#From any war that may cause the death of innocent people

[unknown-cold]

Guys I don't know why I don't see many people talking about this scene when Vi is talking to Vander on the bridge, we can see that she is very upset and sad as well as if she remembered the scene of her parent's death bc if we focus on the scene more we will hear sounds like screaming and shooting, it's sad that she still remembers this, notice the pain, I mean this is very clear from the expressions on her face, Fortiche studio did a great job in conveying the character's feelings without words. And even though it's a short scene, this shows you Vi's PTSD that she suffers from at a young age, and of course this is one scene out of many other scenes of her suffering that did not end. Oh my little girl, she doesn't deserve all this.

"And of course we must not forget that in this scene, Vander explains to Vi that his work with the enforcers was to keep Zaun safe"

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type AU.

Soap is the long forgotten god of death.

Ghost is his first follower in a very long time.

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9

————

At first, Soap had been seen as kind and benevolent. The one to end someone’s suffering and help them along to the afterlife. However, as more wars began to break out, his perception changed into that of a bloodthirsty warmonger. The type that you sacrifice the blood of innocents to for luck in your upcoming battles.

Soap had simply ignored the brutish offerings. But then they spread. Like a plague, soon everyone was murdering their chosen victims in his temples in the hopes that it would bring them even more fortune.

Realizing that his presence was just causing more and more to die, he let himself fade away. He was reduced to nothing more than a comforting feeling people felt before they died. Over time, the so-called offerings stopped. Scared of what would happen should he return, he continued to fade.

A god is only as strong as their followers believe them to be. With no followers, no offerings, they are nothing. While mortal weaponry may hurt a god, may even get them to bleed, it cannot kill them. A god can only truly die when they are no longer remembered.

Soap is waiting for the day that he is truly forgotten and can pass on when he gets a feeling. One he has not had in an age. Though his worshippers have abandoned him, his temples and statues remained, though now significantly worse for wear. And someone just provided an offering of a single slice of bread on one of his statues.

A meager offering, sure, but it’s enough to get his attention. He has almost no power nor any energy left, but he sees a soldier sitting next to the statue as he ate his meal.

Meanwhile, Ghost hadn’t the faintest clue what god he just gave an offering to, but he felt a little better afterwards and so just hoped they weren’t evil. He took note of the statue’s appearance and when his troop was encamped near a town, he snuck away to a local library to see if there were any books he could find about it.

He was not apart of the army willingly, but he owed them a life debt and they had decided that it would only be repaid upon his death. Just a glorified prisoner, he was kept at the general’s side as his favorite weapon. Sneaking away was difficult, but definitely doable. The few times he was caught, he made enough of a disturbance that it was easier for everyone involved to let him do his thing.

They did not need to worry about him running away. If he was able, he’d have run the second he was given the chance. However, he was stuck. As long as he owed a debt, he could not leave.

The statue, at the very least, gave him something to do.

He was intrigued. He did not recognize the features at all, and his research confirmed that it was not a well known deity. It takes a long time of asking the right people and finding the right books to uncover the story of the forgotten god.

Having read everything — from loving poems about the being helping sickly children find comfort in their last moments to angry anecdotes about desperate townspeople sacrificing themselves in the hope that the god would show them mercy — he decides to give the god the benefit of the doubt.

He figures the world is shitty enough, why not find some good that had been tucked away? Ghost himself was seen more as a weapon than a person and couldn’t help but sympathize. He was never one for gods or worship, more likely to curse the heavens than ever sacrifice something of his, but he almost felt bad for the being. So, the next day, from one bloodthirsty monster to another, he gives the forgotten god more offerings.

It’s still not much, just an apple and a ring the general wouldn’t notice missing, but he sets them there anyways. He damn near jumps out of his fucking skin when the feeling of an accepted offering floods through him. He stares at what would have originally been the face of the statue, but nothing happens. The trees behind him continue to sing their song in the faint breeze, with the sounds of a lively woods never fading.

There is no outside sound, no out of place movement, no indication that he hadn’t just imagined the feeling. A leaf falling from one of the branches and landing on the pedestal, where the offerings were now gone, snapped him out of his staring contest. He muttered out a gruff thanks and sat down to eat, ignoring the feeling of being watched.

[terrestrialnoob]

To say that Bruce Wayne didn’t like Vlad Masters would be an understatement. Masters refused to treat anyone not obviously rich with any decency, was allergic to admitting he was wrong, used underhanded business tactics to get unconscionably one-sided deals, and kept everything just barely on the side of legal. All on top of having the reputation as one of America’s Most Charitable Billionaires with how much money he gave into rare disease research, that just so happened to also be America’s second biggest tax write-off for one individual. It wasn’t a private feud either. Bruce had gotten, first, in a donation war for who could fund the most charities, which Bruce had thought was in good fun, until it soon became clear that Masters was taking it far too seriously and tried to sabotage a charity event. Bruce wasn’t sure how he did it, but “it was lucky that Batman was there” to get everyone out of the burning building. Bruce then learned just how competitive the man was, and if he didn’t let him win, there’d be more innocent people put into danger.

So, you could imagine his surprise when he got a phone call from a dejected sounding Vlad Masters. “Bruce, it may be hard to believe, but I need your help.”

“With what?” Bruce didn’t want to deal with this man-child’s ego tripping, but he could never refused a cry for help, whether legitimate or a trap.

Vlad sighed loudly into the phone and Bruce thought for a moment he had been hung up on and missed the beep. But after the long pause Vlad said, “Recently, some old college friends of mine died.”

Bruce absorbed that in the shorter pause that followed. First that someone like Vlad had friends, and second, that their deaths meant something to him.

Vlad continued, “Jack had been a rival of mine and I had never forgiven him for marrying the woman I’d loved or – he also caused an accident that had left me hospitalized for months. I still say we were friends because, well, he never stopped trying to be mine despite how horrible I was to him. We had met when he and I were in a horrible punk band, and then I met his friend Maddie and the three of us made – Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble...”

“It’s understandable,” Bruce responded, “But, you said you needed my help? I have a really good grief counselor if that’s something you’d like?”

“Ah no, you see, Jack and Maddie had a son,” Vlad paused, “They had a daughter too, but she was home when their basement laboratory blew up and their entire house collapsed into it. The three of them, as well as three other teenagers, died. Danny was the only one to survive, and he is now in my care.”

“Jesus,” Bruce sighed, “Does he-”

“Before you offer, a bad experience with a school counselor has him sworn off seeing any kind of professional.” Vlad cut in, “And my bad behavior with his parents beforehand has convinced him I’m some kind of evil supervillain who wants world domination or some such nonsense. He wouldn’t trust anyone who’s associated with me in any way.”

Bruce nodded, seeing where this was going, “But you and I are openly rivals.”

Vlad hummed in agreement, “And you unfortunately have firsthand experience with both losing your parents and helping a grieving teen through the same.”

Bruce sighed, he was getting another kid, wasn’t he?

[natsarrownecklacx]

Cruelty Is An Art Form

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count- 1,920

Summary- Your the daughter of one of New York’s most known Mob leaders. Unfortunately, you’ve caught the attention of New York’s most feared Mob leader, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings- Minors this fic isn’t for you, Allusion to murder, Dark Mob Natasha, Thigh riding, marking, allusion to non con.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

There is no evil known to mankind worse than Natasha Romanoff. Of this, you are almost certain. 

Sure there are other terrible things that plague the world like famine, natural disasters and horrific diseases, but the difference between Natasha and all of those things is that, when it comes to how they affect people, it isn’t their fault. All of those things are more or less out of our control, and the way they impact people, out of their control. 

Natasha however, is practiced with her cruelty. Each and every ounce of pain and suffering she inflicts is calculated and purposefully. She takes a pride in it that could only be measured to that of a parent towards their child or an artist towards their art.

Usually when a person contains this type of passion for cruelty it would be contained to the unfortunate few people who find themselves in the presence of the evil being who cultivates it. For example serial killers or people with an affinity for torture and their victims.

Sadly this isn’t the case with Natasha Romanoff, who has enough power and influence that her cruelty spans over hundreds if not thousands of people, even if they do not realize it. As the leader of one of the most powerful and dangerous gangs in New York City, Natasha’s control spans just over triple the city's population. 

She is known throughout the underworld of gang leaders as the “black widow”, the name being given to her in recognition of the countless bodies she has left up and down the coast of many cities across the globe. 

No one would dare mess with her, in any way, unless they had a death wish. Even then, unless that person wanted to die in the most slow and torturous ways even the darkest minds could not conceive, they would stay far, far away from her. 

Which is something you’ve, thankfully, managed to do for all twenty years of your life, despite your fathers standing as a rival gang leader in New York. One that, for the past few months, Natasha has been taking territory from.

To Natasha anyone other than herself and the few people of her inner circle are merely ants ready to be squashed under her boot at a moments notice, even purely for her own twisted entertainment. So she did not know, nor did she care, who’s territory she was taking over, nor did she fear any backlash from the unknown ant.

Your father let her behavior slide, for the sake of peace and to avoid the possibility of innocent civilians getting harmed in the crossfire if he were to start a war between his own gang and the widows. 

He has warned you to stay far away from her, away from any territory she deemed her own, in fear that she may recognise you and harm you for the sake of sending a message to not only him but the other leaders in the city. 

So you did as he asked and stayed away, not wanting to cause any problems for your father or anyone else. But how were you to know that while you were on a night out with your friends that the redhead would choose the exact bar you occupied and claim it as her own, killing the previous owner where he sat in his office before strolling her way up to the bar to order herself a glass of vodka.

Natasha sits at the bar, glass in hand as she lazily surveys the room, looking for someone to sate her need for the night, getting her use out of the unwitting victim before killing them.

As she moves her gaze around the room her eyes land on you, a pretty girl on the dance floor moving her hips along to the music in a way that catches Natasha’s attention and stops her mid way raising her glass to her mouth. 

She watches you for a few moments, her darkening eyes drinking in every sway and move of your body as you lose yourself to the music and atmosphere around you, dangerously unaware of the predator approaching. 

Natasha is unaware of who you are and in all honesty, she doesn’t care, her plan for you remains the same. Act like the sweet gentle woman she never will be, convince you to accompany her back to her mansion, use you like a toy until the sun comes up and then discard you like the broken used thing you will be once she's finished with you. 

Natasha approaches you, reaching a hand out to your waist, moving her body against yours to the beat of the music. She treads lightly, not wanting to scare you off before she can get you at least into her car. The idea of making a public scene tonight just seems like an annoying headache for the redhead.

Feeling a feminine body slid in behind you mould to your own does not bother you, even as her hands slid sensually around your waist, pulling you flush against her. You relish in the attention from the unknown woman. 

Natasha drags her lips against the pulse point of your neck causing you to tilt your head back, needing to give her more room. She suctions her lips to your neck, intent on leaving a mark and branding you as hers. Her toy for the night, her slut made to proudly wear her marks. 

You can’t help the moan that quietly spills from your lips at the action, leaning your head back against her shoulder and moving your left hand up to grip the hair on the back of her neck, holding her in place while she leaves her marks on your skin. 

Natasha slides her arms fully around your waist, tightening her hold on you and locking you in place as she slots her thigh between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat at the action and a whimper follows soon after when the mystery woman whispers “Move your hips, baby” in your ear hotly. 

You do as she says, moving your hips slowly up and down her suit clad thigh. Her warm mouth continues its attack on the delicate skin of your neck, nipping and biting every so often to ensure her marks are clear. 

The whole interaction makes you want to melt against her, melt into her, succumb to the pleasure the woman is bringing you. That is, until she tenses the muscles in her leg, the hard muscle hitting your clit just right in a way that has you moaning out “fuck” and tightening your hold on the redheads hair to the point that you cause her pain. 

Natasha bites down hard on your neck in retaliation, the force of her teeth strong enough to nearly draw blood. 

You gasp and quickly jerk your body away from her. Natasha loosens her hold, allowing you to turn and face her but still keeps you in her grasp. You spin around quickly, determined to tell her off for such a violent act. 

Your breath is stolen from your lungs the second your eyes land on the woman your father spent countless day’s warning you away from. 

Your eyes fill with fear, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, and you try to take a step back. 

Natasha only tightens her grip on your waist, a smirk falling against her lips while confusion flickers behind her eyes. She can see from the look on your face that you know who she is, what she is capable of, yet she doesn’t know how. Word of the infamous black widow isn’t exactly common knowledge with the civilians in the city. 

“You know me.” Natasha muses, tilting her head to the side slightly, her eyes lighting up when she feels you try to step away from her again. “And you're afraid.” She says, the smirk on her face nearly doubling in size, as she takes a step toward you. 

Your eyes move frantically around the room, desperately looking for the men your father sent with you everywhere. Your body guards, as you call them, or your “protection detail” as they like to call themselves. 

Natasha’s hold on your waist tightens again, pulling you flush with her front and ignoring your attempts to squirm away. Your attention turns back to her and you have to gulp down your fear at the sight of the look in her eyes. It truly feels to you as though she is a starved, deranged predator and you are her prey. 

Natasha takes a moment to look you over, appraising you, while you squirm under her heavy stare, your eyes move away from her, unable to continue looking at her with the intensity of the moment.

“You're a pretty little thing aren’t you.” Natasha muses, gripping your jaw in her rough, calloused fingers and forcing you to look at her. Using her hold on your face she pulls you closer to her, until you are just a breath away. 

Your mind tells you to slap her, to spit in her face, kick her between the legs and run as fast as your feet can carry you. Your survival instincts tell you otherwise, screaming at you that if you want to survive then you have to keep her as calm as possible until your fathers men realize where you are.

So you stand as still as you can, your hands making fists at your sides in an attempt to keep them from shaking. Natasha’s eyes glance down to your clenched fists, a smile sliding its way onto her face before her eyes move back to your face.

She moves her mouth next to your ear, her warm breath hitting your skin while she whispers to you. “Let me tell you a secret little dove.” You feel her lips smile against your skin, trailing a short path up and down the skin of your cheek before she speaks again. “I like it when pretty girls like you are afraid. The look you all get in your eyes when your afraid for your life…” 

Natasha moves her hands to rest on the small of your back, moving your body in one swift jerk so that your thigh rests between her legs. She doesn’t waste a second before grinding down on the plush skin of your thigh, a grown falling from her lips at sensation. “... it gets me so, so wet, angel.” 

Natasha feels more than hears the gasp that leaves your mouth, feels the air hit her face as she pulls back to look at you again. That annoying smirk is back on her face, her eyes dark with lust and need. You jerk your leg from between hers, narrowing your eyes at the fake pout she wears at the action.

Natasha tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, her eyes never leaving your face as she whistles a tune you’d never heard before. Within the blink of an eye nearly fifty bodies hit the floor, each of them going down silently, without so much as a scream, as though someone had simply powered them off.

You look around in shock and horror, your mind running through how she could have done something like that and if you’d be next. 

“Don’t worry, angel.” Natasha coos, her voice a poor imitation of someone attempting to be soothing. “I won’t kill you.” She smiles, bringing her hands up to cup your face.

“You're of no use to me dead.”

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

A/n- Currently obsessed with dark mob boss Nat, let me know what you think so far, part two will be out this day next week

Part Two

[frazzledsoul]

Honestly, this is kind of strange to say about a story as completely fucked up as what goes on in HOTD and GoT, but the more I hear the writers/directors of HOTD talk the more I just feel they are divorced from any basic understanding of logic, morality, or common sense.

Seriously, Aegon is "maniacal" for wanting to execute the people who brutally killed his four-year-old son and thus Alicent is completely justified in betraying her ENTIRE family and offering all of its male family members up for slaughter? Not just Aemond, who has legitimately done horrible things in the service of war or Aegon, who had done legitimately horrible things before the war started but Gwayne, Daeron, Criston, who have done nothing to her whatsoever? Alicent and Gwayne went on and on about how decent and kind Daeron was because he gets to exist offscreen and Alicent STILL is onboard with her beloved Rhae Rhae killing him. She doesn't care because she's now "herself" and she's got a chance to get rid of them and cuddle with Rhaenyra (who doesn't have to give up shit) and I'm supposed to think this is the... reasonable perspective? Because Aegon wanted the people who killed his son dead? Nah. Fuck that noise. It all leads back to Condal and Hess believing that murdering that child was justified and that Aegon had no right to be angry because it was what Team Black needed to do.

Oh, and just because everyone's forgotten: Alicent specifically targeted Mysaria's home/headquarters and likely killed a lot of innocent people because she did not want her to have power. She was aware of the damage that Aegon caused and she still forced him on the throne anyway. Now that she's changed her mind, she wants him gone...but she already has done way worse things than execute a couple of rat catchers who may or may not have killed a four-year-old boy. Aegon's "maniacal" actions that the showrunners consider worthy of his death are not nearly as bad as what she did to Mysaria last season (and she prostituted her feet to do it!)

So yeah, I just can't anymore with these writers. GRRM's fully justified in cutting them off at this point.

[eretzyisrael]

Israel’s Enemies Tell Five Big Lies

Following the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, antisemites mount a series of vicious attacks, threats and malicious lies against Jews and Israel

With no shame or sign of humanity, the enemies of Israel have doubled down on their insistence that Israel is an illegitimate state that must be destroyed and that the savage slaughter of 1,200 innocent Jews was justified—all based on five “Big Lies” about the Jewish state.

What are the facts?

The world for Jews and Israel will never be the same. Wellesley College students receive official messages saying Zionists (i.e. most Jewish students) are not welcome in the school’s dorms. Hamas official Ghazi Hamad in a TV rant swears Hamas will repeat October 7 over and over until Israel is annihilated. West Bank Palestinian activist Ahed Tamimi says “What Hitler did to you was a joke—we will drink your blood and eat your skull.”

While Hamas’s October 7 atrocity shattered the hope of many Palestinian supporters, causing them to rethink their positions, the event only ignited an explosion of hate from other of Israel’s enemies. Tens of thousands of demonstrators made clear they no longer support two states living side by side in peace. Rather they demand “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free . . . by any means necessary”—meaning, clearly, slaughter of civilians.

Power of Big Lies: Though Israel was the victim of a mass murder of innocent Jews, its enemies blame the Jewish state—not only for the Hamas massacre, but also for responding in defense. The reasons many blame Israel for the atrocity are based on five Big Lies. Big Lies were used by Nazi leader Goebbels, who noted that if he told an outrageous lie often enough, people would begin to believe it. Alternatively, if you use truth as a basis for your judgments, you may these facts useful:

Lie #1: Israel is a colonial state that stole Palestinian land. A colonizer is a foreign nation that conquers and exploits another nation. First, the Palestinians have never controlled any land in Palestine: They were also never a nation. Nothing was stolen. Second, Jews are the indigenous people of the land of Israel. They have lived there continuously for 3,000 years and had two commonwealths for over 1,000 years: They are not foreigners. No colonial state.

Lie #2: Israel commits genocide. Genocide is the intent to destroy a national, ethnic, racial or religious group by killing its members. Israel does not, nor has ever, targeted innocent Palestinian civilians for killing—no mass murders, no pogroms. All Palestinian civilian deaths have occurred as collateral damage while fighting terrorists who hide in residential or other public areas. Tellingly, the population in in and around Israel has mushroomed since Israel’s founding in 1948—from about 700,000 to seven million today: Zero genocide.

Lie #3: Israel practices apartheid. Apartheid is a system of legalized racial segregation in which one racial group is deprived of political and civil rights. Israel has no laws or policies separating or limiting the rights of any of its citizens—including two million Arab-Israeli citizens—nor any Palestinians outside Israel. Political and civil rights of all Palestinians outside Israel are controlled by their respective dictatorships, who allow virtually no freedoms, such as speech or the vote. No apartheid.

Lie #4: Israel is committing war crimes. War crimes include torture, hostage taking, acts of terrorism, rape and intentional targeting of civilians. While Hamas committed all these acts on October 7, Israel commits none. Though some media bristle at what they consider excessive civilian deaths during Israeli military efforts, in fact, Israel attacks only military structures and personnel—never civilian-only targets. Unfortunately, Hamas places its fighters in dense residential areas or in tunnels beneath them, endangering civilians. No Israeli war crimes.

Lie #5: Israel brutally oppresses the Palestinians daily. Oppression is the malicious exercise of power to discriminate against some groups. Because Israel completely exited Gaza in 2005, it has no power over of the daily lives of Gazans. However, because of Hamas’s continuous terror, especially efforts to kill Jews and destroy the Jewish state, Israel and Egypt have placed Gaza under a strict blockade to prevent terror attacks. Likewise, because of the Oslo Accords, Israel and the Palestinian Authority share governance of Judea and Samaria (the West Bank). Thus, Israel plays virtually no role governing Palestinians daily lives and only enters Palestinian-controlled areas when terrorists flee to and hide in them. No oppression.

Above all, Israel and the U.N. have made numerous offers of land for an independent Palestinian state. Unfortunately, the Palestinians have turned down five offers of land for peace since 1948, three of them over the last 23 years. Apparently, their dream of conquering Israel “from the land to the sea” is more important.

The bestiality of the October 7 massacre shocked us—beheadings, incineration, rape, torture, heartless executions, brutal kidnappings. Even worse, the gates have opened to unlimited Jew hatred on American streets and campuses—to condoning savagery with the excuse of Palestinian liberation . . . based on utter lies about the Jewish state. But Hamas and the haters should know that “Never Again,” means fighting and defeating evil forever.

[achillescomehome]

today on "which sleep token song can i make about patroclus and achilles": i present aqua regia.

definition of aqua regia: "a mixture of concentrated nitric and hydrochloric acids. It is a highly corrosive liquid able to attack gold and other resistant substances"

in other words, is achilles the acid attacking the gold that is patroclus?

well, my love is an animal call cutting through the darkness, bouncing off the walls between teeth on a broken jaw following a blood trail, frothing at the maw

whose love is the animal call?

achilles?

or patroclus?

achilles is fated for more, for a grand ending (more on that later), and that ending isn't an easy thing to swallow. in fact, it is bitter and dark and bloodstained. he knows he is meant to be a hero, and he knows heroes don't get happy endings. ("Name one hero who was happy." "You can't." "I can't." "I know. They never let you be famous and happy.")

(yes, i am using tsoa quotes, thank u)

but he is so blinded by his determination for both, he verbally defies fate itself ("I'm going to be the first. Swear it." "Why me?" "Because you're the reason. Swear it.") and that is the moment his fate is sealed. that is the moment he seals patroclus' fate. his love is an animal call, because it is so narrow-minded and so self-determined it ignores any other possible ending. it believes itself invulnerable. it cuts through the darkness, patroclus' doubt.

or is the animal call patroclus' love, the love that controls one of the greatest warriors in history? is it patroclus' love that drove achilles to such heights, such depths, and sealed their fate? would achilles have descended into such a madness if it had been a different lover who died? would achilles have tried so hard to prove himself if it wasn't patroclus' gaze he was performing under?

or was it always both of them?

the blood trail is achilles' quest for glory. the blood trail is the pursuit of being aristos achaion. he is following it down, down, down into the madness that befalls every hero, and he frothing at the maw to prove himself different. to prove he can do things differently.

what was the definition of insanity again?

these days i'm a circuit board integrated hardware you cannot afford

achilles is a demigod. he has ichor running through his veins. patroclus may be a prince, but he is just a mortal. he could have left, he could have saved himself. but he chose to stay, he chose love. and achilles' arrogance, that only a half-god hero could afford, cost him his life. patroclus was never meant to "afford" achilles. was achilles always meant for someone of his status, or did the fates simply find perverse joy in matching two people together who would always end up causing each other's deaths? the perfect start to a perfect war putting down the roses, picking up the sword

achilles lets go of his boyhood, of the roses of innocence, to pick up the sword of arrogance. the sword of death that would indirectly deal the killing blow to the one he proclaimed to love the most.

or maybe love and death are not so different after all.

aqua regia aqua regia

is it only one of them that is the acid that can corrode gold? perhaps it's achilles, tarnishing and dragging patroclus down with him. or perhaps it's patroclus, taking his armour and riding out as him, knowing if he doesn't come back, achilles will break and doing it anyway.

or... perhaps it's both of them, one nitric and one hydrochloric acid, and the gold is their happy ending.

well, my past is a holy book a call from olympus, ringing off the hook

these lyrics feel pretty self evident.

but perhaps the greatest grief here is that achilles was always destined for this. he was always destined to bleed on the battlefield, his heart in the cold hands of one already long gone.

anyway, i am sick and need to sleep so i hope this is somewhat coherent lmao

[antianakin]

@assaultmech71 I'm putting this in a separate post because it IS a little off topic and that particular post is becoming fairly long and unwieldy as it is.

Part of my dislike of Luxsoka (and Lux in general) stems from my dislike of the episode he's introduced in. Heroes on Both Sides is supposed to show us that there's genuinely good people with legitimate grievances on the Separatist side and that Ahsoka is like... being kind-of ignorant by assuming all of the Separatists are evil assholes. However this is done SO SO BADLY the entire way through. I've talked about Mina Bonteri's whole sob story about her husband on some sort of base that got attacked by the clones and how unbelievable it is that the clones apparently just attacked an innocent base full of innocent people or something. There's NO WAY that Mina's husband wasn't involved in something either war-related or just sketchy and evil.

Lux on the other hand is sitting there being paralleled with Ahsoka where they're supposed to recognize that their lack of knowledge of the other side has caused them to be a little prejudiced towards each other. But while Lux has never actually met any Jedi and is making his entire opinion based on a lot of propaganda, Ahsoka HAS met Separatists, they just come in the form of military generals usually. Lux I think specifies "any Separatists who AREN'T military leaders" which is pretty unfair because those military personnel are STILL military leaders and effectively Ahsoka's counterpoint within the Separatist organization. Ahsoka has seen these people who claim to fight on behalf of the Separatist government do some absolutely heinous shit to actual innocent civilians (she's there for the incident with the Lurmens, the Blue Shadow Virus, Ryloth, and the Holocron Heist arc at this point). Ahsoka has genuine evidence to believe that the Separatists are, at best, ignorant of what's being done in their name, and at worst complicit in these actions being perpetrated by their military. Ahsoka isn't naive or ignorant the way Lux is, it's not a fair comparison. So their entire connection here is based on what amounts to a lie.

Lux also literally gives Ahsoka a once over when she bandies his own words back at him and asks him if she looks evil, which is juvenile and gross. And yes, he IS juvenile and Ahsoka does call him out on it a little, but still. It's not exactly a GREAT first impression here.

So basically a large part of the reason I hate him is because his entire introduction is just really really stupid and he represents this radically unfair perspective on the Jedi at this point just to make a point that isn't even ENTIRELY true.

Then we come to their second meeting where the whole episode ends with them saying they were a "good team" except that Lux fucks up approximately 20 different times and Ahsoka has to keep saving his ass and doing all the work. And Lux also betrays her like 4-5 separate times, he slaps her ass and acts like a misogynist to keep up an act with DEATH WATCH, apparently doesn't know or just doesn't care that Death Watch are literal terrorists, and is just overall completely awful and useless the whole time. They're not a good team, he's just a massive fuck up with delusions of grandeur who Ahsoka has to keep bailing out of danger over and over again.

He's better by their third meeting during the Onderon arc, but by then whatever feelings he may have had for Ahsoka seem to have faded and he's got a new girlfriend he's focused on and Ahsoka ultimately lets him go. But she's also JEALOUS of Steela for a while and it's impossible to figure out what she's even jealous OF. Like babygirl, I'm so frustrated with you right now, but you can STILL do better than Lux Bonteri. At least she decides to just move on by the end and we never see him again.

So yeah, Lux is a terrible person, a terrible love interest for Ahsoka, and Luxsoka is a fuck awful ship and I'm just so glad it got abandoned before it actually went anywhere and never came back.

[born-in-hell]

w all the "sinners" theme going on in the qsmp i wanted to summarize everyones sins pre-qsmp lore

Take this as an unofficial and incomplete guide to the qsmp chars past mistakes and wrongdoings. I will also dive on their personalities, since i dont think they'd change so much from pre-lore.

ill keep working on this and adding more info !!! if smth is wrong lmk plss

the colors signify the intensity and/or quantity of known sins.

things like "demon", "cryptid" and "grim reaper" are added here not bc i personally consider them bad, but bc the fed/ the eye might see them as issues.

· qbbh: grim reaper demon. caused a catastrophe when arrived that killed many people (some theorize it was atlantis). burned a childrens hospital once. did something in venice. trickster, liar. (as egglore is semi-canon u can count it in and say hes a former cult leader but eh). Besides his children, trusts no one. Sandwitches the truth between lies to a point no one can tell when hes lying or not. Intentionally acts suspicious, pushing friends and loved ones away. Tends to pull deathly and sometimes harmful pranks on others for fun. Tends to lie abt unserious things for his own amusement. I consider bbh a fox-like spirit.

· qcellbit: cannibal, torturer, murderer. mentor in the war was a demon. liar, manipulator. name originates from his time in prision, where he used a broken cellphone to frighten the other inmates. Kept his nature while in the island, it appearing more softly in the start (the Regret arc, where he falsely betrayed everyone to get intel on the fed), and fully unleashing when he learned the truth abt his past ─ killing the fed workers and threatning qPac ─ and in Purgatory.

· qmike: thief. stole from rich ppl in order to donate to orphanages w qpac. both betrayed qcellbit (formerly cell) when they escaped from prision, leaving him for dead. Not afraid to go against authority figures. Does everything to protect his family. Doesnt trust a lot of people. Stands his ground.

· qfit: 2b2t veteran. i dont need to say more.

· qroier: was obsessive over his last bf. made a cult in his name. tried to kill him ig.

· qmouse: demon & proud. excentric, likes death and blood. enjoys chaos and suffering.

· qfoolish: afaik we dont have much info on his past. Isnt afraid to do what he believes is necessary, even when it makes him a villain. Patient and cunning. Tends to tell the truth, despite not always saying his true intentions. Two-faced.

· qforever: was a corrupt politician. bf from outside the island is a vampire. possibly not a human, although nothing is truly confirmed. If unhuman, theories and hcs span from werewolf, to fae, to elf. His mistakes arise from being too good for his own good. When he became president, he declared he didnt want to be corrupt again, or become a dictator. Always tries to be as morally right as he can, even though it may push his friends away.

· qpac: thief. stole from rich ppl in order to donate to orphanages w qpac. both betrayed qcellbit (formerly cell) when they escaped from prision, leaving him for dead. Has abandonment and self-esteem issues.

· qphil: angel of death. married to lady death herself. If Antarctic Empire is confirmed cannon, hes also a world-conquerer and war criminal.

· qmissa: grim reaper (unconfirmed lore afaik). Naive and innocent. Has major self-esteem issues.

· qtina: demon. hides her identity for unclear resons.

· qjaiden: liar, manipulator. even tho, is a kind soul. fed experiment. besides this, not much info on her past.

· qslime: we dont have any info on his past. Has a weird toxic relationship w qmarianna. Certainly not one of the purest islanders.

·qmarianna: we dont have any info on his past. Has a weird toxic relationship w qsime. Certainly not one of the purest islanders.

· qaypierre: fed experiment (afaik; i guess). he has smth going on.

· qbagi: nothing particularly bad stands out abt her past.

· qbagh: besides being a fed experiment and an islander since was a child, nothing bad stands out abt her past and/or current actions.

· qtubbo: we dont have any info on his past. Naive and impulsive young adult.

· qfelps: he is a weird one. He doesnt have any sins in his past, as he was one of the "good guys". When he was a guard at Alcatraz, cellbit attacked him him. It is unknown if he survived the attack or came back to life.

· qetoiles: we dont have any info on his past. Is a noble warrior, and values fairness over anything.

· qantoine: we dont know. no one knows. is envolved w the feds and cucurucho. a type of cryptid or smth.

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: ��One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

[rainroses45]

Only for you, my love

(Neteyam x fem. Metkayina Reader)

☾description: Neteyam and you go onto the ship to go save Tuk but things take a twist

☾a/n: this may be a two part story, im not sure yet <3 warning: mentions of blood

☾song inspiration: we know what you whisper

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Bullets flew past you in swarms. The crashing of the waves was shunned out by screams. The blood spatter imprinted the metal walls leaving behind an unusual work of art. Every shake of the ship caused you to believe it would tumble over and eat you alive.

Neteyam ran with you, shielding your body with his as you ran towards the middle of the ship. Your bow carried in your hand seemed heavier than before as you took down some of the sky people. War cries were let out as the pile of dead bodies grew. No mercy was spared in the water, it was either be killed or drowned by the wrath of the mother ocean.

“Y/n you need to head to the back of ship and find Tuk.” Neteyam directed you as he slit a sky person’s throat. His blood oozed out of him like everlasting rivers. The smell of metal burned your nostrils. You looked away from the body, turning back to face Neteyam who was already heading away from you.

“Where are you going?!” You yelled back quickly grabbing an arrow and shooting it at the creature heading towards you. The arrow landed itself on the chest of the victim causing him to spasm in short lived gasps.

“I need to go find Lo’ak and Kiri,” he responded back, stabbing another man in the gut. This time the blood gushed out in a blob of mush. You wanted to puke at the sight. Neteyam pulled out his knife from the man and let the red liquid stain his innocent hands.

“Promise me you will be careful,” you looked at him with worried eyes. If he died you wouldn’t know what you would do. Yes, you both barely met a couple weeks ago, but the feeling of living without him, pained you deeply. To live without his smile, was to mean you would never see the sun again. To live without his laugh, would mean your heart song would cease to exist. To live without his warmth, would mean you would never be balanced again. It was out of the question on whether he lives or not.

“I will my love, as long as you promise the same,” you nodded back at him taking off to the back in a hurry. Some of the ship’s walls curved inwards, falling onto the loose iron beams, leaving you to duck down and crawl carefully through the maze.

It seemed like the sky people were cloning after every death. After defeating two of them, four appear out of the blue, then six, then eight, it was a never ending cycle. You were starting to grow tired and low on arrows. Every punch took every ounce of energy you had left, leaving your lethargic body vulnerable, but you had to continue on.

“Tuk!” You screamed out to the abandoned area. Most of the people here were dead, their oxygen masks laid shattered on the ground next to them. You didn’t feel any remorse for them, it was their fault and only theirs.

“Tuk!” You continued to scream out still staying on guard for any unexpected visitors. Water began to rise and spread across the floor. Its blue trail guided you towards a secluded area where lite sobs were heard.

“Tuk, tuk is that you,” you shouted it out keeping your bow loaded incase it was false. Slowly, stepping closer to the dark abyss you saw the young child chained up to a metal pole.

“Y/n is that you?” She called out, even in the dark her bright yellow eyes glimmered with hope. Quickly, you bent the metal pipes causing the physical boundary between you both to be destroyed. Water rushed in, flooding the small child in its hold.

“I got you sweetheart,” you said to Tuk trying to comfort her as the water began to rise. The orange straps were tied tightly around her wrist, not wanting to hurt her, you grabbed you knife and began to saw away the tough fabric.

“Hurry Y/n the water is rising,” your hands began to shake at the reminder, finally you got the restraints off of her and picked her up into your arms.

“Come on Tuk we have to find your siblings.” You stated hurtling yourself and her through the opposing tide. Tuk gasped as the water hit her face, you swiped your hand softly across her face getting rid of the water.

“Neteyam!” You yelled out, the quietness of it all made you panic. Only the crashing waves could be heard throughout the ship. Tuk’s tight hold on you was strong, her nails dug into your skin drawing blood. You preferred she do that than get drifted away again.

“Neteyam! Lo’ak! Kiri!” You screamed out, grabbing Tuk’s head you told her to count to three. Both of took a deep breath before swimming through the sharp maze. You did most of the swimming since you were the more experienced than Tuk, and you didn’t want her to get lost.

You nodded at Tuk, swimming back up to see the sun has already settled, leaving you behind with the goddess of the night.

The both of you were about to exit the ship and swim to high ground when someone grabbed you from behind. You released Tuk, pushing her away from you quickly. The stench of his caused you to panic. How could you be so careless and forget about your surroundings?

“Run along now little Sully,” he ordered softly smiling at her. Her eyes opened in fear looking back at you. His hands tightly held your neck and hands making you defenseless. You mouthed to Tuk to go and get help, she nodded swimming away in a hurry.

“What do you want?” You groaned as he twisted your hands. He let out laugh throwing your bow to the side while still keeping a hand on your throat.

“It’s nothing personal sweetheart, I just need some leverage here, you understand right?” Quaritch said with smile, he pulled me to the corner of ship hiding me in the shadows as we waited for the Sullys.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Mama!” Tuk yelled as she swam towards a near by rock. All her family members huddled together in exhaustion.

Neteyam turned around search for Y/n. He kept looking around hoping she would pop up from the water and greet them with victory, but she never showed up.

“Tuk where is Y/n?” Jake asked as he saw the panic on his son’s face. Everyone began to worry about the missing girl.

“She was kidnapped.” Tuk stated with tears began to fall from her eyes. The child began to blame herself for you getting captured by Quaritch.

“It is not your fault my sweet daughter,” Neytiri tried soothing her child, her anger blossomed at the thought of you being hurt. During their stay at the Metkayina tribes home, you were one of the only people who welcomed them with warm arms. You and Tsireya were there to teach them on how to adapt to their ways and teaching.

“I’m going,” Neteyam told his family as he climbed off the rock and began to swim towards the almost sunken ship.

“Son, we need to form a plan we can’t just charge in there and open fire.” He advised his son who just kept swimming towards the ship ignoring his family’s pleas.

“I guess we are just going open fire.” Lo’ak smiled as swam towards his brother.

Here goes nothing, this was for Y/n.

[nomoreusername]

Teresa Agnes Is Innocent?

This is strictly about the movies.

For one, people say she should have known that WCKD wouldn't not hurt anyone. While this may seem like common sense to most, we have to remember that Teresa grew up with them. I'm her memories, they do good. Because of their goal and the way they took her in when she had nobody, it’s reasonable for her to trust them and have a bias.

Next, in The Death Cure we find out they have trackers in their neck. That means that WCKD was bound to find them sooner or later. Her telling them only sped up that process. There was no actually getting out of it.

People say that she is the entire reason Newt became infected. This is a flat out lie. While they did go to the city because of Minho being captured she did not give him the Flare. There are two possible places he did. The first one is when their car got flipped over. In that scene Newt does end up holding his arm. This is from one of two things. Either he just hurt his arm in some way or a Crank bit/scratched him. The other possibility is the movies followed the books when it comes to the virus being airborne. Either way, Teresa did not plan on them coming to get Minho nor did she plan on this happening. She was looking for a cure that would have saved him. Some people say it was due to her long speech. However, that long of a speech could have actually saved him. When we see her giving the speech that is all she is doing. However, someone else turned on the lights, and light makes Cranks violent. That is most likely why Newt woke up and start attacking Thomas.

Now she did end up finding the cure. She could have saved everyone, but there was a war going on in the city which was already killing everyone. This was not something she could have predicted. If that hadn't been happening she very well could have saved the world.

Another huge factor to her not being able to is Janson. Janson has only self interest. He does not care about people who can't give him something he wants. That's why even when there was the cure he wanted it all instead of making more for any survivors of the war who were infected. When Teresa realized this she turned against them completely. She decided to save Thomas instead of something that she had dedicated almost her entire life to and had lost people over. She cared more about someone who hadn't tried to understand where she was coming from instead of what meant so much. She saved him and dragged him up through a burning building. Not only that, she apologizes for her actions and says she tried, showing that she blames herself despite so much of it being out of her control.

Her death was a suicide. That is what makes people who say they laughed when she died do more than get under my skin. They also say Newt would have been happy, but I disagree. Newt was selfless in a different way, and I truly believe he would be devastated to know she had committed suicide.

How do we know this is a suicide? Well, she has people reaching for. She has the choice, but she saved Thomas. Then, she doesn't see the point in going on. She feels so much guilt that she dies a horrific death of burns and falling to the concrete from a tall building. Not only would it be extremely painful, it wouldn't feel so quick even if it may have seemed that way. She would literally die in flames. She was not standing there because she was frozen in fear. She stood there because she thought she didn't deserve to live. The way she was able to stand after part of the building fell and get up with her head held high proves it. That is absolutely awful and unfair of her to believe and feel.

Lastly, she was a teenager. The estimated ages of everyone in the movies from what I’ve seen is sixteen to nineteen. No matter where she fell her frontal cortex was not fully developed which can cause more impulsive or irrational decisions. While it was clearly a very difficult but stern one and she stood by it, my point is that she had so long left. She could have learned so much about herself and grown even more, until she was someone that could be more healed and happier.

Teresa Agnes took her life as a teenager because she felt guilt for so many things out of her control.

Teresa Agnes is innocent.

[random-vore-blog]

May I ask for more sanegiyuu vore? It's so cuteee 😭😭

Of course! I am just gonna use an au I have cooked up. Plus, this gives you an idea of what happened to Giyu :3

Harpy's Lake Gem

The moon was up, its rays casting over the forest where mythical creatures resided in, illuminaring the landscape with its its gentle touch. The forest that held mysteries no human could solve, a puzzle too difficult for the human mind to complete. A foreign, but also familiar space for many who travel across the land to find the place.

Those who entered never came back. Many went missing upon entering the forest, many remains left out by the borders- a warning to any who dare to try to enter the forest without permission. Be it an arm or any other limb or a corpse, it didn't matter. It was still a warning.

But deep in the forest, a lake stood proud in the open in the heart of the forest. Its surface shone like gems, the water calm and at peace. The moonlight caressed the precious surface with care and a gentleness no one knew about. But as gorgeous as it looks from above and on land, there was a sinister aura that lurked beneath the surface- hidden from anyone by the facade of the innocent surface of the water.

The most deaths of humans occured here, in the heart of the forest, where no one would ever find the remains- gone and nowhere to be seen or to find their way out of this place. The lake was a trap- a deathtrap that had worked succesfully for the creature that resided in the lake it called home. It lured the next victims by just its voice alone, a song that no one could resist and follow.

A seastack on the far side, close to shore, sat comfortably with the water gently lapping at it. Ontop sat the cause of all the missing people that dared to enter the forest, right into its webbed hands.

A Siren.

Mythical creatures with the lower half of a fish and the upper half of a man, beings sailors told tales of- with a taste and appitite for human flesh, an appitite no human could understand. Its beauty hid away the sinister side deep beneath the surface. The beauty of the creature used to trick mankind, a facade to disguise their true intentions from mankind- violent beasts that drowned man for its own pleasures and needs. Sometimes feasting on the corpses of the victims it drowned.

The siren on the seastack had a beautiful tail as blue as sapphire stones with white diamond-shaped dots on the sides, the fins a transluscent baby blue colour, hair as black as a raven's with hints of almost invisble blue hues under the moon, dark blue eyes that pulled many in their gaze, fins acting like ears the same colour as the tail, the fingers a light blue colour that spread up to the elbow, claws a beautiful dark blue and webbing white, the upper torso covered in robes of red with a checkered pattern consisting of green and yellow.

The scales reflected the moonlight that caressed them, giving off a faint glow from the tail. It made the creature not only look majestic but also gorgeous and etheral, a beauty no one could take their eyes off of. A mask crafted over thousands of years to perfect the beauty.

The gentle sound of a song escaped its throat, sounding masculine in comparison to most feminine songs sung by the normal female sirens. Thus being identified as a male siren, a rare sight to behold as thete are few left in the world.

The fins on his head twitched as he heard something, another creature that he was all too familiar with. Someone the siren knew and had been friends with im the past, despite their historical rivalry, the wars both of these two mythical creatures had for thousands and thousands of years.

The siren turned his head slightly to look behind him, seeing all-too-familiar bird talons clutching onto the hard ricky surface, latched onto the stone to ensure that they don't let the creature slip off. He looked up, seeing a familiar face he had grown used to.

White hair that illuminated silver when light caressed the strands, purple eyes that glared daggers at him, scars on the face and lips formed into a frown. Dark green armour covered the chest, a black shirt underneath, a cloth of sorts hanging from the sides and tied to its waist, dark green pants that stopped right above the knee where the bird feet began to form. Black wings with white feathers at the edges, the tail matching the colour scheme of the wings. Green streaks right by the cheeks, feathers placed on either side where human ears would be acted as the ears.

" Shinazugawa-san."

" Tomioka."

The voice of the creature was a lot deeper and rough, as if it ate sand for breakfast instead of its preferred food. The hint of venom in the tone gave the siren, dubbed as Tomioka, an insight to what the creature wanted.

It wanted him for something, and that something he was unsure of. He couldn't place a clawed finger on what the winged creature wanted. And that creature was an expert at aerial hunting.

A Harpy.

Winged beasts with the lower half of a bird while the upper half was a human, arms replaced by wings larger than a human's body. Maybe larger than two humans stacked on each other. They came in many shapes and sizes, but they took on the species of any predatory bird. Their excellent aerial control in the air was phenomenal and more executed than any bird, surprassing their bird of prey counterparts.

" Is there something you need?"

The siren asked softly, a curious glint evident in the blue orbs that watched the Harpy with caution. He was aware that he was a delicacy for these aerial predators, nothing but a meal to them. He had to tread carefully if he didn't want to become Harpy food. However, he was unsure if the Harpy viewed him as a food source, seeing as he- identified by the masculine voice- never laid a talon on him.

" Does Kagaya-san need us in his presence?"

" No,"

The Harpy lowered his upper torso, bending it to be on eye level with the aquatic being.

" he does not need us in his presence."

Tomioka made a small frown, eyes squinted in confusion at the words that left Shinazugawa's- as Tomioka called him- mouth. The confusion did not leave his features, not until a talon pinned him against the rock, on his back. His back arched from the sudden contact of the cold surface, eyes widened as they stared at the purple ones that glared at him.

" It is you."

" What are-"

" It's your late night swimming that irritates me."

" Shinazu-"

" NO! Every time I patrol, I always see you swimming late at night!"

His jaws clenched in anger, body shaking with rage.

" And tonight is NO different! You think I don't notice the smallest of hints that you have insomnia?! Or the details like the dark circles under your eyes known as eyebags?!"

He growled, snarling at the being under his taloned foot, wings opened slightly to prove his point, to imply what he meant by his words. Tomioka just stared at him in disbelief, as if the Harpy had said that he had commited a crime...

" Don't try to hide it! I can see it from a mile away! Even Iguro can smell it from a mile away!"

" Sh-"

" No-! I am DONE watching you swim late at night when Iguro and I are on patrol!"

The pressure on the Siren's chest increased, before he was lifted up, off of the cold floor as his tail laid limp on the ground beneath. He had never seen the Harpy this irritated before, let alone concerned for his wellbeing. A warmth blossomed in his chest at the thought of someone caring for him.

" And I am going to do something about it."

He said dangerously low, above a whisper and his voice dripped with anger. Not only that, but the talons brought his face closer to Shinaguzawa's.

Before he could say anything, the lips in front of him parted, reavealing a cavern of flesh. Strands of saliva clung on the roof an anywhere it could cling onto, a tongue slipped out to give him a taste. He didn't react to it, however, as his attention was drawn to the pearly white teeth that were sharp and could snap him in half, crush bone. He was in a state of shock, not able to tell his body to move as it failed to co-operate with him.

It closed in front of him, and he stared at Shinazugawa wide-eyed.

" You taste better than I expected."

The Harpy murmured, tilting his head to the side, squinting his eyes in glee, something the Siren never saw.

Before long, the Harpy tilted his head straight and licked his lips. He- he wasn't going to- right? Tomioka felt a wave of panic hit him like a ton of bricks, a slap across the face full force.

The maw opened again and this time, his head was placed inside. He wanted to struggle, to scream and cry out for help, but his body refused, still in shock and trying to process what was going on.

It was warm, very warm. The humid air inside messed with his gills, threatening him to gasp for air a lot nicer than the dry air he was forced to inhale-! But he didn't, he couldn't. His body didn't belong to him as he was swallowed, body sliding down the now tight tube with ease like he was nothing. As if he was a small fish that slid down the throat of a crocodile... His skin got irritated by the dry air, unable to handle the warmth the air inside the Harpy provided. It was unbearable, and quite itchy.

By the time he got his body to struggle, it was too late as his head slipped into a roomier organ, the rest of his body following soon after.

It was hot, humid and with a liquid that filled tbe organ, stopping the itching he felt on his skin and scales. He panicked, body jerking away at the sudden pressure on his back. His eyes wide as realization of where he was dawned on him. He was in Shinaguzawa's stomach, a place he feared the most.

" Shinazugawa-san! Let me out!"

He panicked, body about ready to hyperventilate as the shock wore off, adrenaline the new booster to help his body to hyperventilate. His body shook.

" Let me out! Please! I beg of you!"

He yelled, trembling as his eyes were blurred by the tears that formed, jerking as a sob left his form. He held his head with both webbed hands, covering his finned ears that flattened against his head and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. The waterfall got out of the walls known as tear ducts.

" Please- please Sanemi! Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

He repeated, unable to do anything but beg Sanemi to let him go, to not let him die in this place other sirens had died.

<_>_<_>

He stared at his middle in shock, where his hand would've been if he had human arms rested on the slightly bulged area his "meal" was in, begging for his life to be spared, pleading.

Did- did he not realize that he... oh no-! Oh nomonononono! He didn't-

Panic enveloped his body when he was called by his first name. Did his insomnia affect him to the point of not thinking rationally? That him and Tomioka were a thing? This- oh god... The thought of digesting a living creature and his mate alone made him sick.

He rubbed his middle, trying to soothe and calm the the hyperventilating Siren down as best as he could while he hummed.

" Hey- hey-! It's okay! It's okay!"

He wanted to calm down his poor mate, tried to reassure him that he was not in any danger- that they have done this before with comforting words! But they didn't leave his throat after he spoke or tried to speak again. The words evaporated from the tip of his tongue.

All he could do was push thrpugh it all and just head back to his place located on a massive and broad seastack where a cave was.

He opened his wings and crouched down, jumping in the air and took off, heading back to his cave- his home. He couldn't use words to calm Tomioka down... he'll just hope that he realizes that he is safe-

His feathered ears twitched as he heard shaky breathes, the heartrate of the siren inside the organ slow and at a pace he was familiar with- that he grew fond of. He sighed in relief, in time to land gracefully on the edge of the cave.

His talons scraped against the stone beneath them as he entered, checking his surroundings to make sure that nothing was out of the ordinary. Besides Genya sleeping in the mest he built for him.

It was a long night, and restless one. He was tired, wanting to gain energy for what the next day wpuld bring. He stopped in his tracks and laid down like a bird, eyes closing as he focused on the weight in his crop. He'll rest his eyes for a few minutes... It wouldn't kill anyone if he rested a little, right?

And so, he dosed off, joining his brother and Giyu in dreamland where everything that had happened was nothing more than an old and bad memory.

The End

Sorry if this is not what you wanted, but I did enjoy writing it! It was a lot of fun to play with these two boys I ship so much!

[msharkness]

The longest summer in our life

Note: This was inspired by a tiktok @alwayssevvy sent me and it has themes from Gone With The Wind, hence the gif. I hope you'll enjoy my first Severus x reader oneshot 💜

Warnings: To avoid spoilers I'll only tell you one thing: TISSUES

It has been more than four months since you last saw him. He dropped you off to a secluded house in the middle of nowhere, warded every single corner of it and then disapparated as soon as he could detangle himself from your hands and lips. He didn’t even see your first tear starting to roll slowly down your face. You understood the urgency of it, the importance of your safety for him. You wouldn’t forget yourself though for not telling him while you still had the chance to about the small life growing inside of you. But you couldn’t actually bring yourself to it, to burden him even more than he already was.

That was in late April. It is September now. You’ve heard of what happened at Hogwarts and your heart broke into a million pieces at the news of Nagini’s attack on Severus. If it wasn’t for the hope of seeing his baby, a miniature him, running in the backyard of your fortress he made for your safety, you would have fled from it and tried to find him at any cost. Merlin only knows it took all the effort you could gather to make your mind into staying where he left you.

May and June were chaotic months. Uncaught Death Eaters kept causing trouble whenever they could, their attacks without any reasoning, just for their pleasure. Every newspaper and magazine had a page dedicated to the victims of the war. Dead wizards and witches who were only now found or who passed away recently in the last surge of the remaining Death Eaters’ attacks. Though his name never appeared  there, no matter how much you checked and double checked that last page. You couldn’t get your mind over what that actually meant. 

Is he dead? Harry’s declaration suggests just that. And if he’s dead then why didn’t they find his body? Is there a body left to be found? Did Voldemort hide his body? Did the other Death Eaters maim him beyond any recognition? Or is he alive? But if he’s alive why isn’t he coming to you? If he were to be alive he wouldn’t leave you without a clue of his survival. He’d send you an owl or someone will come to you to tell you he’s fine. Or even he’ll come and drag you out of the dark place your mind kept swimming to.

No owl arrived, no person to give you the news of his death or survival, no trace of him either. You were in a limbo. Waking up, checking the daily newspapers, spiraling again at the absence of his name on the last page, getting out of this state thinking of your unborn child, rinse, repeat.

August was the month where the Ministry of Magic declared the wizarding world safe once again. You couldn’t be happy about it. Instead you chose to resent it. Because if the world was declared safe, there will be no special page with the dead, no search for the still missing persons in the war, not a chance to find out what happened to Severus. It was selfish, you hated yourself for pouring your acid words on innocent people.

You took off the wards on the home Severus took you merely three months ago and for the first time since he left you there, you started making it your home. It was clear by now he wasn’t coming back, but your baby needed a place to call home.

The pregnancy started to show a little and you hated the pitiful looks on others eyes when they saw you. Like you were some poor helpless widow unlucky enough to have no one helping her during times like this. So you took on wearing dresses. The larger and flowier the better. As long as it hid your growing bump it was good. 

Another habit you developed was sitting each afternoon in a chair by the porch in front of the house, sometimes a long time into the night, watching the road ending somewhere beyond the horizon. Sometimes reading, sometimes just sipping your tea, or even talking by yourself and caressing your growing belly. It was a fruitful activity. You invited any witch or wizard who happened to pass by for a cup of tea and interrogated them about the war. There weren’t many, there were actually more weeks where not even muggles seemed to step foot on the land the house was in than the number of guests you had that month, but there were enough to calm you and put your mind at ease.

It seemed there were more missing witches and wizards than they publicly admitted. Every one of your guests had a relative, a friend, or knew someone who went missing during the war. You weren’t alone in your grief, and even though you started to accept his death with each passing day, you were more than relieved to find out everyone had good words to say about your Severus. He had shown his true self to the world with his final moments, and that was more than enough for your child when it was born into the world. 

And that’s how you end up now too, in September. A light green dress flowing out of the chair you sit in, your hands on your bump trying to feel your baby kicking as the mediwitch said it will soon, your mouth talking nonstop about Severus. You did that for a while now, talking about Severus. You reached the part of him proposing to you. Another thing the war kidnapped from you: the chance to call him your husband.

The sun is beginning to set and you can feel the chill already. Autumn really is enveloping the country little by little. You exhale, imagining what this scene would be like if Severus was alive. He’d sit beside you, a hand on your belly, reminiscing about nothing in particular. And that’s when you notice a flicker of white light in the distance and then a black figure popping in the field. Your hand instinctively grips your wand in your pocket and you sit up in a fruitless attempt to recognize the silhouette. 

It doesn’t do much, it merely sits there and watches you standing on the porch. But then it starts limping toward you, and even though its walk is barely a walk at all, you’d recognize that posture everywhere. Those shoulders and hands balancing his limp, those dark locks hidden in a ponytail fluttered by the evening breeze.

Your heart wants to believe but your mind denies it. There is only one way to figure out if you’ve gone insane or the world did a flip and brought you back your lover. You step out of the porch, steady but small steps at first, wand still gripped in your hand. The more you approach it, the more its features become more familiar. Tears begin to well your eyes with every step you take, until you stop in your tracks and your heart seems to stop for more than a second. It is him. It is Severus. He came home to you. He’s alive. He’s alive.

You drop your wand in your pocket, hands going to lift your skirt high enough for you to sprint to him. Severus instead stops in his tracks, arms opening to accommodate you once you get to him. He dropped walking the minute he saw you run to him. It was painful enough to walk even now, and with your speed you’ll get to him faster than his five torturous steps he got to make ever would.

Nothing matters anymore as you get closer and closer to him. The wind has no power. You make the wind with each movement, hair and dress all over the air due to your speed. Your lungs burn. It starts to become difficult to breathe, and you feel your heart beating in your ears and yet you don’t stop. You have to get to him. And you do.

By the time you feel his big palms on your back bringing you closer to him, you have to push him back slightly because air won’t enter your lungs, as your face seems to burn from the inside. And still one hand of his clutches on the back of your head and leans forward in an attempt to kiss you. Your palms go over every centimeter of him you can reach to make sure he’s real, that he’s there. Your eyes notice the bandage around his neck, the slightly bluish veins protruding from under the bandage, and you want to ask him what happened but you can’t momentarily. You want to kiss him with all your body, your heart thumps wildly in anticipation, and yet you can’t. The sprint took its toll on you and he doesn’t look well enough for the long kiss you both seem to be wanting, needing for what feels like eternity.

Severus sighs, understanding. He’s content only to hold you in his arms and never let you go, and he resigns in bringing both his hands and grabbing your face between his palms, trying to make his fingers remember each and every contour of it. His breath smells like medicine, and that is the culminant point in deciding you’re not insane, he’s just alive. He survived. You unglue one of his hands from your cheekbone and trace it down your body until it reaches your bump.

“This is our child, Sev! We’ve both been waiting for you to come home,” you manage to exclaim through your tears. You feel his hand tense as his eyebrows scrunch into a look of unbelievable happiness you’ve never seen on his face before. The little one moved for the first time the moment it felt his father’s touch. Severus felt it too, you can tell from his eyes who seem to search far beyond for an explanation, trying to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. But suddenly a harsh croaked and yet very recognizable voice escapes his chopped thin lips, “You never told me…” His words, of which he used to be so proud, are  failing him for the first time since you’ve met him. 

You seem locked in place for eternity and you don’t want the moment to end. Feeling Severus’ heat again against your body, feeling his breath on your face, his hands all over you as the proof of him aching for you, his dark eyes taking you in, trying to grab your essence and lock it deep within his memories, your noses caressing in the only kiss you can manage for the moment. 

“Love, let’s go home. I don’t want my two most important people in my life to catch a cold because I finally managed to get on my feet and come to you.”

[escapism-from-the-real-world]

The society within the hunger games has been analyzed and compared to our society many times

Let’s do another one

I think something that’s at the forefront of my mind, especially with the genocide going on in Palestine/Gaza/Congo/Sudan/heaven knows so many more places is how we so easily let murder and genocide slide

And I don’t mean we’re making bets and shouting for bloodshed like the capital did in the books (though, from what I’ve seen, the IDF, Israeli government, and many more are). We protest, we sign petitions, donate to the cause, call and email are representatives, but short of causing an actual uprising and stopping the whole genocide by baring teeth and dripping blood, I doubt we’ll stop them from proceeding with it.

Because the vote has been made, the lines have been drawn and the US government has made it clear that this is something they are willing to do.

Over

And over

And over again

In their own sick form of the hunger games

But instead of letting it be watched from our tv, where we can document and criticize their actions in 4K, where we can openly point in disgust, revolt in a publicly agreed opinion that this is wrong, instead if a slaughter where we can see just how human those people are, how many humans we really are killing

They hide behind walls and lies and manipulative words that guide your attention elsewhere. They murder and bomb and kill and destroy without a single bit of it entering your life in any way. Well, most of it anyway.

(Look up the massacres and genocides the US has been a part of, has funded. It’s there, they just don’t want you to find it.)

In the Hunger Games, everything is so obviously meticulously planned out and purposefully done so we, the audience, can see it, call out the injustice, gasp in horror as children are killed, as they kill each other, and we wonder how can they bot do something about this? Don’t they know it’s wrong? Inhumane? So past what you thought a human was capable of.

Little do we know it happens in real life too, it’s just a little more hidden, a little more tricky to line out, a little more innocent looking, but the intent is the same.

We live in a subtle, almost boring very of a dystopian society. The rich are richer than ever, the poor work long and hard for not even a fraction of the same riches. We notice, we grovel about it, we complain, but ultimately, what do you do? Vote in another bastard to replace the last? Protest against a law that has already been passed in the hearts of our government? Overthrow the government for another?

No, you have kids to feed, siblings to take care of, people and things to be selfish about.

People are slaughtered senselessly everyday and we don’t even know it or don’t even blink at it or maybe so stunned with the reality of the world you don’t know what to do or so filled with rage all you want to do is rebel

Kill a tyrant

What violent thoughts for a seventeen year old to have

But will you? Revolt and kick and scream? Set ablaze to the country you may call home? To deny all the falsehoods of strength and patriotism and freedom that hold our beliefs in this country and actually make a change?

We don’t have a Katniss to start our revolution. We don’t have a game to look down on for killing our kids. We don’t have an obvious target to kill for all our troubles.

We only have each other, sharing stories and advice and truth in our little corners of the internet. We only have wars and genocides that kill more than twenty four and have so many following the deaths of miners, poor families, and victims of circumstance alike. Buried. Starved. Shot without a second thought. We have tyrants upon tyrants, greater evil upon greater evil, fighting for the chance to be game maker this year while still following the same old tune.

That’s what they’re counting on, at least. For us ti be at each other’s throats, for us to wallow in despair, for us to be selfish and heartbroken but still apathetic enough not to care, not to do something about it.

I say it’s time we start our fucking rebellion and get someone to shoot all those fuckers with an arrow.

Because whether we like it or not, our Hunger Games have begun and everyone is on the chopping block.

It can’t just be some of us either, we see how it works out in the Hunger Games. It has to be all of us, together, standing up against these insane shows of disregard for human life. If we can get everyone on board, they couldn’t stop us if they tried.

I mean, that’s why they separated the districts in the first place, right? We have too much power together.

And together they will fall.

Free Palestine. Free Congo. Free Sudan. Free every single place they’ve turned into a district.

[trainer-blue]

there are three terms i see being thrown around in a ton of posts "supporting" palestinians that don't actually apply. if you're someone who calls israel an apartheid colonial state committing genocide and you either actually believe it or have seen those terms often enough to copy them yourself, i encourage you to think a little more deeply about what these words mean:

apartheid:

this term isn't one that you use for just any form or extent of racial discrimination. i have never seen anyone use this term in reference to the united states, and i think everyone reading this can acknowledge that racism is extremely prevalent and systemic here. in fact, i've only ever seen this term used in regards to south africa and israel. if you use it about israel, think about what policies are in place that make it an apartheid state in your view, and then think about whether any other country in the world has comparable ones. if so, why is israel considered apartheid when others aren't? here is some information about the term and why it does not apply. why israel isn't an apartheid state arab political parties and participation in israeli government

colonial state:

to most people, colonization involves taking land from indigenous peoples so that people who are not indigenous to the area / have no ancestral ties to that area can control it instead. colonial settlers could, in theory, return to a country of ancestral origin in which they would be a cultural majority or be safe and not expect to be subject to hate crimes because they are of majority status. one can acknowledge that palestinians have been displaced without it being colonialism. jewish people are indigenous. yes, even the white ones. no, not all jews are white. if any of these claims seem far-fetched to you, or you don't understand how jewish people can be indigenous to israel, i recommend reading these posts: jewish indigeneity from an archeological perspective history of jewish presence in israel

genocide:

"the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group." if israelis-- even the israeli government, which even "zionists" consider right-wing, fucked, and nonrepresentative of their values-- wanted to wipe out palestinians, we would have seen very different actions from them throughout history. one can acknowledge and mourn the loss of innocent palestinian life during wartime without framing it as something it's not. growth of palestinian population rates

"why does it matter what terms we use? isn't it GOOD to exaggerate or use buzzwords to catch people's attention? how else can we make people understand the true plight of palestinians?"

there is no reason to use terms that don't apply, actually. when so many people parrot these terms without understanding whether or not they're accurate:

1. this actual situation gets muddled, leading to people who have done no research of their own jumping to pick sides because they think they’re rallying against "the new nazis." These people may then support Hamas as “freedom fighters,” attack Jewish people around the world, and celebrate the rape, torture, and death of Israeli women and children because they’re “complicit in colonial apartheid genocide” and no longer considered human.

2. you imply that it is impossible to care about or support civilians affected by war if they’re NOT victims of genocide, colonialism, or apartheid states. Why do you need to rely on these terms to feel empathy for palestinians? If you acknowledged that they’ve been displaced by other indigenous people and are being killed in and affected by war, would your fervor for their cause die out? if so, is that a reasonable response to the realization that the real world isn't cut and dry, and not every conflict has a completely evil side and a side that is completely innocent?

3. ACTUAL instances of genocide, apartheid, and colonialism get watered down. I’ve seen people compare this to the Holocaust, calling Jewish people Nazis. Look back at the resource I linked to above. When you compare steady growth of Palestinian populations with the brutal erasure of ⅔ of the jewish population in europe, you are not only overexaggerating current events, but you’re also saying that the holocaust wasn’t all that bad, actually. To weaponize a people’s own genocide against them is. Gross. Especially when recent events have been catalyzed by Hamas beheading and burning babies–rather reminiscent of the Holocaust–and when people continue to deny that the 10/7 attack even took place. Also. rather. Reminiscent of non-jewish refusal to believe accounts of concentration camps.

similarly, when you water down terms like “apartheid” to mean any form of inequality for racial minorities, you deny the realities of apartheid south africa and imply that that’s “pretty much the same” as racism experienced in other countries around the world

hamas calling for jewish (NOT ISRAELI) death

perspective on equating israel to apartheid south africa

thank you for reading. this is not a call to abandon support for palestinians. this is a call to think about the terms you use and the misinformation you've seen.