#like ‘you used to rob elderly people’

[himalayaan-flowers]

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[storiesfromgaza]

A message to everyone :

Ever since I began this blog and continuously shared its content, I never asked any of you to follow me, share these posts, or use the Blaze feature to promote them. I've been entirely absorbed in writing articles and translating stories and posts from the people of Gaza without concerning myself with whether they will reach a broad audience or not. My initial goal was to reach any number of individuals, even if it was just one person, in the hope of increasing their awareness. That would have been sufficient for me.

But today, particularly after the recent news confirming the complete shutdown of the internet, electricity, and communications in Gaza, along with the isolation imposed by the Israeli occupation and the brutal and savage bombings happening now as I write these lines, I want everyone to share what's happening. Not just on Tumblr but everywhere you can. Share on WhatsApp, Twitter, Instagram, and for those who are proficient in Russian, share on platforms like VK. If you know Korean, share in Naver cafes. Share with your family, your loved ones, and those you meet on the street. Let everyone know about the monstrous massacres the occupation is committing against Palestinian civilians, teenage girls and young women who have become widows due to the bombings, young children whose lives were forcibly taken from them while they clung to life, and the elderly who hoped for a longer life or a peaceful death beside their children and families, but the occupation robbed them of this, making the old man witness the deaths of all his family members, his children, and his grandchildren, and then he dies alone, hoping to join them.

O People, humans, whether you are Muslims, Christians, Jews, or followers of any religion, my message is for those of you who have humanity, whatever your identity may be. Your silence today means you are participating in an extermination worse than what Hitler did to the Jews, even worse than the victims of all the world wars combined. At that time, there weren't sufficient means of communication, so everyone's excuse was that they couldn't do anything except publish in newspapers. But today, in our current era, there are many available options. So, what's your excuse now?

Your silence and inaction are permission for them to continue their slaughter and the extraction of souls from their bodies. Let everyone do whatever is within their power, and all of us should know that we can do a lot. Edit: I've created a Telegram channel for us and posted all the articles and stories that have been published here, so you can easily share them with everyone. Join it through the following link: https://t.me/storiesfromgaza

Edit²: we now have an Instagram account, which we created to make it easier for everyone to share the stories and articles published here. Some of them have already been shared with beautiful designs, and we are in the process of posting the remaining articles after formatting and finalizing the designs. I had to use my personal account because when I created an account with the name "Stories From Gaza," Instagram suspended the account immediately, even before I could change the profile picture or post anything! Account username: @amrshater

Your interaction on Instagram will greatly help in spreading the stories and articles to the Instagram audience https://www.instagram.com/amrshater/

[matan4il]

The other day, I went with my rl bff to the Jerusalem branch of the Museum of Tolerance for an exhibition on the Hamas massacre.

This is the sight that greeted us. "Esthers of the world, rise up!"

It's a poster celebrating two women whose families had lived in Iran, one is Jewish, the other is Muslim, and both women ended up being murdered due to the Islamic regime of that country, even though the Jewish woman's family had escaped Iran and fled to Israel after the Islamic revolution. The face of each girl is actually a composite, made from many smaller pictures of her people who have lost their lives because of the Islamist regime of Iran.

I knew this right away, because I have shared a piece that was done about the poster and how it came to be almost 2 months ago. 

"You don't understand!" my bff (who works as a teacher) said, all emotional, "She," my friend points to the Jewish girl on the left side of the poster, Shirel Haim Pour, "is the cousin of one of my students."

There is zero distance in Israel between us and the Oct 7 atrocities. 

We go in and join the tour of the exhibition. The guide tells us it was built jointly with Malki Shem Tov, who is a well known name in Israel, if you work at a museum. Malki founded a "creative visual solutions" company with his brother Assaf, through which among other things, they helped build many Israeli exhibitions over the years. "His son..." the tour guide starts to say and I don't need more than that for something to click in my head. I know so many of the names, faces and stories of the hostages, and so Omer Shem Tov pops right away into my mind. I didn't make the connection before, but now I can only imagine what it meant for this father to work on an exhibition that recounts, among other stories, how his son was victimized and robbed of his freedom during this massacre.

There is zero distance in Israel between us and the Oct 7 atrocities. 

The opening wall has a huge time stamp, 6:29 in the morning. 

The tour guide doesn't have to explain this number to Israelis, or why it's designed to look like an alarm clock display. We were all woken up on that fateful Saturday morning by the alarm clock of Hamas' rockets. And it doesn't matter what we thought or believed the day before, as the full scale and horror of the attack were starting to become known along Oct 7, we were all woken up.

There is zero distance in Israel between us and those atrocities. I know this, and still it strikes me, again and again.

There's an area dedicated to the pictures of one photographer who went to the south soon after the massacre. I knew some of them already, like the pic showing the bodies of 13 elderly Israelis, who were on their way to a tour of the Israeli south on that Saturday.

Some are new, like the pic of the door handle in one bomb shelter. I stop for a second, because now that I've moved into my new place, it hits me that the bomb shelter door was made by the same company. Suddenly, I feel like I'm inside the picture in a reality where the terrorists took a slightly different route on Oct 7. The door was photographed from inside the bomb shelter, and the bullets that pierced it, they had to have hit the personal holding it shut. The handle has blood stains on it, and it's broken off. I can only imagine how many hours this person held, and how much force they had to use, for that to happen. I know one thing, even without knowing exactly who this bomb shelter belonged to... If this person was on their own, they would have probably ended up surrendering rather than keep fighting to hold on to the handle this desperately. This was likely someone trying to keep their family safe. 

One note retrieved from the body of a terrorist is on display. It says everything about the motivation of the monsters who committed these atrocities, and every word is purely motivated by antisemitism and religious zeal. The note is actually not in Arabic, as it may first appear, it's in Farsi, the language spoken in Iran, hinting at the source, the Islamist regime there, which doesn't care about the liberation of anyone, it aspires to create a global network of fanatic terrorism.

The translation: "You must sharpen the blades of your swords and be pure in your intentions before Allah. Know that the enemy is a disease that has no cure, except beheading and uprooting the hearts and livers. Attack them!"

There is a section dedicated to women's stories. The exhibition visitors spread out to watch the testimonies, each on a separate screen. It's a not like a forest, you can't really see it for the trees, and it's another moment of feeling overwhelmed because we can't truly get it. It's just not comprehensible, facing so many stories about intentional, face to face cruelty, brutality, sadism and joy in it. Mali Shoshana tells the story of how she tried to play dead while lying shot in a pool of her own blood, but her body wouldn't stop shaking, so she somehow turned on her side to the wall and knocked her injured knee against it, causing herself to pass out from the pain. It saved her life. Ricarda Louk tells the story of the last message they got from her daughter Shani, trusting she was right and there was nothing for them to worry about. Then Ricarda's son started screaming and crying, because he saw the same vid many of came across on that day, of his sister being dragged into Gaza stripped down, mutilated, abused, molested and humiliated, while Gazan civilians were celebrating the public degradation of her body. And there's more and more and more. "You can come back and continue to listen," the guide promises as he moves us to the next segment, but the truth is no matter how many stories I've listened to and absorbed, it still doesn't feel like enough.

There is a wall with the head shots of the victims in Israel who lost their lives due to this war, whether they were murdered on Oct 7 or since, but it's only been updated up until Mar 27 of this year. Even so, no matter what angle I tried, I couldn't fit in all of the pictures.

Interactive screens allow a geographic telling of the massacre's story. They show maps of Israel's south, with dots on them, red for the murdered, dark blue for hostages, bright blue for hostages who have been returned, grey for the injured. You can tap a dot and read a story. Or you can zoom out and try to comprehend how is it possible for there to be that many dots on the maps.

"From darkness to light," reads the exhibition title. That's the perception of time in Judaism. We always move from darkness to light. And there's a section for the light, for stories of resilience, of bravery, of rehabilitation, of mutual support and caring. Filmed interviews that do their best to summarize an incomprehensible amount of good we've seen in response to an incomprehensible amount of evil. It features people from every demographic in Israel, and in that way also serves as a reminder of just how diverse we are as a society.

This part, I think to myself, was included for visitors from abroad. We Israelis, we know.

There's one story I know already. Tomer Greenberg, an Israeli officer, rescued on Oct 7 baby twins from the carnage. He was later killed fighting in Gaza. Like a puzzle, I've heard this story from several angles, including from Tomer before he died. This movie features an interview I hadn't heard yet, with the volunteer paramedic that Tomer handed the twins to. Shalom, this medic, talks about how they clung to him desperately as they got to be fed and feel safe and cared for again for the first time in what's estimated to have been 14 hours. I'm sitting there, thinking of those babies crying, not understanding why their parents aren't coming to feed them, and I don't know how to deal with this.

Shalom shares that the experiences of Oct 7 have inspired him to try and become a combative soldier, something that wasn't on the cards for him before that. I wonder again at people who can act like subjecting an entire (already traumatized) society to a sadistic massacre can liberate anyone.

And I understand Shalom fully. When your family is in the pits of hell, there's nowhere you want to be other than there, with them, doing what you can, rather than sit and watch helpless from afar. Most people would say he did a lot on that day. Shalom must have felt like that still wasn't enough.

At the very end, visitors are invited to add their own little piece of light, through neon notes and pens on which they'd share their thoughts. Nothing feels like it can sum everything I'm thinking and feeling up, but not writing anything feels worse, so my bff and I add a few of our words to the notes.

I don't have any profound conclusions for this post anymore than I did for my note. I just know that this still hurts, that we're still losing people daily, that we can't begin to heal, because we're still in the middle of the wound being inflicted. But I also know that we WILL heal, that even if the wound can't be closed yet, our collective immune system kicked into action on Oct 7 already, that we will continue to share the pain and the comfort and the care, and this massacre and war will probably never stop hurting, that we'll never be the same, but eventually we will be alright. Where people choose to care, there's just no other option.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[belit0]

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."

[eternally--mortal]

Facebook is full of it right now. All of my creative art communities have been doomed and overloaded with it. Lots of ignorant people are being suckered into believing it’s real photography with real models, or real outfits made from real fabric.

They’ve moved onto cakes now. I’m also waiting to see it more from the architecture groups. I don’t think these people realize the importance of structural knowledge about materials and time commitment when it comes to designing clothes and baked goods and buildings.

It’s so maddening to me. And I hate that so many people are being suckered into believing that it’s real when it seems so obviously fake to me. They’re like sleeper agents. They’re being lulled into a sense of amazement so that when they discover the truth they’ll defend it because they’ve been programmed to believe it’s a beautiful gift.

i hate when people try to defend ai art with “but i want to be able to make pretty pictures like you guys!!” ok grab a canvas go to youtube and watch bob ross. grab some pencils buy a sketchbook and a beginners drawing book and learn like the rest of us. we didn’t spend years honing our craft just so you could plug it into a machine that spits out a poor mimicry in .2 seconds so that you could feel like you made something you didn’t work for

[yuri-is-online]

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.

[batmanschmatman]

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.

[felagund-the-valiant]

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.

[hypnotherapy-blog-blog]

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

Vanbc1963@yahoo.com

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

RH

[copaganda-clobberfest]

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 :)

[racheyace]

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.

[baileys-3]

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.

[wrotelovelytears]

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

[coochiequeens]

A transwoman who tries to control women, spits on women and shouts at women are misgendering themselves.

A trans activist has reportedly been arrested and charged with assault after a vulgar confrontation at Edinburgh University in December. Robyn Woof, 35, spat on a woman who had been attempting to attend a screening of a documentary critical of gender ideology.

Woof, who was the Trans and Non-Binary Liberation Officer for the Edinburgh University Students Association, went viral in December after he was caught on film blocking a woman who was trying to enter the building to attend a screening of “Adult Human Female.” The documentary is critical of gender ideology’s impact on women, and the showing was hosted by Edinburgh Academics for Academic Freedom. 

Multiple camera-phone videos of Woof began to circulate on December 14, including one where he explains to the crowd of attendees attempting to enter the building that he was an “adult human female.”

During the clash, Woof was caught on film spitting at a woman.

The event was ultimately cancelled due to safety concerns, and police were called to the scene. No arrests were made at the time, and Woof congratulated protesters on successfully having blocked the showing of the film in a statement on his Instagram page. 

News of Woof’s arrest was announced by Wings Over Scotland on February 8, with the digest sharing an official statement from Police Scotland which read that a “woman” had been charged in connection to the alleged assault which took place at the screening.

In addition to his vocal trans activism, Woof is also a member of the University of Edinburgh’s rifle club. Many on social media speculated that a criminal charge will likely lose him his license to own a firearm. 

Woof has a history of staging aggressive counter protests, particularly against women.

In 2019, he became violent towards a group of elderly women who were staging a silent anti-abortion protest across from a clinic. Mancunian Matters reported the incident, describing Woof as “a six-foot aggressor.”

The seniors, who were members of the groups 40 Days For Life, were targeted by Woof as they were praying. Woof stopped his car to confront the protestors, grabbing their chairs and throwing their posters while screaming “you people fucking disgust me.”

In wake of his new charges, Woof has launched a GoFundMe seeking donations for a new van. Titled “I’ve been targeted by transphobic extremists,” the fundraiser explains that he had complained to his university about the “transphobic film,” but the administration instead recommended that he attend the screening and debate his position. 

According to to his fundraiser, Woof explained that he arrived at the first venue and due to protesters, they were moved to a new location but five protesters arrived first and blocked the door.

“Everyone went to the new venue and when I arrived in the corridor leading to the lecture theatre there were about 5 young protestors blocking a doorway,” Woof recounts in the description. He also denies assaulting anyone, despite the fact his hurling of saliva was caught on film. Women who attended the event have said his description of the incident is flawed.

Woof has stated he will be using the donations to buy a new caravan due to “death threats” he has received due to the allegations online of assault. Woof is allegedly intending to live in the caravan.

Adult Human Female, the documentary Woof and the other trans activists had disrupted, has been highly controversial since its release last year. The film was directed by Deirdre O’Neill, and focuses on the clash between gender ideology and women’s rights. Screenings across the UK have been met with protests and aggression from trans activists. 

On the film’s official Twitter account, the filmmakers announced they have made a formal complaint to GoFundMe regarding Woof’s fundraiser.

By

Shay Woulahan

Shay is a writer and social media content creator for Reduxx. She is a proud lesbian activist and feminist who lives in Northern Ireland with her partner and their four-legged, fluffy friends.

[batsyforyou]

I Fought Car Thieves and Lost

And no, this isn't fake, this literally happened to me today. And the only reason I'm even making this post is to hopefully make sure that no one else makes my mistake. I mean guys, I’m 20 years old soon to be 21, about 5 '4 and barely pushing 111 pounds. I’ve never been in a situation like this and I’ve never seen a situation like this. I wouldn't even be bringing this up if I didn't think it was important. So if you're like me and have never been taught what to do in situations like this this post is for you. And I mean yeah, this is common sense but I apparently lacked all common sense unfortunately. 

Disclaimer: I have made this post with every intention of helping people with warning them, writing advice, and I have so much respect for everyone involved it was not easy. 

Trigger warnings: I will be talking about blood, police, and I’ll be mentioning guns, knives, pepper spray but be made aware there were no weapons used okay? So, please if those things bother you, scroll away. For the rest of you let me give you the basics. 

So, me and my family just moved into a small town a few months back and we run a small family business involving huge machines. The building we bought was right on the main highway and there’s two alleys beside it. My Dad and I are out in the back of the building working in the car port and moving our CnC which is basically a big automated machine that is operated by computers. I only bring this up to tell you how loud it was. I had my headphones on and I heard a scream that I thought was, “Help!” I paused and took my headphones off and listened because I thought I was hearing things at first. And I heard it again the scream for help but my reaction was, wait-is that actually a cry for help? Is this real? And there it came again and yeah it was definitely a cry for help. I took off running and when I rounded the corner I froze again because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. 

An elderly woman was being robbed by a younger woman and it looked like they were trying to steal her purse. 

Now, I was one of the first people on the scene, if not the very first. I think the only other person there was a guy and his dog. I would say he was behind the women but I actually don’t know. He didn't help until after which is when I became aware of him. So I don’t actually know if he was there when it started and to be honest I don’t think he was. I didn’t look around or take in any other details, I only saw the two ladies fighting. If I had taken the time to look I would have seen a huge medium sized man there as well. 

I rushed in between the two and I started to try and fight the younger woman back and it's at that point that I realized that the fight wasn’t over a purse, it was over the elderly woman's car keys. Another set of arms gets into the middle of all this but I don’t actually register it but I know it's a man. The younger woman gets away from me and rushes into the driver's seat, slams the door and tries to start the car. I rush after her and reach into the open driver's window and I try to take the keys back or at least stop her from starting the car. The other pair of arms from before comes back and an arm comes in on the side, gets in the window and shoves me back. I instead run around the car and I notice a red car pull up. I open the passenger side door. I almost get in but instead I fling the door out hoping that it’ll hit the car in front to slow them down. While I’m doing this the red car tries to block them from turning around towards town. But it didn’t work and the man, A.K.A. the other pair of arms, threw open the back door behind the driver’s seat and jumped in and they barrel out of there. The red car barely dodged them and then raced out after them. But since the car isn’t there anymore I turn around to the elderly women who’d collapsed onto the cement. Blood dripped from her mouth and it was almost everywhere. This is when the man and the dog come over saying something Idk. 

Despite the fact that I have always been told to call 911 in the event of an emergency, I still stood there and asked myself, what do I do? Do I call 911? And I turned around to look for my Dad because I didn't have my phone on me and I didn’t know what to do. Behind me my Dad comes over and says to call 911. I tell him about my lack of phone and he goes to call them with his phone and heads back to our building. I talk with the woman and I try to comfort her while I and the man with the dog listen to her ramble about things I couldn’t understand. From there a lot of other people come over and start to help. And the red car pulls back up and a woman comes out from the driver's seat and moves to help the elderly woman on the floor. As she tells us that she got the license plate and had followed them out until the prison before she turned around. I glanced in her car and in the front passenger seat was her Dad and her two young boys, 12-13 years old, in the backseat. My neighbor, another elderly woman, and her son came out because this all happened in front of her fence. And they start to help out and the police come and blah blah. 

I was so stupid. Instead of being shoved to the side by that guy he could have chosen to either grab me and attack me or put me in the car, or if he had a knife on him he could have stabbed me, and if he had a gun he could have shot me. I didn’t realize these things until after everything went down and I saw my sister freaking out about 30 minutes later. 

The lesson here is to never ever do what I did unless you are a trained professional with proper training or you have a weapon and you know for sure that they do not have a gun on them. But even then I wouldn’t ever recommend getting involved like that. And if you are the victim in this situation and are being robbed, don't fight them. Whether it be your car or your purse, let it go. Whatever they are taking from you is not worth your life. (The only exception that I can think of is if someone was trying to take your kid from you.) That elderly woman was so lucky she didn’t have a heart attack or break anything when she fell. Guys, she was on oxygen. Freaking Oxygen. And yeah she was brave for fighting back but she could have gotten incredibly hurt. Thankfully she only got a cut on the lip and had managed to bite the woman’s hand so she fought hard. But I still wouldn’t recommend it. And to the people who steal and pick on the elderly, pregnant women, childern or the disabled and whoever is at a extreme disadvantage you are a fucking coward and I hope you get what you deserve.  

And I mean I was so stupid it could have gone from car thief to kidnapping or I could be in the hospital or dead and this post wouldn’t be here. Please do not ever do what I did. And yeah, this might be a little dramatic but whatever I genuinely don’t care. 

The one thing that bugs me though is that I had pepper spray in the house with my phone and everytime I think about it, if I had that on me I could have resolved the fight much faster. I could have taken out the woman but I’d then have to deal with the man after so idk how much that “what if'' would have helped me. I'm just glad they didn’t choose violence while choosing violence if that makes sense. 

To my fellow writers. Let me give you the details. 

If you have a character who either encounters a situation like this or is put into a situation like this I hope this helps. 👍 

You don't really think. 

The first few details you lay eyes on are going to determine your reaction and you only see very few details. (I’m a civilian and I have no idea if that's the same for trained professionals. They probably see a lot more.) So when you write I recommend that you don’t really describe the surroundings much if at all. Only the first key details that the character first laid eyes on. For me, the details were lady, purse, elderly lady, fighting. I didn’t think I just reacted especially in the beginning but there is a point where you do think. Like when I reached into the car window I could hear a thought racing into my head that I didn’t need to get the keys, I just needed to stall her. And when I threw open the passenger door and almost jumped in but thought better of it because “what if I get trapped and they drive off?”  

You shake. 

After everything I was shaky, not extremely shaky but enough for me to notice and go “Oh, that's weird-anyway.” My breathing even seemed shaky for a little bit and my hands shook too. It was very weird. Like the shaking wasn’t even that noticeable and wasn’t even that big a deal but it was there. About an hour after (by this point it was resolved) I still felt shaky but I wasn’t shaky if that makes sense? Like I had this feeling in my chest that I was shaky. And after the cops showed up I just told the officer where to find me if they needed me and both me and my Dad just went back to work like nothing happened. And for the victim she was shaking quite a bit too. And she was asking me for an inhaler and as an asthmatic I had one but I hadn't used it in months and had no idea where it was. So I instead decided it would be a better idea to stay and keep her calm instead of looking for something for a long period of time and not know if I'll actually find it. Also, I should have my inhaler on my person anyway but I didn't so yeah.

Time 

When everything was said and done I could have sworn it was late afternoon almost evening but when I looked at the time it was in the early afternoon like 3:15 p.m. I was so shocked. So time has no meaning with these things. 

Energy 

 I was also extremely calm after and I felt like I had energy like nothing happened. And I was fine. I mean I felt a little sore in the arm where I got shoved but I only noticed that about an hour later when the police were wandering around and everything. I’m assuming I was in such a shock and adrenaline high that when I stopped working with the police and finished my work outside I sat down and I suddenly felt so exhausted. Like I had never felt so exhausted before it was like a mix between upset tired and tired because it was a long day tired. And I had sleepy tears in my eyes but they didn’t really do anything like there was no crying, they just sat there in my eyes like “you good?”

People come together. Like they're attracted to this stuff especially after the fighting. And I mean humans kind of are anyway. Like when we keep trying to take a look at a car wreck but can’t actually see it because we're in the middle of driving and other cars block it. 

I noticed that when the woman with the red car came back and everyone started to come together to tell each other what happened from their perspective. They were interrupting each other and telling each other what they did to contribute multiple times. I didn’t really get involved with the conversation. Mostly because I felt like a kid and when I did try to tell them my side of the story they very quickly interrupted me and talked over me. Which was fine, I didn't really want to talk anyways but I did want to make sure they knew a few key details. So that the people who were also calling 911 would have a better picture to give the person on the phone. Mostly because I didn't know if my Dad had managed to find his phone and call 911. Like at first they didn’t know that there was a guy in the car with the woman I had to tell them. So don’t be afraid to have characters circle back to and repeat things again and again. People actually do that. They want to tell their part. I think it's to help them process what happened and I also think it's to relive it but still. 

Side characters and patterns.

I actually had encountered the man and woman before today. I had encountered them when I had walked up the side of my building, two days ago, and she was sitting in my old beat up saturn. In the driver’s seat while the man was in the middle of the street. I, at first, didn’t do anything because I was like “Huh? What? Is that actually my car? Is there actually a woman sitting in my car?” And I raised my voice and said “Excuse me, what the hell are you doing?” She got out of the car and closed the door, clutched her purse and went “Oh, sorry. I mean I was sitting in your car but I’m sorry.” Said sorry one more time before I cocked my head and looked at them. And with attitude but also politely because that had never happened to me before and I was alone, I said “You're sorry?” And she was like “yeah.” With a little girl voice and then the dude was like come on let's go and they walked away and down the street but not before the woman looked into the driver side window of my Dad’s truck. Right in front of me. I shouted at them again about staying away from our vehicles and I had my building's door open at that time but I again didn’t have my phone on me. I usually have my phone on me and it's weird that the two times I decided to leave it because I’d be “right back” is so weird. Like everytime I needed my phone I didn’t have it on me. We had called the police then too and gave them a report and moved our vehicles. And by the way when dealing with side characters in these situations you’d be surprised how quickly everyone teams up. Strangers work together in perfect teams (sometimes). They all have their own parts to play in helping the victims which is usually their main priority. Cause most people who gather around like this tend to have good intentions (sometimes). And btw I would have lost that car if they had managed to turn it on. 

Setting 

The scene of the crime was literally so perfect and it wasn’t even planned (I think). When we were all sharing details and POVs I learned that the man and woman had asked the elderly woman if she’d drive them into town. She had said no and mentioned only to us later on that she didn’t even do a lot of driving anyway and that the car was under her daughter’s name. After the first no the woman asked “Not even if I give you gas money?” And after the second no the woman started to steal the keys and everything. I have no idea how the elderly woman got her mouth cut and I mean she did bite the lady but still. I have no idea. Anyway, I looked around and noticed that what the elderly woman had pulled over for was the garage sale that had a “everythings free” sign. And she said she was going to ask my neighbor if everything really was for free when she was attacked. But literally if you're standing back from everything looking in from the street you have a huge tree that sits at the corner of the alley. It's untrimmed and blocks most of the corner sidewalk and it also blocks my building. So you wouldn't have seen anything if you’d walked by and never walked down the sidewalk. You also have more plant life on this high fence that the garage sale was leaning against and the only thing from my neighbors property that could have allowed for a witness was one small empty window. And on the other side of the street a dude lives in a place with boarded up windows and isn’t even there 99% of the time and is the only building on that side of the street. At the far end of the sidewalk was another untrimmed plant and another alley and a building that had its windows covered. If the elderly woman hadn’t screamed for help no one would have known. I mean I wouldn’t have. I never look down that sidewalk ever. But now that I think about it probably was planned. And since we had moved in pretty recently in terms of months my family didn’t have security cameras up yet. Which sucked cause it would have been nice to have footage and everything but oh well.

The fight 

The elderly woman had been up against one of those white plastic tables at like fairs or something and was in a corner when it happened. And to be honest some of what happened during the fight or whatever I can’t even remember. Like I couldn’t tell you which side of the car I ran around. Was it the back or the front? Idk and in some of my memories I have no idea how I even got there or what I did but I know what I did if that makes sense? So, while I know a lot of what happened was pushing and grabbing no one actually threw hands at each other although I probably should have. So think about that when you write your scene not everyone thinks to punch each other in situations like this. And I think that's very interesting to think about. And apparently my dad had come up to see me rush to the side of the driver’s window to try and get the keys and get shoved and then watch me go for the passenger door. He says that he shouted at me to let go because he thought that I was gonna hold on to it but I didn’t hear him let alone know he was there until I went looking for him. I didn’t hear anything. Just the lady screaming to stop them and even I only heard that once despite the fact she said it repeatedly. I know this because again everyone likes to share their part. One thing I know is that what happened was very noisy but I didn’t hear any of it. When I think about what happened in my perspective, there is no sound. No car doors slamming, no shouting, nothing. Also, I don’t know if I mentioned this before but I didn't fight back against the shove because I saw it was a man and I assumed he was trying to help. Because I saw it was the same pair of muscular arms from before and thought “yeah, you do it your stronger anyway.” Idk why but I thought that as important to note.  Because I didn’t even realize until later that the dude was in on it. 

Your character 

Your character doesn’t have to be the hero. They could be the victim or the woman in the red car or a passenger in that red car. Imagine being in the backseat of your friend's car who then gets involved in stopping a crime and almost gets you T-boned when the culprit escapes. Imagine how that mom must have felt knowing her kids and her own Dad were in the car with her. Like whoever your character is, they don’t have to know everything while coming to help. Example. Your character could be my neighbor or my neighbor's son. Her son had called the police and asked the woman if she wanted a chair to sit on instead of the floor and my neighbor asked if she wanted a glass of water. Things I didn’t think about I mean I got her a towel for the bleeding but that's nothing. I mean there were chairs in the garage sale right behind me and I didn’t once think about getting her off the floor. And they still told their side of the story a few times as well and my neighbor's son had done most if not all the talking of collecting information from everyone and talking to the police. He came in and decided to take charge and lead everyone. And the dude with the dog went to find the woman’s address and went to tell her husband what happened. A ton of people came to see what was happening but so little did anything. Flight, fight, freeze. Most came and freezed others who came just left and I was the only one who acted during the act not just after. I helped during, after and with the police and others helped after if that makes sense? So when writing, think about what if things did go south? Did your character get stuffed in the car? Did your character get stabbed or shot? Or did your character get into the vehicle while it was leaving like I almost did and did they get shoved out the door of a moving vehicle or something else entirely? Or maybe they just watched and didn’t get involved? Idk that's up to you. 

Blood

It dripped from her mouth and she tried to stop it by putting her hands over it. And it dripped a little trail onto concrete and blood dripped onto her shoes and everything. In her hands, down her arms and off her elbows. She had been standing before she fell too.  Bloody mouth as well. And the tone of voice with which the elderly woman screamed is also important to note. My Dad said that he’s almost 70 years old and had never heard someone scream like she did so think about that as well. Oh, and everyone came after the third scream for help Idk why but I think that's important to note. 

I hope this helps people. Hopefully when you write you have this to kinda base your story’s events on. Like some kind of outline. And I hope people take this as a lesson on what not to do as well. I should put another disclaimer here but I am not a professional anything. And I actually don't know what advice is or isn't good. I'm just telling you what I think would have been the better thing to do for my situation.

Anyway, stay safe guys and God Bless. 💕

And don't be me.

[astrognossienne]

Since the sun projects a person's individuality, the very essence of their being, let's see how these sign express themselves when they turn to crime and murder:

If an Aries turns to crime, they may devise a new plan for robbing a bank, something that's never been tried before. Also, they may do it for the thrill of it rather for any monetary gain.

If a Taurus turns to crime, they would kill for greed and/or the love of money and the things it can buy.

If a Gemini turns to crime, they'll turn their versatility to scamming, forgery, fraud, blackmail or any other crime of fakery. This is a sign that would also consider kidnapping.

If a Cancer turns to crime, they would never surrender what they believe belongs to them. If they kill, it would probably be becasue someone stole their partner from them. Here we have the "wronged lover" who manages to make everyone feel sorry for them rather the victim.

If a Leo turns to crime, they'd be flamboyant as always. They'd do it with so-called "class" and flair. But they want to be noticed and appreciated; thus their crimes are usually sensational and devised so that they make headlines. They're the type to plan the spectacular robbery dressed in some form of disguise.

If a Virgo turns to crime, they'd be very fastidious about it; if they turned to a life of crime, they'd do it very methodically and neatly. They can't bear the sight of blood--neither theirs or anyone else's. Therefore, when it comes to murder, they'd be most likely to poison their victim.

If a Libra turns to crime, they'd have to approach the crime from a very aesthetic point of view. They couldn't bear to see another suffer, so they'd have to make their victim happy while following their wayward path. This is the embezzler who steals from their employer or would be low enough to steal from the elderly. They always have some poetic story that makes their victims surrender their life savings willingly. Also, they'd make great gigolos/hustlers/hoes. Speaking of hoes...

If a Scorpio turns to crime, you can be sure that sex is implicated somewhere along the way. This is the person who commits crimes of passion. They're definitely the sign most likely to not only not be afraid of blood, they have a bloodlust, so they have no hesitancy in plunging the knife into their victim's back or heart. They might even dismember them for their own self-satisfaction.

If a Sagittarius turns to crime, they'd be quick and to the point. They'd surprisingly be merciful about it; they'd deliver the blow swiftly. These are the snipers; they'd plan a crime that involved their marksmanship skills--a high-powered rifle that uses special sights. The hunter that expertly uses a bow and arrow not unlike their symbol of the archer. Then, also, if they were true to form, they'd murder becasue of some religious or philosophical fanaticism, no unlike the Jim Jones or Waco tragedies.

If a Capricorn turns to crime, it's a reflection for their low self-esteem as well as their unabashed and base ambition for success. They would ruthlessly step on others to get to where they need to go, using psychological warfare/abuse and always pushing their weight around and ensuring that they reigned supreme in everyone's mind and even hearts. This is the boss of the syndicate; they'd hire others to go out and do their dirty work like the cowards that they are He prefers to run the show and will demand allegiance from the many that they consider their underlings.

If an Aquarius turns to crime, they'd be inventive about it and use scientific techniques, such as biochemical warfare. Perhaps they'd devise a way to program the computer to pay them huge dividends. If they actually killed, it would be impulsively--on the spur of the moment and with shockingly much remorse afterwards, such is their love of people/humanity.

If a Pisces turns to crime, it would be becasue of some imagined ideal. Since they're so precious and fragile, sensitive to every real or imagined slight, they'd dream of it for weeks or months in advance, and once their foul deed was a fait accompli, they'd actually feel justified, and vindicated. The "reasons" would always seem high minded to them.