#given my belief in souls and my own experiences with them

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

[hot-astrology]

Unconditional love

Love is distrubuted thought out the world in many ways and sectors. Its the major contribution that helps the world and humanity evolve. It doesn't take no energy, no effort, nor money, to give it to the person you love the most! Now that we are on this topic of Love, love was said to be one of the most strongest and best gifts we have here to connect to one another. Its has been stories of people saving love ones, animals from their death beds, from a hug, someone saying they love them, expressing their concern and love towards that person while they were unconscious and the person woke up from comas, accidents and situations that they shouldn't have made it back home.

With that being said! Its alot of different types of love that people push out. This love type is so magnificent and unappreciated. Yes! Unconditional love! Which many never heard of or displayed it or flat out dont know how to show it. The definition of Unconditional love in my words ( Its when you accepting the flaws, mishaps, misfortunes and shortcomings of another individual. You accept their traits, views, past and future aspirations even when its not aligned with your own beliefs or future goals. When they are sick, ill, feeling bad, not the same and cant be there for you like they use to you still understand their situation and circumstances.

Its when you are married for years, your wife or husband, and they are not looking the same, their appearance start to change, their best features start to deminish. You may have to help them walk, get up, use the the restroom, wash up and eat. So many sacrifices would have to be made in this new transition of life. All the superficial and glam you appreciated about this person would fade away. Your true love will be tested and given opportunities to understand what real love is. Facing their pains, hurts, ups and downs and their dark sides that you never thought you would see.

People tend to only want to give love to people who they see fit with their likings, who they benefit from, like their appearance, give them comfortability, and their status. Now this goes a long way, not only a spose, girlfriend, boyfriend, it also applies to family, friends, strangers, coworkers and humanity in all. When your love is so great and strong and it have no limitations or focus on details or a particular person, thing, object, its powerful. It comes from a whole different part in your essence that everyone cant understand or fantom. You begin to unlock gateways and open portals to a more devine love.

When you are able to understand, and feel for a person unconditionally without judgment its a whole different energy that attracts better outcomes and situations. You work from whole different part of your soul essence then others, you treat that person like you want to be treated and you give things to them without looking for anything in return. Your hands are never out, but your heart is always open give more love and accept whatever is in return and usually not what you put out. The power of love is strong especially when its meaningful, true, authentic, real, and unconditional.

With all this being said and understood, and hopefully overstood, you all need to know that everyone is not here for the same experiences and have the same gifts to show the world. Many people have powerful love to give, as well but just go about it in different ways, so its no wrong or right here. But for the ones im talking about your love nature is one of a kind, its so impeccable, its a force to be reckoning with, exceptional, extraordinary, highly rated, remarkable, and soooo soooo soooo admired! By many and us. You all have a different type of capacity to deal with and understand love and its core level without being benefited from it in most cases.

These picks is our opinions. We came up with 4 that we feel like they are good zodiac signs that carry these attributes and qualities. It can or could be more, but we came up with these 4 from a deeper look inside each zodiacs mind, essence, soul, focus, and love nature. These zodiac signs showed us what we were looking for in this breakdown. So here are the 4 signs that made it to the top chart of our unconditional love series.

Leo

This fire sign brings nothing but loyalty, protection and love to the house hold. They are firm believers of powerful love and how you give it will impact your family or pack. They can be extraordinary, exaggerate and flamboyant but never false about their love for their love ones or whoever is around them. They will shower you with gifts, love, affection and charismatic finesse. Even tho they love flashy and extravagant lifestyles, they are never superficial about the love the give and and receive. They do love affection, admiration and validation. Their true nature is to protect, love, secure, appreciate and cherish the ones closest to their hearts. Its nothing they wont do for your love and to keep you happy. This sign is ruled by the heart, which leo represents courage, power, strength and loyalty. They stand up for those around them with their chest out and pride of it, who ever is around them feels their power and shiny presence. Their love runs deep and never stops, they understand what love is because they want it given to them in the same respect, at same time they dont have their hands out to receive anything from you, just want your time and closeness. They will be there at your hardest times, difficult measures and worst hours. They will boost your pride, wake your soul up and make sure you are getting the love and affection you deserve. This love is umatched and so real, you can feel their strong aura giving you the unconditional love your soul and heart needs.

Cancer

Warm, settling, loving, mother energy that warms your soul up at its core. When a person hears the zodiac name cancer they know they are your household name, known for mending the family, keeping everyone happy, making those warm fulfilling meals that touch your bones and soul. They have that motherly instinct and calling. The nuturer as they say, with such a soft heart for others feelings, emotions, and pains they still find a way to help out and provide time, emotional care, and strength to help the person overcome their barriers and life obstacles. Many wonder how can a energy be so soft, emotional and sensitive but yet be so strong and powerful. Hmmmmm that is something to have, thats why by far this is one of the most powerful zodiac signs, they have a unique gift that keeps giving and flourishing the more they be their selves and help humanity. They spose or families would love their hospitality and good warm nature as they prepare supper and a cozy house setting as they relax for the evening. They are there when you are sick, ill, cold, weak, hungry and just tired. The way this sign operates from the heart would have you thinking it rules the heart, but it doesn't. It rules the chest, breast and stomach, well the chest is the protection plate for the heart so i can see that. home is where the heart is, they will touch your heart in ways that cant be described. They will fight for you, speak up for you, and stay down for you. This sign loves hard and love emotional connections, so they will learn your emotions and help you release your own emotions to help you feel better. You can always count on this sign to understand your feelings and have sympathy for your downfall or ins and outs.

Virgo

Can be very critical at times but never let you down, always there to relieve you of your stress and pain. They will go out their ways to make you happy even when it jeopardizes their life or finances. So logical but so nuturing at the same time. Kinda like cancer but with a more analytical approach to the womb that needs healing. Their service oriented skills doesnt shy away from the chaos or obstacles. They are your hard service workers that show gratitude towards helping you. Thats why they are classified as the servers, but not just a server like that, they go beyond and above. They want to help you, heal you, make you better, see you succeed, support you, find your weaknesses, strengths and greatest gifts in you. This a a sign you never want to walk over and disrespect.or never show your appreciation for their services and time. Their hearts and care go a long way, they like that medical nurse thats on the line of duty in the military that has a AK on their shoulder, 9 mm on their hip, while bandaging you up and giving you words of advice and strategies help you on your way so you dont make the same mistakes. When you feel at your lowest and lost they will direct you in correct path. They will love you while still helping correct you. But their love is one of a kind, you will never want with them, they will support you as long as you stay who you are and appreciate they energy they giving you. They are mixed with brain power and nuturing skills which cant be bad at all. They have the healing touch as well, this sign has a unconditional love that operates from a analytical emotional stand point. But you can never lose with this zodiaz sign.

Picses

Now these mutable fishes are very skilled at understanding what happened, how it happened and what will make it better. They come from a ether realm approach to everything. They can feel the room out and see whos hurting or sick, they can touch their grandmothers shoulder and know shes in pain. All they go by is energy and actions, so they read what you do and how you do it more than words. Their presence can invite you and make you feel relaxed and calm. This is a mutable sign so they are more of a free energy that gets pulled and tugged multiple ways. Their energy is very sensitive like a cancer but more on a psychic aspect, they can heal you like a virgo, they can make you feel happy, and prideful like a leo. This sign is our top sign that we think that shows the most unconditional love. Their heart goes a long way without any reciprocation or need for appreciation. They will listen to you, help you, understand you, guide you, support you, acknowledge you. Their soul is free as a bird, if you around them its a no judgement zone and make you feel loved. They have some of the top healing powers, psychic abilities that will help you with sickness, mental health, or just life answers. They are by far one of the best friends to have, wont let you down, always available and want to see you reach your highest potential. You can feel their love and energy radiating from them. They love universally and look at all things as in 1 and all. When you around this type of energy you have no choice but to do right, prosper and succeed. They say picses have a god complex, well i dont think its them being that way, its more of them being the last zodiac sign, and impacted with all the other signs energies so they feel they experienced or have the capabilities as the other signs. Which may be truth, this sign is so powerful and use their love, intuition, and optimistic skills to navigate through this realm and help those around them to a better place in life. Once a picses touch your soul and heart you wont be the same, they make you look at life with a different view ( rose-colored glasses ) but sooner than later those glasses will be removed but over the time and mentality change and appreciation of the world and others as they are you will take them off and still create the world you want, and need to make your experience the best. These individuals will show you love and what it is to love someone without only looking on the outside. They dont judge you for what you lack, or what you did to them, for what lies you told and how you keep being the old same you, but they are there until you finally change or give in since they are so optimistic. The love is great, wonderful and abundant and sooooo joyful and unconditional with that you get swept away in their current and float in their cloud of Unconditional love and bliss.

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Informative Rant: Starseeds

What are starseeds?

Starseeds are a belief that one's soul is reincarnated into a human body but the soul itself belongs to an extraterrestrial being. It was introduced by Brad Steiger in his 1976 book Gods of Aquarius. Now Gods of Aquarius was a book compiled of 'confirmed' UFO sightings and recounts his own experience going 'out of time' with Sekhmet, who is really an alien...and responsible for all Greek deities, Celtic Fae, Doomsday Prophets, and most importantly, UFOs. See a bit of a problem already? I hope so! Keep with me though.

Steiger's other writings include books on werewolves, demons, Atlantis, Giants, general paranormal stuff, a entire book appropriating Indigenous beliefs as 'medicine men and the great journey', and pseudoscience based hypothesizes. None of which he gives any sources for. A lot of the modern belief in starseeds has veered a little from Steiger's own beliefs.

Now a days anyone interested in starseeds claim to be so because they are: Too empathetic, unable to handle large crowds or are too smart to perform daily tasks, easily forgetful, zones out, gets overwhelmed. Supposedly once 'awakened' usually done with age, puberty, or with a trance state given to you by someone (you likely paid for), you're told you are a alien princess/royal/warrior/archeologist/etc from some galaxy or planet. A lot of times whatever the person naturally enjoys becomes their 'mission' and a lot are told to just focus on that rather than the things that occur and are important in day to day life.

If some of these points sound familiar, and you think, "Wait isn't that some very normal mental health symptoms?" You would be correct. A lot of parents, desperate for a 'normal' child, or one that isn't 'broken' will cling to fringe theories like starseeds or indigo children in order to excuse away their child's quirks instead of help them with their issues. It's the same principal with the belief that you or a family member is a Changeling from the Fae. Which if you ask me is a classic example of child abuse via neglect of mental health.

Now some of these descriptions, such as the soul being from a UFO might also pick another part of your brain, asking "Hey didn't that Heaven's Gate Cult believe something similar?" Yes. They did. The major difference being that they thought extraterrestrials were the 'next evolutionary level' rather than the past itself.

I say all of that to say this: Please please do research into where something you believe comes from. Some beliefs are anything but healthy, starseeds are one of those beliefs in my personal opinion. Most people I have talked to who claim to be starseeds had no idea about the term or belief's origins. And frankly, it is embarrassing that such a large movement, which came from such a shady source, has become something factual through nothing else other than 'popularity'.

[savagewildnerness]

I am not ready!

I’m so curious how Armand will portray Lestat & Nicki in this episode. I’ve just been relistening to Nicki’s death in TVL audiobook & when Lestat first meets Marius today & it struck me how much Eleni must withold from Lestat in terms of Nicolas’ madness & the sorrow & difficulty of it for him & for them. I kept thinking upon the closeness of genius & mental fragility as I listened to Eleni recount Nicki’s racing mind, wild invention & inability to cope with his overwhelming vampiric powers & his unconsumed urges, emotions & shattered belief systems.

It also struck me how like a continuation of Lestat & Nicki’s conversation Lestat’s first conversation with Marius is - everything echoing back to Nicki. Though Marius of course is very different.

Marius calls Lestat a true innocent, defining innocence as an absence of the need of preconceptions & Lestat wonders whether this is what Nicki meant when he talked of the light.

Lestat’s core “innocence” as Marius deems is is one of my favourite things about The Vampire Lestat. Obviously Lestat doesn’t fully retain the purity he has in this era, going on to have crises of faith. But here his stance is pure. He questions & analyses every thought from the purity of his own emotions & experience. And I always related so much to this.

Interesting, Gabrielle’s talk of toppling humanity - redolent of what Akasha will try… and Lestat here saying he would fight it…

Nicolas’ death is so sad in the book. And the way Eleni describes it: the inevitability & the silence of speech & closing down of soul with which Nicolas seems to sign off from life.

And the whole thing infused with this impending end; allegory to our own grieving & depressive eras, and the overwhelming sensuality of Marius’ arrival & Lestat drinking his blood. It’s strange how I don’t love Marius as much as many other vampires, and yet in many ways I find him personality-wise the most similar to Lestat, so it’s curious….

I wonder how the TV show will tell Lestat’s Father story? It’ll have to be different! Even Nicolas & Lestat’s story will have to be different- given the time changes. I’m curious.

Anyway, I reread the book only a month or so ago, but I’m listening to the audiobook again already now & oh this part is just so sad. I basically just want to live in TVL.

I can’t believe Lestat is so relieved he still has Nicki’s violin at Marius’…… but he’s literally about to let Akasha crush the thing! Crushing a Stradivarius- unforgivable!!!!!

[cobainqueer]

Reclaiming the Past: was Kurt Cobain trans? By: Daniel Rowley

Queer identities have frequently been erased from history, but we have always existed.

For sexuality, this is easier to evidence without causing a stir — we accept that men fucked men and women loved women in Ancient Greece, though it says much of the modern heteropatriarchal understanding of gender that we understand these relationships in these terms.

By viewing sex as enforcing power imbalance, and love as something separate and pure, the assertion is that ‘cultural differences’ mean these relationships are not queer. The academic equivalent of ‘No Homo’.

However, queer people see themselves in these examples through history, and there is nothing to say these people would not see themselves in us too.

Our current culture centres labelling and coming out as core experiences, and thus the metric by which it is appropriate to call someone gay or trans, whether they say or do something relatable to that experience or not. But this is grounded in the experiences of the living — living people must be given space to come to their own conclusions about their identity and disclose it on their own terms.

The dead do not have this luxury.

Whether they would have eventually come out or not, we only have textual evidence to go off when asserting whether someone from history may or may not have been gay or trans, and it does no harm to use modern terminology to do so. It allows new generations to feel less alone if we describe such people in ways relatable to them, and when we do not our culture assumes an identity as the default regardless.

This is where we come to Kurt Cobain.

There is a wealth of textual evidence for the fact that he experienced gender dysphoria in his published journals and other personal accounts. These journals were largely written between 1989 and 1990.

In interviews, he spoke of being confused regarding his sexuality because of how deeply he related to girls:

“Yeah, I even thought that I was gay. I thought that might be the solution to my problem.”

The mistaken belief that femininity would mean he was gay makes sense within the strict view of gender norms when he was growing up, and the way he rationalises it in the 90s has not evolved much. It is a part of him he has tried to make piece with but is still more intimate than external appearance.

“Throughout my life, I’ve always been really close with girls and made friends with girls. And I’ve always been a really sickly, feminine person anyhow, so I thought I was gay for a while because I didn’t find any of the girls in my high school attractive at all.”

Imagery around birth seems to fascinate him in both his journals and lyrics. The male seahorse giving birth is something many trans feminine people will relate to through the gender dysphoria around wishing to experience pregnancy.

The song Been A Son includes the lyrics ‘She should have been a son’ and the way it repeats has striking similarity to the later song True Trans Soul Rebel by trans woman Laura Jane Grace, instead reflected at the self — ‘you should’ve been a mother, you should’ve been a wife, you should’ve been gone from here years ago, you should be living a different life’.

You Know You’re Right? similarly contains the lyric, ‘She just wants to love himself’.

Many of Kurt’s songs appear to be conversational between ‘male’ and ‘female’ persona’s with the male aspects taking on more negative qualities.

“I definitely feel closer to the feminine side of the human being than I do the male — or the American idea of what a male is supposed to be.”

He always refers to himself as ‘male’ not ‘a man’, and also writes about wishing he had breasts — the most obvious sign of gender dysphoria within his writing:

Here he mentions his breasts lactating, and adds that he continued to enjoy playing with dolls while his peers were undergoing puberty:

We can never truly know how he might have identified. Which is fitting with the quote:

“I’m not a man, I’m a miserable pile of secrets.”

Though it should be seen as just as bad to assume someone is cisgender as to assume they are trans. It is only speaking ill of the dead if you believe transness itself to be bad.

I am not asserting that he was trans. This is merely an analysis of his own words through a queer lens — one many trans people find deeply relatable to their own experiences and see a form of kinship in.

[outisgivingpac]

Pick-a-Card: A major lesson your soul undergoes 🔮☄️🧿

Hello there, it's been a while 😊 life has been busy for me in the past weeks and I didn't feel the call to make a new post until now 😅 I think the theme of this PAC could be interesting for many, especially if you often questioned why things happened the way it did. As it goes, we shall look into what lesson you're set up to learn at the moment, and how it manifests in your everyday life. 🍀

If you find this reading helpful or entertaining in any way, you can support me through Ko-fi or simply by liking/reblogging this post. Check my pinned post for personal readings, and feel free to send me requests. ☀️✨

My masterlist

🌱Pick the pile/image you feel most drawn to🌱

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. Pile 4.

Pile 1: 6 of Wands reversed, 10 of Swords, The Devil

For people who picked this pile, you seem to have gone through a turbulent period in which you're pushed to question your ability and self-worth a lot. The major lesson your soul is learning through this time is to have self-respect as an integral part of your own, and not something that must be given to you by other people or circumstances. You're set up to learn to take pride in your work and in your personal experiences, embracing both your light and shadow. Only with authentic self-awareness and acceptance can you find yourself in peace and true happiness in life. As it seems, this life lesson seems to manifest in many painful events. You could have experienced a major rejection or betrayal that left you utterly in a prolonged state of depression and/or idleness. Some people could criticize and put you down harshly when you least expected, and now you might find yourself talking on your mistakes and flaws in the same manner or even the same words as them. You will have to learn to let that past go. To not define yourself entirely based on other people's words. For a while now, the self-limiting belief that you learned from others with little truth in it has become invisible chains, dictating your decision making and action in the present. I mean, it's easier said than done, but perhaps you can start with identifying what truth is coming from your own heart, and what belief stemming from people in your past. Ask yourself how differently you would act if you know you're safe, and that this x person or y circumstance has no influence upon you. I wish you much love and support.

Pile 2: King of Cups, The Chariot reversed, 4 of Wands reversed

For people of this pile, your soul is set out to become someone with high emotional intelligence and tolerance, a leader and/or protector with a warm heart, on with your loved one feel safe to rely on. If you are already see yourself as a sensitive person and a giver, who is quick to pick on other people's mood, this lesson is also about how to give to others from a healthy headspace. If you are not that kind of person, then here is a specific message: no matter how squeamish you find eMoTiONs and fEeLinGs, you can't deny yourself and the important people in your life of it without causing some sort of damage. In this case, you're putting out there to learn how to progress your own emotion without shame, to communicate it kindly, and to acknowledge other's feelings without judgment. For both side of this spectrum, until you reach the middle point which is emotional balance and maturity, the lesson will manifest in your life as ildness and/or no contact situation. To be more specific, you might feel like nothing is moving in the direction you want, may it be at home or at work. They're a lot of time when miscommunications happen that causes people hurt and loss, but in the end no one are willing to extend an olive branch to set things right. A lot of bridge has been burn because someone takes offended and/or resentment keeps piling up. It might feel unfair and frustrating at times when you feel like you're forced to be the bigger person. But it is what it is, you will find yourself in those situation quite often until you learn to communicate your wants and needs and return the favors by letting others have their words.

Pile 3: 7 of Cups, The Moon, Ace of Pentacles

The recurring lesson that comes up for people of this pile seems to be about how you should take more autonomy in making major decisions in your life. It appears that you grown up surrounding yourself with a lot of different influences as well as expectations; many people with big personality have offered you their vision of what a good life should be. For some of you, it even comes with the privilege/curse of having your life laid out in front of you, as someone else put their firm hands on the steering wheel. For a longest while it seems to be all good: you never strayed off to the "wrong" path, and you find yourself in a place many people would desire. But of course, as you grow as a person, experiencing first-hand what you want and don't want to do, you could start to question your choices. Not to mention, many people can not follow you and steer your wheel after a certain point, when you enter a new phase in your life. You might feel lost and disoriented, as life keeps coming with a lot of intersections, demanding you to take a more active role in deciding how you want to live your life. Thus, the lesson manifests itself as period of much confusion and disillusionment, where no one can tell you what you should/need to do to get from point A to point B. You're pushed to sought out the information and opportunity yourself, because only you know you and your circumstances best. The pressure of having to make the right choices could be suffocating, so is the state of not knowing what the future holds. But ask yourself, does such a thing as a perfect choice even exist? Everything comes with a potential for growth, and everything could demand a compromise in some aspect. There's a shadow behind even those people who seem to lead a perfect life. So if anything, it's all about making the best choice for you with what you know best at the time, and work around it because even the brightest prospect needs your investment. Don't take so much shame by looking back at the wrongturns you took. It was what you knew best at that time too. And because of it, you have grown and arriver at where you are today. I wish you best of luck with your journey onwards.

Pile 4: Judgement, 4 of Pentacles, 7 of Wands

I feel like this is the pile of people who are the pioneer or the advocate, with a kind of "my dream is bigger than me" vibe. I won't be surprised if social justice and activism takes a big part of your personal belief. On another perspective, you might just be pursuing a career that can be considered as unconventional and/or involved a lot of risks. It might also demand great resilience and intellectual prowess. In any case, life will be pushing you towards some sort of realization, an "Aha" moment that would elevate the journey towards to goal to the next level. Meanwhile, the lesson will manifest itself as situations where you have to defend your stance, ideals and dreams. You will be pushed back and forth between protecting them and questioning them, as challenge arises with threat to pry them from your hands. In another word, you might learn to be more what other would deem as "selfish" or "greedy". But if anything the resistance will also widen your horizon and gain you knowledge from many parties. At times, the whole fight could feel way to exhausting, which make you want to give up and accept the fate of a martyr. You're by all means entitled to take space and have a break, you're very much encourage to push on. You're meant to be the one who make some changes and you might be closer to your goal than you thought.

[telanadasvhenan]

I haven't spoken alot about my Lavellan, Avelea, but I've been thinking about her dynamic with Solas and what it would be like.

Solas is old, both in physical age (thousands of years old) but spiritually too. He has seen almost everything the world has to offer as well as what it used to be. He knows emotions & spirits lost to time and is familliar with people as a breathing, tangible cohesive unit. Because of this, I feel as though he feels emotions strongly and intensely but they are known to him. He is calm and collected when he wishes to be and allows himself to indulge in anger when he believes it justified. What must it be like to know yourself so well? To be someone and to know who that is. Solas is keen to learn, to grow and be more than he already is. But thats the thing.

Solas is who he is. He has lived, and lived and lived. He will continue to live; to fill his soul with the world even if there is no more room. He speaks of his younger self with a strange disconnect, and I have to wonder, in another thousand years, will he look back on who he was and be unable to recognise that man? Or will it stagnate: will he mourn his ability to change? I find that Solas is so steadfast and sure in his beliefs and convictions, he is almost like a glacier moving through thedas. He has the power to shift history, to liberate and to change everything. Except himself. So devout to his duty and to a cause, like a dog trained to walk at it's owner's heels. He walks the Din'anshiral as if it's the only path he can see. There's a vast sadness in that.

puting the rest below because im a yapper:

Avelea (Lavellan in general I suppose), however, is bright and blinding, each experiance new and unfounded in her world. She grew up chasing the past of a people long dead but is filled with curiousity and wonderment for all things the world has to offer. Her eyes are not adjusted to the light of living. Her soul is young and hungry, famished and lacking in food. She aches for something, unsure and unknowing but bold regardless. And he has a sense of duty to her family, her people. She is to be keeper: to hold them and their history in her heart. That is a kind of knowing that you ache for, the ability to know all that you hold dear. She spends childhoods amongst ruins and the resting place of the dead. I feel like there's a selflessness in that: to know your purpose is to observe, to hold all that you and all those around you find dear, and let it take safety within yourself. But where is the room for you? Where does your own heart go, when it is dedicated to rememberance? How can your life bloom when your mind is a graveyard built for everyone but yourself?

And then the Conclave. Avelea is alone. She has no friends, no allies. Those she travelled with, most likely fellow members of her clan that she grew up with, are dead. Only she lives, their lives and laughter pressed into the pages of her memory. She is imprisoned, accused of crimes she did not commit and is given no choice. Her body is marked, defaced. Her hand no longer belongs to her, as if her soul ever did.

"Felt the whole world change." With a gesure, the world is physically changed. Avelea heals the veil, with a little help. And she observes him, watching him, painting the shades and sounds of his face with her eyes. What must it be like, to be so old and known, to be so sure in everything, just to find yourself confronted with the unknown? Something new, someone new. Solas feels himself in her sight, feels himself be known for something other than he is. And Avelea finds him a tomb of knowledge, of love for all things other than himself and her curiousity pulls her in. She is a stumbling fawn, without the knowledge of it's antlers, wading into the sea in search of a drink. How could a mortal survive the depths of time? And yet it's exhilarating. There is nothing in this world like Solas, so strange and new and destroyingly beautiful.

They see each other and the world changes. Neither of them know if it's for the better. But it's new. It's different and it's blindingly intoxicating.

[tarotwitchy]

{pick-a-card readings}

PILE 1 — 2 — 3

PILE 4 — 5 — 6

It's been quite a while since my last PAC, so... here I am, back with another one!

This PAC's theme is "What is your Secret Power" that you can use to your advantage in your life's pursuit and interaction with people.

This is a general reading. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. You can choose up to 2 piles.

Pile 1

Queen of Wands • Page of Wands • 5 of Cups • 6 of Wands • 10 of Swords • 6 of Pentacles

🤎 Resilience

🤎 Perseverance

🤎 Risk-taker

🤎 Positive Outcome-oriented

🤎 Patience and forgiving with oneself

[Your Secret Power is that you are a Fighter. Not the brawler type. You're the one that fights for their life, and their right to enjoy freedom. You're also very resilient and perseverant in the face of challenges that can easily demolish others' ego. You take calculated risks that you think will yield the best outcome, and you are a positive thinker. When faced with a setback, you don't allow yourself to stay in the dumps for long. You can pick yourself back up, and keep moving forward].

Pile 2

7 of Wands • Queen of Cups • Knight of Cups • 2 of Swords • 3 of Wands • The Fool

🤎 Emotionally Mature

🤎 Gentle, yet firm

🤎 Outspoken

🤎 Open-minded

🤎 Pioneer

[Your Secret Power is that you are an Advocate. You are a champion of the underdogs, and of yourself. Whenever you see injustice happening around you, you're not afraid to speak up and defend your beliefs. Your open-mindedness serves as a gift that keep on giving, as you use it to expand your worldview that positively impacts not only your own life but the lives and the environment of other people. You believe that emotional maturity is very integral for humanity to move forward as a whole. Fresh ideas also come to you quite easily].

Pile 3

High Priestess • The Lovers • Knight of Pentacles • 9 of Cups • 9 of Wands • Strength

🤎 Truth-seeker

🤎 Decisiveness

🤎 Determined

🤎 Objective

🤎 Dignified

[Your Secret Power is that you are the Defender of the Truth! You're the one who people go to when they need to know the truth about themselves, and their situations because you see through them unbiased. You don't like sugarcoating the real facts because you know — by experience — that people's self-development are hindered by false pretenses. You also would prefer that others tell you the truth as it is than being kept in the dark. And you absolutely take pride in your objectivity in deciding upon things, and not being blinded by sweet-talkers! Most probably, you're the type of person to find out the real truths of a certain thing that someone is trying to convince people about].

Pile 4

Page of Swords • Knight of Cups • The Star • Page of Wands • Agape • The Hanged Man

🤎 Innovative

🤎 Inclusive

🤎 Self-awareness

🤎 Groundedness

🤎 Healing-oriented

[Your Secret Power is that you are a Healer. You have seen and experienced the pains of life firsthand, and your soul is called upon to mitigate the suffering of others — and of yourself. You believe that even though life is as harsh as it is, we need not make it harder and more painful for one another. Hence, you think of empathetic ways to make sure you and the people around you are tapping into their highest self. You also don't believe that one person's pain is greater than the other; you believe that all is valid, and it isn't a competition. The world desperately needs more people like you, in all honesty].

Pile 5

10 of Wands • Death • 7 of Swords • The Moon • 6 of Wands • 5 of Pentacles

🤎 Adaptable

🤎 Acknowledging

🤎 Responsible

🤎 Cunning

🤎 Self-preserving

[Your Secret Power is that you are The Balance. With all these cards present, you know the spoils of life can be brutal, and can easily make any person weary and hopeless. This is why you are given the ability to discern when to strive the hardest, and when to fold your cards and preserve your energy. You also understand that hard work does not always yield victory. There will always be losses to cut, but you know how to play the unfair game of life with shrewdness. You can harness this power by elevating yourself above others who undermined your abilities, and yet, still keep a level head to keep you afloat from all the negativities other people try to pass on to you].

Pile 6

10 of Wands • Ace of Wands (R) • Queen of Cups • Page of Cups • Agape • 4 of Wands

🤎 Benevolent

🤎 Courageous

🤎 Giving

🤎 Fair and Just

🤎 Dedicated

[Your Secret Power is that you are The Guardian. Do not be mistaken; kindness is not synonymous with weakness. And a lot of people will find that out as soon as they misstep the boundaries of your benevolent. You have the insight to nurture kindness and goodness amongst all of us in order to lessen the influence of hatred and greediness. You believe that being good can be practiced and should be taught at a young age so that children can grow up to be well-rounded and empathic adults that can positively impact their community. As they say, the prevention of wrongdoings is infinitely better than doing damage control, and that is the power given to you].

If you liked this reading, consider purchasing a personalized tarot reading from me! ✨

{masterlist}

Copyright © 2022 by TarotWitchy

[Do not repost, copy, or reword]

[nomorefstogive]

But imagine creator reader talking with dottore about what he does and he asks why reader isn’t disturbed or against or even shocked and reader just replies with “well you haven’t done what joseph mangla or unit 731 has” and proceeds to tell him things that happened on the medical side of history

Oh hell I can actually picture Dottore being shocked when he hears about them lol.

While he may be a monster in regards to experimenting on people I feel that he does what he does out of a genuine desire to advance the human condition, not quite out of the same wanton cruelty and malice that 731 and 'The Angel of Death' did what they did. And on that same hand, he at the very least works towards a goal that will benefit all of humanity in the long run as opposed to the short sighted and destructive goals of these lunatics.

He wants to advance medicine and science, to usher in an age of enhanced humans who are beyond the fragility and limitations that humanity has been shackled by for so long, and the sad fact is that there comes a point in time where experimenting on people is the only way to advance medicines and science, particularly when ascending beyond limits is your goal.

He is cruel and monstrous in his actions, and yet it is cruelty and monstrousness born from a belief that this is the only way forward, a belief that his ends will more than justify the abhorrent means taken to reach them.

What are a few lives when in the end he may find a way to conquer death itself and ascend mankind to tower above even the gods? The road into hell is paved with good intentions after all, and so morals and ethics are the fuel in the forges of progress in which he hopes to forge the future.

And yet, look at what these people did. How much of their experiments were even remotely done in favor of scientific development and not out of a sense of cruel amusement and morbid curiosity? How much of what they did actually benefited anyone?

True 731's research into bio-weapons was useful enough to spare some of their miserable lives, but everything else? The vivisections on living and conscious prisoners? The tortures they inflicted? Where is the benefit to humanity in even half of what they did?

Nowhere at all. Save perhaps in their own twisted and perverse minds.

Josef Mengele, "The Angel of Death' of the 3rd Reich, his atrocities are as vast as they are varied and are matched but in scale by the scope of the stars above our heads. He deserved a worse death than what he got. A far worse death.

Perhaps he may see a darker and more depraved reflection of himself when he hears of the monster that was let do as he wished to the poor souls who were given to him. A reflection lacking any and all goals and aspirations of greatness beyond wanton cruelty and hedonistic sadism in the guise of aspirations of medical glory.

Perhaps the tales of their wanton sadism and cruelty will be enough to jolt the man, to instill in him some fear of walking down that same path, and lead to him adopting at least some form of ethics or at the very least restraint in regards to his own sadism lest he fall down into hell alongside of them.

While he may continue his human experiments perhaps he will leave it to those who volunteer for them, after all offer anyone enough money and the sky is the limit on what most will do, or perhaps pay a visit to the criminals and inmates who are already locked away and make them an offer, a lighter sentence for a few tests may be the best deal they will ever get.

And for those fated to the noose or the blade, perhaps they may find themselves under the Doctor's knife instead as penance for their own atrocities.

Who knows, maybe a glimpse into the horrors of our worlds medical and scientific atrocities may prevent him and countless more geniuses on Teyvat from following them down on that elevator to hell.

At the very least, these are my thoughts on the matter.

[indigo-anonymous]

I may be a little too deep in the brainrot but hear me out about this Hazbin Hotel AU idea-

It kinda spawned from a few other sinner!Adam AUs I've seen, but because I'm me I had to make it ✨trans✨. It started with my brain imagining Adam with gender euphoria bc of facial hair, and spiralled into, well, this...

--

Consider: Adam respawns as a sinner, and on top of all the other changes (goat ears and small goat horns, raven wings the colour of an oil spill, hooves instead of feet) he finds himself in a female body. The dysphoria is intense, even his voice sounds wrong to his own ears. He doesn't know where to go (all the people he knows would only want to kill him again), and ends up wandering, seeing the worst of hell as someone homeless. He dies more than once, but regenerating doesn't change his body. The worst of the dysphoria comes from other people, the way they talk to him and about him, the way they act towards him. He starts to talk less and less, hating the sound of his voice.

Eventually he stumbles upon Valentino. The deal he makes is one for protection, but knowing more than the average fresh sinner, he is very specific about details. Demons are not to be trusted, after all. He works for Valentino for protection and a place to stay, but maintains his soul and ability to back out of the contract.

He never introduces himself as Adam, no one knows him as such, and no matter what he says about being a man, Valentino never sees him as such. The overlord sees Adam and assumes he is a butch lesbian (given the masculine clothing choice (perpetual dysphoria hoodies and sweatpants) and short hair, haphazardly cut with any available knife whenever it got too long for comfort). Adam of course doesn't help that assumption by being adamant (pun intended) that he's only attracted to women.

Regardless, he works for Valentino, and it doesn't take long for him to run into Angel Dust. Adam is almost always quiet, even around Angel, but they eventually start warming up to each other. Angel immediately believes Adam when he says he's not a woman, and that relief is enough for Adam to start trusting Angel. It helps, of course, that Adam's power is related to names. He sees the true name of every sinner floating by their head, the handwriting symbolic of their personalities. Above Angel's head, in elegant, swoopy letters, is the name Anthony.

"You're Anthony, right?" "What- How did you know that?" "I- uhh... it says. Above your head." Angel is quiet for a moment, and then carefully asks, "Does it say anything above your head?"

Adam admits, truthfully, that there is no name above his own head. Still scared to admit his identity, he picks "Dee" as a temporary name (and definitely a reference to his title as Dickmaster).

And so Anthony and Dee become friends. Angel tells his friends at the hotel about his new coworker and friend, and they get progressively closer, bonding over queer experience and working under Val. With Anthony's help, Dee slowly starts to properly deconstruct his beliefs about... well, practically everything.

Anthony gets him his first binder to help with dysphoria (though he can only wear it when they're chilling with just the two of them, to be sure Val doesn't catch on) and they hang out together watching movies and talking. Adam is still quiet, but comes out of the shell he'd stuffed himself in over the past months, slowly but surely.

Angel can see that Dee isn't happy working for Val, doing it out of necessity far more so than enjoyment. So he suggests an alternative: the hotel. Escaping Val would mean Dee could actually attempt to transition, without having the dysphoria of being constantly misgendered by almost everyone around him. The hotel would keep him safe, even from Val, who would not be happy to have one of his new toys quit after gaining a following.

After some consideration, Adam accepts. He lets his hair grow out a little, hoping to not be recognised by anyone staying at the hotel. This, of course, wouldn't last. Though I'm not sure exactly how it would go down, Lucifer would be the one to first recognise him. Maybe once he's been on T for a short while, and his voice starts to drop. He slowly starts sounding and looking more like himself.

I'd love for this to end with Adamsapple because I love them sm, but I didn't think quite that far ahead, this really was just the brainrot of a few hours on the train with nothing but my thoughts and some music lmao.

Feel free to like, ask me more about this if you're interested? I don't rlly have a name for it, like, trans sinner Adam au?? idk

I apologise for my overuse of parentheses, and the probably somewhat incoherent rambling of... whatever this is. Just wanted to type out my thoughts :P

Indigo (going a little insane)

[conjuremanj]

A Southern Devil In Hoodoo + Story

original art by me

For African Americans in the south, the Devil can be seen as a trickster or a figure who would tests a individual, but he can also be invoked for personal gain through rituals. The man in black is associated with mystery and crossing boundaries, a figure of the supernatural. These concepts intertwine with hoodoo beliefs, that in the bible there is a God and a Devil. "One who love you and One who love to tricks you".

Not all teachers in the African spiritual systems don't normally teach about good and evil. Instead the lesson is that both work together in this world to create harmony. Light and Dark, Good and Bad, Right and Wrong are all necessary aspects of God's creation. But I think that the ancestors might have seen two deities who are able to bless and curse. Maybe both God and the Devil were seen as something greater than themselves.

What I find most interesting about working with the devil or darker side from a hoodoo perspective is that it takes on the forms of many different invocations, spells that are found in all types of ceremonial magic in all types of spiritual practices.

It would normally start with a prayer to God right, so if one can work with God and the Devil as total opposites, then it would make sense to first invoke the protection of the greatest good before calling on the power of the greatest evil.

Well anyways i hope that this can provide further clarity and understanding for those who are honestly pursuing knowledge on the real traditional spiritual practices.

Now to the story. Below is a fictional story. This story is of a young black man who has nothing, but wants it all. It also includes some of my own experience that helps provide a unique look in the hoodoo practice.

Nothing in this stories is meant to be performed in real life by any practitioners, but for those who like that world, I wish you luck.

"Have you ever heard of the spirit known as Old Scratch"? They speak about him in whispers late at night when they think no one's listening. I think they’re talking about the Devil, but they say he's done good things for them, so he might be something else altogether. He might be an angel for all I know. They say he can grant wishes if you offer him something in return. I can't fight the feeling of going and finding out for myself. I don't own any silver or gold, so what could I possibly offer him in return?

The Story: written by Papa J.

In the forlorn backwaters of a forgotten town, the embers of an ancient legend of Old Scratch smoldered in the heart of a young man named Ezekiel. Destitute and hungry, he possessed nothing but an unyielding hunger for a better life. Haunted by the poignant words of his beloved grandmother, a tale of the crossroads and a sinister figure known as 'Old Scratch' had etched itself upon his soul.

Now don't get me wrong going to a crossroads to get everything I want sounds pretty good, but what can I offer him when I don't have anything to give.

The pastor always said that "The Devil is fighting to get our souls, so I might just offer him that. What else would a poor southern boy with no wife, no money and no family would need with a soul anyway? I might as well get something for it like that old blues man Robert Johnson. Lol. Yes sir..

But I wonder if God would be mad at me for offering my soul to the Devil. The bible says that God created everything, if that's true he must have created the Devil too and if he did then why would he create a soul if it wasn't supposed to be used for something?

God would understand. I wasn't blessed with riches or love, or family, how else am I supposed to have the life I want? God wouldn't have given me all these things if he didn't want me to take things into my own hands.

Besides, no one will ever know what I’ve done.

To do this he needs to remember how the story that his grandmother had told him.

I remember as my grandmother spoke about where to find the spirit of Old Scratch and how to summon his spirit. She would say that some people summon him at the crossroads and others can call him at the cemetery. Well the cemetery was too creepy.

But i had to go to either a crossed road or a cemetery at night dressed in all black and wearing a hat to cover my head. I had to wear a crucifix necklace for protection.

So Ezekiel to heads out early to make it to the intersection by midnight.

He begin by saying the Lord's prayer, for further protection against the tricks that Old Scratch would play on him, he love to pray on people's minds. After saying the Lord’s prayer three times, she said to lay down three pennies, a bottle of whiskey, and a cigar along with my greatest offering. We know what that was...

After laying down my offering, I had to say the Lord’s prayer in reverse three times and knock three times on the ground. Then speak “Man in black, Old dirty Scratch, I have work for you to do come forth and grant me what I desire. ”After saying this three times. I should tell him my wish and what I was willing to exchange in return for his work, and then I should wait for his spirit to appear. If his spirit does not appear in awhile, knock three times again and repeat:

After the ritual, a spectral form emerged from the darkness. I thought he would just appear like in the movies but he didn't. But what I saw was a man traveling down the road at the time of my call.

My grandmother told me that he would sometimes appear as a white man, sometimes a black man or even a innocent looking child but he was always dressed in black with a rimmed hat.

"I am Old Scratch. State your desires, and I shall grant them". 'Ezekiel's heart pounded in his chest.

I told him I desire wealth beyond measure, a life of love, money, luxury, family and the power to command respect.'

My grandmother was right, he did tried to trick me but I did everything she said and he said everything she said he would.

She told me “When his spirit comes to you, hold your crucifix necklace and remember your faith in God. Your faith will protect you from Old Scratches tricks.” Granny said. “That old Devil will ask for even more, no matter how great the offering is, you must deny him more.

Next, he will pretend to be your friend, and ask again in the sweetest and most inviting tone. You must deny him again. Then, he will threaten evil upon you and your household if you do not give him what he asks for. This is where you need to call upon the names of God to command him:“In the name of El Sheddi, in the name of Adoni, in the name of Elohim,

I told him i want to make a deal and I would exchange my soul for it. I thought he would give me a paper to sign like in 'Ghost Rider' but he just smiled, and tipped his hat to me and continued on down the road. My grandmother said that when the deal was done, you should turn away and leave from the offering and walk away and don't look back.

A cruel smile spread across Old Scratch's face. 'Your desires shall be fulfilled. But know this, mortal, a heavy price will be paid.

The next day I went back to the crossroads the offerings were gone so I assumed he accepted my offer.

'True to his word, that next night Old Scratch bestowed upon Ezekiel immense riches. His coffers overflowed with gold, and servants catered to his every whim. Months passed by when he met his wife they eventually had three children, Years passed and Ezekiel have everything he ever wanted but yet, with each passing day, Ezekiel felt a gnawing emptiness within.

But his mind wandered remembering the night he made the deal with the stranger. I wondered when my soul was due. Ten years have passed since then. I he couldn't shake that feeling. When would the Devil collect?

The wealth he had longed for brought him no solace. As power swelled within him, so too did his arrogance. He became ruthless and devoid of compassion, dismissing the needs of others. The people he once cared for now trembled in his presence.

Thirty years have passed since then. As a old man I witnessed the deaths of all my kin Here I sit all alone. Only if I had truly known the cost, Perhaps my spirit wouldn't be lost.

On one night, Ezekiel realized the true extent of his pact. As he lay alone in his opulent mansion, with no love ones around anymore and a town full of people who once loved him. Old Scratch appeared beside him, his eyes gleaming with cold indifference.

'Your debt has come due, mortal. 'In that moment, Ezekiel understood that his grandmother's tale was no mere fable. The crossroads deal had ensnared him in an unbreakable covenant. His soul was forfeit. As Old Scratch claimed his prize, Ezekiel's screams echoed through the empty halls, a chilling reminder of the ancient warning: "Be careful what you wish for, for the Devil may take you at your word". And so, the legend of Ezekiel, the man who sold his soul for his greatest desires, was passed down through generations, a cautionary tale of the perils that lie in the shadows of unbridled ambition.

[cilil]

☽ Late Night Musings - The Halls of Mandos ☾

My personal take on Mandos is that it's a place of limbo, not heaven, hell or any sort of afterlife really.

For Men (including all mortals), that's already a given due to the fact that they don't permanently stay in Mandos and move on to an unknown place outside the circles of Arda. For Elves, it's the case because they weren't meant to die in the first place and the goal is to get them reembodied eventually; the same applies to Ainur. For Dwarves, it's their belief that Aulë gathers them in a different part of Mandos and they'll eventually aid him in rebuilding the world and receive a place among the Children of Ilúvatar.

(For Orcs as well as any other creatures who possess fëar, it can be assumed that they would also be called to Mandos and be met with a fate either like Elves or Dwarves, though we don't know any details. I have headcanons about the fate of Orcs in particular, but that's a story for another time.)

While Mandos is very much a place that physically exists and can be visited - even entered, though I would guess that Námo probably doesn't allow the living to come and go as they please - I think that it's also a spiritual place similar to/possibly located in the same plane of existence as the Unseen Realm and the Olórë Mallë in Lost Tales, and that the experience of those who come to Mandos in spirit after death is rather abstract and varies from soul to soul.

The purpose is not just to be judged if you have done great evil throughout your life, but more importantly self-reflection and healing, and each soul goes on their own individual journey.

For those who were good people in life, accept their mistakes and are ready to make peace with themselves and others, Mandos is a cozy, comfortable place where you may in time find loved ones, have a chat with Námo, Nienna, Vairë and their Maiar, admire the tapestries and rest. For those who committed great evil and are refusing to let go of their anger and spite, however, Mandos appears like a labyrinth or prison that they can't escape from. The key to their way out is not only Námo's judgement, but also - and this will influence his decision - the state of their being and the amount of healing they need, as well as any others they might have wronged.

It may be that this entire journey is like a dream, from which you will in time awaken to find yourself face to face with Námo for one final time - for he, his family and his servants may have visited you already a few times to offer guidance, wisdom and perhaps one or the other harsh truth - and hear his judgement.

For Men, he has no power to hold them and will always send them beyond the circles of the world. For Elves, he will offer them to return to life in Valinor, safe for the ones whose crimes and/or lack of repentance warrant a longer stay; the procedure for slain Maiar, provided they heeded his call, may be similar. For Dwarves, he will let them take their place among their ancestors and relinquish them to Aulë. Orcs may or may not share the fate of Elves.

[camojacketfag]

Fucking hell, dude. Your blog hit me in the gut like a nine-pound hammer. I’m a Michigan boy, born and bred, but did spend a year living in rural Indiana — and your pictures and posts and reblogs feel like home. For better or worse, they feel like home.

My year in Indiana was wild and reckless and free. That was where I lost my faith, where I lost my virginity, and where I found a part of my soul that I didn’t realize I’d been missing. The Midwest is a wild place, and she raises wild children who will always carry their mother with them, in their hearts and blood and bones, no matter how far we go, or how hard we try to leave her behind.

Thank you for this. Thank you for sharing what these places mean to you, and what you see in them. Thank you for sharing who you are through these places.

The way I’ve had your confession in my inbox for like two weeks man and I just keep ruminating on the right shit to say but I don’t really know what to say because it feels like you tore a fucking page out of my own notebook and said exactly what I’m trying to confess every god damn day. I lost my virginity to some dude named josh when I was 18 who read me his favorite bible verses after all was said and done. I learned to eventually find comfort and joy in inhabiting this part of the world after a tumultuous four years in which I made the fucking choice to finally heal and try and assess who it is I wanted to be. I’ve lost so much man. Friendships, relationships, moments I know I’ll never recover, all because I made the stupid ass decision to seclude myself and try and heal and comprehend why it is I am the way that I am. Most of my anxiety nowadays comes with wondering if I made the right decision in the end. I’m still in my 20s, and I’ve got so much left to learn and experience yet I spend my afternoons piling dirt onto the graves of those I’ve lost along the way. Every year is spent fighting with the remains of my dwindling faith. I’d like to maintain a belief in the mysticism of everyday life. In the idea that things happen to you for a reason and that ever so passionately you’re being guided by a mystical force much wiser and powerful than you could ever imagine, yet I spend the first half of most my years losing my faith, only to then somber and beg for its return in the later half of the year. Recently I’m grateful for the return of my vibrant rage man. I lost it earlier this year due to a relapse in my obsessive and compulsive nature and the desperation for hope that follows after. As of last week, somehow, I ended up in the right place, at the right time, to acknowledge the rage still residing deep within. How it hungers to break and bend and spit and scream and destroy and show everyone I spend mourning over that they’ll someday realize how worthy I was of keeping around. I’ve made my choice man. No return, I say. I know what I suffer from. I know what it is I’ve gone through. I know why it is my brain works the way it does and it took so much unnecessary sacrifice. So fucking be it man. Often, I wonder if others perceive me as selfish for doing this. I wish I could make them understand that I decided to get better, not only for myself, but to be a better being for them as well. Yet, we can’t go back. Growing up here, living here, feeling invisible here, feeling alone here, will only add to the strength you’ve acquired as you’ve gotten older. For now, I’ll sit back, I’ll people watch, I’ll listen to my records, read my books, write my words, rage every chance I’m given, and I’ll find a way to make peace with the idea that it will all work out in the end. I’ve no mountains to run to. No skyscrapers I can dig myself underneath. No late night booming clubs I can drown my sorrows with. Just plains and corn and a hunger to be more. To never settle. And I hope, you feel the same man. Take care of yourself and try and be kind to yourself! Thanks for reaching out. Means a lot.

[larsnicklas]

when you think oilers fans can't get worse now I saw one of the people that were acting like they were being oppressed for liking hyman reblogging one (1) pro palestine post after being silent during all these months and right after celebrating his goal and sad about him possibly being injured. how they can be so perverse even after everything that happened yesterday. it disgusts me.

yeah like. as i've kind of said previously, i don't think this is an o.ilers fan-specific problem at all, but there is certainly some cognitive dissonance going on with anyone who is celebrating h.yman while reblogging pro-palestinian rhetoric!

but at the same time, it's kind of like.... i just do not care about zach h.yman and what he thinks. what he thinks is objectively morally reprehensible and it's upsetting if not surprising that he's staunchly pro-israel, and at this point, he is not someone i support or spend time thinking about beyond that. i'll re-evaluate if he ever takes the steps to deconstruct his beliefs. when it comes to fans celebrating him for his hockey... idk it's like, your mileage may vary but i have to operate in good faith here. maybe this person and others just genuinely don't know that h.yman has spoken out in support of israel. if i asked a random o.ilers fan on the street i honestly doubt they'd know anything about his stance on this. i don't mean to make excuses for people who are deliberately looking away from the heinous things being done to palestinians by israel but cheering for some hockey player with terrible opinions isn't quite the same as that, either.

if you spend any time working in mutual aid/activism/etc., one of the things you learn is that while it often feels good momentarily to sit on a high horse and feel righteous, the more important thing to do is to bring people into the fold. call in, not call out. one of these is more fun and feels better in the moment, but one of these does FAR more for the given group of people you are trying to assist.

this got very long so i am dropping the rest under a cut but pleaaase check out these links, and especially operation olive branch, which is FULL of resources, info, and ways for you to make a difference!!

operation olive branch / world central kitchen / 5 calls (for usamericans!)

my brain is soup so i don't think i am articulating this well, but at the end of the day it's not super productive to watch people on the internet to see whether or not they are virtue signalling or being hypocritical or whatever. this does not help the families being systematically massacred and driven from their homes, and it's also soul draining. you will feel miserable and hopeless and fruitlessly angry the more you do this. i know because i also fall into this trap despite my best efforts! and it gets genuinely paralyzing because you start feeling like nothing you or others can do can possibly stack up to the callousness of the world. this is not a sustainable way to live.

i'm by no means an expert on any of this, but i have some small experience working in mutual aid and have close friends who do a lot of activism work, and here are some things i have picked up and am trying to do in my own life.

i know it's hard but try to call people in and not call them out like i mentioned earlier. berating them and getting preachy or accusatory usually results in defensiveness on the part of the other party, and even if it feels unfair that you have to cater to THEIR feelings, planting any doubt in their minds about the way they think will help. chip away at them. it won't happen in a single conversation. keep trying anyway.

many times people do care, but don't know how to help. give them direct, actionable items if you can. even better, give them a framework, like: "if you have ten free minutes at any point in your day, please contact your representative using this website/at this number" or "if you have [X amount of dollars] in your checking account right now, please donate $1/$5/$10 to [specific g.ofundme or organization]"

take time to celebrate the wins, even the small ones. it really keeps you going lol. i'm serious. the work is NEVER finished, ever. there's no way to keep it up without taking time to acknowledge the good that has been accomplished, bit by bit

stop and listen. in this particular case and often many others, community leaders of the marginalized and persecuted group get spoken over by louder (and often white) voices, even when those voices are well-meaning. of course no group is a monolith, and there are going to be conflicting opinions and courses and ideas, but it is CRUCIAL to be able to have an open ears and an open mind. i think a good example of this happening is people boycotting random businesses instead of focusing on the bds targets that were strategically selected by organizers for the most impact lol

social media can be a force for good! but it is not the be all, end all. make your posts, call for awareness, spread the word about what you need to. and then go out in the real world, too, whether that's putting your money where your mouth is literally by donating, or offering your time/labor phone banking/buying esims/etc.

[pandulce135]

The Fivefold Trap (TMNT 2012 Reader Insert)

Note: This is such a wannabe song fic lmao. Straight up, this is an idea I had for my OC Toru for the 2012 version of her (cuz I have a version for 2003 and 2018, too). Like, if I were to write a whole fic, this would be a highlight on Toru's home life and honestly, it wouldn't be seen by the turtles until they go to space because of that holograph room. This idea has been plaguing my brain for months and honestly? It's for the angst. The other versions of her are much more lighthearted. 2012 Toru is just not having a good time.

The songs used in this fic are: Pieces by Sum 41, Perfect by Simple Plan, Spaceship by Art Sorority, A Better Son/Daughter by Rilo Kiley

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: troubled home life, strained relationship with parents, self deprecation, drug use, mention of thoughts of suicide, child neglect and emotional abuse, psychological abuse and trauma, experiment, not proofread (lmk if I need to add anything!)

~~~~~

You were awake, you knew it, so why couldn’t you see anything? You felt your eyelashes make contact with something- were you wearing a mask? How did you get here? Why were you so achy? You had no recollection of getting here- wherever you were.

The last thing you remember was sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building. There was no one up there, no one around. You were trying to get a breath of fresh air and relax while you strummed on your ukulele. It was after seeing the Hamato sons at their Lair. You strummed chords at random, coming up with a tune in your head. Your hands on the strings were illuminated only by the lights of the city and shining moon above you.

The boys had gotten into an argument when you excused yourself from the Lair. You had told Donnie to text you and reminded him that he’s doing great under all the pressure his brothers and father are placing on him. He had left at the same time you did, explaining that April called him. He had given you a quick ride back to the surface in one of his armored go carts before continuing his drive to his own destination.

You didn’t get the chance to play your ukulele long. You remember feeling a presence behind you and stopped playing, your fingers freezing over the strings abruptly. There wasn’t enough time for you to turn around before a sharp pain hit your head.

That’s what happens when you let your guard down.

You groaned as you sat up, still unable to see what’s around you. The ground was cold and smooth with a glossy finish. This wasn’t a cellar, by any means. There was a smell in the air, however. A cleaning product, Lysol?

To your left, you heard two different voices.

“You’re sure it will work?” A feminine voice. Karai.

“You shouldn’t doubt my skill. I know exactly what I am doing.” An arrogant voice. Male. Baxter Stockman. He usually speaks like this when he’s talking about science, so you’ve seen. What exactly is he…?

“They’re awake too soon. Hit it.”

“Wait-” You tried reaching out, tried saying something to stop them when music began playing from whatever contraption was on your head. You placed your hands on it, hearing a sad guitar begin to play. Your fingertips were met with cold, heavy duty steel that seemed to stay on your head no matter how hard you pried.

Before you, a crying young teen sat just as you recognized the song and the person.

“I tried to be perfect But nothing was worth it I don’t believe that makes me real

I thought it’d be easy But no one believes me I meant all the things that I said

If you believe it’s in my soul I’d say all the words that I know Just to see if it would show That I’m trying to let you know

That I’m better off on my own.”

You looked at the younger version of yourself. Curled up, sobbing with headphones blaring music to try and calm down. You liked listening to this music because it allowed you feel seen and heard- like someone finally understands.

There were a lot of things that led to these thoughts of isolation and beliefs of not being good enough: degrading parents who expected their only child to be a spitting image of them, being average when they demanded perfection, ultimately having such low confidence because of their words.

Worthless.

Even when you did your best, it just wasn’t enough. Maybe you were better off on your own.

You sat there staring at your crying form for three minutes before the image in your head changed and you were now in your kitchen. A new song began to play in your ears and your parents had just gotten home from a long time of being at their out of state lab- almost a month.

Not even five minutes into them being home and they’re yelling at your preteen self. You had forgotten about this. It had probably been pushed to the back of your mind, shoved away so you could continue moving along. You had gotten a few B’s on your last group of tests. They threatened to take away the electronics in the apartment, they wanted to make it so the only thing you would do was study, not even be a kid.

“We raised you to be smart and capable. Not average!” Your father shouted down at you with a vein threatening to burst at his temple. “You’re supposed to be like us: smart, capable, you’re an idiot!”

“Hey, dad, look at me Think back and talk to me Did I grow up according to plan?”

“Spending all your time playing that stupid ukulele, watching those stupid videos on the computer. You need to study. B’s are for average children. You’re supposed to be better than this!”

“And do you think I’m wasting my time Doing things I wanna do But it hurts when you disapprove all along.”

Your mother towered over your quaking form. You were trying to hold it together, trying to remain strong until you can hide away in your room to let it all out.

“We’ve worked hard to keep a roof over your head, to give you the best education we can afford and you do nothing but disappoint us. Go to your room!”

Grades were all that mattered to them. They still are. Even when they tasked you with saving the world.

“Nothing’s gonna change the things that you said And nothing’s gonna make this right again Please don’t turn your back I can’t believe it’s hard just to talk to you But you don’t understand.

‘Cuz we’ve lost it all Nothing lasts forever I’m sorry I can’t be perfect.”

“I did my best,” you had muttered. Your hands were fists at your sides, trying to keep your voice steady. Trying to stay strong for just a few more minutes.

“And it’s just too late And we can’t go back I’m sorry I can’t be-”

“-perfect.” You had said the last line of that song before you turned to go to your room. You had slammed the door shut and locked it before letting your emotions out. You had forgotten all of that.

You stood up to follow your younger self through the memory and into their room. You moved your hand to the doorknob to enter only for it to phase through the door. You let out a small gasp but jumped as a voice came over an intercom.

“Greetings turtles… and Y/N. It’s time for us to play a game.” Karai’s voice came over the intercom. So the boys were here, too! Good, good. At least you’re not alone in this. “Each of you have been placed inside a room with a unique trap. Oh, we all had input. Isn’t that right Xever?”

Xever’s voice was a bit muffled, he obviously was standing further away from the microphone. “I helped design yours personally, Raphael. Everyone loves baked turtle.”

“Raphael, you’re inside the first trap, aptly called the Hot Head. Can you figure a way out?” Karai’s voice was menacing over the intercom. Her attention shifted. “Hello, Leonardo. Welcome to the Courage Slayer. To save your brothers and Y/N, you’ll have to face ninja blades as skilled as your own, which isn’t all that formidable. So I cranked up the speed to 100.”

Your eyes widened but were still only able to take in the darkness inside the metal helmet mask you wore.

“Donatello, are you smart enough to beat the Brain Boggler? Connect he pieces as they appear on the game grid. Make a mistake and you get zapped. Get zapped enough times, and then you’ll truly know what it feels like to be brain fried.”

“Next, we have the Flush-O-Matic. Once the tanks are full, the flush valve will open and dump mutagen all over you poor, little Michelangelo.” There was a moment where you knew Mikey was talking back to your captors, probably something about the name.

“Last, but certainly not least, Y/N. On your head is Memory Activator Helmet. You already know how it works. It’s able to see memories you’ve subconsciously pushed away. With the help of music, you’re able to see those memories right before your eyes. You will always be the least favorite only child in the eyes of your parents.” Karai let out a laugh. “We wanted to see you break before we break you. Good luck, Turtles, and good riddance.”

It was like a Saw movie. Traumas you had already lived through began to bubble up to the surface as another song began to play, just a guitar, and a new scene appeared before your eyes.

You were staring out of your window. It was three in the morning. There was a handwritten note on your desk.

“Get-get, get inside your spaceship You don’t have a car, but you don’t have to take this You’ll jet up out the city like your favorite authors Look up at the stars, look up at the stars

You’re on a fast track living from a backpack Leaving all the sad-sack suckers in the dust behind you This is how you roll, permanent vacation You put in your time, now you’re out of patience.”

Your behavior at school had begun to get worse. You were isolating yourself from your peers, others were beginning to start rumors. In their eyes, you were a weirdo, a product of an experiment gone wrong thanks to your parents. The career of ‘scientist’ mixed in with a social outcast of a child really gave your parents a certain reputation.

“You can really go, no one’s gonna stop you You can really go, no one’s gonna stop you You can really go, but now you’re getting caught up in it Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!”

You watched as you looked out the window, contemplating, thinking, wondering. Your younger counterpart’s eyebrows were furrowed, obviously deep in thought. Little you glanced at the note they had written minutes prior. Looking into those tear stained, tired eyes, you yourself began crying. It hit you like a truck, this memory. Your chest hurt and you clutched at the shirt that you wore as you stepped back. A hard wall collided with your back and helmet as you watched yourself ask if they’re ready.

“Think about your friends, think about your other friends Thinking ‘bout you when they can, probably wondering what happened to you Can’t return their calls, skipping every breakfast You tried to be a writer but instead you only fact check.”

That’s when you threw yourself at the other you. You where shocked when your arms wrapped around their body rather than go through them, but held on nonetheless. You sobbed into the shoulder of the you from before you met the turtles, and began training with Splinter, and studying with April and Casey even though you went to different schools, sat there.

“It gets better, I promise,” you let out in a hoarse voice, hardly above a whisper. “You have six new friends, you have a sensei, and you have a second home. Don’t give in just yet, please!” You held onto yourself, crying. Eventually, their head was on your shoulder, sobbing. Is this how it happened?

There had been a feeling of warmth that encased you, and then there was a nice voice mixed in with the bad ones, telling you to keep going, telling you to not give up. A fire in you ignited that night that burned bright, angry, and proud.

“Keep going and do not falter.”

You didn’t even notice the song fade out, you only heard your sobbing.

Karai had watched the whole thing from the observation deck screens where she could see the others as well. This was a little experiment that Karai had Stockman doing, and it also incorporated a type of torture, less physical, more psychological. She laughed, watching you stand frozen before backing up, clutching your chest. But then you did something that made her confused. You leapt out with your arms out.

“What are they doing?” Karai asked the scientist that stood to her side. Stockman looked from you to Karai to the screen that showed them what you were seeing. Upon seeing, his eyes widened and he began to stammer.

“This wasn’t anticipated! It’s very interesting.” Stockman pulled on the monitor to show Karai the screen. “They appear to be hugging the version of them from their memory.”

“Interesting.” Karai stared at the screen, holding her chin in thought. “Stockman, can you ruin a memory?”

He stammered. “What do you mean?”

“The memory they’re in, can you make it worse?” Karai clarified, still eyeing your form on the monitor as you began to calm down from your crying. She rolled her eyes at the sight. “So emotional…”

“From what I have currently, I cannot.” He answered, straightforward and simple. “But,” he pressed a button on the console he stood before, prompting another song to play and a new memory to appear in your head, “we can make them remember the worst of the worst.”

The version of you that you were hugging fazed out and you fell forward. Your hands made contact with the cold floor to keep you from face planting. You felt your gut begin to twist and swirl, a newfound nervousness taking hold. The sights and scenes began anew.

You stood over yourself laying in bed it was the morning after a particularly terrible fight you had with your parents. This one was the most recent memory, only taking place a few months ago. You hardly got any sleep and the bags under your eyes showed for it. In your hand was a small device resembling a USB drive. It wasn’t for memory storage, though.

You remember how your world seemed to spin that day and you just laid in bed, avoiding your parents. You didn’t have to wait long though, they were out of town for the next month in their lab the following day.

“Sometimes, in the morning I am petrified and can’t move Awake but cannot open my eyes

And the weight is crushing down on my lungs I know I can’t breathe I hope someone will save me this time.”

You watched as the version of you in bed lifted the small device to their lips and breathed in a heavy breath. You sat there for a moment, letting the chemicals mix with your insides before breathing out, a cloud of smoke escaping through your lips.

You weren’t addicted by any means, no. It was just an opportunity to stay loose, so you took it and ran. It was an effort to remain calm in a stormy apartment.

At this point, you had known the turtles for a bit, but they didn’t know about your home life and you still won’t plan on telling them. However, you’re sure Master Splinter had realized something was amiss. The way you held yourself and avoided much conversation of your parents probably helped him piece that one together.

You let out a gasp when the scene changed but the song stayed the same. They’re really aiming for torture, aren’t they?

“Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things Crawl back into bed to dream of a time When your heart was open wide, and you love things just because Like the sick and the dying.”

You were looking at a child version of you, probably five, so happy, so smiley. Your parents loved you then and you had felt that warmth until you reached middle school.

You missed the way they looked at you like you were the light of their lives, like you belonged with them. Your existence made them proud to call you theirs.

It all changed when they began taking longer leaves to their lab. They cracked down on you, made you feel worse and worse about being average.

“And sometimes, when you’re on, you’re really fucking on And your friends, they sing along and they love you.”

You thought back to the four turtles, April, Casey, Master Splinter. They gave you love your parents never did. They are proud of you. They don’t see you as merely average, but an outstanding fighter with a brilliant mind.

There was an ache beginning to form in your skull. Your head was hurting. All of these memories being pulled out, sobbing for so long, thinking of your past and present life. The scene changed to another more recent memory.

“But the lows are so extreme, that the good seems so fucking cheap And it teases you for weeks in its absence.”

You hadn’t gone to visit the turtles in a few days, you didn’t even text them. You were losing your mind trying to study for an intense exam coming up. Notes were littered on the kitchen table and your laptop played notes videos that taught you nothing. The fear of failure continued to push you, though, even if that meant ghosting the turtles for a few days.

But they came to check up on you.

“But you’ll fight, you’ll make it through You’ll be better and you’ll be smarter and more grown up And a better daughter or son And a real good friend.”

The four climbed in through your window and you calmed down. Donnie recognized the work and walked you through it, Leo made you some tea and listened to your ranting, Mikey allowed for a few minutes of mindless distraction, and Raph encouraged you to release some stress through some playful sparing on the roof.

Oh, how you appreciated them.

You put your foot down that day. You vowed to yourself that you’ll be by their side no matter what, facing who knows what challenges. You may have your own ups and downs, but these were friends you were not willing to give up so easily, not like you had allowed with your peers in the past.

You may be below average in the eyes of your parents, but you have a new family. A better family. The turtles, Master Splinter, April, and Casey.

“And your ship may be coming in You’re weak, but not giving in And you’ll fight it, you go out fighting all of them.”

You heard a click. Maybe you were going crazy? Then a hissing. Then a voice came over the intercom.

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. It’ll be a lot easier for all of us if you just let it happen,” Stockman’s voice rang through your ears. What was he talking about? It was then that you noticed that the memory before you was glitching and there was no music playing. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”

You moved without thinking, standing up straight and squaring your shoulders. With trembling fingers, you moved your hands up to the metal contraption that was holding you hostage with your own memories and traumas.

“What are you doing? Stop it!” Stockman shouted over the intercom. This would ruin his ‘research,’ effectively destroying his work on this matter.

“You really had me in the first half, not gonna lie.” You pulled the helmet off of your head and blinked as light flooded into your vision. You turned to face a camera in the corner of the room. “But you underestimate me. I’m strong, Stockman. I survive.” With that, you smashed the helmet against a nearby wall with as much force as you could muster up. Upon impact, it shattered onto the floor. The mechanical bits were now loose and visible, but you continued to stomp on it, making sure it still wasn’t usable.

“No! No my work,” Stockman cried out, mourning the loss of his invention that left you way more messed up than you already were.

But yet now there was a sense of strength and belonging. You were where you needed to be.

You looked around the room you were in, trying to find a way out, and then you spotted a door hidden in the corner on the other side of the room. You took off in a sprint and were able to make it out of the room and were surprised when you found yourself in a sewer. You were less surprised to hear fighting down one end. You followed the sound.

“Surrender, my daughter,” Splinter’s voice echoed through the tunnel you were running through. “You are defeated. My sons and Y/N are free.” His voice made you pick up your pace and soon enough, you were watching him face off with a giant white mutated snake- Karai.

Splinter’s words seemed to anger Karai and she let out a growl. “I’ll never surrender to you!” She shouted, her voice echoing off of the dark walls that surrounded them. She charged at him. “Never!”

It was easy enough for Splinter to overpower his daughter and throw her to the ground, but you knew that mentally, it was a difficult task for him.

“Miwa.” Splinter tried to reason with her, only to earn a hiss before she jumped off of the platform in the middle of the opening and into the water below.

That water was the only thing keeping you away from Splinter and April, who were both still on the platform. You looked around, trying to find a way to cross to the platform as Splinter began chanting. It was easy to recognize that he was trying to call upon the ancient scrolls, but you couldn’t tell which one. When Karai reappeared behind him, he was able to dodge her attack and planted his own.

“I love you, Miwa.”

It was easy to remember your place in all of this now. You were a sidekick, helping the turtles until all of this was over. You were never a part of their family, they already had one. A stray tear fell down your cheek and landed on the rusty metal tunnel.

You let yourself watch as Karai fell into the water, you were too far to help her. April had to hold Splinter back as he tried to lunge over the the side for his daughter.

That’s when you all heard Tigerclaw’s voice from above. “Your victory has come at a price, Yoshi-san.” In his hands was a rifle that he pointed at Splinter. You all heard it begin to power up and you could have kicked yourself for not looking for any weapons before making your way over here.

However, a sword sliced at his gun, sending it flying towards the floor. Everyone’s gaze followed where the sword came from only to see the turtles jumping down from the ceiling.

“Sensei!”

“April!”

Once they had landed, Tigerclaw flew away, an evil laugh echoing off the walls of the tunnel he flew into.

”Where’s Y/N?” Leo asked, looking around the expanse of the area. That’s when you called out.

“Over here!” It didn’t escape you how your voice pitched up in the middle of your call and took a deep breath. You eyed your surroundings and pinpointed a few pipes you could use to make your way over to them.

When you landed, Splinter spoke up. “I trust that you are all unharmed.”

Physically? Yes. Mentally? Psychologically? You turned away from the group so they wouldn’t see the tears threatening to escape once more.

“Sensei?”

“What happened?”

Donnie and Leo both asked.

Splinter moved to steady himself, using the edge of the console to assist him. “She forced me into combat, but the Healing Hands I used on her were meant to help her, not harm her.” You felt the air in the room grow thicker. “I fear that we will never see Miwa again.”

Leo moved to stand behind Splinter. “Never give up hope.” He placed his large three fingered hand onto his father’s shoulder. “That was the greatest lesson you taught me as a kid, Sensei.” That prompted Splinter to turn around and look at everyone before him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back. The strain of having your memories pulled out of the darkest shadows of your mind to shine at the forefront still weighed you down.

Splinter stood up, placing an arm around Leo’s shoulder. “Come, let us go home.”