#but we do like a safe and peaceful Europe

[silverfox66]

The West is still cowardly weak. Still refusing to give Ukraine all the weapons they need, out of fear of "escalation." What is russia going to do what they haven't done already? Use nukes? russia knows that that will be suicide for them, and they won't use them if they want to live. Besides, russia has "warned" multiple times that if the West did A, there would be "consequences for the West." Every single "warning" by russia was a bluff. No "consequences."

We need to give Ukraine all the weapons they need. The longer we wait, only more and more innocent people will die. russia must be stopped. Europe isn't safe as long as russia stands.

And we need to ramp up our own weapon manufacturing. That way, the West can keep on supporting Ukraine and keep enough weapons for our own arsenal.

[girlrotterr]

Milk Of The Siren.

captain!abby x siren!reader Summary: Captain Anderson is among the most skilled, effortlessly navigating countless ships. Yet, even the finest sailors aren't immune to the lure of sirens' hunger. a/n: new series for you angels!!! super excited for this one!! (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) ⇢ part two𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A human laid before you, unconscious.

Her milky skin glimmered under the soft moonlight, her body reflecting the silvery glow. She was drenched, her clothes soaked through with seawater. Sand was plastered around her face, sticking to her skin like a constellation of freckles.

what a disturbance..

It was already past midnight, the only illumination coming from the moon and stars above. Their light dancing on the surface of the water, and the gentle glow of jellyfish drifted the sea. You had sought this place for solitude, yearning for some time alone. The cave lagoon was your sanctuary, a place where silence was a constant companion and disturbance was a foreign concept.

But now, that tranquility was shattered. The human's presence was an intrusion into your sacred space. This lagoon, with its crystal-clear waters and echoing silence, had always promised peace. 

You emerged from the water, your movements graceful and deliberate. Your sleek, iridescent tail shimmered, casting ethereal patterns on the cave walls as it parted the waves. Each movement sent ripples across the surface, water cascading down your body. Your hair, the color of the midnight sea, clung to your back,  your eyes. deep and mesmerizing, locked onto the human with irritation. 

The soft sound of waves lapped against the shore, the only noise in the otherwise still night. You hovered over her, studying her face. She looked peaceful, almost serene, despite the obvious turmoil that had brought her here. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and you could see the faint pulse at her neck, a sign of life amidst the stillness.

Hovering down, you brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, feeling the softness of her skin. She was fragile, a stark contrast to the strength you felt coursing through your own body. This human had no place here, in your sanctuary, disturbing the delicate balance of your world. But there was something about her, something that stirred a feeling you couldn't quite name.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the salty sea air, and let it out slowly. 

───────

"Captain Anderson," Isaac said, shaking Abby's hand in a formal greeting.

Abby returned the handshake firmly, "Isaac," she replied with a nod, taking a seat opposite him. "What brings you to seek me?"

Isaac smiled, a hint of admiration in his eyes as he leaned forward. "You've earned quite the reputation, Captain. Your skill and courage on the seas are well known,." He paused, leaning back in his chair. "I have a proposition for you. We have a cargo that needs to be sailed out to Europe, and I can think of no one better suited for the job than you."

Abby's expression remained composed, though inwardly, she felt a flicker of intrigue. Sailing across the Atlantic was no small effort, even for someone as experienced as herself. "Europe, you say?" she mused, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the arm of her chair. "That's quite a journey..."

Isaac nodded. "Indeed, it is. But I have every confidence in your abilities. The cargo is valuable, and I trust only the best to ensure its safe passage."

Abby inclined her head, acknowledging the compliment. She had earned her title through years of hard work and determination, rising through the ranks from a young deckhand to a respected captain known for her sharp instinct. Her ship, The Siren's Call, was renowned not only for its speed but also for the loyalty of its crew.

"As always, Isaac, I'm honored by your trust," Abby replied finally, her tone reflective of the weight of the responsibility he was offering. "When do we sail?"

Isaac smiled, relieved by her acceptance. "The Siren's Call leaves at dawn. I'll have the crew and provisions ready."

───────

Abby stepped aboard The Siren's Call at the break of dawn, greeted by the familiar salty breeze. The crew bustled about, preparing the ship for departure.

As Abby made her way to her quarters to stow her belongings, she felt a hand clap down on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Ellie Williams, a fellow hunter and friend from her days ashore in jackson. Ellie's auburn hair was tied back, her piercing green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well, well, if it isn't Captain Anderson herself," Ellie teased, flashing a mischievous grin. "Off on another grand adventure, are we?"

Abby chuckled, giving Ellie a playful shove. "Always."

Ellie nodded knowingly. "Oh, I know all too well. Heard you're sailing for Europe this time. Quiteee the journey"

Abby nodded, "It'll be a challenge, no doubt. But Isaac trusts me to get the job done."

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Isaac, huh? That old son of a bitch is at it again!" She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Any chance you'll find a European lady out there?"

Abby rolled her eyes with a smile. "Not likely.”

Ellie laughed, her laughter echoing through the corridor. "Well, you let me know if you change your mind. I've got some contacts who could arrange a meeting."

“I'll keep that in mind.” Abby shook her head,  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to prepare."

Ellie grinned, stepping back to let Abby pass. "Don't forget to send me a postcard!"

With a wave, Abby continued on her way, her mind already shifting back to the tasks at hand. She settled into her role aboard the Siren's Call, overseeing final preparations and ensuring everything was in order, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. 

The sea was waiting. 

───────

As the Siren's Call cut through the Atlantic waves, Abby kept a vigilant watch, her eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. The journey had been smooth thus far, the ship sailing true under her expert command. But just as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, a haunting melody began to drift through the air.

At first, Abby dismissed it as a trick of the wind, but soon, the melody grew stronger, more intoxicating. It was a song unlike any she had heard before — ethereal and enchanting, weaving through the air like a delicate thread. A chill ran down her spine as she realized what it was: 

The song of sirens.

Glancing around, Abby saw her crew entranced by the music, their eyes glazed over, their movements sluggish as they were drawn toward the source of the melody. Panic surged within her as she fought against the mesmerizing tune, her hands tightening on the wheel to keep the ship on course.

"Keep steady! Fight it!" Abby shouted, her voice cutting through the enchantment like a knife. But the sirens' song was relentless, its allure growing stronger with each passing moment. The Siren's Call began to veer off course, its sails catching the wind erratically.

The ship was now beyond her control, rushing dangerously through the waves. The laughter of the sirens echoed hauntingly in the air, mocking their victory. 

“Captain, we're losing control! The ship won't respond!"

"Damn it!"  Abby gritted her teeth, her mind racing for a solution. 

She knew the tales of the sirens, their irresistible songs luring sailors to their doom upon jagged rocks. Abby steadied herself against the wheel, trying desperately to steer away.

But it was to no avail. 

The ship's structure collided with rocks, splintering wood and tearing sails. The world began to whirl as Abby was thrown overboard, the icy waters enveloping her in a shock of cold. Debris and bodies floated around her, the cries of her crewmates drowned out by the relentless roar of the sea. With a desperate stroke, she struggled toward the surface, fighting against the pull of the sinking ship.

Moments later, Abby's head broke through the surface, gasping for air as she scanned the scene…

The Siren's Call was rapidly disappearing beneath the waves, its masts jutting awkwardly into the sky before vanishing into the depths. The sirens' laughter echoed in the distance, a cruel reminder of their deadly allure.

“no...” Abby weakly whispered as darkness crept on the edges of her vision.

───────

“Ngh..” Abby jolted slightly awake, her eyes fluttering open as she groaned softly.

You instinctively backed away, giving her space to gather herself. She looked around, disoriented and clearly in pain, her body stiff and bruised. Confusion clouded her expression, and her gaze struggled to focus on you through eyes still adjusting to the dim light.

You remained cautious, observing her cautiously as she blinked. 

"What has brought you here?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of anger. The disruption she had caused to your sanctuary was annoying enough. 

Abby didn't respond immediately, her eyes still trying to focus on you. She seemed caught between fear and fascination, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to find her voice. The bruises on her skin stood out starkly in the moonlight. 

"There is no place for you here, human," you snapped, your tone firm. 

The rules of your world were clear — humans were outsiders, their presence a disruption to the delicate balance of your existence beneath the waves. 

"You're... one of them," she whispered weakly, pointing a trembling finger in your direction. Her voice trembled, her gaze fixed on you.

Yes, you were one of the creatures of the deep, Your kind had legends woven around them—stories of enchantment and danger that humans whispered. For centuries, your kind had existed in harmony with the sea, guardians of its secrets and mysteries.

But Abby's presence had disrupted that harmony.

A debate stirred within you, a conflict between duty and desire. On one hand, your instincts urged you to follow the rules of your existence—to remain hidden, to protect your kind from the intrusions of humans. But on the other hand, there was a temptation—an urge that whispered of a different kind of need.

Abby's voice broke through your thoughts, her plea tinged with desperation. I don’t mean to intrude.."

Her words hesitated, exhaustion and pain in every breath. You could sense her vulnerability, her body moving with fatigue as she struggled to maintain her composure. The moonlight bathed her in a soft glow, casting a shadow that danced across her features.

In that moment, you saw her not just as an intruder, but as a fragile soul in unfamiliar waters, seeking refuge from the storms. A flicker of empathy stirred within you, a longing to ease her suffering and offer her safeness Yet, there were potential consequences—disrupting the balance that kept both your worlds apart.

With a conflicted sigh, you made your decision. "I will return," you said.

Abby's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of hope and fear flickering across her face. You could see the relief in her eyes, but you knew your reasons for helping her were far from kindness. If she recovered, she would leave your lagoon, restoring the peace and solitude you so cherished.

You slipped back into the water with effortless grace, your body merging seamlessly with the liquid embrace of the lagoon. The cool water flowed around you as you swam deeper, your mind racing with thoughts of what resources you could gather to help. Food, water, perhaps some herbs to tend to her wounds—all necessary for her recovery.

The underwater world welcomed you, its familiar sights and sounds a comforting balm to your conflicted heart. Radiant creatures lit your way, their soft glow illuminating the path through the darkened depths. You swam swiftly, your movements a blur of silver and blue as you navigated the corridors of your aquatic home.

First, you headed to a nearby kelp forest, where you knew you could find nutrient-rich seaweed. With practiced skill, you harvested a generous bundle, tying it together with a strand of your own hair. Next, you sought out a freshwater spring that bubbled up through the ocean floor, filling a small, hollowed-out shell with the precious liquid.

Eventually, you made your way to a hidden grove where medicinal sea herbs grew in abundance. You carefully selected a variety of leaves and stems, each one known for its healing properties. The weight of your decision still hung heavy on your heart, but the act of gathering these resources gave you a sense of purpose, a way to channel your inner confusion into something useful.

With your resources secured, you turned and began the journey back to the cave. The moonlight still shimmered on the water's surface as you emerged, carrying the gathered resources in your arms. Abby was where you had left her, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. She looked even more fragile than before, a difference to the strength you could sense within her.

You approached quietly, setting the bundle of seaweed and herbs beside her.

"I have returned," you said, your voice a whisper. Abby's eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear.

Gently, you handed her the shell filled with fresh water. "Drink," you said, guiding her hands to the makeshift vessel. Abby complied, sipping the cool water with obvious relief. You could see the color returning to her cheeks, a sign that she was beginning to regain some of her strength.

You showed her the seaweed. "Eat." you instructed, tearing off a small piece and offering it to her. "It will help you recover." Abby hesitated for a moment, then took the seaweed and began to chew, her expression softening as the nourishment began to take effect.

You turned your attention to her injuries. You crushed the medicinal herbs between your fingers, releasing their healing juices, and gently applied them to her cuts and bruises. Abby winced at first, then relaxed as the soothing properties of the herbs took hold.

You backed away, observing her. Abby's eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was a spark of trust in their depths.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves.

You stared at her for a moment, torn between your desire for solitude and a new connection that could bloom. Her presence was a disturbance, yes, but also a reminder of the world beyond the sea, a world you had long ago distanced yourself from.

You nodded, “The sea will watch over you."

Abby finally began to take in her surroundings. The beauty of the cave lagoon struck her with a sense of awe. Moonlight filtered through the entrance, casting a silver glow over the water. The walls of the cave were adorned with vibrant corals and sea plants, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that felt both magical and serene.

Her gaze shifted to you, the mythical being who had both frightened and saved her. You were a creature of ethereal beauty, your scales glistening in the dim light, your movements graceful and fluid. There was an undeniable allure to you, a magnetism that drew her in despite the fear that lingered in her heart.

But with that awe came a profound conflict. The sirens, your kind, were responsible for the tragedy that had striked her crew. Abby’s thoughts turned dark as she remembered the screams, the chaos, and the horror. Her shipmates, her friends, had been lured to their deaths by the enchanting songs of the sirens, and now here she was, under the care of one of those very beings.

How could she feel anything but hatred for the creatures responsible for so much pain? And yet, as she watched you move with such grace, as she felt the gentleness in your touch, she couldn’t deny the complexity of her feelings.

You noticed her conflicted expression, the way her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. 

“You helped me...” Abby spoke, her voice tinged with suspicion and curiosity. “Your kind... they killed my crew. Why didn’t you just leave me to die?”

You hesitated,  “I seek solitude,” you replied, “Your presence here disrupts that. If you heal, you will leave, and I will have my peace again.”

Abby’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a hint of understanding in her gaze. “It’s for your own sake.” she murmured, more to herself than to you. “Well, if that's the case, thenn you will have to help me leave." 

"I have helped you enough," you replied, your voice tinged with reluctance.

Abby's expression hardened "I can't simply swim to land," she insisted, her voice growing firmer. "I need to construct a boat—a small one, quick to build yet sturdy enough to carry me and the supplies I'll need until I reach safety."

You grumbled to yourself, the request catching you off guard. Helping Abby construct a boat meant prolonging her stay—something you had hoped to avoid. 

Reluctantly, you nodded. "Very well," you conceded, your voice resigned. "I will gather what you need."

A faint smile tugged at Abby's lips, teasing and amused. "Good," she replied, her voice teasingly soft. "I suppose I should rest now. It'll make you grumble less."

Perhaps you should’ve eaten her.

[inhonoredglory]

A Wartime Footing: An Explanation for Aziraphale's Elevator Smile

(Based on an ask from @sabotage-on-mercury in response to my meta on why Aziraphale had to go to Heaven)

The creepy smile was one part of the ending I couldn't quite put my finger on either, until someone pointed out on a Twitter response to my meta:

The reason why its scary is bc azi is becoming properly angry at the system and is 101% determined to set things right (Source)

In season 1, Aziraphale was determined not to kill anyone to stop the Apocalypse. He wouldn't even tell Crowley where the Antichrist was, because Crowley's only solution was to kill him.

And because Crowley consistently didn't have any ideas ("not one single better idea??"), Aziraphale took it on himself to pursue the only option left––to ask God to intervene and stop both Heaven and Hell from destroying Earth. Therefore, Aziraphale had to keep the integrity of his angel status by distancing himself from Crowley, while the world was still in danger.

Despite this dedication avoid bloodshed, when God didn't have an answer, Aziraphale went against one of his core beliefs to help save the world. He was willing to murder a child.

For Aziraphale, that takes guts. And (seeing how he reacted at the end of the Job minisode), I wonder that if he had killed Adam Young, Aziraphale would have checked himself into Hell.

Going to Heaven for Aziraphale is ultimately a conscious choice, one that he is clearly afraid of. We see him constantly steeling himself again the Metatron in the end, covering his fear and hurt from losing Crowley with a placid smile and a flippant attitude. He's wearing so many masks, to Crowley, to himself, to the Metatron...

All season we've seen him playing roles (detective, magician, doctor, landlord). But the final role is warrior. Going up that elevator, we first see Aziraphale's eyes searching, worried, panicking, but unable to show it because he's not in a safe space. He swallows, blinks, he's breathing hard (you can see his entire shoulders rise and fall).

But as he goes up, his expression steels. He's quite literally putting on a mask (to himself): a vengeful, hardened expression of pure anger and rage (to drown out the fear and uncertainty he so clearly still has).

Michael Sheen conveying contained anger in both Good Omens and Masters of Sex.

Cuz this isn't just him scrambling to kill a kid, this is him walking calmly and knowingly into sacrificing everything he loves most (Crowley, the bookshop, his entire life on earth) to create a world that will always be safe for him and Crowley and humanity for the rest of time. Where he would have to go up against the most powerful angels, the Metatron, and God Themself to change things. He can't be the kind, sweet angel he was on Earth. That won't cut it in Heaven if he wants to make a difference in any real way.

He wanted to do it with Crowley, with the love and support and strength of his demon. But without him, Aziraphale has to channel something else to keep his resolve afloat.

Something he had when he was a warrior, fighting on the front lines of a battle between Heaven and Hell, when he very likely led a platoon into divine fields of bloodshed before the earth was born. When he was an avenging angel.

I haven’t done this since the Great War.

It was a time and an identity he had chosen to leave behind, because it wasn't the kind of angel he was anymore ("I'm not fighting in any war!"). In this context, you can read Aziraphale's passionate unwillingness to take a life (his pacifism) directly into his past experience as a warrior. It is often the veterans of terrible wars who are the most earnest advocates for peace. (And especially in Britain and Europe, where the violence of the world wars is still such a powerful and painful national memory.)

As he goes up the elevator, he's breathing so hard we can hear it mirrored in the soundtrack, and he is so hyperfocused on steeling himself that he doesn't even care that the Metatron is watching him. He doesn't rest until he's psyched himself into that warrior mindset necessary to carry out this mission entirely by himself, to be both the moral advocate and the uncompromising leader of angels who had intimidated him his entire life. To demand respect and to talk to the very face of God and tell Them they are Wrong.

(Please read this Neil-approved meta for further thoughts on God and Aziraphale.)

That creepy smile is clearly not there because Aziraphale is happy to fall into a toxic parent's false love. There's no comfort or wistful nostalgia in that face. There's no "it'll be so much nicer" in that smile. It's not a happy smile. It's an I'm-gonna-fuck-shit-up smile.

Because it's a warrior's smile before they go into battle, before they put on that armor and, for a while, become something they're not in the name of some greater good. He's fucking furious and it's downright frightening.

Because I have no doubt that the angel Aziraphale we get in Season 3 is the angel Aziraphale who can say this:

He's not quite there yet in the TV show. But this bravery, this anger, this flaming rage is how it starts.

Or as he's described in the book when Aziraphale mysteriously does away with the local mafia:

Just because you’re an angel doesn’t mean you have to be a fool.

[qqueenofhades]

Hwy dod we even need to send more money to Ukraine tho like we’ve already supported them plenty! But let Europe pull their weight and we can go back to spending that money on American policies

Do you read like, any news outside Tumblr, any Ukrainian perspectives, any basic analyses of the conflict, any rationale from Democrats or Congress, or anything? Because, in brief:

Ukrainians are currently facing a full-scale genocide. It has been going on for over a year and Russian military leadership has every plan to continue until fruition. If they stop resisting, there will be no more Ukraine or Ukrainians. So all the "appeasers" or "realists" insisting that Ukraine should "give up land for peace" (which notably worked so well with Czechoslovakia and Hitler in 1938) are basically deciding that it's fine to let the genocide be carried out, if it's even minorly inconvenient for us. Putin and cronies have repeatedly stated that if they are successful in taking Ukraine, they will go further. This is the exact scenario that leads to the "escalation" and/or WWIII that various people keep wringing their hands over. It is far more just and safe for Ukraine to be supported now and to stop that before it gets even worse.

America is not actually giving over buckets of black cash, regardless of what various bad-faith takes claim. They are handing over weapons valued at various amounts of money, along with some financial and budgetary aid. A lot of these weapons are older and would cost more to decommission than they cost to give to a sovereign democracy fighting for its life against an imperialist autocratic neighbor. This is some tiny amount like 5% (if that) of America's bloated military budget. And again: it's actual weapons valued at a certain dollar amount. These cannot be spent on American domestic policies.

The idea that helping Ukraine is directly coming out of our own pockets or preventing us from spending as needed on our own needs is propaganda. It is not good to repeat it.

I wrote this post the other day about why Putin is trying so hard to break American/Western support for Ukraine, and why the hard-right MAGA has enabled him in it. Putin's Russia is the motivating nexus, coordination, and funding center for Russian/European/American far-right theocratic fascism. This whole "America Only" is the exact rationale that appeals to said far-right domestic fascists and gives Putin and other imperial expansionist kleptocrats the justification to just throw away post-WWII international order and declare that any larger and more powerful state can systematically eradicate any neighboring country, claim its territory, destroy its government, kill its people, and get away with it. Because why would they stop, if there aren't any consequences and they are rewarded for it?

Putin has repeatedly interfered in American elections to help Trump and the Republicans. That should tell you something about who he sees as most favorable to his interests and what he would do again if allowed to emerge victorious.

Europe IS actually pulling its weight! They just brought all 27 defense ministers to Kyiv, they have been working on Ukraine's accession talks, they have committed all types of weapons (including the long-range missiles that the US still won't clearly authorize), they've committed a new tranche of 5 billion euros in long-term assistance, etc. But the whole "we should pull out of NATO and leave Europe to fend for itself" was a key isolationist and xenophobic Trump idea. We can see what that led to.

American aid is vital to Ukraine's continued existence as a sovereign country, period, and it is in American interests to continue to provide it as agreed upon. Not least because such an egregious betrayal of a democratic ally would empower the fascists of the world, both Russian and American, and because as noted, if this conflict was not stopped and got bigger, it would then involve American troops. It is a moral, democratic, political, and ethical imperative. This is not a difficult call or a complicated situation, regardless of what the Online Leftist tankies and the MAGA-world nutcases (because horseshoe theory) want you to think.

Слава Україні.

The end.

[athymelyreply]

A highly recommended read. Full text of article under cut

On October 7, I was not hiding with my child in the safe room. My house was not burnt to the ground, and my husband didn't blow me a last kiss before his killer fired a fatal bullet.

I was safely at home in London where I have lived for over 30 years when my elderly peace-activist parents, Oded and Yocheved Lifschitz, along with 77 others members of the community, were taken hostage, barefoot and in their pajamas from their homes in the kibbutz where I was born and raised.

Israel's hostages in Gaza: A matter of life and death

Israeli peace activists who lost loved ones in the Hamas massacre stand their ground

What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz

For the past 229 days, together with the families of the other of hostages taken captive which now number 128, we have taken part in the fight for the lives of our loved ones.

A photo of the writer, Sharone Lifschitz's parents, Yocheved and Oded Lifschitz, who were both kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza on October 7. To date, only Yocheved Lifschitz has returned. Credit: Amiram Oren

In Nir Oz, my family's kibbutz, one in four people (117 in total), were either executed or kidnapped. We are still piecing together the events of that brutal day that Hamas terrorists and some Gazan civilians, perpetrated medieval levels of cruelty, driven by hate and revenge, blinded by radical religious ideology and super-charged with amphetamines.

Last month, at the "Seder in the Streets" event in New York, activist Naomi Klein spoke as if none of that ever took place. Instead, addressing hundreds who gathered for a combination Passover Seder and protest of the war in Gaza, she spoke of what she termed the "False Idol of Zionism", comparing Jewish support of it to the Israelites "worshiping" the golden calf and recalling Moses' rage seeing the spectacle.

Klein's interpretation seems to miss the point: Moses, unlike Klein, did not disengage. He did not give up on his people when they worshipped a false idol. Instead, without compromising his integrity and beliefs, he guided them through the desert for forty more years in their journey to become a nation. Klein, at this dangerous moment in history, is failing to lead her listeners to take responsibility, to engage and work towards a shared future in the region for Jews and Palestinians, one built on the preciousness of life on both sides and an understanding of the original intention of Zionism: the necessity for a safe home for the Jewish people.

"Seder in the Street" was also protesting the heartbreaking and ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza and settler violence in the West Bank. Many in Israel, like my parents, would agree. Yet their plight and that of the other hostages – most of them civilians, from a baby boy of one year to a man of 86 - are not mentioned at Seder in the Streets or other gatherings of far-left pro-Palestinian Jewish activists.

My father, Oded Lifschitz, who is 83, and his friends who are also hostages, all in their late 70s and 80s, have worked for peace for decades. My mother, Yocheved Lifschitz, was thankfully released after 17 days of captivity.

Yocheved Lifschitz after being released from 17 days in Hamas captivity, in Tel Aviv, Israel in late October. Credit: Tomer Appelbaum

How much more effective these protests could be if activists abroad could act as a bridge between the pro-Palestinian movement and progressives fighting for peace in Israel?

Hamas, a terrorist organization which has been systematically stripping freedom, women's rights and democracy from the Gaza strip since 2006 are also strangely left out of the discussion. In fact, I see more criticism of the Hamas attack and crimes from moderate Palestinian voices than from prominent Jewish voices of the pro-Palestinian movement in the United States and Europe.

Klein is instead content in disengaging from Israel based on a distorted idea of Zionism and in so doing offers no solidarity with the moderate, progressive Jews living in Israel and for whom rejecting Zionism is irrelevant at this moment. Whether we like our government's policies or hate them as many do, Israel is home. Just as Canada is Klein's home, whether or not she likes the policies of the Canadian government or condones its mistreatment of its Indigenous population.

I consider myself pro-Palestinian. My family has always fought for a shared future for our two peoples, understanding this key point: our fates are interlinked. My parents have advocated for peace and equality for and with the Palestinians since the 1960s. We have united as a family to protest policies of the current Israeli government we find abhorrent. I wish for the Palestinians what I want for my own people: to live without bloodshed, in their own democratic state, as part of a negotiated two-state solution.

The facts are indisputable to Zionists and non-Zionists alike: There are about 7 million Jews and 7 million Palestinians living in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Jewish Israelis cannot be expected to reject the idea that they can and should have the right to live safely in Israel. Without Israel, where would they go?

Everyone who cares about what's best for the region must strengthen those who are working for a peaceful future. As my father always says, "You make peace with your enemies."

A Palestinian family rides on the back of a donkey-drawn carriage next to damaged buildings in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, in April.Credit: AFP

Thanks to international efforts to formulate a plan for the "day after" the war in Gaza, we are potentially closer to a long-term political agreement to lift us out of conflict than ever before. To help facilitate it, American and European progressives must distinguish between religious fanatics on both sides and those working toward a path of justice and peace for everyone in the region.

We must differentiate the liberal American pro-Palestinian activists from those who justify Hamas atrocities as acts of resistance. The dominant current narrative of the American far left, including the Jews among them, unwittingly aligns with Iran, and with antidemocratic and illiberal forces.

Instead of fostering hate and promoting disengagement from Israel, progressives abroad should help those in the region regain a sense that another future is possible and advocate for a negotiated political agreement that would create a state of Palestine established alongside the state of Israel. It won't be perfect, but it will be a good start.

The work of advocating for a different, sustainable future, must start with a call for the immediate release of hostages as part of a long-term agreement, backed by America and its allies, including moderate Arab states, that has the potential to transform the lives of Palestinians and Israelis by rescuing them from this ongoing tragedy. To fail to do so is to fail not just the hostages and their families, but to throw all the people of the region further into the abyss and undo the inspiring work of moderate forces within Israeli and Palestinian society.

In this, our darkest hour, we ask ourselves, who is our enemy? My enemy is the blind hate that seeks to erase the humanity of the other side. All of us who are horrified by what is unfolding in Gaza should work toward empowering the people of the region to move away from our common enemy. That's not Zionism, but rather the religious fanaticism we have within both our societies – Israeli and Palestinian – that threatens to engulf us all.

Sometimes, I want to shout at the news on TV, to remind people that their indulgent engagement in hatred of one side is so futile, so self-congratulatory. We can do better.

As we bleed and grieve, and in the case of families like my own – hang suspended between hope and despair for the fate of our loved ones, we must seek points of human connection between Jews and Palestinians, we must fight, not against one another, but for a practical solution that dismantles the status quo so that we can all survive – and live in freedom and security.

Sharone Lifschitz is a London-based filmmaker and academic originally from Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose parents were taken hostage on October 7. On Twitter: @Lifschitz_sha

[novlr]

Do any ungulates have any meaning? Like specific types of deer?

Deer and other types of ungulates have often been used as symbols, both cross-culturally and in literature. They’re fascinating creatures with a variety of habitats that exist both in the wild and in domesticated settings, so can be used in several different ways within a narrative depending on the type of meaning you wish to convey.

For this answer, we’ll focus mainly on deer, as covering all ungulates (which includes all animals with hooves ranging from horses to hippopotami) might make this answer far, far too long.

The general symbolism of deer

If we take deer at face value, some of the first imagery that will come to mind are grace, elegance, gentleness, and innocence. They can also be alert and vigilant, with a deep, mysterious connection to the wild. For this reason, many cultures (and writers) ascribe spiritual and mystical associations with them. They can also represent a connection to the supernatural, and the otherworld.

Writers will often use them as messengers or familiars, creating a bridge between the real and the fae. They can also represent growth and rebirth, as they shed their antlers, which grow again.

The cultural significance of deer

The cultural significance of deer and other ungulates have similarities but aren’t always identical. In indigenous native groups across North America, for instance, there are different traditions and stories associated with them. The Lakota believed that deer were guides on life’s journey but could also lead men astray. The Cherokee story of the Little Deer, on the other hand, sees the Deer Spirit enacting vengeance on hunters who don’t show deer the proper respect, and hunt them needlessly.

In Celtic mythology, white stags were often messengers to the underworld, and deer could shapeshift both at will and through enchantment. Arthurian legend also had a white stag as a symbol of the hunt, representing man’s neverending quest for spiritual enlightenment. And in Germanic cultures, the deer represented both the hunt and kingship.

In Hindu mythology, the goddess Saraswati is associated with a red deer and can take its form. As the goddess of learning, red deer and their hides have also taken on this meaning. In Shinto tradition, deer are messengers of the gods, and in Chinese mythology, the Fuzhu is a mythical deer with four horns that appears during periods of flood.

Specific types of deer and their symbolism

If we look at specific types of deer, then there are some general patterns that emerge in their symbolism. 

White-tailed deer are native to North America, Central America, and South America. They are often associated with purity and innocence, a connection to the spirit world, and respect for the natural order.

Red Deer are native to most of Europe, the Caucasus Mountains region, Anatolia, Iran, parts of western Asia, and the Atlas Mountains of Northern Africa. They are the only living species of deer to live on any part of the African continent. They have associations with royalty and kingship, as well as the hunt. They are often used on coats of arms as a symbol of nobility.

Reindeer (Caribou) have close connections to winter due to our modern Christmas traditions. But they also have great cultural significance in Arctic and subarctic cultures.  They are native to the Arctic, subarctic, tundra, boreal, and mountainous regions of Northern Europe, Siberia, and North America. They are known for their endurance and adaptability, as well as safe journeying and strength in harsh conditions.

Fallow Deer are known as peaceful and gentle. They are widespread in England, Wales, Ireland and southern Scotland but are an introduced species. Some studies suggest they are only native to Turkey. The fallow deer is probably what you picture when someone says the words “doe-eyed.” They are associated with grace and beauty and often appear in post-Norman mediaeval literature.

Moose (Elk) are considered symbols of strength, resilience, and adaptability. They are large, with imposing antlers which is what makes them such an iconic image. They are native to North America, Canda, and Northern Eurasia, but they are also associated (by name only) with the Irish Elk, an extinct giant deer known for the enormous span of its antlers (a disproven urban legend claims that the Irish Elk went extinct because its antlers grew too wide and heavy for its head and neck to support it).

How deer are used in certain genres

In Fantasy, deer are often magical creatures or shapeshifters. They can be spirit guides or familiars, often appearing to characters in dreams. The white stag and the brown doe are two often-used images in these settings.

In Romance novels, deer are often used as symbols of love and courtship. Deer-like descriptions are often used when describing characters, and hunting metaphors are often used to represent the romantic pursuit.

In Horror and Thriller novels, encounters with deer are often uncanny and frightening. They are used as harbingers of the supernatural, appear in dreams as a sign or portent of something to come, and often subvert traditional deer symbolism for dramatic effect.

In Literary Fiction, deer are often used as metaphors for the human experience. They can be used to represent character growth or epiphanies by exploring the relationship between mankind and nature.

How can you use deer symbolism in your own writing?

Deer can be used as the basis for a theme or motif in your work. They also offer tried-and-tested ways of incorporating visual storytelling into your imagery by using well-known associations.

Cultural considerations are good to consider in advance of incorporating symbolism. If you want to borrow from existing cultural traditions, then it’s essential to make sure you research and respect those cultural beliefs. Avoid appropriation, and be sure you strike the right balance between traditional symbolism and personal interpretation. There is nothing wrong with interpretation, but it is important to be respectful when borrowing from another person’s culture.

There are also new and interesting ways you can use your own experiences to develop your own symbolism. You can use deer as a symbol to explore themes of conservation and environmental protection. In Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel, she uses deer as a symbol of the return of nature in a post-human world. They can also be used to comment on urban expansion and habitat loss, and with enough research, you can use a scientific understanding of their behaviours to build your own mythology.

[carryonafi]

Pretty please may I have some sweet luke smut 🥹💙

butterfly kisses.

luke hemmings x reader; SMUT!!!🔞

a/n: you ask and you shall receive! a cutesy little luke smut during the 5sos show tour in europe on one of your days off <3 also MARRIAGE

let me know if this lived up to your expectations!

words: 2.8k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A few seemingly endless flights, airport battles with fans and covering up your face for the majority of your interrupted peaceful walks from terminals — you were finally in Paris. The city of romance, where you got to live out your dreams of wearing your pre-planned fancy outfits and sip champagne out of pretty shooter glasses that would look so dainty in your manicured nails. Luke could feel your excitement, he knew how keen you were during the past stops of this tour to finally come and see the beautiful sights of your dream city. It was incredibly sweet of him to bring you along as it was your first time.

“I’m so glad we have today off. I think I could sleep for days.” Ashton hummed to Calum, who agreed and murmured back about collapsing into bed once they got to the hotel. The group of you were walking through the sleek halls of the airport, making your way through while trying to avoid the public as much as possible with your hand clasped tightly in Luke’s.

“We’ve stayed here before.” Luke added on the topic of the hotel, turning to nudge your shoulder and give you a warm smile. “You’re going to love it.” Eventually, the group had to be redirected which put an end to your conversation. Luke’s presence along with the rest of the band was comforting even if none of you didn’t quite knew what you were doing, it felt safe. Secure. Speaking of which…

“You doin’ okay?” You looked up when you felt the squeeze to your hand and Luke’s voice rasp in hazed jet lag, he had also slept on the plane, but he never failed to look so effortlessly beautiful. You nodded and squeezed his hand back, it was kind of your thing. Three squeezes meant “I love you”.

“Yeah, ‘m good. Excited.” You replied as enthusiastic as you could, his hand that was previously holding your own slid around your body to hold you closer as you walked towards the exit of the airport. His body was warm and you could feel the heat radiating under the hoodie he was wearing, it was your favorite as well. Another round of chattering yet polite fans hit as you left the airport, security on either side of you while making sure you were just getting to the car. The four guys mumbled kind words to the fans who caught their attention, greeted them, thanked them, “we’re so glad you’re here”, “see you at the show?”, all repeated in a timeframe of just under 60 seconds. Then it was almost silent again, just muffled behind car doors as the group collectively sighed with relief. Except for Ashton, he was staring out of his window grinning to himself and watching the shocked expressions of fans who simply couldn’t contain themselves.

You had arrived at this extravagant looking hotel, a word you learned to use because that’s simply how everything was here. Extravagant. Fucking extravagant.

“Bougie, isn’t it?” Luke looked at you expectantly again, yet again making you laugh as you collected your bag from the car.

“Bougie? I didn’t think anyone seriously used that word.” He laughed too.

“That’s what it is, though! Bougie.. fancy!” He reiterated, making hand gestures as he did so before you finally started the journey again. More fans, less this time so Ashton and Calum stuck around outside for a few seconds to take a couple pictures before following the rest of the group up the steps and into the hotel. Hell, bougie was definitely the right word. You had no idea what to do with yourself in this room, and you’d only be here for about a day and a half before hopping back on the road to another country? Another whole country? Europe was amazing. Every country was like a state in America, except most of them weren’t speaking the same language and you still needed a passport. Even without taking a plane.

The group parted ways, Michael’s room just across the hall while the other two guys had their own rooms a few doors down. Luke was clingy and tired as ever, but you didn’t complain for a second. It was sweet to have him so vulnerable especially after having to put on a front and face his fans for hours. He got a break, one that he really needed by the looks of it. You entered the room after saying your goodbyes, well, “bonsoir” to everyone since the next couple of hours called for some good sleep. It was just as beautiful as everyone had promised, thick white sheets on the bed and fluffy pillows that you were dying to rest on, a window just ahead of you with the shades closed leaving the room slightly dim, a couch, coffee table, then a closet and a bathroom to the left. Looking back at Luke, he gave you a nod of encouragement to go and explore so the first thing you did was open up the shades. To your surprise, the city was lit and busy with a small peek of the famous tower in the distance. Not the ideal, but it was still magical to even believe that it was real. The Eiffel Tower was real, and right there! It looked huge even from far away. You felt arms around your middle and Luke’s face buried in your hair which was held up in a bun-like shape by a metal clip.

“Pretty?” He asked, prompting you to turn around in his grasp and lazily drape your arms over his shoulders. Your poor, poor boy. He looked so happy, but exhausted.

“Very pretty.” You hummed in amusement, fingering at the curls which rested at the nape of his neck. They were freshly bleached yet so, so soft from the treatment you forced him to use. “You look very pretty, too.”

“You look like my wife.” Luke pressed his forehead to yours, cheeks heating up from the words he spoke despite him having said much worse. You had never left the honeymoon stage of your relationship, every single time he complimented you or did anything sweet of the sorts you were instantly flustered and a giggly mess. You got engaged months ago, and you hadn’t even spoken of a wedding yet since you’ve been busy with everything else in life. After this leg of tour, he’d promised that you’d talk about it.

“You like thinking ‘bout me being Mrs. Hemmings soon, hm?” Your voice came out much sweeter than expected, but it just made Luke smile much more as he tried to fight it by pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Can’t wait, I’ve been waiting too long already.” He complained, but you only responded by connecting your lips with his. Gentle and curved with the remnants of mint from the gum he had on the plane, he sighed happily and melted into your touch. It was like your bodies were meant to be together, meant to hold each other close and meant to be flush every chance you got. His hands held you so lovingly, so gently even when you requested he be rough. Your height compared to his was more than enough to make you blush, he could comfortably rest his chin atop your head despite you being a bit taller than ideal. “I love you.” He muttered into your lips, loving hands and smooth fingertips gliding over your hips to make you feel a thousand butterflies release. In your stomach, in your chest, and making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Love you most.” You scrunched up your nose when he kissed you again, humming between pecks and pressing his face to your cheek.

“Don’t start, Mrs. Hemmings…” He whispered, now kissing sloppily all over your face and your hair. Luke was more than happy to take in the lingering scent of your hair mist which clung to your sweater, and now his clothes. He always smelled you, everything he owned was plagued by you and when he was alone the hit was almost saddening. Luke wished in those moments that he could grab you out of thin air, spin you around as you giggled and begged him to stop before you got dizzy, then finally place you down on the bed. Your sweet laughs would die down and he’d move to kiss your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and once again smelling the mist that would bring him back to reality. Then, he would shove his clothes away and send you a text along the lines of how much he missed you.

“Luke, come on. It’s still early, baby. We’ve got a whole day of exploring ahead of us when we wake up.” You snapped him out of his real life daydream and he shook his head to physically do the job as well.

“Okay, okay.” Luke kissed you one last time before he peeled himself away, going to undress as you let your hair down and closed the shades again. Sleep, finally. After an excruciating flight of listening to babies cry and uncomfortable headphones, you were now laying in a bed. A lovely bed, with your lovely fiancé and his lovely presence, in a very bougie hotel room in Paris with your friends unwinding safely in their rooms as well. You were officially living in paradise.

— 🤍 —

You were not startled awake, but you could definitely feel movement. Luke was pressed against your back, breathing softly into the untouched skin of your neck as he rested. Was he awake? You couldn’t tell, but it was evident when he began to stir just as you shuffled too. He made a soft sound and wrapped his arm tighter around you, curls brushing up on your bare shoulder as he began to kiss again. He started at the few freckles on your shoulder, then pushed your hair out of the way so he could comfortably reach the back of your neck. It felt so good, like a dream. You were totally dreaming…

“Luke.” You breathed, baring your thighs together as you felt him smile. The drowsiness began to wear off, slowly turning to the side just as he propped himself up on his elbow. That precious face stared back at you, eyes glistening like a kid in a candy store.

“Hi.” Luke whispered with gratitude, cupping your cheek with his free hand so your face would be of easier access to him.

“Hi.” You sheepishly smiled back. “Not so tired anymore?” He shook his head, another kiss to the top of your head. Luke loved to kiss you, he loved it more than anything else in the world. He’d worship you all the time if he could, bury his face in the warmth of your skin, in the plump pink of your lips and softness of your hair. God, did he use that mouth well, he used it with every intended purpose it had and you couldn’t be happier with how much he loved taking the action just as much as you did receiving it.

His lips continued to wander, and your half-asleep mind just let him go. A pleasant hum escaped your lips as you lay there, soaking it all in and tilting your head to the side to encourage his path of sweet destruction against your skin. Luke’s kisses started to get a little less innocent and more passionate in seconds, you could feel him smiling. It made you smile too.

“Whatcha doin’?” You murmur against his hair once he gets to your collarbones, mulleted curls tickling your cheek and jaw.

“Mmh,” Luke answers, poking his head up slightly to look at you. His lips were already pink and kiss swollen, shiny and soft… that lip balm was really working out for him.

“Jus’… be quiet.” He whispers, pecking your lips shortly yet filled with affection. Honestly, there was no room for argument. You had to let the guy do his job, which was pleasing you.

“Kiss me again, then.” You reply back in that same tone of voice, hand drifting towards his cheek to pull him closer. It was his cheek, then his jaw, neck — back of the neck to stroke at his hair and bring him closer. Luke rested his forearms on either side of your head and brought his chest down to yours, the rise and fall of hasty breath pushing against each other and fighting for that centimeter of space between your bodies.

Nothing about this felt like a fight, his lips handled yours with care and vice versa. Luke wanted to distract you, but he unfortunately didn’t have enough strength to hold himself up on just one arm. Instead, his body weight shifted to one arm which broke the kiss and left you panting. You watched his face, focused and struggling slightly as you felt his thumb against the waistband of your underwear.

“Need help?” You raised your eyebrows, his gaze flickering back up towards yours, but looking away nearly immediately after.

“No, I got it.” Luke protested, the blush on his cheeks matching the shade of those lips you couldn’t get enough of. And he did, he got it eventually and helped shuffle the fabric down your legs with not a lot of ease, and his own boxers were no issue.

“I dunno how you sleep with socks on…” Now this wasn’t a very sexy observation, but it was something that was produced from your sleepy mind that would leave immediately if you didn’t voice it soon.

“Really? Right now?” Luke rolled his eyes with good nature and shifted his weight back to normal, hovering over you completely. “I don’t know how you sleep without them.”

“I get warm easily.” You pouted, both arms now around his neck.

“Is that why you always shove me away when we cuddle?” Luke’s eyes sparkled, something about admiring the way you were able to be so sweet and funny without “ruining” the mood.

“When you cuddle me? Something like that.” You broke that pout with a smile, eyelids fluttering shut as your lips met again. Slow and smooth, his tongue slipping inside your mouth at the same time as he slid inside you. Your lips parted with a gasp and Luke insisted to keep you quiet.

“Shh, shh…” He hushed, his knees taking most of the weight to control the pace at which he entered you. No matter how many times this happened, it would never, ever get old. “You’re beautiful, so fuckin’ stunning, you know that?”

Your breaths came in short gasps, whimpering and moaning into his mouth and he swallowed down every sound. “I.. I love you,” You stammered, frowning as he stopped the movement of his hips and looked down at you.

“That’s not what I said,” Luke smiled gently, his eyes crinkling in the corners made it impossible not to smile back at him.

“I do, I know that.” Clearly, he was happy with that answer because his hips started to rock again. The mattress withheld your weight with much more confidence than your standard hotel, they were slow yet forceful and your moans threatened to turn into screams of pleasure. Instead, your eyes glistened with unshed tears and they started to prickle at your waterline. Your hands tangled in his hair, desperately tugging him down for another kiss with shaky hands, trembling legs as pleasure rocked your body.

“Luke, baby—“ You were cut off with another kiss, if you wanted to call it a kiss… Luke just sort of face planted for you and your lips pressed together.

“I know, I know. Me too.” He gasped as well, your sounds becoming more urgent and shaky due to the endless rock of your bodies. That climax hit quick and hard, burying your face in his neck so you weren’t too loud. It required a bit of extra effort and clearly the force of your orgasm was driving you crazy, your teeth prodded and poked at the soft pale skin of his neck, slightly tanned by the European summer.

It was like clockwork, him following right after you and making a mess of the sheets that, thank god, you only had to sleep in for tonight until you were back traveling again. It was a cleanup for another time, and definitely not now. It felt too good being tangled up like this and quietly enjoying the warmth and comfort Luke’s body brought to you, he was still in that t-shirt he slept in which was a clue that the two of you were obviously too lazy to take anything other than what you needed off.

“Did that wake you up?” He grinned, back to peppering kisses across your cheekbones and the tip of your nose.

“Definitely.” You giggled, trying to kiss him back, but he was just too overpowering. The room was still dim with a few rough streaks of sun coming through the curtains, a perfect little atmosphere within the chaos of these last few weeks of touring.

[old-school-butch]

What do they think Hamas wants? What do they think Israel is supposed to do? Do they seriously think Israel is supposed to be like sure here you go we are all going to leave Israel and you can have everything? Do they think that would bring about peace? I’m serious. Like really do they think there is anything Israel could do that would stop any of this? Do they think Israel should’ve done nothing and this situation would’ve just disappeared? Americans are the dumbest fucking people on the planet. Hamas wants compliance or death, that’s how terrorism works, that’s war.

Whoever is running the information warfare at Hamas is truly brilliant. The ideology of Islamists has been run through some kind of autotuner so it sounds like it came from a chapter in Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Western liberals are eating it up. While liberals are still catching up on which river and which sea the chant refers to, they still don't grasp that the end goal here is the elimination of the state of Israel entirely. And while 20% of Israelis are Arab Muslims, there are zero Jews in Gaza. The PR people are saying Zionist these days instead of Jews, so maybe it doesn't sound too bad when they say Kill All Zionists but that's just the English translation. Zionism is the creation of a Jewish state. Hamas will call it the 'Zionist entity' because they don't recognize it as a state. They don't recognize it because all states should be Muslim. Israel is occupying territory that should be Muslim. When they say 'end the occupation' it sounds like a call for liberation of an oppressed people, instead of the desire to destroy Israel, kill or expel the Jews and create a Muslim state in its place.

Yemen's Houthi rebels (who are currently attacking Israel) have a slogan "God is the Greatest, Death to America, Death to Israel, A Curse Upon the Jews, Victory to Islam" and I think it says a lot that they take the time to double down on how much they hate Jews/Israel instead of a single 'Houthis are great!' thrown into their own slogan.

The Islamists have noted the 'anti-colonial' rhetoric in Western universities and capitalized on it by positioning Israel as a proxy for the West and thus a scapegoat for the West's sins of imperialism. It does rely on some very old anti-Semitic tricks - because Jews assimilate fairly well (because they don't have an evangelical aspect to the faith) they are both within a culture and othered from the culture - the perfect scapegoat. Many liberals shrugged when the Nazis marching in Charlottesville chanted "Jews will not replace us" but the suspicion that Jews control the media, capitalism, also socialism, Hollywood (and any other center of power you can imagine) runs very deep in Western cultural anxiety. Imagining Israel as a prowerful villian is all too easy when you're primed to believe that.

A wild example of this is how Westerners view Israel as a colonialist power rather than a gathering point for religious refugees. The reality that Jews originated from the land of JUDEA should not be hard to grasp, but is conveniently ignored. The fact that they've negotiated with colonial powers like Britain and the UN is viewed as a sign of political power, even though the main goal of those colonial powers was to prevent Jewish refugees from flooding their own countries. And the memory that the post WW2 boost in political heft came at the price of the Holocaust in Europe, seems to have been lost. The reality that most Israelis are Jewish refugees expelled from Muslim countries, is conveniently ignored. There are enough white faces and dual citizens in Israel for guilty Westerners to find a convenient scapegoat to do all that decolonizing and let themselves be destroyed for our sins. Not that anyone is thinking that hard about it, it just feels right, because it's safe and convenient to accept blame and then shift it to someone else - no matter how many land acknowledgements they crank out.

I guess Westerners think colonizing is something only white people do, and they are blissfully unaware of the size and scope of the Arab Islamic Empires of the past. And also apparently unaware that Islamists explicitly say they want to recreate that empire. Zionists want a single state - and I have a lot of issues with the idea of a religious state at all, but no one can accuse Jews of ever having or wanting to create an Empire. Israel might be criticized for not having a more liberal democractic state, but Hamas isn't even trying to create one. It wants a single Muslim state occupying their entire region, where Jews are killed or expelled and Islamists can consolidate regional power - that's their goal. But the slogan is 'end the occupation' which sounds way nicer than 'end the occupation of land of Israel by Jews so we can make an Islamic state in its place and kill all the Jews who don't run away fast enough.'

Maybe it's that most Westerners don't live in a theocracy, and have no sense of just how controlling and energetic theocratic societies can be, that they can't grasp the idea of global jihad and what that really means. "The Caliphate is the answer" is written in Arabic on protest signs, flying under the radar of English-speakers and certainly not seen as hate speech, but when people tell you they want to establish a global world order under Islamic rule, and are actively coordinating their efforts between states and regions - you should believe them. Moderation is apostasy, punishable by death. Anyone negotiating with Israel faces opposition from more radical Islamists ready to take their place. This is why Islamists spend most of their time attacking more moderate Islamic states and leaders. And by 'moderate' I mean the Taliban, which can barely set up a state in Afghanistan - because it means diverting resources from expanding and conquering other areas. A group called ISIS-K is trying to overturn the Taliban to bring back the glory days of the Khorason, an entity so sprawling it would involve invading China, Pakistan, Iran, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan, which would undoubtedly spark a global conflict. That doesn't phase them. Hamas can barely control the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, which rejects any peace accords with Israel including the Oslo accord. Dying as a martyr is the highest achivement - eternal war is not a problem. The Islamic world is failing to contain radical movements it created and supported for its own interests.

The Palestinians are a good microcosm of this. When Israel declared independence in 1948, the region was invaded by its neighbors. The war ended with Jordan occupying the West Bank and Egypt occupying Gaza and normally the people living there would have been absorbed into these countries, or created a self-governed state. Instead Palestinians, as a group, were created as a stateless people. They didn't want to form a state within the boundaries determined by the war, but instead remain as refugees from a war and promised the 'right of return' i.e. that Israel would be returned to them. Importantly, the war didn't have a declared end. It's still happening, which is how they are still refugees 75 years later. And they live in 'refugee camps', otherwise known as buildings and towns, but it's all temporary in this narrative. Does no one wonder why the pro-Palestinian rallies call for a ceasefire and not for peace? Peace is not desired, just a pause in fighting until they can regroup and try again.

A separate reality was created where the 1948 war is still happening, Israel is not real, it's a 'Zionist entity' occupying the land and that refugees includes everyone displaced by the 'ongoing' war, and all their descendants are refugees too because they have nowhere to live - because where they are living is just temporary. And ‘all they want is to go home’ (but not their current home for 3 generations, the home back in Israel ofc). In this world, they all have to right to live in the region that the zionist entity is occupying, where their duty is to establish a Muslim state. The purpose of this fiction is to create a perpetual problem for Israel, a stateless population whose entire existence is focused on them eventually overthrowing Israel. But it's had unexpected effects.

Palestinian refugees have been more than willing to bring violence to any country that has taken them in as immigrants. Their nationalists have a long list of assassinations of anyone who supports a peace treaty with Israel, including the King of Jordan, the former prime minister of Lebanon, Robert F Kennedy and more. They've also started a civil war in Jordan until they were expelled to Lebanon, where they hijacked a series of international flights and started a civil war there that lasted for 15 years. Palestinians living as refugees in Kuwait aided Saddam Hussein's invading army until they were expelled when his regime fell. These are the reasons none of Israel's neighbor's will accept any more Palestinian refugees, but the Islamist problem remains for any country in its path. What I have found most disturbing among feminists on Tumblr, however, is the complete wilful ignorance about Islamist ideology and its relationship to women. You think you’re ok with the Quran? Read it. There aren't many religions founded by a conqueror who wanted to rule the world. Read what it says about conquest, murder, torture, raping and enslaving non-Muslim women. Arab slave traders castrated men and bred female slaves who were kept as captive wives. Using sexual violence as a tool of war and as a reward for Islamic fighters is long documented and continues today. The birth rate in Gaza is about 5 children per woman and frequently exhorted to be higher. Why? Arafat said it most clearly ‘the womb of the Palestinian woman is the weapon that will defeat Israel.' Population and fertility are part of the political landscape and Islamist strategy. It's how Lebanon went from being a Christian majority country to a Muslim majority country today. There is no reason whatsoever that feminists - who have not shied away from criticizing the sexism of Christianity or Judaism - should mince words when it comes to criticizing Islam in the strongest possible terms. Islamists - who combine Islam with a goal for global dominance - should ring every alarm bell we have.

[stuckinapril]

Hi, I’m an Iraqi girl currently in Baghdad, this is a fact that I’ll never reveal to anyone on the internet for multiple reasons, from privacy to just the fact that I know I wouldn’t be able to hold it together if racists found me, I’m terrified, terrified of what Iran and the US would do to my home, I love Iraq, its culture, its beauty, it’s everything, yet I feel like when I finally start a life for myself I’d wanna get out, I don’t want to, this country holds so many memories dear to me, yet I can’t live in fear wondering if my home would be attacked the next day, I went to college today and me and some friends started talking about the missiles that were spotted yesterday, and we joked that even if there’s war we’d still be forced to attend college, yet I think that all of us were just saying it because we’re scared, I’m sick and tired of white-supremacists destroying my home and culture, you said your mother fled Iraq after the US invasion and my mother did too, we fled to Jordan where we already had some family there, but, we couldn’t stay, not because it wasn’t safe for us there, but it was my mom, my mom is a general surgeon, a fact that she considers one of her greatest achievements, she’s not done because she’s currently getting her doctorate, but she wasn’t allowed that when she was in Jordan, she wasn’t allowed to work as a doctor, she wasn’t allowed to even CLAIM she was a doctor, she got pissed because she didn’t work her ass off so that she’d be denied that right, so we came back about two years later, at least by then it was somewhat peaceful? Still sucked but it was ever so slightly safer, racism towards Arabs doesn’t just come from Europe and America, it also comes from our own neighbours, I don’t know what point I’m trying to make of this, I just needed to get it off my chest and felt like this was the safest place to do so, thank you in advance for listening

Hi no it’s so incredibly important that you sent me this. So many people have sent me asks about how “Iraq has shut down its airspace in collaboration with Iran,” which I understand. I understand that Iraq is aligned with Iran. I understand it was a necessary counterattack. But I also think it’s so important to humanize the Iraqis residing there, who live in fear regardless, who understand that with this war there will always be the “collateral damage” civilians. It’s not fair for you to be be joking about war while westerners abroad debate the political connotations of something that doesn’t even directly affect them.

And yeah, unfortunately Jordanians have always been racist to Iraqis. My uncle’s family encountered similar problems when he moved there—he basically had to fly between Iraq and Jordan regularly, bc it’s impossible to find a stable job in Amman. I feel for your mother. I feel for the fact that she didn’t want to throw away all her hard work. This is the rock and a hard place conundrum Iraqis are stuck between. Not religious but I’m still praying for your safety, for your mother’s safety, and for you to never have to know what it feels like to be going to school while Iraq is caught in the middle of war. It has had enough war to last it a lifetime. I’m sorry angel

[lacewise]

The same time the Brits caused the chaos that happened in 1948, the rest of the Middle East saw as an opportunity to expel their Jewish populations to Israel (to oversimplify, think about the reservations in Canada and the US—that’s how they envisioned Israel and how they expelled Jewish people while seizing all their belongings. A huge part of the reason many Middle Eastern countries are mad is Israel thrived anyway.)

Poland got rid of their Jewish population by literally committing the Holocaust

When you say, “Israel shouldn’t exist” or “Jewish people need to go back to Poland” what I hear is “we can have world peace if all Jewish people die” which is straight out of the “Protocols of Elders of Zion” (think “Birth of a Nation”) and “Mein Kampf”—this is also where ideas about Jewish people or a theoretical state of Israel wanting to “take over” the Middle East come from (they don’t, and you guys are ignoring actual Middle Eastern colonial empires engaged in society-wide human trafficking to scapegoat Jewish people. It’s weird, and I’m sure the victims find your callous disregard creepy, because they’ve actively said so—they would not feel safe in a room alone with you. Consider why that is.)

I have no idea if you guys realize you sound exactly like Adolf Hitler (who was inspired by “Protocols of Elders of Zion”) or Donald Trump (who kept “Mein Kampf” on his bedside table for years)

I’m frankly scared to ask

You cannot discuss Nakba without also discussing expulsions of Jewish people from both Europe and the Middle East—it’s disingenuous and I will not only assume you also support the Trail of Tears, I will tell other people you support the Trail of Tears

Think long and hard about if that’s something you want to be associated with, because I promise you, if other people look it up, they will see the similarities—they’re glaring—and they’ll also probably start asking questions like “why are you downplaying the Holocaust? Isn’t that Holocaust denialism?” (The answer is yes, by the way)

Depending on what else you say, I may also assume you support the enslavement of Black people by the tribes

Argue with your mirror, not with me

Regardless of what you know, some of the most prominent voices on antisemitic Tumblr and TikTok have almost certainly read “Protocols of the Elders of Zion”, and have been promoting hateful and baseless conspiracy theories found there, and either you haven’t noticed or you agree.

One of the main organizers is implicitly pro-other genocides and constantly spreads barely concealed hatred and bad paraphrases of the “Protocols of the Elders of Zion” as threats directed at specific Jewish people and organizations. I have no idea how you all missed that, but I’ve always found people filled with gleeful hatred are easily distracted from both the particulars and the main facts

And you know what they say about Nazis—if one Nazi is welcome to a seat at your table, it’s a table of Nazis

The Nazism is not misguided. The calls for the death of every living Jewish person are not accidental. The flags calling for genocide did not appear out of overzealousness. It’s the point. Nazism, theocracy, fascism, and eugenics do not value mercy, and they will not give any to you, no matter how much you beg them. If you don’t quickly find your way out, you’ll find yourself dragged down, the rest of your actions discarded as tainted, and your names inscribed in the history books next to the rest of them. Decide if you want to be the shame of your families and cultures for decades to come.

May the memories of all those lost be a blessing, and may we find a way to stop repeating the mistakes of the past.

—signed a non-Jewish woman who knows how to read. You should really try it sometime.

Find a way to deradicalize yourselves.

P.S. In my offline research, I’ve found that in almost every subject, the popular information going around online is not just misinformed, but counterfactual. Especially on social media, it is the exact opposite of what every respected expert and researcher says. It’s often exact opposite of what primary sources say. If you’re getting a lot of your information from the internet, then the first thing you need to do is find offline sources. I didn’t have the information literacy to recognize how terrible the situation actually is before I started, and chances are, you don’t either. I would also recommend talking to people who spend time offline and getting some hobbies.

[twopoppies]

Hey Gina. Hope it’s okay if I come with my take on the whole Louis/LATAM debate. Feel free to not post if you don’t want discussion on your blog.

First of all I understand the fans disappointment, but I also understand Louis and his team. LATAM fans are very passionate and we have seen how they gather around his hotels, cars and other places, things we rarely see in other countries. I saw a video of Michael leaving the hotel the other day and it was scary, I can only imagine how much wilder it would be if it was Louis. So for both Louis and the fans safety I understand the decision.

An example is that the other day his team asked for fans to not gather in front of his hotel and to give him peace to rest and the result was that some Twitter UA told the hotel name and hundreds of fans gathered in front of the hotel. Just an example that basic rules is not listened to and I think his safety guards is afraid they can’t keep it safe for everyone.

And we should keep in mind that Louis travelled through LATAM in April making meet&greets at radio stations, his hotel and other places. So what he’s not doing now he did a month ago. It’s not like he went out and did selfies in every place he went in Europe and US, it didn’t happen every time.

I think it’s easy to be mad and call his team racists and other terms, if you’re not happy about their decisions. Think I need to mention that I’m from LATAM myself.

So far I can’t find any information about this being some sort of widespread thing. All I see is this report from a single fan (thank you @awesomefringey for these screenshots)

I think latam fans are particularly sensitive because there have been racist comments made by other fans (never Louis/his team) about them/their behavior in the past. But so far, this seems to be something that’s being blown out of proportion.

It’s a holiday here, and it’s very early in the morning, so I may not be the best person to keep on top of this. But thank you for adding your thoughts!

[hero-israel]

The lies and mistruths that Jews "invaded" and "colonized" Palestine, coupled with the lies and mistruths that everyone lived together in harmony with no violence, combine to say that therefore any Jewish anxiety about a post Zionist landscape where there's a very real possibility of Jews being a minority is illegitimate. It is indistinguishable from white Boers fearing retribution, or Americans discomfort with the idea of indigenous sovereignty.

But when you whitewash your own history and gaslight Jews from dawn till dusk, of course you can make them look like whiny entitled brats who just don't want accountability and are fearing "war crime tribunals" (ok girl). But Jews are unique. This would be the one time where the "colonizer" actually has a basis to fear being the minority. There's historical precedent for it, not just from Europe. It's undeniable.

And yes, Israel's Arab neighbors probably have no intentions of wiping it off the map (Iran is a different story), and Hamas is not powerful enough to massacre all Jewish people in Israel no matter how hard they try. The West Bank is not nearly as violent as it used to be. The situation is not hopeless, and regardless Israel can mobilize millions of well trained well armed reservists with state of the art weapons the backing of most Western powers and of course nukes.

Israel is safe... but even with the knowledge that Israel is safe it doesn't matter if we're talking about a peaceful negotiated Right of Return for Palestinians and they are the majority without a single bullet being fired. And also, think of the Jewish People like abuse survivors. Someone can be physically safe, but they still do not feel safe. They need constant outside assurance that what they're experiencing is real and that they have support. Trauma takes time to heal, a long ass time on an individual scale and who knows how long on a societal scale.

It's not "centering ourselves" or being whiny or duplicitous or crying antisemitism when Jews request over and over and over again that Palestinians and their allies do the simplest fucking task of calling the murder of Jewish civilians the atrocity that it is. They can't even do that, let alone say they embrace having Jewish neighbors, that they see Jews as equals, that they would protect Jews, that they view the Jewish People as their cousins who should share the land and all its abundance with them.

They never stop and think about why these are not really concerns for 8 millionth generation German Americans, and why they are for Jewish people of all colors and backgrounds. If they're not putting in that barest baseline of work then at a certain point we can say we tried and we're going to prioritize our safety at all costs.

Excellent comment. Thank you.

I would just say that it absolutely is about centering ourselves, that centering ourselves is a wonderful thing and we should do it more, there's a reason why "The Giving Tree" is sad and disturbing.

Probably the most tragic element of this awful October is that it was all based purely on psychology, not on politics. Hamas is not actually going to destroy Israel. It was meant to trigger Israeli Jews (and I deliberately use a word that has been eroded to snotty meaninglessness by Internet trolls, since that is the mentality of these ISIS-style groups; the cruelty is the point) and shatter their sense of safety, and then put them into a position where they had to respond with overwhelming force so as not to look weak in a rough neighborhood. It will gain nothing real, nothing tangible, for Hamas, for Palestinians, for anti-Israel dead-enders; it was an act of pure spite. And the West's Useful Idiots for death and racism sign onto it eagerly, because of their psychological need to see Jews get taken down a notch (via lots and lots of dead Arabs).

[mariacallous]

British exceptionalism means that we do not like to think of our politicians as extremists. Official paranoia, state-sponsored lying, half-mad ideas that play to bigoted prejudices: these evils do not afflict dear, sweet, safe old Blighty.

You need only glance at the press or watch the BBC to know that policies and politicians we would have no problem identifying as radical right if they appeared in Europe or the Trumpian corners of the United States, are treated as mainstream here in the UK.

To be fair, Rishi Sunak is not a typical strongman leader. He is small (5ft 5in) and without physical presence, oratorical skill, or a definable sense of purpose.

Sunak’s manner varies from  wide-eyed chirpiness when discussing his strangely marginal political passions – banning smoking, recruiting more maths teachers – to petulance when confronted with difficulties: “He comes across as snippy, and comes across as thin-skinned — which he is, when people challenge him,” said one former minister.

Labour politicians believe he will fall apart under the scrutiny of a general election campaign.

And yet this mediocre member of the superrich (our modern Malvolio married rather than earned his wealth) who received the best education the Western world can offer at Winchester college and Oxford and Stanford universities, is by any reasonable definition an extremist.

Sunak’s only saving grace is that he is as useless at extremism as he is at everything else and thus there is a limit to how much damage he can cause.

Within the past few hours Sunak passed into law the power to send asylum seekers to the quasi-dictatorship of Rwanda. The deportees will include genuine refugees, the victims of human trafficking, and Afghans who risked their lives serving the British armed forces in the war against the Taliban.

I have no doubt that radical right politicians across Europe would like to possess the same powers. But as things stand only Rishi Sunak has them and is able to set them to the Orwellian task of remoulding reality.

The UK Supreme Court ruled that the government could not deport people to Rwanda because it is not a safe country. It’s a quasi-dictatorship under Paul Kagame, a genuine and genuinely frightening strongman, who is engaged in covert warfare against neighbouring states. There’s no real judicial independence and the Rwandan government breached the terms of a previous asylum deal it had entered into with Israel.

The UK government has got round these objections by announcing that reality is now what Rishi Sunak says it is.

Sunak’s legislation declares that Rwanda is a safe country, even though it isn’t. From now on, an asylum seeker trying to stop the UK deporting him cannot use the actual existing repressions on the ground in Rwanda to challenge the government in UK courts.

Sunak says Rwanda is safe so it must be so. Maybe Sunak will move on to declare that black is white and 2+2=5, but for the time being he is limiting himself to creating an imaginary African republic where all is peace and light.

Lord Anderson, who as a former adviser to the UK state on terrorism is hardly a knee-jerk softie, put it well when he said of the government’s plans to end judicial oversight

“If Rwanda is safe as the government would have us declare, it has nothing to fear from such scrutiny. “Yet we are invited to adopt a fiction, to wrap it in the cloak of parliamentary sovereignty and to grant it permanent immunity from challenge. To tell an untruth and call it truth.”

To insist that lies are the truth is extreme. It is also the logical conclusion of the Brexit policy of concerted lying in the service of political ends, which has been running since 2016.

And speaking of Brexit and before I go any further, I should note that, with the exception of Geert Wilders, no European far-right leader advocates taking his or her country out of the EU. But Rishi Sunak was all for Brexit, and promised that “our nation would be freer, fairer and more prosperous outside the EU”.

We know how that went.

And we almost certainly know how the Rwanda deportations will go. They will fail, and Sunak will be a failed extremist because what he wants is impossible.

Look at it from the point of view of a right-winger who is furious that tens of thousands are crossing the English Channel and entering the country illegally. Throughout his life the Conservatives have betrayed him.  

David Cameron promised to reduce migration from the hundreds to tens of thousands, and failed to deliver. Brexit promised to return control of our borders. Instead, small boats cross the channel in a parody of the Dunkirk evacuation, while legal immigration has gone through the roof.

No pro-European politician would ever say this, but it does not mean that people have not noticed. By leaving the EU, the UK swapped European migrants who were largely white and, if they had a religion, it was Christianity, for migrants from the rest of the world who are largely not white and, if they have a religion, it is unlikely to be Christianity.

Despite all this Sunak is still bellowing that he will stop all the boats, which is as impossible as David Cameron’s fake promise to reduce migration to the tens of thousands.

He is bellowing because Conservatives are terrified that Reform (the latest Farage party) will send the Tories down to a landslide defeat.

They are trying to unite the right by assuming that right-wing and radical-wing voters are stupid, and won’t notice the attempt to con them with impossible promises.

It’s not working. At the moment we are in an unprecedented situation, where Labour enjoys a poll lead on immigration.

For those on left who say there is no difference between Starmer’s Labour and the Tories ought to notice that Labour holds that lead even though it is absolutely opposed to the Rwanda obscenity, when Tony Blair’s Labour party would probably have gone along with it.

In the Commons yesterday, Stephen Kinnock, Labour’s shadow immigration minister, tore into the government.

He pointed out that the cost of the vain attempt to save Sunak’s skin – will be about “£2 million per deportee”. As only a few hundred are ever likely to go, tens of thousands more will be left “in expensive hotels, stuck in a perma-backlog at a staggering cost to the taxpayer.”

Assuming, that is, anyone goes at all.

 Yesterday Sunak made a rather pathetic admission that no plane will leave for 12 weeks. We shall see. Despite the government’s best efforts to rewrite the law and threaten the European Court of Human Rights, there can still be legal challenges which may last until the next election.

Cynics say the government would like nothing better than the flights to be stopped so it can blame left-wing lawyers in the campaign. I think they are attributing intelligence to the prime minister he does not possess.

Put like this, the UK’s failed extremists do not seem so reprehensible.  But look at what they have done. Since David Cameron in 2010 they have never explained the necessity for immigration in an honest conversation with the public.

They have pandered to right-wing and radical right-wing sentiment and then infuriated voters by making promises they could never keep. In doing so they have prepared the ground for genuinely extremist politicians.

We have already paid a price for their trickery with Brexit and I doubt the full bill is in yet.

We are fortunate that Rishi Sunak is too hopeless to be dangerous. We may not be so lucky in the future.

[mswyrr]

"Ballad" politics and absolute monarchy

So, Collins quotes Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan at the beginning of Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

“Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common Power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called Warre; and such a warre, as is of every man, against every man.” — Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, 1651

This relates to the debate that went on in Europe over absolute monarchy - when it first came about (arising out of a prior order where individual nobles had a great deal of control over their own areas, even able to make war against each other without the king's permission: that is, there was no central authority with a "monopoly on violence") it was in light of truly brutal religious wars. There was a sense--like during the war that precedes Ballad--that nobody was safe anywhere, you couldn't go about your life in even the most basic ways without violence and terror.

This was particularly true in France, the place where absolute monarchy first really took off, with events like St Bartholomew's Day (1572) Massacre and the assassination of Henry IV (1610) by a radical for trying to make peace between Catholics and Protestants, haunting the whole discussion.

Leviathan's frontispiece is an image of the entire body of the people brought into order and peace in the body of the unifying absolute monarch:

Notice how all the people (subjects, not citizens) are not facing us or each other, but looking to the absolute monarch and, in doing this, there is stability and order? That image (and the concept of control of nobles who abused their power) sort of embodies the hope of the advocates of absolute monarchy.

Now, it became a horror show! It's a bad idea!! But there's also the fact that people were looking for an answer and some people thought it fit the bill. It's important to look at the context for why people might be persuaded of that.

I was really excited when I started listening to "Ballad" audiobook and heard the Leviathan quote. I think it's neat that Collins chose to reference this period of history in Gaul's sincerely held ideology and to make Snow someone who doesn't have any particular ideology - he just wants to maintain his comfort and privilege and to have control and her ideas are convenient for that. A pre-made set of justifications for what he comes to realize he wants most for less intellectual reasons.

I think Dr Gaul's going to become an even more interesting character (and contrasting voice to Lucy Gray and her Covey ideas about people and the "natural" order of human beings, which are basically a form of anarchism), since the trailer has her say something not in the books:

"If you want to protect people, then it's essential to accept what human beings are and what it takes to control them." (first trailer)

(rubs hands together) I feel like she was more of a flat character in the book, but with Viola Davis in the role and a deepening of the character she could be really fun to watch. I hope we get more of Lucy Gray's Covey culture and anarchist ideas too. The fact that the director talks about it as a struggle over ideas--conceptions of the human and of what a good social order is--really makes me giddy.

I think the quote by Rousseau that Collins also starts with is meant to represent something closer to Lucy Gray’s pov:

“Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.” — Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, 1762

[lurkingshan]

with such limited options/possibilities for the finale episode of i feel you linger in the air (jom's impending disappearance and khun yai bawling in the garden hugging the air), do you have any specific things/scenes/expectations you hope to see in ep 12?

Not Yai bawling in the garden hugging the air! Oh that’s just too sad to contemplate.

I think there are a few options before us for the ending. Episode 11 closed the main emotional arc of the series: Jom found a purpose, and a true love, and a community, and most importantly, the desire to keep on living. Even if he can’t be with Yai anymore, I believe he will be okay and the experience he’s had in the past will bolster him and give him confidence to rebuild his life back in the future.

As for the romance, well. As I mentioned way back before this show began, with time travel narratives sad and ambiguous endings are always on the table. We’ve been given no reason to believe that the Yai he knows in this time and place would have any way to follow him to the future, we know Jom does not have control over his ability to move through time, and we have been told that he will disappear by the will of whatever magic brought him here in the first place when the time is right. So I really doubt these two will be able to be together. We also know there are several doppelgängers in play and that at least some of the characters in the past have one in the present (Yai seems to have had one in an even more distant past). We still don’t know if these are past live incarnations of the future folks and if this is tied to reincarnation, but that seems likely to me. And there is no indication that the doppelgängers have conscious awareness of their other iterations.

I foresee one of three endings:

Jom will return to the future and eventually meet a doppelgänger of Yai. It will not be the same Yai, but perhaps a person who shares his soul, so it’s about as happy an ending as you can get with this set up. This feels most likely to me.

Jom will return to the future and there is no Yai doppelgänger waiting for him there; the lovers are separated indefinitely. We see Jom looking at his sketches and historical documents to find a trace of Yai, and everybody cries. This feels a bit less likely but still possible.

A secret third thing that will blow my mind.

Regardless of the romance ending, I just hope the finale is able to stay true to the beauty of episode 11, which was such a poignant close to Jom’s time in the past. And I hope we leave all the past characters in a good place, with Yai going to Europe as planned, Eung Phueng getting the safe abortion and life away with Maey she deserves, Fong Kaew finding peace, and Ming, Prik, James and the rest all as okay as they can be given the time and place they live. And I would love to see the new life Jom builds for himself in the future and be reassured that he is happy there.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Good Die Young

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, swearing, major character death. Pairings: Jake Seresin × f!reader. Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.

Pavuvu May 1944

“You’re okay George. You’re gonna be just fine,” Jake promised, pulling the blanket over George’s shivering body. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his teeth chattering like a train on its tracks.

“You okay, Georgie?” Edward asked as he lay across his cot, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as the medic cleaned another sore on his back.

“Never better,” George whispered hoarsely, staring out from beneath the mountain of blankets, that despite the humid weather we’re doing nothing to bring him any warmth.

“You boys really need to go to the hospital. I’m going to try and pull a few strings, and get you to the hospital at Banika. I’m going to pull some paper and get you boys of this godforsaken place. You game?” The medic asked, looking at the two men in question.

“Hell yeah,” George and Edward replied and Jake smiled at the thought, at least two of his three remaining friends would be safe away from this hell hole.

“Sounds like a great plan. Thanks, Doc.” Jake followed the medic out of the tent. “How long do you think they’ll be gone for?”

“As long as they need to be. They need to rest, as do we all.”

“Well, there’s not a lot of chance of that around here, hey Doc?” Jake laughed and the medic nodded. After all, a good, deep sleep is a valuable commodity that was hard to come by in this place; both of them were well aware that the next battle wouldn’t be far off.

“What are you going to do without us around?” George chuckled, giving Jake his hand to shake. Jake took it instantly, shaking it as if it might be the last time he would see him. He hoped it wouldn’t be, he desperately wanted his friends to return but he also wanted them as far away from the war as possible, where they would be safe.

“Well, I’ll have Frank to keep me out of trouble. Don’t worry about me, okay? You just concentrate on getting better.” Jake felt a pang of sadness as he watched his two friends leave, with Edward pushing George in his wheelchair up the ramp of the troop ship. Jake never really felt alone, even when he was home sick and now he felt as though he was losing his family all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pavuvu June 1944

Dear Jake,

I’m not sure when this letter will reach you but your son was born 18th May at quarter to midnight. He is a little bundle of joy and he has your eyes. I can’t wait for you to meet him, Jake. I’ve enclosed a picture so you can keep him close to your heart. I have called him Jacob. It is only fitting that he has his fathers name.

News of the war is worse than ever. There was a large attack on Europe named D-Day on 6th June. I fear the war is far from won and fighting in North Africa continues still too. I am pleased to be away from work for a while. The never ending stream of bad news is almost too much to bear. At least for now I can pretend everything is okay, that everyone is safe. I wish you were here to enjoy this peace with me.

Thinking of you always

Your Y/n

Jake smiled fondly, running his dirt-engrained fingers over the picture of his son. His son. He couldn’t quite believe that he was a father, that someone like him could make something so perfect and untainted by the world. How could something do pure come from this horrendous year? Jake knew he had to keep fighting not only for Y/n now but for little Jacob too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well look at this. Fresh meat.” Frank pointed towards the group of fresh, baby-faced Marines as they walked up the beach in full pack.

“Jesus, are they ever old enough to drink? They’re just kids for Christ's Sake,” Jake groaned, throwing his book onto his cot. Each time recruits were sent to the front they seemed to get younger, just boys who within a few days would be homesick and crying out for their mothers as they bled out on some battlefield no one had ever heard of, in a place no one had ever visited.

“Is this How Company?” One of the baby Marines asked. He looked petrified and as Jake studied his face he noticed that the boy had probably never shaved.

“Who wants to know?” Frank asked, leaning against the supporting pole of the hut , puffing smoke from his cigarette over the recruit.

“I’m Private Daniel Chase. I’m joining How Company as a Machine Gunner. I meant to be with Sergeant Seresin.”

Jake looked at him dead in the eye. He’d never once considered that he would be sent a replacement for George. He knew that George was still pretty rough in the hospital in Banika but he didn’t think it was enough for them to send a replacement.

“I’m Sergeant Seresin. Put your kit down on that bunk there and then I’ll give you the tour.”

The young Marine did as he was told, clumsily knocking Jake’s belongings off the table, cursing, apologising and then nearly taking Jake out with his Garand.

“Okay kid, put all that shit down. Let’s go.” Frank watched in amusement as the young Marine stumbled after Jake, trying to keep up with his long strides.

Daniel Chase wasn’t a bad kid. He grew up in Louisiana with his parents and two sisters. He was funny and likeable, and Jake quickly warmed to him, taking him under his wing like a younger brother.

That evening the COs had set up a theatre and played ‘For Whom the Bell Tolls’ which mildly settled the normally rowdy Marines, except for the odd passing comment about the actress.

“Is it like this here most nights?” Chase asked, looking up at Jake inquisitively. The poor kid knew nothing of the world, Jake had realised as he gave him a tour of the camp. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, always said his prayers before bed and until joining the Marines had never done his own washing before.

“Sometimes. This is just to welcome the new guys, make you think that it’s all sunshine and rainbows until shit really hits the fan.” Jake knew he was only speaking the truth but regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, the fear on the young boy's face reminded him too much of George when they had first seen battle.

“It’ll be alright, kid. There ain’t nothing to worry about, just stick with me and you’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peleliu September 1944

The doors for the landing craft to exit the troop ship falling open was the beginning of it all. The bright light poured through the ship's hull as each craft flew out the doors and into the open water.

“HERE WE GO!” Jake shouted to Chase who nodded at him nervously. The poor boy had already been sick twice on Jake’s boots while they were waiting.

Aircraft flew overhead, sending bombs down onto the beach that sounded like freight trains whistling above Jake’s head. A few stray bullets hit the edge of the landing craft causing all the men to duck down. No one wanted to get hit before even reaching the beach. The large 50-caliber guns on the landcraft opened fire, trying to clear a path for the Marines to land.

The noise was deafening and between the gunfire and explosions Jake could hear Daniel let out a small whimper. “I'm scared, Jake,” Chase cried and Jake just looked at him, giving him a small reassuring smile. Well what else was he supposed to do? It wasn’t a good idea to lie to the kid but at the same time telling someone they’re probably going to die wasn’t on the cards either.

“You’re gonna be just fine, Kid. Just stay with me and keep moving.” That was the last time Jake spoke to Chase, but neither of them knew that.

As the landing craft hit the beach the smell of smoke was thick in the air, the doors swung down and groups of Marines began charging up the beach. Sand, tree bark, and bullets flew through the air. The ground was littered with bodies as Jake stumbled forward, cursing and falling into a nearby crater, taking cover from the firing above his head. He’d lost sight of Chase and Frank soon after leaving the landing craft. The scent of engine oil was thick in the air as Jake’s chest heaved from the effort. He turned to see a young Marine fall into the crater beside him, blood trickling down his face, eyes wide and frozen. Jake thought he saw the life leaving the poor boy's eyes, all the memories, the love, and future plans all gone in the blink of an eye and all that was left was a shell of who he had been.

Jake bit back a strangled scream as he pushed himself from the hole, crawling along to the next one and into the tree line where he got to his feet. Raising his Garand, he crouched low, hurrying through the trees. Earth flew up around him, the explosions ringing in his ears as he desperately tried to get his bearings, the high-pitch whistling doing nothing for his sense of direction. The last thing he needed was to be running back towards the beach. The smoke created a thick fog through the air, making it difficult to breathe and causing Jake to splutter, coughing loudly. Through all the shrapnel and gunfire flying around Jake didn’t hear the whistling above his head, the sound of the aircraft flying over, not until the explosion went off right beside him. The blast sent him through the air, his body falling helplessly to the ground.

The ringing noise in his mind was the only thing he recognised as his eyes cracked open, looking upon the grey clouds above him. They seemed to dance across the sky, the smokey smudges against the clear blue were a stark contrast but seemed to bring comfort to him. Jake realised that he rarely saw the sky without clouds of smoke anymore. It was sad really, he had always enjoyed the sunsets in Texas, and he’d often watched them with his mother as a young boy.

“JAKE! JAKE! OH FUCK! Hang on buddy. Just hang on for me.”

“Frank…” Jake whispered, reaching a bloody hand out to his friend who took it immediately.

“It’s okay Jake, I’m here. You’re gonna be alright.”

“Frank…w-where’s Y/n?” Jake asked, trying to sit up but Frank pushed him back down immediately.

“She’s not here right now but I promise as soon as we get you fixed up I'll find her okay? I'll find her you just have to hang on.” Frank’s voice was desperate as he applied pressure to Jake’s wounds.

“I NEED A MEDIC GOD DAMMIT!” Frank screamed but Jake just smiled up at him, shuffling to sit up slightly. Confusion crossed Jake’s face as he tried to move his legs again.

“Frank, I-I…can't f-feel my legs?” Jake looked up at him worried, trying again and again to move his legs but nothing happened. Nothing moved. Frank looked down at him sadly, tears glistening in the edges of his eyes.

“You're gonna be just fine, Jake. We’re gonna get your legs all sorted,” he promised, resisting the urge to look over at Jake’s bloodied legs that lay a few feet from them. “I promise, Jake.”

“Okay, Frank. I…trust y-you.”

Jake didn’t notice the way Frank's chest heaved as he screamed for a medic, he didn’t notice the desperate look on his friend's face and he didn’t notice the large pool of blood that trickled out onto the ground around him. Jake just smiled, his blue eyes looking back up at the sky as more aircraft flew over them. He could see Y/n face now, smiling down at him as she cradled little Jacob close. He reached his right hand out towards her, trying to grip hold of hers.

“Come to me, Jake,” she whispered to him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Jake? No, no Buddy. You’ve got to stay with me, Jake. Stay with me.” Frank watched in horror as Jake’s eyes slid shut. The blood pumping through his fingers mercilessly as he tried his best to keep pressure on the wounds. A medic rushed in beside Frank, applying bandages to both of Jake’s legs. Frank continued to shout at the medic as he sat back, shaking his head defeatedly at Frank. He didn’t believe him. The medic continued to talk but Frank didn’t hear a word. He couldn’t be the only one left. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Frank felt two strong arms pulling him to stand. The Lieutenants fought him, shouting harshly in his ears to keep moving and shoving a Garand into his bloody hands. The blood congealed around the gun, sticking it to Frank as if Jake himself was urging him to use it. His hands shook violently and despite the Lieutenant's protest he couldn’t help but spare a glance over his shoulder to his friend.

“Goodbye Jake.”

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