#But after all the oppressor prefers to stand with other oppressors

[furious-blueberry0]

Every time I see the media treating Israel as this innocent entity that is suffering from the attacks of Hamas, completely ignoring the 75 years of suffering, apartheid and ethnic cleansing that the Palestinian had to go through because of them, I am reminded of this line from "Andor":

[mxtxfanatic]

Wei Wuxian, Morality, and the False Justice/Revenge Dichotomy

A key feature that drew me into Wei Wuxian's character is that while he is moral, he is not an unconditional pacifist. He will always do the right thing first and foremost without a care for how others will view him, because his morality is not dictated by vanity or reputation:

[Wei Wuxian said] "...But, let the self judge the right and the wrong, let others decide to praise or to blame, let gains and losses remain uncommented on. I, too, know what I should and shouldn’t do...."

—Chapt. 75: Distance, exr

However, that doesn't mean that he will accept just any treatment towards him. Wei Wuxian is the absolute last person to just lay down to be trampled underfoot by his adversaries:

If he were Chang Ping, he wouldn’t have cared how prominent or powerful the LanlingJin Sect was, or how much glory the road ahead offered him, and he wouldn’t have let the matter go. Instead, he would’ve went to the dungeons on his own, cut Xue Yang up so that he was nothing more than a puddle of flesh on the ground, and summoned his soul back to repeat the process to the point that he regretted ever being born in this world. But, not everyone was like him, preferring to perish together with his enemy.

—Chapt. 30: Dew, exr

The scene inside of the supervision office was more than horrifying. Within the courtyard, corpses lay everywhere. Not only there, the bushes, hallways, fences, and even roofs were piled up with corpses. All of the corpses wore sun robes. They were disciples of the Wen Sect.

—Chapt. 61: Evil, exr

He returns the suffering dealt to him by his enemies back 100 fold, but after he has gotten his revenge, he is able to move on peacefully, which is why he holds no grudges towards the Wen remnants once the Sunshot Campaign against the QishanWen concludes and even encourages Wen Ning's corpse to seek revenge against his murderers. Mianmian actually explains it best:

The woman seemed as if she was scared. She was even more careful, “No... I don’t mean anything more. There’s no need to be so agitated, everyone. I just feel that the words ‘killing indiscriminately’ isn’t really suitable.” Someone else spat, “How is it unsuitable? Wei WuXian has been killing indiscriminately ever since the Sunshot Campaign. Can you disprove this?” The woman tried hard to protest, “The Sunshot Campaign is a battlefield. In the battlefield, would it mean that everyone is killing indiscriminately? Let’s consider this as it stands. I really don’t think it’s right to say that he killed indiscriminately. After all, there is a reason. If the inspectors really abused the prisoners and killed Wen Ning, it wouldn’t be called killing indiscriminately anymore, but rather revenge...”

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness, exr

Seeing a protagonist that believes in "an eye for an eye" without being labeled as bad or "morally gray" by the narrative for refusing to turn the other cheek, who also knows how not to take it too far and stray out of my personal morals, has been such a breath of fresh air. It is also very validating to see a work of fiction so concerned with the subject of oppression and marginalization that doesn't frame violence and vengeance as antithetical to moral righteousness and justice. Because what is "justice" without restitution? And is it truly restitution if the option to avenge oneself of an unconscionable wrong is denied based on the false equivalency of being "just as bad as" your own oppressors' actions? Because the truth is that in most cases, violence is the only route to liberation, and sometimes, revenge is the only way to make possible the release of your resentments, lest the unaddressed wrong keep you stagnant in your malcontent. I am glad that Wei Wuxian serves as a model for this particular lesson.

[fangirlfrom-hell]

When Your Parents are Detectives, You Gotta Try Harder || Upstead x daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly erased my blog 🫠

Also Burzek x daughter and Stellaride x twins

Sophia is Upstead's daughter. // Leslie and Benjamin are Stellaride's twins. //Makayla is Makayla.

Jay, Hailey, Adam, Kim, Severide, Stella, Violet, Gallo, Ritter, Will, Joe, Sylvie, Matt involved.

☆ 

-"What the hell is that?" Jay said dramatically pointing to his daughter as she entered the kitchen.

-"Sophia Halstead. Human. Nice to meet you". -She had inharited her father's sense of humor.

-"I mean what the hell are you wearing!?" -He asked shocked, not paying attention to his daughter's joke.

-"Oh! This is called a dress. Girls usually use them when the weather is hot outside". -Sophia replied sarcastically. -"It's fresh, you should try it".

-"Yeah, I'm not into it, too short...why isn't it covering your knees?" -Jay crossed his arms in a scolding dad position.

-"Seriously, Jay?" -Hailey raised her eyebrows and gave a look to her husband, while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

-"Well, good morning to you too". Sophia rolled her eyes and sat at the kitchen island to have breakfast, trying to ignore the situation. Anyway, she had foreseen her father's reaction the moment she decided to wear that green dress with small white flowers for the picnic that day. He was, after all, old fashioned, as he used to joke about.

-"You look really pretty, hunny". Hailey smiled, knowing what was going through her daughter's mind.

Sophia never tought she would feel so embarrased. Other than the school uniform, no one had ever seen her wearing a dress or skirt before, not even her parents. To be honest, it wasn't her type of clothing, she preferred jeans and not so tight shirts or blouses, always big boots as shoes. But she wanted to give it a try, she wanted to feel "pretty" and look femenine as the other girls at school.

-"Yeah, I mean that's not in doubt". Jay continued his wife's statement. -"But I find it innapropiate, you can't just go out like that. You are too young, dress' too short, lot of psychos out there. Do the math". And he took a drink from his coffee mug with the "Ranger" insignia.

-"Whoa, ok It's not like I'm going to a rave or something. This reunion it's supposed to be only for friends and family, isn't it? There are not psychos in that group...that we know of at least". Her parents grined at that. -"Besides, I have my platform boots on. They are iron point, I still can kick some asses if I need to".

-"Swearing jar!". -Hayley and Jay said unison, closing their eyes tiredly. This language matter was begining to be a problem and the swearing jar wasn't helping enough.

-"All right, you oppressors of free speech". She said while standing up. -"I'll get the jar". And she dissappeared.

-"Since when does she like wearing dresses? -Jay threw the question into the air. -"I mean, what's next? Make up?"

Hailey stared at Jay with a smirk on her face and he felt deep in his bones how she was reading him, so he avoided eye contact.

-"Is she acting like this because of a boy? Because she does talk a lot about that Severide boy".

-"Jay, you are over reacting" -Hailey laughed. -"They are friends, and for the record, she mostly talks about his twin sister, Leslie. They are both Severide, you might be confusing them".

Hailey leaved her seat and stood next to him: - "This is not even about the dress, is it?".

Jay opened his mouth to say something, but words didn't come out, he was feeling a little bit silly. At the same time, he tried to match his toughts with gestures, but he just ended up doing strange movements with his hands.

-"I don't know what hand gesture to make". They both laughed and he used one hand to grab her waist.

-"I know it is only a stupid dress. I do worry about the psychos, though. -He pointed out. -"But the thing is that when I saw her, reality hit and made me realize that she's not a little girl anymore. Yesterday she was pucking over girly stuff and now...she grew overnight".

-"Yes, I get that feeling, but...". She sighed. "-If it makes you feel better, she's just pretending. I know you're scared of loosing what you have with her, but you won't".

-"What do you mean she's pretending?". -He frowned his eyes.

-"I think she just wants to feel pretty, or what she sees around that is supposed to be pretty. Hard to believe coming from that girl, but she's in a vulnerable position right now".

-"But she is beautiful". -He didn't say it just because he was his father, he meant it with his heart. Hailey's eyes lighted up.

-"She just wants to fit in, you know?"

-"She never cared about that".

-"Mh. She's a thirteen years old girl now and let's say that kids at that age can be really mean".

Jay nodded with a confused expression.

-"She's exploring to find herself, but she's still the impulsive tough girl climbing trees, playing to be a cop, screaming at the TV watching sports with his dad and watching horror films at midnight thinking we don't notice". Both smiled at those ideas. Then Hailey's countenance changed and she look to another way crossing her arms. -"Also the girl who hasn't hesitated in throwing punches to defend her friends from bullies...". They both stared into the abyss remembering that time they got a call from school because she hit a boy who had been bothering Makayla. Blood was involved and stitches were sponsored by uncle Will.

-"Yeah, we still need to work on that". Jay shruged.

There was a small moment of peaceful silence where they just stared at each other.

-"I think I just unlocked the fear of she not wanting to spend an afternoon watching a hockey game with her dad, if you know what I mean...".

-"What are you talkig about? I'm always up to watch hockey with you". Sophia entered the kitchen again, this time carrying the jar on one hand and a pair of skates hanging on the other one. -"Much better if you take me to a live game".

Jay looked at his daughter and laughed when he saw her knees all full of scratches from recent bike falls.

-"What's up with the skates?" Her mom asked.

-"We all are taking our skates or boards to the picnic".

-"Sounds like fun".

-"Yeah. It was Severide's idea".

Jay gave an annoying look to his wife.

-"All right, let's go. We have to pick Will on our way".

Social reunions were usual between the firefighters from Firehouse 51, the Intelligence squad and some doctors from The Med. They had known each other and even worked together for years and now their kids were also good friends. It was Cindy Herrman's plan to organize a reunion in other place than Molly's. Violet had the idea of a picnic and she was not going to allow it to be otherwise, therefore Ritter and Gallo were forced to help with the organization. Silvye also helped with excitement.

It was a warm sunday morning , the weather was perfect to be outside. When Hailey, Jay, Will and Sophia arrived to the park, some of the guests were already there.

-"Hey, Halsteads!" -Kelly yelled and waved inviting them to seat at his picnic table with Stella and their twins: Leslie and Benjamin. Kelly and Jay were good close friends.

Sophia approached to sit next to the twins. Since Leslie was sitting on the edge of the bench, the vacant space was next to Benjamin. Before she could sit, Jay took the box of lukumades Hailey was carrying and gave it to his daughter: "Go put them on the food table". And he took advantage to sit next to the Severide boy. Everything happened so fast and natural that nobody noticed it but Hailey, who was looking at him with a look of disbelief.

On her way to leave the greek donuts her mom had baked, Sophia started to feel insecured. She felt as everybody was staring at her, and part of it was true, because they weren't used to see little Halstead dressed delicately and they found it too cute. Cindy smiled kindly when she saw her and greeted her with a warm hug: -"You look specially pretty today", to which Christopher agreed. She was relieved when Gallo and Ritter approached her talking nonsenses, treating her with normality. She rushed back to the table when she noticed Trudy staring at her with amazement.

When she went back to the table, Adam and Kim had arrived with Makayla.

-"Did you bring it?" -Sophia asked her hurriedly, wanting to get out of there.

-"Yes, it's in my backpack". -And she took a blanket out of it.

-"Let's go". -Leslie said standing up, followed by her brother.

-"We brought a blanket for the picnic, if you don't mind us leaving the table". -Makayla said to Kim.

-"I find that real cute". -Stella intervened. -"You guys even brought a basket. Real definition of a picnic day".

And the kids ran off without waiting for an answer or permission from any adult.

-"Don't get too far!". -Adam yelled at them.

Hailey looked at Jay with a smirk, teasing him because his silly plan to separate Sophia from Benjamin didn't work. He just rolled his eyes.

Time passed, everyone was having a blast, and now that everybody had arrived and lunch time was near, it was time for Kelly to shine.

-"Grilled sausages cooked by Severide". -Cruz said excited. -"You don't get that everyday".

Tired of waiting for the food, the kids took their skates and ran off the place.

-"We're going to skate". -Benjamin informed before disappearing along his friends.

-"Don't get too far!" -Adam yelled once more by inertia, as if it was his responsability to tell them so, this time not even looking at them.

As soon as she put her skates on, Sophia started to brag: -"Hey guys, I bet you can't do a cartwheel in your skates". And she did one as if it was nothig. She didn't even remember she was wearing a dress.

-"Cool". -The twins said at the same time.

-"Easy to do it on ice for me, not in wheels". -Makayla said.

Benjamin was the only one on a skateboard and he started to do some easy flips. Everyone was goofing around, when Sophia dead stopped and stared towards the horizon.

-"What are you looking at?" -Leslie asked intrigued. And the four teenagers looked towards the same place, trying to figure it out.

-"There's no way!" -Ben looked at Sophia and she turned to look at him with a smirk and challenging eyes as saying "Watch me". She was looking at a hill, a very steep hill and she wanted to go down on her skates.

-"It's too dangerous". -Ben tried to stop her, but his words and worry only worked to encourage her more.

It was Sylvie the one that saw how Makayla and Leslie were running back towards the picnic.

-"I think something happened". -She said to Matt and they stood up from their places.

The girls' screams for help started to echo among the adults.

-"They were four when they left and I only count two of them". -Ritter observed.

-"Where's Ben?" -Violet asked.

-"Wherever Sophia is, for sure". -Gallo answered.

And suddenly they visualized the figure of the little Severide boy helping Sophia to walk, carrying her on his side. The girl was full of blood, it looked dramatic at the distance.

Not knowing what was going on, and not understanding a word of what Mak and Leslie were trying o explain, their parents ran to the kids.

Without thinking, Jay took Sophia in his arms and rushed to carry her back to the picnic, which wasn't too far away. She was silently crying in pain. Hailey followed with a worried face. Stella and Kelly patted his boy on the back and walked close to their friends.

Will quickly checked on his nice, helped by Sylvie. She was full of wounds, mostly on her legs and knees, but also on her hands and elbows. Some scratches on her face.

-"Ok, what happened?"

-"She wanted to skate down a hill...a really steep hill". -Benjamin started sounding very concerned. -"I told her not to do it, but I couldn't stop her! She did it really well to tell the truth, but that only worked for her to want to risk it more and...". He swallowed hard.

-"And what!?" -His father forced him.

-"She did it again, ayes blindfolded...backwards".

-"Jesus Christ, Sophia!" -Will said scoldingly.

-"Are you crazy!?" -Her mother was starting to loose her mind. These stories were recurring for her, but they were escalating in madness.

-"It's my foult. I should have tried harder to stop her. I'm so sorry!".

-"It's not your fault". -Jay said in a calming tone. -"The more you had tried to stop her, the worse she would had made it".

-"I helped her up the hill. I tried to carry her so she wouldn't get more hurt, but she didn't let me. She's a stubborn". -Those last words came out with certain recentment.

-"Stop talking shit about me as if I wasn't listening!" -Sophia screamed in pain. There was no space to think about the swearing jar in that moment.

-"Ok". -Will started. -"For a girl so young to have such stupid ideas, you are very luck. There's no need to go to the hospital, your wounds are not that deep, but it will hurt like hell for days".

-"Stupid dress". -She muttered.

-"I brought the first aid kid". -Violet gave it to the doctor.

-"I need to clean your wounds. This is going to hurt tons, Soph".

Hailey took her daughter's hand, knowing what was coming next.

-"All right, everybody go back to you activities". -Sylvie started. -"This is not going to be pretty, let's give her some space".

-"Let's go, Benjie". -Stella said to his son who didn't want to leave his friend. -"She's going to be fine".

After that, Sophia didn't want to go home, she was too proud to do it. She was silently eating her sausage sitting in between her parents.

-"Thank you for helping her". -Jay broke the silence talking to Benjamin.

-"Yes, thanks". -Hailey continued. -"It was very brave of you".

-"I could have done it" -Sophia shaked her head- "But this stupid dress got tangled".

Kelly and Stella laughed at Sophia's statement. The spirit of that girl had always intrigued them greatly, she really was the daughter of their parents.

-"To be honest, even thought I was scared about it, I was absolutely sure you were going to make it".

-"Next time make sure to use kneepads and a helmet". -Leslie pointed out.

-"There's no way there'll be a next time". -Hailey closed the conversation.

-"Listen to me". Adam said to Mak. -"If you ever do something stupid like that, you won't get out of the house until you turn 21".

It was noon when they got back home. On their way, Sophia was strangely silent. Jay sat on the living room couch to watch TV. Sophia came in slowly, not being able to bend her knees due to the wounds.

-"You need help?"

She sat next to her dad, while he pulled up the coffe table close for her to to bring her legs up and keep them straight.

-"Thanks".

-"My pleassure". He turned the TV off, knowing she had something in mind.

-"You don't need to worry. I will never use a stupid dress ever again".

-"Soph, you would've get hurt anyway...clothes are not the problem, it's your lack of criteria". -Hailey entered and sat on the table, looking at her daughter's knees.

-"No, I mean...it's not about that". -She sighed. -"Everyone was staring at me, as if I looked silly or something, felt like a clown. How could you even let me out like this?".

-"I think that if they stared was because you looked georgeus and nobody had ever see you like that before...not even us". -Jay said honestly.

-"I don't know what I was trying to prove. I just...". -Her eyes got teary.

-"You just what?" -Her mom asked.

-"I just wanted to feel pretty. Everybody sees me as an impulsive and reckless girl...".

-"And they all love you like that, for who you are".

-"Yeah, well...I don't know what I was thinking. Things have happened in school and it was a feeling that grew inside me. It's stupid...".

-"No, it's not". -Hailey reassured her.

-"It felt good at the begining, but when I was there at the picnic I didn't feel like myself. I was really unconfortable". Calmed tears began to roll down her cheeks. -"I don't even know why I'm crying".

Jay and Hailey remained silent looking at her.

-"I just want to look and feel normal as the rest of the girls...I feel small around them".

-"Sophia Anne Halstead". -His father started. -"Look at me: You are the most beautiful girl I've ever known. I'm being objective here".

Sophia grined: "What about mom?".

-"She's the most beutiful woman, you are the most beautiful girl".

They laughed.

-"I mean it. Inside and outside, you are precious. Who cares about the looks, anyway? You are beautiful if you want to look girly, you are beautiful if you don't. And if someone can't notice that, it's because they're blind and they can't see the wonderful piece of little human being that you are".

-"Thanks, dad". He wiped his tears with his hands and hugged her with one arm. Hailey sat on the other side.

-"Don't squeeze to tight". -She said to both of them. -"There are parts of my body that I didn't even know existed in pain right now".

-"Now, if being more "feminine" is what you want.." -Jay said releasing tension. -"...you should start working on that". Her dad pointed to the swearing jar that was over the edge. -"I'm just joking".

-"I owe it like $5 for this afternoon".

-"You owe it like $20, but we can let it go". -Hailey said strocking her hair.

-"What do you want to do now?".

-"Is there any hockey game tonight?" -Sophia asked cleaning her face.

-"We can find a repeated one or we can always watch one of those terrible horror movies you like to watch".

Sophia opened her eyes in surprise.

-"When your parents are detectives, you gotta try harder". -Hailey said standing up: "I'll make popcorn".

The tone of the conversation had changed to a more relaxed one.

-"Not that I approve, but you know who was truly amazed by your looks today? That Benjamin". Jay said playing in annoyance.

-"What are you talking about? He made fun of me, said I looked snobby".

-"He was lying! Tried too hard to hide it" -Her mom yelled from the kitchen.

-"We are detectives, don't you remember?" -Her father teased her.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a like, comment or share. 😌♡

[archtroop]

People here simping for Free Palestine ideology and chanting RiverSea do not realize what they are backing.

All of those so-called resistance movements doe Palestine always ALWAYS ever targeted civilians, and preferably children. They targeted soldiers too, but by far less of a factor in the grand scheme of "activity".

Going back to before the establishment of Israel, in 1929, the pogroms were all about depravity, rape, and massacre. That was a straightforward anti-jewish murderous glee. And that's not counting further back on and on. It was as regular as seasons.

After 1948, it colored itself with the colors of anti-zionism, but it was ever the same.

Be it the 50s attacks, or be it the hostage taking of entire school and the massacre in the 70s, be it the bombing of a nightclub in the 00s. Or any other terrorist act for the past 100+ years of documented history from Ottoman, to British Palestine and then the establishment of Israel.

There was never one single action done by any of those "grassroots" organizations that concentrated om the betterment of Palestinian lives. They spit at the lives. They want deaths. This whole engine runs on death, misery and depravity.

The only difference is that since the early 10s of the last century, the Jews started to stand up for themselves. And step by step, they established their own guards and armed themselves.

The only difference is, in 1948 the Jews earned their sovereignty, fought for it, and won.

Those who chose to stand by the Jews became Blood Brothers of the Jews.

Those who chose to hate the concept of Jews defending themselves, are seething to this day. For them, it is an insult that they can't just ramp up and burn it all down. That Israelis - the Jews and those who stayed and those who stood by them, are now armed. And will fight back.

Today, this is the age of misinformation. The biggest weapons are words. And taking the reality and bending it into a narrative that fits you, sprinkling ancient hate over it, and sitting on that white guilt, pushing the fabricated oppresed/oppressor binary, waved like the answer to the world's problems - these are weapons of the mind. This is point blank how propoganda looks and operates. "ME vs THEM" is 1.01 Fascist tactic. And the FreePalestiners fell for it with a snap of a finger.

It is not reality. How can the public believe so much in non binary and be so binary on any other subject? There are at least 18 shades of black that we know of.

Truth is, the establishment of Israel was the most successful and one of the earliest modern examples of active indigenous reclamation of ancestral land and sovereignty.

Zionism is decolonization.

Those who oppose the idea of Zionism, oppose to the idea of Jews protecting themselves. Asking why? Why would anyone have an opposing opinion to a group of people protecting themselves? There is only one answer: because it's harder to harm this group of people. If your goal is to harm Jews, then yes, Zionism is definitely an obstacle. Therefore, this whitewashing needs to be obliterated once and for all and laid out:

Antizionism = Antisemitism (JewHate).

As the FreePalestiners like to shout, "well what did you think decolonization would look like?" Well, it looks like this: it's the independence of Jewish people in their ancestral homeland. For those who cannot digest this fact to this day, they call it "Naqba".

[andromedaslover]

hey girlypops! just wanted to hop on real quick to remind y’all that putting down other women does not save you from their fate. if a man “hates astrology women,” he hates all women. i don’t care if you don’t believe in astrology or think it’s ridiculous, putting down women who believe in it is horrific. 

if a man “hates fat women,” he will still treat you like shit. because that is not “preference,” that is not “concern for their health,” that is misogny. if a man hates women he will live and die that way. you can be the executioner or you can be the fool that defends him even after his death. 

there are enough people in this world who hate women without you being one of them. stand the fuck up. defend your sisters. do not fall victim to the trap of receiving approval from your oppressors. they will never see you as one of them. 

[thejesusmaninred]

"The Gadon." From Mark 6: 26-29.

We finalize how the search for God is found in the crusade for freedom of self-definition, and this is embodied in the instructions called the Seder, and also what is called Haggadah. Haggadah is "Glorious Comprehension" is a Mitz, "the Juice."

As a tenet of religious law, it falls under the Mitzvot, steps to Jewish Enlightenment and is a "tombstone" underwhich is buried all delusions as to how to attain to Ha Shem and His preferred state called Shabbos. Without Shabbos God cannot see us nor can we see Him. So the Haggadah juices the Seder and brings the sacrament of the Passover to a conclusion, also called a tomb.

In the Gospel the head of John the Baptist is placed in a tomb. His name is Ha Shem, He is the God of Israel and Glory belongs to Him. He is dear to us and it is Him whose divine company we seek through the Seder because we believe He will keep us interested in forsaking our oppressors and give us new life when we are able to do it.

So to put the Head on a Platter, is to seek God's blessings and wisdom when we know we are not free to be. To enshrine Him is to complete the divine part of the process called Shabbat. After that we are indeed fully free.

26 The king was greatly distressed, but because of his oaths and his dinner guests, he did not want to refuse her. 

27 So he immediately sent an executioner with orders to bring John’s head. The man went, beheaded John in the prison, 

28 and brought back his head on a platter. He presented it to the girl, and she gave it to her mother. 

29 On hearing of this, John’s disciples came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.

The Gematria is laid out in a format that follows the Four Directions.

v. 26: North: what is hidden by God. The King was greatly distressed because he did not know what was going to happen if he were a freedman. The Number is 5892, "the glow."

"The masculine noun פארור (par'ur), the meaning of which is unknown. It occurs twice in the Bible (Joel 2:6, Nahum 2:10), but in the same construct, namely: frightened people's faces (פנים, panim) gather (קבץ, qabas) פארור (par'ur).

Some scholars figure these frightened faces gather beauty. Others say they gather a glow. The modern NAS and NIV versions, as well as the ASV, Darby and Young translations have the faces grow pale. In the King James they gather blackness. But all of these are guesses and extrapolations made by means of the context.

Here at Abarim Publications we guess that this odd facial gathering is a colloquial expression of the kind that occurs in Job 4:15, Psalm 119:120, Ezekiel 27:35 and 32:10, namely that of hair (שער, se'ar) standing up with fear."

Herod's decision to confront Ha Shem, unseen, non statuesque God of the Jews must have been terrifying. But this is the only thing that makes sense.

v. 27: East: What can be known by man. So he sent an executioner. An executioner has an ax. Axes sever the mind from delusion.

The Number is 6711, "And so." ="What is not relevant is removed."

The verb סור (sur) means to turn aside. It's used almost 200 times, with the following nuances:

To turn away from the route or course one was travelling (Genesis 19:2, 1 Samuel 6:12, Ruth 4:1).

To go away or depart from view or previous position (frogs from Egypt: Exodus 8:8; the Shekinah from the tabernacle: Numbers 12:10; the sword from the house of David: 2 Samuel 12:10).

To be removed (of lifeless things: staves from the Ark: Exodus 25:15; pagan high places from Israel: 1 Kings 15:14; Assyria's yoke from YHWH's mountains: Isaiah 14:25).

To come to an end, that is: to be removed from relevance (Amos 6:7, Isaiah 11:13)."

v. 28: South: what is understood: He brought back his head and presented it. The Number is 3466, גדוו‎ ‎ ‎, gadon, "A sun pillar of intuition."

v. 29: West: what enlightens man. On hearing this, John's disciples came. The Number is 2858, ב׳ף‎ןח, B.F, "finally, ultimately, in the end."

= The dreams of the Princes of Israel end, and the reality begins.

[dailycharacteroption]

Disciple of the Pike (Cavalier Archetype)

(Art by Du Young on Artstation)

 Ask anyone what the most iconic monster-slaying weapon is, and you’ll probably get a variety of answers. Many will say sword, some might even say the bow. A handful might even say the shotgun. Folks who say the lance, citing the imagry of a noble night charging a dragon come close to my personal take on the matter, because I say it is the spear.

The reason I say that is because, of all the weapons early man had access to, the spear is the one most likely to have been the first that man ever used to kill a predator bearing down on them or those they wished to protect. After all, a spear grants reach to avoid the claws, jaws, horns, or other lethal extremities of a beast, and it becomes positively lethal to a charging or pouncing attacker when braced against the ground and held firm by strong hands and firmly planted feet.

And so, with a sturdy stick and a sharpened end of wood or bound flint, an ape that descended down from the trees to live on land used their intelligence and what strength they had to match against mighty beasts and prove themselves their equal.

Now, take this idea, and apply it to a fantasy universe. Imagine the shock in the eyes of some demon, or dragon, or other mighty beast of legend when they find themselves transfixed on a spear for the first time in that world’s history, bested by a mere mortal.

Fast forward to a quasi-medieval setting like one expects from the fantasy genre, and there is no doubt in my mind that there is a special place in the heart of monster hunters everywhere for the spear or other polearm. It is the weapon that screams in primal fury and defiance against a world of fearsome beasts that you, the wielder, will not cower, will not flee from the darkness or the threat of fang and claw.

Which brings us to today’s subject!

In the Golarion setting, the Hellknight Order of the Pike is based near the Whisperwood in Cheliax, and though they were officially disbanded at one point, they are now recognized as an official minor order of the organization.

While nearly all Hellknights share an “order-first” mentality which is so easily corrupted by the forces of tyranny, the Order of the Pike in particular are first and foremost monster hunters, the slayers of great beasts that would threaten civilization. Very rarely will you find these hellknights in the role of the oppressor, as imposing order is secondary to their goal of protecting civilizations from sources of chaos, most notably in the form of big scary monsters.

Regardless of whether they are Hellknights or simply train for a similar role, these “Disciples of the Pike” specialize in turning polearm weapons, (preferably with a nice pointy end, though they’re not picky) against larger opponents, standing up to such beasts with courage and ferocity.

 Despite wielding polearms, these cavaliers prefer to fight on foot, eschewing a mount in favor of training themselves to read and dodge the movements of larger foes. The bigger they are, the easier it is to predict their moves and act accordingly.

Keeping their weapon steady and using their momentum to provide force, a charging disciple are surprisingly accurate when charging with a spear or polearm, and they compensate to avoid being left open afterwards as well.

Though they might not be well-versed in lore, these cavaliers pick up all sorts of information about monsters, having a decent chance to know something about them.

As they grow in mastery, their lethal skill with their weapons of choice only grows, turning any spear or polearm into a tool of lethal precision.

Using forward momentum and bounding steps, rough terrain quickly becomes no longer an obstacle for them, though obviously changing direction or impassible terrain features still inhibit them.

The most skilled and powerful of these cavaliers can deal devastating wounds on a charge, attacks so painful and discombobulating that they leave foes stunned as they stand impaled by the weapon.

Interested in a polearm specialist that also has the challenge ability, buffs against bigger foes, and the support benefits of tactician and order abilities? This archetype may be for you. You’re definitely meant to be a strong damage dealer against bigger foes, though your polearms mean you probably will be a second-line combatant rather than being in front. This will suit you just fine, though, as you’ll want the reduced pressure to use your order and tactician abilities to support your allies and buff yourself. All things considered a good archetype for someone focused on fighting big tough monsters.

 Now, these disciples may not have the mounts that would make them, you know, cavalry, but what they retain is their tactical acumen in addition to their order, which could either be focused on buffing themselves or on supporting allies. Either way, they can definitely give good orders in a pinch, even if some prefer to focus on themselves. With this in mind, I expect that these warriors have a commanding presence and when they give orders, they expect them to be obeyed. After all, in a fight with monsters, hesitation can mean death. That being said, they may come off as gruff or cold to those unused to them.

  Stronger than a baseline medusa but nowhere near as mythically powerful as the euryales they resemble, brazen medusas, named for their brassy scales on their serpentine tails, are a rarity to the point of being virtually unknown. However, one such individual is currently ruling over a small village in the west, and the monster hunter Adras needs the party’s help distracting it so he can close to pike range with her.

 Though they often cannot brace them, polearms are useful weapons for flying warriors like wyvarans. One such clan uses them to great effect in the ruins of Tamah’Dor, where they often draw the less clever beasts that also live there into the open and strike with impunity from above, or else use them on foot to keep a beast out of reach in narrow alleys.

 When rumors of a dragon sighting begin to spread, monster hunters begin to mobilize. However, the dragon in question, an occult dragon only interested in studying lore, would very much like to avoid such unpleasantries, but they know the hunters might not stay their hand for a non-metallic dragon, (and some not even then.) So she reaches out to the party to hire them as bodyguards.

[undertale-data]

[Image description: An Undertale chatbox with the name “Asgore” in the middle in uppercase, between two of his talksprites. The left one is smiling, with his brows lifted in surprise and an open mouth; the one on the right shows him smiling, too, but this time his mouth is closed. End of ID]

Asgore, the king of all monsters, sure is an interesting character. As we move on our journey as Frisk, we receive different opinions of him, both positive and negative. Now we will talk about what his fans have to say about him. He received a total of 73 votes, representing 2.8% of answers.

Asgore’s complex role in the story of Undertale is one of the aspects appreciated by his fans. Many have pointed out that Asgore is seen as an antagonist, but his soft attitude and kindness subverts their expectations of him. He is described as tragic, as a leader, as a kind man, and someone who’s made big mistakes. All of these elements help to make him an interesting character.

Now we will break down those layers, based on people’s answers:

Some of the responders manifested a desire for his character to be more appreciated. With statements like “he deserves more love/he is misunderstood.” A few manifested that they believe he gets a lot of hate in the fandom because of his actions. Therefore, they show their preference to Asgore as someone who deserved a better treatment, either by the game itself or by the fandom.

Many people praise his sense of responsibility and his wish to keep monsterkind hopeful by being a leader. “He was determined to find a way to help his people,” “He understands what he has to do and he shows signs of being upset about it.” It is important to mention that statements like this were often followed by highlighting how much of a burden said responsibility is. In other words, Asgore has a duty as a king and people believe he did his best for his people, even if many disapprove of the means Asgore used to obtain his goals. Many of his fans state that the weight he feels because of it makes him their favorite character.

The tragedy of the Dreemurr family is also mentioned in many responses. People lament what he has gone through, and the effect it had on him. He is described as someone who lost his family, but despite everything tried his best not to let people lose hope. His story is touching, and this is an aspect that has made people love this character.

Another group of people addressed Asgore’s appeal by highlighting his virtues and positive qualities. Many call him “soft”, “gentle” or “kind”. These comments are linked to the people that sympathize with him or who recognize the multiple layers of his character. Other people even state that they find him attractive or show interest in him as an ideal partner.

In short, Asgore “big soft goat dad” Dreemurr is loved for his complexity as a character, his tragedy, sense of responsibility and his many virtues. While his actions were not approved by many, people are able to sympathize with him and his story.

Highlights: (under the cut)

Asgore strikes me as someone who did what he believed was right when forced into a horrible situation. He was wrong, but it’s understandable how he could have come to believe that what he was doing was the only way forward. I feel like he gets ignored by most of the fandom compared to the rest of the cast and this disappoints me.

Big soft goat dad. Comfort man.

I just saw how under-appreciated he was. He has a pretty complex character and an interesting dynamic. I love the themes of loss, duty, and regret. He was referenced so many different ways that you didn't know what to expect when you actually met him. It took me a long time to realize how interesting he was, and I can't say he's the best character, but he's my personal favorite.

He was determined to find a way to help his people, and his overall story is just sad. Also he's a gentle goat dad so that's also something.

[Excerpt, read the full answer in the document.] I love him...he's built up so much throughout the game, in so many contradictory ways, long before you ever meet him. Initially, you probably go into the final area thinking he'll just be a standard boss encounter. [...], you expect that Asgore will still be vengeful and angry towards you, but I at least didn't blame him at all - how could I, after everything that happened? Even after an unprovoked war and their long, cruel imprisonment, Asgore was kind and forgiving enough to adopt a human child as his own. Sure, he finally snapped after the humans ALSO murdered his children, but how could anyone blame him for being angry after THAT? How long can anyone be expected to just lay down and take whatever their oppressors throw at them without trying to stand up and fight back? What do you do when you're only ever met with relentless violence? I could afford to die and come back as many times as it took to find a peaceful resolution, but that was because I could reset - other people didn't have that luxury.

[Image description: A wordcloud in the shape of Asgore’s smiling talksprite. His face and horns are colored white while his hair and crown are yellow. Some of the most visible words are: Asgore, Dad, Kill, King, Feel, Kind, Want, Big, Guy, and Love, which represent the most common words in the essays people wrote about him. End of ID]

Read the complete listed of responses shared with permisssion by clicking this link.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Alien Hero Two Brains AU

This title is a work in progress, but it shortly summarizes my au idea. After reading the swap au made by @chuiipon where Becky was a heroic robotic inventor human and Tobey and villain alien from Lexicon, it inspired a bbau where Becky becomes a hero called Professor Words after the main hero, Wordman, aka Steven Boxleitner, accidentally becomes fused to Squeaky’s mouse brain due to a mishap with a villain’s confiscated mind device that Squeaky was attached due. In that idea, Steven becomes an alien villain known as Two Brains. I planned to write the Professor Words au out and make a post on it, also crediting @chuiipon for the inspiration, but then this idea popped out and I decided to create this au instead because it involves chaotic and feral Becky and I love that concept. I am still crediting chuiipon’s swap au for the inspiration for this idea. This is copied off my discord chats with @melodythebunny

Steven was from Lexicon and created the machine that would allow Lexiconians to understand other animal species. So Steven found a mouse from another planet (Squeaky) for study and the accident goes a little like canon but with Squeaky pressing the button because he was actually impatient in waiting for Steven to finish getting his lunch. They aren't fused but Steven does become a hybrid mouse creature and is considered an abomination among his people. Tired of how his people and family treat him, Steven goes screw it I'm leaving, steals a ship and sneaks himself and Squeaky away. They land on Earth. Steven does not want his people to find him so he doesn't steal stuff to warrant their attention and breaks all communication devices that allow speaking to Lexicon. He gets a job as a teacher but he really doesn't integrate with Earth culture that much, he prefers staying to himself. 

He really doesn't try to become a superhero. Accidental circumstances make him one. He pulled some random guy off the street from getting hit by a car in his Lexiconian outfit using his powers and suddenly these people are saying he is a hero. He decides to be a hero because he believes these humans need supervision or everything just hits the fan and he doesn't want to see his new favorite sub shop get destroyed because he loves those cheese and pastrami sandwiches. Squeaky does have some fighting skills because the planet Steven got him from was full of animals with different fighting styles written into their DNA and mouths that can open to the size of skyscrapers if needed despite their size difference. 

Here is how Becky comes into play. Steven soon finds an little four year old girl being bullied by some jerks and rescues her. He just stands behind her and his appearance and posture intimidates the bullies to run away. He notices that she is really smart and she tells him that her parents abandon her at the orphanage and no one there wanted to be her friend because she was interested in weird stuff and and liked to talk to monkeys. Steven develops this reasoning that since they were both unwanted, they got to be there for each other and he decides to take her in and raises her. Becky goes by Boxleitner since it was akin to Steven's alien name. Stevren Bauxlite. Steven develops this name when he is trying to adopt Becky and sign out papers for her adoption. For some reason when he got his job as a teacher, no one really payed attention that he was not from Earth. His students always pronounced his last name as Boxleitner and he got tired of correcting them and just let it be. 

Becky grows up to be an evil scientist by reading all the books Steven had on his ship and wants to punish all her oppressors and all the people that she considers jerks and annoyances. Steven’s thoughts for this are “I support you kid but no bombs.” Becky finds Bob who was trapped in a circus and was a bit feral and decides he was the most adorable thing in the world and steals him. Steven just kind of accepts him because their family is weird as it is. Bob just bites everyone except, Steven isn't bothered because he has a strong epidermis and Bob doesn't bother Squeaky because they both have jerk solidarity. Most of the time Bob is lazy and is just dragged along with Becky in her schemes. He is only active when he bites. So this au Steven is a tired, alien, doesn't give a crap scientist dad who only became a hero to make sure nobody dies that only cares about and loves his human child who likes to cause chaos and destruction whenever she can. He has a mouse sidekick that just wants food and sleep but won't let Steven get hurt because he is the one that feeds him. Steven never wrote a guidebook about heroes so Becky had nothing to teach her about heroics.

Notes about this au

These are the main house rules for her villainy:  No endangering yourself with your experiment. Don't talk to strange villains you don't know yet. No experimentation in the kitchen or at the dinner table. (They live in the warehouse in this au.) Only make sure people end up in the emergency room at the worst. Hospital at best. No staying out late to commit crime past curfew. No leaving school to commit villainy. Call me in case of emergencies. Do not leave traces of your crimes to the neighborhood kids around. (He doesn't want to deal with a useless chat with a entitled parent.)

Dialogue between my and melody about this au on discord:

Becky: I crave violence and the tears of the innocent father. 

Steven: Okay just finish your homework first and be back by dinner around 6:30.

For Tobey, Steven does not really consider Tobey as a threat, he just smashes his robots then flies off. In the monkeyzilla (mousezilla episode) Steven notices Tobey out right flirting with Becky and the heart eyes he has and goes okay, the gloves come off now.

In this au, Tobey becomes a villain to get close to Becky and impress her by taking down Fair City's superhero.

 Hero Steven lets Villain Becky go all out in her crimes against clowns. Those horrific creatures are a hidden threat against society why would someone create them.

[kayla1507]

Your first D:BH playthrough!

Sooo, I’m curious to hear how other people experienced their game for the first time, thus kickstarting a little thread. What choices did you guys make in your blind run, how did these make you feel and what would you have liked to change looking back (if anything at all)?

Starting with my own blind experience.

Markus:

Markus’ story was a flip-flopping between pacifism and violence since I wasn’t sure where to take his story at first. He seemed like that nice guy next door which made me lean more towards pacifism. However, I did push Leo because I felt like Carl was being unfair to me, then felt bad thinking I killed Carl’s kid.

While I liked the Jericrew, I wasn’t truly invested in them yet, that attachment developed only with repeated playthroughs. Markus stole the truck in Spare Parts. He sent a peaceful message at Stratford Tower and shot the operator, thus my Simon escaped with the crew. Markus sent a peaceful message at Capitol Park and chose not to decide over the lives of two cops, meaning the other deviants shot them dead. He didn’t ask about North’s past again (although I did ask in chapter Jericho) since I assumed she wouldn’t like that.

At the freedom march I endured the police shooting at first and that’s roughly the point where I stopped caring about public opinion. Watching the fellow androids being gunned down in order for public opinion to rise up made me realize that humans will only be pleased if Markus keeps sacrificing his kind and crawls on his knees to kiss his oppressor’s feet. I beat the riot team up and my final public opinion stat read either skeptical or hostile iirc, I stopped paying attention to it.

My Markus choose a revolution and freed Kara, Luther and Alice from the detention camp, which is my favorite ending for him by far. Unfortunately, Josh and Simon both died during the attack. Markus and North left off as companions and I was overall really happy with the conclusion.

Thoughts: There isn’t really much I would’ve changed about Markus’ choices except succeeding to save Simon in battle.

Connor:

Connor was someone I’ve played more reckless than Markus to test out limits, partially because he was my introduction character. I was overall leaning towards android terminator with him, except I saved the fish and saved Hank during the the rooftop chase. I didn’t like Hank at first, I felt he was bigoted and my effort in improving our relationship was abysmal. Connor executed Daniel, spilled Hank‘s drink, pressured Ortiz’ android into a confession, shot Traci, shot the kitchen deviant, shot Chloe and asked Kamski about rA9.

I triggered that awkward variation where Markus deviated Connor with barely enough software instabilities, mostly because I couldn’t stand Amanda’s attitude and purposely picked the 'soft boy' dialogue to piss her off which did its part destabilizing software. Hank didn’t offer to help Connor out with Perkins, but I won him over by saving Hank again at CyberLife Tower and they hugged after the credits rolled. Connor remained mark -51, he never died.

Thoughts: Connor’s ending was ok, but I thought hugs and instant friendship didn’t fit my poor relationship to Hank before the Tower. If I could go back, I’d have Connor stay on the machine path and reserve their hug for a healthier relationship dynamic in a different run. I can’t really connect with their friendship or CyberLife HQ to this day and I presume my first ending soured it considerably. A moment that struck me as odd was Hank‘s „I‘ve learned a lot since I met you“-line after killing Sixty. I didn’t feel like my 'frenemy' Connor taught Hank anything.

Initially, I was disappointed to have never figured out the mystery of rA9 since that’s the factor of Connor’s investigation I was most invested in. Meanwhile, I believe the answer is better off left ambiguous.

Kara:

Now Kara’s story was the primary factor that got me invested in the whole android cause. Her relationship to Alice reminded me of me and my baby brother and I was determined to protect the child at all costs. While Kara did find Todd’s gun, she went to Alice’s room immediately to collect her and they climbed out if the window, avoiding a fight with Todd altogether. In Fugitives, Kara stole clothes for both of them at the laundromat as well as a plushie for Alice and slept in the Squat with Ralph. I freed the tortured androids in Zlatko and Luther joined.

Kara reached the highest stat [family] with Alice as well as with Luther. I felt like the 'shocking' Alice reveal in Crossroads didn’t matter considering it’s a story about android equality. So I was surprised to find out it is apparently a huge dealbreaker in the fandom.

During the raid, Kara and Alice were captured after I choose to surrender. They were sent to the camp, reunited with Luther and were ultimately saved by Markus himself. It was an incredibly emotional experience and it’s also my favorite ending for them to this day.

Thoughts: Looking back, I would’ve preferred grabbing Todd’s gun in Stormy Night since the storyline with Todd remained vastly unresolved and I would’ve gotten more additional choices in Fugitives. Other than that, I’m super satisfied with my result.

—

My blind playthrough is what I also consider my canon ending, whereas the other variations are just my “what would’ve been if…” endings. Not to say I don’t like the other endings too, but my own just has a special place in my heart.

[enchantmentable]

Think of All the Years Gone By

Summary: It’s been five years, and Tubbo is still mourning his lost country. (a clingy duo fic)

Warnings: there’s a short argument, allusions to death and character death, grief (though it’s not horribly heavy, this is still a fic about grief and loss)

Word Count: 1710

AO3

There was a small hole in the glass floor that lay over a crater. The hole was small and jagged and hidden under an overhang of rock, but it was there and Tubbo had found it pretty easily when he’d walked over the crater the first year. He wasn’t one to miss little things like that.

He’d wondered as he’d approached if he’d be able to slip past the sharpened edges of the glass without cutting himself, but he needn’t have worried. After the first three years, he’d mostly stopped growing and had remained almost as small as he’d been during— during it. He slipped past the glass and into the crater easily. 

Sliding down the cliff face with an arm raised and a careful hand dragging over the rocks as he passed, he landed safely on the same ledge he’d landed on for the past five years. He followed the trail of footprints that had remained branded in the dust and ash down a few more meters of rock to get closer to the bottom of the crater. Once his feet hit bedrock, he spotted the boulder he’d sat on every year prior and settled himself on top of it. 

Tubbo looked up, up, up at the sky and saw it still covered in traces of night. He took a deep breath of the trapped air and waited for the sun to rise.

Briefly, Tubbo was distracted by the sound of someone walking over the glass, but after reminding himself of the overhang of rock above him, he assured himself that no one would be able to see him all the way down here unless they already knew where he’d be. Reassured by that, his gaze returned to the crater, prepared to wait at least an hour for the winter sunlight to reach him down there.

He’d been considering the red vines that still crawled all along the bedrock floor when he heard noise above him again. Frowning, Tubbo stood up from his boulder and stepped out from beneath the overhang of rock. He scanned the glass above him, looking for any sign that someone he knew was out and about at this hour. He nearly called out a curious ‘hello?’ out of habit before he remembered that he didn’t really want to talk to anyone this morning and stayed silent, watching warily for movement instead.

Not a moment later, Tubbo heard a quiet yelp and watched as a few pebbles tumbled down the cliff and landed at his feet. Unable to stop himself this time, he called out, “You alright?”

This caused another, louder yelp followed by another, larger waterfall of rocks to cascade down the cliff. There was a moment of silence as the person above him presumably caught their breath. Tubbo watched as a hand forming a thumbs-up gesture stuck out over the ledge. “Yep,” came a weak voice in reply after the moment had passed. 

Tubbo frowned, recognition ringing immediately through his mind. “Tommy?” 

A head replaced the hand. “Tubbo?”

“I didn’t know you knew about this way to get into the crater.”

“I didn’t! I just found it today.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

There’s another pause as Tommy and Tubbo just stare at each other before Tommy speaks again. “How’d you get down?”

“I slid.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, I did! I did! All the way ‘til the ledge, at least, then I followed the path I made earlier. There are footprints.” 

Tommy shook his head and pulled back from the ledge. A second later, Tubbo watched as a figure fell towards him, a bucket of water gripped in his hands. There was a splash, and Tommy was standing next to him, unharmed but for the fact that his shoes and the hems of his pants were soaked through. “My way’s better,” he claimed before Tubbo could even properly say hello.

“Sure.”

“The path though—you’ve been here before?”

“Every year.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Tubbo shrugged, walking back over to his boulder, landing hard against it. “Didn’t want to.”

“I was there too, you know. I miss it as well. I mean, that’s why I’m here now, innit?”

“It’s not the same,” Tubbo said quietly, staring down at his folded hands.

“Well, no, it is.”

Tubbo looked up sharply, his eyes full of something cold and hard. “It’s fucking not! It wasn’t your country that got blown up, was it?”

Tommy recoiled. “I mean, guess not, but—”

“Then it’s not the same.”

Tommy went quiet for a moment before responding. “It wasn’t your fault though. It was mine.”

Tubbo just laughed. “No it wasn’t.”

“Without me though, Techno never would have—”

“Trust me,” Tubbo cut him off with a scoff, “they’d have razed this place to the ground even if you’d done everything right.”

“But—”

“It was never about you, Tommy. It was the fact that we were a government, and under my leadership, we were still seen as oppressors.”

They both let the silence hang heavy in the air.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but Tubbo nodded anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know. It’s alright. I’m… more pissy today anyway. Another reason I prefer to just be alone these mornings.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy sat down on the ground next to Tubbo’s boulder. “D’you… want to talk about it or something?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

They both went quiet again, but Tubbo could see from the look on Tommy’s face that he wanted to keep talking. Sighing, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Can I?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I offered, didn’t I?”

“Right. Yeah. You did.”

“Right.”

“Okay it’s just that— I don’t know. I just miss it. A lot. I miss the feeling we had, being a part of something, and I miss when it was easier to just… be.”

“I don’t think you really miss L’manburg then. Or, well, New L’manburg. I think you just miss when you didn’t think you had to save the world.”

“Do you not miss it?”

“Well, no, I didn’t say that, but it was— it was more than what you said. It was protection and safety, and at least for my New L’manburg, I wanted it to be somewhere where we didn’t have to worry about dying all the time. I miss that feeling. And losing that feels like— it almost feels like losing a parent or something, I don’t know. The type of grief is similar at least, I think. I’ve never lost a parent though, so like… yeah, I’ve got no clue.”

“No, yeah. I’ve never lost a parent either, not really, but… like. I know what you mean. Wilbur… he was similar to that, at least. And losing him November 16th was like that for me. Losing L’manburg, though, that was like losing a home, losing a place I could call my own. I wasn’t— I didn’t have anywhere like that after—” he gestured to the destruction in front of them— “after this.”

“I guess this place was just different for us, then.”

“Yeah.”

Tubbo had to take a long breath before he was confident his voice would be steady again. “And like— today is bad, and that day was worse than I could genuinely ever say, but… I get it, I guess. I know why they’d want to destroy it. But it still— like, it still, uh—”

“Hurts?”

“Mhm. For both of us. All of us, probably.”

They lapsed into silence, looking up at the sky again, and Tubbo slid off from his boulder, sitting beside Tommy and pressing their shoulders together. “It’s been five years now,” he said softly, “and I’m still not over it. Still makes my chest ache a little bit every year.”

“I don’t think this is ever gonna be something that you’re gonna just. Get over.”

“Yeah, I know. I still— I still try.”

“If it helps, I can tell you do a lot to keep it alive still. It’s nice. Makes me miss it less, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You were the one who made New L’manburg all the good things it was, so even though it’s gone, it’s still… you. You know?”

“Not really.”

“Well, it’s the truth. I wish I could be that for you.”

“I don’t think anyone could be what New L’manburg was to me. It’s not the sort of thing that could be replicated, even if we tried again.”

Tommy sighed. “I know. I still want to help you miss it less.”

Tubbo went quiet, but what he wanted to say was that mourning alone had hurt so fucking much and that Tommy just being here had helped more than anything else ever had. He didn’t say that, but he asked, “Would you come down here with me next year too?”

“For year six?”

Tubbo nodded. 

“Of course, Tubbs.”

“Thanks. The sunrise is boring without anyone to see it with.”

They were both fully aware that’s not why Tubbo wanted to bring Tommy along, but that went without saying. So they didn’t say it, and the truth lay between them, forever unsaid.

“Winter sunrises are my least favorite,” Tubbo commented, forcing the air around them to feel light again.

“Yeah, they’re real ugly, aren’t they?”

“The light’s so watery. Kinda sucks that they didn’t destroy the country a few months later, you know? It would’ve been nicer to watch the sunrise then.”

“We’ll have to mention that to Techno next time he’s dead set on destroying a country, yeah?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“This sunrise doesn’t even have the decency to be that much later in the day. It’s still so early for such a boring experience.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo laughed, glancing over at Tommy with a smile. “Yeah.”

Shoulder to shoulder, they watched in silence as the sun rose over the edge of the crater, marking an official five years since one of the worst days of their lives. Quietly, Tommy pulled a bottle of champagne from beneath his jacket. He popped the cork and raised it in Tubbo’s direction. “Here’s to one more year.” He took a sip and held it out in offering.

Tubbo took the bottle into his hand and took a sip of his own. “To one more year,” he repeated. 

[inmyarmswrappedin]

The good: 

Skam España set up Amira’s crush on Dani (and Dani’s crush on Amira) in s2 and, regardless of how it ends, they are following through with that storyline, instead of dropping it like a hot potato.

The bad: 

Okay, so first off I have to say I’ve never vibed with Lucas Nabor (Dani)’s acting. And by never I truly do mean never, as in the first day of Cris’ season, I found the way Lucas N played Dani in the confrontation with Cris after they get home extremely cringy. This was way before I could’ve ever dreamed that Skam España would whitewash Yousef’s character and turn him into a white character. 

So, for me, it’s not just an issue of whitewashing (which is already bad enough on a show with no meaningful male characters of color), but eskam pairing one of my favorite Skams character ever with the character I like the least for acting reasons.

But I figured eskam wouldn’t really have the audacity to whitewash a love interest and not give us a Yousef of color in another form. Just like the way we got that 5-second glimpse of Lucas Rubio hooking up with a boy named Iván in the s2 finale, so people could see the male Isak had also found an Even, or the way we got a full season of Miquel being the abusive boyfriend that Spanish viewers saw William as, but for Noorhelm fans, Alejandro still got to be Nora’s endgame. 

And so, when Sofian in the trailer was blatantly posited as a love interest, juxtaposed with shots of Dani with the same expression and filmed from the same angle, I thought, “Okay, so Amira will have an additional love interest who is actually Moroccan, and he’ll probably be around much less (like Iván in s2 and Alejandro in s3), but he’ll be the endgame.” 

Like... Never in my wildest nightmares would I have thought that Skam España would take... idefk... Lito from Skam and turn him into a full fledged character who’d play the fuck out of Amira and attempt to talk her into bearding. 

When Kasim was introduced and people immediately noticed the look between Lucas and Kasim, I thought, “no fucking way Skam España would pull an Elite.” WHEN, when has Skam España looked towards Elite for inspiration before? Not even just to “fix” Elite storylines and turn them into good storylines. Elite and Skam España have never existed in the same sphere or tried to do the same things or impacted each other.

When the spoilers came out, I thought back to the time in s3 when the same hackers said that Alejandro would hit Miquel with a bottle. At the time, I heard of the Alejandro spoilers and wondered to myself, “is this something Skam España would ever do?” And I thought nah, no way, Skam España has never been concerned with toxic masculinity or romanticized it. And I was right! 

So I did the same thing with these spoilers, and I was SO SURE that I had understood the show, that I had understood what Skam España had been trying to do all these three seasons, that Skam España was so disinterested in men as a whole that they’d never try something so complex with either Dani (a conversion storyline) or Kasim (a closeted storyline). Both of those storylines are storylines Skam España gives to GIRLS. Because men in eskam have always been more about what they symbolize for the girls, than their own entities. And I liked that! So, on that level I feel betrayed, because Skam España had been telling it was one thing for three seasons, until in s4 they decided Amira didn’t deserve the same treatment as all the other mains, where she doesn’t get to be by far the most complex character in her own season. (I’m not saying Amira isn’t complex - she is. She is the most complex Sana and the most nuanced.) 

There are a couple things that gave me a bad vibe about this season from the start: one was the fact that Kasim wasn’t introduced in episode 1. Skam España always introduces the characters that are significant for the main in episode 1, so for Kasim to not show up in episode 1, that was a sign. The other one was that Skam España gave the bonus clips to Alejandro. This is a show that refused to give Lucas bonus clips in s2, because his experience as a gay boy just wasn’t relevant to Cris. Not in the same Viri’s experience was relevant to Nora. And suddenly, Alejandro (and not Nora) gets the bonus clips in a season about Amira? Like, it was just fucking weird. It is weird as shit that a show that has always gleefully centered the female experience to the detriment of the male experience, would decide in their Muslim woc season, that it was time for the whitest, straightest, cisgenderedest, richest character on the show to be the first one to get some focus.

Because Sana seasons across the board have underperformed compared to the seasons that came before them (because of racism and islamophobia in Europe), I thought that maybe Movistar had decided to lean on the romance a bit more heavily this season, in order to make it seem more appealing. Kinda makes sense, no? We’re tired of seeing straight white girl seasons, so making Nora’s season lean a bit more on the educational side of Skam isn’t a risk. People will still tune in. But a Sana season is a bit of a harder sell, so we have to sweeten the deal with romcom tropes and all the other couples in the show making out and about to have sex, to make up for Amira not getting those scenes. I thought I could live with that.

But like, there’s adding some background fanservice from established couples and then there’s this monstrosity that leans into EVERY islamophobic Muslim trope ever (because it’s super commercial and high stakes drama and excitingggggg). Like, in Western media, Muslim men are either oppressors (abusive, strict husbands who beat their wives and are terrorists or thugs or thieves) or oppressed (closeted gay boys who resort to extreme means, such as bearding or dealing drugs, in order to stay under the radar). They never get to be the leading love interest. I have never seen a Muslim man of color on Spanish TV be the male love interest, and especially not the love interest to a Muslim woman. And Skam España will be no different.

I also hope people understand the way it undermines literally every other thing they’re trying to do with the show. Amira already explained at length both her own stance towards gay people and Islam’s stance towards gay people, in s2 and her bonus video with Lucas. if you want to be a Muslim in good standing, you can be gay as long as you don’t act on it. But you can also be a Muslim who eats pork, or a Muslim who doesn’t fast in Ramadan, or a Muslim who doesn’t pray five times a day, because ultimately it’s about every individual’s relationship with Allah. To go back on this for a homophobic Muslims storyline undoes everything they did in s2. 

It also undermines Dounia as a character. Here’s a practicing Muslim who longs for a safe space, who doesn’t want to answer questions from non Muslims, who thinks it’s better not to even open the door to a relationship with a white non Muslim, and who’s really confident in all those decisions. And if you think the show isn’t setting her up to be confronted with the fact her brother doesn’t feel safe among Muslims, who prefers questions from non Muslims over telling the truth to Muslims, who has happily opened the door to a relationship with a white non Muslim, who thinks that Dounia is a homophobe in short, and that she will be made to reexamine all her beliefs because of her brother... I just don’t know what to say to you tbh.

And also, this clip made it seem like Amira’s Muslim world wouldn’t accept her crush on Dani, undoing everything the show has done until now. Dounia didn’t disapprove when Amira told her she had a crush on a white non Muslim. She understood and shared her experience. Amira’s mother knew about her crush on Dani and never tried to stop it, nor did she discourage it when Amira told her about it. Why is Skam España suddenly acting like Amira can’t tell anyone about her budding relationship with Dani, when every anon on tumblr dot com will tell you that relationships between Muslim women and Christian men happen all the time?

And finally, it just makes me reexamine previous Skam España seasons and wonder... Did they make Amira only start wearing hijab in the first day of s1 because they knew a character like Sana wouldn’t contemplate a relationship with a white character who makes islamophobic jokes, drinks and makes out with the Sana’s friends in front of her after specifically inviting her to a party? Did they make Amira the show’s Isak’s best friend just so they could whitewash Yousef? Was the whole purpose and trajectory of Amira on the show, everything they did with her, a justification for whitewashing one of the few positive men of color on Western TV? For refusing to show a Muslim girl in a happy relationship with a Muslim boy? To only portray and devote time to Muslim poc/white atheists relationships? (Amira’s parents not withstanding.) As if the most positive outcome for a Muslim person living in Europe is to marry a white atheist. That is what Skam España did to Sana’s season, to Sana, to the balloon squad. 

[bopinion]

2021 / 52

Aperçu of the Week:

"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."

(Desmond Tutu, South African Anglican archbishop, human rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate, died last week at the age of 90. No doubt: this guy will rest in peace!)

Bad News of the Week:

Bureaucracy. A very German speciality. When making a decision, you don't have to think too hard and weigh up the pros and cons - because there's bound to be a regulation that governs it. Of all nations, the "people of poets and thinkers" hardly use common sense and prefer to fall back on the appropriate form. Example laws, I just took a quick look at category A: "AARKZustAnO" stands for "Order on the assignment of responsibilities for issuing notices of objection and for representing the employer in actions brought by employees of the Federal Foreign Office in matters of travel expenses" and "AAÜGErstV" for "Ordinance on the Reimbursement of Expenses under the Act on the Transfer by the Federal Government of Claims and Entitlements under Supplementary and Special Pension Schemes of the Accession Territory". Any questions?

Ordinances, application regulations, rules, codes of conduct and much more naturally also exist in epic breadth. Which leads to many processes taking half an eternity. Two recent examples: Tesla is already producing the first pre-series vehicles in its new Gigafactory in Grünheide near Berlin, yet there are only provisional approvals so far. A final permit has not even been issued for the so-called subsoil preparation. And since 2012, basic planning for a power line from offshore wind farms in the North Sea to industrial areas in the south of Germany has been officially laid down in the Federal Republic of Germany's "Grid Development Plan". After ten years, it is hoped to formally conclude with the first planning step, which merely defines corridors. It is a pity that neither globalization nor global warming will make allowances for lengthy procedures.

The fact that on top of the local, municipal, county, district, state and federal levels there is still the European Union does not make it any easier. An absurd example from this week: due to a slump in bookings due to Corona and the associated travel restrictions, Lufthansa wanted to cancel about 51,000 flight connections for the first quarter of 2022. However, only 33,000 of these will actually be cancelled. The other 18,000 will be operated as "empty flights" without passengers, as otherwise take-off permits would be lost due to lack of use. This is ecological and economic madness.

And when things go fast, they go wrong: on New Year's Eve, the sale of fireworks was banned on short notice in Germany. But not the use of them. As a result, Germans were happy to stand in line for three hours in front of the corresponding sales points behind the Polish border so as not to miss out on this senseless and dangerous fun. The result can be imagined: it was nevertheless and still much too much banged. In addition, environmental pollution, terrorized animals, seriously injured people and completely absurd Twitter threads about "how much individual freedom this pretentious state actually still wants to curtail". I wish you a good night. And now to the weather forecast...

Good News of the Week:

So, sweeping all the bits and pieces together, I at least get Good News from Germany for the environment:

Plastic bags have been banned since yesterday. But only the big, colorful ones at the checkout - not the small bags with handles for vegetables and fruit. But at least they only need about 20 years to decompose - instead of 100 to 500. I'm not even sure if I mean that sarcastically.

By the day before yesterday, three more nuclear power plants had been shut down. However, the last three are still on the grid for another year. And next door in France? Still 80% of the electricity comes from nuclear power. And now it's even to be greenwashed. This is ridiculous, since the assessment of environmental damage cannot be based solely on CO2 emissions.

This year, the ban on so-called chick shredding will also take effect. But male chicks still rarely have a life expectancy of more than one day, so now they are gassed. And the market introduction of technology that can determine the sex of the egg before hatching is still far away.

From now on, mandatory deposits will apply to all plastic bottles and all beverage cans. Previous exceptions, such as fruit juice in a bottle or energy drinks in a can, have been eliminated. I didn't understand that anyway. Nevertheless, there are still exceptions, e.g. for milk drinks. I still don't understand that anyway.

Personal happy moment of the week:

Let's make it short: My wife and I spent New Year's Eve with a 6-hour Zoom marathon with her French-Canadian friends and family. The highlight of all conversations was just that: "My wife and I..." ;-)

I couldn't care less...

...that the Austrian ex-chancellor Sebastian Kurz will work for tech investor Peter Thiel in the future. It just fits the picture, as both interpret the boundaries between normal lobbying and covert political influence for personal gain "rather flexibly". So anything but surprising. And probably the first time that a 35-year-old is included in the A list of "elder statesmen".

As I write this...

...I am fighting with reflux again. Doctor Google always has the same suggestions: less stress, less fat, less sugar, less alcohol, less caffeine. But seriously now: what can be done about it?

Post Scriptum:

Every year there is this trend: the song that was #1 on the hit list on your birthday (the very first one) is your personal motto for the coming year. This time I actually checked for the first time - and I'm speechless: it was "Get back" by The Beatles! Not only is that a choice motto for the year after this f*#*+* 2021 (I'm glad to share!). No, since Peter Jackson's documentary of the same name on Disney+, this song has also replaced "Hey Jude" as my current favorite Beatles song. Oh my god, there's prediction for real!

[vorta-whore]

Transition of Power, ch. 3

The two of you go for a stroll.

Weyoun 5 x female reader

Chapter 1: An Introduction | Chapter 2: A First Date | Chapter 3: A Walk Together | Chapter 4: A Night on Bajor

---

You don’t consider yourself a particularly religious woman. You have always had faith in the Prophets, of course, and you attend weekly services whenever you can afford the time. But in all your years aboard the station, you can’t recall ever stepping foot in the temple outside of service hours simply to pray.

You’ve done so three times this week.

The silence and stillness of the shrine seems to help, for a moment. As you kneel onto an empty pillow and bow your head, your chaotic thoughts begin to subside, replaced by a single, focused prayer.

Prophets, you think, though you sometimes sense you’re talking to yourself more than to them. Please, guide me. I didn’t think I had a choice, at first, with this man. He wanted me and I could not deny him, for fear of what would happen to me. But the more we talk, the clearer it is that he isn’t forcing me into anything. I’m continuing it of my own free will.

You lace your fingers together and squeeze your eyes shut in concentration.

I know he’s a dangerous man. An evil one. He represents the empire that could tear the Alpha Quadrant apart. And I know he must have committed atrocities of his own as well. I shouldn’t want to be with him – I should be repulsed. But I can’t help it. When he leaves, I miss his presence. I think about him as I lie awake at night. I wonder what kind of a man he is, under that diplomatic persona. I want to get to know him. And I...I like how I feel around him. He makes me feel interesting. And wanted. Desirable, but respected. He treats me kindly, with a gentleness I never thought him capable of, that I’ve never experienced from another lover. And I know the right course of action is to end this before it begins, to reject his advances before they can go any further...but I feel in my heart that I would regret it forever.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips.

You gifted us with the ability to love so we could appreciate being bathed in your holy light. It is the purest, most powerful force in the world. So how could it ever be wrong? Would I...be a collaborator if I continued this? Is the only moral course of action to forget this affair? Or is this part of my fate – to capture the heart of a powerful enemy and help save his soul, and maybe some lives in the process?

You pause, your heart laid bare, and wait for a response. But you don’t really expect one. The Prophets have never spoken to you – not directly, at least – and you don’t expect them to start now. Even if you are in terrible need of guidance. For a moment you consider asking the vedek for advice, but you suspect he won’t give you an entirely unbiased answer when he realizes the object of your affections is none other than the station’s Vorta oppressor.

The musky scent of incense swirls in the air around you. Quieted but still frustrated by your own uncertainty, you take a moment to breathe and center yourself as best you can before heading back out to the Promenade.

The serenity you found inside the temple begins to fade away as soon as you leave it. You pause to survey the station inhabitants shuffling to and fro, their heads bowed, their faces weary. As much weighs on their minds as on yours. 

A sudden call snaps you out of your reverie.

“Y/N!” comes the excited, familiar voice, and you turn with surprise to see Weyoun flanked by his Jem’Hadar guards. Caught off-guard, you gape for a moment as he approaches.

“Hi,” you manage. He beams at you in response.

“Will you walk with me for a moment?”

Your answer follows before you can give it even a moment’s thought: “Of course.”

The Vorta turns and you fall in tow as the four of you cross the Promenade. You’re not entirely pleased to be seen in public with Weyoun – you keep glancing about as though fearful of the judgmental glares you’re bound to receive – but the majority of people you pass seem entirely uninterested in your little rendezvous. Beyond, of course, the usual uneasy glances they direct at Weyoun.

“I really did enjoy our dinner last week,” he says with a hum. “I apologize for not contacting you sooner.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

“Oh, you have no idea the extent of it. I’ve rarely a moment to myself, let alone time to enjoy the company of others. Which brings me to my point.”

He pauses in front of a window and turns to gaze out at the stars. You do the same, and a faint wistfulness tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the space where the wormhole hasn’t opened in months.

“I’d like to see more of you,” Weyoun says softly.

You look over at him with such a panicked haste that he quickly adds an addendum: “If that’s alright.”

“I – you – yes, of course it’s alright,” you stutter, and feeling sheepish, you avert your eyes and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

You can hear the smile (and notes of what sound like genuine relief) in Weyoun’s voice as he replies. “I’m glad to hear it. As it happens, my meeting with Gul Dukat later this evening has been fortuitously postponed – and I can think of no greater way to spend my suddenly free time than in the pleasure of your company.”

You glance up to see he’s turned from the window to face you, and his wide eyes glimmer with anticipation as he awaits your response.

You hesitate. Something within you is begging to say no, to run away – but you can’t fathom the possibility of extinguishing the spark of excitement in those amethyst eyes...

“Unless...you have a prior engagement?” he prompts at your hesitation, and the way his eyebrows raise and his lips tug into a frown has you scrambling to comfort him.

“No! No, I’m free. I’d love to join you,” you assure, quite earnestly in fact, you realize, and Weyoun’s expression melts back into a pleased smile.

“Excellent. I was thinking perhaps a change of scenery this time; I’ve already taken the liberty of securing a holosuite reservation. I think you’re going to like the program I’ve selected.”

Before you can inquire, Weyoun reaches for your hands, and the feeling of his soft skin brushing against yours steals the words right out of your mouth. You find yourself helpless under his gaze once more as he strokes his thumbs over the back of your hands, and in that simple, paralyzing touch you completely forget the two of you are in the public eye.

“I’ll pick you up from your quarters at eighteen hundred hours. Dress for warm weather.”

He presses a quick kiss to one of your hands and then is gone, leaving you breathless by the window.

No one had been paying you much attention before. But after that public display of affection, you notice several pairs of eyes quickly dart away as you turn back toward the Promenade.

You suppose you’d better go find a dress.

---

The door-chime rings at eighteen-hundred hours exactly, and you wonder if Weyoun had perhaps been standing there waiting for the precise moment to strike. With one last glance in the mirror to straighten your hair, you answer the door, and the sight momentarily stuns you.

You hadn’t seen Weyoun in any outfit other than his typical – was it a uniform? That strange, asymmetrical garb he always wore. But as an ambassador, it made sense that he would have a variety of clothing suitable for multiple climates, and he had donned one such outfit here for the occasion. It resembled his usual attire, in all its intricately-patterned, multi-textured glory, but revealed much more skin than you were used to seeing on the Vorta. Lapels of thin leather stretched out to just barely cover his shoulders, leaving his arms completely bare. The pleated mauve undershirt (though you doubted it was its own garment entirely, more likely just a piece of fabric sewn into the vest for modesty) dipped down low to reveal both collarbones, and the asymmetrical hem of the garment jutted out just above his hips. His trousers – a shade more form-fitting than usual – were cuffed at the shin, revealing a sliver of calves between the hem and the ankle-high boots he wore.

You had worried about feeling a little too dressed-down, in your flowing sundress and delicate sandals, next to the stiff and regal Vorta. But the casual outfit assuages your fears and you both grin – you a little giddily – to see the other in a new light.

“You look stunning as always, my dear,” Weyoun notes, “but especially so tonight.”

You hesitate as he offers you his arm, but the reality is that after this morning, the whole station likely knows about the two of you; there’s no point hiding this courtship anymore. You take his arm.

“I could say the same of you,” you tease, a little emboldened by the feeling of walking on the station commander’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show quite so much skin.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Weyoun’s lips, and you sense he’s debating saying something, but quickly decides against it. He simply chuckles. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

A thought occurs to you and you voice it tentatively as the two of you (followed, as always, by the Jem’Hadar guards) make your way down the corridors.

“Weyoun �� is it true your people don’t have a sense of aesthetics?”

“Yes. The Founders did not deem it necessary for our purposes.”

You think you detect a hint of bitterness. But he continues on cheerfully: “Personally, as a diplomat, I do see the advantages; every culture has its own unique sense of style and taste, and if I had my own personal preferences among them, I might find it more difficult to establish relations with races whose appearances or architecture I disliked.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you mutter, not really agreeing. “I just wondered – you always compliment my appearance…”

“Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. I assure you those are genuine.”

At your look of confusion, he furrows his brow, trying to find the easiest way to explain. 

“...Allow me to illustrate it for you with an example. If you showed me two dresses – one horribly tacky, the other beautiful and elegant – and asked me to label which one was which, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. To me, they’re both slips of fabric in various colors and patterns woven together to make a garment. I cannot detect whether certain colors clash with one another, or if certain shapes are unflattering on one’s body. But what I can appreciate is the woman wearing the dress. Her whole demeanor often changes when she slips into a garment as beautiful as she is; she becomes more comfortable, more open, more in tune with her inner light. When I compliment her, I’m voicing my appreciation for things like...the way her smile lights up the room. The tinge of color on her cheeks and the spark in her eyes. The grace with which she carries herself. Her confidence in flaunting such a flawless appearance.”

He pauses to drive his point home by setting his free hand gently over the one you’ve laid on his arm and meeting your eyes with a suave smile. Your foundation does nothing to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, and you to your horror a giggle bubbles up from your lips.

“Regardless,” Weyoun sighs, pleased at the response he’s elicited, “I can certainly appreciate the effort you’ve expended going out of your way to gild yourself for my enjoyment.”

Heads turn as you enter Quark’s, and for a moment you avert your eyes and stare to the ground in embarrassment – but Weyoun doesn’t falter an instant, and the sheer confidence with which he carries himself bolsters you. You lift your head with some effort, clinging just a bit more tightly onto his arm. 

Quark has the data rod with your holosuite program in his hand as you approach the bar; his expression is unreadable. Weyoun thanks him and takes it, and you continue upstairs.

“I do hope you like it,” he says, a little more loudly over the noise of the bar, as he slots the data rod into the panel. “Having never been to Bajor myself, I can only hope it is a faithful reproduction.”

You turn to fix him with a questioning look, but he only bows and gestures for you to head inside.

“After you.”

The doors part and you immediately feel a blast of warm air, a welcome feeling on your bare, goosebump-prickled skin. You step inside – followed closely by Weyoun – and the Jem’Hadar take up post outside the holosuite just before the doors slide shut.

The program, to your wonder and delight, is a perfect re-creation of one of Bajor’s most famous forests. Your home planet is well-known for its natural splendor – sprawling mountains, rolling hillsides, breathtaking falls – and this woodland is a shining example. Impossibly high, purple-barked trees stretch toward the endless sky, their leaves casting a shimmering dappled shadow upon the needle- and moss-covered ground. A brook winds and weaves through the web of tree trunks and their gnarled roots, its water crystal clear, its shores adorned by smooth pebbles and stones. Small woodland creatures dart to and fro throughout the underbrush, and you watch with quiet fascination as one of them – a long-eared, round-eyed lagomorph – pauses to nibble at the bud of a crimson sunset-lily.

You’re sufficiently awed.

“I take it,” Weyoun says softly from behind you, and you startle a bit, having all but forgotten he was there, “the program passes muster?”

“More than,” you reply, and turning to face him, you offer a genuine smile of gratitude. “I feel like I’m home again.”

A warm smile touches his lips, creases the corners of his eyes.

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

As the two of you approach the trailhead, Weyoun slides a graceful arm around your shoulders. He holds you firmly, but not tightly, and his embrace – the tingling sensation of his soft skin on your bare shoulders, the feeling of safety under his grasp – transforms you into a blushing maiden, clinging onto your shining knight. You wrap a reciprocating arm around his lower back as you both begin down the dirt path.

“I’m glad to be able to see some of your homeworld,” he muses after a few moments of contented silence, interrupting the cheerful sounds of birdsong. “Even if it is only a facsimile. My occupation, unfortunately, does not allow me much vacation time.”

He says this with a chuckle, intending the comment to be light-hearted, but you can hear an undercurrent of bitterness – the same subtle tone you noticed in your earlier conversation. The polite thing to do would be to move on; talk about the places in Bajor he should visit if he ever gets the chance. But you know it would be an empty gesture. There’s an opportunity here, and you’d be remiss to let it pass you by.

“...Weyoun,” you start carefully, and he glances over to you, attentive at your sudden tone of concern. “Do you ever…wish things were different?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he fires back, a little too quickly. His eyes slide back to the path in front of you.

“Yes, you do.”

Silence stretches out between you as Weyoun contemplates his answer. His arm around your shoulders has slackened a little and you aren’t sure if this risk is paying off the way you intended it to. After several long moments, he heaves a sigh, laden with a burden you sense he’s reluctant to acknowledge.

“Sometimes…”

He stops himself. You try to decipher the expressions crossing his face but they’re entirely unreadable. He glances back to you – looks down – sighs again. When he speaks, his words are deliberate, chosen with laborious care.

“Sometimes, I do harbor thoughts of what life might be like if circumstances were...different. There are many pleasures in this world unknowable to me; the taste of a home-cooked meal, for instance. Art in any capacity. Music, especially, I wish I could appreciate.”

“You can’t even enjoy music?”

“When I listen to a song, it’s as if I’m…” – his hand dances about in the air, searching for an apt comparison – “...looking at a sheet of mathematical equations. I can pick out the individual instruments, note the changes in their pitch, recognize patterns and motifs. But the whole of the song, the heart of it, escapes me.”

You both ponder this sad reality.

“I do think it would be nice to be able to carry a tune,” he laments after a long moment. “Or to dance. I’m a truly terrible dancer.”

The image of lovely, graceful Weyoun stumbling around a dancefloor elicits a burst of laughter from you, despite the heavy subject matter; Weyoun laughs along, relieved his attempt at cutting the tension was successful.

“That’s a shame. I don’t know how the Vorta usually woo their women, but on Bajor, dinner and dancing is usually part of the package at some point.”

“Well, I’ve managed to woo you without having to resort to dancing just yet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you retort, grinning.

Weyoun agrees with a hearty chuckle.

“Let’s hope not.”

---

The two of you make your way down the winding trail, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woodland as you go. Weyoun, ever the gentleman, leads you by a hand over the fallen logs and stepping-stones that serve as bridges across the stream, his grip a comforting assurance. He waits ever so patiently when you pause to beckon to the furry little creatures eyeing you from the underbrush, and he is adequately fascinated by your explanations of the various flora and fauna, even humoring you when you pick the occasional flower and offer it for him to smell.

“Do you even have a sense of smell?” you question him at one point, twirling the stem of a flower between your fingertips; those of your other hand are laced comfortably with his.

“I do,” he assures, a little amused by the question but understanding of its necessity. “Scent plays a pivotal role in making good first impressions; it’s one of the first things a person notices. I find it helpful, actually, to tailor my own scent to match the preferences of those with whom I wish to establish good relations. It’s a subtle enough gesture, but effective.”

“Is that why you always smell so sweet?” You give him a light jab to the ribs.

He grins at your playful tone, shoots you a look of mirthful defeat.

“You caught me.”

“How did you know I’d like that scent in particular?”

“Well…”

Weyoun trails off, and in the span of that one word the tone of the conversation has shifted to something decidedly less lighthearted. Your attention is drawn to him as he withdraws his hand from your own and clasps it with his other; you wonder if that might be a nervous habit.

“Being station commander has its...advantages. There is very little that goes on here without my knowing, and likewise very little information inaccessible to me. If I wish to know...say...a particular occupant’s work schedule...or shopping habits...”

“You stalked me!” you accuse, and although the offense rings clear in your voice, you can’t honestly say it runs all that deep. Either way, you aren’t surprised.

“Stalk is a strong word!” Weyoun insists, the pitch of his voice rising as he hurries to defend himself. “I merely – gathered some basic information – to give myself the best possible chance of ensuring the outcome I wanted.”

“Which was?”

He looks at you a little strangely. The answer is obvious, of course, but you want to hear him say it.

“To win your affection. Which, it seems, I have. Or am I mistaken?”

His turn to ask the obvious question. You smile and lower your gaze to the ground.

“You have.”

“Then the ends justified the means.”

The trail opens up into a clearing, and you come upon the shore of a vast lake. There’s a stretch of fence close to the shoreline and you lean against it as you take in the sight: the rippling surface of the water glimmers like so many gemstones, reflecting the deep orange and violet hues of the Bajoran sunset.

It occurs to you that your Vorta friend may not be able to enjoy this painterly scene to the same extent you can. You glance over to him – and startle to see his gaze is fixed intently on you. It doesn’t waver as you meet it, and the unabashed eye contact brings a sudden warmth to your cheeks.

“What?” you finally ask, a little sheepish.

Weyoun’s smile grows just a shade deeper as he answers.

“You enjoy looking at the sunset. I enjoy looking at you.”

The simplicity of the statement only excites the butterflies in your stomach. You smile nervously, self-conscious, as Weyoun studies your face with a sudden, urgent interest; his smile fades and his brow creases with concentration. He’s searching for something – and whatever it is, he’s desperate to find it.

You’re just about to ask what’s wrong when his hand lifts to your face, and the gentle hold he takes of your cheek steals your thoughts away completely. His palm is soothingly cool; his touch, comforting and still. You notice his eyes slide down to your lips and you realize with paralyzing clarity what it is, exactly, he wants.

The next few moments happen in slow motion.

You allow the hand cupping your cheek to guide your face upwards, and Weyoun’s head tilts to the side, making room for you. You spare a glance down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, tender and heavy-lidded; your lips part and you suck in a small, quiet gasp of air, the last you’ll get for the next several seconds. As Weyoun leans down to close the last inch of space between you, your eyelids flutter shut – and an infinite, breathless moment passes before you feel his soft lips press, tender and sweet, into yours.

He lingers there motionless for several moments, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek, before beginning to pull away – but you don’t let him. The instant his lips leave yours, your hands shoot up to grasp the sides of his face and pull him back down for more, and he obliges, gladly; you press up into him with more force, mashing your lips together in a hungry bid for intimacy, and he exhales heavily into the kiss, returning every ounce of passion. His hand slips from your face and you feel his arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling your body into his, and for several long minutes the only sounds around you are the distant calls of the waterfowl and the lapping of gentle waves at the shore.

Neither of you wants to end this perfect moment. But, inevitably, one of you must break for air, and of course it happens to be you. You pull back just enough to breathe; your eyes blink open to meet Weyoun’s, and as you relocate your hands from his face to rest upon his shoulders, you notice with some amusement the faintest tinge of purple in his cheeks.

“Wow,” you exhale, lightheaded.

“Wow,” he agrees.

His grip on your waist loosens and, self-consciousness returning, you turn back toward the lake and allow the cool breeze to soothe your burning face. Weyoun releases you to instead rest a hand on the small of your back, and you lean into him, heart aflutter.

A few minutes of silence – of perfect, serendipitous peace – draw to a reluctant close as the automated voice of the computer informs you your holosuite reservation is at an end. You release the fence posts just as they disappear from beneath your hands and frown as the beautiful expanse of forest before you gives way to the cramped and machinery-cluttered interior of the holosuite.

“A pity,” sighs Weyoun, turning to you and taking your hands in his own. “I was hoping that hour might break the rules of spacetime and stretch out just a bit longer.”

It’s a little cheesy, but you giggle anyway, and he grins to have gotten to you. Lifting a hand to his lips, he presses one of his signature kisses to the back of it, and you sigh, squeeze his hand in return.

Emerging from the holosuite on Weyoun’s arm once more, you cringe at the din of the bar, so cacophonous compared to the quiet of the forest. But nothing can shake the absolute serenity now instilled within you. You practically float down the walkway, and though pairs of eyes follow your progress as they did before, this time you find it quite easy to pay them no mind.

Weyoun notes your confidence with an approving hum. “Not so self-conscious now, I see.”

You grin a little, shrug your shoulders. He responds with a chuckle and teases you in that lilting, singsong voice of his: “I wonder why.”

The walk back to your quarters is shorter than you’d like it to be, and before you know it you’re standing at the entrance to your quarters. Frowning, you turn to face Weyoun, not quite ready to part ways.

“It was a pretty short hour,” you say.

“Indeed it was.”

“It doesn’t...have to be over so soon. You could come inside…”

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he sighs, and there’s genuine disappointment in his voice as he cradles your hands in his own. “I’m due elsewhere on the station in five minutes’ time.”

He soothes away your dejection with another quick couple of kisses to the back of your knuckles – and then, with a coy smile, one to the very corner of your lips. You turn your head to try to catch it full-on, but he dodges you deftly – ever the tease. You understand the purpose behind this tactic of leaving you wanting at the end of each of your encounters, but it frustrates you all the same, and Weyoun grins infuriatingly at your pouting.

“Try not to fret too much. I promise I’ll be in touch again very soon.”

You can only swallow, nod, and linger on his gaze as long as politely possible before allowing your hands to slip from his and turning with great reluctance to enter your quarters.

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily to you these past few weeks. But tonight, it greets you kindly, and you drift into an easy slumber with a smile on your lips.

[omastrology]

WHAT IS THE SECRETE MEANING OF SEEING REPEATING NUMBERS

I recollect when I started to see the wonder of seeing repeating numbers. This was exactly when I'd started to jump into books about cognizance. As far as I might be concerned, it was just after the staggering assault on the Twin Towers. The media had started to allude to it as "9/11."

I contemplated whether it was an incident, that the date ended up coordinating the crisis number, 911. A little voice inside me intruded on my considerations. It stated, "there's nothing of the sort as fortuitous event."

I at that point started to see the number all over. During a vacation, I'd haphazardly awaken and check the time. It would be 9:11 straightaway. Here and there, on my strolls, I would hear somebody arbitrarily utilize the number 911, in passing. It was never about the crisis number, or about the psychological oppressor assault.

I'd slide a CD into my plate player, and end up taking a gander at the presentation. It would peruse "Track 9 of 11." I'd see boards, with a similar number. It was in a real sense all over the place.

At that point it became different varieties, for example, 119 and 191. Telephone numbers. My new financial balance. My new check card. Irregular vehicle tags. Irregular melodies on the radio. Before long, different numbers started to show up as well. The one that stayed with me the most is 11:11.

Now, I understood I had staggered on something. It was either something significant, similar to some Higher Power attempting to reach me, or I was going insane.

For some time, I thought I went with the subsequent choice, and was going nuts for sure. Till I chose to explore this marvel.

I discovered I was in good company! Uplifting news! So perhaps I'm not insane all things considered.

"It's Only Your Reticular Activating System"

I attempted to converse with loved ones about this. Nobody could relate. They on the whole me I was overthinking things. I recollect cousin Deb saying, "I believe you're fiddling into things you truly have no business with."

Yet, she didn't comprehend – I didn't go searching for these numbers. They came for me! Something was attempting to stand out enough to be noticed. Yet, what? Furthermore, why? I needed answers.

So I addressed others on the net. As a general rule, I'd run into that one individual who pompously says, "It's just your reticular initiating framework." The first occasion when I was informed that, I went Googling.

The Reticular Activating System (RAS) is in the mind stem. It's a lot of nerves which acts like a channel, figuring out all the pointless data we're assaulted with day by day, so just the stuff that is important to us can overcome.

Let's assume you consider purchasing a red vehicle. Before long, you start to see such countless red vehicles surrounding you. That is the intensity of the RAS.

Is That All There Is To Seeing Repeating Numbers?

I can advise you, definitely, no.

So Why Do I Keep Seeing Repeating Numbers?

Like you, I asked myself this a great deal, to start with. Presently, I've come to acknowledge something: these numbers are essentially how your Higher Self or soul control or the universe or anything you desire to call it, connects with you.

I'm not specific about the phrasing, since I would prefer not to drive you into a case. A few people call these numbers blessed messenger numbers.

At the point when you focus on the setting in which these numbers appear, you'll have the option to pinpoint precisely what it is your Higher Self or soul direct is attempting to cause you to notice.

Seeing Numbers Means You're in Alignment with The Universe

On an overall note, when you continue seeing rehashing numbers, it additionally implies you're in arrangement with the Universe! I like to take a gander at these rehashing numbers as delicate updates from my Higher Self that I am on the correct way, and I'm rarely alone. These numbers are one manner by which synchronicity makes itself clear to us.

Listen to this: everything in life is synchronicity. It's one major, excellent dance. Be that as it may, since for the vast majority, a ton of synchronicity passes them by, numbers are an extraordinary path for the Universe or your Higher Self to cause you to notice this.

What does being in arrangement mean? It implies you're in the perfect spot, at the ideal time. It implies regardless of what's going on, regardless of what it resembles, you're in good company. It implies eventually, things consistently work out.

A few people think when they're lopsided, is when things aren't working out. In any case, actually you're never not in arrangement. It's basically that at the time, you're letting whatever you're confronting direct the manner in which you see things.

So you're considering things to be "awful" or "negative." These numbers are delicate pokes from the Universe, telling you there's an ideal arrangement, and you're doing fine and dandy. Despite the fact that it appears as though you're not at this moment.

Do These Numbers Have Any Meaning?

Each number is exceptional, and has it's own personal recurrence. For example, for my situation, I started with seeing the numbers 9 and 11 together. 9, among numerous different implications, ends up meaning a closure, or the finish of something. The number 11 connotes a door. To what? A fresh start. It's an entryway that allows you to look past the cloak of reality to what exactly truly IS.

As at when I started seeing 911, I really wanted to see several things. One thing was, life as I was already aware it was changing, on such countless levels. Things that I had gotten used to, were taking in my life. I had recently moved on from school.

I had likewise started to investigate cognizance. I had my absolute initially conscious Out-of-Body-Experience, which drove me to see that there is quite a lot more to life than I had ever suspected. I was encountering a ton of synchronistic occasions that completely overwhelmed me. At the end of the day, there were a great deal of endings for me (9), and I had ventured into a totally different world, as far as cognizance (11).

For more information you can read here: https://www.omastrology.com/numerology/angel-numbers/ 

and 

https://www.astrolika.com/

[alirhi]

new Bucky fic

Title: Toy Soldiers Chapter: Prologue/? Fandom: MCU Rating: 18+ Focus: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Summary: Wounded and delirious but grateful (and shocked) to be alive after his fall from the train, Bucky thinks he's been rescued when he's pulled from the snow. It doesn't take long for him to realize he would have been better off dead. WARNINGS: Language, references to (and possibly graphic depictions of; we'll see how it goes) torture, brainwashing, violence, rape Notes: This is what happens when I read too many Bucky metas and spend too long thinking about how the writers have failed our boy recently. I make no promises about my attention span, but the intenthere is to dig deep into Bucky's trauma and his time as The Winter Soldier. This will not be an easy read. You've been warned.

Steve had always liked to play with toy soldiers. The memory of his diminutive friend planning battle strategies on the living room floor bubbled up unbidden to the surface of his mind. He liked to fight; to play the hero and swoop in to save oppressed peoples all over his imaginary world. Bucky preferred going outside and talking to girls, but he humored his sickly friend. Steve couldn't always go out, so Bucky sat with him and played the 'bad guys'; the evil oppressors that General Rogers and his Howling Commandos would beat to a pulp.

Bucky loved to make that joke. Beating wooden toy soldiers 'to a pulp.' Steve would always roll his eyes and complain about his stupid puns. Bucky would never hesitate to counter with a jab about calling his troops 'Howling Commandos.' As if that wasn't the dumbest name, ever!

He knew that was why Steve had them actually howl on missions. The smug grin on his stupid face said it all.

“Told you, Buck.”

“Shut it, shrimp. You didn't tell me shit.”

The grin widened. “Told you I'd have my Howlies one day.”

Refusing to acknowledge this, Bucky only shook his head and gestured for Steve to go on. “Just don't get your star-spangled head blown off, alright, Cap?”

“I thought you liked the outfit!”

“Doesn't change the fact that it makes you an easy target.”

Smile fading, Steve shrugged and glanced around. “What else is new?”

What else is new, indeed... He was right, of course. Small, skinny, and often barely clinging to life, Steve had always been an easy target. Now that he was healthy and strong, he was just a bigger target.

But Steve wasn't the one who'd nearly died. Funny, in all the years they'd been friends, under all his affection and faith in the tenacity of his tiny friend, Bucky had always secretly braced himself to be the last one standing. To bury the last Rogers alongside his parents and say his goodbyes. It was a relief to be proven wrong.

As he faded in and out of consciousness, he clung to that thought the way pre-serum Steve had always clung to life. No matter what happened to him, at least Steve was healthy. He had a chance to actually live a life... if he didn't go getting himself killed, the reckless bastard. At the end of the day, Bucky had been wrong. He wouldn't outlive Steve; he wouldn't have to deal with the pain of burying his best friend.

Fuck, he was cold! His left hand was itching like crazy. He tried to frown, but didn't quite have the energy to. There was something off about that... Something about his left hand that he couldn't quite remember... It was too cold to think. He was chilled all the way through. Where was he? This wasn't the snowy ravine he'd landed in.

Somebody was talking. He couldn't make out the words. Something about them seemed... off. They weren't... This time he thought he managed the frown of confusion. What was going on?

Wrong language. The problem with the words finally filtered through the haze: Whoever these people were, they weren't speaking English. What was it? His head was pounding and he let his face relax, too tired to keep frowning. Whatever was happening, it was no concern of his. He was pretty sure he was dying. It was a fucking miracle that he'd even survived the fall. If his body could just get on with it, he'd appreciate it, though. He was so done with the rest of this. Pain and fatigue and delirium, and that maddening itch...

Someone lifted his left arm at the elbow, still speaking whatever the hell that language was, voice low and oddly gentle. Since death appeared to be taking its sweet time coming to claim him, Bucky figured he might as well try to satisfy his curiosity. He forced his tired, aching eyes to open and glanced around, wincing at the harsh lights overhead. There was something familiar about the setup, but he couldn't quite place it. Whatever it was, it was somehow comforting; like his memories of Steve, the sterile atmosphere reminded him of something...safe. Helpful.

A hospital. The equipment around him, the lights and instruments and the slab under him, it was all medical. Had he been rescued? Relief flooded through him and he relaxed back against the table, or whatever it was he was lying on, just letting the doctor probe at his arm.

His arm. Right. What was that thing about his left arm?

“OW, FUCK!”

The doctor jumped away from him, startled, as Bucky gaped at the empty space where his left hand should have been. Oh. That's what was wrong. His hand and half his forearm were missing. Too fucking tired for the grief and panic he was sure he should have been feeling, he registered this fact with a sort of cool detachment and returned his attention to the room around him.

Empty hand out in front of him, the doctor slowly approached again, still murmuring in whatever the hell that gibberish language was. He set down the syringe he'd been holding in his other hand; the syringe he'd used to inject Bucky's bloody stump, which had caused his unpleasant little outburst. Looking as though his patient might leap off the table and attack him any second, he crept ever so slowly closer.

“Look, pal,” Bucky grumbled, letting his eyes drift shut again. Whatever had been in that thing, at least his arm – what was left of it, anyway – was starting to go numb. That was nice; took care of the worst of the pain. “I ain't gonna hurt you. I don't even have the energy to wave at you. Just... do what you gotta do, alright?”

He was safe. He was being taken care of. Relieved all over again, he let all his confusion and all his half-formed questions fall by the wayside for the moment and relaxed. Everything else could wait. He'd been rescued; he was in a hospital, and either they'd fix him up and send him home, or he'd die. Either option was okay with him at the moment.

At least he didn't have to fight Nazis for a little while.