#because believe it or not. a lot of this country is built on the backs of native tribes bc its literally stolen land

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[asha-mage]

Because I am coping with current world events in a completely normal manner I've been thinking a lot about how one of the tensions that underpins the whole of Wheel of Time is Robert Jordan as 'person who likes history' vs Robert Jordan as 'person who had to live through the Cold War.'

Something that can be really hard for people born after the Cold War (like myself) to grasp is that for a long time history was the ultimate reassurance against existential dread. Civilizations could rise and fall, empires could crumble, disasters could wipe out a hell of a lot of people, but human beings as a species, where never in any real danger of dying out. New countries would eventually rise out of the ashes of old ones, societies would change to be unrecognizable but they would still be there, religions, cultures ideologies etc might all die out but the people would still be around. History provided the ultimate comfort: whatever happened in our brief finite lives human beings as an group would eventually be fine.

But that changed after World War 2 and the invention of a little something called the atomic bomb. Suddenly human beings had the potential to destroy not just ourselves but all life on earth if things went wrong enough. For the first time in history their was no real guarantee that human beings as a species would make it, and in fact their was a whole lot of reason to believe based on the patterns of history that eventually that power would get used and human kind would destroy itself. That was the Cold War- two nuclear states who really really wanted to start blasting each other to pieces but couldn't without risking the end of life as we know it.

The tension between these two realities- the assurance of history that life will go on and the reality that human beings could in theory actually end the fucking world, is built into the core of Wheel of Time. The first lines assure us: time is cyclical. It's all happened before. It's all going to happen again. Human being will live out the same stories in endless variation, the same patterns will always reemerge. And the world has already survived one apocalyptic event: the Breaking, and come out the other side not doing fantastically, but still around. The world has been reshaped forever and whole eras of progress have been undone, but humanity remains.

But at the same time doomsday weapons with the potential to wipe out the species are everywhere. The Choden Kal can crack the planet open like an egg. Balefire burns apart time itself. A plague of madness is waiting for any old schmo to wander into it's den and carry it back outside so it can infect and destroy everyone. Their are all kinds of different big glowing red 'destroy humanity' buttons laying around in WoT just begging to get pressed. And in a way the Dark One is the ultimate version of that because that button has already been pressed. The Bore has been opened. Left alone humanity is fucked and everyone knows it. It can be delayed and pushed back, but never truly stopped, except by the intervention of destiny- the intervention of the Dragon. That's the core conflict of the series. Rand is struggling to stop a missile that's already been launched, prevent an end everyone can see coming. It's not just 'I need to defeat the big bad evil overlord or everything will be bad forever', it's 'I need to stop the Dark One or that's the end of human beings as an idea'.

What's especially interesting is that Jordan isn't even framing the Wheel/Pattern as uniformly good, because it's history and history is messy and complicated and full of contradictions and no easy answers. The Wheel, the Pattern, is not some force for righteousness. It's a neutral fact of existence. Not what's best or what's ideal- those are subjective and grounded in human understanding of the world- but what's necessary and what's true. To want to break free from history, to break the Wheel, is to want to break free of being human. That's what the Forsaken all truly want (as I have talked about before): to leave behind their humanity, and their willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to do it. What that looks like and what motivates that desire is different for each of them but their united in that common goal, and they all either disregard the consequences of what it will mean or don't understand them.

The story of history is one of incredible suffering and amazing triumph: it's full of heartache and joy in equal measure. It's not fair or just or simple to understand, but it is a reflection of who we all are collectively. The fight to preserve the Wheel isn't a fight to preserve what is good or ideal, it is a fight to preserve what is human. Because as long as the story can keep going, we can have hope for tomorrow.

And Jordan promises right from the offing that their will always be a tomorrow. No beginnings. No endings. Just whatever comes next.

As we enter a period of history that is the most uncertain it's ever been in my lifetime, I can't help but I think of the incredible courage and strength it must have taken be staring down the barrel of nuclear armageddon and stubbornly insist that there would be a tomorrow. The man wrote eleven of the best books ever made exploring this exact struggle- about never giving in to despair or pain, never buying into the belief that things are hopeless, that humanity sucks and we're all doomed.

And remembering that...I don't know. It makes a little easier to breath and keep walking towards tomorrow myself.

[frownyalfred]

Do you think new league members ever get surprised by the built-in nepotism? Like Bruce being who he is like codified rules of hero title succession (like Dick taking Bruce's place as Batman and with it, all his founder status) or the Flash being a titled with a long history of being passed down. I mean, Bruce is even planning on Dick inherenting the league to become it's leader.

Do you think new members look at the member handbook, in the students, apprenticeship, partnerships, and sidekicks, and go "huh. That seems kinda... rigged??". Because honestly? If you're great, sure you can gain a lot of respect and power in the league but you'll never gain more power (from admin power to social power to beyond) then the founding members and founding membership can be inherited.

It's an interesting question. I can't speak to the canon responses very much, but I imagine it has a lot to do with people respecting the hell out of Dick Grayson/Nightwing and knowing he truly is the best leader to inherit Bruce's role. Batman's motivations in assigning that role to Dick isn't for some personal benefit, or a continued stake he wants to maintain in the League. He's not giving the position to Dick, essentially, to benefit himself or Dick -- he's giving it to Dick because he truly believes Dick is the best person to pick up the cowl after him. If he wasn't, I don't think we'd see Bruce handing off the League and Batman to someone who wasn't ready or wouldn't ever be ready.

I will also note that this 180 on nepotism is a very very new gen z phenomenon. I'm not saying I agree one way or another, so don't reblog saying frownyalfred says nepotism is okay. But also, we need to take a step back and realize that for a very long time in this country's history, nepotism, especially in "family" businesses, was damn near expected. Parents gave their kids their businesses when they wanted to retire. Dads hired their sons in their offices, etc etc. There were shades of nepotism, too -- giving a random son a title he didn't earn, versus hiring your accomplished son who just graduated top of his law school. It's not as clear cut as people online would like you to believe, that all nepotism is horrible, that all positions are unearned if they are given by family/friends, and that the worst thing in the world you could do is commit an act of nepotism and not, like, anything else more horrible. That's a tumblr/tiktok thing, which I feel I'm allowed to call out as a fellow member of gen z.

The Justice League isn't a business per se, but it is still something Bruce built and funds. So while we might see some mutterings about nepotism, yeah, I don't imagine anyone is going to get in Bruce's face and give him grief for giving his 1) highly qualified son a 2) position he trained for, for years that 3) Dick is ready to take when Bruce is done 4) in Bruce's own damn house (satellite).

Looking at hero succession through the lens of nepotism does the characters a disservice, I believe. We're applying a 2020's phenomenon (which is shedding important light on irl inequality and inequity, don't get me wrong) and ideas of "fairness" when the subjects are vigilantes and heroes.

And, disregarding everything I just said, the League itself does things by vote -- voting in Dick Grayson and having those checks/balances to Bruce's own goals is important, which is why he built them into the League itself. He can lobby the League, propose Dick, indicate his own preferences as a voting member, but if the entire Founders' table disagrees with him? His hands are kind of tied.

[sapphiresaphics]

I started this blog because I wanted reblog positive posts about Arcane and sapphic content in general. I was never expecting that it would turn into a “defend Arcane” account because I never expected this HUGE backlash to the second season of Arcane.

But in that time I’ve been observing the various reasons for WHY this backlash exists and over time I’ve noticed a distinct pattern in them.

Arcane vs Puritanism

To get into this you need to understand that America was built upon puritanical ideals. The first major settlers to America came here because they felt persecuted by Catholics in England. And while the foundation of America as a country was based more on agnostic beliefs, those underlying puritanical christian beliefs persevere to this day.

Puritans believe that if you commit a sin, you are forever tainted and no amount of piety will remove this dirtying of the soul in the eyes of god. As a result they do everything in their power to adhere to STRICT MORAL CODES. The idea being, if you never compromise on your morals, you will never be tained and god will accept you into the Kingdom of Heaven.

This isn’t a purely American concept, of course, but Americans definitely do things to the EXTREEM. And as a result both conservatives AND liberals have a tendency to have extremely STRONG senses of moral purity. Conservatives tend to want to uphold the systems in place (copaganda) while liberals want to tear down all the systems of oppression (jinx did nothing wrong).

Additionally, with the rise of kids animated shows being more nuanced, a lot of the people who are watching Arcane are on the young side. They are exposed to a world where they have these heightened moral ideals, and the media they watch backs up their morality.

A show like Gravity Falls (for example) might have some questionable jokes here and there, but at the end of the day the good guys are good, and the bad guys are bad. Bad guys get punished, good guys are rewarded. The puritan morality is upheld.

And therein lies the problem. Arcane isn’t interested in being morally pure. It’s a very HUMAN story about the ways in which systems and people perpetuate a cycle of violence that affects everybody. That’s not even a “centrist” belief, either, but because of this puritanical framework of black and white morality, BOTH sides have ironically condemned the show for not following through on their chosen ideology enough.

This is why characters like Ambessa aren’t discussed by the Arcane Critical crowd. She’s OBVIOUSLY a bad guy. She does BAD things. And in the end, she is “punished” for her transgressions and dies. Death is ALWAYS a suitable punishment in purity culture. If a character dies, it’s because they transgressed in some way and need to be punished.

(Incidentally this is where the “bury your gays” trope comes from. Because being gay was seen as being morally un-pure, and as such if you depicted a gay character in g your story you MUST kill them off by the end to maintain the status quo.)

And this is WHY characters like Caitlyn are so hotly debated. Because Caitlyn represents the rich and powerful and therefor “bad” class of people. She does morally questionable things, and therefor she taints her soul and NEEDS to be punished.

But… she doesn’t die. Nobody holds her “accountable” for her crimes. Losing an eye isn’t suitable punishment and she ends up with the woman she loved. That’s… that is not morally pure writing! That’s the show REWARDING her for doing BAD things! We can’t have that! That’s WRONG! That’s not how you write a story! The writers SUCK! This is INCONSISTENT!!!

This is also why they can like characters like Silco. Because for all of his faults, he dies. He is punished. This is also why they can like season 1 more. The bad people (Piltover) are punished by jinx. Silco, (the bad guy) is punished with death.

This is why they hate the writing in season 2 in regards to Zaun and Piltover. It’s not that the writers dropped the storyline of the class struggles, it’s that Piltover wasn’t PUNISHED enough for their crimes and are allowed to continue to oppress the poor people of Zaun.

“That’s not good writing! If you set up a story about classism (good v bad) then you MUST have bad lose!”

This is also why they have to EXAGGERATE the crimes of characters. Because Caitlyn tactically JUST going after Jinx isn’t enough. She must’ve GASSED THE WHOLE CITY OF ZAUN! Because she’s an OPPRESSOR. And Piltover is EVIL. And BAD things have to happen to BAD people! And since these punishable bad things don’t happen to Caitlyn, they have to exaggerate her crimes to justify WHY the writers suck. Because clearly at this point it MUST be the writers fault for failing to punish Caitlyn for her crimes!

I do not think this applies to every aspect of the criticisms I’ve seen against Season 2. I’ve admitted myself that there are definitely some structural issues to the season. But the more I read the “complaints” from the most vocal people about Arcane Season 2, the more I’m realizing that it really does boil down to this idea of black and white moral purity and accountability.

Which is not what a show about morally grey characters was EVER going to satisfy.

[midday-headcanons]

FE3H Faction Fashion Aesthetics

Making a personal resource for myself and others to use. Hoping to make it easier for myself when designing ocs for the universe going forward. It's a lot more obvious in Three Hopes than in Three Houses, but the same thing applies.

Adrestian Empire

Exemplifying the supposed opulence of Adrestia, there are a lot of curves and flares in Adrestian armor and clothing. While the armor is built with a heavy emphasis on form, it does not sacrifice function. They favour the warmer colour spectrum, with some exception.

Tassles, fringe, balloon hems, and large capes are used en masse, creating a larger, tapered frame that can also be interpreted as imposing or meant to attract attention. Like the large plumage of a peacock or, well, an eagle.

They style themselves like birds, a regal distraction from their strength. (How appropriate.)

Holy Kingdom of Faerghus/Faeghus Dukedom

Layers, layers, Layers.

The clothing in Faeghus is entirely meant to keep you warm, and the armor is layered, sturdy, and functional. Even the mages and speed focused warriors wear layers to protect themselves from the elements, usually following the cooler colour spectrum.

Accessories and jewelry are typically simple - likely a nod to the poverty of the country itself and a focus on knightly culture - and most of the catching details come in the form of colour and the way the layers are implemented.

Also, very important, furs!! Like the manes of lions, nearly all of the noble characters hailing from Faerghus in Three Hopes wear some form of fur. (Sylvain is the only exception to this rule, as he wears a scarf instead.)

Leicester Alliance/Federation

Leicester has very little in the way of cohesive clothing design. That is, however, because there is a heavy emphasis on form and ease of movement.

The armor is typically light, if available at all, and is comfortably located primarily around the chest. Clothing is loose and airy, a physical representation of the city-state's very fluid nature.

As for the colours, they are vibrant and colour a wide range of the spectrum, not totally centered around one particular side - another nod to their unorthodox standard of living. Spots, eye-catching patterns, and long fluid lines -- that's the Golden Deer for you.

Duscur, Brigid, and Almyra

So, it took some digging, but I believe a lot of the basis for these three specific places is heavily borrowed from African, Celtic/Hawaiian, and Persian cultures respectively.

Using Dedue as the basis, Duscur style appears to be very much inspired by a mix of the ancient Nubians - particularly the Kushites - and the ancient Egyptians. Focusing mainly on the golden or potentially copper adornments and textiles he wears, I imagine their style was heavily focused on mixing patterns with a wide array of colour. (Dedue mixes that alongside Faerghus-style armor and layering, a very good example of character-driven character design.)

At first, I had assumed Brigid had more of a Hawaiian leaning due to a number of factors concerning Petra specifically, how the location is a tropical archipelago historically sought after for resources/colonization by foreign armies, and a lot of... other less than savoury historical tidbits. But, after some research, I discovered a lot of Celtic inspirations as well! Flowing clothing with form fitted areas only where necessary, tattoos around the arm and upper back, golden neck rings and bangles, and elaborate hair braiding styles are the name of the game on Brigid.

Almyra is, almost incredibly so, inspired by the ancient Persian (Achaemenid) Empire -- an empire known for its warriors and its lustre. So, you know what that means. Gold. Gold everywhere. But only elite warriors (or royalty, in the case of Shahid and Claude) use gold in their armor, so for a lower soldier, iron and bronze work best. Natural colors like yellow, orange, and green are commonly used for their loose and flowy clothing, normally accented by deep browns, black, and white linens. Like the Duscur people, they too use complex patterns and dyes. Boots and shoes are sometimes curved at the tips, but greaves are not. Head accessories range from headwraps to turbans to tiaras and diadems.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch

Long story short, I owe the BL gods, so I'll be watching TWO series from my Petty List during the month of June. This list includes shows I haven't watched for purely petty reasons, so I'm asking the crowd to pick the two shows I will watch from all the MAME series, some censored Chinese bromances, a few sexual tension-filled Korean bromances, and one wild card.

I'm making my first ever poll, so whichever two series get the highest numbers will be the two I watch. And for all the kind people in the crowd, this is not the time to think about me. Pick your favorite. And for all the people who I annoy on the daily with my wild ass takes that piss you off, pick TharnType. But there is a possibility of a secret thirteenth option that would hurt me much worse . . .

The petty ass reasons are below the poll.

Disclaimer: If you're going to read the petty ass reasons, I need you to understand these are PETTY ASS REASONS, so don't try to hit me with 2,000 words about why me not watching censored bromances is a problem or why me not liking your fave hurts your feelings. Nah. Pick a show!

MAME

Love By Chance

This show came out at the end of 2018, and I watched the first episode, maybe first two, and thought it was boring. Then, in 2019, I saw a GIF of the locker scene, so I recommitted. I made it past the first episode just when the PerthSaint drama started spilling out everywhere, so I chucked the deuces and haven't returned since.

TharnType

For some reason, I couldn't find the first episode when it aired. Then, I found out how the first episode ended. Then, I found out about Type's past. Then, I just kept finding out more awful stuff until eventually the MewGulf shit finally hit the fan, and I was still reeling from the PerthSaint drama (and the emerging ZeeSaint chaos). At this point, I've built this show up so much that I'm afraid to see what it is actually about.

Don't Say No

A story of another GIF of a locker room scene sucking me in! After the first two MAME pairs blew up, I believed her shows were cursed, so I opted out of watching this one even though I thought it would be the one to vibe with me the most. But the biggest reason was because the main characters came from TharnType, so I felt like I would have to watch TharnType to understand this show, which was a big hell nah.

Love in the Air

I watched this through mutuals on my dash, so I feel like I did watch it. It is also the highest rated MAME series, so I had faith in it. However, when I found out about Sky's past, TharnType's ghost popped back up, and I realized this demon of a show is gonna haunt me in every MAME series.

The Wedding Plan

Y'all hated one of the leads so much while it was airing that I now hate him, and I don't think I can let that go, so I'm coming in with pre-hate and TharnType's ghost, but on top of that, some of y'all said it was boring. But what is boring in a MAME series? Consent? Not kidnapping someone? I never got answers, so I'm very conflicted about this show.

Censored Chinese

The Untamed

It's color coded, but FIFTY FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Grey's Anatomy? The fuck! Second, once China pulled Addicted, I was holding grudges for life because it crossed from entertainment censorship into real-world oppression, so I could not bring myself to support media from a country that openly discriminates against the queers when I live in America where our highest court is just one Supreme Court Justice away from making us all live in the damn Mojo Dojo Casa House.

Word of Honor

It's color coded, but THIRTY-SIX FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Supernatural?! The fuck! Second, I don't know the difference between this and The Untamed. Both are color-coded, one of them has a lot of uncles (?), one of them has awful facial hair, and they all have pretty outfits. Every time someone makes a reference about these shows, I just nod the same way I do when people mention Star Wars because none of it makes sense.

Guardian

I spent two years believing Killer and Healer was Guardian. I haven't watched either, but I thought they were the same show. Honestly, if this show wins, I might just watch Killer and Healer because I will forget they are not the same show. Don't they both solve cases? And because it's China, past lives must be involved, no? I'm looking at their MDLs as I write this, and I'm still not convinced they are different.

Stay with Me

It's color coded, but I know how it ends, and word on the street is that IS the ending since a second season seems unlikely. China couldn't just let me be hurt over Addicted, the original. No. Gotta hurt me again with Addicted, the remake. Rude af.

The Spirealm

First off, SEVENTY-EIGHT FUCKING EPISODES! What is this shit? Law & Order: SVU?! The fuck! I know how this ends, and it ain't happy! I don't care how people are trying to spin it, so to sit through SEVENTY-EIGHT DAMN EPISODES just for that ending already has me irate. And don't try telling me Viki combined episodes so it's only thirty-four. That's still a lot. However, everybody who has watched it says it's phenomenal, so is the pain worth it or are these people all lying so they convince themselves it was worth it?

Korean Bromance

Beyond Evil

With most Korean dramas, I feel like I missing something important. Like some part of the story does not click with me and I stay lost for the rest of the show. I suck it up for the queers, but the not-queers-but-it-is-queer shows . . . nah, and especially one about cops . . . (-_-). Also, The Worst of Evil just showed, and it was another reminder that I need these cops to quit their jobs and just screw each other. Embrace "Be Gay. Do Crime"

The Devil Judge

I know enough about Kpop to know GOT7 would not let one of its members kiss a man in this show. I looked at those GIFs of Jeff Satur and Jackson Wang on their show knowing damn well that if Wang got too close to Satur, an entire management team would have ascended from hell and kidnapped both of them, so the promo for this show was so wild because it felt queerbait-adjacent, and I was salty about it.

WILD CARD!

This option will be automatically unlocked IF this stupid little poll gets 216 votes, so I have high hopes this will not happen since I ain't that popular and I hate this wild card which is . . .

SOTUS

This show is my original TharnType. It came out in 2016. I watched it live. I watched the sequel. I remember neither. New was in it? Off was in it?! WHAT?! I have no memory of this show except Krist wiping his mouth, and I have carried that with me for eight damn years. I loved Be My Favorite, so I thought I moved past whatever strange grudge I was holding against this man who doesn't know I exist nor care, but then I saw that trailer for The Ex-Morning, and unlike Elsa, I can't let this shit go, so I'm willing to play Jumanji and go back into the jungle to finish this once and all.

So what it's gonna be, mi gente. Which demons am I facing for Pride and what shows do I get to stay petty about? Help me decide!

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

What genuinely bugs me a lot about so called Free Palestine activists who celebrate October 7 - not just that those who actually believe it was a justified act of resistance rather than a heinous crime against humanity are, frankly, despicable, but that they celebrate it at all - has it brought Palestinians any closer to a free, democratic state than they were before? Has it improved their lives, the conditions in which they live?

Obviously and demonstrably not, because that wasn't the point of it anyway. Palestine will never be free while Hamas reigns - genocidal terrorists who care more about the completely unattainable goal of destroying Israel than caring for their own citizens. Resistance has never been their goal, freedom for their population has never been their goal - because they are the only ones standing in the way of that, they are the ones who abuse and oppress them and deliberately use them as human shields. That's all the Palestinian population are to Hamas - cannon fodder in their never ending Jew hating tirade.

In the almost two decades since Israel pulled out of Gaza and with the billions of dollars of aid they've received in that time period, they could have built the functioning, democratic society that people who live in la la land imagine will happen if Israel just suddenly ceases to exist.

At what point do you stop holding a neighbouring country responsible for everything terrible that happens and start holding the actual Palestinian government responsible instead? The leaders are worth billions, live lives of luxury in Qatar and have the backing of powerful nations like Iran. They are not, and never have been, some plucky underdog toiling under the mighty oppressive hand of Israel, a tiny nation beset on all sides by hostile neighbours, fighting for its mere existence every damn day.

I'm sorry, but caring about the welfare of Palestinians and supporting Hamas are not things you can do simultaneously without being a massive fucking hypocrite.

[riewritten]

「 MERE DROPLETS CAN STILL MAKE A GLASS FULL 」 • AO3

ERWIN X FEM!READER, ERWIN X YOU, NO Y/N

˚ · .─ SYNOPSIS: Despite blatant awareness of how much you hold him with affection, he will rely entirely on subtleties because he believes it's the farthest he must go. He'll keep doing just that until it piles up, up and up and up, until it brings Erwin on the verge of exploding. After all, mere droplets of water can still make a glass full. | READ CHAPTER 1 HERE

˚ · .─ WORDS: 3.5k

˚ · . ─ TAGS: age gap, angst because of the age gap lol, erwin is a professor/researcher while reader is his research assistant, touch-starved idiots

It was as if your creator just built you to ponder on nothing but the hypothetical—never satisfied, never quenched. Even right now, as Erwin is on the other side of the chaotic welcome party for you and your fellow exchange students, you cannot—for the love of god—settle yourself. Amidst the energy these new people offer before you, you find nothing but exhaustion for fooling yourself. Seeing Erwin, not a country away from you, so reachable, and yet your greedy ego could still not be quenched, made you realize that coming here will never be enough. You need to hold him. You need to be at least an inch apart from his face. Only now did you realize that Levi could be right all along. Following Erwin would do nothing but make things harder.

“So, for the last part of our welcoming party…” 

He needs to know how aware you are of his occasional glances at your table.

“We present our new people to the faculty!

He needs to know your desperation to return the glances he’s been giving you since this damn party started. 

“First off, our exchange students and researchers!”

You think of going home but are unsure if the ‘home’ in question is your new unit in this country, or perhaps—much to Erwin's relief—your homeland.

“One of them still hadn’t adjusted to the new country air, I see!” 

Chortles fill the bar, only then do you realize that the host is talking about you. They’re calling for the newcomers to come up to the stage and introduce themselves. You're the only one who didn’t stand up, lost in the abyss of your repressed yearning. However, just as you’re about to apologize and indulge them, a newcomer whispers to the host.

“Oh! Uh-huh… I get that, I get that,” he nods, then turns to you. Mic on. “Adjusting might indeed take some time, so don’t you worry and just sit well!” 

You curl your eyebrows, unaware of the newcomer's name who whispered to him about your situation. How did he manage to explain it on your behalf when you two don't even know each other?

“Everyone here went through the same, after all! Isn’t that right, folks?" Then the crowd laughed along with him. The girl beside you pats your back in sympathy, then says something along the lines of, "We cried every night for the first three months. It’s okay! We’ll help you adjust.”

Just with that, the newcomers who came upstage were brought back to their seats.

How lovely, if one might say, but you couldn’t feel anything but confusion.

Not long after, the man who whispered walks to you. “Hi, Moblit here,” then reaches his hand, casual, poised, acting as though he's been a longtime friend. “And you are…?"

You certainly had never seen him before. Even way back in your country.

“Ah, apologies. I know you’re wondering what I said to the host who excused you from the newcomer spotlight. Is this seat taken?”

“Indeed, I am surprised,” you chuckle and nod at the spare chair beside you, “and nope, not taken at all. Come here. That’s the least I could do for you after saving my ass back there.”

Moblit chuckles, then out of courtesy, offers a glass before starting. “You were Mr. Smith’s former research assistant, right?”

You almost drop the glass he just filled. Luckily, Moblit’s a bit tipsy to notice your change in demeanor. “M-mr. Smith, you say?”

Moblit hums, “He told me a lot about you, even before you came here.”

So that was the answer. Plain and simple.

“How did you know him?” Your own question immediately drenched you in cold regret. You don't want to talk about him anymore, not when you're yearning so much. Perhaps Jane Austen was right; if one loved the other less than they did, then maybe they'd be able to talk about it more.

“Let’s just say I became your replacement.” Replacement? You almost roll your eyes. “Mr. Smith often tells me he never had a research assistant as capable as you are until he hired me.” Go fuck yourself! “I must admit, reaching the standards you had set for him was quite a challenge.” Because I wasn't supposed to be replaced in the first place!

Suddenly, you feel like you’re five years old again, experiencing the first time you’ve ever felt betrayed by someone outside your family. It feels so petty. Disgustingly petty.

“He’s not very talkative back then,” you trailed, trying to conceal the reeking insecurity by stating a thing you just realized; “I wonder what made him tell you details about me, let alone my tendency to get overwhelmed in crowded, noisy, and new places.”

As if you're competing with Moblit right now and you vehemently deny that you're really replaceable—that the one man you couldn't even get to forget would easily find someone else if he needs to.

“Well, I remember most of his stories because he narrates them entertainingly. You can say we have the same level of homesickness, too, so we instantly clicked despite our age differences."

You hold onto your glass harder, thinking of ways to divert the conversation, because now your mind is flooding you with repeated screams of, ‘Alas, you’re actually not that special! Get over it!’ that it makes you want to bang your head on the wall. You’ve never been this immature before. You, for the longest time, have practiced the cadence and poise of people beyond your age.

Or, perhaps, it was just your mind taking its silly little revenge for suppressing the feelings you thought were unfitting of your character—for fooling everyone including yourself.

"You see,” Moblit calls your name, “the majority of the fellows here, newcomers or not, had Mr. Smith as their mentor while on their master's degree. That's how prime he is."

You’re actually not that special. Get over it. You’re actually not that special. Get over it. You’re actually not that special. Get over it.

"Did Mr. Smith also tell you how he discovered my tendency to get overwhelmed in crowded places?"

"Sort of…? Earlier, he tapped me for a favor. He said you're the former assistant he always talks about. Then he asked me to accompany you amidst the noisy room. He didn't expound," he chuckles then, “it makes me feel special! Seems like I’m entrusted to a task only I could do.”

Years ago, when you went on a fact-finding mission with Erwin and had a night out with the community members, no one but him sensed your tense demeanor. He excused both of you from the crew under the guise of getting some stuff from the van. Only then did he bring you to a much quieter place, place an ice-cold can of coffee on your cheeks, and instruct you to breathe.

The memory intensified the yearning. What if you just pretend nobody else is in the party-riddled room but you and him? In a circumstance where you could run and touch him in a way you'd like to, and no hint of bother would be plastered on his features? 

Your glance, after painstaking hours of holding it in, finally lands at Erwin this time around. And much to your surprise, he's actually staring at you just the same. He averts it quickly as if caught busted, then chugs down his glass before indulging in the professor beside him.

You chugged down your glass too, not minding the immediate woozy feeling it brought. Perhaps the alcohol would lessen the petty, petty yearning.

But in reality, this ‘petty, petty yearning’ you perceived was induced by your repressed childishness increased when you thought of things you could do to cope. This feeling has been making you lethargic since you came here (and worsened, in fact, after that confrontational night with Erwin). And thus, you ask yourself: if I were to sleep with someone, would my exhaustion be quenched?

You continue your conversation with Moblit while pondering so; this time the pressure in your nerves eased quite a bit. Moblit seems to be interested in you—you're not naive to think otherwise—and if that feeling would be of service to you, then you might as well grab it.

As childish as it sounds (and as much as you hate it, too), people of Erwin's age could also do it without being ridiculed, right? That's how Erwin did, after all. With his ex-wife, he did.

You bite your lip, suddenly on the edge again.

“Moblit,” you languidly place your hand on his shoulder, willing to shoot your shot. “Don't you think we should take it someplace—”

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupts you two. Your inebriated mind suddenly sobers up. “They were asking if you guys would like to join the seniors in their car. They're willing to drive you home.”

“Mr. Smith!” Moblit perks up, albeit his posture is slurry. “T-the party's done, eh? Hehe, I got too caught up talking, it seems.”

“Thank you for accompanying her nicely, Moblit.”

“My pleasure,” Moblit, much to your surprise, looks at you quite endearingly. Your flustered face brought his shyness back, though. With a weaker voice, he asks, “So… would you like to…”

“Keep contact?” you smile. “We will! We'll be seeing each other more often at the faculty, after all.”

“O-oh, yes, of course.” Moblit shrinks further. “I meant… uh…”

Of course, you know what he means. It's just that you realized how Moblit, this seemingly pure-hearted boy, deserves to be treated better than being a temporary coping mechanism—something you just realized after having Erwin's presence near you again.

If someone's going to be hurt by you tonight, it should be Erwin alone.

You don't think he completely understands what he has done to you, but he would, surely so, the moment you're done with him.

Or so your drunk self claims.

As if brought by instinct, Erwin's presence finally let you drop your guard, letting the tipsiness take over. You slouch your dizzy head down the table, not bothering to bid Moblit goodbye anymore. It doesn't take long for them to construe that you've finally lost it.

“I'm taking her home,” Erwin offers.

“O-oh, okay then. Good night, Mr. Smith.”

Only the two of you are left now. What a waste, this is the only moment your wish came true, and yet you're already too inebriated to comprehend what's happening.

Erwin gently taps your shoulder and softly nudges it, “Come on. You have to go home.”

“Mhm.”

An immovable heap, that's what you are. Erwin shakes his head in dismay, “You should've been more mindful of your drinking. You're not someplace near home.”

“Should've been more mindful, too…” you hiccup. 

“Come again?”

“Should've been more mindful of confessing that badly to me.”

Oh dear. So you're finally talking about that. “I asked if you wanted to know how I feel, and you said yes.”

“You're a fucking bastard.”

A moment of silence before he finally admits, “Indeed, I am.”

“You'd rather die than try it out with me?” you scoff. “If I'm that unappealing to you, then you should've just—”

“You know that is not what I mean at all,” he sternly interjects. Much to your surprise, Erwin seems to be less tolerant of anyone talking down to you, including yourself if need be.

However, your inebriety has much greater concerns.

“Then what! What do you mean then?!”

One of them includes a scream as loud as that.

The crew looking at Erwin was enough of a signal; get that drunk lass out of here.

“Come on, let's get you air outside—”

“Is it because I'm a child in your eyes?! But I'm not!” your wailing proved otherwise, though. You sobbed so loud one might think Erwin just slapped you. “I've tried too hard to act beyond my age, just so you would see me beyond that! I'm willing to do more, even! And you'd ‘rather die’?! I can't even—” you huff a sob (embarrassingly so, but admittedly a needed one as well). The next words that come out of your mouth are beyond comprehension. 

How thankful the staff were when Erwin grabbed you by the waist and carried you like a sack of rice out of the venue.

Your shouts were short-lived when Erwin gently hoisted you down to the ground. At least you're quite far from the bar now. “Goodness, you've never been this drunk before,” he laments.

“That was the worst rejection I've ever received in my life.”

“It's okay, you're young and—”

“Another of that and I'll slap you!” you exclaim, silencing everyone on the road for a solid ten seconds, it is until Erwin starts laughing, boisterously so.

That laugh was so genuine and divine that it almost sobered you up.

The word is almost.

“What's funny?!”

Erwin is still wiping the tears from his eyes due to too much laughing when he replies, “Nothing. Sorry.” Only when he saw you puffed and about to cry did he finally retract, “Really. Nothing's funny. Don't mind me.”

You don't remember much of what happened afterward aside from walking, talking while walking, zigzag walking, holding his arm while walking, and throwing up on the sidewalk before walking again.

Slowly but surely, the tons of walking has been slowly sobering you up—just enough to comprehend the things you are saying to him again.

You talk about your desire to own things that you never had and how you wanted to walk on paths you had never crossed since childhood. You tell Erwin that had you pursued a degree in hard sciences, you'd wonder what it's like to push an art-related career instead. If you did otherwise, you’d wonder how good life would've been had your decision been different. 

Erwin replies that he knows it—all of it. 

“How? You have not been with me since childhood.”

“Only I would know more than anyone else here. Surely so.”

“I'm asking you why!”

“Because of all the tasks I had taken all my life—” A moment of silence before he continued, as hesitance etched quite loudly in his features. But you resolutely glare at him. And honestly, he's exhausted. You've made him, of all people, spent and exhausted just in a span of a night. “Out of all the tasks I had taken in my life, watching you shine was my most favorite.”

You stop in your tracks, befuddled. Suddenly the cold night is warm. And suddenly the alcohol isn't enough to spike your bravado.

"I know that despite shifting your playlist a generation behind, you still have a relatively newer song on repeat."

And just this usual, usual occurrence of you and Erwin not needing to expound because you already know each other too much for such pleasantries. You know the song he talks about too well. Thus, before you could blatantly gush at his very observant and poignant take, your drunk self immediately starts humming.

"I don't want your pity, concern or your scorn," you start with a humming glare, Erwin chuckles. "I'm calm by my lonesome, I feel right at home!" 

"Indeed you are."

"And when the wind blows, I get to dancing," then you sway your body into the cold night air. You almost stumble to the ground, but Erwin catches you just in time. You don't know if it was just your illusion, but he seems to be smiling and laughing a lot tonight.

If you're not for the alcohol, you'd already be utterly flustered. But you are, in fact, drunk beyond repair, even to the point of starting to sing right after he blurted out such a confession—"My fun is the rhythm of air, when it's prancing! I play with the moon, my only friend!"—and to continue singing even after he's hovering above you, holding your waist so you wouldn't stumble down the ground. "It pushes, it pulls me, I don't pay rent! Fuck! The rent here is so fucking expensive!"

He hums, then brings your body back to its usual standing position, quickly so, as if he owed his whole life to do that instead of doing something he'll regret. "It's much cheaper in our homeland. Told you."

"Fuck you!"

Erwin laughs again.

"No convincing tonight. God, why don't you let me rest from this shitty talk? This night's goal is to make the newcomers happy! To make me happy! And now you're ruining it!"

"Sorry, dear madam. Won't happen again."

Erwin holds onto both of your shoulders to guide you down the pavement, a tinge of grip present to prevent you from zigzagging again.

You nod, then hum the song: “I don't need your company to feel saved. I don't need the sunlight, my curtains don't draw. I don't need objects, to keep or to pawn. I don't want your pity, concern, or your scorn. I'm calm by my lonesome, I feel right at home. You repeat this interlude again and again, as if every line is a dialogue in itself, something to be said to the man guiding you down the pavement. You repeat it again and again until Erwin does the humming alongside your imploring croons.

"I can see now why you couldn't let go of that song despite your preference in generation."

"You see it now?"

He hums.

"Really?"

He nods again, then looks you in the eye. It's not as bright as earlier. If anything, there's a tinge of poignancy present in his hues.

"Then why are you still looking at me in pity?"

The sudden question surprised him. "I'm not…?"

"You are. You still think it's such a pity that I like someone like you, that I'm wasting my youthfulness in this shitshow."

Erwin stops.

“I like you, Erwin. I think I'll hold onto this feeling for the rest of my life.”

This time, you don't sound that drunk anymore. The only indicator Erwin could have was your fluttering eyes—one he couldn't stare at for too long due to the suddenness of your statement.

“I think I'll hold onto this feeling, but it's okay. I will be responsible for my feelings—” and you walk to him until you're inches apart. You point to his heart. Three times. “—the same way you'll be responsible for yours.”

And for the first time in his life, Erwin is too lost for words. He couldn't even pretend he still had the upper hand right this very moment.

“You love me and I love you. I want to be with you, but you don't want to be with me. But it's good. It's okay. It's alright! In fact, I'm glad we were able to clear things up!”

Your face is saying otherwise.

“And—I mean it when I say this so please—you must let go of your messianic complex and let me take charge of my own feelings as I should. Worry about yours. I don't care however you would. Your feelings only start being my business once you want to be with me. Understood?”

Erwin calls your name, seemingly wanting to negate your proposition. 

“Say you understand!”

But Erwin must know it by now, this tone of voice of yours isn't something you use when you want counterarguments. He could only smile and nod, “I understand.”

“Good,” you turn your back and start walking again, albeit swaying. “See you around, Erwin.”

Erwin knows you're not far from here, but he's also aware you're not capable of bringing yourself home without the possibility of falling into a manhole.

Moreover, there is a problem on his end…

“Then, may I—” he tries to stop himself, only to no avail. “Right now, I feel like doing something that would act upon my feelings but I'm worried it'll rattle you further.”

There.

There it goes.

“All this time, you’ve been acting upon your feelings for me without asking me—all for the sake of not rattling me. However, most of the time it just ends up frustrating me in every way possible.”

“Oh,” Erwin is only starting to see it now. “I apologize.”

“I'm not asking for apologies,” you flatly respond. When you turn to him again, your face looks like you've sobered up all at once. “What do you want to do, Erwin?”

“I want to usher you inside, have you drink something that’d lessen tomorrow's hangover, tuck you to your bed nicely, and ensure you're asleep before I leave.”

“That's all?”

“And more,” he chuckles defeatedly. Perhaps the fact that you're drunk is also giving him the needed bravado to be blunt. “But if I were to list the things I'm most desperate to do right now, I think what I said is enough.”

“Don't you think it would've helped us both if you started doing this years ago?” And now, Erwin could say your cries are genuinely in your character this time around, unlike your wailing earlier at the bar. “God, you're very unbearable. All this effort to be mature enough only for you to handle your feelings like a cowardly dick.” However, your language is still steered by the drinks you've had.

“Loving you made me fear a lot of things I never thought I'd fear before.”

“Have you ever feared hurting me, Erwin?”

“Still do. Always would.”

“And yet that's all you've ever done. Keep being ruled by fear and all you're gonna do is hurt me until the day I die.” When you turned your back to him again, he knew you could finally bring yourself home without his help. “Good night, Mr. Smith.”

<<< PREV CHAPTER

can't believe i took ALMOST two years before publishing the needed continuation when I've been wanting to write it so bad. my god. My God.

happy with how it turned out tho. sorry guys my erwin needs to be The Pathetic Old Man for a bit for the drama. he will reclaim his future in the epilogue (aka next chapter) :)

JOIN or LEAVE THE TAG LIST☆ @watyousayin @collinnmckinley (I LOVE YOU TY FOR WAITING) @aeanya @xiaotopia @cadenza-damour @grimistheangerinmystares @suntizme @rinamars @inkofteyvat @onasvigo @s0m4-sh4rk @xeiin-n @chxrry-writes

[openphrase123]

hey hi hi i've read everything of curtain call (except, obviously, what hasn't been posted yet) and i HAVE to ask you to share your lost country/skywatcher language thoughts so i can devour them immediately please.

hiiiiiiii so like 90% of the language worldbuilding i did for curtain call was like. very simple sentences and words since i didn't want to make an entire conlang for this fanfiction. what i have written in-fic would fall apart in two seconds if i tried to expand it to any of the lines outside of what i wrote. HOWEVER i have a lot of thoughts about how it WOULD work if it had the capacity to expand outward

putting under a readmore both for curtain call spoilers and because this is going to get long and insufferable for anyone except ME

also if you're not reading curtain call. this is still a fun little analysis about how siffrin's native language influences their behavior. you might have fun with it wheeeee just know that the actual language i'm talking about is not canon. i made it up.

disclaimer: i speak a couple of languages but my knowledge of languages is VERY limited to what i know. so you're going to see a lot of instances of me calling back to japanese or other english dialects. other languages exist and also have these features but i'm just not gonna say anything if i'm not sure of what i'm saying. if you are interested in these concepts in a more academic setting i am NOT the place to find that

second disclaimer: in curtain call, the name for qilaksut comes from greenlandic/kalaalisut which is an endangered indigenous language. this is an open invitation to go learn who, historically, lived in and supported the land you're living on. consider supporting them whatever way you can.

number ONE. dude is it that serious??

nah.

again, i built this for like ten sentences out of a 100k+ fic. so like. there's some inconsistencies, there's some weird stuff. and i know i could have just written all of the curtain call qilaksut in english but italicized, there would have been nothing wrong with that. but i did not because i thought it would be a good exercise in character exploration

because the language you speak has some measure of how you act and carry yourself in the world. (sorry elizabeth if you're reading this. i'm not going full noam chomsky i swear i don't believe in linguistic determinism i'm using this as a literary device) and since siffrin is the only speaker of the forgotten language we see (loop never engages with that in-game as much) and i was a little bit like. okay. why is he like that. how much of that is siffrin and how much of that is the home they don't know

in odile's friendquest she remarks that she only finds similarity in herself within vaugarde because vaugarde is so welcoming to travelers. however odile never went to vaugarde until she was an adult - siffrin presumably lived on the island until he was a teenager, and your personality is fairly Formed by then (at least enough for people to put iterations on it in adulthood) so as much as i could have gone the route of "siffrin it's okay that you don't see yourself in your past" i thought for the themes of this fic it made more sense to go "oh THAT'S why siffrin is Like That"

so as you're reading through this: yes i'm worldbuilding language. but MOSTLY as a siffrin character study. okay! okay.

number TWO. situational meanings.

so ✦‧₊ is "you" and ✧‧₊ is "me/i". but "hello" is ❇✧ which - hang on, isn't that the word for universe and me? no, actually, there's no pronoun suffix (‧₊ denotes when a person is being talked about) so in this context ✧ means "inside". which means ✦ means "outside" in some contexts.

(but harrie, why does "hello" mean "inside universe"?? well i imagine it's the difference between older medieval greetings and the modern "hi". languages morph and drift. this kind of just suggests that without me having to write an Entire Language Family Background. probably a shortening of some corny shit like "within the universe i find you" or whatever. semantic drift.)

and part of the reason i did that was for unicode constraints - there are only unicode characters that look like stars. but the other half is because in japanese and i THINK also in chinese each character has a few different meanings. take 本, in japanese. it has a lot of meanings on its own but let's look at it in situational context. 本棚 is bookshelf. 本物 means real. 本土 is mainland.

so in qilaksut i think these kinds of multi-use words are common. ERGO. why siffrin has trouble thinking of very situational words in vaugardian. if your native language is built up of tangential mnemonic connections, of course you're going to have trouble remembering the word kiln!!

number THREE. reduplication and repetition

take the phrase "✦‧₊ »»⟢" from ch10. in my head, » means "fast" and doubling it gives you "really fast". this happens in AAVE (e.g. "he's RICH rich") and japanese (there is an entire kanji expressly used as a repetition mark so that you don't have to draw complicated kanji twice, it's 々(noma) and as an example, person is 人 but people is 人々)

reduplication is slightly different from this but i think it shows up for words like »», where you're not literally saying the word twice but the vowels double themselves. kind of in a trilling way. i actually say this in inutile and not curtain call but i think the Siffrin Accent wavers a lot and feels like a twinkling star. because i think it's cute

alsooo repetition. wish craft. do u see the vision

number FOUR. pronouns and clusivity

i don't get into the he/she/they or any other third person pronouns in the fic because. well i think the lost country would go so hard on pronouns. there are child pronouns. adult pronouns. pronouns denoting somebody's job or status. hell loop is SO casual about offering to use the "royal we" i genuinely think pronoun usage in the lost country is more tied to interpersonal relationships than gender. but of course that plays a role too

because i think there's a huge amount of gender concoction you could brew in there. i think it would be really fun if siffrin uses he/they because in qilaksut siffrin is mainly referred to as the neutral pronoun mashed together with the masculine one. i think that would be fun.

and then for funsies. clusivity. i definitely think there is a difference between "we" (me+one other person, excluding you) and "we" (me+others+you) in qilaksut. would be fun if this is why siffrin automatically assumes they're getting excluded from things. "where is the vaugardian inclusive we and why has nobody said it to me???"

number FIVE. structure

i don't have a lot of Full Sentences in qilaksut in the fic but in general it follows the pattern place - > noun - > adjective - > verb. and you might be going "harrie, you weeb, that's japanese again" well. i didn't want it to be like french or english. and that's the one i know. so. shut up!!!!

"well why can't it be the same syntax as vaugardian then?" i'm glad you asked. i wanted it to feed again more into the idea that siffrin is more susceptible to getting "lost" in a conversation. hard to focus when your normal syntax anchors are not there!!

but at the same time. i write siffrin as a polyglot in curtain call. they're pretty equipped to learn and absorb new languages. once you learn a second language, in general, your third/fourth/fifth gets easier

number SIX. things i can't do in the fic except for once or twice because of unicode restrictions

well i could do it ONCE. with two sentences that are coming up in tomorrow's chapter: but i think in qilaksut writing, changing the rotation/orientation of the word also changes the meaning. slight spoilers for tomorrow's chapter but siffrin has two ways of saying "love you" for two different people - for odile, it's ❥✦‧₊ and for isabeau it's ❤✦‧₊

this isn't for any particular reason, i just think it's neat in the context of how i do names and titles for the rest of the fic. getting called different names based on your relationship to somebody, using altered terms of endearment for someone. two extra rotations of the heart could exist in theory so one of them is probably "loving your kid" and the other issss i dunno. maybe a closer platonic love nearer to a qpr or something. or what you use for your parents/guardians or your betters. i didn't think that far!!

also word opposites. ✷ doesn't have another version with just the lines, but that means "yes" and i think a hollowed out version of that would mean "no." obviously the ✦/✧ shift goes here too. and i think the inverse of ✪ (little) would mean big. but i couldn't find those in unicode so they do not exist in this fic oops

if you made it this far into the post. hi. thank you for reading :) that was probably a lot more than you were asking for. i won't apologize. anyway this post doesn't even TOUCH how i do name stuff in the fic but that also feeds into this. (and the name stuff was something i took out of an old dnd campaign anyway) (of which i have a DIFFERENT altered version for my original fiction but shhhh)

[awkwardgtace]

Silver Rings

Pirates!! Rhys and Vincent. Pirate speak a little. Wooooooo. (I'm literally prepping all of these right now as part of my editing. You're getting fun little comments as I do this.)

Captain Vincent was captured and is to hang for his crimes. Things look bleak, no crew in sight. At least... as far as human crew goes

Silver Rings

“Leader of the Silver Rings, Treasure-Marked Vincent set to be executed!” the crier shouted. The news was the talk of the town. Everyone wanted to hear the infamous captain admit to his crimes before he was hung. Sadly Vincent had no plans to do that.

“Bring the prisoner to the court!” the marshal yelled. Vincent chose not to move. His jailor didn’t enjoy that. He was swiftly kicked in the knees.

“Move it, pirate scum,” the jailor hissed.

Vincent glared at the jailor, but walked forward. He kept his head high as he cleared the darkness of the cells. A place they built just for him. At least if the guards could be believed. Each night as they threw his food against the wall they mentioned it. A cell to keep his crew from finding him. No using the moonlight to send a signal like the last time.

“Hang him!”

“Kill him!”

“Dirty pirate!”

The crowd screamed as he arrived at the top of the gallows. Normally a trial would be held in a court. He’d have a chance to prove his innocence, not that he was innocent. His crew had been the worst terror to hit the seas in decades. It started as revenge against the crew that scarred his eyes for seeing their treasure. It continued because he realized he liked being a pirate. Liked what came with it too.

The marshal waved a hand to silence the crowd. Vincent smirked at the anger on all of their faces. Another hand motion, this time directed at him. He didn’t move. The crowd shouted again. A cacophony of anger that only made him chuckle. The jailor that brought him to the gallows kicked the back of his legs so he fell to his knees. Vincent glared up, but a hand pushed his head to stare at the ground.

“Treasure-Marked Vincent, you are charged with piracy in the high seas. How do you plead?”

Vincent stayed silent. The crowd entered his plea for him. Guilty.

“The next charge. Destruction of naval vessels, both docked and out on the seas. How do you plead?”

Once more the voice of the crowd answered for him. Guilty.

“Destruction of port cities all along the coast. Your plea?”

Guilty.

Another charge and the same plea. It went on for a few minutes. He didn’t expect half of what was brought up. Illegal country entry, destroying a fish population, ruining some random lighthouse. Not all of it was his fault exactly, but they were more or less his crimes.

“Captain of the Silver Rings, you’ve remained silent as your charges were read out. The guilt is clear. Are you ready to face your sentence?”

Another burst of shouts from the crowd. Vincent fought the one holding his head to look up at the marshal.

“Why don’t we stop this sham of a trial and you throw the noose around me neck? Unless ye’ve grown to like me,” Vincent laughed.

The crowd erupted. The marshal sputtered out denials and insults. It only made Vincent laugh more. He’d always enjoyed moments like this. His normal days included flustering someone that took a lot more work. These people were easy.

“Treasure-Marked Vincent. You are sentenced to hang for your crimes!” the Marshal shouted over the crowd. Silence settled once the punishment was announced.

Vincent took the chance to watch the sea. Eerily calm, exactly what he wanted. The day was clear too. So clear that a ship on the horizon could be seen for leagues. His crew was long gone. Far off and safe. He felt the executioner stop next to him. The continued calm of the sea gave him an ounce of fear.

“Prepare the guilty!” the marshal cried.

Vincent bit his tongue as the executioner grabbed his head. He was forced to his feet. They marched him towards what should be his doom. A stage that held a noose ripe for him. Despite the impending death, Vincent kept his head high. Walked on with the confidence he’d needed to be a captain. He didn’t become a terror by showing weakness.

“Prepared to die?” the executioner murmured as they approached the stairs.

“Aye, are you?” Vincent said. “I hear you lot think I’m cursed. Are ye ready to die just to take me head?”

“Curses are tall tales.”

The executioner pushed him after that. Vincent stumbled, but caught himself before he fell. The pride around that didn’t last when he was dragged towards the noose. The trap door was painted another color. It felt malicious. He was stopped on top of the door and turned towards the crowd. The marshal slowly sauntered up to join Vincent at the gallows. The man smirked once he stood next to him. Just slightly taller than Vincent.

“Are you prepared to pay for your crimes?” he whispered.

“Aye, if there were any I should pay for. Don’t think the crowd would be as happy if they knew ye hunted the merfolk. Invited their anger to those cities ye blame on me and me crew,” Vincent said. The marshal’s eyes went wide, but he held his calm. Grabbed the noose from the executioner and placed it over Vincent’s head.

“If I knew you had that knowledge-” the noose tightened- “I would have had you killed last night.” Tightened again. “No matter. You’ll die today, scourge of the seas. Maybe you’d be remembered if you had a more imposing crew name. Silver Rings doesn’t inspire terror. Maybe a dread pirate would have been better?”

The noose left Vincent with barely enough room for small breaths. It didn’t matter. He still laughed. “Ye should realize it inspires terror in the ones who learn the source. If anyone could figure it out I would have expected it from ye. After all, ye were the bastard that brought me to the treasure that scarred me.”

“Here I thought you forgot, another thing that makes it good you’ll be dying today.” The marshal that a lifetime ago had been his friend turned around. Walked towards the crowd and bowed. “The legend of Treasure-Marked Vincent dies today!”

A new cacophony of screams. Vincent stood tall as the executioner took their place. A hand ready to seal his fate. A mutual understanding that if he tried to spill the truth, his death would be instant. This was the closest they’ve gotten to killing him. He looked towards the sea. The waters had started to move again. Vincent smiled.

“Any last words, captain?” the marshal asked. The executioner laughed softly.

“Ye really should have worried more about me crew,” Vincent laughed. The marshal and executioner were stunned by the confidence in his tone. The crowd chanted for his death. Vincent laughed louder as a form rose from the waters.

“What in the seven seas is that?!” shouted a member of the crowd. 

A shadow coated the world. Giant pink eyes glared at the crowd. The monster only seemed to grow larger the longer it was watched. Vincent laughed again. The eyes locked on him, but he had no reason to care. Death was at his doorstep 

“Look, all over its body!” Another onlooker screamed.

The tan skin of the beast was covered in rings. From the light they were in it was hard to see the color. One of his hands slammed down next to the crowd. People fell, others ran. The marshal fell off his feet, the executioner backed away. The active danger to his life was gone.

“Run, leave the pirate to die!” the marshal cried.

The crowd that had fallen wasted no time in getting to their feet. The executioner looked between the monster, Vincent, and the lever that held his life. They settled on hopping off the gallows’ stage. The right move honestly. It was a waste to die failing to kill a pirate. Especially one that couldn’t flee what looked to be a worse death.

The marshal climbed to his feet. They paused as they met Vincent’s eyes. A look of pity that quickly morphed to confusion. Vincent held no fear in his eyes. He was happy with the sudden destruction that had happened. His smile grew as the arms of the creature moved to surround them. A glare that only bled fire and anger at the marshal.

Fear took the marshal’s reason. He dove for the lever. If the trap door triggered, he could hide under the stage. One of the beast’s claws stopped him. Held him by the edge of his coat. Vincent smiled. The pain the marshal caused would see justice now.

“Take him and spare me!” the marshal cried. The beast growled. His arms came closer. Crushed the sides of the stage to ensure the humans there were held up by his choice. “I-I can tell the navy to spare your kin!”

“Aye, that he could. We both know he’d only tell ‘em to hunt ye,” Vincent countered.

“You can’t trust a pirate! Th-their kind is what showed us your value. They’re the ones that you should kill! I-I can convince other marshals that your kind should be treated with dignity. Show that you’re not savage beasts.”

“Aye, it’s true. Pirates did sell the scales of merfolk first.” A shadow settled over Vincent. He smiled as the crunch of wood sounded above him. “Sadly, the merfolk know my kind had bartered for them from the start. Yer the ones that felt it was better to kill or maim them.”

The beast’s head shifted. Allowed the light to hit the rings on the arms that had become the support of the stage. It blinded Vincent for a moment. He was used to it though. His vision cleared quickly. Allowed him to watch as the arms around them moved more. Replaced the stage entirely with one single hand.

Now that the beast could sit up, he moved. Pulled himself and the two humans off the land. Vincent enjoyed the salty air as it passed them by. The marshal’s vision had yet to clear. He rubbed his eyes over and over. The rings were a powerful weapon against normal humans.

The marshal finally looked up at the source. In theory it would be long gone, but the beast kept them near one. The color was now plain as day. “S-silver?”

“Silver rings,” the beast said. Vincent smirked as the marshal paled. It seemed he finally made the connection.

“You-you can’t mean th-this is the reason…”

“Aye, that it is. Ye know those pirates ye let hurt me; they left me to die. Thought I would until someone took pity on me soul,” Vincent said. He placed his hand on the skin of the beast. “I thought I’d die once I realized it was a merfolk. Monsters the navy said. Beasts. They’d skin a sinner like me and eat me.”

“Y-You work with this monster?! No, I’ve seen your crew. Your human crew.”

“And I’ve left the name of me first mate for ye to find after each escape. Ever wondered how he never arrived with the rest of me crew?”

“Are ye done with him yet, Cap’n?” the beast said. Vincent smiled. 

“Aye, Rhys. We’re done with the marshal. Good luck next time ye catch me. If ye survive”

“Tell him not to kill me Vincent. I-I’ll give you money! Status! Anything you want!”

Vincent waited until two massive fingers had pinched the marshal. Pulled him up into the air. “If he was the kind to hurt ye, I might take that offer. Rhys is no more beast than either of us. He won’t be ending yer life.”

Vincent watched as the marshal was pulled away. The hand that held him tilted enough he could see the land below. The marshal was dropped from just high enough it may cause bruises. Rhys had gotten pretty far from the port already. Vincent always forgot how fast his first mate could swim. Of course that was something necessary for them.

“Ye’ll survive here until someone comes along. Unless a crueler member of his kin finds ye first. If you survive, have fun convincing the people we work with merfolk.”

Rhys pulled his hand back before the marshal could respond. Vincent didn’t mind, he’d been close to death this time. Even thought his first mate might not manage to save him. He was pressed flat against Rhys’s skin. The hand carefully slid up the merfolk’s chest until he was near the base of Rhys’s gills.

The time to relax was nice. A welcome change from the cells. Especially with the warmth of Rhys’s skin to soothe his muscles. He tried to listen to the merman breathe or his pulse, but both were too far. He was held in a different spot than usual. Something he only grew annoyed by after the water started to splash through the massive hand and onto him.

“Rhys,” Vincent said. The merman offered a short, almost curt chirp. He sighed and dropped the pirate persona he’d used for his ‘trial’. “You’re mad, aren’t you?

Another short chirp.

“I didn’t plan to get captured. It was supposed to be a supply run.”

Just a huff.

“I’m sorry. I knew you’d show up for me though.”

That got a reaction. The fingers closed in around him. Claws pressed against his skin as the hand was ripped away from the merman’s body. Vincent’s stomach dropped as the hand and merman rose from the water. He had to fight to keep whatever was in his stomach down by the time the hand flattened. It was bad enough he almost missed the glare from the pink eyes.

“You almost died,” Rhys growled.

“I almost die a lot,” Vincent said with a shrug. He tried to wave away the concern. Rhys wasn’t ready to accept that. A claw tilted Vincent’s head up. He knew it was to check for bruises. It didn’t make it easy to accept the sharp claw at his throat.

“You’re bruising, in the wrong spot too.”

“It’s fine.” Vincent tried to pull away, but the claw followed him.

“If they pulled the lever you would have died. They could have killed you while I watched.”

“If I did it was my own fault. There’s no reason to worry.” 

Sad chirps followed his words. The fins on Rhys’s head drooped. He was brought painfully close to the giant pink eyes. They bled worry and pain. He knew Rhys cared, but it didn’t matter. If he died his crew would keep moving. The others had been shown kindness by merfolk too. They all wanted to stop the hunts.

“Of course I worry. I…” Rhys whispered. A rumble, almost like a purr, bubbled from the merman. Vincent wanted to push away the feeling this caused. The feeling Rhys almost acknowledged. It was too much, too real. Too painful.

“You don’t have to worry. If I die, I die. You can go back to living like a normal merfolk too,” Vincent said. He ignored the pain in his chest.

“If you die, I die.”

“Rhys no. Let’s not talk about this now, I just want to rest.”

“When will you talk about it Vincent? After decades have passed and you’re about to leave me? I don’t want to wait forever… I-”

“Rhys please, don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… Just don’t.”

“That’s not enough reason this time. I lo-”

“Rhys don't!” 

Vincent covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear the words. They’d change everything. Things would have to change. It couldn’t be how it is anymore. They would have to decide what those feelings meant. There was a chance they were different. Love had so many possibilities. One could see them as lovers, the other as family. It was too much. 

A claw pried his arm off his ear, “You’d hate to hear it that much?”

Vincent snapped his head up to meet Rhys’s eyes. Tears sat at the edges. Not quite sea water, but close to it. Just light enough to float. He only saw Rhys cry one time before. It tore at his heart.

“No not that. I just… don’t want things to change.”

“Would it be a bad change?” 

Vincent cringed at the pain. All of this was wrong. The wrong time, the wrong way, the wrong feelings. It didn’t matter though. He could have truly died today. Rhys… Rhys at least deserved to hear what he felt. Even if it was different than Rhys wanted. Even if it made the reason for his crews’ name leave.

“Maybe…” Vincent took a deep breath. “What if you love me differently than I love you?”

Somehow, Vincent never imagined the giant merman could blush. The fins on his head folded back. High pitch chirps were the only noise he made. Vincent chose to believe this was a good sign. Maybe it was the same. That the changes could be good. He tried to find the words to say what he meant.

The hand he was on moved before he could. He found himself face to lips with Rhys. Hope he hadn’t had in years filled his chest. He leaned forward and placed a hand on the lips. An attempt to test the waters. Rhys took that as an invitation. The lips smashed into him and pressed him firmly against the hand. It took a few seconds for him to comprehend the feeling and then try to kiss back. 

It seemed like they shared the same love. As Rhys pulled away and Vincent took in the breaths he needed he smiled. The changes would be good.

“I won’t go near a city if you’re hunting again,” Vincent said. Rhys chirped the ones he knew meant joy.

The hand he was on moved to hold him next to Rhys’s throat. Right where he could listen as the gills took in air and water. Just beneath he could catch bits of pulse. Soothing, relaxing, and somewhere he felt safe. The purrs that started a few seconds later made it even better. His closest brush with death at least ended in something worth it.

[indecisiveavocado]

So you want to learn more about Judaism, part 1: The Complete Beginner's Guide to Judaism

This is a series about judaism for those who want to learn more about it. It also covers Judaism-adjacent topics, like antisemitism, Israel, and Jewish history/culture/etc.

But first, you should probably know the basics of Judaism. I'm assuming you know nothing about us, or have realized that what you do know is wrong. This is a bit oversimplified, but should be reasonable enough.

What does it mean when someone says, "I'm Jewish"?

It can mean a lot of things, but it generally means one or both of the following:

I follow Judaism as a religion

I am ethnically Jewish

Let's dig into each of these.

The religion

Judaism is a religion. It arose over 3,000 years ago in the region roughly corresponding to the modern-day countries and regions of Israel, Palestine, southern Syria and Lebanon, and western Jordan.

It is monotheistic, which means it worships one god. Its holy text is the Five Books of Moses, or Torah. It does not believe in the divinity of Jesus. If you see someone claiming you can be religiously Jewish and believe Jesus was the Messiah, son of God, or divine, they are wrong.

Judaism has many requirements (613 in the Torah alone!). Some of them are more famous, like not eating pork, not mixing milk and meat, resting on the Sabbath (for Jews, sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday), et cetera. Some of them are less famous, often because they aren't able to be done.

You see, many of Judaism's rules presume a temple in Jerusalem. There was, once, a temple in Jerusalem; it got destroyed and Jews were exiled. Then we came back and built it again. It got destroyed again by the Romans in 70 CE, as part of a campaign to destroy us[1]. Only a small part of it, the Western Wall, the holiest still-standing site in Judaism, survives to this day; the rest of it is underneath the Al-Aqsa Mosque.

Judaism has many different denominations. The big ones are:

Hasidic: These people try to follow all of the rules, and then some. They follow many different rebbes, or leaders, and were hit very hard in the Holocaust due to being heavily concentrated in Eastern Europe. They are most of the speakers of Yiddish today. They can be very isolated from the outside world, but many of them aren't.

Orthodox: More lenient and open to the outside world than Hasidic Jews generally are, Orthodox Jews range from Hasidic to Open Orthodox, who ordain women and do other no-nos in traditional Orthodoxy.

Conservative: Conservative Jews occupy an intermediate position. They generally follow the rules as laid out, but are more flexible with them. So while a Reform family might drive on Shabbat, and an Orthodox family might not, a Conservative family might only drive to get to shul (temple, religious building) if they live far away from one.

Reform: Reform Jews are very flexible with the rules of Judaism, in a good way. They're very permissive of queer things. (Disclosure: I'm Reform.)

There are many smaller groups, like Ethiopian Jews, who have unique traditions stemming in part from long isolation from the rest of the world's Jewry; Karaite Jews, who reject the Talmud, which interpreted and expanded on Jewish law; and Humanistic Jews, who don't ever explicitly say there's a God.

Ethnic Judaism

Judaism is also an ethnicity. Well, several. With the exception of a few small communities, all are clearly from the Middle East genetically, but they do have differences, including in terms of customs. Since Jews have spread all over, there are a lot of divisions, but the big ones are:

Mizrahim: These Jews never left the Middle East. Formerly they were all over the Middle East, but after the foundation of the State of Israel, they were persecuted out of their homes, and most now live in Israel.

Sephardim: Sephardic Jews were originally from the Iberian Peninsula, but, due to the Spanish Inquisition (and its Portuguese cousin), most lived in the Middle East, North Africa, and southern Europe for hundreds of years. In the case of the former two, after the founding of the State of Israel, they were persecuted out and fled to Israel. In the case of the latter, they generally died in the Holocaust.

Ashkenazim, or Jews from Eastern and Central Europe. The vast majority of American Jews, a minority of Israeli Jews. Most Hasidim are Ashkenazi. Most of the Jewish Holocaust victims were Ashkenazi, and so today the major centers of Ashkenazi populations are the US and to a lesser extent Israel. It used to be Eastern Europe, though. (Poland alone had 3 million Jews, although it managed to kill 90 percent of them and make something like 99 percent of the survivors flee, then deny any wrongdoing.)

There are lots of smaller ones too, like the:

Mountain Jews and Georgian Jews: Two distinct Jewish communities nestled in the Caucasus who seem to have been in the diaspora since some number of centuries BCE, well before most other diaspora populations.

Persian Jews: Similarly long diaspora history. A surprisingly large population remains in Iran.

Yemenite Jews: Distinct in ritual from other communities of Jews, they have by now mostly fled Yemen.

Ethiopian Jews: Highly distinct from other Jewish groups, they lived in almost total isolation from the broader Jewish world for over a thousand years. Their traditional religious practice doesn't follow the Talmud, as most other ones do, meaning they seemingly codified their own set of Jewish law. Early observers from more integrated Jewish communities noted that they observed customs that had long since died out in the broader Jewish world. Most of them now live in Israel.

A few seperate communities of Jews in modern-day India, now mostly in Israel

Many more[2]

[1] The genocide (it was a genocide) included expelling us, distributing us as slaves, killing us, and erasing our traditional name for the region (Yisrael) to try to erase our connection to the region. They called the region Palestina.

[2] Seriously, if it's a country in Africa or Eurasia, odds are there is/was a Jewish community in it, often with distinct traditions/origins.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

[iamnmbr3]

One of weirdest disconnects (but far from being the only one), I see from the left in regards to Israel is that jews have no claim to the land, are colonizers and oppressors, but at the same time make long ass rants about how native americans had their land stolen from them, deserve to claim it back and get reparations and all that. And the disconnect here is that jewish people, as a group, are native to the region of Israel, their ancestors literally built a country there after escaping slavery, lived there for a long ass time but were eventually kicked out by the Roman Empire, and after thousands of years of being persecute and not felling safe returned to their ancestral homeland, to reclaim and rebuild what was stolen from them. Isn’t that what people say we owe native americans? Or indigenous groups that were kicked out of their lands in general? Yes, in their thousand year absence other peoples built their lives around the region of Jerusalem. Yes, Palestine deserves to be recognized and it’s citizens to have decent lives like everyone else. Should Israel never have existed, or cease to exist? No! There’s plenty of room for both peoples to have their countries, the jewish people belong there too and history proves they need a nation to serve as a refuge! Their land was returned to them by British after WW2, since they legally owed it after the fall of the Byzantine Empire, and while the partition could have been better, after all the horror’s jewish people had experienced it’s hard to blame to UN for giving it a go. Honestly, this whole situation just shows how dumb, hateful, bigoted, misinformed and disingenuous a lot of people in the left are. It’s easy to say that the Hogwart’s Legacy game is anti-jewish, that supporting it gives power and money to evil people and then harassing people that want to play it (which is dumb all around, as pretty much all the other hot takes and boycott to that game), but when it comes down to actually standing with jewish people and showing empathy? Nah, that’s too hard for them. It’s all performative. It’s easier to jump on the hate train and say they deserved what H*mas did to them, it gives them more likes.

Yeah. So many people on the Left are all "land back" until it's time to say land back for Jews. Kind of like how a lot of the Left shouts "believe all victims" about sexual assault till those victims are Jewish. I mean would anyone on the Left call any of the recognized sovereign nations of indigenous people in North America ethnostates that need to be abolished? Or say indigenous people still trying to get back a piece of their ancestral lands should stop because it was too long ago now? The hypocrisy demonstrates how deeply antisemitic views have seeped into parts of the Left. Which we cannot allow.

Jews are indigenous to the Levant. Both Israelis and Palestinians have a claim to the land. Israel exists. That's a fact that won't change. Any workable longterm peace must find a compromise solution that acknowledges both Israeli and Palestinian needs. Any other solution will simply result in more bloodshed (which a lot of "activists" in the West seem more interested in...probably because it's not their blood being shed).

[aninipanin1]

Now, while I was thinking about that demon slayer manager, I also thought about a jujutsu sorcerer manager, what do you think? I remember that, in Jujutsu Kaisen, they say that places like hospitals, schools and prisons attract many curses because they are the stage for many negative emotions. So I imagine that a place like Blue Lock, which is FULL of people of all kinds, also has a lot of curses for……. You know……… All that business about selfishness and about stepping on in the wake of your enemies….😅

It would be very interesting to explore a certain concept that I've had in my head for a while: Europe is kind of the pioneer of football, isn't it? So obviously it makes sense that players dream of playing there and many of the players who are really talented migrate to a club there rather than one in their own country (considering a situation where the players I'm talking about are not European). Also, I have a headcanon in my head (I don't know if it's canonical or not) that tells me that Japan is a pioneer in Jujutsu sorcery, so sorcerers from Europe (only the most talented ones, I don't think the superior geezers would allow more than three or four foreigners) and from other continents also migrate to Japan to evolve in sorcery. Proof of Japan's immense strength in sorcery is that the strongest sorcerer in the world is Japanese (Gojo Satoru🙄). I like this parallel between the pioneering of Japan and the European continent in different things, it's very interesting to see players from European countries snub (we've seen some like this in Blue Lock) Japanese players, and I can totally see Japanese sorcerers (those from Tokyo no, except Gojo Satoru, he would totally do it🙄; but I can see Mai and that little blonde witch from Kyoto doing it).

Now, going back to the jujutsu sorcerer manager, obviously the fact that he was a sorcerer would be covered up (because non-sorcerers don't know about curses and the Jujutsu world) and I believe he would work in Blue Lock just to keep the number of curses low so that it does not become a cursed womb that will later become a curse of a special degree. And just like the slayer manager, the sorcerer manager has abilities that, even if he tries, he may not be able to hide. Imagine if the sorcerer manager (let's call him Sora for now) is a Gojo and also has six eyes (I know there can't be two six eye users existing at the same time, but let's imagine😔😌😔😌😔 😌), I like to think that many in Blue Lock (Ego, Anri, the DMs and the players) would be curious or perplexed not only because Sora is always blindfolded (for account of the six eyes, but, obviously, they don't know that) as well as the fact that Sora never bumps into anything or anyone and always manages to find his way anywhere, even though he is blindfolded. Ego would certainly be…….. A little interested or suspicious? (it depends on you).

And if, at some point, Sora's blindfold came off to reveal her beautiful eyes (let's agree, the six eyes are wonderfully beautiful🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩), if you do that, I want to see everyone's reactions. Sora also knows how to fight hand-to-hand (being Maki's colleagues, I think all sorceres in Tokyo know at least the basics of hand-to-hand combat). Yes, Sora is also well-built physically, but as he wears a loose-fitting manager uniform, this isn't as noticeable (just like Gojo Satoru's sorcerer uniform; we only saw the muscles he has in the fight against Sukuna when he was wearing Toji's outfit). In my head, Sora really wants to (possibly) leave the Jujutsu World to live life outside. I imagine that with his physical abilities (Sora would make an excellent football player, perhaps even one of the best; of course, this could be addressed little by little in sorcerer manager scenarios; I believe that people like Ego or even masters would notice small slips of Sora, I believe that Sora could end up demonstrating some of his physical abilities unintentionally).

If you want, you can add a certain detail (it's up to you to use it or discard it), remember World 5? Imagine that, walking through a strangely isolated square (they are inside an area covered by the Jujutsu curtain; the sorcerers responsible for the curtain didn't realize that civilians were inside. And, when they are suddenly attacked by a terrifying creature (a curse) they are saved by the……………. Manager of that place that they just "massacred"?! I believe that they will be shocked, impressed, curious, astonished, perplexed, etc. If you are going to add this scenario, then it means that, when the Neo-Egoist League arrives, Loki will already know about Sora's abilities (although not so much, since Sora made sure that World 5 was removed from that area as quickly and safely as possible; this while reprimanding the sorcerers who left 5 civilians trapped inside the curtain), so it is up to you to use this scenario or not.

So, what do you think? Can you consider writing about it?😔🤗😔🤗😔🤗😔🤗

OH MY GOD Thank you for this ask! I personally like this idea more AHAHHAA

I legit haven't read/watched demon slayer in so long (completed reading it in like 2021 or something) but JJK is something I have read/watched recently and will probably be okay to go through it again (lost a bit of my interest in it huhu)

I really like the idea of like another Six Eyes user (theyre so fun to read LMAOO) but hmmm, I think it would be so good to like imagine them with a new power of sort..

LIKE IMAGINE, Since Gojo hides bis eyes because of his six eyes, Inumaki doesnt speak normal words because of his cursed speech, imagine reader/OC not being able to feel/hear.

So like reader/OC pretends to be deaf BECAUSE SHE HAS TO (shes like Dolores or sumn) I cant think of a creative power yet LMAO but that would be really cool. She doesn't speak too because its too loud for her or something

BUT YEAAAHH you get the gist LMAO

Mostly for me, I rarely write OCs but more of a reader (want yall to enjoy it and for you guys to have fun and insert the characteristics of your own OCs)

I really want to add the shows under my belt to write, so I am sooo considering a lot of you guys ask about different stories.

I just dunno if I'll do a good job in male writing😵‍💫😵‍💫 since I never wrote a male reader fic before so I am going to be thinking about that HAHAHAHA but hey, there can be the first time for everything.

I will be planning for this (in my trusty google docs) LMAO but Idk if I should make it like the scenarios I currently make right now OOOOOR make it like a whole ass fic (first fic in my tumblr acc if ever YAY)

[andromeda3116]

gah now i'm getting On My Shit about the discworld again and like i've said what i want to say about the witches and the watch but there's also small gods like i will never be over small gods i finished it and i was like... has this... has this healed some of my religious trauma?

if you've never read it, the plot is thus: on the disc, gods get their power from belief. therefore, the more believers a god has, the more powerful they are. and so, there is this god -- om -- who has risen in power, who has a country devoted to His worship, which hunts down and slaughters heretics and infidels, to whom people pray multiple times a day and make pilgrimages to His holy city, which has a huge citadel and huge structure of a complex religion devoted to his worship. and, on a whim, He comes down one day to see how things are going.

and discovers that he has no power.

that, in this country of millions who profess to worship Him with all their hearts, there is only one person left who actually believes in Him.

and there's a lot of meat there, and a lot more plot to delve into, but the core theme ends up boiling down to this:

can you forgive your god for how they failed you?

and do they deserve that forgiveness? how can they earn that forgiveness?

because ultimately, the forgiveness that the messianic archetype is embodying is not that of the god's grace, but of the people's -- to forgive their god his absence. to give their god another chance to be their god.

and whether or not you, in the end, can forgive, it gives you the language to realize that this is what you were asking for with your last prayers. whether or not you can ever go back, whether or not there have been other reasons since that have convinced you further, it gives you the language to accept that your god failed you. and it is not your fault.

this book speaks loudest, perhaps, to those of us who left our church with grief, not with anger. with hurt betrayal, not with the fires of defiance.

it didn't change my lack of religious belief, but it helped me conceptualize my feelings about the church, the things that went deeper than intellectual arguments. about that sense of betrayal, that hurt, that twisted-up knot within me that it had built, and it gave me the mirror within which i could see that i had been failed by my beliefs. it wasn't that i hadn't believed enough, it was that my belief had been betrayed by the absence of an answer.

there have been other reasons since then that have cemented my atheism, but small gods made me stop hating the church i used to love, because it made me recognize why i hated it so much and said "you're not wrong, it didn't have to be this way. you were betrayed and you were failed and you can let it go, now."

[oddballwriter]

💳💥💳💥💳 THE SYSTEM WITH A METALHEAD I BEG OF YOU!! ( if comfy ofc )

Like short 5'2-5'3 reader who looks SCARY as shit and wears all black+tatted but is super cutesy until someone says the wrong shit and they get absolutely insane?

feel like steven would be like raging heart eyes

( maybe smutty maybe not either wayyy..)

- 🌑

Steven Grant

Steven was scared of you at first, that's for sure. The all black and scary look definitely worked on him

It wouldn't be until you approached him that he realized you weren't going to bite him

He finds the difference between the two of you funny, positively.

To me, he seems more like a listener of ABBA and The B-52, those kind of older songs that are more up beat. Something that some suburban dad definitely has on vinyl

I firmly believe that Steven fucking loves the B-52s for some reason, he just has those vibes

Softer type of music, you know? Definitely not metal

But he does enjoy that you're kind and really nice rather than acting the part of how you look

But the one time when you two were out and someone insulted you both and you proceeded to yell at them and cuss them out was a day that he thinks about a lot. You weren't even yelling at them for insulting you, you just tore them a new one because they insulted him

He felt something that day, and he's not saying that he wants you to yell at him, but if you bossed him around a little then he's going to do it with a tent in his pants

He's too embarrassed to admit that but it's defiantly something that's there and you'll catch on someday

Back to the actual topic though, Steven doesn't like metal but he supports you liking it since it makes you happy

Would attend a concert with you but he'd have ear plugs in so that the music doesn't hurt his ears or stress him out

Also, you will have to leave him in the back because he's not going in the mosh pit, he would not survive. I'm sorry but he's not built for that

Marc Spector

Okay, Marc doesn't really listen to metal, he's not an avid metal listener. But I'm sure he's listened to a few songs and knows the more mainstream bands

He thinks you're cool though. Similar to my HCs for them with a goth partner, he finds it fascinating how you don't care how people perceive you and just be yourself. You're happy and he uses that as inspiration to be himself too

Marc would listen to metal music with you if it comes up, maybe you expand his knowledge of the genre

Do I think he'd handle a mosh pit? No, I think it would stress him out too much. Too much is happening and it freaks him out. Loves seeing you having fun though so go mosh for him

Marc also respects the fact that you're still polite and not true to how people think you would be, but 100% if you tell someone off then he's all for it. You tell 'em!

Since I went on a whole side tangent on Steven's music tastes, it's only right I do it for Marc

Marc sort of shares the same taste as Steven where he listens to songs that were around when they were younger. He's a classics kind of guy. He likes it when he hears people from back then on the radio

This man refuses to leave the 80's and 90's music scene. You will have to pry it from him in the field of reeds

Jake Lockley

Jake is such a "I love all genres" guy, he listens to everything and finds something to like in it. Even country, yeah sure modern country sucks but older ones are the ones he talks about when e talks about country music

So yeah, Jake definitely likes metal and can get into it. So feel free to play it around him

He also thinks you're cool and loves your whole look. Buys a shirt to match

100% would love to see you tear someone a new one so long as they deserve it. This man is an enabler, he's in the back cheering you on

Also, if you ask him to go to a concert with you, he will say yes so fast

Jake would survive the mosh pit, he would thrive

It lets him let out some stuff that he's been holding back and energy that he can't really put anywhere else

Honestly Jake would be so clearly into your whole metalhead life. He thinks it's hot. He finds it sexy. There's something about the loud music and look that does something for him and he's not going to hide that

Honestly, yell at him in bed, it'll be good foreplay if you're down