Latest Posts by angelbornaltruist - Page 7

Unfathomably based

Hi! This is probably a weird question, but what is your opinion on the prosperity gospel?

That,,,,, sounds like a load of bull and a Very slippery slope to classism and ableism

reblogging bc it needs to be said

Tbh, the atomization of my generation is one of the saddest things ive ever seen. Like, to have a society at all requires individuals casting aside their own desires and needs and wants in order to support mutual survival. Different people with different morals and different belief systems coming together for something greater than themselves, whether that be the construction of a measly little building to provide shelter or a great city to protect their children, that's one of the best things about humanity in general (and let's be real humanity isn't the greatest). but its so sad to see my generation being raised with the idea that the individual is all that matters, because all that's going to come from it is a generation of self-interested, uncooperative, confused individuals. bc like it or not, men (meaning human beings in general) are not gods, and the simple fact that the only people we can can control are ourselves is proof enough of that. so to raise people with the idea that we are all fundementally gods only serves to make them confused when reality has its say and it turns out there's so much more than just themselves. nobody can have conversations, nobody can make sacrifices and the worst part is that nobody really believes in anything anymore just what serves them the best. and its all because we keep telling ourselves that we're the exception, we're the standard, we're the gods on earth and it just means that we're a generation of people yelling over each other, screaming "I'm special! I'm significant!" while everyone else screams the same about ourselves and the irony is, if more people focused on what unites us instead of what makes them different, more people would appreciate what makes each other significant, worth something but no we just scream into the uncaring darkess that our voice is all that matters and feel angry when our voice echoes back to us

the image is from an article on skin color measurement in regards to oximetry readings, it was the best I could find as far as having a decent range but a small enough number to fit in a poll

@hellsite-hall-of-fame

do I like g/t content bc I have a desperate need to be fawned and doted on, or do I have a desperate need to be fawned and doted on bc I like g/t?

Being loomed over. Receiving little flirty comments from someone a hundred times your size. Your difference in size and power is nearly indescribable - you can barely comprehend how large they must be even as you look at them. Their voice comes out as a low rumble, their body moving slower than normal due to the dilation of time caused by their size (or, perhaps, your size), and as their hand reaches down towards you impossibly slowly, you still cant escape it, in all of its vastness. A finger taller than you are poking you in the stomach and causing you to nearly topple over. The larger is on another plane of existence, in a way. But as they look down at you with such infatuation, regardless of your survival instinct telling you to run, your pounding heart, and your trembling form, you feel oddly safe. Its nice to be doted on a little. To be observed by eyes larger than your torso. To be treated gently by something that could crush you like a bug. To be loved by something beyond comprehension. Erm. Yeah.

Just reblogging bc the world could learn from this. No form of hatred will ever heal or help anyone, ever.

me and the homies on the way to euthanize a demigod (this is the most hype moment of our lives):

The Radahn Festival is such a bizarre way of handling that situation. Claim glory! Celebration of War! Whooo!

My guy, you've gathered a bunch of badasses together to try and euthanise a demigod. Nothing about this is celebratory.

The Soul of Cinder is such a great concept bc it is literally the result of what happens if you refuse to let something die. It's something that needs to die, the whole world practically BEGS for it, but it still fights on bc of all the lords of the past who chose to keep it alive anyway.

Like, imagine a garden that is never trimmed but ever watered. It needs to be pruned, it needs to be restrained, it may even need to die in the winter so the farmer can have another go, but instead the farmer keeps watering it, keeps feeding it, until it grows out of proportion, leaves and vines tangling up fences and spilling out into the yard around it. In accepting the gift of life given to it, it has become deadly to the things around it, as it chokes out the life from other plants and ruins the natural order of things. Yet it can no longer be simply pruned in an afternoon now, no, now it's become a whole landscaping job (and as somebody who worked landscaping for a summer job, it's a nightmare). It took the life you gave, and it'll be damned if it gives that life back without a fight.

And that's exactly what we see with the soul of cinder, something that has to be killed, but it's clinging on to the gift of life with everything it's got. It's the indomitable human spirit in its most pure, terrifying form. Pulling out everything that it's ever been given in an effort to keep holding on to life.

Yet life must give way to death; the rain must drive away the sun, and the grass must wither and fade away.

The love of knowledge or education is a blessing, but it's rough to live in a world where it's seen as a curse.

Hell, maybe it really is one.

People talk about gifted kid syndrome but people don't talk about just being the kid who liked to learn surrounded by people who don't. It's harmful to tell kids they're special and gifted and instill in them high standards and expectations, but it's also harmful to be someone who just enjoys learning and understanding the world around them yet also be surrounded by people who can't or have no desire to.

Struggling due to impossibly high expectations is one thing, Struggling bc no one around you has the desire or ability to reach the expectations is another.

Maybe it's because society encourages children to hate school and education (maybe because the public education system in the us is awful), but it's such a strange, haunting sort of loneliness to constantly seek to move towards a light while everyone around you is either too foolish or too blind to even see it.

People talk about gifted kid syndrome but people don't talk about just being the kid who liked to learn surrounded by people who don't. It's harmful to tell kids they're special and gifted and instill in them high standards and expectations, but it's also harmful to be someone who just enjoys learning and understanding the world around them yet also be surrounded by people who can't or have no desire to.

Struggling due to impossibly high expectations is one thing, Struggling bc no one around you has the desire or ability to reach the expectations is another.

Maybe it's because society encourages children to hate school and education (maybe because the public education system in the us is awful), but it's such a strange, haunting sort of loneliness to constantly seek to move towards a light while everyone around you is either too foolish or too blind to even see it.

I find your lack of momma/mama disturbing.

For me it's mom/mother in casual interaction, mama in legit conversation, and "mother whom I love" when I want to annoy her or be goofy

Thinking about someone having ptsd after surviving a giant attack.

Like imagine having panic attacks whenever there's a thunderstorm approaching. Being totally fine until that first rumbling sound comes, and you're shaking and hyperventilating. Imagine the fear that comes from seeing a shadow pass over the sun, or being unable to kill roaches or spiders without feeling overwhelmingly guilty. What if you're sensitive to loud noises now. Or, whenever you're in wide open spaces, you stare into the horizon, refusing to sleep, refusing to let your guard down because you know something could appear at any moment, regardless of what everyone else says, regardless of what common sense says. Because you know what could happen if you relaxed for even a second.

Idk just ramblings while working on this next chapter (and a few other stories on the side)

omg omg omg omg omfg omg

brown venti go brrrrrr

I have a political thought experiment that I would like to share with you all that I call "Persuading the serial killer," which is really just about how you'd persuade someone who exists outside of your moral framework.

This is inspired by the fact that I watch too much true crime, but the thought experiment goes like this: If you were faced with a serial killer trying to kill you or someone else, how would you convince them not to? Serial killers do not conform to common morals like "killing is wrong," so arguing "You shouldn't kill me because killing is immoral!" is not going to help you. They don't recognize your moral system as real or valuable, so you cannot use it to persuade them. I, personally, would argue like so: "I have a very regular schedule, and people have already noticed that I'm missing. My mother and I talk almost constantly. She alone is probably already panicking that I'm gone and has called the police. I also have serious medical issues on record, so they won't wait the regular 24 hrs to start searching for me. You have a chance to get away now, but not if you spend time murdering me and hiding my body." Straight practical reasons why doing what they want to do will bring about something they absolutely don't want, i.e. if you waste time on murdering me, a high-priorty missing person, you'll get caught and never kill again.

The way this applies to politics is that you're gonna encounter people who do not completely overlap with your morals - probably not serial killers though. Like most Republicans and most Democrats would agree that unprovoked homicide is wrong and bad. No one is trying to pass a bill to get murder blanket-legalized. But obviously, conservatives have different moral views on things like abortion.

You cannot argue with a conservative that abortion isn't wrong. Your opinion that life does not begin at conception or that the right to choose should be in the pregnant person's hands no matter what exists outside of their moral framework just like "murder is wrong" exists outside the moral framework of a serial killer. So if I'm trying to argue against abortion legislation with someone I know is anti-abortion, I argue that abortion laws don't reduce abortions or abortion-related deaths. That the real way to reduce abortions is to make birth control over-the-counter and available to teenagers without parental permission like in the U.K. That if they think that is bad because it "promotes" premarital sex, they need to choose which is worse to them: teenagers having sex or abortions happening because teenagers are still going to have sex. That more support networks for pregnant people who want to keep the pregnancy but worry about their ability to financially support the child would do more good, and that there are several run by churches (but not enough, perhaps they should start one at their church)! That anti-abortion organizations in Europe who crusade against abortion in these ways are more successful at reducing abortion than any country with laws on the books to stop it.

You can apply this with a lot of things, but in short, when arguing with someone with different political views or morals that are mutually exclusive with yours, it's a bad bet to appeal to "but that's wrong! but that's bad! but that's immoral!" Jump straight to the practicalities, i.e. "That won't get you what you want, and here's why," not "You shouldn't want this." This won't always work (ex: you might run through all those abortion arguments, not satisfy the conservative you're arguing with, and in the process figure out that they really just want to legally punish people for premarital sex and don't actually care about abortion). However, leaving your morals out of an argument is your best bet at getting through to another person who may not share them.

*Updated to remove use of the term "psychopath" because I'm told that's an outdated concept.

Mushoku tensei was legit one of the most messed up and disgusting shows I've ever seen. I managed to get through three episodes before quitting, it made me legitimately ill. Isekai has so much potential for meaningful storytelling and I hate how it's all just "basic mcblandboy: reborn into a world of teenage powerfantasy and pedophilia."

I hate how every season we get several shitty power fantasy isekais for the bros to jerk off to that are basically just “reincarnated dude is not strong until he suddenly is by the end of episode 1 also he has like 43 girls in his harem one of them is an actual child and the other is a cat girl and they all wanna bang him bc ofc they do” like come on😭😭😭😭 if you gonna release something shitty at least release a knk anime 😭😭😭

Getting smaller with each kiss while they get bigger with each kiss

Being small is great. Getting shrunk is even better. Getting shrunk by someone loving on you is the best.

for real though John had a point. this place has it fair share of problems, but a lot of the people on here are just silly little guys who have niche interests and want to share them with each other. we've got our own little culture; a unique language, our own stories and folk tales, and (probably the most unique thing ive ever seen tbh) a group of people who seem to be more altruistically/positively minded as opposed to cynical or aggresive. even if we have different beliefs and ideals, the vast majority of tumblr users seem to legitimately believe the world to be good, or at least make it a good place.

Not what I expected coming from John Green

just gonna leave this here

Enemies (?)

AHHH I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY STORY!!!

I've wanted to share a g/t story with you guys for a while, and I'm so happy to finally make that dream a reality! Feedback is appreciated, and I really hope you guys enjoy! These are characters I've spent a good bit of time with in my head, and I'm so happy you guys get to meet them now!

Alright, enough talking. Without further ado, may I proudly present to you lovely g/t fans:

The Ballad of the Two Travelers

Chapter One: The Encounter

Tristan sat beside his little campfire, trying to relieve the tense, uptight feeling in his limbs. His left arm was wrapped in a poorly-done sling; the result of an unfortunate incident with a giant zombified wolf a few days prior. A twilight breeze licked at his skin, nudging little locks of dark curls from his forehead and causing the flames to sputter and twitch every now and then. He prayed that the gods would be merciful and let the wind lighten up; he was too tired to start another fire should this one be snuffed out. He leaned slightly closer to the flames, extending his right hand in an effort to regain some of the feeling in his fingers.

He'd been traveling for weeks across the Misted Vales, a heavy pack on his back and a trusty sword at his side as he made his way through the grey plains, bony forests, and murky swamps that littered the once-fertile lands. The Blight that cursed the realm was spreading, and many a village had fallen from illness and starvation in recent times. Tristan's own village was already plagued with issues of its own– constant monster attacks, lack of soldiers or protection from the now-defunct nobility, and infighting among its inhabitants – and the oncoming blight wasn't helping matters.

No one knew what had started it, but most suspected it was yet another consequence of some long-forgotten war between humanity and its many foes. The Blight was a magical disease that had run rampant in recent years, killing crops and poisoning the living, dooming them to a slow death of madness and decay before succumbing and rising again as an undead. Monsters had already been a threat in the past, but now they brought with them the added nuisance of being much harder to kill. They shrugged off wounds effortlessly, had increased stamina and strength, and they had an increased appetite for the still-living. Such horrors ravaged the Continent, and yet they all paled in comparison to the giants.

For a hundred years, the giants had harbored a relentless anger towards the humans. Groups of them ranging from as little as two to as many as 20 roamed the lands, wiping out any human settlements they could. The majority of them were the angry, vengeful wives, daughters, and sisters of the many giants who were killed in a long-forgotten war, and thus they took advantage of every opportunity they could to take their revenge against the remainder of humanity. Tristan had been lucky enough to not have encountered a giant before, but he'd met survivors of their rage; he'd heard fragmented ramblings of footsteps like thunder, great hands and ferocious roars, and villages left decimated in the wake of beings that towered over a hundred feet tall.

Life in the Continent was so deadly, in fact, that one may wonder why one so young was embarking on such a deadly journey. Indeed, Tristan often wondered the very same thing himself.

For Tristan was on a quest to the great Godbearing Mountain in the far north, where an ancient spring ran that could cure any disease, at least according to the stories he'd heard. If someone were to fetch water from the Godbearing Spring, then perhaps the curse could be undone, and the remaining humans could start afresh. The idea of traveling to the north for the spring had been passed around in the village, but what with the onslaught monsters that roamed the lands, the angry giants who stomped any human into bloody paste upon sight, and the ravenous Blight that was slowly seeping its way into the very roots of the Continent, it had been decided by the village council that a quest wasn't worth the risk. They were to hunker down and try to wait out the chaos around them, something that Tristan couldn't accept. Tristan didn't know how, but he felt deep down that those stories had to be true, that there had to be something that could be done to put an end to this madness. All it took was courage and bravery, like the heroes in the old stories... right?

So Tristan had gathered some supplies, stolen his father's old sword from under his bed, and snuck out of his little village at midnight. He'd been traveling for about two weeks, and he was beginning to regret his decision. He'd come to a rest in the Misted Vales, a wide plain of grey grass and a thick fog that covered the entire area.

Tristan glanced around him nervously. He'd heard plenty of tales about the Misted Vales, but he hadn't expected them to be so.... misty. The fire barely had an impact on the hazy air; he could barely make out anything, near or far.

The thought was not comforting to Tristan, who'd already had his fair share of uncomfortable monster encounters (his arm was testament to this) and wasn't keen on having any more. It sent shivers down his spine to think that just about anything could come from those clouds of thick fog....

Of course, at that moment, there came the sound of a rhythmic rumbling that lightly shook the ground, and a silhouette appeared in the fog, heavily obscured by the mist yet clear enough for Tristan to tell that whatever was approaching, it was close.

Tristan's heart quickened, and he felt the prickly sensation of sweat appearing on his brow. He saw a movement, and nearly fainted as the shape woman emerged from the mist, standing over 70 feet tall. As she approached, Tristan could make out wavy hair and a huge cloak that trailed lightly behind her. Each one of her steps crossed at least forty feet, her boots leaving slight impressions in the ground behind her. Her pace was eerily slow, almost relaxed, not what Tristan would have expected from a rampaging giantess, but it was terrifying nonetheless, as her eyes were hidden behind the shadows of her cowl.

The boy scrambled about on his knees as he hastily gathered his things, wincing to himself as he tried to sling his pack over his shoulder. His eyes darted about the surrounding area for potential hiding spots, areas to widen the distance between him and the approaching threat, anything, but his eyes could hardly make out anything in the thick fog.

Don't panic, he thought, you've come this far. You can handle a giant... you have to.

But as the giant woman grew closer, Tristan found his thoughts to be little comfort. Within moments, she would be on top of him.

He glanced to his left, to the simple broadsword resting a few feet away in its sheath. He hastily crawled over to it, wrapping his fingers around the plain leather-bound hilt, and mentally screaming at the prospect of drawing the sword as the giantess grew closer and closer. He adjusted his position in an effort to face the giant woman, who seemed to be even bigger than he'd guessed now that she was closer. The woman was at least 100 feet tall; the top of Tristan's head barely came up past her ankle. The sight of her leather boots was intimidating, to say the least; Tristan could almost hear the sickening crunch and feel his bones break as the thick soles pressed him into a pulp on the ground....

His hands shook as the shadow of the giantess loomed over him. There was a moment of stillness and a frightening silence, the only thing audible being the thumping of Tristan's own heart in his ears. He gazed up at her, a mixture of nervousness and curiosity filling his heart.

“Greetings, little one.”

Tristan realized with a start the giantess was speaking to him. Her voice was soft and powerful at the same time.

“I am Lyra,” she said, her voice serene as she looked down at him. “It appears that thou art alone in thy travels.”

She gracefully lowered herself down onto one knee, bowing her head slightly to meet his level a little better. Tristan nervously scooted back a few steps. “I would offer thee my companionship,” she finished.

It took a moment before his brain fully accepted what she had said.

“Um.....” he finally answered, his voice hoarse and unsure, “w-what?”

The giantess was silent for a moment. Then she lifted her cowl from her head, revealing wavy brown hair and a fair face with amber-colored eyes. She affixed those eyes upon Tristan now, and her lips curved into a soft smile.

“To travel at all in these broken lands is a trial for even my own kind. Blight, beasts, and monsters alike roam about, seeking prey for food or for pleasure to cross their paths. To do so requires courage, wits, and just a bit of foolishness, as well as trusted friends to watch one's back against the dangers of the world. Many of my own kind have been claimed by death, even with all these things.

“And yet thou,” she said, curiously tilting her head, “appear to be alone. In a world where all wish for naught but the destruction of those such as thou, thou hast dared to cross these lands alone. I would not wish the deaths of any in this land, especially not one as ador–” She paused, and bit her lip before finally saying, “admirable as thou. Therefore, I offer thee myself as a companion.”

Tristan didn't respond. He couldn't, he was paralyzed from fright and shock. A giantess was talking to him, and so casually, as if she wasn't arguably the most dangerous, terrifying thing Tristan could encounter at this time.

“Oh, art thou wounded, little one?” she was asking now, indicating his arm with a finger that was surely as long as he was tall. Despite the sympathetic tone in her voice, Tristan cringed, praying internally that she would decide he wasn't worth the trouble and that she would leave him alone.

Of course, it wasn't his day for his prayers to be answered. The giantess leaned closer, her hand now about a yard away from his face.

“Do not panic, little traveler,” the giantess said in a soft voice. “I only wish to get a better look....”

Tristan's breath caught in his chest as the giant girl gently brought her hands on either side of him, the warm, fleshy surface of her right palm gently pressing into him and scooping his body into her left hand. He was being lifted, lifted into the air while the giant girl gently nudged him into the middle of her palm. Before he could fully react, he was already at face level with the giantess (although the term mouth level would be more accurate), and could hear his own heartbeat thumping wildly in his ears.

The giant girl stared at him for an unnerving moment, those amber eyes seeming to look right into the depths of his comparatively tiny soul. They were unreadable and terrible, and yet, beautiful. Tristan could see himself reflected in them, and he saw his own face, scared and unsure of what would happen next. And then the boy saw something in the giant's gaze, something he would look back and still marvel at, a thing which hadn't been seen in the eyes of a giantess for a hundred years.

In that moment, Tristan saw kindness.

“Oh, thou art a poor thing,” the giant girl murmured. “Let my hand rest upon thee, and find rest and healing.”

Softly, the giantess lifted her right hand, and placed her middle and index fingers on his torso, covering his chest and left. Tristan squeezed his eyes shut and winced slightly, waiting for the inevitable crushing sensation...

But it never came. Instead, Tristan felt a soft, warm feeling coursing through his whole body, slowing his heart and easing the tension in his weary limbs. He still felt fear, but it seemed muted, somehow, as a sound becomes muffled underneath the water.

He blinked a few times, and realized with a start his arm didn't hurt any more. He tentatively rolled his shoulder, and grinned in spite of himself when he felt no pain nor even soreness.

Tristan knew little of magic, but even he, a farm boy from a run-down little village, could recognize healing magic.

“T-Thank you,” he stammered up at the giant girl. She chuckled softly, and shook her head.

“There is nothing to thank, little traveler. To heal one such as thyself was of no avail. I would be honored if thou wouldst grant me the chance to be of much more use than a mere healing spell.”

Tristan frowned. “S-So..... you want to.... accompany me? For some reason? I thought all the giants hated humanity. What makes you any different? How do I know you're not just biding your time until you grab me and.... and....” He felt sick all of a sudden as he thought of some of the stories he'd heard back home. He decided to change topics.

“I've heard that your people still have cities, armies, lives outside of fighting to survive. Why would you leave all of that to come accompany.... me? A mere human?”

“Thou art no mere human, little traveler,” she said simply. “None of thy kind is meager or lesser in any way. My people have failed to recognize this, and have become too steeped in their hatred towards humanity. The violence my sisters have embraced must be put to an end, and thus I abandoned my people, wandering these lands in search of those who need aid. I will admit, none have accepted my help yet” – a pink tinge came over her face and her steady voice faltered for a moment – “but I believe I will one day encounter one who seeks to heal instead of harm, to understand instead of to hate, and to live instead of merely surviving.” Here the giant girl's eyes shone as she looked down at him. “I believe thee to be the very human I have been seeking. What other human would dare cross the Misted Vales alone, with little more than a sack of provisions and a weapon? Is the quest thou hast embarked upon not one of honor, of valor, of restoration?”

Tristan blinked. The giantess' archaic manner of speech was difficult to understand, but she sounded as though she'd read him quite thoroughly. There was an awkward silence as Tristan tried to figure out what to say next.

Just as he opened his mouth, the giant girl spoke again, a slight pleading edge in her voice.

“I can offer thee wisdom, guidance, protection, whatever you wish. Whatever thee may require, thou need only ask and I shall oblige. I understand that one of my size may appear frightening to one such as thyself, and I can only respond by saying that I shall never leave thy side. No matter what may come between us, I implore thee, little one, let me serve as thy companion, as thy.... as thy maiden.”

Tristan felt the air disappear from his lungs.

Among his people, there was a tradition that no hero should walk alone. Therefore, every knight, upon receiving a quest was assigned a maiden; a woman, usually skilled in magic, who acted as his counterpart, guiding him, protecting him, and comforting him. The role of maiden was an honored role, and the knight was to treat his maiden with respect and honor her for her sacrifice. Maidens were just as venerated as their male counterparts, and many a maiden and knight married after questing together. But the role of maiden was a serious one. It required total devotion on both parts, on pain of death. For a maiden to accept a knight, and vice versa, was a fundamental binding of two souls' fates.

The tradition of knights and maidens had fallen out of practice in recent times, as there simply weren't enough people left to serve such a serious role in this age. That a giantess knew what a maiden was, and that she was offering to serve as his maiden... it was unheard of, to say the least.

“You....” Tristan tried to collect his thoughts. He'd heard the old stories about maidens and knights, and he used to wonder to himself if he'd ever be worthy enough to have a maiden pledge herself to him. He remembered the sadness that had come with realizing that the age of chivalry, of companionship, had ended long before he was even born. It was one of the reasons he'd taken on this quest alone – to try to restore his home, and become someone a maiden would be honored to pledge herself to.

And now here he was, laying in the open palm of a girl like none he'd ever met before, claiming that there would be no greater honor than to serve as his maiden.

“I'm going to the Godbearing Mountain,” he said quietly. “At the edge of the world, to fetch water from the ancient spring and put an end to this blight once and for all. I don't know if it exists, nor if it can even be done. But I figured if you would.... if you would really sacrifice this much, you may as well know what you're getting into.”

The giantess was silent, as though in deep thought. Then she nodded, and asked, “What is thy name, brave little traveler?”

He told her.

She nodded again. “Hold on tight, Tristan.”

Slowly, gently, she lowered him to the ground, and tipped her hand just enough for him to slide off her palm and into the grey-colored grass.

The giantess was still for a second, watching him carefully, then she stood to her full height. Tristan had to crane her neck to even look up at her face, but he could see her amber-colored eyes, looking down at him with such warmth it made him feel strangely giddy.

“I, Lyra,” she said in a clear voice, setting her right hand over her heart, “do pledge myself to aid thee, Tristan, upon thy quest to reach the Godbearing Mountain in the far north, and find a cure to the blight that ravages our lands. I swear to offer guidance, strength, protection, and whatever else thou may require of me, till our quest is done.”

Tristan nodded, and hastily put his right hand over his own heart. “Um.... I, T-Tristan, pledge to complete this quest to the best of my abilities, and to respect and honor my companion, L-Lyra. I swear to act with courage and wisdom, and to persevere and trust in the advice of my companion.... m-my maiden.”

He took an unconscious step back as the giant girl knelt suddenly, then felt ashamed when he realized she was offering him her hand once more.

“Let us seal our bond, little traveler. Take mine hand, as is the custom of your people.”

Tristan forced himself to step forward, slowly raising his hand. He paused as he looked up at the giant girl looming over him. Did he really trust her? A giantess? The supposed enemy of his people, claiming that she wished to join his cause for healing and restoration, and serve as his most loyal companion the whole way?

I implore thee to trust me, she had said, with a look in her eyes that Tristan knew on some deep, instinctive level, meant that he had to do just that. He would do what no other human had dared to do in a hundred years, and learn to trust.

“Let's begin,” he said, placing his hand, so small in comparison, atop her index fingertip. The giant girl smiled, a soft, happy expression, almost cute for one so big. Tristan felt a rush of warmth in his heart, and somehow he understood that history was being made, here and now, at this very moment, between nothing but a farmer boy with foolish dreams and a girl who believed in them.

“May the sun, moon, and stars guide us,” Lyra said softly. “Let us begin.”

people on this site have no idea that there's a difference between religion, fanaticism, ideology, and Christianity.

Okay here's my obligatory post about Tumblr users and their ignorance of rap, as a (white) fan of rap:

Saying "Not all rap music is about violence, here are alternatives" is not helpful, because the violent music ALSO has meaning.

When Biggie Smalls postures about his gang connections and packing heat, he isn't doing it because wow violence is so edgy, it's a powerful statement. Youth in urban areas where gang activity is heavy are often treated as lesser than by default, especially compared to black people the same age from a wealthy background. There's a reason that the "wholesome and respectable" black-lead entertainment of that era was stuff like the Cosby Show, with doctor-lawyer parents, or Family Matters, with a cop dad. There's a reason why the big joke of Fresh Prince is someone with a more unstable upbringing moving in with one of these model black sitcom families.

Standing up and saying yeah, I came from the mean streets, I was molded by this violence and yes, I did what I had to do to survive in a world that refuses to acknowledge my existence as meaningful or worthy of protection. I protected myself, I made my own way, and fuck anybody who tries to stand in the way of that.

Refusing to demonize that environment and wearing it like armor in a way that protects from the authority that wants you to see them as sub humans incapable of only violence and hatred, and saying HEY. I'm here, I lived this, and there is love and there is pain and there is ART in this.

That is powerful. That is the essence of gangster rap.

It isn't about hurting people for fun, it's about holding a mirror up to a society that does the hurting and then calls you a monster for what it's made you. Its about validating the experiences of the disenfranchised and biting back at authority. It's about turning a pain that the world say you deserve being one of those people from those places into POETRY. Into ART.

And thats why it matters.

And thats why you need to shut the yell up and stop dismissing it as violence without substance when you all sat on your ass listening to songs about Hatsune Miku eating people in middle school.

No, no, I'm with you I definitely agree. I bump jt music and kendrick lamar in the same playlist family. Rap is an art form like any other, and people on this site should learn that

fuck killing a victorian child by making them listen to hyperpop all you gotta do is make a white tumblr user listen to rap

So. I'm almost done with The Wingfeather Saga.

I'm reading the 88 chapter ("Sailing Home") from The Warden And The Wolf King and I feel inexplicably uneasy. Please God, I just want Janner, Kalmar and Leeli to have a happy ending and live together with their friends and family on Anniera 😭😭😭😭 no more worries, no more trauma for them. I just want them to get to be kids once again and play on the castle grounds.

Please, can anyone encourage me to keep reading? I'M SO TENSE AND I DON'T KNOW WHY.

this sounds so stupid and naive but I think a lot of problems wrong with our society could be fixed if we tried to understand each other, regardless of what we feel about the other sides beliefs. Only by recognizing the divides between us can we come to cross them

trying this bc why not

seeing nerdcore fan in the depths of tumblr was not something I expected to see today but I'm not mad about it

fuck killing a victorian child by making them listen to hyperpop all you gotta do is make a white tumblr user listen to rap

ALL MY LIFE I WANT MONEY AND POWER RESPECT MY MIND NO DIE FROM LEAD SHOWER

And because I forgot to source the picture:

https://www.deviantart.com/zerohour99/art/COMMISSION-Palutena-914467479

URGH I WANT A GIANT GODDESS TO SNUGGLE ME SO BADLYYYY

like, imagine being the only smol creature in her majestys court or smth. Imagine all the other angels and gods tower over you. But she didn't care. She chose you to be hers, so all the courts of the high heavens can go to the other place for all she cares. Imagine her giggling in her regal voice as she tickles your relentlessly, digging her great fingers into your ribs with enough force to leave you a squealing mess but also just enough to ensure she's not harming you in any way. Imagine feeling sad and then getting plucked up out of nowhere, her soft lips nearly suffocating you with divine love as she tells you that no matter what the world says, she will love you because you are hers and because you are you and because the world is cruel she chooses to love you even more.

IMAGINE THE SNUGGLES AT NIGHT BRO IMAGINE.

This shi got me giggling and kicking me feet at 1:06 in the morning my goodness

URGH I WANT A GIANT GODDESS TO SNUGGLE ME SO BADLYYYY

like, imagine being the only smol creature in her majestys court or smth. Imagine all the other angels and gods tower over you. But she didn't care. She chose you to be hers, so all the courts of the high heavens can go to the other place for all she cares. Imagine her giggling in her regal voice as she tickles your relentlessly, digging her great fingers into your ribs with enough force to leave you a squealing mess but also just enough to ensure she's not harming you in any way. Imagine feeling sad and then getting plucked up out of nowhere, her soft lips nearly suffocating you with divine love as soft noises of affection come from her throat and she leaves you a tiny blushing thing in her warm, soft grasp. Imagine that she sits you on her knee and she tells you that no matter what the world says, she will love you because you are hers and because you are you and because the world is cruel she chooses to love you even more.

IMAGINE THE SNUGGLES AT NIGHT BRO IMAGINE.

This shi got me giggling and kicking me feet at 1:06 in the morning my goodness