#tw: war

[scholarofgloom]

[liminalfishstudio]

I was an astrologer who could change the stars and alter fates.

Clients came from across the world, paying me to alter their fates. The process was precise and delicate and could take weeks.

Simply knowing your fate could be enough to change it. And while I could rearrange your stars and build you a whole new future, the past was immutable, unchanging.

Honestly, most of my job was just giving therapy for things that were, things that are, and things that may or may not come to pass.

My clients sometimes paid me hundreds of thousands of dollars, but I didn’t need it.

I had my tent and my instruments and free rein of the resort, so I gave my money to the resort manager. Told him to hire people with it, create jobs, make people happy. But to tell no one what I did or where the money came from.

As far as the locals were concerned, I was some kind of conman or religious nut.

I often turned down potential clients. Most of them wouldn’t change, not really. They could snuff out galaxies without batting an eye and continue on being the same people they always were.

But last night I issued my first refund.

The things she wanted were taken from her so long ago, and no amount of charting and recharting her trajectory could navigate her back to them. The debts she was paying were’t even her own, but they had been accumulating from the day she was born.

One day, her bill would come due, she would pay it, and it would destroy her. I gave her all her money back and more. It couldn’t begin to be enough.

We settled on a short life. Enough time to set some things right, and then

She left soon after, walking into the darkness fearless and alone. That was common among my clients - the certainty of knowing their appointed hour.

This time, I wanted to go with her. I couldn’t.

I slept on the beach that morning. My tent felt strange. My instruments were useless. I needed to feel the sun pulsing against my skin, the sand crunching against my back, and the surf eating away at the shore.

In just a few thousand years, the ocean will have eaten this town. My tent and my instruments will be ground to dust and forgotten. My clients and a hundred generations beyond them will be dead.

But I will remain as fingerprints among the stars. Who will see them? Who would even know?

A pebble bounces off my face. Something larger skips off the sand next to me. I open my eyes and greet my attackers, a pair of young boys from the town.

Or - are they? I can see the narrow, hard faces of the men they will soon become peering at me from their round cheeks and bright eyes.

“What do you want?” I ask, shading my eyes.

“We heard your lady friend left you last night,” one of them taunts. Or sneers.

“I know,” I say, and close my eyes again. There is no fight in me. They weigh their choices, pebbles in hand, and choose to hurl them at some seagulls nearby.

I drift back to sleep.

M shares a cigarette with me on the jetty. I only smoke with him, but he doesn’t know that. He thinks I like the brand of cigarettes he buys. It doesn’t seem to concern him that I never have my own to share. He is a good friend.

“I don’t know why you let those boys bother you,” he says. From where we stand, you can see the whole sweep of the bay, the resort, my tent. And the stars starting to pool above us. M is one of the few locals who knows what I do, and the only one who halfway believes it.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I feel some sympathy for them. They’re going to be drafted in the war.”

The breeze eats M’s cigarette before he responds.

“Is that… something you did?”

“I can’t move the sun,” I say, knowing full well that I could. I wonder how many civilizations I’ve accidentally winked out of existence that way.

Probably none.

“Some things can’t be changed.”

“Am I going to be drafted?” M asks. His hands are gripped tight on the railing. I can feel the trembling through my elbows.

“What would you do differently if you knew?” I ask.

M doesn’t answer. It’s our last cigarette together. I knew that, and I still hold on to it long enough to burn my fingers.

Overhead, a streak of light illuminates the space between stars. A comet, perhaps. For once I don’t know.

For once, I don’t care.

[apolladay]

In case someone's interested, re: the "War story" poll: based on a real war story from someone's real grandpa

I assume you're referring to this one...

https://www.tumblr.com/apolladay/822869383961624576/would-you-tell-this-war-story-to-your-grandkids?source=share

[scholarofgloom]

[alice-in-cuckooland]

idiot guys vs orange guys

[alice-in-cuckooland]

war. war never changes in gmod

[maddscientisttarr]

Did Masterman really just leave you three months ago? Or did something happen between the two of you that made him leave?

If you must know, my brother was a soldier fighting for the Allies and was shot down buy a German sniper. I went to John for support and he just abandoned me for Fleming. Limiting all contact and made me feel like absolute shit for expressing my emotions.

Now will you stop asking about John and I…

[bellatypequeen]

[ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ?

I have a dream that I’m able to go see the tulip fields I hear about in the Netherlands with my girls. Tulips are personally my favourite flowers.

Tw: death, WWll, attack below

As for nightmare, I’ve had the same one since the war started and I got this job. An attack hits the office and I’m not able to protect my girls or Miss. Leggatt. That I spent my life fetching tea and typing stuff for crotchety old men, that in that moment I died not having been able to actually make an impact like I’ve always wanted to… like Jean does..