#persone di valore

[ragazzoarcano]

“La vera miseria è un cuore opportunista che non sa riconoscere il valore profondo delle persone, se non nella loro utilità.”

—

[girldumas]

non per essere ma una si fa una triennale in lingue per poi (potenzialmente) fare il magazziniere 🫡

[sisif-o]

essere intrappolati nei propri schemi mentali è bigottismo, anche quando siamo convinti che i nostri valori siano progressisti

nel momento in cui selezioniamo, dividiamo, etichettiamo, siamo bigotti, ristretti, chiusi

i vegani che frequentano solo vegani, i kinkster che frequentano solo kinkster, i queer che frequentano solo queer: esempi di persone che hanno perso la loro individualità, si sono sacrificati e immolati all'etichetta e si sono chiusi in una cricca sociale, una bolla, che li fa star bene, ma che preclude loro il mondo tutto, con i suoi orrori e le sue bellezze

[ticenchantedtoc]

Having the most insane Valor Duo thoughts today

[pier-carlo-universe]

Recensione del testo attribuito a Eden Cara. A cura di Alessandria today

Questo scritto, che si colloca tra la riflessione filosofica e il diario interiore, esprime una sensazione comune a molti introversi ed empatici: il bisogno di isolarsi non per mancanza d'amore verso il prossimo, ma per proteggere la propria energia e ritrovare il proprio equilibrio interiore.

Questo scritto, che si colloca tra la riflessione filosofica e il diario interiore, esprime una sensazione comune a molti introversi ed empatici: il bisogno di isolarsi non per mancanza d’amore verso il prossimo, ma per proteggere la propria energia e ritrovare il proprio equilibrio interiore. Tematiche principali. Il tema centrale è la gestione dell’energia emotiva. L’autore si sofferma…

[yourealpurpose]

Do not mistake personal power for pride. One solves, the another attacks. The first reveals the weight of your worth, the second the depth of your insecurities.

⟳

Non scambiare il potere personale con la superbia. L'uno risolve, l'altra attacca. Il primo rivela il peso del tuo valore, la seconda la profondità delle tue insicurezze.

________ Anna ▶︎ info: Linktr.ee

[girlactionfigure]

Daniel Lewin and Mohammad Hamdani were two 9/11 heroes with very different stories.

Known as Danny by his friends, Lewin was the first person to die in the terrorist attacks, sixteen years ago today.

Danny was a passenger on American Airlines Flight 11 and an Israeli-American veteran of an elite IDF combat unit. He was trained in counter-terrorism and spoke fluent Arabic.

Investigators pieced together that Danny heard the terrorists plotting in Arabic and tried to stop the hijacking. He was stabbed to death by Saudi law student Satam al-Suqami.

Born and raised in Denver, Colorado, Danny emigrated to Israel with his family as a teenager. As a newcomer, he could have skipped his military service, but chose instead to serve and work his way up to the toughest unit in the IDF. He later became a successful internet entrepreneur.

Only 31 when he died, Danny had already made his mark on the world.

Mohammad Hamdani was a first responder who died at the World Trade Center on 9/11.

Mohammad immigrated with his family from Pakistan when he was a year old and grew up in Queens, NY. He played football for Bayside High. Hard-working and ambitious, Mohammad became an EMT and then a police cadet. He also applied to medical school, and in September 2001 he was waiting to hear if he’d been accepted. 

On the morning of 9/11, Mohammad was taking an elevated subway on his way to work when he saw smoke coming from the twin towers. He got off the train and rushed to the World Trade Center to help. Mohammad was never seen alive again. He was only 23 years old.

At first Mohammad was listed as missing. Because of his Muslim background and lack of connection to the World Trade Center, he came under suspicion of being involved in the attack. The cloud over his name did not lift until his remains were found at Ground Zero in October 2001, along with his medical bag and ID. 

Mohammad Hamdani was buried with full honors from the the New York Police Department, and proclaimed a hero by the city’s police commissioner. He is mentioned in the Patriot Act as an example of Muslim-American valor on 9/11. 

May the memories of these two righteous young men always be for a blessing.

Accidental Talmudist

[1l-ynn]

Want You So Bad

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

1.4k words // use of y/n // mutual pining-ish

a/n: this is very long and WILL HAVE a part 2. i realized that i kinda didnt focus on the romance of this like at all... EEK I am open to any feedback!! please tell me if there's anything i need to fix

part two

"No ones asked you? For real?" Nobaras brows pinched in confusion as she stabbed at the peices of lettuce in her bowl. Homecoming was just around the corner, and although you didn't care to go, seeing all your friends get asked out left and right left a bad taste in your mouth.

It seemed like everyone and their moms were getting asked out. Of course the cutest couple, Kirara and Hakari were going together no questions asked. Maki had asked Yuta an hour before lunch. Toge and Panda were going just to cause chaos, and having no one else, Nobara and Yuji decided to go together.

"Yes for real. What did you expect?" You scrunched your face, huffing as you sipped on your strawberry milk. Your style was admittedly different from your group of friends, their light colors and fast fashion seemed to clash with your velvety style. Not even the school uniform could conceal your preference for darker clothes. Maybe thats what scared others off.

"Well you can always go with Yuji and I, I doubt Megumis coming." She drops her fork, wiping her mouth and dusting her hands off. The lunch period was coming to an end. And as she rises from the table, bringing her tray with her, she finishes her statement. "Not unless Yuji successfully forces him."

Megumi had the right idea. Who'd wanna go to an event where high school students get together in a stuffy gym room with their tacky decorations and overplayed pop music? Or better yet, where the girls are practically breaking their ankles from their heels and the guys are sweating bullets into the cheap fabric of their suits.

"Then what's the point of even going?" You say, trying to match her walking pace. You and Megumi weren't close, but that didn't stop the fuzziness you felt anytime he was near.

Though you're sure he doesn't look your way.

It was practically common sense that Megumi wouldn't be joining you guys, he was more of a home body. There's been countless times where you went to hang out with the group and he was no where to be seen. But that's okay, his isolation only made you wanna learn more about what was under those brooding expressions and the walls he kept up so high.

---------

"You're fucking lucky." The dark haired boy grumbled, he looked rather sharp this evening. Too sharp. He was originally planning on pulling an all nighter. Playing valorant until his eyes bled or until Tsumiki had enough of the string of obscenities he would scream at the TV each time he died.

But no, here he was being Yuji and Nobaras personal driver. He's lucky for Gojo, without him Megumi would look a hot mess. He was dressed in a dark gray button up paired with black slacks. His hair was unruly and had no plan to tame itself, and his cologne had this trace of woody scent.

"C'mon Megs- it'll be fun!" Yuji said enthusiastically, though it didn't take a scientist to realize that was bullshit. Megumi knew that he was really there to drive them from homecoming to some after party. "Plus! Y/n's coming, aren't you excited?"

Thats what got him. It was the best manipulation tactic ever, and Yuji knew it. Although he would kill to go back home, get in some sweats and play Valorant, nothing beat the rush of excitement he got thinking about how nice you would look. Granted you always looked nice, your style was always something that interested him.

Your eerie color scheme appealed to others, but Megumi wanted to be the one to uncover those secrets you hid behind those drappy sleeves. Though its not like you guys were close, he was fine wondering why you were thinking behind those perfectly blended smoky eyes.

"Who knows maybe something'll happen tonight?"

"Yeah right, this is so dumb." Megumi ran a hand through his hair. "She's probably gonna latch onto Nobara."

"Okay yeah but- its worth a shot right?" Yuji gives Megumi a sheepish smile that he only rolls his eyes at. He huffs as he pulls out of the driveway and on to Nobaras.

------

"I don't know..." You stood in front of Nobaras full body mirror. Looking at the dress you guys rushed to buy a few days ago. It was complete luck you got such a beautiful dress, completely your style. The fabric was made of black lace, its corset was tight and form fitting, and the neckline hung a little lower against your chest.

Nobara and Maki give eachother a pointed look before looking back at you. Could you see yourself right now? "Girl what are you talking about? There's nothing wrong." Maki says as she touches up her lipstick. She looks up at you with an incredibly deep scowl. You silently cursed yourself for being the reason for Makis sour face.

Maki set down her red lipstick, it went perfectly with the green pattern of her dress. It was a simple style, the only thing about it was the cut in the skirt. Nonetheless she looked perfect. Yuta would think so aswell.

"Yeah, you look fine.." Nobara pauses before looking at you cheekily, a smirk painting its way onto her face. "You look fine."

She was in a satin red dress with an asymmetrical skirt. Her black heels were practically toothpicks, it was insane how she was keeping herself upright.

You roll your eyes, continuing to pick yourself apart. "Doesn't something look off?" Maybe it was because your hair pins were poking into your head and you were sure it was gonna give you a headache. Or maybe it was the fact that your makeup was a lot lighter than usual.

"Look, you look great. Those guys are gonna wish they were got their grabs, okay?" She hugs you from behind, pouting a bit before starts speaking. "Y'know-"

"KUGISAKI. The boys are down here." Her grandmother called from downstairs.

The boys..? Wasnt it just supposed to be Yuji?

"Finally." Maki grumbled, grabbing her hand purse and walking out the door.

"Wait, what does she mean boys-?" Your question goes unanswered as she unlatches from your back, grabbing her purse and making her way out the door.

Her head pops in for a second. "You look fucking hot, okay?" The brunette gives you one last smirk before saying "Megumi will think so, now let's go."

"Wait- what?!"

---

"They've been up there all evening. I don't even think they got any food..." Nobaras grandma says as she wraps up the last of her Onigiri. Placing them into a small bag before handing it to Yuji. His fat ass already digging in. "Take these so you guys don't starve."

Megumi's face immediately pulls into a scowl, as he raises a hand to smack Yuji with. Earning a yelp from the pink haired boy. "Thank you Ma'am. Thats very generous of you."

"Ehh..Don't mention it." She waves her hand, beginning to clean the kitchen. Just in time for the girls to start walking down. First Maki, then Nobara and lastly y/n..

Y/n...?

"Oh would you c'mon already?!" Nobara throws her head back in exasperation. She looked up at the stairs with an expectant glance. "God so help me-"

Megumis adams apple bobbed in his throat, holding that same expecting glance. He was silently preparing himself for your arrival. His brain filling with possibilities of what you could be wearing.

"Get down here before we drag you down." Maki was already starting to stomp up the stairs.

"Okay- okay I'm coming.." You slowly walk down steps, Your hands clutching onto your long skirt so it wouldn't get caught under your heel.

Megumi's breath hitched- There you were in all your glory. Your dress was perfect. The corset fit snugly on your waist. Like it was tailored to your form, or better yet a second skin. It continued to hug you down to your knees showing off the cute divots where your hips were. Your sleeves went down in that same fashion, draping down your forearm. And to top it all off your neckline rested just a bit lower than your collarbones.

Megumi practically had hearts for eyes, watching you look around nervously. Your makeup was simpler than usual but that didn't take away from the look overall. He was stuck in that daze until you both locked eyes.

"Finally. Now let's go take pictures!"

part two

[nusta]

Articolo interessante, mi ha ricordato un video visto qualche tempo fa sempre a "difesa" di Rothko, mi pare, o comunque dell'arte contemporanea e dell'arte astratta. A certi livelli si sfora nel mercato del lusso (e io non sono certo la persona giusta per difenderlo XD) ma in generale sono d'accordo che dire "potevo farlo anche io" è un'affermazione superficiale. Però mi viene da dire che anche la replica "no, altrimenti l'avresti fatto" è altrettanto superficiale: datemi una buona rendita e qualche colpo di fortuna e vediamo. Non sono d'accordo nemmeno rispetto all'idea che le opere debbano essere apprezzate senza spiegazione: non si arriverà mai ad esplicitare completamente il senso di un'opera d'arte, letteraria, musicale o visiva che sia, perché il senso va ben oltre le intenzioni di chi l'ha creata, ma raccontare il contesto, l'ispirazione e soprattutto la storia personale che ha alle spalle un'opera aiuta moltissimo a modellare la nostra impressione e comprensione. E trovo utilissimo anche accostare delle opere che nulla hanno a che fare tra di loro se non l'eco esistenziale che generano in chi le esperisce, secondo me non c'è bisogno di inventare o ingannare, anzi, apprezzerei di più la trasparenza di chi mi dicesse "prova a pensare a questo e quello insieme, non ti sembra che sia lo stesso messaggio in due lingue diverse? Cosa ti dice sulla natura umana e i suoi modi di concretizzarsi in tempi e mondi lontani?"

No, non potevi farlo anche tu «Se fai il cantante devi vendere tanti dischi, se scrivi tanti libri, mentre se fai l’artista visivo per farcela dovrai convincere pochissime persone, molto ricche, di valere il prezzo della tua opera. La spada di Damocle del lo potevo fare anch’io non è stata forgiata solo dalla diffidenza del pubblico, ma anche dall’atteggiamento insopportabile di noi addetti ai lavori. Il problema è che a farne le spese sono artisti immensi, come Mark Rothko»

[directdogman]

A large Milt post.

The funny thing about writing characters is that you often forget how little of them you've shown off. Milt's pretty detached from the plot (not even being explicitly mentioned in-game) so I guess it's fair to say that the audience doesn't really 'know' him well.

Given how much detail the audience knows about Crown's life during the war and immediately after it, it'd be interesting to mention a little bit about Milt's war history, especially since Crown's time during the war is pretty important to understanding a part of his character - why he was so dead-set on changing the world. Ironically, Milt's experiences were very different in a lot of ways, but wound up bringing him to the same place. This information would be obscure, but likely known to anyone who'd want to study him in DT's universe, so I guess there's no harm in mentioning some of it:

Milt was born into a more affluent family than Crown's and didn't face the same kind of nail-biting poverty that Crown did as a child. He was a Corporal (Acting Sgt) by the end of the war and had a distinguished record as a war hero. He was very well respected by those in his platoon, having a reputation for honesty, kindness and always following through on his word, no matter the circumstances. However, was also known to be someone you didn't wanna push around or back into a corner, as he was fiercely intelligent and very determined - not the sort of person you'd want to wrong.

He was a part of the DDay landings during the European campaign, an event he remembers as a terrifying and chaotic loss of life. Milt later rejected claims of his valor during the landing in the years following the war. After the fall of Berlin in mid 1945, Milt rejected the opportunity to remain in Europe as an occupying force (which was available to him because of his reputation/rank) in order to join the Pacific Theater. This was partially out of a sense of survivor's guilt (personally knowing many soldiers from his town who'd died in the campaign) and partly because he feared returning to relative peace and being alone with his thoughts again.

Milt's time in the Pacific Theater isn't nearly as well known due to how unwilling he was to talk about it to anyone, though he once opened up to Marla about it. Milt witnessed the destruction of Hiroshima from a distance, an event that's forever etched into his mind.

When Milt returned to the States, with a military scholarship, he decided to focus his efforts into trying to make the world a better place and began studying science. His dream was to develop a new form of irrigation that could terraform large swathes of land into farmland so the whole world could be fed. Due to his intelligence and determination in seeking his goal, he wound up taking to his work well. He took a keen interest in the new concept of the structure of DNA in particular, which was discovered in the early 1950's, believing that genetic modification could be used to create new forms of plant life that could feed vast amounts of people. Milt never ceased contact with his contacts from University, nor lost his love for science and the pursuit of a better world through the advancement of technology/science. But, most of all, he never abandoned his dream of making the world a better place, one where the horrors he'd witnessed as a younger man (such as mass human death, starvation and mass-chaos) could never happen again.

Shortly after graduating, he attended a political rally in Madison, Wisconsin and met a passionate public speaker/local business owner who'd change the course of his life forever. The rest is history.

[raccontidialiantis]

Il fondo, in fondo…

Si: te lo dicono tutti. Tutti quelli pieni di buonsenso. Ma intanto adesso senti un chiodo al costato. Però alla fine, quando pure questa sarà passata avrai avuto l'ennesima conferma che la vita non è altro che una serie lunghissima di dune: arrivato in cima alla prossima a costo di duri sacrifici, ti senti padrone del mondo. Quello è proprio il momento in cui tutto viene rimesso in discussione e inizi a precipitare. Nuovamente. A volte di colpo, altre lentamente. Sino a toccare il fondo.

E lì il luogo comune direbbe che c'è ancora dinamica per… scavare. Non è così: toccare il fondo è ciò che ti fa riscoprire quello che vale davvero. Ciò che ti mantiene umile e discrimina le persone e i valori davvero importanti per te. Toccare il fondo vuol dire fare un bagno nell’umiltà e piegare le gambe per darti una bella spinta, in modo da tornare a galla. Non esiste nessuno che veramente viva quella che comunemente si definisce una bella vita. Esistono solo prove differenti per ciascuna anima.

È un percorso di crescita diverso per ciascuno e tutti studiamo con impegno, all'Università della Terra. Non c'è una durata standard del piano di studi a cui fare riferimento, né una qualche garanzia di risultato. Non puoi comprarti un esame né scegliere l'appello. O le materie, i professori. Ti arriva la prossima prova davanti ai piedi come un pacco che devi scartare e ne sei sempre spiazzato.

Te lo fanno apposta: per vedere come reagisci. Se fossi preparato infatti, significherebbe che già ci sei passato, già coosci il risultato del test e quindi avrebbe valore zero, per il punteggio dell'anima. A volte ti fanno arrivare un regalo: che serve a non farti scoraggiare, a vederti sorridere. A rilassare il tuo percorso per un po'.

Ma non è così che cresci; non è così che provi sensazioni, emozioni. Odio, amore, paura, desiderio, passione, attrazione, disperazione, resurrezione. E poi lacrime, sorrisi, risate e grida di dolore soffocate o urlate: tutti veri e propri tesori, racchiusi nella dinamica e nei battiti del tuo cuore.

Perché forse l'hai scordato, o forse nessuno qui te l'ha ancora detto: tu sei una fonte di luce. Un diamante inscalfibile, un pezzetto di un'energia senza tempo né spazio. Un umile fante dell'esercito della luce che qui sulla Terra cerca gli elementi utili per tornare a casa, prima o poi.

L'avrai letto, da qualche parte: non sei un corpo che ha un'anima, ma un'anima a cui è dato un corpo per una breve gita su questo mondo. E poi ancora e ancora. Goditela. Sii presente a te stesso e compi le scelte che ti sembreranno più giuste, in buona fede. Nel bene e nel male. E soprattutto non dimenticarti dell'amore, che nei momenti bui ti salva.

Amore dichiarato, amore contrastato, amore impossibile, amore segreto, amore indecente, amore per i figli, amore per la vita che infine ti sfugge di mano: non esiste amore che non valga la pena vivere. E rispettare. Facci caso: anche dopo una storia finita male, non esiste nessuno che comunque non ringrazi Iddio. Tu non farai certo eccezione, col tuo bellissimo sorriso amaro di oggi. Me lo fai un sorriso, si?

RDA

[nebulaafterdark]

Exile (Part 8)

Summary: Y/N Undersee thought the games were over after becoming a victor. Unfortunately, life outside the arena has become just as dangerous. Prequel to Moves & Countermoves. SOTR SPOILERS

Trigger warning: forced prostitution, explicit sexual content, alcohol abuse and other mentions of trauma. 18+ ONLY

Part 7

“I’m tellin’ you somethin’s goin’ on with Y/N. The way she’s actin’.” The footage they’re showing of that little girl mentoring the games, makes it look like she’s having the time of her life. “That ain’t her.”

“You need to leave now.” Y/N’s father insists, attempting to close the front door between them.

“Valor, please.” Cherry presses her hand against it. “She’s your daughter.”

The mayor’s eyes narrow, full of rage. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that? Don’t you think I’ve tried to buy her way out? Barter and plead her way out? She’s my daughter, for god’s sake!”

“So what then? You just give up?” Tucker places his boot between the door and its frame.

“My daughter will be home from the Capitol any minute.” Valor reminds them. “After which time, I have one year to come up with a solution that doesn’t end with my entire family dead. I advise you to do the same.”

Tucker yanks his boot free of the slamming door. “Prick.”

“What do we do now?” Haymitch doesn’t have any family left. No real friends. Just that girl and him, exiled in Victors’ Village.

“There is someone who might know something, but it’s a long shot.” Burdock hasn’t spoken to Haymitch in years. Not since Haymitch started pelting him and his girl with rocks.

Doesn’t matter who it is. “It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

————————————————————————

Burdock and Asterid are not expecting visitors. So when there is a knock at the door after supper, Burdock answers, warily.

Waiting at the stoop is their neighbors from a few blocks down. Cherry and Tucker Carell, lost their oldest in the games a few years back.

“We need to speak with you about Haymitch Abernathy.”

Burdock steps out onto his porch, floorboards creaking beneath him. “What about him?”

“I remember you were close as kids.”

“We’re not kids anymore.”

“Please,” Cherry cuts in. “It’s Y/N. I know you don’t know her, but we do…we did.”

“The laryngitis girl?” Haymitch’s wife.

“Yes,” Cherry snaps her fingers. “She said she lost her voice because she didn’t want them usin’ her words to glorify somethin’ she didn’t believe in.”

Burdock sighs, “I am very sorry for your loss.”

Their loss. They’ve lost that girl.

“We want to get her back.” Tucker explains.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you can’t. Once a person belongs to them, there’s no turning back. Whatever is happening to her…cannot be undone.”

“That’s not true.” It can’t be.

“Haymitch was my best friend.” Burdock presses on. “He changed, and I don’t blame him. For all he lost…the things he’s seen…”

“Did it happen all at once? The change in em?” Cherry asks.

“No.” Burdock admits, “it took time.” The drinking didn’t help.

“This happened in a week.” Tucker points out.

“Are you sure it is her?” Burdock mutters.

“Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know how true this is,” Burdock clenches his jaw, “the person who told me was…indisposed at the time. But there was a tribute from twelve, reaped for the Quarter Quell who was killed in the parade. They replaced her with a girl who looked enough like her…”

“A body double?” Cherry’s brows pull together.

“She had something in her ear to control her. They could speak into it and even pump some kind of medicine through it.”

“Some kind of bug.”

“Must’ve been.” Burdock nods. “Haymitch said it would bleed.”

“Haymitch told you this?”

“Like I said, I don’t know how true it is. He wasn’t well. But Wyatt Callow died before her,” or so the story goes. “Louella’s casket smelled a lot worse than his when we buried them.”

The silence hangs heavy between them. 

“You seem like good people,” Burdock says, “and I am truly sorry you’re wrapped up in all this. Please be careful, or people are gonna start dropping like flies again.”

Tucker tosses an arm around his wife, leading her away. “Thank you for your time.”

Burdock watches them go, with a heavy heart. To the victor go the spoils.

Cherry and Tucker make their way back home, leaning into each other as they walk.

“We gotta do it.” Run. This could be their last chance.

“We can’t take her.” Not like they wanted to. Not the way they planned it before.

Tucker hangs his head, staring down at the ground. “I know.”

Can’t even tell her goodbye.

“This is what she would want.” He reminds his wife. “The little girl who showed up on our doorstep with flowers for our boy and a gift for each of his siblings. She would’ve wanted us to go.”

“We could leave her somethin’ at least.” Cherry suggests, “a letter.”

————————————————————————

“We’re packin’ just a couple things, like we talked about.” Cherry reminds her children.

“When are we leaving?” Micah, her second oldest son, asks.

“After dinner.” Tucker tells him.

“Can I take my bear?” Peach, their youngest, newly six, holds up her favorite stuffed animal.

“Of course,” Cherry taps her nose. They’ve already packed up everything the little ones would need.

Interdistrict travel is strictly prohibited, but Cherry’s mother was always telling stories about when she was a girl. ‘Free as birds, we were. There’s life outside these districts, Cherry. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.’

District thirteen was said to be destroyed by the Capitol, turns out that isn’t true. A couple of their friends have trickled out to test the waters, sending signs that the coast is clear. They were only waiting for Y/N to get home.

Cherry sits down at the table, paper and pen in hand.

‘My dearest, Y/N.

I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. I once suffered from some delusion that Tyson’s memories are tied to the walls of this house. That some part of him resides in the bones, buried outback. But I was wrong. My son is not trapped in a place, or a body or even this earth. We are.

Trapped in a district the president has no love for. Where children are starved and slaughtered for entertainment. There’s got to be more than this. We’re going to find it, for our boy, for all of our children, for you.

We tried waiting for you, couldn’t bear leaving you behind. I can hardly bring myself to do it now, but you belong to them. And they will never let you leave.

I know, in my heart, that if the girl we opened our home to and love like our own is still inside you; she’ll understand. I hope we find each other again, somehow, someway, in a new, free world. But for now we’ve gotta go and you’ve gotta stay. We’re still rooting for you, little girl.

Love always,

Ma, Pa, Tyson, Micah, Hudson, Rixi, Adelaide, Hoytt, Valley, Iverson, Olivette, Harvest, Fauna, Wells and Peach.’

When she is finished, Tucker raises the letter to eye level. Resting a hand on her shoulder as he reads it over, then folds it in eighths. Taking the pen in his own hand to jot down, ‘burn after reading.’

“I’m going to sit with Ty for a while before we go.” Cherry tells him, leaving the note and their simmering stew, in his care.

“Alright, baby.” Tucker presses a kiss to her cheek as she passes.

Cherry treks through the house and out the back door. Tyson’s headstone is decorated by a beautiful arrangement of wild flowers. Each picked by hand. She all but collapses onto the ground beside him.

“Tyson, I need a sign.” She murmurs into the evening breeze. “Tell me I’m doing the right thing.”

Nothing.

Even the electric fence beyond the yard is silent. Silent because it’s off.

Knocking from the front door carries through the house. Cherry rises, brushing dried grass and dirt her dress. “Tucker, who is that?” She closes the back door behind her, watching her husband peer through the peek hole.

“It’s Y/N.”

————————————————————————

When Y/N is finally permitted to leave, Cherry and Tucker are left with a truth much more devastating than any hypothetical they’d considered.

Y/N is still herself.

Fully aware; in her own body.

What controls her now is the fear of losing people she loves.

“We can’t leave her. Not now, not like this.” Cherry whispers.

Tucker covers his mouth. “Cherry, I put the note in her pocket.”

“What? Why?”

“Because nothing changed,” he takes her face in hand. “All we’re doing by staying here is giving Snow more leverage against her. Are you willing to put the blood of every name you signed in that letter on Y/N’s hands?”

“No,” Cherry shakes her head.

“Neither am I.” Tucker huffs, “we have to do this now. Like we planned, the fence is off. It’s now or never.” He doesn’t want to do this, he has to do this.

————————————————————————

Valor is still pacing in the foyer, after his unexpected visit from the Carells. Given their status, they’re not being watched by the Capitol very closely, if at all. They may be able to help Y/N in ways he can’t.

Donning his coat and shoes, Mayor Undersee sets out to visit the seam. The stares he receives from those who reside there are not the kindest. Still he waves and offers a quiet, “hello.”

There’s some commotion, near the far end, the very house he’s headed for. Smoke and screams greet him as he rounds the bend. The Carell house is on fire.

“Get up! Everyone, out of your houses. There’s an active fire. We need water.”

————————————————————————

Y/N is still holding the letter when Haymitch wakes the next morning. She’s so far gone that she doesn’t even realize he’s behind her, until there’s a pair of arms encircle her waist.

“They’re gone.”

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

“They left,” Y/N waves the proof at him. “The fire was a distraction.”

Haymitch inspects it carefully, reading over the letter twice, before clearing his throat. “Gotta get rid of it.” Too damning all around.

“I know.” Her fingers clutch the corner.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch turns her away from the fireplace. Slowly working the parchment free from her hand. “Hold onto me instead.”

She does, desperately fisting his shirt in her hands.

Haymitch tosses the evidence into the fire, watching flames eat away at the words, until there is nothing left. He keeps her close, shuffling backwards toward the sofa.

“Don’t go anywhere, Haymitch.” Y/N says, softly.

Haymitch mulls it over for a moment. Hoping that some great words of comfort and encouragement will flood his brain. But there is no divine intervention, just the weight of her head against his shoulder. “I won’t.”

“Hold onto me instead.”

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @ancientbeing10 @1-800-styles @l3xi3luv @lam-ila @druby2011-blog @liballer @readinginthe-am @rae-11 @champomiel @mariechristine00 @solacestyles @inky-sun @dadbodfanatic-x @sandorcleganeslutt @indigoashh @mustainelove @darkened-writer @ch3rrybutterfly @boredomquest @theladyofmanyfandomsofficial @kisskittenn @kwllakka @feeblemindedfool @oopsieikilledan @that-one-fangirl69 @just-levyy @thisisthepartwhereishutup @alixxhere @quackitys-amor @pepelachanel @lurkingsparrow @faithalsip09 @cwallace02sblog @animaloversammy @peachiesnsilk @libbyaller @juiceboxfullofslime @libra-2409 @heidiland05 @evansorry @caraxes-syrax

[unlicensed-field-medic]

Good if we missed it I was going to riot. [Will laments, glad percy let the topic drop and clearly speaking from personal experience with this specific bus] or if its full of monsters, but mostly just if we miss it

[Will shows up, knocking on the poseidon cabin, waiting for Percy to open the door, faint bags under his eyes though thats pretty normal for Will, and his bags considerably emptier than they normally are]

@unlicensed-field-medic

[percy opens the door, one shoe half tied, smiling at will, a mostly empty backpack hanging off one shoulder] hey, man

[abr]

1) L'OMS non serve A NULLA. Aveva un senso nel 1948 quando le informazioni sulle epidemie arrivavano con il telegrafo. Ora siamo in infodemia. Durante il covid l'OMS non ha fornito una singola informazione utile. Se non serve a quello evidentemente la sua reale funzione ora è un'altra.

2) L'OMS per pagare le sue ENORMI spese è in modo sostanziale finanziata da privati. Tra essi i principali contributori sono la Bill Gates Foundation, case farmaceutiche e associazioni pro diffusione vaccini, a loro volta pagate dai medesimi, come GAVI Alliance.

3) A Maggio l'OMS cercherà di forzare tutti gli stati membri a firmare il cosiddetto "Trattato pandemico", una specie di MES DELLA MALATTIA, che garantirà ampi poteri all'organizzazione.

4) Se non riuscirà a compiere la forzatura del trattato pandemico, l'OMS tenterà di introdurre le stesse cessioni di sovranità via cambiamenti del "Regolamento Sanitario Internazionale", introdotto anni fa e già in vigore.

5) Un terzo del bilancio dell'OMS, oltre un miliardo di dollari, va negli stipendi del personale OMS sparso in sedi faraoniche in tutto il mondo. Lo stipendio MEDIO di chi lavora all'OMS, compresi i fattorini, è 120mila euro COMPLETAMENTE ESENTASSE.

6) Un altro terzo abbondante del bilancio OMS va in consulenze, strumento del tutto opaco per pagare a discrezione persone e organizzazioni in tutto il mondo.

7) La spesa in viaggi in giro per il mondo a carico dell'OMS è 160 milioni. I benefit futuri del personale sono un valore non desumibile dal bilancio, però la semplice oscillazione attuariale indica una cifra enorme.

8) La spesa TOTALE OMS per medicine e apparecchiature mediche in Africa è di soli 45 milioni. Tutta questa organizzazione enorme per una cifra minore del bilancio del comune di Urbino? Meno dei semplici costi di viaggio allocati a OMS Africa (53 milioni).

9) Il direttore OMS, l'Etiope di un partito comunista nazionalista, Tedros Ghebreyesus, mentre era ministro della sanità in Etiopia ha intessuto relazioni con la fondazione Bill Gates venendo nominato nel board di GAVI, the vaccine alliance, finanziatori complessivamente dell'OMS per quasi un miliardo.

10) L'Italia contribuisce in modo diretto e indiretto allo stipendificio OMS per circa 100 milioni l'anno.

Le fonti di quanto sopra nel post: https://x.com/borghi_claudio/status/1756740629432860843

Nulla di specifico contro l'OMS. Quanto sopra vale per praticamente tutte le Organizzazioni Pubbliche Sovranazionali, a partire da Onu e a proseguire con EU. Sono STIPENDIFICI ESENTASSE.

[cardisimo]

Al giorno d’oggi è raro incontrare qualcuno veramente integro. Le persone portano dentro paure, traumi, abbandoni e cicatrici. Quando trovate una persona autentica, datele il valore che merita: non esiste la perfezione, ma solo anime ferite con il desiderio sincero di amare.

[angelap3]

Prima di morire a 40 anni di cancro allo stomaco, la designer e autrice di fama mondiale "Crisda Rodríguez" ha scritto:

1. Avevo l'auto più costosa del mondo nel mio garage, ma ora devo usare la sedia a rotelle.

2. Nella mia casa ci sono vestiti di ogni tipo di marca, scarpe e oggetti di valore, ma ora il mio corpo è avvolto in un piccolo panno fornito dall'ospedale.

3. ho un sacco di soldi in banca ma ora non ne sto traendo vantaggio.

4. La mia casa era come un castello, ma ora dormo su due letti in ospedale.

5. Dall'hotel a cinque stelle ad ora trascorrere il tempo in ospedale passando da clinica a clinica

6. Ho fatto autografi a centinaia di persone ma questa volta le cartelle mediche sono la mia firma.

7. Sono stato da sette barbieri per farmi i capelli, ma ora - non ho un capello in testa.

8. Con un jet privato posso volare ovunque, ma ora ho bisogno di due assistenti per arrivare al cancello dell'ospedale.

9. Anche se ci sono molti cibi, ora la mia dieta è di due compresse al giorno e qualche goccia di acqua salata la sera.

10. Questa casa, questa macchina, quest'aereo, questi mobili, questa banca, la fama e la gloria, nessuno di questi mi è utile. Niente di tutto questo mi rilassa. "Non c'è niente di reale tranne la morte. "

In fin dei conti la cosa più importante è la salute

Sii felice di quanto poco o tanto hai mentre sei in salute, avere un piatto da mangiare, un posto dove dormire è avere tutto.

NON TI MANCA NIENTE.

Vincent Giocoliere

Repost Dignità&Rispetto