#and therefore belong in the community?

[aspecpolls]

Poll suggestion:

Straight demisexuals, do you consider yourself part of the LGBTQ+ community?

Yes

No and I don't want to be

No, because I don't feel I deserve to be

See results

No judgement intended, I am an (according to my experience so far) straight demisexual myself and am curious how others feel

[allieinarden]

Underrated line in first Simpsons episode is when Marge says the dog is the best gift Homer could have possibly given the family because unlike a typical present, it’s “something to share our love.”

[sirenium]

TW: Caps, truscum, ace exclusion, discourse (??)

It is absolutely appalling to me that the cesspool that is the truscum subreddit is still alive and well. Don't get me wrong, some of the people seem like fine individuals... at least from my (very) limited knowledge. But others? Holy shit, bro. It didn't take very long to find some sort of exclusionary post; this one in particular claimed that 'saying ace people are part of the LGBT community is like saying atheists are a religious group' and... wow. That is an INCREDIBLY idiotic take, and I'm not going to explain why due to the assumption that everyone reading this has a functioning brain.

It's like they think being any type of queer is all about oppression and pain, and anyone they deem to not experience an adequate amount of it isn't queer. We've seen this with the tucute shit, so tell me why I'm even remotely surprised that at least a few people who consider themselves truscum are aspec exclusionary as well. It makes my head hurt.

Exclusion does nothing the further LGBTQ rights and acceptance, all it does is victimize more people! Making yourself 'one of the good ones' does absolutely nothing! Making other queer people feel like shit does NOTHING to solve the real issue, which is the fact that there are STILL queerphobic people in the world! The fact that there are people OLDER THAN ME who can't grasp that fact is so upsetting to me.

[yzzart]

WHEN I WAS LED TO YOU... ── KENJI SATO

── summary: Kenji could get used to his routine, but, only with you by his side.

── word count: 982!

── warnings: F!reader, nothing intense, mention of Emi and Mina, Kenji being a little needy.

“Come on…” — A voice, entering the melody with softness and familiarity, passed through the player’s ears. — “…i know you’re awake.” — The statement was accompanied by a laugh.

Kenji could easily — in fact, completely — conclude that that voice belonged to an angel; even though he doesn't admit to being so religious, openly. — By having his eyes closed, in satisfied tiredness and drowsiness, he was more likely to believe in his conclusion.

Even in unpleasant, unstable situations and, insanely, worries about his life — like worrying about his stats in games, trying not to destroy the city while fighting some monster, and teaching Emi something practical and not blunt — and not wanting to hear or see nothing in front of him, Kenji had his refuge; a place to feel safe and at peace, at home.

“Ken…” — You voice pleaded, with more sweetness and, trying, to mix a little seriousness. In addition to moving between the thin, silky sheets of your body, wanting to get even closer to the boy.

In fact, he could melt into the bed, right there, just to hear your voice crying out to him like that.

Releasing a brief sigh, and pulling a breathing line, inhaling your scent, which was stuck to the pillow, Kenji tried to communicate with a mumble; which even he himself had no chance of understanding. — Perhaps, his consciousness still remained trapped in his sleep.

Because you found his action funny, your laugh, a little more hoarse, enveloped Ken's ears again; automatically forming a placid smile on his lips. — Moving his head, the young boy, with his eyes sensitive to the light, comes across your image resting on the pillow and covered, just enough, with the white sheet.

Sato was mentally grateful for the privilege of waking up every day with this vision.

"Good morning, my love." — You said, without holding back your wide smile; something that captivated and welcomed Ken's chest. — Your orbs moved, without haste or greed, across the boy's face, memorizing, for countless times, every little dot that existed in the region.

"Morning..." — He replied, followed by a yawn and another grumble; a sudden and unexpected movement was caused in the bed, obviously, it was the player's body snuggling against your. — Like he wants to fit in with you. — "What time is it please…?"

“Hm…” — Your eyes crossed the clock next to the bed. — “Soon, it will be 9:30.” — With his head buried in your neck, Sato let out a whimper, causing a tickle.

“It’s not possible…” — He complained, almost whimpering; as a sign of caress, your hand entered your lover's soft black hair, causing affection and tenderness.

The oldest settled down, and, briefly, relieving a growl, memorizing a purr; feeling on your skin, a satisfied smile adored by the attention. — A true paradise for young Sato and he had no problem admitting it.

“I think someone forgot about the interview they promised for today, right?” — He definitely forgets; by the way his head moved from where it was, and how wide his eyes were, Ken had nowhere to run. — “Yeah, you forgot.” — You raised one of your eyebrows.

“Wasn’t it due tomorrow?” — He questioned, still not believing and with some messy black locks standing out on her forehead. — “I’m sure i had it scheduled for tomorrow.” — He rushed into words. — “Actually, i’m not so sure.”

End of the season, therefore, decisive games for the team and more efforts towards a high level of dedication; it also meant several interviews and moments of questioning about the games, his teammates and his personal life. — Sato understood that it was important, of course, it was part of being a baseball star, however, when trying to balance his life as an Ultraman, a player and, recently, the father of a giant baby lizard, it wasn't such a simple thing.

He wasn't alone, not to mention Mina, and, thankfully, he had you by his side. — Trying, as much as possible, and persisting in helping him; even when, thinking about your care and certain risks, he warned you that he didn't need it. — Evidently, the guidelines were not followed, for a pleasant reason. — And now, seeing you taking care of Emi, as if she were your child, lit up Sato's eyes.

“It really is today, Ken.” — You confirmed it and, unsurprisingly, another wave of mumbles and incomprehensible words and rolled eyes. — “At least, it will be the last one before they enter the rest period.” — Your hand moved along Sato's long, strong, bare arm, reinforcing his attention.

“At least there is a bright side.” — He murmured, shaking his head, prolonging his thoughts, at the same time, reusing the contact of your hand against his skin. — “I need to take a break.” — He said, turning towards you. — “Urgently.” — Like a somewhat defenseless creature, he returned to his comfort, now, with his head under your chin.

"I know, honey." — Your fingers stroked Kenji's hair, for the second time, while his arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you, with the need to keep you close to him. — “And you will soon.” — Subtly, and delicately, your voice soothed him. — “Don’t worry about Emi, i’ll take care of her for today.” — Kenji thanked, once again and mentally. — “And maybe we’ll make a list of what we can do during these days off and she’ll go along with us.”

Your boyfriend's familiar, radiant laugh spread throughout the room, resounding in your chest. — For a short time, Kenji had understood his relationship with Emi and achieved a paternal image; visibly, it wasn't just him. — The small, and immense, baby witnessed you as a second mother.

“Yes, yes, of course.” — He pulled away, coming face to face with you, looking into your eyes, in pure ecstasy and passion. — “You’re the best, dear.” — Bringing his lips to your forehead, Kenji gave you a long, careful kiss.

[gnometa233]

No one's licking the boots of everything. Some people just don't like being called slurs because they don't like being called slurs. My decision to not be called queer isn't to appease any allocishet because I know i'm not gonna appease them anyways. I'm a gnc lesbian who's overweight and not conventionally attractive, i'm not gonna fit in anytime soon. My decision is wholly personal, and you denying that myself and others have agency in that opinion is not only homophobic, but inconsiderate, untrue, and childish. There are a lot of things about me that aren't normal; my looks, my neurodivergency, my interests, the way I talk, etc. Being gay is normal. And frankly, you taking my (and millions of other people's) lack of being queer as a personal attack is hilarious.

I'm not queer because that word doesn't fit me, it's derogatory TO ME, and frankly there's too much wiggle room for people to assume i'm attracted to men. And I'm not. And I'm only going to say this once: I DON'T CARE IF YOU CALL YOURSELF QUEER. JUST LEAVE ME OUT OF IT.

P.S: learn what the difference between a slur and an insult is because Jew and autistic were used as insults but they're not slurs. Same with gay and lesbian.

Hot take: One of the things at the root of the "q is a slur" discourse is that exclusionists base their activism on expanding the definition of "normal", while inclusionist activism is about destroying the concept of "normal".

I mean of course everyone knows the issue is not queer being a reclaimed slur, gay and lesbian are reclaimed slurs too and no one has any problem with that. Exclusionists single out the word queer because of what it stands for. Because it is ambiguous and inclusive, yes, but also because it says "not normal", it embraces deviating, openly defying normativity, being different.

I've seen "q is a slur" people say that they are specifically against that word because they don't want to be seen as strange, because their fight is about being accepted as "normal". I've had an aphobe tell me people saying "demisexual means normal" is a privilege because actually oppressed people want to be seen as "normal" and me wanting my identity to be acknowledged is oppression fantasy. Apparently to them normalcy is so important that having your identity erased is a good thing.

Queer people are oppressed because the world doesn't see us as normal, and to exclusionists the solution is expanding the box of normalcy to fit themselves into it. To them that's what Really Oppressed people should do, and those of us who embrace queerness are privileged because we want to call ourselves "freaks". To them any identity that is ambiguous or out of the ordinary, be it microlabels, neopronouns, xenogenders, aspec labels, m-spec labels or anything else is too weird and "makes the community look bad", because their activism hinges on allocishet acceptance and anything that doesn't fit in a box and cannot be defined easily is not oppressed enough for their taste.

Tl;dr: the "q is a slur" discourse and obsession with normal is just licking the boots of conformity and exclusionist activism is about fitting into the "normal" of the cisheteronormative world, while inclusionist activism entails defying the oppressive construct of "normal". Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

Exclusionists dni, as always :D

[heehoothefool]

"Are cishet ace/aro men queer" holy fuck you people are just awful huh. Really just showing that we haven't moved past the Basically Straight ideology.

As a cisgender, heteroromantic ace individual myself, allow me to tell you a little bit about myself.

I spent most of my life wondering what was wrong with me. I knew very quickly that many of the people who confessed their love for me would not want me the moment they found out I was averse to sex. I would daydream of various men I'd had crushes on over the years spending time with me in ways I was comfortable, but rarely did I confess my feelings because a simple saying rang in my ears.

"You'll never find a man who will love you without sex."

And the people in my Instagram DMs who would call me baby and then ghost me after they figured out the flag in my profile picture spoke volumes to that. I was only desirable because I was physically attractive. No one wanted to love my personality, not if they couldn't also fuck me. It just wasn't an option.

I have been ostracized. I have been told I don't belong. The straight community does not want me because I do not actively desire sex. The very people you're trying to lump me in with because I'm "basically straight" will not claim me because I am not like them.

I am The Other. I am Less Than. I am Strange. I am Queer.

A person born male, who identifies as a man, and is attracted to women exclusively but only in one way (romantic) or the other (sexual) is queer.

That is a man who either does not desire sex, and is therefore Not Really A Man by society's gender standards and expectations, or does not desire a romantic relationship/wife/girlfriend and is called a manwhore dirtbag who sleeps around or is asked eternally by family and maybe partners who don't get it When He's Going To Get Married.

To be straight requires you to identify with your gender assigned at birth, to feel romantic attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, to feel sexual attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, and to only desire monogamy in that relationship.

A man, born a man, who is not romantically attracted women, but sexually attracted to them, is not straight.

A man, born a man, who is romantically attracted to women, but not sexually attracted to women, is not straight.

There is no debate. Yes, even the Demisexuals and Demiromantics. Yes, even the ones who are capable of feeling these things only under the right conditions.

They're all queer. Every single one. Because they deviate from the idea that Every Man Wants To Fuck A Woman And Be A Loving Husband By Default.

If you disagree with any part of this post get the fuck off my blog. If you try to start shit in the notes or in my asks you're getting blocked.

We're here. We're queer. Fucking deal with it.

[spacelazarwolf]

a year ago, i was celebrating simchat torah when my rabbi interrupted the services to let us know there had been an attack on israel. we didn’t know how bad yet, but we prayed everything would be alright. the rest of the service went on as planned, but there was a chill in the air, like we knew something had changed. something big. but we didn’t quite understand it yet.

a year ago, i watched people i’d followed for years celebrate a gruesome massacre of over a thousand human beings before we even really knew what had happened. i watched anons pour into my inbox, demanding i condemn israel even though israel hadn’t even retaliated yet.

a year ago, i talked to my nonna on facetime for her birthday. she was in her 90s and wasn’t as present anymore, and i could barely focus because my thoughts were thousands of miles away. i promised her i’d call her the next day but my next day became scrolling past horrific photos and videos i didn’t want to see, posts celebrating the attacks, posts telling people that if they didn’t celebrate the attacks that they were bad people. she died two weeks later and the same people sharing the posts celebrating the massacre sent me messages telling me it was good my nonna was dead, or extremely crude and disgusting messages about what they wanted to do to her dead body because she was “probably a zionist.”

a year ago, i worked at a synagogue that started getting dozens of calls and emails from people, across the spectrum from neo nazis to evangelical christians to radical leftists saying the most horrific things, telling us it was our fault, that we had to do something, that it was on us. we were responsible. an anon told me i was a zionist because i had a zionist language on my blog (hebrew) and worked at a zionist institution (synagogue).

a year ago, i started losing friends one by one after many of them started to share posts justifying or celebrating the massacre or memes created by neo nazis, some of which didn’t even bother to sub out “jews” for “zionists” but they shared them anyway. i was pushed out of an activist group after months of begging them to stop using antisemitic language because i had the audacity to tell a white gentile in the group not to say racist things about a black indigenous jew behind her back, and said gentile told me he didn’t have to listen to me and that he could “claim” the holocaust too because his ancestors were from eastern europe.

a year ago, i watched in real time as the world i thought i knew, the world in which jews had a future and safety in the united states, crumbled day after day. people that previously went out of their way to take care of me and support me decided that because i didn’t feel comfortable marching alongside pictures of hitler i must be a zionist and therefore no longer belonged. the person processing my government aid didn’t want to approve me because i worked for a synagogue part time and argued that the synagogue should just pay me more because “they can afford it.” my synagogue, which has been involved in social justice since its founding several decades ago, along with its rabbis who have been just as involved, were abandoned by the communities they had put their blood, sweat, and tears into advocating for when they had the audacity to grieve for the dead of october 7th.

a year ago, i learned the hard way that we are not special in this time. antisemitism is a river that has ebbed and flowed for thousands of years, and i felt like a fool for thinking a dam could be built overnight.

a lot of people say that every day of this year for them has been october 7th, but for me every day has been october 8th. the day after the initial shock, when reality started to sink in. the realization that all the people who had shared “happy rosh hashanah” posts or complimented my kippah or pretended to care about harry potter goblins were quickly dropping the facade. that my token minority card had expired and now having a jew in their group didn’t look diverse, it looked “sympathetic toward israel.” every day has been a painful reminder that no one else is grieving like we are, and a large number of those people are angry that we are grieving. they don’t understand that we’re not just grieving the lives lost and the hostages. we’re grieving for the world we thought we knew, a world where we might have a chance to thrive like we did in the golden age of spain. but those golden years are ending. and that is one of the things we are grieving.

a lot of people also say that they wish they could go back to who they were on october 6th, but i don’t. i’m glad the illusion was shattered, that i can see more clearly who will stand with jews even if they face backlash, who will challenge their antisemitic biases and do the hard work to unlearn them, and who did not have to be asked twice to share literal nazi rhetoric if it meant feeling like a hero. i’m glad the masks are coming off because it means you can’t gaslight us anymore and tell us it’s all in our heads. we can see you for exactly who you are now. and we will not let you break us.

i don’t want to be living forever in october. i don’t want the blissful ignorance of october 6th, but i also don’t want the bitter anger of october 8th. i want to stand up for what i believe in, to celebrate my culture and my people, and no amount of intimidation or harassment will keep me from loving my jewishness. you have shown me i can no longer live in october 6th, but i refuse to let you keep me in october 8th.

[anyoldfandom]

Actually gonna add onto this.

Straightness as a reward for conformity is so fucking right. Because even amongst cishet people straightness can be taken away if you do not conform in other ways.

If a cishet man just likes to wear a dress he is accused of being trans or gay. If a cishet woman plays sports professionally she is accused of being a lesbian. If a cishet man cries, or tells his friends he loves them, or even just has a lot of female friends he is called gay. If a cishet woman wants to be the provider for her family, she is "doing a man's job" and considered "less" of a woman.

It's the performance of expectation. It's the fact that you MUST act a certain way or others will deny your gender. It's also why binary trans or non-heterosexual people who act "more like" the stereotype of their gender tend to be seen as more "easily digestable" by cishet people, like they're "not shoving it in your face", because they behave more like the expectation of straightness (which is not me denying their queerness - your self-expression is your own and should be supported, so long as you don't police other people I am standing hand in hand with you).

Straight doesn't just mean cishet, it means a performance of cisgender heterosexuality that matches the patriarical expectations, where men are strong and tough and only driven by anger and logic, and women are dainty and emotional and subserviant to men.

(Not to mention the very eurocentric white perception in these roles too, why in many places POC are denied their gender unless they perform it far more intensely than white people do.)

there is so much about modern queer discourse that could be fixed simply by understanding "straightness" to be a socio-political classification & reward for conformity rather than just a personal identity.

[transmutationisms]

@annevbonny yeah so first of all there's the overt framing issue that this whole idea rests on the premise that eliminating fatness is both possible and good, as though like. fat people haven't existed prior to the ~industrial revolution~ lol

more granularly this theory relies on misinterpreting the causes for the link between poverty and fatness (which is real---they are correlated) so that fatness can be configured as a failure of eating choices and urban design, meaning ofc that the 'solution' to this problem is more socially hygienic, monitored, controlled communities where everybody has been properly educated into the proper affective enjoyment of spinach and bike riding, and no one is fat anymore and the labour force lives for longer and generates more value for employers

in truth one of the biggest mediating factors in the poverty-body weight link is food insecurity, because intermittent access to food tends to result in periods of under-nourishment followed by periods of compensatory eating with corresponding weight regain/overshoot (this is typical of weight trajectories in anyone refeeding after a period of starvation or under-eating, for any reason). so this is all to say that the suggestion that fatness is caused by access to 'unhealthy foods' is not only off base but extremely harmful; food insecurity is rampant globally. what people need is consistent access to food, and more of it!

and [loud obvious disclaimer voice] although i absolutely agree that food justice means access to a variety of foods with a variety of nutrient profiles, access to any calories at all is always better than access to none or too few. which is to say, there aren't 'healthy' or 'unhealthy' foods in isolation (all foods can belong in a varied, sufficient diet) and this is a billion times more true when we are talking about people struggling to consume enough calories in the first place.

relatedly, proponents of the 'obesogenic environment' theory often invoke the idea of 'hyperpalatable foods' or 'food addiction'---different ways of saying that people 'overeat' 'junk food' because it's too tasty (often with the bonus techno-conspiricism of "they engineer it that way"). again it's this idea that the problem is people eating the 'wrong' foods, now because the foods themselves are exerting some inexorable chemical pull over them.

this is inane for multiple reasons including the failure to deal with access issues and the fact that people who routinely, reliably eat enough in non-restrictive patterns (between food insecurity and encouragement to deliberately diet/restrict, this is very few people) don't even tend to 'overeat' energy-dense demonised foods in the first place. ie, there is no need to proscribe or limit 'junk food' or 'fast food' or 'empty calories' or whatever nonsense euphemism; again the solution to nutritionally unbalanced diets is to guarantee everyone access to sufficient food and a variety of different foods (and to stop encouraging the sorts of moralising food taboos that make certain foods 'out of bounds' and therefore more likely to provoke a subjective sense of loss of control in the first place lol)

but tbc, when i say "the solution to nutritionally unbalanced diets"---because these certainly can and do exist, particularly (again) amongst people subjected to food insecurity---i am NOT saying "the solution to fatness" because fatness is not something that will ever be eliminated from the human population. and here again we circle back to one of the fundamental fears that animates the 'obesogenic environment' myth, which is that fatness is a medical threat to the race/nation/national future. which is of course blatant biopolitics and is relying on massive assumptions about the health status of fat and thin people that are simply not borne out in the data, and that misinterpret the relationship between fatness and illness (for example, the extent to which weight stigma prevents fat people from receiving medical care, or the role of 'metabolic syndrome' in causing weight gain, rather than the other way around).

people are fat for many reasons, including "their bodies just look like that"; fatness is neither a disease in itself nor inherently indicative of ill health, nor is it eradicable anyway (and fundamentally, while all people should have access to health-protective social and economic conditions, health is not something that people 'owe' to anyone else anyway)

the 'obesogenic environment' is a liberal technocratic fantasy---a world in which fatness is a problem of individual consumption and social engineering, and is to be eliminated by clever policy and personal responsibility. it assumes your health is 1) directly caused and indicated by your weight, 2) something you owe to the capitalist state as part of the bargain that is 'citizenship', and 3) something you can learn to control if only you are properly educated by the medical authorities on the rules of nutrition (and secondarily exercise) science. it's a factual misinterpretation of everything we know about weight, health, diet, and wealth, and it fundamentally serves as a defense of the existing economic order: the problem isn't that capitalism structurally does not provide sufficient access to resources for any but the capitalist class---no, we just need a nicer and more functional capitalism where labourers have a greengrocer in the neighbourhood, because this is a discourse incapable of grappling with the material realities of food production and consumption, and instead reliant on configuring them in terms of affectivity ('food addiction') or knowledge (the idea that food-insecure people need to be more educated about nutrition)

there are some additional aspects here obviously like the idea that exercising more would make people thin (similar issues to the food arguments, physical activity can be great but the reasons people do or don't do it are actually complex and related to things like work schedules and exercise doesn't guarantee thinness in the first place) or fearmongering about 'endocrine disruptors' (real, but are extremely ill-defined as a category and are often just a way to appeal to ideas of 'naturalness' and the vague yet pressing harms of 'chemicals', and which are also not shown to single-handedly 'cause' fatness, a normal state of existence for the human body) but this is most often an argument about food ime.

[celestemona]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

a when they're dads au series.

pairing: dad & husband! kaedehara kazuha x fem! reader

cw: established relationship, you and kazuha are married and have children. original characters. domestic and parenting universe. quick mention of pregnant reader. slightly ooc to fit the plot. fluff and not beta read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

part i. | part ii.

Considering that Kaedehara Kazuha’ only reputation was his mild personality and free spirit, no one believed that the wandering samurai would one day be able to pause his travels and settle down to a monotonous, homely life.

So you can imagine the surprise that’d be among the fishing and sailing communities throughout Teyvat when they discovered that the white-haired man had not settled down but also married and had children.

Surely it only could be a prank because, after all, was there even a possibility of that happening?

Well, this answer was given by a drunk and laughing Captain Beidou who showed to curious and shocked eyes a photo of his wedding held by the Crux fleet itself on a small and isolated island in Inazuma.

If the residents and locals didn't know her so well they might think the pirate captain was lying. However, looking at the photo closer, the way Kazuha looked at you while you smiled back at him confirmed the undeniable: the man was madly in love with you.

After that, with the help of a few barrels of rum and beer, the story of your love was shared. From you falling from the sky directly (and literally) into the samurai's arms, to the blossoming of your relationship; the ups and downs faced to the marriage proposal, and then the small family's decision to leave the seas to rebuild the Kaedehara Clan together.

Oh, well… Beidou may have let escape one more detail since dozens of wide eyes stared at her in astonishment at this information. However, she was pretty sure Kazuha wouldn't mind if she told them a little bit more about his new life as patriarch of the clan and his greatest prides. You, his wife, and your three children.

The samurai himself didn’t believe that one day he could be so fortunate and blessed to have the opportunity to return to a happy and noisy home. His days as a teenager left him with a deep scar in his heart since his relationship with his father, at first, wasn’t one of the best and therefore staying away from the place that was once his home was the best decision to be made.

Not only had the distance from Inazuma changed his perspective but also an insecurity had blossomed in the back of his mind where he feared that one day he’d make the same mistakes as his father.

Even so, after you entered his life, the only feeling he had when he set foot in the old estate was pure warmth and belonging. Love and serenity that not even his children, while yelling and playing around the mansion, could shake it.

Kiyomi, his middle and only daughter, was, most of the time, responsible for the laughter and noises in the house. Both you and your husband didn't know where she had inherited such an extroverted and mischievous personality, causing you to grow a few strands of gray hair and eliciting genuine laughs from Kazuha. There was no denying that the girl had a temperament as unique as her beauty, which was a mixture between yours and your husband's. And as the only girl in the family it was undeniable to say that Kazuha loved the ground she walked on. Nevertheless, neither you nor your husband would change anything about her, loving and being proud of your daughter the way she is  — because if there’s something prettier about Kiyomi was her heart as big as her stubbornness.

Clearly, the affection of the two parents wasn’t limited to just the girl but also extended to the two sons.

Kazumi is your firstborn son and only three years older than Kiyomi. With such a small age difference, some parents would expect there to be a certain amount of rivalry and jealousy between the siblings, but Kazumi was his father's son in both appearance and personality. With such a sneaky smile and a relaxed attitude, he was often mistaken for Kazuha himself — even sharing the same mindset of preferring to go with the flow rather than worry about small, insignificant things. This didn't apply to situations where you or his siblings were in danger, of course. After all, he took the title of older son and brother very seriously.

Shortly before his tenth birthday, Kazumi had learned and inherited the techniques of the Isshin Art which even took Kazuha himself an entire decade to re-learn. Unlike his ancestors, the current patriarch would teach his children the clan's secret technique so that the art would remain alive. Whether his children would dedicate themselves to it or not will depend on each of them.

Kiyomi didn't seem too interested, neither did Kazumi.

You, though, hoped that one of your children would carry the bladesmithing practices forward but you were also happy to see each of your children following their own path. If not even Haruki, your youngest son who was known to be as hungry for knowledge as any sage of Sumeru himself, seemed enchanted by this idea then ​​the Kaedehara Clan must expanding its businesses in other areas.

The youngest Kaedehara was the prodigy and the pride of the entire family. Your third pregnancy was a big surprise in the house but very well welcomed. Kazumi had just turned ten and Kiyomi was awaiting her seventh birthday when the fragile little Haruki arrived into the world on a autumn morning — although, the first few months that followed weren’t very pleasant as your baby's health was poor, leaving both you and Kazuha with your nerves always on edge.

However, with the help of your friends, the traveler, the Crux fleet, and even Yae Miko’s divine blessing, little by little Haruki managed to recover and finally grow up healthily.

Unlike his brothers who always seemed to be somewhere or running around, Haruki preferred to stay at home surrounded by the comfort of his parents' presence or his books. It took little time for you and Kazuha to realize that at a young age he was already reading advanced-level books and scrolls, and was interested in subjects that even adults would find boring. So it was also no surprise either when an invitation to study at Akademiya arrived at your home just before the boy's thirteenth birthday.

Needless to say there was a huge party before his departure to Sumeru where on one side there was you crying at the sudden departure of your son, Kazuha consoling you and a very happy Beidou getting all the guests drunk.

So, yes. If someone asked Kazuha about what he thought of this new life of his, he wouldn't lie when he answered them that it was a very different reality from the one he had projected years ago. There would always be something to worry about, his days were almost the same, rarely leaving the routine, and every now and then the desire to reach new horizons would always call him.

But in the end of the day, he wouldn't trade a second of his life by your side for his old one. Because, after all, he’s already living the biggest adventure of his life with you by his side, and if there’s something that Kazuha was sure of, it'd be that there’s nothing in the world so rewarding as having your company.

.

.

a/n: i must confess that i have this plot on my drafts for almost two years now but i’ve never found will enough on myself to sit down and write it. nevertheless, i’m thankful for my mind to remind me of this plot and make me re-write new ideas.

those who knows me, or not, must’ve know that i really do love parenting, domestic and pregnancy universe so not so often i caught myself writing about it. it’s so relaxing and enjoyable to picture these guys as dad idk.

i hope you’ve liked it so far. i would like to share more about this headcanon too in a possible future so let me know if you want to know something more about the kaedehara clan. thank you so much, bye!

[ghostlyferrettarot]

✨️💎Jupiter and the signs💎✨️

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🌟If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌟

💎Masterlist💎

♣︎Jupiter in Aries: They tend to be more enthusiastic, assertive, energetic, and full of ideas about how to initiate, promote, or expand ideas. You can also be more stubborn and very persuasive in getting people to embark on your plans and ideas. As Jupiter represents the principle of growth and the notion of something higher, the actions of those born under the influence of Jupiter in Aries can lead to personal development more easily.

♣︎Jupiter in Taurus: indicates a predisposition to use money and material resources correctly and beneficially. Jupiter in the sign of Taurus has a strong tendency to attract wealth and have a good sense of the value of things. Those who obtain it like to enjoy material comfort, good food, various forms of art and the good things in life in general. They appreciate what is good and what has personal value, even if it is expensive.

♣︎Jupiter in Gemini: they tend to be intellectually curious, they can read a lot or be that type of person who is always on the Internet looking for new information, news, curiosities and teachings. Their curiosity can be aroused in different areas, so they tend to be mentally restless and enjoy movement. Valuing communication is an essential part of those who have this position, for example Working in the communication industry, whether with journalism , advertising, public relations or tourism.

♣︎Jupiter in Cancer: these individuals focus on family experiences, knowledge base, past and personal roots. The place where they belong and call their own, is also a place where friends and acquaintances can find greater comfort in case they have problems guiding the course of life. There is a desire to create a safe, comfortable, friendly, welcoming and prosperous family environment that can also be used for educational and fun activities.

♣︎Jupiter in Leo: Optimism, generosity and a kind way of being are highlighted. You tend to like to be admired and valued. Jupiter in the sign of Leo brings the tendency of leadership. Its natives generally arouse enthusiasm in other people, and therefore have the potential to be good leaders. The generosity, firmness and reliability of these natives stands out.

♣︎Jupiter in Virgo: The person will care about the details and the precision of his behavior. It influences the person to appreciate the details, the kind that he can do a lot with a little. They have a superior, prudent, intellectual, analytical and practical nature; They differentiate what is essential from what is not essential, truth from fiction, what is valid and what is not. Their judgment is generally excellent.

♣︎Jupiter in Libra: They are people who tend to worry about the moral principles that guide society, their unions and their interpersonal relationships. Natives with Jupiter in Libra believe that love and justice can create a much more harmonious social order, being more generous people and, for this reason, more popular and loved. These personal characteristics can make them develop activities related to the public. It is not uncommon for people with this position to be attracted to becoming diplomats, salespeople, presenters, etc.

♣︎Jupiter in Scorpio: tends to have a greater appreciation for everything that is hidden, secret. They like to investigate and delve into other people's minds, as well as more ethereal topics, such as death, the occult and religion, for example. Jupiter in Scorpio can discover secret information about the private affairs of others in an extremely natural way. People have the potential to become more resourceful and have very strong and resolute opinions regarding their beliefs.

♣︎Jupiter in Sagittarius: One of the main interests of those who have Jupiter in Sagittarius is higher knowledge. Topics such as philosophy or religion, education and foreign cultures have a lot of meaning and are appreciated. They tend to choose their own system of thought that will govern their behavior and the way they view life. This is the type of attitude that can earn a person the respect and admiration of others in many situations.

♣︎Jupiter in Capricorn: You can demonstrate greater economic or political responsibility, being prudent, cautious and trying to be fair in your judgments. For people with Jupiter in Capricorn, management, status and recognition tend to gain more importance. Due to Characteristics such as ambition, patience, administrative ability and the wisdom to deal with the resources acquired throughout life, those born with this position generally manage to save money and own property.

♣︎Jupiter in Aquarius: they tend to enjoy interacting with people of all classes, races or creeds, without much distinction or prejudice. They tend to be more tolerant and understanding, recognizing more easily that everyone has their place in the world and that in all positions there are lessons to learn. Jupiter in Aquarius are more likely to engage in philanthropic activities aimed at helping others.

♣︎Jupiter in Pisces: they tend to be more emotional, understanding and endowed with a greater sense of compassion. Having spiritual or philosophical convictions, with this positioning, becomes more possible; People can develop a more comprehensive, universal and fulfilling spiritual understanding. Because of this greater search for elevation, they tend to eventually enjoy moments of isolation, becoming more introspective. By meditating, you can better develop this intuition and renew yourself spiritually.

[probablybadrpgideas]

An all knowing litch who does not recognize your party's existence and can therefore not be harmed by you.

Because your characters do not actually belong in that universe because they just sprung into existence the moment you made your character sheet.

You may talk to the litch by using an npc as a medium to communicate. But it doesn't talk to your characters through the medium. Instead it talks directly to the players

­

[queer-geordie-nerd]

Speaking as a goy myself, I think that goyim *really* need to stop casually throwing the word 'Zionist' around, especially when 90% of those who do so haven't done the most cursory of research or taken any time to educate themselves on what it means.

It has painfully obviously become nothing more than an antisemitic dogwhistle to mean “Jew I don't like,” “Jew with a different opinion to me, therefore bad,” “the worst perjorative I can think of, on par with paedophiles and rapists,” (though let’s be real here, most of you are okay with those as long as the perpetrators are “freedom fighters” and you’ve decided the victims deserved it) and “anything Jewish, therefore automatically suspicious,” and the quickest glance at history shows that kind of thinking very quickly and very very often ends up in terrible, horrifying places.

Just stop it.

It is not for us to decide what it means and it will mean different things to different people within the community. That discussion does not belong to us.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: First image shows large falafel balls, one pulled apart to show that it is bright green and red on the inside, on a plate alongside green chilis, parsley, and pickled turnips. Second image is an extreme close-up of the inside of a halved falafel ball drizzled with tahina sauce. End ID]

فلافل محشي فلسطيني / Falafel muhashshi falastini (Palestinian stuffed falafel)

Falafel (فَلَافِل) is of contested origin. Various hypotheses hold that it was invented in Egypt any time between the era of the Pharoahs and the late nineteenth century (when the first written references to it appear). In Egypt, it is known as طَعْمِيَّة (ṭa'miyya)—the diminutive of طَعَام "piece of food"—and is made with fava beans. It was probably in Palestine that the dish first came to be made entirely with chickpeas.

The etymology of the word "falafel" is also contested. It is perhaps from the plural of an earlier Arabic word *filfal, from Aramaic 𐡐𐡋𐡐𐡉𐡋 "pilpāl," "small round thing, peppercorn"; or from "مفلفل" "mfelfel," a word meaning "peppered," from "فلفل" "pepper" + participle prefix مُ "mu."

This recipe is for deep-fried chickpea falafel with an onion and sumac حَشْوَة (ḥashua), or filling; falafel are also sometimes stuffed with labna. The spice-, aromatic-, and herb-heavy batter includes additions common to Palestinian recipes—such as dill seeds and green onions—and produces falafel balls with moist, tender interiors and crisp exteriors. The sumac-onion filling is tart and smooth, and the nutty, rich, and bright tahina-based sauce lightens the dish and provides a play of textures.

Falafel with a filling is falafel مُحَشّي (muḥashshi or maḥshshi), from حَشَّى‎ (ḥashshā) "to stuff, to fill." While plain falafel may be eaten alongside sauces, vegetables, and pickles as a meal or a snack, or eaten in flatbread wraps or kmaj bread, stuffed falafel are usually made larger and eaten on their own, not in a wrap or sandwich.

Falafel has gone through varying processes of adoption, recognition, nationalization, claiming, and re-patriation in Zionist settlers' writing. A general arc may be traced from adoption during the Mandate years, to nationalization and claiming in the years following the Nakba until the end of the 20th century, and back to re-Arabization in the 21st. However, settlers disagree with each other about the value and qualities of the dish within any given period.

What is consistent is that falafel maintains a strategic ambiguity: particular qualities thought to belong to "Arabs" may be assigned, revoked, rearranged, and reassigned to it (and to other foodstuffs and cultural products) at will, in accordance with broader trends in politics, economics, and culture, or in service of the particular argument that a settler (or foreign Zionist) wishes to make.

Mandate Palestine, 1920s – early '30s: Secular and collective

While most scholars hold that claims of an ancient origin for falafel are unfounded, it was certainly being eaten in Palestine by the 1920s. Yael Raviv writes that Jewish settlers of the second and third "עליות"‎ ("aliyot," waves of immigration; singular "עליה" "aliya") tended to adopt falafel, and other Palestinian foodstuffs, largely uncritically. They viewed Palestinian Arabs as holding vessels that had preserved Biblical culture unchanged, and that could therefore serve as models for a "new," agriculturally rooted, physically active, masculine Jewry that would leave behind the supposed errors of "old" European Jewishness, including its culinary traditions—though of course the Arab diet would need to be "corrected" and "civilized" before it was wholly suitable for this purpose.

Falafel was further endeared to these "חֲלוּצִים‎" ("halutzim," "pioneers") by its status as a street food. The undesirable "old" European Jewishness was associated with the insularity of the nuclear family and the bourgeois laziness of indoor living. The קִבּוּצים‎ ("Kibbutzim," communal living centers), though they represented only a small minority of settlers, furnished a constrasting ideal of modern, earthy Jewishness: they left food production to non-resident professional cooks, eliding the role of the private, domestic kitchen. Falafel slotted in well with these ascetic ideals: like the archetypal Arabic bread and olive oil eaten by the Jewish farmer in his field, it was hardy, cheap, quick, portable, and unconnected to the indoor kitchen.

The author of a 1929 article in דאר היום ("Doar Hyom," "Today's Mail") shows unrestrained admiration for the "[]מזרחי" ("Oriental") food, writing of his purchase of falafel stuffed in a "פיתה" ("pita") that:

רק בני-ערב, ואחיהם — היהודים הספרדים — רק הם עלולים "להכנת מטעם מפולפל" שכזה, הנעים כל כך לחיך [...].

("Only the Arabs, and their brothers—the Sepherdi Jews—only they are likely to create a delicacy so 'peppered' [a play on the פ-ל-פ-ל (f-l-f-l) word root], one so pleasing to the palate".)

Falafel's strong association with "Arabs" (i.e., Palestinians), however, did blemish the foodstuff in the eyes of some as early as 1930. An article in the English-language Palestine Bulletin told the story of Kamel Ibn Hassan's trial for the murder of a British soldier, lingering on the "Arab" "hashish addicts," "women of the streets," and "concessionaires" who rounded out this lurid glimpse into the "underground life lived by a certain section of Arab Haifa"; it was in this context that Kamel's "'business' of falafel" (scare quotes original) was mentioned.

Mandate Palestine, late 1930s–40s: A popular Oriental dish

In 1933, only three licensed falafel vendors operated in Tel Aviv; but by December 1939, Lilian Cornfeld (columnist for the English-language Palestine Post) could lament that "filafel cakes" were "proclaiming their odoriferous presence from every street corner," no longer "restricted to the seashore and Oriental sections" of the city.

Settlers' attitudes to falafel at this time continued to range from appreciation to fascinated disgust to ambivalence, and references continued to focus on its cheapness and quickness. According to Cornfeld, though the "orgy of summertime eating" of which falafel was the "most popular" representative caused some dietary "damage" to children, and though the "rather messy and dubious looking" food was deep-fried, the chickpeas themselves were still of "great nutritional value": "However much we may object to frying, — if fry you must, this at least is the proper way of doing it."

Cornfeld's article, appearing 10 years after the 1929 reference to falafel in pita quoted above, further specifies how this dish was constructed:

There is first half a pita (Arab loaf), slit open and filled with five filafels, a few fried chips [i.e. French fries] and sometimes even a little salad. The whole is smeared over with Tehina, a local mayonnaise made with sesame oil (emphasis original).

The ethnicity of these early vendors is not explicitly mentioned in these accounts. The Zionist "תוצרת הארץ" "totzeret ha’aretz"; "produce of the land") campaign in the 1930s and 1940s recommended buying only Jewish produce and using only Jewish labor, but it did not achieve unilaterial success, so it is not assured that settlers would not be buying from Palestinian vendors. There were, however, also Mizrahi Jewish vendors in Tel Aviv at this time.

The WW2-era "צֶנַע" ("tzena"; "frugality") period of rationing meat, which was enforced by British mandatory authorities beginning in 1939 and persisting until 1959, may also have contributed to the popularity of falafel during this time—though urban settlers employed various strategies to maintain access to significant amounts of meat.

Israel and elsewhere, 1950s – early 60s: The dawn of de-Arabization

After the Nakba (the ethnic cleansing of broad swathes of Palestine in the creation of the modern state of "Israel"), the task of producing a national Israeli identity and culture tied to the land, and of asserting that Palestinians had no like sense of national identity, acquired new urgency. The claiming of falafel as "the national snack of Israel," the decoupling of the dish from any association with "Arabs" (in settlers' writing of any time period, this means "Palestinians"), and the insistence on associating it with "Israel" and with "Jews," mark this time period in Israeli and U.S.-ian newspaper articles, travelogues, and cookbooks.

During this period, falafel remained popular despite the "reintegrat[ion]" of the nuclear family into the "national project," and the attendant increase in cooking within the familial home. It was still admirably quick, efficient, hardy, and frequently eaten outside. When it was homemade, the dish could be used rhetorically to marry older ideas about embodying a "new" Jewishness and a return to the land through dietary habits, with the recent return to the home kitchen. In 1952, Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi, the wife of the second President of Israel, wrote to a South African Zionist women's society:

I prefer Oriental dishes and am inclined towards vegetarianism and naturalism, since we are returning to our homeland, going back to our origin, to our climate, our landscape and it is only natural that we liberate ourselves from many of the habits we acquired in the course of our wanderings in many countries, different from our own. [...] Meals at the President's table [...] consist mainly of various kinds of vegetable prepared in the Oriental manner which we like as well as [...] home-made Falafel, and, of course vegetables and fruits of the season.

Out of doors, associations of falafel with low prices, with profusion and excess, and with youth, travelling and vacation (especially to urban locales and the seaside) continue. Falafel as part and parcel of Israeli locales is given new emphasis: a reference to the pervasive smell of frying falafel rounds out the description of a chaotic, crowded, clamorous scene in the compact, winding streets of any old city. Falafel increasingly stands metonymically for Israel, especially in articles written to entice Jewish tourists and settlers: no one is held to have visited Israel unless they have tried real Israeli falafel. A 1958 song ("ולנו יש פלאפל", "And We Have Falafel") avers that:

הַיּוֹם הוּא רַק יוֹרֵד מִן הַמָּטוֹס [...] כְבָר קוֹנֶה פָלָאפֶל וְשׁוֹתֶה גָּזוֹז כִּי זֶה הַמַּאֲכָל הַלְּאֻמִּי שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל

("Today when [a Jew] gets off the plane [to Israel] he immediately has a falafel and drinks gazoz [...] because this is the national dish of Israel"). A 1962 story in Israel Today features a boy visiting Israel responding to the question "Have you learned Hebrew yet?" by asserting "I know what falafel is." Recipes for falafel appear alongside ads for smoked lox and gefilte fish in U.S.-ian Jewish magazines; falafel was served by Zionist student groups in U.S.-ian universities beginning in the 1950s and continuing to now.

These de-Arabization and nationalization processes were possible in part because it was often Mizrahim (West Asian and North African Jews) who introduced Israelis to Palestinian food—especially after 1950, when they began to immigrate to Israel in larger numbers. Even if unfamiliar with specific Palestinian dishes, Mizrahim were at least familiar with many of the ingredients, taste profiles, and cooking methods involved in preparing them. They were also more willing to maintain their familiar foodways as settlers than were Zionist Ashkenazim, who often wanted to distance themselves from European and diaspora Jewish culture.

Despite their longstanding segregation from Israeli Ashkenazim (and the desire of Ashkenazim to create a "new" European Judaism separate from the indolence and ignorance of "Oriental" Jews, including their wayward foodways), Mizrahim were still preferable to Palestinian Arabs as a point of origin for Israel's "national snack." When associated with Mizrahi vendors, falafel could be considered both Oriental and Jewish (note that Sephardim and Mizrahim are unilaterally not considered to be "Arabs" in this writing).

Thus food writing of the 1950s and 60s (and some food writing today) asserts, contrary to settlers' writing of the 1920s and 30s, that falafel had been introduced to Israel by Jewish immigrants from Syria, Yemen, or Morocco, who had been used to eating it in their native countries—this, despite the fact that Yemen and Morocco did not at this time have falafel dishes. Even texts critical of Zionism echoed this narrative. In fact, however, Yemeni vendors had learned to make falafel in Egypt on their way to Palestine and Israel, and probably found falafel already being sold and eaten there when they arrived.Meneley, Anne2007 Like an Extra Virgin. American Anthropologist 109(4):678–687

Meanwhile, "pita" (Palestinian Arabic: خبز الكماج; khubbiz al-kmaj) was undergoing in some quarters a similar process of Israelization; it remained "Arab" in others. In 1956, a Boston-born settler in Haifa wrote for The Jewish Post:

The baking of the pittah loaves is still an Arab monopoly [in Israel], and the food is not available at groceries or bakeries which serve Jewish clientele exclusively. For our Oriental meal to be a success we must have pittah, so the more advance shopping must be done.

This "Arab monopoly" in fact did not extent to an Arab monopoly in discourse: it was a mere four years later that the National Jewish Post and Opinion described "Peeta" as an "Israeli thin bread." Two years after that, the U.S.-published My Jewish Kitchen: The Momales Ta'am Cookbook (co-authored by Zionist writer Shushannah Spector) defined "pitta" as an "Israeli roll."

Despite all this scrubbing work, settlers' attitudes towards falafel in the late 1950s were not wholly positive, and references to the dish as having been "appropriated from the [Palestinian] Arabs" did not disappear. A 1958 article, written by a Boston-born man who had settled in Israel in 1948 and published in U.S.-ian Zionist magazine Midstream, repeats the usual associations of falafel with the "younger set" of visitors from kibbutzim to "urban" locales; it also denigrates it as a “formidably indigestible Arab delicacy concocted from highly spiced legumes rolled into little balls, fried in grease, and then inserted into an underbaked piece of dough, known as a pita.”

Thus settlers were ambivalent about khubbiz as well. If their food writing sometimes refers to pita as "doughy" or "underbaked," it is perhaps because they were purchasing it from stores rather than baking it at home—bakeries sometimes underbake their khubbiz so that it retains more water, since it is sold by weight.

Israel and elsewhere, late 1960s–2010s: Falafel with even fewer Arabs

The sanitization of falafel would be more complete in the 60s and 70s, as falafel was gradually moved out of separate "Oriental dishes" categories and into the main sections of Israeli cookbooks. A widespread return to כַּשְׁרוּת‎ (kashrut; dietary laws) meant that falafel, a פַּרְוֶה (parve) dish—one that contained no meat or dairy—was a convenient addition on occasions when food intersected with nationalist institutions, such as at state dinners and in the mess halls of Israeli military forces.

This, however, still did not prohibit Israelis from displaying ambivalence towards the food. Falafel was more likely to be glorified as a symbol of Jewish Israel in foreign magazines and tourist guides, including in the U.S.A. and Italy, than it was to be praised in Israeli Zionist publications.

Where falafel did maintain an association with Palestinians, it was to assert that their versions of it had been inferior. In 1969, Israeli writer Ruth Bondy opines:

Experience says that if we are to form an affection for a people we should find something admirable about its customs and folklore, its food or girls, its poetry and music. True, we have taken the first steps in this direction [with Palestinians]: we like kebab, hummous, tehina and falafel. The trouble is that these have already become Jewish dishes and are prepared more tastily by every Rumanian restaurateur than by the natives of Nablus.

Opinions about falafel in this case seem to serve as a mirror for political opinions about Palestinians: the same writer had asserted, on the previous page, that the "ideal situation, of course, would be to keep all the territories we are holding today—but without so many Arabs. A few Arabs would even be desirable, for reasons of local color, raising pigs for non-Moslems and serving bread on the Passover, but not in their masses" (trans. Israel L. Taslitt).

Later narratives tended to retrench the Israelization of falafel, often acknowledging that falafel had existed in Palestine prior to Zionist incursion, but holding that Jewish settlers had made significant changes to its preparation that were ultimately responsible for making it into a worldwide favorite. Joan Nathan's 2001 Foods of Israel Today, for example, claimed that, while fava and chickpea falafel had both preëxisted the British Mandate period, Mizrahi settlers caused chickpeas to be the only pulse used in falafel.

Gil Marks, who had echoed this narrative in his 2010 Encyclopedia of Jewish Food, later attributed the success of Palestinian foods to settlers' inventiveness: "Jews didn’t invent falafel. They didn’t invent hummus. They didn’t invent pita. But what they did invent was the sandwich. Putting it all together. And somehow that took off and now I have three hummus restaurants near my house on the Upper West Side.”

Israel and elsewhere, 2000s – 2020s: Re-Arabization; or, "Local color"

Ronald Ranta has identified a trend of "re-Arabizing" Palestinian food in Israeli discourse of the late 2000s and later: cooks, authors, and brands acknowledge a food's origin or identity as "Arab," or occasionally even "Palestinian," and consumers assert that Palestinian and Israeli-Palestinian (i.e., Israeli citizens of Palestinian ancestry) preparations of foods are superior to, or more "authentic" than, Jewish-Israeli ones. Israeli and Israeli-Palestinian brands and restaurants market various foods, including falafel, as "אסלי" ("asli"), from the Arabic "أَصْلِيّ" ("ʔaṣliyy"; "original"), or "בלדי" ("baladi"), from the Arabic "بَلَدِيّ" ("baladiyy"; "native" or "my land").

This dedication to multiculturalism may seem like progress, but Ranta cautions that it can also be analyzed as a new strategy in a consistent pattern of marginalization of the indigenous population: "the Arab-Palestinian other is r­e-colonized and re-imagined only as a resource for tasty food [...] which has been de-politicized[;] whatever is useful and tasty is consumed, adapted and appropriated, while the rest of its culture is marginalized and discarded." This is the "serving bread" and "local color" described by Bondy: "Arabs" are thought of in terms of their usefulness to settlers, and not as equal political participants in the nation. For Ranta, the "re-Arabizing" of Palestinian food thus marks a new era in Israel's "confiden[ce]" in its dominance over the indigenous population.

So this repatriation of Palestinian food is limited insofar as it does not extend to an acknowledgement of Palestinians' political aspirations, or a rejection of the Zionist state. Food, like other indicators and aspects of culture, is a "safe" avenue for engagement with colonized populations even when politics is not.

The acknowledgement of Palestinian identity as an attempt to neutralize political dissent, or perhaps to resolve the contradictions inherent in liberal Zionist identity, can also be seen in scholarship about Israeli food culture. This scholarship tends to focus on narratives about food in the cultural domain, ignoring the material impacts of the settler-colonialist state's control over the production and distribution of food (something that Ranta does as well). Food is said to "cross[] borders" and "transcend[] cultural barriers" without examination of who put the borders there (or where, or why, or how, or when). Disinterest in material realities is cultivated so that anodyne narratives about food as “a bridge” between divides can be pursued.

Raviv, for example, acknowledges that falafel's de-Palestinianization was inspired by anti-Arab sentiment, and that claiming falafel in support of "Jewish nationalism" was a result of "a connection between the people and a common land and history [needing] to be created artificially"; however, after referring euphemistically to the "accelerated" circumstances of Israel's creation, she supports a shared identity for falafel in which it can also be recognized as "Israeli." She concludes that this should not pose a problem for Palestinians, since "falafel was never produced through the labor of a colonized population, nor was Palestinian land appropriated for the purpose of growing chickpeas for its preparation. Thus, falafel is not a tool of oppression."

Palestine and Israel, 1960s – 2020s: Material realities

Yet chickpeas have been grown in Israel for decades, all of them necessarily on appropriated Palestinian land. Experimentation with planting in the arid conditions of the south continues, with the result that today, chickpea is the major pulse crop in the country. An estimated 17,670,000 kilograms of chickpeas were produced in Israel in 2021; at that time, this figure had increased by an average of 3.5% each year since 1966. 73,110 kilograms of that 2021 crop was exported (this even after several years of consecutive decline in chickpea exports following a peak in 2018), representing $945,000 in exports of dried chickpeas alone.

The majority of these chickpeas ($872,000) were exported to the West Bank and Gaza; Palestinians' inability to control their own imports (all of which must pass through Israeli customs, and which are heavily taxed or else completely denied entry), and Israeli settler violence and government expropriation of land, water, and electricity resources (which make agriculture difficult), mean that Palestine functions as a captive market for Israeli exports. Israeli goods are the only ones that enter Palestinian markets freely.

By contrast, Palestinian exports, as well as imports, are subject to taxation by Israel, and only a small minority of imports to Israel come from Palestine ($1.13 million out of $22.4 million of dried chickpeas in 2021).

The 1967 occupation of the West Bank has besides had a demonstrable impact on Palestinians' ability to grow chickpeas for domestic consumption or export in the first place, as data on the changing uses of agricultural land in the area from 1966–2001 allow us to see. Chickpeas, along with wheat, barley, fenugreek, and dura, made up a major part of farmers' crops from 1840 to 1914; but by 2001, the combined area devoted to these field crops was only a third of its 1966 value. The total area given over to chickpeas, lentils and vetch, in particular, shrank from 14,380 hectares in 1966 to 3,950 hectares in 1983.

Part of this decrease in production was due to a shortage of agricultural labor, as Palestinians, newly deprived of land or of the necessary water, capital, and resources to work it—and in defiance of Raviv's assertion that "falafel was never produced through the labor of a colonized population"—sought jobs as day laborers on Israeli fields.

The dearth of water was perhaps especially limiting. Palestinians may not build anything without a permit, which the Israeli military may deny for any, or for no, reason: no Palestinian's request for a permit to dig a well has been approved in the West Bank since 1967. Israel drains aquifiers for its own use and forbids Palestinians to gather rainwater, which the Israeli military claims to own. This lack of water led to land which had previously been used to grow other crops being transitioned into olive tree fields, which do not require as much water or labor to tend.

In Gaza as well, occupation systematically denies Palestinians of food itself, not just narratives about food. The majority of the population in Gaza is food-insecure, as Israel allows only precisely determined (and scant) amounts of food to cross its borders. Gazans rely largely on canned goods, such as chickpeas (often purchased at subsidized rates through food aid programs run by international NGOs), because they do not require scarce water or fuel to prepare—but canned chickpeas cannot be used to prepare a typical deep-fried falafel recipe (the discs would fall apart while frying). There is, besides, a continual shortage of oil (of which only a pre-determined amount of calories are allowed to enter the Strip). Any narrative about Israeli food culture that does not take these and other realities of settler-colonialism into account is less than half complete.

Of course, falafel is far from the only food impacted by this long campaign of starvation, and the strategy is only intensifying: as of December 2023, children are reported to have died by starvation in the besieged Gaza Strip.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord; donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund; buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

Equipment:

A meat grinder, or a food processor, or a high-speed or immersion blender, or a mortar and pestle and an enormous store of patience

A pot, for frying

A kitchen thermometer (optional)

Ingredients:

Makes 12 large falafel balls; serves 4 (if eaten on their own).

For the فلافل (falafel):

500g dried chickpeas (1010g once soaked)

1 large onion

4 cloves garlic

1 Tbsp cumin seeds

1 Tbsp coriander seeds

2 tsp dill seeds (عين جرادة; optional)

1 medium green chili pepper (such as a jalapeño), or 1/2 large one (such as a ram's horn / فلفل قرن الغزال)

2 stalks green onion (3 if the stalks are thin) (optional)

Large bunch (50g) parsley, stems on; or half parsley and half cilantro

2 Tbsp sea salt

2 tsp baking soda (optional)

For the حَشوة (filling):

2 large yellow onions, diced

1/4 cup coarsely ground sumac

4 tsp shatta (شطة: red chili paste), optional

Salt, to taste

3 Tbsp olive oil

For the طراطور (tarator):

3 cloves garlic

1/2 tsp table salt

1/4 cup white tahina

Juice of half a lemon (2 Tbsp)

2 Tbsp vegan yoghurt (لبن رائب; optional)

About 1/4 cup water

To make cultured vegan yoghurt, follow my labna recipe with 1 cup, instead of 3/4 cup, of water; skip the straining step.

To fry:

Several cups neutral oil

Untoasted hulled sesame seeds (optional)

Instructions:

1. If using whole spices, lightly toast in a dry skillet over medium heat, then grind with a mortar and pestle or spice mill.

2. Grind chickpeas, onion, garlic, chili, and herbs. Modern Palestinian recipes tend to use powered meat grinders; you could also use a food processor, speed blender, or immersion blender. Some recipes set aside some of the chickpeas, aromatics, and herbs and mince them finely, passing the knife over them several times, then mixing them in with the ground mixture to give the final product some texture. Consult your own preferences.

To mimic the stone-ground texture of traditional falafel, I used a mortar and pestle. I found this to produce a tender, creamy, moist texture on the inside, with the expected crunchy exterior. It took me about two hours to grind a half-batch of this recipe this way, so I don't per se recommend it, but know that it is possible if you don't have any powered tools.

3. Mix in salt, spices, and baking soda and stir thoroughly to combine. Allow to chill in the fridge while you prepare the filling and sauce.

If you do not plan to fry all of the batter right away, only add baking soda to the portion that you will fry immediately. Refrigerate the rest of the batter for up to 2 days, or freeze it for up to 2 months. Add and incorporate baking soda immediately before frying. Frozen batter will need to be thawed before shaping and frying.

For the filling:

1. Heat olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Fry onion and a pinch of salt for several minutes, until translucent. Remove from heat.

2. Add sumac and stir to combine. Add shatta, if desired, and stir.

For the tarator:

1. Grind garlic and salt in a mortar and pestle (if you don't have one, finely mince and then crush the garlic with the flat of your knife).

2. Add garlic to a bowl along with tahina and whisk. You will notice the mixture growing smoother and thicker as the garlic works as an emulsifier.

3. Gradually add lemon juice and continue whisking until smooth. Add yoghurt, if desired, and whisk again.

4. Add water slowly while whisking until desired consistency is achieved. Taste and adjust salt.

To fry:

1. Heat several inches of oil in a small or medium pot to about 350 °F (175 °C). A piece of batter dropped in the oil should float and immediately form bubbles, but should not sizzle violently. (With a small pot on my gas stove, my heat was at medium-low).

2. Use your hands or a large falafel mold to shape the falafel.

To use a falafel mold: Dip your mold into water. If you choose to cover both sides of the falafel with sesame seeds, first sprinkle sesame seeds into the mold; then apply a flat layer of batter. Add a spoonful of filling into the center, and then cover it with a heaping mound of batter. Using a spoon, scrape from the center to the edge of the mold repeatedly, while rotating the mold, to shape the falafel into a disc with a slightly rounded top. Sprinkle the top with sesame seeds.

To use your hands: wet your hands slightly and take up a small handful of batter. Shape it into a slightly flattened sphere in your palm and form an indentation in the center; fill the indentation with filling. Cover it with more batter, then gently squeeze between both hands to shape. Sprinkle with sesame seeds as desired.

3. Use a slotted spoon or kitchen spider to lower falafel balls into the oil as they are formed. Fry, flipping as necessary, until discs are a uniform brown (keep in mind that they will darken another shade once removed from the oil). Remove onto a wire rack or paper towel.

If the pot you are using is inclined to stick, be sure to scrape the bottom and agitate each falafel disc a couple seconds after dropping it in.

4. Repeat until you run out of batter. Occasionally use a slotted spoon or small sieve to remove any excess sesame seeds from the oil so they do not burn and become acrid.

Serve immediately with sauce, sliced vegetables, and pickles, as desired.

[bitchy-craft]

Their First Impression Of You | Pick A Card

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out what their first impression of you is. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people: therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterpost > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

The first thing your future spouses will do, what may not be seen as something positive for a few of you, is comparing you to the people they’ve had around them, and the people they still have around them. Not in a way in which they figure what part is better and what part is worse, but in a way of recognizing how different you are from all the people they’ve known and communicated with.

They immediately notice how you try to make people around you feel better. How you care for your friends when they are hurt, how you care about the feelings of others and take things that went unjust for the people around you serious. They’ll perceive you as a sensual and kind person, a loving person with a kind and caring heart. Someone who loves to make friends and care for them. This might be done by listening to their troubles, making them food or doing little tasks they might find difficult, boosting their confidence when they need to.

Pile 2:

The first time they see you they will perceive you as curious, as someone who likes to observe and take things in without intervening. Someone who likes to keep track of everything that is going on around them without having people pay much attention to you. Because of this, they’ll gain the same curiosity towards you.

They’ll find it hard to read you, to find out what kind of person you are. To them you might be mysterious in such a way it might make them anxious, but that emotion makes it possible for you two to get closer to one another and quickly find out what is going on behind your eyes, in your thoughts.

Once that barrier of lack of understanding and secrets is broken, the attraction and wish to understand you won’t leave, ever. They’ll continue to find you interesting, amusing, intelligent, addicting. They’ll cherish you for the unique person you are, the person they fell for the first time they saw you, for the first impression they got from you.

Pile 3:

The first thing your future spouse notices when they watch you from afar or are in your presence, is your strong sense of personality. You have this aura and personality they notice, a strong sense of justice and loyalty. You can be dominant in your way of speaking whenever you feel like you need to, whenever you try to make a point, whenever people don’t take you seriously or don’t listen to you.

You can stand up for yourself, you are independent and can fend for yourself. Those personality traits belong to a strong person, a person who knows their worth. For some of you guys getting to the point of standing up to for yourself might still be difficult, but your future spouse will see and know you have it in you, and they can’t wait to see it, to have it used towards them.

They want to be taken seriously and have a good way of communicating in a relationship. Something they’ll think about would be something they can get with you the first time they meet you. They love a person who is clear with their wishes, with their wants and dreams, with their emotions and thoughts.

[pookieace]

you belong with me

✰ . . . bridgerton au, gojo is meant to be a viscount, fem!reader / fem!pronouns used, secret relationship kinda???, mention of arranged marriage, secret meetings (no cheating though) fluff & smut, fingering, ooc gojo idk he’s lovesick and shit, kinda olden day language that i don't think is 100% correct but idc the brainrot is too strong at this point for me to care therefore you shouldn't either <3

✰ . . . 2.5k words i don't know how we got here

✰ . . . i uhhhh binge watched bridgerton in less than a week and i am having the most scandalous thoughts and scenarios about it.. like i am vibrating at the speed of light waiting for the second part to drop tonight LMFAO this is just pure word vomit and brainrot and it's probably shit because i don't remember the last time i sat and wrote smth this long... but oh well !!! i also SUCK at titles thanks taylor swift for having this song

Satoru Gojo loves a good thrill. The thrill of betting his money on horse races or boxing matches. The thrill of playing pranks on the maids or the cooks. The thrill of having all eyes on him as he walks into a room. He knows everyone will stare considering his wealth and the status of his family but it still feels good, feeds his ego. His favourite thrill however? The one where he meets with you in secret. Just thinking about sneaking away from the public eye, trying to find a quiet place where you two could have time alone, where you could kiss and touch each other, sent goosebumps all over his body. It excited him.

You're not sure why you let him coax you into it though. As a lady, you should be prim and proper, present at the balls or social gatherings. You're meant to be talking to your friends or making conversation with respectable suitable gentlemen, or in the midst of getting courted. Perhaps it is because Gojo Satoru is a breath of fresh air in such a repetitive lifestyle that you keep sneaking off in the middle of the gatherings to see him, and it's certainly no different tonight.

In the middle of the ball, you see Satoru’s tall figure slip past a group of people and off into the shadows. To avoid being seen as suspicious, you need to wait a few moments before you too find yourself following after him. The minutes of waiting around feel like hours however, your feet are itching to just walk off and run to him, but you can't. It would be seen as outrageous for a lady to be seen with any man alone, it would cause an uproar within the community, spreading amongst the partygoers and even the ones who didn’t come within a matter of hours.

Then finally, after what feels like eons, you excuse yourself from the people you were chatting with. You're glad the ladies you were with are attempting to woo the gentlemen that had approached the group by fluttering their hand fans and blinking excessively. Quietly, you make your way towards the corridors. The females are too busy trying to gossip and the men are trying to prove their wealth or talk about their mistresses which makes slipping away into the shadows easier.

You are quite lucky that it was your family who was responsible for today's ball. It made it easy to find a secluded place where you and Satoru could meet without having to worry about a member of the ton or one of your maids accidentally finding the two of you alone, god forbid that from happening. You hold your dress up so you don't trip over it, walking briskly to one of your many gardens at the back of your family's estate. It is dark outside and the air is now chilly, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you slow down and try to squint in the darkness, attempting to spot your favourite white haired male.

"Oh? What do we have here? A rather fine young lady, all alone. With no one around... but me." You'd recognise that teasing voice anywhere and you're immediately spinning around to face him with a smile on your face.

"Lord Gojo." A pout on his face grows almost immediately as you bend at your knees to bow at him, a gesture of respect that has been conditioned into your very being since you were a little girl.

"I thought I told you to call me–"

"Just Satoru, yes. I am well aware of that." The use of his first name has him smiling almost as quickly as he had pouted, and in only a couple of steps he is directly in front of you, chest in your line of sight. You have to tilt your head upwards to get a good look at his handsome face.

"I have to say, I rather enjoy the way my name falls from your lips." He's not slick with his eye movements, tongue darting over to lick at his plump pink lips while his eyes glance at your mouth and back to hold your gaze again. "You make it sound... Pretty."

"Well, it is a pretty name for a pretty boy. Your mother did well at picking it."

"Darling, as much as I adore my own mother, I did not ask you to meet with me so I could listen to you praise her."

"Oh Satoru!" You have to cover your mouth so you don't laugh out loud and garner unwanted attention. "Are you jealous of your mother?"

"I am not!" He hushes you, thankful that you are meeting in darkness and the only light is from the moon so you don't see the blush of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Not of her at least."

You are about to open your mouth to ask what he means but he beats you to it. "Lord Basset was rather close to you... Was he not?"

"He spoke to me for a mere two minutes, if that, Satoru. Besides, all he asked was how my family was doing, nothing more."

"Two minutes too many if you ask me." There is a slight growl in his voice as he mumbles unhappily, large hands pulling you close to his frame by your hips.

"Perhaps you need to start courting me in public."

"Sweetheart." He sighs, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "The sooner my father realises I do not wish to marry the woman he has chosen for me, the better. It is torment trying to stay away from you in public. Mother is attempting to talk to him now, I think she may know I have someone else I would rather be courting."

You feel him furrow his eyebrows, scrunching them up as he speaks and thinks about the marriage his father is trying to get him to agree to. His father is a businessman, and the marriage, If Satoru agrees, would give them more wealth and more power – Something that the Gojo family already has ample amount of according to Satoru but it was not enough for his father.

"Toru," You begin, voice barely above a whisper. "I can wait for you. I will wait, do not worry about that."

"What did I do to deserve such an understanding woman like you?" Satoru exhales deeply, letting out a breath of air he did not realise he was holding all this time.

"For one, forcefully drag me to meet with you secretly."

"What a strange way to say I wooed you with my charms."

“What charms exactly?”

“Oh, you know. My pretty face, my sense of humour, how witty I am– oh! Lets not forget how tall I am.” You’re holding back a laugh as he lists off his so-called charms to you.

“Let us not forget how you were looking not so subtly at my hands when we first met either. Or my pants, not very ladylike of you, is it?”

“That is not my fau–”

“Oh so you are blaming me for your pervertedness?!” He gasps rather too loudly and you’re quick to cover his mouth with panic.

“Satoru! Please… Keep it down!” You’re whisper-yelling at him, heart pounding as you look around with fear.

He just hums against your hand over his mouth, rubbing your waist as he removes it and kisses the tips of your fingers gently. “You are afraid of being seen with me.”

“Unchaperoned, yes. You are well aware of how everyone will talk about a lady being seen alone with a man such as yourself.”

“Would it not be for the best if we were seen by someone though? Then, I would be forced to marry my little secret, and my father would be forced to give up on his ridiculous quest to marry me off.”

You can’t find yourself to talk back to him and put his crazy idea to rest because he did have a point, unfortunately.

“Sweetheart,” He began, peppering kisses on the tips of your fingers to your wrist, all the way to your inner arm and eventually leading his lips to your neck. “Please, let us be caught.”

“S–Satoru– We can’t… The public scrutiny, the ton–”

“Fuck what the ton has to say. I feel as if I am dying from not having you by my side. Do you know how bad I want to kiss you? How I want to promenade with you, to show you off to the men, to let everyone know you are mine and mine only just as how I belong only to you?”

Satoru’s hands wander to the curve of your ass as he speaks his heart out, large hands groping the flesh best he could over layers and layers of your clothes. You feel him breathing heavily against the skin of your neck, which is soon followed by him inhaling your scent with his eyes closed shut. Then, he’s cupping the side of your face, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip which has him gulping as he waits for verbal consent.

“Satoru. Touch me.”

And he wastes no time in doing so, capturing your lips in a rather messy and sloppy kiss that you are sure will do nothing but mess up the expensive lipstain you are wearing.

You push him further into the shadows where you know not a soul will be able to see you two from the lack of light. He’s against the brick wall and he lets out a small grunt into the kiss but makes no effort to pull away from your mouth. Instead, he takes a hold of your waist and spins the two of you around so now you are hidden in the shadows. By chance, if someone was to see the both of you, your body would be hidden and you wouldn’t be exposed.

Satoru always kisses you with passion, as if there’s a fire burning inside of his body that only you can put out but something about this particular kiss feels far too different to any kiss you have shared before. It feels more urgent. More desperate, you can physically feel it with how hard his lips press against your own. How he grunts and groans into the kiss, how his hand is now cupping the nape of your neck to keep you in place while the other pulls your waist into his own crotch. It allows you to feel the hardness in his pants against your stomach and has you letting out your own set of whimpers.

Momentarily, he pulls back to allow you to breathe. “Let us be caught.”

“Do not try and convince me when you have made my head go dizzy with lack of air.”

“Perfect time, is it not? Come on sweetheart, do you not want to have all of me? To feel all of me?”

“You are a disgusting pervert.” There’s no bite behind it however. Not when your thigh is being wrapped around Satoru’s waist and you feel his hands inch further and further up your thighs.

“Yeah? Why don’t you say that again, you know I love it when you call me names.”

If you weren’t seconds from being fingered, maybe you would have hit his shoulder but you feel the pads of his fingers rub your mound over your undergarments before you could do so.

You’re sighing in pleasure as he continues to tease you over the fabrics but you grow impatient. It’s not as if you haven’t been in this very compromising position before, you’re well aware of how long the white haired male can tease you for, how much he loves it. But when you are in public, only a couple of hundred yards away from the partygoers on your own estate, it is not the time for hours upon hours of teasing, especially not against a brick wall.

“Toru, please. More…”

He pretends not to hear you, keeping a straight face as he keeps on holding your thigh up as the other hand continues to touch you but not really give you what you truely need.

“Toruuu, now is not the time to be a tease.”

“Oh? What’s that? I couldn’t quite hear you sweetheart. Would you mind speaking a little louder for me?”

“Satoru!”

“Y/N!”

Your head tilts back out of anger, hitting against the brick wall behind you with a gentle thud. You despise how he’s choosing to act with you right now.

“Say it.” He speaks, but it’s not using that annoying, teasing tone of his he usually gives you when you want him to touch you more. It’s serious. “Say you are mine.”

His eyes lock onto yours, keeping eye contact as he waits for your answer.

You do not keep him waiting, cupping the side of his face as you speak with sincerity. “I am yours, just as you are mine.”

Satoru feels his cock twitch in his trousers, wanting nothing more than to be balls deep in you right after you said that, but not yet. He can wait, he will wait for you to marry him before taking away your virginity. He’s a gentleman, albeit that gentlemanly honour is hanging by a mere thread when you speak about belonging to him with that pretty voice of yours.

But his fingers are quick to push your undergarments to the side and allow you to truly feel his touch in all its glory. Even in the darkness, he knows exactly where to touch, and he finds the little nub that makes you feel good with ease that it’s almost scary. He allows his fingertips to make circles on it, and you’re burying your face in the suit jacket he’s wearing to drown out your noises that you know will get louder and louder.

His digits have you so riled up and wet in a matter of minutes that his fingers are easily buried in your warmth with one swift move.

You always feel full, how could you not when he has such large hands and long fingers. “Feels— so good, ‘Toru.”

“I know sweetheart.”

“Much better than when I do it to myself…” You know he loves hearing words that boost his ego and god, did it make him feel things. It garners a low growl from him, and he’s pumping his fingers into you with such vigour you swear you two will be caught with just how loud the skin slapping and sloppy noises are.

It does not take long for you to reach your high, two digits in your pussy whilst one rubbed your clit and you’re cumming with shaky thighs and a soft cry of the man’s name, thankful that he’s holding the back of your head and pushing your face into his chest so you don’t accidentally moan out loud.

“Marry me.” He whispers, forehead resting against your own as you pant and come down from your orgasm.

“Get me a ring and I will say yes in a heartbeat and fight your father for your hand in marriage, Satoru.”

i also can’t write endings for shit rip me </3