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belit0 · 2 years ago

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ahh, i just found out tobirama was about 40 when he became hokage! which makes him even hotter🤭. can you do a hokage tobirama and his young pregnant shy wife meeting his family and like people around the village

I need to EXPLICTLYYYY know where you got that information from bc confirming that he was a daddy brings a different flavor to his character🫠❤️‍🩹

For clarification purposes: Madara is blind in this piece. Hashirama healed Izuna before he died, under Madara's acceptance of peace, and Aniki never took his younger brother's eyes, preferring to go blind rather than steal his sight.

No one dares to look him in the eye, let alone question the possessive hand that won't let go of (Y/N)'s hips. Her belly is too prominent to deny the situation, but no one is used to seeing the current Hokage with his wife.

Senju Tobirama devoted himself to hiding the woman he promised as a bride, unable to tolerate stares at her and unfortunate comments. Both men and women would send lust and desire toward her, and he would have no way to stop them all. What better remedy than to shelter (Y/N) until his ownership is undeniable?

Tobirama can be quite capricious.

The man even went as far as not allowing his own older brother to meet her, Hashirama himself excluded from the equation. To think that the former Hokage could betray his younger brother like that was ridiculous to everyone, but it wasn't about lust with him. No.

Tobirama hid (Y/N) because he refused to lose the one ray of light in his life (after Anija's solar shower, of course). His past is made up of death and disappointment, built as an unfeeling weapon of war by his father, robbed of the ability to empathize with anyone until the creation of Konoha.

His wife brought a peace he didn't know he needed into his life, a breath of fresh air even as nations struggled to not cooperate with peace, freedom among so much horror and suffering. (Y/N) showed him that life could be spent out of survival mode, that he could relax for sleep and accept another person into his bed without danger.

Having found what he always sought without knowing it, Tobirama could not afford to lose it.

Keeping her away from everything and everyone (beyond his possible jealousy) was also composed by the need to protect her, to remove her from the spotlight that inevitably comes with being the Hokage's future wife, to prevent her from being used against him. The albino's attitudes were based on affection, but now that (Y/N) is round with his creation, full of him, he can't help but proudly display her.

He strolls through the market streets with his head held high and his wife tightly in his grip, shooting hostile glances at anyone who looks at them for more than five minutes at a time. Of course he expects people to be surprised, but he doesn't want her to end up with the evil eye either.

"Hokage-Sama! Here, here!" shouts a little old lady from his favorite food stall. He can't ignore people from his village, those who trust him, and comes up to her stall to give her a smile unbecoming of Tobirama. "You look very happy, Hokage-Sama!"

"Ah... how could a man not be, having such a beautiful woman by his side?" And (Y/N) blushes, waving slightly at the little old lady and trying to hide the redness of her cheeks behind the sleeve of her yukata.

The elderly woman smiles, and hands them both a small package of food without accepting anything in return, "here, here, take this, enjoy life!" She practically pushes them out of her stall, and they resume walking to the point they agreed on with Hashirama.

People stare and stare at them, some even dare to congratulate the Hokage, give him blessings, ask if he could feel how many children are there. Some inquiries make him uncomfortable, and with just a blunt look he gets rid of those prying eyes.

They receive more gifts along the way, offerings of love and respect, food and decorations, townspeople declaring their eagerness to meet the Hokage's offspring. Tobirama would not expect to have interacted with so many people in such a short distance, and his social battery is noticeably drained, squeezing (Y/N) more and more protectively against his body.

By the time they reach Hashirama's house, the Hokage no longer wants anything to do with anyone.

"Ayoooooo! Tobi! You made it!" his older brother waits for them sitting at the door, like a little kid waiting for his dad to come home from work. The problem is, Hashirama is not a child, and not little one either. He pounces on the two, wrapping his arms around them and pressing their faces to his chest, invasive and effusive as always but enhanced by (Y/N)'s presence.

"Aaaa! (Y/N)! Finally released from your confinement! It's so beautiful to finally meet you!" Anija lets go of him, only to squeeze her separately, give her kisses on the crown of her head and clench her cheeks like a grandmother. Yes, Hashirama could be compared to a grandmother. "Have you looked... I mean, in there? See what's in there? We could ask Izuna to-"

"No."

"But-"

"No. It's a surprise." Tobirama pulls (Y/N) out of his arms, and hugging her enters the house he knows by heart. He heads straight for the courtyard, where he knows Hashirama (who comes behind him with his head down and feigning sadness) enjoys afternoons of tea.

Of course, he does not expect the surprise his brother has prepared for him there.

The whole clan, the whole damn family is gathered around a huge table, different from the one Anija prefers for his solitary lunches. Sitting in the two main seats, the Uchiha brothers, who have no business in a Senju house, full of Senju men and women.

Is this what peace looks like? Graphically represented? Tobirama wants to vomit.

"TOBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" He is greeted by his entire family as a whole, and the elders soon hover over both of them. Females kidnap (Y/N) to shower her with questions and love, all a carbon copy of how Hashirama behaves but boosted to the tenth.

The albino is also abducted, but by the young men and his older brother, who seems to have regained his cheerfulness. They sit him down in front of the Uchiha brothers, and it's like sending a cow to the slaughter.

"Tobi Tobes... I didn't know your family called you like that, neither that your wife was SO pregnant... He hides too many things from us, right Aniki?" Izuna starts, as usual, not missing a chance to poke him with whatever comes in front of him.

"Hm."

"How many children do you have there? 3? She's... prominent!"

"Get my wife out of your mouth before I make you remember why the war existed in the first place." It's a blunt threat, and the young men around him tense up. Peace is old at this point, but the habits of a life that no longer exists are hard to forget.

"He's joking! Yes, yes, he's kidding! No tobi?" Hashirama tries to disperse the waters, and it works, at least with those who don't know them inside out. Madara knows what's coming, and so does he somehow.

"You want me to see how many are there? With the Sharingan, I mean... it's not like I actually want to get inside-"

"Izuna. Enough." Aniki tries, and succeeds until the albino glares at his little brother.

"Madara... you're blind, but if only could you see the size of that woman's belly..."

"IZUNA!" This time it's Hashirama, who gets indignant every time the Uchiha speaks so lightly about his brother's eye condition. Maybe it's the way they both have of cooperating with the situation, but it's still terrible in his ears.

The Uchiha leader chuckles under his breath, and it's all the validation Izuna needs to go on.

"So, what do you say, Tobi Tobes, want to check it out?" and before he can activate his Dōjutsu, two huge branches stop them both. Tobirama, who was in the process of pulling out a kunai and jumping to his throat, is imprisoned in his seat. Izuna, about to reveal the mystery the couple wanted to keep, has a huge trunk wrapped around his head in the eye area.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you too."

"Fuck all of you guys." And everyone turns around in surprise, because this time it's (Y/N) doing the talking. She puts a hand on her husband's shoulder, dodging the wood on him, and gives a pleasant smile to the Uchiha brothers. "We'll find out how many children are here at the time of delivery, for the time being, I appreciate your efforts, Lord Izuna."

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girlactionfigure · 23 days ago

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Don’t ever dare tell me that someone came to rescue our grandparents from the gas chambers.

Because no one did.

They didn’t come when they put up those “No Jews allowed” signs.

They didn’t come when families were kicked out of schools, jobs, banks, and homes.

When fathers were dragged off and never seen again for being Jewish.

When mothers sewed yellow stars on their coats—like that made them less human.

They didn’t come when they burned down synagogues.

When they shattered our windows and crushed our lives.

When they beat our kids in the streets and no one stopped it.

They didn’t come when we were shoved into ghettos, and hunger tortured us.

When disease spread like wildfire and everything we had was taken, erased.

They didn’t come when the trains rolled in—train after train packed with the sick, the children, the elderly.

No food. No water. No idea where we were going—just away forever.

And the world knew.

Of course, they did. They had the reports, the witnesses, the headlines, the news.

But they ignored it.

America didn’t want us.

Britain didn’t care.

Canada said, “None is too many.”

And the 'Neutral' countries. They stayed neutral.

While families like mine vanished, they stayed neutral. F their neutrality.

All my grandparents had numbers on their arms.

Tattooed, not by choice (it’s forbidden by Jewish law), but by force, to be counted like stock.

Some were the last ones left of entire families—gone.

Not lost. But taken, robbed, stolen, ripped away.

Ask yourself: If Japan hadn’t attacked Pearl Harbor, would America have stepped foot in Europe?

If Hitler hadn’t betrayed Stalin, would Russia have interfered to rescue the Jews he hated?

Without those events, the world would’ve stayed still.

It might’ve been years, and then…

You wouldn’t known about us outside of museums.

We’d be like the Romans.

Like the Babylonians.

A “once-was.”

Just old photos.

An exhibit.

A memory.

So don’t tell me someone came to save us.

They didn’t save us.

They showed up after the fire was almost burned out and acted like heroes.

They came to see the piles of shoes.

The rooms of hair.

The bones that didn’t completely burn.

They found people barely alive.

Eyes sunken into their faces, empty of thought and full of pain.

Children who couldn’t cry because they were too busy convincing themselves they were alive.

That’s not a rescue.

That’s showing up after the damage is done and saying, “Look, I did something.”

Of course, we’re grateful for those who fought. For the soldiers who stormed hellholes, who risked everything to tear down the gates and ultimately lead our grandparents to freedom.

But don’t you dare talk about Jews like you have no blood on your hands.

Don’t pretend you weren’t silent while we burned.

Don’t even think about it.

After the war, suddenly everyone cared.

They built museums.

Lit candles.

Made speeches.

Wrote “never again” on signs.

But do you know what that is?

Guilt dressed up as remembrance.

Grief with no consequences.

Regret with no price.

They wept for what was left.

But when it mattered? When my family needed someone?

They did nothing.

And you—sitting here reading this—ask yourself:

If you were alive then, would you have done something?

Would you have opened your door? Taken a family in?

Spoken out while everyone else stayed quiet?

Be real.

Most didn’t need to be Nazis to be complicit.

They just needed to stay silent.

They just needed to do nothing.

And that’s exactly what they did.

We didn’t survive just to be polite about it.

We didn’t crawl out of the ashes to make everyone feel better.

We’re not a tragedy.

We’re not a statistic.

We’re not some story you hear once a year.

We are not a remembrance month or day.

We’re what’s left.

And we will never forget that when it counted, no one came.

Not then.

Not when it mattered.

We know history repeats itself.

So let me ask: How confident do you think we are that this time the world would step in earlier?

Not too confident, I can tell you that.

@AP_from_NY

#End Jew Hatred #Jews #Shoah

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yuri-is-online · 1 year ago

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Was Lilia more “Oh my thorn fairy I have another child?! I can barely cast a spell as of now and future me wants a fucking KID?! AT THAT AGE?!”

Or more of a

I HAVE ANOTHER SON?! AND IT’S FROM ME!?

If his Yutu tells him he comes from the future? Because it could imply he does regain his remaining years and magic. Idk how you wrote that problem that even rn it’s giving talk about Lilia surviving book 7 or not.

If it’s the second I already see him passing by Silver’s room really excited and saying “YOU HAVE A BROTHER!” And zooming off, leaving a very confused Silver and thinking he refers to either Malleus or Sebek.

technically anon asked first but this ask is much longer so it was awkward to screenshot for an answer. Here is the link the anon used for reference, I obligated as an elderly hater to let you know it's from SAO. Anon's idea is extremely good and we're going to roll with it for this Yutu's Uniqe Magic because you know he was always going to be a little shit.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. SPOILERS FOR: Book 7, Lilia's back story, and Silver's unique magic. Please engage with this in mind. For more fyuutre kid au, please check out the series section of my masterlist.

I have a bit of difficult time writing for Lilia given how much older he is than the rest of the cast, so I tend to write his Yuu as being a bit older themselves. Maybe they had an extremely difficult childhood and connected with Lilia over their shared sense of robbed innocence. Whatever it was I think this Yuu has a bit of a fascination with creatures of the night and a lot of their weirdo reputation within their community comes from kids telling each other that Yuu and Yutu are vampires. That makes me tempted to say Lilia! Yutu's real name is Alucard or Sebastian, something vaguely vampire themed.

None of those rumors are helped by Yutu finding himself very lethargic when out in the sunlight or his preference for colder temperatures. From his perspective he can't exactly help being who he is, people should really just get over themselves and let him do his thing. It's not his fault that bats really seem to like him for some reason, the neighbors are exaggerating Mr. Animal Control officer he swears.

Because he prefers to spend his awake hours in the dark, he is waaaaay too comfortable doing things and going places he shouldn't. He's real familiar with all the abandoned buildings and sketchy alleys of your town and has tagged quite a few of them. I like the idea of Lilia! Yutu being really interested in street art and Graffiti. I could see him putting up a bunch of bats everywhere and getting in a bunch of trouble for it. He has very fond memories of Yuu letting him paint murals on portions of their house in an effort to meet him halfway. He might like a good prank but unlike his father Yutu is always pulling his punches with Yuu.

Lilia didn't exactly have a supportive parent while he was growing up, something I feel like Yuu remembers and is very conscious of in their parenting of Yutu. Unfortunately for Lilia they also remember that he had another child and was a lot older than them, something Yutu raises several eyebrows at and causes him to ignore the things Yuu tries to tell him about his "great sense of humor" and "desire for different peoples to learn and grow with one another-" yeah that's great can you back up a bit to where you said he had another family? Yutu goes through life thinking he was the product of an affair Yuu had with a much older, married man who was just trying to feel young again. The amnesia stuff... sometimes he wonders if his dad tried to have Yuu killed. He never says it out loud because something tells him he's wrong, but gut feelings aren't as trustworthy as statistics...

So you can imagine his surprise when he tumbles out of a coffin and is told that his dad was a faerie general bound in service to a family of dragons, veteran of an ancient war, and technically the adoptive father of the Prince of the children of the night and the Prince of the rival human kingdom that killed his best friends. One of which is alive and overwhelmed with joy to meet him. Silver wanted Yutu almost as badly as Lilia and Yuu did so to see him alive and awkwardly squirming in his arms? Silver hasn't cried this much since they lost Lilia and Malleus.

Having a proper older brother, not just the concept, is an extreme change for Yutu. He's used to it just being him and Yuu, and he was sort of expecting Silver to hate him just for existing. Nothing could be further from the truth, Silver wants his younger brother to have the same freedoms he did while attending school but he also respectfully requests that Yutu spend at least some of his free time with him. He tried desperately to find his dreams over the years and was never able to make firm contact, but he doesn't want to pressure Yutu into caring about him. Yutu is didn't realize how badly he wanted other family members until he got to have Silver, he's even willing to take up sword fighting so they can get closer.

Sebek is also overwhelmed with tears upon seeing Lilia! Yutu. He is a bit harsh on him for "not living up to Master Lilia's legacy" because he doesn't know anything about fighting. He does applaud him for his willingness to learn. Yutu thinks Sebek is hilarious and messes with him just as much as Lilia does. Something Sebek is completely willing to let him do because it makes him feel like Lilia never left.

All of the Yutus get to see some of the photographs Yuu left behind, but Lilia! Yutu is especially interested in them. He makes a small photo album of all the ones he can find of his dad, especially ones where he's with Yuu and Silver. He's partially driven by guilt for thinking his father was a terrible person, but really he just wants to feel closer to him. He's half fae, and sure he has Sebek to talk about that with but what he really needs is a connection with his father. Yutu doesn't really care about being a faerie. He just cares about his dad's acceptance, everything else can go hang.

I don't have a name for his unique magic, but going off of anon's idea it allows him to overwhelm his target's mind, forcing them to think about their greatest fears to the point they are convinced they are really going through it. Someone hates spider? All over their face and in their clothes. Crippling fear of failure? Suddenly that emotion is all they can focus on. And if it's a mindless creature like a blot phantom or a monster they become overwhelmed with the sensation that they are unable to breathe and about to die. Yutu can't control the illusion the person experiences so usually he tries not to use it on his classmates.

That changes when he goes into the past. Some rando want to shit talk Yuu? Nightmare. Macho NRC guy wants to rumble? Nightmare. Some random guy jumped out from behind him and yells "BOO!" Nightma-

If Yutu had been just a hair slower he would have been in extreme pain, the dangerous glint in those familiar ruby eyes scream that. The short fae smiles almost cruelly, advancing on him clearly upset even though Yutu has dropped the spell.

"Well now, that's no way to great a senior." Lilia's voice is strangely soothing, it occurs to Yutu that this is probably the first time his father has ever been angry at him and he can't help himself. He laughs,

"Yeah sorry about that." He makes sure to try and be cute about it, which helps to diffuse the tension some what. "You really scared me so it was all I could think to do."

Lilia is very impressed by Yutu's reflexes and control over his unique magic. He is even further impressed by how eager Yutu is to train with Silver. The kid has some real promise and fits into Silver and Sebek's dynamic better than Lilia could have dreamed of. He really hopes the two will benefit from having a relatively normal human friend their age to train with. Maybe he and Yuu will stick around and give him some piece of mind about the kids being in good hands when he's gone.

Yutu hanging around Diasomnia gives him an excuse to chat with Yuu more, not that he exactly needed it. Lilia sort of hates the way he's drawn to you, it feels unfair. Unfair to you to give you hope there could be something more and toy with your affections; unfair to him for life to finally allow him to realize what romantic love is like just in time to have to let it go. There is a bittersweet tone to all of your interactions that his housemates are a bit too socially awkward to pick up on but Cater does.

Yutu is surprised how much he likes Cater, he associates him with a terrifying monster he's had to fight multiple times, not a fun guy who is really determined to help his parents get together. And what's even better he's really chill when Yutu asks for stories about Lilia, he has a lot of them and a completely different perspective than his older brother allowing Yutu to glean some more insight to what his parents might have been thinking in the future.

He finds himself spending a lot of time with the pop music club, not as an official member though he's not great at carrying a tune. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are glad to have another person to chill with, sometimes they'll play music and Yutu will draw something based off whatever noise they made. Cater wants to talk him into doing album art for them... you know if they ever get around to making a recording.

I think Yutu will only tell Lilia who he is if he has no choice. He wants to mess with the timeline as little as possible, but should a monster from his timeline appear in this one, say like an overblotted Yuu another asker was so nice as to bring up, well it's not like he says who he is. He just addresses the monster as his parent and has a very loud meltdown not wanting to fight them again. Something Malleus is more than willing to assist him with.

"Think nothing of it." Malleus's power is truly terrifying, Yutu is torn between sorrow that he wasn't on their side and relief he didn't overblot a second time. "You are Lilia's son yes? That makes you my subject, and a most precious one at that." Not that Yutu has avoided interacting with Malleus exactly, he's just found talking to him exceptionally awkward because well. He's not Yuu, he's very aware of how important Malleus is supposed to be. But the way he's looking at him now makes him think that maybe he was missing out on interacting with another older brother.

Something that's confirmed when he turns to see how big his father's eyes have gotten, the man is shaking as he stares at his face and flicks between him, Malleus, and Silver like he's staring at the most precious pieces of art in the whole universe.

As you brought up Lilia's survival isn't guaranteed, I did not solve that problem at all. I sort of just... wrote that Lilia would age more or less like a normal human and not really be able to use magic on par with what a fae would consider normal but would still be impressive to a human... so while Lilia might be a bit reluctant to show his face in Briar Valley he would still have enough years to have and raise Yutu. He might have actually died around the same time as Yuu if they had lived a normal life.

He is overwhelmingly excited at the thought of having another baby. Lilia might not know what to do with them but he does really like kids. What's harder for him to accept is his relationship with Yuu. Raising a child is something he's done before, being someone's long term partner is not. He is unused to feeling desirable, and unfamiliar with acting on his own desires. Sure Lilia might seem very free spirited, but much of his life has been dictated by a sense of duty. The thought of having something precious to him that chose him specifically of their own free will is... disarming. He's overwhelmed with how helpless you make him feel and how little he despises it.

Yutu's need to be accepted by his father is met and exceeded almost immediately. Lilia wants to cook a big family dinner for Yuu and all of his boys, something that Malleus politely rejects asking if he can instead show his Culinary Crucible skills off to Yutu (it's really so he can make babiest brother promise to never eat anything Paw Paw makes EVER) and it's all so normal Yutu almost forgets that he's listening to a practical god smugly tell him he knows all about edible weeds as his father flies around him cracking jokes and pinching his cheeks. His older brother is asleep on the couch waiting for the food to be done and his precious parent is helping his Uncle Sebek set the table, listening to him sniffle about how beautiful Master Lilia's family is.

Lilia might be practically retired, but his mind is still sharp. The information Yutu is able to pass on to him lands in good hands. When he tucks Yutu into bed that night, long after the boy has gone to sleep so as not to embarrass him he makes sure to take a good long look at the little miracle. He is beyond grateful Yutu exists, not even the Thorn Fairy could have given him a finer blessing (he'll have to make sure to tease you about that later, that's got to be a good pick up line) He will make sure that this risk his son has taken pays off, Lilia Vanrouge wasn't feared for no reason. Something it seems some foolish mortals need reminding of.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #future kid au #i believe in big brother malleus supremacy #he wants to be called older brother but refuses to ask since that would be undignified #but if yutu calls him that he gets so excited the tail comes out and starts wagging

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batmanschmatman · 1 year ago

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Book Rec: Coming Out Under Fire, by Allan Bérubé

Occasionally I see some discourse on Tumblr from folks in the HBO War fandom or different historical/history adjacent fandoms about how there weren’t that many members of the queer community involved in WWII, and I’d really like to point them and everyone else with an interest in queer history to this wonderful book. Originally published in 1990, Coming Out Under Fire gets into all the different ways queer folks DID participate in the war. It’s from an American perspective, so if you’re looking for other Allied experiences, unfortunately there won’t be much here for you, but it’s exceptionally well researched, and crucially a lot of the content comes from interviews with surviving servicemembers. There’s also a documentary based on the book, which came out a few years later and includes video interviews with some of the folks included in the text.

One of Bérubé’s main points in his introduction – and for writing the book in the first place – is the American government, history textbooks, Hollywood, etc. is able to paint the WWII-era military as an almost entirely straight military force because many queer people who participated in the war effort were silenced during their lifetimes, and were unable or unwilling to reveal their true identities. Some of this was from societal pressure – the post war period saw a huge surge in homophobic rhetoric and persecution in the name of fighting Communism, not to mention the ever present heteronormative pressure to get married and have kids – but also because so many queer veterans died during the AIDS epidemic. Bérubé was inspired to preserve the voices of those who were still with us and shed a light on some of the folks we lost. (Note that this was also an intensely personal issue for Bérubé, who lost friends and his partner to AIDS and thus saw first hand how devastating this was to the community in terms of robbing us of our loved ones, friends, elders, and history itself.)

In the book, Bérubé makes the point over and over again that queer people were involved at basically every level in the American military during the war. There’s stories about guys lying when asked “Do you like girls?” during enlistment, lesbians in the Women’s Army Corps being brought to trial for fraternizing, drag shows in POW camps and in reserve, front line combat veterans discussing losing romantic partners to enemy fire or coming out to foxhole buddies, who were supportive allies rather than hateful. One of my favorite stories that’s always stuck out to me is a guy who came home and decided to come out to his elderly mother, who was fully accepting and supportive of her son’s sexuality. I see so many people speaking in absolutes that there’s NO WAY you could come out to your family and be accepted in the past, and while that was certainly true for so many people, it’s also not an absolute truth.

Please note I am NOT giving blanket permission to make assumptions about real-life people’s sexualities or identities, nor am I saying Band of Brothers fics where half the company is dating each other are historically accurate, but it’s really sad to see folks on here (unknowingly, hopefully) perpetuating the myth that there really weren’t that many queer folks in the military during WWII. We were there, we just couldn’t be out the way we might have liked to be. After the war, the Red Scare, societal pressure, and a literal epidemic silenced countless members of the community about their time in the service. There’s no way to know how many people who fought on Guadalcanal or worked at stateside bases or sorted mail in France were queer, but it’s a lot more than you were led to believe.

As a member of the community and a historian (brief resume: MA in Public History, BA in American History, have published stuff and created exhibits for dozens of museums), I just want to remind folks that we have always been here, and our lives weren’t always miserable and tragic when we came out to people or decided to live as authentically as we could get away with. It’s not completely historically inaccurate to write fic or original fiction where your queer characters can come out to their families and not be shunned, or live with their partners and not be immediately murdered. Being queer wasn’t invented at Stonewall.

#hbo war #hbowar #band of brothers #the pacific #queer history #book reccs #lgbtq history

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felagund-the-valiant · 10 months ago

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine - Finrod x gn!reader

After the War of the Ring, you return home to Valinor, hoping to finally be reunited with your husband.

Words: 1k Tags: mix of fluff and angst, mention of canon character death, bilbo makes a cameo because why not

A/N: “being reunited after a long time“ is one of my favourite tropes, it‘s the perfect mix of angst and fluff. also i feel like finrod‘s apparent psychic abilities get overlooked way too often in fics, so i had to include them.

You never would have thought you’d see the white shores of Valinor again, after thousands of years. Waves of nostalgia washed over you as the grey ship approached the harbour. Memories of more innocent times passed through your mind. Of being young and in love with Findaráto, of a blissful marriage before the darkening. You wondered if he had decided to return to Arda, if there was a chance you’d finally see him again.

You still vividly remembered the day Orodreth had sought you out to tell you your husband wasn‘t returning from his mission. Up until that moment, you had been praying to the Valar that Findaráto’s vision had deceived him – that he simply hadn‘t interpreted it correctly. You were still amazed that you hadn‘t faded away right then and there, your fëa seemingly torn apart.

“What a magnificent sight!” You were drawn from your sombre thoughts by the elderly hobbit next to you, whose eyes were full off fascination. You couldn’t conceive what it was like to see the Blessed Realm for the first time, but you imagined it must have been overwhelming. “Your stories haven’t done it justice, (Y/N). I never could have imagined such beauty.” You simply smiled politely and nodded. Normally you delighted in engaging Bilbo’s worldly curiosity (only Eru knew just how many stories you had told him about Findaráto specifically), but the inner tension was robbing you of the energy to engage in conversation. What if he hadn’t returned? What if he would never want to return? Shaking off the thought, you told yourself to hold off on the negativity.

Stepping off the ship beside Artanis felt almost surreal. You had been gone for thousands of years and now it felt like you had only left yesterday. A large crowd of elves was gathered at the docks, each of them hoping to be reunited with their friends or loved ones, just like most passengers on your ship. For a moment you thought you had spotted Findaráto, but on second glance it turned out to be your father-in-law and you were once again stunned at how much his eldest son took after him. Your mother-in-law stood beside her husband, hope shining in her eyes as she scanned the descending passengers.

Artanis called out to her parents in delight and the three of them came together in a tight hug. You lingered behind a little, not wanting to intrude on the moment. It didn‘t take long for Arafinwë and Eärwen to take note of your presence, however, and you were taken into their arms as well. Has he returned? you wanted to ask but Arafinwë seemed to have already read your mind. “Yes,“ he simply said, “but he does not dwell with us, as much as it pains us. He seeks solace and only rarely comes to see us.“ Your heart sank. You knew how much Findaráto adored his family and to avoid them like this was entirely out of character. The horrors of his death must have still haunted him too much. Not that you could blame him – your own dreams had been haunted for weeks by what had been described to you of his death.

You strolled along the beach, following the directions Findaráto’s parents had given you. After a while, a house appeared in the distance – sitting lonely and far away from other dwellings. A lump formed in your throat. What would you even say to him? What would his condition be after what his father had told you? The questions echoed in your mind until you finally reached the house. It was simple enough, clearly not meant for more than two people.

A familiar, beloved voice reached your keen ears and at last you saw him. Harp on his lap, feet dangling across the water, Findaráto sat on the pier singing a song you knew all too well – he had written it for you in the beginning of your courtship. “Findaráto!” You exclaimed, adrenaline filling your entire body. He turned around at the call of his name and when he spotted you, he hastily sat aside his harp and started rushing to meet you half-way. The two of you collided so hard it almost sent you toppling onto the ground. You couldn’t tell who cried harder.

Even after thousands of years, his smell had remained the same – a mix of lavender and berries, with a hint of sea salt. You breathed him in deeply, feeling the tension leave your body and being replaced by a sensation you could only describe as coming home. Hopefully he felt the same. Entangling yourself a little from his embrace, you finally gazed upon his face. Not a thing had changed, even if this was not his original body – that one would forever rest in the depths of drowned Beleriand. One of your hands came up to caress his cheek and he leaned into the touch immediately. “I have missed you so much,” you whispered. It was an immense understatement, there were no words that could adequately describe the feeling of abruptly having half of your fëa ripped from you. “Me, too,” he whispered back and bent down to nuzzle your nose and press a tender kiss to your lips, sighing as he did so.

“I knew you‘d come back to me, I just didn‘t know when,“ Findaráto said, a shadow briefly passing over his face. He didn‘t need to elaborate, you knew he was talking about him having had yet another vision. Your heart ached at the thought of how exhausting it must have been for him these past millennia, living in constant uncertainty as to when he would finally be reunited with his beloved, as his visions had promised. Did these promises make him leave the halls early, foregoing valuable time of healing? You decided to push the oncoming guilt away for now. There was plenty of time for these conversations to be had later.

“Well, I‘m here now, and you best believe I‘m not going anywhere anytime soon.“ It wasn’t a mere promise. Nothing would ever divide the two of you again and no amount of sinister visions would be able to change that.

#tolkien #reader insert #silmarillion #finrod #finrod x reader #gn!reader

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shamanicnoise · 20 days ago

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The cringe story was in the news today..

Some stupid idiot from the USA decided to become a "hippie" in 2023, went to Europe for a hippie festival, then to Turkey, and then to ruzzia, where he decided to help the orcs, kill, rob, rape, and enslave my people… because he doesn't like "capitalism" and the USA. This idiot fell under the influence of conspiracy theory, communism, and other crap fashionable among naive fools…

The Orcs deceived the useful idiot as usual, and sent the degenerate to the famous classic russian suicide meat attack, where fortunately he died in 2024…

Also, this scum was going to relax and enjoy the sea and festivals in Crimea, from where missiles and kamikaze drones also fly… also every day they blow up houses with sleeping people, children, the elderly, in hospitals, churches and schools in Ukraine.

The dramatic nature of the story about hippies and Crimea is that the occupation of Crimea and the war and genocide of Ukrainians became possible only because Ukraine voluntarily gave up one of the largest nuclear arsenals in the world and a huge number of weapons because they saw no point in war and believed that pacifism works...

Most people don't know what the occupation of Crimea meant for Ukrainian hippies… I'll explain.. Until 2014 it was something like San Francisco… like in that song about flowers in your hair… you could find your people there.. but then the orcs attacked and occupied everything..

Imagine a parallel reality where in 1967 a huge armada of cannibal neo-Nazis lands on the shores of California, from where they expel, kill or put in concentration camps everyone who doesn't welcome Hitler, who is in any way different from an "Aryan". And the whole world, looking at this, simply said: "it's a pity, but what can you do... Sorry, but we have business with the Reich. And you are pacifist, you have no money, you have no cards, just say thanks.."

.… and then such "hippies" as that dead stupid bastard are going to come there, he is going to enjoy the sea that was stolen.. He even joins the ranks of the Reich.. But what's sadder is that it's 1979 when neo-Nazis occupy even more states and launch terrorist missiles at other states, and it's been clear to everyone for a long time that they are real neo-Nazis.

Once again confirms the horseshoe theory, which claims that the far-left are just as scum as the far-right.

There's a lot I want to say, but I'm too emotional…

It's good that that scum is dead.. sometimes I think again that karma exists..

I want to say that if you have friends who love conspiracy theories, or are passionate about left-wing ideas, you should understand that the Kremlin finances not only the right but also the left… they know how to brainwash, especially via the Internet. Don't let your friends go fight for the orcs and do evil…

What a disgrace.. for the entire counterculture, for all alternative humanity, for the entire psychedelic wave, that this is even possible, and that someone needs to explain it.

That stupid guy, judging by everything, was essentially a left-wing normie and didn't communicate with the hippies for long, unfortunately they didn't have time or brains or energy to explain anything to him, didn't have time to teach him anything, didn't have time to show him anything. But the orc propaganda did have time and managed to put into his head what the "sponsor" paid for, and the fool went to help the orcs kill me and my people, after which he died.

Stupid and scary story, dude should have read Timothy Leary instead of communist bastards.

Rest in piss, moron.

#rainbow gathering #hippie #counterculture #war #tw #alternative people

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hypnotherapy-blog-blog · 1 year ago

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The Black Bag - Part 1.

The Black Bag.

Rob Hadley

Introduction.

When I wrote The Black Bag I had it in mind that many of the people likely to read it would already have a knowledge of Tarot. However, that’s proved to have been a miscalculation. I have been pleased to see many readers have a curiosity about Tarot, but not much familiarity with it. As a result, I often suggest readers step into this journey with a Tarot deck at hand. It will help you see the cards mentioned, and to participate in a manner that gives you a deeper connection to the story. Each reader, does after all, have their own relationship to the cards. Indeed each card relates to each reader differently. As you make your way through these pages, perhaps you will have insights that will make the story unique for you.

My intent is for you to enjoy these pages, and maybe pick up a few ideas along the way. I don’t propose for an instant that any given card has set or established meanings. My own view is that context is everything. The cards tend to match up with your own particular situation and can have very different meanings at different times. I hope you’ll enjoy this journey. Feel free to reach out to me and let me know your own experiences.

My best wishes as you embark on this journey,

Rob Hadley

[email protected]

The Black Bag

By Rob Hadley

C.2024

It is fair to say that the one person you least expect to see following your mother’s funeral is your mother. Yet, as Grahame Bickerton stepped out of the small chapel and into the daylight and looked across the well tended gardens he was shocked to find himself staring at a figure in the distance that bore an unmistakeable resemblance to the very person he had just witnessed being extended that last of human dignities.

The coffin had slid silently away behind the curtain in the funeral home, and he’d been shocked to find himself craning to see the final glimpse as it moved irresistibly into the cremation chamber. And yet here, across this beautifully laid out garden there seemed to be someone that could be his very own mother sitting in mournful contemplation by one of the gravestones, their back to him.

Grahame felt a hand on his sleeve and turned. It was the only other person that had been at the service. An elderly woman with a cane, bent almost double, the result of some form of spinal deformity. The woman spoke to him gently, her eyes moist with tears.

“I will miss you mother,” she said. “I feel your loss.”

“You’re very kind,” said Grahame trying not to be too dismissive but wanting to pull away and see the woman in the distance more clearly. She’d got up and was walking away.

“I used to work with her you know, at the college. Geography,” she said. “She spoke of you regularly.”

“Geography?” replied Grahame, completely lost.

“I teach Geography at the college. We used to have tea together often,” she continued.

Grahame didn’t wish to be rude and turned and tried to catch sight of the person in the garden, but she was hurrying away.

“If I can help,” she said, “you can find me at the college.”

Grahame pulled away and started walking across the gardens leaving the old woman staring after him as he strode away.

“Poor man,” she said to herself leaning on her cane. “He’s obviously terribly upset.”

Grahame hurried across the lawns in the direction of the woman he had seen. Soon he stopped. The crows were rising from some trees by the seat the woman had been sitting on but was gone from view now. It was almost as if she’d never been there. He walked on, but after a few moments realised it was no good. He couldn’t see which way she’d gone.

“Christ,” he muttered, then thinking more clearly calmed himself.

“I have to get a grip,” he said to himself. “This is ridiculous, I’m a bloody engineer, dammit.”

With that Grahame dismissed the notion that anything out of the norm had happened. He was obviously overreacting.

+++

It was mid morning several weeks later when Grahame received the call from the car dealership. The fall sunlight cast the city in a flat light that lacked the warmth of the summer so recently ended. He stood looking out of his meagre office at the glass towers of the downtown core and the cranes that perched beside every spare inch of buildable space.

How very different those offices were from his own. From the office beside his he could hear his boss shouting down the phone at one of the project planners. The congestion on the road today was holding things up for everybody. He was well aware that they were pouring concrete on several projects today, and with those cement trucks stranded in the unexpected traffic chaos caused by this morning’s power outage there was sure to be hell to pay. As luck would have it none of his teams were pumping today, so while the atmosphere in the office would be toxic, it didn’t directly affect any of his people.

He’d been lucky, pacing himself lately. The recent death of his mother had forced him to scale back some of his work commitments. As the executor of the will there were assets to be disposed of, taxes to pay, and all the administrative chaos that accompanies the end of life. And that brought him back to the phone call. It had been the dealership he’d taken his mother’s old Town Car to. She’d loved that vehicle, but it had no business being on the road with gas prices the way they are today. Getting rid of it had been the only thing to do, and yet in spite of his having thoroughly cleaned the vehicle before leaving it at the second hand car lot, the manager had called and informed him that they’d found some old playing cards and some journals when the car was made ready for sale.

“We didn’t want to toss them out,” said the manager. “They may be something you want.”

The manager had sounded awkward. He was aware the car had been Grahame’s mother’s vehicle, being acquainted with old lady. He’d been servicing the car since he’d joined the dealership over a decade previously.

A phone slammed down in the cubicle beside his and Grahame winced. Did the workplace have to be so toxic, he wondered. Looking at his diary he could see he didn’t need to be here at present, and if he were to walk the dozen blocks to the car lot he could get away early and then slip home to work the rest of the day from there.

He placed a file into his brief case and made for the door. His boss was already on the phone to the next project manager, wringing his hands and looking intently at the screen of his laptop and chewing his lip, a nervous habit he’d nursed every day since Grahame had joined the company. He nodded as he made his way out of the building but went by unnoticed. As he walked out across the car park he felt the sun on his face and a sense of relief in his heart. It was good to be out of the cramped office space.

He loved the city, and being part of the construction trade he was enjoying the fruits of a building boom, but it wasn’t lost on him that he worked for a small consultancy firm, and the glass palaces of downtown were far from his reality. The firm he worked for may be part of the construction team, but he was under no illusions about the work. Twice in the last year his boss had been forced to ask his staff to wait a week for their wages, and if his suspicions were correct, it would happen again. In the hierarchy of the building trade, the company he was working for was not what anyone would describe as a highflyer.

He walked smartly across town, the sound of horns blaring a fitting backdrop to the stationary traffic. Another set of lights up ahead had blown out and a crew was struggling to get their vehicle to somewhere they could work on the switchgear.

Grahame tuned out the sound of the city. He thought of his mother, and that he’d only seen her three times in the year prior to her death. They’d had dinner back in April, and then he had driven out to the cottage in mid summer, and then Rose had told him she was going in for some tests. She seemed unworried about it at the time, and he hadn’t really thought much of it.

Deconstructing things later Grahame realised that Rose had suffered in silence for some time before having these tests run. Indeed by the time pancreatic cancer was diagnosed it was already far advanced. She had suffered briefly, and Grahame had visited, but soon after that last time she had succumbed, slid into a coma and within two weeks had died leaving a great chasm in Graham’s life. A chasm he promptly filled with his own guilt for not being a better son, and more available to his mother.

He was being too hard on himself, but that was nothing new.

+++

At the car dealership the manager had placed the collection of journals and other bits and pieces in a large envelope for Grahame to collect. He walked into reception and the young lady on the desk reached beneath her desk and passed it to him, recognising him from previous visits. Grahame thanked her and took the package, then decided he’d walk home through the park.

There was little point returning to the office today. He didn’t feel up to working, and the traffic chaos of the morning would soon be merging with the afternoon rush hour, as people tried to leave work early to beat the rush.

Taking a moment to sit in the sunshine he stopped at a park bench and opened the package. It contained three journals, all closely handwritten in his mothers handwriting, and one small black bag. He drew this out and inspected it. Inside he found some cards, but not the playing cards you’d expect an old lady to have should she find herself compelled to get into a game of gin rummy. These were altogether more colorful, and well used.

He inspected them and realised that these were tarot cards. He had no idea his mother had an interest in tarot. While not something he had any knowledge of, Grahame recognised some of the symbols on the cards as he rifled through them. He found the cards strangely puzzling, feeling rather like he’d discovered something secret. He slid the blag bag back into the envelope continued his journey home. They were a mystery he would examine further at a later date.

As he walked he lamented the fact that he had few of his mothers belongings, even though he was her sole heir. The reality was that his small modern apartment was hardly a suitable venue for an ancient armoire, or dining table for eight people.

When he emerged out of the far side of the park he was only a couple of blocks from his apartment. Walking to work today had been a good choice, even here the traffic was log jammed.

+++

The loss of his sole surviving parent had forced something of a pause in Graham’s life. It was a moment in which he was compelled to take stock and look at where he was.

He had recently ended a fruitless relationship of eighteen months. It had been a perfunctory affair, neither very passionate nor disastrous, but lacking in so many of the things he felt his life needed.

They’d found each other online, were both ‘self actualised professionals looking to share all life has to offer,’ according to their dating profiles, but were neither very self actualised (he still wasn’t sure what that meant) nor very willing to share very much. He’d decided he didn’t really trust the person he was dating, and realised she didn’t trust him either. They’d decided to ‘have a two week break’ two months ago and he hadn’t heard from her since.

Surprisingly he didn’t miss the woman either. It was as if the relationship had not really happened at all. And he felt no compulsion to reconnect.

If he were quite honest with himself it was much the same with his job. He’d been working as a project manager for several years, and it paid reasonably well. While his job didn’t excite him, it provided security enough for him to live in the city, pay a disturbingly high proportion of his income in rent, and to own a car that he could drive at barely 20 miles an hour anywhere he chose. And then pay a fortune for parking. Like the relationship, his job didn’t fill him with passion either.

Grahame was gradually coming to the conclusion that there were patterns emerging in his life that didn’t fill him with joyful expectation. In his mid thirties he had expected something more of life. Was this really it?

These were Grahame’s thoughts as he walked alongside the stationary traffic and glanced at the frustrated drivers in their little tin boxes. Just a few blocks from home Grahame watched an episode play out before him.

A driver in a Jeep was blowing his horn at a car in front. The yellow haired woman sat in a little pale blue convertible, studiously ignoring the increasingly insistent honking. Judging by the body language the young lady had not had a good day, sitting arms crossed and lips pursed determined to ignore the blaring of the horn behind.

“Hey lady,” came the voice. A tee shirt clad young man, physically toned and cocksure, leaned from his car window and called to her.

Finally having had enough, the young woman, her hair tightly curled up in a bun, turned in her seat and shouted back at the man, “For god’s sake! I have a boyfriend!”

She then turned and sat, arms folded defiantly in the stationary traffic, red faced and flustered now with her eyes locked on the licence plate before her. At that instant a gap opened in the lane beside her and the jeep bucked forward and pulled alongside her for a moment as vehicles shifted in the Tetris game of traffic flow.

“Lady, I just wanted to tell you,” said the man, a little more gently now, “You have a flat tire.”

Taken aback, the young woman checked behind her to see that the traffic was not moving, and then stepped out of her car to take a closer look. She wore a smart pencil skirt and lemon blouse, the picture of propriety. She came back a moment later and sat behind the wheel looking perplexed.

She seemed nonplussed for a moment, and then composing herself turned and politely addressed the man in the jeep.

“Can you help me fix it?” she called across the traffic lane.

The young man lit up a cigarette in a slow languid style, and then said, “Like you said, lady. You’ve got a boyfriend.”

The traffic shifted and the Jeep advanced progressing up the line of cars.

Grahame, abreast of the little convertible looked at the woman, and saw the tears welling up in her eyes. He guessed she’d maybe not fixed a tire before. And with so many cars around she would be stuck blocking traffic before long as the tire deflated. He knew that on any other day he would have gone with his old habits and just not got involved, but today was just a little different.

“Would you like a hand?” he asked softly.

“That would be so kind,” said the woman, relief spreading across her face. Suddenly she didn’t seem quite so prickly.

“Just pull in to one of the spaces up here,” said Graham. “I live a block up the road, I’ll help you change the tire. Just let me go up to my apartment and change out of my office clothes. I won’t be more than five minutes.”

“That’s so kind of you,” said the young woman. “You’re like a real knight in shining armour.”

“Well, not really. But I can change a tire. Give me five minutes and I’ll be back.”

With that he left her and hurried toward his apartment.

+++

Grahame hurried along the street, the sound of construction crowding in on him after the quiet of the park. That poor woman, he thought. Some men really could be thoughtless.

He hurried into his apartment, tossed the envelope carelessly onto the coffee table, as if by reflex turned on the kettle to boil water for a cup of tea and went to his bedroom. A moment later he’d got out of his work suit and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater.

He turned and was about to hurry down to the street to help the woman change her tire, when he noticed the envelope had spilled its contents across the surface of the coffee table.

Not wanting to keep the woman downstairs waiting, he casually glanced at the table. Cards were slewed across the flat surface in an arc. It looked almost artistic. One card lay face up.

Grahame glanced at it, and then retrieved his keys and made for the door. As he stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, the front door of the building opened and his neighbour, old Mrs. Willoughby entered the vestibule.

At that moment there was a terrible crashing sound from outside. Mrs. Willoughby turned and looked out at the street, a startled look of shock on her face.

Grahame rushed to the door and stared out to see what on earth had happened. Cars were stopped now, honking and people climbing from them and rushing back down the road. It took only a moment for Grahame to realise the sound had come from the building site on the next block, just by where he could see the woman’s car pulled over.

He hurried toward the car, and as he got closer realised this was the centre of the commotion. The woman was standing back, leaning against the siding at the edge of the construction site. He hurried to her side.

The little blue convertible was wrecked. It lay smashed beneath a series of scaffolding poles, looking as though it had been speared in some ghastly hunt.

White faced and shocked the woman stood back, shocked but unharmed, against the siding.

“Good god, what happened?” he said to her after he’d pushed his way through the crowd.

People were looking up, staring at a crane’s hook and some chain suspended seventy feet above the road. A man with a hard hat came barrelling out of the building site and rushed to the car. By-standers were already photographing the wrecked car, and posting them to social media on their phones.

“Was anyone hurt?” the workman was asking in panic, looking around wildly.

“Are you ok?” Grahame said, steadying the woman with a kindly hand.

“I’m ok,” she said rapidly. “I’m ok!”

She was white faced and shaking. Grahame turned to the assembled crowd and said, “Does anyone have some water?”

A bottle was developed and passed to the woman.

Grahame turned to the crowd and asked, “Who saw what happened?”

Several voices piped up. Grahame looked at the man in the hardhat and said, “Are you the foreman?”

He nodded nervously.

“Thank god no one was hurt,” he replied. “You’d better get these people’s statements. The police will be along soon. It’s going to make things a lot better if people are able to describe it.”

The foreman nodded and corralled the witnesses while Grahame turned back to the woman.

“You’re going to need a cup of tea, aren’t you,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here and calm things down.”

Grahame handed his card to the foreman, and one of the witnesses.

“When the cops show up can you let them know she’s at my place up the road,” said Grahame.

There was sympathetic nod and Grahame and the woman pressed their way through the crowd and made their way down the block to his apartment building.

+++

Grahame made the tea as his frightened guest sat in the open plan living room.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” said Graham, wanting to keep the woman talking.

“I’m Sunshine,” she said. “And that’s my mother’s car.”

“Oh, dear,” he said. “It’s a very nice little car. Well, it was. How did you come to be unharmed? I mean, it looks like a hell of a mess.”

Grahame poured the tea and placed a cup and saucer before Sunshine.

“I stepped out of the car to look at the tire, and that’s when it happened,” she said. “There was just this rush of air, and a terrible sound. Like bells ringing, and then those scaffolding poles all around me.”

“What a thing to happen,” Grahame said.

“I guess,” she replied beginning to calm down. “I could have been killed.”

She sipped the tea, her hand still trembling. That was when Sunshine started sobbing.

+++

The statement to the police, a visit from the foreman and an exchange of documents all took time and Sunshine seemed to go through the process in a daze. She was glad to be somewhere quiet and safe, and Grahame remained largely quiet in the background as the questions were asked and answered. It was a terribly unfortunate accident, but as the police officer pointed out, no one was hurt. The insurance companies would sort out the wrecked car which was now safely off the road. The construction company manager said the company would be up to their necks in investigations, but seemed co-operative, almost as upset by the whole situation as Sunshine was herself.

“That could have been my own daughter,” said the manager as Grahame had shown him out. It happened that he knew Grahame from the local planning department meetings that he’d sometimes have to attend for his company.

“Terrible thing,” he’d said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Those clamps don’t just fail.”

“Thank heavens no one was hurt,” echoed Graham.

+++

At length the police officer left, and they found themselves alone in the quiet apartment. Noticing the journals and the tarot cards on the table, Sunshine asked, “What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just some things of my mother’s,” replied Graham.

“Don’t you see it?” said Sunshine, looking at the upturned card.

“What do you mean,” said Graham.

“You don’t think it looks like all those scaffolding poles that fell on my car?” said Sunshine as she picked up the card.

Grahame stared at the card. The Eight of Wands. He wondered what it meant.

“I suppose,” said Graham. “It’s really not my thing,” he added and then as an afterthought said, “I’m an engineer.”

Sunshine looked at the card once more, and then at Grahame trying to find the link between not being able to see the visual connection and being an engineer. She failed.

“I wonder what made you turn over this particular card then,” she said. “Probably something subconscious.”

“I didn’t pick that card. I mean, I just left some things on the table, they just fell like that, and then I came down to help you.”

“And that was before you heard the crash,” asked Sunshine with newly sparked curiosity.

“Yes,” replied Graham, noticing for the first time how the image in the card did look a little like the scaffolding poles.

“That’s quite the coincidence,” murmured Sunshine.

“Oh, I doubt it,” said Graham. “There’s probably no end of these cards look like falling scaffolding.”

His voice trailed off as he realised how he sounded. Sunshine picked up the cards and started shuffling them.

“So, your mother’s into tarot?” asked Sunshine.

“No. Well, yes,” stammered Graham.

“I see,” said Sunshine.

“I mean she died,” said Graham. “And these were among her things. I should sort them out. I don’t really know anything about the cards.”

Sunshine looked at the journals, and then asked, “Were you close?”

“Not as close as I wish we had been,” replied Graham.

“So, you never knew she was interested in Tarot?”

“Never had a clue,” confessed Graham.

Sunshine turned the cards over in her hands and then said, “You’re lucky then. This gives you a chance to get to know her through the cards.”

The words hung in the air.

“What do you mean,” asked Graham.

“Look at these cards,” she said. “You can see they’ve been well used. These are quite old. Well used. Your mother must have been adept at the cards. Can’t you see it? There’s a lot of her in these particular cards.”

An awkward silence fell between them as Grahame thought about this. It was true, the journals and these cards were like a voice reaching out across the abyss of death. They were a connection.

The silence was broken by the chirp of Sunshine’s cell phone.

She looked at the display and then said, “Mother. This might be a little awkward.”

___________________________________________

If you've enjoyed Part 1 of The Black Bag I ask that you follow my Tumblr and reblog it. To read Part 2 simply go to my Patreon HERE.

Many Thanks

#daily tarot #tarot readings #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #free tarot #tarot community #tarot deck #tarot spreads #tarot witch #tarotdaily #fiction #short story #serial fiction #druid

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copaganda-clobberfest · 2 years ago

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WELCOME

TO THE FIRST ROUND OF THE COPAGANDA CLOBBERFEST!

“You know that trope? That one trope *Everyone* hates? The trope in which a well meaning antagonist to our heroes, one looking out for the good of a certain community, suddenly does something horrible and drastic to make not only them, but the ideology they stand for the most villainous of all?”

NOW IS THE TIME TO BATTLE THEM OUT! Like Ken dolls, fighting for survival! Like your Polly pockets discarded in the closet, we’ll see which of these bitches jumped that slippery slope harder! Whose character did numbers on y’all, and blew up a bunch of grandmas and babies and hospitals with it!

ROUND ONE

SUPERFLY from TMNT: MUTANT MAYHEM vs JET from AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

Superfly propaganda:

“He just wanted humans to accept his mutant brethren and protect them. Sure he was going to commit genocide but he thought that was his only option. (Or was he? It seemed like he was going to expose people to mutagen.) His first memory was human private police killing his dad and burning down their house. And his other interactions with humans supported his belief that mutant kind wouldn’t be safe among humans. Armed civilians used to attack them for just being mutants. And people continue being violent until they realized that mutants were trying to save New York.”

Jet propaganda:

“had all the right intentions of fighting for his nation and all the wrong ways of going about it by:

flooding an entire village which would also harm the earth kingdom people living in the village that he claims he’s protecting

robbing the elderly and defenseless just because they’re fire nation, we don’t even know if he was a colonial official or anyone with power or just some random dude

fixating on zuko and iroh maybe being firebenders instead of like. helping smellerbee and longshot make a living

he did some good things, like arguably taking care of all those children in his forest robin hood lost boys treehouse compound and I’ll even include the food heist on the ship to ba sing se (I feel like it was unnecessary but also really funny and not truly harming anyone so it goes here) but all of that is massively overshadowed by the whole flooding-the-entire-village thing

thank goodness for sokka”

“He was the leader of a group of freedom fighters in the earth kingdom going against the fire nation and was generally a good guy, up until the writers decided that he should target an entire village of civilians out of, idk, blind rage or something. Then he came back for a few episodes in season 2 in which he was brainwashed by the dai li and when he was finally able to escape their hypnosis he was abruptly killed. Oh and he was just a kid.”

“a teenage boy who dislikes being colonized and so decides to flood an entire town out of existence. he later gets brainwashed and dies for continuing to dislike being colonized”

Always feel free to rb with more propaganda :)

#copaganda clobberfest #copaganda-clobberfest #polls #tumblr polls #tumblr tournament #superfly #tmnt #tmnt mutant mayhem #jet #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla

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racheyace · 2 years ago

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Be the Hero

Another little one shot featuring my OC's Luke and Matt, a size shifting story, approximately 2k words.

“Everybody get down on the ground! Hands where I can see em!”

The room erupted into chaos, children crying and others sobbing as they knelt down and put their hands on the floor in front of them.

Stevo really didn’t see another way out of this, he had a wife and kids to provide for, no one was hiring a convicted felon, this was his only option now, a life of crime.

He waved a massive machine gun around, firing a few shots in the air for good measure, he was wearing a ridiculous elephant mask so that he couldn’t be identified but aimed at the cameras anyway, better safe than sorry.

Luke and Matt watched fearfully from under a desk, they had been there only because they had noticed fraudulent activity on their bank account and wanted to freeze the cards attached to it.

Luke wished they had just come into the bank another day, situations like this involving high levels of stress were likely to trigger an episode. Of course, he couldn’t have known today was the day this bank would be robbed.

They watched quietly as the man stormed towards the front counters, the poor elderly woman behind the counter shuddered and closed her eyes in fear as he approached her.

“Empty em!” He shouted, before thrusting a canvas bag at her, she shrieked in response.

“The tills, empty em all! Now!” Stevo’s voice wavered, adrenaline pumping through his veins, this had to be quick, he couldn’t be busted, not again.

With shaky hands the silver haired woman pushed stacks of notes into the bag, before using a key to open the till beside her, her hands shaking as she did so before repeating the process.

“Quickly old lady!” He turned to make sure everyone else was still on the ground and shot another round of random shots around the room eliciting more screams and further sobs.

“Luke this is your chance, if you’re gonna be a hero, you need to be the hero.” Matt whispered to his friend urgently.

Luke on the other hand was shaking, he didn’t feel like a hero, there was nothing he could do without revealing his secret in front of everyone here and possibly putting them all in danger in the process.

“There’s too many people, I can’t.” He felt guilt rise in him as he watched the terrified woman complete the task the robber had set for her while tears streamed down her cheeks.

The sound of sirens made everyone jump, either in alarm, relief or in fear, after all, this man had a gun, he could quiet easily hold them hostage or aim to kill at any moment.

“Fuck!” Stevo shouted, sweat dripped down his nose and he had to think fast.

“No, no, no not the cops, I can’t go back there, I won’t go back.” He muttered to himself.

He whirled around to see the flashing red and blue lights through the screens of the building, they wouldn’t enter while he held hostages but there was no other exit for him either. Whispering a silent prayer and an apology to his wife and children he opened up his large black trench coat.

Luke watched with wild eyes as the man pulled a large device out of his coat, flipping open a switch the man armed the device placing it directly in the center of the bank floor, a red light blinking on top of it.

“If I’m not gettin out of here! Then nobody is!” He screamed manically; it was a bomb. He planned on blowing up the bank, killing everyone inside including himself.

Stevo pulled another device out of his jacket, a smaller black box with a red button, the trigger.

Luke felt his body straining to be released, it was now or never, he felt his body expand and watched the world around him shrink, he reached both hands for the bomb as he grew at a rapid rate. Each of his hands quickly grew to roughly the size of a large car and with as much strength as he could muster, he pressed into the bomb, pushing it down through the floor with his hands.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he’d been able to push it far enough into the floor of the bank, using his hands to shield the explosion, and then he felt it. Everyone felt it as it shook the foundation like an earthquake and burned his hands in the process.

He opened his eyes to see that everyone in the bank was okay, the room was filled with smoke from the explosion, but no one was hurt from what he could see, he’d stopped the bomb in time.

“W-what! H-how!?” Luke turned his gaze on the robber, seeing the gargantuan man set his intense glare on him, he bolted but didn’t get very far before large fingers wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing him tightly for good measure.

“W-what the fuck is this!” Stevo wheezed breathlessly, of all the scenarios he had played in his head of how this robbery would go, this was the furthest thing from his mind, it was just simply impossible.

“Luke!” Matt shouted from somewhere behind him, Luke turned to find his friend pinned up against the wall by his overgrown sneaker and cringed, he hadn’t had time to warn his friend of his intentions let alone shove him out of the way, it had all happened so quickly.

“Shit Matt are you okay?” Luke’s voice rumbled through the room, immediately moving his foot a fraction so that his friend could wriggle out. Matt waved Luke’s concern off, instead sauntering across the room and standing below his face bravely, addressing the criminal currently trapped in his fist.

“This my friend, this is justice.” Matt spat at him, and then began a round of applause, the occupants of the bank slowly began to stand up and cheer and clap, Luke felt his cheeks flush from all the attention.

Then the doors burst open, and a handful of Police officers barged in dressed in full bomb squad gear, guns raised.

“Holy Shit!” One of the policemen said staggering to a halt once they’d surveyed the room for threats and then settled on the largest thing in the room, Luke.

Luke certainly was a sight to behold, he was crouched on his knees, his back pressed against the high ceiling, his legs touching the far wall behind him, he quite literally took up almost all the space in the bank and his face was looming over everyone.

“He’s a friend!” Matt shouted, approaching the Police fearlessly, his hands held up in the air to convey that he held no weapon, and he came in peace.

“Luke stopped the bomb and apprehended the robber, see in his hand, that’s the bad guy.”

Officer Hicks eyed the giants’ fist, to confirm the young mans claims, it did indeed add up, regardless of how utterly impossible the whole situation was.

He signaled to his team to stand down before approaching the giant himself.

“Young man, please put the criminal down.” Officer Hicks cleared his throat as nerves threatened to overcome him, standing literally in the shadow of a giant, putting himself in arms reach and potentially in danger if the giant acted unpredictably.

“Of course.” Luke kept his voice as quiet as possible, he didn’t want to cause any trouble, he had only wanted to help, he lowered the robber down directly in front of the Officer who had spoken to him, the gun falling to the ground which was quickly picked up by another officer to be taken away.

Stevo had little fight left in him, still stunned beyond words that a giant had appeared out of nowhere and ruined his plans, he held his hands out to Officer Hicks who immediately cuffed him, sending him toward the door with the other officers.

Officer Hicks turned then to face the giant once more, he had a great many questions but before any words could leave his mouth, he stared slack jawed as the once giant man quickly dwindled in height until he stood the size of a regular man. A large crater lay in the middle of the floor, the only evidence that the giant had ever been there.

Luke held his hands up just as Matt had done, trying to look as non-threatening as possible which was much easier to achieve at his regular height.

“What are you?” The officer blurted, his words filled with disbelief and quite possibly a small amount of fear, this was after all a man who could turn into a destructive giant seemingly at will.

“I’m a size shifter, Sir.” Luke looked at his feet nervously before searching the room for his friend, he needed his supportive and outgoing best friend now more than ever.

Matt wasn’t far away; he’d briefly left Luke’s side to help usher out the other civilians and staff.

Matt stood beside his friend, facing the officer also, he wouldn’t let his mate go through this alone, no matter what was about to happen.

“It’s a gift he was born with Sir, we’re not sure why or how, but he’s never used his powers to endanger or harm others, he’s only ever used them to help people.” Matt’s words made Luke’s heart flutter, he was so grateful for him, he always knew what to say, he always had his back.

The Officer seemed conflicted, he held the bridge of his nose as though the decision were giving him a headache and perhaps it was. He met Luke’s grey blue eyes intently before speaking again.

“Do you swear to never endanger a human life? You swear to keep this ‘gift’ hidden? This is not something that the public will take lightly boy, and if the government catches wind of it, you’ll end up a guinea pig, understand? Do you swear?”

“I swear.” Luke stated firmly.

That was enough for Officer Hicks, he clapped the boy on the shoulder encouragingly, perhaps it was because the kid reminded him so much of his own son. He didn’t want to stop the boy from leading a normal life if he wasn’t hurting anyone.

“I’ll talk to my team; your secret is safe with us.” Luke very nearly hugged the burly man, but held himself back, smiling appreciatively instead.

“Sir?” Matt questioned.

“What about the witnesses, the other people who were in the bank?” Matt asked before they could exit the building.

“They are all being taken in for questioning as we speak, their statements will not mention either of you, their phones will also be searched, you have nothing to worry about.”

As they walked down the steps of the large bank, leaving a small crater and some minor structural damage behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief before walking quickly in the opposite direction of all the commotion.

News crews were beginning the show up and they did not want to be there when the cameras started rolling.

“Shifty strikes again!” Matt hollered pumping his fists in the air and dancing circles around Luke as they walked through central park.

“Shut up or I’ll crush you with my shoe again!” Luke threatened good naturedly, in all honesty he had been worried that he had seriously hurt him, however Matt seemed fine, like nothing had happened at all, well, except for the dirty shoe print that covered his clothing.

“How are your hands by the way dude? I can’t believe you smothered a bomb in your hands, like who does that and lives to talk about it!?”

Luke held up his hands for inspection, he hadn’t noticed at the time but as he shrunk back down to his normal size the burns had vanished, there was nothing there, not even a scar.

“Whoa! Wicked! Super size shifting and super healing! Being your friend just keeps getting better and better.”

Matt smiled stupidly at his tall friend and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, he couldn’t wait for their next heroic act together.

#gt #giant #gianttiny #giant/tiny #g/t #tiny #size shifter #size shifting #LukeandMatt

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adultswim2021 · 1 month ago

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Childrens Hospital #7: “No One Can Replace Her” | August 29, 2010 - 10:30PM | S02E02

You guy, this is finally the time I update the blog and start doing it nice again :)

Childrens Hospital is doing plot, and the plot is just crazy: Lola comes back and reveals that she is alive. Lake Bell sits on Kroll’s Show-er (not grower) and makes him DIE (he is now fully elderly and pronounces days of the week in an old-timer way). Lake Bell apparently passes on (huh?). Blake Downs shows up at the end, and so does Malin Ackerman, who is now on the show as Lake Bell’s replacement. What on earth will happen next. I hope it’s something that is self-contained and episodic, personally.

There’s fun stuff in this. There are cameos from the MEN of Upright Citizens Brigade. There’s the g-g-g-g-ghost joke, which I remember people quoting a bit after this aired and pretending that they didn’t just steal it from this. The scene where Lake Bell has sex with the childish but elderly Nick Kroll had some very funny jokes in it. Ken Marino announcing Lake Bell’s time of death as “10PM, 9 Central” was great. You know? I mildly appreciate this show, okay? I think the barrage of wacky jokes can be a little tiring, but a lot of the jokes are real strong.

This one ends with an “extra”, which hearkens back to season one’s custom of ending with little direct-to-camera bits where Rob Corrdy plays himself talking to the audience. I think it’s a different take with a different gag? It’s the one where the “real” Blake Downs (meaning he’s supposed to be the real-life person the character is based on) is being interviewed and he’s simply too sleepy to speak (I can relate!)! In this variation (maybe??? I don’t feel like checking the other episode sorry!!!) David Wain tries to stand behind him and do his voice.

MAIL BAG:

I lack time-management skills to make this blog a priority for me, or worth reading for you. Sorry, everyone. I'm trying to fix it.

you may speak your mind, urkel doll.

what the hell I"m not a doll I'm a big guy

gotta agree with that last mailbag, papercraft historical figures is total schizo behavior

You are the one doing crazy behavior and I've had it.

Since you are done with space ghost can you do family guy as your next end of year break thing. I've been watching it a lot more and the part in the pilot where Brian goes "ass ahoy" as he passes by peter is so funny. Check it out.

I respect family guy and think Peter is real, so maybe

(french stewart holding his hands up beside his head) incoming mailbag about the peter griffin family

YUP!

What's your take on the latest goings on in adult animation?

Too many weirdos making shows. They are all mocking us with their crimes. It's this very weird thing where cartoons are now nervously doing GI Joe PSA-levels of virtue signalling about how it's bad to do ironic misogyny while the people who created those shows are getting busted for picking off teenage girls with a sniper rifle. I mean, I guess. I don't actually know I don't watch TV

Yeah, conversations is a rough episode, its not as fun as decoys. Thankfully there is still some surprises left in store before this show careens off a cliff with "the lean in season".

I am dreading season three because the lean does piss me off a lot. Too pissed off to answer the rest of my bag. "you can read the whole bag"

dont make me mad

Sorry

If you won't say anything about Scott Pilgrim vs. The Animation than I will: I still haven't seen it, is it good? Have you played the videogame?

I never played the video game, no. The animation, it really does just feel like a promotional thing/extra and doesn't really merit a full write-up in my opinion, which is why I pivoted towards just reviewing the film instead. It just feels like a part of a bigger thing, and I don't know if I would've particularly wanted a fuller version of that. I might now, though, because I saw the movie and thought everyone was cute!!

#adultswim2021 #adult swim #childrens hospital

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baileys-3 · 1 year ago

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NEW CHAPTER ONLINE on AO3

Sneak Peak:

Genny is walking across the baseball field, lost in her thoughts and not paying much attention to her surroundings. She's thinking about tomorrow and all the things she needs to get done. But before that, she has to help Tim clean up his training equipment and then pick up Mat from her neighbors. It's a relief that she lives next door to an elderly couple who are always happy to look after Mat for a few hours. Being a single mom can be tough, but it's been that way since the last year of her marriage to Rob. Not that he was much help with the kids anyway, even when they were still together.

"Hey mum. Can Blake and I throw a few more balls?" Tyler startles her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." The two boys cheer and immediately start throwing balls at each other. Even now, after training, they still haven't had enough. Which is surprising, because Tim and Lucy chased the boys around the pitch so much that they were all dripping with sweat by the end. And yet, at the end of the training session, the boys were all happy and beaming. It seemed like they couldn't believe what they were capable of. Genny doesn't want to complain about Tyler's former coach, he had a rather cozy and familiar manner, not taking the job so seriously. It's not entirely his fault though, as he only took the job out of necessity, just like his predecessors apparently did. Tim and Lucy seem to be the first to have found an approach to the boys, if the parents' conversations in the stands are to be believed. And the two of them are an amazing combination. Tim, with all his expertise and the eye that you need to have as a coach. And Lucy, who has this likeable manner and simply knows how to deal with people. And apparently also with boys of this age. She even reckons that at least half the team have developed a little crush on Lucy. Judging by the giggles. And how they sometimes turned red in the face.

During training, something fascinating happened. Genny joined Lisa, Samantha, and Anne shortly after the start of training. She realized Tim would no longer need her. As time went on, more and more parents joined them, and a lively conversation about the two new coaches and the team ensued. The parents were enthusiastic, and Genny completely understood their excitement. She had seen many training sessions, but never one like this. Some parents even asked if the two coaches could continue, or if Genny could get them interested in doing so. Genny doesn't think the chances are high because both coaches have jobs that demand a lot of time and involve overtime. However, there's no harm in trying.

When she arrives to the sides where Tim and Lucy already started tidying up, Lucy is handing Tim a baseball bat, which he stows away in the front pocket of a bag. Genny kneels down next to the small trolley they are using to transport the equipment. She picks up the helmet lying next to the trolley and starts to help tidy up. Or rather, loading the equipment onto the small trailer.

She doesn't waste time; she gets straight to the point. There's no need to beat about the bush." I think you two should co-coach. You were great together. "

Tim's rebuff comes straight away: "Oh, no, no. I'm -- I'm ready to hand over the reins entirely."

She's not at all surprised. But Lucy chimes is right away, not letting Tim quit so fast. "Not a chance."

Genny decides that this is a wonderful opportunity to push the two of them a little. She is so curious and is almost certain that there is something going on between her brother and Lucy. It's all these little signs.

"No, but seriously. I saw today why you work so well together."

And indeed! Her brother starts stuttering. That never happens to him, except when Lucy is brought up, whether directly or indirectly." I-I ... It's just, uh ..."

So, Lucy immediately jumps in, as an attempt to save Tim from total self-destruction. "We spend so much time together on..." and immediately corrects herself. Which is totally suspicious. "... out on the job."

Tim can only contribute an "Mm-hmm." Genny has to be careful not to smile too obviously. Tim doesn't know where to look at all. She's hit the bull's eye. The confirmation of this comes when Lucy suddenly changes the subject entirely.

#chenford #lucy chen #the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford x lucy chen #tim x lucy #archive of our own #chenford fanfic #chenford fic #chenfordsource

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wrotelovelytears · 4 months ago

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People really don't talk about that transition from focusing on self and independence and searching for community/ relationships. I feel like everyone is so "focus on you" oriented they forget humans are naturally social. We naturally seek out others like us. And tend to thrive in community not self.

I believe the major shift to individuality is the reason why so many people feel incomplete. I'm not saying you need a romantic relationship to be complete (and if you feel like you do, by all means seek that relationship out) or you need to be going out every week, I'm saying you can't just interact with people at the absolute lowest level of (in person, online does not give the same healthy bouts dopamine) social interaction and think you gonna have health relationships. Dopamine seeking is so common now that yeah looking at your phone is easier than talking with a stranger because that initial anxiety (everyone has anxiety, not everyone is impacted by it to harmful levels) because you can't get "embarrassed" that way.

No one talks about how soul searching and sitting with yourself can easily become isolation and lack of tolerance for different people. People don't talk about how spending so much time with yourself pushes you to believe others are not as important as you (we are all a side character in someone's story). How it increases the negative aspects of ego to the point individuality is the only thing you strive for.

The internet and social media with all its glory is something that has been slowly poisoning Millennials, gen Z and gen Alpha. Its something that has been teaching us that we can get a quicker dopamine response from likes, flashing colors and short videos. I can remember when most media was long form, when you could long into Tumblr and see multiple page essays. When people would go to the movies and actually watch it instead of posting pictures of themselves. When kids would play outside and I would see parents, teens and even random strangers helping them out. I don't see that as much.

Of course someone could chalk it up to "my algorithm" but honestly that's only an issue of the internet. People don't interact with each other nearly as much as they did pre 2018. I believe the pandemic emotionally stunned a majority of the human population. I would've never seen groups of teens robbing people pre pandemic. If they didn't have parents to correct them, they had teachers, imams, pastors, aunts, uncles, the old lady down the block... Something.

I would've never seen the straight up ableism and anti Blackness that's everywhere now. I wouldn't see people telling someone asking for help is "doing too much'.

Do people honestly believe hyper independence is the next step forward? That we step on each other instead of helping? We isolate the elderly because " they drove up the gas prices" and children because "The world is shit and I don't want any, anyways so why be nice?"

If you wanna be astrology in to it, half the chart is simply about socialization. Thats the signs Libra-Pisces, the 7th-12th house. Yet if you look through most astrology interpretations since the middle of te pandemic, they've gone from the "social" to "me" signs. We are all part of society, you can't seperate yourself out then complain about the rest. Libra is about your relationships with other, regardless if it's the romantic ones or not, you can't change that fundamental part of it. Scorpio is about the shared resources of people, not just what an individual gets out of something. Sagittarius are teachers and pillars of the community, not just wanderlust sages with no regard of their impact on others. Capricorns are the work parts of a society, not the lone CEO or rich aunt who spends the holidays alone. Aquarius is the stored knowledge of a community, not the most outlandish, self centered individuality most push. And Pisces shouldn't even surprise anyone with it being the care for society and the collective consciousness/unconscious of us all, not the mystic lost in their mind scared to interact with others.

Those signs have always been about "the people (s)", not the individual. I can say this with most of my planets being in the 7-12th and Libra-Pisces axis, people ain't just suffering because late stage capitalism. We suffering because we forgot that we don't live by ourselves, can't function by ourselves, or thrive by ourselves. Late stage capitalism wouldn't have gotten to this point if we actually stood by each other. Especially because capitalism is a man made concept, we have always been selling and trading items, it's nothing new in fact as soon as we started living in towns instead of being hunter gathers, the first cases of capitalism occurred. Now do we modern humans call it that, but does that mean it's a new concept no. Humanity loves to recycle old ideas until they can't be recycled anymore. All of the -isms we have were bound to pop up in some point of our long existence. Racism didn't magically appear, it's the result of ethnocentricism (which can be helpful when your groups is always fighting another group, but not when interacting with completely new groups are interacting for the first time), colorism (which surprise, surprise also appeared when people transitioned from hunter gather to stationary- and it's directly tied into capitalism {darker skin = working in field therefore you did not have a ton of resources just laying around) and of course capitalism (this was more of a "you have something I want and instead of trading like I might do with someone who is more similar to me, I'll come up with a justification for why I should be able to just take your stuff rather than a fair bargain being made).

I say all that because boy oh boy do I see us (humanity) slipping closer and closer to inventing a whole new "ism", we already have ageism (the point about the elderly and children) as a rampant part of a lot of Western and people impacted by Westernization cultures. Never in my life did I think I would see people disrespect and even go out of their way to harm the two most vulnerable populations, but here we are. At this point I truly think if we don't course correct and hope, pray, manifest, idgaf what you believe in just do something this path we traveling down, things will not get better. We have to take responsibility for us not being the best we can be and not blame someone else anymore. Trauma, as shit as it is, ain't no excuse to be a living dickhead. A lot of people have it, and at the end of the day they keep it pushing because taking our hurts out on others is exactly how we get dictators. It's not good on the individual level and individuals make up society.

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

I'm not writing a summary of the post, learning how to read " long" form content is a crucial skill. If I had to sit my dyslexic with ADHD ass through lessons that somehow pop up in life 2 decades later, you can sit through one post.

Part 1

#astro tumblr #astrology and sociology #nymph hums

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