#i’ve signed every petition i’ve seen

[sznofthesticks]

.

#i feel so sick #and helpless #i’ve signed every petition i’ve seen #and reposting whatever i can to help spread information #and emailed my congress/senate #i just cried in shower because i feel so numb #but also so grateful to have water. electricity. shelter. #i just feel so helpless #free palestine

[12-seconds-to-live]

How do I say goodbye?

pairing - f1drivers/2022 

sumary - pt1. of 3 stories about losing the only female driver of the grid

warnings - mentions of death, explicit language, description of a crash.

word count: 1.170

---------------There’s a moment, for me, as a driver, I consider like my personal way to “settle down and go”. And for the first time in my life I wish I was wrong ---------------

“If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

“It’s a rainy day in the Baku GP, not usually we see rain in this circuit but I think that there’s a first time for everything. It’s one of those day when I look up to the sky and start thinking if there it’s something about to happen”.

Well, I guess I wasn’t wrong.

“Radio check, y/n”

“Everything looks ok and wet, and I’m still hungry”

“Thought you like it wet?”

“Oi, that’s Max’s joke”

“Haha. Gotta wait for the end of the race for you to eat, you’re currently P4, gap with Leclerc to 0.2 seconds”

“Copy” 

It was raining in the most extremely way and nobody have the decence of just put a stupid red flag, what a stupid thing coming from the FIA. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of these conditions, I’m afraid If something happen to somebody. Being the only female driver wasn’t easy, tons of people saying that I’m not as good but, being with Williams and being accepted by them just gives me all that I need to be who I am today.

“I don't quite know How to say How I feel”

“When It’s the red flag coming up?”

“No news from the stewards, we’ll inform you. Keep on strategy B then pit on the next lap, please”

“It’s pouring and I think...”

Silence

“Alice, are you ok? can you hear me?”

“There’s a massive crash on turn 10, we belive It’s the Williams of y/n Brooks. The race has been red flagged”

“we need to know you’re ok, help is on it’s way, stay calm if you can hear me”

Every driver stays in ther garages, waiting in silence, expecting for news, the thing is ... they are not good, they don’t want to say goodbye, not again.

“The marshalls are trying to take her out of the car and I’ve never seen something like this before. I...I can’t...this is so heartbroken for me. I think she’s not moving, the ambulance arrived and they’re taking her. We can see all the drivers reunited. There’s no news about restarting the race but from here we hope that Alice is ok and get back soon”

Maybe.

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

“Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's bursting into life”

It’s been a week since your accident, the GP was cancelled due petitions from all the teams. All the drivers refuse to race knowing that one of them was almost dying. After two surgerys, the doctors keep yourself in observation, you weren’t awake and without signs, no much can’t be done.

The day before the drivers were allowed to visit you, all of them reunited in petition of Alex, your teammate, he made a promise once and with an uncertain future he decided that it was the right time.

“I talked to her mom yesterday. She couldn’t finish the call” said Sebastian in a sad voice

“I feel empty, this is all FIAs fault, I mean, I can’t barely see anything in the circuit”  said Lando

“Yeah, we all agree with that, at the moment we have to keep our prayers and wait for her to heal. I just... I just call you all because...she...she just” start Alex but remembering the reason made him cry.

“Please don’t tell me she passed and we are the last to know” almost scream Max in horror

“Don’t even say that you morron” said George

Alex dry his tears and start “When we were testing the car she made promise to read out loud something but...but I can’t, I’m afraid to lose her, she’s my teammate, my friend and I’m hopeless. Her accident was horrible, The car was a mess and look at us, we are all a buch of mess boys ‘cause we are losing her” he starts crying ever more that George has to keep beside him “And...and have you seen her family? The have that look when we saw Anthoine parent’s after his accident. I...I can’t read this, sorry”

All the boys stand and hug eachother, thinking of you and how much you change their lifes.

“Let's waste time Chasing cars Around our heads”

Being Alex’s confident

Lando’s favourite parther in twitch

Max’s favourite admirer

Daniel’s shoulder to cry and prankster teammate

Pierre, Charles and Yuki’s mom

Lewis and Zhou’s stylist

Sebastian, Kevin and Alonso’s gossip updater

Bottas favourite rookie

Carlos and Checo to be the one to always talk in spanish

George’s to be the one who always laugh with

Mick for helping him being his best version

Esteban for always watch with him Marvel movies and tv shows

And Lance to be his tennis pal

All of them remember. And one thing is sure. There’s no need of a letter of goodbye to remaind of special you are, how loved you are. They don’t want to say goodbye, doesn’t seem fair but...

There’s not always happy endings.

“Please seat, i’m gonna read it” said Lewis. He wait for all of them and open the envolope that contains your letter, he saw your handwriting, so organized with a blue tint on the paper.

He look all their faces and begins

“Hello, if you are reading this is because something happened to me during a race, well, this is not what we wanted but... well, everything happends for a reason. The thing is that i’m not scared, not at all, i mean, this is almost my last words, not coming from my voice but from the bottom of my heart, every race weekend i think about this, got scared and wanna quit sometimes ‘cause i don’t want to believe that i’m losing you.  I don't know where my life is standing after this and everybody must be scared and sad and confused but I just want to let you know that my absence will never change that you guys are my family” Lewis just recieves a hug from Valteri who decides to continue reading.

“Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before we can meet again and again, after moments or a lifetime, is certain for those who are friends and family. Even though i am going away you will still be a core part of my life. For all the times we hang out, shared laughs, pranks to everybody and races and now I will miss you all the time, hope you do the same. Goodbye. For now. And please, take care between each other. To you, all the drivers, my family, thank you and I love you”.

“Those three words Are said too much They're not enough”

#f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one #f1xfemaledriver #charles lecrelc #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #estaban ocon #carlossainz #y/n x f1 #alex albon #fanfic #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #red bull formula 1 #mercedes formula one

[astroamorsworld]

What I’ve personally noticed with the rising signs…

Don’t take what I say personally, it’s just what I’ve observed with these rising signs and I’ll most certainly update this with other observations when I meet more people.

(I also have not met every rising so don’t be upset if you don’t see your rising sign there)

(I’ll update it when I eventually meet them)

Aries Rising: Just like you’d expect😂 they are very bold, loud and outspoken. Their foreheads are prominent and they’re pretty.

Taurus Rising: They’re homebodies, they love to snack on food and they’re very chill but extremely stubborn and ignorant. Also very pretty.

Gemini Rising: They’re witty, tend to be good with jobs and other things that involve their hands. They tend to speak really fast and have nice eyelashes.

Cancer Rising: Some of them can be quite vindictive, can’t deal with confrontation, they love to wear things that are conventionally seen as feminine, they are pretty feminine in general, they have very round faces and big eyes.

Leo Rising: Very self confident, hair is always a statement peace and are unapologetically themselves, they attract a lot of attention and love dancing. They can also be a little sensitive too.

Virgo Rising: Very critical, academically gifted, petite and also can be quite bold, probably because most of them are sidereal Leo risings. Their hair can be quite short too and love polka dots.

Libra Rising: Always conventionally attractive, round symmetrical faces and can be quite self conscious, they always have to make sure they look good. Have nice thighs and nice bodies overall and have great smiles. They also love wearing pink and love wearing statement perfumes. They love nice things and can be a tad bit shallow.

Scorpio Rising: Almost everything about them is intense, can be quite quiet, they like to play a lot of mind games and can also be quite vindictive and are also usually petite. They also tend to be insecure. They are more comfortable than most people with talking about sex related topics.

Sagittarius Rising: Horrible. I’m sorry but they are incredibly attention seeking, tone deaf and like to say things with the intention of getting on peoples nerves.

Capricorn Rising: haven’t met any yet, sorry guys

Aquarius Rising: again I haven’t met any

Pisces Rising: haven’t met any😕

Check my pinned post for more🤍

DM me if you would like a reading

#astro #astro posts #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrology community #astrology notes #astrology observations #ascendant #astro community #astrology help #astrology placements #astrology posts #astro placements #birth chart #rising sign #Aries #Taurus #Gemini #cancer #Leo #virgo #Libra #Scorpio #sagittarius

[themainspoon]

I’ve seen a lot of support for Palestine on this site, and that’s great, but much of it has been targeted towards Americans and what people in the US can do to help. I believe we need to also be sharing what people in other countries can be doing to help, and so I have compiled a small list of links relevant to those in Australia. If you aren’t Australian I would still ask that you reblog not only this post (in order to ensure that more Australians see it), but I also ask that you consider making posts like this for people in your own nations, and also share other posts like this one targeting a wide range of international audiences.

If you are an Australian Citizen, and you want to do something to help support Palestine, here are a few links to orgs and petitions:

Firstly, APAN, The Australia Palestine Advocacy Network:

https://apan.org.au/

Text from site:

“APAN is a national coalition harnessing the passion of Australians for Palestinian human rights, justice, and equality”

This site contains many important things, such as:

An events portal that lists planned protests and other solidarity events being held soon:

https://apan.org.au/events/

A page that you can use to not only donate to them, but also to find a list of other trusted charities you can donate too:

https://apan.org.au/civicrm/mailing/view/?id=2375&reset=1

ActionAid Australia, a charity focused on Women’s Rights, is also currently running an appeal to provide aid to citizens in Gaza that you can donate to:

Their approach “will prioritise the leadership and needs of women and girls”[direct quote], this is an approach not many other charities are taking, and you can read more about it on their website.

There are also several currently open petitions you can sign, this is not an exhaustive list:

A petition being run by ActionAID, a charity group partnered with APAN:

From their website:

“Join the call to Foreign Minister Penny Wong, for an immediate ceasefire and increase in humanitarian assistance to Gaza. It is time to speak out and say that every life – Palestinian and Israeli – should be valued and treated with humanity. We refuse to be divided in our call for lasting peace and justice. We are calling on our government to hear us and act:

1. We will not be bystanders. Immediate ceasefire now.

2. Nothing can justify violence towards any civilians. Anyone held captive must be released.

3. End the siege that is preventing civilians in Gaza from accessing food, fuel and water and increase our humanitarian assistance. The collective punishment of civilians in Gaza must end.

4. Call for a path to real and lasting peace for Palestinian and Israeli people. “

Petition EN5622 - Call for a Ceasefire and an End to Israeli Occupation:

Text from the e-petition site:

“Petition Reason

The Palestinian people have suffered occupation, ethnic cleansing, and apartheid for over 7 decades, and the state of Israel has consistently disregarded international law according to the UN - most evident recently in their indiscriminate carpet bombing of the Gaza Strip and use of the illegal white phosphorus powder. Yet, the US, UK and Australia (among others) have aided Israel through funding and defense packages, and have never publicly denounced their many transgressions. There must be an end to the atrocities against innocent civilians and a move towards a peaceful resolution.

Petition Request

We therefore ask the House to call for a ceasefire, and promote a constructive discourse into addressing the root cause of this conflict, and move towards a peaceful resolution. We urge the House to publicly condemn any actions that do not align with international law, and call for a solution that will minimise civilian casualties. We ask for an end to the occupation of the Palestinian’s land that was stolen from them over 70 years ago.”

Petition EN5639 - Expulsion of Israeli Ambassador, call for urgent ceasefire in Palestine.

Text from the e-petition site:

“Petition Reason

The current conflict in Palestine has degenerated into a situation tantamount to an ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian people. As Australians we must condemn Israels actions, which are in flagrant violation of international humanitarian law. Since October 7, Over 10,000 Palestinians have been killed in the West Bank and Gaza, they have been denied access to water, electricity and fuel and have been prevented access to humanitarian aid. Hospitals and refugee camps have been deliberately targeted and white phosphorous has been used against civilian populations. Each of these things constitute a breach of international law, and yet our government has not upheld the values of the Australian people by condemning this. Now is the moment in history to do the right thing, it is not too late to save lives in Palestine. For this reason, we the undersigned call on the Australian government to condemn in the sternest terms Israels actions in Palestine and call for an immediate ceasefire as well as the expulsion of the Israeli ambassador to Australia.

Petition Request

We therefore ask the House to move a motion to condemn in the sternest terms Israels actions in Palestine and call for an immediate ceasefire, along with the expulsion of the Israeli ambassador to Australia.”

Petition EN5628 - Retract Governmental Support To Israel, and Demand Ceasefire In Palestine

Text from the e-petition site:

“Petition Reason

In 1948, Palestinians were violently uprooted from their homes, initiating decades of conflict with the Israeli government. Recent escalations in violence have reached a critical point, particularly in Gaza, where Israeli leaders have broken international law. This is evident by the denial of vital resources like water, food, electricity, and fuel, jeopardizing the lives of millions of Palestinians, including a significant portion of children in Gaza. Despite extensive evidence of Israeli war crimes, the Australian government has consistently supported Israel. These crimes encompass the use of White Phosphorus (classified as illegal by the UN) in civilian areas, direct attacks on non-military targets, forced population transfers, ethnic cleansing, and the deliberate starvation of civilians, as reported by Human Rights Watch and the UN. Australia's unwavering support, even after the UN labelled Israeli military actions as "ethnic cleansing" and "egregious violations of international law," is not supported by the Australian public.

Petition Request

We therefore ask the House to reject the notion that colonization should be supported, especially through a genocide. This petition calls for Australia to withdraw its support for the Israeli government, condemn its actions, impose sanctions, and work within the UN to secure a ceasefire and allow delivery of humanitarian aid to Gaza. It is irrational for the Australian government to preach its values of 'freedom, respect, fairness, and equality of opportunity' with its hypocritical treatment of Palestinians. Providing military aid to the state of Israel contradicts these values. Let’s stop Australia in it’s tracks of repeating the history of Indigenous colonisation.”

Petition EN5603 - Condemnation of Israeli aggression in occupied Palestine

Text from the e-petition site:

“Petition Reason

Palestinian civilians, many of whom are young children, have been subject to cruel and vicious collective punishment at the hands of Israel in Gaza. Israel has escalated the blockade by cutting off supply of water, power, fuel and international aid all while indiscriminately bombing civilians. The actions of Israel are considered war crimes under the Geneva Conventions and must be condemned by the House of Representatives.

Petition Request

We therefore ask the House to condemn Israeli aggression in occupied Palestine”

#auspol #free palestine #a certified themainspoon classic

[witchersmistress]

Briar Rose

SURPRISE!!! i have Sy's pov of the events that happened at the club! ive concidered making this into a series but for now @livesinfantasyland Enjoy. with a guest apperance from August.

Trigger warning: Fluff, angst and irritation at yours truly

Word count: 1.4 K

my usual warnings, you do not have permission to copy my work in any shape way or form, if you do ill find you and haunt you for the rest of your days

Sy’s POV

I have said how much I hate the city. Especially LA?? The traffic sucks, the air sucks, this entire place sucks. But I've spent most of my life in the desert so any crowded place isn't the place for me but my business partner needed me so here I am. While i was here my best friend asked me if I could keep an eye out on Ms. Rory, she was visiting a friend. I agreed with no objections, you were indeed a beautiful girl, but you always managed to find trouble.

I left you and Jill in your hotel room as i made my way out to my wait car to take me to the club, Lux, I remember when August approached me about starting this club, i thought he was barking mad but he was right this club made a fortune, but when it came time to sign the papers i could not sign my actual name, so a pen named worked just fine so at the club i was Alex Stone. We pulled up to the curve and my driver rounded the car and pulled the door open “Have a good evening Mr. Stone "I nodded and clapped him on the shoulder before walking into the club. I made my way to my table and waved at the bartender to send a girl my way. It was auction night, which I rarely missed, but with August off gods nowhere with Ethan Hunt’s daughter, I doubt that man will surface any time soon.. The crazy bastard he just had to have her from the moment he saw her, damn near got her killed trying to keep.... Anyway, here I am, as the girls come and go off the block, some aggressive bidding wars built nothing to get out of hand, but it was the flash of a certain young woman with waist long hair that caught my attention, holding my whiskey glass, I zoned in on her.

Begging her to turn around and prove to me that it wasn't you , but she never looked my way. I must be crazy, there is no way you’d put yourself up on the auction block like that. Sipping my whiskey till the glass was empty when the auctioneer called “For the last girl of the night we have the lovely, this stunning briar rose, Aurora Harlowe who is auction 1 hour of her time for a date” my grip instantly tightened on the glass, as i signaled the waitress i wanted another one, looking like an idiot as  I watch you take your place, front and center. standing under the lights, highlighting your long hair and petite stature, I find myself suddenly wanting to race up to that stage, pull you off and back into my office so I could spank your ass raw for pulling a stun like this, Jill and some guy cat called you from where they stood,  standing in the middle of the stage next to Jake, the auctioneer, in your tight little black dress, sky high black heels.. holding your hands clasped together in front of you, looking way out of your comfort zone. I almost feel bad for you, almost.

 After an awkward introduction and some goading from Theo at the bar, they start the bidding, and I have every intention of only being a spectator. A couple people I know end up getting it going. I find myself scrutinizing the people placing bids—low bids, if you ask me. One is a lawyer in his thirties, another, a younger guy I’ve spotted in the voyeur hall a lot, and then a new guy I’ve never seen here before. I shift in my seat. I trust August and the rest of his team to vet their members harshly, but there’s something about seeing a new face at the club that gives me pause. He looks like something the stock market spit out. Cocky expression. Cheap suit. Big attitude. And I can’t help myself. “Fifteen,” I call, your eyes landing in my direction, I'm still concealed in the shadows, for now. “Alexr Stone bids fifteen thousand,” the announcer exclaims. “Do we have a challenger? Can I get sixteen?” “Twenty,” the young guy returns. The other two stay silent.

My spine stiffens when I watch his eyes cascade over Rory. He’s sure as hell not looking at her face. And something about him just gives me a bad feeling. “Twenty-five,” I say with certainty. This time, the kid in the suit turns to glare at me, adjusting the tie around his neck, clearly uncomfortable. As our eyes meet, I watch the fight in his expression die. He’s not going to outbid me, and he knows it. So it’s all a matter of how much he’s willing to risk and how badly he wants to get this fear-stricken girl alone. But I promise, I’m ready to gamble more. Pressing my shoulders back, I wait for his next bid. “Do I hear twenty-six from the young gentleman up front?” He swallows, then turns toward the stage. Rory is starting to look a little green as she waits for the next move. Hesitantly, he raises a hand. “Twenty-six!” All eyes are on me as I nod to the announcer. “Thirty.” you bite your lip. My competitor laughs, looking cocky. “Forty thousand,” he calls out, trying to appear brave. “Fifty,” I say, without even blinking. The young guy comes back with another bid, and another, and another. I outbid each one until he nervously stammered, “Seventy-five.” “One hundred thousand dollars,” I proclaim, my fingers thrumming against the leather of the chair.

There are stirrings of surprise in the crowd. Your already pale skin takes on a new shade of porcelain, like the keys of a shiny new piano. “One hundred, going once…going twice…” Her eyes dance back and forth between me and the young guy. “One hundred thousand to Alex Stone!” Jake announces, and you look about ready to faint. I watch the young guy’s jaw click as he clenches it in frustration. The crowd cheers, staring in my direction  in fascination as you  make your way down from the stage. I signal one of the security guards, “Bring her to my office.” “Yes, Mr. Stone the right way. Polishing off my whiskey as security walks you back, I stand and button up my suit coat. I watch from the shadows as my security escorts you to the elevator, watching you as the doors close. This is wrong but I've denied my feelings for you, for far too long. Making my way over to the elevator, I received a text from the last person I wanted to deal with this evening.. August

“My how the mighty have fallen, your best friend's daughter?”

I looked around to make sure he wasn’t lurking, then i looked up into the camera, that fucker..

“Fuck off August, dont you have some poor girl to terrorize?”

His response was instant:

“Now now, dear cousin, she is curled up sleeping next to me, this pregnancy has not been easy on her” 

I let out a sharp “ha” under my breath, he really is a crazy bastard. Stealing his daughter wasn't enough, he had to go and breed her as well. Shaking my head as i climb into the elevator

 Sy: “ You’ve got some issues, cousin. You make Walter look like a SAINT”

Swiping my master key on the box the elevator began to move as i waited for a response:

August: “Now that would be an achievement, he is rather far out there”

*Walter has joined the chat*

“Oh shit here we go…. 3…2…1”

Walter: Really Sy?? ..took you long enough.. And August well.. I don't know where to begin with you”

August: “Oops did i make this group chat?!?!  *smirking emoji*

You rotten motherfucker August:

Sy: Sometimes i wonder if your mom doesn't regret swallowing you”

Walter: *crying laughing emoji” Damn aiming for the juggular today arent we cuz?”

August: At least he knows how to aim. Walter” 

The elevator opened up to my office. Closing out of the group chat to let them squabble, like they normally do. Masking my way to my office door and opening it slowly seeing you pace back and forth, like a lion in its cage. oh you poor sweet girl you have no idea what you've just done, now this is where the fun really begins.. Tonight baby girl you are going to learn just what kind of man you are dealing with.

#henrycavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson

[dielitttt]

Astro observations pt.7♠️

Aquarius rising in composite charts are the type of friendships/relationships that last really long and Can stop talking for a couple of months and talk again like they didn’t ghost each other😭😭 (me and my friend have this and we’ve been bestfriends for 6 years)

Libra moons have such warm hugs like 🤭🤭

Ppl w cardinal rising signs can be attached to food when they first eat it for a longgg time since their 2nd house is fixed (I have this and I’m like that w every restraurant I go 2💀)

Pisces placements (especially moon) May have been influenced around drugs through father figure and May be more prone to taking drugs in General

why do pisces placements that are men or Taurus placements always gotta make fun of the fact that your something for example : my friend be saying “ur so short😦” LIKE SHUT YO BITCH ASS UP

Air sign chirons are most likely to forget their trauma since they have so many things going around in their head (unless they have major earth sign placements tho)

Pluto in 10h people should be careful when it comes to cultural things or saying certain things because they usually have a bad reputation from what I’ve seen

(Ik this is unusual) My aunt has the same rising as me and she has her moon sign in cancer while I have my moon sign in 4h , my uncle and her treat me as their own and have since I was little and people used to think they were my mom and dad sometimes 😭

Pisces mercury men are so dry in text and don’t understand humor sometimes when it comes to tha media but irl they r rlly funny

My cousin has a Scorpio stellium and god damn he is dramatic dramatic

Cancer moons with a cardinal rising sign Can sometimes take the role of mothering for their younger siblings or just take the role for mothering for kids that aren’t even theirs sometimes

Having ur moon in 4h Can indicate your mother having u at a young age sometimes

Aquarius or 11h placements are willing to make sacrifices for people but the people wouldn’t for them sometimes:(

Ive rarely met any Virgo placements a lot of the time

In Astro observations i never see people talking about virgos or Gemini’s alot

Sun-ascendant, Leo rising, major 5h placements in personal planets usually have a golden tone to their hair

My other cousin has an Aquarius stellium and he acts js like me when I was little so I really can understand him and I feel rlly bad for him because he always gets left out for things 😕

Cancer risings look more identical to their mother a lot of the time

Virgo risings usually have this asymmetrical nose sometimes or a petit nose

Leo placements always give me vibes from that one song that’s called “loyalty” by Kendrick Lamar and Rihanna

Sagittarius venuses like having quickies when it comes to $ex

#spotify #venus trine ascedant #astrology #mf doom #music #playlist #art #rap #asteroid astrology #astrology chart #astrology observations

[capricornrisingsstuff]

This is a prompt from @oneforthemunny summer game! I’ve never written fanfic before and adore @oneforthemunny ‘s writing, so I asked for a prompt and chose this one :)

Prompt: 👙 mafia!Eddie: you need a new swimsuit and mafia!eddie is more than happy to go shopping with you…

Contains: MDNI, sub/dom reader dynamics/light slapping/female reader/descriptions of female anatomy (reader)/mentions of weapons- please lmk if I’ve missed anything!

You looked across the vast size of an empty Starcourt Mall with utter amusement. The sense of amazement had dissipated, you were so used to perusing empty buildings with Eddie. The amusement would always be present in times like this; you still couldn’t quite believe that your boyfriend had the capacity to shut down whole buildings, restaurants, arcades, you name it; with a simple flick of his Italian leather wallet, a winning smile and a gun on his hip.

Steve had called Eddie on his secret office phone a few days prior, informing you both that he and the “shrimps” were having a pool party at his house and if Eddie was feeling domesticated enough to come. Eddie said yes, with the installation of a new CCT system and an undercover guy on every door of the Harrington household, he gave you the green light to also attend. You were excited at the prospect of being “normal” with your boyfriend for the afternoon (minus the signing of NDA contracts everyone had to succumb to who attended, however there was one small obstacle. You didn’t own a swimsuit. That was thrown away when you were packing up for your move to Hawkins and your sensible bank job. Never in your life did you think you would be running in the same circles as people who did fun things, socialised and had a good time.

This is how you found yourself in Starcourt, with Eddie at your side, pinky fingers entwined as you strolled the stores. The mall music still playing mixed with the smells of your favourite food parlours Eddie paid handsomely to stay open “incase you need a shopping snack”. “I think I’ll go to the new lingerie boutique that’s just opened, they sell cute little one pieces” you turned to Eddie as you dragged him along the concourse. You were trying to be excited and you knew Eddie worshipped you but…you’ve never been so “naked” in front of other people before. No one apart from Eddie has seen your naked thighs or tummy and even then, you convinced him you needed to be naked in the lowest of light or completely in the dark (your personal preference).

As you entered the store, the petite sales assistant, with auburn hair and a porcelain complexion behind the counter gave you a dazzling pink lipsticked smile. Her face was catlike, straight off the runway, with her red talon nails clicking on the keyboard of the computer in front of her. You nervously smiled back, wondering if the store would cater for someone with such an ample cleavage and thighs like yours. As you scanned the racks of string bikinis, thongs, one pieces with barely anything there to cover your ass, your face reddened as you let out a huff of disappointment.

Picking up on your fussiness, Eddie kissed your hairline, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Can you not find a colour you like? If they don’t have the shade of purple I know you like, I can have it shipped in for tomorrow”. You smiled as you turned in your boyfriend’s arms, looking up at those lovesick umber eyes of his. “The colours are perfect honey, it’s just…me. I’ve never shown my body even in a one piece before out in public and I know I don’t look like her” as you glanced towards the waif-like looking sales assistant; who was currently strutting around the store putting away stock like she was setting up for the latest runway photo shoot.

Eddie hooked his finger under your chin and turned your face towards his, the fingers of his other hand trailing across the rack of one pieces. “Sweetheart”, he muttered in your ear as he pulled a little red number off of the rack, “if you don’t get into this one piece right now and push up those pretty tits of yours, I’ll spank you into next week; I’ll do it in the middle of the mall if I have to”. Your thighs unconsciously rubbed together at his dominance. He knew exactly how to get you into that confident headspace you never could on your own.

As the mall was totally devoid of customers and the only shop assistants on shift were at Eddie’s discretion (plus his security), Eddie stalked his way into the fitting room behind you, pulling the curtain back with a yank. You wasted no time in stripping from your clothes and stepping into the red Lycra- something highly reminiscent of Pamela Anderson running sexily along a California beach. Before you could even pull up the straps, ringed fingers were under them, smoothing the straps to your shoulders.

Eddie looked over your shoulder at you in the mirror, umber eyes blown black, as those ringed fingers made their way under the material of the swimsuit; grazing your chest and lightly fingering the swell of your ample cleavage.

“See sweetheart, who needs a sales assistant when you have one right here?” Eddie smirked as you let out the small whine that was brewing in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend always had the ability to turn you into a wet, whimpering, mess before he had even touched you. “Gotta make sure it fits in all of the right places princess, you can’t be going around in clothes that don’t fit”. Suddenly, the side of your face met the wall of the fitting room, as Eddie turned you by your hips and pushed you against it; his black leather boots gently pushing your ankles to each side so your legs were spread just right for him. “I don’t want people thinking that I don’t take care of my girl and pay attention to her needs do I?” He whispered in your ear as his mouth made its way to the crook of your neck. “I don’t think they have a tape measure in here sweetheart, so I guess my fingers will have to do” .

All you could feel in that moment was your nipples against the cold wall, hardening at Eddie’s touch as he pulled your swimsuit to the side around your already clenching pussy. “I wonder if this swimsuit is as waterproof as it claims it is” Eddie mused in a mocking tone, his fingers splayed across your cunt, his ring finger dipping into your wetness. “My, my sweetheart, you’re giving the material a test run already; you’re soaked. Is this just for me?” You let out a muffled moan, your eyes rolling back as Eddie playfully slapped your ass “use your words princess, otherwise daddy won’t buy you what you want, my little slut getting all needy and wet for daddy in public”. “Yes daddy”, you whined, breath hitching with each finger added into your dripping cunt, “it’s for you, always for you”.

“I thought so honey…now I’ll strip this suit off of you, put it in my back pocket and you’ll get a new one off the rack okay?” You nodded all wide eyed as your boyfriend talked down to you. “Take my card to the register and be a good girl while I think of ways to punish your fuckin’ bratty attitude. Daddy doesn’t tolerate brats”.

Eddie’s tongue licked your bottom lip as you pulled the suit down your chest; the moans and thumps coming from the fitting room remained unquestioned-the store would remain open all night if necessary.

#mafia!eddie munson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson smut #stranger things #boyfriend!eddie munson

[barbiewritesstuff]

Me back on my shit

Ok ok unlikely AF I know yes but consider

Cyclone. Angry cyclone. Absolutely pissed off Cyclone. Cyclone that has his own warning furious. That glare (you know the one). Tight jaw. Clenched teeth. The works. And saying:

Yes ma'am

Cyclone went through stages when he was angry. 

Stage One was the easy one, the gentle one. The ‘I had a bad day and now I’ve stubbed my toe’ kind of anger. Stage Two was the start of something but it went away rather fast, the kind you get after being stuck in traffic for a while. Stage Three was the sort of low level, constant crabbiness that came whenever Maverick was scheduled to fly. Stage Four was the fury he felt whenever Maverick was at his most reckless, whenever someone went against orders. It was the rage that made him scream and end careers. 

Stage Four was the worst you’d ever seen Beau. 

Fleet Admiral Fischer had made him jump straight to Stage Five. 

She had come for ‘a surprise visit’ as she called it. She did them every few months now that Admiral Kazansky had died. It was supposedly to ensure the smooth transfer from one Admiral to another, she was nothing but a helping hand if he needed help adapting, but Beau knew she came because she didn’t fucking trust him not to run this base into the fucking ground. 

“Captain Mitchell, now’s not the time,” Beau had said, as soon as Mav had poked his head through the office door.

“No, no, I don’t want to disturb the running of your base,” She had assured him. And yet, after Maverick slapped the request to lower the hard deck onto his desk like he was asking him to sign a fucking greenpeace petition and explained why, which, by the way, was so fucking ridiculous Beau had thought no one in their right mind would ever agree to it, she immediately opened her mouth and said, “I think that’s a splendid idea. Don’t you Admiral?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied through gritted teeth, forgetting to add the title, sending her the deadliest glare he could muster while she wasn't looking.

He would have damn near flipped his desk right then if you hadn’t walked by and asked Fleet Admiral Fischer if she wanted a coffee once you saw the warning lights flaring behind Beau’s eyes. Mercifully, she said yes to that and to your offer to show her around the brand new Kazansky building where they had built a new cantina.

He was still reeling when you came back, pacing back and forth in his office. His hand had run through his hair so much he was dishevelled. In his frustration, he had thrown whatever had been on top of his desk onto the floor, littering it with loose sheets of papers, pens, a broken calculator and pieces of ceramic from a mug of coffee he had thrown against the wall. 

When you walked in the room he stood tall, breathing in deep to fill his lungs to full capacity, storing the air in his cheeks and then exhaling again. He’s got that look in his eyes. The one you expected to find, to be honest, which is why you changed out of your flight suit and into your civvies as soon as your day ended, and why when you got dressed after your shower, you didn’t bother putting your panties back on. 

He ran a hand through his hair one last time while you crossed the room to stand in front of him. He kissed you roughly, clearly conveying that he was doing this for you and if it had been up to him, he would have had his way with you as soon as you were within reach. You indulged him, bending down on his desk so he got a clear look at what you had under that dress – that little sundress he got you. Beau didn’t bother dropping his trousers, he just unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants before lowering his underwear enough that his cock was freed. 

After that, he was fucking himself free of the fury burning hot inside him. Ramming into you at an unforgiving pace that bruised your hip bones a little more with each thrust against the desk. In an effort to keep the noise down he grabbed a hold of your throat and pulled you up towards him, shoving two fingers into your mouth to stifle your moans, and eventually your scream when you tightened against him and your legs shook, threatening to give out.

Beau lets you back down against the desk, fucking you through your orgasm as hard as he could. He was giving you everything he had until he buried himself as deep as you would let him and shot his release inside your core. He slumped against you, panting as his forehead rested against your back, his legs shaking. 

He regained his composure not a minute too soon. A few seconds after he pulled out of you, fixed his trousers and opened a window, Fleet Admiral Fischer swung by to bid him farewell. You were lucky you had thought to fix your dress and your hair, and that Beau had done the same, and even luckier that when her eyes swept over you to take in your flagrant violation of base dress code, she couldn’t see what was running down your leg.  

“That dress is both forbidden by the dress code, and quite frankly obscenly short, Lieutenant. I expected better of you” she told you, turning around to walk to the door. With one hand on the handle, she turned back to Beau, “I hope you are giving her her due punishment, Admiral.”

Cyclone couldn’t help but smile, “Yes ma’am,” he replied

#fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #fanfiction #original fic #cyclone x reader #cyclone #beau cyclone simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson

[rinbowaman]

A Blank Canvas

Warnings: Yandere content, obsessive behavior/thoughts, hints of kidnapping without directing mentioning as such, stalk-ish behaviors, mentions of a private investigator.

For my beloved fellow writer, creator, and friend, @ateliertale. Take this as an early birthday present. ❤️

I lay wide awake, her face is so youthful and vibrant, like the fresh green blooming's of spring. Her eyes dazzle like lustrous granite, and are as wide as the sky above. Her hair is all natural, and graces over her petite shoulders, further complimenting her rather small structure. I chuckle at her height, or the lack thereof. She is so small, so tiny, yet her personality is larger than life. 

“Heh…adorable.”

I chuckle every time I look at her. She is so perfect…so cute and pretty, so tamed and wild. She has become my everything, my one and only. I've seen her face over a thousand times and I never get tired of staring... I dream of her so often that it has become a nightly ritual every time I lay my head to rest.

It drives me crazy, the way I fantasize about her. The first time I witnessed the glories of true and effortless beauty, was when I saw her passing by at one of our fan signs. It’s not normal for something to distract me so easily; I’ve held hands with every Lune in the continent, and shared sweet words to feed their delusional desires…empty words. I used to think that the words I spoke to these girls were meaningless and shallow, all of which were expressed with a certain amount of gratitude, but taken with a grain of salt. It is a part of my job, after all. Yet the moment I saw her walking by, linking arms with her friend, I realized that there is meaning behind those words…my actions…and those feelings, there definitely is…just not with them…only with her. 

I used to grow angry and frustrated whenever I dreamt of her. It was as if she was haunting me with her delicate smile, and taunting me with that sweet laugh. I wanted to catch her...but she was always too far from my reach. I'd wake up, empty handed with only her face permanently ingrained in my brain. That's when it all dawned on me...It is something that I hadn’t symbolized until recently, and now that I have, I finally understand what the universe is telling me….

“We belong….we are in love.” 

Yes, we are in love. She may not realize it fully…yet. But the way she flipped her hair and glanced my way, I could see it in her eyes that she was meant to be mine. Her soft smile as she issued a small nod, acknowledging my presence as I smiled back and waved. Of course the fan before me was definitely not happy, but who cares. Is there even a point of me doing lives anymore? When all I can see…all I can hear…all I can think is…

“Kei? Are you ready to go?”

“Hm? Oh…yeah.”

“Laying and staring at the ceiling again? Isn’t that boring?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Then why do you do it so often?”

“Because I’m not looking at the ceiling…I’m seeing something beyond beauty and comfort.”

“....oooookay…well, stop staring at it and let's go eat. I’m starving.” 

The abysmal stain of eggshell and crumble that smoothes the entire ceiling. It may appear dull and lifeless to everyone, but to me, it is the most treasured vision that I look forward to seeing each day. A blank canvas that allows me to paint the perfect picture of her features, without any color or object to interfere with the details of her face and smile. It’s been months since the fan sign, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see her again, especially when–

“Kei?”

“Yeah?”

“Forgot to mention...did you hire a private investigator for something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, he dropped by while you were doing a live, and left a message.” 

I’m handed a business card of the investigator's name and number, with a small handwritten note on the back. He was an elusive fellow, very committed and good at his job…I only hire the best. Looks like my money and patience is paying off, I can’t help but smile widely when I read his message…

“Found the girl.” 

Oh fuck…I feel like the world is spinning. Finally, I’ll be able to see her…to hear her….and to take her.

Yes, take her away from it all…to keep her all to myself…to tell her all about the dreams I’ve had of her…of our life….of our children and our happiness. The same dreams that drove me crazy and caused me to yearn for her more and more….it was all the universe’s way in showing me that we belong. I can’t wait to show her the poems and songs I wrote for her…the line of feminine fragrances and satin dresses that I bought for her. I cannot wait. 

My thumb swipes up at the message, and off to the corner was hidden beneath the pad of my finger. I would have missed it had I not moved…but now I am glad. Soon, the blank canvas above me will be nothing more than a distant memory. Soon, I will have the real thing before me....oh the feeling I get whenever I imagine how supple and soft her skin will feel beneath my fingertips. How delightful her voice will sound when I squeeze her and hold her tightly against my chest, caving over her much smaller frame. Soon...my happiness will be more than what my eyes paint on the blank canvas that is my bedroom ceiling. My happiness will be real and within my grasp.

I silently read off the letters, trailing the delicate characters that make up her name. 

“Yuan…” 

#&team fanfic #&team imagines #&team k #kei &team #k

[kittttycakes]

That baby nightmare post has got me thinking on what type of parent Grace would be to a baby nightmare, that Morpheus just randomly shows up with one day.

The post in question, for reference!

This is such a great ask, thank you so much for it! Grace, as mentioned, is really interested in all of the nightmares. There’s something fascinating for her about them, and a baby nightmare? Especially interesting, whether that’s a nightmare of a baby in some capacity, or a nightmare that isn’t quite full grown yet.

She likes children, babies especially, so she’d probably treat them like she would a human baby: cooing over them a bit, giving them a finger to grip onto, and generally making a bit of a fuss over them. They’re part of Morpheus, after all, and she loves every part of him! She’d be willing to feel whatever level of terror or pain or general unpleasantness that a baby nightmare might be capable of if it meant holding them, because that’s what babies need, after all! Grace has several friends with children, and she’s very happy to be an unofficial auntie to them, so this isn’t too far off, the relationship is just a bit different.

There’s a part of Grace that wanted to have children, realized that wouldn’t be a possibility with Hob (they had a conversation early on in their relationship, well before the immortality reveal, one that they haven’t yet revisited), and pivoted her expectations of her life accordingly. It was always more of a “it would be nice” rather than a “necessary for happiness” sort of thing for her.

If the baby nightmare sticks around long enough, she’d knit them a lovely hat and booties set (with extras, for however many feet they happen to have at the time). Depending on how big they are, she’d carry them around in one of those baby swaddles or on her hip, just going about her day. No matter how much Morpheus tells her that baby nightmares can care for themselves, she’s insistent that she doesn’t mind looking after them for a bit. Once the nightmare grows up (or at least settles in to one form), she’d make sure to find them out in the Dreaming specifically, just every once in a while, to say hello and see how they’re getting on.

Have a little drabble, under the cut:

Hob wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking at. It was certainly baby shaped, and Grace was cradling it in her arms, much like she would a baby, but whatever was swaddled in the blanket kept blurring at the edges, as if it hadn’t quite settled into a form yet. The arm that extricated itself from the wrapping was, variously, furred and claw tipped, an impossible starry void-black, and a writhing tentacle. When Grace offered her finger to grip onto, it bypassed her and gripped a loose lock of her hair instead in a chalk white, but notably very human shaped, hand.

He cleared his throat, and Grace looked up at him, smiling despite the seemingly quite strong grip on her hair.

“Come say hello,” she said, shifting the bundle in her arms and pulling her own hair in the process. Gently, she pried the fingers loose. An indescribable noise of discontent issued from the blankets, incongruously printed with a cheery pattern of stars.

“Who am I saying hello to, exactly?” he asked, brow slightly furrowed as he peered into the blankets, expecting a face, or at least the shape of one, and finding only a void.

“Morpheus just dropped them off. They’re a—well, I suppose a nightmare, but they’re entirely new and they need just a little time to settle.”

“A nightmare,” Hob echoed. He had grown used to meeting the nightmares in the Dreaming, but had never seen one in quite this form.

Grace hummed softly in the affirmative, bouncing the baby and smiling again when a sound as unlike a giggle as was possible to be made came forth. She seemed to regard this as a positive sign. “He just wanted to show me, but I told him I could look after them for a bit, if he wanted, while he’s hearing a few petitions.”

“Do they have a name?”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I’ve been trying to think of one, but they haven’t grown into their function yet, and I don’t want to name them something that doesn’t fit. So I’ve just been calling them Baby in my head.”

“What were they meant to be?”

“The unknown.” Grace reached into the blankets, as if smoothing back their hair gently. Hob swore he saw teeth flash, needle sharp and uncomfortably large, in what might have been a smile. “Uncertainty. Doubt in your own self and what you know to be true.”

“And are they always going to look like…that?”

“I don’t think they know yet either. Morpheus is usually so specific with the form, but…he’s letting this one decide on their own. He said it would be better that way. Maybe they won’t ever decide, and they’ll change like this, or maybe they’ll find one they like best.”

“They certainly like you.” Hob had another momentary vision of what life might have been like, in another world: Grace holding a child, human, and all her own.

“Maybe they know I like them, too. Do you want to hold them?”

For a moment, every child Hob held in his arms was Robyn. It was only ever for the first second, and then he came back to himself, but he wasn’t certain the feeling would ever go away. He no longer minded it; any reminder was pleasant in its way, now. There could be happiness in grief.

Grace passed him the baby carefully, supporting them along the way, and Hob held them close, watching how she was almost reluctant to part with them.

“I’d say they look a bit like Morpheus, but—“

“They do, in their own way. A part of him, anyway. I think they’re lovely.”

“So do I,” Hob agreed, and was surprised to find that it was true.

#asks #oc: grace talbot #morpheus x oc x hob gadling #morpheus x oc #hob gadling x oc #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless x oc x hob gadling #and one adorable(?) baby nightmare

[aleck-le-mec]

Pagan ways to honor Palestinians

Like every other respectable human being these days I feel absolute terror, sadness and guilt seeing what’s happening to the PEOPLE of Gaza. Paganism has always been a way for me to deal with emotions and difficult things so I’m here to share what I’ve done and what I will continue to do to honor the people we have lost.

Of course donating funds, signing petitions, voting, protesting, talking about the genocide and boycotting is all a given but these are my spiritual/ grieving ceremonies. It’s important to balance both activism and the human need to grieve/ process in order to keep one’s humanity, avoid burnout and desensitization to this kind of violence.

Veiling

Veiling is a thing that some pagans do for all of their own reasons but I’ve found it to be a good way to honor others. If you veil with a kufiya, a historic scarf of Palestine this is also sending a message of exactly what and who you're standing for. I veil with a scarf that I inherited from my grandmother, like the martyrs of Palestine I never got to meet her, I never got the chance to know what she feared or what she loved. That symbol of loss and what could have beens’ remind me that we are all united in loss, we all are losing something through this genocide family, friends, lovers, coworkers, doctors, students, peers. Because of that loss we have to keep fighting we don’t have a choice, this genocide is everyone’s problem, it’s evryone’s loss.

Veiling in public spaces as a pagan can also help others feel more comfortable and like they have a friend in otherwise foreign places. I’m always reminded of what I heard a Sikh man say about his turban. He said that he wears it to let others know that he is there, someone you can pick out of a crowd at a glance and find easily if you’re in need of help. I always thought that was a simple beautiful sentiment that anyone can follow regardless of religion or spirituality.

Conscious grieving and candle light practice

Sometimes all you need to do is to sit down and think about things, cry a bit and be angry. Candle light visuals are important in almost every culture, they’re a universal sign of grieving and honoring someone so why not hold your own? If you have a coven/ group to do one with that’s cool but it isn’t any less honorable to do a private visual, hold that space to remember what you’ve lost and what you’ve seen. Think about what could have been, think about it and let it burn, let it hurt then promise yourself never again. Promise that this will never happen again, not if you have anything to say about it. Promise that as long as you live you will not stay silent as anyone feels this pain no matter their race, religion, or beliefs. Decide once and for all that this isn’t fair.

Displaying the palestinian flag and having one with you

It’s not uncommon for pagans, especially witches, to carry charms with them or on their person, it can be a sign of devotion or protection. So if you keep a symbol of Palestine with you it will remind you gently throughout your day that this will not go away. It's also a call to others to remember. Personally I have a bracelet that I made at the beginning of the genocide and I haven’t taken off since. I’m 50% irish/scottish and follow a lot of celtic paganism, knots are really important in celtic beliefs they’re strong, complex and can symbolize an everlasting devotion or connection. Having a knotted bracelet I made specifically with the intent of remembering Palestine in the flag’s colors is important to me and I will not take it off until I see a free Palestine.

Offerings to the wild/ learn

In general a lot of pagans make offerings to the wild without it being for a certain reason but it can’t hurt to put an intention around it. By offerings I’m not talking about blood sacrifices or anything crazy, tough people do that sometimes and honestly respect that level of commitment. I’m just talking about food scraps or planting seeds in your garden, you must remember to take care of your local wildlife too. Plant some wildflowers and as they grow remember that life finds a way, remember that the people we have lost live through you. Try and learn about Palestine before the occupation, learn about what they loved, what they feared and carry that with you, share it with other people. As long as you live and as long as you continue to speak, let it be for those who couldn’t make it, say their names and never stop growing your garden.

#writing #pagan #witch #nature #free gaza #free palestine #palestine #pagan witch #celtic polytheism #celtic paganism #pagan polytheism #paganism #european paganism #wildflowers #wildlife #veiling #save the children #save the palestinians #sad #greif #greiving

[olympianbutch]

I don’t wanna look stupid, but I am genuinely wanting some input here.

So like the first deity’s I started to worship are Persephone and haides. I love them to bits, they are awesome and I’ve seen them in 1 or 2 dreams and a couple times in meditation: (I’ve been worshiping them for what I would want to say is 7 or 8 months.)

I can never really feel their presence when I meditate with them or when I light a candle for them.

Apollon on the other hand who I just started worshiping I can feel his energy, I vibe with him. I love it 🥰

But this makes me sad because I wish I had that with Persephone and haides. 🥲

Am I doing something wrong or am I looking too much into this? Any advice would be appreciated!

Khaire, friend! I greatly appreciate your coming to me for guidance, though I don’t know how useful it’ll be.

Personally, I don’t light candles and meditate with the gods. Many worshippers do, but I don’t. :0

Instead, when I’m going through the ritual motions, I watch for signs that indicate the god’s presence and if They’ve accepted (or rejected) the offerings given.

For example, the smoke that comes from burning incense can clue me into the feelings of the divine. If the smoke travels skyward, the gods are present, and They’ve accepted the offering. If the smoke travels horizontally or downward*, I’ll know They’ve rejected it. (*Unless the incense is a gift to the Underworld gods. In that case, downflowing smoke spells approval.)

If I’m not burning incense but instead pouring libations or singing prayers, I look for more abstract clues. For instance, I pour libations to the deathless gods every morning and evening. Whenever I perform these daily rites, I’m left feeling generally happy, peaceful, fulfilled, etc. These positive feelings indicate the god’s presence and acceptance! If I don’t feel any particular way afterward, I’ll use divination to see whether or not They accepted it.

When it comes to Haides specifically, I never expect to feel the full force of His presence. I’m a living mortal, and He is the invisible god of the dead. Additionally, the instantiation of Haides I worship doesn’t participate in the cycle of reciprocity. As such, His attention is never expected or demanded.

Persephone (unlike Haides) does participate in the cycle of reciprocity, so the attention She allots is more consistent. I know Her to be an incredibly attentive goddess, so if you petition Her, I imagine She’ll answer.

#Haides #Hades #Persephone #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic pagan #hellenic paganism #hellenic reconstructionism #hellenic revivalism #hellenic religion #greek religion #ancient greek religion #greek gods #greek goddess #hellenic gods #hellenism #hellenismos #Meleagros answers

[space-manatees]

For the last two months I have been numb. I’ve seen what’s been happening in Palestine and I have been numb. I’ve acknowledged that what the Israeli government is doing is horrible and a whole fucking genocide but I haven’t been able to feel anything. Not for a lack of empathy or lack of understanding or anything of that sort. I wanted to mourn and feel outrage and anger but nothing came. Only numb. Now I sit here two whole months later, still seeing videos of babies and children younger than my sibling dying, videos of men like my father and brothers stripped naked on trucks being shipped who fucking knows where, videos of the people in Gaza risking their lives to get us live content from the ground.

December 9, 2023, I feel outrage and it’s burning me alive. I want to scream at the US for vetoing the permanent ceasefire resolution. I want to argue with every single friend or family member that has ever said “it’s complicated” or made a joke about it. I want to storm my sibling’s school for using this genocide as an example for a persuasive essay. I want to report every single fucking news media source for false information (“Israel-Hamas war” MY FUCKING ASS). I am teeming with rage. My hands are shaking, my eyes are burning, my blood is boiling, and my heart aches. I wish there was more to do than sharing and pressing “like” on posts, more to do than trying to sign petition that I always happen to see late (thanks algorithms), more to do than boycotting and protesting.

I am OUTRAGED, and you should be too.

#honestly right now you’re either losing your mind or you’re not paying attention #free palestine #free gaza #palestine #gaza #israel

[relaxxattack]

keep seeing posts about brianna. seeing them makes me feel sick but i don’t know what i could even possibly do about it. most posts i’ve seen are screaming for justice, which i agree is deserved, but every time i see pictures of her all i can think is that this should never have happened in the first place. she looked so sweet and she was so young. justice, yes, obviously, but fuck. the fact that we can’t bring her back kills me. the fact that two children younger than her felt they had the authority to end her life and take her away from her family is completely unfathomable to me. how sick can they be to be able to do something like that? justice for brianna, but the fact that this happened is terrifying, devastating, and sickening. i just wish it had never happened, and i wish we could sign petitions to somehow reverse time, not fucking beg the uk pigs to take this crime seriously

#tw murder #tw transphobia #tw hate crimes #brianna ghey

[stedesdimple]

benedict cumberbatch is objectively the ugliest man. this is a fact. every gifset i’ve seen of him has been against my will. please sign my petition to recast the role of sherlock holmes in bbcs series 5 to a better looking actor

[m-ayrton]

Short Story: Rosaline

There was no casting process. Those lucky few received their contract and summons for the read-through by mail. All, against their better judgment, decided to attend. Strangers arrived one by one to the darkened theater in Newburyport, Massachusetts. The only indication someone was here were the signs posted around, stating: “Here for Rosaline?” with an arrow pointing them to the stage. When all were gathered, the lights came up to reveal fifteen people in total, one of whom had already taken the stage. The Director’s words echoed in the theater:

“Thank you all for coming. The leap of faith you’ve already taken by coming here confirms that you’re the exact kind of people I knew you to be. I will waste as little of your time as possible. The reason for our meeting is a most peculiar play, which I intend to produce in this very theater in some six months.”

“What’s so peculiar about it?” asked a man, who was soon to be known as Andreas, the hero of the story.

“In 1899, the play was written by Frederick Götter, who was promptly stabbed to death by his editor after its first review. It was the only play Frederick had ever produced. In it’s first main stage production in 1916, only one of the original cast members lived through the first performance, by a run of freak accidents and grisly murders. The second, off-broadway, 1969. Several cast and crew went on what was described at the time as an, ‘unholy rampage,’ likely fueled by extensive use of psychedelics. The next, 1991, same story.”

Nervous chittering filled the room. People whispered with those around them Eventually, a petite woman raised her hand. For the next six months, she would be known as Rosaline, the heroine.

“Why?” she asked, “why this show?”

“A pertinent question,” the director said with a sage grin. “Truly. Why take the risk? Four hundred years later and you can’t mention the Scottish play within the walls of a theater, why tempt fate?” the smile faded. “It is considered by its audience, however niche, to be the greatest story ever told. Many say it’s the perfect play. One that requires dedication of the mind, body and spirit. It demands perfection.

“I see it in your eyes. All of you, artists. You’re here for the craft, not for the money. You crave a better class of work, something to propel you toward your true self.” No one objected. “If you have even a shred of talent within you, and want to see it actualized, this is the performance that will bring it out of you, kicking, screaming, or otherwise. This is not the time for modesty, this is the time for blistering, radiant passion.” by now, he had loosened his tie to reveal more of the sweat pouring down his neck. He pointed as if he were brandishing a weapon. “I have selected each and every one of you not only for your talents, but because I’ve seen something within each and every one of you, that you bear the mark of your part on your very soul.”

Chittering re-surged, this time confused, nervous, excited. The director’s words burrowed their way into the minds and the hearts of those who listened. Despite the excitement, most remained wary. Pretty platitudes from egotistical directors were as old as dirt. Their doubts ended promptly upon reading the script for the first time. They sat in a wide circle on stage, poring over the script. An infinite tower: a symbol of mankind’s hubris, they agreed.A symbol of the divine treading on mankind, some ventured. Very intriguing, everyone agreed. The maiden, Rosaline, magically transported to it’s top: Andreas, who must commit to a fruitless journey to save her. Their struggles mirrored, but unequal.

They ordered takeout to continue the discussion far into the night. Discussions over the significance of images and ideas grew heated, but eventually ended in laughter. Eventually, the crew separated themselves to discuss the nuts and bolts of the production, equally as excited about their role as the actors.

“How much stage combat experience do you have?” Woten asked, extending a huge hand. The last digit of his left thumb bent at an odd angle from being slammed in a sword sheathe about a hundred times.

“Enough,” Said Andreas, taking his hand and shaking it. His hand had no such marks.

“Just don’t actually kill me,” said Woten, chuckling.

Rosaline shouldered her way in to the conversation, “Everyone dies for me,” she said, “I’m touched, truly.” She clasped her hands over her heart in a mock gesture of sincerity.

***

“It’s a work in progress,” said the Architect, “and besides, it looks great.” She had wanted to be called something closer to a real job title, like ‘the set designer,’ or something else that made any amount of sense. The Director had responded with, I do not hire set designers, I only hire Architects. A higher caliber of worker for a higher caliber of work.

“It looks like shit.” said the Director, “and it’s a deathtrap.”

“I said it looks great. How well it functions is someone else’s problem,” she shot back.

“It’s very funny to me that you think that. Walk me through the mental gymnastics going on in there that you honestly think that this isn’t your problem.”

“Well-”

“And furthermore! If it’s someone else’s job, who is that? Tell me who’s life you’re ruining by making them have to safety check this monstrosity,” he said, towering over her, “Because if you don’t know, then either it’s you, or we have an even bigger problem on our hands.”

“It’s-”

“No, scratch that, I think your imaginary friend would do a better job than you.”

She met his eyes, maintaining the professional veneer, but only barely. She looked like she had been hit.

“It should be on me,” she said.

The Director felt a pang of shame shoot through his chest. “It’s alright. A miscommunication. Take another look before you go home, and enjoy the long weekend.” He smiled in a way that made the bags under his eyes shrink. “On Tuesday I’ll come in with a sledgehammer, and we’ll see where it can be improved.”

They both chuckled. The Director left her alone in the room. She gazed upon the tower. It was almost believable that it was infinite. After all, you could suspend your disbelief as long as you couldn’t see the top. The parts the Director had said would kill someone were simply loose or squeaky floorboards, places where boards or screws didn’t quite sit flush. The Director had instituted a Murphy’s Law-based autocracy when it came to the production: Stage weapons were kept off-site, as were most construction tools for the set. The Architect and her ilk were unhappy about schlepping set pieces across town when the theater had a perfectly good workshop, but a reminder of the ‘power drill incident,’ of the 91 production made them reconsider. At the very least it made them shut up. A number of them also had personal defense items: Rosaline carried a switchblade, a few others carried pepper spray, all of which had to be deposited in a collection box at the door. Nothing that could be used to harm another person could be brought inside the theater.

She was focused on the tower. The script didn’t have a concrete description of it, and yet there seemed to be a mutual understanding of what it looked like. She had gone through every past production, every piece of literature about the play, every single one seemed to give an identical description of the tower. As if it were a real structure that they had visited and were able to describe: Something akin to a Piranesi fever dream, endless and impossible and menacing. She was confident she could do it, if only she had enough time. But for now-

“Good Morning,” said the Director, “you’re here early.”

The Architect checked her watch. It was five in the morning. She was suddenly, uncomfortably aware that she was sticky.

“What day is it?” she croaked.

“Tuesday. Have you been here all weekend?” The Director asked.

Her memories fluttered around in her head, half formed. She needed a moment to remember where she was. “I think so.”

“Well the set looks great,” he said.

Staring at the tower, the only thing keeping the Director from knowing that it was not infinite, was the knowledge that the theater had a roof, and he hadn’t seen poking through it on his way in. He was planning on going outside and double checking, in any case. Outwardly, very little had changed. The stones were made more realistic, the esoteric carvings along its side a little clearer, a little more ancient. It was the energy that had changed. It seemed too real to be real, dominating the room and commanding attention. The tower had been manifested, given life. Nonetheless, he approached with a hammer he had bought at the hardware store down the road. Climbing up on the set, he struck at the set with a rage reserved for creatives who feel their vision is in jeopardy. The wood dented, but it did not splinter, it did not break.

“Expertly done, my dear!” he called down.

The Architect smiled. She just wished she remembered doing it.

***

Rosaline might have found her co-star handsome once: he had a nice jaw, he was tall and thin, but not gangly. However, at the moment, she wanted him dead.

“I think it’s all an allusion,” he said, “to the struggles of the turn-of-the century woman. Really I just think it’s a shame they focus on Andreas as much as they do Rosaline. If I had my way, I’d be little more than a bit part.” he said this with the airs of someone who thought what they were saying something incredibly profound, but oh of course, he said so while reclined, wearing a stupid little sweater. So casual and yet so profound, as if this all came so naturally to him. As if he was trying so hard to seem like he wasn’t trying. He’s doing this because it’s worked before. He doesn’t believe a word of it.

“What do you think of your opening monologue? Do you think Andreas truly loves Rosaline, or do you think he was simply looking for a hill to die on?”

“You know, you’re really talented,” he said, “you should never sell yourself short.”

“I’ve never done that,” she said, not lifting her eye from the page.

***

Woten sat at the three-thousandth stair. He found little joy in his duty. Wait for the brave and the foolish to show up and turn them back, by any means necessary. He wasn’t human. He hadn’t been for a long time, and yet his job was the most human on the tower: to turn people back before it was too late. That’s what he told himself anyway. It was hard being the enemy of aspiration.

When the boy approached, Woten thought little of him. Too thin to be a warrior, despite the sword strapped to his thigh, too young to be anything else. He would be dissuaded, just as the hundreds who had come before him were. Wordlessly, they stood at odds. They knew one another’s purpose and were therefore at an impasse.

Then they caught one another’s eye. In the boy’s eye he saw the pained longing for lost love, the willingness to die for it, no matter how fruitlessly. I have to try, he seemed to say. In that moment, Woten knew he would not be turned back. He raised his spear, and the boy drew his sword, and they fought. He fought with cunning and knowledge far exceeding his age, but Woten was beyond age. He could have ended it. He should have brought him low, and saved him from the pain and exhaustion before him. But he couldn’t. He left an opening, overextending with the spear, and the boy took it, driving the sword into his side. Woten toppled over the side of the steps. Down to earth.

He shot awake, sitting straight up. His heartbeat echoed through his entire body, pounding in his ears and pulsing through his shirt. He was in the dark, empty halls of the theater. His mind slowly came back to him, and he remembered that he had stayed late to rehearse his monologue. Every time he had made an error, he slammed his fists into the ground over and over again in frustration. They felt like they might be broken now. He was having a hard time closing them from how swollen they were. Somehow he felt like he deserved the pain. The thought had crept into the back of his mind hours ago, not pushing itself to the forefront, but not leaving either.

“Again.” He announced to himself, as no one else was around. “Until it’s perfect.”

***

It was a stage rehearsal. Tensions had grown, but they were several months into production with no incidents, so stage weapons had been introduced to their rehearsals. A decision that the Director was currently lamenting. He had given them the privilege of using weapons on stage, just so Woten could hold his spear in his right hand. He wanted to scream, to stop the otherwise flawless scene to remind the ingrate that he was holding the spear in the wrong hand. Instead he tried to hold his tongue. He sat at the back of the theater, a script by his right hand, and an empty mug that had contained six cups of coffee by his left.

Eventually he couldn’t take it. He stood and pitched the mug at Woten. The Director wasn’t known for his athleticism, being more of the gangly, artistic sort, which is why it was all the more surprising when the mug zipped past an inch away from Woten’s skull, shattering on the wall behind him.

“Spear in the right fucking hand, I’m not telling you again!”

The yelling and shattering had the approximate effect of a gunshot. All eyes darted toward him and stayed there. Suddenly he was very aware of what he had done, and was mortified by it. Suddenly, he was in a body that was no longer entirely his own.

He wondered if he should apologize. Thinking it might seem worse if he let on that he was out of control, he decided against it.

“Take it from the top,” he said. Mechanically, everyone returned to their starting positions. As if nothing had happened.

***

The Director blinked awake, and took a deep breath. It felt as though he hadn’t done either in hours. His watch read 3:00am. Pages upon pages of script with feverish notes filling every inch of the margins were strewn about the floor. He had been afraid the first time this had happened: waking up in a backroom of the theater with little knowledge of how he got there, but he quickly began to embrace it. He realized letting the words take control was a simple way to get a lot done. By this point, he was going through a blank script and notebook every week. The lines between new ideas and old were blurred, many of them were microscopic changes in staging, in line delivery. He was treating the play like a puzzle to be solved, and he was getting close.

His sleep had suffered tremendously as production had continued. He was not unique in this regard: beyond the walls of the room he could hear actors rehearsing their scenes, many of their voices were strained and hoarse. He wondered for a moment if he should tell them to call it quits for the evening. He reminded himself that they were adults, and capable of making their own decision. Besides, how else would they get the practice that this play required? He had some difficulty standing and struggled to stay upright, so he thought he should go home while he was still able to. He began collecting his papers, shoving them haphazardly into his bag.

The scream didn’t hit him quite like the following silence did. He dropped his bag and ran

The Director ran into the room. Rosaline sat bundled in the corner, her hands trembling, stained with blood, and wrapped around the stage knife. Andreas was lumped in the corner, perfectly still.

“What the fuck happened?” asked the Director, the blood driven from his face.

“I- I don’t know,” Rosaline’s hand continued to tremble, “he- he just couldn’t get this line down. We went through it probably fifty times and he just couldn’t fucking get it right! And I just... and I just…” she looked down at her hands before her eyes went out of focus and she stared off into the middle distance.

“It’s okay. I mean its not okay right now, you killed a man, but it’ll be okay soon.” the Director knelt by her, holding her by the shoulders. “I’ll get someone in here and we’ll get him out and clean up. This stays in the theatre, no one will know but us.”

She looked up and her eyes began to well up with fresh tears, “Why would you do that?”

“If people found out, we’d have to stop.” For the first time in the conversation, he looked at her like she was crazy.

He saw her pupils contract, her gaze steady,

She nodded. “The show must go on.”

***

The Director walked into the parking lot. Rosaline had wanted to continue rehearsing to occupy her mind, so he had sent her off to rehearse with Andreas’s understudy while they cleaned up. It was nearly five now. The barely-risen sun made his hands shine maroon and there was a deep chill in the air. He lit a cigarette and pressed it to his lips. His lungs were almost healthy again. He would always say that keeping the cigarettes on his person was “keeping your friends close and your enemies closer,” but in reality, he knew he’d be back here again.

Suddenly, he was on the tower. Not the one inside, the one he knew to be made by mortal hands and mortal minds of plywood and plaster, but the true tower. He knew this was a vision at best, and complete delusion at worst, but he hadn’t come this far not to indulge. He felt the stone. It carried an intrinsic warmth much like a living thing. But it was frozen in the high atmosphere. He gazed out onto the horizon, radiant blue and white and black like ink, while the clouds partially obscured the world below him. The top was hidden behind fathoms of ethereal fog and the immense darkness of eternal night. He could climb for an eternity, and be no closer to the top than when he started. The bottom was equally as unattainable. He could descend for the rest of his life and never even get close. Unless of course, he jumped. He continued to climb, he saw little other choice.

He blinked and he was back in the parking lot. Concrete floors and concrete walls and he was sure the sky would be concrete too if it was possible. He finished the cigarette and went back inside.

Rosaline entered the theater at the same time, fresh blood staining her face and clothes. Her hand, still clutching the knife, was now steady.

“Find me someone with better stage presence,” she called out.

#writing #short story #original work