#my strength...... >:) my power........ >:) i can do it! you can do it! we can do it!

[hermajestyimher]

As someone who has battled anxiety and very dark thoughts in the past, God has shown me it is crucial to not try to get out of that mindset on my own strength. These are spiritual attacks, and I need to learn to lean on the Spirit to fight for me. I do this by using scripture that reminds me of the nature of God and his will for my life.

The enemy is a liar and he uses catastrophizing and overthinking to tell us lies about ourselves and the things to come. I refuse to give him an inch into my life by coming into agreement with his lies. Understanding the spiritual nature of our thoughts empowers you to not allow them to control you, but for you to have power over them.

1. John 10:10

“The thief’s purpose is to steal and kill and destroy. My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life.”

2. Jeremiah 29:11

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

3. Psalm 55:22

“Give your burdens to the Lord, and He will take care of you. He will not permit the godly to slip and fall.”

4. Isaiah 41:10

“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.”

5. Philippians 4:6-7

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”

6. Romans 8:6

“So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace.”

7. Matthew 11:28-30

“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.’”

[shiroxichigo]

Ichigo gets a lot of shit (typically from outside of the Bleach fandom) for being a character whose wants/goals never change from beginning to end of his series. He always wants to protect people (and even though I could argue that he went from only wanting to protect those close to him to wanting to protect everyone he can, that's not the point I'm making with this post).

I think a lot of people who only give Bleach a passing glance fail to see Ichigo's true character growth. It's not about what his goals are or who he's trying to protect, but rather, it's about how he achieves it.

Ichigo is very self-sacrificing in the first third of Bleach. He believes that if the mission is successful, then it doesn't matter how broken or close to death he gets. The mission, saving Rukia (and hurting/killing as few people in the process), is all that matters.

Then, when a part of himself (his inner hollow) emerges, and says "hey yeah no, I'm not letting you get yourself killed and I'm also not letting you hold back against your enemy", Ichigo immediately rejects it.

It's not until he defeats his inner Hollow that we see Ichigo really dive into a fight with the intent to kill. The problem is, once his Hollow is defeated, he thinks that's it. He's freed himself of that part of him and he can go back to being self-sacrificing.

We see this throughout the Hueco Mundo arc. It's why saving Orihime parallels saving Rukia. Ichigo naively thinks he can suppress a part of himself. He bottles it up until it explodes, coming back to haunt him in his fight with Ulquiorra, etc. He learns that side of himself isn't so easily tucked away, and if he recklessly endangers himself, he could end up endangering his friends too. At his own hand, no less.

Then Ichigo discovers he can commit the ultimate sacrifice. Final Getsuga Tenshou. He can throw away these powers and the parts of himself that he doesn't like, and he can get rid of Aizen all in one go. He's lucky that it worked, but only because Kisuke was there.

Then, once Ichigo is powerless, he learns that's not what he really wants. Life doesn't "go back to normal". The can is open, and there's danger out there beyond just Aizen. And Ichigo can't do anything to stop it unless he gets his powers back.

So he does. Then he cuts down the threat to his friends and family. And he doesn't hesitate this time. Yes, he still has compassion for his enemies (he even goes to the Soul Society to ask for Ginjo's body so he can give him a proper burial), but he's learned not to hold back and he's learned that new threats will appear and he'd rather have the power to face them head on.

So then comes TYBW, and Ichigo is facing battles head-on without hesitation. He goes straight to the "bad guys" with the intention of cutting them down. He learns the truth about who his Inner Hollow is, and he accepts it. He's even willing to accept whatever consequences may come from training in the Royal Palace and becoming stronger. He accepts his power and potential fully, and learns that he has what it takes to protect his loved ones with his strength, and not with a sacrifice.

Ultimately, he heals the part of himself that thinks his life is worth less than other people's. He heals the part of himself that blames himself for not protecting his mother (when he was 9!! Like come on Isshin, put the kid in therapy!! Anyway...) He grows into someone who knows his self worth. And I think, for me at least, that makes him one of my favourite protagonists of all time. Because can't most of us relate to feeling worthless at times? And don't we also wanna overcome that?

Thanks for reading my ramble lmao, I'm sure this could have been more elegantly written but I'm very sleepy and just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

[feyhunter78]

Hi 💕

If requests are still open can you do something Elrond x reader where reader watches him duelling for sword training (or something similar)?

Can be as sweet or spicy as you want❤️

I know you sent this in ages ago, I'm so sorry!!! Also, I'm so bad at describing fighting, please ignore that

Sparring Sessions

You sit with your friend Taethrien on one of the various stone benches that line the outer circle of the training yard. The open space of packed dirt and training dummies, the sounds of sparring and instruction mingling with grunts of exertion from the younger elves.

“Again.” Elrond calls, his voice sharp, like a whip, his face set in stone, as he jerks his head towards the fallen sword of his sparring partner.

The younger elf, Narion, you believe his name is, picks up his sword, and settles back into a sturdy fighting stance, sweat dripping from his brow.

You know you should intervene, insist that your husband take more care with the younger elves, but you find yourself unable to. Your eyes drawn to his form, the graceful but powerful movements, the controlled strength behind his swings and strikes.

“Elrond is quite intense this morn, is he not?” Taethrien says, watching the pair as they begin, Narion lunging first, seemingly not learning his lesson.

You hum in response, captivated by the easy way Elrond deflects the blow. He has not even broken a sweat, but his hair is disheveled from him raking his hand through it.

There is a smirk, almost cocky, on Elrond’s face as Narion growls and tries to fake right and catch Elrond off guard. He sees right through it, striking Narion’s exposed side.

“Oh, poor boy, he must cease leaving his left side so open.” She continues, frowning as the flat of Elrond’s blade taps against Narion’s ribs.

You hum again, feeling your stomach flip when Elrond spots you and sends you a quick smile, a simple uptick of his lips, but it is enough to make a sudden warmth flood your face.

“Y/N?” Taethrien asks, turning to face you, her brows furrowed. “Are you listening.”

“Yes, yes, I agree, left side, much too exposed.” You say far too quickly, remembering where you are and tearing your eyes from Elrond.

She tilts her head, a catlike smile on her lips, but says nothing of your reaction. “My husband should be along soon, perhaps he will present a finer challenge for Elrond than the young ones do.”

“I am sure it will be a worthy display of both their skills.” You smile, bumping your shoulder into hers. “And it will allow me to see this strength of his you are so very fond of.”

 “I told you of that in confidence.” She whispers, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” You reassure her, patting her hand.

A sudden shout draws your attention back to the ring, where Elrond has Narion at sword point, the young elf on his back in the dirt. You grip your skirts, a flash of heat surging through you as Elrond sheathes his sword with a one-handed, fluid motion, before pulling Narion up from the dirt.

“It seems we both may have something, not to be ashamed of.” Taethrien teases, making a show of pretending to try and unfurl your fingers.

You do not tease her in return when it is her husband against yours, they are newly married, still in a phase of infatuation, still discovering much about themselves and each other. Besides, you are far too focused on Elrond as he and Iandor spar, their swords singing, sparking through the air, throwing bits of sunlight as it glints off their blades.

“Do keep up Elrond, I know you have not tasted battle in ages, but surely you cannot be this out of practice.” Iandor taunts jovially, a bright smile on his face.

Elrond throws him a devastatingly charming smile in response, the gleam of a worthy challenge in his eyes. “No, my friend, I am simply allowing you the advantage, I would not wish to embarrass you in front of your new bride.”

They spar for what feels akin to eternity as well as mere moments until they call it a draw, both men breathing heavily, clapping each other on the shoulder as they return their weapons to the rack.

You meet Elrond halfway, and he wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling at you, his chest still rising and falling harshly. “My starlight, I can only hope we did not bore you.”

“I never tire of watching you train.” You tell him, dusting the dirt from his training leathers, attempting to banish the memory of your wedding night from your mind. The way he looked hovering above you, his curls wild, his pupils blown wide, his bare chest heaving, the sound of your name on his lips. “I always find such interest in seeing more of this side of you. I know my husband the poet, the herald, the romantic, but I see seldom see my husband the warrior.”

“Truly, I prefer the quill to the sword, but I cannot deny a good bout brings a certain sense of joy to me.” He says, as you both wave goodbye to Taethrien and Iandor.

“You fight well, as you always have.” You compliment, leaning your head against his arm as you walk back to your shared chambers. You must cease these thoughts, stifle the heat, lest you become a lecher for your own husband.

“I am better with a bow.” He deflects, ever so humble.

“You are skilled with both, though I would not say you are a better archer than swordsman.” You tease. “That title belongs to Galadriel.”

Though you say it, your mind’s eye still conjures an image. His deft hands wrapped around the bow, his broad shoulder spread, his spine straight, his arms taut as he pulls back the arrow. Heat rushes through you once more, and you bite the inside of your cheek to clear your mind.

“Yes, I know it is your preference, but it is not…” Elrond stretches his arms behind his head, a small groan slipping past his lips, and you all but trip over your own feet.

“It is not what?” He asks, his hands flying out to steady you. His touch is lightning, striking through you, setting fire to the desire that had been bubbling within you since his blade had met its first foe in the early hours of the morn.

“Stars, Elrond, simply—” You grab him by the collar of his leathers and yank him down, your lips melding with his, frantic and fevered.

He melts into your touch, lips parting as his grip tightens on you, dragging you closer.

You press yourself against him, walking him backwards until his back meets the wall, a surprised gasp escaping him.

“We are still along the path; anyone could come upon us.” He breathes, loathe to separate his lips from yours.

“We will hear them before they do.” You assure him, though you doubt your vigilance and his, when your lips leave his own, trailing across his chiseled jaw, up to his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

Elrond lets out a strangled moan, the sound shooting through you, warming you like Dwarven ale. “Fenedhis, y/n, please.”

You press a chaste kiss to the place beneath his ear, and return your lips to his jaw, your fingertips replacing your teeth, tracing the shell of his ear. “Of course, my love, anything you desire.”

He groans lowly, his fingers bunching in your skirts as he tries to calm himself. “My sweet starlight, do not torture me.”

You untangle one of his hands, and slide it beneath your skirts, a shiver running through you when he grips your thigh and drags you closer. “I would never. I want only to give you what you desire, remember?”

His chest brushes against yours with each breath, leather against silk, desire swirling between you, as he leans down to capture your lips, stopping a hairbreadth away. “Let us return to our chambers then, it seems you much to give me.”

TROP tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace, @emmyspov, @elrondswifey, @victoria-styles, @90angiex, @lucypaulette

[hellodragonkit]

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Opinions and Points.

SPOILERS... obviously.

Ok I watched the movie, and ... some things that are my own personal thoughts and possible points I noticed. And some things I have seen others point out to where this is just my over all opinion and its kinda long.

The backstory lets not forget beetle is a unreliable narrator as proven by the first movie as Julliard and Harvard did not exist while he was alive, and unless he was possessing someone when they graduated its unlikely he said the truth. - so I don't think he gave us the full backstory. Maybe yes he did marry her, but given he never dies on screen and previously stated point. I just find it hard to believe that he drank a poison then had enough strength to chop her up as much as she was, if it was actually effecting him. i find it far more possible he had already been poisoned so often he was immune at that point. and was just pissed his new wife tried to do him in. Also in first movie it was suggested with the red mark he hung himself... maybe he tried to take over the death cult and had to do himself in for a quicker death?

the Newspapper. Yes it did say people were falsely accused of offing themselves at death, I think this was to help clear up the plot hole that would have been with Astrid's dad. And maybe be a red haring for Beetle. Next few points are BeetleBabes related so if you don't like the ship, please move on.

He gave her autonomy in his power. During the therapist scene when he "sewn" her mouth shut, it was less truly sewn and more duct taped. She had the ability to remove it, yeah he had it stick long enough for a gag, but not much more. He didn't force her.

The Contract and Nullification of it. Beetle wrote the contract, and he worked as a dead con man for years, he knew the handbook inside and out. He wrote up the contract for Lydia to sign and save her daughter, knowing there was a Massive Loop hole. even blowing a hole in the "back door" of the Neither to insure the loop hole was as big as it could be the second he had her sign, obviously with a bit of theatrics for both signing and explosions. But would we expect anything else from him?

Delia calling him: when Delia died, she called him asking to go to Lyd's wedding. He did so no questions no strings. Any other deal he always asked for something in return but for Lyd's step mom he didn't charge a dime, possibly because he felt Lyds would be upset if she missed it, and didn't get to say good bye.

Rory Beetle obviously didn't like him, could tell he was scamming Lyds, and yeah he probably could have sent him off but instead had to prove to Lydia why that guy was bad, hence why he used truth serum. He need to make sure she wouldn't go back to that guy once he was gone again. It was even hinted he heard her talking in the graveyard rushing to the church that she was not ready to marry.

He planed to go away. His song at the end, was not one of love and togetherness. MacArthur Park is more of loss and remorse. He was saying Goodbye to Lydia! Not permanently anyway

He set up sending away Deloris and helped the contract become Null When Deloris burst in through the door, the wind didn't effect Lydia, or Beetle, or Delia but the book slid to Astrid as easily as it had moved away, He moved it to her, conveniently on the page to summon sand-worms and how to brake the contract.

He stalled for the cops I find it funny how in the first movie he summoned a Man of the cloth and the guests. But this time he had both, and unlike the first time he wasn't rushing... he took his time to sing a whole song and to let the Neither cops show up, possibly also baiting Deloris to take care of her but I'm still not sure on that bit. ether way He had won, he had Lydia, the pastor, and guests. But instead he did a song and dance, a song that I already pointed out was one more of goodbye.

He let Lydia send him away. Beetle loves to make a entrance, he also may love to make a exit. he has also shown he can silence someone for just saying his name once. But instead of silencing her or taking over her voice as he had before. He started a dramatic plea, showing her he was getting sent away, showing her he was going to let her send him off.

The ending given the fact he may have over heard about Rory, And all the other notes, he could probably see Lydia wasn't wanting marriage at that time. But I also feel... he just likes the chase. What fun would it be if the Coyote already caught the road runner? he didn't mind her sending him away, because it means he could keep trying to get her to call him willingly. Over all this is just my ramblings that I don't have any friends irl who may appreciate them or be able to properly counter lol And if you made it this far thank you. And I hope you liked the movie as much as I did.

[olsenmyolsen]

Swimming Lessons

Art By: @1005__H on twitter! I commissioned them after having this idea! They're wonderful!

Art By: @auroraromaximoff They're looking for more commissions and loved making this art after hearing my idea! They're super nice. Please check them out and give them a follow!

maroon master list . dark master list . request marvel master list . short n’ sweet master list

Non-Canon - Post Hawkeye - (Bishova)

Summary: Kate does her best to teach her former Black Widow girlfriend, Yelena, how to swim.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content: Yelena hates the beach, Married WandaNat, Lucky is a good dog

"Kate Bishop!" Yelena whined for the millionth time today. "I told you I don't know how to swim!"

Kate, still baffled by this recent revelation, dropped her girlfriend Yelena Belova onto her feet near the crashing waves of the private beach rented for the day.

"I still don't understand that! A part of me still doesn't believe you." Kate said through her sunglasses as she eyed the more petite blonde. "How does a former black widow assassin not know how to swim!?" Kate questioned as she threw her arms up.

With her arms by her side and green floaties on her arm, Yelena stomped her feet in the hot sand. "I told you I was a child assassin on a mission that week!"

"Ten bucks says Kate gets Yelena into the water before we leave today." Natasha Romanoff, Yelena's sister, said to her wife, Wanda Maximoff-Romanoff, as they watched the two from afar on the porch of the rental house for the weekend getaway.

Kate's pizza dog Lucky by their feet.

"Natasha!" Wanda gasped before slapping her wife's arm. "You can't do that!" She then shook her head and looked back to see Yelena lying on the sand, distracting Kate with a story about how she sniped a former secretary of state.

Wanda sighed. "Fine. You're on." Natasha laughed and sipped her iced tea. "Double or nothing?" She then asked with a coy smile. "Not a chance."

"Wow, how long did you stay in the crawl space of that apartment?" Kate asked, fully involved in Yelena's story as they slowly started building sand castles before remembering what her original plan was. "Wait- don't answer that- damn it, Yelena!" She sighed and scolded her girlfriend before standing up and shaking the sand off of her. "I'm teaching you to swim!"

Yelena looked down at the sand buildings before her and back up to her girlfriend. "But... but I'm busy." She said with a pout, making Kate grab her by her arm and hoist her up. Yelena stumbled. Always surprised by Kate's strength.

"Yelena, I didn't spend all the time putting sunscreen on you for you to not get in the water!"

Yelena crossed her arms over herself in her two-piece. The floaties on her arms making squeaking noises. "But what about sharks?"

"There are no sharks," Kate said, standing behind Yelena and beginning to push her into the sand. Yelena's feet dragged and made lines in the sand behind her heels. "You don't know that." Yelena countered.

"You don't know that either."

"Shit," Yelena whispered. "Okay but what if... what if you get swept out by a current!? I can't save you!" Yelena brought up a pretty solid reasoning in her mind.

But Kate would die trying to get Yelena to do anything. So if some all-mighty power thought that it should be because she's trying to teach Yelena how to swim, then so be it.

Although that would definitely traumatize Yelena for life.

Oh well.

"I won't get swept out, Yelena. I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise." As those words left Kate, Yelena planted her feet into the sand and turned around to her dark-haired girlfriend. "Promise?" Kate nodded with a breath. "I promise." Yelena searched Kate's eyes for any doubt, but she knew she wouldn't find any. So she nodded, turned, and stepped closer and closer to the water.

"We can go slow," Kate said, step in step with the blonde as the tide rushed over their feet before being dragged out. Yelena jumped back. "Why is it cold!? It's in the sun all day!"

Kate couldn't help but think that that was a good point, and she didn't have an answer for Yelena. "I don't know, but it'll get warmer the longer you're in it."

Yelena looked up at her girlfriend's face before slowly lifting a hand for Kate to take. The taller of the two smiled and took her hand as her other one came to rest of Yelena's back.

Another wave crashed onto their feet, making Yelena laugh lightly as the sand was being pulled from under her feet. "That feels funny." Kate couldn't help but smile and laugh with her. "It does." She agreed as they walked further and further out.

"Damn it," Wanda said as she got up to go retrieve $10 from her purse back inside the house. Natasha watched her wife with a smile. "I told you."

"I told you." Wanda mocked back.

Natasha just shook her head and turned to Lucky, lying flat against the wooden porch. "Oof. Looks like I won't be getting any tonight."

Lucky let out an exaggerated huff from his nose before his ears shot up to the sounds of laughter coming from the shore, making him get up and run to Kate and Yelena.

Natasha watched the dog take off before her eyes found Kate holding Yelena up and over a wave.

The water now thigh-high.

"Ahh!!" Yelena screamed with joy as Kate set her back now and let a wave crash into them.

"It makes me walk funny," Yelena yelled with a smile as the wet sand below her feet gave out, making her stumble a tad. Kate nodded and grabbed the blonde's hand. "Come on, there's a sand bar a little further."

"Sand bar?" Yelena quietly asked before looking around. She didn't see any drinks or people. Yet she followed Kate as Lucky splashed into the water, swimming up to them.

Not caring about the waves.

"Oh, that's why it's called Doggy Paddle," Yelena said as she waded through the water behind Kate. The water slowly rising up her body with every step. As it got past her stomach and some faded scars that's when Yelena slowly began to worry.

"Kate, it's getting deeper..."

Kate Bishop opened her mouth to make a joke before her eyes saw the tiny ounce of fear Yelena had in them. Kate quickly moved to Yelena's side again as Lucky watched them as he swam by to the sand bar.

"Show off," Yelena grumbled, making Kate tilt her head disapprovingly. "Yelena, that's not very nice." Yelena kept her mouth closed as she slowly moved her arms in front of her with Kate's help.

Listening carefully to Kate's instructions.

Swimming more and more as, her feet began to touch the ocean floor less and less. The waves became calmer the further out they went, which helped Yelena and her nerves.

Until.

"Kate Bishop!" Yelena exclaimed as she no longer had her footing, forcing Yelena's mind to short-circuit.

This was it. She was going to drown. She was going to sink. Lucky was on the sandbar watching and was probably laughing at Yelena as she floundered her arms up and down like a mad woman. Yelena knew she had the floaties on, but amid panic, she couldn't think as her feet kicked nothing but water. She opened her mouth to call for her girlfriend's help, but the water went right down her throat due to her own body moving rapidly up and down.

(also, Kate was right there the whole time watching Yelena. Yelena made it sound WAY more dramatic.)

Yelena screamed and coughed up the salty water as Kate wrapped an arm around the blonde and moved her two feet back to where Yelena could touch again.

Yelena sighed and caught her breath again. "I almost died! That would not have been a cool way to die!" Yelena sounds almost disgusted by this. "I was right there. I had you." Kate said with a smile to Yelena, making the blonde swallow and nod while looking out to the ocean before looking back at Kate with her lips curling into a smile. "Thank you."

Kate nodded and swam beside Yelena, who floated with her arms lifted up. "Of course." Kate kissed the blonde's cheek as Lucky swan up to them. Splashing them, making Kate laugh before flicking a small wave of water towards Yelena.

Yelena narrowed her eyes after the initial shock. "Count your blessing, my widow bites are not waterproof." Kate laughs loudly at Yelena's unwavering tone before Yelena splashes Kate back.

Natasha and Wanda continue smiling while laughing and placing bets on Yelena and Kate for the rest of the day.

And when the sun began to dip in the distance, Yelena and Kate walked hand in hand along the beach.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[welivetodream]

✨ My BSD hot takes/unpopular opinions ✨:

1. Identifying BSD characters as Queer, is not problematic. STOP being so Heteronormative. Gay characters are not gonna kill you.

If I see another "BuT tHe ChArAcTeRs nEvEr SaId tHeY aRe GaY" I would bomb you 💣/j

2. Skk/SSKK/Fyolai/other popular ships, exist because people like it. If you don't ship them, don't engage with their content. Not all shippers act crazy and toxic. Stop blaming everything on shippers.

3. Atsushi/Kyouka is problematic, stop justifying it with "only 4 year age gap". Kyouka is a CHILD, ship her with Kenji if you want. Atsushi, like a normal 18 year old would never look at a highschool freshman and date her. Even if they date in the future, he knew her when she was younger and they had a sibling like dynamic. Lucy is a way better love interest to Atsushi (Don't know if this is an unpopular opinion tho, but I saw some people justifying it 😐😐😐)

4. DAZAI IS NOT EVIL. HE IS FAR FROM EVIL. He is, despite being super popular and the face of BSD, the most mischaracterized and villified character. Morally grey characters exist??!!!

5. Mori is a way worse person than Dazai ever was.

6. PM members get a free pass for any heinous crime they commit by being hot or babygirl-ified (still love them tho, we do not often discuss how bad their actions have been, you can like criminals and acknowledge they are criminals in fiction. I would add DoA to this too, but it's worse with the PM)

7. Akutagawa's abuse of Kyouka shouldn't be forgotten just because Dazai abused Akutagawa.

8. Mori emotionally manipulated and abused Dazai when he was a teen. Just because it wasn't physical, doesn't mean it was nothing.

9. Atsushi is NOT a soft boy, he is way bitter, salty and sarcastic than we give him credit

10. Poe is important to Ranpo and their friendship/relationship is wholesome as hell

11. Ranpo and Yosano's friendship is way better than them being in a relationship in the future

12. FukuFuku is better than Fukumori (imo!!!!)

13. Buying real authors work after watching BSD is actually a really good thing, since more Gen z kids (or other people) will read classics

14. There are layers to Atsushi and Akutagawa relationship/rivalry, and they have the MOST important relationship (not meaning romantic, just in general) in the entire canon.

15. Kunikida and Yosano could be a power couple

16. Fyodor is not a great villain (yet)

17. Nikolai CARRIES the DoA

18. Sigma shouldn't be in the ADA, he needs a happy home, family and some time to adjust to normal life

19. Q and Elise are both underused characters and could become a great dynamic

20. Ango deserves more love, the amount of pressure and stress he deals with is INSANE

21. It's OKAY if everyone joins the fandom for Dazai or skk (I did at first too!!)

22. Higuchi is annoying as hell. I do not get her hype, I like her but not as much as most people (just personal opinion, do not flame me 😭)

23. Everyone in The Guild is forgettable or boring (except Fitzgerald, Poe and Lucy. I like Louisa, but I forget her all the time)

24. Hetero ships are just not that great/interesting in BSD to me 🤷🏻‍♀️ (except maybe AtsuLucy or rare pairs) and female characters are not best utilised, I wish they play more major roles (can't wait for Agatha to arrive!!)

25. Some fan theories/arts get the story better than "canon" stuff at times. Fanon is NOT always the worst (sometimes enjoyable when the canon gets too dark or sad)

26. Toxic ships are okay in fiction as long as they are legal. Humans like toxic things, we consume it like junk food 💅🏻

(These are all personal opinions of mine and do not matter. Feel free to disagree. But, do not hate or be toxic!!!! 😇😇😇😇)

(PS: I compiled all these because of posts I have seen in, Reddit, Pinterest, Twitter and sometimes Tiktok. These aren't really abt you Tumblr folks. I meant to post this on reddit but did not have the courage or mental strength lol)

[letters-unsending]

No. 53

////

Villain is either very good or very bad manipulator. Accidental seeking of comfort.

////

Villain pinches the thin neck of his wine glass as he peers over Hero's shoulder.

"I was quite fond of that set," he mused, surveying the wreckage between Hero's palm.

Bits of fine China and glass gleam, their sharp edges catching the chandelier light. Hero holds the last intact piece of glassware, a teacup, with spasming fingers. His wrist jerks and amber beads of tea join the runnels of sweat slipping down Hero's palm.

"You said you wouldn't give me anything that mattered," Hero grits out.

"I lied," Villain reaches, curling his hand over Hero's damp shoulder, "more pressure would have ruined our little lesson and I promised you that we'd start out easy."

The teacup shatters. Fragments fly like spittle and speck the embroidered tablecloth.

Hero palms the table and breathes a shuddering breath, staring as the tea soaks into the fabric, deep orange overtaking paisley print like a bloom of fire. Villain's fingertips hang over his clavicle. Every ragged gasp reminds Hero of Villain's palm perched upon his shoulder, pressing down.

"I can't do this." Hero exclaims, jolting upward. The tile beneath his toes cracks as he wrenches himself free, away from the table and the feast of broken porcelain spread upon it.

Villain's fingers hang in the air before curling around the back of Hero's deserted seat. He turns his head toward Hero, who stands with shoulders hunched and hands fisted at his sides. The sound of his heaving rips through the room before drowning in the thick curtains and glimmering finery fixed upon the walls.

"Why, we've just begun, [Hero]," Villain croons, "and you've been doing splendidly.”

“I never wanted power. I wasn't supposed to have this power.” The gold decor gleams in Hero’s peripherals as he staggers back. “I'm so tired of being careful.”

“Then be careless. Be brutal.” Villain sets down his wine and glides over the crack in the tile. He settles in front of Hero and grabs his tense shoulders, manicured nails biting into muscle, backed for the first time by a measure of superhuman force. “I won't stop you.”

Beneath Villain’s touch, Hero startles, head snapping up. His grip warms his shoulder with pain. The ache rolls down his spine, a nostalgic twinge.

“Did you even want to help me,” Hero asks, settling into Villain’s hold, leaning, “or was this just a ruse?”

Villain almost releases him. His fingers spasm across Hero’s shoulder blade before steadying, singing that constant stripe of pressure into his skin–a force that would've felled any other man.

“Of course, I wanted to help. Your predicament is so similar to my own,” he assures, “it's only natural to sympathize, but control is not your issue. Since gaining your power, your every waking moment has been a practice in control.”

“I have broken everything you’ve given to me,” Hero reaches out and grabs Villain's forearms, applying a reciprocal, biting pressure overtop his satin sleeves, “how could that possibly reflect control?”

As soon as Hero’s palms press in, Villain’s knee jilts forward before steadying again. He takes a long breath under the guise of delivering his next words with trepidation.

“When I first inherited my power, I was like you. I was careful, so very careful, [Hero].” Villain pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth as Hero’s hands slid further down, cupping his elbows. “But the more you care, the more you exhaust yourself. Every delicate thing becomes a burden you must bear simply because of who–what–we are and there comes a point where even the most well-meaning person can not maintain such constant vigilance.”

“I have no other choice. I can't stop caring.” Hero squeezes down, thumb digging against Villain’s bicep. “I'm a Hero now. What if I hurt someone?”

“You can still care when you need to, but you must allow yourself to relax. Indulge in your strength,” Villain glances toward the glittering sea of glass shards, “do not fear it.”

“Okay,” Hero whispered, dropping his hands, “I think I understand.”

Villain slowly withdrew his grasp from Hero’s shoulders, his elbows still pulsing with the press of Hero’s grip, hanging onto the sensation like a physical afterimage.

<><><>

“Go ahead.” Villain breaks the silence as they hover in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“If you desire it, I understand,” Villain swallows down an anticipatory breath, “you shouldn't have to fear the act of comfort.”

Hero approaches, placing a tentative hand over Villain’s wrist, increasing pressure in increments, testing the strength of the bones beneath. It's a fickle weight compared to before, to those angry fingers digging into his arms. Lightly, Villain breathes through his nose.

“You were so bold before. You didn't hurt me,” Villain keeps his voice instructive, almost monotone, “you need not be concerned now.”

“I'm not concerned,” Hero retorts, sliding his hand up to Villain’s shoulder, “I'm just adjusting.”

Villain closes his eyes, his heartbeat thumping beneath Hero’s palm. He channels his buzzing impatience into impeccable stillness and wishes he'd finished the wine he'd left on his dining table.

And finally, finally Hero pulls him in, hands connecting over his spine.

It's still too light. Hero stalls against him, his shoulders a tense plane.

“Reserve your care for the people who need it.” Villain reaches around, placing a hand over Hero’s back. He feels him breathe against his fingers.

Then there's pressure, sweet pressure around Villain’s ribs, stealing his breath. For a moment, Villain wishes he could bruise, wishes he could prolong this sensation and paint it purple across his skin. He chokes out a cramped breath as Hero’s head turns against his neck.

Immediately, Hero lets up. Villain’s hand keeps him from lurching away.

“No, no, you did not hurt me,” he leads him back in, “I am alright."

Wariness draws Hero’s back into a taut line and Villain sighs, dropping his head against his shoulder.

“It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“I hurt the last person I touched. Broke [Other Hero]’s hand. It was so easy,” he lamented, “I hardly even noticed it happening until it was too late. Forgive me if I'm a bit nervous.”

This time, Villain pulls Hero back and squeezes, pressing his nose against the collar of Hero’s sweater. He runs a hand down his spine, marveling at how nothing breaks, at how Hero unspools and leans into him.

“I'm sorry. I know how hard this can be,” Villain murmurs, though some part of him feels like an open wound in the wind, bleeding and overexposed.

The pressure came again and Villain remembered to breathe as Hero held him. These arms and hands would one day grow stronger. One day, they would bruise Villain, and Villain would be capable of breaking, but by then, Villain would have Hero’s mercy.

He would remember Villain as a guiding hand and source of sympathy.

Villain hoped that was enough.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 20th

I opened today’s entry thinking I knew what to expect, but apparently I did not:

Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D.

A bit of humour in the darkest of nights. And what a power move! I love that even minor characters are given such vivid personalities!

With regard to patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended with any unhappy results.

This is what I mean! Look how this man writes. Completely redundant. He has a unique “voice” and I love it!

I went down to see if I could make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred.

I’m starting to think every staff member has a death wish.

It was, I am sorry to say, however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through the window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I called to the attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent on some mischief.

YA THINK?????

Also, what was I saying about safety protocols the other day?

The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others were both burly men.

IT’S WORKING!!!!! The DYI vampirism is working!!! Mark me down as scared and strangely proud.

The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us. Their threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology for the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their names and addresses, in case they might be needed.

Efficient crisis management. Have a sticker 🦇

Now onto the regularly scheduled horrors…

Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.

About that —

And he has been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late—Lucy's mother and Arthur's father, and now.... Let me get on with my work.

Oh so it’s official! Arthur’s father has passed! What a month!

Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said; "come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep."

That is very sweet.

There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled round—doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim—and every now and again struck the window with its wings.

Hold on hold on hold on. I think Jack might be on to something here.

So far, we’ve seen Dracula target Jonathan and Lucy specifically and relentlessly. Yes, he also attacked the crew of the Demeter, but that was out of necessity (being stuck in the middle of the ocean with no other source of food) rather than choice; and he doesn’t want to feed on Renfield, who is older and “feeble” both physically and mentally.

So he is attracted to the light, metaphorically: to young people who are full of life and love. Because that’s what he lacks. Argh.

It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close.

🥺😔

"She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and let him come and see the last; he trusts us, and we have promised him." […]

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered softly:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."

Say what you want about Van Helsing (SISTER), he’s showing incredible amounts of compassion in this chapter.

In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who, like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled him almost across the room.

"Not for your life!" he said; "not for your living soul and hers!" And he stood between them like a lion at bay.

The next few entries are going to be fun.

Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted.

Ouch.

"Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!"

He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:—

"Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:—

"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."

A heads up would be nice!!!

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[chthonion]

Hark, Cthonion! Cthonion! I petition thee for answers beyond my ken!

Should such knowledge belong to the forbidden tomes and be designated as inciting Doom to share hence, then whence favourable future conditions arise in the comings turning of moons I shall staidly await your imparting of wisdom should such a dawn arise.

The twenty-fourth chapter of thine own tale The Harrowing, second stretch of thine winding saga, contains within the following passage:

‘“You might not have run into this problem yet, but searching songs don’t reach as far here as they do on the other side of the sea,” Finrod says to Elrond. “There’s too much of the Valar in the land; their power gets in the way. We might not be able to reach him, depending on how far he’s gone.”

Wait. Have elves not figured out how to solve that problem?

“We can start by seeing if we get anything from here, then, but after that we should divide the work,” Elrond says.

Maedhros looks at Celegorm, his eyes a silent question.

Celegorm shakes his head, his mouth a grim line. “Sorry,” he says. “I still can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros says, his voice grave: a few beats of seriousness, a moment of acceptance for something that is clearly important, and then he’s moving on. “Tyelpe, have you ever done a search?”’

Thus, whilst I can hazard mine own guesses as to the implications beyond our otherwise ignorant narrator's ken, the clarity of what thou hast alluded to with specific intention shall yet elude me without aid.

Tyelkormo's answer most heavily suggests the following:

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast strength in Finding songs lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt one

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast a brand of trick that allowed our hunter to perform a Finding song in Aman less or unhindered by the cloyingly masking presence of the power of the ainur lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt it

-> Our stalwart hunter hast the ability to commune directly with the land when tracking and bypass any need for song in it's entirety that his current state leaves him unable to do by literal ability or else emotional readiness

-> Our stalwart hunter is unable or else unwilling to try any of the above for fear of being Noticed by the powers that be in Aman, such as his estranged hunt leader

-> Or else that Maedhros, in his stricken state over the peril Maglor faced, dared to request our stalwart hunter appeal directly to his estranged hunt leader to locate their missing brother on their behalf for fear of the panic Maglor wandering on his own may begin escalating the Situation to one of public magnitude that Tyelkormo in his state could only decline for literal ability or emotional readiness

Indications of hitting any correct marks from thou wouldst be received with gratitude shouldst confirmation of one be Doom and a clue not enough to incite such severity.

Ok I'm so so late with this as usual and I am going to have to be incredibly cryptic but

Thy third guess was near the mark, though not at its heart!

The author possesseth and yet shareth not a Celegorm and Oromë one-shot, in which this shall be revealed and in which our wayward hunter may yet work some of his shit out, but alas! This tale demands that Annatar be, in some measure, calm of heart, and so he must work his shit out ere Celegorm may have his reckoning...

[crimson-nail]

sorry but i will just never understand people who read the ending of trimax as bleak

[b-blushes]

it is time for SUPER STRONG AND POWERFUL SATURDAY!!!!!!!

[mothbeasts]

listening to cog in the machine is making me shake like some kind of prey animal i swear

[chryzure-archive]

“there’s nothing more important to me than her” says the man that has licked said girl’s lips and then touched her like twice

[sufficientlylargen]

It always gets me that the name "Gandalf" literally just means "Wand-Elf" or "Stick-Elf". I'm imagining old Gondorians just being like:

Librarian: I saw that weird guy at the library again today.

Guard 1: What weird guy?

Librarian: The old guy with the beard? Kinda elfy-looking, apart from the beard?

Guard 1: Oh, with the big-ass stick?

Librarian: Yeah, looked like he was carrying an entire tree branch.

Guard 2: Yeah, that's the Stick Elf.

Guard 1: Hell yeah, I fuckin' love the Stick Elf.

Librarian: The "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: He comes by every few years, usually after some weird book or other.

Librarian: Oh. Yeah, he wanted a treatise on goblin breeding habits.

Guard 2: Like, how they have sex? We have books on that?

Librarian: Yeah, turns out we do. I was as surprised as you are.

Guard 1: What'd the Stick Elf need a fuckin' goblin-fuckin' book for?

Librarian: I didn't ask. So you just call him "Stick Elf"?

Guard 2: I mean, he looks kinda elfy and he always has that stick, so, like, yeah.

Guard 1: Dude also has some fuckin' dope pipeweed.

Guard 2: Oh yeah, his pipeweed is awesome.

Librarian: How long has he been coming here?

Guard 2: Oh, for decades. He's, like, super old.

Guard 1: More like fuckin' centuries. Dude's old as balls.

Guard 2: Wait, really?

Guard 1: Yeah, my gran-gran used to talk about him. She loved his pipeweed too.

Librarian: So he's… an immortal pipeweed dealer?

Guard 2: I think he's just, like, a connoisseur. He doesn't sell it or anything. He just always has some really top-notch pipeweed on him.

Archivist: Oh, are we talking about Stick Elf?

Guard 1: Hell yeah we are!

Librarian: You know about the Stick Elf, too?

Archivist: Oh, totally. Stick-Elf's a super chill dude. Gave me some awesome pipeweed when I was maybe 12, and tee-bee-aitch I think I'm still a little buzzed from it.

Guard 1: What'd I tell ya, fuckin' dope pipeweed!

Archivist: Also he's really old.

Guard 1: Old as balls.

Librarian: Yeah, so Éodan and Jenniforomir were telling me.

Archivist: My grandpa used to tell me stories - he said one time he saw Stick Elf enter a smoke-ring contest.

Guard 1: Ooh, I'll bet he kicked fuckin' ass.

Archivist: Apparently the guy made an entire warship out of smoke and it flew around shooting down the other rings.

Librarian: And how much of this "fuckin' dope" pipeweed had your grandfather had by this point?

Guard 1: No no, that's totally plausible. Dude's got weird elf powers and shit for sure.

Archivist: He brought fireworks for the king's birthday one year, too.

Guard 1: Oh fuck, I forgot about those! Fuckin' incredible fireworks! Dragons and knights and glowy trees and shit! I was fuckin' 6 years old or something, they totally blew my mind. Hey Éodan, did you see that shit?

Guard 2: No, I think that's before I lived in Gondor.

Guard 1: Wait, you're not from here?

Guard 2: Oh, no, I grew up in Rohan. We moved here when I was, like, thirteen because my uncle Éojeff said he could get my dad a sweet job. And also that there were houses that didn't smell like horseshit.

Guard 1: Oh shit, are you related to Éojeff and Éosteve who run that æbleskiver stand on Norndîl St?

Guard 2: Yeah, they're my uncles!

Guard 1: Shit, they cook a fuckin' great æbleskiver!

Librarian: Ok, hold up a sec, "Stick Elf" can't possibly be his real name.

Guard 1: Why not?

Librarian: What? You think his parents named him in the hopes that he would carry around a fucking tree when he got older?

Guard 2: Maybe they gave him the tree when he was born!

Archivist: I don't think a baby could carry that stick.

Guard 1: You ever seen a baby hanging onto something? They're hella strong.

Archivist: It's not a strength thing, their hands are tiny. That staff is enormous!

Guard 1: My halberd's bigger 'n I am, I can hold it just fine.

Archivist: You're not a baby.

Librarian: Also why would elf parents name their kid "stick ELF"?! Presumably they know that their kid's going to be an elf!

Archivist: Is he actually an elf? I didn't think they grew beards.

Guard 1: How'd he get old as balls if he's not an elf?

Guard 2: His ears aren't that pointy. Maybe he's just a really old guy? Like, a Numémoriam or something?

Guard 1: Did you just say "Numémoriam"?

Guard 2: Nûnenorman? Munimõrbitan? Y'know, those guys like the king that can get super old.

Guard 1: You mean the fuckin' Númenóreans?

Guard 2: Yeah, the Númenóreums.

Archivist: Even the Númenóreans don't live THAT long.

Guard 1: Plus he carries that fuckin' stick around.

Guard 2: Wait, what does the stick have to do with it?

Guard 1: That's an elf thing. Y'know, trees and shit? Very elfy.

Librarian: Ok, look, but his parents naming him "Stick Elf" would be weird whether or not he's an elf. In fact, it's even weirder if he's not - what human names their kid "elf"?

Archivist: Huh. Yeah, you're right, he probably does have another name.

Guard 2: Yeah, I guess so.

Librarian: He's been coming here for decades and nobody's ever asked his real name?

Archivist: I dunno what to tell you, he's Stick Elf. Even his library card just says 'Stick Elf'.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah, the Stick Elf!

Guard 2: Maybe we could, like, ask him his name sometime?

Guard 1: Hey, look, Elrond's over there. He's old as balls too, maybe he knows?

Guard 2: Oh, we shouldn't interru-

Guard 1: HEY ELROND, YOU'RE OLD AS BALLS, RIGHT? WHAT'S THAT OLD ELF WITH THE STICK'S NAME?

Elrond (coming over): Do you mean an old man cloaked all in grey and blue, leaning on a rough-cut staff, who came to the great library this day?

Guard 1: Yeah, the Stick-Elf!

Guard 2: (Sorry to bother you, sir...)

Librarian: He's got to have a real name besides 'the Stick Elf', right?

Elrond: Indeed, for no elf is he. You speak of the wizard Olórin, wisest of the Maiar, older even than Eä itself. Many are his names in many countries: Tharkûn among the Dwarves; Incánus to the south; Mithrandir he is called among my people, the Grey Pilgrim.

Librarian: Oh.

Elrond: And here in the North he is called Stick-Elf.

Librarian: Oh.

Guard 1: Fuck yeah!

[ketchuppee]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[qqueenofhades]

https://www.tumblr.com/qqueenofhades/743255237060689920/the-thing-that-confuses-me-about-the-dont-vote

The “don’t vote” left’s point is basically that, if Biden gets a second term, it’ll basically signal that “They’ll vote for us as long as we’re not Republicans, why don’t we do some REAL fucked up shit, if we can get away with it?” It takes the power out of the people’s hands and places it firmly in the party’s.

I can’t completely disagree with that, my caveat is that there’s no real alternative system or party in place, because top-down change is ineffective; a third party president has to contend with a two party congress.

Except no. This whole "Biden just wants to do as much fucked up shit as possible while not being a Republican, and if you give him a second term he'll do more fucked up shit deliberately to spite you" mindset is only possible as an interpretation if you a) deliberately and comprehensively ignore everything he has done to date, and b) you approach the situation with the maximum bad faith possible. Not to mention, the ultimate outcome of this Big Important Teaching Biden A Lesson is that Trump gets back into power and makes everything orders of magnitude worse, because he does in fact want to deliberately do evil shit to everyone and says so at every opportunity. There is not some magical happy alternative that springs into existence by not voting. If you choose this as a year to Teach Biden A Lesson, you are enabling Trump. Trump will be much, much worse. If you don't care about that, I still do not care what your Great Ideology is. You are not helping anyone and you are directly and irreversibly hurting everyone.

I made a post a few days ago wherein I mentioned that I want to assess Biden fairly, taking into account both strengths and weaknesses, but the rampant bad-faith, lying, misreading, misrepresentation, and open sabotage of him (especially by the online left; the GOP sometimes only wishes they were as good at turning Biden's voter pool against him) makes it really difficult to do that. My frustration with those people makes me just want to go "BIDEN IS GREAT THE END." I know he is a flawed old man (though by literally every account of a career spent in public service, he really does care about making the world a better place and any remotely good faith reading of his accomplishments thus far can see that). It is also very likely that he goes MORE left in a second term because he won't have to face the electorate again, he has always gone more left when pushed before, and he's not actually the scheming genocidal mastermind that leftist social media paints him as. Shocking, I know.

I know there are things in the world we don't like and don't want and want to stop, and therefore we blame our own president for not making it stop. But I have zero, no, none, absolutely none whatsoever sympathy for this pseudo-populist "WE NEED TO TEACH BIDEN A LESSON BY ELECTING TRUMP AGAIN, I AM VERY MORAL MUCH ACTIVIST" mindset. There's this funny thing about America wherein it is still (for now) a democracy. If Biden wins a second term, he can't run again. I would take literally anything these people said more seriously if they focused on developing their dream progressive successor for 2028 (and also figured out how to get that person elected and in a place to make real change) rather than cynically sabotaging Biden in the most consequential election year, again, of our lifetimes. If you don't like him now, find a way to make his successor a better option. Throwing a toddler tantrum and handing the country back to a senile, deranged, fascist, revenge-riddled, theocratic Trump HELPS. NOBODY. I still don't know how many times I'm going to have to say that, but yeah.