of my usual comfort zone in tone and characterization and I’m really loving the exercise.

Red Cedar’s whole family has a pretty long history with the Apples, with her father’s friendship with Bright Mac, her mother’s friendship with Applejack, her sister’s relationship with one of the (surviving) Apple cousins, and her own relationship with Rainier. So, after a number of their loved ones get taken from them by this horrible evil, it’s no question that the two families would join forces. Cedar is treated by the Apples like one of their own just as much as her own parents love her, so she has a lot of support. Which she’ll need since she was most likely pregnant with at least one of her and Rainier’s children when he died (not sure which one but there aren’t 14 of them in this au). She’s absolutely devastated without Rainier, but she hardly has to parent alone with the whole family helping her.

Minted Glacier and Cherry Berry Sherbet would get a very large inheritance from Polly no question, but of course no amount of money can fill the hole he left with his absence. Mint would become very paranoid knowing his husband was murdered by such a powerful evil, and he would probably become an extremely private individual in an effort to protect himself and CheBe even though that evil is gone. But he would also want to do some good with all the money that he’s been left with. In the spirit of Polly’s philanthropy career but in a way that is much more concretely helpful, he would donate much of his fortune to help the families of all the others that were killed, like he would appreciate being done for him if he had any financial need. Of course he keeps enough for himself and CheBe (and his sister and parents too) to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, but the vast majority of that money is donated to a selfless cause.

As I get to Obsidian, I should explain that the timeline of the horror AU is a little different from the timeline of the original Auraverse. In the OG universe, Obbi and Yngvlid don’t get together until Obbi’s son Volcanic Jasper is about 12-13 years old, but there’s no way Iolite would wait that long to start killing. So, Yng and Obbi get together much earlier in Jasper’s life (which works because they knew each other for much longer anyway). Also, I like to think Iolite spent some time isolating herself as the evil gradually took over her mind, giving Crash enough time to at least get Obbi pregnant even if he doesn’t get much time with his son after that. After both Crash and Obbi are dead, Yngvlid sends the young and orphaned Jasper to live with his Uncle Mountain Peak to keep him safe on the off chance that there’s still any lurking evil watching her. Since Mounty is permanently single, she believes he has the lowest risk of attracting any of Iolite’s wrath, if she did have any power to resurrect Sombra-style.

[mywickedtruth]

On Monday. February 13 2023, two school shootings happened. There were probably more, but I didn’t look it up. Let me tell you how these are connected.

In Lansing, Michigan, the city I was born in, at MSU, the alma mater of my father, and the current university of my cousin’s 2 children. A young woman, Elise, a junior, who actually looks like me, was on the other side of campus when the guy went into that classroom. She is ‘ok’ safe, scared, in shock, traumatized, perhaps permanently.

Her younger brother, Jack, a freshman was in the building. Not the classroom, but in Berkeley Hall. He is ‘ok’ safe, scared, in shock, traumatized, perhaps permanently. Imagine the horror and the fear.

Now, the second shooting:

Denver, Colorado, the city I was raised in, at Denver East High School, my alma mater, and the current high school of my sisters son. A young man, Jude, a freshman, who is a varsity soccer player, was in his classroom when his teammate and friend was shot in their school parking lot. He is ‘ok’ safe, scared, in shock, traumatized, perhaps permanently.

That’s 3 kids in my family. On the same day. Do you hear me? THE SAME FUCKING DAY!! The same day. Don’t tell me to be rational. Don’t tell me I’m in your fucking prayers. Go donate money to the families. The boy that WAS SHOT IN THE FUCKING HEAD IN FRONT OF HIS HIGH SCHOOL ISN’T DEAD!!!! It’s not looking good, but his family could use some cash.

And none of mine were ‘hurt’. I’m not attending funerals. My sister, my cousin, their kids? How do they get through this? How do they parent this? How do they get their kids to go back to school? And be successful? And healthy? And and and. How do you comfort them when the nightmares come?

And thank fucking god there was a metal detector inside the high school where it did not one iota of good.

It’s a complex problem. Gun control, social services, media (mainstream and social), police, lack of culture, systemic racism, dysfunction in all levels of government, a nation divided in half by hate; violent all consuming blind hate; color coded hate -black and white, red and blue, corporate greed, and more….but no one is sitting down at the table to even try to peel the onion. Think tanks put ROVERS ON MARS but can’t keep 3rd graders safe in Uvalde or Sandy Hook or the younger siblings of my college friends at Columbine! And let me tell you how many fucks I give about rovers on Mars. (Lots of tax dollars on Mars, kids. $25.4 BILLION dollars to NASA IN 2023) let’s take one years nasa budget and fund a mass shooting solution think tank and see if they can do something with it.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

I’m angry. And a woman today in my office told me it’s gods plan. It’s in the Bible, the end of days. I told her to shove her Bible up her ass. And when it’s her family I will remind her of her god and his plan. AND!!!!!

Her/ their ignorance is not as valuable as my/our intelligence. But (social) media has given them a platform to be loud. From the red neck swamp rat to the hallowed halls of the highest government offices

Thoughts and prayers are not enough. Stop voting for pussies. Stop following bullies and bigots. Stop teaching your children that gun violence is acceptable. What happened to having a fist fight at the bike rack after school? Stop allowing your kids to disrespect others. Stop disrespecting others. Don’t heckle the President of the UNITED States on national television. It’s tacky. It teaches others that this behavior is ok. It’s not. Do you hear me? It. Is. Not. Send cash to the victims. Spread love and tolerance and logic and thoughtful legislation and rational gun control and severe punishment for the guys shooting up our families. And don’t plea bargain weapons charges down.

The bullies in my high school in the 80’s were plenty mean. The terrible, troubled kids. But they didn’t have AR15’s. But now….

Fuck

[weekendviking]

I don't think of myself as rich, but my family has been, more than once. It leaves marks and behaviours.

It's patchy, and sometimes the privilege jumps generations, or is only present in certain parts of how a family has or applies the privileges of money, or is only present as an attitude to life and people when the money isn't there. My family hasn't had 'big' wealth for a century, and lost it's aristocratic and colonially acquired generational wealth multiple times, but also reaquired wealth multiple times. It's been handy having access to the name and the privilege sometimes, but also the associations come with generational trauma that I can trace back centuries, and that still occasionally breaks us (both mentally and physically - I have cousins I can't talk to because of things that happened a few decades back with inheritance and embezzlement and abuse that's been glossed over but rifts remain. Standover tactics to force skimming from an inheritance when one had already lost one's share. Embezzling your own mother's land and losing it in your bankruptcy.)

I work a public service science job, but one of my brothers has to 'arrange his tax affairs' and I'm a trustee on the trust that does that (It's why my mother has a nice house to live in, as she runs the eclectic half developed family farm in her mid eighties), and I can see how it's used to run at a loss to hide income and lower tax, by juggling ownership of IP and running assets at a loss to preserve ownership or shift money or title between jurisdictions and generations. This shouldn't be legal but it is, because that's how the politicians, left and right, and their corporate and wealthy donors, want it.

The falls from wealth occurred prior to 1900, in some cases prior to 1800, but pockets of it remained in the extended family up until the 1930s, '40s and '80s, in the form of occasional properties, or in connections, or inheritances. But also in social attitudes. Some of those attitudes were positive for me - attitudes to education, to information, to gender, that's helped some of us back to moderate wealth, but some of them were negative - attitudes to class, to race, to different career types, that took a lot of getting over ourselves.

I grew up in the seventies, in a partially built house, on a farm in the foothills of the southern alps. The house was unfinished, and still is. We didn't have flush toilets until I was 8, we didn't have television, but we had 5000 books and heirloom furniture and sheds of mouldering antique tractors and kit recovered or looted during family bankruptcy or inheritance squabbles, or just because they'd all died out. Chests of old clothes and relic jewellery or swords from when an ancestor was an Envoy for the Raj. One great uncle had a huge property in Kenya that he lost after the war, but half my other uncles were day labourers or shearers or reclusive ex military men broken by wars of Empire or empire's collapse, eking out a living as odd job men. But we thought nothing of having a cousin from the UK who's a baronet, to tea in our half built lounge. (If he'd been two years earlier, we would have still been on the outdoor drop dunny bucket toilet). A Baronet was worth bringing out the tea set from the 1880s for the occasion.

Or having streets named after us, or having once owned huge stations and gold mines, but lost them in bankruptcy and family fights over inheritance. Multiple black sheep ancestors or relatives. People who weren't spoken of because they did the wrong, or the right, thing. Taking on children born out of wedlock to 'give them a name', or hiding the skeletons of family mental illness (The son who worked multiple jobs to get his mother out of the asylum for weekend visits, because although she'd recovered, the estranged husband didn't think it worth signing the papers to release her).

There are parks and so forth that we donated to towns we were associated with. (Sometimes it's fun tracking down the wikipedia pages of ancestors). One of my friends studying musicology once asked me a question at lunch between lectures, 'hey, you grew up in this district, did you know <x> family, I'm studying one who was a composer'. She showed me the small collection of material held in the university library that survived, and I was able to say 'Oh, that's great aunt J.'s sister in law, I'll check with Dad', and then bring her a stack of annotated music this person had used, with some compositions on loose leaves stacked in them, a foot and a half high, that was in a box in one of the sheds.

Having the attitude of money, even when we didn't, meant that despite most of the previous three generations on both sides mostly having worked blue collar jobs, we still had access to social networks associated with money, so land and property and ok school access still crop up. I got access to a good residential college, because a distant cousin was on the board, so I suspect my application got through because the principal was worried he'd catch it if it didn't. (But we have so many branches and tentacles that neither I, nor the board member, knew each other existed.) Because I got in, so did my younger siblings. Because we got in, so will our children, if they go there.

Having had the money all go, more than once, has left patterns of generational frugality and financial caution that are interesting - I don't care much about money, because it always seems to turn up, because I have the education, the connections, the gift of the gab, that means I find jobs easily, even though I have adhd and sabotaged my career to remain only in jobs that stimulate me. Some of us never throw anything away, but some of us live on massive overdrafts and spend money that doesn't exist like water, but can finance because the jobs crop up, because aside from personal drive, the education was there, so the job to finance the overweening mortgage is there anyway. But some of my siblings and cousins are venal beyond belief, and will side with bigger money and power for advantage at the drop of a hat (which I personally can't understand).

It adds abilities that many don't have. You can fail at something, not because you're particularly good or bad at it, but because even if a family doesn't bail you out or give you a grub stake, there's a place to live available even if you lose everything personally. A relationship can break, but it's not a disaster because I've seen money'd family just step in and give a loan to buy out the share of the estranged partner, so that property can stay. But I've also seen big money'd parents, despite being ostensibly lovely people, financially control and abuse their children out of some weird idea that it toughens them to capriciously give, take, or limit, resources or money. Or gifts be showered, but every one, even the small ones, comes with a hook of obligation. My dad thinks he's working class, and never finished high school, and worked as a welder and farmhand, and in a way that's true - most of what my parents built and own is their work alone, but the unquestioning attitude that they could do it from scratch, I think, comes from the rich family attitude of knowing there's a backstop if you fail, which is _not_ available to many/most/all of the working classes such as they were, or are. But the social attitudes he has, and tries to promulgate, are all those of the conservative rich, albeit the conservative rich of the 1880's to 1950's who fucked up and lost it a generation before he was born, but told him all the stories and attitudes while they sat in the patchy wreckage of the fortunes.

As a kid, when your parents are poor, you're poor. If they don't have money, that means none of you have money. But if someone's parents are rich, that doesn't necessarily mean the kid is. Sometimes rich peoples' kids aren't rich kids, they're just some rich freak's exotic pets that can talk but aren't allowed to.

[automatismoateo]

If you tell me youre a Christian I automatically assume youre a POS. via /r/atheism

If you tell me you’re a Christian, I automatically assume you’re a POS. And it’s so weird because Jesus preached nothing but acceptance, love, and generosity. I have never ever met a Christian that is generous or kind or respectful. This election cycle has completely shattered my view of humanity. I know so many Christian’s who are unapologetic voting for you-know-who and while I kinda sorta respected that they just had a difference of opinion 8 years ago, it’s just unforgivable now. For the life of me, I cannot understand how they are able to consolidate their Christian beliefs with the rhetoric and ideology of MAGA. I grew up catholic, and even though I no longer go to church or identify with Catholicism, I remember acts of service and kindness were important. We’d go to soup kitchens, we’d wrap Christmas presents for the homeless and give them out, we’d donate time and money to animal shelters because we were taught that above all else, Jesus wanted us to be kind. Now, I can’t see these people as anything but ugly and horrible. There are no acts of service, there is no kindness. It’s just hate, hate, hate. So many people in my family are MAGA and I can’t help but feel that underneath it all, they are disgusting. My aunt, my grandma, my cousins—people that I love. I am having such a hard time with this. My MIL is so very Christian and so very MAGA. We had her first granddaughter last year and she’s still unapologetically MAGA. How can she believe in this when her granddaughters life and liberty are at stake? This beautiful baby girl is going to grow up with less rights than her foolish grandma. How can I sit across from this woman at thanksgiving and feel nothing but disgust for her?? I can’t stand these people. These goody-goody people who spend all Sunday listening to the word of god and then go out and treat everyone else as if they’re less than them. How do they justify this? What do they tell themselves? I am so genuinely curious as to how their cognitive dissonance works. Submitted October 28, 2024 at 02:40PM by InfiniteTurn4148 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/L0q76Z8)