#brief mention of the holocaust

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[matan4il]

I have a query and I'm sorry that this question is going to upset you in advance. I see a post circling on here about Holocaust survivors apparently saying that Palestinians are exactly like them during attacks on Gaza. I just scroll past it because I have poor attention span that cannot stay focused more than one sentence but I wanted to know your opinion on this post or if you have seen it. Again, deep apologies that this ask is upsetting. Thank you for still being here and sharing with us.

Hi Nonnie!

Thank you for the kind way you approached this.

I have seen a post that might be the one you're referring to... It's a screenshot of a tweet:

The original tweet shows an interview with one Holocaust survivor. The response falsely expands this to survivors, in the plural, as if this one tweet shows a whole movement of Holocaust survivors, that people simply refuse to listen to.

The original tweet comes from an account that calls itself a "media company," but has no website (something I would expect from an actual media company), and is at least 80% tweets that are anti-Israel and anti-Jewish. I'll give you an example. We all know Elon Musk has allowed antisemitism to thrive on Twitter, all kinds of it, including the white supremacist type, and others that have nothing to do with Israel. In an attempt to educate him, he was invited to a tour of Auschwitz. But apparently, according to this "media company," that was just meant to stop anti-genocide speech on his social media platform:

Of the up to 20% of tweets this "media company" posts or shares, many are anti-democratic or in support of dictatorial regimes.

This account also amplified the words of Julius Malema, leader of the South African EFF party, as he justified the Oct 7 massacre, and demanded support for the (genocidal) Hamas and its "resistance."

Malema himself has repeatedly sang, "Kill the Boer," a song which many understand as a genocidal chant against the Boers, the South Africans of Dutch descent. This guy is a controversial figure at best, doesn't seem to have an issue with an actual genocide, and this "media company" upholds his words as if he is a role model.

But if this account tweets Israel hate, then I guess the Tumblr user who passed the tweet along has no issue with how questionable of a source this is.

I recognized the face of the survivor. This is what it looks like in the cut off screenshot in the Tumblr post I saw:

So how did I recognize him? Because the number of anti-Zionist Holocaust survivors is SO small (around 5), and I have seen every single one of them repeatedly tokenized by antisemites so much, that I'm familiar with the name and face of each. The man in this vid is Hajo Meyer, who died in 2014. He couldn't possibly make any comments about Hamas' massacre on Oct 7, 2023 and the war in Gaza since, unless this "media company" has managed to somehow contact the afterlife. Here's a screenshot from Google, showing a recent re-upload of this vid to IG:

And here's a very brief bio, mentioning his date of death:

I'm guessing that "media company" didn't name him, or specify the date out of the vid, because it didn't want people to know the guy was dead, and the views he expressed were pre-Hamas' massacre.

Hajo Meyer was, without a doubt, an anti-Zionist. But would he still be using this rhetoric after Oct 7, after the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, after better understanding the kind of threat that Israel and Jews worldwide (since Hamas has tried to target Jews in European countries as well, including in the Netherlands, where Meyer lived) are facing from this genocidal terrorist organization ruling Gaza? IDK. I'd like to think he would be better than to continue distorting the Holocaust through this false comparison, but I can't say for sure, and I'm not about to claim that I do, putting words in his mouth just to exploit a dead Holocaust survivor. The fact that the anti-Israel crowd would continue to tokenize (meaning, exploit) a dead survivor like that, as if anyone could know for sure that Meyer would continue to toe the same line, just shows there really is no moral low they can't stoop to.

And here I wanna emphasize how wrong this antisemitic practice is, tokenizing Jews. Because no marginalized group is immune to the hatred spread against it, there will ALWAYS be some of its members, who will internalize and embrace poison aimed at it. There were gay Nazis (the notorious Ernest Roehm was the highest ranking one) and we also have contemporary gay neo-Nazis. So, should we use them in order to pretend that Nazi ideology is not homophobic? That it didn't harm hundreds of thousands of gay people? No, we know that the overwhelming majority of gay people suffered due to it, and would insist that Nazism IS homophobic. So, using those few exceptions to ignore (and embolden) the homophbia of this ideology, ends up being homophobic in itself. Embracing the unrepresentative few over the representative, mainstream majority of a marginalized group in "exonerating" what the group says is hateful and harmful towards it, ends up being hateful and harmful in itself.

And that's what people who only listen to the few anti-Zionist Holocaust survivors are doing. They're basically saying, "Listen to Holocaust survivors!" but they mean only the few who say what the anti-Israel movement does. All the other survivors they ignore, dismiss, silence or even erase.

They're ignoring the voices of the overwhelming majority of Holocaust survivors who WERE (and are) Zionist. Who do not agree with this distorted narrative. Yad Vashem estimates that two thirds of Holocaust survivors came to Israel at the end of WWII, and many more supported Israel even when they chose to settle elsewhere. Just recently, we had a group of 870 American survivors (along with their descendants, altogether 2,500 Jews) thank Biden for standing with Israel after the Hamas massacre. These anti-Israel haters are also erasing the survivors who were themselves targeted on Oct 7, whether threatened, kidnapped, injured or murdered (I've talked about several in my posts on this blog). This anti-Israel mob is exploiting Hajo Meyer even in ignoring that if he had been alive and present in Israel, even just to visit a friend or family member, he would have been targeted, too. These haters are ignoring survivors who said that what Hamas has done is similar to what the Nazis did (I've talked about several of them in my posts on this blog, too. All can be found in my Israel tag).

It is unconscionable, to treat most Holocaust survivors like they don't count, and only see a (literal) handful of anti-Zionist ones as if they do. And it certainly does NOT show the respect the anti-Israel haters imply survivors are owed, through the demand that we all defer to the opinion of the survivors, but ONLY the few anti-Zionist ones.

All that said, off the top of my head, here's a small number of HUGE differences between the Holocaust, and the Israeli-Arab conflict, and anyone ignoring them IS guilty of distorting the Holocaust.

-> The Holocaust did NOT start due to Jews repeatedly murdering Germans on German soil, in an attempt to keep Germans down and prevent them from establishing self rule in the German ancestral land. The Holocaust was completely unprovoked, unjustified and one-sided. Every oppressive measure taken by the Nazis against the Jews, was motivated by antisemitism, and was NOT a reaction to Jewish anti-German terrorism, that the Nazis had to protect their German citizens from. Speaking of unprovoked, unjustified and for a very long time one-sided, that describes the Arab anti-Jewish violence that preceded the establishment of the State of Israel by almost 100 years. But Jewish self-defense in this conflict, which only started about 50 years after said violence began, was provoked, was justified, was a response to what was done to the Jews first.

-> The Holocaust did NOT consist of Jews on German soil collaborating militarily with several Jewish countries surrounding Germany, with the goal of these combined Jewish armies invading and wiping it off the map, in order to prevent German self rule. Guess what the Arabs did to the Jews...

-> The Holocaust did NOT entail repeated German efforts to find a solution for how Jews and Germans could live together on the same land. In pre-state Israel, Jews did try repeatedly to reach an understanding that would allow Jews and Arabs to peacefully share (and co-exist in) the Jewish ancestral land.

-> When Jews finally started rebelling against the Nazis, they did NOT try to get as many Jewish civilians as possible killed. On the contrary, the outbreak of the most famous Jewish revolt, the one in the Warsaw Ghetto, was postponed until the Nazis entered, and the Jewish fighters believed this to be the final 'liquidation' of the ghetto (meaning, the deportation and extermination of the roughly 60,000 Jews still alive there). Only then did they fight back, because (in their own words), they did not want their decision to rebel to cost another Jew "even one hour of life." Compare that to how Hamas has been using Palestinian civilians as human shields. Or even to the Arab leadership back in 1948, which did not hesitate in risking or displacing the entire Arab population in the Land of Israel, in favor of fighting what they called "an extermination war" against the Jews.

-> The Holocaust did NOT see a single day where Germans worked en masse to try and alleviate the suffering of Jews, whether by providing them with humanitarian aid, or by moving them to areas where they would be safe from death. That's in direct contrast to Israel's efforts to make Palestinians' lives better, whether through humanitarian aid, work permits in Israel that guarantee a higher salary and better social rights, medical treatments, warnings when a terrorist target is about to be struck, etc.

-> The Holocaust was NOT supposed to end with even one Jew alive at the end of it. The Germans were going for total extermination of the Jewish people. All Jews who had German citizens were stripped of it in 1935, even before the most murderous parts of this genocide commenced. In contrast, Israel did NOT seek to kill all Arabs, there were many calls for Arabs not to flee Israel and the war which the Arab leadership had started, at the end of the war Israel gave citizenship to 150,000 Arabs who did not leave and did not take arms against Jews, and there was even an offer for tens of thousands of Arabs to return (Weitzmann presented it to the UN), if they do so peacefully. Just a few thousands accepted that offer, but those who did, got citizenship and land.

-> The Nazis were so eager to kill every Jew, that they came to the conclusion they HAD to industrialize their genocide of the Jewish people. That's why they built extermination camps with gas chambers at their core. Auschwitz alone could, on certain days, kill about 20,000 people. No Jew was meant to leave those camps alive. The crematoria were mass murder factories. ANY crime that you want to compare to the Holocaust specifically, you have to show that it includes this industrialization element. Currently, NO GENOCIDE, no matter how horrific, has. And God help us all, I hope it stays that way (this is one of the reasons why the Holocaust mustn't be distorted or minimized. We can't prevent something from happening, if we don't understand what HAS happened, and that we're trying to stop from being repeated). There is not a SINGLE thing in the history of the Israeli-Arab conflict that comes CLOSE to being an industrialized form of massacre. Even the brutality of Hamas on Oct 7, the single bloodiest day in the history of this conflict for either side, doesn't come close.

-> While there are still Jews around, meaning the Holocaust as conceptualized by the Nazis failed, it was so deadly, that it DID lead to the murder of around 70-80% of the Jews living under the Nazi occupation over a short number of years. Even more than 80 years after the end of the Holocaust, Jews have not recovered demographically. Meanwhile, the Palestinian population has increased by about 10 times since Israel's Independence War. But let's say people wanna claim that just this current war is comparable to the Holocaust. There are presently around 7 million Arabs in the territories of the Jewish ancestral land, of which about 2 million are Israeli citizens. I'm gonna go with the anti-Israel narrative for a second, which claims ALL of them are occupied and oppressed by Israel (even though they're not). In order for the ruin of Palestinians to be indeed on the same level, that would mean 70-80% of them would have to be murdered by Israel during the war. Let's go with the lower percent, so it's easier for the anti-Israel crowd to reach the number of deaths that would support their claim. To have killed 70% of 7 million, that would mean Israel would have to kill 4.9 million Arabs in this so-called "genocide." Even if we exclude Israeli Arabs, and only focus on the 5 million Palestinians living in areas where the Israeli army currently operates (imagine the German Nazis allowing Jews safety inside Germany, and only killing them outside it *eyeroll*), that would mean at least 3.5 million Palestinians killed. But after almost 5 months of this war, the number of Palestinian fatalities, as claimed by Hamas, is around 30,000 people (I'm putting aside the fact that at least 12,000 are Hamas terrorists). The gap between what is happening, and what people who make this false comparison are implying is happening, is incomprehensible.

Sorry for the length, but I hope this is helpful!

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[probablyasocialecologist]

Israeli president Isaac Herzog insisted that “an entire nation” was to blame for Hamas’s actions, and that the idea of “civilians not being aware, not involved” was “absolutely not true”. While Rageh Omar reported on this for ITV News, it did not make the BBC or the New York Times or Sky News. Nor did it make most anglophone outlets. Ariel Kallner, in a now-deleted tweet, called for another Nakba on the Palestinians, repeating the crime of 1948 in which 700,000 Palestinians were ethnically cleansed. “Right now, one goal: Nakba!” He exhorted. “A Nakba that will overshadow the Nakba of 48.” This was picked up by Associated Press but missed by most anglophone broadcasters and press. When Tally Gotliv, a Knesset member for Likud, called for a nuclear strike on Gaza – “Jericho Missile! … Doomsday weapon!” ­– and for “crushing and flattening Gaza … Without mercy! Without mercy!”, this also went curiously unnoticed. Again, when an anonymous Israeli defence official briefed Israeli broadcasters that Gaza would become “a city of tents” where “there will be no buildings”, it was largely ignored. When Sara Netanyahu’s advisor, Tzipi Navon, said that it would not be enough to “flatten Gaza”, and that Palestinians suspected of involvement in the Hamas attack should have their nails pulled out, their genitals removed and their tongues and eyes saved for last “so we can enjoy his screams”, “so he can see us smiling”, that too was curiously overlooked. The studied obtuseness of Western media includes carefully ignoring the most severe warnings about what is about to be done by Israel to Gaza. On Friday 13th, Israel ordered residents in the north of Gaza to “evacuate” to the south within 24 hours on pain of being bombed. Former Israeli ambassador Danny Ayalon suggested with a cynical smirk that they could go to the Sinai desert and live in “tent cities”. The Biden administration appears determined to enable this to happen, lobbying Egypt to take the refugee population. The language of evacuation, widely used by newspapers, was euphemistic. Over a million Gazans had just been given a death threat. They were being told at gunpoint to flee in an unrealistic amount of time, on just two roads that they were assured were safe from bombardment, only for a convoy fleeing south to be bombed, killing seventy people. They had no reason to believe they could ever return to their homes or that their homes would even exist. Here was the second Nakba that Ariel Kallner shouted for. A UN press release warned of “mass ethnic cleansing”, that would repeat the Nakba of 1948 “yet on a larger scale”. Two days after that warning, only the Independent among British newspapers had covered it. One honourable exception to the general omerta on explaining what the “expulsion” order means is the BBC’s Victoria Derbyshire who, interviewing former Israeli ambassador Mark Regev, quoted former UN head of humanitarian affairs Jan Egeland, saying: “The Israeli order for civilians to move from north to south is impossible and illegal. It amounts to forcible transfers and a war crime.” No anglophone newspaper, of course, mentions the word “genocide” in this context, though that is the term used by both Palestinians and Jewish groups opposed to Israel’s war, and is clearly what is implied by Israeli statements and actions. As Mustafa Bhargouti told CNN’s Christiane Amanpour, Israel is inflicting the triumvirate of “siege and collective punishment”, “genocide” through bombardment, and “ethnic cleansing”. The Israeli historian of the Holocaust, Raz Segal, describes Israel’s indiscriminate war on Gazan civilians and its assault on the conditions for life for the whole community, as “a textbook case of genocide” unfolding in front of us. For the press and the majority of pundits, the problem cannot be named. At most, liberal dissent attains to the insight that vengeance is not justice, as though what Israel is now threatening is merely reactive rather than programmatic.

[vagabond-umlaut]

skew lines

a pair of lines which neither intersect nor run parallel to each other

▸ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader; word count: 4k ▸ alternate universe: reincarnation; alternate universe: soulmates; multiple lives; fluff; drama; angst with a hopeful (happy) ending. ▸ content warnings: character death, non-graphic suicide, brief mention of infidelity, implied domestic violence, panic attack, indirect reference to the Holocaust of WWII. ▸ read this on ao3 instead! :))

▸ please read the warnings carefully before proceeding to the story! ▸ sincerest apologies for any inadvertent inaccuracy. no disrespect intended towards anyone, least of all towards those who had to face gruesome events in their lives. ▸ many thanks to @pupkashi, @mimiriko, @guccirosegold, @silkylious and @missmeinyourbones for your lovely suggestions, comments and support!!!! ❤️❤️ ▸ i don't own characters, gif or divider. please don't plagiarize/translate/repost this.

ONE: KAMAKURA; 1262  

“A lady must never dream,” Your mother says as she places the wataboshi atop your head, “She must only ever fulfil her duties to her family, silently and obediently.” 

An errant tear rolls past your cheek, washing away the make-up and hours of your maids’ efforts with it. Your mother, however, pays that no mind and raising you from your seat, leads you out of your quarters. 

As you walk beside her, you wonder... Were you from a humbler origin... Were you not from one of the Big Three Clans, would life have been different? Would you have been freer? Happier? Or would you still have to walk into a union, knowing full well widowhood awaits you by the next sunrise?  

A mangled sob falls past your lips, and you turn to your mother with a pleading gaze.  

“Please, mother, I can’t do this,” You clasp her hands in yours, entreating her in a broken whisper, “I can’t do what you asked me to do. Ask me to not marry him, ask me to retire from all this to a nunnery – I shall do so in a heartbeat. I will never question you. But please, mother, I- Brother!?”  

Yanking you away from your mother, your brother drags you by the arm across the courtyard, then stops a foot away from the shrine, his eyes narrowed into slits as he glowers down at you.  

“Listen, girl,” He seethes, and you wince from the painful grip he has on your arm, “You’re a Zen’in. You’ve been fed, dressed and kept alive by us, Zen’ins, for the last two decades. Not by that sick idiot inside, you fell in love with, like the disloyal bastard you’re. So, you better shut up and pay us your thanks, yeah?” 

You nod, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand.  

If your family wants you to pay them your thanks, you will do so – you decide, while your brother barks at the maids to reapply your make-up before you enter the shrine – just not the way they expect you to.  

Hours later, a small smile lines your lips as your husband enters the room. In a black haori and hakama, the daimyo resembles a deity amongst a sea of mortals – which he probably is, you muse, if the whispers on his prowess in war and court are anything to go by.  

 “You’re staring, wife,” An amused chuckle draws you from your thoughts.  

You give a timid smile back, “You’re too handsome to not be stared at, husband.”  

Surprise flitters across your husband’s features, soon followed by an understanding grin.  

You realize he must have seen the empty cups behind your back.  

“Did you finish the sake your brother gifted us, all by yourself, darling? Thought you weren’t a big fan of alcohol?” 

“’m not,” You answer meekly, averting your gaze from his crystalline blue, “Still, I drank.” 

“And may I know why, darling?” Chuckling, the daimyo pulls you into his lap and nuzzles into the crook of your neck – then pulls away when a harsh cough racks through your body. Blood at the corner of your lips, you run a trembling hand through his soft white locks, the fondness in your dying eyes contrasting the shock in his. 

“I want you to live, that’s why.” 

TWO: HOKKAIDO; 1966 

“I want you to live, that’s why.” 

A tired yawn leaves your lips as you throw the blankets off and pad over to the open window, that singular statement still pestering you from your dreams – or, should you say, nightmares. 

Tormenting you for three months now, they have always ended the same – you whispering those words, time and time again, a grim relief settling in your bones as your eyes finally shut, prey to an eternal slumber – until they open again, onto the blood-red digits of your alarm clock. 

Initially, you had ignored them, treating them as figments of your imagination – a side-effect, you had supposed then, of watching sad historical romances. However, when the dreams began to recur and blur into a single overarching theme – love, death, love, death – it was then that you finally decided to consult a professional. 

“A long vacation to Hokkaido is what you need, you workaholic idiot,” You recollect your psychiatrist friend insisting last Friday at your weekly dinner together. “A relaxing bath in the hot springs, a thrilling ski down the steep snowy slopes – and who knows, you might even find a cute man who can keep those dreams away,” She had trailed off with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, which had earned her a pillow in the face.  

Another tired yawn escapes into the chilling night air and you realize how utterly, totally wrong she was.  

Sure, the hot springs are relaxing enough, the snowy slopes are steep enough, the men too are cute enough, still… your dreams seem to have worsened since your arrival here. In fact– Bang! 

Startled, you turn around at the sound – when, out of nowhere, a slender hand pushes you into the wall – and the scream in your throat withers away at the sight before.  

Hair as white as the snow falling outside, eyes as blue as the ocean you’ve grown beside, features eerily translucent yet eerily familiar...  

“Who are you?” Disregarding the warning bells chiming in your brain, the question tumbles past your lips in a soft whisper. 

A long second passes before you receive a reply.  

“No one nice,” The figure finally whispers back, and you bite back a gasp when their frigid fingers dance across your bare arms, “But tonight I can be yours, darling, if you want.”  

You let your fingers tangle in their messy white hair and pull them in for a kiss.  

(Years later, you’ll agree with a laugh, you had indeed acted like a moron in the face of a (definitely paranormal) intruder in your room.) 

(Years later, you’ll also share a quiet look with your friend after such discussions – for she and you alone, will know how much your lover from that night resembled your lover from that dream.)

 THREE: NEW ORLEANS; 1884 

“What do you mean by ‘No,’ girl?” 

Your brother huddles closer to you – out of cold or fear, you’re not quite sure. Pushing him behind, you attempt reason another time, “Exactly what you understood, Sir. You see, I’m not that kind of woman. I-” 

“Nonsense! You are all sluts,” The man roars and lunges forwards at you – only to drop dead an instant later. A frown twists your painted lips as you return the gun to your purse – which deepens when you catch the toddler’s dumbstruck gaze alternate between you and behind you.   

Of fucking course, there had to be a witness.  

“To be fair, he was the one who attacked first,” You state, whirling around with your gun raised, “And to be safe, I don’t really mind having another’s blood on my hands.”  

An amused snicker rings through the stale evening air and you feel your muscles tauten in dread. Years of fending for the two of you have taught you to know a predator when you hear one.  

“Or, you could join me, y’know?” 

That doesn’t mean you’ll scamper away like a meek doe at its first growl, though.  

“As what? Some side-hoe?” A mirthless laughter bubbles up your throat and you shake your head lightly, “No, thanks. I’ll pass.” 

A beat passes in tense silence, before the man steps forward into the lamp’s dim light – and you drag your brother closer to yourself, covering his eyes with a palm, whilst your own widen in recognition.  

Silky white hair, crystalline blue eyes, ridiculously tall and handsome – the Boss returns your stunned expression with an even smirk, “And if I ask you to be my partner, what’ll you say? Will you still pass it?” 

“I…” You glance at the child beside you – his skinny figure, ratty clothes, unkempt pink hair, guileless features – and back at the man who stares at you expectantly. A tendril of disgust unfurls in you as you imagine the crimes the sleazy scoundrel before you might have committed. 

“Yes, I’ll pass it,” You answer with an indignant glint in your gaze, “I don’t want my brother to grow in a horrible world like yours.” 

“Not even if you get enough money to raise the kid into a proper gentleman?” 

“Are you trying to fucking buy me!?!?” You snarl at him, taking a menacing step forward – then stop when you feel a little tug on your dress.  

Your hand removed from his eyes, you find your brother peering up at you worriedly.  

Taking a deep breath in, you give the toddler a reassuring smile, and lifting him into your arms, turn to the man with a sharp grin.  

“He doesn’t need your foul money to grow into a proper gentleman. He’ll anyways be one.” 

“As you wish, darling,” The Boss hums with a faint smile at your words, and casting you one last long look, recedes into the shadows he appeared from.  

A month later, you hear the man drove his car off the edge of a cliff.  

“He drank himself to death after being rejected,” Your co-worker tells you on the way to the bar. You only frown in response.  

Feeling oddly bereft, you cancel your shows and head home early that evening.

 FOUR: NEW LONDON; 2628 

“Get out. Now.” 

Reducing your auditory levels to a bare minimum, you continue folding the clothes.  

You know you shouldn’t be bothered.   

You are a mere housekeeping robot Mistress bought online a year ago.  

Your only purpose is keeping the house clean and going on the odd errand or two – not worrying your circuits off for Mistress, every time voices are raised or things are thrown to the ground.  

Still… your wired heart can’t help but twist when you hear the front door slam shut and a pair of bruised arms wrap around you. “I was right,” Your receptors detect a choked whisper, “Twelve years of marriage and he has another woman in his life. Guess I’m that unlovable, huh?”  

Desperately wanting to deny, you emit a rapid series of beeps, nudging your Mistress to look at the wall opposite – and project your first picture with her there. 

In the picture, Mistress is crouched beside you, blue eyes crinkled in a grin while her long white hair flutters in the breeze. On her other side is her friend, a blond man, a polite smile on his face as he looks at the camera.  

(The day it was captured is still as green as the neo-grass you water every morning in the lawns.  

It was your Mistress’ thirtieth birthday that day – although no indication of the same could be found anywhere in the house. Master had left for work at sharp 7 in the morning, Mistress had secluded herself in her home office an hour later and you were tidying the house – as usual.  

With the breakfast over, you were in the middle of returning the dishes to the drawers when the front bell rang. More than a little peeved at being interrupted during your chores, you let the door open after the second ring – to Mistress’ friend waiting with a huge box and balloons in his hands.  

It was only when he hugged your mistress and wished her ‘Happy Birthday,’ that the metaphorical bulb lit up in your processing unit – and you let out a chitter in fear – FOR HOW COULD A TOP-CLASS HOUSEKEEPING ROBOT FORGET AN IMPORTANT OCCASION AS THIS!?!? - only to earn a hearty laugh from Mistress in return. At a loss at her reaction, you quietly beeped at her.   

Grinning, Mistress crouched before you and placed a hand over your dome head. “Don’t sweat it, silly,” She said with a knock to your head, and you let out an annoyed little beep, “I won’t return you to the factory for this tiny mistake. I don’t know what shitty instructions they fed your system but I'm not like that. I’m way too fond of you and your weird little quirks to do that.” 

A relieved beep left you – and you realized, quite contrary to the shitty instructions you had indeed received long ago, you too had grown fond of your Mistress.) 

Happiness worms into your heart when you find Mistress looking at it fondly – then, fills your entire body, from the audio-receptors atop your head to your tiny wheels, when she directs that gaze at you.  

“Thank you,” She whispers, wiping her tears away, then rises, extending a hand to you. “Now, let’s go pick me a killer outfit before we go kick that cheating ass, shall we?” 

An excited chitter escapes you and you zoom past towards the closet – totally ignoring her sudden stillness behind you. 

“Hey, did you just smile?” 

FIVE: WARSAW; 1941 

“Has anyone ever told you, your smile’s really pretty?” 

“Has anyone ever told you, you are really pretty?” 

The boy breaks into an abashed grin at your question, and you beam back. 

A comfortable silence befalling the two of you, you return to your book – though your thoughts stray far from the tale unfurling within it.  

The fates must be cruel – you think, dragging your gaze from the tiny letters to a loose thread in your skirt – to give you a life so lonely and quiet, sans family, sans close friends; then bring it close to an end just when you’ve found a person you might want to live it with.  

A tired exhale leaves you as you close your book and flop backwards on the cot. A beat passes before a pair of arms wrap loosely around your midsection. Humming softly, you snuggle into a firm chest, relishing in its warmth – both literal and metaphorical.  

“Anything worrying you, princess?” A soft voice asks, a while later.  

“Not when you’re holding me like this,” You wish to say... yet you eventually decide against it. 

Uncertainty already plagues your mind if you’ll live to see the next morning or not – leaving behind a loved one, or worse, being left behind can only add to the woes.  

Ready with a barefaced lie, you send him a sweet smile – then freeze when a siren tears through the biting night air. A terrified shiver crawls up your spine and you squeeze your eyes shut. Another siren soon follows, then another – and you realize why they are called ‘the siren of death’.  

Dread – the cursed, doomed, endless kind – courses through you like a poison.  

Searing. Suffocating. An awful lot like dying.  

Before you can register it, a wail claws its way out through your throat, and you wrap your arms around the boy. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,” Clutching his sweater, you say, a silent terror in your wide eyes as you peer at him, “I want to live. Here, with you. Please don’t let me die.” 

Concerned gaze sweeping over your features, the boy places a warm hand on your cheek – and smiles when you grow minutely calm at the contact. “I won’t,” He whispers to you, quiet and earnest - and you feel your heart stutter, albeit from a reason different to before, “I too want to live, with you. But preferably somewhere else, yeah? This place is cramped as hell.” 

A quiet chuckle escapes you. Brushing his white bangs away, you gaze tenderly into the crystalline blue depths of his eyes. “But do we have the money to afford a bigger place?” 

The boy grins at you.  

“Once we’re out of here, darling, we’ll have all the time in the world to earn the money we need.” 

The enemy forces find your hiding place that night. 

SIX: UENO; 2017 

“They say time’s the greatest healer of all.” 

Gojo’s blank façade shows no cracks, and you grin – though it instantly gives way to a sharp hiss! Wincing, you press a palm on the gash across your abdomen.  

Fuck! That damned sorcerer must have cut you deeper than you thought, huh... still, no biggie! Tis but a tiny scratch and you had, in turn, made him and his associates die choking on their blood. Ha! 

“I never thought I’d find you here,” A quiet voice snaps your self-gloating in half and you peer at the man leaning against the opposite wall.  

Even in the minimal light the dawn has to offer, you reckon he looks an Adonis incarnate – tall with chiselled features, shiny white hair and fitting clothes – add to those, a wealthy background and a flirty persona and you find it's not surprising, really, why Gojo turned out to be the playboy he is. 

“Why are you here?” You ask him, a tilt to your head, “Isn’t there a mission calling you now?” 

If Gojo detects the scorn in your voice, he makes no comment on it. Instead, he crouches before you and removes his sunglasses, revealing his crystalline blue gaze and the stormy allure they carry. 

You frown back at him, unimpressed.  

“The fuck are you removing your shades for, idiot? Wanna get a headache later?” 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, you can see, yet it disappears within a fraction of a second – and your frown deepens. He’s so unlike the way he usually is... 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Gojo?” You ask, concerned, when a sharp pain tears across your flesh and you swear you black out for an instant. It is then you realize what is wrong – and betraying the fear percolating in your chest, like a fucking leaden weight – you let out a barking laughter.  

“Of fucking course, the blade was poisoned,” You shake your head, a sarcastic smile on your lips, “And here I was wondering why my injuries weren’t going poof! like they do. I wonder how they...”  Trailing off, you let yourself look at your injury another time, when another realization hits you like a freight train – and the smile slips off your lips.  

“You told them, didn’t you?” You whisper, less as an accusation and more as a fact. Gojo averts his keen gaze from you.   

Twenty years ago, had anyone told you the arrogant Gojo kid your parents introduced you to at your birthday would one day be your best friend, then your lover, then your ex and finally, the reason behind your death – you would’ve certainly decked them in the face.  

Yet now, as you stare at the man before you, drowning in a sea of guilt, shame and regrets, you reckon life can be a fucking rollercoaster ride sometimes.  

“I don’t blame you, Gojo,” You admit after a while. Gojo makes no response.  

You continue, unperturbed, “You know, it was our fourth year at school when I decided to visit my clan again. They and I were not on good terms then – the absolute worst, in fact... still I decided to visit them. They were my family, after all. But you know what I saw when I went there?”  

Gojo looks at you, a faint furrow between his eyebrows. You drag your gaze skywards, “The entire estate still and silent, my parents, my siblings, the servants lying with a slit throat or a stabbed chest in their beds.”  Smiling despondently, you return your gaze to his shocked features.  

“It wasn’t a landslide which killed them, Gojo. It was those sick higher-ups who killed them – a punishment, they had told me, for my failure at catching Geto.” 

A tense silence falls over the two of you, as you finish speaking, a little breathless – and remains so – until the man breaks it with a silent question. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

You send him a sardonic smile. “And what would you have done then? Killed them? You and I both know, how risky it would have been. And I was unwilling to lose another loved one to the system.”  

A pained groan leaves your lips, and you slowly shift your posture a little, in hopes it will relieve the pain. It doesn’t. You continue, still, “Don’t blame yourself, Gojo. I would have joined Geto, even if you weren’t so distant then. Of course, I could see his mission being a failure from miles away – still, I couldn’t keep serving people I lost my family to, and I didn’t want you to create an animosity against them. And as for now...”  

A sympathetic smile creeping onto your lips, you ask, ���They threatened you with the students, didn’t they?”  

You receive no words in return. Instead, a rough palm comes to cover your smaller one. His sparkling eyes now tear-filled, Gojo slowly pulls you into his lap, reminding you of the way he used to do this to you in days long gone – and then used to tickle you mercilessly, like the annoying yet dear bastard he was. 

A quiet chuckle falls past your lips and the sorcerer gives you a faint smile – though you don’t miss the wobble in his lower lip as he does so. “Anything funny you find in this?” 

“No, nothing,” You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle and reach out a hand to touch the tips of his hair – wondering if they still are as soft as they were; they sure do look very soft – only for it to fall to the ground midway. You let out a mirthless laughter.  

“The poison they used was really good, huh,” You muse aloud, then squint up at him, loathing the darkness overtaking your view of him, your time with him.  

“Hey,” Calling softly, you huddle closer to the man, an attempt to gain respite from the chill rapidly enveloping you. The grip on you tightens and you let out a soft whisper, "I want to meet you again. Think we can?” 

Gojo’s forced grin is the last thing you register before your vision blackens entirely and your eyes fall shut.  

“I know we will, darling.”  

SEVEN: ???? 

“Would this classify as a meet-cute or a meet-ugly?” 

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.  

Your classes will be starting in another minute, in a building a good six hundred metres from here. 

Your seminar papers – the ones you prepared till three in the morning on nothing but ten cups of coffee and sheer will power – are flying away merrily with the breeze; a few even rolling, pitching and yawing (whoa!) as they flee from you.  

Your crisp white shirt – the only white your wardrobe houses and the only colour the seminar allows - is now sporting an ugly shade of coffee-brown – though, you note absently, it seems to be a pretty lighter shade than your usual’s. 

And oh! Last but not the least, you are also nursing a bruised (and perhaps, broken too, if the pain you’re in is anything to go by) ankle on the ground. 

And despite all this, this asshole is having the audacity to fucking flirt right now.  

You decide, you don’t want to laugh nor cry.  

You want to yell.  

Maybe drop in a punch too, to knock some sense into the bastard.  

Sleep-deprived features thrown into a furious scowl, you look up from your injured ankle – a swear, the likes of which will make sailors cover their ears, at the tip of your tongue – and look into a pair of crystalline blue eyes, partly covered by short white bangs.  

The world around you stills.  

And you stare and stare and – yeah, you guessed it right – stare at the man crouched before you.  

A person you know you have loved countless lifetimes before.  

A person you know you will love countless lifetimes later.  

A beat passes before the world resumes; you keep gawping at him still – totally oblivious to (or uncaring of) the cobblestone path you’re sitting on, the weird looks being directed your way, your friends calling you and rushing towards you. 

Gazing at you lovingly in return, you hear the man whisper, “Meet-cute, it is, darling.” 

You lose your balance a second time that day. 

[xclowniex]

Did you see Yuval's new video ..

I'm so fucking angry. As a person of colour, I cannot imagine bending over backwards like that. I cannot believe that even after all the antisemitic shit people said about him, he's still like "aww I'm sorry for being my evil white male self guys. I'm listening and learning to be a #better ally"

What a fucking loser, I'm sorry. I'm not saying he is perfect and above criticism but it is completely clear that people were only bothered by his video because he dared to address antisemitism and they can hide behind "oh he said civilised society" all they fucking want but the reality is that they need the evil Jews to shut up about this thing called antisemitism that they don't believe exists.

And lastly to see this weaponisation of race is horrifying because has the left really become what the right stereotypes them to be? I'm seeing lies of "Yuval is silencing a black woman and being racist" and "Yuval's fans are attacking and being racist towards her!"

Fun fact none of those things happened. The person he responded to just happened to be black and everyone immediately used that to silence Yuval the white man!1!

Then it is not an exaggeration that EVERYONE sided with that other person. Yuval got much more backlash and hate than the person he responded to (they barely got any btw) but because he is white and the person is black it HAS to be the other way around even when it's not. I'm so shocked. This is what the right mocks the left for. I'm so ashamed.

Literally this. I'll include his apology video at the end.

Like people are going "erm your use of the word civilized society is racist" when his usage of it was acknowledging the racism of the term.

Like his whole point was that society viewed Germany as the most civilized society and how it shocked the world that the most civilized society could do something so bad. That was his whole point. He was not saying that he thinks Germany was the most civilized society, he was saying that people of that time thought that. And he even mentioned in his first apology that genuinely believing in civilized society as a concept is racist, but that he was not saying he believed in it, just that people in the 1930's and 1940s did.

Like idk how people can't understand that going "this societal view that was held years ago is a contributing factor in why the holocaust was seen as so bad" is completely different to going "I believe in this thing"

Just because he was for a brief moment, no longer their perfect little token jew, he gets shit thrown at him.

I was rooting for him to let this be is his turning point. For him to realize that the face eating leopards ate his face and will do it again, yet he didn't.

Another thing we was being criticized for was "holocaust exceptionalism" which he was not doing. He went "all genocides are unique and bad in their own way" and people viewed that as him saying that it was the worst genocide ever.

People hate recognizing that jewish suffering was bad

[remnantspod]

Remnants Official Relisten: Episode 3. Silver Ring

If you're relistening today, remember to tag it 'remnants or' so people who don't want to see it can block the tag!!

A silver ring shows the Apprentice insights beyond the reMnants it contains.

Transcript.

Ah, yes. The aim of this episode was to show another side of what this show can be, and the result is that everyone seems to end up weeping? Whoops!

It was really interesting to be writing across both of the World Wars. The characters don't fight in either, but war is a huge presence in their lives nonetheless. I have relatives who lived through the second world war, one was in the RAF, one in the women's land army, one who was an essential factory worker who opted not to fight, and another who was a housewife. All of them have now passed except for my great grandmother who served in the land army, but I grew up fascinated by their stories not just of their lives during the war, but in the years afterwards.

If you liked this episode, consider signing up on Patreon to support the show! If I get 20 new supporters by the end of November, I'm going to make a fluff episode of Remnants to release after the end of S1.

Content Warnings under the cut

Please bear in mind that this work has content some listeners may find distressing, including themes of war, violence, and grief. This episode contains:

– Discussions of war

– Implications of experiences of homophobia

– Mentions of war

– Brief, reflective discussions of mental illness, including depression, suicidal ideation and a failed suicide attempt (not detailing these experiences, but referencing them as events in the past)

– Descriptions of death by natural causes

– Discussions of grief

– Discussions of WW2, with non-detailed, condemnatory references to the Holocaust

[bawltongue]

ROOMMATES - Pt 1

(jonathan davis x stealth transmasc reader <on t, post op top surgery>. takes place in early 90s, very beginning of korn. reader gets notice by landlord that they will have to share their space with a new roommate- that being jd. despite the readers initial lack of excitement, they get to know each other and develop a mutual liking)

18+ !!!!!!!

warning: substance use, lots of swearing, slurs, brief mention of the film 'cannibal holocaust'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Fucking shit!” You sputtered out, woken up from a deep sleep due to your obnoxious alarm. You had the day off, but had forgotten to turn it off the evening prior. You sighed, feeling defeated already. Another day where you’ve been yanked out of slumber nearly suffering a heart attack at 8 AM.

“Great, there goes sleeping in today.”

Getting up from your bed, you groggily stumbled into the kitchen. Might as well prepare a decent breakfast, since you actually have time rather then having to rush to work. You opened up the fridge to scan various ingredients, trying to decide on what you were going to make. You had meant to go grocery shopping a few days ago, but your consistent exhaustion has kept you nothing but work and homebound. The fridge was basically barren and despite your rumbling gut, nothing looked appetizing.

Well, nothing except for your trusty old bong sitting on the counter where you had left it the night before. It still had some ash and weed inside the bowl; even a bit of green still sprinkled in there. You sighed picking it up, mildly disappointed in yourself over how happy the thought of lighting it up made you. Walking out onto your tiny haven of a balcony, you plopped down in one of the plastic yard chairs and picked up the lighter left lying on the ground. Inhaling the comforting smoke, you sat wondering what you could do to postpone going to the grocery store for as long as possible.

“Damn, this is some good ass shit.” You coughed out, already feeling high after a couple hits. Your dealer knew you back in high school as the weird, quiet, androgynous kid. When you had first linked up about a year ago inquiring about buying from him, he thought your transition was ‘cool and interesting’. He always made sure to give you his best product; sometimes he’ll even slide you some free edibles to try.

Finishing up what was left in the bowl, you made your way back inside to fill it back up and get fucked up for the day; only to be inturupted by a knock at your door.

“Shit shit shit.” You anxiously jumped up, racing to shove your bong under the kitchen sink and lighting a candle on your coffee table. You weren’t expecting any visitors, and you had already paid rent for the month a week and a half ago; what’s the fucking deal?

Another impatient sounding knock at the door.

“Coming, I-I’m coming!” You stumbled over to the door, opening it without even thinking to look through the peephole. Lo and behold, your landlord, Lily, was waiting with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow.

“Do I have to remind you for like, the billionth time that you can’t be smoking? You’re gonna get me in trouble, Y/N.” She said half seriously, half nonchalantly. You’ve had this conversation so many times, all she can really do at this point is wag her finger and pretend to care.

“Shit, you can smell it?”

“Not this time, but your eyes give it away.” She snickered, gesturing at your face. “Anyways, that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about. I have news, and you’re either gonna be excited or pissed at me. Probably pissed. Either way, it’ll be your problem, not mine.” She crossed her arms and took a step closer.

“You’re scaring me, Lily. Like, that just made me so anxious. Just give it to me straight.” You braced yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest and holding onto your shoulders. You honestly didn’t know what to expect at this point. You’ve been residing in the same complex for close to 2 years now, so aside from the occasional drama from the room above you or malfunctioning of appliances; surprises weren’t something that occurred often at all. You were almost hoping for her to say something a little outlandish. Life had felt so redundant lately.

“Alright. You want it straight? I’ll give to ya. Finances are… rough, to say the least. I can’t keep up with what I’m charging you for rent. So I’m raising it-“

“What? Are you kidding? You know I’m in a shitty situation myself, I can barely afford an eighth of grass. I’m paying for my hrt, come on, dont do this to m-“

“Y/N, chill. You ain’t even let me finish my sentence. Why would I mention you’d be excited if I was just gonna double the rent on you? You think I’m a monster?” She looked mildly offended. Her assurance made you relax your shoulders a bit.

“Anyways; I’m raising the rent and you’re going to be splitting it with a new roommate. I think he’ll be a perfect match for you, he’s your age, a bit quiet, but-“

“Aw shit… please tell me you’re joking. I don’t mesh well with other people. Especially strangers. Plus, you know my ‘thing’. What if I get hatecrimed? What do you even know about this guy?”

“Enough to be sure he won’t slaughter you. I dunno, he might be a little… you know… queer himself even. Not my business.” She flashed a limp wrist to emphasize her point. It would’ve made you chuckle if you weren’t so disappointed and taken off guard. “Be prepared for your new friend tonight. I already told him he’d probably have to take the foldout couch to sleep in.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, maybe you should be excited or something. You’re always alone, getting stoned by yourself and shuffling around here like a hobbit. Your life is your life, but you have a shot at making a friend. You’re gonna have to get used to it anyways, because I need money, and you need a place to live. Once I get his payment, I may even be able to fix your hot water problem.” She winked cartoonishly and took a step back. “That’s all I had to say. If you can afford it, go buy some eyedrops.” She said before walking away, unbothered.

You made a disgusted expression at her back before slamming the door shut and pacing to your bedroom to put some normal clothes on. In that moment, you had decided you’d tidy things up a little bit. Sure, you were pissed off and unhappy that you’d have to be sharing your space with a total stranger all of a sudden, but you didn’t wanna feel embarrassed about a mess on top of that. Wasn’t worth fighting fire with fire.

Time felt like no object as you cleaned up; throwing laundry into your crummy little dryer, spraying down the mirror in the bathroom, vacuuming up the ash and crumbs scattered throughout the apartment floor. Before you knew it, you had looked at the clock and it was 4 PM. You had done a damn thorough job sanitizing and tidying.

Damn, I’ve been cleaning all fucking day for some dude I don’t even know. I deserve a medal for hospitality or something.

You looked over at the little coffee table, spotting your lighter.

Or maybe a couple bong rips would suffice.

Packing up the bowl tight with a nice fluffy bunch of weed, you situated yourself outside with a glass of water and got ready to get fucked. Your anxiety was starting to eat at you now that you weren’t occupied cleaning; and what better way to rid yourself of that nagging feeling then to smoke it away?

Time dragged on as you smoked an unforeseen amount of bud. Your eyelids got progressively heavier until they fell and your body gave in to much needed sleep. A sleep that would once again be crudely interrupted, as the slamming of something hitting the floor of your apartment pulled you to your feet in fear. With bloodshot, sleepy eyes you yanked the door from your balcony open and staggered inside.

“The fuck?” Your voice cracked with apparent concern and confusion. In front of the doorway of your abode stood a lanky, and clearly startled man about your age. He had dark dreads, silver eyebrow piercings, and a uniquely handsome face. You scanned him tentatively, trying to figure out in your stoned state of mind if he was a threat or not.

“Sorry, I uh, Lily gave me a key and I didn’t wanna knock in case you were asleep. I didn’t mean to scare ya like that.” He awkwardly fumbled, putting the key in his pocket before outstretching his hand. “I’m Jonathan.”

You exhaled in relief and reached your hand out to shake his. He seemed polite enough, and the fact that he was clearly nervous as well made you feel a bit better.

“Names’ Y/N. It’s cool to meet you, man.” He gripped your hand with more strength then expected. You couldn’t control your eyes. Your gaze went from up his hand to his face and down his body. Taking in his features and clothing choices the best you could. You noticed his dark, friendly eyes. There looked to be a lot of soul behind them. His decrepit black sweater and sweatpants that looked like they’ve been through purgatory. You wanted to keep staring, but didn’t wanna seem weird.

“This is a really nice place, you do a good job keeping it clean I can see.” Jonathan smiled, trying to ease the tension, earning a soft smile back. His crooked teeth caught your eye.

“Thanks. To be honest, I really don’t. I cleaned it all today, went fucking nuts with it.”

“Aww, what? Already trying to impress me and we just met, huh?” He playfully responded, making you blush a bit. Fortunately for you, it was just dim enough so that he couldn’t tell.

“Man whatever.” You laughed tiredly. “Can I help you with anything? You look like you might be strugglin’ a bit.” You looked over to his bags that had fallen all over the floor. One had busted open and his clothes had come flooding out. You noticed a pair of thigh high striped socks and garters. Interesting.

He looked behind him and sighed softly, turning back to you. “Nah, nah… Well… I hate to make this kind of first impression, but would you maybe have sumthin’ to eat? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

You nearly facepalmed. Fuck. I was supposed to go grocery shopping today.

“Shit man, I wish I could say yes. I haven’t eaten all day. I’m hungry m’self.”

“Oh fuck, well… can I buy you something to eat then? It’s like almost midnight but I can get us something from the Kwik Stop across the street.”

You smiled, a bit surprised at the offer. You would’ve said no out of courtesy since you normally don’t like when people buy things for you; but because he was moving into your space, you graciously took him up on the offer. Before leaving, you both moved his bags onto the couch and went on your way. It was pitch black outside. You hadn’t realized how long you’d been out for until he mentioned it was about midnight. Time felt weird.

The Kwik Stop was just across the road from your complex, which was empty due to the odd time of evening. On the brief walk there, you had partaken in some small talk; learning that he had come from Bakersfield, that he enjoyed music, that you both really liked The Cure. He had a very soft spoken and gentle cadence to his voice. Although you weren’t excited by any means to have to embrace a new roommate, it didn’t seem like it’d be necessarily hard to get along. In fact, you found yourself kind of attracted to him which threw you off a bit.

“Feel free to grab whatever you want, It’s on me.” He winked at you and walked off, going straight for the beers in the back. Once you both got what you wanted, you left to run back across the street. The sidelights lit your faces up dully as you waited for cars to cease passing by. "I really appreciate you getting me something to eat."

"Don't worry about it. I really appreciate you being so cool about me staying at your place. I probably would've beaten the shit out of me the way I showed up earlier." He chuckled softly. Jon's gaze was soft, his eyes looked like black holes reflecting the small amount of light emanating from the street. You met his fixed look with your own causing him to nervously glance at his feet.

"I gotta be cool with it, right? We're roommates now. If anything, I'm surprised you didn't peace out when my stoned ass came bumbling through the door at you. Was kinda embarrassing."

"Naw, it was sorta endearing." You didn't even have a moment to respond before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the street. "C'mon, let's head out." He kept your wrist in his grasp as the two of you speedwalked across the road. You had been caught up staring at Jon's face rather than paying attention to the cars. He let go of you once you reached the other side. "Whew, let's fuckin' eat."

You walked up the stairs and unlocked the door to your apartment, letting you both in. Jon plopped down on the couch and instantly started ripping apart the wings he had bought. He looked up at you with full cheeks and patted the space next to him. You sat down somewhat guardedly, slurping at the slushy you got. As you both ate and drank your respective food and engaged in chitchat, it was easy to tell that sleepiness was becoming palpable. Your eyes kept fluttering closed as Jon would try to continue engaging in conversation. You had been sitting and talking for over an hour now.

"Y/N, you oughtta go to sleep." He snickered staring at you, his head in his hand. "I can tell you're exhausted."

Your eyes peeled open, dark circles encompassing them. "I guess I should. Fuck, I'm so tired. I'm sorry. I wanted to try and vibe a bit more but-"

"Go to bed. We'll have plenty of time to talk tomorrow. I just like your company, it's why I won't shut the fuck up." A sleepy smile plastered on his face. You groggily got up and made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth before passing out on your bed. Too tired to change out of your day clothes, but not too tired to unplug your alarm clock.

As the next couple days and weeks passed, you and Jonathan got to know each other better. Developing a friendship where you could be both serious when necessary, but poke fun at each other as well. You took space when you needed it but found that you both enjoyed each other's energy. Jon became more talkative as the days went on, and the two of you found it easy to intently listen to each other. He had told you about the band he was in and how they're working on their first album; even invited you to their next rehearsal. You were becoming somewhat close pretty fast. It'd been a bit difficult to continue suppressing the full on crush you developed on him throughout your time together. You kept covering it up by teasing and making fun of him in subtle, friendly ways. He did the same, but you assumed it was his way of being friendly.

In the midst of a pretty serious conversation about childhood and the lyricism behind the songs Jon had been working on with his bandmates; you ended up disclosing the fact that you're trans to him. You had gathered from multiple discussions and his experience with being perceived as queer that he wouldn't be distasteful about it. Fortunately, you were right. He found it to be very interesting and admirable. You were the first trans person he'd met. He was very open to being educated on the subject. Every now and then a new question will pop into his mind that he'll ask you; some a bit invasive, but all in a genuine attempt to better understand and sympathize with you. You came to learn he was a very open minded individual. After you came out to him, he insisted on giving you an almost uncomfortably long hug. Almost, but more than anything it was a very meaningful gesture. Ever since then, you found yourselves embracing and having sentimental moments a little more often. It was nice to finally have somebody to confide in about your personal life and vice versa. Friends, dates, socializing in general hadn't exactly been a tangible thing since you moved away from home.

At this point, it had been about a couple weeks since he had initially moved in. At the end of a very long workday, you had planned to head over to the Kwik Stop together and grab slushies. This time, on you. Work hadn't ended until 9:30, which left you getting back to the apartment around 10 PM. Jonathan was waiting eagerly when you got back. The moment you opened up the door, he sprung up from the couch and walked over to you. “Let’s get outta here!” He pushed past you, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along. He got into the habit of dragging you places by your wrist like that. You didn’t get the chance to even say hello, let alone change out of your work clothes.

After picking out your ridiculous sized slushies, you headed back to the apartment and finally had the opportunity to change into something more comfortable. You grabbed a random oversized t-shirt and pair of sweats from the dryer, swiftly throwing them on before exiting your room to join Jon on the couch. Looking up at him, you noticed a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You sneered, raising an eyebrow. "What's your damage?"

"Nothing. You're just wearing my shit." He pointed a finger at you, still smirking. He proceeded to take an obnoxiously loud sip from his drink, not breaking eye contact. You looked down at the clothes you had mindlessly tossed on to find he was right.

"Oh, uh, shit. My bad. I thought-I didn't even realize. I'll go change real quick."

"You shouldn't. It looks good on you." He very obviously scanned you up and down. A hot blush spread rapidly across your face. You both locked eyes for a few silent moments before he spoke again. "You're turning red."

"Man shut the fuck up." You sputtered out, flustered and unable to hide the smile on your face. "That's gay as hell." You were never very good at accepting compliments.

"That ain't a problem with me." Jon snickered and bit his lip looking quite satisfied with himself. You plopped next to him on the couch and flipped the television on. Out of the corner of your eye while channel surfing, he was making it pretty apparent that he was gawking at you. You had your gaze fixated on the tv and tried to play it cool; despite your heartbeat growing louder in your ears. Jonathan interrupted your aimless search for something to watch by letting you know he had a VHS tape he wanted to show you. You hesitantly agreed as he sprung up and grabbed it from one of his bags, popping it into the player.

"It's called Cannibal Holocaust." He casually sat back down, a little closer to you then before.

"Jonathan, what the actual fuck are you making me watch right now?"

"Don't worry, it's all fake. Mostly. If you get scared, I'll protect you." He playfully patted your head and chuckled, turning his face towards the screen. Every time he touched you, whether it was a tiny tap, a hug, a fist bump, a gentle hand on your waist to get by you; it always made butterflies arise in your stomach. As the movie played on, you found yourself progressively more disturbed and unsettled. Every now and then, Jon would turn his head toward you to check your reactions. You thought it was pretty cute, but with him doing so, felt compelled to try and force a stone-faced expression. That was, until a particular scene involving a turtle shocked your system.

"OH SHIT!" You jumped in disgust and fear, spilling your giant, now melted slushie all over the couch. Jon couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"You fucking weirdo, where are you gonna sleep tonight now?" you snapped in a mildly annoyed tone. He wiped a tear from his eye from laughter, glancing down at the sticky mess.

"Damn... Guess I'll curl up on the floor?" He got up to go grab paper towels from the counter. You took a deep breath and got up to turn the VHS player off. You felt a little bad for raising your voice at him.

"Nah, nah. I'm sorry, that was totally my fault. You can sleep in my bed... I-I wouldn't mind."

He gladly accepted as you both proceeded to get ready to go to sleep. Brushing your teeth, setting up his one pillow and bracing yourself for what you hoped to be a casual, non awkward evening. He walked into your room from the bathroom with nothing but a pair of dramatically short, tattered boxers on. You couldn't help but gawk at his figure; he was so much hairier than you imagined. Almost made your mouth water. He excitedly crawled under the covers next to you and faced you, a cheesy grin on his face.

"Taking it to the next level now, are we?" He winked.

"You're dumb." You laughed tiredly. Your faces were inches away, causing you both to subtly turn red. "You've been acting so gay lately."

"Yeah yeah, haw haw, Imma fag... Can you blame me? We've been spending so much time together. I'm starting to like- well I dunno. Nevermind. We gotta sleep." He closed his eyes and began cartoonishly snoring. 'Honk shoo, honk shoo'. It made you snicker.

"No, you can't do that, Jon. Tell me what you were gonna say. I promise I won't be a douchebag about it." You inched closer, getting in his face. Your mutual sleepiness causing your walls to come down a bit. He opened one eye, lips curling into a smile seeing you so close to him.

"I don't wanna make things weird, Y/N. We're sleeping in the same bed tonight." The anticipation of waiting for him to say what you thought he was going to was killing you. You were both sweating. A brief stretch of silent thought ensued until you interjected.

"You have a crush on me or something?" You tried to keep a casual, somewhat playful tone, but your voice came out shaky. His eyes bulged a bit, looking away from you. He sighed dramatically.

"You know, I played that movie kinda hoping that you'd get scared and like, grab my hand or want me to put my arm around you or something. I didn't expect you to dump liquid diabetes all over the couch... and now we're laying in the same bed... and I feel more awkward about telling you this then I thought I would..." He trailed off hesitantly. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath since he started talking.

"Just say it." You impatiently spat out. His eyes fixed back onto yours, both of you using the blanket to cover your faces from the nose down.

He laughed awkwardly; "Peer pressure... I think I've made it obvious enough, right?... I really like you. Like, I'm crushin' on you a fuckton. I think you're really fuckin' cute, Y/N." He almost whispered out. Your smile stretched across your face so wide that your eyes squinted almost completely. You saw the smile in his eyes as well, as you both remained stuck in each other's gazes. You couldn't come up with a response due to your surprise and the surgency of emotions. Time seemed to stretch on forever as you affectionately stared into one another's gazes. Jon hummed thoughtfully to himself, debating on whether or not to interject the silence.

"Can I kiss you?" Jon softly asked. You nodded your head enthusiastically, prompting him to scoot closer to you until your lips weren't even a centimeter apart. He placed a gentle hand on the side of your face and leaned in, placing a tender, somewhat quick kiss on your lips. You couldn't hold back your childish giggle.

"So I take it I didn't make things weird?" He chuckled, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"No, no. I'm actually really happy you said something. I'm kinda surprised. I uh, I like you too. A lot. If that wasn't apparent... and yeah, I also think you're cute. Very cute." You made the bold, sleep deprived decision to move your hand onto his bare waist, making him slightly twitch in pleasant surprise.

"Careful now. You're gonna give me a boner."

"Man you're so fucking dumb." The both of you laughed as you gave him a light, playful slap on the cheek. The rest of the night was spent sprinkling soft kisses on each other's faces and lazily making out. The romantic tension that had been building finally burst with your mutual confessions. Jon kept trying to spoon you throughout the evening, but in your exhausted state, you couldn't help but toss and turn. Every now and then, you'd feel a kiss on the back of your neck, or his hand resting on your waist. You could tell already that touch was his love language. Before you finally fell asleep, you ended up having to accept your nightly fate of being swallowed up in his arms. His chest hair tickled the back of your neck as he kept you pressed up against him. It was a much safer and cozy feeling then you were expecting. You had never felt so comfortable with the touch of another person before. It was one of the most restful, satisfying nights' sleep you had since you could remember.

[g0th1cc4ndl3s]

HOW TO HELP PALESTINE

Hello! To help Palestine win against Israel, you can do many things, even from home! I’ll be listing the things YOU can do to support Palestine.

Boycott companies supporting Israel

Stop buying from companies supporting Israel

Protest

Sign campaigns against companies supporting Israel with money (ex. is #NoTechForApartheid, you can go visit the website at notechforapartheid.com, it’s free and it’s easy, it’s close to its goal of 87000, currently at 85566)

Spread information about the ethnic cleansing, genocide, Palestine history, etc. either online or offline (yes, even if you have a small platform, do it, each person talking about it counts.)

Donate to charities for Gaza and Palestine

Contact your member of Congress and call for an immediate ceasefire

Lift up Palestinian voices

LEARN MORE ABOUT GAZA, PALESTINE AND SHARE

History of Palestine and Israel history (sourced from Quora by Ghassan Khalid Barghouti, a Palestinian, edit: this post was published four years ago):

“First of all, let me give you a brief history of Palestine. Palestine was originally a province of the Ottoman empire akin to a US state or a Canadian province and then got occupied by the British when the Ottoman empire lost in WW1. Current independent countries such as Jordan, Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon were more or less a part of the Ottoman empire. While each of these countries share similar culture and social make up, their exist some difference, and the people of these countries that were mentioned got independence from the British empire expect for Palestine.

Palestine has an Arab and Islamic majority and a sizable Jewish minority. Some of those Jews lived peacefully in Palestine for generations, some even go back to the Kingdom of Israel. But the larger portion of those Jews came from Europe to escape persecution. They came to Palestine as refugees and they largely lived side-by-side with Mulisms and Christians.

Everything good so far? Now, unfortunately things from there on weren’t as good. Because the world sympathized with Jews as a result of the Holocaust, they decided to grant them a country in Palestine (which didn’t even have a Jewish majority). So naturally the Arabs rejected those move, because for them, it didn’t make sense that you should lose your lands just because another group of people suffered by another group of people were not even part of your continent. So they resisted. Unfortunately for them, the extremist Jewish militias were more organized, and they killed lots of simple farmers and villagers and forced others to flee, and denied them the chance to come back to their homeland after the war was over.

Now forward to the present. You have Jewish-European state sitting upon a land that once had a Mulisms, Christians, and Jews living on it, who were Arabs and many of them identified as “Palestinians”. These Palestinians are now either, second-class citizens in Jordan, or living a very uncomfortable life in the Westbank with checkpoints all over the place, walls separating territories, and extremist settlers living in among them, and sometimes abusing or burning their victims alive.

What do Palestinians want? They want justice as a start. They need to have their land back, and not being refugees anymore.”

I am so sorry that this is a short stamp but these are general things to know on what to do/the history of Palestine and I hope you help, listen, and support. I hope that the Palestinian people are saved and given their beautiful country back.

If I made any mistakes with this post, please let me know so I can correctly share it. Thank you for reading and supporting, I hope you have a good day.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Something worth mentioning about Doctor Doom’s backstory is that depending on the time scale he would have been born after the Porrajmos.

Which means his community suffered greatly.

The ideas that he could never be weak and that Doom is superior came from his own peoples suffering.

yyyeeeahhhhh that's the case for most, if not all Romani characters in the Marvel universe. Wanda and Pietro are famously the children of Holocaust survivors.

The whole point of Victor's backstory is that his community was suffering, and that he became the person he became because of the violence he witnessed, and the losses he experienced. They don't talk about the Holocaust directly, but the themes you're getting at are already present-- they're kind of the whole point.

Today, August 2nd, is actually Romani Holocaust Memorial Day. I'm not going to shy away for representing this part of our history, but I would like to say that the Romani people are widespread, and our history is long and complicated. We can represent other parts of that history, and other instances of persecution, without comparing everything to the Porrajmos/Samudaripen.

Anyways, now that we're talking about it, I have post with a brief historical primer on Romani Holocaust victims here. Dikhe Na Bister is posting some interesting stuff about their Memorial Day activities, and they're also running a fundraiser for Roma Holocaust survivors in Ukraine.

[evita-shelby]

Tie your heart to mine

Ch.10

Gif by @violaobanion

Warnings: brief mention of the holocaust (contrary to popular belief the Allied governments amd some people did know about what the Nazis were doing)

The couch at the back of the pub doesn’t compare to his old bed nor Diane’s.

He’s fought the urge to climb up the drain pipe knowing she’s left the balcony doors unlocked for him.

Does that even when she’s not there, so he can have a place to hide in.

Tom hates to admit it, but he missed her.

Missed how easy it was to just go up there, snuggle into bed with her and know nothing can touch them there.

She’s always warm, always waiting for him because she, just like him, has gotten too used it that sleeping alone feels wrong.

But she lied to him.

Everything built on a lie from the beginning, its no wonder it came to this.

“You’re still not talking to her?” Lois asks the moment he lays down in the bed that feels too small since he had his last growth spurt a year ago.

He was taller than his dad now, about three or four inches to be specific.

He took after his mum who came from tall and lanky blond people.

Lois took after dad even if she was a little one the tall side.

“She’s in Birmingham, her dad’s gonna answer the fucking telephone again.” Tom lies and hopes she doesn’t pry.

But she will, only because he does the same when she’s the one having troubles.

Lois doesn’t know what the row was about.

As far as she and his dad know, Diane’s taking care of business and he’s trying to keep his word to Mrs. Johnson who’s gotten the police asking questions after one of them caught him leaving Diane’s balcony.

The pig had the fucking nerve to call him Romeo.

Only reason he didn’t do shit about it was because its the last thing they need.

“You want to talk about it, Tom?” she asks quietly knowing he’ll say no.

They’re each other’s best friend.

No one else can come close, not his nor hers.

But he doesn’t want them worrying for him more than they already do. Tom already makes them worry about him as it is, no need to add to the burden.

His job is to be a bloody nuisance so they forget they have actual real problems going on.

“Royal Navy, 3rd class air gunner.” Tom says the words, partly to get it out of the way and have someone else know it.

“At least you’ll get out in the world.” I’m sorry she means.

Diane’s too much a pessimist to understand what looking at the bright side means for them.

They don’t have the privilege of admitting defeat and cry about.

You either sink or swim.

“She didn’t want to tell me because she didn’t think I could handle it.” He says flicking the ash off his cigarette into the ashbowl he’d brought up here with him.

It was Diane who couldn’t handle it, the one thinking the worst and already thinking he will die.

“What did you tell her?” Lois asks hoping to fix things between him and Diane because it will stop him from moping about it.

“Said, mum did always like putting me in sailor suits.” The blonde answered and not being surprised by her quiet chuckle.

The only photographs of them as kids had been them in matching sailor suits the only time they could ever afford to see the beach.

“Diane didn’t think a fucking joke was an appropriate response to that.” He adds as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

It’s nearly gone, and still won’t do the trick.

“Maybe she’s just scared for you, and her brother. You heard her, they are putting people who aren’t Aryan in camps and killing them in Germany. Might be she didn’t want to tell you, because she is the one who can’t handle it.”

Didn’t think Lois would be taking her side, if she’s sticking up for Di, next time she talks about Harry, Tom’s going to have to stick up for him to even things out.

“If you say so, Loo.” She might be right, just doesn’t excuse the lying and Diane thinking him a bloody fool.

But he’d rather talk this out with her, in person preferably.

“So you’re going to give her a call tomorrow ?” she asked knowing he’s not putting the ashtray away because he’s going to sleep.

Tom knows he’s got enough saved up for a train ticket to Birmingham, and sure he has no fucking clue where the mysterious Arrow House is nor how far is from Small Heath, but he does know where Diane keeps her shit.

“Nah, gonna surprise her. I’ll be right back.” He said carefully opening the old window.

“Where you going, Romeo?” she asked teasing him about it all. “I thought you said she wasn’t home.”

“She isn’t, can’t go to her house if I don’t know where it bloody is, can I?”

The moment he starts asking people if they know someone heading to Arrow House is when the fun starts.

Small Heath reminds him of Longsight, endless rows of brick houses, people going about there day and that.

The only difference is that for every ten men, one of them wears a flat cap.

And then there’s the Shelby Company Limited signs on cars, boats and even some places.

Tom doesn’t go to the Digbeth office, no because he’ll be there.

He goes to the pub instead.

Garrison Tavern, a Shelby Family Distillery.

Needs a drink anyways.

“So what brings you here, manc?” the barman asks looking at him with suspicion.

He was as old as his dad, had that same don’t fuck with me look all these blokes have here.

“A girl.” He answers knowing its going to get good. “Do you know where Arrow House is, heard she lived there.”

Tom keeps it vague, one wrong word and they’ll send him home in pieces.

The man shares a look with two others, peaky blinders like him who Tom knows he can’t win against.

“Many girls up there in the big house, maybe I know her.” The man keeps on going as if Tom isn’t almost shaking with excitement.

He likes stirring trouble, something his dad and Lois know and hate.

He can’t help it, every time someone wants to make him feel small and afraid his fuse burns up and he explodes on the poor fucker who gets in his way.

This time, it might save him the fare to the country house.

“You might, her name’s Diane.” Tom tries not to smile when he says it, but he can’t help it.

Tom is laughing like a madman when the men throw a burlap sack over his head and drag him out the Garrison and into the back of a truck.

He’s still running his mouth knowing they won’t touch him when the sack is taken off and he is kneeling before the Devil of Small Heath.

“You got balls, I’ll give you that.” The man said, rubbing his cigarette on his upper lip before lighting it up.

[antlereyes]

Fascination of the Flesh

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▏ This post will go into the history and media of cannibalism, and at the end how my identity ties into the subject.

I do not condone the actions mentioned.

And I will not go into graphic details, but this is a warning about the content of this post. ▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▏ If I am going to be discussing the history about cannibalism it is only fair to start of with how it has harmed the indigenous community. The word "cannibal" is possible to have come from Christopher Columbus himself. He mentioned to the Queen of rumors about a indigenous group called the "Caribs" that cooked and ate their prisoners. This was then frowned upon so the Queen wished for these people to be enslaved. And when things did not go the way Christopher wanted it to, he simply labelled every protester as a "caribe" having them captured. Then somewhere along the years the word carib became what we use today, cannibal.

Still today tribes of different nations are affected by the western view of them and cannibalism. Seeing anyone not living in the "modern world" as cannibalistic and wild. This thought have partly been caused by movies portrayals, general hatred and differences in cultures.

For there are so many cultures that have different practices surrounding cannibalism, without it having been strange untill people from outside said culture found out about it. Examples being ritually eating a dead relative, eating the flesh of the ones fallen in battle, eating a person to gain their powers or religious sacrifice. It can be horrible in certain circumstances, but it can also be a beautiful thing that is part of a rich culture.

What is more horrible rather than beautiful is when it comes to mummies. Not all too long ago, europeans themself were cannibals aswell. Although they did not like to go by that name and they didn't see themself as such. Peaking in the 16th and 17th century many people ingested remedies containing alot of different human parts. And where from? Mummies stolen from Egyptian tombs ofcourse. There are many different ways the remedies were created, and usage of the parts from the mummy varied. And I can recommend for those intruiged to read about this part of history!

Fun fact, once upon a time catholics next to Indigenous people were consindered equally "savage" due to their consumption of Christ's body and blood. It's funny to see how cannibals themself would call others out for their cannibalism whilst turning a blind eye to their own practices.

This is just brief on the history of harm in differences in culture, next I want to discuss a little bit about media that have further caused harm to indigenous people. There has been quite alot of cannibal centric movies since the 1900's, one old very famous one that has been adapted quite alot is Sweeney Todd. In 1963 there came a bang, cannibal movies reborn when Blood Feast was released. And the "cannibal boom" properly started in the 1970's through the 1980's. Sadly these new ones weren't just horror movies, they also gave a bad light to foreign cultures (non-western). Taking place in south america, africa and asia, often in rainforests. This once again made white people see people of colour as "savage" and primitive. And I believe a particular movie might pop into the minds of certain people reading this, Cannibal Holocaust. There are so many awful things surrounding this movie, and it's not something worth watching either. It centers around a cannibalistic group of people in the amazon and the awful acts that follow.

Movies like these are only made for shock value and to put it shortly, misogynistic and extremely racist. And they've only caused harm to peoples perception of indigenous groups. But thankfully we've moved past this point, and now cannibalistic media focuses on other themes and people.

I find cannibalism to be a interesting and creative tool for storytelling, and I believe that is why it has become so popular. It can be used as something metaphorical or even political. Take the movie Fresh as an example, here we see a white cishet man who is clearly making alot of money. And how? By selling women's body parts to other rich men. Now movies surrounding cannibalism like these have gone from being misogynistic and using women, to being a statement about how men use women. Similar to Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, a book written by a woman to show how ridiculous white rich men are. Ironically that movie flew over the head of most men it was making fun of, and they saw Bateman as the version they all want to be. Slightly terrifying!

It is quite refreshing to see how women have taken over the genre in a sense, and really transformed cannibalism into something unique and mesmerising. Focusing on sexuality, self-discovery, inner rage, fighting the patriarchy or the struggles in friendships etc.

Raw is a good example, it's a coming-of-age movie that focuses on the character Justine. A vegetarian that starts her first year of veterinary college, although the school has some "rituals" for the new students. One being to eat a rabbit kidney, and this is the start of her spiralling craving for meat. Cannibalism in this movie is used in such a clever way of showcasing a person finding who they are in life and how they are going through rapid changes. It's beautiful and chaotic.

Or even that of the movie Under the skin, which isn't really about cannibalism in the same sense as these other movies. But it shares similar themes and images. It follows a woman, that might not be fully human learning about humanity by luring men to her. But especially about the darker sides of humanity like gender roles and sexism. "cannibalism feels ripe for a feminist makeover because so much about femininity centres on consumption – what we can eat, how much we can eat, how to present yourself as appealing, and how those questions are inextricably intertwined." - Vogue

So how does this topic work it's way into my identity? More ways than one, and we shall start with what is probably the most famous one when it comes to cannibalistic media.

Growing up with parents that love movies and collect an insane amount of dvds, there existed alot of horror themed ones in said collection. I didn't get to watch them at first, but that did not last long and I believe I saw my first horror movie at the age of six or seven. It would not be long after that someone in my family put on The silence of the lambs. Hannibal Lecter is just such a switch-up from what people had previously seen about cannibals. He isn't wild nor a monster. He is sophisticated and intelligent with a taste for the finer things in life, and well, human flesh. He is terrifying in that he is so smart and how easily he can read and manipulate others around him. Being respected and well thought of helps him get his way with things in life. I loved this movie and I was deeply intruiged with Hannibal. That was however all there was, untill a certain man called Bryan Fuller decided to write a show.

This show is Nbc's Hannibal, in which we get to follow Will Graham. An FBI criminal profiler who is plagued by his ability to empathise with serial killers. One of the serial killers he is working on catching is Hannibal Lecter, who also happens to be Will's psychiatrist, colleague, friend and eventual love interest. Hannibal in this show is once again less of a monster and more of a man, although perhaps one that sees himself above other people. He is a doctor, a culinary expert and an artist in many ways. He enjoys the finer things in life, from opera shows to an expensive suit.

Murder in this show is art, and i'm not just talking about Hannibal's way of killing and digesting. Everything in this show is made with such a poetic and emotional touch to it. A man resembling the person you love turned into an origami heart, or people's backs skinned and turned into wings so they can look like angels watching over the murderer who suffers from cancer. It is rarely sloppy or brutal, and when it is that also carries meaning. Such as giving in to your repressed feelings and instincts or becoming who you feared you would ultimately end up as.

Cannibalism in this show is also shown in many different angles. A way to control someone, appreciating the people around you to the fullest, playing God or even homoeroticism. And if you weren't aware or haven't understood it by now, I identify as this version of Hannibal Lecter. And whilst my identity as Hannibal is about so many things, such as his interests above. It is also about cannibalism, it's how and why his character was made and it is simply unavoidable. The intimacy, eroticism and the power that comes with it. Allowing yourself to release what you keep hidden, and to find similar minds. Is all part of me and also connects to my other identity I shall discuss, that of a vampire. "If you look at cannibalism throughout history there is something extreme about consuming somebody else. If you love someone fully the most extreme you can go with that is to digest them and make them be part of you." - Mads Mikkelsen There is nothing quite as intimate as that of a vampire consuming it's victim, or perhaps, partner. And similar to cannibalism, vampirism has been used as so many metaphors throughout history. Such as, repressed desires, social fears, spreading of diseases, Queer identities, addictions, lust and so on.

It definitely connects to my general identity, thoughts and the struggles i face in my day to day life. Intrusive thoughts, desires, a want to escape humanity, fear of death, morbid curiosity and sometimes a need to feel powerful. And with the consumption of blood there comes something so raw and personal with it. Perhaps you lured or tempted a person to go with you, with the idea that you'll do something else but end up the your meal. Draining them of their life to sustain your own. Their blood living on forever in the body of the vampire. It's passionate and intimate.

I think Hannibal can sometimes be likened to that of a vampire, the man was even raised in a castle. His mysterious but sensual and intruiging aura. His way of words and quotations. Even just how he presents himself and his meals. It is all like that of an ominous vampire lurking and manipulating to end up with a deeply passionate feeding session.

My final part to this long dive into my psyche is that of Remus Lupin, and being a werewolf. One would think that someone that identifies as a vampire wouldn't also identify as a werewolf. But they do have alot of connections! Especially if you look into the original Dracula story, in which Dracula himself could turn into a wolf.

Remus is very laid back and careful, and I believe alot of that comes from his "disease". It plagues his mind and he deeply fears that he will hurt the ones he loves, even to the point of running away from them. But he loves deeply, and that is probably his greatest strength just as it is his greatest weakness. Being a werewolf is also a wonderful way to represent this. Trying to hold back from hurting but ultimately failing to do so as the beast and urges from deep within comes out. Something i've personally struggled with myself, and still might from time to time. Because sometimes our biggest fears are ourselves and what we are capable of.

I could probably talk about this topic for ages and dig deeper into my thoughts and feelings regarding it. But I do also fear it would become rather confusing after some time- and just too much to take in. It's not an easy thing to write out your thoughts! But nonthenless I do hope this was of interest and perhaps some of you can recognise yourself in this. If you read to this point, wowza!

Sources: Britannica, TED-Ed, Collider, Smithsonian Magazine

[titan-god-helios]

(tw the holocaust, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, racism, murder, war, brief vomit mention, gore, violence) okay while i'm here, might as well just say something real quick

in my history class at the moment, we're learning about WW2, specifically the holocaust, and it made me remember things about this horrific event that should have never been forgotten, by anyone, ever. for the longest time, I only thought that jewish people (bless their souls and may they forever rest in peace) were targeted by hitler and his sickos. but in the last few years or so, i learnt about his persecution of transgender, queer, black, asian and otherwise poc, disabled and autistic people, as well as jewish. i learned about the atrocities of the collaboration between hans asperger and his fellow nazis, i learnt about how the killings happened and i read and read and read all the while growing sicker and sicker. because these are my people. countless autistics who were not deemed "useful" were thrown to the lions so to speak, the same with trangender and queer people of all races. these people, these minority groups are ones which i belong to. and it still makes me beyond sick to think about what happened during that bastard's reign of fucking terror. and it wasn't just these groups he targeted (duh). he targeted the world. he wasn't just a dictator over his own, he wanted to purge the fucking world of people he deemed unworthy of his reign. he was sick. fucking sick. everytime i think of the events that transpired during the holocaust and world war two, i feel like throwing up until my guts are out on the floor in front of me. what really kills me ? what makes me lose even more faith in humanity ? people want this fucking despicable, evil, downright vile monster to carry on his work, posthumously. how do people not fucking understand, how do these bastard neo-nazis not realise the sheer... i don't even have a word for it. i'm just speechless. and angry. hateful. filled with fucking rage, because no matter how much i don't want to admit it, i know that the question isn't, "why don't they understand," but, "why do they ignore their understanding. knowingly." hitler was like a plague. every single vile accusation or dehumanising comment or phrase or comparison between inhuman pests and jewish, poc, queer, trans and disabled people, slavic people and every single person who did not fit his "standards" - every single one is simply an apt description of the monster himself and all his bastard followers who had full consciousness of what they were doing and supported him. who hailed him. who willingly and authentically danced through the streets of fallen nations, ravaged by theirs and screamed hitler's name in joy. who saluted to "mein fraulein" with a happy heart. who still do. to anyone who does, i genuinely hope you cease to exist. the world needs to be eradicated from the likes of you. you bastards who parade your beliefs around like they're honourable and ruin the lives of the world's jewish and minority siblings. who ruin the lives of our people. to everyone who is sick and twisted and beyond evil and supports or is a neo-nazi, just know that we are chasing you out with fire. and we will win.

[sercezgazety]

I have never been so convinced someone has some form of ethnographic experience. Your Potters Field fic has generally blown me away since I first got the notification, but this last chapter just hut the spot. I loved your brief characterization of the field worker (I have not felt such irritation since my first field school, eating is normal man but in a mass grave???) and the terminology bits mentioned with human/grimwalker also felt very real.

Your version of Darius (realistic feelings about dead friends) was refreshing and the whole fallout of the BI finding out about grimwalkers was well done. I was honestly expecting the ghosts (if they were and not just PW’s imagination) to make an appearance, but am not dissatisfied with their non existence.

Anyway, love your work! Excited for more content!!

Oh boy thank you so, so much! I think that's my first official ask about fanfic, now I feel like those famous hellsite fans (and it's awesome)

But! Zero field experience, I'm in a completely different part of academia. I was briefly studying comparative religions, and I liked the ethnological and anthropological aspects the most, but most of the subjects were highly theoretical. I've only had contact with the sanitized, peer-reviewed versions of such reports, and they weren't in English. I spent an entire day going through archeological papers in English to learn the most basic phrases, and then hours searching for names of bones and body parts. The rest was pure speculation plus what I remembered from papers that analyzed people's approach to the mass graves of the Holocaust victims. It always fascinated me how quickly we get desensitized when dealing with horrible things happening on a mass scale.

I'm so incredibly happy it worked! Thank you so much for this message.

[arewelemmings]

The hypocrisy is glaringly overt. And I'm thankful that this Auschwitz survivor and former Zionist has so perfectly pointed it out with this brief history lesson. And, again, those in power willing to use whatever corrupt methods necessary to hold onto that power, are using the control of information to manipulate the minds and opinions of those who are watching. Speak loudly about the Holocaust, but never mention how a newly founded, modern Israel resorts to similar tactics, the Nakba, to create a new home for itself by displacing others who have lived there for centuries.

The far-right-wing, Zionist, racist, nationalist government of Israel is insanely hypocritical in its viciously monstrous actions against the civilian population of Gaza, shelling and bombing aid stations and hospitals, celebrating the deaths of women, children and journalists.

So, I'm left to wonder what information is being manipulated prior to being presented to the US President as he considers his policies on the matter. Does he know and is he complicit in this genocide? Or is he being duped and manipulated by Zionist plants in his circle of advisors?

One thing of which I am certain is this: The mass murder if innocents must come to an end. And Netanyahu must be held accountable for these continuing atrocities, along with those surrounding him.

"I’m personally a Holocaust survivor as an infant, I barely survived.

My grandparents were killed in Aushwitz and most of my extended family were killed.

I became a Zionist; this dream of the Jewish people resurrected in their historical homeland and the barbed wire of Aushwitz being replaced by the boundaries of a Jewish state with a powerful army…and then I found out that it wasn’t exactly like that, that in order to make this Jewish dream a reality we had to visit a nightmare on the local population.

There’s no way you could have ever created a Jewish state without oppressing and expelling the local population. Jewish Israeli historians have shown without a doubt that the expulsion of Palestinians was persistent, pervasive, cruel, murderous and with deliberate intent - that’s what’s called the 'Nakba' in Arabic; the 'disaster' or the 'catastrophe'.

There’s a law that you cannot deny the Holocaust, but in Israel you’re not allowed to mention the Nakba, even though it’s at the very basis of the foundation of Israel.

I visited the Occupied Territories (West Bank) during the first intifada. I cried every day for two weeks at what I saw; the brutality of the occupation, the petty harassment, the murderousness of it, the cutting down of Palestinian olive groves, the denial of water rights, the humiliations...and this went on, and now it’s much worse than it was then. It’s the longest ethnic cleansing operation in the 20th and 21st century.

I could land in Tel Aviv tomorrow and demand citizenship but my Palestinian friend in Vancouver, who was born in Jerusalem, can’t even visit! So then you have these miserable people packed into this, horrible…people call it an 'outdoor prison', which is what it is. You don’t have to support Hamas policies to stand up for Palestinian rights, that’s a complete falsity.

You think the worse thing you can say about Hamas, multiply it by a thousand times, and it still will not meet the Israeli repression and killing and dispossession of Palestinians.

And 'anybody who criticises Israel is an anti-Semite' is simply an egregious attempt to intimidate good non-Jews who are willing to stand up for what is true."

[phoenix-has-risen]

▶️ Watch this reel

Exactly. It was the powers that be who enforced the founding of the Israeli state and also provided the circumstances, allowing Israel to be above the law by ignoring their transgressions. It is all well and good to acknowledge the fact that gov'ts during WW2 ignored the plight of the Jews and the holocaust but to still be paying for it nearly 80yrs and thousands of Palestinians being murdered, jailed and living under apartheid/occupation, being treated worse than animals is ridiculous. Not to mention losing their land because some British guy named Rothschild decided that the white Zionist European Jews needed a homeland so they'll just take a good chunk from the brown Muslim, Jewish and Christian people that have been living together there for centuries in peace don't need it and we don't care if they do.

[thehappyscavenger]

Books Read in April 2023

Golden Hill by Francis Spufford

A BANGER. I was recommended this after I mentioned to someone I head read Light Perpetual. It’s such a good book. Set in NYC in the 1700s a mysterious British man rolls into town with a ton of money. Is he a scammer? Is he just rich? Who knows! Mysterious and wonderful and FUN.

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell

Oooh boy, did not like this one. O’Farrell writes a fictionalized version of the life of Lucrezia Medici, who was also the subject of Robert Browning’s poem My Last Duchess. The characterization of her early years and then the way O’Farrell writes her later doesn’t really match. Also there’s a really grotesque final twist I could see coming from a million miles away but is like...morally disturbing and she ignores the complexity of it completely! Disappointing. 

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather

I really struggled to see why this is such a classic and I guess for the time it must have been pretty progressive. The novel is historical fiction loosely based on the life of the first Bishop of New Mexico and how he struggled to establish his congregation. It’s a set of very loose stories really, each very brief. But the way she describes the indigenous and Latino people who populated this area is really offensive. It’s not like the Catholic church was all noble and meek. They did horrible things and were terribly disrespectful. This white washes a lot. 

Riders in the Chariot by Patrick White

Problematic Catholic book part deux. I went into this blind and I regret everything. It’s basically a passion book set in Australia about a group of loosely connected people in a small (fictionalized) town. They all see religious visions of a chariot and one of the characters is Christ re-incarnated. 

INCREDIBLY anti-semetic. I don’t think White was trying to be but wow does this play into offensive tropes about Jewish people and the Holocaust. One of the characters is a German-Jewish man who sort of meekly accepts his fate. It’s horrible. Do not recommend. It was actually darkly funny to read this after reading the Passenger by Ulrich Boschwitz. Because both men write about German Jews living through Kristelnacht and the takes couldn’t be more different. 

Do not recommend. A sour note to end April on.