#live our life like it’s a story or whatever

[wingedblooms]

Blooming with life

@offtorivendell and I were chatting about the cover for the next book and while there are several options for what might be depicted on the cover, the one that makes the most sense to me (and makes us scream) is the Cauldron (blooming with life, vines and flowers and creatures spilling from its iron lip). It hasn’t been used on a cover yet, and assuming Sarah will continue with one romantic pairing per book, it would align perfectly with what Elain and Azriel’s story would contribute to the overarching plot.

Let me preface this by saying that I do think the three Archeron sisters embody (or are vessels) for the three faces of the Mother, and they will likely need to come together at some point in this storyline (the dream). But if anyone’s story is connected to a force that once bloomed with life, and is tasked with uncovering its secrets to help it and the land bloom again, it’s Elain. The quiet, gentle gardener who glows like the dawn and smells like a promise of spring. She might even be able to use the language of creation to (re)write her own fate. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Azriel has been present or connected to Elain’s major moments involving the Cauldron (her forced rebirth, naming her powers, questioning the mating bond, using TT to rescue her family, being forbidden from going near the Cauldron, etc.). Their story is tied to the Cauldron and what we’ve learned about it (from the original trilogy to the spin-off books to the crossover). Sarah has left hints that it is still important, in general, and specifically in Elain’s journey with Azriel:

acotar

Feyre gives us our first glimpse of the Cauldron from the living (Spring Court):

I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.

I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colors, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the windows.

[…]

At first I could do nothing but stare at its size, the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this.

It told a story with the way colors and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of…of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No—not sparkling, but…effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world…(acotar)

acomaf

Elain emerges from the Cauldron. It tips onto its side by itself, as if influenced by an unseen force. Elain rises from the floor, like the earth in the mural, glowing with immortal light and beauty.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water.

And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer.

And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me—

Nesta began roaring again.

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

acowar

After Elain was Made in the Cauldron, Azriel is the one to name her power, freeing her from a murky realm where dream and reality entwine:

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” (acowar)

Feyre wonders about Elain’s new, inner sight and how it might be connected to the Cauldron.

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Feyre questions the mating bond system, wondering why Azriel and Elain aren’t mates and who determines it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…”

Azriel is the first to notice Elain’s absence and risks his life to get her back, inspiring Feyre to join him.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

With the shadows, he might stand a chance of slipping in. But there were wards to consider, and ancient magic, and the king with those spells and the Cauldron…(acowar)

Armed with Truth-Teller, the blade Azriel gifted to her for the battle, Elain—rather than the Cauldron—answered Feyre’s pleas, somehow appearing just in time to deal Hybern a killing blow.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

While connected to it through a living link, Feyre learns that the Cauldron adores Elain, gave her such powers (plural, baby), and would not harm her.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

Both Elain and the Cauldron are described as blooms in bleak and barren settings, which seems to be a hint of their intertwined role/power that is reinforced in the spin-offs and crossover.

She was a rose bloom in a mud field…[…] If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta, she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (acowar)

-

The Cauldron shattered into three pieces, peeling apart like a blossoming flower (acowar)

acosf

Cassian reminds us that the Cauldron is hidden (and supposedly asleep) in Cretea, worrying that no one could control it if it awoke.

A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim Prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

Nesta reminds us of the time the Cauldron stole Elain and its song called only to her:

Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the two terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded. (acosf)

The Inner Circle discusses the Cauldron-Made Trove, and Feyre and Amren remind us that like calls to like, which is why the sisters can help find them.

“What does it have to do with the Cauldron?” Nesta pushed.

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. “Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker.” (acosf)

Elain offers to find the Trove when Nesta admits to her fears, and Nesta forbids her from going anywhere near the Cauldron.

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways.o You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It’s Elain’s choice, Nesta.” (acosf)

Nesta gives us a glimpse of the dusk service where priestesses worship the Mother and the Cauldron and the Forces That Be (Fate). A sacred, possibly interchangeable trio, which is deeply connected to creation and the earth:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Nesta finds the carved rose Papa Archeron made for Elain and places it next to a figurine of a primordial goddess:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

-

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

Nesta makes a bargain with the Cauldron, so it is at least somewhat awake and seems to be influenced by, or working alongside, a luminescent hand (maybe a gentle gardener’s hand?) that intervenes on Nesta’s behalf.

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore.

A bargain with the Cauldron itself.

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)

After their almost-kiss on solstice, Azriel dares to question the Cauldron, which he appears to revere.

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

Azriel ignored the question. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

hofas

In the crossover, we learn more of the Cauldron’s history. Life once blossomed from it, but—as if echoing Azriel’s question to Rhys—it was warped by the Daglan (Asteri).

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

-

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage. (hofas)

The Under-King leaves us with a look at the Cauldron from the dead. It was misconstrued as a goddess over time, explaining interconnected, if not interchangeable, terms (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be), but she is a force and her name is Wyrd.

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin … they were like tattoos.

[…]

“And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Tags: @elriel-month 💕

What do you think will be on the cover, friends? Do you agree it might be the Cauldron, or will it be something else, like the Harp or even…a Pegasus?!

#acotar cover art #acotar 5 predictions #elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #the cauldron blooming with life #fate and choice #restoring wyrd and her land #elrielmonth2024 #elriel month

[hsjazebel]

FRAGMENTS OF HAPPINESS

Y/n and Harry celebrate the arrival of their baby girl with a walk in the park.

masterlist

Y/n felt enveloped in the softness of her wool cardigan, which kept her company as she walked with Harry along the park path.

Every step they took together seemed like a harmonious ballet, marked by the sweet and constant rhythm of the nature that surrounded them.

The warmth of the spring sun caressed her skin, inviting her to let herself be carried away by the sensations of the moment.

Little Emma's pram moved silently in front of them, guided by Y/n's loving hand.

Wrapped in a soft and light wool blanket, the little girl slept peacefully, transmitting a sense of peace and tranquility that enveloped the entire scene with an aura of magic. Her regular and peaceful breathing was like a delicate lullaby that accompanied her parents' walk.

They found a secluded corner under the cool shade of a majestic tree, where Harry carefully spread a red and white checked blanket on the green lawn.

The softness of the cozy fabric seemed to invite Y/n and Harry to immerse themselves completely in the present moment, abandoning themselves to the beauty of the nature that surrounded them.

As Harry prepared the sandwiches with care and attention, the inviting scent of their fresh ingredients wafted through the air, enveloping their senses in a warm and welcoming embrace.

The sound of small woodland animals moving around them added a gentle melody to their peaceful walk in the park.

Y/n leaned towards Emma in her pram, gently stroking her face with her fingertips. "Look how beautiful she is, Harry," she whispered, a bright smile painted on her lips. "She is so perfect, as if she were sculpted from heaven itself."

Harry approached Y/n, placing a hand on her shoulder and letting her gaze wander into their little girl's sleeping face. "She is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to us," he replied in an emotional voice. “I couldn't have imagined a more precious gift than her.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes bright with joy and gratitude. "We are so lucky to have her, Harry. I can't wait to share all the love we have in our hearts with her."

Harry nodded, squeezing Y/n's hand lightly in his. "And I can't wait to see everything the future has in store for us as a family. I know that together we can face anything."

The sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees, creating plays of light and shadow that danced on the green lawn.

The birds sang happily in the branches, adding a natural symphony to their sweet spring serenade. It was as if nature itself celebrated the beauty and purity of the love that bound Y/n, Harry and little Emma.

Y/n looked at Harry with eyes full of love as he carefully placed the sandwiches on her plate.

His presence next to her gave her a feeling of calm and security, as if together they could face whatever her life had in store for them.

Their bond was so strong that it seemed to defy time and space, enveloping them in an intimate and unbreakable embrace.

As they ate, they whispered about their dreams and hopes for the future.

They imagined the wonderful world they would build for Emma, ​​one of love, respect and understanding. Every word they exchanged was like a fragment of a precious mosaic, which would tell the story of their love forever.

After the picnic, Y/n and Harry decide to take Emma for a ride on the nearby swings.

The park, bathed in the golden light of the sunset, looks like a living painting.

The lush green grass contrasts with the colorful flowers blooming along the path, while the sound of leaves blowing in the breeze creates a soothing melody.

Harry gently pushes the pram as Y/n walks alongside him, the scent of spring flowers surrounding them adding a sweet note to the air.

Their laughter and whispers mix with the birdsong, creating a symphony of love and joy that fills the park.

“Look, little Emma,” Y/n says with a bright smile, pointing to the swinging swings. "One day you will be able to climb on those swings and fly high into the sky. But for now, enjoy the gentle rocking of the pram."

The swings, illuminated by the light of the sunset, seem to swing in sync with the heartbeat of Y/n and Harry.

Every movement is a preview of future adventures, of dreams to be realized and of joys to share together.

Harry joins Y/n's smile, affectionately caressing Emma's little face. "It will be amazing to see the world through your eyes, baby. Every day will be an adventure."

Sitting on a nearby bench, Y/n and Harry embrace each other tenderly, lulled by the tranquility of the park at sunset.

The sky paints shades of pink and gold as the sun slowly hides behind the horizon.

In that moment, they are pervaded by a feeling of peace and happiness, aware that their love, strong and unconditional, will always accompany them along the path of life.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles blog #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #dad! harry

[heyftinally]

All this recent talk from swift about how she resents fans and the spotlight and how she's this caged animal who's forced to perform makes me furious. She made the decision to be famous and remakes that decision every single day. She's not being forced onto a stage by her conservator like Britney Spears. She's not a starving artist who needs gigs to keep the lights on. She could go into hiding- no performing, no interviews, no new songs, no pap walks, nothing for public consumption ever again- and still live her insanely extravagant lifestyle. The only thing stopping her from leaving the spotlight is her massive, attention starved ego. She can complain all she wants but the truth is, she's not sick of performing; she loves the attention. She's sick of criticism for her lazy work and bigoted behavior. Ironically, she might've hidden who she really is if she wasn't shoved down our fucking throats every day.

Here's the other funny thing: most celebrities that I follow - even the big ones - have a better work/life balanced than Taylor, yet she has more money and power than them.

The vast majority of artists take time off. Whether that's to travel on vacation, stay home, or do whatever else, most musicians take breaks. It used to be very normal to do a tour, and then take a month or so off. Maybe still do some interviews to talk about what's next, but none of this 24/7/365 production.

But Taylor forces HERSELF to meet those unreasonable expectations that SHE has set. She could easily take a break. But she won't, because I think she might actually die if the world didn't fawn over her for a week, let alone a month. She's not in a conservatorship, she's not even a child star forced to support her family. She's an adult woman in her 30's who gets everything she wants with a snap of her fingers, leads the most privileged life in existence, and still manages to whine and bitch about her fake problems of her own creation.

You're definitely right that she's sick of criticism, though. She has been for years, and it's shown, but the more times she plays the same tired old story, the more people see through it. "Boy who cried wolf", except it's "Taylor who cried misogyny" lol

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift critical #ask #anon

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not texting my friend?

To be clear I have no intention of cutting off this person, I will not block or ghost them, and if they text me I WILL answer and not be dry or lame about it.

I just won't be the one to start any conversations.

Moving on:

The story is super complicated but I'll try to keep it coherent.

Three people in the story (fake names):

Me (20)

Alex (16) - friend

Luck (16) - younger sibling We are all the same gender.

Something to keep in mind about me: I have always been very sheltered, naive and distracted, people have told me so and the more I learn the more I realize how ignorant I am. So I have very little experience, perception and knowledge of worldly things. This makes it difficult for me to keep up with people my age and I spend most of my focus on stories I like to write. It's not an excuse for anything and I'm actively working to be better.

Something that doesn't contribute much to the story but may be nice to know: Pretty much everything happens online, I've only met Alex in person like 4 times for birthday parties and stuff.

Now the story: I met Alex three years ago during covid when I was doing school online (I was 17 and Alex and Luck were 13). I was introduced to Alex through my younger sibling. Luck added me to a group chat with a bunch of their classmates, and I got popular really fast. Alex took a particular liking to me, because they thought i was funny and we had many of the same hobbies. So Alex was the first of Luck's friends to start a chat with me directly. Alex was always online and so was I, so we ended up talking alot, like all the time. I noticed Luck got kind of jealous, and that was when I began to wonder if the friendship was right, but I did nothing about it.

Eventually Alex and I started writing a story together, it's something I try to do with all of my close friends and we got really into it. A big rule that I have is that the real world and fiction are separate, under no circumstances are they to entertwine, especially emotionally (ex. I have never and will never insert myself in a story or daydream, not even if reality sucks for me at that time) Alex was different, they got attached to the characters. So there I am, obsessed with progressing the story's plot, and I kill off one of my characters. Alex expresses discontent, but not much. It's through Luck that I find out later that Alex had been crying about it for days. I felt bad and brought the character back, and life went on.

A year and a half into our friendship and Luck seems to have gotten over her jealousy, while Alex and I spend more time writing and focusing on the story than anything else. There are some signs in the rare times that Alex and I talk about life that it become apparent that Alex is going through a rough time, but I don't think too much about it since the story is all that's on my mind. On top of this there's school and whatever.

One day Alex starts asking for breaks from story writing and plotting, and I agree without a fuss. It gets me thinking a bit more, and after a couple more days during a conversation about the real world Alex sends a long paragraph about how horrible things are. (I won't explain what exactly these horrible things were for privacy reasons) Now I realize how inconsiderate I've been so far and I tell Alex that I'm there to support them in whatever they need. I spend pretty much all of the next year texting them every hour of every day and this is what happens:

At the beginning of our friendship our conversations flowed wonderfully, we shared our achievements and showed genuine interest in each other's lives. But things changed and by this point In the story our conversations go like so:

Me: (asks a question) Alex: (responds) Me: (reacts to response) Alex: (dry response) -Repeat infinitely-

Aside from that we would always say goodnight and Goodmorning to each other.

One time. Only one. Alex texted me asking for help and I didn't see the message until hours later. I never really forgave myself for that.

At this point I'm 19 and Alex is 15, and it suddenly crosses my mind how our friendship might be perceived by others. I considered Alex another younger sibling, but with all the crazy things happening in the world I wondered what others would think. In the end I concluded that Alex needed me and it didn't matter. So life goes on. My entire life revolves around helping Alex, when I'm not texting them I am worrying, my own problems come second. My whole family thinks I'm addicted to my phone. I'm always tired and stressed. The stories were put on pause.

Time passes and soon I'm turning twenty. I'm starting to think I can't do it anymore, our friendship has turned kind of codependent (I didn't even know what that was until a month ago). I consider ghosting many times, changing my number, blocking, but only for a couple minutes at a time and I always hate myself for thinking it afterwards. I keep talking to Alex, but sometimes I'll answer a bit slower. Let them wait 3-5 minutes instead of 1-2, if I really steel myself I can hold back for 7 minutes.

One day without warning Alex doesn't text me at all. They've dissapeared before but never without sending a quick message to let me know about it, not until this day. Their status also worries me, only one word: "gone". There I am internally freaking out, losing it, trying to come up with reasons for which everything is fine. I don't ask Luck if they know anything because I know they'll get annoyed. It's not until late the next day that Alex lets me know they went a roadtrip. I tell them "I was worried lol" and immediately they ask why. I wasn't expecting an apology but the question struck me as weird, so I was reluctant to answer. Alex pushes for an answer, they haven't been this interested in what I've had to say for years. I with horror I realize that they liked that i was worried, they wanted to milk it as much as they could. I understand that people need validation, but I was already constantly complementing Alex and telling them how important they were. The fact that they preferred my panic (though in Alex's defense I never told them I was panicking) hit me hard. I didn't elaborate on why I was worried. Alex got upset. And i spent the next hour sobbing over my phone, realizing i needed some distance.

I started slow. I wouldn't say goodnight somedays, others I would forgo a Goodmorning, but I always answered (I swore to myself never to leave Alex on read). I went on a trip and I decided I would enjoy it for once, so I let Alex know i couldn't text much. Nevertheless this lack of contact didn't keep me from worrying and wondering endlessly.

After the trip we kept texting less, we expressed missing each other but neither of us did too much to keep things going. I tried to focus on my in-person relationships, and friendships with people my age. I went back to stories and published a novella.

Nowadays Alex and I talk maybe once every week and a half. The conversations are excruciating. Alex tells me how things still suck, my usual words of comfort seem to mean nothing to either of us anymore. Alex leaves me on read as soon as the conversation goes dry, usually after ten minutes worth of conversation, sometimes over the span of many hours. We don't talk again until I cave in and say hello. Then a couple days later Alex says hello. And then it's up to me again, and every time I tell myself I won't do it.

Luck has told me their opinion of Alex, they saw way before I did how self-centered Alex is. The thing is Alex doesn't do it on purpose, I am entirely sure of that and so is Luck. Luck treats Alex nicely but they're out of touch, more than I am. I am not mad at Alex. I still care deeply for them, but I feel like there's nothing I can do andour old dynamic just hurts both of us. Cutting them off is not an option, they're just a kid and I'm better than that. So I just don't start a conversation.

A couple days ago Alex texted me (even though it was my unspoken turn to text first) and we talked, and the conversation wasn't dry at all, and it wasn't that painful to deal with. They showed interest in my life and shared some sad stuff but also happy stuff about theirs, and it felt like old times. We texted the entire day. At one point the they mentioned that I could text them whenever I wanted, and I felt an underlying petition that I do. The conversation went on and eventually they left me on read the next morning when I answered a message from the night before.

Ever since then I've been actively holding back from texting them but I can't help but wonder if I'm a jerk for it.

These aren't even all the factors but this post has gotten too long lol.

So AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[thatfrailsoul]

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Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you and behind which image it hides... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that whenever you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

_

Hi!♡ Before looking deeper into this question... I would like to do another one to you.♡ Obviously you don't need to stop by here if you don't want to - your message and reading is right here after this question. But if you do answer, it will be incredibly helpful for me to make this blog more comfortable and interesting for you and others.♡ So... which forms of tarot readings and messages here on Tumblr are more interesting for you?♡:

1) A lot of piles/images to choose from so it feels more real that the message is for you, and shorter messages that can be read more fastly and comfortably.

2) Less piles/images to choose from so there isn't anxiety in deciding, but longer and more detailed messages.

3) More piles/images to choose from and more detailed messages so it feels more destined to you and provides more clarity and information.

_

Thank you so much for helping me out!♡

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No matter what you see, what you feel when you are stuck in that dream and vision... There is something important there, a key to your current situation, a solution to the confusion and uncertainty that overwhelms you.

It might confuse you or even scare you, with its mysterious story that each time unfolds in your mind.. But there is nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear. As it's only a particular way of your subconscious mind to talk to you, to give you the alternative to giving up or running away that you consider now...

Because is not all that there is to this situation, difficulty or problem. You are not meant at all to suffer as you walk on this path trying to achieve your dreams. There is a solution, right here and so close to you. A different way to overcome it shifting the situation from the worst to something much much easier and even enjoyable to go through.

Your mind is asking you to wait a little more here, to give this situation another chance, to look at it from a different perspective exactly as you do with this dream trying to understand more of it. Your mind tries to tell you that exactly like this dream... It will end.

All the confusion, anxiety and worry will end. Allowing you to return to your life, to the safety and the balance that you managed to create. You need only to allow yourself to live it, to see it like this dream, knowing that there is much more that will follow it, no matter how scary, confusing or strange it seems.

_

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It's difficult to stay present in the life that feels so harsh, so confusing, so different from the way we pictured it when we were younger. It's difficult to push our own selves in keep on going, in facing the situations, in taking our responsibilities or sacrifice ourselves to resolve the ones of others who don't care that much...

But it's so easy to hide in our mind, in different and misterious worlds. In other dimensions where when facing the same problems and fears, or perhaps even worse... We have much more control on it.

And you did it for a really long time. You hid inside your mind, inside does hopes and wanders. The ones that nourished became something more, a whole different story about who you are, adventures that you live through... It became your safe space, far away from the situations that continued to get worse and more painful to deal with. To the point that it's simply scary to face them, difficult to don't look away.

And when you are still forced to do so... Your mind is overwhelmed with fear and stress, finding relief only in those dreams that are so strange but that feel much more appealing than this world. But while this is what your conscious mind does and needs... The subconscious mind is aware of how wrong it is and is against it.

And through those same dreams that were always the only real and clear way it could talk to you - it tries to regain its power back by shifting your visions, the sweet stories and lies they tell you. In hopes that you can, in that confusion and impossibility to understand and connect so much to those dreams like you used to... You could become aware of how unfortunately false they've been. How they never were the truth, never were what you needed to overcome all of this. How they instead were only a distraction, a way to escape this reality and hide.

Your subconscious confuses you, makes it uncomfortable to be in that state in which you escape for so long and for so many times. But it's not because it's mean to you, because it doesn't want you to have a safe place... It's more because it wants, your inner self wants, to feel so safe in this and real world. It wants you to live, to fight back, and in doing so to find your strength and courage. It wants and needs you to learn how to live and go through it. Instead of putting yourself in a golden cage from which you will never be able to grow.

_

#thatfrailsoul #thatfrailsoul message #thatfrailsoul guidance #thatfrailsoul tarot #divination #tarot #oracle #tarot reading #pick a pile #tarot cards #pick a pile tarot #pick a pile reading #pick a card #pick and choose #spirituality #answers #awareness #intuition #dreams #visions #signs #sign #higher self

[sourholland]

WELCOME TO THE STYLE MASTERLIST

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → hope u guys like this :)

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, alcohol

word count → 3.3k

remember to reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 6

“It’s one picture, don’t drive yourself crazy over it,” Joe’s voice came through your phone. “I get why you’re freaking out, but I think we both agree that it could be a lot worse.”

“That’s the problem. This was our first time out together, who’s to say there aren’t more pictures like this but worse? We haven’t exactly been careful about seeing each other, Joe.”

There was a brief silence, the sound of his car air conditioner creating a white noise in the background of your phone call. He texted you back almost instantaneously after you sent him the screenshot from Twitter. He said he would have to tell his coaches he was having an important family matter so that they would allow him to walk out to take the call in the middle of analyzing game film. It took him all but five minutes to get outside and phone you.

“I know,” he sighed, inhaling a quick breath before he spoke again. “We’ll be better about stuff, you know I’ll make sure I’m not so–”

“It’s more than that and you know it. This doesn’t just end with one shitty photo on Twitter, it only gets worse from here. It makes no difference if we’re trying harder to sneak around because at some point one of us is going to fuck up, that’s if we already haven’t and don’t know, and then would all of this have been worth it?” You snapped at him, thankful he could not see the tears threatening to spill over and dampen your cheeks. “The fucking around and being casual hookup buddies. Will it have been worth it? Maybe for you, but that’s because you’re Joe Burrow and we both know we’re not even in remotely similar spots in this situation.”

“What are fucking talking about? That’s all bullshit, you know that’s bullshit,” his voice raised slightly, a twinge of hurt evident. “Look, Y/N–I understand that we aren’t exactly in the same position, but that doesn’t make it fair for you to act like none of this matters to me or whatever the fuck you’re going on about as far as all of this being worth it. What’s going on between us has never had anything to do with me, or my name, or what position I hold on the team.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? Of course it has something to do with who you are, it always had something to do with who you are and you can’t seriously tell me you don’t know that. You’re in the NFL and a star quarterback for fucks sake. You went to the Super Bowl last year! You can’t seriously sit here and tell me we’re risking the same things?”

The line was quiet, save for the sound of both of you breathing. Perhaps you were being petty, but Joe was being inconsiderate of what a loss of job would mean for you. He sounded hurt by the fact that the two of you hooking up was not a good enough reason to lose out on the extra money. The public humiliation you would receive was a whole different factor to be conquered in itself. While you might not know what this was like for him, he sure as hell wouldn’t ever know what it is like for you. 

Social status and money were such fickle things, seemingly unimportant in some scenarios until suddenly they became the center of the universe again. Joe would never again live a fully mundane life, he couldn’t see through the eyes of a college student who already had trouble making ends meet. It felt so unfair to know how this story would end, however if you could potentially stop it from being made worse, you might be thankful in the long run. 

“You’re right, that was a stupid thing for me to say. But Y/N, I’m just as much in this as you. It’s not easy for me either.”

“It shouldn’t have to be hard,” you sighed, face hot with emotion as you stared downward at your feet. “I just feel like we might be better off leaving this where it is, you know? Before things get messy. Which they will, you know they will.”

Joe didn’t speak at first, his silence left a sharp ache to burrow itself deep within your ribcage. His voice came out firm but hoarse, “If that’s what you want.”

As your breath grew slightly ragged, you realized that you hadn’t been preparing for his nonchalant response. Selfishly, you let a hand slide to your chest and then throat as you swallowed and attempted to formulate a response to his words. The line was silent, save for the sound of Joe’s breathing. 

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“It seems like that’s what you want, seeing as you were the one who brought it up. And if this is just sex then why should it matter?” said Joe, his tone defensive and his voice breathier than usual. “This is just sex to you, right?”

No, you wanted to shout at him. This is so much more than sex and you know that, but the second you said it aloud it could not be taken back and then things truly became complicated. Joe wished to provoke you, the tone of his voice said as much. This annoyed you, his desire to make this even more difficult for you. 

“What do you want me to say to that?” 

“It’s a simple question,” Joe hurled, clearly irritated.

“No, it’s not. You know that,” you sniffled. “How I feel about you doesn’t matter when we’re in this situation, anyway.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a simple question because you’re making it complicated. How you feel doesn’t matter because you say it doesn’t matter,” Joe answered furiously. “Look, I have to get back inside, but I just want to say that you saying all of this right now is really fucking selfish. Especially after all of the mixed signals you send… I never know what you actually want from me. One second you’re pissed off at the idea of me even seeing another girl and now you’re breaking stuff off with me over the phone.”

You flinched at his assessment, “I’m just trying to do the right thing for both of us.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The line went dead and you knew he had hung up, frustrated with you and the entire situation. You let your hands run over your face, feeling a deep pain in your chest as you buried your face into the blankets on your couch that still held his distant scent. He surely hated now, unable to comprehend how deep your feelings for him went. Much deeper than his for you, you were sure of. When you told him that your relationship would grow messy, you hadn’t been lying. However, a piece of you was not solely referring to the conflict within your work. 

You debated calling him back, but knew that he would have already made it back into the facility. He sounded so upset with you, more so than he had ever been before. Joe was usually quite relaxed and level-headed, though now he was most definitely frustrated by the argument itself. 

Joe made no other attempts to contact you for the remainder of the day. That night, you let your phone sit idly by as you made dinner and still nothing. Maybe the two of you had broken up, that was what you had insisted anyways. He made you act like a complete idiot sometimes, thoughts skewed and rash as if you were once again sixteen. Nothing about Joe was in disarray, he always seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say and do. It never came out awkward or clunky, despite how he described his usual anxiety during interviews.

Attempting to sleep was difficult, your mind racing a mile a minute. Thoughts of Joe persisted, leaving you ridden with guilt and sadness about the supposed no contact. You knew not to text, though. Not only would it have been unfair to you, but Joe as well. There was also the fact that it would never work between the two of you, the carousel of disappointment and pain was unavoidable. 

⋆------------⋆

The Bengals lost their next preseason game against the Giants, the game was close but ended the same as the Cardinals had. The only difference in this game was Joe’s attendance, he wore a headset on the sidelines with his coaches as the team played. Still out on injury, he was helping to give instruction to his teammates most of the game. 

You had briefly locked eyes with Joe before the game began, everyone scrambling about to get into positions. His expression was blank, as if he had no idea who you were and there was never anything there. Your eyes raked over him, the way that the shirt he wore hugged his biceps and back. Joe spared the cheerleaders more glances than usual this game, watching more than he ever had time to while playing. You caught his lingering gaze once or twice, mind racing.

The final preseason game against the Rams played out the exact same, save for the fact that the Bengals won. It had been two weeks between the game and the morning of yours and Joe’s heated argument. The post on Twitter had somewhat died off at twenty thousand likes and his fans eventually found something new to speculate about. 

Sydney and Lena were absolutely furious when you divulged all information regarding the fight you had caused, earning a few much deserved playful swots to the arm. They attempted to coerce you into calling him and smoothing things over, insisting that you shouldn’t just end things on such an awful note. Once you explained more of the predicament and how you felt no desire to be ripped apart on the internet or by your coaches, both girls simply sighed and nodded at your decision. They understood how difficult it was for you, especially after silent tears had begun to fall during the long winded explanation of how seriously NFL executives and management took player-cheerleader fraternization and how it would unfortunately not just be swept under the rug when you two inevitably got caught.

The wallowing in self-pity lasted for another week before the girls had finally called for the bedrotting to end, “Babe, don’t cry. Come on, wipe those tears. We’re going out tonight,” said Sydney, sitting criss cross on your bedroom floor. “It’s Friday night, you’re hot as fuck and you’re an NFL cheerleader. I love you so I’m going to be honest with you right now, I get that you fumbled Joe Burrow, but we both know that he was just a guy at the end of the day. So again, you are hot as fuck and we’re going out. What do I always say?”

“I’m not feeling it tonight, Syd,” your reply was muffled as you spoke into the pillow you lay face down into. “Go without me.”

“Bitch, stop. You’re going out, we’re getting fucked up. Lena’s already on her way over here and you know she’s not leaving without you so let’s go. You’ll feel better, by the time we get to the club you’re going to be like ‘Who’s Joe Burrow anyways?’”

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” you sighed, turning to look up at the ceiling. “You don’t want me to come, I’m miserable and sad and I’m only going to spoil everyone’s fun.”

“I don’t care, Y/N. Spoil my fun, ruin my night, I’d say throw up in my clutch but you already managed that last time we went out. I just want to see you out of this bed for something other than practice, work, or class. You’re like a ghost and I’m not going to watch you throw away your senior year because of some erotic work hookup with a guy who I’m sure couldn’t even hold a candle to you,” Sydney spieled, perched on the edge of your bed. “The only way to get over a man is to get under a new one!”

Eventually Sydney did manage to get you up, it only took ripping all of the blankets off of you and hiding your phone. Once Lena came in and began tidying up the somewhat mess you’d been allowing to collect, you realized getting out was probably the best course of action. Although you had no plans of getting under any new guy, Sydney appreciated your partially willing participation once she began to do your hair and makeup. 

Lena dumped a bag of going out tops onto your bed, sifting through them and throwing each top into a certain pile. Some of them were from freshman year, leaving both you and Sydney to cringe and shout at her to make sure it went into the rapidly growing mass of ‘absolutely not’ tops. Eventually you settled for a fitted lilac top, adorned with sheer lace everywhere but the cups. Sydney wore a timeless black bodysuit that she had swiped from your closet during study abroad and Lena opted for blue slip dress and promised Sydney she would take care of her leather jacket if she let her borrow it.

The three of you Ubered to the club, knowing that you planned to drink. As soon as you slid into the backseat of the SUV, Sydney pulled her purse into her lap and was suddenly handing out shooters. There was one Malibu, a Fireball, and a Pink Whitney.

“Fuck that, I can’t even smell that shit without wanting to throw up,” you shook your head, pretending to gag in a dramatic motion. “You’re better off throwing the Pink Shitney out the window.”

“Throw up?” The driver’s head whipped towards the backseat suddenly. “No, no! If you throw up, I charge extra.”

“Nobody is going to throw up, sir,” Lena reassured him and looked back at both you and Sydney with a laugh. “Well, I don’t want it either. Rock, paper, scissors?”

Sydney and Lena went first, Lena won and chose the Malibu. You faced Sydney now, playing rock as she threw out scissors and proceeded to hunch over in fake despair as you snatched the shot of Fireball. Not that the taste was much better, but after a few horrible experiences with Pink Whitney during freshman year, you could no longer stomach it without revisiting the memories of endless mornings spent hugging the toilet bowl of your dorm floor after drinking with your girls and relishing in the alcohol that tastes identical to Minute Maid once you grew drunk enough.

The drive to the club was about fifteen minutes from your apartment, each of you taking a couple of photos together and dissecting Lena’s texts with her ex from the night before.Sydney was bantering with the driver once you finally pulled up beside the curb out front of the club, a considerably long queue already forming at the front door. 

“You look so hot,” Lena told you, practically skipping to join the line and get inside. “So do you, Syd.”

The bouncer worked quickly, only sending a few people away as he looked over IDs and gestured clusters inside of the club. Thankfully, your fake ID days had passed and you were finally able to toss it. Most of the drinking you had done over the course of your time at school was with small groups of girlfriends and occasionally nights spent at sleazy bars that weren’t strict about obviously fake IDs. Frats had never been your scene, although you managed to go a few times during your freshman year for the experience.

Once the three of you made it inside, Sydney immediately went to the bar after claiming the first round of drinks were on her. There were colorful lights illuminating the crowded atmosphere of those dancing and drinking with friends. The club mix that was playing boomed, your ears adjusting to the insanely loud music as Sydney approached with drinks and held up her phone to snap a photo of you and Lena.

“Drink up!” Sydney called out to both of you, taking a long sip and looking around the club in search of tonight’s target. 

It didn’t take long for Lena to pull both of you to dance, integrating yourselves with a group of sweaty, twenty-something girls who were the level of drunk you hoped to be soon enough. The floor vibrated, moisture collecting at your temples and hairline as you rocked against Sydney in a slightly buzzed bliss. One of the girls you had just met had her arms thrown around your neck, all of you singing at different pitches. 

A rotation of going to grab more drinks and then rejoining your group on the floor had begun, both you and Lena alternating who bought the next round of shots after Sydney found a cute guy at the bar to flirt with. The film of sweat clinging to your skin became unnoticeable after you grew drunk enough to stop caring, your face hot from drinking and dancing. 

“Lena!” You called over the music, drink in-hand. “I have to pee, I’ll be right back!”

“What?” She leaned in. “Bathroom? I’ll come with you!”

“No, stay! I’ll be good,” you promised, knowing she had already made two trips with you.

“You sure?”

“Yes!” You shouted over your shoulder, already making your way to the slightly grungy, low-lit bathroom.

There was a singular open stall, stray bits of toilet paper and a fake eyelash adorning the floor as you drunkenly made your way around the girls reapplying makeup in the mirror. Thoughts of the game washed over you, in turn bringing on thoughts of Joe. Something about going to the bathroom and finally having a few moments of peace allowed you to assess how intoxicated you truly were, which was considerable. The thought of talking to him outweighed the small voice of reason in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding that it would be a problem for your sober self.

As you left the bathroom, rather than going back out to dance with Lena, you leaned against the wall of the hallway and braced yourself in order to stay upright. You pulled your phone from your clutch, sighing and opening his contact. It was late, he might be asleep, you thought. Without thinking much, you dazedly pressed the call button and closed your eyes as the phone rang and you awaited his potential answer.

“Y/N,” his voice came through clear, not even taking two rings to pick up your call.

“Hi, Joe,” you concentrated very hard on your tone and slightly slurred speech, doing your best to sound sober.”M’sorry it’s so late, I just–I was thinking about you, which I know that I shouldn’t because we’re broken up but I was. I wanted to talk to you, I know you probably hate me and everything, or I hate you or whatever. I shouldn’t have called you, I’m sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” His voice comes out level, emotionless even.

The silence between the two of you is palpable, “No,” you hiccup.

He says nothing for a few seconds, “Are you at the club?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I can hear music and people talking, it sounds like you’re in a club.”

This was wrong, you should not be calling Joe. Why couldn’t you shake him? After all of this, you only continued to want more. All you have done is hurt him and yourself through this situation, unable to make up your mind. Everything you have worked so hard for should be worth more than Joe Burrow, so why didn’t it feel like that?

“Yeah,” you replied, the slurring evident in your voice. “You got me.”

“This isn’t fair, YN… You calling me fucked up and out with who the hell knows isn’t right, not after you call me and tell me you would rather, ‘leave things where they are.’ I like you! I feel like I have made that incredibly obvious, and yet here we are once again.” He rattled off, voice slightly raised. “Look, I’m sorry to be an asshole but clearly you either can’t see or don’t care about how this has affected me or my life. And I get it, you’re still in college and we’re just in completely different stages of life as far as your age–”

“My age?” You finally interrupted his rambling, ready to counter him with what you would most likely regret saying tomorrow. “How come you’re suddenly so fucking mature and I’m just a kid?”

“Well for starters, you are the one who blindsided me a few weeks ago over the phone. You are the one who just called me up at one in the morning, for what? To tell me again that you don’t want to be with me? Or is this some sick joke where you apologize and then can’t remember when you wake up?” He snapped at you. “So yeah, Y/N… I would go as far as to say you’re the immature one in this situation.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of you, internalizing Joe’s words as you shifted weight from one foot to the other. Everything was fuzzy, your thoughts askew and irrational as you tried to compile the right words to respond with. He had never taken that tone with you before, nor had he ever sounded so hurt. Maybe he was right.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” was all you could muster without giving away how inebriated you truly are, figuring that would only make things worse. “I regret everything, all of it. We shouldn’t have started anything in the first place, but everytime you come near me it’s just so hard not to want you–” You trailed off, regret was most definitely not the right word, you mean to say that you regret how things have played out.

“Y/N, stop. You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying,” he sighed. “Are you safe? Should I get you an Uber or do you have a way home?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you say quietly.

“Then I’m gonna get off of here, call me once you’ve sobered up.”

His words stung, your heart cracking at the justifiable dismissal. He was most definitely not in the wrong here, but it didn’t make it any less hard. His usual flirtation and humor was long gone, replaced by obvious disdain due to the way you had ended things. 

“Bye, Joe.”

“Get home safe, Y/N.”

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[rachey899]

Running Into Fire

A Luke and Matt sizeshifter short story, this story takes place immediately after 'Be the Hero'.

TW: Life threatening scenarios involving being trapped in a burning building, some swearing, mentions of self-hate and shame

Approx 4.2k words

“Come on dude please! This will be so good for your image!” Matt was pacing the living room practically giddy with excitement; he was shaking like a squirrel on caffeine.

Luke on the other hand was largely less enthused, mostly embarrassed, and deadly scared of revealing his unique abilities to anyone else, he’d already let too many people see what he was capable of in the last few months.

“Matt I can’t, I can’t just go around shifting for the whole world to see, you don’t get it.”

Matt raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t going to let this drop, it had been two weeks since the incident at the bank and Matt was convinced, he was now somewhat of a vigilante. Luke had used his size shifting abilities during a bank robbery, the robber had turned suicidal when it was clear there was no sign of escape and had set a bomb.

Luke, thinking quickly had shifted into his larger size of approximately 60 feet to smother the bomb and apprehend the criminal. The police had then discovered what was going on and promised Luke they would keep his secret, for which he was grateful.

Matt on the other hand was only convinced further that Luke should continue to use his powers for fighting crime.

“Honestly Luke what the hell is the point in having kickass superpowers if you aren’t ever gonna use them!”

“I’m not a superhero Matt, I’m a freak of nature and this has to be kept a secret.” Luke stood then, feeling his blood pressure rise with the feeling of anger, he didn’t want to fight with Matt, but he was becoming increasingly more frustrated by the minute.

Another reason Luke couldn’t rely on his own abilities, though he had some semblance of control to shift at will, his shifting was also controlled by his heightened emotions.

Feelings such as anger or stress could cause him to grow and feelings of sadness and exhaustion would make him shrink, all out of his control, if he didn’t have a handle on his emotions.

“I’ve kept your secret Luke, and I don’t plan on going around revealing your powers to the world, but I at least think you should be using them to save people.” Matt was firm, his arms crossed over his chest, all excitement of a child gone in an attempt to help his friend see his own potential.

“Fuck man you don’t seem to understand that if this gets out, people will come after me, either the general public who think I’m dangerous or the government who will see me as a science project. I won’t be helping anyone if I’m locked up in some government facility.” Luke pushed his fingers through his short brown locks.

“This isn’t like in the movies Matt, superheroes aren’t real, in real life freaks like me need to stay hidden, for our own protection and for the protection of others.” Sighing deeply, Luke finished his rant, he wasn’t usually a man of very many words, but he needed to get Matt to understand this.

“Fine, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” The tall blonde walked away from the conversation, it was clear they were not going to agree on this tonight, but he knew his friend and he knew that when push comes to shove, he would be the hero.

Luke fell back into the soft cushions of the couch, he didn’t feel like he’d won that, and he knew he hadn’t, but at least for now Matt would drop the issue and stop sketching potential superhero disguises for him.

Luke and Matt had known each other since they were in the first grade and had been thick as thieves since. When Lukes abilities made themselves known when he was six years old, he was sworn by his parents to keep it a secret even from his best friend, so it wasn’t until high school that Matt actually learned of Luke’s gift and even that had been by accident.

Luke had been stressed about a major test and feeling the tightness in his body and the push of shifting coursing through him all day, when the test was over, he had bolted into the forest that backed onto the school oval so he could shift.

He had not expected anyone to follow him, but he was grateful that it had been Matt and not someone else, though it had been a scary revelation for Matt he had quickly overcome his fears and was stoked to be in on the secret. Luke had felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that he didn’t have to hide a huge part of who he was from his best friend.

Now some 10 years later, both of them in their mid-twenties and sharing an apartment in New York, still best friends and trying to lead a somewhat normal life, this had clearly grown boring for Matt though.

Matt was the more charismatic of the two where Luke was the quiet nerdy type, overly emotional and anxious as all hell, which didn’t bode well for him considering the nature of his abilities.

Luke’s biggest fear is still to lose control of his abilities and hurt someone he cares about, there had been way too many close calls throughout the course of his life so far and it was so easy to lose control. He couldn’t let that happen, and if he were to play the superhero then the probability of something going horribly wrong was much higher, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why can’t I just be fucking normal.” Luke sighed through gritted teeth; life would be so much simpler.

A loud explosion sounded nearby, shaking Luke from his self-depreciating thoughts, the crash could be felt like an earthquake through the floor and rattled the windows. Quickly jumping to the window, he could see flames coming from a nearby apartment building, only a block or two away, it looked as though a few cars had crashed into the building followed by an explosion.

Hearing the quick pads of feet down the hall he turned to see Matt had emerged with his shoes on and a hoodie over his pajama top.

“Oh, hell no.” Luke said, already knowing exactly what Matt was thinking.

“We will get there faster than the emergency services Luke, we have to go and help.” Matt was already heading for the door, his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not doing it Matt; I won’t shift in front of all those people.”

Matt sighed turning away from him, clearly still either pissed or just disappointed in him, he opened the door as he spoke “I’m not asking you too, I’m going to go and help, whether you come with me or not, that’s what good people do.”

Matt closed the door behind him, and Luke turned his pale blue eyes skyward as if the ceiling might provide him with a reasonable excuse to stay in his apartment. Groaning loudly, he pushed off from the window to put his shoes on.

He wouldn’t let his friend go alone with the potential that he could and would recklessly put his own life in danger to help, he was the real hero after all, Luke was the coward.

Luke quickly raced down the two flights of stairs and chased after Matt who was already approaching the smoky scene. Now seeing things up close, it was clear that two cars had crashed into each other before rolling into the building and crashing into what must have been a gas pipe.

The six-story building was in flames, four of the six floors already engulfed with the fire rapidly escalating higher by the minute, many residents of the building were standing outside already disheveled and, in their nightwear, crying and hugging each other.

“Is everyone out? Has anyone called 911?” Matt was asking the crowd, a few people were on their phones already, presumably calling emergency services.

“No, there’s an elderly couple on the sixth floor, I can’t see them, there’s also a family with kids and I think a few others, I can’t see them anywhere they must be still inside, of god I wish they would hurry!” A stocky woman shouted, she had short, cropped hair and was clutching a small dog to her chest sobbing into his fur.

Matt nodded at the woman before running towards the entry way into the apartment, Luke followed after him grabbing his arm to pull him back.

“No fucking way Matt, there’s no way I let you go in there.” Matt tugged on his arm trying to shake Luke off of him, he had a sharp look in his hazel eyes.

“I’m not gonna just stand here and watch it burn, the firefighters are ten minutes away, they’ll be dead by then.”

“And you’ll be dead too, fuck!” Look shut his eyes tightly thinking of a way to get those people out, they couldn’t go up from the bottom, it was already unstable and engulfed by flame, they needed to go in from the top. He had a plan, but he didn’t like it.

“Damnit Matt, come with me, quickly!” He shouted at his friend pulling him around the corner and into the shadow of the neighboring building.

“We do this quickly okay, I’ll shift and let you in to the sixth floor, get the people to the window and I’ll carry them down and then we go before emergency services get here, got it?”

Without waiting for his friend to respond he quickly shot up to his 65-foot height, he pulled his hoodie over his face to hopefully hide his identity from onlookers, he then knelt down in front of his friend, laying his hand palm up for Matt to climb onto.

It never ceased to amaze Matt each time he saw his best friend grow into a literal giant, but there was no time to stare slack jawed, he quickly climbed on sitting with crossed legs in the center of the massive palm as it rose into the air.

With only a brief moment to hesitate, Luke carefully stepped out of the shadows of the building and rounded the corner, his footsteps quaked the ground below him and the multitude of gasps from the ground made him flinch. Ignoring the gawking stares, he went straight up to the building trying his best to keep his steps light lest he cause the unstable building to collapse.

At his impressive height of 65 feet, he stood eye level with the windows of the sixth floor, carefully and mindful of his small passenger he raised his hand up to the sixth floor, knocking one of the windows with the tip of his finger to break it and allow Matt to enter.

Once his hand was level with one of the windows, Matt stood and jumped through the open window, immediately shouting to anyone that might be there.

“If your still up here, shout out, make a noise, we need to get you out of here now!”

With nothing else to do but anxiously wait while the crowd of small people below him stared up at him in most likely fear, he fiddled with the edge of his hood and tried his best not to look at them.

He could feel their stares though, and the click of photographs being taken.

In the distance he could hear sirens and he cursed under his breathe.

“Come on Matt.” Luke muttered impatiently.

As if reading his mind, Matt made an appearance at the window, he had an elderly woman in a nightgown on his left with her arm over his shoulder for support and an elderly man on his right also leaning against him and coughing from the smoke in the air.

Luke raised his hand to the window, making it level and flush against the side of the building so it was easier for them to step onto, the woman looked up probably expecting to see a fireman and a ladder but instead was greeted with large blue eyes peering in.

She screamed bloody murder and clung to Matt, urging him to back away from the window.

“Ma’am it’s okay, he’s a friend, we are here to help I promise.” He assured her.

“M-monster!” She wailed, Luke’s heart skipped a beat at the word, he’d always referred to himself as a monster, a freak but never once had he heard someone cry that name at him before, not his family, not Matt, not even the frightened onlookers during the bank incident.

The word pierced through him, and he hesitated, he didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, he knew what it felt like to literally put your life in someone else’s hands, and they didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him.

Matt rubbed the woman’s back soothingly, while the old man stood silently, his shirt pulled over his mouth so he could breathe easier, he stared at Luke as if calculating if it was worth the risk.

At that very moment Matt had just managed to calm down the old woman when there was more commotion behind him and soon a young woman with two young children, a little girl of around six years old and an older boy maybe ten, came into view of the window. The mother skidded in her tracks when she took in the scene before her, backing away towards the fiery hallway they had just come from.

“No wait!” Matt cried, quickly becoming frustrated with everyone’s hesitance towards his friend.

“Listen! This is Luke! He’s a friend, I swear, we only want to get you down from this building, you only have to trust him for one minute then I swear you can walk away!”

The mother and two children walked a little closer, but the old woman was firm in place.

“Do you want to wait for the fire fighters to get here and risk your lives while you wait or do you want to get down now!”

That was enough to convince the young mother and she skirted around the wailing woman, she then helped her children up onto the ledge and onto the awaiting palm, once seated in the center she held both her children close to her.

Luke raised his other hand as a sort of safety ledge before carefully pulling his hands away from the building and lowering the small family to the ground.

Another round of gasps erupted from the people around him and he kept his head tilted downwards in hopes that no one would get a good angle of his face. Once his hand was on the ground, he moved his other away from the family so they could step off easily, his eyes met the little girls, she reminded him so much of his own little sister when he was younger.

The young woman stood on shaky legs and pulled her children along with her, Luke had to suppress the automatic impulse to flinch from the feeling of small limbs tickling his sensitive palm. The little girl toddled after her mother and gave him a little wave, her other hand gripping a small brown bear to her chest.

“Thank you, Luke.” She said, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it, he nodded once to her before he addressed the growing crowd.

“I’m gonna stand up again.” He muttered, he knew his voice no matter how soft would carry and echo through the streets, he felt he at least owed them a little warning.

Then standing again, he raised his hand once more to the window ledge, the fire had entered the room now and the woman still stood shaking her head, now however the old man was at her side also trying to convince her to get on.

“Come on Brenda love, we can’t stay here.”

Matt had had enough though, he approached the window trying to get a glimpse of the emergency services, he could hear them getting faintly louder, still a minute or two away, but the building could give way at any second.

“Luke your gonna have to grab her.”

Luke gulped audibly, not only did he really not want to do that, but he hated grabbing anyone against their will, even holding the robber in a firm fist had made him feel sick to his stomach. No one should have their free will taken from them like that, especially a frightened old woman.

“Matt, you can’t ask me to, I can’t.”

“Do it lad, she won’t listen to reason, please help us out of here.” The old man spoke up then, his wife was in a state of panic and not listening to anything happening around her, there was no way to convince her to get on his hand willingly and Matt couldn’t lift her onto it on his own.

The building groaned and that made up his decision, they had to do this now.

“Okay, alright, you two get on first.” The old man wasted no time, he climbed on and sat himself down holding on tight to Luke’s thumb that had curled into his palm, Matt hopped on shortly after.

Luke moved them towards his chest, so they had some kind of shield from the drop below before his other hand crowded the window, the old woman was backing up, but she wasn’t fast enough for the large appendage that invaded the small space of the room.

She screamed so loudly that it could surely be heard from a few blocks away, Luke held his breathe, hating himself as his fingers wrapped around her frail frame, he held her in a loose fist, not wanting to squeeze too tightly on her fragile body.

Then as carefully as he could he pulled her from the building, he knelt down once more, letting off his two passengers and carefully opening his other hand next to Matt so he could help her if she was unstable.

Luke hadn’t realized until now, but the old woman had become silent in his hand, as he let her go, Matt caught her and lowered her onto the ground.

A deafening groan came from the building behind them, and Luke turned to see the sixth floor begin to collapse, he stood and stretched his arms out hoping to shield the civilians from the crash, He pushed the building upright with a grunt and then let it concave in on itself. God, he hoped that they had gotten everyone out.

The dust and smoke filtered out through the streets, causing the people on the sidelines to cough and choke, it was then that the fire truck rounded the corner, screeching tires and sirens blazing casting the site in red and blue light. Luke decided to pay them no mind, they were late to the scene, and he had other things to worry about now.

Once he was sure the building wouldn’t fall further into the crowd, he turned back to Matt and the elderly woman on the ground, his eyes widened when he saw that Matt was pushing his hands into her chest, performing CPR.

All colour drained from Luke’s face and he crouched down so his face was hovering over them, Matt’s brow was slick with sweat from the exertion.

“W-what happened? D-did I-?”

“I think she had a heart attack.” Matt panted as he continued pressing rhythmically into her chest.

“No no no.” Luke muttered, he thought for sure his own heart had stopped, this is what he feared most, he’d actually done it, he’d hurt someone, unintentionally but nevertheless proved he was indeed what she had called him, a monster.

“Step back!” A burly looking man pushed through the crowed, he held a first aid kit and a portable defibrillator slinging across his chest and an ambulance emblem on his uniform, he must be a paramedic.

“Suspected heart attack, she’s been unresponsive for about a minute.” Matt told the paramedic as he took over, Matt was a paramedic also but obviously off duty, he helped the man cut the woman’s shirt down the middle before sticking two defibrillation tabs onto her chest.

“Clear!” The man shouted before proceeding to shock the woman, her body jolted, and a deafening single beep resounded. He rebooted the device and went for it once again, jolting her body, it felt like time stood still as everyone waited to listen to the beeping of her heart.

“Beep, beep, beep.” A rhythm, Luke exhaled a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, the breeze blew the hair of those directly under his looming face, and then the paramedic looked up at him.

“He’s cool.” Matt said, he spoke to the man with familiarity, like they knew each other, they probably did seeing as Matt was also a paramedic.

“I don’t wanna know man.” He shook his head and waved for them to get out of there, Luke wasted no time, he stood without waiting for Matt to follow, rounded the corner and when he saw no one was looking he shrunk back to an average height of 6 foot 5.

Matt jogged around the corner to catch up with him and immediately pulled his mate into a tight hug.

“Luke, I don’t care what you say or what you think, you’re a hero, those people would not still be alive without you.”

Luke couldn’t shake the image of the old woman, literally scared to death, he may have actually killed her had Matt not been there to start CPR she would still be dead.

“Heroes don’t kill people Matt.” He said quietly, he couldn’t meet Matt’s eyes, instead he only stared at his hands like they were alien to him. “let’s just go.” Luke turned away from his friend and walked slowly toward their apartment, the shaky feeling of adrenalin leaving his body and now all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

“Come on man, don’t blame yourself.” But he could tell that he wasn’t hearing him, he knew Luke felt responsible for the old woman Brenda’s near-death experience.

“The stress from the fire, inhaling all that smoke, and probably partly you all contributed to her heart attack, you didn’t kill her Luke, she’s breathing, she will live to breathe another day because of you.”

Luke couldn’t hear him, the woman’s screams drowning out any other sounds to his ears, the look of sheer terror on her face and the way she writhed in his grasp before she ceased moving all together, and then the way she hung limp against his fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t shake those thoughts and feelings from his mind.

“Luke!” He turned sharply to tell Matt to quit with the lecture already when he realized he had to look up at his friend’s face, currently staring squarely at Matt’s chest and definitely not the height he should be.

He let a tear fall down his cheek then, he should have expected this, he could feel himself feeling more and more down about himself, beating himself up until he felt raw inside. This is what he felt he deserved after all, after being a dangerous giant, he deserved to be weak and small now, at the mercy of large hands other than his own.

“Oh, Luke buddy.” Matt sighed, watching his friend slowly dwindle in height until he stood no taller than his ankle, at which point Luke collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands, large sobs wracking his small body.

Matt looked around the street to ensure no one else was around, everyone nearby was too busy focused on the fire and supporting the victims and witnesses of the event. He then knelt down in front of Luke and laid out a palm for him much like Luke had done for him only ten minutes ago.

“Come on dude, let’s get you home.” Luke crawled on hands and knees into the safety of his best friends warm and slightly sweaty palm. Matt had bore witness to his shifting abilities in all its forms and was well versed in handling his friend when he was this small.

Matt carefully raised Luke up to his chest and held him securely there, blocking him from view with his other hand from anyone who might walk by or look out their windows. All they would see was a hooded young man holding something to his chest, they would probably assume he’d been to a drug deal or something, but he didn’t care what they thought as long as he kept his friend safe.

Once inside the apartment, Matt asked Luke if he wanted to stay up and talk about what happened, hoping to raise his friends spirits enough for him to grow back but Luke only shook his head requesting to be put on his bed for the night. Matt reluctantly let him go, not wanting to push the issue any further before heading to his own bed.

That night both friends slept like the dead and Luke wondered if being a hero would ever become easier.

#gt #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t #giant #tiny #gtfluff #size shifter #sizedifference #gtangst #LukeandMatt

[eyesocketinchworm]

i think every girl should have at least one oc to project onto and make their story a cautionary tale for themself by exaggerating their own traits to the point of total destruction while learning nothing.. like here have this lesson i need but have no intention of learning. and it’s gonna ruin your life. lol

#writing #oc tag #ziggy speaks #guess it’s vagueposting about laszlo hours…he is so… #idk does this make sense #like i give laszlo my same always unsatisfied kinda feeling where i need to go out in a blaze of glory or not at all and like the need to #live our life like it’s a story or whatever #and he has that in the way of always having to be remembered and being afraid of having no affect on the world and just dying one day and #having done nothing. which means his expectations r never met and whatever #so it ends up with him realizing that it doesn’t matter that he’ll never be a constellation of his own and it’s enough to have had a #temporary impact on the world but a lasting one on the people he loves.. and that it’s more valuable to be seen for himself than being some #impersonal tragic hero #but yeah i write all that and make it fuck him up severely and i’m just like. yeah looks fun for u 😝😝 cant relate #sorry for long tags i like talking

[hungerpunch]

i've thought a lot about it and i have concluded that parents just shouldn't Be Like That about their kids doing sports, you know?

#this post brought to u by my inexplicable picking up of abby wambach's 2016 memoir #(who never even LOVED soccer btw?!?!?) #kids who grow up to view their bodies as transactional pawns and their pain & suffering as currency to buy love with #too many parents are too fucking intense about sports. please relax. god. that's a baby with an undeveloped brain be NICE to it! #yeah ur kid can love a sport. but you know what most of all? #most of all ur kid wants you. your love and your attention. #and what if ur kid DOESN'T love the sport they're just GOOD at it? #you need to reinforce that you will love your children even when they're not good at stuff so they don't end up committing their lives #to things they hate just to please you! #idk maybe we should just do something CRAZY like ban child athletics IDK i feel CRAZY about this!!! #i've just read too many stories about how parents ruin their child's life and destroy their sense of self with SPORT. ahhh!!! #i think all professional athletes are fucked up in an entirely preventable way!!!! #hear me out what if: if the sport cannot be performed past the age of 25-30 then it should be gutted and revamped #so that u can't START playing it professionally until that age! #and whatever it takes to make that feasible for 30+ SHOULD JUST BE DONE. #oh god i'm in a spiral about what we have been conditioned to expect athletes to do for our entertainment. #driveby post

[tryingforthedelicatehopeofitall]

I am actually crying after watching that scene for like 15 times straight (gay). Everything in that scene just pulls at my heart strings.

Sipping tea (I am assuming it's tea)!!!! Comfy clothes!!! The way they are so comfortably sharing each other's space!!!

The way Wylan opens up to Jesper and tells him that Ketterdam has never really felt like a home. I haven't read the books yet but from the fics I do know that he has had an abusive childhood and his own house surely could have never felt quite like home either.

The way Wylan tries to be so nonchalant while saying “so of course I came back” and then the way he says with conviction that there's no one better than him!!!! I am so proud of him 🥹

And then the way Jesper is listening to him so intently and then makes that key with the coin he was playing around with in his other hand and the twinkling sounds in the background 🥹

It's so obvious that it's a key but Wylan does not assume and asks Jesper what the key opens. The way Wylan is a bit unsure and then hopeful but still processing the information that yes indeed that key is the key to the kingdom inside Jesper's room that could be their home :"",,,)

And I cannot even process that kiss right now. ...

I am just so emotional right now. Wylan and Jesper and their love means so much to me 💙💜💖🫶🏼

#wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #wesper #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone s2 deleted scenes #head empty only wesper #i literally have no expectations from netflix #yet i cannot help but hope a little #hope against hope that we would get our six of crows spin-off #or shadow and bone s3 #just anything that would ensure that the crows (and the actors who play them) don't leave us so soon #the characters are all so rich and every single one of them has their own story to tell #like from the perspective of a psych master's and whatever we have been given thus far - #- soc spinoff could show really good portrayal of how mental illnesses and the stigma surrounding it impacts one's life #also like be gay do crime and found family #also as a bisexual person who lives with mental illnesses and a fucked up family my found family means everything to me #so found family or chosen family will always have my heart #anyway how did i manage to start a whole other rant in the tags #i will shut up now :)

[lemurblog]

Is it wrong that im shipping alex the lion with my oc

it's not wrong. in fact it's important, and even essential, to ship alex the lion with your oc. if it inspires you then you're on the right path

#i ship clover with my oc if it makes you feel better #i'm sure alex would love yours #lately i've needed to remind myself when writing stories to not shut down what interests me #and i've been learning about an accepting and nonjudgmental approach to our own imagination #ocs may not have as broad fandom appeal as canon ships but it's no different from liking a rarepair #and in the madafandom every ship is going to feel like a rarepair anyway bc the fandom is small #so you might as well live your absolute best life #personally i loved my fandom days on deviantart where ppl would make ocs to ship with EVERY canon character #where i'm from it's very normal #and i'm sorry for whatever has you worried. whatever it is - it's not the authority on what's best for you #replies #jungkook124

[self-insert-nightshade]

Maybe i should stop playing coming of age visual novels, they make me feel weird and horridly bittersweet

#nightshades notes #yes this is about our life now and forever i love it dont get me wrong and i have a terrible things for blondes god damn darren but #at the same time distance between friends having to choose wanting to keep both its #its rough and its pulling at me in a way thats causing me stress #and its because i love the characters so dearly!!!!!! god theyre all so chefs kiss but at the same time my nerves #also it took me forever to figure out how to play the bonus shit and beta shit i was so confused like does this need to go into the game #files like mods or??? where are the instructions #eventually i found an answer #also not me unsure on how to handle my mom who you can customize like ??? never had that ability dont know what to do just...just #give me a mom give me what you think my mom is like i dont #not like my current relationship with my mom is bad but its not something i want to relive and i dont know how much of it i would want #to change because i generally play these games as like legit self inserts not with OCs like this is me trying to live a different childhood #and knowing its a game and knowing its a story i cant help but worry about the ending and how i want it to end well for all of us #i want to achieve a good grade in olnf which is normal and reasonable to achieve #or whatever the saying is

[cumbiazevran]

[frustrated sigh] I’m trying to write fic, and once again I am inconvenienced by BioWare’s canon on the Evanuris being meany evil slavers because god forbid they make compelling world-building instead of anything that fits their condescending white saviour wet dreams blorbo with pointy ears

bitch, I just want the name of a single city or place that isn’t goddamn arlathan is that too much to ask

#i have to do everything myself in this house #well not everything kani my beloved i would be nothing without your worldbuilding too and our collective screaming about all elves are brown #but jesus fucking christ guys #whatever the hell you created with the ancient elves tells me NOTHING about them. it tells me culturally nothing other than that you're a #bunch of people operating within incredibly racist paradigms and who can't actually world build beyond 'here's fake catholicism' and #'religion bad' #the backstage #sorry to the solasmancers you do you be happy live your best life it's not against you i'm just extremely tired of bioware making the story #about solas and not about yknow #your PC like any decent RPG

[cinnabeat]

the house i grew up in is relatively far from neighbors as in i cant hear shit that they do from between walls and truly the only horrible neighbor experience ive had is the fucking fire station right behind the house where they wake up at like 6 am and rev up a chain saw for shits and giggles and other incredibly loud noises but ive gotten so used to it that i honestly dont hear those noises anymore. which is to say....my new neighbors.............when will i stop hearing banging........

#its like having a loud as shit upstairs neighbor except its the side neighbors #like u know #constant noise every fucking day #this is my villain origin story #michi tag #the firefighters are truly horrwndous neighbors #one time two of them were having sex in the fucking pa room or whatever and i know this bc the loudspeaker turned on and u could hear #EVERYTHING #bless my little 8 yr old self who didnt understand the implications just new that was fucking weird #and then sometimes one of them turns on the loudspeaker and starts just?? yelling into it??? #the chainsae thing omfg #my friend who was in a firefighter training thing or whatever told me they do that to train their jaws of life skills or whatever???? #like bestie idc!!!! its loud and annoying!!!!!!!!!! #one time one of thise bitches hopped the wall separating the properties and started going at our lemon trees with a machete and #and scared the shit out of me my brothers little child hearts #literally theyre so annoying #protip do not live in the vicinity of a firestation #my family always joked that if our house ever caught on fire theyd hop the wall #absolutely not and i know this bc whenever we call 911 those bitches deadass take the truck #drive around the block to our side #andTHEN attend to the emergency #literally most useless fucks in the world #they take forever too #sorry this is like basically irrelevant to my actual post which is my new neighbors suck but like god damn

[noxtivagus]

​i want to write many books just filled with my thoughts so i can organize n share them with the world to last for a long time

#n like in the future maybe imagine someone. maybe even a century from now #someone as curious as me #i wonder how i may impact others lives #the value of each if our own individual existences is just so special #hmm i really do personally wonder though about what those who know me think of me #and what i mean to all of them #and how their perceptions could have changed across time. with knowledge and growth. whether their personal own or relating to me myself #just a thought. maybe a wish. a question? #if you get the reference with that i love you 🫶🏼 #i think everyone's special but there's a special place in my heart for people like me #similar to me. with values and morals. life experiences? #curious individuals. creative. through writing or drawing or music or whatever #that harbor a deep love for life and themselves and everyone they care for #in a bit of a romantic way. that's as beautiful as a poem or story #intelligent people. that love to learn as well. #we all have our problems n our mistakes n shortcomings #the way we deal with them n go on from them. i like kind people that are sensitive and emotional. and aren't necessarily afraid to admit it #resilient people. grit. even if it hurts we always try and keep on trying #i have a special fondness for the people who love to give and do things for others. and get shy when it's reciprocated n now they're #yk the target of that soft affection. #i love quiet moments. people that make time slow down. maybe they could be insecure about how slow they may be but. #i think it's endearing in those serene moments #laughs. banter. teasing. playful moments. funny comments. the shifts in the voice and the eyes and smiles #i love life. the little things matter so much to me. everything means so much to me. it's all just so beautiful #i'm no stranger to pain. and i can see n. as an empath i think really feel to an extent the pain of others as well #and so. these ephemeral moments. these intricate details. how special they are to me. i can't even begin to start #;w;; yk i wish i cld just tell everyone how much i care for them personally as an individual #how much they mean to me. what i think and feel about everyone in my life. there's so much i have to say #n someday i hope. there's really so much to life uwah i can't help but think about it all right now 🥹🫶🏼 #life is so special honestly. everyone is so special. wooo 2 am thoughts

[jewishvitya]

A pro-Palestine Jew on tiktok asked those of us who were raised pro-Israel, what got us to change our minds on Palestine. I made a video to answer (with my voice, not my face), and a few people watched it and found some value in it. I'm putting this here too. I communicate through text better than voice.

So I feel repetitive for saying this at this point, but I grew up in the West Bank settlements. I wrote this post to give an example of the extent to which Palestinians are dehumanized there.

Where I live now, I meet Palestinians in day to day life. Israeli Arab citizens living their lives. In the West Bank, it was nothing like that. Over there, I only saw them through the electric fence, and the hostility between us and Palestinians was tangible.

When you're a child being brought into the situation, you don't experience the context, you don't experience the history, you don't know why they're hostile to you. You just feel "these people hate me, they don't want me to exist." And that bubble was my reality. So when I was taught in school that everything we did was in self defense, that our military is special and uniquely ethical because it's the only defensive military in the world - that made sense to me. It slotted neatly into the reality I knew.

One of the first things to burst the bubble for me was when I spoke to an old Israeli man and he was talking about his trauma from battle. I don't remember what he said, but it hit me wrong. It conflicted with the history as I understood it. So I was a bit desperate to make it make sense again, and I said, "But everything we did was in self defense, right?"

He kinda looked at me, couldn't understand at all why I was upset, and he went, "We destroyed whole villages. Of course we did. It was war, that's what you do."

And that casual "of course" stuck with me. I had to look into it more.

I couldn't look at more accurate history, and not at accounts by Palestinians, I was too primed against these sources to trust them. The community I grew up in had an anti-intellectual element to it where scholars weren't trusted about things like this.

So what really solidified this for me, was seeing Palestinian culture.

Because part of the story that Israel tells us to justify everything, is that Palestinians are not a distinct group of people, they're just Arabs. They belong to the nations around us. They insist on being here because they want to deny us a homeland. The Palestinian identity exists to hurt us. This, because the idea of displacing them and taking over their lands doesn't sound like stealing, if this was never theirs and they're only pretending because they want to deprive us.

But then foods, dances, clothing, embroidery, the Palestinian dialect. These things are history. They don't pop into existence just because you hate Jews and they're trying to move here. How gorgeous is the Palestinian thobe? How stunning is tatreez in general? And when I saw specific patterns belonging to different regions of Palestine?

All of these painted for me a rich shared life of a group of people, and countered the narrative that the Palestininian identity was fabricated to hurt us. It taught me that, whatever we call them, whatever they call themselves, they have a history in this land, they have a right to it, they have a connection to it that we can't override with our own.

I started having conversations with leftist friends. Confronting the fact that the borders of the occupied territories are arbitrary and every Israeli city was taken from them. In one of those conversations, I was encouraged to rethink how I imagine peace.

This also goes back to schooling. Because they drilled into us, we're the ones who want peace, they're the ones who keep fighting, they're just so dedicated to death and killing and they won't leave us alone.

In high school, we had a stadium event with a speaker who was telling us about a person who defected from Hamas, converted to Christianity and became a Shin Bet agent. Pretty sure you can read this in the book "Son of Hamas." A lot of my friends read the book, I didn't read it, I only know what I was told in that lecture. I guess they couldn't risk us missing out on the indoctrination if we chose not to read it.

One of the things they told us was how he thought, we've been fighting with them for so long, Israelis must have a culture around the glorification of violence. And he looked for that in music. He looked for songs about war. And for a while he just couldn't find any, but when he did, he translated it more fully, and he found out the song was about an end to wars. And this, according to the story as I was told it, was one of the things that convinced him. If you know know the current trending Israeli "war anthem," you know this flimsy reasoning doesn't work.

Back then, my friend encouraged me to think more critically about how we as Israelis envision peace, as the absence of resistance. And how self-centered it is. They can be suffering under our occupation, but as long as it doesn't reach us, that's called peace. So of course we want it and they don't.

Unless we're willing to work to change the situation entirely, our calls for peace are just "please stop fighting back against the harm we cause you."

In this video, Shlomo Yitzchak shares how he changed his mind. His story is much more interesting than mine, and he's much more eloquent telling it. He mentions how he was taught to fear Palestinians. An automatic thought, "If I go with you, you'll kill me." I was taught this too. I was taught that, if I'm in a taxi, I should be looking at the driver's name. And if that name is Arab, I should watch the road and the route he's taking, to be prepared in case he wants to take me somewhere to kill me. Just a random person trying to work. For years it stayed a habit, I'd automatically look at the driver's name. Even after knowing that I want to align myself with liberation, justice, and equality. It was a process of unlearning.

On October, not long after the current escalation of violence, I had to take a taxi again. A Jewish driver stopped and told me he'll take me, "so an Arab doesn't get you." Israeli Jews are so comfortable saying things like this to each other. My neighbors discussed a Palestinian employee, with one saying "We should tell him not to come anymore, that we want to hire a Jew." The second answered, "No, he'll say it's discrimination," like it would be so ridiculous of him. And the first just shrugged, "So we don't have to tell him why." They didn't go through with it, but they were so casual about this conversation.

In the Torah, we're told to treat those who are foreign to us well, because we know what it's like to be the foreigner. Fighting back against oppression is the natural human thing to do. We know it because we lived it. And as soon as I looked at things from this angle, it wasn't really a choice of what to support.

#riki babbles #I had this in my drafts for ages and I was like 'not the time' but a friend encouraged me to share so here it is #palestine