Shout Out To All The Black Ppl That Can No Longer Participate Directly In The Fandom They Love Because

i hate when you google a word and some fucking company comes up instead. Do you think you are more important than the english dictionary you piece of shit corporation

Yeah, that’s me alright. No class, no breeding, no coat of arms. Definitely no old money. An oik. But I’m a police officer and I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder. – 11x02 Blood Wedding

Sam by Maia O. Tolkien's "chief hero", a gardener. The one who grows, tends, nurtures. It's too perfect 😭😭😭

Magic in her Blood: story concept

(This is an idea I played around with. I might make a small series out of it if some people are interested)

Please do not replicate my work anywhere without my permission :)

*

Smoke filled the streets of Small Heath, workmen feeding coal to metal beasts, breathing in the toxic air. The noise of their exploits echoed over the slated roofs, carrying for miles, and allowing for a cloaked figure to pass by silently.

Her eyes flashed with each burst of flame, catching the depth and piercing brightness of their blue. A pointed, angled hat cast shadow over her features, the glint of steel on the brim a warning to all those who are prey, and obscuring everything but the subtly smirking lips; painted blood red.

She passed through Small Heath with no opposition, no second glances, for all those who saw her, knew. This woman was one of them.

Granddaughter of a Romani king, princess of the Peaky Blinders, and all round predator. Sarah Shelby walked the streets of Birmingham like royalty, because that's exactly what she was.

The doors to the Garrison swung open, and heads came up, only to dip down again in respect. And fear. A few newcomers stared, until one of their friends shoved their heads to the table. 

She swept along the bar, plucking whiskey and a glass on her way. Her heels clicked off the wooden floor, a quiet power spilling out from the smooth, rolling silk that hugged her figure. Equally dark curls bounced upon her shoulders as she turned her head, one last look falling over the pub before she vanished into the private booth.

The Shelby boys all looked up, grins appearing on their faces and papers being set down. To those outside, nothing would have shocked them more than to know she returned the smiles.

"Good to see you again, boys," she said, sitting adjacent from the eldest sibling, Arthur.

"And you, sister," Thomas said, "we'd begun to think ourselves too common for your tastes."

"Oh, not at all," Sarah replied, matching the smirk he wore as she poured herself a drink, "I merely had some business of my own to attend," she said, and crossed her legs.

The air, filled with smoke from their cigarettes, tasted bitter on her tongue. Something hung there, unspoken, interrupted. It seeped into the old wood, spinning around the circular booth like a wailing spirit, begging for freedom.

Eyes narrowed, Sarah regarded her brothers with a tilted head. "What's happened?"

John chuckled, glancing over at Thomas and bouncing his leg. Little humour was to be found in his face, only a rather satisfied "I-told-you-so" gleam in his eye.

The two elders exchanged a brief look, and Arthur gestured towards her, raising another cigarette to his lips and leaving Thomas to answer the question.

"There is a copper from Belfast sticking his nose in our business," he explained, hands clasped on the table he leant on, "and he's causing problems."

"Now the barmaid makes sense," Sarah murmured, sipping her whiskey and gazing at it as the liquid swirled.

The brothers straightened in their seats. Thomas wet his lips. "What do you mean?"

She raised her eyes to them, one eyebrow arched. "A copper from Belfast comes along, poking his snout where it isn't wanted, and a beautiful Irish girl suddenly drops into Harry's lap; surely you don't think it's a coincidence?"

John and Arthur laughed, but quickly stopped, noticing the missing voice. Thomas stared at his sister, heart hammering in his chest, and fell back against the bench.

"Grace is not working for Inspector Campbell," he said, in a tone that seemed directed more at himself than anyone else.

Sarah drew her wand from its sheath at her side, rolling the cool instrument in her grasp. The familiar touch sent gentle sparks flying as she waved it through the air.

They each gulped, glancing at one another and backing up, further away from the weapon. But Thomas met her eyes, and smirked.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

This is why we are fighting the capitalist system and why we support Luigi. His name was Cole Schmidtknecht. Look him up, he was young. He died of ASTHMA because he couldn't afford his inhaler due to the greed of insurance companies. He could be your brother, your best friend, etc.

Bernard Hill - Théoden King.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;

The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.

Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

I cannot believe how stupid this is. What do they learn in school? And if you don't know things, why don't you shut the fuck up?

20-25 million people from nations all over the world died fighting against the Nazis. The US didnt even show up for years after it started. They sat and watched everyone else fight and die.

Rest of conversation -

REPORTER: So, just to clarify—your position is that France owes its entire existence to the United States?

LEAVITT: Absolutely. If it weren’t for the U.S., the French would be speaking German right now. That’s just a fact.

REPORTER: Interesting. Because if it weren’t for France, we wouldn’t even have the United States. Ever heard of the American Revolution? France bankrolled it. Sent troops. Fought Britain on multiple fronts. And, oh yeah—gave us the Statue of Liberty as a symbol of freedom. Do we only acknowledge history when it’s convenient?

LEAVITT: Well, the United States has been the beacon of global freedom—

REPORTER: Right, and who gave us the actual beacon? The French. And let’s not forget, France won World War I before the U.S. even entered it. So by your logic, does that mean Americans should be thanking the French for not speaking German in 1918?

LEAVITT: That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying—

REPORTER: Also, if we’re going down this road—how about the Louisiana Purchase? You know, that huge chunk of land that doubled the size of America? Bought it from the French. Are we sending them a thank-you note?

LEAVITT: Look, I think we’re getting off track here. The point is—

REPORTER: The point is, we didn’t just swoop in and save the day while France sat around waiting. Nations cooperate, trade, and yes, sometimes even rescue each other.

17. März 2025

accidentally just showed my drawing instructor a folder full of bagginshield porn i have to drop off the face of the earth change my name and move to switzerland goodbye yall it was nice knowing you

“Well, there’s no proof that will happen. You can’t count on things happening tomorrow just because they happened in the past. It’s faulty logic.”

How are we holding up? I’m still crying about Lenore Dove and the gumdrops