for further inspiration

actual lesbian biker!xena and english/classical studies undergrad!gabrielle (?)

gab actually looks a lot younger than she’s supposed to ugh please ignore i don’t actually know

The Creation of a Mud Puddle

The ants saw it happen.

Ever working, diligently digging, moving grain of sand by grain of sand, they watched as the small Great One shook the ground, giant drops of Drink falling as it stomped above their land.

They saw that it held the Drink, glinting bright in the sunlight before the small Great One stretched its arms and let the clear, cool Drink fall.

They watched it fall hard and fast and splash in dirt, until there was more Drink than the dirt could hold at one time.

They saw fierce waves and eddies in the wide and growing brown lake of Drink, disturbed by the continued downpour.

They watched it become an enormous brown sea as the small Great One emptied every drop of Drink that it carried onto its chosen spot of land.

They saw the small Great One jump in the sea, sending tidal waves dangerously close to their work, and they were helpless to the ignorance and the will of that which was larger than them.

The ants watched as the small Great One ended its ritual and stomped away, leaving behind the great brown sea– a reminder of their good fortune to survive another day, and the chance to finish their work.

4

Happy anniversary, Comrade Lenin!

One hundred and forty-seven (147) years ago, on 22nd April (1870), a man was born into a bourgeois family in Simbirsk (Imperial Russia) that would change the lives of millions throughout the world, inspire the exploited workers and peasants into revolution, and set fear into the hearts of capitalists with the foundations of the world’s first workers state.

Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, more commonly known as Lenin, driven by the teachings of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, and fuelled by the death of his older brother Aleksandr at the hands of the Tsarist regime, set a course in Marxist history that would leave the world stunned as one faction, theBolsheviks, and its charismatic leader, gained the full support of the workers and peasants, and led them against the Tsar of the Russian Empire through the Great October Socialist Revolution, ending Russia’s participation in the first world war, a costly conflict that resulted in the death of millions and the destruction of all infrastructures, ceasing the continued exploitation by nobility and clergy of the workers and peasants, and establishing the ideology that would serve as the foundation of the first workers state, the first socialist industrial nation in the world.

The success of Lenin’s leadership and of the struggle by the workers and peasants stood out as a beacon of hope for many other nations worldwide, and his teachings and the peoples’ experience would soon spread, further influencing and inspiring the oppressed, exploited masses to crack open their shackles and revolt against those who had kept them in perpetual darkness for long so.

Lenin may be no more, but his ideas, his thoughts, his teachings are immortal.

Messaging Icebreakers

We know people on Tumblr love messaging. We also know they have a hard time sending their first message. How can a community of people who mostly don’t know each other IRL feel comfortable starting direct conversations with to each other? One solution we’re trying right now is icebreakers.  

If you start a conversation with a mutual right now (try it!), you’ll see something like this:


Iteration

We went through through a few iterations of this interface, taking initial cues from the bites of information expected on a biz card—

—which seemed too formal, and were further pared down and made smaller:

A visually-centered information nugget felt right, and we experimented with further options inspired by other aspects of the Tumblr universe, such as displaying the recipient’s last few posts, or the entirety of their tumblr description:


Final Form

In the end, we rallied around a brief yet informative interface which adapted according to the the user’s context. Besides their username (obviously), we’ve added a small line that tells you one or two things a person posts about the most.

What if you’re not already mutuals? For one-way follows (or people who don’t follow each other at all), the messaging interface now gives you that context, too:

The recipient also gets information about the people who are messaging them: the sender’s username, description, and how long they’ve been following for. 

This information should be enough to let you know if the person is a lurker, if they’re a dedicated follower, or if the two of you are mutuals.

As an additional layer of safety, we’ve included a small “Hey does this look like spam?” button, just in case of…well, spam.

This collection of interfaces makes up what we’ve dubbed “Icebreakers”, in the hope that they’ll help smooth out conversations between strangers, and maybe give ‘em something to talk about.

Coat of arms

{{ I felt like designing some kind of a simple, recognizable logo for Teo, and came up with this. Some might see flames in this design, or even a supernova with the star in the middle… I also got a slight bit of inspiration from the Fleur-de-lis symbol, often associated with French monarchy. x3 }}

{{ Not of huge utility right now buuuuuut we’ll see. >w> }}


Please do not use without permission/claim as your own!

Edmund x Reader: Patronus

Prompt/ask: None

Word count: 576

Warnings: *Slight* language. Like literally one curse word.

Setting: Harry Potter AU

A/N: So this is just a little something I came up with based on a headcanon I found somewhere in the depths of tumblr-I hope you enjoy my first Harry Potter/Narnia AU! If this inspired any further HP AU prompts, please don’t hesitate on sending them in, because I am absolute Harry Potter trash.


“Shit.”

You cursed under your breath, dropping your arm in defeat. You sighed. It seemed as if, no matter how many times you tried, the concept of conjuring a patronus was impossible.

“Having trouble?” A voice asked in amusement.

You turned to the doorway of the empty Transfiguration classroom, rolling your eyes at the smirking form of Edmund Pevensie.

“What, Pevensie?” You groaned, turning back to the wall where you had been practicing. 

Edmund shrugged, leaning into the tall bookshelf by the doorframe.

“Well, to begin with,” He said smugly, straightening up and taking a step towards where you stood, “If I were you, I wouldn’t hold my wand like that.”

You scoffed, turning around abruptly to face him. “And how exactly am I holding my wand?”

Edmund rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing you lightly by the waist and turning you around. You let out a small noise in protest.

“Okay, first, improve your posture. Put your shoulders back, yeah?”

You narrowed your eyes. What was he playing at?

Reluctantly, you did as he suggested.

“Good.” Edmund said simply, slowly removing his hands from your waist and stepping backwards. “Now, raise your wand.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around to give him an irritated look. “Oh, really?” You said, your tone filled with sarcasm. Edmund just smirked, adjusting his collar.

Slowly, you lifted your wand, turning back around as you did. You held it out at arms-length, focusing your gaze on the wall before you and taking in every detail of the cluttered surrounding shelves and small desks.

“Alright,” Edmund began from behind you, “Now focus.”

“What?”

“Just…”

You could feel Edmund approaching you, his footsteps causing the wood floor to creak. You felt his warm breath against your neck as he raised his hand to place it over yours. You stabilized your grip on your wand, tilting it slightly.

“Alright, now…focus.”

Suddenly, all at once, you knew what he meant.

You felt the rush of energy inside you, building up as you raised your wand-Edmund’s hand still on yours.

“Expecto Patronum!” You cried, feeling every ounce of power within you surging through your veins and rushing to the tip of your wand.

A small, wispy blue figure appeared before your eyes, growing in size as the color became deeper and the shape became clearer.

“Merlin’s beard!” Edmund exclaimed from behind you. He immediately let go of your hand, doubling over to burst into laughter.

A round, flimsy nose was expanding from your wand, attached to what looked like the body of an oversized beetle with fur.

“Is that-“

“An Aardvark?” Edmund finished, coughing through his grunts of laughter.

You giggled, shaking your head in mild exasperation as you raised your wand further.

“I mean, it’s actually kinda cute.” You said thoughtfully, carefully gliding it along with your wand. The figure danced in the air, its abnormally long snout wrinkling with every movement.

Edmund bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh again. “I mean, uh-” Edmund let out a small noise of amusement, but quickly covered it with a cough. “At least you know you have the ability to conjure a patronus, right?”

He paused, trying to think of anything else remotely positive to add to his statement. “And um, it’s not terrible looking from certain angles.”

You sighed with a slight tone of amusement, turning abruptly and abandoning your patronus.

 “Shut up Pevensie.”

And with that, you leaned in.

That certainly shut him up.

|| American Dreams ||

{summary: “you’ll always be my american dream.”}

american dreams by cartel is a+++++

dedicated to @siqnificances

tags [permanent + peter parker]: @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53 , @ghostedwolf , @tmrhollandkay , @kylielo22 , @wavy-ley , @lghockey , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry

warnings: none

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine.**

——

Keep reading

Headcanon: Not long after Naruto is appointed Hokage, Sakura and Ino spearhead a campaign that pushes for equal women’s rights and pay, and Naruto pens the bill into legislation without hesitance. Civilian women are now allowed to choose the shinobi life regardless of age or background experience, and Sakura creates a women-inclusive Ninja Academy that trains them rigorously and exceptionally. Under Sakura’s direction, the village manages to produce the largest faction of female Jōnin that the ninja world has ever seen. Ino, on the other hand, facilitates the creation of a women’s orphanage beneath Naruto’s guidance. Ino selects Hinata as the head of the orphanage, and it becomes the village’s safehouse for women who have been sexually abused, trafficked, and neglected in any way, shape, or form. Hinata sustains a nurturing, comfortable, and creative environment for women through weekly tea ceremonies, dance lessons, origami making, and therapeutic ‘Pet The Dog’ sessions (which Kiba eagerly participates in via the clan dogs). Ino also forges the very beginnings of Konoha’s LGBTQ+ community, building more safe zones for citizens who identify themselves as such, and provides counselling services for those seeking help. Weeks later, Sasuke and Naruto’s marriage expands the community’s scope by a significant amount, inspiring many men and women to step forward. Ino is forced to open LGBTQ+ clubs and social spaces while Naruto sanctions the development of their ‘rainbow neighbourhood’ - both a tourist destination and a symbol of pride, acceptance, and tolerance. Sasuke, relenting to his husband’s encouragement, agrees to be guest speaker during daily ‘Saturgay Karaoke Nights’ at Konoha’s top LGBTQ+ club. Sasuke’s talks encompass topics such as sexual identity, discrimination, and gender roles pertaining to gay individuals, while Naruto’s humorous, satirical, “swing-both-ways” anecdotes are one of the evening’s most anticipated highlights. Due to this arrangement, every Saturday night is a pivotal event, and the entire village tunes in to watch the Seventh Hokage and his husband entertain, educate, and further inspire the masses. 

Konoha quickly makes its mark as “the Village of Cultural Revolution”, stimulating major changes across the shinobi world. Other villages follow suit, eager to promote active and just equality within all social, political, and economic strata.

Day6: SERVING EVERYONE WITH THEIR TALENTED ASS SELVES EACH MONTH
Me: Grades constantly improving, learning and improving at an instrument, smiling more, improving on lyrics, doesn’t cry at night anymore, am genuinely happy.

Return to the Halls of Fire: (1/2)

[A story of Felo’thore returning to his fire dueling grounds- backdated a few weeks. @ocarina-of-what and @spiral-seeker @emberfallen & @cynfuldax @curiouslich @sparklepriest for Underbelly mage-duel stuff.]

“No…”
“It can’t be. She was my best student at the academy.”

It started with a letter sent from a caring friend of a magistrix whom he’d once mentored. A stubborn woman by the name of Ledotta Dewlantern, who had succumbed to the lust of dueling illegally in the Dalaran Sewers. The astromancer could not sit idle knowing- not when the grace of his former headmaster had plucked him from the throes of arrogance and poor choices that told an inglorious story of his youth in the Violet City.

There was seldom a time Felo'thore ever opened the one other door in his portal bedroom. The man had it blocked by precarious furniture and his usual clutter, hushing and requesting Adrianal firmly that it was the one space in his mysterious room he was not to meddle with. But it was on that day Felo’thore inhaled a deep breath, pushing his furniture aside and whispering the door to unlock before the both of them.

There was truth in what the mage had disclosed what was behind the door- that it was a part of his mind he did not wish to visit again. But the spark of temptation was lit in his heart and in place of the anger that once boiled his blood to slag, there was a bright and noble passion as Felo'thore looked upon the menacing facade of his former dueling regalia. Once upon a time there was a legend of a man loved no one but himself- A man that fought bitterly with rivals to which time could not fade grudges. The willowy sorcerer considered this reflection as his fingers grazed the elaborate and brooding fabric.

Keep reading

[ 9/4 ] [ 2/70 Days of Productivity ]

i spent today going over a few topics in further pure, i have so much to for further maths it unreal, i really hope i can manage… other than that i’ve just been creating flashcards for physics and watching thor. a day well spent if you ask me. >.<

currently reading: the catcher in the rye // j.d. salinger 

further shores (3/?)

In an attempt to escape past heartbreak, Killian Jones now lives a quiet life on the Irish coast. But when he begins to fall for a mysterious stranger, her secrets stir up old demons and threaten to ruin his chance at happiness once again. Inspired by the movie Ondine.

part 1 // part 2 // AO3


Despite Killian’s apprehension, the next few days passed without incident and both he and Emma settled into a comfortable cohabitation.

Though Killian woke every day before dawn, Emma always managed to beat him to the kitchen in the mornings and get the coffee brewing. They ate their cereal and toast with minimal conversation. While Killian took the boat out, Emma stayed at the cabin and read or tended to the small, overgrown garden in the back that he had let run wild. After a few days of work, she had a patch cleared and planted a few rows of vegetables from seeds that he’d brought her from town. In the evenings, he returned with ingredients for dinner, often consisting of fresh fish from that day’s catch, which they prepared side by side while sharing stories from their day.  Afterwards they shared a glass of rum and were soon off to bed.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I like Silver, but also fuck him. Even if they would've died, they would've died fighting for what they believed in. It didn't scare them, they were willing to die for it, they thought it was worth dying for. And maybe they would've lost, but maybe they would've inspired a further uprising. If you didn't believe in it, you should've walked away, you shouldn't have made them think that you shared their conviction and then stab them in the back. Their life, their choice, but you took it away.

THANK YOU THIS A THOUSAND TIMES THIS! This is exactly what I’m saying in regards to Silver and his version of love that… emphatically is not love. Love does not try to control, it does not say to someone, “your life is more important than your spirit.” Silver has never had convictions or he would know that, and if he loved either of them he would not have done so many of the things he did. I mean - what kind of amoral fuck finds out that the love of his friend’s life is alive, knowing that that friend has been in agony for ten years, and then not only doesn’t free their friend’s lover or tell the friend they’re alive but marks down the prison they’re being kept in as a place to maybe send their friend as well? What kind of twisted asshole then tries to tell the BLACK WOMAN DESCENDED FROM SLAVES he hopes to marry that he’s sent that friend - a friend of hers as well - North in chains to stay at that prison as if it’s not engaging in a form of slavery and tries to pretend it’s ok because it was for their own good? That is not love - that is control, and it is toxic and gross and so, so not what either Madi or Flint deserved. I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I am absolutely not a fan of Silver’s at this point precisely because of this and I honestly don’t know how Madi is meant to forgive him for any of this. I find myself wishing that she and Vane had gotten together instead and that he had lived - he never would have done this to her. 

Received an anonymous request the other night: 

Can I have a Leo x reader one? With fluff? ^^ If it would be okay?

Admittedly this took far too long for me to get around to, and I sincerely apologize. I was a bit distracted and lacking inspiration. 

Without further ado, watch as I awkwardly attempt to force plot into a one-shot reader insert!!! Shout out to @southernblossoms @buru-banded-ninja-kitty @laced-up-and-honour-bound @thekunoichiinblue @aredheadwithasoul @bubbliciousfearless and any other Leo girls I forgot to tag!

Leonardo x Reader 

Warnings: None (unless you consider really sloppy writing offensive)

Words: 1618


You were unbelievably tired. The flight from Los Angeles to New York City had seemed to stretch on into eternity, no matter how many levels of Candy Crush you mastered in order to pass the time. Sleep eluded you for the entire six hours, save for a few moments of blissful slumber that were inevitably interrupted by a cough from your neighbor or a kick from the teenage girl behind you. The journey home from your impromptu business trip lacked all of the excitement and joy as a trip to the Golden State should have had, and you wanted nothing more than to settle yourself into a hot bath and then sleep for three days straight in a bed that didn’t remind you of a wooden palette.

Unfortunately, as soon as you had landed, you had to make do with a cup of subpar coffee, a greasy breakfast sandwich, and a seat behind your desk at work. The company you worked for was in the final process of buying out another smaller company, and as the supervisor in charge of the training of all new personnel, you were more than burnt out. Another four hours spent finishing up reports and you would be free to sleep as peacefully as your frazzled brain would allow.

You jumped slightly when your phone vibrated twice in your pocket, bringing you out of your reverie. A small grin graced your lips when you saw a familiar name across the screen.

Home yet?

Your cheeks reddened as you wiped the grease from your mediocre meal off of your fingers on a napkin near your keyboard and made to answer the text message. Your thumbs hovered over the screen for several moments as you contemplated your response.

For about an hour now, though I had to go straight into the office for a bit of damage control. Idiots in accounting still haven’t sorted out payroll.

I knew the place would fall apart if you left.

Your flushed cheeks became even warmer as your smile grew tenfold.

You had met Leonardo under very…unusual circumstances. It had all started when you answered a craigslist ad from a young woman by the name of April O’Neil. Her roommate had recently (and very suddenly, it had seemed) moved out, and she was in desperate need of someone to help with the bills. In dire straits yourself, you jumped on the ad as soon as you read it. After a few brief meetings, you felt comfortable enough with the arrangement to begin moving in. April was a news reporter and seemed to have her head on straight. Sure, she talked to herself in her room a lot, had the pizza guy on speed dial, and kept very strange hours, but she was kind and respected your work schedule. The two of you carved out a friendship over several weeks and everything seemed to be picture perfect. That is, until her turtle friends decided to pay an unannounced visit one evening.

After being brought back from unconsciousness and having a strong drink shoved into your shaking hand, April had explained to you why four enormous anthropomorphic turtles were climbing through the balcony door at two in the morning. Surprisingly enough, you accepted the explanation with very little fuss. You had grown up in New York after all, and if mutant turtles were the strangest thing you had to deal with that day, you were lucky.

The four of them were exceedingly grateful for your acceptance, the oldest in particular. Having similar temperaments, you found yourself drawn to his company, and he to yours. Over the last several months, you had grown very attached to the blue-clad turtle and cherished every moment you were allowed with him, from quiet nights stargazing on rooftops to rowdy evenings playing video games with his brothers and April. As a constant source of strength and inspiration, you felt comfortable calling him your best friend.

Another buzz from your phone reminded you that you had left him without a response for fifteen minutes.

I bet you are exhausted.

You knew it was his subtle way of asking if you wanted to see him. Though he was polite and direct with most things, you sensed that he had an overwhelming fear of rejection when it came to your friendship.

I doubt I’ll be able to sleep when I get home. Probably be six cups of coffee deep at that point. Be on the balcony at 1?

I’ll be there.

Silencing your phone with a happy sigh, you returned to your work. 


You could see the light from under April’s door as you strolled into your apartment some time later. The soft clicking of laptop keys filled the quiet home and you smiled to yourself. She had been working just as tirelessly as you had recently, hot on the trail of some new story. Setting your bags down in the living room, you rolled your shoulders and let out an enormous sigh. 

The place was a mess. Clothes were strewn around the living room and dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink. Pizza boxes were scattered across the coffee table, some of which were beginning to release a particularly foul odor. Judging by the sheer number of the boxes, it was apparent that April had been hosting a certain group of reptiles at least one night you were away. 

Despite your exhaustion, your type-A personality would not permit you to relax until you had cleaned up a little. Storming about the apartment and grabbing items to throw into the pile you mentally labeled “return to the boys,” you barely noticed the sound of the balcony door sliding open and shut again. 

“You work too hard,” came a smooth voice from the living room. You screeched and dropped a plate you had been about to put in the dishwasher. 

April poked her head out from her room, concern etched on her face. You waved her off with one hand, your other hand clutching your chest. “No need to worry, April. Leo just forgot to announce himself…again.”

Leonardo smiled sheepishly at your pointed stare after politely bowing his greeting to April. 

“Well, if I wasn’t going to be able to sleep before, I certainly won’t be able to now,” you teased. “Also, I work too hard? That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I’ve ever heard it.”

Leo shrugged and retrieved a broom from the hall closet, presumably to help clean the mess he had inadvertently caused. “You just got home, you should be relaxing.” 

Placing your hands on your hips, a cheeky smile gracing your tired features, you stood in front of him. “Pot,” you said, placing a finger against his plastron before moving it to touch your own chest, “kettle.”

You finished loading the dishwasher and gathering up anything that didn’t belong in the apartment as Leo swept up the broken china. Once you felt satisfied that the place was clean enough, you looked at your enormous friend only to find that he was gazing your way too. 

“You didn’t have to invite me over, you know. You look exhausted.” 

You pursed your lips and sighed. You still had to unpack, prepare your meals for the remainder of the week, do your laundry…

“Do you know anything about shiatsu?” Leo asked, breaking you away from your train of thought. 

“Uh, only that they taste fantastic sauteed in garlic,” you responded distractedly, moving your way over to the bags you had abandoned when you arrived home. Leo’s large hand made contact with your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Your heart began to pound in your chest. His skin was so…cold, and yet not at all uninviting. 

Shiatsu. Here, let me show you.” In one easy movement, he had spun you around to face him and taken both of your tiny hands into his. Before you could protest, he was speaking again and pressing his thumbs into your palms in gentle, soothing circles. This was the most physical contact you had ever shared with him. 

“The great martial arts masters believe that energy, ki, flows through the body in specific pathways, or meridians.”

The sensation of his thumbs rolling over the very sensitive skin of your palms left you reeling. His rough scales felt so foreign, and yet you couldn’t help but notice how right it felt to have your hand in his. 

“Much like meditation, shiatsu massage can help redirect that energy flow when it is disrupted. Like when we overwork ourselves,” he chuckled warmly, a playful reprimand shining in his bright blue eyes. He pulled on your hands, gradually stretching your wrists before returning to the soft palm massaging. 

“There are stimulation points,” he continued, his voice low and his breathing steady, “and there are sedation points. The palms and wrists are sedation points.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, his unique scent filling your senses and lulling you into the deepest state of relaxation you had felt in days. 

And before you knew it, it was over. He had released your hands and taken a step back from you. He wore the smirk he reserved for the times he was able to educate someone about martial arts or Japanese culture and your heart swelled at how proud he was. 

“Repeat those movements a few times before going to bed or whenever you’re feeling stressed and you should have no problem relaxing.”

“Doctor’s orders?” you asked lamely. The empty space he had left on your hands felt cold and electrified. 

“You bet.”

“Well then, I think you should demonstrate a few more times. Just to be sure that I’m doing it right.”

anonymous asked:

That post about *kindness* is a fucking joke. What the hell is being kind going to get you? Nothing. The world doesn't give a shit about you. Nobody gives a shit about you. Nobody in the world gives a shit if you're *kind*, they only give a shit about what you can do for them. Being kind will get you nowhere expect people walking all over you. The world is a cruel, violent, ruthless place. And the only way to survive is to suck it up, stop living in your happy little bubble, and GROW UP.

I’m sorry that you feel so affronted by a post that encourages kindness to one another, anon.  It tells me that you’ve been facing a LOT of pain and anger and hatred, and your stance is therefore quite understandable.

A cruel, unforgiving world is no stranger to me.  When people alienate others, call names, laugh over someone’s voice, slap the glasses off their face, and throw their treasured work in the garbage for them to find the next day, ABSOLUTELY, the world becomes dark and cruel.

Those actions can easily inspire further pain and conflict from those that have been hurt.  You want to lash out, deal back the pain that was inflicted on yourself, and build walls to guard yourself against “weakening” tenderness.  It can snowball to the point that everyone around you is affected, and all hope of kindness seems lost.

So, to take that pain, and REJECT it in favour of showing compassion to others who need it, takes a great deal of courage, strength, and maturity to muster.

Sure, some kindnesses won’t be appreciated - they may even be thrown back in your face.  But that is beyond your control.  No matter how bitter and spiteful others will act toward you, sharing kindness for purely kindness’ sake gives them no real reason to fight back, except to satisfy their own reactionary needs.

And of course, there are those who will try to take advantage of a kind heart.  That’s where maturity and wisdom will protect you.  They caution you to be kind, but not to the point of compromising yourself.  Sometimes we have to learn this the hard way; and yes, being taken advantage of can easily turn us bitter.

But as you grow up, you realize that even the slightest actions can affect others around you.  A smile, a compliment, holding the door open, holding yourself back from making a cruel remark, those are all COMPLETELY within your control!  And when you have the maturity to realize that being unkind makes you no better than a selfish fool, you WANT to make a positive change, even a little one, in the world around you.  Being kind becomes your own reward.

I’m not saying you are wrong for feeling this way, anon - in fact, I don’t blame you.  The only thing wrong is to believe that darkness and cruelty are the only things that matter.  Believe you me, the world, and the people around you, are much, MUCH more complicated than that.

Here’s to more peaceful times for us all, friend.